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lynnlovesthestars · 2 months

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Sleep tight.

Pairing: Astarion x OC (Lynn, changeling sorcerer)

Genre: Fluff

Synopsis: The shadowlands are not welcoming and Astarion needs help falling asleep

Warnings: Astarion overthinks the shit out of cuddles.

WC: 1.1k

AN: im sick, so sorry if there's any errors, i wrote this a few nights ago so idk if there's any errors, but covid got my ass. I will get back at answering the headcanons when im going to be able to type without feeling sick- so yeah. I hope u like it

Taglist: @sessils @spacebarbarianweird Masterpost Kofi Patreon

The night dawned quickly over the tired group, the shadowlands had something in them that drained them of their energy. It could have been the constant fighting- or the gloom- but they were exhausted by the time they set up camp.

It was unsettling when everyone retired to their tents, even the ones known for being the loudest or chattiest were suddenly silent. Some even resorted to keeping their tents open- like Lynn- just enough to have a clue of what was going on outside since the silence took over before they even knew it.

The shadows lingering right at the edge of the small clearing haunted everyone as they tried to get as much rest as possible.

Lynn quickly discarded his clothes in the corner, grabbing his trusted blanket and wrapping it tightly around his body before tucking himself in his bedroll. It was a different type of cold that ran through everyone's body, it was rooted deeply in their bones and eating out as much as possible. They almost thought that the shadow curse was actually eating them alive if it wasn't for the Harper's reassurance before they had left the inn.

Nevertheless it didn't erase that overwhelming cold as they laid to sleep.

Lynn surprisingly didn't take long to chase the exhaustion, despite he didn't fully fall asleep, for the time being, dozing in and out of sleep was enough for him as he tried to picture a peaceful scene in his head.

A roaring fire, a plaid, Astarion clinging to him as they rested close and exchanged delicate kisses. What he imagined as peaceful in his quite stressful life.

Astarion paced back and forth in his tent, his body unable to stop fidgeting as he bit his nails and retraced his steps to find out where he fucked up.

"Shit, shit, shit" He facepalmed as he couldn't help but recall the way Lynn had held him those few times he had fallen asleep in his tent after a feeding.

His whole body was taught, impossible to fall in meditation when his head had other matters to focus on, so when he was thinking again of Lynn, and the way he held him, Astarion decided to give it a shot.

Astarion could never truly move on from it, he held him as if he had been precious, he placed soft kisses on his forehead and he'd gently scrape his nails on Astarion's body, or how his fingers tangled nicely in his curls as he gently massaged his scalp. He didn't know feelings well, but he was sure that was the closest he had even been to feeling loved.

And he wasn't even good at hiding how those pure touches affected him. Nothing could hide the blush on his cheeks or the goosebumps on his skin, the way he's clutch tighter to Lynn as if he was afraid he'd disappear.

He didn't have to feel anything more than whatever people that co-worked felt like, he rumaged as he stood in front of the flap of his tent.

He scoffed at himself as he pushed it open. "It's just making sure he's not dead" He thought. "I'm confirming he doesn't hate me yet" He strode past the rest of the tents to Lynn's, even as he walked he could peak inside, where the changeling was sprawled in his bedroll, his hair spread all over the place as he laid half asleep, staring at the cloudy sky.

The latter didn't notice him coming to a halt in front of the tent. "Lynn?" He kneeled close to the other as he placed his palm on his cheek, earning a 'mh' as the other turned to look at him. Lynn's eyes were glassy with sleep as he laid on his side. "Can I stay here with you?" Astarion managed to ask with an unfamiliar shyness he could hardly tame, while his pallid cheeks suddenlt burnt with heat.

Lynn simply nodded, lifting the duvet- still messily wrapped around him- and the bedroll's flap while his free hand gently grasped at Astarion's wrist and tugged him in. "Come here" He murmured once the elf didn't hesitate to sneak in the cocoon.

The warmth alone could have helped him sleep, but the closeness with Lynn truly had something he couldn't name that relaxed him.

Lynn didn't think it twice, his arms quickly found respite around Astarion's hips and pulled him to his chest, and the moment his naked legs tangled with Lynn's he swore everything was lifted off his back.

Lynn didn't as why Astarion was there or why he pocked him to rest with, he simpley accepted Astarion in the closed space as if it was something normal to do with him, and Astarion knew it wasn't.

Lynn barely allowed anyone to touch him, firmly reminded everyone to respect his personal space, and yet Astarion played by his own rules, just the fact that he was allowed to literally cling to his neck and feed off him was proof enough of it, no matter how many excuses he would recycle to the rest of the group. Astarion already knew back when Lynn had defended him from the gur, or when he had offered to show him what he looked like, that he was getting way too emotionally attached to him, and yet he couldn't help but sigh in the grasp. What sorcery was it? His body felt lighter and slipping in trance was way too easy.

Astarion gently cupped Lynn's cheek again, their noses brushing as the other closed his eyes and Astarion wondered if he could try and steal just one kiss before it was too late.

"Shit, do you need to feed?" Lynn rasped half dazed with low voice, clearly closer to sleep than what he knew.

"No, just wanted to thank you" He smiled while lingering close. Their lips were barely brushing as Lynn peacefully sighed and slowly blinked. "Rest well" He murmured before he closed the distance between them with a peck- although he swore he kissed his forehead- Astarion was left breathless with his eyes wide open.

"Sleep tight" He whispered back as he sunk in his chest and closed his eyes, allowing Lynn's heartbeat to lull him into trance.

It had been such a fleeting kiss that Astarion couldn't help but wonder how Lynn's lips would taste like, how his tender touch would be once they waked , how his eyes would soften once he'd notice how tightly they were holding each other, and how his lips would curly in a smile when he'd see how nicely their legs tangled together, and before he knew he was finally meditating, shielded by Lynn. That's how he knew he was safe, cause for once he didn't struggle or worry. He knew Lynn was going to be there when the sun- or the shadowlands equivalent- rose, he'd be in his hold.

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crookedkryptonitebeliever · 4 months

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Best and Worst of Both worlds (part 22)

Part 23

Tw: Monty being a creepy lil shit, mans can't take no for an answer, short chaprer

Tell me what y'all think of the series so far i loce reading the comments and anon asks plpplsplps thanks

"(name)-" Yves's eyes were blank when you hung up. He slowly puts his phone down on his desk. He starts disassembling it, pulling the battery out and carelessly tossing it to the side of his laptop. You're not going to call him again.

He drummed his perfectly manicured fingers onto the table. Yves sighed heavily as he massaged his forehead. He extended his hand to grab a luxury bottle out from a metal pail of frosty ice.

He uncorked it and poured his champagne flute full of alcohol. It was filled to the brim, but Yves is skilled enough to pick it up without spilling a drop.

He walked up to the massive, crystal-clear window that allowed him to see the skyline and the city from a bird's eye view. The sky is dark but devoid of clouds. It's picturesque, but its beauty means nothing to Yves now. You aren't here to appreciate it with him and neither will you appreciate it from the pictures he sent.

He stared past his reflection as he sipped on his drink.

In his vast, lavish hotel room, he is the only occupant within it. Yves doesn't see the need to switch all the lights on. Just enough to see, but it made his room rather dim and ominous.

He continued staring out into the distance wordlessly and unblinkingly as he drank from the special glassware.

Silence envelopes him like the deep ocean. He wished that it also engulfed his mind. But alas, a man can only pray to receive such mercy.

The three of you laughed at a joke Evangeline said. She seems to be quite the comedian, her brain spins fast to think of witty sayings and comparisons.

The rain somehow worsened since, stuck in traffic and with nothing to do, you, Evangeline and her father resorted to singing along to songs, albeit off key with cracking voices.

Perhaps Mr. Jones was having a bit too much fun. So much so that he didn't pay attention to the road ahead of him.

You and Evangeline were forcefully jerked forward upon impact of the front to the bumper of someone's car.

Mr. Jones gloved hands were gripping tightly on the steering wheel and his hat is not on his greying head.

He turned to check on his daughter and his client.

"Is everyone okay?" He asked. Evangeline nodded and you did so too. You felt a bit sore where the seatbelt wrapped around your body, but otherwise, you're unharmed.

"Oh no... I hit someone..." Whined Mr. Jones. "I hope they're alright." His voice has much more guilt than fear or annoyance. He quickly pressed the emergency button with the triangles to signal the surrounding cars to move around him.

Among the downpour, you heard a car door slam shut. Followed by incessant knocking on the window at the driver's seat.

Mr. Jones gulped as he rolled down his window.

"Hey, what the fuck!? You just hit me!

"I am so sorry, Sir--"

"It'll cost me an arm and a leg to repair it, my paycheck isn't going to be ready until next week! I can't drive around without my bumper- look! The entire thing is gone!" The stranger with a sickeningly familiar voice but unfamiliar accent ranted at the older male.

"I-I'll give you my details. My deepest apologies sir, I will cover all the damage incurred. I am so sorry for this." Stammered Mr. Jones. He rushed to pull out a pen and a notepad.

"Yeah, you better! Today cannot get any worse." He grumbled to himself. He's standing under the rain, getting more and more drenched by the minute.

The man stuck his head into the car to avoid the pouring rain. But immediately snapped his neck to the back seat.

You and Evangeline had blood drained out of your faces. Montgomery's eyes lit up so bright that you thought he was actually illuminating the car.

"Hi Darlin'! Fancy meetin' you here!" His southern accent returned. You gave him an awkward wave.

"And yer friend too! Hello! Thanks for givin' my sweetheart their lunch." You looked to your friend, she has the most natural and confident smile on her face.

"Glad I could help, Sir."

"What are ya doin' in a fancy car like this?" Montgomery turned to you. "And where are y'all goin'?"

You struggled to answer. You don't know what to do.

It's times like these you wish Yves is here.

"We are going to my house for a little playdate." Evangeline answered for you.

You let out a discrete sigh of relief. But then you considered the possibility of him tailing you three. Your muscles started to tense up again.

"Well, ain't that fun. I'm goin' to the mechanic to get my car fixed 'cause of him!" Montgomery replied with a snark. Mr. Jones apologized once again as he handed Montgomery a piece of paper with his details on it.

"I'm sorry, Sir Montgomery. It was our fault, we were distracting dad and caused him to hit you." You appreciate that she is keeping his attention off you.

"Your daddy, eh?" He looked around the well-kept interior of the car. "Must be nice to be this rich." He narrowed his eyes at her.

"I wouldn't say we are rich. We definitely are comfortable though. I'm grateful to have such privileges and stabilities!" She beamed, you don't know if she's ignoring Montgomery's obvious spite towards her financial status or she's oblivious to it.

Montgomery visibly rolled his eyes and turned his attention back to you. "(Name), baby!" He addressed you in a sing-song voice.

"Why haven't ya' called? And, I missed ya' to death. Where were ya'? I hope you ain't skippin' school." You stammered and stuttered, you squirm under discomfort. You don't want to be around him any longer.

"Sir Montgomery, I suggest heading to the mechanic soon if you want to make it before it closes." Mr. Jones scribbled on something. "Here. Please accept this." He handed Montgomery a cheque. His eyebrows shot up in surprise.

"Thank you." He stored the cheque somewhere that it wouldn't get too wet.

"As for ya, my sweetheart. What time will ya' be going home? I'll give ya' a lift back." He now stared at you, not caring that droplets of rain dripped down from his eyelashes and into the car.

Evangeline hooked her arms around yours. "They will be staying over. Isn't that right, (name)?"

His facial expression darkened. Montgomery did not like how she was touchy with his partner.

You meekly agreed.

"Well damn. Gimme your number then, sweetheart, I'll call ya."

Since you have two witnesses and you are in a car, you straight up told him no. You said that you're not comfortable with him contacting you and you never agreed to be in a relationship with him.

You thought that would be enough to either send him to a fit of rage or quit.

But instead, he rolled his eyes and huffed. Pretending that this is just a trivial matter.

"Can you cut the hard-to-get act just this once? It's rainin' cats and dogs out here, I wouldn't chase you any less if ya' handed me your phone number. In fact, I'd pursue ya even more!"

Horrified, you looked to Evangeline.

"Sir. (Name) is serious. They're not comfortable with you, they're not in a relationship with you. Please stop, you're being a creep!" She defended you.

"Shut yer' trap! You don't know squat about our love!"

"Don't speak to my daughter like that!" Mr. Jones finally came to her aid.

"What the- You should smack some sense into her! Talking to people like that--"

You interrupted the argument telling him that you are not giving him your phone number or any other information about yourself.

He threw his hands up in the air in exasperation and gave up for the time being.

"Fine. You ain't wanna give it to me? I'll find out my damn self, I'll prove how devoted I am to ya'." He grinned and winked at you. Which made you want to vomit.

Evangeline is baffled how Montgomery isn't taking anything except his car bumper seriously. He's barely angry that you humiliatingly rejected him in front of two people, but instead sees it as a couple's game. Just mildly annoyed that you're making him work for your basic information, but otherwise determined and playful about it.

"Mark my words, I will win this challenge and take my prize!" He declared to you. "Have fun at your tea party with goldilocks over there. I'll see you tomorrow, honey."

Montgomery waved and then returned back to his car. The brake lights lit up before he sped off to the nearest mechanic.

You began hyperventilating, which led Mr. Jones to hand you a brown paper bag. Evangeline tried to console you by putting your hair and squeezing your hand.

Why do these things always happen to you?

#yandere #yandere x reader #yandere oc #yandere male #yandere concept #tw yandere #yandere x you #yandere oc x reader #oc yves #male yandere oc x reader #oc Montgomery #oc Evangeline

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drysaladandketchup · 3 months

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22 Mattdrai please

Thank you anon! I hope you enjoy :)

22. things you said after it was over

Last year, it was Matthew's precious Flames that got punted out of the playoffs. To add insult to injury, it was at the hands of the Oilers. Which is why, that same night, he sent Leon a slew of drunken texts from some dingy downtown bar because he was not in the mood to even look at Leon, let alone go home with him.

Those texts included one declaring they were breaking up, which Leon didn't take to heart because not even five minutes later he got another message assuring him that no they were not actually breaking up Matthew was just going to hate him for the next 48 hours. That, Leon could handle.

Hell, he'd probably have gone for 72 hours. Minimum. And he had to rest his ankle anyways, if he wanted any chance of seeing ice-time the next game. He'd be there when Matthew was ready.

This year, it's the Oilers who go out first.

Leon just barely keeps it together through the post-game media frenzy. He doesn't want to look at the cameras, barely keeps the shudder from his voice, which is little more than a whimper because he just can’t breathe. Hunkered down with his hood up because it feels safe, the only barrier between him and a world that just crushed his dream. Again.

It's not like he can be mad at Matthew, because he fucked off to Florida, a whole other division, so Leon has no excuse for not answering any of his texts, or the six separate times Matthew tried to call after Vegas knocked Edmonton on it's ass.

Only once Leon's back home for the night, drained and exhausted and dazed, refusing to go out with Connor and the guys because he really, really doesn't want to exist right now, does he look at his phone.

Cuddling Bowie in his arms, he sits on the couch and scrolls through the avalanche of texts from Matthew. The last one catches him off guard, and he stares at it, reading it over and over.

come down and see me. please.

And... yeah. Through the doom and gloom of another lost season, he misses Matthew. Matthew, who's season isn't done. Matthew, who doesn't need Leon, but wants him. Wants him to be there.

So Leon books a flight to Florida, and starts packing.

The next day he goes in early for clear-out, says his goodbyes, and drives right to the airport. After an almost nine hour flight--including a layover in Denver that's great for his legs but not his morale--he lands in Fort Lauderdale just as the sun hits the horizon.

Matthew's waiting for him at Arrivals, dressed in board shorts and sandals and button-down shirt, sunglasses and that damn bucket hat. He smiles when he sees Leon, waves, and the simplicity of it chips away at the heavy stone sitting on Leon's chest. He always breathes better when he's with Matthew.

"What, not even a sign?" Leon calls out once he's in earshot. "I thought you were excited to see me?"

Matthew slaps the brim of Leon's hat down over his eyes. "Next time I'll bring confetti canons and air horns."

And fuck, just hearing Matthew's voice again without a phone between them lifts a weight off Leon's shoulders. It almost makes the defeat worth it.

His hands are too empty suddenly. He wants to hold Matthew's, wrap him up in his arms, touch him anywhere and everywhere, inside and out. Replenish old memories, make new ones. Never let go again.

Matthew gets the jump on him once they're in his car, dragging Leon over the center console by his shirt and into a sloppy kiss. It's all tongue and teeth, scratchy beard and plush lips, and as always, it's perfect. This too, aches like a phantom pain when they're on opposite ends of the continent. Phone sex and a bit of imagination with his own hand can't totally replace the sex, but it definitely can't replace the sweetness of a kiss.

When he pulls back, Matthew looks like he's going to immediately drop the one thing Leon really doesn't want to hear--the dreaded I'm sorry about what happened--so he jumps first.

"I missed you."

If Matthew knows he's purposely being cut off, he doesn't show it. He bumps their foreheads together and closes his eyes, like he's just soaking Leon in.

"Missed you too."

As the dusk fades to night, they drive, and drive, and drive. Not to Matthew's house, that's immediately obvious, but Leon doesn't ask where they're going. He slumps in the passenger's seat, leg tucked up against the dashboard, and goes between watching palm trees and glistening waterfront, to watching Matthew.

He tries not to think about hockey, but it was a long and restless flight, and Matthew's got a stupid little air freshener shaped like skates, and the playoffs aren't actually over, so of course the first thing Leon says to break the silence is, "When's your next game?"

Matthew taps his fingers on the steering wheel in time with the music playing on the radio. "Thursday. Against Carolina. We're flying out the day after tomorrow."

"Hmm. So what are we doing with all that time?"

"Fucking, hopefully." Matthew glances sidelong at him, tongue poking between his teeth. "At least for part of it. I still have practice, and you need to relax."

"What am I doing while you're gone?"

"Waiting for me to come back? You can stay at my place. Come to the games when we're at home. My family's going to drop in too, so, you know, be prepared for that."

Won't be Leon's first tangle with the Tkachuks. Pretty sure he's an honorary member of the family at this point, even if he still struggles to keep up with the energy they bring to a room. Not that he minds.

The rest of the drive is quiet enough that Leon dozes off. When he wakes up, groggy with jet lag, it's dark aside from the street lights, and Matthew is pulling into a parking lot up from a small, deserted beach. Leon doesn't know which one; there's so many here. He follows Matthew out of the car and down the promenade, down the stone steps to the sand, where grains slip between his toes and the sound of the waves soothes the storm in his own head.

Which is exactly why Matthew brought him here; somewhere secluded, somewhere that can't hurt him. Because Leon loves the ocean, and Matthew loves him.

He follows Matthew along the beach, going nowhere in particular. Matthew walks purposefully nonetheless, head high and shoulders back, warm breeze tugging at his clothes and ruffling his curls. Something Leon loves to do too, and can't wait to do again.

This place looks good on Matthew. If only it weren't so far away.

"I'm glad you came," Matthew says over his shoulder, slowing until Leon catches up. "I wasn't sure you would."

Why not? The year-round heat and the beaches and the seemingly endless bars are a nice change of pace. But more importantly, this is where Matthew is. Of course he was going to come.

"Beats sitting around re-watching the second round wondering what we could have done differently," Leon says instead, because it's true, and because he doesn't need to tell Matthew what he already knows.

"Hey, that's not a bad thing. But it's not what you need right now." Matthew swallows, takes an uneven breath like he's the one getting choked up. "I saw your interview yesterday. After the game. Leon, you know I didn't call you down here for me, right? Don't get me wrong, I'd fucking love for you to be here watching us play, but the way you sounded... I was worried you'd end up sitting around your house all alone and depressed."

"I'm not depressed. And I wasn't going to. I was planning on going back home."

"Great, so you can mope around in Germany instead."

"I wouldn't have been alone."

"Much as I love Bowie, he doesn't count, babe."

Leon stops walking, staring at the sand until Matthew stops too, turning back and right into Leon's space to block the wind, which has taken on a chill.

"Leon--"

"Our season's over, Matthew," he mutters. "I really thought we could... I didn't want it to end here."

Matthew sighs, but his eyes are sympathetic. "Yeah. I know. But you're not done. There's always next year. And a bunch more after that."

The same platitudes, every time. It's empty words. Leon knows it. Matthew knows it. But what else is there to say? You fall, you get back up, you try again. Rinse and repeat. That's what this league is.

In any other circumstance, Matthew would probably make some crack about the Oilers and how assuming you guys can actually get your shit together, you may have a chance, but it's, you know, fucking Edmonton, so...

But he's being kind for Leon's sake. Because Matthew's forked tongue turns to silk when he's off the ice. He's so gentle at times like this, handling Leon with kid gloves like he thinks he'll shatter if he so much as breathes too hard.

"I'm just getting tired of it always being 'next year'," Leon admits easily, because it is easy with Matthew. "Every time we come close, we get knocked down. It feels like shit. I'm fucking tired of it."

Every time he climbs the ladder, he tastes victory. The higher the wrung, the sweeter it is. And every time he falls, there's a tiny part of him that worries he'll never get his feet off the ground again.

"Hey." Matthew cups his cheek, forcing Leon to look him in the eye, into pale blues that dance and shine even in the dark. "You're not giving up on me, are you?"

The question catches him so off guard Leon jerks like he's been struck.

"What? No. Fuck no. The hell kind of question is that?"

Quitting has never even crossed his mind. He didn't come into this league thinking it would be easy. He's worked his ass off to get where he is, and sure he's got his own liabilities to work through, but he'll keep going until something gives out.

"Good. Just making sure." Matthew looks so damn smug, but Leon's learned to find that endearing too. "Only place left to go is up, right?"

Right. Leon said something like that to Matthew, once. You win or you lose. Only two options. If you lose, then all you can do next time is win. If you win, you keep winning until you make it to the top. Anger into action, failure into fortune.

Matthew's hand slips down Leon's forearm, searching for his hand, but stops when Leon flinches, and brushes a callused thumb back and forth over the bruise there.

"This from Pietrangelo?"

Leon huffs. "Maniac, yeah. It's fine. It wasn't as bad as it looked."

"Want me to rough him up a little if I see him down the line? My treat. Actually, it'd be my pleasure."

There's that blinding confidence. The Matthew that's going to ensure they blow right past Carolina, through Dallas or Vegas, and raise the Cup. Who's dumb enough to argue with him?

"If you want." Leon's almost too tired to smile, but he tries anyways.

And Matthew softens too, cheeks pinked and teeth showing between his parted lips. It's hard to think back to a time when he would never look at Leon like this; like he's so fucking in love with him it's physically impossible to hide it. Leon can only imagine how he looks to Matthew.

"I'll make you another deal while we're at it," Matthew says.

"A deal or a promise?" Leon knows what's coming, because he knows Matthew. His heart still jumps up into his throat.

"I'll win the Cup for you."

They've learned to say I love you in a million different ways. Somehow, they keep finding new ones.

It's so stupid. Matthew's not arrogant. But then again, he seems to be playing a game no one else is, in a way no one else can. He oozes confidence and bleeds charisma, possesses the kind of karma that can change destinies.

If anyone could actually say it, and do it, it's Matthew. Damn if Leon doesn't believe it, too.

So all he has to do is smile, nod, and say, "Okay."

"Just to be clear," Matthew says, "I'm not doing it for the Oilers. I'm doing it for you. And for me and the Cats, obviously. Maybe... maybe a little more for me and the Cats. No offence, babe."

Leon snorts. "It's fine. It's yours. You earned it."

"So have you." Damn right he has. "Shit just sucks sometimes."

Leon scoffs and rolls his eyes to whatever unseeing deity keeps fucking him over. But he's done wallowing. He's got something so much better standing right in front of him.

"You said this was a deal." Leon tugs him closer, one hand cupping the back of Matthew's head, pressing the words against his mouth. "So what do you want from me?"

Matthew smiles under his lips. "I just want you to be there to see it."

#hockey #mattdrai #matthew tkachuk #leon draisaitl #my writing #asks #of course the tragedy of the panthers losing the finals to vegas and matthew's injury looms over this one. I do so love dramatic irony #at least leon is there now so he and brady can both help matthew when he's hurt #matthew is upset they didn’t win and he couldn't keep his promise to leon but leon is like 'your bones are broken please calm down'#i'm actually usually pretty indifferent to petnames but I am so enamoured with matthew calling leon 'babe' I can just hear it #sometimes I don't think I can write romance because I'm very aromantic but then I write shit like this #and suddenly I'm like well damn I guess love is real #once again thinking I should be sued for defamation because I'm pretty sure 'min fic' does not mean 2k but oh well

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batfamscreaming · 6 days

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TRIGGER WARNING: extremely insensitive depiction of how much one is ‘allowed’ to react to their trauma and grief. (there is NO ‘how much one is allowed’, it’s trauma, it sucks, there’s no right way to react or right time limit for how long to grieve. One grieves for how long they do or want or need.)

Sorry for dragging so much angst into your inbox but do you think people treated Bruce after his parents’ murder like he doesn’t deserve to grieve or be sad? He’s the most privileged orphan in all of Gotham with all the millions of money, the mansion, the personal butler, best education and a secured future as the CEO of Wayne Industries? So what if the staff leaked personal information of his grieving phase, so what if people gossip about a secret relationship between the butler and the deceased Martha, speculating if Bruce is actually their illegitimate kid, so what if the Kane’s avoid him, so what if the other children bully him, so what if he gets kidnapped a lot for the money, so what if reporters are trying to interview him on how exactly his parents died and what their last words were or why they even went through that sketchy looking alley to begin with? He’s got money, he’s got a future, hundreds of children go through the same of worse and they don’t have the opportunities that he has. He has a roof over his head, his needs are always met, he never has to be concerned about money, he’s living the dream of many citizens. The loss of Matha and Thomas is tragic, absolutely, but the city is grieving them just the same because with their deaths all of their chances for a better future went down the drain.

This does not reflect my opinion, this is a horrible reaction to a child losing their parents, nothing of what I wrote as an example is in any way acceptable behaviour. Hope that's clear.

I don't mean to sound rude but if you decide to answer this, I don't want some idiot coming at you or starting an argument because I accidentally worded my ask offensively.

I mean

But yeah no people act like huge assholes even when they don't think you're rich and shit.

Like. Listen. If Thomas Elliot is still around, he's absolutely jazzed Bruce doesn't have to listen to his parents anymore.

If Bruce gets to follow Jewish mourning practices he gets a week to fall apart just fucking completely and then a 30 day period of sort of interacting with the world and the rest of the year is meant to slowly return to 'normal business'

Bruce probably doesn't get that or have it enforced. He's not in charge of the funeral or burial-- and the Wayne parents don't have family left to execute their estate either. So presumably they have a lawyer, or business partner, or friend who will execute it. Maybe it's Leslie. Maybe it's Lucius Fox. Maybe someone else? I doubt it's Alfred because Alfred has Other Shit To Do, especially if he's named as Bruce's guardian in the event of a Crisis.

Anyway. The funeral is either reported on or broadcast. Alfred simply cannot let Bruce go looking at all disheveled, and he's maybe not wrong about that. Bruce definitely gets the week off school. Maybe a bit longer. But then he does... have to go back. He still has the rest of the year to mourn and get back to business as usual right?

...anyway this is a long post to say that Bruce is usually the one actually thinking those things. Like. Other people may also be thinking them but there is some truth to that if your parents are both violently murdered usually you're in a a much worse position than Bruce is!

And someone has failed to reassure him that it money and a place to live literally doesn't make up for your family being dead. Literally we have wrongful death suits that can pay out damages but it's the compensation that that person can no longer help make a wage, because otherwise it would be impossible to put a number on the amount of money that would make up for someone being dead.

This thing happens to other people all the time in Gotham. And our media is filled with examples of it being worse. Losing the loving parents is usually step 1 on the trauma conga line. But then Bruce's just stops. He goes back to school. People are sorry for his loss the first year. After a couple more they start saying that Bruce doesn't have to sneak out or worry about being grounded because there's no one telling him what to do. Yeah of course it sucks but look on the bright side right? No bedtime. First car is a lambo. Most parents suck. Yeah, you get along when you're a kid and don't know any better, but that just means it was probably good they died while you had a good relationship with them, right?

You know those posts about "white middle class people want trauma soooooo bad?"

That's a sign of trauma. Is that you want something external to explain why you feel like shit internally.

Probably throwing himself into studying helps to try and be a distraction. Probably a lot of martial arts training to try and exhaust himself and yes make himself feel hurt and bruised to explain why he doesn't want to get up in the morning. The Batman 2022 novel tie in had him as a street racer for a while which is going for an adrenaline high after nothing else feels good anymore at all, which is ridiculous, because he has more money than God and no one to tell him what to do with it.

The issue is that Bruce doesn't think he should feel as bad as he does, because it's been like eight or ten years now, right? He's so much better off than anyone else who has lost their parents. So he should be grateful about it instead of lonely and broken.

And everywhere he looks externally will reinforce this, whether they intend to or not.

Alfred hasn't ever told him he needs to stop mourning them, but Alfred's always had a stiff upper lip and kept his own mourning as hidden as possible, trying to take care of Bruce without realizing he's Bruce's model for behavior now.

Every single parental approval slip is now a guardian approval slip. Alfred has lawyers with automatic cease and desist instructions on true crime investigations and documentaries but there's not much they can do about non monetized podcasts and videos or news reels revisiting the anniversary. There's a layer of insulation between himself and the people on phones trying to call him but if he gets any amount of social media people talk at him about the One thing they know about him. And of course sometimes there's a newspaper article or opinion column about how Gotham's future died with the Waynes, how they're all mourning their past possible future, and if it's before Bruce is 18-- all that will say is that they are survived by their son, who, obviously, does not carry the future his parents promised with him.

#batman #bruce wayne #long post #grief #grieving #loved batman 2022 for Dealing with the waynes

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mickmundy · 1 year

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SORRY IDK WHERE ELSE TO POST THIS. slapdash combobulation of some bushmed vampire au thoughts i’ve been knocking around in my head for the past few months. whee! i’d like to eventually turn this into a polished fic once i’m done with my main medsnip fic. i don’t want to spread myself too thin but once i get an idea its hard for my brain not to just go nyoom

Sniper is a local hunter who gets brought into this German town in the mountains to deal with population control of these “feral wolves” that have been literally plaguing a lot of land for a long time. They’re harder to kill than regular wolves and Sniper’s a talented beast-hunter so the people of the surrounding area call on him for his expertise and help with finding out wtf is up with all of these Damn Wolves!

So sniper stakes out and observes the wolves and notices that they love eating meat. Almost for Fun. And it doesn’t stop there… they’ll go so far as to lick blood off of the ground, almost draining their kills dry. Not natural for just a normal wolf… and he ends up having to engage with a few of them and shoots them dead with perfect skill (of course). He observes them for about a week before he decides to make a move.

Sniper follows them to see where their den is and they make quite a trek to this huge castle and go in through some concealed undercroft. So clearly they have a master.. but what good would it do to just have a bunch of wolves killing a bunch of people for literally no reason.. nobody in the area is particularly rich and anyone living in a castle like this wouldn’t need anything from common folk anyway. So he decides to approach the castle… and he’s not a people person really so he knocks the elaborate knocker and takes his hat off (polite.. hehe) and clears his throat and isn’t really expecting an answer but the door opens by itself… and sniper hears a booming voice from up above somewhere that’s like “Come in, Herr Hunter! I'll be with you in a moment!”

Sniper’s like ??? but brushes it off… looks up at the impressive balcony and is like 'How the fuck did he know who I was or what I did… “Hello, sorry’a bother you but is there any chance you’ve been commanding those hellhounds that’ve been bleeding the local areas like stuck pigs? S’bad for the environment, mate. So if y’don’t wrangle in your spoiled dogs, I’ll have tooo- uhh…” And at the top of the balcony… Sniper can see the swish of coattails… and then…. appears Medic… vampire Medic…!

He leans over the balcony and grins down at Sniper and is like (hello fraulines! voice ->) “Hello, Herr Hunter!” and does a giddy giggle as he leans over the balcony and is kind of sizing Sniper up… of course plenty of other people have come here to try and stop him, but never because they’d made the connection with his wolves… Ohhh.. this hunter is special! “How can I be of service to you?”

Medic is prepared to kill him like he's killed all the other hunters before him but he's kiiiinda hoping he doesn't have to kill him because he's... cute... in a scruffy bloodbag kind of way...,. and Sniper’s just totally taken aback by how friendly this vampire is so he’s like "Well-..." Clears his throat.. "I've noticed you’ve been a bit of a disturbance.... y'know.,., what with the.... your mutts feasting on the folks around here," and Sniper usually comes in super gruff etc. but Medic is just.. wow..... not like other vampires he's killed....

Vampire Medic hums and is like "Oh, ja, that... I'm afraid it can't be helped! I'm a very... very.... hungry man, after all.." Sniper swallows because well yeah, that much is obvious! And Medic smirks because he can hear sniper's heartbeat like thumpa thumpa! awooooga!!

Sniper's like "Well. Be that as it may, any chance you can stop drainin' folks like stuck pigs?" Medic puts his hands behind his back and is like "Hmm.... well, you're a business man, aren't you, huntsman? You understand that I cannot simply do these things for nothing in return." And Sniper swallows bc he knows how powerful medic is... he can practically smell it and it is not a good idea to fuck with a vampire like this! So he's trying to play his cards a certain way so that he doesn’t have to end this with conflict…

"Well... what's worth an entire town'a people? Dunno how you can just wager-" Medic leaps down from the balcony and lands gracefully on his feet and stands up straight… and Sniper has to crane his neck to look up at him because… holy dooley… that’s a big… well fed…. spoiled vampire… Medic stands at about 9 feet tall and (some) vampires grow in relation to age and how well they feed.. Crikey…!! Not bad on the eyes, either.,.,

Medic cuts him off and is like "You. I would like you! ^_^ <3" Not just bc he thinks sniper is kinda cute... but he's a very good vampire hunter and he could do work for Medic so.... it seems like a good deal to him! A very fair trade…. if he was going to be going ‘on a diet’ for a little while, it would have to be worth it after all! Sniper's like “WHAT?? Y’GOTTA BE KIDDING ME!!” And Medic's like "I know you've been the one killing my wolves. I'm very impressed by you, hunter! ^v^" [VERY threatening aura despite hiii <3 vibes] and Sniper’s like “Yeah well what if I’m not interested in negotiatin’ about this, mister-(trying to be condescending)?”

Medic eyes Sniper’s knife and grins and is like “Please! call me Ludwig! (didn’t get that he was trying to be condescending) and of course then you’ll walk out of here alive, just as you came. I must say I would find it interesting that you wouldn’t leap at the chance to be the hero of the local people, though.” And would grin smugly… because sniper’s one life for the lives of the animals and humans of the entire area seems like more than a fair trade… but Sniper’s stubborn as hell and he’s a good enough person but definitely not a saint.

Sniper’s like “And what does all this mean for me? That I’d be some kinda hors d'oeuvre for you until you decide to snap my neck and drain me dry?” Medic’s eyes widen and he laughs and is like “Goodness, no! how barbaric! We shouldn’t focus on how I could kill you. Life is too short to think so heavily about how we might die.” And smirks and Sniper arches his brow, deciding to hear the vampire out..

Medic shrugs and is like “I’m a powerful vampire. I won’t reveal my age to you on our first date (pauses to grin gleefully because he can hear Sniper’s heart flutter at the mention of them being on a date), but I like my home and I intend to stay here and carry on as I’ve had. However, I am not above making compromises!” And shakes his finger and puts his hands behind his back and continues “Of course you know vampires exist. What you might not know is that we don’t all get along.” And says it kinda spitefully and Sniper’s like ???

Medic carries on and explains that vampires are constantly fighting over turf and feeding grounds and whatnot but killing another of their kind personally is… in poor taste. But if Sniper helps Medic take over other territories he won’t need to feed on this area. Less vampires means not as many people die and having both a human and a vampire working together is great for both people and vampires… “But that’s where you would come in, hunter!”

Sniper scoffs and puts his hands on his hips and is like “Y’want me to be your own personal vampire hunter. A vampire hunter that works for a vampire.” Medic hums and is like “Precisely! It has a delectable ring to it, doesn’t it! Hoo hoo!”

Medic approaches Sniper closer and Sniper's on his guard, and Medic bends over at the hip to look Sniper in the eyes and is like “I know you’re a capable hunter, mister Mundy. My wolves have told me (he can communicate with/see “through” their eyes). And if you went from being a small-time crocodile-wrestler and chose to pursue more… exhilarating prey, I can assure you that our deal will give you the thrills of a lifetime.”

Sniper’s looking into Medic’s eyes and then looks down as Medic runs his clawed hand over the sheath of Sniper’s knife holster that’s mounted on his shoulder… and Sniper clears his throat and is like “How’d you know I was-“ and looks behind Medic and sees some of the wolves and looks back at him... Medic smiles toothily and shows off his fangs… and well… the bushman's always admired pretty sets of teeth… control yourself Sniper!

“Imagine this kinda servitude is for life, then.” Medic chuckles and is like “You won’t be trapped here, you’re not my ward. You don’t even have to live here, though I’d be happy to supply you with the finest living quarters you could imagine. Fed, paid, and free as a bird. I do require that in regards to other vampires, your loyalty will be only to me. Of course, there would have to be.. unfortunate repercussions should you betray my interests for another vampire’s.” Sniper snorts and is like “You’re out of your bloody mind.” And Medic laughs…

“Certainly!" He agrees, "So go on and think about it, and come back to me if you decide to take me up on it. The offer is always open.” So Sniper leaves and goes back to the village and gathers up his stuff and finds the locals and tells them “Found a way to deal with the wolves. Gonna take care of it at their den. Shouldn’t be a bother anymore.” They pay him and Sniper stays there for a few more days while he thinks about that vampire’s offer…

Late at night he arrives to Medic’s castle and sees the wolves growling at him as he approaches, but then.,., they stop once they smell him and sit politely! Sniper’s like ???…. and he kicks the door a few times to knock (his hands are full) and the door opens again and Medic smiles pleasantly and is like "I didn't think I'd see you again, huntsman! Welcome back," and Sniper's heart flutters and Medic can hear it… <3 but Sniper stays on the porch.

“I stay, y’leave those people alone. There’s plenty’a eating around here if you’re not greedy about it.” Medic snorts and is like "My pets must eat, you understand (they hunt for him and he can Get Energy from them through blood synthesis. i have a lot of thoughts on this BUT to keep it short lets go with this). As must I. what do you—”

Sniper reaches down and grabs raw meat, intestines, etc. he’s brought and starts tossing it to the wolves outside in the snow, and Medic's pupils dilate at the smell. He knew Sniper must have hunted it (ethically) from local wildlife… and he’d brought it to keep them good on their word… which Medic appreciates because he didn’t have to do that. It’s not anywhere near as good as living blood (truly “fresh”), but the gesture is nice.

Medic’s like “Oh, and are you going to be taking me up on the living quarters?” and sees Sniper’s bags and stuff at his feet looking like a homeless lil hunter and Sniper frowns and is like “‘Course. Clear i don’t live around here, isn’t it?” Medic grins toothily and hums and effortlessly picks up Sniper’s bags for him and is like “Abundantly. Come along then, hunter! I’ll show you to your wing!”

Medic shows Sniper to his quarters which is nicer than anywhere he's ever lived! He's in total awe of the place and that it has electricity and is just so bloody nice… and now he’s living here too… holy dooley. Medic shows Sniper to his “room” which is more like a huge wing that has its own balcony, bathroom, bedroom with a big fireplace, lots of windows…. very very nice. But Sniper’s still totally suspicious!

Medic’s like “I hope it is to your liking! You can of course alter it any way you’d like. I’ll leave you alone for now to get plans for your dinner started. Is steak alright? Oh! And we can start our real work tomorrow!” Like calling behind him as he’s standing at the door…

Sniper’s like this is too good to be true. what the fuck. But instead says “Right. so when do you eat my heart out of my chest then?" and the vampire stops with his back to Sniper and turns his head and gives him a toothy smile and is like "When you beg me to. And not a moment sooner. :) Gute Nacht, Herr Mundy." and delights in the sound of the pounding pounding pounding of Sniper’s heart as he retreats to his main quarters and thinks about his handsome hunter... who is now all his... hoo!

Sniper swallows and is like Wrow… Ummm Okay.,, Hot.,,., and as time goes by he starts to get used to the fancy lodgings and the fact that somehow/somewhy Medic isn't killing him and is actually holding up his end of the bargain, and they're getting so comfortable coexisting together that even a few of Medic's wolves start to warm up to him... and sometimes Medic looks out his Brooding Window to see Sniper playing in the snow with them or them falling asleep in front of the fireplace together... and they start to fall in love... hehehe

okay yeah. as soon as my main bushmed fic is done im polishing this up what the fuck!!!!!!!!!!!!! i need them to fuck nasty!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

#dutchiehcs #dutchfoolery #bushmedicine #hehehehehehehee....#i ALSO have an idea for a vamp sniper human medic one too >:) but i haven't written anything down for it yet!#vamphunter medsnip

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clickerflight · 11 months

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Oh, how far you've fallen Part 2

I'mma go ahead and call this story uhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh, actually, IDK. I'm pretty sure I'm gonna continue this story for a bit so if you come up with a good title for this, let me know.

Also, I hope this all makes sense. I've been really out of it today so hopefully that doesn't reflect in my writing. I was fighting for my life figuring out what happened next and then made potential for a whole series. Wild times out here.

Content warning: somewhat dehumanization? Kidnapping. For sure selling someone into being a lab rat, electrocution

Part 1

.........................................

Agent/Henchman - Ivan/Gale

Villain - Kolt

Scientist - LeAnn

…………………

Kolt was so incredibly delirious, but thankfully was too tired to struggle in Ivan’s arms. Ivan was convinced that Kolt didn't even know what was going on. He murmured indistinguishable words as Ivan carried his old mentor’s impossibly thin frame through the halls of the labs, outrunning the flashlights behind them.

Ivan turned a corner, the map of the building clear in his mind. He did everything he could to keep from being cornered. He only had one chance here.

Well, less than one chance, really. He was royally screwed no matter if he succeeded or didn’t since being here was an extreme middle finger to his handler. But that didn’t matter now. What mattered was each new breath, each new step that didn’t slip on the slick tile, each new heartbeat he could feel under Kolt’s skin.

The fire escape came into view and a relieved laugh bubbled out of Ivan, mimicked softly by Kolt. He shouldered his way through, alarms screaming through the building making Kolt flinch. Down the stairs, leaping down onto a dumpster in the alleyway, and he was off.

He was in the clear now.

Well, he thought he was.

A dark van pulled up, blocking the alley, and equally dark clothed men came pounding out of it, guns in hand.

Ivan was torn between running and staying still to try and explain himself to his agency. His choice was made for him when Kolt whimpered, pressing his horribly scarred and bruised face into his shirt, trembling. Ivan sighed, letting the tension drain from his muscles and he stood still as the agents took his weapons from him and led him into the van.

With that, they were off.

The getaway vehicle was, admittedly, convenient.

……………………

“Terribly sorry for keeping you up, Kate,” Ivan said, a little ashamed as he stepped out of the van, still holding Kolt who refused to let go of him.

Kate stood with her arms crossed and her eyebrow raised. “That’s all you have to say? Ivan, do you not remember how long we’ve been working in that lab? You have quite possibly ruined everything we have been working on for months!”

Ivan didn’t reply, simply shifting Kolt in his arms so she could see the scars and injuries he carried on his frail body. Kolt was nearly unconscious at this point.

She frowned. “Kolt?”

“Yeah,” Ivan said, tucking Kolt against himself again, sharing his body warmth with the man in a way he had never imagined he would. He had never imagined Kolt being small enough for him to carry in the first place.

Kate frowned thoughtfully. “Come on,” she sighed. “We’ll figure this out inside.”

They walked through the underground garage, Kate's heels echoing around them as Ivan watched her walk ahead. He had no idea how this was going to play out. He remembered what happened when he was captured back when he was still Gale. He had the scars to remember it by. Would they do the same to Kolt? There was no way. He was so fragile. Besides, Ivan doubted that Kolt even remembered anything interesting and had been trapped in that building for long enough that he wouldn’t know anything that had happened in the last few months in the villain community.

Kolt was finally unconscious as they reached the elevator, and only a couple of the darkly clothed agents joined them in the elevator as the others headed to go take their gear off. There was silence in the elevator for a moment before Ivan cleared his throat.

“So, what happens now?”

“We will discuss that when my guest gets here.”

“Alright, but Kate. Please keep in mind that he’s-”

“I understand, Ivan,” she snapped, not even turning to look at him. “But you are not in a position to ask for anything for him. Understand me? I appreciate why you have done this, however, that does not change the fact that you are most certainly in trouble and have made my job much harder.”

Ivan huffed silently, annoyed but he didn’t dare argue with his handler. He stared at his reflection, still horrified with how tiny Kolt had become. He’d been taller and more bulked than Ivan. He had been intimidating, once, though you wouldn’t be able to guess that now.

The door opened and Kate led the way down to the med bay. “Drop him off here. You’re coming with me to speak with my guest.”

Ivan gave her a look and very reluctantly lay Kolt down, coaxing his unconscious fingers out of his clothing and into the sheets on the bed. A medic came out from the back, rubbing his eyes and he winced when he saw Kolt.

“See what you can do for him,” Kate told the medic, who nodded.

Ivan hesitated for one moment before he followed Kate back to the elevator. The silence this time was longer and more uncomfortable. Ivan was glad when they reached the conference floor. He wanted to get his reprimand over with.

Kate turned into one of the rooms and Ivan froze.

Dr. LeAnn stood up, a prim smile on her face. “Hello, Kate,” she said as one of the agents shoved Ivan into the room, putting a hand on his shoulder and trying to guide him to the seat next to where Kate was getting seated.

“What’s going on here?” Ivan asked, voice trembling with anger as he shook off the agent’s hand.

Kate sighed. “Ivan, sit down.”

“No! What is she doing here?!”

Kate shared a look with Dr. LeAnn. “Ivan, we have been working on infiltrating that lab for months. LeAnn was our informant on the inside in exchange for a favor.”

“Oh, so your name is Ivan?” LeAnn said, eyeing him over. She curled her lip and said, “You shouldn’t stick your nose where it doesn’t belong. I hear you were Kolt’s dog for a while. One would think you would know how to obey after all of that.”

Ivan hissed, his anger becoming incomprehensible.

Kate sighed. “See what I’ve had to work with? I do apologize for all of that. There is an issue, however. Kolt cannot go back with you.”

“What is that supposed to mean?” LeAnn asked, turning her anger on Kate as agents held Ivan back.

“You have damaged him far past the point the contract has allowed. And according to the records we have from your conversation with Ivan, you have allowed him to become useless. We asked you to turn him into a weapon, not do this to him.”

“Trust me, I tried,” LeAnn said with a shrug. “Weapons take the right base to make, and he wasn’t it. He broke before I wanted him too, and I wasn’t even getting started. I did, however, learn a lot about his genetics. All I need is a base who will withstand more than he could and I could give you a weapon per the contract.”

“Kate,” Ivan growled warningly. She glared over at him.

“Shut up, Ivan. I am trying to clean up the mess you made here.”

“You were trying to turn him into a weapon!? What could you possibly want him for!?”

Kate closed her eyes, taking a slow and steadying breath like she was talking with an impossible child, and Ivan started seeing red as indignation fueled the fire already started in him.

“Ivan, to fight villains, sometimes you need a villain weapon. Is it that hard to understand?”

LeAnn was eyeing him again, something hungry in her eyes as Ivan tried to keep his anger at bay, the fear that dropped into his stomach helping somewhat.

“You can’t be serious.”

“Oh, we are,” LeAnn said. “You’re lucky I have so much pull at the lab. I should still be able to pull enough trust to continue using their equipment and experiments after this debacle… that is, Kate, as long as I start working on a project.”

Kate looked between LeAnn and Ivan and Ivan felt the fear of God enter into every cell in his body, images of Kolt’s wretched state flashing behind his eyes.

“No! NO NO! There is NO way that I am going to HRNGG-”

Ivan fell to the floor twitching as two agents held stun batons to his ribs.

Kate clicked her tongue, watching Ivan writhe on the floor. “He might make a good base. He handled training here surprisingly well. I’ll just need to call the boss and get permission first.”

LeAnn nodded, that hungry look in her eyes becoming ravenous as the agents let up and Ivan lay gasping on the floor.

Ivan came to his senses as a soft ringing tone sounded from Kate’s phone, the silence stretching on as he tried to get his limbs to work for him and get him off the ground, to escape, to find Kolt, to anything.

Someone picked up and Kate began. “Hello, it’s Handler Kate. You are aware of the incident, correct?”

Silence.

“Dr. LeAnn is requesting Ivan. She thinks she can give him Kolt’s powers and turn him into the weapon.”

Silence.

“Yes, sir. We have Kolt in custody. Dr. LeAnn’s professional opinion is that he will be useless for the project.”

“No,” Ivan said weakly, getting his arms underneath him, but someone put a heavy boot on his back and shoved him back down, making it hard to draw a full breath.

“Yes, sir. Thank you. Would you like us to get rid of Kolt?”

“No, I might need him for extra DNA,” LeAnn said quickly.

“Ah, nevermind. Dr. LeAnn said she still might need him.”

Silence.

“Perfect. Good evening, sir.”

She ended the call and smiled at LeAnn. “Well, he’s all yours.”

“Perfect,” she said with an excited though professional lilt to her tone. “You heard her boys. Get him ready for transport.”

Ivan scrambled at the floor, the plastic threads of the carpet scratching at his fingers as he saw movement out of the corner of his eye, and then he knew no more.

Part 3

Taglist: @kira-the-whump-enthusiast

#henchman whumpee #scientist whumper #villain whumpee #handler #whump #writing #not too much whump in this one #set up for stuff in the long run #dude #I'm in so much pain RN #mmy body is not being very cash money right now

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your-divine-ribs · 3 months

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I’m With the Band Part 2

Words: 2k

No warnings apart from my naff writing lol and Arabella’s attitude (the story does get better but I can’t promise that Arabella’s attitude does sorry 😂)

I’m With the Band Masterlist Main Masterlist

"So... you're not actually in this band then?"

Larry and I are sitting on the balcony in my room sipping on bottles of beer whilst he's filling me in on his life in the past ten years.

"No... like I say I just string Van's guitars and... you know... help them with their kit and stuff."

"So you're just a roadie?" I question him.

Larry looks slightly annoyed. "No..."

I'm enjoying winding him up. "Oh... so you're like the band's bitch then?"

I'm giggling at the look on his face but he doesn't stay annoyed for long when he realises that I'm teasing. "So what the hell do you do for a living then? I suppose mummy and daddy just let you live off them now they're loaded eh?"

I don't try to deny it. I'm unashamedly a bit of a princess and I'm proud of it.

"I tried a few jobs but it didn't really fit around my lifestyle..." I say, aware that I sound like a completely spoilt bitch.

Larry doesn't look particularly impressed but I don't care. I'm feeling a little bored of this already. Although it's actually been quite nice to catch up with him I can't imagine the next two months in this little seaside town which boasts a few pubs and one nightclub which looked like a complete dive online. I'm restless.

"So... when are we going out then?" I say, glancing at my watch, imagining what my friends at home are doing now.

"Well... we've got to wait for Bondy first..."

"Who's Bondy?" I say, draining my beer, reaching out for another which Larry passes to me.

"Johnny Bond. He's the new guitarist. He lives in Newcastle so he's coming to stay for a few days until the tour starts up."

"He's staying here?" I ask, ears pricking up at the prospect of a young male in the house. "You got a picture of him?" I nod at his phone.

"You won't need a picture, he's turning up literally any moment," Larry says, and as if on cue his phone buzzes and he takes a call.

"Bondy mate! Yeah that's right, number 52. The last house on the road. Great... I'll come down and let you in."

Larry's off and I stay sitting in my spot on the balcony, legs stretched out in front of me on another chair, enjoying the warm late afternoon sun on my skin. It really is a sun trap here. I'll have to take advantage of this. I hitch up my dress slightly, hoping to catch some rays.

"And this is my little cousin, Arabella. She's staying with us for the summer." I hear Larry say.

I glance up at the tall figure who's looming over me, squinting against the glare of the sun, my hand shielding my eyes.

Hmm... things suddenly got a little more interesting round here...

Bondy smiles down at me, he's got a warm, lazy kind of smile and a handsome face covered with stubble. His scruffy brown curls spill out from underneath the black cap perched on his head.

"Hey Bondy," I say smiling back up at him. "Or do you prefer Johnny?"

He holds out a hand to me and I reciprocate, expecting him to shake mine, but instead he stoops down and plants a little kiss on the back of mine. "You can call me whatever you like darlin."

Larry clears his throat and I'm aware that me and Johnny had definitely let our eyes linger on each other's for a lot longer than was probably appropriate for a first meeting. I smile to myself as I finally turn away, taking another sip of my beer.

Johnny takes a seat opposite me and him and Larry immediately launch into talking about band stuff. I'm only half listening, catching snippets of conversation, hearing names. Van's name comes up a lot but I also hear the names Bob and Benji. Now I've seen Johnny I'm all of a sudden eager to see the other band members. Apart from Van of course. That little prick was the bane of my life throughout my childhood summers.

I pop my sunglasses back on, leaning back, stretching out my bare legs. I notice Johnny glancing over, completely unaware that I'm closely watching him through my dark lenses. He really is pretty sexy. And he's staying here... I wonder which bedroom he's going to be staying in.

After a while Larry announces that he's going inside to fetch more beers and Johnny shifts in his seat, turning to face me.

"So Arabella... how come you're staying at Larry's then for the summer?"

I pull my sunglasses down to the tip of my nose, peering at Johnny over the top as I reply. "Well my parents are in New York on business so they sent me here. They didn't want me staying at home alone. Apparently I can't be trusted..."

"Oh... so you're not to be trusted then? I'll have to remember that!" He laughs softly.

I take off my sunglasses again so I can look him in the eye better. "My dad says trouble always seems to find me."

"Is that so?" Johnny says, but then Larry reappears with the beers, distracting him.

The boys resume their conversation and I slip off to shower, returning 20 minutes later in nothing but a small towel wrapped around me, barely covering my modesty.

"Christ Bells! Put some clothes on would ya?" Larry cries as I smirk at him, leaning down to pick up the bottle of beer off the table I was drinking before.

"Well... you are in my room..."

Johnny's eyes go slightly wide and he looks away, but not before I've clocked his gaze running the full length of my body. That was the desired effect of course.

"Come on Bondy, I'll show you where you're staying." Larry motions for Johnny to follow him, then he turns to me. "We're going pub in half an hour. Are you gonna be ready?"

"I'll be ready!" I smile sweetly at Larry, then he turns his back to leave the room.

Johnny glances back just before I shut the door and I catch his eye. There's definitely a little spark there. I smile to myself as I start to get ready for the night out.

The pub's small and dark and smells of stale beer. Some people might call it quaint. I wrinkle my nose up as we all stepped inside and I hear a quiet chuckle coming from beside me.

"Not your usual kind of establishment I'm guessing love?"

I turn to face Johnny who has a softly amused kind of smile on his lips but Larry cuts in before I get a chance to answer. "Don't think they serve Cristal in here, Bella, sorry!"

I narrow my eyes at him. "Whatever you think you know about me, you've got me all wrong..."

Larry laughs, nudging Johnny. "Eh, reckon she's slumming it tonight!"

Johnny laughs too and steps up to the bar, ordering three pints of lager. I take a seat, pleased when Johnny sits down right next to me. Larry mumbles something about going out for a fag leaving me and Johnny alone.

"Pint okay for you?" He grins, taking a huge swallow of his own drink.

"Uh-huh," I nod with a smile. “Perfect.”

To be honest lager wouldn't be my first choice of drink... or my second, third or fourth for that matter, but Johnny's bought it for me so I don't want to offend him.

I reach for my glass, taking a sip, trying to be ladylike but not quite pulling it off. Johnny laughs, a low throaty sound, and he's looking at me funny.

"What?" I demand, feeling self-conscious all of a sudden.

"You just got it all..." he indicates his own face with his finger "... kinda everywhere..."

So much for trying to be seductive. I reach up to touch my mouth, dismayed that I now seem to have half of the head of my pint adorning my upper lip. I quickly wipe it away but Johnny's still grinning.

"Come 'ere lass," he reaches over, running a finger just above my top lip when I lean forward.

I'm not sure what possesses me, but before he has a chance to pull away I grab his hand, running my tongue lightly over his finger and lightly sucking the tip, my gaze flicking up to meet his.

"Thanks Johnny," I purr.

His eyes widen again and he snatches his hand quickly away, reaching for his own pint, shifting in his seat slightly. I cross and uncross my legs, my thigh rubbing against Johnny's. He clears his throat before looking back across at me.

"So... Arabella... I'm intrigued about what you said earlier... about your parents not trusting you to stay on your own. How old are you if you don't mind me asking?"

I give him a playful smile. "Old enough to know better... but young enough not to give a fuck! I'm 19."

"What did you do?" Johnny says, intrigued, but Larry's back and he wants to know what we're talking about. When Johnny tells him, Larry's eyes light up with the prospect of spilling some juicy gossip.

"Oh our Bells is a regular little party animal!" He says. "Trashed the house didn't you love?"

"They were overreacting," I complain. "It wasn't that bad!"

"That's not what I heard," Larry smirks, then he looks at Johnny, pretending he's talking conspiratorially but loud enough for us all to hear. "You need to keep an eye on this one, I'm telling ya!"

Larry gets distracted by someone he's seen over the other side of the pub so he doesn't see Johnny turn and look right at me.

"Oh, I intend to..." he says quietly, a subtle smirk staining his lips.

"Benji, Bob! Over here!"

Larry's on his feet now, waving, and I look over as two guys approach the table.

One is tall and thin with a wild mop of tangled curls... and a very nice smile I think to myself. He's wearing a black leather jacket and skinny black jeans and looks every inch the cool rockstar despite his seemingly quiet demeanour. The other has a cute face framed with dark-rimmed glasses. He's also got a head of curls but he's got his scraped back into a ponytail. He gives me an adorable bashful smile when I catch his eye.

Introductions are made all around and I smile sweetly at the guys, sizing them up, my disappointment at spending the summer with my cousin dissipating by the second. It's just a pity that they have band stuff to discuss and I find myself stifling a yawn as talk turns to practice venues and gigs they have lined up.

"Where's Van got to anyway?" Benji pipes up.

Even the mention of his name riles me. Hopefully he won't turn up. Larry starts grumbling and digs his phone out of his pocket but as if on cue Johnny's calling out. "There he is! Over here Van!"

Despite the sour memories I'm interested to see how my childhood nemesis has turned out after all these years, remembering the scrawny, scruffy haired lad who used to tease me mercilessly. I stretch up in my seat, straining to see, when a tall, lean figure strides over.

"Alright lads!"

Well, well... now this must be the glow-up of the century. The years have certainly been kind. Van runs a hand through his hair as he looks around the group and when his eyes alight on me he does a double-take.

"Fuck me! Arabella Turner is that you?"

His eyes are practically popping out of his head as they take me in, and he's certainly taking me in, brazenly so. Every inch.

"Long time no see, Van," I say back, trying to act aloof even though my interest is piqued in such a way that I'm finding it hard not to mirror Van's own reaction to seeing me.

I smile to myself at his slack-jawed expression and it doesn't go unnoticed by my cousin. "Fucking hell mate, why don't you take a photo? It'll last longer!"

Sniggers erupt from around the table and Van finally comes to. He steps forward, pint in hand, shunting Larry aside so that he can take the seat next to me.

"Shift up Larry, I want to sit next to Arabella. We've got some catching up to do."

Yep... this is certainly going to be an interesting summer...

#im with the band #van mccann #johnny bond #fanfic #vanfic

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whats-k-popping · 2 years

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Hey I have a request💜

Jungkook with a bad and sneezy cold and fever, he become sad and cry a little bit, while the members take care of him making him soup and clean his nose for him. I would like Jungkook with stuck sneezes and cant sneeze so the members make him sneeze to help him in many ways.

Ps: Im italian so english isn't my native language Im sorry😅

Grazie per la richiesta! 💜💜 Mie piaciuto scrivere questo!

Sono felice che ti piaccia i il mio lavoro da un altro paese. (Il mio italiano non e buono. Non lo uso piu molto. Scusa!)

Pairing: OT7 - platonic intentions but ship how you want.

Words: 2684

Warnings: Graphic Descriptions of Cold Symptoms || Illness || Snz Content || Congestion || Graphic Descriptions of Snot || Induced Snz Content || Sick Member || Snzing on Members

See Also: @sneezyminniejo did a very similar fic recently to nearly the same request. It can be found here. They also did such a good job with it and it's such a pleasure to read! Please make sure to read that fic as well! <3

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Jungkook's been fighting a cold for three days. It’s a brutal battle; there are empty blister packs and crumpled up tissues strewn about as evidence that Jungkook’s holding his own. But when he wakes on day four, it seems the cold is coming out on top. The combined efforts of cold medicine and nasal spray prove useless. He can't breathe at all though his nose, and he's hacking merciless coughs that tear through his chest. In these minutes of misery, he believes being mauled by a bear would hurt less.

He stands in the bathroom white knuckling the edge of the sink. After a round of wet coughs, he spits the phlegmy remains down the drain and sniffles harshly. But nothing moves in his sinuses. It's an impenetrable wall of snot. He tries forcing air in, he tries forcing air out. It's all ineffective. He whimpers pitifully, splashing warm water over his face hoping that might help. Still, nothing changes. He momentarily contemplates using that neti pot that Namjoon swears by.

The six members can hear Jungkook hitching and sniffling heavily from the bathroom. But they give him space. Jungkook was adamant from day one that "it's not a big deal" and “It’s just a small cold” and the ever so mature "I can take care of myself." So they wait. They agreed to let Jungkook come to them, when he needs it. They try not to coddle him too much, unless that's what he wants. So they are seated around the table, breakfast served, listening to Jungkook lose another battle with his nose.

It goes on for a while and Jungkook's not coming down to eat. Seokjin cracks and stands from the table. Hoseok immediately interjects, "He said he doesn't want any help."

"And I'm not going to help him," the elder answers nonchalantly, "I'm just feeling a little warm." He casually goes over to the home thermostat and lowers the temperature a few degrees. There’s a mischievous look in his eyes as he presses the down arrow repeatedly. The other members seem to understand what their hyung is up to. They nod collectively around the table, Seokjin retaking his seat. They don't need to speak about it, everyone already knows there’s a plan.

There's another round of painful sounding coughs followed by throat clearing and spitting. Then they finally hear footsteps walking toward the staircase. Seconds later, Jungkook joins them at the table. His food has already gone cold.

"Bornin, hyunds" Jungkook greets, pushing the plate aside and resting his head on the table. Maybe if he hits his head hard enough against the table, the snot clogging his sinuses will finally shift. It's a fleeting thought, and he ultimately decides not to act on it. Instead, he just sniffles thickly again.

"Still got that cold, JK?" Jimin asks, hoping maybe Jungkook would admit that he's feeling bad. They don't have anything to do today, so what's the harm in seeking a little attention?

"Yeah," he sniffles thickly as if to prove his point. "I dink id's gettig wordse. Id anyone else cold?" His teeth are chattering as he wraps his arms around his upper body.

Sure, they know Seokjin lowered the temperature a few degrees in the dorms. But Jungkook makes it seem like he's sitting in a winter storm without a coat. There's several replies around the table that all convince Jungkook he's alone in feeling cold. He kind of suspected that was the case.

Hoseok leans over uninvited and presses a hand to the maknae's forehead. Surprisingly Jungkook doesn't pull away; instead, he leans further into Hoseok's touch basking in the memory of what warmth feels like.

"Aigoo, you feel a bit warm, bun." The dancer announces to the table. Jungkook groans in response to the news. Instead of pulling his hand away, Hoseok uses it to stroke gently down Jungkook's cheek as a comforting gesture.

Jungkook melts at the touch. It's just the simple comfort he's been denying himself for the past three days. The same comfort he's been craving, but has been too ashamed to ask for. But now he's feverish and stuffy and miserable. And he just wants to be cuddled.

"Hyunds," the maknae's eyes begin to water as he looks at them. He can sense their pity. He knows they won't be mad. "I deally don'd beel good."

Jimin stands from his seat and wraps his arms around the sick maknae, pressing a long kiss to the crown of his head. No one else moves, they don't want to smother him. Besides, Jimin is the best when it comes to physical comfort. "That's okay, Jungkookie. Hyungs are here to take care of you." He reassures, wiping fallen tears off his fellow vocalist's flushed cheeks.

Despite Jimin’s soft tones and gentle touches, Jungkook breaks down into hysterical sobs. He knows he’s been a jerk to his hyung for days and they didn’t say anything to him about it. He feels bad, physically and emotionally. And he can’t help but think that maybe if he would have let his hyungs help days ago, he wouldn’t be feeling so badly now. “Hyunds, I’b dorry. I’b do dorry.” He repeats through broken, hiccuping sobs.

Jimin repositions so he’s sitting on Jungkook’s lap. He pulls the maknae in and buries his face into his own shoulder, petting his damp hair slightly. He doesn’t care about the mess it will make. He just wants for Jungkook to calm down. It hurts his heart to hear Jungkook wail like this. Jimin’s whispering sweet nothing and reassurances into Jungkook’s ears so quietly not even Hoseok, who is seated beside them, can hear.

As Jungkook starts to finally calm down, Jimin makes subtle gestures to the other members. He’s got Jungkook for now. But they’re going to need a team effort if they want Jungkook to be effectively taken care of. So the table disperses to various areas of the house. Jungkook doesn’t even hear them leave.

When he looks up, Jimin’s holding a napkin toward him encouraging him to blow his nose. Jimin doesn’t let go of the napkin, and when Jungkook turns away Jimin’s hand follows. Eventually, Jimin just cups the napkin around Jungkook’s nose and squeezes. The napkin fills, now sticky and wet against Jimin’s fingertips. But there’s room for more. And from the sound of Jungkook’s sniffling, there’s definitely more. “Good, now blow for real this time,” Jimin commands in a low assertive voice. It’s eerily close to Yoongi’s tone. Jungkook doesn’t mess around when Jimin deepens his voice. He knows it means he’s serious. Jungkook blows hard, relieved that crying had loosened his sinuses. He files it away as a quick fix should he feel stuffed up again.

Jimin pulls the napkin away, wiping at any left over on or around Jungkook’s nose. He puts the napkin on Jungkook’s untouched plate of food and goes back to coddling. Jungkook’s on Jimin’s shoulder again, the one that’s not soiled with tears and snot, and Jimin’s rocking them from side to side. It’s a peaceful few minutes of comfort. Then Jungkook’s breath hitches and he scrunches up his nose. “Hhe- EHet-” He anticipates a sneeze and points his face away from Jimin. But he loses it as soon as it snuck up on him. “Ghuh” He sniffles and shakes his head, trying to will the sneeze back. The need is still there. Less urgent, but it will happen sooner or later. He prefers sooner.

Jimin chuckles at the disappointed and determined look on Jungkook’s face. He knows how annoying it can be to feel a sneeze that’s not ready to come out yet. “Ah, Kook-ah, let hyung help you.” Jimin pulls Jungkook’s face back, brushing longer strands of hair against the edged of Jungkook’s nostrils. The thin strands tickle at Jungkook’s nose. And the residual chemical smell of hair dye from Jimin’s new color is strong enough for Jungkook to sense. The combination does wonders for Jungkook’s stuck sneeze.

It’s a matter of seconds before Jungkook’s hitching and pitching with a flurry of sneezes. “Eh-NgtCHI, Heh-PFTIchu, HEI-gnxtch” He tried to turn away, but Jimin kept him tucked in. The sneezes sprayed against Jimin’s neck, some of the dampness getting in the short vocalist's hair. But Jimin doesn’t flinch or cringe. He doesn’t pull away.

Jimin waits patiently for the fit to end and then looks at Jungkook’s face. His eyes are red rimmed, nose dripping with fresh snot that he tries to sniffle back. There’s a small pout on his lips. And the maknae’s breathing is labored, like the force of the sneezing took his breath away. He smooths over Jungkook’s hair. “Feel better?” he asks softly, reaching around the table for an unused napkin. He wishes they were closer to a box of tissues.

“A biddle,” Jungkook replies, already wiping the drippage on the back of his sleeve in the interest of time. “I wadda sleeb,” he admits.

Jimin chuckles. “Okay, baby. The couch should be all set up for you now.” He leaps off Jimin’s lap and offers the maknae a hand. Jungkook accepts the hand and allows Jimin to guide him to the living room. Like Jimin alluded to, his personal bedding is set up on the couch. It’s clear now Jimin’s affections were meant to bide time.

Jungkook makes himself comfortable on the pillow that’s leaned up against Hoseok’s lap. He knows Hoseok is a bit of a germaphobe, but he can’t resist getting as close to the dancer as possible. He assumes it’s okay when Hoseok coos and starts rubbing Jungkook’s arms over the blanket.

Before he gets too comfortable, Seokjin and Yoongi emerge from the kitchen. Seokjin’s holding a steaming bowl and Yoongi’s got a small pharmacy in his arms. “You’ve gotta eat something before sleeping, JK.” Seokjin advises, “And take some medicine.”

“Bill you feed be?” Jungkook asks in a small voice as he sits himself up. He continues to lean against Hoseok. Seokjin isn’t going to say no to such a precious request. He sits on the floor in front of Jungkook and spoon feeds him. Jungkook eats half the bowl before he says he’s full. Jungkook’s not usually the type to get full, especially on less than one serving; but Seokjin doesn’t argue it. When Seokjin steps away, Yoongi approaches with blister packs of cold medicine.

“Do you want daytime or nighttime?” Yoongi asks before he opens anything.

“Night,” Jungkook pleads. He just wants to be asleep. Yoongi pops the pills and hands them to Jungkook. While the maknae works to dry swallow those, he’s pouring a dose of cough medicine which Jungkook takes with only a few complaints. “Cab I dleeb now?” He’s still making a sour face from the taste of cough syrup. Yoongi smooths a fever patch into his forehead.

Yoongi nods and settles nearby. One by one all the members come to rest around the couch. There’s a movie playing in the background but no one can give it much attention. With Jungkook’s constant thick sniffling and wet coughing, everyone’s attention is on the sick maknae.

“Are you sure you don’t want to try the neti pot?” Namjoon offers, as is standard everytime one of the members has a cold. The answer is always a resounding no, but he’ll make the suggestion until the day he dies. In line with the tradition, Jungkook cringes at the mention. He’s terrified that he’d drown or his brain would fill with water. It’s not logical, but neither is pouring water up your nose.

“What if we make you sneeze?” Taehyung suggests mischievously. There’s a silence among the members. Taehyung feels judged for even suggesting it, so he elaborates, “If you sneeze, you might clear up your sinuses. And finally be able to sleep.”

Jungkook’s entranced by the idea of sleep. He’s beyond drowsy and sapped of energy since he took the night med. He’d be asleep if it weren’t for the heaviness in his chest and head. His only reservation is that he doesn’t think he has the stamina to sneeze. Each one rips out of him with such force. He doesn’t have the energy for that. But he’s willing to try. “Led’s try id.” He admits.

Taehyung’s up and out of the room at light speed. He doesn’t tell anyone what he’s planning. The other members look around and try to come up with ways to make Jungkook sneeze. Jimin stays silent. He’d already been sneezed on today, he feels it’s someone else’s turn. Seokjin makes the first move. He blows in Jungkook’s face, a slow stream of air directed toward the top of Jungkook’s nose. It makes the maknae’s nose twitch. He hitches once. But nothing productive.

Namjoon instructs Jungkook to look at the light, hoping that might trigger something. But the cool lighting of the dorm isn’t bright enough to trigger a reaction. Still his nose itches and he scrubs at it. Hoseok grabs a candle sitting on the side table. But when he looks at it, he notices it’s unscented. Of course all the candles are unscented. Scented candles make Jungkook sneeze. So they don’t keep them in the dorm. Yoongi shrugs and jams a finger under Jungkook’s nose.

“Hyung, that’s how you stop a sneeze,” Jimin remarks with a chuckle.

Yoongi stutters embarrassed, “Ya, maybe it works both ways. You never know.” Jimin raises his hands in surrender. Yoongi’s finger doesn’t have any effect on Jungkook’s stuck sneezes. He hitches again gasping for air, desperate to relieve the tickle in his nose.

Taehyung runs back into the room with a shaggy throw pillow in hand. He shoves the pillow against Jungkook’s face. The surrounding members can clearly smell the strong cologne that Taehyung wears to award ceremonies. It smells as though he dipped the whole pillow into the bottle.

Jungkook inhales a heavy dose of the cologne and is immediately thrown into a sneezing fit. “hep’tehCHU, hmf’NXTchi, he-eh'HXTt, HA’tichu, hpti’atCHI, HXTngt, Hi’TISHuu” He sneezes relentlessly into what he knows if Taehyung’s favorite snuggle pillow. Each sneeze is louder and messier than the next. They are hard on his throat and they hurt in his nose, but it’s working. He can feel mucus shift with each sneeze. He can tell just from the stickiness alone that the pillow is now covered in his snot.

He wants to pull it away. The heavy scent of the cologne is still attacking his nose. But he doesn’t want the others to see the mess he’s made. After 13 harsh sneezes, Namjoon rips the pillow away and tosses it onto the reclining chair in the corner. “Alright, Jungkook. I think that’s enough.” He tries to keep it lighthearted, but he’s seriously concerned about Jungkook’s vocal cords after all the sneezing.

Jungkook’s left with nothing to hide his messy face. There’s snot glistening his skin all the way down to his chin. He hastily rubs the sleeves of his sweater against his face to clean himself. He’s tearing up at the same time, embarrassed. Seokjin’s got a box of tissues in his hands. He grabs three and approaches the maknae.

“Jungkook-ah. Don’t use your sweater. That’s not clean.” His voice is calm and sweet. “Here, hyung has tissues for you.”

Jungkook grabs them hastily and finishes cleaning up. He throws the balled up tissues on the same chair as the pillow. He figures they should keep all of his mess together. “More, please.” Jungkook asks, his voice a lot clearer than it has been all day. Seokjin just passes the whole box.

Jungkook blows his nose loudly three more times before he finally feels empty. Or emptier, at least. He’s now able to breathe better through one nostril and his head feels less heavy. And as expected, the sneezing fit wore him to bits. He finally feels like he can sleep. He nestles back in against Hoseok who accepts him with open arms.

Taehyung smiles, reclaiming his previous seat. “Sleep well, Jungkookie.” He rubs the maknae’s calf.

Still no one can focus on the movie over the sounds of Jungkook’s congested snores.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A/N: As always, thanks for reading to the end! Feedback is always appreciated. And please let me know if I missed any tags or TWs. Please call me out for any errors you notice!

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petekaos · 4 years

Note

not justifying any of the men here but your double standards is really staggering. where's the energy in asking the man who's in your header for an apology for having been fatphobic? or just going to conviniently ignore that are we?

Keep the same attitude for all the men maybe y'know? 💗 If you are going to be a social justice warrior, call out everyone and not just the ones you've got a hate boner for. Didn't see you asking for bright's apology for making fatphobic comments like some jerk :)

hiii nonnies! i’m just compiling both of these asks because they’re asking about the same thing and were also two of the more... nicer formulated asks about this topic in my inbox honestly. i understand where you two are coming from (or the first person at least) because all of this has been really disappointing and seeing fans with substantial platforms (mine is more based on anons but you get the gist) not mention anything that’s been going on with their faves has been disheartening. so i’m just going to give y’all the benefit of the doubt here!

i did, in fact, talk about bright’s fatphobia. it’s a quick search on my blog, search “bright” or “fatphobia” or just go through my #gmmtv bullshit tag. here is one post where i talked about it. many people have gone into more detail about it as have i and i don’t want to be mean -- but i honestly think that y’all saying that because i like bright or because i have sarawat in my icon means that i would look past his fatphobia and a problematic comment is a little bit... rude? in the same way that i liked singto and new before this, i called them out as well for their comments as i did bright. i don’t know if y’all have noticed but i haven’t been talking about or rb’ing things to do with brightwin (as well as gmmtv men rn as well) because it felt in bad faith right now. but this isn’t about me, this is about what he’s said and the fact that an apology would be good from him.

something that must be taken into account, however, is cultural difference. this doesn’t excuse everything, obviously, and what he said is still problematic. i went into a little bit more detail on cultural difference and the inherent fatphobia rampant in SA and SEA communities and how it’s ingrained into the very fabric of our culture. i have been victim of the same remarks bright has said, in the exact same expression. i truly do think he needs to be careful with what he says and needs to educate himself on what he says considering the fact that he has a very large international platform as well. but fatphobia of this kind especially is something that needs to be addressed in asian communities at large.

i hope this cleared it up for y’all. i apologise if this came off as rude and will be more mindful in the future.

#yeah... so hope this cleared it up. a bit drained so sorry if this doesn't make sense #tw fatphobia #bright vachirawit #(just for my tags for y'all to search easier)#gmmtv bullshit #rahul answers

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youbloodymadgenius · 3 years

Text

Ivarello (Modern!Ivar x reader) Chapter 1

Moodboard by @quantumlocked310

Ivarello’s masterpost here

A/N: This is my entry for @deans-ch-ch-cherrypie 500 Followers Fairy Tale Challenge. It's a retelling of Cinderella. Congrats again, darling 💖

A huge thank you to @mrsalwayswrite, who's a great beta reader and an even greater cheerleader 😂

A massive thank you to @quantumlocked310, @vikingstrash and @serasvictoria. Thank you for agreeing to collaborate and for sharing your talent with me. Your moodboards are beyond amazing 🤩

In this story, Sigurd is alive. Ragnar and Aslaug are dead, but Lagertha didn't kill her. I took a lot of liberties with the show, I hope you won't mind.

Unlike the tale, there will be no magic involved. Not everything will be realistic, however. It's a fayritale, after all!

Let me know if you want to be tagged 😊

Summary: Orphaned five years ago, Ivar and his brothers have been living with Lagertha ever since. Now 16 years old, he wants to attend Harald's traditional Midsummer party, but obstacles stand in his way.

Warnings: description of car crash; orphaned kids; Sigurd being Sigurd; OOC characters.

Words: 1806

Additional note: I'm afraid I'll disappoint some of you. No more newspapers... The articles defined the setting of the story. From now on, it'll be a regular fic.

Hope you enjoy it nevertheless 🙂

🛡⚔️🛡

June 2021

Ivar yawns, rubbing his eyes, when he suddenly hears the front door open. The next moment, Ubbe shouts, "Hey baby bro, we're home!"

Slightly confused, Ivar looks at the time on his computer. Stunned, he blinks repeatedly, shakes his head and checks the time again, now looking at his watch. "Guess I lost track of time," he mumbles as he realizes it's really 5:30 pm. He clears his throat. "I'm coming!"

Yawning once more, he wheels to the kitchen. Hvitserk waves at him with one hand as Ubbe greets him with a grin and Sigurd... Well, Sigurd ignores him, as usual.

"Hello boys!" Lagertha smiles as she also enters the kitchen. "Did you go to the beach this afternoon?" It's a rethorical question, since sand can be seen on the tanned skin of his brothers, shirtless and wearing only swimming shorts.

When she looks down at him, her smile becomes softer. "Ivar, you seem tired. Did you work all day long?"

He nods, glad that for once she called him by his first name and not by one of those stupid nicknames that she likes but that make his skin crawl.

"Yep," he shrugs without smiling back, "I made good progress. The new version of your website is almost done. It could probably be online by the end of the week."

His stepmom flashes him a beaming smile. "Great, thanks!"

The conversation then moves on to the subject that everyone in Kattegat has been talking about for the last few days: the midsummer party thrown by their neighbor Harald Hårfager. Every June, it is Kattegat's not-to-be-missed event, to which every resident hopes to be invited.

Lagertha is invited every year, yet rarely attends; his brothers wouldn't miss it, not in a million years; Ivar never went.

He listens with half an ear as his brothers prattle on about the upcoming party, while taking a seat at the large, wooden kitchen table on which Lagertha has just put cakes and drinks.

"What are you going to wear?"

"Do you think Marit will attend this year?"

"Hopefully the music will be better than last year."

"Can't be as bad! What was the name of that reggae band?"

For a fleeting moment, Ivar entertains the thought of attending as well. Not that he's dying to, but… Sometimes, he feels a little bit like Cinderella in this house.

Don't get him wrong, it's not that bad.

First, his stepmom is not–

Wait, wait, wait, is Lagertha technically his stepmom? He's not sure. After all, she wasn't when his parents were alive, she was just his father's first wife. Anyway, she may be his guardian now, but he sees her as his stepmom and he honestly doesn’t give a shit if it's a little weird.

Where was he? Oh yes, Cinderella.

So obviously, Lagertha is not a wicked, haughty and abusive stepmom like this Lady Tremaine of the fairytale.

Actually, even if it pisses him off to admit it, she's pretty nice, patient and composed. Does he love her? Let's not exaggerate – he doesn't. She may love him though, which is a little bit uncanny, if he's being honest. He was the favorite son of her nemesis. Shouldn't she hate him? He would, if the situation was reversed.

The truth is, when he was younger, he tried, he really tried to hate her, blaming her for everything and anything. When too much pain prevented him from sleeping, he let his imagination run wild. There, bound to his bed of suffering, he could see Lagertha cutting the brakes on his mother's car, causing her crash, causing her death.

Of course, even then, he knew deep down that Lagertha had not killed his mother; that the story he told himself was just the product of his endless nights of insomnia. But what can he say? He needed this. Because blaming Lagertha rather than admitting that his beloved mother was at fault – by being distracted, or by falling asleep, he'll never know – was easier for the heartbroken boy he was.

Anyway... So yes, Lagertha is definitely not an evil stepmother like Cinderella's.

Also, he doesn't sleep on a sorry garret, on a wretched straw bed either.

Actually, he has a very large room on the main floor, with a king-size memory foam bed, a walk-in – well, a wheel-in for his case – closet and his own, huge bathroom, fully equipped for his special needs.

Sure, the bathroom and the dressing room were already there when his parents were alive; however, the memory foam mattress had been Lagertha's idea.

Anyway... So yes, he can't exactly complain about his sleeping conditions, unlike Cinderella.

And obviously, he's not forced into servitude.

Actually, one might think so, but no, he's not. Sure, sometimes he works for his stepmom, like today. But so do his brothers. When she had taken them in, she was a powerful businesswoman, working twelve to fourteen hours a day. Once she had become their guardian, she had rearranged her working time and learned to delegate; but even so, she had often run out of time. Therefore, it had seemed normal to them – yes, even to him – to help her out, each of them according to their skills and abilities.

So, while Hvitserk almost always does the grocery shopping, while Sigurd vacuums and does the laundry, while Ubbe mows the lawn and trim the bushes, he, Ivar, runs her company's website and sometimes even does the accounting. And since he loves computers and numbers, it's not exactly a problem.

Anyway... So yes, he's not a slave in this house. Unlike Cinderella.

So, yes, to sum it up, he can't really complain and he's by far not Cinderella. And he knows it.

But... Yes, there's a but...

Sometimes, he feels trapped, as poor Cinderella must have felt.

Sometimes he feels like a spectator of a life he doesn't belong to.

Sure, he doesn't have to be homeschooled – but gods, he's glad he is. The reasons for him to be continuously bullied by classmates are endless. The simplest ones being: he is a cripple, an orphan, the son of a dead mob boss, the smartest one in the whole damn school, let alone his class. Take your pick. It's no fun, no fun at all. Being home alone is preferable to that alternative.

Therefore, barely leaving the house except for medical appointments, he has no friends. He doesn't do sports either – obviously – and yeah, he lives a lonely life, filled with video games and Netflix series. And he's okay with that. Well, most of the time.

Sure, his brothers, or at least Ubbe and Hvitserk, always try to include him as much as possible. But the truth is that because of his legs, there are many, many things he just can't do.

And the other truth, the less pleasant one, is that he partially did that to himself. He cut himself off from a world that hurt him, yet he still misses this world sometimes. At times, he blames himself. Because his life, honestly, is hardly what you would call a life, is it? Not when you're sixteen.

That's why sometimes, like now, he feels this longing, almost a need, to live. To really, truly, fully live. And that's why, for a brief moment, lulled by the light chitchat of his brothers, he considers attending Harald's midsummer party.

But he knows better. This life is not for him, never has been, never will be.

And so, shaking his head, he chases the thought away and, placing his hands on his push rims, he's about to leave the kitchen while the incessant babbling of his brothers goes on.

"I can't wait."

"Don't tell me! As every year, the most beautiful girls of Kattegat will be there."

"Remember that burger food truck? Best burgers ever!"

"I've heard Y/N would be attending this year."

"There'll be booze and girls! Sounds like Valh–"

Wait. His mind goes blank.

Fuck.

What? Did he hear right?

As he replays his brother's words in his head, it's like there's an earthquake happening inside of him.

Fuck.

He stops breathing. Blinks, then clamps his eyes shut.

Fuck.

When he finally manages to draw air into his lungs, he swallows loudly before asking in a weird, high-pitched voice, his heart pounding in his chest, "What– What did you say, brother?"

Hvitserk turns his head toward him and shrugs. "I just said there'll be boo–"

"No, not you!" Ivar snaps at his brother, pointing his pointer finger at Ubbe. "You, what did you fucking say?" Out of the corner of his eye, he can see Lagertha frowning – 'no curse words in this house, boys'– and even if he barely contains an eye roll, he still mouths a quick 'sorry' at her before rewording his question, impatience coursing through him. "What did you say, dear brother? Who did you say would attend?"

Stunned, Ubbe looks at him with wide eyes. "Y/N? I said Y/N would come. That's what I heard anyway. She's Harald's niece. She was here once, right? Remember her, baby bro, huh?"

But Ivar is no longer listening, the blood draining from his face. Y/N... Y/N... Fuck. Finally. Fucking finally. After so long... He may see you again. Wow.

I'll go! I'll fucking go!

He barely contains the words, suddenly acutely aware of the deafening silence in the room, his brothers shamelessly staring at him.

With her brows furrowed and her lips turned downward in a slight frown, Lagertha takes two steps forwards before crouching down in front of him. "Are you all right, sweetie? You're a little pale."

He barely hears when Sigurd giggles, "A little pale? He's greener than an alien!"

Lagertha shoots Sigurd a dirty look and then gently cups Ivar's cheek. "Do you know her, Ivar? Do you know Y/N?"

Overwhelmed, self-conscious, freaked out, caught off-guard, he doesn't know how to respond. Should he tell the truth? Should he lie? His brothers will mock him, for sure. What is the point of telling the truth? What good would it do? On the other hand, he could really use some advice. Yeah. Sure. Advice from Sigurd. Just the thought of it is enough to make him sick. Fuck, what is he going to do?

Rushed words are out of his mouth before he can even gather his thoughts. "No. No. I don't. I mean, yes, I think I do but–" He's being pathetic and he hates it. So after a sharp intake of breath, he shakes his head and eventually replies in a flat, calm voice, the white lie rolling off his tongue. "I know her, but I thought Ubbe was talking about someone else. Sorry."

With these words, he hastily leaves the room, his eyes riveted on his knees, his heart still drumming in his chest.

Y/N. Fuck.

🛡⚔️🛡

Ivar's taglist: @waiting4inspiration @honestsycrets @lisinfleur @saldelys @gearhead66 @inforapound @readsalot73 @milkkygirls @xbellaxcarolinax @shannygoatgruff @zuxiezendler @hecohansen31 @lonewolf471 @fuckindiva @tgrrose @didiintheblog @peachyboneless @pieces-by-me @funmadnessandbadassvikings @ethereallysimple @destynelseclipsa @cocovikings23 @xceafh @mrsalwayswrite @deans-ch-ch-cherrypie @pomegranates-and-blood @jadelynlace @grimeundglow @quantumlocked310 @alexhandersen-marcoilsoe-fandom

Ivarello's taglist: @not-another-viking-fanfic-blog @hashimily @prepare4trouble @supernaturalvikingwhore @funmadnessandbadassvikings

#ivar #modern ivar #modern!ivar #modern-ivar #modern ivar x reader #modern!ivar x reader #ivar x reader #ivar the boneless #ivar ragnarsson #ivar imagine #ivar fic #ivar fanfic #ivar fanfiction #ivar vikings #vikings ivar #cherrypie’s500 #fairytale retelling #ivarello

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ill-skillsgard · 3 years

Note

i’m absolutely living for Faust and Faith!!! more soon pls 🥺

I had some free time and the urge to clean out some of the centuries-old asks fermenting in my inbox. So, I wrote this horny lil' scene for the Faust freaks out there. I hope you enjoy it! I'd love to hear your thoughts.

Warning: 18+ smut, mature language, anti-religious themes. Mostly just smut and a bit of butt-stuff in this one.

Summary: After Faust quits his band, Faith follows him through an unfamiliar city and they find a motel to stay the night.

- Not based on Lords of Chaos. I use Faust!Valter’s likeness only as inspiration.

Read more Faust x Faith here [x]

Faith followed Faust through the misty city limits. The dark man navigated the streets sure-footedly, boots planing through puddles that she skirted. She had no idea where they were or where they were heading, and the time to ask had long since passed. Faust had been fuming for the first hour of their trek, pulling beers from his pockets, draining them, smashing the bottles on the sidewalk and cursing up ahead while Faith hurried her legs to keep up. Finally, when they came to a glowing fast food joint on a dead quiet street, Faith latched onto his elbow and slowed him to a halt.

"What are we doing? Do you know where we are?"

Faust pointed at the golden arches. "Yeah, McDonald's."

"No, like, in general. Where are we going, Faust? It's getting really late."

"Getting food and finding the nearest motel," said Faust. He pulled cash out of his pocket and waved it at her face—the money he had taken from the band's merch box.

"A motel?" Faith gasped.

Faust looked her up and down with his severe green eyes and cocked a smirk as he pulled the glass door open. "Let me guess... The thought of motel sex gets you going?"

"Who doesn't want to bang in a sketchy motel?"

"Most people? Because it's kinda gross."

The smell of grease replaced the fog-thick air, and Faith sprang forward to gawk at the jungle gym enclosed in the center of the restaurant. It was closed to the public overnight, but that didn't stop Faith from envisioning launching into the ball pit and crawling through the plastic tunnels like a human hamster.

They ordered food to go and set off to find the nearest motel, where Faust spent most of his cash to obtain a keycard good for one night in room 124 of the Neptune Inn. The clerk was used to such haphazard transactions and accepted the bills without a fuss. With minimal cars in the lot and the plaza's pallid look of disrepair, the motel seemed the right place for an evening of carelessness. There was nobody to witness how they lived together, squirting ketchup packets onto burger wrappers and wiping sauce from their lips with wads of brown napkins. After stuffing their mouths full of fries and discussing a game plan for the following day that tanked, Faith cleared away their mess and turned on the antiquated stereo. One of her favourite songs came through the static, and she gasped to hear the familiar lyrics crackling over the speakers.

Faust watched her bop her hips from side to side, the hem of her skirt blooming around her as she mouthed the words at him.

"Sorry, I know it's not your style, but I just love Fleetwood Mac."

He watched her close her eyes and feel the music filling the room. If it had been anyone else singing along to radio classics, he'd have stomped over to the stereo and made sure it never worked again. But it was Faith, and every time she swayed or twirled, her skirt would lift, and he glimpsed her panties.

The beers urged him to mutter about the fallout with his band, just as his aching muscles begged for slumber. On any other night, he would have fallen asleep with thoughts of fire and the phantom scent of gasoline stinging his nose. Those memories were surpassed by the woman in the room with him. Faith eclipsed his anger with her lively performance, and he reached his hand out toward her until she came.

Faust was hard already, and painfully so as she climbed over his lap and kissed him. Nestled between their groins, his erection pulsed, each beat dulling him to everything but her body pressed against his. Faust made her turn around to straddle him, stretched his arm to grab the television remote and instructed her to put something on. Faith cycled the channels, confused by the position, while he guided her onto her stomach so she laid between his legs, her pelvis propped on his, ass in the air. He pulled back her skirt and went watery in the mouth when he saw the scant material shielding her holes from view.

"What am I supposed to put on?" She asked.

"Don't care."

The people on the screen proved no distraction to Faust as his eyes traversed the seams of her underwear. The cotton stuck to her, smelled like her, and contained the slit he so badly wanted to slip inside. He had to wait. If he took her too soon, the night would be over, and he had many thoughts and more to chase away.

Faith twisted around to watch as he stroked the pad of his thumb over her clothed crotch. He shook his head and motioned for her to face the TV where reruns of Seinfeld played. Faith didn't care for the programming. The men on the screen detracted from the sensation Faust inflicted between her legs. She scooped her hips and dragged herself over the bulge in his jeans. ignoring the sitcom. Faust fluttered his lashes and let her do it a few more times until he stopped her with a large hand on her back.

"I want your pussy very wet for me," said Faust.

Faith giggled and arched her spine until his fingers met the moist cotton once more. He rubbed her through the fabric, delighting at the sight of it stretching and revealing the outline of her cunt.

She flicked through a few more channels until a flash of skin caught her eye. There was an entire naked torso on the screen, complete with bouncing breasts and torn fishnet. Faith's blood ran hot as the camera panned higher and showed a man gripping a woman's neck, his slackened face hanging over her shoulder while his other hand squeezed her nipples. The radio DJ's voice combined with the woman's moaning created a chaotic din in which Faust's soft breaths faded.

Satisfied with her choice of TV channel, she tossed the remote aside and relaxed into the mattress to enjoy more of Faust's teasing fingers.

"Oh, that's what I fucking like," he murmured. Faust plucked the elastic seam of her panties, tucked into the stitching with his fingers and shredded a hole large enough for him to work through. She gasped at the sound and briefly lamented her only pair of underwear before Faust whisked her worries away with curious digits prodding at warm, sensitive spots.

"Mm, oh fuck. Look at that," Faust spoke as if presenting her to someone behind him. "Beautiful little holes all for me."

Faust stretched open the hole in her undergarments and spanked her hard enough she whimpered. He smothered the sting with his palm, rubbing her ass cheek where he'd laid a hot imprint of his four fingers. Soon, his thumb travelled elsewhere, and her thighs attempted to close.

Faust chuckled. "Keep those legs open. Yeah, stay just like that while I play with you. Rub that little asshole."

The whole bed rocked as he lifted her hips and bent his knees to prop her up closer to his face. He spread her open and ran his tongue from hole to hole, moaning on the slow journey to make sure she felt what was coming. Faith wondered what he tasted; if he meant to slide his tongue between her cheeks so directly. The feeling was curious, yet not without pleasure. Her nerves didn't sing like they did when he directed his attention to her clit, but the sounds of him humming sounded better than the sex on TV.

The scene playing on the wall opposite the queen-sized bed changed. The woman had bent over the sofa's arm, her partner squatting behind with teeth clamping the meat of her thighs and bottom. Faust buried his face as far as he could, and when that wasn't enough, squeezed her cheeks together like he meant to suffocate himself.

Faust switched her around, so she was no longer laying with her head at the foot of the bed. They were side by side while he worked his jeans off and yanked her top up over her breasts.

"I need to fuck you. I need inside that pussy right now," Faust growled. "You ready? Can you take it all for me, baby? Every fucking inch?"

No amount of practice prepared Faith for the first minute of Faust entering her. From behind, his member pressed all the right spots, slid over her G-spot and languished in the plush heat while he anchored her leg up. In this prime position that allowed Faust to see everything, he gave her a few breaths to get used to the stretch. Faith was already whimpering, and each sound of desperation pinched his heart.

"I'm sorry it's so big," he whispered. "I hate making you hurt."

"It feels good," she assured.

"Oh, don't I know it," Faust replied.

"And you don't have to say sorry. I love that big, uncut cock. Love it when you ruin me."

The radio went to fuzz, and the porno cut to a commercial for whitening toothpaste. Faust slipped out and went to turn off the electronics. The night went quiet again until his weight bore down on the tired mattress springs, and he nestled back into the warmth he had briefly lost. Faust brought his lips to her ear, one arm under her leg and the other threading between her neck and the pillow so he could clutch one breast. He wasted no time picking up where he had left off and let out another moan that tickled Faith's spine.

"I love you, baby. Fuck... I never wanna be away from you that long ever again."

Faith ignored the mass pumping inside of her. After Faust quit his band and left them outside of the venue, she had wondered what his aspirations for the future were. Could it be that he had had enough touring and figured he rather stay with her than travel in a cramped bus, arguing with his bandmates and living like a slob? It seemed too ideal to hold water. Music was his life, and she was only the close second. But as he moved against her and nuzzled his face into her hair, her hope for them grew.

Maybe in the morning, they could discuss the future. For now, Faith treasured every whispered declaration of his love, beer-scented as these oaths were, and let Faust lose himself in something born of pure desire.

#faust x faith #valter skarsgard imagine #valter skarsgard fanfiction

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sebstanseabass · 3 years

Text

Afterglow (A Bucky Barnes AU fan fiction) - Chapter 7

Afterglow chapters

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x reader

CHAPTER SEVEN

Lunch with Bucky was spent in a little Italian place right across the bar. It belonged to a seventy-year old Italian immigrant named Marco who invested in it with nothing but his savings when he first came to New York. Fifteen years later, his little dining place stood still through its ups and downs. In fact, business was getting stronger for Marco ever since the bar opened. His target customers expanded from fellow immigrants to little boys who played soccer in the little league and finally to drunk bastards who wanted pizza in the middle of the night. He also started putting up a 24/7 sign and hired more people to work for him. Marco gave me a sympathetic smile as soon as he passed by you with a bottle of hot sauce he knew you liked.

"Where's the hunk?" His Italian accent never faltered. "Ditched ya?"

Lunch with Bucky was also cut short when he received a phone call from Leonard about an emergency in the White Wolf. "It's Leonard." He said. "Gotta get back to the hotel." Then you slipped in a tiny question, seeing a different phone on his hand: "Is that your phone? I thought you left it in your penthouse, that's why you crashed into our apartment."

"I borrowed Peter's old phone when we did our little fiancè act back there. Then I got my phone back after I ate all that food."

"And here you are again eating."

"Not anymore, I'm not." He chuckled, getting up from the chair and throwing his napkin gently on the table. "I gotta go, doll. Duty awaits. I'll see you around."

You were left there with two plates of pasta, one large pizza, and a hundred dollar bill that covered the whole meal. "Plus tip." Bucky then fled and hailed a cab. He gave you one last look and a small salute before getting inside then off he went.

"He had some business work to do." You replied. "Can I take these to-go please? Oh, and here." You handed Marco the hundred dollar bill and said something you have never said (not once!) in your entire life. "Keep the change."

Marco grinned, took the money and placed it inside his apron pockets. "Any chance you got four more of this?"

"Hey, that's with the tip already!" You playfully rolled your eyes and leaned back on the chair. "And you should ask the hunk that. Not me."

He started taking some plates off the table, his back a bit hunched as he did. "Who was that anyway? Finally replaced that old boyfriend of yours?"

"Old boyfriend? Marco, I'm single. Oh no, you're not at that stage now, are you?" It was meant as a joke but you did genuinely care for the old guy.

Marco stopped from picking up the plates and stood taller. "What ya talking 'bout?"

"You know," you whispered, "the forgetful stage."

"Oh fuck off." You earned a glare from him then continued to pick up the plates from the table before wiping it clean. A mother covered her three-year-old daughter's ears, with pasta noodles falling out of her mouth. She said something to Marco but was overpowered by his voice. A man in his 40's kept looking at you and Marco, probably wondering what the fuss was all about. "I'm still young!" He added. "And you know who I'm talking about. The guy you live with."

You scoffed and gave him an unbelievable look as you watched him clean, avoiding the stares people were starting to give. "That's not my boyfriend, Marco." You whispered.

"What? He's not?"

"He's my roommate." You took a sip of your bottled water. "We're roommates, nothing more."

"Well, good. I like the hunk better than that skinny roommate of yours." He bellowed laughing, holding his big, round belly. His voice echoed against the walls.

"Wait, so you thought Peter was my boyfriend this whole time?" You genuinely asked.

"Well, yeah! You were always together eating and whatnot. What was I supposed to think?"

You were supposed to argue with Marco that it was okay to be friends with someone of the opposite gender: to platonically hangout twenty-four seven, have pizza nights, movie nights, and all the things couples do but in a very platonic way. But Marco was an old man who stubbornly clung to his ancient beliefs. You didn't want to light a fire you and him. Besides, you were still on your way to earning his trust and getting a friend discount.

"Unbelievable." You mumbled, hoping he wouldn't hear it. Despite his old age, Marco still had the ears of a twenty-year old.

"You and me, both. All the time I was thinking to myself, you could do better!"

Oh, God. I know where this is going. You thought. "I'm not letting you set me up with your son, Marco."

"Why not?"

"Because he's old." You groaned, wishing he would just clear the table and just get it on with your to-go Italian food.

"So was that hunk you were with!"

Tired of all the back and forths, you sighed. "Marco, can't you just give me the food? I still have work to do."

"Yeah, yeah, aight. Don't nag me." Marco grunted. "You sounding like my ex-wife back there." His voice faded once he went back towards the counter, and started placing the food in the little to-go boxes.

Your phone on the table lit up. A text message from Peter asking you if you were still with Bucky. You replied back instantly that he went back to the White Wolf. You received no more messages from him after that.

A few seconds later, a figure approached and stopped right in front of you. You looked up and saw one of your friends who also did photography back in college.

"Wanda?"

Wanda flashed you that sweet smile of hers that reminded you of chocolates, rainbows, and unicorns.

"Aria! Wow, it's so nice to see you!" She crouched down to envelope you in a warm hug, then sat across from you, where Bucky was sitting a few minutes ago. She placed her small, shiny purse right on the table, her painted nails never letting it go. "I was just walking down the street and then saw you from the window. How are you? It's been quite long, huh?"

"Yeah, I'm doing good." Wanda could be such a Chatty Cathy. She was the kind of person that never let silence take over a room. If you memory served you right, you haven't seen each other since you graduated from college. She was a year younger than you and even though you stayed in New York the whole time, you never bothered to visit her at NYU Tisch during her last year. "How about you? How have you been doing?"

"I'm doing real good too! I actually set up my own studio a year ago in Manhattan after being a wedding photographer. I now photograph models, sometimes I do photowalks. I also hold photo exhibits from time to time." Unlike you, Wanda chose to follow her passion and majored in Photography and Imaging. "It's been really fun!"

Albeit feeling happy for her, a pang of jealousy struck you. You tried your best to ignore it and said: "That's great, Wanda. I'm so proud of you. You've come a long way since then."

She grinned. "I did, yeah. How about you? How's the business thing?"

You pursed your lips. "I'm actually juggling two jobs right now. I bartend at that bar over there," you pointed across the street, "and I also started a photography business." You continued. "I just do product photos for small businesses."

It was nothing big like Wanda's. Actually, it wasn't anything compared to her Manhattan studio and photowalks and photo exhibits. Nothing at all.

Her jaw dropped. Eyes wide. "Bartending? Wow! That doesn't sound like you at all!"

You chuckled then shook your head. "Who would've thought, huh? But it's pretty convenient and it pays half of my rent."

"You're still living with the Parker guy?"

"Actually, yes I still am." You replied. "But it's just the two of us now."

"Nothing more comforting than a familiar face around, huh?" She answered. "Oh hey, it's great you're still doing photography. I thought it was just a hobby of yours."

"I fell in love with it more during college, you know that."

Wanda just nodded her head in response then looked at her wrist watch. "Right. Well, this has been fun but I have a meeting to go to at some company who wants to talk about collaborations and stuff. You know the drill." She stood up from the chair, its legs scraping the wooden floors. "It was really nice to see you, Aria. I hope we can see each other again soon."

You mirrored her and stood up, reaching for a hug. "It's nice to see you too, Wanda." You let her go, then rambled. "I'm just in the bar if you ever wanna grab a drink or maybe coffee or lunch or anything, really."

"I will." She replied.

Before walking out, Wanda placed her hand on your shoulder, matched with a tight-lipped smile; like the gesture of someone towards a family member at one's funeral. Funnily enough, it was kind of appropriate. Your career in photography might as well be dead. You haven't received any work inquiry in over a month now, and some businesses have been rejecting your photography services. It was the classic "it's not you, it's me" scenario. They just found someone better.

With Wanda out of sight, you drained your thoughts and continued to stare at the moving cars on the streets. Getting you out of your trance was Marco tapping you on the shoulder.

"You alright there, kid?" He asked while handing you a plastic bag full.

"Yeah, sorry." You answered. "Just got distracted." You relieved him of your to-go food, grabbing it from his calloused hands.

"I know that kid you were talking to."

"Wanda?"

"Yeah, yeah. She photographed my son's wedding."

"The one you kept setting me up with?"

"Not that old bastard." He answered, frowning. "The younger, hotter one. With all the cheekbones and the eyes. Got them from me." Marco looked like a taller Danny DeVito. You doubted this "younger, hotter one" of his looked anything like Marco. "She also photographed my daughter's wedding."

"Jesus. How many children do you have?"

"Five." He chuckled. "I got some great swimmers."

You made a guttural sound and rolled your eyes. "Oh, God. Did not need to know that. Anyway, I gotta go. See you around, Marco." With that, you started to walk out and headed straight to the apartment.

There was nothing much to do once you got in the apartment besides putting the leftovers inside the fridge. The bar usually opened at four in the afternoon for happy hour so you took a short nap and was able to clear you head of all the things that happened overnight.

You woke up at about three in the afternoon and headed down the bar. By the time you got there, Nick was already inside, arranging the tables and chairs that were turned upside down.

"Hey, you got in early today." You greeted him as you approached the bar counter.

Nick looked up, hands still wrapped around a table. "Yeah well, I can't let you be employee of the month every single time."

"Living right above the bar does have some of its perks." You chuckled, grabbing an apron. "Need help with those?"

He answered no but his actions said otherwise. You jogged towards him and lifted the other side of the table, placing it on the floor without making much of a sound. You walked towards the other tables then started lifting one, praying to God you won't let it slip away from your arms but of course, you still had no luck on your side. Once Nick asked you that one question ("Do you want to go on a date with me?") you didn't want to hear, you dropped the table on your right foot. Bam! You stifled the sound of pain that itched your throat. Nick shuffled towards me and asked me if you were okay. You gently shrugged him off, telling him that it was nothing and that you you recently had a concussion less than twenty-four hours ago, this was absolutely nothing.

"You sure?" He asked. His hand gripped my waist, trying to maintain my balance.

"Yes, Nick." You straightened up and tried to stretch your right foot, checking if it was sprained or not. Thankfully, it was still good for running.

He let go of you then scratched the back of his head. His eyes focused on the wooden floors. "That was not a good time to ask that."

"I don't think there was ever a good time to ask that."

"Is that a no?"

Your mind recalled the conversation you and Peter had at the elevator: "Never dip the pen in company ink, right?"

Yes, it was easier to let him down easy with no one else around. You could also tell him you'll think about it but either way, you'd still be spending the remaining minutes in the bar with the fleeting awkwardness hanging in the air. But the silence was becoming heavier each second you weren't saying anything so you just shut your mind for a second and said: "Is it okay if I think about it first?"

"Yes. Sure. Of course!" He replied, finally meeting your eyes. "Just let me know. You know where to find me. Just here in the bar. 'Cause I work here."

"I know, Nick." You snickered. "I work here too."

"Right, right." He shook his head. "I'm just gonna..." He trailed off, pointing to the tables with his thumb.

"Yeah, I'll just..." You didn't know where else to go so you just made up an excuse. "I'll just be in the kitchen."

"What are you gonna do there?"

"I think there are still some shipments there? From earlier?" Lie. "I'll take care of them. Don't worry."

"O-okay."

And with that, you left Nick arranging tables and chairs while you headed towards the kitchen, sat on the floor and scrolled through different social media platforms before one of the cooks entered the kitchen. You ignored the befuddled look she gave you. It was the sign to stand up and walk out of the kitchen. So you did.

Once Peter walked in the doors, you grabbed a bottle of beer and removed the bottle cap. You greeted him with a smile and placed his drink on the counter. "Hey, Parker. Guess what?"

"Hey, y/n." He smiled, sitting on the stool and placing his briefcase on the counter. He immediately grabbed the beer bottle and took his first sip. "Nick finally asked you out?"

"You don't know the rules to the 'Guess What' game, do you?"

"Oh, I know the rules." He replied. "I'm just a born rule breaker. So," he stared at his beer bottle scratching the sticker with his thumbs, "did you say yes?"

"I told him I'll think about it."

"And you've thought about it?"

"Yes."

"...and?"

"I'm gonna tell him no." You walked away from Peter, pouring beer from the beer tap into a beer mug for one of the regulars who just walked in. "It's kind of hard to work with someone you're dating or you've dated. I mean, you learned that the hard way, right?"

Peter groaned, reminiscing the time he dated his co-worker, a certain Denise, for six months, stringing her along for a couple more before dumping her. He couldn't even begin to describe how much hatred Denise had for Peter. One night, you found Peter on the rooftop, writing his resignation letter. Of course, you had to throw it after sneaking up on him behind his back. Apparently, Peter couldn't take any more of Denise's death stares during meetings, lunch breaks, and any time she was around Peter. Luckily, Denise got fired the next day for some legal dispute. Peter drank his whole night away that very day and you ended up taking care of him. The next day, you told him everything he'd done that night except one thing: trying to kiss you.

"Hey," Peter hissed, "here he comes. Good luck." He swiftly left his briefcase and beer bottle on the counter, hurrying his way towards the toilet.

You gave Nick a small smile once he opened the counter pass-through. "Nick. Hi."

"Y/n. Hi!"

"So, about the thing earlier -- "

"Can I get a beer?" Interrupted a man on your left side but you couldn't care less. You put up your hand in front of his face. "In a mug!"

Before you could even say "I'm sorry, Nick, but I can't date a co-worker. It's just not right. But you're great. Not just with me" the man shooed your hand away. "Hey! The hell is this?"

You groaned. "You'll get your beer in just one moment, okay?"

The man huffed and left the counter then sat on a nearby table, flipping me off. You rolled your eyes at him and brought your attention back to Nick who was still waiting for your answer. While halfway through your short speech you have been preparing in your head, he interrupted with a: "Yeah, yeah, I know where this is going. It's fine. It's alright. I understand. I'll let you get back to work."

He started turning around but you immediately stopped him. "So this is okay, right? No weird tension between us, or something like that?"

He nodded his head and sent you a warm smile. "Yeah, everything's good. At least I tried, y'know. I'll, uh, see ya around 'cause y'know -- "

"You work here, yeah."

"Yeah. Well... " And with that, he treaded away towards the pass-through and approached some newcomers.

The man from earlier was still staring at you so you went ahead and opened the beer tap. Before the liquid even reached the top of the mug, a hand laid on top of the tap handle and turned the tap off.

"Now," Bucky's voice rang inside your ears, "how about you make me a mean drink, doll?"

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader #bucky barnes story #bucky barnes fan fiction #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky x y/n #bucky au #au #bucky fanfic #bucky barnes x you #bucky x you #bucky barnes fan fic

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imagines-by-a-typical-fangirl · 3 years

Text

White Lies (Pt. 06 of 21)

Pairing: Keanu Reeves X Reader

Word count: 2.2 K

Summary: Keanu found the girl almost dead, in the wrecks of what was once her car. While she was in surgery, stuck in a coma, he gathered the best doctors of New York to attend to her. They told him she is likely to have some kind of brain damage, what may lead to memory loss. And this possibility added up wit the fact that she's pregnant, made the council come up with an odd idea. They asked Keanu to pretend to be her husband, since the stress of finding out everything that happened could put the baby in danger. He reluctantly agreed, but only if she does has some kind of memory loss. He still goes she'll wake up soon, with her memories intact.

But when you finally wake up, there's nothing inside. You're quick to find your head is empty, void, like a blank canvas. The only thing that brings you some relief, that makes you feel less lonely is the mention of a husband. And you can't wait to meet him, because you know you can't deal with this by yourself.

<- Previous part (05)

Next part (07) ->

{Keanu Reeves Masterlist}

{John Wick Masterlist}

Being Held

“I don't care what you think, you'll do what's best for (Y/N).” Keanu didn't want to be this rude with Mrs. Davis, but she's giving him a hard time. The doctors have already spoken to her and she agreed on not telling (Y/N) the truth since her health and the baby's depend on it. But still, seating on the first floor's balcony, as (Y/N) showers and changes after the morning walk, Lucia doesn't seem very happy about it.

“Of course not, Mr. Reeves. Or whatever you fancy people rather be called. But this isn't fair, and it isn't right. Do you plan to have this going on for how long?” She raises her voice, what makes Keanu's heart skips a beat. He looks over his shoulder, just to make sure (Y/N) isn't anywhere near. “My son is dead, but this is his child. You can't steal it from him.”

“Everything I'm doing is to keep her healthy.” He whisper-yells, both hands resting on the circular wooden table as he stands up, bending forward, trying to look as intimidating as he can. He doesn't give a damn if Lucia is her mother-in-law and the child's grandmother, he won't let her do anything that may put (Y/N) or the baby in danger. “You weren't here. You didn't see how desperate and lost she was, but I did. Breaking the news to her may lead to a miscarriage. Is this what you want? To lose your grandchild?” He spits the words out, tired of this stupid conversation. This woman is an idiot, he thinks, because he knows she had a meeting with both Dr. Wright and Dr. Harris about (Y/N)'s situation. But Keanu's last words make the woman sink a little, eyes softening, but he can still see some anger. Lucia Davis doesn't like him, that much is clear. “I'm not trying to steal anything from your late son, I'm just–”

“Keanu?” Her soft, low voice calls from the inside, cutting his words short. He takes a deep breath before turning around, watching as she shyly walks to the balcony, curious eyes already looking for Mrs. Davis, and she stops when her eyes find her. “Hi.”

“(Y/N), this is Lucia Davis. Your mother's friend.” He says, reaching out his hands, which she quickly takes, moving to stand next to him. “You were somewhat close.”

With a hand on the small of her back, Keanu listens to the small greetings, thinking if he should go away now, unsure if it's safe to let Lucia alone with (Y/N). But he quickly remembers that the first floor bathroom is close by, with high windows that will allow the conversation to reach his ears. He doesn't want to spy on them, but this is (Y/N)'s health, and he'll do whatever is necessary.

“I'll take a shower.” He tells her in a low voice, offering a small smile when she nods. Placing a kiss on her forehead, Keanu touches her belly gently, at the same time shooting a hard glance at Mrs. Davis. It's a warning, a reminder of what's at risk of she opens her mouth. Then, he leaves, heading to the bathroom after quickly grabbing some clothes, the low voices successfully making their way inside the bathroom.

You're bouncing your leg lightly, wondering how long Keanu will take. This woman is weird, she hasn't stopped asking about your husband, if he's taking good care of you. At first, you thought she was a fan, but now... There's anger in her eyes, like she's pissed off. Ten minutes into the conversation and you want Lucia to go already.

“Has he ever tried to... Force you?” She asks, leaning forward on the table, across from you.

“What do you mean?” Sighing, you play with a strand of hair, twisting it around your finger.

“Has Keanu tried to get intimate with you?” Lucia speaks faster now, grabbing your hand over the table. “Because that's not ok. Even if... Even if you're married–” She spits the last word as if it's something disgusting. “–you don't remember him, so he can't force you to do anything. Don't let him trick you into it.”

“Mrs. Davis, Keanu has been amazing.” You repeat, the conversation draining your strength. “He hasn't forced me into anything. I'm still sleeping in the guest room and so it'll be as long as I want. He's giving me all the space and time I'll need to get things together.” You really hope she can't see you blushing, because there's heat spreading through your face. You haven't thought about any on this yet, and you do hope it won't get into your head. “I assure you everything is great. He's taking good care of me.”

She sighs, shaking her head slightly. “If he ever does anything you're not comfortable with, you call me and I'll take you with me to Argentina.”

A laugh escapes your lips because you can't believe your ears. “I'm not going to leave my husband.” You tell her, crossing your arms over your chest. “I'm completely fine, you don't have to worry about me.” The headache that had just vanished is starting to come back, and you begin rubbing your temples.

“I'm just–”

“Headache?” Keanu speaks suddenly, startling you a little just before you're filled with relief.

“Yeah.” He knows you well. “I think I'll take another pill and get some rest.” Hoping Lucia will get the hint, you stand up, taking Keanu's hand.

“Mrs. Davis, I'm sorry, but I think you should go now. The doctor's said (Y/N) has to rest whenever the headaches get bad.” He says, and you nod, giving the woman a small smile and a wave before heading inside.

That was beyond awkward, and you don't think you'll want to meet with her anytime soon. Making your way to the bedroom, you sit on the bed, back resting on the headrest. It's terribly hot in here, and you jump back to your feet just to push the two windows open before going back to bed. You were expecting Keanu to come to check on you, but long fifteen minutes or so pass by before you listen to his heavy footsteps, and then it doesn't take much until he's opening your door. You're fanning yourself with your hands, the wind coming in not enough to push the heat away.

“I didn't like her.” It's the first thing you say. “And she doesn't like you one bit.”

“I noticed.” Keanu sits next to you, furrowing his eyebrows. “It's probably the age thing.”

“What age thing?” As you speak, you get irritated, pulling your hair off of your shoulders and pinning it above your head with both hands. “Damn it, why am I so hot?”

For some reason, it amuses Keanu, who smiles. “It's called a hot flash.” You were just about to snap at his smirk, but when he leans forward and blows on your neck, the fresh sensation makes you close your eyes and relax just a little bit.

“That's so good.” You mutter, closing your eyes. Then, an idea flashes through your head. “Oh! Go get some ice cubes.”

“Ice cubes?” He asks, quite uncertain.

“Yeah. I had an idea.” Playfully, you give his leg a light kick, smiling when he gives in and stands up.

A couple of minutes later your husband is back with a glass bowl full of ice. You're still fanning yourself and the moment he sits on the bed, you take two cubes, one in each hand, placing them on your neck. “Damn, this is good.” Giggling, you close your eyes to take in the cool sensation against your burning skin. “Help me out.” You ask him, eyes opening again to give him a look. “If you want of course.”

He hesitates a little, eyes lingering on you before he takes an ice cube too. “Where?”

“Uhm...” Thinking for a while, you sigh. “Here on my chest.” Pinching his eyebrows together, he hesitates again. “C'mon, I'm burning up.” With your hands slightly wet from the melting ice, you put the thin straps of your shirt down your shoulders a little. A smile comes to your lips when he finally gives in, softly brushing the cube on your skin, bellow the collarbones. “Thanks.” You mutter, feeling as the heat slowly starts to fade. “What was that you said before? The age thing?”

Keanu sighs, eyes on his current task as you run the cubes through your neck. “Some people are very judgmental about the age difference between us.” He starts, and you're sure he gets a little sad. “It got me thinking too, of course. You definitely should be with someone your age so–”

“Yeah, but here we are.” Deciding to cut him off, you stare at him even though he won't look at you. “I can't speak for myself before, but whoever I was, I married you. So it's probably everything you gotta know about it. And now...” Maybe you shouldn't say it, but you know it's true. And when his eyes meet yours, filled with doubt, and something you've never seen before, you know you have to say it. Keanu needs to know where you stand now because this is like a forced restart. “...I find it really hot.” Muttering, you feel a different kind of heat spreading through your body.

Keanu's lips break into a smile, and a soft giggle reaches your ears. You absolutely love the sound, it makes you want to kiss him. Wait, what? You knew that what Lucia said would somehow get into your head, but you never thought it would be that fast.

“You know what else is hot?” Keanu asks as you pull the ice cubes away, throwing them back in the bowl Keanu placed on the nightstand.

“What?” You inquire, wondering if there's a joke coming your way.

“This,” Keanu answers, tilting his chin slightly, pointing out at you. Now your burning again, cheeks red for sure, looking away from him.

“Don't tease the pregnant woman, Keanu.” You warn him, voice suddenly and unexpectedly weak. “Lucia also said that she'd take me to Argentina with her. As if.” You didn't want to bring her back into the conversation, but you're willing to talk about anything else, eager to calm yourself down and get rid of the thoughts of kissing Keanu.

“If you want to go, you know I won't stop you, right?” He puts the ice cube away, and you sigh, turning your attention back at him. “I'm sure she'd take good care of you.”

“I doubt that. She'd never rub ice cubs on me.” Taking his hand, you give it a little squeeze. “I'm happy, Ke. Living here with you is great. There's a lot to get used to and a lot of things to work on but... This is good. I feel good and safe with you around.”

The smile he has on it's amazing, beautiful. It's the most beautiful smile you've ever seen. “This makes me happy too.” He mutters, bringing his free hand to caress your cheek.

“So don't worry. As if I was going to leave the father of my child behind.” Changing to a joking tone, you place his hand on your belly. “I don't even speak Spanish.”

He giggles again, but soon enough Keanu gets all serious. “You have no idea how much it means to me that... That you're feeling fine. Happy...”

It's true that sometimes you even forget about the accident. It never lasts for more than a couple of minutes, but it means that you can move on from it. But you don't think the same happens with Keanu. You feel like the accident is everything he thinks about, and you hope that taking care of you isn't overwhelming to him. You wish there was something you could do to ease his burden.

“Ke, I... I really want us to work out. If I remember or if I don't, I want things to be completely, one hundred percent fine here.” Moving to sit on your legs, standing closer to him, you touch both his shoulders. “You worry too much. And I get it. My body is still recovering, and there's the baby too, but... I don't want it to become too much and... Ruin things.”

“You're not ruining anything, beautiful, I promise.” With his index finger under your chin, Keanu makes you look into his eyes. “I'm doing this because I love you. I worry because I love you. And nothing will change that. It's not too much, I can do this.”

“Alright, but... Share things with me, you know. Let me help as much as I can being... Well... Like this.” There's a lump in your throat, and you feel tears starting to form in your eyes.

“Hey, don't cry. Come here” Keanu gently pulls you into his arms, and you don't even try to fight it. You had planned this, you decided to fall for him again, but you didn't know your feelings would start to grow by themselves, without you having to force them. You want him, you want to be in his arms, so you don't think much before placing your legs over his, allowing him to hold you. This is everything you need right now, everything you want, to be held by him.

@multific @inumorph @aestheticallywinchester @bvbwestfall @liviiii98 @allie1804-fan @gian-giannina @playboygeniusphilanthropist @partypoison00 @mariafetamina @fortheloveoffanfic @trin303

#keanu reeves x reader #keanu reeves imagine #keanu reeves fanfiction #keanu reeves fanfic #keanu reeves #imagine keanu reeves #john wick #john wick imagine #john wick fanfiction

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xxisxxisxxis · 3 years

Text

Gateway Drug | Part Ninety

Words: 4k

Warning(s): explicit language, mentions of violence, mentions of drug abuse

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"Hey, Viv, it's Tansy...I got your flowers and was calling to let you know I'm getting out of the hospital today, and I'm heading to the same place the guys are at, Nikki said it doesn't suck as bad as the other places they've tested out, um…" Tansy's sweet voice sounds over my answering machine. "...I'm really sorry for not calling earlier. I'm just now getting off methadone, so I've kicked smack successfully. I just wanted you to know I'm doing okay and getting some help, and Nikki called and told me you two were working things out." She adds. "Come visit me, soon, okay? We have a lot of shit to talk through, and I know we do, I just don't know where to start but I love you. I'll see you later."

She hangs up and I smile a little bit, rubbing my lips together.

I haven't heard anything on her since Steven told me she was in the hospital back in New York after her overdose not long after Nikki's. I sent flowers when he told me she had to undergo emergency surgery to cut a part of her liver out that was turning necrotic.

I hope we can get through things like me and Nikki are trying to do, I think Amber's going to try to bring Vince and Tommy in to talk about our relationships as a whole the session after this next one Nikki and I have...maybe Tansy and I can sit down a few times and hash things out, too.

I head to get a bath, but it's not long before my peace is soon disturbed.

This is the fifth time the phone has rung in the past two minutes, and I roll my eyes and pull myself out of the bathtub, grabbing my towel and stepping to the living room.

I already see my message machine blinking from unheard voice-mails, and I pick the phone up and answer it.

Before I can even say, "hello," Sharise starts in.

"Vivian, what is going on, why didn't you say anything about it, why--"

"Sharise, slow down," I'm bombarded with a million questions, paranoia making my chest tighten.

"Vivian, you're pregnant, apparently, that's what's going on." She clarifies, and I feel the color drain from my face.

"Did Vince hear that from Nikki and tell you or--"

"--You're actually pregnant?!"

"You didn't hear it from Vince?"

"No, Vivian, it's all over MTV!" She says next, not sounding angry at me, just shocked.

"What?!"

Just as soon as she says it, there's a sharp beep from the phone, indicating someone's trying to call.

"Gimme a second and I'll call you back." I assure her.

"Fuck that, I'm coming over." She tells me before hanging up and I take the next call while turning the TV on to MTV.

I just see a picture of Nikki and I on the screen as I hear, "again, congratulations to Nikki and Vivian Sixx on the news of their…"

"Hello?" I answer the call that has interrupted Sharise and I.

"Why the fuck is Page Six running a story about you being knocked up with Duff fucking McKagan's kid?!" Doc yells and I nearly fall out, starting to panic.

"Because I am, but I have no idea how the hell anybody other than Nikki and Duff know about it, Doc, I haven't even told any of my friends or family yet, I swear." I promise and I hear him curse and throw stuff around on the other end for a good two minutes before calmly saying, "this isn't good, Viv."

"No, shit, Sherlock." I reply.

"I'm going to talk to Sixx, you just stay at home--don't do anything irrational, we'll take care of this." He states, hanging up.

My phone is ringing again as soon as he hangs up.

My phone starts ringing off the hook within three minutes and I have to step outside to the back yard with Whisky to get away from it.

I'm sitting on the edge of the pool when Sharise gets here, this look of disbelief on her face.

"I had to drop Sky by my mom's, what the hell, Viv?" She asks me, sitting beside me.

"I was gonna tell you and everybody once I got past the first trimester, Sharise, I promise." I say, honestly.

"I'm not mad that you didn't, I'm just...I didn't realize you and Nikki were sleeping together again."

"We're not." I state. "And Doc said that Page Six already knows it's Duff's and has it plastered everywhere so somebody said something to somebody."

"Duff?! Holy shit, Vivian." She breathes out, her eyes wide.

"This is bad." I squeeze my eyes shut, rubbing my face. "This is so, so bad, Sharise."

"What're you gonna do?" She asks me. "I mean...when did you two even start…you know?"

"September." I tell her.

"Are you gonna admit it's Duff's or just play it off as Nikki's publicly and then privately it's gonna know Duff is really it's dad or does he even want anything to do with it?"

"Yeah, he does, and Nikki's managing." I inform her, and she nods slowly. "It's nobody's business. It's not. So I shouldn't have to explain myself to anybody but I know everybody will want an explanation and we'll just admit it's Duff's and ignore the bullshit people are gonna throw at us...I just don't want to lose any friends over this…"

"If you lose friends over this, they're not your real friends, because everybody you're close with knows exactly what kind of marriage you and Nikki have been having the past year and you've both been struggling with different things and his affair with Vanity and so I think everybody should be pretty understanding of the situation." She tells me.

"They should be. Doesn't mean they will."

"Well, the ones who matter right now will." She reassures me. "And from what I've been gathering the last six months, that doesn't include Tommy and Vince right now because I already know they're probably gonna be on Nikki's side completely."

"Yeah, so will all of the fans." I mumble.

"Well, if you're gonna confirm it's Duff's, is he gonna come out and say that he actually did have an affair with Vanity or are you just gonna be the sacrificial lamb in all this?"

"I have no idea, Sharise." I admit.

"I think he should." She states. "Because it's not gonna be fair for people to think you just went to another man and 'cheated' on Nikki out of nowhere."

"It doesn't matter what Nikki says about the Vanity thing, he's just gonna be a God and I'm gonna be a whore." I argue, sighing out.

"You really think that?"

"I know that." I state, matter of fact.

And, boy, was I right.

"Did you two talk about the relationship you have with your mother?" Amber asks Nikki.

"I haven't had time to because we've been dealing with a lot of shit right now." He states.

"Okay," she nods in understanding, because there's no way she hasn't heard what we're dealing with, now. "Do you want to talk about it now, then?" She asks.

"Yeah, I can." He agrees.

"Okay, go ahead." She leans back, letting him have the chance to talk to me.

He just stares at me, sighing out, looking as if he's struggling with talking to me about it.

"Nikki, if you don't tell her, she can't understand." She adds and he rubs the back of his neck, looking at her to help him a little bit.

"Start with dad," she suggests.

"He left when I was little." He says to me.

"And mom…"

"...And mom started spiraling when he left." He explains. "She and whatever boyfriend she'd have at the time, would drop me off with Nona and Tom for months at a time, then when she'd come get me she'd be with a different man--sometimes married to them." He continues. "And, me being the smartass I am, when I get old enough to want to voice my opinion, I'd bump heads a lot with some of the dudes she brought around and things would get physical." He says next. "But, of course, she wouldn't feel like dealing with it because I was always ruining her partying anyway, so she'd send me off, again…things got really messy when I was, like, thirteen. Me and her got into it pretty bad and she started in on me and I told her I just wanted her to fuck off--I was just tired of it, so I hurt myself and called the cops and told them she attacked me, and she was arrested and I was sent back to Idaho to be with my grandparents." His voice shakes a little and I feel my heart hurt in my chest.

I remember Nona telling me he and his mom had a lot of issues with each other, but I didn't think it was to that extent.

"Have you talked to your dad at all?" I ask him, furrowing my brows a little and he rubs his chin, shaking his head a little.

"I tried, like, ten years ago, and he told me he didn't have a son." He states. "Mom's always said I ran him off, but I was only two, so I know that's bullshit." He adds.

"When I talked to you about all of this, it was very clear that you felt discarded, inadequate, and abandoned, because you have spent a good part of your childhood yearning for your mother's approval." Amber says. "Do you think that's true?"

"Yeah." He nods.

"Jumping through hoops at times to get it, but still being ditched with your grandparents while she went on and pretended she didn't have a little boy she needed to be responsible for."

He agrees, again, and she gives him a smile.

"A woman is who her mother makes her to be and who her father says she is. A man is who his father makes him to be and who his mother says he is." She tells us. "And you didn't have a father around to make you, and all your mother told you was that you weren't appreciated, you weren't approved of, you weren't worthy of the love and attention you deserved." She states. "And you married a woman whose mother made her to strive for this unattainable level of perfection and have a complete come apart when it can't be reached, and a father who told her she wasn't worth the trouble it took to protect her." She tells us."I want to know--because it is so evident that you two carry so much resentment toward one another--what is one reason--out of many-- that it's there."

"She's always looked down on me." Nikki says it.

"Why?"

"Because I don't live like she does."

"Explain what that means."

"She believes in God, I don't. She's spent our relationship sober, I haven't. She's more modest and conservative, I'm not."

"I don't resent you for not believing in a God and not being modest and conservative--those are a few of the things I respect about you, Nikki." I argue.

"Bullshi--"

"--No, no, no cursing. Take a breath." Amber reassures him, calmly.

"She hasn't let me do what I want to do. If I do what I want to do, she's on my throat over it or guilt tripping me or attacking me over it." He states.

"Because all you've wanted to do the past three years is drugs, Nikki." I mumble.

"Go back to guilt tripping." Amber tells him. "Does she put you on a guilt trip, or are you guilty after you do something you know she would not like for you to do and you beat yourself up for it?" She asks.

"She just shuts down."

"She shuts down?"

She looks at me.

"Why do you shut down when he does something you don't like?"

"Because it's always drugs or something mean he does when he's on drugs, and I don't want to be around it, but most times I can't get away from it so I just go somewhere else, mentally." I admit.

"And you see when she does that, and it makes you feel bad." Amber says to him.

"Yeah."

"That's not guilt tripping you, Nikki, that's her protecting herself because you won't." She points out. "Vivian, what's one of the reasons you carry resentment for him?"

"I'm not a priority." I tell her.

"The amount of money I've spent on you since we got together, and you're not a priority?!" He asks me, pissed and shocked I have the audacity to say that.

"Buying me a house and a new car and getting me nice things isn't showing me I'm a priority, Nikki, it's just you feeling bad for the shit you've done and buying me things to make yourself feel better for it. I'm grateful that you've made sure I've been taken care of in the sense that I've never gone hungry, I've never been out on the street, I've never had to go without utilities and hot water and things like that, and I've lived a spoiled life in terms of finances and the car I drive and the house we've lived in. You're a great provider--you just…we wouldn't be in this position if you didn't choose drugs over me." I say to him.

"I haven't." He argues.

"You blew off our wedding night to go to a party with Tommy." I remind him and Amber raises her brows. "Then you got in that accident on your way back home and hurt your shoulder and started smoking heroin to get through the pain so you could finish the album." I add and he rolls his jaw. "I love everything about you, except your drug abuse. And I've been so angry because there is no line with you. You just keep getting worse and worse and then turn around and convince yourself that I'm ungrateful and I don't approve of who you are because I'm perpetually bitter about the marriage I've been in--and it's all my fault in your eyes. Everything bad that's happened is all my fault."

"I don't think that, I just put blame on you where it's due, you just refuse to see that you're a problem in all of this, too." He explains.

"If you weren't on smack, we wouldn't have problems, Nikki."

"Vivian." He says it as if saying, "you know that's bullshit."

"What?"

"The amount of times me or somebody would tell you to take your medication and you'd blow us off and just let yourself get more--"

"--You can't compare depression to drug addiction. Depression didn't turn me into a completely different person. You shot me, Nikki. You shot me. And that still didn't make you realize you needed to get sober."

"You've physically assaulted me and other people, Vivian, in a frenzy, and still didn't see the issue with your mental state."

"You've put your hands on me before, too, so don't make me sound like--"

"--I've grabbed you a few times and that's been when you were trying to beat me. So don't start that shit." He snaps. "The times I physically hurt you, I was doped up and wasn't thinking straight. The times you've physically hurt me and other people, you were sober, you just weren't taking your medicine. So you can keep saying that I chose drugs over you, but the amount of times you've chosen your pride and, 'I don't need to be on medicine,' over me is just as bad." He says. "If you weren't so damn angry all the time over tiny shit."

"No, no, it's not just her being angry over tiny things. It's you getting with a seventeen year old girl, and placing the responsibilities of a forty-one year old mother on her." She adds and he breathes out. "Your wife has been raising you the past seven years. She's your wife. She's not your mama. And you have been punishing her like she is. Her not wanting you to destroy yourself with drugs doesn't equate to the times your mother wouldn't let you dress the way you wanted to dress, or do the artistically productive things you wanted to do that she couldn't understand that you'd fight about. This woman was seventeen years old. You had no business being twenty-two and seeing a seventeen year old, let alone putting that much weight and expectation on her shoulders and getting angry and saying she didn't appreciate you because she didn't know how to handle it all while every year you'd push further and further." She goes on. "Years of anger and resentment and bitterness towards your mother, all turned loose on a girl who didn't cause any of it, just because she didn't want you running yourself into a grave." She adds, pointedly. "When me and you first started working together to get to the bottom of all of this, you told me that she went from worshipping the ground you walked on, to being an evil demon from hell--do you remember saying that?"

He hesitantly replies, quietly, "yes."

"Do you realize that you have done everything in your power to verbally, emotionally, mentally, and spiritually beat the hell out of the very girl who saw you as her God before she was even old enough to really know who God was?" She asks him. "All because the woman who made you feel like you weren't worth the trouble it took to stay around and raise you, was never there to answer for her actions so you started chopping at the next one in line."

"Okay, I get it, I'm fucked up, I fucked her up, I've ruined our marriage, it's all my fault, and she's the innocent angel who was seduced by me and dragged to hell, I get." He stands up.

"Nikki," Amber starts.

"Nikki," I say as he steps to the door, "we can't fix this if you--"

"--Yeah, fix this." He flicks me off before slamming the door.

I grind my teeth and stomp after him, ignoring Amber's warning against it.

"You are such an asshole!" I bark at him, following him.

"Wow, I've never heard that one before!" He laughs humorlessly.

"Nikki, seriously, she got all over me for being mad at you for sleeping with two-hundred girls, you can take her pointing out that you hate me because I remind you--"

"--I don't hate you, Vivian, alright?" He stops, turning to face me.

"Well, you're really acting like it." I cross my arms.

"I don't. I'm just pissed that you refuse to accept that I'm not the only problem in this shit show and if you wanna work on us you need to realize that you'r--"

"--Baby," I breathe out, grabbing at his hand and he rubs his forehead, "I know it's my fault, too, but it's just…" I blink back tears, looking away from him.

"...Just what?" He asks.

"Embarrassing." I wipe my eyes, sniffling. "It's embarrassing having to sit there, pregnant with another dude's baby, and tell a stranger about how I've abused my husband and people around me."

"You think it's not embarrassing for me to sort through shooting you and strangling you and still not walking away from drugs?" He asks. "Don't even get me started on having to tell you I've cheated that many fucking times and even had a mistress?" He adds…"I think I've embarrassed myself, and you, more than you've embarrassed yourself and me."

"I'm pregnant. And it's gone public. And it's not yours. And it's gone public. I think I've won with which one of us has embarrassed the other the most." I mumble.

"Well, I'm not embarrassed. Those people don't know shit." He tells me, furrowing his brows.

"I am." I say, trying not to cry again.

I'm taken back a little when he hugs me, tightly…"Why didn't you tell me about your mom?" I him, my face in his chest, tears rolling down my cheeks.

"Because I didn't want to bother you with it." He says.

"I wouldn't have been bothered by it, Nikki." I sniffle, looking up at him.

He blinks a couple times and breathes out.

"There's a basket on the closet shelf at home with several of my journals in it." He explains. "Filled with things I didn't want to bother you with." He adds. "I really think if you feel too embarrassed or ashamed, reading those will prove my point that I've been worse than you have." He admits.

"I'm pregnant--"

"--I know you are." He grabs the sides of my face, looking me in the eyes. "Just read them if you want to, but I say a lot of shit in there I wrote when I was high, so there's your warning." He adds.

"Are you sure you want me to read them?" I ask.

"Yeah."

***I wish he would've said, "no," because I screwed myself over while reading them.***

NIKKI

I turned into a senseless moron the second she got ahold of my hand, looked at me with watery, pretty eyes, and said, "baby."

I would've let a train hit me if I knew it would've made her feel less embarrassed and ashamed. I didn't think reading my journals would've made her feel better--just help her gain an understanding that she's the smart one out of the two of us…

If this was one year ago, I'd have her face down on a mattress, making up for our argument.

But obviously that isn't much of a solution...so I just pull away and smile with my teeth at her the best I can, feeling better when her thumbs graze over my dimples and she smiles, too.

"I'm sorry I was rude in there." She tells me, next.

"I'm sorry for being an asshole." I reply, honestly…

"Do you really think I look down on you because you don't believe the same things I do?"

"Sometimes, I guess." I admit to her.

"I don't." She tells me. "I never really have." She adds. "I just don't like when you make fun of it or mock it."

"...Yeah, 'Wild Side' was kinda a dick move…" I tell her and she looks at me.

"A catchy dick move." She says. "And I like the song, I just wish you wouldn't have made it simply to spite me for the most part."

"I'll try not to use my powers for evil against you again." I assure her…"But you gotta quit using sex to try to get out of stuff, and I will, too." I say next. "This shit's so hard because we don't talk about stuff, and we never have, and it's just better to go ahead and embarrass ourselves and talk about it instead of trying to fix it with something we can obviously go get from other people--and have gone and gotten from other people."

"And we can't blow up on each other when we do try to talk and work things out." She adds. "So no screaming at each other."

"And no hitting." I say.

"Ever." She agrees.

I hold my pinkie out to her and she smiles softly, taking it with hers before I kiss her cheek and pull her to me again.

I didn't know, a week from then, I'd be screaming up a storm from learning about seven fucking miscarriages from '83 to '87 that she didn't tell me about.

#gateway drug #nikki sixx #nikki sixx x oc #nikki sixx fanfiction

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the-mighty-jellybean · 4 years

Text

Black & Blue

Bruise: an injury appearing as an area of discoloured skin on the body, caused by a blow or impact rupturing underlying blood vessels...

Series Summary:

‘They littered her arms like splashes of watercolor paints, Steve couldn't stop staring, she pulled at the sleeves of her cardigan when she caught him. “I fell.” she muttered, pulling the fabric tight over her fragile body. All Steve wanted to do was pick her up, and put her in a box, like you would a broken bird. He wanted to fix this little bird, but he didn't know how.’

Pairing: Doctor!Steve x Reader, Brock x Reader

Series Warning: This story is going to be quite dark and heavy, and will contain heavy themes of domestic abuse. There will be: Violence and possible Noncon, if you are uncomfortable with any of these themes, please don't read, this book won't be for you.

Part One: Broken Little Bird

Chapter Warnings: Strong Language, Description of Injury and Treatment (such as stitches), Allusion to Malnutrition

Trigger Warning: Domestic Abuse (Theme through out, especially towards end of chapter, where there is an allusion to Sexual Abuse, once again; Reader Discretion Advised) (18+ ONLY)

Word Count: 3.2k

A/N: Please do not read this book, if these themes make you uncomfortable, or may be triggering for you, I know lots of you enjoy my writing, but that doesn't mean I’d ever lie about what are in my books, so that I can get more likes and re-blogs, I care about my followers’ feelings and emotions more. Love you all, and if you do decide to give it a read, enjoy!!

The feeling of the hot and bitter liquid was a welcoming feeling for Steve, as he approached his ninth hour of his twelve hour shift. He wiped at his face, after he sipped his coffee, and continued to scribble down some notes, of a previous patient.

“How much longer?” a voice from the side of Steve, groaned, he turned being met with the site of his best friend, Bucky, who collapsed into the seat next to him.

“What time did you start?” Steve looked down at his watch.

“Lunch time.” Bucky yawned, leaning back in the office chair.

“You’ve got another four hours.” Steve told him, earning an eye roll from his friend.

“Shit.” Bucky huffed.

The two were doctors, who worked in one of the busiest ER Departments in Brooklyn, so far they had seen over 15 patients each, and more were coming, despite it being only 8 o’clock in the evening, on a Monday night.

“Why are there so many of them?” Bucky commented, as he flicked through his heavy file of patients yet to be treated.

“I don’t know, according to Sam, there’s been a huge crash on the Interstate, something like a twelve-car pileup.” Steve explained, not looking up from the form that he was currently filling out for a patient, so he could discharge them to x-ray.

“Jesus.” Bucky sighed.

“Dr Rogers.” Another voice called Steve’s name, and he turned back to the doorway of the office.

“How can I help nurse Maximoff?” Steve mustered up the best smile he could, in his slowly draining state.

“If you aren’t busy, I’ve got another patient for you?” the softly spoken, eastern European nurse asked.

Steve could have said no, but he could never turn a patient down, even if the pile was mounting up, “of course.”

He pushed his chair away from the desk, and picked up his stethoscope, following the woman out of the office.

“It should be quite quick,” Wanda passed him the clipboard, with the patients notes on, “just a standard, glue or stitch.”

“If it’s just a standard glue or stitch, why do you need me to do it?” Steve furrowed his brow at the perfectly capable nurse. Wanda was a great nurse, hence why she was the Head Nurse on the ward.

“I don’t know, there’s just something a little off about the girl, and you’ve got a keen eye for this sort of thing.” She shrugged, as the two made it to the bays.

“Do you mean I’m nosy?” Steve chuckled, and Wanda just gave him a cheeky grin.

“No, you’re just…yeah you’re nosy.” Wanda giggled, and Steve narrowed his eyes mischievously.

“Mmmm,” Steve hummed glancing down to the notes, “which bay is she in?”

“That one.” Steve followed Wanda’s pointed finger, towards one of the beds, that had the curtain pulled partially round. Steve could still see the slender figure of a young girl, she was slightly slumped, with her shoulders rounded.

Steve nodded to Wanda before walking towards the bed.

“Nice to meet you Miss…” Steve glanced down at the clipboard, looking for the name of the patient, “Y/L/N.” Steve’s smile faltered slightly, when he looked up from the clipboard, expecting the only person to be within the bay to be the young girl.

Instead he was also met with the tall and overbearing figure of a man, who was staring intensely at Steve. The girl didn’t look up to meet Steve’s gaze, but Steve also didn’t miss the flinch that the girl made when Steve made his entrance unexpectedly.

“Sorry, wasn’t aware there was someone else in here.” Steve explained lightly, with a smile. However, neither of the people responded, the girl continued to look down, and the man only flicked him a smile.

“Where’d that nurse get to, that was here before?” the man asked Steve aggressively.

Steve was taken aback, by the man’s overpowering tone, but managed to keep a straight face; “she got called away to another patient, so now you’re stuck with me.”

Steve cleared his throat, to break up the awkward silence that had fallen over the small group, “I’m Dr Rogers, but feel free to call me Steve.”

“Dr Rogers will be just fine.” The man chimed.

“Sorry, I don’t know your name?” Steve gave the man a tight smile and held his hand out.

“Rumlow, Brock Rumlow.” The man took Steve’s hand, and gripped it tightly, making sure Steve knew, who the strongest man in the room was.

“Nice to meet you Mr Rumlow.” Steve figured the guy would want to be called by his surname, by the way he shot down Steve’s gesture, “and what is your relation to Miss Y/L/N?”

“Boyfriend.” Rumlow responded bluntly, and Steve could only nod as a reply.

“So, what appears to be the problem?” Steve looked down at the woman, but instead the rough voice of a man responded.

“She slipped getting a glass from the cupboard, silly girl fell, and smashed it, cutting her hand.” Rumlow spoke with a light tone, but the way his words tumbled from his mouth, made Steve a little on edge.

“Right, well I’ll need to take a quick look at it.” Steve tried to catch the girl’s eyes, but the girl just held out her roughly bandaged hand. The poorly covered limb had blood dripping from the dressing, Steve watched the droplets splash onto the floor, and it had stained the sleeve of her cardigan.

“Whoever patched this up, won’t be getting a job here.” Steve tried to joke, but it fell on deaf ears, when neither of them laughed.

“You trying to say something, punk.” Rumlow puffed his chest out, and stepped slightly towards Steve, who back off.

“Baby.” The woman finally spoke, taking hold of Rumlow’s hand and rubbing her thumb over the top of it, “he was just kidding, you did you’re best.”

“I was only joking, Mr Rumlow. I would advise that you calm down.” Steve warned the man.

“I am calm,” The woman pulled on Brock’s hand, hoping to keep him quiet, Brock let out a heavy breath, his chest lowering, “look just do your job, so we can get out of here, I have work in the morning.”

Steve just nodded, snapping on a pair of gloves, still not overly happy with the guy’s attitude, and began to unbandaged the girl’s hand. He quietly apologised, when he saw the girl flinch when a particular part of the dressing stuck on some of the skin.

“I’m going to need you to take your cardigan off.” Steve said, as he turned to the used medical disposal.

For the first time since arriving in the ER, the girl sat up, with her eyes wide, clutching at the sleeves of her cardigan, “why?”

Steve almost didn’t hear the girls soft voice, as he very quickly got lost in her tired face. The way her eyes were slightly sunken into her head, from lack of sleep, the dark circles under them, made the color of her eyes more prominent. Her lips were chapped and a little split, from where they had cracked from being so dry. Despite all this, Steve couldn’t neglect the girl’s striking beauty. Steve had to shake his head a little and remember that she had just asked him a question.

“Oh err…it appears that the cut goes further up your wrist and I need to clean it.” Steve explained.

The girl didn’t loosen her grip on the fabric of her jumper, and Steve furrowed his brow slightly, and the girl simply flicked her eyes to the man, and then back to the cut on her hand.

Before Steve could say anything, everyone in the cubical was startled by the sound of a mobile phone. Brock reached into his pocket, pulling out the loud and vibrating device.

“It’s work, I’ve got to take this,” Brock whispered, Steve watched the girl pull back slightly, when the man lent down to kiss her forehead, “behave yourself, princess.”

Steve watched the girl let out a literal sigh of relief when the man finally walked out from the bay. Steve closed the curtain the rest of the way, after Brock left.

“Well, he’s a little intense.” Steve chuckled, but the girl only shrugged.

“He can be.” She whispered, picking at the skin on her arm. “He means well.”

“He got a bit scary then, does he do that a lot?” Steve asked softly, “hey, hey, hey don’t do that.” He speaks kindly, reaching for the girl’s hand, she flinched away, when Steve tried to stop her from making the area, she was plucking bleed.

“No, he’s just very protective.” she responded in a hush voice.

“Okay.” Steve said, apprehensively, “well it appears we don’t have a large amount of medical history for you?”

“We move around a lot.” she said, looking away from Steve.

“Have you been together a while?” Steve prodded.

“A year and a half, we’ve just moved from…” the woman trialled off, when she felt like she was about to give too much away.

“Moved from where?” Steve probed, looking at her with the best reassuring smile he could.

“Doesn’t matter.” She spoke flatly.

“Well okay…. but I’m gonna need you to take your cardigan off, so I can sort that hand out for you, Miss Y/L/N.” Steve reminded her, making her cringed at his words.

“My names Y/N,” she said quietly, “Is that really necessary?” The girl looked up at him, with a look of plead, but Steve could only nod.

“Sorry, doll. I’m afraid it is.” Steve began to unpackage the needed dressings, and antiseptic wipes, “I promise I’ll be nice and quick.”

Y/N let out a heavy sigh, and slowly peeled the sleeves of her cardigan down her arms, and Steve’s eyes couldn’t help but go wide, when he saw the painful decorations that were scattered across her skin. As the sleeves of the material fell from her shoulders, the black and blue bruises were revealed.

They littered her arms like splashes of watercolor paints, Steve couldn't stop staring, she pulled at the sleeves of her cardigan when she caught him. “I fell.” she muttered, pulling the fabric tight over her fragile body. All Steve wanted to do was pick her up, and put her in a box, like you would a broken bird. He wanted to fix this little bird, but he didn't know how.

“By the looks of it, you fall quite a bit.” Steve commented, he tried to take hold of one of Y/N arms, but she quickly pulled them away.

Steve noticed that some of the bruises looked a little like fingerprints, especially the ones around her wrists and upper forearm, “these don’t look like you fell over.” As Steve’s eyes travelled up Y/N’s arms, that was when he noticed the boniness of her shoulders that bumped out from under the fabric of her t-shirt.

“Can you just sort my hand out, so I can leave please.” Y/N snapped, holding out the still dribbling bloodied hand, growing frustrated with Steve inquisitiveness.

Steve just nodded grabbing the antiseptic, and moved back to the hand, “this might sting a little, sorry.”

Steve began to wipe, as gently as he could, but he was shocked when Y/N didn’t even wince, when he started to directly disinfect the wound.

Steve had been a doctor for many years, and had seen grown men, crumble when he had to clean their cuts and scrapes, but Y/N didn’t even cringe. She just sat with her eyes glaring holes into the floor.

“You’re one tough cookie.” Steve complimented, but Y/N didn’t respond, “okay, now I’m going need to stitch it, so I’m going to need to give you a little shot, that’s going to numb the area.”

“Don’t bother.” Y/N mumbled, “I can take it.”

“It’s not quite the same, sweetheart. This is going to hurt a lot more than some cleaning wipes.” Despite Steve’s plea, Y/N just shrugged, unmoved by his words, and Steve felt his heart sink, as he gazed upon this damaged little girl.

“Please let me give you the shot?” Steve spoke tentatively, as he crouched down, so that he could try and catch Y/N’s eyeline, but she just squeezed her eyes shut, shaking her head.

Steve swallowed thickly, but decided he would respect the young woman’s wishes; “would you like me to wait for your boyfriend to get back, so someone can hold your hand?’

“I said that I could handle it, so just hurry up.” Y/N shot back, Steve noticed that her chest was beginning to rise and fall, in a quickened pace, and it wouldn’t take a doctor, to work out that Y/N was afraid.

“Okay, if you’re sure, I’ll start.”

“Please.” It sounded like Y/N was begging, and Steve’s heart broke.

Grasping Y/N’s hand, he then realised how much smaller her hand was in his, and the way it sat delicately on his palm. Steve took out the needle that had been previously threaded, and he caught himself holding his own breath, as he brought the pointed item to Y/N’s slashed skin.

Calmly as he could, Steve let the breath he was holding wheeze out of his nose, in a controlled manner so not to alert Y/N to his apprehensiveness and pushing the head of the needle into Y/N’s flesh.

Y/N whined, and Steve immediately halted his actions; “do you want me to stop? Are you okay?” Steve fired out question after question, but Y/N just took steady breaths through her nose.

“No, no, no…just do it. Just do it quickly.” Y/N rushed out, looking away from her hand. Steve bit his lip, but realised dragging it out, was only going to make it worse.

Soon Steve had found a pace, and Y/N’s hand had become numb with pain, only the occasional cry of discomfort slipping from her cracked lips. The gentle hushes, as Steve tried his best to soothe her. Eventually, Steve pulled through the final stitch and Y/N let out a sigh of relief, and Steve began to wrap one last bandage round, just to keep the stitches secure.

Once he’d finished wrapping it up, Y/N snatched it away, and began to tug the sleeves of her cardigan back on. Just as the last sleeve went over her shoulder, shielding her skin from the view of Steve’s prying eyes, Brock stepped back through the curtains.

“You finished yet?” He grumbled, walking toward Y/N with such a pace, it made Y/N move backwards slightly.

“Yes Mr Rumlow, your girlfriend was very brave.” Steve mentioned, as he tore off the white gloves from his hands.

“She’s my girlfriend, not my daughter, I don’t give a fuck if she was brave. Stupid girl was the reason we’re here in the first place. But if you’re all done, then we’ll be off. Come on.” Brock seized Y/N hand, which caused Y/N to yelp, as his fingers wrapped around the newly bandaged hand.

“Mr Rumlow, you need to let go.” Steve took hold of Brock’s wrist and pulled his hand away from Y/N’s injury.

“Don’t touch me.” Brock’s voice boomed, as he ripped his wrist free from Steve’s grasp, “who the hell do you think you are?”

“Brock common let’s go; I just want to go home.” Y/N begged him, but Brock just gave her a look, that had her quickly closing her mouth.

“Mr Rumlow, I would advise that you calm down.” Steve held his hands up defensively, as Brock began to step towards him.

“You trying to tell me, how to handle my girl?” Brock shouted, “you trying to tell me, how I should be treating mygirlfriend?”

“No, Mr Rumlow, I was just trying to stop you from splitting your girlfriend’s stitches,” Steve explained, he was still backing away, “Mr Rumlow, you need to seriously calm down.”

All the commotion had caught the attention of Bucky, and Bruce, who had excused themselves from their own patients, and were approaching the quickly escalating scene.

“Please, Brock let’s just leave.” Y/N pleaded, her hand throbbed from where Brock had grasped it, and she was beginning to panic, as she quickly recognised the rage that was building up in her boyfriend.

“Be quiet.” Brock told her, and she once again closed her lips, but when she turned to look at the opening of the curtain, two other men, were approaching her bed.

“What appears to be the problem in here?” Bucky spoke, looking around the small compartment, his eyes flicked from the two men, who were both heavily breathing, to the frightened looking lady, who was sat clutching her hand close to her chest.

“Oh, called the cavalry, have we?” Brock sneered looking at the two new doctors, “everything’s fine in here man, just run along.” Brock waved his hands shooing the men away, but they stood still.

“Sir, I think we’re going to ask you to leave.” Bruce told him.

“You think, or you are, what is it specky?” Y/N looked horrified at her boyfriend.

“Brock, enough. We’re leaving.”

And before anymore words could be said, Y/N had grabbed hold of Brock’s arm, and was dragging him out the automatic doors, of the ER.

~~~~~

The ride home had been extremely tense, neither Y/N nor Brock had said a word to one another. Although, Y/N did notice the way that Brock was gripping the stirring wheel, and it made her eyes burn, as her mind, began to plan all the scenarios that would occur once the two had got home.

Once Brock parked the car, Y/N rushed out, fumbling with her key, as she tried to push it in the slot. Breathing a quick breath of relief, she pushed the door open, only to have the air knocked from her, when Brock pushed her roughly up against the wall.

Brock grabbed her hands, and held them against her chest, crushing them in his steel grip, making Y/N’s eyes water, as he tightens the hold on the hand with stitches.

“Baby…please.” She choked, trying to pull her hands free, only making him squeeze them harder.

“Don’t baby me, you fucking bitch.” Brock spat in her face, “you embarrassed me.”

“Brock I’m so-ah!” Y/N cried out, when Brock began to crush Y/N’s bandaged hand in his grip.

“You’re what…you’re sorry, you’re fucking sorry?” Brock bellowed, “you’re always fucking sorry.”

Brock release Y/N’s hands, but shoved her into the wall, her head knocking into the plaster, making her go dizzy, and slump onto the floor.

“Get up!” Brock commanded, “I said…” Brock seized Y/N by the hands once more, making her yelp, “…get up!” he pulled Y/N to her feet.

“Don’t ever,” he slapped Y/N across the face as he spoke, “…ever.” He does it again, “…ever.” He does it once more, this one harder than the others, adding to the dizziness that Y/N was already feeling, “humiliate me like that again.”

“Brock, please…I’mm so-sorry.” Y/N sobbed, she shuffled onto her knees, and tried to hold onto Brock’s hips.

“You’re sorry…hmm baby…you’re sorry?” Brock tormented her.

“Yes…yyes I a-m.” Y/N stuttered.

“Why don’t you show me how sorry you are, princess.” Brock placed Y/N hands on his crouch, and Y/N could feel the outline of his hardening member through the rough denim of his pants.

“Bbb-rock…I..c-can’t.” Y/N held up her bandaged hand, and she could see that the stitches must have burst, as small patches of blood started to spot on the white material.

“There ain’t nothing wrong with that ungrateful mouth of yours.” Brock sneered and began to unbuckle his belt.

All Y/N could do, as she allowed Brock to clasp the sides of her face, was whimper and pray silently in her head for all of this to end.

A/N: If you’re reading this, it means you have decided to read my book, and I’m very grateful to you, please like and re-blog. And the taglist for this new book is...OPEN!

Part Two//

Just drop me a note, or comment, if you wish to be added!!

#steve rogers #steve x reader #steve fic #steve angst #reader insert #brock rumlow x reader #brock rumlow #domestic abuse #adult themes #marvel fanfiction #marvel movies #doctor!steve #doctor!steve x reader #dark fic #dark steve fic

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animatedarchives · 4 years

Note

Hey! I know this is a touchy subject so I completely understand if you'd rather not do this request❤ Could you maybe do headcanons for Izuku midoriya with an s/o who doesn't have a good relationship with her mom and feels like her mom hates her?❤

author’s note: hi darling!!! i’m sorry this took so long :((( i hope you’re doing okay!! i apologise if this isn’t what you were looking for ;-; i wrote this in a very positive light but i acknowledge that things aren’t always happy and that broken relationships aren’t fixed overnight. nevertheless, i really wanted to portray that even adults/parents don’t always know how to go about doing life and that they’re just as clueless as us sometimes. anyway, you will always be important, both to your family and to me so if you ever need someone to talk to, you’re welcome to hit me up any time :) sending you lots of love <3

S/O WITH A BAD RELATIONSHIP WITH HER MOTHER

— 𝐌𝐈𝐃𝐎𝐑𝐈𝐘𝐀 𝐈𝐙𝐔𝐊𝐔

“You know what? I hate you! You don’t care about me and you’ll never understand me. You don’t even act like you love me! I wish you weren’t my mother!” you screamed

“Y/N!” she shouted after you, but her cries were cut off by you slamming the front door

Tears streamed down your face as you ran away from your house as fast as you could

Why was she always like this? Why couldn’t she just see things from your perspective for once? Did she hate you? Did she just not care about your feelings? She was being so selfish and unfair; she never looked at things from your perspective. You just felt so unloved and misunderstood

You finally reached the park and collapsed onto the nearest bench

You’d always come here whenever you needed to cool down after a fight; it was quiet and peaceful, a good place to escape from the constant arguing at home. It was your safe haven

Vision still blurry, you whipped out your phone to write a message to your boyfriend, sniffling between each word you typed

“at the park agaim… plwase come i need ypu”

Not even bothering to correct your typos, you quickly sent it to him

Drawing your legs up to your chest, you tried to take deep breaths to calm yourself as you waited, something Midoriya had advised you to do when he first started helping you with your family issues

“Y/N! I came as fast as I could!” he panted, drained from using his quirk to increase his speed

Your body was too numb to move, but you managed to mutter a quiet thank you to him instead

“Sorry I keep doing this to you… making you come all the way down just to help me with my stupid family drama,” you sighed forlornly

You felt like such a burden to him, to your family, to everyone, and you felt the tears starting to prick your eyes again

Midoriya’s expression saddened; seeing you so upset broke his heart and he wished he could just take all your pain away

“Don’t be sorry! You know I’d gladly drop everything just to be here for you. You are my number one priority, Y/N,” he reassured you.

“So… do you want to talk about it?” he asked cautiously as he took a seat next to you

You nodded slowly and began recounting the argument you had with your mother - it was the most intense one this week

Before you knew it, you were pouring your heart out, leaving nothing unfiltered as you recalled every detail of the fight

Replaying the scene and all the cutting words in your head finally broke something within you, and you started balling your eyes out again

Midoriya instinctively pulled you into his arms to comfort you and allowed you to sob into his chest

“Shhh, I’m right here,” he said soothingly as he stroked your hair and rested his chin on top of your head

Eventually, your crying simmered down to quiet sobs and Midoriya gave you some tissue paper to wipe your eyes and blow your nose

“I know you two don’t always get along very well, but she’s still your mother… and I know she loves you very much. I think she just doesn’t know how to express it,” he said encouragingly

“People don’t exactly get a manual on ‘how to be a good parent’; it really is just a learning process and I’m sure she’s trying her best to figure it out like everyone else,” he smiled

You contemplated his words, unsure if you believed them or not. Midoriya had always had a very positive outlook on things but you knew that the world wasn’t always that golden

Even so, you couldn’t deny that his words did make sense and held at least a little bit of truth in them

Seeing that you weren’t responding, he continued to comfort you

“In any case, whether you believe me or not, just know that I will always be here for you. We’re a team and I never want you to face your troubles alone. We’ll get through them together,” he said, gently pulling your body closer to his. “Okay?”

“Okay. Thank you, Izu,” you whispered

After taking ample time to cool down, you finally felt good enough to return home

Midoriya insisted on walking you back since it was so late, but he also wanted be there to provide moral support for you when you faced your mother again

Finally, you reached the front door and the anxiety within you began to rise

What if she was still mad? What if she was going to scream at you again? What if this lead to another argument? What if-

You thoughts were hushed when Midoriya took your hand and squeezed it with his large, scarred ones; a silent reassurance that everything was going to be okay

You nodded to yourself and took a deep breath, ringing the doorbell and bracing yourself to see her face again

The door immediately swung open and there she stood, nose red, mascara running down her face and lips trembling as she saw you

“Y/N! Oh my, thank goodness!” she lurched forward and pulled you into a tight hug. “I was so worried! I am so sorry for saying all those nasty things. I was just so caught up in my own anger that I wasn’t even thinking straight. But that is still no excuse for how I acted. I’m sorry I’ve failed to be a good mother to you but I promise I will try to be better from now on,” she sobbed

Her genuine apology shocked you and you couldn’t help but get emotional as you ended up crying in each other’s arms

Pulling away, your mother suddenly noticed your boyfriend standing behind you

“Ah, so you’re the one my daughter doesn’t stop babbling about,” she chuckled as she wiped her eyes, trying to look a little more presentable in front of your boyfriend

“Mum!!” you whined embarrassedly, earning a laugh from Midoriya

“I didn’t want her to walk back alone at this hour so I came to make sure she got home safely,” he said

“That’s very sweet of you. Thank you for always taking such good care of my daughter,” your mother smiled warmly

“It’s fine, don’t mention it!” he replied bashfully. “Well, I should probably get going now. Have a good night!” he bowed. “And Y/N, text me if you need anything, alright?”

You nodded and waved as he turned around and left

“Wow, he really is as amazing as you say he is,” your mother’s voice sounded from behind you

You smiled as you watched his figure recede into the distance. “Yeah... he is.”

Your mother cleared her throat nervously. “Also... I hope you can forgive me, Y/N… I know I’m not the best parent but just know that you will always be my little girl, and that I truly love you so so so much,” your mother said

You turned around and looked into her puffy eyes with your own, sensing no deceit within them

You walked up to her to embrace her again and sighed

“I know. I love you too, mum.”

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