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beesmygod · 2 years

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very very specific call for information: anyone out there deal with out-toeing caused by external tibial rotation (duck feet from a fucked up tibia) AS AN ADULT?

im putting this out here because 1. theres like no fucking information on the entire internet about adults who never grew out of a common childhood problem (unlike children, who self-correct by strengthening muscles, my tibia is an inherited condition. mom has it but not nearly as bad) and 2. i just want to know more! especially what im looking at for recovery.

e: im me from the future. this post is so long and boring and navel gazey so i added images in the hopes it might trick you into wanting to share it.

i only just started this process yesterday: after a series of free association google searches stemming from the fear that i had developed peripheral artery disease at age 31, i discovered symptoms i had been attributing to other random issues (pain radiating down leg? i must be bloated and pressing down on a nerve. pain in shins when i walk even for a short while or up a single flight of stairs? i must be out of shape and destroying my body. knees swollen with fluid in the 4th grade? bursitis, etc) could pretty much all be traced back to my fucked up leg.

my right leg (/my/ right) is visibly fucked from the outside and always has been since i was born. the left is as well, although to a much less (and likely ignorable) extent than the right. i’ve know about this forever; my parents at one point took me to a doctor who was like “yeah she’s shaped like a twizzler” but didnt actually recommend any action. therefore, it was assumed by all that there was nothing we could do and i just had to suffer my junji ito uzamaki curse forever.

which would suck because it’s not great. my family was not receptive to any complaints i had about my body hurting growing up so i just gave up on giving a shit about it. i’m going to start from the top bottom on pain:

sometimes i walk with a limp because my hip and knee joint would work in tandem to get a sharp pain that makes putting weight on it hard.

during my period, i usually end up with at least a day or two where i get deep toothache like pain in my thigh. its always there, not throbbing, and it just. aches.

for some reason my body favors it so when im standing i find myself almost completely leaning on it (which just makes it hurt more later). i can feel myself fucking my knees up when i do this because of how it has to shift around the twisted bone.

my knees swell up every time i kneel and put weight on them (growing up catholic made this excruciating).

walking is a nightmare. i usually try my best to pretend like my shins (specifically) aren’t screaming from mild exertion. i bought a step machine thinking i was just out of shape and a big whiner but it didn’t ever get better no matter how much and how consistently i did it. i though i was just assigned a really dogshit corporeal form that wasn’t built for improvement.

dont even think about running, buddy. i flip flap around like im wearing clown shoes AND it hurts like a bitch.

speaking of which, i also trip and fall on my own feet a lot. the doctor asked me this like “you don’t find yourself falling a lot while walking, right?” and i had to laugh because i eat shit at least 2x a month. i have a huge scar on my foot from last year.

now im about to upload some pictures of my legs. try not to scream. ignore the bruises, i spent all day yesterday/day before completely re-arranging my office so i beat the crap out of my legs lol.

here they are together, standing comfortably. im using the edge of our ugly tile as a straight edge for reference.

here’s the left one. i have no idea if this is normal. the doctor i saw yesterday said it was “less pronounced” on this side. i agree.

i look like im uploading instructions on how to hokey-pokey. anyway: right leg in. notice how it is, indeed, fucked up when lined up against the edge.

and here’s the knee straight. i really thought this was normal and i just had to deal with it for the rest of my life lol. i mean i still might uhhh let’s find out.

I AM LOOKING FOR INFORMATION FOR ADULTS:

pretty much everything online is for kids with assurances that they’ll “grow out of it” and absolutely no info otherwise for the rest of us. now for my QUESTIONS:

-which surgery would be done to correct this?

-i am an american, any idea what surgery cost might look like? (lol ignoring insurance, i want to see if im even close to the ballpark of it being feasible)

-how long is the surgery recovery time?

-can physical therapy correct this? if so, how long would it take?

-can you direct me to more information on living with out-toeing/duck footing/external tibial rotation? how can i manage symptoms?

-does anyone want to study me, because apparently im a rare specimen. im minting myself as an nft or whatever. fuck

ok thank you. please share if you want to but remember to tag it “long post” for people who dont want to be attacked by this big wall of legs

#long post #out-toeing #orthopedic

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puppypeter · 3 years

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✨ All fics are complete! ✨

He Loves Me Cause I’m Cute, He Thinks I’m Pretty Funny | 2588 words 📱

He watches it back one more time after it posts, checking for typos in his subtitles and captions, and has to laugh again.

Steve fucking Rogers? His brain thought he could pull Captain America, literal superhero and America’s favorite sweetheart?

“Hello I’m a 35 year old amputee living in New York and I think that I could get Steve Rogers.”

the one where bucky posts a tiktok and steve is utterly smitten.

Summer Slipped Us Underneath Her Tongue | 10712 words 🧳

Bucky is a tour guide who enjoys sharing the rich history and culture of each city they pass through with a bunch of early-20's college students who just want to know the cheapest place to get drunk.

Except for Steve, who asks Bucky for a personal tour around his hometown.

The rest is, as they say, history.

You Make My Heart Skip A Beet | 3853 words 🧑🏼‍🍳

“I made soda bread.” Steve lets out the 6’2” supersoldier equivalent of a squeak. “Oh, I love soda bread,” he says eagerly, rolling forward on the balls of his feet like he does when he gets excited. “My mom used to make it all the time when I was growing up.” The tips of Barnes’s ears turn red, and he mutters something that sounds suspiciously like, “I know.”

Ollie Meets Bagel | 5517 words 🥯

He was a skater boy, Steve said let's get bagels, boy.

Steve wants to start doing this twenty-first century thing properly. He gets help in the form of skateboarding, skateboarders, bagels, and Sam Wilson.

Taxi | 5113 words 🚕

Bucky Barnes was, he hoped, a good taxi driver.

He's so good, he actually tries to return lost property that ends up left in his car and... well. It has some unexpected consequences involving a National Icon.

Enough said.

Leg Day | 12157 words 🏋️‍♂️

“So talk to him,” Sam says.

“I can’t,” Bucky groans. “I can’t, Sam, I. He just.” He fluffs his hair up and stares at Sam, distraught. “I want him to bench press me.”

“Okay, so it’s serious,” Sam interprets. “Got it."

(Or: The one where Sam is Bucky's long-suffering roommate, Bucky is a hot mess of a millennial, and Hot Steve spends far too much time on the Lat Pull-Down machine.)

Love In Aisle Four | 2127 words 🛍️

When Bucky needs to swing by the supermarket after a long, hard day of work, the last thing he expects is to meet a cute grocery clerk named Steve…

Coming Up Easy | 45515 words ✍🏻

“Listen, I was just thinking,” Steve says, his face open, eyebrows raised in a tentatively hopeful expression. “Why don’t you come stay at my place for a while? I’ve got an office that I barely use, and a change of scenery might do you good, right? Help you beat that writer’s block?” With a crooked smile, he adds, “I promise I’m not a serial killer.”

While Bucky would normally crack a joke about how that’s exactly what a serial killer would say, right now, all he can do is blink at Steve in surprise, heart tripping over itself in his chest. Steve wants him to come and stay at his place. In Massachusetts. Just the two of them.

"Oh," Bucky croaks. "I- Wow."

“I mean, no pressure,” Steve says hastily. “Totally fine if you don’t wanna. I just thought I’d offer, in case it might help, y’know?”

“Yeah.” Bucky ignores the little voice in his head that sounds an awful lot Nat and Becca, telling him he’s setting himself up for heartbreak. “I mean, if you’re sure, that would be amazing.”

Anywhere The Wind Blows | 8845 words 👨‍🚒🎖️

After a catastrophic fire that shakes him to his core, Steve Rogers quits his job as a Brooklyn firefighter and relocates to a cabin in the remote Canadian wilderness, wanting quiet and solitude and to maybe never have to speak to another human being ever again. He gets his wish, more or less, until a recently injured Bucky Barnes is discharged from the Army and rents the cabin next door.

The Safer Course | 7918 words | Part 1 of Won’t You Be My Neighbor 🏡

When Steve moves to the suburbs in 2033, he intends to retire from superhero life.

He does not intend to fall in love with his pain-in-the-ass neighbor.

Every Year I Have You | 7064 words | Part 2 of Won’t You Be My Neighbor 🏡

Steve set the bar pretty high, as birthday presents go.

Bucky is determined to outdo him when July 4th comes around.

Beneath The Mistletoe | 21203 words 🎄

Bucky had a bet with his sister that if he didn’t have a boyfriend to bring home for Christmas by the time he was 25, he had to give her $200 and go blonde for a year. But now he's 25, it’s nearing December, and not only is Bucky as single as ever, but he’s also running low on cash. He doesn’t exactly want to bleach his hair, either.

At least Steve is willing to upgrade their relationship from best friends to fake boyfriends.

The Settler | 52203 words 🍞

“What do you want to do?”

Steve pauses and looks at them.

What he wants is to stay with them. He doesn't have any family left, they all died before he even joined the war and became... this. Captain America turned whatever he is now. But Natasha and Sam have become his family over the years. Not just because they're on the run together, fugitives and vigilantes, but way before that too.

He doesn't want to leave that.

But he knows that, realistically, he can't stay with them and they can't stay with him.

So he looks at them with a smile and lies. “I don't know.”

OR; In which Steve retires and finally finds a place to call home.

You Can’t Put Your Arms Around A Memory | 1148 words 🐈

"Alright, Bucky," Steve slows his steps, watches his neighbour stop at the bottom of the next flight of stairs. There's a canvas bag in his hand that Steve didn't notice earlier, cream coloured with the figure of a sleeping, black cat painted on it. "Have a good day."

He thinks Bucky's cheeks pink up a bit right then and there, but Steve can't tell. He's too distracted by his pounding, foolish heart, by the way Bucky smiles bashfully, and ducks his head. The way he seems like he wants to stay.

To Believe In Tomorrow | 3959 words 👨🏻‍🌾

Bucky's mornings at the community garden get a little more interesting when the new guy shows up.

Maybe This Christmas | 24873 words | Part 1 of Maybe ❄️

Bucky’s not going home for Christmas. But it’s fine. He’s spending Christmas alone in his apartment, but it’s cool. He’s not feeling up to seeing his family after his accident anyway, plus he has to work. He’s totally fine with it. But then he runs into Steve, literally, and suddenly his Christmas isn’t looking so empty after all.

-----

Hurrying was a bad idea. Bucky’s foot hits a patch of ice and slides out from under him in what would have been a comical cartoon banana-peel-like trip, if it wasn’t happening to him, and he braces himself to hit the ground. This is going to hurt.

“Fuck,” Bucky screeches, but as he lands on his back, it’s not the cold hard concrete he expected, but a solid mass beneath him. Oh god, Bucky thinks as he realises he smacked into the person behind him and took them down with him.

Maybe This Year (Will Be Better Than Last) | 133868 words | Part 2 of Maybe ❄️

Last year, Bucky Barnes met Steve Rogers. Well actually, he slipped and fell on him. What followed was the best Christmas either of them had ever had. But what happens when Christmas is over and life returns to normal? What happens after the Christmas miracle?

-----

Bucky should have known. He did know. When things seem too good to be true, they usually are. And Steve is the best thing that has happened to him in a long time, possibly ever, so of course it couldn’t last.

Maybe This Time (I Hope I Get The Chance To Say Goodbye) | 34561 words | Part 3 of Maybe ❄️

Steve and Bucky Barnes are happily married. They've made it through some hard times and come out stronger and happier, together. Then Steve gets called on to come out of retirement for the most important mission of his life and everything changes. Everything.

-----

“Have yourself a merry little Christmas…” Steve starts singing along softly, and Bucky chuckles, before leaning his head onto Steve’s shoulder, always happy when he’s in Steve’s arms.

“From now on, our troubles will be miles away…” Bucky joins in.

Dancing round their living room, just as in love as ever, their troubles seem light-years away, if not non-existent.

Sadly, they’re closer than they think.

The Unexpected Gift | 9504 words | Part 1 of When Winter Comes 🐕

Steve Rogers is fine.

After ending a long-term relationship with Sam Wilson, Steve moves back to New York. He's tired and lonely but depressed? No. At least, that's what he thinks.

From the window of his apartment, he watches a dark-haired man and his service dog sitting in the park, wondering what his story is.

The Winter Storm | 2218 words | Part 2 of When Winter Comes 🐕

"If I could give you one thing in life, I would give you the ability you see yourself through my eyes, only then would you realize how special you are to me."

After Bucky and Steve confessed their feelings for each other, life has its own twisted way to challenge the most profound love.

One January Night | 4213 words | Part 3 of When Winter Comes 🐕

Before going back to work, Steve Rogers still has things to learn: 1- Depression is a bitch and the battle against it isn't an easy one. 2- Dating a person with disabilities comes with its share of challenges.

Bucky Barnes Has His Shit Together (And Other Lies He Tells Himself) | 14159 words 🔒

You’d think a guy who owns one of the most successful bakeries in Brooklyn, has a million-dollar smile and that antiquated good ol’ boy charm, blond hair and blue eyes and biceps for days, would know what’s what.

But don’t let that fool you: Steve Rogers is a mess.

Obvious | 917 words ☕

"Oh, I have a prompt! So, it makes me laugh how painfully obvious Steve and Bucky's feelings are to everyone when they're in that pining, slowburn, does-he-doesn't-he phase. But imagine Steve and Bucky working in a coffee shop together and constantly bickering, nudging and playfully flirting with each other. And all the employees and patrons are so invested in their relationship and just want them to kiss already but no one realizes that Steve and Bucky have been married since they got out of HS."

#stucky #steve rogers/bucky barnes #bucky barnes/steve rogers #stucky fics #stucky fic #stucky fic rec #stucky fic recs #stucky fics rec #stucky fics recs #stucky fan fiction #stucky fiction #stucky ao3 #stucky complete #stucky au #adorable stucky fics

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stanning-reyna · 3 years

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Percabeth one-shot

AN: So a few months ago I made a post about an idea for a fic about percabeth seeing sights in New York City and Annabeth not knowing where she’s going but Percy knowing the city super well, etc. I finally wrote it! Disclaimer: I’ve only been to nyc once and had to look up maps online, so if I messed up the layout of the city please don’t attack me. Takes place between TTC and BOTL. Read below the cut

Percy’s pov:

“Percy! Did you do what I asked you to?” Sally yelled from down the hallway.

Percy froze in his tracks. What had she asked him to do? Something, he knew that much. She had asked him right when she got home from work. He had been doing math homework in his bedroom. It had to do with guests coming over.

Clean up the bathroom? No, he did that this morning. Take out the trash? It was as good a guess as any. Percy made his way over to the kitchen and opened the cabinet door. Sure enough, the trash was nearly overflowing under the sink.

“Percy?” Sally called again, this time just behind him. “Did you change your sheets like I asked?” Oh. His guess has been wrong.

“I was just about to do that,” Percy lied, plenty sure his mom saw through it.

“And didn’t I tell you to take out the trash yesterday? It’s starting to smell,” she added.

He just shrugged in response and heaved the plastic bag out of the bin.

“Thank you. And make sure to change your sheets!” Sally said as Percy began his trip out the door and down to the dumpster.

His brain had been scattered all over the place the past few days. Annabeth was coming to visit for spring break, something the two of them had been planning for over a year now. In less than an hour, they’d pick her up from the airport.

How did anyone ever feel safe flying in a plane? There were so many ways to die, most completely unpredictable. Annabeth was fearless though- brave enough to face any monster and even an airplane.

Percy returned to his apartment after dropping the trash in the dumpster, trying to quell the giddiness rising inside him. There was something he had to do before they left to get Annabeth. What was it again? He had just been thinking about it.

Sheets! Change the sheets on his bed. But where did his Mom keep their spare sheets?

After 10 minutes of sorting through drawer after drawer, new sheets were finally on Percy’s bed. His usual navy blue was replaced with a pastel green. Annabeth had been in a light green phase recently, so hopefully she’d appreciate these.

“You ready to head to the airport?” Sally called from the front door.

He looked around his room for anything he might have missed while cleaning up. Percy’s eyes found the photos of Annabeth pinned to the cork board above his desk. He should take those down. She might be a little weirded out by images of herself watching her as she sleeps.

After stashing the photos in a drawer that Annabeth hopefully wouldn’t look in, Percy pulled his shoes on and dashed to the front door.

. . .

Annabeth’s pov:

She probably should feel bad for the person sitting next to her on the plane. For the past however many hours in the air, she had been flipping through travel guide after travel guide, taking breaks only to play with her necklace or her hair.

Every time Annabeth played with her hair, her elbow flew straight out to her side, regardless of whatever might be there. Meaning she had bumped into the man next to her more than once already. Sorry dude.

The 6 different travel guides in front of her consisted of long lists of the best places to visit in New York City. Annabeth had been into the city plenty of times before, but she never had the opportunity to explore. Which was stupid considering Camp was less than 2 hours away.

Percy had offered to give her a tour while she was staying with him, but Annabeth had a very specific list of sights she wanted to see. Not that she didn’t trust him, but she would much rather be the one in control of where they went.

The plane rumbled slightly as it touched down onto the runway. Woah, that had been a short flight. It felt so much shorter than the usual 6 hours from California to New York. She was glad, of course. That meant she got to see Percy sooner.

The trip through the airport was easy, as usual. Annabeth loved airports. They made sense- everything had a direction and a purpose. If only the rest of the world could be like that.

“Annabeth!” a voice yelled from across the taxi lane as she walked out the building’s doors. It was Percy’s voice. She scurried across the street towards him, dodging taxis and other people along the way.

. . .

“Are you sure you want to take that train?” Percy asked as Annabeth strutted to the nearest subway entrance. They had just gotten off the Staten Island Ferry and were now on their way back to the Jackson’s apartment.

“Yes, I’m sure. The map says it’ll take us north,” she asserted.

“Sure it will,” Percy muttered, stopping in his tracks behind her.

Annabeth had to refrain from blowing smoke out her nostrils. He had been doing this for the past hour- critiquing her navigation choices and acting like he knew better. Which he did, but Annabeth wouldn’t admit that.

She knew she was right this time. The sign by the stairs said the train ended up in Brooklyn. Brooklyn was north of here. Right? Annabeth couldn’t quite remember, but if she had learned anything from her quests it was that sometimes you have to take a leap of faith and see where that gets you. And she wasn’t about to ask Percy for directions.

Annabeth began down the dirty concrete stairs. She reached the platform and the voices around her started to echo off the stone walls. Suddenly, someone yanked on her arm, pulling her back up the step she just left. She turned to look as Percy pulled her up the stairs, weaving in between the dozens of people crowding around them. A man muttered a curse word at her as she bumped into him.

“That train will take us out of Manhattan, in the opposite direction of my place,” Percy said as they reached street level.

Well that’s not where she wanted to go. Maybe Brooklyn wasn’t where she thought it was.

“You could have said something sooner,” Annabeth hissed. “Maybe before I got all the way underground.”

“But you so clearly knew where you were going! I didn’t want to interrupt,” Percy spoke, the sarcasm heavy in his voice.

Annabeth huffed. Sometimes he was insufferable.

After a minute they arrived at an intersection full of cars moving in all directions.

“So if you know the way so much better than me, what street do we take?” she asked sourly.

“This one.” He pointed to the left.

Annabeth was hesitant to trust his sense of direction at first, but by the time they made it back to the Jackson’s apartment with no more trouble she was reminded once again that Percy’s much smarter than he looks. And it doesn’t hurt that he’s spent his entire life in the city.

#Percy's pov is always so fun for me to write #percy jackson #annabeth chase #percabeth #percy jackson fanfic #percy jackson fanfiction #annabeth chase fanfic #annabeth chase fanfiction #percabeth fanfic #percabeth fanfiction #pjo #pjo fandom #pjo series #pjo fanfic #pjo fanfiction #The Battle of the Labyrinth #the titan's curse #new york city #sally jackson

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1kook · 4 years

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skirt chasers - drabble i

a skirt chasers drabble bc they are my fave fictional couple to date <333

tags: coupley and domestic, jk’s terrible attempts at seducing via text, making out, dry humping, spitting (ik idk what came over me), too much talking for this to be sexual pero hey here we are wc: like 3k

entirely based off jungkook from bv3 that man had NO right to look that good and the holy jirkenstocks (jungkook birkenstocks). wont lie this has been completely written in my drafts since November (yes 2019) and i hoarded it under the belief i would make this a whole part 2 which i did not

que dios los bendiga <3

Much to everyone’s dismay, Jungkook’s spring break in Vegas with the boys is cut three days short when Jimin’s dog sitter suddenly cancels, citing a case of homesickness as enough cause to abruptly go home. When you first hear news of this, you’re preparing yourself for the return of a mopey, useless Jungkook, too drained from four glorious days in Las Vegas to carry on. What you’re not expecting is the mysterious text he sends you before boarding a five hour flight with no service (he was cheap).

kook still on vegas lockdown. Have that pussy ready when i get home

“The fuck does that mean?” Chaeyoung is the first to see the message, your screen lighting up on the kitchen counter beside you as you scrub through a mountainous pile of dishes. You try to play it off, after all, Chaeyoung had seen parts of you you hadn’t even seen, but there was no worse embarrassment than having your homegirls see your clown of a boyfriend’s ridiculousness. “He’s so romantic,” she swoons, and you shoo her away from the offending device as you wipe your hands down on your t-shirt.

you for what?? One 20 second round 🤥

Chaeyoung suddenly cackles from over your shoulder, and you swear your soul leaves your body.

You don’t get a response until exactly five hours and thirteen minutes later, your phone vibrating like crazy on the edge of your bathtub, and if you hadn’t given it a hearty kick and sent it flying across the room, front screen shattering into the most intricate spider web of glass shards, it would have fallen into the water. The terror.

kook pls pick me up

kook also haha. U r soooo funny 😑

You’re halfway to the airport, idly sitting in traffic and giving the public a free, Beyonce-like experience of The Script’s Breakeven, when you realize you’re not wearing any pants. You’re not exactly sure which part of Jungkook’s long t-shirt had tricked you into believing you were decently dressed, but you’re not too mad. After all, Jungkook’s trip with the boys had been a last minute decision that did not take into consideration your never-ending thirst for your boyfriend, so a little payback never hurt anybody.

He’s sitting on top of his suitcase outside the airport when you get there, cute Birkenstock-clad feet swinging back and forth as he waits for you like the good boy he is. He crouches down by the passenger window, “Uh, yeah, is this the Uber?”

You can’t even bother hiding the smile that consumes your face, and it only grows tenfold when he finally gets in and immediately leans over the center console to kiss you. “Look who’s finally back from their little bachelor party,” you murmur, eyes lidded dangerously low when he breaks away.

“Oh, the party where I accidentally sleep away my life-savings to a stripper named Aries and then have to go home and beg for my wife’s forgiveness?” He responds immediately, devious pink tongue swiping out to lick at your bottom lip.

You snort. “Joke’s on you, because our hot pool boy kept me company and treated me better in four days than my husband had in six years,” you mumble, finger looping into the silver chain around his neck to pull him close again.

“Not our hot pool boy,” he whines, smile pressed adorably to your lips.

You almost retort, but a ten-second horn blast from the car behind you has the two of you jumping three feet from each other, like teenagers caught making out in the school parking lot.

Just as you’d predicted via text, Jungkook barely has the energy to walk up the steps to your apartment, much less fuck you like he’d promised. “Fuck, stop being healthy and let us take the elevator,” he grunts, pushing his suitcase onto the final platform leading to your floor.

“Nope,” you concede. “The stairs give me a good view of your ass going up.”

He shoots you a scandalized look, like you’re an old man who’d just catcalled him on the street. “Pretty sure that’s my line.”

It’s when you’re unlocking the front door, sending out a little prayer to the heavens (Chaeyoung) for the blessing of an empty apartment, that he notices your lack of proper clothing. “Oh, hell no,” he groans, immediately crowding you against the armchair nearest the door.

You laugh, struggling to turn to face him as he nuzzles his face into your neck. “What seems to be the problem?”

He sighs against the shell of your ear, and you’d be a liar to say it didn’t send a gush of wetness to your core. Jesus, just a single puff of air from Jungkook was enough to turn your coochie into a Fruit Gusher. “Not your sexy legs again,” he whines, and you giggle when he presses those pouty lips to yours.

“Thought I was supposed to have this pussy ready for you,” you tease, tilting your head up until your noses brush against each other. Jungkook lets a soft huff of a sigh go, eyes fluttering shut at your close proximity.

There’s a hand that creeps along the back of your thigh, fingers pressing into the soft skin until he finally guides it upwards, hitched over his hip. The new position has your body curving backwards, tilted over the edge of the couch as he continues crowding closer and closer to you. “Baby,” he whines, and the tone and sudden usage of your favorite nickname wipes the teasing smile off your face. “I missed you so much,” he purrs, in that tone that says he knows he has you under his complete control, all he has to do is take care of you.

Still, you try to put up some sort of a fight. “I’m sure your eyes were kept entertained in Vegas,” you retort weakly, not even bothering to hide the jealousy in your tone.

Jungkook laughs, before puckering his lips and smothering you. Instantly, you throw your arms around his broad shoulders to pull him closer. His hair tickles your face from how long it’s gotten, and when you brush it back, collecting it into a makeshift baby ponytail, you can’t even enjoy the sight because Jungkook is pressing his rock hard member against your inner thigh.

“You think I’m a cheater?” He muses when he finally pulls away, a little entranced by the saliva that coats your lips in a thin sheen. “Couldn’t be even if I wanted to.” Before you can ask what that even means, he’s hauling you into his arms, your legs wrapping around his tiny waist, his cock now cradled between your thighs, right where you want him most. You moan immediately, head lolling backwards at the touch you’d craved for days. “Feel that? No one gets my dick hard like you do, baby.”

Even though his adrenaline is on one hundred, and he’s clearly blinded by his lust, Jungkook still sets you down on the bed like you’re made of glass. Any comments you may have made are smothered by his lips on yours, fingers gripping your waist like it’s the first time he’s ever touched you. When he pulls away, his eyes are dark and his breath is a little heavy where it fans against the lower half of your face.

“So pretty,” he huffs, rolling his hips against yours. You groan, eyes rolling back as the familiar feeling of your boyfriend between your legs consumes you. Jungkook presses his mouth against the skin of your neck, where the faintest sheen of sweat had begun to form the moment you unlocked the front door.

If you thought you were loud, the sounds leaving Jungkook’s throat are teetering on the edge between a pornstar and a yodelling-enthusiast. You can’t help the smirk crossing your features. “Are you really gonna come?”

Jungkook was many things, and drama queen was definitely very high on that list. He gives you the most scandalized expression, stopping the movement of his hips to scoff. “As if,” he snorts, but you know that little eyebrow furrow a little too well.

You snort, reaching down to his sides as you try to discreetly urge him to start up again. “Baby, your jaw is twitching,” you point out, a soft whine leaving your lips when he shifts your leg up. It’s this same sound that has him finally moving again.

“Yeah, well,” he groans, one hand deathly gripping into your hip now, pressing you down onto the bed so hard you feel the comforter will swallow you up any minute now. “I just got my wisdom teeth removed, ‘member?”

Your retort is briefly cut off by the cry you let out when he ducks down to suck a mark beneath your jaw. “M-Months ago,” you weakly respond,

Jungkook ignores you in favor of using his Hulk strength to fold you in half, groans borderline animalistic as he grinds his cock into your soaked panties. His jaw is tight like you’d said, but you can tell he’s holding himself back. He hated coming before you, seldom doing it unless it was one of those rare days where he wanted you to pamper him.

“Fuck,” he grunts, swallowing your pitiful whines before pushing his tongue down your throat. There was something sexy about your boyfriend being so turned on that his saliva production was off the charts. “You’re gonna ask me to do that thing again, aren’t you?” He predicts.

All you can do is nod, and Jungkook smirks. “Ah,” he says, much like a doctor would, and you comply, mouth wide. You see the muscles beneath his jaw twitch, and a moment later he’s leaning over you with puckered lips, a glob of saliva begging to drip down.

The moan that catches in your throat has him smiling, tongue peeking out to cut the bridge of saliva that connected the two of you, and you want to tell him you love him, but then he’s raising his eyebrows at you, motioning for you to swallow, so you do. “Absolutely filthy,” he grins, and then returns to thrusting against you.

As much as you liked to tease him, he’s good at fulfilling the sexual aspects of his boyfriend role, and he guides you to your orgasm moments later. Of course, he does so by toying with your tits just the way you like, lips pressed firmly to yours as you become a boneless heap beneath him. “That’s it, pretty baby,” he murmurs, pressing one final kiss to your lips before he’s shifting back onto his haunches, tugging you closer until the backs of your knees are cradled carefully in his elbows.

Despite your transcended state, you love watching Jungkook get himself off, and your eyes flutter as you watch him thrust sloppily against your soiled panties. They’re soaked by your own arousal, and had Jungkook’s sweats not been as dark as they were, you’re almost certain you’d see how they stained.

He comes a moment later, body twitching and fingers tightening against your skin. His chest heaves, head lolling back as he tries to regain his senses. Silence envelopes the room.

“Do you wanna talk about it?” You blurt, no longer able to pretend like something isn’t completely wrong.

Jungkook rolls his neck out, a satisfying crack resounding, as he angles to look at you again. His tongue is poking against his cheek in that cocky way it does sometimes, and he furrows his brows at you. “What?”

You shuffle up onto your elbows, motioning towards him with the vaguest wave possible. He blinks. You groan.

“What did you do?” You question, and immediately his eyes go wide and shiny in that way they do when you’re reprimanding him and he doesn’t see the wrong in his ways.

Cute little lips forming a pout he remains as confused. “Nothing? We really just went to fuck around and get drunk—“

“Kook.”

“You don’t actually think I cheated, I thought we were just joking? Unless…” he trails off, doe eyes suddenly filled with fear. “You weren’t?”

“Jungkook—“

He intercepts you, “did you do something while I was gone? Who was he? Or she? Wow,” he huffs to himself in disbelief. “I don’t even know you well enough to know if you’re into more than just men.” The frown on his face is getting deeper with each word he utters and you almost can’t believe how dumb he could be. “No wonder… am I a terrible boyfriend?” He asks, voice louder and more concerned than it’s been all night.

“What the fuck are you even talking about?” You say, and Jungkook looks just as lost by your response as you are with his. “Because I’m talking about whatever this is,” you explain, reaching up to drag a hand through his dual-colored locks.

They’d been carefully tucked under his bucket hat when you’d picked him up, a tuft of blonde peeking out from in front of his ear. It wasn’t until he’d tipped you over the side of the couch that it had tumbled off. Of course, at the time, there had been other pressing matters at hand than wondering why your Hannah Montana blonde boyfriend had returned as Todoroki, which is why you’d waited until now to revisit the topic.

Jungkook doesn’t move for a solid ten seconds. Then, as if processing the emotional episode he’d just given you, he gives you a sheepish smile. It’s one of those smiles where his lips press together thinly and cutely and the apples of his cheeks seem like the squishiest things in the world. “Oh…” he says, voice soft and nothing like the man that spit in your mouth five minutes ago. “You like it?”

#jungkook smut #jeon jungkook smut #kpopwonderlandtag #ksmutclub #bts smut #jjk smut #mine #what did i even use to tag with lolol #sc universe #skirtverse #skirtfic

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gumnut-logic · 3 years

Text

Callisto (Incident - Bit 2)

Prologue | Incident - Bit 1 | Bit 2

Okay, I have now written over 6000 words of this fic and completed Part One. An attempt to start Part Two has led me to the realisation that I need to complete the Prologue as originally planned and not leave it cut off like I have (I was going to tell the story throughout the fic, but have since decided to restrict it to the Prologue). So, Expect a re-publication of the Prologue with more story in it :D Such is the way of this fic. Lots of rewriting, which is why this post is not 6000 words long, but just another bit of the whole as I work my way through it.

And yes, it turned out more complicated than expected. Don’t they always, but it has been so much fun.

Many, many continuing thanks to @tsarinatorment @scribbles97 and @janetm74 for the buckets of support they have been providing me with. Like a lot. This is a big project.

Anyways, here be a little bit more (about 1200 words). I hope you enjoy it :D

-o-o-o-

“Heads up, Thunderbird One.”

Scott raised his eyes as Tracy Island came into view, relief after a long morning and the option of lunch foremost on his mind.

A shower would be heaven.

“Thunderbird Five?”

John’s hologram was apologetic. “Dad wants to see you in the lounge immediately. Both you and Virgil.”

A blink. “What? Why?” Lunch took a step back.

Damnit.

“Unknown.” A sigh over comms. “Visual check, I suspect.”

Scott’s shoulders dropped even as he shifted One into vertical flight. “FAB, Thunderbird Five.”

Virgil. It had to be Virgil. Dad was still sensitive to any and all injury in the field. It was understandable, but at the same time, unavoidable.

Admittedly, Scott wanted to set his eyes on his engineer brother just to make sure he was still in one piece. After all, half a mountain had nearly landed on him.

It wasn’t the first time.

Virgil seemed to specialise in getting himself buried.

As One slid past the balcony, his father stood one hand on his cane, the other behind his back, ramrod straight, staring out at the Thunderbird.

Scott poked his comms. “Virg, you better be in one piece or Dad is going to roast your ass.”

Scott eyed his monitor, tracking Two’s progress back to the Island. Perhaps it was a reflection of his own concern, but Scott had held back on his return speed, more comfortable to keep within a safe distance of his brother.

A grunt over comms. “Minor bruising, Thunderbird One. As reported earlier.”

Scott grunted back.

At least he could understand their father’s need to see them in one piece.

One’s gantry carried the Thunderbird deep into the mountain, sliding her smoothly into her hangar as always. She sighed and settled as he flicked through post-flight.

God, he wanted that shower.

He climbed out of his seat as dried mud flaked off his uniform, and let the pilot retrieval system retract. A set of stairs, an elevator later and he was walking across the comms room. “Dad, you wanted to see me?”

Grey eyes raked him from above his father’s desk. “Debrief.”

Scott closed his eyes a second. “Dad, I really need a shower.” Shower before mission breakdown. It was an unspoken rule. It gave them the moment alone to gather wits and straighten out stories.

And left less dirt in the lounge.

His father leant a little further onto his cane, the thunderbird carved into the acacia wood catching the light. “We will wait for Virgil.”

Scott let his shoulders drop. Off to his right he absently noted Gordon with an armful of rubbish. Scott frowned. Those chocolate bar wrappers looked very familiar. He narrowed his eyes and took a step towards his little brother.

Gordon’s eyes widened and he darted out of reach, scampering over to the far side of the lounge.

Lips thinning, Scott glared at him and the resultant expression from his brother could only be called smirking guilt.

Damnit, he had been looking forward to those.

He let his shoulders drop and turned his back on Gordon, stepping out towards the balcony.

There were more important things.

Two was on approach, Virg wouldn’t be too long. Debrief as brief as it could be, then shower and food.

A flicker. “International Rescue, we have a situation.”

Oh, for the love of-

He turned to find John hovering in the middle of the room as expected, a worried frown on his face. His eyes bounced between Scott and his father. “Scott, it’s from Callisto.”

He stared at his brother. “Callisto?” His brain immediately started calculating flight times.

Hell.

The Jovian outpost was at the extreme of human endeavour, bar their trip to the Oort cloud. He, himself, had signed the grant forms that had seen the final boost from Tracy Industries to get the program into space and onto Jupiter’s second largest moon.

His father was frowning at him.

Scott straightened. “Details, John?”

“I have Graeme Walters on the line. Both directors of the expedition have gone missing.”

A blink as his heart sunk. “Both? How?”

“Apparently they were on an explorative foray and simply disappeared. Two days ago.”

Aw, hell.

John’s eyes darted to his father.

Jeff must have sensed something in the air because his eyes narrowed. “What don’t I know?”

John sighed. “Dad, the directors of the Callisto Expedition are Kate Berrenger and Ju Zhang.”

-o-o-o-

Virgil stepped off Two’s hatch and groaned. Today had been a long one and it was only halfway through. He flexed his left arm, rubbing the ache of bruises up and down it from that last landslide. Mud flaked off everywhere. He needed to have words with Mother Nature. Land-sliding over a village was one thing, but dumping more on the poor rescuers desperately trying to get a family out of the mess already created was just unfair.

And it hurt.

He hadn’t lied to his brothers; it was just bruising. He had scanned it to make sure. But Scott and probably Dad would still want to check on him and smother a little.

Scott, he was used to. Dad, he worried about. It was understandable, of course, but Virgil was concerned that their father was fretting too much about his sons to stay mentally healthy. There was an ‘out of sight, may never see them again’ vibe that had Virgil poking at texts on PTSD and speaking to Grandma in the late hours at night.

It was a circle of anxiety.

Stepping into the elevator, he rested his head against the cool metal wall and closed his eyes. There had also been a very early morning and definitely not enough coffee to compensate.

Shower, food and, if he was lucky, maybe a snooze by the pool. Either that or a bucket of coffee to drown his exhaustion in.

Almost as if fate heard that thought, the elevator doors opened to the lounge and an argument.

A big one.

“No, Dad. No way.”

“I was not asking your permission. This is my decision.”

Virgil skirted around the stone wall, past Gordon’s aquarium, and was confronted by the two eldest men in the family mirror-imaging each other’s glares.

Gordon stood in the sunken lounge beside John’s hovering hologram and both were staring, eyes wide, up at Scott and their father as they confronted each other.

“Dad, there is no way you meet the medical requirements for a space mission like this. Alan and I will go.”

“I have the experience-“

“No!”

Virgil flinched. There was more in that single word than a command decision. Virgil could hear the fear in his brother’s heart.

Dad raised his voice. “As I said, this is not your decision. It is mine.”

“As the Commander of International Rescue, it is my call.” Scott shifted his stance, his shoulders firming up as he pushed himself to his full height.

But Dad didn’t need height.

Dad was Dad.

His cane tapped the floor sharply. “Not this time, son.” The word ‘son’ was obviously aimed at putting Scott in his place.

Scott glared at his father. Virgil figured that the only reason he had paused was because this was his father. A brother would have been steamrolled by now and anyone else positively flattened.

Instead...

“It’s not safe!” It was a true statement, but Virgil read it more as ‘I can’t lose you again!’

It was echoed in his own heart.

Dad’s voice softened slightly. “Humanity never got anywhere by taking it easy.”

“But you’ve already given too much!”

And Virgil was moving, striding up beside his brother, a hand landing on Scott’s shoulder as he bodily intervened between the two. He fixed his glare on his parent.

“What the hell is going on?”

-o-o-o-

#thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds #thunderbirds fanfiction #Scott Tracy #Virgil Tracy #Jeff Tracy #callisto

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pl-panda · 4 years

Text

The vines that bind us - Chapter 2

Chapter 1 || Next

-----

Until a trip to Gotham came knocking on the front doors

“I can’t believe Lie-la of all people managed to somehow get us the trip to Gotham!” Mari moaned with a mixed expression on her face.

Adrien, who was walking next to them, showed absolute disgust. “Technically, It was my father and I that did the heavy lifting. She really wanted to go to the Wayne Gala and…”

“What Lie-la wants, Lie-la gets.” The three finished in unison before laughing a bit.

“Don’t worry Mari-bear. I can promise you that this no good liar won’t get to ruin your return home.” Chloe pulled her best friend closer. Best friend. Much better than a servant. Who would’ve thought? “And we can even try to find your mom on free Saturday.”

“Yeah…” The girl with black-blue hair didn’t seem particularly cheerful at that.

“Now I refuse to have you making sad faces throughout the whole flight. You cheer up right this moment and that’s an order!” The blonde commanded.

“Yes, Maman-bear.” Mari giggled.

The three of them finally arrived at the rest of the class, who were already gathered around madame Bustier. Of course, Lila was bragging about a million different things, but the three paid her no mind. Adrien did his best to hide behind the girls, cherishing the last moments of freedom. Finally, Mari and Chloe had to step forward for their tickets. The blonde got hers without any problem, but for Mari there turned out to be none.

“I’m so so sorry Marinette!” Lila said with fake regret. “I must have accidentally miscounted the number of students… It must’ve been when I was helping those poor orphans. You know, at…”

“Sure…” Mari didn’t even try to act as if she believed her for a moment. When Lila scowled, realizing that it didn’t affect the girl, she smiled. “I guess Chlo, Adrien and I will have to go with the contingency plan number 1.”

“What?!” The sausage-hair shouted.

“Of course my Daddy would not send us to travel like peasants. We have tickets for the first class.” Chloe supplied, looking smugly. “We did plan to maybe sit with the rest of the class. What a shame…”

“Yeah, My dad also didn’t want me to travel anything less, but I convinced him to let me stay with my friends. Guess he will get what he wanted in the end.” For his part, Adrien at least tried to look apologetic. He didn’t try hard at all, but it’s the thought that counts, right?

“But… But…” Lila tried to come up with something, likely a lie, to counter it. She didn’t have time as the trio handed their teacher the filled forms from their parents/guardians/Nathalie and proceeded to the plane. The tickets were personal, so she couldn’t do anything. The Italian girl came up with a lie to tell to the class, but it would do no good until they landed.

--------

“Did you see her face?” Plagg was rolling in the air while holding a giant roll of camembert.

“You were amazing my queen.” Pollen complimented.

“I still can’t believe your dad just… bought out the whole first class!” Marinette sighed.

“Phi! Daddy always gives me only the best. You should know it by now, Mari-bear.”

“Okay. Mari. You are the Gotham expert here. Any advice?” Adrien asked a bit more seriously.

“Gotham survival guide is probably unlike any other city.” She started. “The first rule is, believe it or not, run away if a person laughs too much or smiles too widely. The downside of living in the same city as the Joker is that most people don’t laugh in public. Secondly, never show that you are lost. Wherever you are, it’s exactly where you wanted to be. Finally, the third is to never flaunt your wealth.” She looked critically at Chloe before taking away her purse and lipstick in a golden case. “This,” She then pulled a mobile phone in a ridiculously sparkly case and popped it out of the cover, “this,” finally, she detached the golden chain on which the purse was supposed to be suspended and replaced it with a pre-prepared white one with copper clips, “and this must all go away.”

“Ridiculous! Utterly Ridiculous! Now it will totally clash with my comb!” Chloe complained.

“Oh no! How will you ever survive that?” Mari deadpanned. All three of them had another burst of laughter. After they calmed, Adrien started.

“Do you think it’s wrong that I want to bet which rule will Lila break first?”

“Ten macaroons she will say out-loud about money.” Mari threw.

“I raise, four tea parties she will start by asking for direction.” Chloe had a grin on her face

“Are you sure?” Adrien asked. When the blonde nodded, he shrugged. “Movie night and double popcorn bowl refill that she will do both in one conversation.”

“Hi, could you be so kind to point me to my exclusive hotel? You know, I’m staying at the penthouse of this luxurious new one.” Mari gave a quite good parody of Lilia.

“So to sum up, the pool is now ten Macaroons, Four Tea parties, and movie night with triple popcorn?” Chloe asked. When they nodded, she quickly noted it on her phone.

“Now, who wants a movie? I think they have the newest Thomas Astruck one.” Adrien pulled a disc from the container next to his seat.

“Good for me!/Go!” The girls said. Chloe, who was in the middle loaded it and the other two leaned onto her to watch together. The three were happy. Faintly in the background, there was knocking on the doors to their part, but nobody paid attention to very angry Liela and some classmates. For some reason, the doors were stuck and the blinder rolled down. Later if someone asked, Pollen would deny everything.

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

When the plane landed, the class was practically kicked out. The team walked calmly down the stairs, all of them having smug expressions. Lila wanted to comment, but a glare from Mme. Bustier shut her up quickly. Mari and co. would later try to guess, what got the crew so pissed at their classmates.

Once everyone was accounted for, the class made its way to the customs to retrieve their luggage. There was a small problem with Mari’s travel bag as it was apparently misplaced to the flight to Timbuktu, but luckily her true suitcase, which had her things inside, arrived safely. She giggled at the thought of custom office in Timbuktu receiving a bag full of Adrien’s old socks that smelled camembert.

Overall, the airport went mostly unproblematic. At least until they found themselves cleared and gathered in one place while Mme Bustier left to check on their bus. One of the men, wearing a dark blue suit started to laugh almost maniacally. Everybody immediately cleared away from him, out of sheer self-preservation. Lila must’ve decided that a show of kindness was a good way to regain class’ good grace. She was confidently approaching the man before suddenly Mari grabbed her and pulled her away. The designer might’ve despised the liar, but Joker… you don’t mess with Joker.

Of course, Lila used the chance. She faked falling on the ground and started crying crocodile tears. “Marinette?! How can you be so heartless? I wanted *sniff* to check on the man and you trip me?” Lila sniffled, eyes watering with crocodile tears.

“I might have saved your life genius!” Mari snapped. Joker was a really touchy subject with her. “Does the world Killer Clown mean something?”

“Don’t invent things, you bully!” Alya shouted. That seemed to break the dam and at once the class started to say awful things to Mari. A year ago, it would hurt her. Half a year ago, she would be sad. Now? Now she pitied them. Chloe didn’t, and she was ready to jump to protect her best friend.

“Ridiculous! Do you like… share a single brain cell? What if that man was…” she didn’t get to finish because Mme. Bustier returned. The commotion immediately calmed. By now the man stopped laughing and returned to talking with his friends.

“The bus is waiting. Come on children. Follow me.”

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

Arriving at the hotel, the class was split into different rooms. Of course, Lila tried to lie her way into some privilege, but Mari was too dead inside to care. The Jet Lag was killing her. At least she got some sleep on the plane. From the rumors she heard from the class, they didn’t because of Lila’s drama with the staff.

“Now I want you all to be ready here at eight a.m. sharp. A Wayne Enterprises representative will come here to explain the details of internships.” Mme. Bustier instructed them. This, for some reason, caused outrage in students.

“What do you mean internships?!”

“Wayne Enterprises?”

“Shouldn’t we be preparing to go to Gotham Academy or something?”

The terrible trio in the back had trouble holding back laugher. Adrien warned the girls about what his father planned, so they could all prepare. Gabriel Agreste, devious as he is, decided to punish Lila and teach Adrien something about running a company at the same time and using his connections to put the class up for an internship at WE. He did send the liar all the details, but she must have skimmed over the corporate jargon because the class was fed overexaggerated stories about what they would and wouldn’t do during two months trip.

Most parents were more than happy to send their children away from Paris for two months, especially since the Internship was free and the employment rate after it was quite high. WE kept quite a lot of the interns, if only out of habit. But perhaps it was mostly because the class has become a go-to place for the Akuma. Only Mr. Pidgeon and perhaps Gigantitan were akumatized more often. Mari actually picked up to cleansing their class weekly through a ritual she learned, otherwise there would be enough residual dark energy to power a demon portal. Not something one would want in the middle of a classroom.

“I was told you’ve all read the brochure provided and Lila summarised it for you.”

“I did!” The sausage hair defended. “Marinette must have told them some imaginary story about the trip!”

Immediately, several other people started to nod and confirm this. Chloe actually started to walk toward the liar almost red, but Mari grabbed the back of her blazer and held her in place. All the while she had a completely deadpan expression like it was normal for her (it was).

Mme. Bustier sighed. “Well, In that case, I will…”

“Excuse me, but shouldn’t we be going to sleep today already? We don’t want to be late tomorrow.” Adrien asked with an innocent expression, but there was some satisfaction hidden there too.

“Well… um… I…”

“We will be going then.” Chloe grabbed the key and led Mari to their room. Calline didn’t even question it. She wanted a pay raise after this.

-----------

The next morning, Mari was woken by a frantic Chloe

“Mari-bear! It’s already late! You don’t want to be late for your first day of Internship girl! It would be utterly Ridiculous!”

At first, the girl mumbled something, but once she finally processed everything she leaped out of her bed and started getting ready in record time. She was brushing her teeth, packing her purse, and tossing clothes at her best friend all at once. Once she had everything, she turned to see Chloe on the ground tied with a gray blazer. Mari just burst out laughing.

“How…”

“Ridiculous!” Chloe shook her head. “I demand you untie me this instant! We don’t have time for this!”

Once they dressed and did their hair, both girls were ready. Chloe now had a black button-down shirt, deep red blazer, and a matching pencil skirt. Mari also made her wear smart black stilettos (instead of her usual that were slightly more extravagant). The look was completed by a tablet in leather flip-over cover. Mari had a similar outfit, except her shirt was white and the suit was in dark blue. She opted for flat shoes to spare the embarrassment that was Marigold on heels.

“Ready to rock Gotham City?”

“Like you have to ask.” Mari smiled. There was something about the city of crime that made her feel safe and open up more. Maybe being on home turf gave her the much-needed confidence boost.

When Chloe tried to open the doors, she found them stuck. She was about to go on a rant about poor quality when Mari casually grabbed the doorknob and twisted it. There was a faint creaking sound as the mechanism gave.

“Um…”

“It must’ve been old,” Chloe said with a devious grin. “Nothing happened. Don’t you worry! I will deal with it.”

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

When the doors to the elevator opened and two girls strode into the lobby, their class was already pushing toward the exit. Adrien looked very much uncomfortable with Lila hanging off his arm, literally sinking her claws into him. He mouthed them a muted ‘later’. Alya stared at the girls with loathing.

“Ah, you are here.” Mme. Bustier spoke. “Lila said…”

“Whatever.” Chloe dismissed their teacher. “Aren’t we in rush?” The blonde practically seethed the last word.

“Yes, good to see that someone is responsible.” The teacher gave Mari a pointed look. Apparently, she still didn’t get over the fact that she resigned from the class rep position.

“But…”

“Drop it. She is not worth it.” Chloe whispered. “Daddy will take care of that once we are done.”

Mari just nodded. She knew Chloe was preparing a lawsuit against the school, but their hands were tied until they graduated or Damocles could try and undermine it. Both girls knew that no adult would help them with the lawsuit beyond Chloe’s father signing whatever dotted line she asked him to. That man was more whipped than a fresh can of whipped cream.

The ride to the WE was short and uneventful. Girls took up to gossiping in English, effectively limiting any eavesdropping. Mari spent most of the time tearing down the outfits of all the villains. She started with Riddler, more as a joke than actual rant, but then she somehow got onto this new guy Anarky. From there, she just kept on, smoothly sailing from one to the next. Even her mom got some shots. Mari still couldn’t stand how skimpy it was. Her rant carried over when they exited the bus and entered the WE. Security led them to a conference room, where they were told to take seats.

Mari guessed that it wouldn’t be Lila if she didn’t immediately start sputtering lies about how well she knew the building already because of her Damiboo giving her private tours (All while clutching Adrien like a leech). She didn’t have enough ducks left to give to try to expose Lila about several facts. Such as that Damian Wayne definitely wasn’t living with Bruce when he was five. Any Gothamite could tell her that. Bored, she returned to her rant.

She was nearing the end of the list and was very much engaged in complimenting Harley Queen for her recent change in wardrobe. She still considered it a disaster, but at least it was somehow human.

“Ekhm…” A voice broke her out of the rant. “Good morning. My name is Richard Grayson. You are the french class chosen for the internship program, correct?” When people nodded, he continued. Idly, Mari noted that Alya and Lila stiffened and suddenly stopped talking at all. “We reviewed the individual profiles and appointed each of you a mentor that will help you settle into your roles. As I read the names, please come forward so I can update your badges. Do carry them on your person all the time or we will have to take you to our human cloning facility.”

People stared at him.

“Okaaay… That’s that about jokes…” He sighed. “The rules will be explained by individual departments. Now, who’s up for a tour?”

People started to cheer at that and Dick smiled. Maybe it wouldn’t be that bad?

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

It was that bad. Even worse. He knew from the background check that the class was both insanely talented… and borderline criminal. It was like someone de-aged the Rogues and put them in one class. The report called them Akuma class, which (if google is to be believed) meant demons. He questioned how they got accepted into the internship.

They only toured two floors when Dick wanted to tear half of them to shreds. He noted immediately that they were bullying the girl with black (slightly blue? Maybe it was dyed?) hair. What surprised him was that the teacher didn’t react. If he was to be honest, the girl and her friend slightly irritated him too. They kept talking and seemed to ignore him. It was not because they kept tearing down each and every bats’ fashion choices. Definitely not that. When they brought up Discowing he had enough.

“Ekhm. Excuse me, girls,” he stared at them. Both immediately stopped talking and looked at him. “Could you pay attention? I wouldn’t want any of you to waste your internship lost on our maze-testing floor.”

“There is no maze-testing floor in this building.” The blonde pointed out.

“And besides, we memorized all you’ve said.”

“Care to recall?” He heard several people groan at his pun.

“The first floor is most representative, where guests are welcome and low-level meetings happen. There is a separate kitchen for employers there that is always fresh on fruits. Don’t use the coffee machine there as it was only patched up and there is a high chance it will set itself on fire again. The…”

“Fine. You’re good. Still, I don’t appreciate the chatter.”

“They are always trouble!” A girl in bright pink colors shouted.

“Yeah! Why do you have to ruin this trip for Lila!?”

“You’re just jealous of her boyfriend!”

More voices like this came from the crowd of kids. Dick started to feel bad that he singled the girls out. It definitely gave the class a reason to gang up on them. And the teacher still did nothing! He sighed. What did HR think when they accepted them. He would have to look into it later.

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

Mari decided that she didn’t like Dick. Everyone in their class kept talking, but for some reason, he singled them out. For the rest of the trip, she made sure to pay as much attention as she could. There was this silent determination on her face. Chloe wisely also kept silent.

After the trip class was led back to the conference room where another employer handed out the identificators and folders containing their assignments.

“Keep the IDs on you at all times. As opposed to the ones you received, this won’t expire and are synched with your jobs, so you will have access to anything you might need. They are also mandatory to receive lunch in our canteen. When you get acquainted with your tasks, you can go to the level specified at the end of sheet one. Your mentor will meet you there.” With that, he left. Dick really needed to do some in-depth research on this class. Something kept icking his detective sense.

“Well, I’m going to the law department. Apparently whoever made the assignments knew my well.” Chloe bragged to her friend after opening the folder.

Timidly, Mari also opened her folder. She skimmed over what was inside and groaned. “Apparently, I’m interning as personal assistant to one Tim Drake.”

“They actually assigned you to the sleep-deprived coffee addict?” Chloe asked in disbelief.

“You know him?” She asked in surprise

“He and his brother ruined my daddy’s parties two years ago. They got into an argument that ended up with them wrestling over a cake. It took me weeks to get the cake out of my hair! Weeks!” The blonde summarized.

“oh…” Mari tried to hold back the giggles.

“Don’t laugh! It’s a serious matter! Do you have any idea how much work it takes to have such a perfect hair?!”

“Of course… cakehead.” The girl couldn’t stop herself.

“Ugh, you… you… plant leg.” Chloe said.

“Really?” Mari raised an eyebrow. “That’s the best you can come with?”

“Well, I usually have better things to do than thinking about good insults.” Still, Chloe hugged her best friend. “Be careful. I wouldn’t put it past The Liar to try and sabotage you somehow.”

“I’ll be careful. Wish me luck.”

-----

The elevator took Mari all the way to the highest floor. When the doors opened, she stepped int a large room with one desk. As soon as the doors closed, the woman who was standing there rushed toward her. The girl tensed for a moment but she reminded herself that there is no real threat.

“Oh finally! I was asking them to hire someone else for months!” She had a messed bun of red hair on her head and looked like she didn’t sleep in a week.

“But… I’m just an intern madame!” Mari tried to explain.

“An intern?” The woman paused her packing and stared at the girl with wide eyes.

“Um… Madame Sarah Jackson?”

“Yes. An intern…” She said in a disappointed voice to herself. “Ah! That’s no problem at all!” She started to tap on her Waynetech Tablet and after a moment she smiled. “There! You’re hired!”

“Wha…?!” Mari shouted, but was interrupted when Sarah pushed the tablet into her hand, followed by a large box full of documents and a small mug with a coffee bean pointing a gun at the reader and words ‘Your Coffee or your life!’.

“They are your problem now! Everything you need is in the box. I left detail about ongoing stuff and whatever you might need. Don’t call. I’m outta here!” She shouted before grabbing her personal belonging and leaping into the elevator.

“But…! But…!?” Mari shouted after the closing doors. She could hear a cheerful shout as the elevator left the level.

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

#maribat #miraculous ladybug #maribat au #miraculous lb #batman #dc #mlb x dc #Marigold AU #Mother!Ivy

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333dolans · 4 years

Text

If By Chance // E.D

Summary: It’s been 2 years since she’d last seen him, what would happen if by chance they were to meet once more?

Tags: @rhyrhy462 @evergreendolan @dolansficsandpics @fangdolan @livexdolan @blindedbythelightt @baby-grayson @prettyboydolan @delightfuldolan @bingexdolan @sosweetgrethan @episkygrant @soledadgray @dolanissues @pineappledols @vinylhazza @hydrograyson @velvetdolan @baby-turtles @szadolans @cutestdolans @brockdolan @mercurygrant @abstractstardiva @guiltydols @blazedgraysons @blackpinkdolan @vintagedolan @babeygray @babey-gray @dolanpornhub @tadadolan @onlyyyariii @voidmalfoy @glossydols @nikesbailey @graysonsdol

If someone were to tell Aurora Beckett’s 12 year old self that by the time she was 20, she would of lost all contact with Ethan Dolan? She would of thought the notion to be absolutely absurd.

Since the first day of 4th grade when two identical boys approached her as she sat alone, leg bobbing up and down nervously and thumbs twirling together, the twins had decided then and there that she was going to be their best friend.

They wanted to make her feel included and seen. Although they knew all to well themselves how it feels to be alienated, they’d never been alone, always having each other. They swore that day she’d never feel alone again.

Ever since that day, they’d been true to their word. Endless amounts of movie nights, beach trips, late night snack runs. They had experienced so much of their teen years together. Aurora had caught herself gravitating more towards the older twin, finding a particular comfort in his vibrant presence. God knows she loves both of them with her whole heart and would drop everything in an instant for either of them, but there has seemingly always been something more between her and Ethan, just below the surface, yearning to be acknowledged. Yet here she was 11 years down the line, now having gone almost two years without so much as a hello from the only boy she’s ever been in love with.

When the twins turned 15, they decided to chase their growing career across the country from the state they’d all called home for so long. After a lot of tears and begging her best friends not to leave her behind, Aurora came around to their decision. She wanted nothing more than for them to be happy and if moving to Los Angeles meant they could follow their lifelong dream? She sure as hell wasn’t going to be the thing that stopped them, no matter how much it hurt her heart to wave them goodbye as they boarded the plane.

Everything had ran smoothly from there. They FaceTimed at every and any moment they could. They frequently flew back to Jersey for the holidays and birthdays, she would also fly out to California whenever she could. Her relationship with both twins remained strong and never once faltered.

That was until a certain twin began to drift, blaming it on meetings and work. This would of been a valid argument, were it not for Grayson, who confirmed that they in fact wouldn’t be busy when Ethan claimed to be swamped with business. It became very apparent that he was curving her, she just didn’t know nor could she understand why.

Was the new increase in fame getting to his head? He was always so grounded, so humble. Did he think he was above her now? Her superior? Maybe she wasn’t good enough for him? He’d always sworn her that she was the most important person in his life besides his family. These were the questions shed’d found herself asking every single day like a broken record.

Soon enough he’d dropped Aurora completely. She knew it was coming, she wasn’t naive, but it didn’t make it hurt any less when it did. Grayson kept contact as best he could, still asking to FaceTime at least once a month but she’d began to push him away. His face mirroring the boy she loathed but still craved so badly, it pained her to speak to Gray when his identical twin had caused her to cry herself to sleep most nights.

It had only been 4 months since she’d last spoken to Ethan when she discovered his sudden change of heart. The reason he’d ended their lifelong friendship? He’d met a girl. A gorgeous girl who Aurora later discovered to be called Arabella. He’d cut her off simply because he’d found a girlfriend? It didn’t make any sense.

But here she was now, sat on a 13 hour plane heading for the west coast. She couldn’t help but succumb to the memories pounding in her head, begging to fill her thoughts. All the times she’d been in this exact place making this journey, dying for the plane to hurry up and take her to the place she longed to be, wrapped up in Ethan’s arms. However, today she wouldn’t get to beeline towards the brown haired boy that filled her mind whilst awake and asleep. Today she would be picking up her rental car alone and driving towards her new start.

As she entered the door to her apartment, she found her racing mind instantly slowed. She already felt so much calmer in this place, it felt like home. Like this is where she was meant to be. She had received a promotion at her job, which happened to be located in the city of angels. Of course she accepted, the pay was incredible and she was never one to turn down the opportunity to travel and see the sights this amazing earth has to offer. It hadn’t even registered in her mind until just weeks before she was set to fly out that her once closest friends lived out there, now nothing but mere strangers.

She was just placing down the boxes after carrying them up the never ending flights of stairs that led to her new home, when she heard the notification. Reaching for her phone, expecting a text from her landlord, she was met with an all too familiar name.

From Grayson Dolan: Hey! I was just checking snap maps to see where the friend I’m meeting up with was and i saw your bitmoji. You’re in LA? Since when? For how long?

To Grayson Dolan: Hi G, I just moved out here for a promotion! I live here now i guess haha. We should grab coffee!

She didn’t know why she asked him to meet up, they hadn’t spoken in a long time and it would surely be awkward. Before she had time to overthink her decision too much, she received a reply.

From Grayson Dolan: Name the time and place and ill be there, I’ve missed you so much Rory.

To Grayson Dolan: Missed you more Grapeson!

From Grayson Dolan: Oh no we are not bringing that back.

To Grapeson🍇: Too late! Pick me up at 4 if you’re free?

From Grapeson🍇: See you soon love x

She couldn’t fight off the beaming smile that pulled at her lips. She’d be lying if she said she didn’t miss her best friend, after all he’d tried to keep contact. She’d let her feelings for Ethan get in the way of her friendship with Gray and ultimately lost one of the brightest lights the world had to offer. She’d be damned before she let herself mess that up again.

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rosesgonerogue · 4 years

Text

How to be a Dad 101

Chapter 2 - Villain Attack

Jasonette July Day 3

Masterlist

Marinette had thought that her years of being Rena Rogue would have improved Alya’s need for documenting dangerous situations, or at the very least her impulse control. As much as she loved her best friend, she was beginning to sincerely regret being cajoled into going to Gotham, of all places. A part of her couldn’t help but speculate whether of not Alya had been hoping that they’d end up in Crime Alley.

Jason was an unexpected bonus to their trip, though. None of them were quite sure what to think of the native Gothamite, but he did make an excellent tour guide. He was attentive, and surprisingly knowledgeable about the city’s history. Although he initially came off as angry and intimidating, he was also witty and attentive, especially to Marinette.

Okay, he was also hot. Like, absurdly hot. While Adrien was attractive, Jason was… Marinette didn’t know what words she could possibly use to describe just how broad his shoulders were, or how defined those muscles seemed. At one point he hugged her into his (very firm) chest so an inattentive biker didn’t hit her while they were crossing the street. She was grateful that he took the time to cuss them out, or he would have seen her face as red as her Ladybug suit. At another point when he took off his jacket and she saw his arms, she nearly choked on her spit.

She was dangerously close to relapsing into the Marinette of her teenage years, and that was the singularly worst outcome she could picture. Something about Jason made her feel… safe, protected.

The first day of their acquaintance with Jason was blessedly uneventful. Marinette was a little sad to bid him goodbye for good, but when he dropped them off at their hotel, he asked, “So what time should I be here tomorrow?”

A blush crept up Marinette’s face. “You don’t have to do that, really. We don’t want to bore you–“

He met her eyes, his own piercing. He was evaluating her, and based on his smirk, he liked what he saw. “I’ll be here at ten.” Jason raised a massive, strong hand to brush an errant strand of hair out of her eyes. “Gotham would eat you up, and we can’t have that.”

When he stepped away, Marinette almost collapsed on the spot. She knew her face was flaming red, but she managed to stammer, “W-Well, we’re going to have breakfast at the bakery just down the block at seven, but we’ll definitely be back by ten.”

“I guess that’s safe enough,” Jason said with that same smirk. “But no more wandering around Gotham, you got it?”

“S-Sure.”

Even though he had just vacated her personal space just a second ago, he leaned in close enough that his breath tickled her ear. “Sleep well, sweetcheeks.”

He left them standing in the hotel lobby, Marinette completely frozen. Before the boys could do or say anything, Alya grabbed her hand in an iron grip and hauled her up two flights of stairs to the room the two of them were sharing.

“What was that?” Alya demanded, closing the door with a bang.

Still dazed, Marinette collapsed onto the bed. “What was that?”

“Do you suddenly have a thing for bad boys now? I just… and how did we bump into him? He’s like the buffest man on the planet.”

“He called me sweetcheeks. Is that a good thing?” Marinette mumbled.

“Marinette, focus,” Alya said, shaking her best friend. “I’m worried.”

Finally Marinette made eye contact. “But he’s safe. He protected us.”

Emerging from her purse, Tikki settled on Alya’s head. “Marinette, I don’t think that’s what Alya is talking about.”

Sitting up, infinitely more level-headed than moments earlier, Marinette smiled softly, eyes holding a depth of sadness that should have been unfair for a twenty-year-old. “I know that nothing will happen between the two of us, we fly back to Paris in five days. But I just… I just want to be a normal girl for a week. I was fine with coming to Gotham because it meant I had a week to just be Marinette, not Ladybug, not MDC. For once I just want to let myself get caught up in my emotions – and if I end up hurt, that’s fine, because it means I’m allowed to feel again.”

Tikki and Alya shared glances with each other before Tikki spoke. “I guess I can understand that. But are you sure you can handle whatever happens, Marinette?”

“I’m a big girl, Tikki.”

“Besides, did you see those biceps? That alone almost makes up for anything he might do,” Alya said, fanning herself.

********

When morning rolled around, Marinette was the only one awake. Even Tikki was worn out from staying up entirely too late giggling about Jason and embarrassing Marinette with Alya’s help. Used to helping in the bakery every morning since she’d graduated, the lack of sleep was nothing to Marinette when she rolled out of bed and tied her hair up as per usual.

She was a little nervous about walking around Gotham alone, but Jason had dubbed this a safe part of town, and it was just at the end of the block. Her phone and her wallet were safely secured to her person, so she couldn’t be pick-pocketed either. Besides, even if something did happen, she had been Ladybug for years. Even without being transformed, Marinette had developed a number of self-defense skills on her own. It would be fine.

Getting to the bakery was no problem because, as previously stated, it was only a block away. The streets were fairly empty, and the weather was pleasant. She’d heard that Gotham was almost always storming, but she had yet to see any of that.

The bread was still warm in the bakery. Marinette was mostly curious about the differences between French and American bakeries, and she knew her parents were expecting a full report of any special items.

It didn’t seem like there was anything too different about the bakery except the various vigilante inspired pastries, and Marinette refused to bring that up – she didn’t need to see Ladybug bread everywhere she went. They actually had a far smaller selection than she was used to, but she’d heard that that was to be expected in America.

She ordered a bit of everything, and after deliberating a bit, she ordered a few extra Red Hood donuts. They were vaguely gun-shaped and filled with raspberry jelly. It seemed like the sort of thing that Jason would find amusing, and if not, there were plenty of other things for him to choose from and Adrien and Nino wouldn’t complain.

Piled high with pastries and breads, Marinette left the bakery humming to herself. Bags swung f rom her arms as she skipped a few feet until she froze, an ominous feeling creeping up her spine.

Crouching in a nearby alley, Marinette looked out at the street for a sign of what had her on edge like this. Sure enough, only seconds later a roar shook the streets, and a villain she recognized as Killer Croc barrelled his way through, jaws snapping.

Marinette’s eyes widened when she noticed he was clearly heading straight for the alley she’d ducked into. Too late she noticed the open manhole cover just a few feet behind her. The telltale sound of vigilantes pursuing the mutant were enough to spur her into action.

Unwilling to put down the food, Marinette kicked the manhole cover back in place – it would slow Croc down for a few seconds. He was still about fifty meters away, causing mass panic on the street. Desperately hoping that the wheels were unlocked – and surprisingly gratified, Marinette body checked the nearby dumpster, shoving it right on top of the manhole. Without her Ladybug suit, this was the most she could safely do. Bolting to the nearest building’s fire escape, Marinette hauled herself up the ladder as quickly as she could without smashing the bags of food.

Killer Croc wasn’t far behind her, and when he saw the covered manhole, he bellowed. Marinette started moving more haphazardly as she clambered up, desperate to reach safety. It was only a metal ladder within a foot of most windows, and it was only anchored by a handful of bolts every few feet of the ladder.

Her hand slipped when Killer Croc roared beneath her, catching sight of her handiwork. A neatly wrapped pastry fell out of one of the violently swinging bags, bopping the reptile on the head.

“This was you!” he growled. “If the Bats are going to catch me then I may as well take you with me.”

Scaled hands grasped one of the bottom rungs. Marinette did all she could to haul herself up the ladder faster, but it was a thirteen-story building – making it to the top was sounding less likely by the minute. She would have leapt into one of the nearby windows if she weren’t convinced that it would end in a paranoid Gothamite taking her out before Killer Croc could do the job.

Metal groaned as the reptilian man wrenched the bolts out of the very brick they’d been anchored in. The ladder shook, and Marinette screamed as the section she clung to was ripped from the wall, leaving her stuck between a structurally questionable ladder, and a very pissed off crocodile.

“Going so soon? Our playdate was just getting fun.”

Marinette could have sobbed when she saw Nightwing enter the alleyway, flanked by Red Robin and Red Hood. In a deep voice, Red Hood said, “You two take down Croc, I’ve got the girl.”

The other two looked surprised, but conceded easily enough. While Killer Croc was distracted by the vigilantes, Marinette moved even faster up the ladder – she only had three flights to go before she was at the roof, but the ladder was shaking like it would fall at any second, and she really didn’t want to find out what that would do to her and the pastries.

She vaguely registered that Red Hood was demanding someone’s something hook, but Marinette’s sheer panic was lessening her grasp on the English language by the second. With his loudest growl yet, Killer Croc wrenched the ladder free of the building. Marinette screamed, her stomach clenching with dread as she released the ladder, trying to curl her body in a way that she hopefully wouldn’t break anything upon impact.

Something whistled through the air, and before Marinette could hit the ground she collided with something – a man, who wrapped an arm around her. She hadn’t realized she’d closed her eyes, but Marinette opened them to find herself face-to-face with the abomination that was Red Hood’s mask, but for the moment she could forgive the fashion crime.

He kicked off of the brick wall, giving them some distance from the ladder before it fell with a glorious clang. Marinette’s heart finally started beating, hammering in her chest as the vigilante slowly lowered them down to the ground.

When she finally forced herself to look, the other two had Killer Croc pinned and trussed up like a pig. Nightwing waved, smiling brighter than Marinette thought was allowed from someone who lived in Gotham. “The manhole cover and the dumpster? Brilliant move, we never would have caught him if he’d been able to get into the sewers. You made some risky moves, but I can tell they were calculated. Nicely done!”

Safely on the ground, Red Hood was examining her for any injuries. Clearly irked, he growled, “Since when are we encouraging civilians to jump into the middle of this sh-“

“Hood, she would have been involved one way or another just because of where she was standing,” Nightwing interrupted. “She saw us coming, and she just did a few things to slow him down while doing her best to keep herself safe. What’s up with you? Normally you’d be high-fiving a civilian for something like that.”

“Whatever,” Red Hood mumbled. “I’m escorting her to make sure she gets to wherever she’s going safely. Make sure the lizard doesn’t get away.”

Taglist:

@jasonette-july-2k20 @ira-sairain @myazael @pawsitivelymiraculous @nik-nak-3

Note:

I got a couple questions about this being a Mominette fic - it is, just not yet. This one is going to be a lot different from I didn’t so much fall in love - It kicked me in the face and I am stoked to see how you guys like it! If you want to be tagged in future chapters, just leave a comment, and once again, blow up Jasonette July! I’m super excited to see what everyone else has to say and write!

#maribat #jasonette july 2k20 #jasonette #jason x marinette #mominette

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actuallybarb · 3 years

Text

The Aftermath ~ Part 2

Summary: y/n gets knocked around by a water monster, has secret-sharing time with peter, and decides mj is more important than her pride. sleep deprivation and caffeine consumption are definitely involved.

Pairing: peter parker x reader

Warnings: swearing, angst, fluff, mysterio being a dick, trauma, it’s marvel what did you expect

Word Count: 3978 give or take

A/N: endgame is canon, *vomits*, but we’ve all got a thing for broken peter parker, even if all i want is his never ending happiness

///////////

“I can’t believe you punched Flash.” Brad, of course, decided to sit next to me on the gondola ride to the hotel. Figures.

“You better believe it, ‘cuz it actually happened.” I tried to pay as little attention to him as possible and just take pictures on my phone, but he kept talking.

“Why don’t you like me?”

I groaned. “Because, Brad, you ask stupid questions like that.”

We pulled up to the hotel and were all sufficiently underwhelmed.

“It’s flooded!”

“The hotel is sinking?”

I considered helping the hotel out, at least while we stayed at it, but there wasn’t much hope left for it. I took my room key and thanked my lucky stars I didn’t have a room on the ground level. In fact, I was sharing with MJ. I waited patiently behind her as she jiggled the door open.

“Is it safe to assume the building will crumble any second now?”

MJ burst out laughing. “I think that’s an understatement.”

“If I get TB, I’m suing.”

“The hotel?”

“Harrington.”

She smiled. “C’mon, let’s get outside before we drown.”

We walked along the water and let the sun happily reflect on our exhausted faces. Everyone was enjoying themselves, but I was starting to feel queasy. It was almost imperceptible, but I could feel the city moving with the water, and it was making me sick. I started lagging back and tried to find my “sea legs,” but Peter noticed and stuck back too. “You alright?”

I plastered on a weak smile. “That long flight is catching up with me. I’m just going to grab an espresso, I’ll meet up with you guys soon.” He looked at me one more time before nodding and meeting the rest of the group.

I didn’t completely lie — I was getting an espresso. But I wasn’t going to catch up with them, at least, not for a while. I needed to get away from the water, even just for a little bit.

I can’t fly, per se. I can control the air currents around me and change them how I want them too, like I did on the airplane with the turbulence. I can do that with most elements, (except wood, I hate wood) and that gives me a heightened awareness of them. I’m basically the Avatar and the characters from Percy Jackson. All I have to do is shave my head and tattoo blue arrows on my body. (And, yes, I did watch all seven seasons of the two series and read all ten Percy Jackson books to actually figure out what the hell it was that I could do. It helped. Clearly.)

I just lifted myself to the top of the coffee shop. I’m a sucker for espresso, I like to be close to it. The distance helped. I felt grounded enough to walk on the normal streets of Venice again, but when I touched down, I suddenly lurched to the right.

“What the hell,” I muttered. I got my answer soon enough. A huge river monster was crashing its giant water arms on anything it could see. And I was directly in its path. “Oh, shit.”

I shouldn’t have been as terrified as I was. I mean, come on, I can control water. Dissipate the water man, Y/N, I can almost hear you yelling at me. Shut up, I was scared. This thing was twice as tall as any of the buildings, and it had a direct path to anywhere in the city. Me, a seventeen year old girl, against that? Not a good idea.

So, like any logical human being, I ran. And I still got clobbered with water and ended up actually falling into the water. Let me just tell you, Italy needs to get a Brita, ‘cause their river is nasty.

But, once I was actually in the water, the river monster looked a lot less intimidating. Sure, the water was churning around and sucking everything into its path, but I was in my element — literally. I got close to it, like, really close. I pushed against the flow of the water and tried to stop the monster from forming, and it worked, for a little bit. It slowed down, and I got some newfound momentum, when all of the sudden, it all stopped, and tons of water crashed to the surface. That was my cue to leave, but then something caught my eye. A flash of metal was in the water. Luck would have it, though, that I could bend water and metal (shout out to Toph Beifong). I latched onto the metal and pulled it close to me, but I couldn’t make out what it was. Didn’t mean I would trash it though, this water was disgusting enough. I tucked it in my pocket and started swimming to the surface.

I got out of the water actually pretty close to the rest of the class, but I was the only one completely drenched.

“Oh, Y/N, good! We’re all here,” Mr. Harrington celebrated. “Let’s get back to the hotel, your families will want to know you’re all fine.”

“You’re soaked.”

I shivered, even though it wasn’t cold. The temperature difference between the water and the air was enough to make me shake. “Astute observation, Brad.”

“Here, you can have my jacket.”

“Thanks, but I don’t want it.” I kept walking and managed to bump into Peter. “You got wet too?”

“Just splashed. Did you get thrown in?”

“Yeah, the bastard caught me by surprise. I’m okay, just cold.”

“Here.” Peter slung his backpack around and took out a mostly dry sweatshirt. He gestured it my way, but I didn’t take it. “It’s just a jacket, Y/N. You’ll get a cold with your hair dripping all around you.”

I knew that wasn’t how colds worked, but I took it anyway and let it soak in the water from my hair. It helped, surprisingly, at least making me not shiver. We made it back to the hotel with no other complications, aside from Flash tripping over his own shoelace because he was too busy recording for his Instagram followers to pay attention to where he was going. I quickly went upstairs and changed out of my clothes, putting on a pair of sweats and a sweatshirt that used to belong to Jessica. The room had a tiny balcony, and I took advantage of it and laid out all of my clothes and Peter’s sweatshirt. The last thing MJ or I needed was a puddle of water to slip in.

I went back downstairs and sat close to the top of the stairs, not wanting to get anywhere near the water at the bottom. MJ was a few steps below me, and Peter was leaning against the stairs, talking to someone on the phone. He hung up, and I slipped past MJ and wrapped around to the phone. I was about to dial, when I remembered something. “Hey, Peter.”

“What’s up?”

I pulled him away from the stairs and whispered, “Is the plan still working?”

“The—oh, that plan. Uh, yeah, I think so. I got her this necklace of a black dahlia from a glass shop, and I want to give it to her at the top of the Eiffel Tower.”

I smiled. “That’s adorable. I’m going to use the phone, do you mind?”

“Oh, sorry, I’ll get out of your way.” We smiled at each other, then I grabbed the receiver and dialed.

“Hello?”

“Hi, Mom, it’s Y/N.”

“Oh my—John, it’s her. Are you okay? Are you hurt?”

“I’m fine, I’m fine. Harrington wanted all of us to call our parents, so this is me, doing my due diligence. We’re still set for Paris tomorrow, so I’ll call you then, okay? Love you.” I didn’t even really wait for them to respond before I hung up. Truth was, I didn’t want to talk to them. I didn’t really want to talk to anyone, but I had to make one more phone call.

“Hello?”

“Hi, Jess, it’s Y/N. You watch the news nonstop, so I figured I’d call, let you know I’m okay.”

“Thank god, I was so worried about you. What happened?”

“This water monster literally came out of nowhere and knocked me straight into the murky junk, it was disgusting.”

“Were you able to help at all?” Jess was one of two other people in the world who knew about what I could do. She was the one who bought me the tv shows and books, of course she knew.

“I slowed it down at some point, but then all of a sudden it just dissipated, it was weird. I did find this weird metal thing in the water, I picked it up. I’ll send you a picture of it when I get the chance.”

“Okay. Call me soon, got it?”

“Count on it. Love you.”

“Love you too.”

I wasn’t in the mood to talk anymore, so I walked up the stairs, ready to succumb to the moldy mattress in my room. Unfortunately, I had to collect my clothes.

Everything was nearly dry, and Peter’s sweatshirt was definitely dry, so I brought them inside. I almost didn’t want to give Peter his sweatshirt back, just because it was so soft, but knowing him, it was probably the only one he brought, so I walked the ten feet to his front door and knocked. I wasn’t told not to enter, so I turned the knob and walked in. “Hey, Pete, I—“ I stopped with my hand by my face, terrified. A small dart was less than an inch away from my palm. I turned to the man in the corner who was holding the gun. “Did you just try to shoot me?”

“You’re the one who came barging in.” The scary looking guy with the eyepatch leaned forward. “What’s your name?”

I laughed heartlessly. “Ha, yeah, like I’m going to tell the man who just pulled a gun on me.” I looked at Peter and threw his jacket at him. “I brought this back.” Then I turned to the man in the chair. I crunched the dart, letting it fold on top of itself before his eyes, then I let it fall to the floor. “You can keep that.” I looked at Peter one more time, then slammed the door on my way out.

MJ was laying on her bed when I walked back in, but she could tell something was up. She had impeccable observational skills. “You good?”

I was pacing, a bad habit I picked up after The Snap first happened. “I just need to look something up.”

“Well, the hotel might be sinking, but they’ve at least got good wifi.”

I finally sat and opened my laptop, then turned on my VPN and put the whole device on ‘incognito mode.’ I had some serious investigations to conduct, I didn’t need the government to see what I was doing. Okay, I only had one serious investigation, but that could possibly have lead to more, so I kept my guard up.

First search: scary-looking black man with an eyepatch. The guy’s face was the first image that popped up. Nick Fury. Ex-director of SHIELD before all of that went to shit. Now he’s running some ‘underground’ SHIELD, I guess. Now I know the guy’s name.

But why was he talking to Peter? And why did he shoot me?

I was up all night doing research. Not just on Nick Fury, but on the metal piece I had found in the water, the Avengers, and as much as I could find on Peter Parker himself. Sooner than I thought, the sun peeked between the curtains at the window and MJ’s alarm came blaring through the speakers on her phone.

“Morning,” I mumbled, rubbing my eyes and finally taking a break from my computer screen.

“Did you sleep at all?”

“Are you going to yell at me if I say no?” MJ just pursed her lips. I knew she wouldn’t.

It wouldn’t be the first time I’ve pulled an all nighter. At least this one was productive.

“What’s on your bed?” She picked up a small spring and looked it over before putting it back beside the rest of the pieces of the metal thing. “Did you take apart your toothbrush?”

I chuckled. “No, I found this thing in the river when I got knocked in. I didn’t know what it was, so I took it apart.”

“Have you figured it out?”

“Not yet.” I rubbed my eyes again and groaned. “We’re going to Paris today, right?”

“Yeah.” MJ stood and stretched and I caught the smallest smile on her face when she replied. I smiled too and packed up my project. Something for another late night.

We were escorted outside with our luggage in tow, but Mr. Harrington happily informed us we would be taking a bus to Prague instead of a train to Paris. You’ve got to be kidding.

Peter was walking to the bus in front of me, but I grabbed his arm and dragged him away. “What the hell, Peter?”

“You can control metal?” He was in awe. His admiration would’ve been flattering if I wasn’t so pissed.

“You had Nick Fury in your room last night. I almost got shot last night. What the hell is going on?”

“It was only a tranquilizer, you would’ve been fine—“

“That’s not the point, Parker!” I basically hissed at him. He looked a little surprised that I was so upset. I took a deep breath and tried to calm down enough to not start shouting. “We were attacked by a water monster, I almost got shot, I didn’t sleep, and now four people in the world know what I can do, so give me some damn answers, because I sure as hell deserve them.”

Peter looked around, like he was looking for an escape, but I was ready. I might not have slept in almost 48 hours, but I wasn’t going to let him get away so easily.

Then Harrington was calling us over to the bus. Perfect timing.

“Can we talk on the bus?”

I nodded and let him lead the way to the back. Surprisingly we were the only ones that occupied those seats and the ones surrounding, but that’s what happens when you get a bunch of nerds in the same vehicle—they all sit in the front. He sat low in his seat, and I did the same, and I let him start the conversation. Prying it out of him wouldn’t be too successful, I figured, not with something like this.

We got fifteen minutes out of the city before he started talking. “Fury wanted me to go with him to meet this guy who defeated the Elemental yesterday.”

“Why you? And what’s an Elemental?”

“The water monster, it’s called an Elemental. And he asked me because I’m—I’m,” his voice dropped to an even lower whisper, “I’m Spider-Man.”

I almost didn’t believe him.

I almost burst out laughing at the hilarity of it all. Peter Parker, Spider-Man? Ridiculous.

But, remember, I learned from Toph Beifong. I can tell when people are lying.

And Peter?

Peter wasn’t lying.

Well, shit.

How do I even respond to something like that?

“Okay.” Good one. “Who was the other guy you met with?”

“You—you’re not surprised?”

Oh, young Parker, I was dumbfounded. But I had learned two years earlier how to control my heart rate, so he would never know how freaked out I actually was.

“You saw me stop a dart mid-air, Peter, you being Spider-Man is hardly out of the ordinary.”

He looked relieved, but he still hadn’t answered my question.

“Who was the other guy?”

“Oh. His name is Quentin Beck. He’s—“ another low whisper, “he’s from an alternate universe. He fought the Elementals before, and he and them got sucked into our universe when Tha—Hulk brought everyone back.” He didn’t look me in the eye when he talked about the snaps. I wouldn’t either, but I felt the little blip his heart made at the mention of Thanos’s name, so I didn’t push. Even though Quentin Beck and his story sounded like bullshit.

“Do you have a picture of him?” Peter looked at me skeptically, but hooked up his mask to his phone. A somewhat blurry picture of Quentin Beck popped up, and he sent it to me, but he didn’t seem happy about it. “I just want to know who to look out for. If I start chucking rocks at people, I don’t want to hit the wrong one.” The lie seemed to relax him a little bit. It wasn’t a complete lie, I did want to know who to look out for, but I also wanted to find this guy in our universe. “What’s the plan now?”

“They think another one will pop up in Prague—“

“Peter, we’re driving toward Prague. Shouldn’t we be going away from it?”

“I have to help fight this thing—“

“Let the Beck guy do it!” My voice had risen above a whisper and Peter quickly shushed me. “He’s done it before, he can do it again.”

“They need my help, I can—“

“Peter.” He kept muttering, convincing himself he needed to help, but I wasn’t having it. “You don’t have to save the world, Peter.”

That got him to shut up.

“Yes, I do.”

“No, you don’t. You don’t owe the world a goddamn thing.”

“Help me.” That got me to shut up. “Help me fight the Elemental.”

“Why the hell would I do that?”

“Because you’re one of the only people who can! The next one that’s coming, they’re pretty sure it’s the fire elemental, and any time it absorbs metal it can get stronger. You can help us beat it by keeping the metal away from it!”

Oh. He didn’t know I could do more than that.

“Peter, I — ”

“Please.” Peter Parker had the best puppy-dog eyes I had ever seen in my life. But I wasn’t convinced.

“I’m here for a school trip, Pete, not to save the world.”

It’s like I sucker punched him. He deflated immediately and looked away, and I got up and moved a few rows ahead.

I wasn’t opposed to helping, but I didn’t want to get near Quentin Beck until I had a full story on him. And that would take a lot of research and caffeine.

“Hey, Eugene.” We had stopped for a bathroom break and he was still using his phone to update his Instagram followers on all of the happenings on our way to Prague.

“Are you here to break my jaw again, Y/L/N?”

I looked at his face and didn’t see any swelling, barely any discoloration. “Nope, you’re healing nicely, I’m impressed. Do you have a hotspot?”

“Why do you think I have a hotspot?”

“Because you’ve been on your phone the entire trip.”

“What will you do for me if I let you on it?”

I rolled my eyes and groaned. Of course he would ask for a favor. “Anything. Within reason.”

“Can I cash in on the favor later?”

Goddamnit. “Sure, whatever.”

He laughed maniacally. “Okay, Flash Hotspot is the user, and spidermanrocks is the password, no spaces, no caps.”

“Really, Eugene, you went with that password?” I almost had to laugh. He would have an aneurysm if he knew who was really Spider-Man.

“What?”

“It’s a bit obvious, don’t you think?”

He rolled his eyes. “Whatever. What were you doing with Parker?”

“Plotting the downfall of the European Union.” I let out a laugh. “We were talking about the water monster, and how there’s a light festival in Prague that’d be cool to go to.”

“Gonna go on a date with Penis Parker?”

“I was actually thinking about asking Brad.” That made Flash laugh, and I smiled myself. “But seriously, stop calling him that.”

“Whatever.”

Peter looked flustered as he got back on the bus, but I didn’t pry. But Brad looked awfully smug as he sat beside MJ. Focus, Y/N, you have to find Quentin Beck. I hunkered down in my seat and slipped my headphones over my ears, then logged onto Flash’s hotspot and got to work.

The number of illegal websites I went on was not something I’m willing to admit out loud, but I couldn’t find anything. Not a single facial-recognition scan showed any results for Quentin Beck, and I tried as many as I could get my hands on. But the more I looked at his face, the more I felt like I’d seen him before. And honestly, it was pissing me off.

I stared at the image on my phone, and I had a gut feeling it had to do with Tony Stark. This Beck guy was somehow connected to Stark. It’s like the answer was on the tip of my tongue. I rubbed my temples in frustration, wishing I could just reach into my memory and pull out the information when it hit me. “Memory, you’re so stupid, Y/N.”

Binarily Augmented Retro-Framing, affectionately called B.A.R.F. was presented by Tony Stark at a lecture he did at MIT almost seven years ago. But this guy had released a paper about it six months before—a guy named Quentin Beck. I remembered reading about it for a school project, and the picture of the guy was the same person Peter met.

“There’s no way.”

I looked up the article, and sure enough, I was right. Quentin Beck was the scientist behind the technology, and he was an employee for Stark Industries when the article was published.

Great, now I had to break into Stark Industries and access their archives while on a hotspot provided by Eugene Thompson. Lucky for me, we pulled into the parking lot for our much improved hotel, which meant free wifi. Unlucky for me, Mr. Harrington now felt he needed to start bossing us around, considering he was the teacher. Which meant I had to put my investigations to the side. For now.

“Okay, kids, grab your room keys, same roommates as before. Meet back in the lobby at five o’clock for the light festival!”

MJ and I dragged our cases up to the third floor. We each chose a bed, but she was moody, more than her usual angst. But I didn’t have time to play therapist. “Did we get a wifi password?”

“Uh, yeah.” She passed over the card after logging in herself and sat on her bed, glancing back at me every ten seconds.

I was typing away madly, but her stares were making me uncomfortable. “Why are you staring?”

She looked away quickly. “I’m not staring.”

“You were totally staring.” I kept clicking and typing. “What?”

“What are you looking for? I know you stayed up all last night on your computer.”

To tell or not to tell, that is the question. Not a very hard one, but it’s still the question. This secret isn’t mine to make public, though. “I’m trying to prove someone wrong.”

“Who?”

I hesitated. “Peter.”

“Why do you need to prove him wrong?”

“Because he’s gotten his idyllic little hopes up and I want to squash them like a bug.” I glanced at her and smirked. “I’m kidding. I just don’t think he’s right about something, and I’m proving it.”

She nodded, not entirely convinced. “You’re coming to the light festival, right?”

I looked at her. Really looked at her. She was pulling her long sleeves over her wrists and switching her weight from foot to foot—uncomfortable as hell. I gave her a genuine smile and closed my computer. “Wouldn’t miss it. Wanna help me figure out what to wear?”

Friends come before saving the world any day.

tags: @eridanuswave @vampirestrawberries

#peter parker #peter parker x reader #peter parker imagine #peter parker series #peter parker oneshot #marvel #marvel comics #reader insert #peter parker x mj #ned leeds #michelle jones #flash thompson #spiderman far from home #mcu #spiderman #avengers

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hallowed-be-thy-username · 3 years

Text

And here we are with part 2, the second half of @jokersqueenofchaos’s request with her OC Eliza!!

You know I love me some sexual tension so I let that beast run wild! I really enjoyed the challenge of writing with your OC, lovely, and I’m so damn excited to post the ending 💓💓 Eliza is amazing and I’m still so honored to have written her for you!

It’s written again with plain text set in the present and italics as a flashback

Here is a link for part 1

Thank you again, dear!!

Ledger Joker x original female character, Ledger Joker x Eliza

Word count: 3,069

Warnings: some serious sexual tension, allusion to murder, allusion to sex, spicyy

Green Hair and a Red Smile, part 2

After turning the handle on the faucet, Eliza held her hand beneath the stream of water until it felt warm. It was strange, thinking back on it now. She spent so much time on her own, never even interested in anything but that. Why should she allow herself to be trapped in a cubicle, working nine to five, moving along with the rest of the flock only to be effectively slaughtered once her utility had run out? But this was obviously different. There was another path. The path further off the beaten path.

Her fingers plucked the elastic from her hair to let it fall down to her shoulders before ducking her head underneath the water, wisps of blue starting to swirl down the drain. She cupped water in her hands to let it run down the back of her head and little trails of warm water saturated the collar of her t-shirt. For the first time in a long time, she felt drawn to someone and since that day, she’s never looked back.

The feeling she’d been carrying in her stomach all day twisted into an even tighter knot as the sun hung low toward the horizon. It was almost time. Eliza was walking the streets along the Narrows, only a block away from the address Joker had given her. She asked herself, what are you doing here? There wasn’t a real answer to that, not yet. She was there to find out.

Cars were left to fall further into disrepair along the side of the road and most of the building’s windows had their glass broken. Naturally, the area appeared deserted, leaving plenty of opportunity for Gotham’s most cunning citizens to do what they did best. She peeked over her shoulder before crossing the street and continuing around a corner. The place was in front of her now, 228 W Holt. The brick building had five stories and the faded letters above the front entrance read, ‘Gotham Steel Works’. She swallowed, her throat suddenly dry, before cautiously approaching the door to tug on the handle.

It was locked. Her blood felt like ice as she questioned whether she had the right address, whether this was a set up and she’d made a big mistake. She tugged on the handle once more before cursing under her breath, feeling as though she was on the verge of panic. Then she turned around and was startled to see someone suddenly standing behind her.

“You Eliza?” the young man asked.

Eliza tried not to appear as frazzled as she was and nodded her head, brushing her hair out of her face.

“Follow me.”

He quickly turned and headed down the adjacent alley, not even looking back to see if she was keeping up with his long strides. She moved fast to keep from falling behind as he rounded the corner to the back of the building. There were two more men waiting there, both much larger than the one she followed. She slowed down and eyed both of them while they watched her continue to follow the younger man to a back door off of a loading dock. Her hand slid into her pocket to hold onto her knife until the door closed behind her. It was dark and there was no time for her eyes to adjust before Eliza heard another door open. She squinted in the darkness and saw the man go up a flight of stairs. Almost tripping over a pile of rubble, she managed to catch up before he reached the top.

Her heart leapt into her throat when she saw him. He looked back at her over his shoulder, his gaze on her before she could even blink. He turned around to face her, his expression didn’t change but she saw something in his eyes. The room encompassing that entire floor was lined by huge windows. Dim golden light from the setting sun outside streamed through the cracked panes of glass to cast shadows on the floor. Rows of large columns supported the high ceiling of the decaying room, a cluttered old desk sitting alone in the center with two chairs on either side.

“Ahh ya made it,” Joker purred, his mouth pulling into a grin. “Let’s begin, hm?”

Her eyes widened and she sucked in a breath at the sound of his voice before nodding at him, her eyes never leaving his face. A feeling that she shouldn’t be there twisted her insides more as she watched Joker wave the young man away and he headed back down the stairs. They were alone. But this wasn’t the first time they’d been alone. Her rationality continued it’s battle with her overwhelming need to be caught in that clown’s gaze as he beckoned her toward the desk.

Her feet moved all on their own, taking careful steps toward the desk. Her cheeks were already burning when she felt his eyes on her as she walked. This implicit, albeit ill-advised, trust she had in him kept hanging on and wouldn’t let go. Was it actually trust or just blind devotion? But if he was going to hurt her he would have done it by now, right?

She remained in her trance as she lowered herself onto one of the chairs while he removed his coat and gloves. He met her gaze as he sat opposite to her at the desk, kicking his feet up to rest his heels with his ankles cross on its ledge. Her gaze flickered over his face, over his scars, but not for too long. Not long enough to appear that they disturbed her, but rather that maybe they interested her. He took the opportunity to study her demeanor. Still and calm yet trembling with some contrasting force that clawed at her psyche, begging her to turn and run but ultimately falling silent in the depths of her mind. What was he going to do with her? Let her follow him around like a lost puppy? Then what? Perhaps she could prove useful. His mind cooked up a few scenarios until he pondered a phony hostage setup… like a fishing lure. Bait for a giant bat.

He blinked away his drifting thoughts and stated in a very forward manner, “Let’s set some, uh, ground rules, shall we? Number one, no squealin’, I’ll know if you squeal. Number two don’t touch any-thing you see layin’ around. And number threee, stop starin’ at me,” tapping a finger on one hand with each statement. Then a small smirk pulled at his mouth while he blinked back at her as she gradually understood his words.

Eliza’s cheeks burned even hotter and she quickly averted her gaze to the floor. It was so hard to tell whether he was serious or if he was trying to trick her. Did it matter?

“I, uh… I didn’t mean to stare.”

“Mm, ‘course ya didn’t.”

A tingle crawled its way into her belly and her eyes quickly shifted back to his face. Then the words came from her mouth before she could stop them.

“No… I did.”

Her words reached his ears and his eyes remained fixed on her with brows raised as her mouth opened, possibly in an effort to recant her statement, but she remained silent. No one liked looking at him. His face startled and terrified. Why would anyone enjoy looking at it? Perhaps she’s a masochist.

The corner of his mouth twitched at his own joke.

What to do? Perhaps she’s trying to toy with him. She’d taken this little interaction to the next level and Joker was not one to play second fiddle when it comes to controlling a conversation.

“Well rules were, uh, ma-de to be broken, Elizaaa” he rumbled in a deep voice, lacing his fingers together over his lap. “How would you describe what you see then, hm?”

She tried to but she couldn’t understand what had just happened in such a short amount of time. He hadn’t even said anything about this so-called job and here she was admitting that she’d been staring at him. Then the tingle she felt, that knot in her stomach, suddenly made her uncomfortably and intensely aware of something. She was attracted to him. It was unmistakable. Heat rose up until it was over the top of her head. How did she not see it before?

He waited for her answer, watching the flame grow behind her eyes. This wasn’t originally a trap he had planned to set, but it would serve its purpose none the less. She stared at him, as he expected she would. Perhaps searching for the right word to utter. Crazy, diabolical, troubling, ruined, disturbing, unsettling. Terrifying.

“You’re… handsome,” she answered, her voice threatening to crack. Her nerves were standing on end. She came here to follow that feeling she got when he looked at her like that, now she wanted more, and she couldn’t stop herself.

Joker started to chuckle, a wide grin stretching over his face. She must be joking, trying to beat him at his own game. That, she was not going to succeed at. But then there were her eyes. Her eyes said otherwise. Behind her tentative expression he could see a looming excitement, bubbling just beneath the surface, tickling at her insides.

Handsome.

Compliments wouldn’t get her anywhere, but she did capture his attention. Handsome is not a word he’d use to describe himself. Not a word anyone else would use, for that matter. He smirked as he stared her down with intensity, studying her. He wondered what else was going on in that muddled mind of hers, clawing at her from the inside, begging to be set free. The buzz of building anticipation emanating from her was contagious. He found himself wanting her to keep talking. He dropped his heels from the table and leaned across it toward her, bringing his face within a foot of hers.

“Well, Elizaaa. If I’m, uh, handsome, how would you describe these scars?” he said before running his tongue along his lower lip and tilting his head, keeping her in his gaze.

Her heart continued to pound mercilessly against her ribs as her eyes darted to his mouth. Her thoughts were becoming more and more warped together, blurring where her fear ended, and her arousal began. It was so new, so strange, so alluring.

Her thoughts drifted from her subconscious, straight out through her mouth, her voice distant and dream-like. “They look like… like they’re rough. But, soft. Maybe they’re soft.”

Her words carried such a typical civility for such an atypical meeting. They dared each other to toe that line between normalcy and that dark place below it, waiting to see who falls over the edge first. Joker couldn’t deny that this excited him. It was egging him on to push her closer. But something was holding him back, keeping him on that ledge with her.

Eliza’s eyes never left his mouth, unblinking and focused while her gaze remained somehow so distant. Her own lips parted as she lifted her hand from the table and cautiously brought toward to his face. Then her trembling fingertips brushed lightly over the dented skin.

He flinched. He wanted to smack her hands away, grab her thin little wrists and slam them down on the table. But he couldn’t. He willed himself to move but kept still, his jaw tensing as he focused his fiery stare on her pensive face, her eyelids heavy, her lips flushed and rosy. Something stirred inside him. He hated to admit it, but a lack of intimate contact had been grating away at him. That human need. He hated it. Her proximity only reminded him of that need. That eternal itch, begging to be scratched.

She was no longer in control of her actions. Caution was far behind her and she’d entered a state of mind that offered no rationality. She leaned in further, her gaze unfaltering. Her other hand had joined in the perilous exploration of his face, fingers grazing closer to his lips as his tongue slipped out of his mouth to lick them. Her rapid huffs of breath washed over his face, intensifying the tension that hung thickly between them.

The damaged nerve endings conducted their erratic signals, the haphazardly healed tissue trying desperately to function as it once did. Her soft touch sent goosebumps roiling down his back. Her touch felt… good. Fingertips so timid and light, it made his stomach flutter maddeningly and his breath heavy. That inner need to be touched mercilessly devoured the feeling.

Joker felt himself losing control. He didn’t like that. He wanted to be angry. But anger is what was expected, even from himself, and he took pride in opting for the unexpected. Spontaneity gave him power.

He slowly reached his hands up to hold either side of her face, their noses now inches apart. His voice came out like gravel.

“You want to know what they feel like?”

Eliza’s throat went dry and her chest squeezed against the sharp breath she tried to take, stunned by his question. It ran through her head, searching for her response, but none could be found.

Electricity ran across her skin and the warmth in her belly fluttered into her chest when his fingertips suddenly grazed her heated cheeks. Joker couldn’t remember the last time his hands had touched someone without the intention of causing harm, leaving stains of red behind. But he hadn’t forgotten how. As he held her face, her hands found his neck, heat radiating from beneath his collar as her fingers continued their torturous caress across his skin. I was maddening, how much he liked it. His breath quickened but his expression remained like stone as he fought with his innermost desires. He fought his need to feel her, more of her. Let go, push her away.

Then her nose made the slightest contact with his, her eyes burning him as his insides boiled, rising higher into his chest.

This little contest he’d instigated had reached a breaking point, now trapping them both in a web of their own magnetism, growing stronger with each second they spent with such a slight distance between them. A need to take her for himself rang in his ears. You’re mine.

Closer still. She leaned in closer and nodded, giving him wordless affirmation, permission. Her breath on his lips beckoned him.

Impulse, a sudden strong and unreflective urge or desire to act.

He reached his fingers into her hair before pulling her forward, crashing his lips into hers. The overwhelming sensation of plump flesh on flesh flooded his senses as he devoured her, tangling his mouth with hers with unrestrained passion as if he was going to swallow her whole. The taste of her lips, her tongue, it was intoxicating. It reached down to his bones and held on tight. This was self-indulgence to its highest degree. He let it take him over, his senses swirling with endorphins he so often deprived himself of. His belly was winding tighter and tighter with that desire he knew too well, his body begging for release. So many times, he’d ignored it, or quickly provided it some feeble source of friction it so desperately called for, in an effort to make it disappear. But it always came back. A hollow and wanting thirst that was never quenched.

She kissed him back. Her mouth eagerly accepted his and allowed him to consume her with dizzying fervor as she desperately gripped his collar. Eliza’s blood ran hotter than it ever had before. It sparked and rushed through her veins, plunging her deep below the surface of the deep, dark desire that now enveloped her. More. She wanted more.

The flames threatening to consume them both reached fever pitch, Joker’s control over his own actions quickly turning to ash.

The he pulled back, the rising heat in his core coming to a halt just below boiling point. He huffed as his heart continued to pound, his eyes flickering over her face, looking for any clues in her expression. Her heavy lids reflected some concentration or inquisitiveness as she stared back at him, her jaw just slightly dropped and posture as if she’d just been doused in cold water.

There wasn’t any fear there, no. It felt as though she’d lost her mind. She’d lost her mind and it was supposed to be that way. An assiduousness took over her features before she leaned back in, her own lips finding his in reciprocation. He stiffened at the tenderness in her kiss, his determination to steel himself hanging on by a thread. But the slow, provocative dance of her mouth against his plucked at that thread, keeping him there, tangling his fingers in her hair.

She could feel them, his scars. They caressed her cheeks and glided over her lips when he kissed her. Rough. Soft.

Tossing her freshly dyed hair over her shoulders, Eliza watched herself in the mirror again. That night changed her. She never needed anyone but being with him felt like belonging. The twitching of his mouth, his piercing glances, they stirred something in her that made everything else feel so dull. There was no going back. She’d been captured by the inexplicable charm that blinded her to everything else she once knew. But it didn’t feel like a loss. The world would move on with or without her. It always did. Now she’d move on without it.

The day after Pandora’s box opened, the day after that beast called lust ran free, he licked her kiss off of his lips as she lowered the black plastic bag over his head. Only an hour after her thumb hit the call button. After she told the deep voice on the other end, the one she knew wouldn’t be able to speak for much longer, “I have your clown.”

Her smile grew at the reflection in the mirror as his paint-stained hands slid around her waist, their grip warm and firm. He held her against his chest, his face alongside hers as he lifted a hand from her waist to twist one of her bright blue locks around his finger.

“Mm so this is what you’ve been up to, hm?”

Eliza let her head fall back against Joker’s chest and she answered, “I can do yours next.”

Taglist @youmaycallmebrian @heavymetalnarwhal @neverputsaltinyoureyes @jokersqueenofchaos @into-crazy @killingjokee @astheworlddturns @jslittlebirdie @drreidsconverse @vipervixxen

#heath ledger joker #the dark knight #tdk joker #ledger!joker #joker fanfiction #ledger joker x oc #request #oc request

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iselsis · 4 years

Text

Unholy Matrimony 2

Jack had left early in the morning two days later for his meeting with Mr. Wayne, and Tim had been waiting in the grand foyer almost without a break ever since.

He knew, like, intellectually, the Mr. Wayne wouldn’t buy him, because, duh, Batman, but he was having a hard time convincing his body of that. His heart pounded wildly, his hands were clammy and gross, and his stomach roiled, both with heat pain and at the thick scent of distress and pheromones in the room. Janet had tried to order him to his room, but he kept sneaking back, and eventually, she just gave up and opened windows.

In the end, he decided that he was less worried about what would happen if Mr. Wayne bought him, and more worried about what would happen when he didn’t. His parents were going to be furious, and while he kind of hoped that they’d just spend a lot of time thinking about what to do next, go on another trip, and forget, like they usually did with commitments they made to him, he didn’t think that that was going to happen this time.

After a few hours, Janet wordlessly stepped into the room. Neither of his parents had spoken to him since the first morning except to snap order and make absolutely sure how much of a disappointment he was. Instead of acknowledging him or snapping at him to stop making her house smell like a crime scene, she leaned against the banister to watch the front door with him. He supposed that meant that his dad would be back soon, and his gut wrenched again. He wasn’t sure if that would be good or bad, but at least it would mean an end to the waiting.

It was only a few more minute before they heard the Drake’s rental (they were never in town long enough to need their own car) roar up the front drive with a worrying speed. His dad was either really excited, or really mad. Tim was leaning towards mad, given the whole “trying to sell my kid to the unholy terror of the night” thing, but that wasn’t assured, he realized. He might have drastically mistyped Batman, and the real Bruce Wayne was more of a “do as I say and not as I do” type person, or maybe he didn’t really mind child brides. Like, he’d stop a grab & go rape, but if they were, like, married, then maybe he wouldn’t really mind.

The door flew open and Jack stormed into the foyer, his whole body and scent screaming rage.

Tim breathed a quiet sigh of relief. He wasn’t getting married, then.

Janet frowned in confusion. “He refused.”

“Refused? Refusing is one thing, but that bastard,” Jack snarled, hurling his briefcase at the floor, where it landed on its spine with a resounding crack and an eruption of papers. “That absolute bastard had the nerve to lecture me about how we should ‘respect and treasure our son’ and ‘cherish the time we have with him.’”

Oh, that was… That was beautiful. Poetic. The small part of him that had been worried about Mr. Wayne actually wanting him that way curled up and died of laughter. The thought of his parents actually following through on Mr. Wayne’s suggestion and respecting him and cherishing their time with him, though, was just too much.

Jack turned and shot a glare at Tim, like it was his fault that Mr. Wayne didn’t want to buy him, and Tim struggled to keep his grin in check.

He must not have been able to keep his amusement from his scent, because his father’s expression darkened, and he stalked toward Tim.

“You think that this is funny, bitch?” Jack snatched Tim’s collar before Tim could make a run for it and shook him harshly.

Tim stumbled, throwing his head back in submission to bare his throat. Jack growled and slapped Tim hard across the face with enough force to send him crashing to the ground.

His head hit the tile hard, making his vision swim with disjointed shapes and blurred edges. He tried to get up, but his father’s shoe slammed into his ribs and he was down again with a cry of pain. The next kick landed in his stomach, then another to his ribs, then his mother’s voice was saying something quietly that Tim couldn’t hear over the pounding of his heart in his ears.

“He deserves it, pompous little omega brat!” Jack snapped venomously.

Tim chanced a glance up, but found only a furious glare from his father and a cool, calculating stare from his mother.

“True.” She lifted her chin so that she was looking down her nose at Tim even more than she had been before. “But we won’t get as good a price for him if he’s broken and ugly. His only asset is his pretty face, dear. Luthor or Queen might be interested if he looks decent.”

A small, ridiculous part of Tim was thrilled, because calling him pretty was the nicest thing his mom had said about him in years. A larger part of Tim cringed at the idea of having to marry Lex Luthor or Oliver Queen. Mr. Wayne was Batman, which meant that of course he would never agree to marry a kid. Tim was sure that the drunken playboy role was just an act.

Lex Luthor, from what he had overheard from his parents, was arrogant, cruel, manipulative, and completely amoral, and that was just with his business partners. Tim was sure that he wouldn’t object to being given a child bride, and Tim also knew that his parents had wanted a deal with Luthor almost as badly as they wanted a deal with Wayne.

Oliver Queen, he knew less about. He did know that he was the CEO of Queen Industries. His parents didn’t think much of him. He was apparently what Bruce Wayne pretended to be: a drunk playboy with too much money and low moral character. He was a useful idiot, though, and they might try to get the better of him with a stilted business deal and a young omega. For all those faults, though, Tim was pretty sure that he wasn’t a criminal.

Jack growled and kicked Tim once more before storming out of the room.

Janet’s lips curled into a frown of distaste. She didn’t have to say anything to communicate just how disappointed she was. After a few moments, she calmly followed her husband out of the room.

Tim tried to get up, but it hurt too much to move. He lay there, curled up in a fetal position on the tile floor, where at least the icy tiles numbed the pain of his bruises and heat, for a long time.

Finally, Tim dragged himself up off the floor, and up two flights of stairs to his bedroom. If he even had his own house, he was going to get a ground floor bedroom, like a sensible person. Or maybe he’d just take suppressants for the heat, and stay away from angry alphas.

Tim slipped into his room and shut the door behind him louder than he would have normally dared with his parents home, but he was hurt, and they were already mad, so he didn’t think it mattered if he slammed the door.

Tim wanted to just curl up into a ball and fall asleep for the next five years, but he had research to do first.

He dragged his laptop out from under his bed, where he’d hidden it in case his dad took it like he’d taken Tim’s phone. Jack had said that Tim didn’t need it anymore, but Tim had a feeling that it was really more out of a fear that Tim would go on social media and paint his parents and their company in a bad light in an attempt to get out of a marriage.

Tim was smart, though, or at the very least, smarter than that.

Options were limited for omegas. He could live on the streets, but he doubted he’d survive long without a pack. Jason Todd had done it, but Jason Todd was an alpha and he was strong enough that Batman had impulse-adopted him to be his Robin. If Tim wanted a prayer of survival, he’d probably have to find a pimp or an alpha. He didn’t want to, but if his other option was Luthor… He’d have to see.

Foster care, especially in Gotham, was basically just the prostitute option. He’d have a guaranteed roof, and probably food, but he wouldn’t get to keep his money and his parents would probably be able to get him back. Gotham’s omega group homes were also hotbeds for abuse without pay.

Tim’s main problem was that what his parents were doing wasn’t technically illegal. Even though omegas weren’t legally considered property anymore, they were second class citizens. If their parents wanted, they could marry them off to any alpha they wanted. Most didn’t anymore, but most also weren’t negotiating multimillion-dollar business deals. His new husband would be his guardian until he was eighteen, and he couldn’t even be divorced until then.

At the very least, Tim was the only one in the marriage who could request a divorce. Something about the alpha assuming responsibility since the omega had little real-world experience before the marriage. If he wanted, once he was eighteen, he could just be really really annoying until whatever alpha married him agreed to give him a severance check and alimony.

That plan probably wouldn’t work. There weren’t any rules about beating your omega for being a brat, or marital rape.

He needed to make a plan, and for that, he needed information.

A search on Lex Luthor turned up relatively innocuous results, until Tim started trying to get around any doctoring of the algorithm by adding keywords like crime and conspiracy. Most people turned their noses up as soon as the word conspiracy was uttered, but Tim had figured out that the richest man in Gotham ran around town dressed as a bat and beating people up with his underage accomplice all because of an acrobatic move. Small clues were important, and rich people are weird.

It turned out that the internet suspected Lex Luthor of a lot. Illegal weapons deals, links to supervillains, human testing, abuse, rape, murder. There wasn’t much that he wasn’t suspected of. Several of his more vocal accusers had turned up “suicided” as some had termed it. There was one, a CK, whose allegations of Luthor’s crimes was so extensive that Tim wasn’t sure if it could actually be true that one man had committed so many crimes.

Luthor was a hard no. Tim would rather chance the streets. Tim would rather die. Heck, if he wanted to die, marrying Luthor would probably take care of that pretty quickly.

Oliver Queen was a different story. Tim couldn’t find many accusations against him of anything, and the accusations he did find were mostly just being a drunkard and a whore. He didn’t seem so bad, or so smart. He seemed like he’d be nice enough, and Tim might even be able to manipulate Mr. Queen into letting him go to school. He’d probably be safer than the streets even if he couldn’t, and if he wasn’t, then at least the streets of Star City weren’t nearly as dangerous as the streets of Gotham.

It struck him while he was looking at a photo of Mr. Queen at a charity gala for polio or rickets or something. Mr. Queen’s beard seemed…familiar.

There was no way.

Tim quickly split the screen and pulled up every picture the public had of Star City’s Green Arrow on one side, comparing it to the picture of Oliver Queen from the newspaper.

How.

Had.

No one.

Noticed?

The facial hair was the exact same, the build, the hair color. Wouldn’t it be more efficient to wear a mask over his mouth and nose than over his eyes? It would take away the risk of the domino slipping over his eyes and actually cover extremely identifiable marks.

His heart sank. Mr. Wayne wouldn’t buy him, because he was a hero. Mr. Queen was a hero too.

He was being sold to Luthor.

#batman #bruce wayne is a good dad #tim drake #bruce wayne #omega tim drake #alpha beta omega #alpha bruce wayne #adoption #accidental baby acquisition #fake marriage au

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shih-coulda-had-it · 3 years

Note

2 and 27 nanakikoooooo

2 (Royal AU) & 27 (Sick/Injured) | Nanahiko

Different fantasy AU than the one where Toshinori is the One who Would be King, but definitely still fantasy AU. The Dread God Usurper is just a hoity-toity title for AFO. And for the reader’s information, Sorahiko and Nana are in an arranged marriage, yet had never met before this night.

Their flight from the castle was only successful because no one had expected the heiress to co-opt an escape with the visiting mercenary. Of course, it was also likely because the guardsmen were distracted by the undead, surfacing from the earth, under the thrall of the Dread God Usurper.

Somehow, this was not Shimura Nana’s top priority.

“Hey,” she said sharply, jostling the mercenary’s head from where it had dipped onto her shoulder. Nana had commandeered the man’s horse, so she had the reins, but as she couldn’t just leave him, he had sat behind her and (presumably) guarded their backs. Nevertheless, Nana wasn’t about to show gratitude like that.

He murmured something in return, groggy. Nana discerned the words ‘arrow’ and ‘hurts.’

“I’m sorry, you’ve been shot by an arrow?”

“Hn,” he answered, and Nana felt his weight suddenly shift sideways. She hastily reached backwards in an attempt to prop him up; chancing a glance backwards, Nana saw a broken arrow shaft sticking out of his shoulder.

She shrieked.

“Quiet,” said the man. Fortunately for him, the garbled plea was comprehensible enough that Nana managed to put a lid on it and prevent them from being thrown.

“How long has that been there?” Nana demanded, and turned her attention to scouring their surroundings for any safe haven.

The castle was the center of the capital, a sprawling city that boasted zero walls, a rigorously-maintained waterworks and sewage system, and more roads than the city patrol knew how to deal with. The Shimuras’ lax approach to securing the heart of their kingdom was a character flaw, only balanced by the fact that Shimuras were rarely holding court, instead choosing to personally tend to the borders.

One positive consequence of a roaming royal-in-disguise: every innkeeper did their utmost to present their businesses well, and at a bargain price, in the hopes that they would have the repeat honor of hosting royalty.

Another positive consequence: there were many, many inns.

Some of which would not be averse to bloodied men. Or women in bloodied dresses.

“Milady,” the man slurred, and Nana startled at how close the rumble was to her ear. “Wha’s happenin’?”

“Did you forget the past hour?” she asked, incredulous. She spotted several men, still merry (because who, who could have fled from the castle yet and alert the capital that it had fallen besides her and her companion?) and drunk, slipping out of a door spilling warm yellow light.

Nana nudged the horse over to the establishment’s small set of stables, wrinkling her nose at the smell. By the grace of the gods, she thought in relief, seeing several vacancies.

“Okay, down we go,” she said, and she watched the man sluggishly brace himself against her and slide off his horse. Once both of his feet were planted on the ground, Nana followed suit.

“Don’t run off with my horse.”

“I have absolutely no plans to do that,” Nana lied, and coaxed the man to release his grip on the saddle. He made a wounded noise when pushed away, but did nothing to stop Nana from stabling the horse.

Did nothing but stare, Nana corrected herself, freezing in the act of pulling out her coin-purse from between her breasts.

“What,” she said defensively.

“What?”

And then he tipped forward. Nana caught him, grunted at the weight, and resigned herself to lugging him inside. Though the innkeeper was cleaning up the messes of his previous customers, she was swift to pass the chore off to a maid and speak with Nana.

“Do you need a healer, m’lady?” she asked, wiping her hands on a rag.

“A room first,” Nana decided. She readjusted the arm slung over her shoulders and winced at the pitiful whimper. “Hot water and clean rags too, please. Anything you can spare for bandages. I’ll pay for the expenses.”

“Alright.” Blissfully, no questions were asked. After giving additional instructions to the maid, she fetched an oil lamp and said, “Follow me.”

Nana dragged her companion up a flight of stairs, until the innkeeper opened the first door to their left, holding it open and allowing them to step over the threshold. It was a cramped space, minimally furnished. Nana nearly tripped upon seeing the single bed.

“Need two?” asked the innkeeper.

“Ah,” said Nana. She plunged past her hesitation; the Usurper was infamous for his Hunts, and anything Nana could do to cover her tracks would be beneficial. Leaning in conspiratorially, Nana whispered, “The single is fine. It’s just that, he’s a rather large man, isn’t he?”

That earned her a grin. “A large man’s a large target.”

“As we unfortunately learned,” she agreed. The innkeeper waited for Nana to deposit the man onto the bed, face-first, and then exchanged a handful of coin for the key and light. “I’ll take a plate of dinner as well, please.”

“Any for him?”

“If he wants to eat, he’ll have to wake up first.”

Nana saw the woman out, and finally turned her attention to the man. He was tall, sturdily-built, with awfully soft-looking silver hair and a prominently-curved nose. And he was blearily awake, watching her through half-lidded eyes, the pale irises barely catching the yellow light.

“Did you want something to eat?” she asked, approaching the bed and surveying the damage.

“Something to drink,” he said hoarsely. “How bad is it?”

“Pretty bad.”

He laughed into the pillow, and it was humorless and despairing. It eventually petered out into a low curse, then an unsteady statement. “This… was not how I wanted to be meeting you for the first time.”

Nana blinked. “I didn’t realize I was expecting you.”

“Oh. That’s a comfort.”

“You can’t stop there,” she said, poking his uninjured shoulder. “Who are you to me, mercenary?”

“‘Mercenary’?” the man echoed in disbelief. “No, I’m - ” His breath hitched. There was a shadow at the door; Nana leapt up to retrieve the basin of hot water and rags (and an unasked for knife), and ushered the girl away. She didn’t want an audience for this next part.

“You’re…?” Nana encouraged. She set the supplies on the floor.

“Sorahiko. Sorahiko from the Yamanashi Kingdom. I was here because - because - ”

“Prince Sorahiko,” she corrected, reeling just a little bit. Nana recognized the name, even if she couldn’t quite place the degree of importance. Was he a valuable trading partner? An ally? “You’re the Torino scion!”

“Soon to be deceased,” he muttered.

“Aw, don’t be like that.”

“I have an arrow sticking out of my shoulder, and I don’t think even a warrior-queen is trained in the healing arts,” Sorahiko snarked. The burst of sarcasm faltered. “Did you really not recognize me?”

Nana, though feeling guilty about the earlier plan to rob him of his horse and supplies, was not about to be guilt-tripped by a sad small voice. “I hadn’t paired faces to names yet,” she said, defensive. “That’s usually a thing that happens after the coronation.”

“It really isn’t,” he told her.

“Well, I guess we’ll never know, considering what’s happened.” Nana exhaled sharply, then steeled herself. “That was the Usurper back there, did you notice?”

“Hard not to.” Sorahiko stirred, winced, and dug his face into the pillow. His words came out muffled: “He’s supposed to be a folktale boogeyman for bullies. What’s he doing, coming for your throne?”

“I’m glad you asked. Can you keep a secret?”

They breathed in silence for several seconds, the tension thick. Then, Sorahiko snorted and turned his head; Nana saw his profile outlined against the pillow, the wry curve of his smile.

“Dead men tell no tales. That’s how the adage goes.”

“You’re not dead yet,” she said, exasperated, and tapped into the power of One for All for strength (to hold Sorahiko down), for grace (to remove the arrow with as little damage possible), and for mercy (to heal the wound). Sorahiko cried out, one hand clawing at the sheets by his face, the other flailing backwards in an attempt to dissuade her.

Nana held on. The affair took less than a minute, and by the end of it, Sorahiko’s entire frame trembled with the aftershocks, and Nana’s skin felt tingly, charged with static electricity. She tossed the arrow shaft aside and picked up the knife.

Perhaps it had been meant for surgery.

She used it to slice his shirt in half. Mutely, Nana waited for Sorahiko to process what the hell just happened, and wiped away the crusted blood. She pressed hard against healed flesh, distantly registering his warmth.

“Oh,” Sorahiko breathed into the bed.

Nana eased up on the pressure. “I don’t know why the Usurper wants my power,” she admitted. “But he’s not supposed to have it.”

Slowly, he sat up. Trying to look regal, Nana assumed, although that was difficult with his shirt in pieces and that - that awestruck expression.

“So?” she asked nervously.

“Let me help you,” said Sorahiko. “He can’t have known we’ve made contact. Come to Yamanashi with me, and let me help you figure out what you need to do.”

She stared at him. “What if - what if it takes forever?”

“Then it takes forever.” A new kind of determination surfaced on his face, and Nana was taken aback at the fluttery feeling in her stomach. “Even if Yamanashi proves unsafe, and you need to run from kingdom to kingdom, just let me go with you. Whatever your task is, it’ll be easier with two.”

“You’ll have to rough it.”

Sorahiko snorted. “I’m not some spoiled whelp, drowning in ruffles and lace. Queen Shimura - ”

“Call me Nana,” she replied, faint, and extended her hand. He mirrored her; they clasped each other’s forearms instinctively, and Nana’s mouth curved into a slight smile that he returned. “I hope you’re not shy, Prince Torino.”

“Call me Sorahiko,” he shot back.

#bnha #nanahiko #shimura nana #gran torino #torino sorahiko #shih.txt #asks #thealphabearart

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badolmen · 4 years

Text

tysm to everyone who has interacted with this fun lil fic - your likes, reblogs, and comments never cease to make me smile! who’s ready for the spooky season? @billy-hoepe @bonniebunz @softupshur and @bandtrees I hope y’all’re doing well and taking care of yourselves <3

Chapters: First, 2, 3, 4, 5

Billy had been to churches before. Old ones, new ones, small ones, big ones, bright ones, dark ones, and places of worship of every denomination. He had slept on pews and stone stairs when the doors were locked. He had spent many Christmas nights bathing in the warmth of candles and songs, the midnight mass providing respite from the bitter winter if only for a few hours.

He didn’t understand churches, of course. His mother murmured of being raised Baptist on occasion or spit angry curses at Catholic and Mormon ex-boyfriends. She would mutter negative sentiments to cultures and beliefs he had no concept of outside of his mother’s warped and hate filled snarls at the television.

Billy knew nothing of worship or prayer or faith.

Sometimes, in Mount Massive, he wished a god would answer his prayers. Sometimes he was sure there was no god listening at all. He wondered, on dark nights and rainy days, that if he had learned prayer the higher powers would listen, that if he had faith, any faith at all, he would hear a response.

The phantom that scratched at the back of his mind didn’t bring any revelations with the pain it caused – it was just static, a ghost and whisper of hate that drove ice into Billy’s thoughts when he tried to explore the concept of the being that shared the same corporeal form as him.

This church was old and big but marred with minor disrepair. The main tower was wrapped in blue tarps to keep out the rain, and the shingles shuddered in the wind. The red brick had been stained a deeper crimson by the moisture, almost seeming to bleed into the gray concrete below.

Blood, smeared across the walls and floors and the stink of rotting flesh and freshly dead meat and insects and flies and maggots and –

“Here we are,” The driver hummed, her car groaning to a halt on the street in front of the massive building. Miles said her name was Beatrice. “I’d walk you in, but…” She trailed off, eyeing the rivulets of rain cascading down her windshield. “Just go right in and head to the room behind the altar, at the back of the building. We gave Fr. Kos the heads up so he should be waiting for y’all.”

“Thank you,” Miles said, stiffly nodding to Beatrice. Billy could feel the tension rising in the man like a spring coiled tighter and tighter. Exhaustion, too. “You good to go Billy? Probably best to make a run for it in this weather.”

“Good to go,” Billy whispered, swallowing back the metallic taste in his mouth. Had talking always hurt this much? Dr. Wernicke complained that he talked too much in their sessions. Maybe he finally fixed that problem.

“Alright then,” Miles grunted, car door opening and closing as he rushed the building. Billy tried to follow in suit but startled at the slam of the car door and tripped over his own wobbly legs while trying to scale the stone steps. Miles reached out, catching him before he collapsed at the top of the stairs.

With an exchange of thumbs up between Beatrice and Miles, the car sputtered away from the curb, leaving the two clinging to each other beneath the eaves.

The door was big, dark and solid wood heavy enough to make Miles’ face twist up in pain as he held the door open for Billy to shuffle inside. But the door closed softly, mechanism clicking in place the two stood in the warmth of the hallway between the church and the outside world.

“Man, forgot to ask if this is the back of the church or if the other end is…” Miles muttered, trying to find a comfortable way to hold his hands. Blood had seeped through his bandages.

“…think it’s this way,” Billy breathed, trying his hardest to keep his voice soft. It hurt less to whisper than to speak. He held open the inner door for Miles and the two treaded quietly across the carpeted floors toward the altar.

The church was empty and quiet save for their breathing and the quiet light of a few candles.

Billy’s eyes searched the many corners and peaks of the vaulted ceiling for cameras – Miles was probably doing the same as the pair slowly made their way toward the door beside the altar. But there were no cameras to be found. The fog that usually clouded Billy’s thoughts seemed to lift, or at least offer a shimmer of relieved clarity.

The door they were walking to opened, and the pair tensed.

“Oh, didn’t mean to startle you,” Billy couldn’t place the accent, but the voice was lighter than he thought it would be. The men or women in black who stood on the altar and wore colorful robes always had hard voices, sometimes even angry. But this man’s voice was soft and gentle. “I’m Father Kos – or Father Sebastian, whichever you care for, you are Miles and Billy, right?”

“Yeah,” Miles said, voice still tight even as his posture relaxed. “Yeah, I’m Miles, he’s Billy. This is Saint Gobnait’s?”

“Correct, come, this way. I’m sure you two will want to warm up,” The man in black stepped back into the room, gesturing that they follow. Miles paused, only for a moment, before stalking toward the entry. Billy kept close behind, eyes still wandering across the stained glass and statues of the building.

This room was warmer, but not by much. Father Kos had begun descending down a flight of stairs, black shoes clicking against the wood.

“Ah,” He sighed, noticing Miles pause again. “There’s a short tunnel to the rectory basement. Would you rather go outside again?”

“Yes,” Miles was quick to answer, curtly nodding to the man. Billy did not want to go outside again – the ice in his thoughts had made a home in his bones and every step felt like he was standing on nails. But he couldn’t tell Miles that fast enough, so he nodded in agreement.

“Alright, here,” Father Kos said, taking an umbrella from beneath his black coat. “Use my umbrella, it’s not far but it would –” He muttered a word Billy did not understand, before gesturing vaguely to the door that led outside. “Bah, never mind, follow me.”

The umbrella was small, so Billy stayed close to Miles’ side, careful not to jostle the man too much as they walked. Miles’ hands kept shaking, bandaged fingers struggling to get a comfortable grip on the handle.

Father Kos seemed unperturbed by the down pour, heavy black coat soaked, and glasses blurred by the time they reached the rectory, a small white building beside the brick church. The trio shook rain from their shoes at the doorway, a breath of blessed warmth working its way into Billy’s aching bones.

“Oh, is that the – Father! You’ll catch your death, go, go take a warm shower and get some dry clothes on –”

“This is Sister Francis, Sister, this is Miles and Billy, the one’s Carolyn’s Place called about,”

Billy shrank behind Miles, hoping to seem small. The woman was shorter than him, stout with a round face and liver spotted cheeks. Her voice was grating and hard, the static in the back of his mind hissed like water on an electric burner.

“I can introduce myself, Father. Go warm up the shower, and try not to track too much water in here,”

“Yes, yes,” The man’s lighthearted laugh calmed some of the building static in Billy thoughts. “What’s for lunch Sister?”

“McDonalds or Burger King; it depends on our guests,” Francis’ voice had softened, the crow’s feet at her eyes becoming more apparent as she smiled.

“I vote for Burger King – they have better fish,”

“Dully noted,” Francis sighed as Father Kos slowly made his way up the staircase. “Leave the umbrella by the door – goodness knows this rain won’t let up anytime soon,”

“That what the weather is saying?” Miles said, voice relaxing as the older woman limped down the hall.

“Yes, flood warnings – very strange for this time of year. Did you hear about the bugs down in Arizona? Flock of locust; they blotted out the sun just yesterday and then poof! No one knows where they went.”

“That…is strange,” Miles breathed, beckoning Billy to follow them as they made their way down the carpeted hall.

“The kitchen’s right there – don’t be in there when I’m cooking, Father might not mind but it’s a small space and I’d rather not smack you with a pan of potatoes by accident.” Francis said in a practiced tone, waving to the small oven and refrigerator for a brief moment before continuing the slow walk down the hall.

Billy didn’t bother looking in the room, his eyes trained on the back of Miles’ head. It was warm – cozy and comforting. The air smelled like dust and the faintest trace of smoke – and mixed with the blood and sweat of Miles’ jacket, it almost smelled like home.

#outlast #outlast fanfiction #miles upshur #billy hope #outlast whistleblower #outlast 2 #outlast ii #me. making segues to outlast 2: guys trust me its connected. just trust me. we'll get there eventually.

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devilsuga · 4 years

Text

The Missing Key

Pt.1

Pairing: Yoongi x reader; Possible others x reader

Au: Supernatural; modern day; hunters

Word count: Uhm I ain’t counting

Warnings: Dark themes; gore; sex; possible tw

Summary: The struggles of her past lead her into an asylum by her foster parents who couldn’t look after her. Sightings of seven spirits in her dream haunted her till the day she got put on medication and her brain fried. On her 18th birthday she’s free but with a simple address of her old home scribbled on crumpled paper does it lead her to mysteries. Mysteries awaiting because no one listened to her. To Van Helsings future grand daughter.

A/n: This whole story is based off a working rp between me and my friend @ahelishgoodgirl because she told me that I should get into fanfic writing so... that’s what I’m doing :)

———————————————————————

Wind whips along trees, creating haunting sounds that whistle past my ears as I walk down the empty road into the busy city of Seoul. Left to my own devices, I had been admitted to an asylum for five years but yesterday was my eighteenth birthday which mean I left today. A relief if you ask me, the amount of horrid therapy and drugs they injected into my system left me surprised I wasn’t dead or an addict.

My converse patter slowly on the soaked concrete ground, having rained early hours of this morning and still not drying up even as it’s dark now. My foster parents never visited me during my time at the asylum, made me realise that I practically don’t have anyone... no one at all. Thankfully my mind had forgotten about the seven men I’d see, whom speak to me in my dreams and what they’d tell me each time. Maybe it was the electro shock therapy that made them disappear.

Looking at the address scribbled on lined paper that I solely gripped onto I looked up at the house I once remembered growing up in... now no longer lively but a shit hole. Bricks crumbled from the wooden stables that held this home together, windows smashed... garden over grown and graffiti everywhere. Compared to the other houses surrounding the street... this was the only dead one here. Begrudgingly I enter past the police tape strewn beside the front door frames, looking around confused as my feet take me up torn carpet stairs, finding my old room and seeing it... gone. Either looters... or someone was trying to find something because everything was everywhere. It was clear mother and father were not here.

“Bastards..” I whispered, soon finding an old teddy of mine, my pink bunnie. It was dirty now, no longer got that beautiful pink tint it had... but now muddy... dirty. That’s how I felt now standing here. Walking back downstairs I check around some more, seeing nothing but empty beer bottles or needles. That was until I head movement down in the basement, my bones freezing as I gulped and walked to the door under the stairs, slowly opening it and walking down. “Hello?” My feet once again thud along the wooden stair case that was rotting away.

The sound you heard was a man who had taken asylum in the basement. He was a drugged up junkie who could barely tell what was real and what was fake. He looked up at your scared body. “Hello there” he smiled “I remember you, there is a picture of you in the hallway” he laughed “what’s the matter little girl? Are you sad about something?” He asked a needle in his arm “you’re the daughter that made it right?” He said leaning back “it’s a shame the people who lived here got attacked... by animals” he chuckled eyes slightly closing. “They shouldn’t of let the door open. Inviting things they shouldn’t... shame shame but not for me as I have a home now” he laughed trying to stand, he failed but it was obvious he wanted to reach you.

“Uh...” I stepped back, frowning at the ‘animal attack’ as how could anyone let an animal in?

“What do you mean ‘shouldn’t be letting anything in?’” I asked, looking at him. Frowning at the needle in his arm I stayed on the lower step, keeping my distance. The man laughed and laughed, he didn’t answer your question at all. Instead he slowly drifted off to sleep. There was nothing I could say, it was as if the wind was calling you out. A few miles into the woods stood a huge torn palace with 7 dark secrets inside.

Frowning I back out of the house, exiting the home I had to forget as I shook my head. The wind whispers to my ears, making me look to the woods. “Huh?” Slowly I step into the tree line, seeing almost an apparition float through the trees... a child. “Hello?” I called out, starting to follow this strange child.

“Follow” he whispered and walked into the woods. The child kept looking back every now and then to make sure you were following. He was pretty much silent, he knew you’d follow, you had nothing to lose. Did you? Before you knew it you stood in front of an enormous house. “In” the kid whispered pointing at the front door.

“Are you sure?” I softly whispered, slowly walking up to the doors of what appeared to be some worn down palace.

“What is this place?” As I turned to see the little boy... he was gone. It made me frown but I creeped inside anyways, looking around and covering my nose at all the dust so it wouldn’t make me sneeze. That’s when I heard voices.

“Tell us!” Someone said “where is the girl? The last of the name you so much hate?” Suho asked, slapping around the starving vampires who were chained to the walls. They wouldn’t speak, too weak to say anything and too weak to even try. Blood is what they craved at the moment and they swore if they had the opportunity they would rip this bastards apart. One of the vampires, yoongi looked up at him and softly chuckled. “The fuck are you making fun of blood sucker?” He asked before punching him.

Hearing voices I frowned, sounding as if a fight was going to break out as I walked towards a door. I tried to listen in against the rotting wood of the door but failed, tripping over my own feet and stumbling into the room as I looked up at a strange group of men in hunting gear with wide eyes. But then... I looked over to the seven ‘things’ who had haunted my whole life... chained to a wall.

“W-what...”

“Who the hell are you?” Asked baekhyun who furrowed his eyebrows and came close to you. “Psh just a stupid human. What say ye? A little snack for the blood suckers?” He laughed making the rest shake their heads “nah they aren’t deserving of it.. why not have a little fun with her? Each one gets a turn?” Suho smirked licking his lips.

“Y-you... what...” my eyes were more focused on the seven beaten up males who haunted my mind and practically sent me to an insane asylum. That’s when I turned to look at the other men. “You fucking touch me and I’ll kick your ass, I didn’t get sent to an insane asylum for nothing.” I glared at the strange men who were talking about me. It was more flight or fight defense, my words meaning nothing but to keep a facade up.

“Insane asylum fellas” baek laughed grabbing you by the hair and throwing you onto the ground. “Careful, we all want to have a taste” they laughed. Yoongi one of the vampires took a liking to you, pretty, just like his long dead wife. “Pshh” he whispered while the men talked about who would have the first turn “give me a little blood and I’ll save you” he said.

Looking up at one of the males who haunted my dreams I scoffed. “Like hell! You seven... strange men haunted me ever since I was a little girl! I’m not giving you shit so thanks for sending me to an asylum!” I huffed, glaring at him.

“We did?” Yoongi asked, it clicked on his head who you were but the hunters didn’t know. “Fine then I hope you’re not a virgin... they’ll tear you apart” he smirked “so then me” yelled baekhyun who turned to undress you or at least pull your panties down. “Stop it honey, if you fight it’ll be worse” Yoongi looked over at you scoffing “just a little blood” he whispered.

I screamed as I tried to kick the hunter away, looking at the male before having no choice but to cut my hand open on a rusted nail poking out of the ground, holding it up to his lips so he could drink. “Q-quick!” I said, knowing I was a virgin and I wasn’t ready yet.

Yoongi smirked taking a sweet bite, he drank a little less than half of your blood and escaped the painful chains. Breaking his brothers chains “don’t touch her” he said, he wanted to hurt you now that he knew who you were but at the same time he wanted to protect you. “Weapons boys” suho yelled, baek being thrown back by Yoongi. The guys didn’t waste a minute sucking him dry.

I covered myself back up, heart racing as I managed to crawl over to the door. I needed to get out of here, chills were being sent down my spine whilst I ran to the front door to escape.

Yoongi got away from the hunters “where do you think you’re going helsing?” He chuckled picking you up with ease, his lips met yours with a burning intensity. You were his blood type and yet he couldn’t figure out where his dead wife was even though your blood was the key but something linked him to you. Something kept stopping him from killing you.

My eyes widened as I instantly shoved him away, holding my mouth. “The hell are you doing? My name isn’t helsing!” I huffed, frowning as my last name was l/n.

“You’re adopted! Helsing is your real name like it or not” he smirked “what am I doing? What I want with what belongs to me” he said kissing you again, “you’ll die if I don’t make you mine. They figure it out and your gone, you won’t make it past hmm 19?” He laughed.

“What? I’m so confused... how am I gonna die?” I huffed, shoving him away as I stepped back.

“I’m not yours at all!”

There were screeching screams inside the house. “Don’t you see what we are? We can tear you apart in seconds. In the end it’s your choice unless you state you want to be with me. But if you don’t then I’ll start digging your grave” he laughed “don’t believe me?” He asked, 2 of his brothers came out. “Now that we’re all better and our head is clear... along with yours sweetheart we can get in your mind. Again...” Namjoon smirked

“Have you missed us like we missed you?”

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allmight-amiright · 5 years

Text

Who Even Are You. Bakugou Katsuki

Request: Ghost by Halsey is such a good angsty Bakugou song and nobody can change my mind. Like he's done it he became a pro hero. He starts throwing himself into his work more and more and because of it he's losing his s/o. (not a request but it could be... I'm mainly just sharing my thoughts)

Word count: 2.2K

Warnings: Mild swearing.

Notes: God damnit I’m a slut for Bakugou Angst. I’ve literally been listening to this song on repeat since like 11 p.m. and ope. It’s 2 a.m.

*Listen to the song HERE!*

*Read Part 2 HERE*

*Read Part 3 HERE*

Curtains were drawn. Lights were off. The world outside was asleep, just like the young man next to you. You wished you could say the same. You had been wide awake far past your boyfriend at this point, watching as the red numbers on the alarm clock changed with each passing minute. This had become a regular occurrence for you. Your mind raced with a million different thoughts that wouldn’t slow down long enough for you to fall asleep.

You look over at the sleeping blond on the bed next to you. His hair was plastered flat against his head, still wet from his shower. Being a pro-hero had already started taking a toll on him. He would come home, too exhausted to do anything but take a shower and go directly to bed. You had stopped trying to ask him about his day. You were tired of the “Can we talk about it in the morning? I’m exhausted.” Especially when he wouldn’t even talk about it in the morning. “Sorry, babe. I gotta get out of here. Villains don’t wait.”

It was like he had become a totally different person as the years had passed. He used to be bouncing with anticipation, ready to tell you all of the details of his day. How many bad guys he caught. How many people he saved. How cool he had been. But, now, you were lucky to even get a “goodnight” out of him. It was like he forgot that you even still existed. You would believe it if he did.

You place your feet down on the floor, the hardwood carried a chill all the way up your spine. You padded out of the bedroom as quietly as you could, careful not to wake Bakugou from his slumber. Right now, you just needed fresh air. You pulled your jacket out of the closet by the front door and stepped out into the chilly night after slipping on a pair of shoes. You sat down right outside the door, watching your breath turn white before it dissipated into the night sky.

Everyone told you this would happen. Everyone told you not to get involved with him.

“He’s the type to get obsessed in his work. I mean, you saw how he was in high school.”

“We just want you to be happy. And we just don’t think you’ll be happy with him.”

You never believed that they would be right. At the beginning, things had been perfect. Conversation had flowed with ease. Jokes and teases were shot at each other with loving sneers. He always made sure to have time for you. Whether that be taking a quick break in his day to have lunch with you or using his day off to take you somewhere special. He was caring in that harsh way that only someone like Bakugou could manage.

Remembering always made everything so much harder. It forced you to accept the fact that he had the ability to care about you somewhere in his heart. It forced you to accept the fact that he did love you, despite everything that you told yourself. But that was all in the past. That wasn’t the now. The Bakugou that you had fallen head over heels for was not the same Bakugou that was fast asleep right now. The old Bakugou had fallen away the minute he started taking more shifts at the agency. He said it was because he wanted to do more. He needed to help more people. He was a hero and he wanted the world to know that. “Villains don’t take a day off, why should I?” More shifts turned into longer hours, much against the wishes of his supervisor, but Bakugou didn’t care. He was a pro. He could handle it. And he could. He could handle his 90 hour work week. He just wasn’t able to handle everything else that life had to offer on top of that. His work had started causing him to push away his friends. There were no more guys’ nights with Kirishima. No more game nights with the Bakusquad from high school. He didn’t even have enough time to answer the text messages from his friends that only wanted to make sure that he hadn’t worked himself to death.

It was heart-shattering to watch him push away all of the people that he had cared for. But, you had been sure that he was never going to let it get to the point where he was pushing you away too. He loved you too much to do something like that.

Right?

You catch yourself scoffing at the very naivety of the thought. It didn’t take long for him to do the very same thing to you. It had gone from date night every Saturday to once a month and then it became every few months. But, that’s only if you were lucky. Honestly, you don’t even remember the last time the two of you sat down and ate dinner together, let alone went out on a date.

You hated it. You hated being cast to the side and only being wanted when it was convenient for him. You hated having to beg for him to talk to you, give you any ounce of attention that he could spare. You just kept holding on, as if one day, he would snap out of everything and go back to normal. You had been waiting for that one day for nearly five months now and you were coming close to your breaking point. Everytime the front door closed behind him, the resentment in your chest grew. Everytime that door closed, he strayed further and further away from the person that he used to be and further and further away from you. He was always just out of reach for you to grab ahold of him and bring him back to normalcy.

It would be a lie if you said that you didn’t love him. If you didn’t, you would’ve followed him out the door a long time ago, never to come back. You cared about him more than anything else in the world. The thought of leaving him made your heart hurt, but with each passing day, the option began to hurt less and less. You loved him, but it was obvious to you that he wasn’t willing to put the effort into your relationship anymore.

“Y/N?”

“Katsuki? What are you doing up?” you ask, looking up at the sleepy young man, the bags under his eyes startling apparent even in the dim light.

“I could ask you the same thing.”

“Couldn’t sleep. You’re turn.”

“I woke up and you weren’t there. I thought something happened,” he offers, his voice still gravelly from just being pulled from sleep.

“Go back inside, Katsuki. You’re going to get sick.”

He starts to go back inside, but stops to look at you. “Are you coming?”

“No.”

“Y/N, it’s too cold for you to be out here.”

“Just go back to bed. I’ll be in soon.”

“Okay,” he mutters, yawning slightly as he goes back in the apartment.

You rolled your eyes. That might’ve been the longest conversation the two of you have had all week. Hell, maybe all month. You leaned your head back against the brick wall. You could leave. You could walk down the stairs right now and never look back. You had friends that would let you couch surf or you could always move back in with your parents. You could be away from this. You wouldn’t even have to tell him goodbye. Would he even notice? He would probably just assume that you left for work early. He’d be too tired that night to realize that you weren’t sitting on the couch watching Full House reruns. It was so tempting. It was less than fifty feet from your apartment to the stairs and then only three flights to the parking lot. You could get a taxi from there and take it to Mina’s or Kirishima’s. It would’ve been so simple.

That’s a bitch move.

You sat outside until the sun rose. You checked your watch. It was nearly six in the morning. Katsuki’s alarm would go off in half an hour. He’d sit up, rub his face, just like he does every morning. He’d stumble into the kitchen, placing slices of bread in the toaster. Then, he’d have to make more because it never failed that he would over-cook the first batch. It would be just like every other morning for him. In his own world, nothing would be off. Things would be just how they always were.

And they were. His morning started the same way it always did. You made coffee while he got ready so it would be ready when he was done. He had sat on the couch to watch the morning news while you went to get ready for your own day. He hadn’t even said goodbye to you when he left.

With him out the door, you dragged your suitcase from the closet and any duffle bag that you could find. Clothes from your half of the closet and dresser were thrown in wherever they would fit. Your things were cleared out of the bathroom. It would be like you had never even resided there. Your bags sat packed by the front door, so you would be ready to leave when he got home. You wouldn’t have to keep living with what little remained of your soon-to-be ex-boyfriend. You could return back to feeling whole and happy rather than continuing on this path that left you with zero satisfaction.

You weren’t expecting him back so early. It was only four in the afternoon, yet Katsuki came trudging in through the door, dripping from head to toe. He looks at your bags sitting by the door. “You got a business trip?”

“You’re home early.”

“Yeah. It’s pouring out there and my quirk doesn’t work right in this kind of rain. Didn’t you have work today?”

“No. It’s Thursday. I never have work on Thursday.”

“Really? Since when?” He asks, removing the water-logged pieces of his costume and hanging them up in the laundry room so they can dry.

“It’s been that way for the past three years, Katsuki,” you sigh.

“Oh. I guess, I never noticed.”

You get up from you were sitting on the couch and started towards the door. “Katsuki, I’m leaving.”

“Y/N, the bags by the door kind of gave that away. When will you be back?”

“I won’t.”

“Damn, that long of a trip, huh? Well, you’ll have to text me when your flight lands,” he says, finally emerging in fresh clothes.

“I’m not going on a business trip, Katsuki.”

He tilts his head at you, confusion etched across his features. “Then, where are you going?”

“Listen to me. I’m leaving.”

“You told me that.”

“I’m done. I’m moving out. I’m breaking up with you. I’m leaving, Katsuki. Do any of those get it in your head?”

“What- What do you mean you’re breaking up with me?” He asks, his voice startlingly quieter than usual.

“I can’t do this anymore. It’s like I’m living with a ghost! You’re never around and when you are, you’re so exhausted that you won’t even speak to me. I’m tired of you pushing me away, Katsuki. I understand that your work is important and I understand that this is your dream, but you’re overworking yourself to the point where you don’t have the energy for anything besides work. I can’t keep living with in a situation where I have to ask to get you to pay me a little attention because you are so caught up in playing hero! It’s like you’ve forgotten that we’re supposed to be dating.”

“What do you expect me to do? Just let innocent people get hurt, because you want someone to tell you that you look cute? Y/N, I can’t just throw away everything that I’ve worked for just because you’re being a baby.”

“I’m being a baby, am I? Why don’t you tell that to all of your other friends who feel the exact same way? Katsuki, if you want to keep living your life like this, knock yourself out. Just don’t expect me to be in it,” you say, shouldering the duffle bag and pulling up the handle on your suitcase.

“Y/N, please. Don’t just walk out on this.”

“I don’t even know who are anymore, Katsuki! You are not the same man I fell in love with. When he comes back, tell him to give me a call. But until that happens, we’re done.”

#bnha #boku no hero #boku no hero academia #boku no hero imagines #mha #my hero academia #my hero academia imagines #mha imagines #bnha imagines #katsuki bakugou #bakugo katsuki #bakugou #katsuki #angst #songfic #ghost #halsey #imagine #x reader

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s-trawberryv-eins · 4 years

Text

The Three of Us

Summary: On the anniversary of Pietro's death, Wanda finds herself quite alone. The blossoming of new friendships helps to make the day more bearable.

Warnings: Mentions of death, mentions of grief.

Please read here before reading!

Stark!OC x Scarlet Witch

Stark!OC x Black Widow

Word count: 1034

A/N: This is set roughly 2 months after Caroline’s identity was revealed.

MAY 2024

AVENGERS COMPOUND

UPSTATE NEW YORK

Caroline Stark struggled with keeping tidy on the best of days. She had far more important things to be doing, arranging formulas, fixing robotic limbs, creating and updating tech for the team. Maintaining order was rarely on her list of things to do. As Dr Banner fought his way through the piles of paper and the heaps of lab equipment that littered the path to his desk, he let out a rather frustrated sigh.

“I mean, how can you even function like this? It’s worse than usual, Care?!” Raking a hand through his curls, he shook his head vigorously. "I want separate labs."

“My laptop! Have you seen my laptop?! I cannot find it anywhere." Frantically looking under mountains of papers and textbooks, she continued to search without a breath. "There is an entire weeks’ worth of designs on there that ARE NOT BACKED UP. I need it. Right now." Her misdirected anger didn't faze Banner, as he looked around the room.

“The white one?” When she only offered him a dumb look in response, Banner just shrugged lamely. “Okay, okay. Sorry. I saw Wanda with it yesterday.” Throwing his arms up, gesturing at the bombsite in front of him, he continued, but Caroline showed no interest as she was already on her way out of the door. “You can’t leave me to work in this mess, Care! Caroline? Oh for God’s sake!”.

“FRIDAY is Wanda home?”

“I’m afraid not,” the AI responded politely “she went out early this morning, Miss Stark.” Pushing the Maximoff girl’s door open slightly, Caroline hesitated. She'd only had a handful of interactions with Wanda and didn't want to invade her personal space before they really became friends. But she needed that computer. Biting loosely on her bottom lip, she slipped inside the room and instantly spotted her laptop open on the bed. Sliding down in front of it, she hastily entered her password. What appeared on the screen in front of her left her feeling even more concerned; less for the whereabouts of her work, but for the wellbeing of her teammate.

‘FLIGHTS TO SOKOVIA MEMORIAL’.

Caroline had heard all about Sokovia from her Father. Hell, she’d received a goodbye phone call from him right before he and Thor blew the city to smithereens. The whole world knew about Pietro Maximoffs sacrifice. Barton had made sure of it.

Closing her laptop, she slid off the bed and left to search for Natasha. With Friday pointing her in the right direction, it didn't take her long to find the other female Avenger.

“Wanda isn’t here." Black Widow was already pulling her jacket on before she could continue with her sentence. “It’s nine years to the day, and it’s the first time without Vision.” With a quiet voice and cautious words, she explained her findings to the superspy.

“Laura phoned—Clint’s wife, Laura. She’s there. Drove herself there this morning.” Caroline didn’t feel it her place to comment. She hadn’t been there; on that flying city. She hadn’t witnessed the horrors that they had or felt the pain of Pietro’s death. So she merely followed after Natasha and climbed in the passenger seat next to her.

Arriving at the Barton household, the two friends held a firm grip on each other’s hands. As they walked down the path, a woman appeared in the doorway with a sad smile on her face.

“Clint took Cooper and Lila out. She’s upstairs with Nathaniel. They’ve been playing for hours.” Natasha headed straight up the stairs, but Laura continued. “You look a lot like your Father, you know. He was a good man. I would’ve said something at the funeral, but…” trailing off, Caroline could tell that Mrs Barton was truly genuine in her words. With a gentle touch to her shoulder and a shaky smile, Caroline nodded slightly.

“Thankyou. That means a lot.” Suddenly finding herself at a bit of a loss for words, she excused herself, running after Natasha up the stairs.

“Auntie Wanda, why are you sad today? Momma said you miss your brother. Where is he?” The soft boyish voice led the girls down the hall, where they made their presence known. Taking a seat either side of the grieving girl, Caroline tried her best to explain to Nathaniel what had happened to Pietro.

“A few years ago, before you were even born, your Daddy and his friends went to save the world. He got into some trouble rescuing a little boy, but Auntie Wanda’s brother was there to save him! But he got hurt real bad. So he’s not here anymore.” Voice feather soft as she was unsure how Wanda would respond to her telling of Pietro’s death. But feeling the Witch's hand wrap around her own, she felt more confident to continue.

“He died? Saving Daddy?” The Barton boys voice was curious as he spoke, trying to understand what Caroline had said.

“Yeah, he died. But can you guess what his name was?”

“Pietro! I remember! That’s one of my names!” A gasp fell from Wanda’s lips at his response, and she couldn’t hold her tears back. As if reading the situation perfectly, Nathaniel merely climbed into the Witch's lap and stayed there, leaning against her softly. The four of them remained huddled together silently, until Wanda gave a signal that she was okay to stand.

“Auntie Wanda, I’ll be like your brother now. I’m super fast! See?” The three Avengers giggled as he dashed out of the room, out of sight.

With a soft sigh, the brunettes grip tightened on her two super friends, her voice barely audible as she asked, "can we go home?"

Upon their return, Sam and Bucky had cleared out the common living room for the girls to claim as their own for the night. They’d prepared tea for the three, too. Few words were exchanged that night, but it was enough. After that, things were very different. Caroline was no longer a trusted acquaintance, but a true friend to the girls. Sleepovers were held, coffee dates arranged, shopping trips endured, and battles won together. Caroline had never felt more at home.

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