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the-last-kenobi · 3 years

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Omg omg ok ok “wake up please” obi wan and qui gon for the prompt requests?? :))

A true classic!!! Thanks for the prompt!

From this various prompts list.

Obi-Wan felt as if his legs would collapse from under him any second now. Each impact of his feet on the ground sent a full-body wave of exhaustion and pain through him, and he was sprinting with all the strength he could muster.

Just a little ahead of him, Qui-Gon was also running, and turning every so often to deflect a blaster bolt coming through the thick forest.

Their pursuers were gaining on them. The natives were intimately familiar with their territory, and more of them seemed to join the hunting pack every minute, flocking from nearby villages to help flush out the intruders, with their swords of light and their witchcraft.

The entire mission had been a trap, one more strike in a heated battle between politicians back in the Core, and Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan were paying for it.

“Keep running!” the Master snapped out, stepping closer to intercept a spray of blaster bolts. Semi-modern technology was the norm on this planet — lightsabers and Force-use were not. Obi-Wan gasped for air, feeling pain slide down his throat and into his lungs, and kept going.

The fourteen-year-old plunged into thick undergrowth. Roots and leaves entangled in his trousers and robes, and he pinwheeled his arms for a second as they dragged at him, throwing him off balance.

With an almighty tug, he yanked free, and launched forward with Force-enhanced speed.

As he did, somewhere behind him Qui-Gon yelled out in pain.

Obi-Wan turned his head to look, his feet still moving — his Master’s wishes for him to flee at war with his instinct to turn around and rush back to help him.

The Padawan caught a glimpse of Qui-Gon staggering in his direction, one hand wielding his saber, the other clamped over his midsection. The older man’s face was set with controlled agony. Obi-Wan felt fear and relief mingling inside him — Master Qui-Gon was still alive and moving, but he was hurt!

Obi-Wan slowed himself down, but not fast enough.

His feet slid across greenery and soil — and into open air.

The forest floor had dropped away, plunging down fifty feet or more directly into the banks of a high, rushing river of dark green water.

Obi-Wan, high on adrenaline, saw every second of his fall. He twisted sharply as his feet left solid ground and fell onto the ground with his legs already dangling over the edge and tried to grab on to something, anything, to stop his descent. Small plants tore up by the roots in his desperate fingers; he gouged furrows in the earth, feeling himself slide further over the cliff.

Someone was calling his name.

Obi-Wan looked up and saw Qui-Gon racing towards him, his face white with pain and fear.

And behind him, more blaster fire, and two of the native soldiers stepping out from the trees with their weapons trained directly on Qui-Gon.

Obi-Wan made his choice.

Taking the time only for a desperate gasp for air, he lifted one hand from the earth and flung it forwards, drawing on the Force, and sent both men flying backwards into the trees.

His other hand lost its grip, and Obi-Wan fell just as Qui-Gon dove forward, hand extended, missing his Padawan’s reaching fingers by inches.

“NO!” Qui-Gon screamed. Ignoring the pain in his side he lunged up again and scrambled to the cliff’s edge, praying to find the boy dangling a few feet down by some crevice.

Instead he saw the sheer drop and a foaming white ripple in the river where something - someone - had just plunged into its depths. “Obi-Wan!” he cried. “Padawan!”

But no ginger head emerged from the raging waters. No voice called back to him for help.

The men were gaining on him, and the Jedi Master grit his teeth, feeling the weight of his injury and the prejudice of their pursuers crushing down on him. His feet hesitated just a moment longer.

And then he jumped.

Qui-Gon pulled hard on the Force, frantically trying to direct his descent, his energy already flagging from an hour’s hard running and the wound to his side. As it is was he crashed ungracefully on his hands and knees on the opposite bank of the river, the water lapping at the back of his robes.

There were distant shouts; their pursuers were regrouping, shooting almost uselessly down into the thick trees surrounding the river.

Qui-Gon ignored them. For now, they were out of the way, and all that mattered was his apprentice.

He ran as fast as he could down the riverside, feet slipping on stones and sand and green plants, and the waters roared on beside him, incredibly loud and terrifyingly swift. Obi-Wan was lost somewhere in all those churning tons of water, and he may not even be conscious to fight them.

The thought of the young boy tossed helplessly beneath the waves like so much debris sickened him.

“He’s only fourteen,” he heard himself say out loud. “He’s only fourteen.”

Shaking his head and pinning his hand down more firmly over the burn to his side, Qui-Gon focused as hard as he could on the training bond. Like most training bonds, it could not be used for proper conversation, but ideas and emotions could be passed along through it, and general location and wellbeing could be shared. It was early days yet for a strong bond.

But then again, their bond had always been unique. Bursting into life like sunshine from behind clouds so soon after they had met, although the Master had not seen it that way at first.

Qui-Gon thought of Obi-Wan, and his determination, and his humility, and his snark, and the way he hummed while he cleaned and smiled as he drank tea, and focused.

There.

Not far.

And not moving any farther away.

Qui-Gon broke into a dead sprint that ignored every pain in his body, and as he followed the river around another curve through the forest, he saw a pale form hanging limply between a stone and a fallen tree limb, caught like a leaf between them.

Obi-Wan, unconscious, his head raised by the branch but less than an inch from the surface of the temperamental waters.

“Obi-Wan! Obi-Wan, wake up, look at me!” Qui-Gon shouted. He ran to where the tree limb rested against the bank and knelt on it, using his own weight to keep it in place while he used the strength of his shaking hands and the Force to drag the boy slowly, slowly, out of the death grip of the river.

Obi-Wan hung limply in his hands, soaked to the bone and whiter than his robes.

“Padawan!” With a final heave, Qui-Gon caught Obi-Wan and grabbed him, pulling him briefly to his chest in a fierce embrace, shuddering at the icy chill. He set the boy down on the ground, searching for injuries and discovering scrapes and bruises.

He was breathing.

Barely.

“No,” Qui-Gon said, attempting to be firm but only managing an exhausted rasp. “No. Wake up.”

Obi-Wan did not. He looked like a waxen figure, tiny and pale in his soaked clothing, dark bruises blossoming on his cheek and over one eye.

“Wake up,” Qui-Gon commanded, running a hand through the soaking golden-red hair. “Please.”

Someone stifled a sob. It took Qui-Gon a moment to realize that it was him, that his face was twisted in anguish and panic as he leaned over the small boy that had been entrusted to his care. Mentally shaking himself, he took a shuddering breath, tilted Obi-Wan’s chin back, and administered a rescue breath. Then another. And another, and another, and another.

Obi-Wan didn’t stir. Qui-Gon shifted his hands to the boy’s chest and began compressions, trying not to cry, knowing that shock and fear and pain were creeping up on him and that they could not be allowed to succeed. Not now. Not when Obi-Wan needed him.

“Please,” he said again. “Wake up. Please.”

Another round of breathing. Another round of compressions.

And then—

Obi-Wan coughed, water dribbling from between his lips, and heaved for a few moments. Then his breathing evened out, and he sighed, slipping back into unconsciousness. But this time his chest rose and fell steadily under Qui-Gon’s hand.

“Oh,” gasped Qui-Gon, bowing his head down to rest against the boy’s forehead. “Oh, thank you. Thank you. Stay with me. Promise you’ll stay with me. Promise you’ll stay and wake up again, please.”

Obi-Wan could not have heard him, but the boy murmured something in his sleep and rolled onto his side, his head resting on his Master’s knee.

Qui-Gon held him and could not have explained even to himself why he wept.

#all the drama though #my gosh #star wars #my writing #star wars fic #obi wan kenobi #qui gon jinn #qui gon and obi wan #master and padawan #master and apprentice #padawan obi wan #jedi apprentice #tw falling #tw drowning #tw cpr

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remmammie · 2 years

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Hello, can I ask you for hc domestic Sora au please?

Kh4 gives me too much vibes and I can't tell anyone about it but I would love to imagine more on it so much ( ; w ; )

I was still on my mini hiatus when you sent me this so I couldn't find the time to write it then but I have the time now my exams are over! I'm very very excited for KH4 too so feel free to talk to me or the rest of KH tumblr about all your thoughts hehe

I considered both Quadratum Sora and just a modern AU too so there's the best of both worlds. I also assume you meant Sora on his own but I'd be happy to write some for him with an s/o too!

Sora Domestic HCs

Ah, domesticity. Sora never gets to stay in one place for too long, sadly, especially not with other people so he really has to get used to living alone or with someone who's not his mother.

Sora definitely strikes me as the kind of boy who's quite messy but not because he's lazy - he just forgets that, yes, he does need to pick up the clothes on his floor because, yes, he can (and will) fall over them all the time. Probably not to the point of leaving dishes in his bedroom, though.

I would not let this boy anywhere near a kitchen! At least unsupervised or without instructions. Yes, he did work at the Bistro under Remy's supervision/control, so he luckily knows basic kitchen and cooking skills. I don't think he'd make anything too wild, and he doesn't follow recipes very well but somehow still manages to make really good tasting food! It's incredible! He's strangely a natural!

Tell you what, though, Sora really oddly enjoys gardening! All the pretty colours and the general joy of keeping something happy and alive has Sora completely hooked. He doesn't know a whole lot and has to keep quite a big library of botany books, but Sora has quite the green thumb! And, if we're talking Quadratum Sora, maybe Strelitzia would help him out!

Sora needs a shopping list if he's going out shopping by himself. He'll spend, like, an entire afternoon brainstorming for things that he actually needs and wants, then still ends up getting distracted by everything in a store. He's a very curious boy, I can't blame him.

Oh, he'd absolutely have an animal of some kind. A dog would match his energy amazingly well, I can totally imagine him with a bigger dog, laughing while he gets dog kisses. Bless.

He tries his hardest to stick to a routine with waking up and going to bed, but ends up going with the flow and usually ends up falling asleep with his phone in his hand watching animal videos and waking up late because his phone is dead.

As for a job, Sora would thrive in either retail or some sort of childcare. He loves to entertain, so dealing with kids, especially younger ones, would be perfect for him! And helping people is a pretty big part of his life so he wouldn't mind the occasional bad experience in retail if it meant he helped people the other 90% of the time.

Sora adores wearing clothes that are just a little bit too big for him. He loves the freedom they bring and honestly feels pretty cool when coming up with ways to style his wardrobe, no help needed! We've seen Nomura's art, we know how stylish Sora is in modern clothes.

#kingdom hearts fanfiction #kingdom hearts #kh sora #kingdom hearts headcanons #kingdom hearts fanfic

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imagine-loki · 3 years

Text

Loki's Daughter

TITLE: Loki’s Daughter CHAPTER NO./ONE SHOT: Chapter 12: The King of Books

Previous Chapter: Chap 11 AUTHOR: traveling_classicist ORIGINAL IMAGINE: Imagine Avengers: Endgame AU Loki that gets away with tesseract has been using it to explore the universe. During his adventures, he comes across a little girl with developing but oppressed magical abilities. Intrigued (and subconsciously lonely) Loki keeps her around. RATING: Fic is M; this chap is G

AO3 Link: Here NOTES/WARNINGS: Fluff and stuff

Chapter 12: The King of Books

Kuna and Loki returned to the lush, green planet they had left. Loki liked how quiet it was. It would be a good place for them to lie low for a short time while he studied the books on curses they had taken and figure out the best course of action for Kuna. Frigga had given him plenty of advice and forewarning about what to expect when lifting her curse.

“You will likely have to confront the sorcerer who placed this curse on her,” she had said. They stood in the dense forest of Asgard while Kuna covered her ears. Loki did not want her hearing anything about the curse in case it would cause her further pain. “If he is alive, that is. If not, things may be even more complicated.”

“How do you mean?” Loki had asked her.

“If he’s not, you’ll have to attempt to lift the curse yourself. The books you’ve taken may help you more in that regard. All I know is that it is incredibly dangerous for everyone involved.” She looked down at Kuna with concern. “Curses like these can become their own sentient entities. Parasites that can protect and defend themselves, often with devastating consequences to the host.”

“Yes, I think I’ve already experienced this,” Loki replied, thinking back to how Kuna had kicked him out of her mind when he had tried to see her past. “I believe it has already begun to protect itself from being destroyed. I fear for Kuna’s safety, if I try this.”

“It can be done, Loki, but coercing the casting sorcerer is likely the safest route to lifting it.”

“Hmm. That might be difficult. He’s protected himself by not allowing Kuna to speak about the curse or her magic at all. Even if we do return to her home system, finding him would be like finding a needle in a haystack.”

“Well, you always did love a challenge, darling,” she said, affectionately.

They had bid farewell to Frigga in the forest and returned to the portal they had entered from. Loki did not dare use the tesseract on Asgard. The Allfather would surely have Asgard’s scholars looking for its energy signatures. The portal led out onto Alfheim where Loki could easily teleport them away to the safety of the green planet the tesseract had chosen for them.

They reappeared this time near a copse of trees in a deep valley. They seemed to be far from wherever they had camped last. The mountains were still visible but far in the distance and trees now dominated the landscape. Loki preferred the cover of the trees to the openness of the mountaintop. It felt more secure. They decided to make camp there. He set up the tent while Kuna explored the nearby trees.

“Don’t go too far,” Loki said. “I still find it strange that we’re the only living beings here.”

Kuna walked around the trees, feeling their bark with her hand. She could smell flowers and other earthy aromas that calmed her. She liked being outside, away from the nasty smelling city. She picked a suitable tree and climbed up it with ease. Loki was impressed.

He watched her hop from branch to branch with ease. She ran through the limbs of the trees, barely moving them as she went. Then, she crouched low and leapt from one tree to another and continued on bouncing through the branches like a little squirrel.

Loki smiled. It was nice to see her exploring and playing. He finished setting up their tent and began producing stacks of books, the books they’d stolen, for him to research. He picked a comfy looking tree and sat down, leaning back against it. A breeze whistled softly through the leaves above him and the grass at his feet. He had to admit that the tesseract had picked a nice planet for them to come to, though he still did not understand how.

He pushed the thought from his mind and set to reading his book Curses and Their Counters. It proved to be a long-winded, dense discussion on the morality of curses and why such magic should be banned from the modern grimoire. He rolled his eyes and set the book aside, picking up another.

Kuna spied on him from above, watching as he read speedily through each book and firmly set each aside. He shifted uncomfortably against the and rubbed his back. Grumbling to himself, he tossed another book away and picked up yet another. The stacks around him were growing ever higher.

Kuna quietly climbed down from her perch and snuck up behind him. Their satchel lay on the ground by the roots of the tree. Carefully, she put her hand into the bag, searching. Pushing aside her toys and various other items, her fingers landed on its decorated handle of the dagger Loki had purchased on Tenanci’i.

“What are you doing?” Loki asked, not looking up from his book.

“It’s a surprise?” Kuna said, wondering how he knew she was there.

“A surprise that requires a dagger normally ends up with someone dying,” he said, turning a page calmly. “Are you going to stab me?”

“No.”

“All right. Just don’t chop your fingers off.”

“I won’t!” She grabbed the dagger and ran off towards the trees.

“Walk!” Loki said. Kuna slowed, walking excitedly.

She approached a tree with long, hanging vines. She took hold of one and pulled, hoping it would come down on its own. But it held tight to its roost high in the tree. The tree itself looked wilted. Some of its leaves were still brown and the vines were starting to stifle the tree’s trunk and branches.

She climbed up to its tallest branches and began cutting down the long vines. When she had a nice pile at the base of the tree, she carefully climbed down and gathered them up. She wound them up in tight spools and looped them over her arms. Trouncing through the tall grass, she was careful to pass behind Loki so he wouldn’t see her surprise. She made her way back to the tree she had climbed before, tossing her vines on the ground, along with the dagger.

Plopping down on the grass, she began her work, unspooling the vines and laying them out in a grid around her. She stood and began to weave the vines in and around each other, over and under. Now and then, tying off an end and beginning with a new vine. When she was happy with her work, she hoisted it between two trees. She stood back, examining her creation. Nodding with satisfaction, she ran to Loki.

She stopped short, realizing Loki was deep in thought as he read. She was afraid to interrupt but excitement was boiling over her. “Loki?” she said, softly.

He looked up from his book at her. “Mmm? Please, don’t tell me you chopped off your fingers.”

“I didn’t,” she said, showing him all her fingers.

“Good,” he said. “What is it?”

“I made something for you.”

Startled, Loki looked back up. “You made something… for me?”

“Mmm-hmm.” She looked down at her feet, putting her hands behind her back.

He squinted at her and then smiled wickedly. “Young lady, if you stab me with that dagger…”

“It’s not the dagger!” she cried, laughing as he did. “Come and look!” She ran behind him and pushed on his back to make him stand. He purposely leaned back against her, smiling. “You’re so heavy!”

“Oh, all right,” he said, standing up quickly. Kuna fell forward on her face but jumped right back up again, grabbing Loki’s hand.

“This way! Close your eyes!”

“I don’t know if I like that.”

“It’s more of a surprise that way! Please!” she begged, looking up at him with big eyes. She pulled on his hand, making him lean over and whispered, “I promise I won’t stab you.”

“Oh, well when you put it that way.” He closed his eyes and let her lead the way.

She positioned him in front of the tree, making sure he was in just the right place to see her creation.

“Okay, okay. Open!”

Loki opened his eyes. Hanging between two trees was a beautifully crafted hammock. His lips parted in surprise at Kuna’s skill.

“It’s for you!” she said.

“For me?” he looked down at her. She nodded, smiling.

“So that you’re comfortable while you read.”

Loki didn’t know what to say. “It’s beautiful, Kuna. Where did you learn this?”

“All the slaves on Torileena know how make them. The Masters like to sleep in them to stay off the dirty ground. We put them way high up in the trees, away from all the scary monsters.”

“Where did you sleep?”

“On the ground,” she said. She took his hand again. “Come on! Try it!”

Loki climbed unsteadily into the hammock. It was the perfect size for him. He thought the vines would be rough on his skin but instead they were soft and supple. He looked down at Kuna.

“I love it but it’s missing something,” he said. Kuna frowned, looking around. Loki picked her up and set her down beside him in the hammock. “Ah. That’s better. Now it’s perfect.” She giggled and hugged him. “This is lovely, Kuna. Thank you.”

She cuddled next to him. He took out his book and began reading again. Kuna watched. She wondered what all the sticks on the page said.

“Does this book have pictures like the mushroom book?” she asked.

“No, I don’t think this one will have any pictures. If it does, they won’t be fun pictures,” Loki replied.

“Oh.”

“But I did manage to swipe a few storybooks from Odin’s study – I’m sure he won’t miss those either – they have lots of nice pictures in them.”

Kuna smiled for a moment, but it faded.

“Kuna, what’s wrong?”

“W-will you teach me how to read?” she asked, her voice barely audible.

“Of course, I will. We’ll learn with the storybooks just like I did.”

“Really?”

“Yes, I promise.”

Kuna’s smile returned. She laid her head against Loki’s shoulder. She hadn’t realized how tired she was until now. She slowly drifted off to sleep as the hammock swayed.

Loki tried to focus on his book but he too was quite tired. They were safe here and the hammock was far comfier than having to squish through the hivetent’s door, so he allowed himself to drift off as well. The matter of Kuna’s curse was not going to be solved in a day. He would need time to study and plan in order to ensure the curse was lifted properly.

For the first time in a while, he felt content with where he was. Kuna lay beside him peacefully. They were safe. He wasn’t rotting in some prison. He had an ally in his mother. He had half expected her to hand him over to the guards. He was sure Odin had brainwashed her with falsified stories of his exploits on Midgard. Heimdall could no longer see Loki at all so his visions only came from his sightings of Thor. Of course, he had the rest of Asgard to watch over; he could hardly watch the prince all the time.

Loki had been surprised by Odin’s rebuke of his eldest, most beloved son. It seemed he was content with leaving Thor stranded on Midgard to stew in his ‘failure’. Loki chuckled to himself. He could never think of a time when Odin had thought Thor had failed. Save, perhaps, for his most recent blunder with the Jotuns that had him exiled to Midgard the first time. This seemed far more serious. And it made Loki feel wickedly pleased with himself.

He hates you too, you know, the voice in his head echoed.

“Please. As if I care,” Loki spat in thought.

Oh, but I think you do.

“Why would I care what he thinks? He’s a…”

“He’s a murderer and a thief!” Laufey’s voice rang out in Loki’s mind, jarring his memory back to Jotunheim. He shook his head. He didn’t like to think about that dreadful place or the time he and Thor had gone there together; when he had learned what he truly was.

You’re a murderer and a thief too. Just like Odin.

“I am not just like Odin.”

But that’s all you’ve ever wanted to be, the voice was cool. Loki could feel the treacherous sting behind his words. Just like father.

“He’s not my father!” Loki shut the book in disgust with himself.

Pathetic.

“What does it matter now anyway? He hates me.”

Loki’s eyes opened. He looked down at Kuna’s brown hair. His jaw tightened.

Sentiment. For a child. Is this love?

Loki squeezed his eyes shut but was confronted by a sudden flash of memory. Sitting in the glass box on the helicarrier.

“Is this love, Agent Romanov?” he scoffed.

Agent Romanov’s voice echoed in his head, “Love is for children…”

Loki shook his head, rattling the memory away but her voice echoed.

Sentiment.

Loki’s eyes opened, settling on Kuna. His breath was ragged and heavy.

Sentiment, the word echoed through his mind so loud it seemed to rattle his in his skull.

A darkness settled over his vision, clouding everything. He tried hard to push the rage he was feeling down deeper. Imagining a bottomless chasm, he gathered all of his emotions and painful memories together and tossed them into the abyss. He seethed. He only felt angrier and more resentful.

“Loki?” Kuna’s voice broke him out of it.

He looked down at her. His eyes must have been fierce because she flinched.

“Are you okay?” she whispered.

“Hmm? Yes. I was just thinking,” Loki responded.

“Who were you talking to?

“Hmm? Oh, no one.”

Kuna sat quietly for a moment. She did not like the way Loki had looked just then. The way he had been staring through her made her feel nervous. “I’m cold,” she whispered.

“Are you? Let’s go inside. It’s getting dark.”

He got up out of the hammock and picked her up, taking the book with him as well. They went inside the hivetent and he set her down on the floor. She took out their bedrolls and spread them out for them both. She quietly removed her toys from the satchel and climbed into her bedroll, bundling up in it.

Loki paced with the book open, trying to distract himself. Kuna watched him walk back and forth, back and forth. Her stomach made an angry growling noise. Suddenly, he stopped and turned to her. She closed her eyes and pretended to be asleep. Loki raised a brow, unconvinced.

“Kuna? Oh dear, you’ve gone to sleep,” he said in mock disappointment. “I was just about to ask if you were hungry. I suppose not.”

Her eyes flew open, and she sat up quick. “I am hungry!” she said. “Please!”

“I thought so,” Loki smiled and conjured some food for her. She munched happily while he went back to reading. “I can’t believe I forgot to give you dinner. If I do that again, just tell me. Sometimes I forget to eat,” he said.

Kuna couldn’t imagine herself forgetting to eat. She liked food too much. She took another big bite of dried meat. She would just have to make sure he did not forget to eat.

“Aren’t you going to eat?” she asked, her mouth half full.

“I’m not very hungry right now,” he said, not looking up from his book. “Perhaps later.”

“Don’t forget.”

He smirked at his book. “I won’t.”

Kuna finished her meal and cuddled with her toys. She let out a big yawn, stretching her arms. Loki yawned as well. Kuna crawled over to him. He was intently reading a large brown book. She watched his eyes flit over the page. His finger traced a line down each side of the book as he read, before turning to the next page.

She looked at the big pile of books beside him. She started to reach for a big book with a pretty golden binding, but sharply pulled her hand away, jerking her head to the side as if she were hit. Loki noticed the sharp movement and felt a pang of sorrow for her.

“It’s all right, Kuna,” he said. His voice made her jump. “You can look at that one.”

She turned and looked at him. “Really?”

“Yes.”

She gingerly picked it up, opening its pages to find beautifully painted pictures. She gasped, staring at the bright colors and moving textures. Each picture gently flowed and undulated, giving movement to each scene. Characters bowed and danced on one page. Kuna quickly turned to the next and found the scene had changed to show a forest, the trees blowing in an imaginary wind.

“They’re beautiful, aren’t they?” Loki asked.

She nodded.

“Slaves were never allowed to touch books. Some Masters, like Master Machaluci, put magical spells on his books that blinded slaves that opened them and tried to read them.”

“That’s horrific, Kuna.” He took the corner of the book and pointed at the page. “These were stories that my mother read to me when I was a boy. These books have no magical spells on them. Besides the ones that make the pictures move, that is. You won’t go blind, I promise.”

Kuna looked back at the book. Loki turned the pages for her, showing her another image of a warrior fighting a giant blue monster with red eyes.

Loki huffed. “There are a few good ones in here, although, it’s been a long time since I’ve read any of these fairytales.”

“Will you read some to me?” Kuna asked.

Loki smirked at her. “Sure.”

She settled in close to him. He read her stories of warriors and great battles, kings and queens, monsters and magic, and even of dragons. Those were her favorite. She stared at the beautiful pages as Loki read aloud, changing voices with the characters, and acting out their movements with his hands. Kuna had never heard such lovely and enchanting stories. They sent her mind on adventures through vast imaginary landscapes, fighting trolls and bandits, rescuing villages and saving kingdoms.

Loki wasn’t sure when she had fallen asleep, but he looked down at her, showing her one of the images on the page, and her head gently fell against his arm, her eyes closed, a soft smile on her lips. He smiled, slowly closing the book. Gently, he picked her up and carried her to her bedroll, tucking her in with her toys.

Returning to his books, Loki quickly lost track of time. The books on curses were dense and often difficult to understand. Their archaic, long-winded musings on the morality of curses or the history of their terrible deeds were of no use to him. He needed to know how to lift them. And to know that, he needed to know how to cast them. He tossed one book aside and picked up another, furiously thumbing through its pages, skimming the text for anything that would help him.

He grumbled to himself as he finished another book and tossed it onto the pile. He ran his fingers through his hair. Letting out a frustrated sigh, he looked over at Kuna asleep on the floor. He groaned and put his head in his hands. They had practically ransacked Odin’s library for books on curses; there had to be something that they had stolen that was of use. That fat, old man did not keep these books locked away because they were strict, moral teachings. He knew how to use dark magic and kept it to himself.

He picked up another book and began reading. There were many spellbooks among his new collection, containing spells he had never seen before. Spells that doused the victim in an acid-like substance that burned their skin and spells that caused bad luck. While these spells seemed deliciously wicked to him, they were far from the curses he was searching for. He set these books aside for further study.

Loki continued reading until the morning light began to shine against the opaque walls of the tent. He hardly noticed; his nose buried into a book about a sorcerer who had been banished out of time for use of curses with the use of one of the infinity stones. He was surprised to see mention of the stones, but ancient Asgardians had been rather fascinated by them.

“Loki?” Kuna’s asked.

“Mmm?”

“Have you been up all night?”

“Mmm-yes,” Loki mumbled.

“Aren’t you tired?”

“I’m fine, thank you.” He glanced up. “Oh, if you’re hungry,” -he conjured a pile of their supplies on the floor- “take whatever you like.”

“Anything?”

“Anything.”

“Thank you, Loki,” Kuna said, graciously. She picked up some fruit and bread. “Can I go outside?”

“Yes, sure. Just don’t go far.”

“Okay.” Kuna walked outside, turning back to look at Loki before walking out the door.

Book after book Loki read through and still he could find nothing of real value beyond anecdotal evidence of curses or didactic discourses on curses. He finally decided to take a break and stood, popping his back and walking outside to find Kuna.

The sun was hanging low in the sky now.

“Shit! Is it that late already!” Loki looked around for Kuna but could not see her. “Kuna?”

There was no answer. He called again but all he could hear was the wind through the leaves. He looked around at the trees, searching the branches for her. When he did not see her, he set off into the forest to find her. With a wave of his hand, he cast a spell on the ground to illuminate her footprints.

Tiny footprints glowed green on the ground in a twisting and turning about all around the tent and their little camp. Loki could see the prints exiting the tent were dimming while a trail of prints that led into the woods shown brighter than the ones around him.

“I told you not to go far,” he grumbled as he followed after them. “Now you’ve probably been eaten by some monster. I knew this planet couldn’t be lifeless. What was I thinking?”

He stomped through the brush, following Kuna’s tracks. She had wondered here and there, stopping occasionally to admire a flower or rock. Then the prints went up a tree.

“Great,” Loki huffed, finding himself increasingly annoyed by his new ward. He looked around to see where she may have come down again and picked up the trail on another tree she had leapt to. He followed them as she jumped from tree to tree, but they were becoming harder and hard to see.

He stopped and called for her again to no answer. The forest was still save for the occasional falling leaf. The lack of birdsong or crunch of undergrowth from small animals felt eerie to Loki. He looked around and realized he’d lost Kuna’s trail completely. He studied the trees but could no longer find the green glowing footprints. He was not amused. “Kuna? Where are you?” he called. “Please, don’t be dead.”

He cast the spell again hoping it would reilluminate the lost trail but there was no trace that he could see. He was going to start retracing his own steps to where he lost the trail when he heard Kuna’s voice in the distance.

“Hyah!”

A yelp echoed through the trees. Loki tore off in her direction, conjuring knives in his hands, ready to slay the unseen beast attacking her. He could see a clearing in front of him. He slowed, crouching in the shadows, and peeked through an opening in the brush.

Kuna stood in front of what was left of a long dead tree, a long stick in her hands. Loki searched the clearing for her assailant but found no one, just Kuna and the tree. The upper branches had long broken away, leaving only the hollowed trunk behind barely standing on its rotted stump, the tree stood only a few feet taller than Loki now; a fraction of its once great height.

Kuna squared up with the tree and swung her stick at the trunk, letting out a grunt with the effort. The sound reverberated through the woods. Pieces of bark rained down on Kuna. She swiped at them with her hands.

“The woodland troll threw boulders, but the hero’s shiny armor protected her!” Kuna narrated.

Loki smiled and tried to stifle his laughter from the bushes as he watched.

“Your boulders are no match for my sword!” Kuna swung again at the tree and it wobbled with the blow.

“Hyah!” she stabbed at tree as it wobbled back and it creaked and fell backwards with a crash. She leapt on top and plunged her sword through an old animal’s nest in the trunk.

“You’re defeated, woodland troll! You can’t hurt the village anymore!”

“Oh dear, what have I done?” Loki mused from his hiding place. “I’ve raised a hero.”

Kuna stood triumphantly on the fallen tree with her back to Loki. He took his chance and crept out silently from the bushes. He stalked her without making a noise. A wicked smile grew on his face with each step.

“A hero?” he said, laughing evilly. “A hero who’s wandered too far from home.”

Kuna jumped and fell off of her fallen foe. She turned over and grabbed her stick. She gasped. “The sorcerer!”

Raising her stick to swing at him, Loki made an elegant swipe with his knife, cutting the stick in half. It dangled by a thread in front of Kuna’s face. She gulped and looked up into Loki’s smiling face.

“Ahh!” She flung the broken stick at him and ran off into the woods. “Run away!”

“Hey!” Loki swatted the weapon aside. “You get back here!” He chased after her back into the underbrush. “Heroes don’t run away!”

Branches and vines smacked him in the face and caught in his hair as he ran. He quickly lost sight of tiny Kuna in the bushes and plants. He stopped and listened. Silence had fallen again. She was hiding. His ears listened for any trace of movement. He heard nothing. She was good.

“Yaaaahh!” Kuna jumped out of a branch above Loki’s head. He stepped out of the way and she flopped into a pile of leaves on the ground.

“You were doing well until just then,” he said, leaning over her. “The key to an air assassination is not giving away your position by screaming like a howler monkey.”

She groaned.

He picked her up and flung her over his shoulder. “Now, the poor hero’s been kidnapped by the evil sorcerer.” He started walking back towards the tent with her draped over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. “I’m taking you back to my evil lair. Whatever will the hero do now?”

“Stab!” Kuna jabbed Loki in the back with a broken stick.

“Yeee!” Loki yelped and let go of her. She jumped out of his hold and took off again. Loki watched her disappear through the ferns, cackling as she ran. “She really is my kid.”

He walked along, listening for her once more. He had nearly returned to the tent when her felt her presence behind a tree. She was breathing hard and trying not to laugh. He smiled and walked on. He created a clone that continued down the path. He crept around the other side of the tree and grabbed her.

“Raaaar!” he growled.

“Ahh! Cheater!” she cried. She fell backwards. “How did you know where I was?”

“Mouth-breather,” Loki taunted her. He picked her up by the ankle and carried her upside down back to the tent.

She giggled the whole way, swinging back and forth, trying to stab him with her broken twig.

“I think I’ll turn you into a frog,” he said.

“No!” she cried.

“Or maybe a mouse. They’re very quiet.”

“No! I don’t wanna be a mouse!”

“Or how about a homing pigeon. That way you won’t get lost.”

“I wasn’t lost,” she said.

“Well, you sure did wander far. Look how late it is!”

“Sorry,” she said. “Are you still going to turn me into a frog?”

“Nah,” Loki said, setting her down. “Just don’t do that to me. I thought you’d been eaten or something.”

“Stab!” Kuna jabbed him again, this time in the thigh.

“You little bilgesnipe!” he shouted.

“The villain let his guard down long enough for the hero to make her escape!” Kuna narrated. She jumped over a pile of books and rolled over her shoulder, leaping up and snatching her toys from her bedroll. “She rescues her friends from his evil lair and saves the day!”

“Sure, sure,” he grumbled, rubbing the sore spot on his thigh. “Saves the day.”

He sat down between the piles of books and found one of the ones he had been reading. Kuna bounced around the tent with her toys. She grabbed some food from the pile on the floor and stuffed it in her mouth. She stopped abruptly and looked at Loki. He was intently studying another book.

Darkness had settled on the tent again before Loki looked up. He had just realized how quiet Kuna had become. She was asleep on the floor, wrapped up in her blankets. Loki started to get up when his foot bumped an apple on the ground in front of him. He looked down. Kuna had made a small meal for him of fruit, bread, cheese, and dried meat with a cup of water from their supplies. He smiled and sat down again, picking up his meager meal and taking a bite of bread.

When Kuna woke the next morning, she glanced over at Loki’s bedroll, but it was empty. She frowned at it and turned over. Loki was sitting up against the wall of the tent, legs crossed with a book in his lap. His chin drooped to his chest as he snoozed.

Kuna stood, picking up Loki’s blanket and marching over to him. She nudged the book off his lap with her stick and threw the blanket over him. She gently tucked the blanket around his shoulders and legs. Finally, she set her toys on his lap in case he needed them. They helped her sleep.

Picking up his cup and plate from the night before, she walked back over to their pile of supplies and began organizing it. When she was done, she looked around for more inside things to do. The tent smelled of old books and ink and slightly of mildew. She scrunched up her nose. Her Masters would not have liked the smell. Or the mess. Looking around, she could have sworn she did not take this many books at Odin’s study.

She walked through the stacks of books and found their golden storybook. She traced the ornate knots on the cover. She wondered if Loki would be mad at her if she peeked inside at the pretty pictures. She started to open the cover but then put it down.

Instead, she occupied her time counting the books in the big stacks scattered around the room. She counted one hundred and seventeen. Loki snored softly as Kuna began to tidy up the stacks of books, straightening them and pushing them to one side of the tent. She put them all in level stacks with the spines facing out, neatly aligned with the curve of the wall.

She stood back and looked at all the books and then got an idea. She pushed a few stacks in around Loki. She used the books like bricks, building up walls until it looked like there was a castle around him with just his head peeking out above and his legs sticking through the gates. Then she sat back and waited and waited and waited.

She heard a long sigh from within the castle walls. “Kuna,” Loki’s calm voice came from behind the walls of books.

Kuna covered her mouth, wheezing with laughter. She climbed up a stack of books and peeked over the walls at Loki. He still sat, wrapped in the blanket.

“What are you doing?” he asked.

“You’re the King of Books,” she said, not able to hide her laughter anymore.

“You’re damn right, I’m a king,” he said. He settled into his blanket, getting comfy. “This castle is rather draughty. I think it needs a roof.”

Kuna gasped and jumped down, grabbing her blanket and throwing it over the top of the book castle. She got down on all fours and crawled towards the entrance.

“Can I come in?” She poked Loki’s feet.

“What’s the password?”

“Um, please?”

“No.”

“Aw,” Kuna sat back. “Pretty please?”

“It doesn’t matter how pretty or ugly the please is: no.”

Kuna frowned. “But I wanna come in too.”

“What’s the password?”

Kuna grumbled. She thought for a long time. “Um, password?”

“All right, come in,” Loki said, pulling his feet inside.

“Yay!” Kuna crawled into the small space, over Loki’s legs settled down by his side. It was dark now that she’d tossed the blanket over their castle. Loki conjured a little orb of light that bobbed up to the top of the blanket and hovered there.

“Do you like your castle?” Kuna asked, giggling a little.

Loki glanced around and then chuckled. “I think we should have taken more books.”

They both laughed. Loki put his arm around Kuna and pulled her up onto his lap. She squealed with joy.

“You’re quite the little trickster, aren’t you?”

“Can I be the Princess of Books?”

“Obviously.”

“You fell asleep reading last night.”

“I did.”

“And you forgot to eat again.”

“I did. Thank you for making me dinner. I’ve been doing a lot of studying and time feels like it’s flying by.”

“What are you studying?” Kuna asked.

“Um, well, these are books about curses.”

Kuna gasped. “That’s angry magic.” She shuttered. “Why would you wanna read about that?”

“I’m just researching curses. You’re right, they are rather nasty. What do you know about them?”

She shook her head. “It’s the worst magic of all.”

“Hmm,” he said. “Do you think all magic is bad?”

Kuna thought about his question a moment. “Maybe not all magic. The magic the Masters use was given to them by the gods, but most of the time, they used it to hurt us.”

“Why is that, do you think?” Loki asked her.

“Because we were bad,” she pouted.

“I don’t think so.”

She looked up at him. “I think they used it to hurt you so you would never question them,” Loki continued. “So that you would never try to run or stand up to them. I think they used it to control you.”

Kuna looked down, staring at her hands.

“I also think they may have used a curse on you, Kuna, to control you even more.”

Kuna’s breath caught in her chest. She breathed hard and clenched her fists. She felt overwhelmed by emotion and shook her head to make it all go away.

“No,” she cried, tears forming in her eyes.

“Now, now,” Loki said, gently consoling her. “It’s all right. I’m going to fix it. That’s why we took all these books. That’s why I’ve been staying up all night studying them. I’m going to figure out a way to lift the curse on you.”

“Why… why did they put a curse on me?” she choked.

“I think they saw you as a threat.”

“But I’m not a threat. I’m tiny.”

“You defeated a troll yesterday and then you stabbed a god. Twice! Not to mention all your other feats of bravery. Don’t underestimate yourself, my little raven.”

“But I don’t… I don’t remember anything. I don’t remember anyone cursing me!”

“That’s the point, darling,” he said. “They wanted to keep it secret even from you so that you could not tell anyone. But I’m much smarter than they are. I’m going fix it, all right?”

Kuna was practically sobbing now, sucking in hard breaths and forcing them out with all her might. It hurt Loki to see her reaction. He pulled her close and hugged her. She cuddled into his chest.

“It’s going to be all right,” he told her and gave her a gentle kiss on the head.

“They’re evil.”

“Yes, they are. And we’ll defeat them together.”

#Loki #God of Mischief #Father #Submitted fic #submission #loki's daughter #travelling-classist #chapter 12

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worstloki · 4 years

Note

If Loki "retires" to live with 50+ cats/dragons, where do you think he would reside?

- Thor’s neighbour house in New Asgard. He’s been there this whole time. He’s the rogue cat person of the village. Thor just never noticed that his neighbour has 50+ cats/dragons which he randomly lets roam around the Asgardian settlement. “Loki loved dragons. Where’d that dragon come from?” Thor asks one day, and Valkyrie’s only response is a ‘are you kidding me?’ look because Loki just walked past holding a dragon and he somehow missed Loki but noted the dragon. Loki’s cats regularly invade Thor’s house. He figures Valkyrie let cats loose on the village for rodent-control.

- A cottage-like house. Maybe in the middle of a city like New York where it wouldn’t fit in? Lots of green plants and the place looks overrun with it but that’s just because it’s a solidly cottage-core aesthetic. The interior of the house is stacked with hardcover books in places they probably shouldn’t be. The cats and dragons like to climb and perch themselves on these stacks. The place isn’t large but it’s the coziest thing imaginable and there’s always hot chocolate around. The front and back yards both have gardens hidden in their vine-covered bushy overgrowths.

- trashy apartment that magically materializes wherever he wants it to be. there is no reason the apartment needs to be filled with this junk. surprisingly enough nothing in the place is rotting, it’s just a mess. good for the cats and dragons. the apartment may or may not be his pocket dimension. it’s actually really unclear. where did all this random junk come from? it doesn’t matter. the tv has netflix on all the time and loki sleeps on the couch covered in pets. which is lovely some days. disastrous on others.

- Carol Monica Nick Maria and Talos are hanging around space helping with space wars. Loki’s there too and is the only one that doesn’t get a roommate because he shares his with 50 or so cats and dragons. Well, sometimes Carol stays over, but it’s usually because the dragons like playing with her energy fists and think she’s part dragon too. Cats and dragons both stick to her when she stays because her temperature is slightly above Loki’s and she’s warmer. Loki complains about ‘favouritism’ and them being ‘traitors’ in good humour. The cats and dragons all follow Talos around in a line like ducks. The cats think he’s a regular lizard and keep trying to bite him. The dragons think he’s a larger mother dragon. He doesn’t always notice that Goose is among the cats and dragons and screeches every single time he does.

- Modern apartment. Think: Tony’s Avenger Tower interor designs. Futuristic and cut with overly-simple design and mostly greyscale palette. Floor 22 where no mosquitos or flies dare come. The place has tiles and slabs of metal and the only non-modern thing are the crazy amounts of cats and dragons always hanging around preventing the place from getting too cold. Despite the sleek furniture, everything is comfortable, and there’s a fire-screen electric heater. There’s always calming music playing softly. Or workout music. Sometimes a mix. If he’s in the mood some rock will come on. It’s an endless playlist of songs Loki enjoys so despite how detached the place should look it’s irrefutably alive.

#honestly i think if loki was to ''retire'' with 50+ cats/dragons i do believe he'd manage wherever he ends up #if loki was alone he'd be fine sleeping in a dumpster or sneaking into avengers tower or whatever #but he has a lot of creatures to look after now #so somewhere decent enough to comfortably house that many animals #if we're following canon I'd vote for in space with carol #simply because i think that'd factor well into the post-endgame timeline #thank you for the wondrous ask #loki and cats/dragons is superior

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tarithenurse · 4 years

Text

Unsolicited

Starring: Avengers Loki x fem!reader, Sam Wilson Contents: Description of sexual harassment/lewd behaviour, hinting at violence and threats, fluff. A/N: Got inspired after a conversation with @maladaptive-ninja-returns. Enjoy, hon! And nope: I didn’t proof this bc it’s 4:22 in the morning/night and I should be sleep but insomnia/anxiety is a bitch so you’re getting it raw ;)

... Loki ...

She groans as she tosses the phone aside with a disgusted wrinkle on her nose. How is that supposed to not make him curious? Naturally, he has no right to grab the phone when she leaves the room about an hour later, but as the God of Mischief...well, she really has brought it upon herself, hasn’t she?

Flicking through the various apps and tabs, he finally finds what must be the cause of her disgust: a message from a contact labelled “Jerk” with an image attached of his sorry excuse for a cock. Nothing in the preceding chat calls for such a picture. From the few lines, Loki surmised that [Y/N] must have exchanged numbers with the person last she was out partying and that she’s since come to regret it – a fact “Jerk” seems intent on ignoring.

“Someone should teach him some manners,” the god muses.

For months (though it feels like more) he’s been adoring [Y/N] from a distance, contending himself with the friendly stage in their relationship the two have found. The idea of pursuing it further, though tempting, seems an impossibility with the sins he’s committed in the past compared to her sweet innocence. Still, he will do everything in his power to make her happy and right now that requires ridding her of a nuisance.

Stuffing the phone in his pocket, he goes in search for the only person he is sure can help him with this particular task.

“Romanova!”

... Reader ...

It makes no sense. You’ve looked everywhere but there’s no sign of your phone – not in or under the couch where you’d spent most of the day, not on the coffee table (and you’d even removed every single magazine and checked in every mug left behind by your co-Avengers), pockets are all empty too, and after that you’ve tried every room you’ve been to. The kitchen was meticulously combed to check cabinets, fridge, drawers, even cereal boxes and the trash can...no luck. The bathroom is barren with the exception of the neat row of toiletries on the shelf. Bedroom? Nothing...but at least you ended up changing the sheets finally. Even your purse have been emptied out completely without giving a clue. By the time you stomp back into the living room to start over, it feels like you’re going crazy!

“Wassup?” Sam’s lounging in a chair with his own phone, making you miss your own all that much more.

Ass up and head on the floor to look under the book case, you mumble a reply.

“Wassat?”

“I am,” you groan as you sit on your haunches and dust yourself off, “looking for my fucking phone!”

“Tried calling it?”

You glare at him. “With what? Smoke signals?”

Man, he’s annoying when he grins like that. “You could just ask for help, girl.” His fingers are already flicking across the screen. “Is it on silent?”

“Nah, don’t think so...”

Still on your knees, you scoot over to see him tap your name on his contacts list. How long can it take to connect? It’s Stark tech! There’s a muted tooping from the tiny speakers and a moment later both of you swivel your heads in the direction of tinny sound of Chic’s “Le Freak”.

“I can dig that,” Sam nods approvingly.

You don’t care to answer, instead hurrying down the hall to the source of the music and as you skid around the corner you barely avoid slamming face first into Loki’s chest.

“Oh.”

“Hey.”

“Hi.”

“Hey!” Why does he have my phone? It’s right there in his big hand and even if the melody stops just then, there’s no denying it. “That’s mine! Where’d you find it?”

Hesitating a second too long, he hands it back to you with a sheepish shrug. “I took the liberty of borrowing it.”

What?! “Dude...you could have asked first.”

Borrow? Oh he better not have read my chats with Wanda! You’re fairly certain the witchy girl is the only one to know about your huge crush on the raven-haired god and you’d prefer if it stayed that way. For months, she’s been trying to coax you into asking him out and every time you’ve been building up the courage she’s nudged you on with quick snapshots of the man – all taken when he wasn’t aware and most favouring his jawline or ass. Nope, you do not want Loki to find out about any of that.

“I realize...however, when I saw what had aggravated you, I decided to act in your defence immediately.”

“Huh?”

Indignation burns in his eyes. “The aptly labelled Jerk and his heinous indiscretion.”

“The...the dick-pic...”

Loki nods gravely. “I went to Miss Romanova, seeing as she’s particularly adept with Midgardian technology as well as exquisite methods to get people to...cooperate.”

At least now the somberness is gone but it has been replaced by a wicked smile which you aren’t at all certain you want to know the reason for. Sure, you would have liked to strangle the offender, but a moment to calm down had been enough to help you shrug the attempt at an advance off. The jerk isn’t worth spending your energy on.

“Is...is he...alive?” It’s not that you’re worried per se, just slightly concerned if the handsome god is getting into trouble.

“He is, but rest assured that he’s learned his lesson,” Loki smiles, “he will never bother you or anyone else again.”

Something in the air shifts as he speaks. You can’t put your finger on what it is, you just know that it feels like you’re standing on a high cliff above the sea and a slight breeze could push you over the edge. More importantly, it’s a dive you know would be heavenly. To be held in a cool embrace, safe from the thrashing of the waves above as you ride a the currents the same colour as Loki’s eyes. Loki’s eyes. Loki’s oh shit I’m staring! Snapping back to reality, you decide it’s safer to look at your feet as you tug away your phone.

“I’m uhm thank you,” you ramble feeling the heat of embarrassment spread through your body. “Yes. Yes, thank you.”

Wanting to get away, you turn the door handle and hurry inside the room, closing the door behind you. Daymn, that was close. You back slides down the smooth material of the door as you let out a long sigh. Maybe he didn’t notice though.

A knock shakes you from your silent prayer. “[Y/N]? Are you alright?”

“Yes! Yes, I’m fine! Absolutely!”

“Good.” It doesn’t sound like he leaves, and sure enough: after a moment Loki’s voice comes through the door again: “How come you’ve entered my quarters then?”

“...”

You know right away that there’s no recovering from this as your eyes take in the surroundings sporting green and gold colours paired with dark furniture in a classical yet modern style. Oh, maaaan. Getting to your feet, you shamefully open the door for the actual owner of the room.

“...sorry,” you manage a whisper.

Turning to leave, a cool hand grabs yours to halt you. “You are welcome to stay...in fact...I’d quite like if you did.”

“You would?” I’mdreamingI’mdreamingI’mdreamingI’mdreaming!

It doesn’t feel like a dream when a finger under you chin tilts your face up, though.

“Very much. Perhaps, you’ll allow me to show you the proper art of courting a lady such as you?”

“I’d like that...very much...”

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tigerseye46 · 3 years

Note

tell us about ur new oc!

Thanks for giving me an excuse to talk about her! I have a lot.

I’ve actually mentioned her before but before I figured everything out. I rp her in a server with my friends.

Her name is Huáng Xiàróng (煌夏荣 Brilliant Summer Glory)! Her name used to be Yuán but I changed it. I’ve created one design for her, I don’t draw often so it’s not the best but I tried. I’ll post her demon form and picrew of her human form at the end.

Originally she was supposed to be a motherly figure. That… uhh did not exactly go as planned. I kinda made her feral instead- also she used to be a straight up villain.

She’s a rabbit/bunny demon. Specifically a Manchurian hare. She has a mix of black, brown and gray fur with three spots on the side of her face which are replaced by freckles in human form. She has a notch on her ear and some spots there too. She has slight wavy hair with braids in the back.

Her hair is black with green strands, kinda like Mei which was completely unintentional and I only realized that now. Her eyes are green but they change to red when angered and brown when annoyed. She has a frilly dress. She has a tattoo on her back, 戰士 meaning warrior. Her height is 6 feet and 2 inches. She’s around 3000, maybe a bit younger and physically looks 35 - 40.

Small tw here, she has scars from years of fighting.

Abilities:

She can shapeshift to various things including a normal bunny form and a bigger, more terrifying version of herself.

Like most rabbits, she’s extremely fast (super speed).

She has the ability to control and manipulate fire.

She can jump high.

Super strength

And friend suggested the ability to possibly summon and ride a cloud.

Backstory: (I’m just going to copy and paste her backstory that I used for smth)

Xiàróng was born in the Qin Dynasty to two rabbit demons. Her parents were fierce demon lords that loved to mess with humans with their army. Her parents trained her in the hopes that she would follow in their footsteps and she did. She became a fierce warrior with a strong love of fighting and battling.

She led her armies into villages, messing with humans and demanding offerings. She loved the absolute terror that popped up on their faces as her army swept in. She enjoyed the amusement she felt every time they thought they could defeat her along with the absolute adrenaline that came with fighting.

Her parents were extremely proud of her and at times, fought with her but they mostly stayed regulated to their hideout. One day, they passed away in the field of battle, she rose and took their place. Xiàróng became better known as a fierce rabbit demon lord and grew her armies, even allying at points with some other demons.

She became renowned as her parents always hoped she would be. She loved her army and always made sure their efforts were rewarded. She treated them as a second family to her and they shared a deep bond.

One of Xiàróng’s generals told her about a monk journeying west to get scriptures and if she eats him, she can become immortal. While initially excited at this prospect, she declined when she found out that the person guarding him was the Great Sage. She then made sure her army never crossed paths with Sun Wukong and the rest of the pilgrims.

She continued onward and she thought the whole thing could last forever.

But obviously, nothing lasts forever. Humans started advancing and her demon army started falling, either passing away in battle, getting tired of fighting or deciding that they wanted to move on and pass off as humans to live normal lives, sometimes a mixture of the last two.

Xiàróng never stopped fighting and refused to quit until she faced a fierce opponent in battle that caused her spirits to wane. She eventually realized that with humanity’s advancements she longer had the edge that she used to. She decided to sadly give up fighting about 500-1000 years prior to modern day. In her current identity, she works at a boring office job to survive all while longing for the good old days.

The group finds her when they need her to face an opponent she had previously faced, possibly the same one that caused her spirits to wane.

(She also had might or might not have had a kid at one point when she was still a warrior. Mildly debating on the kid thing but I’m probably going with it.)

Likes and Dislikes:

She absolutely loves fighting, she loves the thrill that comes with it. She values hard workers as she had to work hard to get to where is. She loves to reminisce about the good old days when she was feared and respected. She likes the summer season. Her favorite colors are red and green. She likes drinking tea. She adores the outdoors. She likes (also dislikes) being alone. She likes people who value their family. She is a big fan of action movies. She likes exercising. She likes organization and plans. She loves her motorcycle and weapons. She loves being the leader of projects as it gives her a sense of power. She loves fire and is often entranced by it. She likes using her jumping abilities. She likes exploring nature.

She dislikes the modern advancements humans have made as she believes it puts her as a disadvantage and is part of the reason she is no longer feared. She dislikes mundane office work as she believes it to be below her skill level but does it to survive. She dislikes people who desert others as some of her army left because they were tired of fighting and wanted to move on. She hates being called cute. She hates slackers. She hates people who underestimate her. She dislikes interacting unless she has to.

Strengths and Weaknesses:

Strengths:

Xiàróng is extremely proud of her abilities. She is extremely brave and will gladly take action when need be. She is rather confident. She is observant because of her years as a demon lord. She is a strategic individual since she spent so much time with her generals planning out attacks. She is also rather smart from her years of teaching from her parents about different subjects. She will give her honest opinion if someone asks her. She is hard working. She is tidy and always makes sure to keep both her workspace and house clean. She actually has a motherly side to her and is rather gentle when interacting with children and is capable of being gentle when others are having a bad day, although this depends on who they are. She is agile.

Weaknesses:

Her belief in her abilities cause her to have excessive pride in them. Her bravery leads her to take reckless actions. Her longing to reclaim the past and become once again known as a fierce demon blinds her to the possibilities that come with the future. She holds on too much to the past and practically clings to it. She has a short temper and can snap easily. Her honesty leads to bluntness and people not liking her because of her opinion. She can also be rather dishonest sometimes. She acts as if she knows better than others since she’s been alive a long time and has a wide array of knowledge.

General Personality:

Xiàróng is not a sociable person, although she used to be back in the old days when she had her demon army. She can be quite dramatic especially when she’s explaining her past to people. She has a loud personality that appears when she’s explaining her history. This is a subtle and desperate attempt to reclaim what she used to have. Although, other than that, she is rather quiet and prefers not to interact unless absolutely necessary.

She prefers to keep to herself a lot of the time despite rabbits being social creatures. She feels out of place and longs for a world where she can go back to fighting and a time where her army was all together, laughing and smiling. Fighting is all she’s known for the longest time and believes that’s what she’s mostly good at.

Since some of her army has either passed away or left to find better lives, she is not a big fan of letting people close especially in a world of humans since these were people she once used to attack and mess with. She does rarely encounter some of the demons that used to be her army. She’s short tempered and aggressive. She appears cold due to her isolation and circumstances. Under her cold personality, there is a loud, bright and caring personality waiting to get out if she lets someone get close, maybe if she did, she could go back to the way she used to be.

She doesn’t care about the group at first until they keep dragging her along. She is terrified of Sun Wukong because of his reputation and is kinda wary of his successor but helps him out. She purposefully annoys Pigsy and has debates with Tang. Also I kinda ship her with Sandy but we’ll see how that goes-

Trivia:

Talents: Foraging, cooking, singing, Can expertly play pipa (Chinese lute) and piano, gardening, great medical knowledge, wrestling, sword fighting and spear fighting, stealth, hand to hand combat, whittling, excellent leadership skills, making strategies.

She has a motorcycle that she takes good care of.-Romance movies are a guilty pleasure of hers.

She is ambidextrous.

She’s bi.

She has a tattoo with the characters 戰士 meaning warrior on her back.

She has a small house in the woods near a mountain range outside the city.

She was around when the Journey to the West was happening but avoided the pilgrims since she didn’t want to risk angering Sun Wukong if she tried something.

Hobbies: poetry, training with her qiang and jian, exercising, running, singing, gardening, cooking, playing the pipa and piano, foraging, whittling/wood carving, origami, watching television

Her surname Huáng meaning brilliant refers to the family’s cleverness along with wanting to shine. Xià means summer, summer represents something in China such as the direction south, the color red, the sound of laughter, the heart, fire and a creature called the red phoenix. Red, in turn, symbolizes happiness, vitality, good luck, good fortune, energy and passion. Róng meaning glory is because her parents were hoping she’d be renowned by people all over.

Picture:

Link to the picrew I used for human form: https://picrew.me/image_maker/332600

Human form:

#lego monkie kid #monkie kid #Huáng Xiàróng #monkie kid oc #lego monkie kid oc #my friends will be the first to tell you that I go crazy with ocs-#which is why I have 100+#I’m also going to make more Monkie kid ocs eventually #my oc #I have some stuff written for her #but not a lot

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shiroganeryo · 4 years

Note

ah, if you're still doin the character thing, how about Lenalee? (I didn't see anybody asking about her, but if sb did, sorry! maybe Johnny then?)

I’m sorry for the delay on replying to this one! This is probably the last ask thingy I’ll be doing for the Character Questions, as they take me some time to type and I’ve been busy 💓 But thank you all very much for the interest in these, I really love writing for stuff like this! I’ll be covering both Lenalee and Johnny in this one - so, a two character reply again! I was hoping someone would give me Lena so the OT4 was complete, but I also really love Johnny... 😭

Lenalee

My otp for them: With Lavi! I had never paid much attention to the two of them as a couple, but after I reread the series last year, they have grown on me. Lavi has been Lenalee’s emotional support many times and it’s clear he cares about her. People would consider that the time he snapped at her for grieving over “losing Allen” was bad, but I quite don’t think he meant harm; rather, I think he kinda acted on impulse because he wanted her to feel better. He marvelously made up for that during the following arcs (”I didn’t come here to stop you; this is your decision to make. Just let me come along.” - 150th Night). Those interactions made me like them a lot as a pairing. My brotp for them: Miranda! She played a big part in Miranda’s life, and I’m sure they got really close thanks to that. Imagining them doing all the girly things together without a care in the world makes me so happy 🥺 It’s like getting to see the happy girl Lenalee could have been, if she weren’t another victim of the war. I also used to ship them because I have no self-control apparently, so. XD Any other ships: Have you all ever considered her and Emilia? 💦 Both share guts and very strong legs, it seems. I can picture them bonding easily over shared interests and it makes me weak. I also love Lenalee and Kanda’s relationship, so they also get the cake here. As for Allen, they make a beautiful pairing, but only when it comes to appearance to me; imo they would need to work many things out, personally speaking, to work in a healthy way for both. Their best friend: Miranda, Jeryy and Kanda! Miranda, for the reasons stated above; Jeryy, because he was her “motherly figure” when she was growing up and needed a feminine, understanding input from someone she could feel comfortable around. And Kanda, due to their relationship as “childhood friends”, in a way. Lenalee loves everyone close to her, but I see these three being the ones she’s the closest to. My favorite nickname for them: “Lena”, given by Kanda. It just sounds so cute and delicate; it suits her. My favorite AU headcanon of them: People often say they would like to see Lenalee abandon the Order and join Allen’s side. I say the opposite; she should stay. She could be a big helping hand on throwing a rebellion of sorts that could benefit him from the inside. That way she wouldn’t need to abandon the people she loves for Allen’s sake, but would still be on his side, on her own way. My favorite outfit they wear: Lenalee has the cutest chinese themed outfits! The ones I love the most are the one she used during the Zombie arc, and this one I saw her wearing on Gray Log. She looks so darn cute, too precious for this world. *gross sobbing* Defining color: When I think of her, I think of several shades of green, namely Fern (#4F7942) and Pine (#01796F). I also think of deep red (#D30000), because of the ribbons she uses on her hair and the shapes of her Crystal Type Innocence. Would I date them: Lenalee is a strong, amazing girl! However, I wouldn’t date her. She can also be headstrong, and so am I hahah At times, I find myself thinking we’re similar in the way we’re insistent (at the risk of being unreasonable) about some things and I quite don’t see that working out at all 😅 First impression: Bland. Nice character, but her design didn’t interest or stand out at all to me. Dark Boots are an awesome Innocence though! Current impression: I really like her. Not one of my favorite characters, and I have a lot of criticism when it comes to Lenalee, but I love her design and the development she got so far. I started taking her more seriously after the fight against Eshi; it was one heck of an awesome fight! The way she put everything on the line on that suicidal move was impressive; so badass. Hogwarts House: As much as I would love to assign her to Gryffindor for her commendable courage, Lenalee’s home is in Hufflepuff! Before anything else, she cares deeply for the people she loves, and will sacrifice herself for them without thinking twice. Loyalty and kindness are her most prominent trait, but that doesn’t make her a pushover in the slightest. Which Pokemon starter they’d be: Torchic! According to the Pokédex entries, Torchic feels warm to the touch and this makes it very huggable. I have this type of impression about her, warm and welcoming. It also develops a fighting type upon evolving, and Blaziken are well known for their strong legs and jumping capacity!

Johnny

My otp for them: With Cache! I’m very weak for couples where the woman looks (and is) stronger than the guy, and we’ve seen her carrying Johnny to the medical wing before - an occurence that, according to her, happens a lot. He seems to have a crush on her, seeing his reaction (fidgety, blushing) when he was saying goodbye to his science friends. According to Vol. 27′s Discussion Room, the scrunchy he’s using to tie his hair used to be hers, and I love how Allen went “hmm, I see...” when he told them she had given it to him hahah (it’s alright, Allen; I ship it too 👌) My brotp for them: Allen, hands down. Differently from what people say, Johnny has always supported and cherished Allen, what he’s doing for him now isn’t out of the blue. It was actually what Johnny told him that started to change his perception on things and realize that his heart longed to be with the ones he loves despite the hardships (”As Johnny Gill and your friend, I’m going to help you!”, - 215th Night). He loves him, and I can tell how important he is for Allen too; he was able to come back from Nea’s inner world thanks to Johnny’s calling that reminded him of his ties with everyone in “Home”. This part has some of my favorite scenes from the entire series; Johnny didn’t even bat an eye, he simply jumped for Allen. I called it Allen would avoid their fall, but Johnny patting his head in happiness and relief and then hugging him, to which Allen returned, as relieved and happy for having come back... It was so sweet and hopeful. It brings good tears to my eyes! Any other ships: I don’t have any~ Their best friend: I think Johnny is friends with pretty much all of his buddies from the Science Division, but I notice him being closer to Reever. I would like to mention Suman as well; despite him being deceased, Johnny still seems to hold a fond memory of him. And then comes Allen who’s clearly someone important to him, and it doesn’t seem to be one-sided, judging by the time they (used to) spend together having fun. My favorite nickname for them: I don’t have one! But Johnny deserves cute nicknames, let’s give him some, Hoshino-sensei? 👀 My favorite AU headcanon of them: I don’t have one because Johnny is already perfect as a character and for the plot as he already is imho. All I wish is for him to survive until the ending. Hang in there, Johnny! Allen needs you, but for all you’ve been doing, you deserve to make it out alive and earn your own happiness! My favorite outfit they wear: Out of all the characters, I feel like Johnny is the one that has the most “stripped-down” style, quite modern looking. But I love his current outfit the most! He looks great in vests and the long coat definitely reminds me of the lab coats he used to wear while in the Order. I also like a lot more how his hairdo is atm, it looked a little painful to have tied for too long in the previous style (similar to pigtails). His new frame glasses are also pretty! Gives him a more serious look. Defining color: Curiously enough, I think of an array of varied colors when I think of Johnny? I can’t seem to be able to pick one. There is black, yellow like Mustard (#FEDC56), brown like Cherrywood (#CB6F36) and blue like Maya (#73C2FB), to name some. Would I date them: But of course! Johnny is the sweetest guy I’ve ever seen. He gives off all the geek vibes, but not on the annoying way; he looks like the type of person that would talk lots about things that make him happy, excitedly, while you’d look at him go, feeling blessed with all the bright energy vibes emanating from him. He’s also shown to be extremely supportive, and honestly, everyone deserves someone like him 🥺 First impression: Regular geek scientist guy? Current impression: *incoherent sobbing* I love him so much! Why does Johnny not have more appreciation?! Why do people think he’s annoying??? Anyone who loves Allen gotta admit this guy is the MVP. He’s the trope you’d expect for a smartsy science guy, and at the same time, he’s not only that. I’ve babbled enough on that in the reply under this question. Hogwarts House: I’m in a tie between Gryffindor and Hufflepuff, but I think I would give him Gryffindor. People would be quick to place him in Ravenclaw for his smarts and his love for learning, but this guy is extremely courageous. Despite being seen as “weak” and fragile, he was the one to stand up for Allen in multiple occasions throughout the series. He’s also the one who confronted the Earl to ask him what he wanted with the 14th (196th Night), while no one had really questioned or directly talked to him. He left the Order to go after Allen, knowing he was awakening as a Noah (which is already dangerous on its own) and would be in constant situations of peril because of Akuma and other Noah. Johnny, the “regular guy”, did all that, having no care as to what could happen to him. So, Gryffindor for his extreme courage, but maybe Hufflepuff for his honest loyalty and goodness. Which Pokemon starter they’d be: Grookey! The way Grookey and its evolutions handle wood makes me think they’re skilled Pokémon that can craft things and know how to use them as instruments, just like Johnny does with his scientific creations. The tied “hair” also reminds me of him!

#dgm #d.gray man #d.gray-man #Lenalee Lee #Johnny Gill #ask #analysis #I didn't proofread this one at all; so I apologize for possible mistakes!

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deadenginescribbywibs · 3 years

Text

Reunion - Prologue

After the battle there was an impromptu information session held in a damp and chilly bunker half a mile up from the ruined compound. Night was already closing in, as were reporters and the few family and friends tied to the heroes who weren’t present at the battle. May Parker, Happy Hogan, Cassie Lang, Clint Barton's wife and kids.

“We need to be prepared,” Captain America said, still beaten and bruised but no longer sporting dirt in his teeth, “just in case anything else happens- In case anyone comes from another time.”

And so the remaining heroes sat in October weather in the concrete room, some falling asleep- from the cold or their injuries, who could say. He talked about what he could. The battle of Wakanda five years prior, chopping off Thanos’ head, Natasha, Tony. When he couldn’t choke back the tears, Sam took over, and when Sam couldn’t continue, it was Rhodey. Towards the end it was Rocket who carried the meeting, and in the back, Peter Parker kept his eyes firmly on the ground. Nearest to the door and too cold from the draft of impending winter wind, he listened to the drone of strained, sometimes tearful voices. When it was over, wrapped in a damp blanket, Peter wondered if this is what it meant to be an Avenger.

---

Peter always imagined the Avengers having a lot of energy, at least that was his impression from Germany. What he saw now wasn’t a group of unlikely heroes rising to meet challenges head on. They were just ghosts, like him, and he felt he could fade away at any moment.

His phone rang, probably Ned or May. He had nothing to say, so he didn’t pick up.

The boy sat in the hall all alone. At least it was warm, a far cry better from the two freezing nights sleeping on cots outside the upstate Avengers facility. Peter rolled his shoulders in their joints and stretched his neck. His head was still pounding, the last reminder of the physical toll of Thanos. Even safe inside, Peter’s mind was still on the battlefield, on Titan, and Tony’s face when he started to dust away, the desperate grip trying to keep him alive.

Peter started at the sturdy hand landing on his shoulder.

“Hey.” Steve Rogers stood at his side, blue eyes fixed on the sign on the far wall. MORGUE. “Thanks.”

Peter shrugged his shoulders and averted his eyes. “For what?” He croaked.

“For staying with him. Tony never liked to be alone…” Tears stung at Peter’s already red rimmed eyes but he held them in, body tense. After a moment's hesitation Steve sat down in the other dingy little mint green chair and crossed his arms. The silence stretched on until it was comfortable.

Eventually Peter fell asleep, head resting on Captain America’s shoulder.

Steve was just trying to stay awake.

“What’s up, punk?” Bucky strolled up the hall in his green sweats and grey long sleeve shirt, metal hand tucked into a pocket.

Steve gestured at the teen asleep on the floor a few feet away. “Babysitting.”

Bucky’s eyes trailed over the small figure huddled under the wool blanket pressed up against the wall, a hospital gown balled up under his head. “Jesus, we can’t get the kid a bed?”

Steve shook his head. “He wouldn’t leave if he could.” He nodded to the ‘Morgue’ sign.

“Starks?”

“Sort of.”

By the third day they were able to disperse somewhat. It took time to get communication and transportation back online through SHIELD, and to get the unhoused heroes into some kind of temporary lodging while waiting for spaceships and quinjets to be repaired. A side effect of many of the heroes being stranded on Earth and more specifically in New York, however, was that they ended up at the lakehouse of one recently widowed Pepper Potts. For having just watched her husband die and the near destruction of the universe, she was managing as well as could be expected.

Peter was sharing a spare room with Thor and Rocket and Peter Quill, and although he hadn’t been alone in a week- or a week and five years, depending how you looked at it, the sounds of breathing in the dark room were a comfort compared to the clinical silence of the medical wing hall.

At 4:40am his stomach rumbled. Peter groaned. “No.” He turned over under his covers, but the hunger wouldn’t let up. After days without food running on a super metabolism, his will finally broke at 5:13am and Peter slunk out of the bedroom tiptoeing over beings big and small alike.

The kitchen was dimly lit. Outside, a small lake glimmered under a moon hanging low like ripe fruit, illuminating the trinkets and cups and pictures in the modest but modern kitchen, not the place he pictured Tony retiring into but nice nonetheless. It was homey.

He didn’t have an appetite per se, or at least the nausea was still battling against his will to eat, but Peter eventually settled on a box of crackers in a cupboard. He plunged a hand into the crinkling plastic liner and stuffed a handful of saltines into his mouth greedily, and suddenly parched, Peter reached for a cup for water. Next to the haphazardly placed drinking glasses were a row of pictures, the first, Howard Stark he recognized from history books, and the next he wasn’t sure, but the last in the line made Peter’s heart skip a beat. Tony and Peter posed for a photo for his Stark Internship, peace signs poised and smiling giddily. He’d thought it was the best day of his life. He must have been standing staring at the picture for a long time, because by the time Peter broke out of his melancholy, the stars had faded out of sight in the early morning sky.

There was a faint shuffling to his side. Peter turned to see Pepper Potts in her bathrobe, not a trace of makeup on her face, a tissue in her hand. She’d been crying all right.

“Oh.” She said faintly seeing Peter standing at the counter, the photo lying in front of him. “I didn’t see you Peter. Sorry, I just woke up feeling-’ Pepper gestured at the room in general as if to say ‘I just watched my husband die horrifically and now our retirement home is filled with sad heroes and I don’t know what to do.” But Peter didn’t say anything. He presented her with the box of crackers. “Still not talking much, hey?” She sniffled and ran a hand through Peter’s hair before reaching into the box of crackers. “Me too.”

Pepper bustled around the room preparing coffee. When she placed a mug next to him she noticed the picture and picked it up silently. She traced her fingers over the frame. “You know, he did it for you, Pete. He loved you.” Peter could have sprinted away at lightning speed, a rush of guilt balling up in his chest and stomach telling him to escape, but he forced himself to stand very still. Pepper kissed the top of his head and turned back to her coffee, smiling still. “He can rest now.”

So there was some crying in the shower. One might call it hysterical, but Peter thought he did okay considering. If he’d gotten in before taking off his pyjamas, well. No one was around to see.

“Move over.” A voice grumbled over him. Peter was back in bed again that morning of the third day, and judging by the light slanting through the windows, it was probably still early. Thor stood over him looking quite gruff. “I can’t sleep on the floor anymore.” He said it politely enough, so Peter scooted over until he was laying practically at the edge of the double bed. Thor collapsed onto the other side and it hardly took a moment for him to fall fast asleep.

Not wanting to consider why they had given him the bed in the first place- “He slept on the floor outside the morgue. If Tony could have seen-” Peter rolled over to check his phone. 39 Text Messages, 9 Voicemails. Peter groaned, he scrolled through the latest messages from May.

May (6:43am)

Call me when you can.

May (6:48am)

And text me that you’re okay.

May (6:49am)

I larb you.

The familiar guilt returned and with it, the nausea. Peter thought he might throw up if he had to talk on the phone. He wanted to see May more than anything, more than seeing Tony again, more than eating a hot poptart right out of the toaster, but he couldn’t. It would break her heart, and with the sad eyes he was already getting from the Avengers collectively, Peter couldn’t do that to anyone else. He hastily replied. Larb u 2.

When Thor rolled over a moment later Peter found himself trapped under a huge outstretched arm. Being too tired to lift it- Thor must weigh 800 pounds, it was so heavy- he resigned himself to being crushed. With just bird calls and Thor’s faint snoring and Rocket and Quills quiet breathing to be heard in the room, Peter fell back asleep.

That afternoon the Avengers seemed to be doing better. Rocket banged around in his spaceship now housed in the backyard with Nebula’s help. Quill was checking out Bucky’s motorcycle, though the assassin still seemed very uncomfortable at the lake house in general. Steve Rogers came and went on his bike. Peter thought he was taking comfort in doing damage control, if only to spare Pepper from doing it. She was taking a nap on the couch.

The house was mostly quiet and so Peter was taking a moment of refuge to sit on the back porch with a cup of tea and his wool blanket. He didn’t know where it had come from, honestly, and it was outright filthy and dingy from getting dragged around the battlefield and the SHIELD compound for days. He was just drifting into space when the screen door swung open and a young brown haired teen stepped out. Peter recognized him as Harley Bennet, though they’d only met a couple times before the Snap and a couple times over video since the battle.

“Peter.” He said, and Peter stood up shakily in his blanket. Harley extended a hand but then shook himself. “What am I doing-” and he pulled the younger boy in for a hug. When they pulled back Peter gave him a weak smile. “How’s it going here?”

The young Avenger just shrugged his shoulders. A moment later a bounding blur of dark brown hair and blue pyjamas burst through the door. “Harley!”

“Morguna! In the flesh!” He called, sweeping her into a spinning hug. “What’s up, lil sis?”

“I’m sad.” She said suddenly pouting. Peter grimaced. To his surprise Harley knelt down by her side. “Me too. But you know what Tony said about being sad?”

“What?” She asked innocently.

“It’s nothing blowing stuff up can’t fix.” He whispered.

And so that’s how Peter, Morgan and Harley found themselves in the barn that afternoon, a frightening weapon tucked under Harley’s arms. The former two were still in their pyjamas, and all three wore safety goggles although Morgan’s were on askew. Peter reached over to adjust them and gave her a pat on the head, she smiled at him.

“Nobody tell Pepper about this.” Harley said with wide eyes.

“Don’t chicken out.” Morgan whined and received a rakish grin in return.

“I won’t. I’m not. Listen. Tony talked about-” He made a funny gesture, “alien invasions sometimes when I was a kid, and it got me thinking, what would I do if they came? So I made this gun.”

Peter eyed the glowing gun suspiciously. The thought that this was a Very Bad Idea was starting to sprout in his mind. “I mean, it’s a potato gun, okay? It’s not like Tony was going to give me real ammo.”

“Com’n!” Morgan cried, and Harley grinned again.

“Alright okay.” Harley shouldered the gun over the very poor barricade they made from a tipped over wheelbarrow and a barrel, pointing it at a bale of hay for Gerald’s lunch. “Check it out!” He said, and yanked on a lever which started a worrying, high pitched buzz. It cranked a couple times and sputtered. “Oh, come on.” Harley said, giving it a bat with his palm. Suddenly the gun fired up, and Peter just reached out to grab it just in time to point it at the target when it erupted, launching several potatoes at criminal velocities. “Ah!” They cried. The potatoes hurled through the bales, strands of hay cascaded everywhere, the potatoes made a hulking splutter sound on the other side as they crashed through the wood plank walls, splintered wood shot out the other side and someone cried “Oh my fucking god. Are you serious?!”

It was Rocket. Harley, Peter and Morguna looked at each other, at the erupted hay bale, at the light streaming through the hole in the wall, and at the potato gun. “Oh my god!” Peter whispered loudly.

“Whoever that was, you are about to be dead.” Rocket said from outside. Peter grabbed the gun, hurled it under the nearest vehicle, grabbed Morgan and Harley and launched all three of them into the hay loft.

Rockets shadow appeared before he did and he looked menacingly at the overturned wheelbarrow and scattered hay as he came around the corner. “Seriously? Whoever that was, come out now so I can shoot you in the face.”

Morgan giggled, Harley and Peter covered her mouth, perfectly still in the scratchy hay. “Shh!” There was a strand poking Morgan right in the face, and she wrinkled her nose again as it itched. Nebula came around the corner looking just as unimpressed. She glanced over the scene and then at Rocket. “Children’s games.” She said.

“I got hit in the ass with a fucking potato.” The racoon complained.

“Get over it.” She said walking away. Rocket glared into the dingh of the room. Morgan’s nose crinkled again and she shivered, and just as Rocket turned away, she let out a sneeze. He pinned the three of them with a look, probably marking a small oddly shaped mound of hay in the loft. The three children stayed very still and quiet for a second. Morgan looked at both Peter and Harley with huge brown orbs. After a moment Rocket rolled his eyes and looked off in the distance, probably at Nebula. “Well I can’t go and shoot Tony Stark’s kids in the face, can I? Where’s Quill?”

As soon as he rounded the corner, Morgan started giggling and squirming to get out of the hay causing it to slide out from under their feet until they all tumbled down onto the ground, Harley and Morgan giggling and tittering the whole time. They looked at Peter and started laughing anew. He looked down, his shirt was full of hay like an overstuffed scarecrow.

“How far along are you?” Harley snickered. Peter huffed a laugh too.

Tony’s ashes arrived that night. Pepper kept it quiet. She tucked the red silk bag into an old arc reactor Peter had never seen and placed it carefully into her dresser drawer. Peter watched from her bed. It was one of the only quiet spaces in the house around dinner. A bit of sensory overload and fatigue made him silent and sullen that afternoon and as soon as she caught wind she’d corralled Peter into bed with a cup of tea. They kept silent company, and when she was done, she sat in the occasional chair in the corner brushing out her hair while they watched TV. Eventually she started in on her cuticles, then disappeared to retrieve laundry from the dryer.

“May is coming up for the funeral.” She told Peter handing him a freshly laundered hoodie. He pulled it on, it said MIT. Peter felt like he should tear it off immediately. “She’ll be here in the morning. Your apartment is still occupied,” she frowned, “I think you’ll have to stay a little longer.”

“Thanks.” Was all he said, but he accepted a bundle of socks passed to him.

“Are you sleeping okay? I heard Thor is sharing the bed with you.”

“Yeah.” Peter huffed a little. “It’s not so bad. He’s dead asleep most of the time.”

Pepper smiled knowingly and cocked her brows. “At least it’s not Bruce.”

Bruce was still in the hospital and for that Peter was grateful. The sight of Bruce’s burnt arm was enough to send the teen into a panic attack.

Overall, Peter wasn’t so hard done by. After all, there were heroes strewn literally all over the property. Drax, Mantis and Groot slept in closets and hallways, Carol Danvers and Nebula camped in the backyard. Bucky Barnes and Captain America were at an abandoned motel not far up the road, and Sam and Rhodey took over the dining room at night. Harley slept on the couch, and Morgan in her own room was undisturbed. Rocket slept in a bed of clothes in a dresser drawer in Peter’s room, and Quill slept on a burnt mattress on the floor that had been pulled out of the Milano. Valkyrie had returned temporarily to Asgard with the help of Thor wielding Stormbreaker, but Thor stayed behind for, well… Peter had to imagine it was emotional comfort. He was the only other Avenger as pathetic as Peter, the boy thought, watching the huge hulking form curled up on the couch, cups of yoghurt strewn about the coffee table. Thor had been catapulting between emotions since the battle, but mostly he was just tired.

“Can I ask you something?” Peter said about an hour after sitting in the otherwise quiet living room. Thor shrugged, now in one of his morose moods. “How old are you?”

“Fifteen hundred, give or take. The years aren’t as important when you are as old as Asgardians are.”

Peter sat in thought for a while. The house was starting to show signs of life, laughter could be heard outside and in the halls sometimes, he even thought Pepper sounded alright talking to Happy on the phone that day. “Do you do birthdays?”

Thor shrugged. “Sometimes. Every fifty years or so. We had one at my inauguration, although looking back, maybe it wasn’t the right moment to celebrate, as it set my brother on a path of destruction that eventually led to Thanos killing him.” He supined. His nose was stuffed up.

“Oh.” The boy sat a moment longer sensing the sadness wash over the man, but even if he wanted to join Thor’s wallowing, Peter was starting to feel the pricklings of relief swell up under the surface tension of his grief. “We should have a birthday. Tonight. To celebrate.”

“...To celebrate?”

“To celebrate.” It didn’t sound all that convincing to Peter either, but anything was better than this.

They had a birthday. It was cramped. Like, really cramped. The seventeen people in the vicinity of the house were stuffed into the little kitchen, Morgan sat on Thor’s lap. The god of thunder was dressed in a little pink frilly apron. Harley was sticking a ridiculous number of sparklers on the cake in the other room with the help of Rocket and Drax. Bucky and Nebula stood stolidly in the back hall, Carol Danvers stood in the back door. Pepper sat next to Thor, and Quill and Mantis were eating icing off of a spoon. Sam stood in a narrow broom cupboard holding his beer to his chest. Steve Rogers stood behind Thor, a beacon of comfort and resolution in the sea of calamity. Groot sat on another stool playing his video game, and Rhodey sat by Peter on the other side, very much on board with a drink in his hand. “This is great.” He said. “Nice one Parker.”

“Thanks.” Peter croaked. He felt more awake than he had in days. Morgan braided Thor’s beard while they waited, and when the cake came out, they sang Happy Birthday haphazardly while Harley carried the cake. The sparklers burst into a ball of flames as soon as the cake was set on the table. Thor scrunched up his face, “Fiend!” and shot the cake with lightning, strawberry icing exploded in every direction. Pepper laughed first, then Rocket and Drax laughed, Mantis and Quill laughed and Harley, Morgan and Thor laughed, and soon everyone was laughing, and Peter was laughing too.

“That was a good call.” Sam said idling up to him that evening. Peter found solace on the back porch. The lake was beautiful to look at in the night. “Morale was running a little low.”

Peter’s mouth quirked up into a smile. “Thor’s morale was low. I dunno about everyone else.”

“Everyone else too. You just get better at hiding it when you get older.” He tucked his chin. “I know we just celebrated his like thousandth birthday-”

“Fifteen hundred and something-” Peter corrected.

“-But Thor’s not that much older than you are. Maybe a bit. He’s younger than Steve.” Sam said definitively.

“Well everyone’s younger than Steve.”

“Good point.”

This time when Peter went to the snack cupboard in the middle of the night, Nebula and Carol were in the kitchen sitting in relative silence, and Rhodey was reading in the other room.

“Hey.” He waved. Nebula and Carol nodded.

“Is Thor snoring again? I can go punch him.” Carol joked. Peter smiled bashfully.

“It’s all right. I don’t mind.”

“It’s Quill that’s worse.” Nebula supplied. That was probably the first time she’d ever spoken to him, and he nodded guiltily.

“He’s been mumbling in his sleep.”

“About what?”

“Kevin Bacon. He, uh…”

“He was in the movie footloose.” Carol said. Nebula rolled her eyes.

“Of course.”

“Well, I guess if Peter’s up that means it’s bed time.” Carol stood up groggily. “Nice sitting in silence with you.” She chirped to her companion. Nebula nodded. Carol ruffled his hair on the way out.

What remained of the birthday cake sat on the counter so Peter grabbed a fork and took a huge mound. Nebula was looking past him, and when he turned around to follow her line of sight, he saw the picture again, the one of him and Tony.

“You were Stark’s ward.” She stated. Peter didn’t immediately reply, eyes shifting sideways out the far window. “He was the first person to ever be kind to me without expecting anything in return.” She caressed the exposed panel of electronics running from her forehead to her crown. “After the battle on Titan he fixed my head using metal from his own armor. And... he taught me how to play paper football.”

“That’s just how he was.” He mumbled around a mouthful of cake. In the other room, Rhodey was smiling into his book, eavesdropping. He had a new prosthetic exo-support pulled from a backup supply in Tony’s garage.

Still looking at the photo, she continued. “Thanos was my father, and people will shudder at the memory of him for eternity. But he's not the one people will ask about.”

Ears hot, Peter swallowed around the lump ever present in his throat, but there were no tears now. If anything, he was relieved. He shoved another forkful of cake into his mouth and stood up, striding away from the table. From the other room Rhodey piped up. “Oh my god. Was that the most words you’ve ever said?” Nebula raised her middle finger. “It gets worse. Who taught you that?”

She smirked. “You can blame Barton.” Rhodey rolled his eyes.

“Of course. That guy is a douchebag.” It sounded bad, but Rhodey said it warmly and smiled as he returned to his book. Peter swung back around with the platter of cake and set it down in front of Nebula.

“You’re pretty cool.” Then he asked hopefully. “Can I fix your headpiece too?”

They used Tony’s battle armor, the one he’d been wearing when he died. It was piled up in the garage, or at least what could be salvaged. Burnt, cracked, bent and shredded, the sight of it served a visceral reminder of the battle. Until now, no one dared go near it.

It took time for Peter to build up the nerve to touch it, and before he could, Nebula pried a piece off the left arm. She might as well have pried his heart from his chest, but Peter quelled his nerve and set to work, pilfering tools from Tony’s lab like Pepper said he could. By the time the other Avengers rolled around, Nebula had a new head plate, striking gold cut from the last Iron Man ever made. Over the brow it was inscribed, “MK2.”

May arrived bright and early that morning and the first thing she did was hug Peter, then pulled back, then hugged him again. “Oh my god. Oh my god. Oh my-”

“May. It’s alright. I’m fine, see?” Peter said, holding out his arms.

May Parker was not one to be fooled, however, and scooped the boy into her arms again. “My baby boy. All grown up and saving the universe.” She swept a tear from her eye and then turned to Pepper, sweeping her up as well. Pepper might have needed it, she sighed deeply.

“Are you holding up okay?”

“As well as expected.” Pepper sniffled pulling away. “It’ll be nice to have another normal person around the house. There are too many manful tears happening here.”

May was introduced to Harley and Morgan, then to the rest of the Avengers. The lot of them and others returning from afar were changing into funeral clothes. Soon the funeral would be over, and that would be it. The Avengers would dissemble, and Peter would be on his own.

During the funeral he held back his tears. It was hardly his first time burying a loved one. He stayed quiet and still, and when it was over, he sat on the dock with Morgan while the adults reminisced about Tony, and about Natasha. “I miss daddy.” Came her little voice from his side.

Peter nodded mutely, swallowing his sadness. The wind over the lake blew their hair back, and Peter rubbed little circles on her back as she sniffled. “Don’t you miss him?” She asked. He nodded again around the lump in his throat. When he couldn’t hold back his tears he wiped his cheeks with the sleeve of his suit. “Your dad was my hero.” Morgan rested her head against him.

“He was your dad too.”

He couldn’t respond to that, he didn’t know how to explain the complexities of their brief relationship to his mentor’s actual blood relative, so he just stayed silent. Maybe in a few years, Morgan would understand that she was Tony’s only child, not him. But then Peter thought back to Pepper Potts in the kitchen at 5am making them a pot of coffee in the dark, and Peter wasn’t so sure.

“He did it for you, Pete. He loved you.”

Shuri took Peter for ice-cream at the diner nearby. They walked in their funeral clothes despite the rain and sleet that started that afternoon, and the ice-cream compounded the cold, but it was fun. “And so I asked them-” She recounted, “why couldn't they unlock my phone. They said it’s company policy. So I took it apart right then and there and manually unbricked it. And guess what?” She laughed, she had ice-cream on her lip and Peter was suddenly struck by how attractive she was.

“What?” He gushed back.

“They banned me from the store.”

Peter laughed while she lamented about getting tossed from a Tek-i-Mobile. By the time they arrived back at the house, covered in freezing mud and rosy cheeked from the wind, he was feeling almost normal.

That night- the last they would spend all together, there was a Mario Kart tournament. Even Pepper clad in pin striped pyjamas joined in the cajoling, Morgan sat in her lap. Shuri, Peter and Harley had the obvious edge, but Rocket was a close competitor. Bets went around. Money changed hands. Then Quill and Thor got into an argument and it ended in a milk gauntlet challenge, at which point Pepper banished them from the house and they threw up milk in the backyard.

“I’m sorry about this.” Peter told Pepper seriously. Somehow, this was his fault. She heaved a little sigh and smiled.

“Believe me, if you’d spent much time with them before, you’d know to expect this.” She paused for a moment and her nose wrinkled as she smiled, just like Morgan. “Tony would have loved this.” And she snapped a picture on her phone.

At that moment, Peter knew he would give anything to have Tony back. What he didn't know was that soon, he would.

#ao3 #read on ao3 #far from home #no way home #spider-man #post-endgame #post-far from home #peter parker #cinnamon roll #wintersoldier #avengers #fixit of sorts #peter parker needs a hug #found family #new to writing so for real leave me feedback #canon divergence #butonlybecauseIdidn'tbeatthetrailer #bucky and peter friendship #avengers need a new home

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pineapple-qween · 4 years

Text

Super Twins!

Relationship: Batfam x Reader

Summary: Twins with strangely incompatible powers are spotted in Gotham and we all know what happens with Bruce and orphans.

Key: Y/N= your name, N/N= nickname

—————————————-

So there I was, minding my own business, flying through the lovely night air when a flipping boy ran into me. Or I guess flipped into me.

I can most defiantly say that he was just as surprised as I was as expressed in his eloquent, “What the hell,” as he returned to the world below me.

As much as I wanted to float there and laugh at the flipping boy, who was effectively getting himself back on course on the roof tops below, Clayton was waiting for me at the park and I couldn’t let him down again.

I guess I should tell you about myself.

Clayton is my twin brother, older only by 3 minutes which he loves to hold over me. And if you couldn’t tell, me and my brother have superpowers. I got the cooler power, I can control the air, but Clayton probably got the more practical power, he can control the ground. Our mother quickly abandoned us when she figured that out, because a baby that can float and one that can disappear into the ground? Yeah, easy to put us up for adoption. After six years of foster homes and orphanages, everyone got sick of the two of us and they planned on separating us, so we tunneled out. Clayton took me and we began roaming from city to city, staying alive and staying together for the past 10 years.

By the time I got to the park, I saw Clayton waiting next to one of those statues that I guess is modern art, but looks like a hockey stick with picture frames hot glued on, I digress.

“Y/N! I was starting to get worried about your dumbass.” Clayton grabbed my arm as I finished my descent and pulled me towards the middle of the park. “Gotham isn’t Central City, it’s way more dangerous! You could get shot or something.”

“As I fly through the air?” I gave him a snarky smile and he slapped my arm.

“Remember what I told you about Batman before we left? I heard that he flies and so do his partners. They could catch you and do who knows what.” He started to open the tunnel to the cavern where we would be staying before we moved to our next destination.

“I think I scared them more than they could scare me,” I scoffed thinking back to the flipping boy.

Clayton halted in his tracks, spun around and grabbed my shoulders. “You SAW one?”

Slightly uncomfortable I said, “Yeah, there was a guy who flipped into me and as he fell onto a roof top he said something like ‘That damn’, but I guess that could’ve been ‘Batman’,” I shrugged. “He couldn’t have gotten a good look at me and there’s no way he could’ve followed me.”

I was wrong.

Clayton and I heard the sound of a car screeching to a halt, as we turned to look at the source, a small boy, with what I guessed were katanas, flipped in front of us with swords pointed in our faces.

“Identify yourselves,” he yelled.

Before I could ask if his mom knew he was out past his bedtime, I recognized the taller boy behind him.

“Flippy boy? How did you find me?”

Clayton looked at me then to flippy boy and smacked his forehead. “You idiot...That’s Nightwing.”

“Who?”

The little boy scoffed. With a devious smirk on his face, he asked, “You don’t know Nightwing? Ha! Did you hear that Red Hood?”

A voice from behind me let out a low, but loud chuckle. “Yeah, I heard, demon.” The man walked around us to join the other two. “How’s that feel flippy boy?”

Flippy boy, or I guess Nightwing, let out an annoyed groan, “Come on man! B will be here in a minute. Can you just let it go until we get home?”

When the three began to bicker, I noticed Clayton giving me that sideways glance, the same one he gave me when we had to ditch the Flash a year or two ago. I grabbed his hand and slowly we began to slip into the earth.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” a deep, gravely voice advised.

Barely shin deep in the ground, my brother quickly shot us back to the top and we tensed up, afraid to turn and find the one person we knew wouldn’t let us go so easy.

Batman, THE Batman, walked between us and, with one look, stopped the bickering match those boys had gotten into. “Now,” he faced us and his look made my hairs stand on end, “Who are you two? And no lies. I don’t have the patience for it.”

Clayton looked at me and I nodded.

“I’m David and this is my sister Ellen, we’re just passing through. We’re on our way to visit our aunt in Maine.” The lie was easy. Clayton had said it only a million times, but this time...he almost seemed unsure.

The look on Batman’s face didn’t change. I couldn’t help but feel like he was reading our entire lives while we just stood there. Then finally, “I said no lies.”

Clayton began, “I’m not-”

“My name’s Y/N and this is my brother Clayton. We’re orphans. We’ll be out of Gotham by Friday,” Clayton smacked my arm and looked at me incredulously, “What! He wasn’t gonna just let it go. Right?”

Red Hood laughed, “She’s right.”

“Orphan’s, huh,” Nightwing shifted uncomfortably, “B shouldn’t we, you know... help them?”

Batman seemed to ignore him. “And you two have superpowers?”

Clayton sighed dejectedly, “Yeah. She’s air. I’m earth.”

The smaller boy sneered, “Air? Earth? Tt-tt That sounds stupid.”

I scoffed, “It’s not like you have any superpowers. Do you, kid?”

I watched as a blush quickly spread across his face as Red Hood began cracking up. “No! But...but....”

“That’s what I thought,” I stuck my tongue out at him and turned back to Batman, which sort of ruined my moment. “How did you find us anyway?”

“Nightwing called out his location after his encounter with you in the sky, he tailed you best he could until we could catch up in the Batmobile. Then we just projected your trajectory to the park and found the fastest route.”

“Oh.” I was still confused.

“They followed you until they realized you were going to the park,” Clayton simplified.

“Ah.”

Batman return to his silent staring. Clayton’s grip on my hand tightened. I knew what he wanted me to do, but I was afraid. I was afraid of what Batman might do to us, but I couldn’t let my brother down. In that moment, I could feel every particle in the air that surrounded us and I told them to spin, fast. As we stood there, the wind picked up speed.

Nightwing gasped, “What’s happening!”

Before anyone could answer, the wind became a miniature tornado and I could feel the familiar sensation in my gut as I was losing energy, I knew I wouldn’t be able to keep it much longer. Clayton started to drag us under, knowing I would only be able to keep up the storm while I was surrounded by the air, he made quick work of getting us under the earth.

Once we made it to our hide out, Clayton let me collapse onto the ground. He slipped off his shoes and took a minute to feel the vibrations of the surface world. “They’re still up there. I think the kid is stabbing the ground where we sank.”

I tried to catch my breath, “Buh-Batman. He won’t just let us...go.”

“I know.”

“We can’t stay under...forever.”

“I know.” I could hear the exasperation in his voice.

“What...are we gonna...do?”

“I don’t know yet! Let me think.” Clayton’s face scrunched up the way it always did when he was planning his underground adventures. I could see how aggressively he was processing the information he was getting from the surface through his feet. “They got in the Batmobile, I can feel the way the car is going, but not for long. We should follow it.”

“What! Why in the world would we do that?”

“Stay right under their noses, and then I’d always be able to keep tabs on them. Come on. You know what we need to do.”

I groaned and got to my feet. “Yeah, yeah. Hop on.” Clayton got onto my back. “Damn, you way a ton.”

“Shut up and let’s go!” He opened the tunnel and I began to speed us along the path of the Batmobile.

After at least a solid day underground, I got hungry.

“Clayyyy! Come on! I’m starving, let’s surface, please!”

“N/N, stop it! If you ask one more time, I will fight you.”

“But...CLAYTON! I’m hungry!” I dramatically clutched my stomach and flopped onto the ground, writhing around for a minute before:

“FINE! Let me check the surface before we just waltz up into where ever Batman goes when he’s not in the city.” Clayton took off his shoes and began to sense the surface.

“Wait, we aren’t in the city anymore? Where are we?”

“Shh!” He stood there for a moment. “We’re under some kind of cave, which you know messes with my senses. I can sense bats, but I don’t know if any people are above us.”

I shoved him aside and grabbed his hand, “I do not care. I’m hungry and I will begin to eat you if I don’t get food in the next minute. So let’s go!”

Clayton sighed and we began our ascent to the surface.

And where we appeared, I think everyone was confused.

Clayton and I suddenly appeared in what I would have thought to be a meeting. Only the things was...this wasn’t any ordinary cave and they weren’t any ordinary people. Also who holds meetings in caves?

There sat a middle aged man with black hair and striking blues eyes, but his eyes weren’t what I was focused on. It was the Batman suit he was wearing that looked way too real. He sprung to his feet the minute we were fully surfaced. “How did you get in here?” Even his voice was too perfect to be an imitation.

The way Clayton’s hand went slack in mine clued me into the fact that I’d be the one doing the talking. So I started with the perfect opening, “Buh-Buh-Batman?”

“You two!” The words came from the young boy who had a liking for swords as he was holding one currently, and it was aimed at my face. His green eyes held this horrible hardness that a kid should never have.

“Uh, yeah. It’s us...again.” I shifted awkwardly, squeezing my brother’s hand in hopes he’d regain his words. “So...this is a nice cave you got here.” Which wasn’t wrong, it really was a cool cave, and I had stayed in a lot of caves so I should know. “Got a real nice...uh...ambiance to it.”

The cave looked less like a cave and more like a basement, if you had to make a comparison. It had a computer the size of a projector screen on one side and an entire armory on the other. Stairs wrapped into the rock and led up to an unknown location. There was a giant penny and even a T-Rex, if you could believe that! Sat at the table in front of us was the middle age man, the boy, two other younger men, a teenage boy, two teenage girls, a young woman, and an older gentleman in a nice suit. (It was a big table.) Beside the older man and the young woman, they all were in some sort of dark costume.

The teenage boy spoke to the man in the Batman suit, “Uh, do you know these guys?”

“We followed Y/N to the park the other day when she was meeting up with Clayton,” he nodded to my brother who was still limply staring at them.

The young woman took out a tablet. “The ones with the powers, right. Uh...here’s the body cam shots!” She showed what I assumed was a video to the rest of the table.

“You did that?” The blonde girl stared at me wide-eyed. “You created a tornado?”

I felt myself begin to blush. “Uh, yeah...I did.”

“Awesome...” She leaned back in her chair with a wonder filled expression on her face.

Batman marched over to where we were standing. “You never answered my question.”

“Right, how we got in here. Well...” I glanced at Clayton who seemed to finally be coming to his senses. “He’s probably the better one to tell you.”

Clayton basically explained how his powers work and how we tracked the Batmobile to the Batcave, what the rest of them called it, and how we were hiding out underground to hopefully avoid a confrontation like this.

“So...are you gonna kill us?” Clay pulled me closer, he always did that when he got protective.

Batman stared at us in shock for a minute before regaining his composure. “Kill you? God, no. We don’t kill.”

“Well...” the young man with a white streak in his hair began.

Batman sent him a glare. “We don’t kill.”

“Alright,” the man conceded.

“Oh thank god.” Clayton relaxed his grip on my arm. “So, what are you going to do with us?”

My stomach made a sound like a dying whale.

The older gentleman stood and walked over to us. “First,” he said with a British accent, “we will feed the both of you.”

The food was better then anything I have ever had in my life. Fresh pizza, bread sticks, and clean water. Clayton and I scarfed it down until we were full, something we hadn’t been in years.

“You’d think they’d never have eaten,” Damian, the green-eyed boy, scoffed.

“Well, we don’t really have money and places notice if more than a little food goes missing,” Clayton said as he ate his fifth bread stick.

Dick Grayson, or I guess Nightwing, asked,“So you two really go from city to city, doing what exactly?”

I took a break from chugging my water. “Running from social services. Two more years until they’re off our tail and we don’t have to worry about being separated anymore.” I started on my fourth slice of pizza.

Dick looked at Batman, who is none other than Bruce Wayne, with a weird sort of sad expression.

“But don’t worry! We got it under control, we’ve been doing this for ten years.” I gave him a lopsided smile. Dick’s sad expression deepened.

“Well, I understand what it’s like on the streets.” Jason, the man with the white streak, rustled my brother’s hair and sat down next to him.

Clayton flattened his hair, “You do?”

“I was on the street before Bruce took me under his wing to be Robin. He caught me stealing the wheels off the Batmobile.”

I busted out laughing. “You stole the Batmobile’s wheels! That’s amazing.”

Bruce was smirking, “Yes, but he didn’t get very far.”

They began telling us stories about themselves. How Dick became the first Robin. How Tim figured out who Batman was. The time when Stephanie basically forced herself into Batman vigilante gang. Why Jason calls Damian demon. Barbara’s stint as Batgirl and now her job as Oracle. The boys worked together to explain Casandra’s story, but she would just shake her head and laugh to herself. Alfred told stories about a younger Bruce.

Clayton and I sat and listened and laughed and, for the first time, I knew we both felt safe. Clayton made no effort to disappear and I didn’t want to fly away.

By the time they seemed to run out of stories, I could feel the way my eye lids grew heavy and the yawns came more frequently. Bruce offered one of the rooms in his home for Clayton and I to stay in for the night. We hesitantly accepted, after ten years of sleeping on dirt and rocks, I almost was afraid to sleep on a real bed and enjoy it’s comforts, but Clayton was more accepting of the idea. Alfred lead us up the stairs that disappeared within the rocks and through a hole covered by a grandfather clock.

The house was not a house, but a gigantic mansion. Each room seemed to be bigger than the last and the hallways look like they went on for miles. The first floor of the manor was larger than any orphanage my brother and I had ever been in, and that wasn’t including the movie room and the kitchen. I would peak into rooms we passed, each one making me more in awe than the last. Once we reached the second floor, Alfred took us to an unoccupied bedroom.

“My apologies, this is the only room currently available. If you wish to stay longer with us, I will gladly empty out one of the rooms being used for storage.” Alfred gestured for us to enter. “If you need anything else, please let me know. The bathroom is the first door on the right, the closet is the second one and has spare blankets if you need them. Have a good night.” He closed the door behind him, but we didn’t move.

The room was probably three times bigger than any room we’ve ever stayed in and we’ve always been forced to share a room so they always felt smaller, but this room was amazing. The far wall was just windows over looking an enormous garden. The bed was queen sized at least and covered in the softest looking comforter I had ever seen. Clayton was the first one of us to move, and he made his way to the bathroom.

“Y/N, there’s a full sized bathtub and a shower in here.”

I made my way over to the bed, sat down, and stared out the window. The mattress’s softness welcomed me to lay down. “This bed is so comfortable.”

Clayton joined me on the bed. “Did you hear what Alfred said?”

“About staying longer? Yeah.” I thought about it for a moment. “It’s too good to be true, right?”

“Gotta be.”

“No way a man like Bruce Wayne would want two super powered street rats, right?”

Clayton yawned, “No way.”

I listen to him turn and settle into a comfortable position. “This is too good to last, isn’t it?”

“Mhmm...”

I heard Clayton’s breathing settle into a rhythm and I knew he was asleep. I tried to get comfortable too, but the worries filled my head. I laid there and stared out over the garden, afraid that when I woke up, we would be back underground and this was all a dream.

I wandered out of the room and down the stairs. I made my way to the back of the house and found myself in the gardens. I walked around before I found a nice bench in front of a fountain. Lost in thought while staring into the water, I didn’t hear the footsteps approaching where I was sitting.

“May I join you?”

I jumped three feet high, literally, but then returned to the ground when I realized it was Bruce.

A blush radiated across my face, “Mr. Wayne, sorry. You startled me.”

He chuckled then gestured to the bench, “Care to sit?”

I nodded and we sat together. We sat in a comfortable silence for what felt like forever before he spoke up again. “Can I ask why you’re sitting out here and not asleep?”

“Uh...I don’t know. Not tired, I guess.” I felt the skeptical stare burn into my skin. I sighed, “It’s too good to be true.”

“What is?”

I gestured to the manor behind me then the garden around me. “All of this,” I limply gestured to Bruce, “You. Your kindness.” I could feel my throat getting tighter and the burning behind my eyes. I let my head fall and my hair cover my face, so he couldn’t see my weakness. First lesson you learn as a street kid, show no weakness.

Again we sat in silence until Bruce broke it. “I can say I don’t know what it is like to live day to day. Without someone who cares about your well being-”

“Clayton cares about me,” I snapped. The tears spilled down my cheeks as I glare at him.

“Right, sorry. I meant an adult who can actively provide for both of you.”

I scoffed, “Adults don’t know how to care, all they want is the government paycheck they can get by doing nothing.” I saw his expression, a mix of hurt and sadness. I felt my own face soften, “I’m sorry Mr. Wayne. I don’t mean to take this out on you.”

He gave me a sad smile, “Please, call me Bruce. And I understand. While I’ve never been in your situation, you’ve heard the stories my kids told you. I want to help.”

“You wouldn’t want Clayton and me. We aren’t worth the trouble, especially since we’ll be on our own in two years anyway. We can take care of ourselves until then.”

“But what if you didn’t have too?”

“What do you mean?”

Bruce chuckled softly then looked me in the eyes, “I would like for you to join our family. It’s not perfect by any means, but we all look out for one another. You wouldn’t have to keep moving around and you and your brother wouldn’t have to worry about being separated.”

I stared deadpanned at him. Bruce Wayne had asked me if I wanted to join his family. I waited for the “just kidding!” or the “I can’t believe you fell for that!” but it never came.

“You- you’re serious?”

“Absolutely.”

“No strings?”

“Only that you occasionally help out on patrols, your guys’ powers could be really helpful.”

“I’ll- I’ll have to ask Clay...”

Bruce patted me on the shoulder, “No need to make a decision tonight. Go get some rest, we’ll talk more tomorrow.” And with that he stood up, gave me a soft smile, and walked back towards the manor.

#batfam #batfam imagine #jason todd #dick grayson #tim drake #damian wayne #bruce wayne #batfam fic #batman #batman fic

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im-not-looking-for-forgiveness · 4 years

Note

Hi! I saw you said your requests were open? If they are I was wondering if you can maybe write a future!reader X Tommy Shelby story? Idk like maybe she gets stuck before the war? And she becomes close to the shelby family? Then they go off to war and when they come back Tommy’s not the same and then everything with grace and the reader is heart broken? They were never together but there was always something there. When Tommy chooses grace reader leaves?

Time to be Alive - Thomas Shelby x Reader - Peaky Blinders AU

Full request: "Hi! I saw you said your requests were open? If they are I was wondering if you can maybe write a future!reader X Tommy Shelby story? Idk like maybe she gets stuck before the war? And she becomes close to the shelby family? Then they go off to war and when they come back Tommy's not the same and then everything with grace and the reader is heart broken? They were never together but there was always something there. When Tommy chooses grace reader leaves? Continuation of my last lol So reader maybe ends up back in her time? When Tommy and the shelby's finally realize there all heart broken? Maybe she eventually comes back? Idk just a thought."

A/N: I absolutely love this request! I'm making it into a series, instead of just doing one long part. I think it'll be better that way, since it's such a rich idea! Also, this is really fun to write because of pre-war Tommy!!!! From what I gathered and from how I imagine him, I see Tommy as happier and more carefree.

Taglist: @tranquility-or-chaos @captivatedbycillianmurphy @hxnky-cat @imagine-richards @sweetiekokkiri

*****

“Fuck!” you bit out, cursing both your ability to travel through space-time and your inability to remember to check if your phone had been in your pocket.

You used your power to get away from a man stalking you because you didn't have your phone, and now you couldn’t find your way back the present day. Jumping, as you named it, was like being on a very long leash and then running through a maze. You could see that there was a way back, but you had to untangle all the rope in order to do so. On top of that, you needed to replenish the energy you lost by running through the figurative maze. It had been a fun trick when you were younger, but it was too inconsistent. You could get stuck, like you were now, while waiting for your energy to come back. Your longest stint on one of these trips had been a little over a year, and that had been bad enough. You had a feeling that this one was going to be very, very long.

First things first, you had to figure out where you were and when. Then, it was clothing and housing that you had to get to next. Those were always the trickiest parts since you had a bad habit of seeming extraordinarily out of place. Being from the year 2020 could do that to a person. You tried to study world history in order to prepare, but you never really ended up in the era or the place that you’d been studying. Some superpower this was, right?

You emerged from the alley, and immediately the pungent scent of the city hit your nose. This was some sort of industrial era for sure, but you needed a newspaper to double-check.

Folding your arms around your chest in an attempt to hide your modern looking black top and trousers, you went down the muddy street to find a newspaper stand. Surely they must have one, if the early Ford cars were anything to go by. Perhaps you were in the early 1900s?

"Please be the twenties." you muttered to yourself. It was your favorite era to learn about in school, and you had been to that time period once before. Though, you hadn't gotten stuck there and it was after the war.

Spotting a newsstand, you hurried over to it. You just needed to see the date, and then you could be on your way. The muddy ground sucked at your boots uncomfortably, threatening to pull them off.

"Hello, dear. Paper?" a man asked, his accent strong but hard to pinpoint. It seemed to be a blend of English and Irish.

"Thanks, but I just want to see the headline. I don't need the whole thing." you gave a smile, and quickly sought out the date. If he noticed your American accent, he didn't comment.

May 3rd, 1914.

You scanned the paper quickly, and then walked away. You didn't want him to get annoyed with you, especially since you were suddenly close to tears. You'd gone back to Birmingham, England before the start of the first World War. This was bad, very bad indeed. Fuck.

"At least you don't have family to worry about." you muttered bitterly to yourself, eyes stinging. You should have just tried to fight your stalker off instead of using your power. You wish you'd never used it in the first place.

Lost in a torrent of anger and regret, you kept walking until you found yourself inside a horse stable. You couldn't get anything done with you being in such a state, so you figured you might as well stay until you could figure out what to do. It was warm and dry here, and it was unlikely anyone was going to ride one of these animals until the morning. Or so you hoped.

You nestled into the corner, and borrowed a horse blanket to cover yourself. Cold and exhausted from the day's events, you tumbled into an uneasy sleep.

"Hey! Wake up, you're not supposed to be in here." a man's voice startled you awake. It felt like only moments since you'd shut your eyes, but the early morning sun pouring in told you it had been hours.

"Sorry. I have nowhere else to go." you mumbled an apology, finding the eyes of the man above you. They were a startling shade of blue and held such weight that you could almost believe he had some sort of power of his own.

"It's alright, just get up. Arthur is the one you have to look out for. What's your name?" he answered. You couldn't help but notice how smooth his voice was. He could probably talk anyone into anything if he wanted.

"Y/N. Uh, what's yours?" you asked him tentatively in return, getting up and brushing off bits of straw and dirt. Oh shit, your clothes! Your clothes were definitely not a trend for women these days, nor had the style even been thought of yet. Had he noticed?

"Thomas Shelby, but you can call me Tommy." the man said, taking the blanket from your hands. His gaze skimmed down your body, and you immediately knew he had caught on. Shit!

Tommy questioned immediately, "Where are you from?"

"The year 2020, almost 100 years in the future." you got out, feeling inexplicably like you could trust him with your secret.

He snorted with amusement, "Alright, and I'm God."

You felt desperate to convince him, "I'm serious. I'm not from this year. Look, see my wristwatch? You don't have this kind of technology yet."

Thomas' eyes were transfixed on the metal around your wrist. The digital face read out the time in bright green numbers: 7:09a.m.

While showing your (missing) phone would have been a bigger shock, you knew better than to show him too much. It wasn't so much that you were afraid he would try to replicate it, but that showing him something from the future would cause too much havoc in the current day. You never wanted to find out what directly messing with the timeline of events did if you could help it.

"What are you doing here?" he demanded, taking a step forward. With you already in the corner, you had no choice to put your back against the wall. You wondered again if he had some sort of power.

"I have the ability to travel through time. I don't know why or how it works, and it's very unreliable. I was trying to ditch a man that was following me, and I ended up stranded here. I can't leave until my powers are working again. That's the only explanation I can give." you told him helplessly, gaze caught in his.

Tommy stared at you a while, not even blinking. You hoped he wouldn't find a way to lock you up, or send you to an asylum. You'd already been through that before, too, and had to wait two weeks until you were able to jump out of there. The one unwavering conclusion that you'd learned from your using your power was that humanity always feared what it didn't understand.

"Alright. I believe you." Thomas acknowledged, taking a step back once more.

"You do?" you sighed in relief.

"Yes. You'd either have to be mad or honest, and my bet is on the latter. It's too insane a story to make up just for being caught sleeping here." he gave you a small smile, which made your breath catch in your throat. It was such a dazzling display that it caught you off guard. He was breathtaking.

"Wow. Alright, then. Most people don't believe me that quickly." you gave a nervous chuckle.

"I'm not most people. Come on, we've got to find you a job and a place to stay if you're going to be here a while. Oh, and take this. Your clothes will attract attention." he said, beginning to head out of the stables. He paused on the way to shrug off his coat and give it to you.

"Thank you, Tommy." you said, mouth enjoying the way his name felt. You took the offer and slid into his warm coat. It smelled of hay and some sort of soap, a comforting smell.

For the first time since arriving in 1914, you weren't thinking of how to get back to 2020.

To be continued...

#tommy shelby x reader #thomas shelby #thomas shelby x reader #tommy shelby #tommy shelby headcanon #thomas shelby headcanon #peaky blinder fanfic #peaky blinder imagine #peaky blinders #peaky blinder au #au #cillian murphy #request #imagine

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ayatosmlktea · 5 years

Note

maybe a modern au! eren x reader? 💕

A/N: Once again from the bottom of my heart thank you for being patient with me. I hope you enjoy this! I had fun writing it :)

𝑪𝒐𝒇𝒇𝒆𝒆 𝑺𝒕𝒂𝒊𝒏𝒔 ❤️

“Y/N, fetch me a coffee would you? I’ve got a meeting this afternoon and my head is spinning”

“Of course sir! The usual?” She asked, trying to keep her voice as cheerful as possible while pushing back the tears of frustration that were threatening to spill over any second. Erwin tilted his head

“Do I ever ask for anything different? God, why is it so hard to find good help these days. Yes the usual, bring it to conference room B and don’t get lost this time alright sweetheart?” Gritting her teeth together she forced a smile on her face and nodded briefly before turning on her heels trying not to ball her hands into fists.

‘God that was one time’ She muttered under her breath once finally in the elevator, quickly wiping away any tears that had managed to leak from the corner of her eye.

When Y/N had started interning at Smith and Zoe she had gone into it thinking that it would provide her with plenty of experience that would either get her foot in the door with the company once she graduated or open up new opportunities elsewhere. She was nothing short of hard-working and was thrilled to find she’d be interning with the CEO of the company himself, what better person to learn from than Erwin Smith? What she hadn’t expected was becoming his personal assistant.

Not only did he rarely let her sit in on meetings but he treated her like she was his on call servant on top of the piles of work that she was already expected to complete. That wasn’t to say he was unkind or impolite, she’d been lucky enough to snag a paid internship afterall. Erwin was rather…inconsiderate when it came to understanding other people’s feelings. The entire week she’d done nothing but grab his coffee from the cafe downstairs and basically do everything his secretary had done before he’d fired her for wearing an off-putting perfume.

“Use this as a lesson Y/N, I hate the smell of vanilla. Don’t come in here wearing that shit.”

Since then Erwin had been almost unbearable and while she definitely didn’t have to stay under his internship, this position was one of the most coveted across the country. If that meant doing petty tasks to start making a name for herself in this company, she’d do whatever it took.

Y/N pulled out her phone to send a quick text to her best friend, begging for help on dealing with how much of an ass Erwin was. Erwin hated seeing people on their phones , he had ranted to Y/N more than once about how social media was going to be the demise of modern society. She’d had to bite her tongue several times to refrain from pointing out that most of his company’s engagement and profits came from their presence on social media.

Once Erwin’s drink had been handed to her by the cute barista, Y/N had quickly spun around to race back upstairs only to collide into the worst person possible.

“Oh my God I am so sorry!” Y/N gasped, her eyes widening in utter horror as Erwin’s coffee was now all over Levi Ackerman’s white dress shirt. His eyes were cold and held no emotions but his tone was laced with venom.

“You’re sorry? This suit is Armani, watch where you’re going dumbass!” Y/N’s face drained of all colour the longer he stared at her.

“Wait a minute, you look familiar.” Slate coloured eyes narrowed as they roamed over her face.

“Your Erwin’s intern, aren’t you?” He finally says snapping his fingers while Y/N felt her limbs becoming jelly. Erwin and Levi weren’t conventional business partners but they worked closely together and she’d had the unfortunate luck of being caught up in Levi’s bad mood more than once. Sure he was hot but he lacked all forms of human decency.

“I am so sorry Mr.Ackerman! I should have been more careful! It was completely my mistake.” By this point their interaction had caught the attention of other co-workers who were shamelessly watching their every move.

“Tch” Rolling his eyes Levi turned his back on her and she knew that by the time she got back upstairs Erwin would be ready to chew her a new one. Y/N felt her face burn with embarrassment as Levi walked out of the cafe. All eyes were on her, her clothes still covered in the remnants of their spilled drinks clingling uncomfortably to her skin.

“Oh god, sorry about the mess” She sighed feeling a heavy weight settle in her chest when one of the barista’s brought over a mop.

“Hey don’t worry about it. That guy seems like a dick.” The brunet chuckled, making Y/N snort.

“Yeah that’s putting it lightly” His green eyes twinkled with amusement at her nervously biting her lip.

“I’ve seen you around here a lot lately, you work in the offices upstairs?” He inquired.

“Yeah my boss fired his secretary last week so I’m filling in the position and obviously doing a shit job of it” Y/N laughed humorlessly, attempting to use a handful of napkins to absorb some of the coffee on her shirt.

“Don’t say that, I’ve seen you running in and out of the building multiple times a day looking like Satan himself is chasing you. Your boss is obviously a dick too. He should know better than to make cute girls cry.” Eren’s lazy smirk had butterflies swirling around in her stomach. It wasn’t the first time she’d felt that way either, every morning on her way upstairs she snuck in a glance at the charming barista cursing her lack of social skills and settling to admire him from afar.

“I am not cute!” She laughed nervously while gesturing to her coffee-stained outfit.

“I don’t know, you’re pretty cute to me. Coffee stains and all.” Y/N once again felt her face begin to heat up under his unwavering gaze. The buzz from her phone bitterly broke her out of her trance. Glancing down at the screen her stomach churned as she read Erwin’s text.

5 minutes late. Not good.

“Fuck, sorry I need to go. My boss is going to kill me” Y/N muttered, her fingers tapping anxiously on her phone.

“Let me make you a new drink first, can’t go back empty handed!” He laughed, his energy was contagious and she found herself smiling at his goofiness. The brunet handed over Erwin’s drink and she held out her hand to grab it, her eyebrows scrunching together in confusion when he didn’t let go.

“I know you need to get back upstairs but I just had to let you know that I’ve been interested in you for a while and would love to take you out to dinner.” if Y/N knew any better she would have said he sounded nervous. Her own heart was pounding against her rib cage, of all days to be asked out by a cute guy it just had to be the day that she was going to get flayed alive by Erwin and Levi. Regardless, she passed her phone over to him and entered her own number in his. His boyish grin had her heart doing backflips.

“I’m Eren by the way.” Fuck even his name was hot.

“Y/N” she responded tucking her phone back in her pocket.

“Well Y/N, if you’re free tomorrow night I’d love to get to know you better” Y/N was sure she was going to wake up at any second, Eren was way too perfect to be real.

“Yeah I’d like that”

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inkedsoldier · 4 years

Text

Chew the Bullet - Chapter Four

A Modern Warfare series

Casey Vos is a liaison officer for the Dutch Special Forces. She has been stationed in Afghanistan and Syria, but now works everywhere they need her assistance. Specialized in counterterrorism and intelligence, she is unmistakably a great asset for the upcoming Taskforce 1-4-1, under the command of Captain John Price.

A/N: Here it is – the official chapter four of Chew the Bullet. This time we are exploring the relationship between Casey and Price. Please, if you see any errors, let me know so I can fix it. It’s much appreciated. Well, I hope you enjoy! And please leave a note, vote or message with your thoughts! Bravo team out.

Warnings: angst, violence, blood.

Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author of this story. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any previously copyrighted material. No copyright infringement is intended.

Italics are flashbacks in this chapter.

_____

Words left the captain as he stared into those bright green eyes burning with guilt. His heart fell silent and his mind went in overdrive. How was she still alive? Where has she been? He saw her taking a dive down that cliff – downed by a sniper from the hill behind them. No one would have survived the fall. The cell phone in his pocket started to vibrate. He didn’t want to answer, but he had to. “Sorry, need to take this, but you’re both with me,” he commanded pressing the green button on the screen.

08:00 AM Scotland Yard, London

Insomnia haunted his night – his mind lit up with all kind of scenarios of Casey’s survival. He had so many questions that he needed answers to. As soon as the alarm went off, he made his way to the headquarters of the Metropolitan Police Service. It was a long time ago since John Price visited Scotland Yard, but it still looked the same. When he stepped out of the elevator, he spotted Kyle Garrick first. “Sergeant!” he called. “Captain! How are you doing?” Gaz replied. ‘Doing well. You?” Price asked, shaking Kyle’s hand. “I’m fine,” he responded. “Question. Do you know where I can find Vos?” he asked, looking around the floor. “Yeah, I think she is in her office over there,” he pointed. “I saw her arriving earlier. But if she is not there, you will probably find her in the gym, one floor up.” Price thanked the sergeant and walked towards Casey’s office.

Like a second skin her hair lies over her cheeks. Looking like she just got caught in a sudden storm she lets herself step out of the ring. Hitting and kicking that sack really helps her get all the anger and pain out of her system. Her legs and arms feel numb as she carefully walks towards the water tap to fill up her bottle. It never ceases to amaze her that the muscles that were working so hard only minutes ago, now fight to keep up her weight. She pulls off the wet sticky shirt as the salty drops invade her eyes. The cold air from the open window surrounds the Dutch operator. She froze as she saw herself in the mirror, knuckles going white as she clenched the edge of the sink tightly. Seeing the scar always caused this sudden feeling in her stomach as the flashbacks fill her head. She sighed and averted her gaze from the mirror to the wall next to it.

May 2017 - Georgia

“Alex! Watch out!” Casey yelled, shoving the operator away out of sight from the sniper. The bullet hit her body with so much power that it jerked her off her feet, down the cliff.

Footsteps behind Casey take her out of a trance. “Kyle told me I would find you here,” the SAS captain spoke softly, spotting the scar of the exit wound on her back. “Am I interrupting?” Casey turned around making eye contact with Price, “No, was just refilling this,” she said, holding up the still empty bottle. “Hmm, I see,” he chuckled. He really didn’t know how to start the conversation, but he needed answers. “What happened, Case?” he blurted out suddenly. “We looked for you… we couldn’t leave you behind.” She puts on a fake smile to hide the pain. John Price was one of her best friends, but she didn’t want to worry him. She kept her survival under the radar to keep them all save. “I don’t know where to start, John,” she sighs. “One moment I was on the cliff covering Alex… the next I hit the water and struggle to keep my eyes open.” Casey looked away for a second, trying to hide the emotions. Her smile looked lifeless and it hit John like a brick in the face. “They found me and kept me alive…” she told him, her fake smile disappeared quickly. “They?” the Brit asked, as she slowly sits down on the floor of the gym. Price moves next to her and does the same. “Al-Qatala,” the girl replied in a whisper.

June 2017 - Al-Qatala hideout, near the Russian border

When Casey came to, she was greeted by darkness. Where am I? Is this hell? Am I dead? All these kind of questions flooded her mind in an instant. She pulled herself off the cold ground, but pain shot through her body. She dropped down against the floor again as darkness surrounded her once more.

“What?!” The captain was in total shock about that statement. “I woke up in a dark cell. Had no clue on what day it was. How long I had been out. All my gear was gone and I was wrapped in bloody bandages,” Casey told as she concentrated on the ground in front of her.

June 2017 - Al-Qatala hideout, near the Russian border

She jolted awake when cold liquid was thrown over her. She gasped for air. Two hands lift her up and began dragging her out of the cell. They tied her up to a chair in the room at the end of the hallway. The cold air hit her hard, only wearing some boxer shorts and an oversized black shirt that was unknown to her. All her gear was gone, but the immense pain was still there. “Welcome,” a thick foreign voice said. “Glad you finally decided to join us.” When she looked up she came face to face with one of the Wolf’s apprentices. “Where the fuck am I?” Casey yelled. “Uh-uh. I’m the one who is asking the questions here,” the man said. “You can make this easy for yourself. Just answer my questions, and you might walk out of here. What information does your team have on us?” he started. The Dutch lieutenant glared at the Al-Qatala soldier, “I’m not telling you shit! I’m dead either way. I know your kind.” A fist connected with her face, sending the chair backwards. She got trained to handle situations like this, but this was on another level – reality hits hard. “I’m going to ask you one… more… time. What information do you have on us?” he yelled, spit leaving his mouth. “Well, I know you probably have a small dick!” she stated.

The SAS captain’s face fell fast. In an instant his skin became greyed, his mouth hung with lips slight parted and his eyes were as wide as they could stretch. He could see the pain in her eyes.

A fake laugh spread on the man’s face as he turns to one of his accomplices. Another fist makes contact with her face. This time the chair smashes with the back onto the ground. Even downed, the soldier keeps punching and kicking the life out of Casey. It felt like he kept going for hours. The floor was cold and wet – the pain never ending. Her face was bruised, swollen and bloody. Blood running down from her forehead and eyebrow. One of the men pulled her up again when the soldier’s energy was drained from attacking his prisoner. They exited the room and left her back in the darkness.

“They were able to keep me there for eight months. I survived eight months of torture, but I’m still not sure how or why…” she looked at the soldier next to her. Different thoughts clouded her mind.

August 2017 - Al-Qatala hideout, near the Russian border

One morning she was awoken by one of the men. As she took in her surroundings, she spotted a large table in the centre of the room. The leader that questioned many times before entered the room with an evil smirk on his smug face. “Let’s try this again, shall we?” The girl scoffed, “Fuck off!!” The two men behind the man come up to her and lift her on the ice cold table. They tie her arms and legs to the piece of furniture and put a smelly cloth on her face. “So… is this the thanks I get for patching you up?” the Al-Qatala fighter spoke in her ear. “Get the fuck away from me!” she yelled once again in the hopes that somebody would hear her. But of course nobody came. The water came down on her face and breathing became impossible. She tried, but the flow kept coming. Once the bucket was empty, the whole routine would start over. Question after question, all unanswered. She stayed strong. She would never spill any information given to her. The coughing and gasping burnt her lungs. When they finally stopped, she was unable to stop shaking from the cold. Draining all the energy she once had. “You know we can go on like this for days. Weeks. Even months,” the man spoke before leaving her all alone.

“I was lucky I guess, that angry locals stormed the camp and burned it down,” Casey continued, tears now filling her eyes. Her shoulders hunched together like she was trying to disappear inside herself. The walls that hold her up, making her strong… collapse. She pressed her head against the wall, trying to stop the tears that roll down her cheeks. John wrapped his arm around her shoulder and pulled her close, gently rubbing her arm. Casey sunk into the warmth of his side, appreciative of the gesture. “They told me you were all dead… blown to pieces…” she mumbled against his shoulder. “I wished so many times that I would close my eyes and never open them again…”

December 2017 – 25 clicks from the camp

With the small amount of energy she had left, Casey made her way through the woods. It was ancient. Trees were thick and old, roots twisted on the ground. Once it might have been filled with bird-song and animals that roamed. But is was now past its former glory. The earth was dense and occasionally a streak of light would touch the ground beneath her feet. After walking for a few hours it became hard to make out the details of the area surrounding her. Her skin went ashen and she stumbled forward before she fell. Barely breathing she lay in the dirt as still as a corpse.

The words to continue telling all that happened left her. She stared into Price’s blue eyes, waiting for him to say something. His silence was somehow comforting and spoke for itself, it was peaceful. And no matter what would happen, he was still here for her. Casey was like a daughter to him and words couldn’t describe how much he cared for the girl. He mourned when they couldn’t find her back in Georgia. They scanned the whole area for her body, but no trace could be found. “A local farmer found me and brought me to the nearest hospital, where I woke up a few days after,” she said. “I managed to contact my commanding officer and Kate.”

John was at loss for words, “K-Kate knew you were alive?” Casey tried to stand up again, “Yes. I contacted her and we decided to keep my survival under the radar. On my request. The moment I heard you were all safe and sound, I had to protect that. I couldn’t risk any of you,” she finished, sticking out her right hand so the soldier could get back on his feet. The beatings, touches and horrible words left her with visible and invisible scars. “So… now I got a question for you.. What’s with the beard?” Casey chuckled, trying to lighten up the mood. “I almost didn’t recognise you yesterday.”

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Tag list: @imahardcase @yvessaintrogers

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anika-ann · 4 years

Text

Heart Too Cold, but Friends of Gold - Pt.8

The Truth-bearer

Pairing: Steve Rogers x reader Word count: 2510

Summary: Avenger!reader AU. Part 2 of Melting Hearts series. Part 1 HERE.

Tony creates a superbot. Oh joy - because thats exactly what Steve needs now. Oh and let’s not forget the enhanced individuals... that sent him into a nightmare taht feels all too real.

(Dealing with A:AOU, pt.1)

Warnings: swearing, angst, semi-consensual medical procedures, blood, torture...yep, this one is ugly

Story Masterlist

────── ·❆· ──────

Steve didn’t know why he had been hoping his search for Bucky would go any better than his search for you. The results were down to zero; trying to take down the remaining HYDRA bases was not leaving much time for his own investigation in the first place. Bucky was another person he was failing – again.

You were gone. Bucky was gone. None of locked up HYDRA operatives felt like victory to him, despite the team objectively winning. Time dragged.

The Avengers regaining the Asgardian sceptre was a perfect excuse for Tony to throw a party, especially with Thor staying for it. Steve was in no mood for celebrations, meeting individuals enhanced due to experiments – one of them a young woman – bringing back the memories of you too heavily.

But in the end – with the help of Asgardian liquor – he found himself forgetting the weight on his shoulders wearing him down, if only for few moments.

And then Tony’s artificial intelligence appeared with the goal of destroying the world, it apparently made an ally with the enhanced Maximoff twins, and Steve had no time to mope at all.

That was until they went after a man who got his hands on vibranium and a strange energy hit his head, making him dizzy; his eyes fallen shut for a short moment and when he opened them again, things were just not the same.

Steve found himself in a spacious ballroom, loud swing music attacking his ears. He blinked in shock, looking around cautiously.

What the-

An explosion blinded him for a second and he automatically crouched – except no, it wasn’t an explosion, it was just a flash of a camera, an attempt to capture the lively entertainment, men and women dancing together, flirtatious and animated moves, laughter seconding the tune played by the band on the stage.

A bang sounded on his left and he fought the urge to cover his head, the insuppressible instinct gained by years of fighting. It was just one of the waiters opening a bottle of champagne. No guns. No guns anywhere, despite another man in a well-fitting suit cleaning his friends’ jacket – Steve would think he had been shot with the crimson liquid covering his clothes, but he could see few more drops of red wine remaining in the glass in his hand; and of course, everyone around was laughing again.

The resemblance of war in the frisky party was terrifying and Steve found himself wishing to rather be on the battlefield where red meant blood and loud noises meant gunshots – because that he knew how to work with.

“Steve,” soft female voice addressed him and he quickly spun on his heels to face the woman he once loved.

If she hadn’t spoken, it would have taken him a while to recognize Agent Carter, Peggy, young and beautiful, unlike him not wearing a uniform. No, Peggy was all dolled up, pretty blue dress and her lipstick dark shade of red, drawing attention to her mouth curled up in a hesitant smile.

“Are you ready for our dance?” she asked expectantly, and Steve gulped, his nerves working. He started at the woman, grateful when another loud bang gave him an excuse to look away.

What— how? Peggy had grown old, he had been asleep for years, frozen in ice. He had woken up in a modern world, not in this, this wasn’t-- this looked like the times too familiar to him, the times of World War II., the-

“The war is over, Steve. We can go home,” Peggy’s voice suggested gently and Steve slowly turned his head back to her.

Only to find you in her place, a soft inviting smile on your lips. His heart stopped, his breath hitching. The music faded away into slower melody, calmer, but beautiful.

“Snowflake,” escaped his lips unwittingly, the nickname, the endearment so foreign on his tongue after such a long time.

You were here. Wherever this was, whatever this was, you were here, alive and well, pretty red dress flattering your lean figure, making his eyes roam over it before his gaze settled at your face. Your expression was one of shy ones and slightly amused at his awe.

“I know. Blue suits me better, right?” you laughed bashfully, lowering your gaze and it was all it took to Steve’s feet to cross the distance and he pulled you in for a tight hug. “Steve?”

“I’m so glad you’re here,” he breathed out shakily, nuzzling his face in your hair. Tears stung in his eyes, but he ignored them, indulging the sensation of your body pressed to his, your light perfume tickling his nostrils, your hair soft against his skin. “And you look lovely in red.”

Your body shook with hushed laughter and you melted into his embrace, your ear over his heart. Steve loved when you did that, reminding him that his heartbeat was as important to you as yours was to him.

“Are we gonna dance, Steve?”

Steve smiled against your scalp, planting a tender kiss there. “Of course. If you want to. But you know I’m not much of a dancer.”

You pushed against his chest a little with your rather tiny palms, looking up and rewarding him with a gorgeous smile. Your eyes twinkled with happiness.

“You being my partner is what will make it special even if you step on my toes.”

Steve felt his heart swell, too big for his ribcage now. You put your hands around his neck and he wrapped his around your waist in what was barely a dancing stance, but neither of you cared as you swung in the slow rhythm. Steve couldn’t take his eyes off of you – you were so close, so real in his arms and oh so content as if there was no place you would rather be.

Peripherally he noticed that all of the people around you resolved into thin air as if he snapped his fingers; he would find it strange, but then your head was resting against his chest and he realized he didn’t care.

He tightened his embrace and leaned to your ear with sudden urge. “Come home with me,” he whispered, not having a clue where it came from, just knowing he wanted nothing else.

The words rolled off his tongue so easily and felt so right. You going home with him, whatever home it was, wherever home was. The thought of that didn’t scare him, not anymore. You were the only thing that mattered.

Your lips spread into a delighted smile and then you were kissing him, your palms framing his face. You suddenly stood in the halls of the Tower in front of your common room, originally only his, and Steve didn’t care what kind of magic it was. His fingers fell into your hair, drawing you to him, while his other hand was on your waist, never wanting to let you go. Never.

He sunk his lips into yours deeper, exploring the sweet taste of your mouth he had almost forgotten. His hand clutched your dress tightly at the moan you released from your lips and Steve pushed a little, fumbling with the handle so you could get out of your snoopy teammates’ sights. You smiled against his mouth, letting him, and walking backwards as he pushed further blindly until your calf finally hit the bed.

You fell down with a giggle and that was when Steve realized he had no longer control over his body. His eyes snapped open, but it was as if they were and weren’t his own at the same time. His gaze met with sterile white examination room, a cold single bed you now lied on, your smile inviting as ever. His fingers reached for the leather straps on the side of the bed and you offered your wrist deliberately as he clasped it tightly, your other hand following.

Steve fought his own body to stop cuffing you, to stop— whatever he was doing, but it was as if his hands didn’t belong to him. He was just there to watch his body acting without his command. The picture of you flickered in front of his eyes and suddenly your red dress was gone, replaced by sickeningly green hospital gown. His fingers continued their work, tying up your ankles to the bed next.

Steve wanted to squeeze his eyes shut, to curl his hands into fists, just to get a fucking grip on himself, but it was all in vain. When he fastened the straps, he leaned in, closer to your face, kissing your forehead. You smiled with just a trace of worry, your eyes wide with fear but trusting.

“What are we doing today?” you asked warmly and Steve sensed that the phantom of his body raised one corner of its lips.

“Don’t think we got enough samples yesterday,” he heard himself saying and a second later, he buried a thick needle into your sternum, your scream echoing in his ears.

The inner Steve gasped, crying out your name breathlessly as you threw your head back with your jaw clenched and your eyes squeezed shut. Tears rolled down your cheeks, but he pushed the needle a bit deeper, watching it fill with bone marrow.

And then his hands were on your elbow, taking your blood, adding a fresh vial to several others – eleven, there were eleven vials already and now he added the twelfth one –, and your skin played with colours in the area where the samples were taken from, needle marks blossoming into wide bruises, old ones and fresh ones. Where the skin was free of bruises, it was scarily pale, looking paper thin, and Steve couldn’t fucking breathe, his heart stopping at the sight.

He needed to snap from this, this must have been a dream, a horrible nightmare, how was this-

His fingers brushed sweat-soaked hair from your face, white as sheet of paper apart from the dark circles under your eyes. Your eyelids fluttered open and you met his gaze. You seemed exhausted, but there was an endless trust in your eyes, almost reverential, a sad smile on your purple lips.

“Love you,” you whispered soundlessly and Steve honestly just wanted to scream. Scream until his throat would be raw and hurting, because he was doing this to you somehow.

“Love you too. You’re so strong, Snowflake,” he praised and Steve felt a wave of nausea attacking his stomach, tears in his eyes at the burning sensation of the bile rising to his mouth. This was so wrong, so twisted, the creature wearing his face and calling you that while- “You can take more, can’t you? I know you can, I believe in you.”

Stop this!

This must have been a dream, Steve needed to snap from this, he couldn’t stand it anymore, seeing you like this-- he released a relieved breath as he – not quite him – uncuffed you, mentally thanking god for having mercy upon you – and him.

But it didn’t stop there. The image changed again and suddenly you were strapped to an enormous chair, wires and tubes leading from several machines to your body, tiny lights flickering, periodical beeping of a heart monitor echoing in the room. He watched you from the corner of his eye, mainly focusing on what looked like a bomb exploding in a slowed motion. A strange blue energy surrounded it and he realized with shock that it was you – you were slowing down the detonation with your powers.

“That’s good, Snowflake. I’m so proud of you for controlling it like this,” he heard himself again and he wanted to throw up.

These were his own words. The authentic himself. I believe in you. Love you, Snowflake. I’m so proud of you, you controlled yourself perfectly.

God, Steve just wished to pass out at this point. But here he was, staring dully and unable to do a thing.

“Thank you.”

Something cringed inside him at the tone of your voice, sounding as if you were on your deathbed and yet, your tone was dripping with gratitude and relief.

“But I’m so tired, Steve.”

Steve felt his jaw tremble, yet he knew for a fact that the phantom, the vessel of his body, was unfazed by the statement. It charmed a smile on its lips. “I know, Snowflake. Try harder, hold it. You can do this.”

He saw you nod and his head snapped to you fully as he noticed a trickle of blood dripping down your chin. He tilted his head curiously.

‘No! Stop!’ he wanted to cry out, but no sound came out.

You squinted at the bomb, keeping your focus. Then your eyelids closed, fresh pour of blood coming out of your mouth. Steve sprung forward to do anything – except he didn’t. He didn’t move besides taking two measured steps closer to the chair, his lips whispering to your ear.

“Keep. Working. Or they’ll replace you with me. You wouldn’t want that, would you? For them to hurt me?” he demanded sweetly and Steve felt his insides being torn apart.

What kind of a sick blackmail was that?

The real one, he realized.

This must have been a nightmare, but it was nothing but the truth. You were out there. Most likely tortured. Serving as someone’s personal lab rat. Fighting for your life. And yet, the motivation you had was the fight for his life, because it was never supposed to be you in the chair. It was supposed to be him – or you believed so.

All of that happened to you, because you were trying to protect him. And while he didn’t lead the needles into your body himself, he might as well could; because there he was, unable to do anything, only watching.

Just like when you had talked to Michaels alone, just like when you had disappeared and he should have known you would when you had acted so strangely that fatal night.

Your eyes snapped open at his words with a whimper, a new spark of determination in them.

Steve’s stomach rolled over as he saw the pool of blue energy around your weak hands, fighting to ball into fists. With horror, he realized that the beeping of the heart monitor was unnaturally fast and when he looked at it, the machine was screaming with red exclamation marks.

You coughed and he felt hot liquid hit his cheek. He let out a disgusted sound, once again against his will.

He stood up straight as he reached for a tissue, wiping the substance of his face. The crimson of your blood was in stark contrast to the white of the tissue and when he glanced at you, your eyes were rolled up to the ceiling.

“Bring her back,” he growled, several people in scrubs showing up as if from the thin air. He spun on his heels, heading to the door. “We’re not done with her yet.”

Steve yelled at himself to stop in his track, to fucking stay and fight for her life, but his legs just kept walking.

The doctors and nurse were murmuring something he didn’t understand, the clinking of the tools in their hands unnaturally loud. The room was quiet otherwise; the heart monitor fell silent.

He didn’t even look back and the door clicked shut behind him.

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Part 9

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Tags: @mermaidxatxheart, @murdermornings, @elisaa-shelby @ask-hellbent-tweek @cxptain, @kallafrench, @smilexcaptainx @scentedsongrebel, @orions-nebula

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I’m such a horrible person for enjoying writing this chapter. I know that, okay? :D But I actually enjoyed that little peak in the Avengers’ heads in the AoU movie in the first place, so it was even more fun to toy with Steve’s a little.

One more chapter and then we go back to the ‘reader’ POV ;)

#marvel #fanfiction #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers imagine #steve rogers x you #captain america imagine #captain america x reader #captain america x you #steve rogers #captain america #avengers #avenger reader #heart too cold but friends of gold #anika ann

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