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jweekgoji · 2 months

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Yandere!Five/Reader.

wow how long has it been? two years since I wrote something for TUA? I still haven't rewatched it since I'm finally catching up with breaking bad but I hope I'll rewatch TUA next week or so. for some strange reason I feel that weird feeling like I need to come back to my fav fictional family with bread and milk and concentrate on it ughhh. when I rewatch it I will check that requests I had before for TUA and will finish them!

tw: yandere Five, unhealthy obsession, mentions of the reader's death, Five has ZERO moments of peace here, angst, controlling Five, mentions of Five's childhood, sort of happy ending?

I'm probably describing my thoughts sooo bad don't be mad please

Like we know, Reginald wasn't afraid to use his own «children» for every heroic mission. Bank robbery? He'll make a 14 year old kids deal with it. Some villains are trying to cause problems? Well, another time to test Number 1's leadership skills, no time for a happy childhood, kiddos! And that is basically what their life is.

Basically, the only source from which they can get the feeling of being needed, loved by the public, and recognized, if not by their father but by the citizens. Reginald trained them well, as long as there are 6 of them, they can deal with any kind of problem. I mean, come on, they're THE Hargreeves, one of the strongest people in the world who have unique superpowers, it's not like something might go wrong one day.

Five was always the most compatible member of the team, always trying to be the best. Despite only being the fifth in the ranking, it doesn't stop him from showing off every time he taunts another criminal, making them lose their minds in attempts to catch him.

It was another day when he and his siblings would find a criminal to deal with. Everything went smoothly, as Luther would discuss the plan with everyone. Klaus and Ben would be outside waiting for the signal, Allison and Luther would be the ones to distract the criminals from the hostages and Diego should disarm them before causing any serious trouble. Five would be the one who would save the hostages.

I think his abilities help the most in such situations. He can teleport any person away in just seconds and lead them into safety, no one would even notice. And if something happens, Five is capable enough to fight by himself.

You are the last hostage he protects now. He had already saved more than 10 people non-stop before, and for some reason, his powers refused to work. It's not like he is weak or something, no, no, just give him some time to catch his breath, and he will continue in a moment! He can't let someone see him like this, let alone let his father find out about this little problem.

He would huff and puff about it, probably imagining how Diego or Klaus were teasing him, how Five was losing his cool and accidentally forgetting how his own powers were working due to what a pretty little hostage Five talked to! And they're close to his age too, so it would be natural for his age to get shy and awkward in front of someone cute he found~! Well, at least it's exactly what he imagines hearing from Klaus after the mission.

Five wasn't quiet around people, usually. He enjoys talking with his siblings, well, with some of them—and he finds it amusing to toy with criminals.

For some reason, he is quiet around you.

Of course, he would try to reassure you that everything is fine, he is a good guy here, and soon enough, you would be safe. The only thing you have to do is just listen to him and follow his lead.

He didn't suspect everything, of course, and was so full of himself even at such an age, thinking nothing would go wrong. You were around his age, and naturally, despite being an arrogant little brat, he did find you quite cute. Maybe, if he had a different life, he would have approached you in different circumstances.

But Five learned the hard way that he's not the strongest and could never be the number one. He would never be able to save everyone. He just stopped paying attention for a one damn second, and the next thing he heard, was a gunshot. Five could feel your hand slipping away from his own, and he would look back just in time to see you almost stumbling, only to catch you in his own arms. Blood painted his dark blue uniform in red.

After that incident, Five became more obsessed with the idea of time travelling. If at first he wanted to prove to his father that he is capable of much more, to show that he's actually much better than everyone, this idea also feeds off his guilt. His first mistake, the only time he failed to do his task. And he just can't let go of it, no matter how much Viktor tries to tell him that it's really not his fault, that he couldn't predict it.

And then, during dinner, he runs away, despite Viktor silently begging him not to do it. Then he blinks again, again, and again, until it's nothing but ruins surrounding him. Until The Handler decides to pay him a visit, expect that he will probably be much more calculative and controlling. 40 years of being alone did it's horrible job on his mind, every day trying to survive while thinking about a possible way out of this situation. Maybe, if he makes much better calculations, he will actually succeed. But being away from humanity for so long makes him crave human contact, he already had that mannequin, Dolores, he could find, talking every day to her about how he actually missed his family, how he wants at least some kind of sick normalcy he had back in the academy. At least he had a place to live without worrying every day about his own survival.

During these moments, where he actually gives himself some time to be weak, he wonders would he still do this if you were still alive? Would he still risk everything just to make his father proud?

He didn't know much about you before. The police shortly said that day that one of the employees had a child in the building, and they were taken hostages by the villains. You were around his age, a young, probably promising student in your normal school, with caring parents and friends who worried about you. Something he craved deeply, even though he would have never admitted it.

When he couldn't have teleported you away safely, he led you through the second way out. He can tell you were scared. Of course, who wouldn't be? It's not like you were used to it. He isn't the gentlest person, more like focused on the business and how to end it all as fast as possible. But you were shaking mess, asking from time to time if it's safe or is actually everything okay? Five, in his some kind of nonchalant and gruff manner, would only nod, reassuring you that his siblings probably dealt with the villains by that time.

You looked so normal for him. You had no powers, no one made you train every day just to bend you into their high expectations, you didn't have to compete for someone's love and approval. You acted like he's just a normal person too, never bothering him with questions about his brothers or a sister, not trying to peek into some secret life of the Hargreeves family. Do you even know who he is?

Eventually, he can't remember who exactly started the dialogue. Was it you, who just wanted to talk about something so boring like your school life, or like that you probably skipped a few classes and missed a math test? Or was it him, remembering his trainings how he should try to make the worried and scared hostage less afraid by making a small talk with them? He's too old to remember every single detail. But he certainly remembered that he at least listened to what you said to him. That he was actually looking at you, giving you his full attention.

Maybe if he was born into a normal family, he would have had a chance to live that normal life with you. But that would be too kind to wish for, wasn't it? Now, that his hands are covered in blood of so many innocent people he had to kill, asking for a normal life is impossible. Even after taking hundreds of lives, he still can't understand why is the sight of yours in his hands any different? He thought he would be used to it by now. What kind of evil God makes him see it over and over again, in every goddamn timeline?

First, it was a villain killing you right in front of him. Second, it was the Swedes who killed you the next day they saw Five trying to talk to you. He almost lost his mind when he spotted you living near the same hotel where his siblings and he decided to stay. But once again, the more problems just followed, leading to another damn disaster to take you away.

When he lost his powers, he didn't know if he should feel relieved or more concerned about it. Of course, that means that he probably has to find Reginald, to get more answers about what the hell happened in this new universe. But that also meant that he finally has a chance to live like a normal person too. Like you did.

He was unfamiliar with this world. He felt lost, humiliated most of the time now that everyone treat him like he's actually younger than he is. At least people stopped treating him like a child, yet he still has to deal with someone underestimating him. He has to find a job, a place to live, for God's sake, how the hell is he going to live without any documents here?

The fate seemed to be connecting you two once again, as it seemed. You would meet him accidentally, one time you just saw him visiting a café you were working for and the same process would repeat again. This time, he would actually remember every single little detail. He would approach you first, carefully and as politely as he could. He still thinks that if he makes even the smallest mistake, he would experience your loss once again. This time he won't screw up, he would plan everything strictly to his scenario. Your meeting, your first date, your first 'I love you'. You might think he's just the most perfect guy you ever met, which actually... would not be so far from the truth? ¯⁠\⁠_⁠(⁠ツ⁠)⁠_⁠/⁠¯

#yandere x reader #five hargreeves #five hargreeves x reader #tua x reader #yandere five hargreeves x reader #yandere tua #yandere the umbrella academy #yandere five hargreeves #yandere number five #number five x reader #number five #five hargreaves x reader #five hargreeves imagine #yandere imagines #tw yandere #male yandere

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sheisjoeschateau · 8 months

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"Oh, so we DO love Steve..." | PART I

Steve Harrington x Bauman!fem!reader enemies to lovers, heavy angst, hurt/comfort, upside down mayhem, S2-S4, post S4 universe hot-take, end-of-the-world / dystopian setting, ugly fights turned smut (...but with hella plot). 18+

WHEN THE UNEXPECTED NIECE OF MURRAY BAUMAN GETS THROWN IN THE MIX, THE GANG HAS NO IDEA JUST WHAT THEY'RE IN FOR. SCRATCH THAT - STEVE DOESN'T KNOW. YOU GET ALONG WITH EVERYONE WELL. YOU BANTER WITH THE ADULTS, WHO APPRECIATE YOUR HELP. THE KIDS LOVE AND WORSHIP YOU. YOU'RE HELPFUL ALL AROUND. BUT AS FAR AS STEVE IS CONCERNED, YOU'RE JUST NUISANCE. AFTER ALL, YOU'RE THE REASON HE LOST THE LOVE OF HIS LIFE AND MISSED OUT ON A LIFE THAT "COULD'VE BEEN." IF YOU HAD JUST KEPT YOUR SORRY ASS OUT OF THE PICTURE... IF YOU HAD NEVER GONE WITH NANCY AND JONATHAN AFTER THEY LEFT YOUR WHACK-JOB UNCLE, MURRAY BAUMAN'S, BUNKER? HE WOULD BE HAPPY. SO F*CKING HAPPY. BUT HERE YOU WERE. YOU WERE BASICALLY THE COOLER (...AND SURE, MUCH MORE ATTRACTIVE) FEMALE VERSION OF MURRAY BAUMAN. YOU WERE SARCASTIC, QUICK-WITTED, TOO SMART FOR YOUR OWN GOOD, AND APPARENTLY BUILT FOR THE WAR. SURE, YOU WEREN'T AS BRASH AS YOUR UNCLE. BUT IN STEVE'S EYES, YOU WERE SOMEHOW FAR MORE OBNOXIOUS. HE DOWNRIGHT HATED YOU. HE WILL FOREVER HATE YOU... BUT WILL HE?

DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT GIVE PERMISSION FOR MY WORK TO BE COPIED AND/OR REPOSTED ON HERE OR ANY OTHER PLATFORM, OR PUT INTO ANY AI PROGRAMS. THIS IS AN 18+ BLOG, MDNI.

An original fanfiction series, written by Misha St. James.

⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ SERIES MASTERLIST ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆

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I did not proof-read this after Tumblr gave me hell trying to share. So pls excuse possible typos. hehe

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Let's just get to the point, shall we?

Once upon a time, a young boy named Will Byers went missing. Later, he was found in an alternate dimension by the world's #1 mom and a cynical cop turned hero. A girl with a shaved head had telekinetic superpowers, befriend's Will's four loyal friends along the way and helping them track down their missing party member. Then, whatever the hell was on the other side - whatever was in this...upside down...took back Eleven. She'd been missing ever since that dreadful winter.

Fast forward to now: you're sitting in your uncle's bunker, looking at his wild display of efforts. Papers, files, whiteboards covered in multiple words, arrows, sketches - all in different colored markers. Murray Bauman was on a mission, and he would be damned if that grumpy, cynical smart-ass known as Jim Hopper honestly thought that he could dismantle his efforts. Nice try, chum. Game on. Thankfully, you'd gone to school with Barbara Holland. That's whose parents had assigned the task of searching for her to your uncle. Murray was asking you tons of questions, and you were glad to help. It meant spending time with the only family member you cared for, despite his wackiness. You guys got each other. Bantered well. Got shit done. Honestly, it was also a great way of drinking safely and not with a bunch of rowdy teenagers at some stupid party. You got along just fine with everyone at school. But damn, they could all be annoying. ...especially Steve fucking Harrington, who was now the topic of conversation. You know, given that his house is where Barbara was last seen. "It just isn't making sense," your uncle huffed, raking his hands through his oily dark hair. You sipped on the glass of vodka that your uncle had poured you, hissing at the strong taste. Leaning across the coffee table, seated on his couch, you tried to connect the dots with him. "I'm telling you, someone in that group of teens knows what's up. Or at least has an idea." Your uncle swigged at his vodka, defeated but ruthlessly trying to piece together his clusterfuck of scattered evidence across his wall. "Well then, guess we better grill 'em."

And that's how you come into the picture. When Nancy and Jonathan came to seek out Murray. And when they arrive, they're surprised to see you. They recognize you from school. Jonathan took several classes with you. In fact, the two of you got along well at Hawkins High. No, you weren't close. But you both were cool. Nancy, on the other hand, didn't know anything about you. Just that you took political science with Barbara, and got straight A's across the board. You could've been class valedictorian. But you were not looking for any sort of title that demanded pressure or attention. At least not in high school. Career wise? Sure. Not here, though. Not Hawkins. "Your timeline is wrong," Nancy is saying, making you and Bauman freeze. Nancy is telling you that the girl with the buzzed hair is not Russian. She is, in fact, from Hawkins lab. And her name is...Eleven? So they do know something. And something turns out to be everything.

Jonathan sits you both down to relay everything to you both. And woof, does it give you guys a headache. Strangely, though... it makes a whole lot more sense than some mundane explanation of sorts. Obviously though, that puts you all in a tough spot where you'll all need to put your heads together. So the two classmates of yours stay, sharing in chilled Smirnoff and having to endure the hilarity that ensues between you and your uncle. You and Murray both banter well with the two of them. Jonathan finds you to be hilarious. Nancy finds you intimidating. Very intimidating. You’re quick witted, darkly humored and independent. But there is a reserved, mysterious sort of feminine energy to you, despite your more masculine strengths and bluntness. Over glasses of stiff vodka, you all come to the conclusion on how to go about exposing the truth about Barbara Holland's disappearance: water it down.

At the end of the night, you're all winding down -- you and your uncle having convinced the two lovebirds to stay. But when you're telling them they can take your uncle's guest room while you take the couch, Jonathan's asking if he can take the couch. You blink. Huh? ...surely Nancy is not still with --

"Okay, I'm confused," your uncle's saying. "What's going on here? Lovers quarrel?"

You cock an eyebrow, leaning back into the loveseat.

But Jonathan and Nancy are then talking over each other with weird, flustered excuses...saying they're just friends.

You and your uncle bust out laughing. And then you're shrinking back in your seat, knowing what's coming: one of your Uncle Murray's lovebird witchdoctor speeches that he barrels into anytime that two delusional people have convinced themselves that they aren't in love. Or at the very least, not into each other.

Uncle Murray is breaking them down, one at a time. He's reading Jonathan like an angsty teen novel, seeing right through him and his brooding, mysterious energy. Trust issues, thanks to daddy issues. Yikes, that makes you sip some more drink.

And then he's onto Nancy, saying that she's harder to read. But he manages anyway. It's the Bauman way.

He's telling her that she's likely like everyone else, "afraid of what would happen if you accepted yourself for you who you really are." He looks at you. "Am I in the right ballpark?"

You nod, swallowing the last drop of vodka in your cup. "That...and afraid of that might happen if she didn't retreat back to the safety of someone familiar."

Nancy looks bewildered. But more than that, she looks caught.

"Name?" your uncle is prodding, snapping his fingers. "Name."

You and Jonathan both say it. "Steve."

Uncle Murray's face is priceless. He feigns adoration, putting on a baby voice as he repeats the name. "Dawh. Steve. We like Steve."

"Yes," Nancy laughs nervously. Eek, you think.

"But we don't love Steve..." Your uncle's words floor Nancy.

And when Nancy's saying something about still being with Steve, insisting that she loves him, you roll your eyes. Even scoffing, getting her attention. Maybe if the vodka weren't in your system, you wouldn't be so bold. But Jonathan's mopey look just gives you more confidence.

"Boom, ladies and gents," you say with a grin. "Second lie of the evening." "The hell was the first one?" Jonathan asks, blinking. "You guys being just friends." You and your uncle say something along the same lines, simultaneously. You both laugh together, clinking glasses. The two not lovebirds just squirm awkwardly in their seats. Finally, you sigh. "Look. You guys don't wanna give up the ghost? Be my guest. I'll happily keep my bed." You stand up, ready to turn in. But not until casting them one last work, pointing a finger. "But if I were you two? I'd cut the bullshit and just share the damn bed." Murray snorts, rising to stand as well. He stretches. "Welllllp. I'm turning in for the night." You begin mounting the stairs, hollering: "Better act fast, kiddos. At least before this poison in my system knocks me out cold. Don't worry, Nancy, I don't snore. So if you do choose me, you're safe." "But that's so lame," Murray adds to that wryly, heading off to his room. You both tell each other goodnight, leaving the two angsty teens to decide their fate. All you know is that Nancy ends up walking out and not coming back, at one point in the night. Yeah, thought so. Breakfast the next morning is even more hilarious. You and your uncle ask every single question that drips with innuendo that you ever possibly could. And it's worth every fucking minute.

Murray's gonna need to keep that couch cleaned. To your surprise, Murray sends you off with Nancy and Jonathan, but given that you want to go and see it all for yourself you don't mind. You’re basically his little spy. Most uncles send off their nieces and nephews with some good advice, maybe a packed lunchbox or snacks, and a warm hug.

Yours, however, sends you off with a full bottle of vodka, a thick wad of cash and some fun sarcastic banter. But he headlocks you in for a hug, and you cackle. He really is a nutcase, and man you can't help but love him. He is so not the parental type. Yet somehow, he's practically raised you. And in your opinion, you're pretty well-prepared for the world. More than most, in Murray's opinion. So off you go with Nancy Wheeler and Jonathan Buyers, and they both honestly enjoy your company. It helps them get past their umm...well...awkward new reality. That new reality that comes post-sex, after a long ass time of playing the tip-toe game. The sexual tension between them is hysterical to you. But you keep your thoughts to yourself for now. The vodka did most of the talking for you last night.

When you both arrive at wherever the hell your destination is, it's dark outside. And if you're being honest, it's pretty creepy. You're somewhere near the woods, and as you all walk closer you're beginning to see lights approaching you...along with a handful of shadowed figures.

Fuck, you literally just got here.

But then, after a tense several moments... Nancy and Jonathan call out to them. You jump, startled at the fact that they do it so confidently. But the name that they call out suddenly makes it all make sense. "STEVE?" "NANCY...?" And that's how you became a crucial part of the most royal pain in the ass, King Steve's, life.

#steve harrington angst #steve harrington #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington stranger things #steve harrington smut

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lizthewriter · 11 months

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i'll take care of you, that's true / poly!billy loomis & stu macher

PAIRING billy loomis x stu macher x fem!reader

SUMMARY it's been plainly obvious to your group of friends (and probably everyone in the entire school at this point) that you, stu, and billy harbored a heaping amount of feelings towards one another. see, the problem was that while billy and stu were completely aware of their feelings for each other and for you, you had made no efforts to be as obvious with your feelings as they did. stu was always launching some flirty line at you that made your heart stumble and insisted on paying for anything you wanted when you went out - billy offered to carry your book bag from class to class and you always caught him staring at you with this hungry look in his eye. you hadn't expected to spill your feelings towards them in the oddest way - when your depression claws it's way back from the dead.

TAGS billy loomis x stu macher x fem!reader, fluff, angst, no hurt just comfort, happy ending, idiots in love, soft!romantic!stu, billy is a lil' inexperienced with those things called emotions, but we ball, reader is quite feminine, reader loves pink, reader has depression, no ghostface we die like men, implied stalking

QUOTE "stand beside it, we can't hide the way you make us glow . . . i'd take care of you if you asked me to," - take care by beach house

WORD COUNT 1.5K

WRITTEN 10.25.2023

Stu thought back to the previous morning - you had walked into school in one of those cute pink numbers of yours that he knew Billy secretly loved. He watched you approach your locker from across the hall and open the door. Hoping to suprise you, he snuck up and hid behind the door, waiting for the inevitable moment when you would slam the door close and jump in suprise at his sudden appearance. It happened exactly as Stu predicted - you placed one last book in your locker and closed it shut, suddenly jolting when you noticed Stu, and clutching your heart through your chest.

"Geez, Stu, you scared the crap out of me," you said breathlessly, your mind on a heightened alert from the adrenaline of the jump scare. You noticed he was holding something behind his back and furrowed your brows, a questioning smile spreading across your face. "What's that?"

"Suprise!" Stu exclaimed loudly, revealing what he was hiding behind his back. You ignored the stares from your other classmates in the hall and bit back a grin as you graciously received his gift. Filled iside a plastic box were shortbread cookies filled with strawberry jam, powdered sugar covering the top.

"Aw Stu, you really shouldn't have," you said, unable to stop the flush from rushing to your cheeks. "Thank you, these look amazing! How did you know I liked shortbread?"

Stu shrugged as though he just happened to select the right cookies. But really, he had seen you buy something similar when he followed you out into town once. He also knew of many other foods you were paticularly fond of, which lead you to joke around that he had some sort of superpower, always knowing what food you liked. "Dunno, just reminded me of you, babe."

This morning, however, a very different aura surrounded you. You came in wearing one of your usual outfits, offering what seemed to be sweet smiles to classmates who greeted you in passing. But something was utterly wrong and Stu could definitely sense it.

This morning, he stood by Billy's locker, which was a little down the hall from yours. Stu had been so preoccupied in his own thoughts about you, wondering what was wrong and how he could fix it, that he hadn't been paying attention to Billy. He felt someone rap him sharply on the head and let out a yelp, turning to face Billy.

"Hey, that hurt, man!" He exclaimed, rubbing the back of his now stinging head.

"Well don't ignore me next time." Billy slammed close his locker and glanced back towards Stu. Curious about what had his friend so preoccupied, he followed Stu's line of sight to you. The edge of his lips curled up slightly. "Oh, I see what it is. That pretty little minx has you all wrapped around her finger, huh?"

"No - well, that too, but something's wrong with her," Stu said, worry etched into his expression. He watched as you slowly filled your locker with textbooks, your arms shaking weakly.

"Are you sure? I mean, now that you say that, she does look a little . . . pale." Billy went silent as the both of them watched you, mentally debating what to do. "I'm not really good at all that 'emotions' stuff. I think it would be better if you talked to her."

"All right, but at least come with me." Billy huffed, pretending as though it was all an inconvenience, but immediately followed Stu as he cautiously approached you. Today, there was no jumpscare when you closed the door to your locker. You offered yet another fake smile to the boys, but Stu couldn't help but notice the bags under your eyes.

"Hey boys," you said. "Look, I have a class soon, so I really think I should -"

"Are you okay?" Stu asked softly, bringing a hand up to caress against your cheek gently. You cringed away from him, causing a pang of hurt to echo through his heart.

"I'm fine."

"You don't look fine." You couldn't meet his eyes anymore, much more focused on your feet now. What were you supposed to tell him? That you cried yourself to sleep last night? That there was some sort of gaping hole in your chest? And you couldn't even figure out why it was there? That, what, you barely enjoyed any of your old hobbies, that everyday chores were beginning to turn into difficult tasks?

"Please, Stu, just -"

"Don't push us away." Both of you glanced towards Billy - the two of you were surprised to hear him speak. "We just care about your well-being, that's all."

"Yeah, come on, just talk to us? We just want to help you, make you feel better."

You bit your bottom lip and the gears in your head turned - the boys could see the internal debate going on in your head. You grabbed both of their wrists, leading them to a nearby janitor's closet. Although it was only a few steps away, it felt like forever walking there, especially when you felt as though you were about to cry again.

Billy shut the door behind both of you, causing you to dissolve into a blubbering mess as soon as he did so. "I feel - so terrible all the time and . . . don't know why - can't talk to anyone." Your words were interrupted by sniffles, hiccups, and sobs.

"Babe . . ." Stu said with a frown, sitting you down on the janitor's small desk chair. Your gaze was directed towards the ground, so he got on both knees just so you would meet his eyes. "It's okay. I get like that too sometimes . . ."

"You . . . do?" Even Billy tilted his head, glancing towards Stu with an arched brow. Funnily enough, in their relationship, Billy had always been the one to talk about their problems, but never Stu.

"That's right babe. And most of the time I don't get it either - I just get sad and hopeless. And sometimes nothing can make it better. But I feel less shitty when I'm with my friends." He grabbed both of your hands and held them in his own, offering you a kind smile. "Hm? You can talk to us, pretty."

All your thoughts came out faster than intended and soon enough you were ranting quite vivaciously to the two of them, who both listened patiently and waited for you to finish before saying anything. You felt as though a huge weight had been lifted off of your chest with each and every word that spilled from your lips. You wanted to say more, to get it all out. Suddenly, one paticularly heavy secret came to mind and you found guilt seeping through every vein in your body. You glanced between the two boys with trepidation. While Atu was watching you in admiration and understanding, Billy seemed lost in his own world, almost like he was in longing.

You had to admit that you were attracted to both of them, something that made you feel incredibly guilty. They were both your friends and you always felt as though you were hurting the other when you were paying paticular attention to only one of them.

"What is it, baby? Is there something else you want to get off your chest?" Stu asked.

You withdrew your hands from him, causing him to furrow his brows. "Well . . . there's something I need to tell the both of you. I owe it to you, to tell you . . . So, uh . . ." Your voice trailed off as you met Stu's puppy eyes once again. "I like you, both of you."

Stu grinned. "We like you too!"

You shook your head, standing up. Stu rose from the floor with you, a confused grin on his face. "No, you don't get it. I like like both of you and it's obvious the two of you feel the same way, but . . . I don't want to have to choose."

"No, I don't think you're getting it," Billy said, pushing himself off the wall he'd been leaning against and approaching you. "We like you too. We want you."

Stu grabbed your shoulders and pressed a kiss to your forehead. "Don't you see, we both love ya!" He exclaimed excitedly. A small bit of hope leaked into your expression and you looked up at them with those adorable, innocent eyes that had the both of them reeling.

"Really?"

"Really," said Billy.

"We'll always be here for you -" Stu boomed your nose, wrinkling his with affection. "- whenever and however you need us. So . . . let's play hooky! The two of us will take you out and we'll have a blast! Turn that frown upside down! What do you say?"

You bit back a shy smile and nodded. "That actually sounds . . . really nice."

#— [ glizzy posts ☆ ]#billy loomis x you #billy loomis x reader #stu macher x reader #stu macher x you #stu macher x billy loomis #billy loomis x stu matcher #scream #scream 1996 #my writing #fanfiction #my fanfiction #my fic #writing #fanfic #ghostface #ghostface x reader #ghostface x you

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megamindsupremacy · 4 months

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So. ive been going through your billy batson tag bc im very normal and super hinged about this kid and you ARE right about Billy growing up the normal way and how that would effect him, but I need us all to consider the opposite: The Magic went "Ah, he's pure of heart bc he is but a lad", and not *letting* him grow up. Billy being immortal but stuck as a kid forever. The realization everyone is going to grow up w/o him. That he is *always* going to be a kid. That could be a very bad time too.

OH MY HEART. you're so right and i'm kissing you on the mouth. okay i need to marinate in this now stand by

so I think it's fairly accepted now that the Wizard chose Billy to be Shazam when he was so young because all of the previous Champions were adults, and that went Badly (see: Black Adam). So obviously, if the adults can do the whole superhero thing, then we should give the role to a kid. But then, to take it a step further: if the adults can't do the superhero thing, then we should make the next Champion stay a kid.

And like, it takes a hot minute for Billy to notice. Say he became CM at 8 - he doesn't know the average rate of growth for a boy. He just thinks he's not getting as tall as quickly as his peers. It's not like there's adult supervision around to go "hello small small child, why are you still small and a child?" I could see him going at least a few years before realizing there might be something wrong. Then it takes him a little bit to figure out what exactly is wrong, and then a little longer to be in denial, before he finally has to come to terms with, yeah, he really is 8 years old for the rest of forever.

I wonder how it affects him, mentally? Because you could go one of two ways: either he stays mentally an 8 year old forever and doesn't mature, although he gains knowledge and experience with time, or he does mentally mature and becomes an adult, just stuck in the body of a child.

For angst reasons, I like the second one, but realistically, the whole reason he's in this mess is because the Wizard wanted someone who was pure of heart to stay pure of heart. Why go through all the trouble to not let him physically age but allow his mind to change? So now we have an eternally "both mentally and physically a child" situation.

I feel like, when you're that young, you can't really... process how devastating that is? He's only a little kid - at that age, you can't even imagine turning 18 yet, much less living out the rest of your life as an adult. He doesn't know what he's lost. So instead of Billy angst, it's outsider POV angst. Everyone is growing old and watching Billy stay the same as always. I imagine he reveals his identity at some point, a while into being Captain Marvel, and they have a Twilight moment of "I'm 8" "....how long have you been 8?" ("no, but actually, we've known you for 12 years, you can't actually be 8. what do you mean 'a wizard did it'."). Everyone is just quietly mourning the person Billy could have become, had he not been chosen to be the Champion of Magic, meanwhile Billy is living out the eternal childhood dream of Superpowers + Adult Body w/o Adult Responsibilities. It's tragic in a way Billy can never comprehend because of what the wizard did to him.

Feel free to add onto this post!

#mads posts #billy batson #captain marvel #shazam #dc #dc comics #dcu #anyways Billy refuses to watch Peter Pan because it makes him feel shrimp emotions #also his foster siblings. or at least his twin Mary depending on the canon #can you IMAGINE what it's like for them #that has to be wild #half a century down the line its like 'yeah this is my brother billy. i adopted him and he's basically my son because we've known each othe #our entire lives but he has never gotten older and he can't comprehend everything he's lost. i can though.'#sobs #anyways PLEASE let this become one of those collaborative Everyone Adds On sort of posts. i need this idea to spread now #anon ily

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deakyjoe · 2 years

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Stormy Skies

Pairing: Din Djarin x Reader (no pronouns used I think)

Category: friends to lovers

Summary: Din breaks you out of an Imperial prison (loosely based on chapter 15).

Warnings: angst, fluff, touched-starved Din, helmet is off, prison, nasty guards, restraints, bad men, talks of death, separation, loose implication of what bad men can do, pet names (cyar’ika), canon-divergence (I guess??), when I say loosely based I mean very loosely based

Word count: 5.5k

A/N: Sad, brown-eyed, pathetic love of my life. (He's not pathetic but I’ll make him pathetic.) Din is slightly out of character but only because he's head over heels in love and feeling all soft and squishy inside about it. He's also a little insecure. Poor guy. It's purposefully ambiguous about how long reader has been imprisoned, so guess however long you'd like.

Consider buying me a coffee :)

It took three weeks, four days, sixteen hours and twenty two minutes before you realised that the inside of this Imperial prison would be the only thing you saw for the foreseeable future. The three walls and one row of bars now being your home. After that you resigned yourself to the idea that you'd be there forever so you stopped counting the days, the weeks, the... months? You didn't know how long you'd been there and you didn't want to know how long either.

All you knew is that you wanted to leave. Not because you were scared of death or scared of never seeing the outside world again. But because you missed two very important people in your life. The big, scary Mandalorian who had hired you just under a year ago as his mechanic and his strange green son who had weird superpowers who you sometimes babysat. The both of them meant the world to you and the idea of never seeing them again hurt you. You feared for the child's life as he had also been taken at the same time as you but had been imprisoned elsewhere, probably to be experimented on. And you feared for the state of your Mandalorian who would be lost without his kid.

"Food."

The announcement made your stomach lurch as it knocked you out of your thoughts. A small plate, with a pile of something in the middle, was pushed into your cell - probably the most unappealing thing in the galaxy but your only source of nutrition. Your mind strayed to nicer things as you desperately tried to ignore the revolting taste.

You thought of days spent in the Razor Crest, your Mandalorian's ship, as the three of you travelled from planet to planet in order for bounties to be collected. The memories of attempting to teach the child to speak some words in Basic but only getting baby babbling in response, it didn't matter as his eyes always shone as if he knew what you were saying to him.

You ached for your clan of three to be reunited, but realistically you knew that was unlikely. If anything, you just wanted Grogu to be safe. Back with Din and safe. And there was no place safer for him than under the care of Din Djarin.

A guard walking into your cell had you scrambling back against the wall as he took your plate from you and laughed, slightly muffled by his helmet. He kicked at the chain bound around your feet and walked out again, locking the bars behind him.

He was your least favourite of everyone who served in your section of the prison. He didn't seem to like you very much, and wasn't afraid to show it. You feared that one day he'd use the power he had over you to do something awful. So, for now, you tried to play as nice as possible with him.

The sound of low chattering caught your attention, the unmistakable noise of Stormtrooper armour bashing against itself making its way down the corridor. Plastic against plastic made an unbearable racket. You looked up to peek through the bars of your cell and crawled towards the sound, hoping that they weren't coming for you. If you could guess from the sound of them alone, you'd say there were about three or four of them. Definitely more than two and probably less than five.

Your assumption was proven correct when three Troopers turned the corner at the end of the hallway. One was clearly in charge, leading the other two. You thought his name was... you didn't know actually. And you didn't care either. But he was their superior. But the other two... They were low ranking officers, obvious by their uniform and the way they looked around as if they'd never seen the inside of a prison before. Maybe it was their first day on the job? Boy, were they in for a surprise.

The bald one seemed vaguely familiar, although he looked like pretty much any other guy in the galaxy so you didn't dwell on it too much. The other one, however, held no resemblance to anyone you'd ever seen before. He had sad eyes. That was the first thing you noticed about him. Sad, brown eyes. Along with a strong nose that matched his face. Golden skin. And messy hair along with unkempt facial hair. Very un-Trooperish. You wondered how he managed to get away with it. He was rather beautiful to look at. You pushed the thought away with a reminder of what he was - Empire.

As they got closer, you began to overhear their conversation. They were talking about some battle that had been fought a while ago, lots of soldiers lost. Baldy appeared mildly upset as he disclosed that some of his friends had died. Brown eyes wasn't listening and clearly searching for something. And he seemed to find it when his eyes landed on you.

He paused for the smallest fraction of a second before he carried on walking with the other two. He stared at you but you didn't back down, staring right back through the cell bars. You wouldn't let a Trooper intimidate you, especially not a new one. A sense of achievement hit you when he finally looked away, swallowing thickly and averting his gaze as far away from you as possible. He nudged the bald guy next to him with his elbow and tilted his head in your direction.

What the fuck did these guys want with you? You shivered at the thought, a million horrifying ideas running through your brain. You relaxed slightly when they disappeared around the next corner.

The rest of the day passed slowly, as they all did, and soon enough the lights were going out and all prisoners were warned to stay silent for the next few hours. You shifted to get your body in the most comfortable position possible, pretty difficult when you had chains restraining your limbs, and laid down, resting your head in the crook of your elbow.

You drifted off easily, the low drone of the power running through the walls and the floor lulling you to sleep. With nothing to do all day, zero access to natural light and limited portions of food you were tired all of the time. And the little energy you had was reserved for keeping your defences up when guards entered your cell on rare occasions.

Your dreams were full of Din and Grogu, as usual, and you often wondered during your conscious moments whether your brain was reminding you of happy moments to keep you sane or telling you what you'd had and what you'd lost as a way of punishing you.

What you didn't expect was to be awoken a short time later by your cell door being unlocked, the clanging of the metal shocking you out of your dreams. You sat up instantly, freezing when two looming figures walked in, whispering to each other in hushed tones.

The two Troopers from earlier.

You felt sick.

They were both wearing their helmets now and their heads snapped towards you when your chain scraped across the floor painfully. The broader one, who seemed to be leading the team of two, stalked towards you slowly.

"No, no, no, no!" You kicked at him as he went for your ankles trying, and failing, to fight him off. The breath spilling from your lungs was panicked as you failed to notice the other guy groaning and sticking his arms out to tell you to be quiet.

Your name came through the Trooper helmet in a familiar, reassuring voice. It was Din. Your Mandalorian. You'd never felt such a sense of relief race through your body as you relaxed underneath his touch.

"Mando?" You avoided using his real name around other people, as you'd agreed when he first told you. It was a small price for such a wonderful gift. His name. "You're here. You came for me?"

"Yes." He fumbled with your restraints, managing to get the ones off your ankles and moving to the ones on your wrists.

You looked at the other guy who had slipped his helmet off at some point. The bald guy. "Hang on. I saw you earlier. You walked through here with that guy in charge and-" Your eyes snapped back to Din. "That was you."

He was looking at you through the helmet, you could tell. "Come on, we don't have much time."

"B-but... you... your face." Your voice was weak, mind scrambling back to the memory of him. Brown eyes. Sad eyes. Messy hair. Unkempt facial hair. Strong nose. Golden skin. Beautiful.

He faltered. "I know. I did what had to be done."

"You broke your creed." You were almost crying. "To save me."

Hesitation. "Yes, of course. Come on."

The shackles finally fell from your wrists and you launched yourself at him, embracing him even if you were in a life or death situation.

"Thank you."

He seemed uncertain at the gesture as his arms slowly wrapped around your waist. "You don't have to thank me."

You pulled away quickly, not wanting to push it and make him uncomfortable. "Yes, I do." Looking back at the bald guy as you stood up, you squinted at him. "You're familiar."

"Mayfeld." He had a smirk on his face as he watched the interaction between you and Din, sticking out his hand in greeting but you ignored it. "You're welcome for this, by the way. I'm the main reason we're here right now saving you."

His name reminded you of who he was, a scowl settling over your face. "I appreciate it. But we're not out yet. They have people guarding everywhere. And I mean everywhere."

"It won't be a problem." Din's voice was low as he straightened up.

"How do you know so much about this place, hm?" Mayfeld asked you, stepping slightly closer.

"I may have attempted an escape... once or twice." You shrugged and kicked your restraints away from your feet. "That's why I was chained to the wall."

The two men were silent as they stared at you, Mayfeld looking surprised and Din's gaze burning into you despite being obscured by the helmet.

"I know their rotation schedules, how long of a gap there is between shift changes and which Troopers like me best so will leave the handcuffs a little looser." You looked between the two of them. "What? I had time to plan."

"And what have we got now?" Din questioned, glancing back at the open bars. "Anything scheduled to happen?"

You thought it over for a moment, glancing at the clock just outside of your cell. "Shift change in about six minutes. There will be a thirty-three second gap where the doors are unmanned."

"We can work with that." The Mandalorian replied, producing a pair of handcuffs from his back pocket.

A sick feeling settled in your stomach at the sight of them. "Ah, so I'm fake prisoner. Right?"

"In case we come across anyone." Mayfeld explained, a smug grin on his face. "Need to make it believable that we're moving you to a new cell."

With a nod, you looked back up to Din. "Be gentle, okay?"

"Of course, cyar'ika."

You sighed, storing away the nickname to ask about it later. "Where's Grogu?"

His fists clenched by his sides, the leather of his gloves squeaking. "They still have him."

Bile rose in your throat. "What?"

Why was he here if the child was still missing?

"Maker, why are you here?" You asked him, pushing at his shoulder. "You need to save him!"

"I'm here to save you." He was already bored with you again, you could tell by the lack of emotion in his voice. Maybe he was regretting saving you.

"I could have waited! Grogu's a baby!" You cried, worry settling in your stomach at the thought of your poor, poor Grogu possibly being tortured and experimented on whilst you were swooning over Din rescuing you.

"They had information on the kid's location here as well." The Mandalorian offered.

That made more sense. "Ah, so it wasn't just to save me."

"I would've come for you even if they had nothing on him." He sounded annoyed now, frustrated at your questioning.

"Grogu's priority." You turned to Mayfeld. "Why did you let him come here when the child is still missing?"

His hands raised in surrender. "Hey! Don't turn this on me!"

"Be more grateful." Din stated as he walked towards you and turned you around, pulling your hands behind your back to secure them in place with the cuffs. "I could have left you here forever."

You didn't want to admit out loud that what he had just suggested was your worst fear and something you truly believed until he'd showed up. A part of you thought you'd be there for the rest of your life. But you couldn't tell him that. So you offered a weak joke.

"You know what they say... third time's the charm. I'm sure my next attempt at an escape would have worked." The cuffs clicked into place and you tried not to focus on the feeling of being restrained again. You'd spent too long like this, and here you were about to escape and you were back in the same position. It was almost funny.

Din could sense your unease and placed a gloved hand on the small of your back in reassurance.

"Let's go." Mayfeld chimed and marched out of the cell in front of the two of you.

You swallowed the lump in your throat and followed behind, Din's hands locked around yours to make sure the restraints didn't pull too harshly. Weaving in and out of corridors was dangerous, especially with the guards constantly patrolling. Unfortunately, it didn't take long before you bumped into a couple of them.

"Halt!" They shouted, raising their weapons to the three of you. "What are you doing with prisoner five six one?"

There was probably too long of a pause between the question and the answer that was finally given, setting off the initial seed of suspicion.

Mayfeld stepped in with his sly smile. "We were instructed to move the prisoner to a new cell."

The two guards bowed their heads together, mumbling a quick debate. Your hands twitched with nerves behind your back and you felt the Mandalorian trace a thumb over them in comfort. It somewhat worked.

"We'll need you to come with us to confirm." One of them said, straightening up and re-aiming his blaster right at you.

"I'm sorry, cyar'ika." Din grumbled with a sigh behind you before there was a slight squeeze on the side of your neck and you were out.

When you awoke you were surrounded by the sounds of a humming engine and the whirring of the inside of a ship. You jolted up and almost hit your head on the top of the bunk you'd been placed in.

Wait. A bunk?

You looked around you rapidly to suddenly realise that you weren’t just in any bed. You were in Din’s bed. On the Razor Crest.

You jumped out of it and stumbled once you landed on your feet, leaning on the wall for support.

“Woah, woah! Slow down, take it easy.” A modulated voice appeared behind you as strong arms wrapped around your torso to keep you steady.

“I’m fine, I’m fine.” You slurred, still slightly groggy from being unconscious. “How long was I out?”

“A few hours.” Din replied, letting you turn to look at him. He was back in his Beskar armour, looking as shiny as ever. The sight of him made you smile.

“You knocked me out!” You cried but there wasn’t an ounce of real anguish in your voice. In fact, it was rather playful.

He didn’t seem to pick up on that. “It was necessary.”

You waved your hand at him, showing you weren’t really bothered by that. So you approached the subject you were really affected by. “You saved me.”

“Yes.” His voice was a gentle rasp as he spoke the singular word. He was never much of a talker. But you hung on to every word.

“Why?”

“What do you mean why?”

“You removed your helmet to save me.” You frowned at him, like you were annoyed at him for breaking his creed.

Another rasp. “Yes.”

“But-“

“But what?”

You laughed like it was obvious. "I don't understand why. I'm just me."

"And it's just a creed."

Your head reared back. "Just a creed?"

"Just you?" He answered back, imitating your tone and inflection.

"That's- Din, it's your life. Being a Mandalorian is everything to you.” You cried, hands waving in emphasis. “Why would you risk that? For me?"

His head tilted to the side in his usual expression of emotion. Or lack of. "This is the Way."

"No.” You snapped. “The Way is not showing your face under any circumstances. And you- you showed your face!"

"To save you."

"Yes!"

The helmet tilted even further. "What part do you not understand?"

"I'm not worth it." You said, hands wringing together in front of you. And you truly believed what you were saying.

"What?"

"Why would you do that for me?"

"I'd do anything for you."

Your mouth snapped shut, the protest you had prepared dying in your throat.

"You and the kid. I'd tear apart this galaxy for the both of you. You're... you're part of my clan."

A part of you wished he'd left you in that prison. If he'd done that then your head wouldn't be spinning and you wouldn't be overwhelmed with emotions at what he was throwing at you in that moment. His clan. You were a member of his clan.

"Din..."

His name was soft from your lips and he sighed slowly at the sound.

"The only way to explain is-" He cut himself off and inhaled, taking a step closer to you. Placing his hand under your chin, he tilted your head up to face him and lowered his helmet so your foreheads rested together. The cold of his armour sent shivers down your spine. Although it might have also been caused by the action of what he was doing, what he was saying.

Din had explained this to you before when you'd asked about affection between the people of Mandalore. It was a way for Mandalorians to kiss without having to show their faces. It was... intimate, to say the least.

Your eyes fluttered shut when the reality of what he was telling you dawned. "Din..."

Another soft whisper of his name had him sighing again.

Unfortunately, he took it the wrong way and pulled back. "You don't have to- The kid and you are important to me. That's... that's what you need to know. About why- why I did this."

You shook your head and smiled at him, hooking your hand around the back of his neck and tugging him down towards you again so your foreheads touched. "And I was willing to die in that prison to keep you and the child safe."

"They... they were planning to kill you?"

"I kept refusing to teach them how to get the kid to use his wizard baby powers. And I wouldn't tell them where you were either. Or how to contact you."

"What did they need me for?"

"See you as a threat. Or to use me as bait. I'm not sure which. Maybe both."

"It would've worked. You as bait. If I didn't already know where you were, of course."

"Of course." You grinned at him and hoped he was smiling back. You tended to guess what his facial expressions were, normally hoping that he was returning whatever you gave him but usually settling on the fact that he was probably bored and his face would show it. "I missed you."

"I missed you too, cyar'ika."

Your stomach flipped at the Mando'a. "What does that mean?"

"It's Mando'a."

"I guessed that. I'm asking for a translation." You rolled your eyes, finally pulling back from the Mandalorian kiss to look at him properly again. "I hope it's something nice."

You could tell he was smiling when he said his next words. They were hesitant, but tender. "It means darling or sweetheart. A term of endearment."

"Oh... that's- that is nice." Mentally berating yourself, you bit on your lower lip to hold back an excited giggle. Nice? There were so many words that were better than nice. "I don't have anything like that where I'm from. If I did I'd-"

He cut you off with a hand cupping your cheek. "I know, cyar'ika. I know."

There was a moment of silence as the two of you just looked at each other. It was broken when Din sighed suddenly and dropped his hand from your cheek.

"I never wanted you to see my face that way."

Oh.

"Din, I-" You cut yourself off to contemplate your words. "I'm sorry that you had to reveal your face. And that I saw. If I'd known... I wouldn't have stared at you."

"No, I didn't mean it like that." He exhaled loudly. "Do you remember? What I look like?"

The memory of his face flashed in your mind. Of course you remembered. Every single detail. And you'd probably secretly treasure it for the rest of your life.

"Yes..."

His head dropped for a second, helmet aimed at the floor, before it suddenly shot back up to meet your gaze. "And?"

"And what?" Having no idea what he was asking of you, your brows scrunched together.

He was so close now that you were sure you'd be able to hear his breathing even without the modulator. "Was I- was I a disappointment?"

"What?" Disbelief ran through you. How could this wonderful, gorgeous man ever be a disappointment? With or without the helmet obscuring his face he had always been and would always be perfect to you.

"Well, you must have had some... some image of what I'd look like in your head."

You immediately disagreed with him. "No, never."

"Don't lie. It's okay. You can tell me."

"I'm not lying. And I am telling you."

"Cyar'ika..."

Your heart did somersaults in your chest. "No, I never conjured up some fantasy of what you'd look like. Because this here-" You gestured at the whole of him, hand waving up and down his body. "-is my Din. This is you to me. Why would I ever warp who you truly are for some made up version?"

"You must've been curious."

You shrugged. "Maybe at the beginning. But who you are on the inside is all that has ever mattered to me."

"So what did you think when you saw my face?"

Your eyes snapped away from his on instinct, embarrassment crawling through you as you recalled your immediate thoughts of him. Thoughts you'd pushed away at the time because you thought he was a Trooper. Thoughts that had resurfaced when you found out that it was really him.

"Oh, no thoughts." Your voice was weak, barely coming out as more than a squeak. It was clear you were lying. "Just that you were a man..."

"Cyar'ika..."

A flush racked through you at the use of the term of endearment. He knew how to make you weak in the knees, how to make you break, you were sure of it.

"Calling me that isn't fair."

"Don't avoid the question." His head tilted to the side. "Tell me. What did you think?"

Unsure at how he'd turned from insecure, sweet Din to a version of Din that had you swooning, you shook your head at him. "I told you. No thoughts."

"And I can tell you're lying. Look at me." He placed his fingers under your chin to angle you to face him. "Tell me."

You started with a small truth. "Your eyes were sadder than I thought they'd be."

He seemed slightly taken aback by that but didn't hesitate too much in answering. "I was scared I'd lost you."

"But I thought you said you didn't know they were planning on killing me?"

"It was always a possibility." He shrugged. "We were getting towards the end of the cells when I saw you. I was... getting nervous. Thought maybe they'd transferred you somewhere else and I'd never find you. Couldn't live with that idea."

If it were possible, you softened even more under his touch. "But you did find me. And I'm here. Safe. Because of you."

"Hmm." He just hummed in agreement, shifting his hand so it moved to cup your jaw instead. "What else?"

You huffed, hoping you'd got out of the line of questioning about your opinions on his appearance. Whilst having openly admitted a whole spout of feelings for each other, you weren't quite ready to declare how absolutely breathtaking he was.

"Don't make me say it."

"Say what, cyar'ika? Hm? I'm just asking."

You leaned into his touch, the warmth from his palm along with the sound of the Mando'a pet name set off a spark within you. When his gloved thumb swooped over your cheek gently you were sure that your brain short circuited.

"You're beautiful, Din."

The statement was breathless but held certainty in it. The Mandalorian didn't reply, too shocked by your confession. He honestly hadn't been expecting you to be so open. And to say that of all things.

So you kept going. "It was never going to matter to me what you looked like underneath the Beskar. Because who you are as a person is the only important thing. But I have to admit that I thought you were gorgeous when you walked past my cell. And then I immediately felt guilty because I thought you were a Trooper." Your head dipped in shame for a moment. "You are beautiful, Din Djarin. Inside and out."

He still said nothing, hands just lifting to the bottom of his helmet.

When you heard the hiss of the seal, your hands slapped across your eyes. "Ah! What are you doing?"

"Taking off my helmet. What are you doing?" He sounded amused.

"Covering my eyes so I don't see obviously." You scoffed and scrunched your eyes beneath your palms.

"Cyar'ika, you've already seen my face."

"So? I might have remembered details wrong."

"Thought you said I was beautiful?"

You huffed, not liking how he was turning that against you. "I did but revealing your identity is a big no-no, Din! That's what the Way says, right?"

"Right." He was holding back laughter.

"Exactly! Doesn't matter if I've seen you before. Might not remember you completely correctly." You remembered him completely correctly. "So we cannot risk you revealing yourself a whole other time."

The way you were so respectful of his creed, no matter how ridiculous you were being at that moment with your hands pressed tightly over your eyes, had Din tingling inside.

"I don't think it's a risk if you've seen me before and you're a part of my clan, hm?"

You grumbled something underneath your breath. "I can't argue with you on Mandalorian culture because you're the expert. But I feel as if you're finding loopholes here."

"Perhaps. Just look."

The sound of his helmet hissing and the dull clang of it hitting the floor had you hesitating before slowly peeling your hands away from your face.

He was exactly how you remembered.

Every line, every scar, every eyelash, every inch of skin, the deep brown of his eyes, the angle of his nose, the unruly tufts of curls atop his head and the uneven patches of facial hair peppered across his jaw and down his neck. This was your Din Djarin. Stood in front of you, everything exposed and exactly how you remembered him. Exactly how you wanted him. Perfect. The whole of him was perfect.

With a stifled sigh of relief, you reached out your hands to cup his face, hesitating for a moment when you realised he might hate that. "Can I?"

He nodded, his eyes looking sad yet hopeful - an improvement from the last time you saw them.

Your palms settled on his cheeks, thumbs swiping over his cheeks and across his bristly stubble. A smile broke across your face when his eyelids closed and he leaned in your touch.

"Oh, Din..." Tears sprang to your eyes yet you couldn't exactly explain why, the flood of emotions was overwhelming.

"Cyar'ika..." He breathed against the skin of your wrist, turning slightly in your grasp to plant his lips against your palm.

You took a step closer to him, encouraging him to duck down and rest his forehead against yours. A Mandalorian kiss, stripped of the barrier between the two of you. He let out a shaky sigh as you made contact, his hair tickling your brow.

"When was the last time someone touched you? Skin on skin?" You needed to know, he was acting like he'd never felt the warmth of physical contact before.

He hummed lowly in his chest as he thought about it, eyes shut tight in contemplation. "My parents, I think."

Your heart ached for him. It had been decades. You wanted more, to give him more, but worried that it might be too much too fast. But you yearned to touch him, to show him how good it could be.

Broken out of your thoughts by a rustling noise between the two of you, you glanced down without breaking away from him to see that he was removing his leather gloves and throwing them to the floor beside you.

You stared at his hands, scars littering both the palms and the backs. You'd never wanted someone to touch you with their hands more.

Din appeared to have the same thought as he hovered them over your sides, fists clenching open and closed. "Can I?"

"Can you what, hm?" You wanted- no needed him to say it, to be as clear as possible between you.

"Touch you. Can I touch you please?" His eyes were still closed but you could see he was restless behind his lids, almost worried even.

"Of course you can."

You expected him to just place his hands on your hips or waist, which he did technically. What you didn't expect was for him to slide his hands underneath the hem of your shirt and place them directly onto your skin, squeezing slightly when he made contact.

You hummed contently in acknowledgement to tell him that it was okay and stepped closer to him, your chest pressing up against the Beskar now.

“Can I kiss you?” The question was sudden, hushed, almost unsure.

You didn’t hesitate in tilting your head upwards and reassuring him of how much you wanted exactly that. “I’m so glad you asked.”

Then his lips were on yours, a relieved sigh exiting him and a content one leaving you.

You moved together in time, like you knew how the other worked and what they wanted. And maybe you did. Maybe you knew each so well, or knew that the other wanted the same thing you did. Din’s thumbs stroked gently at the skin of your waist and yours swiped over his cheeks, brushing away a stray tear that had fallen from his eyes. His sad, brown eyes. You hoped they’d be less sad in the future.

He broke away for a moment to mumble against your lips. "I was so scared I'd lost you."

You shook your head and kissed him again. "I thought I'd never see you again."

“I wouldn’t have left you there.” He promised, hands gripping you impossibly tighter. “There isn’t a single thing I wouldn’t have done to get you back.”

You just nodded at him, believing every word he was saying, and pulled him closer to kiss you again. The way his lips melded against yours and the way your tongues curled together had you convinced that this was meant to be. It was so utterly perfect that it felt as if the stars had written it centuries ago, always destined to happen.

“Cyar’ika…” He hummed to you when you both broke away again for some air.

As much as you wanted this moment to last forever, a thought suddenly re-entered your mind. “Grogu!”

“It’s okay. We know where he is and we’re on our way to get him back.” He smiled at your concern for the child, understanding it completely. He felt the same after all.

You nodded gently, relieved that the child would be back and safe soon enough. Then things really would be back to how they should be again. The three of you - you, your Mandalorian and your green child. Perfect.

A/N: this has been under works for agessss… hope you enjoyed!

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btsmosphere · 2 months

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Supercharged | JJK

Chapter 15: Powerless

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🗲summary: It starts with a blow to the chest that changes your life. When your city’s most celebrated hero pays a visit, it turns out the noble Bolt has no trouble tossing lives aside. Lives that won't be missed. Lives like yours. Seven mysterious and powerful men give you another chance – one that starts to feel more like a curse the moment you meet golden boy Jungkook. The boy who wants you as far from his brothers as he can get you. Is it you he hates, or the blue lightning that now runs through your veins? And could it be his golden light that illuminates your heart when darkness threatens? 🗲this chapter: It's time to make the fight on your terms.

🗲pairing: jungkook x female reader 🗲word count: 6.4k 🗲genre: angst, action, eventual fluff, enemies to lovers, slow burn, superheroes/villains au, found family 🗲rating: pg15 🗲warnings: violence, violence with superpowers, murder, this is the most violent one, swearing, injuries, discussion of homelessness, discussion of crime

a/n: If you didn't read the warnings!! Or even if you did! This is your warning for on-screen murder. It's not very gory, but it is very much there. (spoiler, but) we kill our villains in this one lads, it was kind of the whole point of this thing :))) also most of the word count on this one is the fight so help me lmao, why do I do this to myself🤣 With that out of the way, I am super excited for this chapter!! Protective Jungkook now applies to yn maybe more than anyone and hello yes I am here for it (ofc bc I wrote it ksdfghfl) Enjoy!! And do let me know if you like it!💜💜

Jungkook’s hand was still clutched in yours as you crept together through alleyways. Far, now, from your usual haunt, you recognised none of these streets, but Jungkook never hesitated in his steps.

Sure enough, he led you round a cluster of dustbins on one corner and stopped at last in front of a heavy door. Graffiti was scrawled over the entrance and across the entire wall. If you were to arrive here in the dark, you may not have noticed the seam marking out a doorway at all.

“I thought he might choose this place,” Jungkook muttered to you, “this is where Namjoon first picked me up, after I got my powers. He operated from here until his partnerships brought in enough money for the place in town.”

He turned to knock on the door. All you could do was squeeze his hand, eyeing the surroundings. Things must have changed from before. This was where your team had begun, long before you came into the picture.

The door swung open. Jin’s face emerged, morphing instantly from hostility to relief when he saw you.

Then his eyes moved down, and lingered on your clasped hands.

If you weren’t mistaken, a faint smirk lifted his mouth, but he closed his lips matter-of-factly and forced it away. Only a telltale raise of his eyebrows made you chew your lip as he let you both past him and inside.

A murky corridor led to another sturdy door, and then you were in a larger room. It was bare of furniture, the most notable features the peeling paint and a threadbare carpet lining the space. The walls either side of you sported large windows, but the curtains remained drawn; Yoongi could be the only explanation for the room being fully lit regardless. There were no bulbs in the fixtures.

Something in your chest loosened at the sight of your whole team gathered inside. Everyone had got here before you. Namjoon was pacing in the centre. Hobi slumped against the far wall, Jimin beside him, clothes bloody but a beaming smile on his face.

At the clunk of the door, Namjoon whirled around, finally stopping his impatient strides.

All eyes fell on you. A similar reaction to Jin’s outside swept the room. Reluctantly, you and Jungkook let your fingers slide apart, although you shifted a little closer to him.

Namjoon’s stare, intense and unreadable as always, left you in such suspense that you had to look away. Unfortunately, it brought you eye-to-eye with Jimin, who was being the least subtle of them all. His cheeks were plump with the force of his smile, and he wiggled his eyebrows at you.

You bit back your own grin.

Namjoon, for his part, shook his head and resolved to ignore it. Or deal with it later, at least.

“What did you guys do?”

Or maybe not. Clamping your mouth shut, your eyes widened a fraction. What were you supposed to tell him?

“We, uh-” Jungkook stammered out, before Namjoon pinched his brow.

“I mean with the monster that attacked us,” he cut you off.

You sighed in relief.

“Oh, that…” Jungkook laughed, sheepish.

In three brusque strides, Namjoon marched closer, towards an old television in the corner behind you. A red glow surrounded it as he rapped on the top, and then images flickered to life on the screen.

Blue lights and smoke washed over vehicles rammed haphazardly into a street. Your street.

You didn’t bother reading the fast-scrolling banner below the picture, letting the voiceover fill you in.

“Reports were made of Bolt heading to stop a creature, which he claimed to have escaped from within an operating villain base…” the reporter read, “but on arrival, the beast appears to have been tamed. No damage was sustained to surrounding properties, and a team is working to sedate and control it…”

The screen flashed to a blurry close-up of Frank as you had left him, snoring among the wreckage.

“How the hell did you stop it?” Namjoon demanded, the device blinking back to silence as he turned back to you and Jungkook.

“Well, Y/N, um…” Jungkook gestured for you to take over.

“It’s one of Kuyang’s,” you explained, “there’s this patch behind his ear, it sends him right to sleep. It’s just… a bit difficult to get to.”

“That thing has ears?” Jin echoed.

Namjoon folded his arms and took in the both of you.

“Good work, then. That was lucky. At least it’s lessened some of what Bolt’s trying to pin on us. But this was more than a simple attack.”

He paced again to the centre of the room.

“Bolt doesn’t act on accident; he’s showed us that much. He tried to take us out directly today. He wants to eradicate us. That’s his message, and it’s final. He’ll keep coming for us until one side is destroyed.”

His words bristled around the room, but not with fear. You sensed the rage and determination you shared with your brothers.

You weren’t backing down.

If Bolt was going to make it us vs them, you would just have to win that fight.

Turning, Namjoon met eyes with Jin, who stepped forward to stand beside him.

“At least we know what Bolt has at his disposal,” Jin said, “and what he doesn’t. We know the weapons we’re up against, so I think we can take on any fighters he sends our way. What really counts is the man himself.”

“We’re going to him, right?” Yoongi spoke from his place leaning against the curtain. “I don’t want to wait for him to come after us again. He wants the fight; we make it on our terms.”

Regarding him seriously, Namjoon nodded.

Meanwhile, Jin’s words were stirring something else in your mind. Something you had forgotten in the blur of defeat and panic that had ensued since your fight with Monsoon.

We know what weapons we’re up against…

“Wait,” you breathed. It was enough to snag the group’s attention, tense gazes all finding you. Closest was Jungkook, frowning down at you.

You gulped, and met their eyes.

“When I went after Monsoon,” you began, “I found the shield ray, even if I didn’t get hold of it. But that wasn’t all… He had a collection. And I recognised another one, too. I thought I had burned it up, in the parking lot, but there was another one.”

You had to admit that some nerves crept in at the unsettled silence that followed. Namjoon stared.

“No…” he shook his head, “you’re saying they have the Razer?”

“The one that takes your powers…” you replied, “yes.”

Namjoon swore.

“You definitely destroyed it?”

“Without a doubt,” Jungkook cut in, “I felt the shockwaves in that fight.”

You nodded along with him. Namjoon wasn’t asking to doubt you, though, and took you at your word. You had seen the broken, lifeless shell of that awful gun. No, they had gained another somehow.

“They must have got hold of a blueprint, or a prototype, somehow,” Jin suggested.

“However they did it, it’s best we know what we’re going up against,” Namjoon resolved. He looked around, meeting everyone’s eyes. “You all know what it looks like?”

Nods met him.

“Then watch your backs. We’re still doing this.”

“What was it like?”

By now, you were acquainted with the view from this spot, sitting against the wall in a corner of this place. But how different had it been, when the boys still lived here?

“Hm?”

Jungkook turned to you, resting his head back against the wall. The two of you sat not far from the others, all of you sitting around waiting for Hobi to heal up and for Jin to get whatever results he was hoping for from a beat-up laptop he had pulled from somewhere. You had no idea if he had brought it with him, found it in here, or stolen it. You wouldn’t ask, either.

Though the room was wide open now, you still sat shoulder-to-shoulder with Jungkook like you had in that cramped hallway. It was difficult to keep the same feeling at bay too. His presence lit you up where you touched, but in front of the others you had to keep up some semblance of sanity, and keep from pouncing on him.

“When you first came here,” you forced your eyes away from his softly quirked lips, and to the room. “What was it like?”

To your dismay, his brows pinched into a frown. He eyed the walls, traced them up to the ceiling with its patches of damp.

He shifted his arm against yours in a shrug.

“It was a roof over my head,” he murmured, “at first.”

“Oh,” you stammered, quiet in your shock, “sorry…”

With a blink and a shake of his head, you watched him pull himself back to you. He shot you a disarmingly genuine smile, albeit small.

“Not your fault,” he assured you, “I never told you.”

Instantly, you knew what he was talking about. Just like you, Jungkook must have first moved in after he got his powers. Of course, the balm of the support from (most of) the others had eventually smoothed over the wounds that heralded your arrival.

They wouldn’t be forgotten though.

Nor would you forget your brothers’ wounds. Jungkook had yet to entrust you with his story, the knowledge of those probably painful moments. He had hardly let you near it, all this time.

“You don’t have to-” you said hastily, but he surprised you.

You spotted his jaw tighten, but his voice was level.

“After my dad… I had nothing. The first time I met Namjoon, I didn’t have powers. I did a job for him. I used to steal; it was about the only thing I could do. My dad taught me to fight, once, after he was home late and some older kids tried to break into our place. I fell in with a certain crowd, but half of them were backstabbing sneaks.”

You weren’t sure he even knew he was scowling as he said that. Despite your horror, you couldn’t break your gaze away from Jungkook as he told the story, spelling out what you had always wondered.

He looked over to Namjoon then, snarl easing.

“I guess he thought I was good. He gave me more jobs, paid good money. It wasn’t one of his where it happened. We were taking some kind of reactor – I can hardly remember the plan. Someone wanted power out to rob a string of banks, I think… All that matters is it went wrong. It wasn’t safe, and it… blew up.”

Your chest tightened along with his voice, hearing him straining to keep his throat from closing.

He slumped back against the wall then. Fixed his eyes on yours.

“I got the brunt of it. Two of the others died. One of them ran away when I woke up and asked him to help me. And there was this… this burning I didn’t understand…”

“I remember,” you whispered.

Slowly, he closed his lips. His eyes bled with recognition. You felt it too, conflict constricting your chest. Appreciation that you could share the feeling, understand one another without the need for explanation, mingled with the strain in your heart of knowing he had been subjected to the same torture.

Here you both were, on the other side of it.

Jungkook took a bracing breath, shifted up where he had sagged down the wall – towards you.

“Namjoon found me.”

His voice brightened almost immediately, and he was looking around the room with new eyes of the old memories.

“V came along not too long after I did… It was the boys that made it home. They still do.”

A soft smile took your lips without thought, and you followed his gaze fondly.

The moment your eyes fell on Jin, you saw him perk up, straightening his back. Then he let out a cheerful “Aha!”.

He was the centre of attention that instant, and went on without prompting, fingers still clacking away at the laptop.

“I managed to get into our own system – and Bolt’s taken something!”

“And that’s… good?” you questioned his jubilant tone.

Keeping his eyes trained on the screen, he quirked his head.

“It means I can see where he’s taking it.”

Namjoon came to hover over Jin’s shoulder until they were satisfied. Soon enough, you found yourself refreshing the mental list of what you were about to go up against.

“If he even manages to get it up and running before we get there, it only has three charges per round. This is the first time I’m glad I haven’t improved it yet,” Jin chuckled, telling you about the newest addition to Bolt’s arsenal, the one he took right from your lab. “Jungkook or YN’s powers will take it out easily.”

And so he went on, through power-extending shurikens to the shield rifle Monsoon had stolen, all the things that had slipped through your fingers and how to defeat them.

“And the Razer…” Jin landed on the last one, but tailed off and exchanged a look with Namjoon.

“Just don’t get hit,” the leader said.

Several eyebrows raised in trepidation. You shuddered with an echoing memory of the gun’s piercing cold.

“Hobi,” Namjoon turned away from the subject, “how are you healing up?”

Shifting to sit away from the wall, Hope pulled down the collar of his shirt to reveal the skin where Frank had slashed him. It was still pink, but completely closed by now.

“Better,” he beamed.

“Okay,” Namjoon fixed him with a stern eye, “but check in. If it’s putting you at a disadvantage, I want you out of there.”

“Yes boss,” Hobi replied with a grin and a mock salute.

From that alone, you were sure he was feeling better.

“I say” – Jin shut the laptop with a clack – “we’ve waited long enough.”

You couldn’t help but agree. It felt good to get on your feet again. Inside your chest, the warmth of your powers bubbled alongside your bristling determination. Just enough for you to feel them, to assure you.

A private smile stole across your face, and you turned towards Jungkook.

He found you first. A gentle touch on your wrist made you glance down. His thumb ran firmly, softly, over the skin there, and when you looked up his eyes were dark and affirming.

You realised then, that his defensive ring of fire had never burnt away. You were only on the other side of it, one of the ones he accepted in. His look was one of complete trust. When he nodded, you nodded back.

Let’s do this.

Having been inside for some time, the lot of you know marched out to find it night, the city drenched in the darkness of who-knew-what hour. Your ‘march’ was actually more of a light-footed sneaking. Setting off any alarm bells just yet would blow the operation. Together, your group wove through shadows out of this part of town, unnoticed thanks to the camouflage Yoongi effortlessly provided.

Up ahead, Jin checked around corners and led you on, the buildings rising further above you at every turn. Neon screens flashed through the night in these neighbourhoods, where the inhabitants had money to spare.

The walk couldn’t have been long, but you were a world away from the run-down hideout by the time Jin stopped, facing one of many high buildings of polished glass and chrome.

“So this is it?” Jimin asked, head tilting back.

Your eyes, instead of trailing up the building like Jimin’s, found a looming structure beside it. A pylon planted firm in the ground, standing just taller than the building itself, up to a spidery convergence of wires webbed over the city rooves.

“Well, that sure is handy for someone like him,” Jin scoffed.

Hobi rolled his neck, already striding towards it.

“And now it’s handy for us.”

His leap up three rungs was unnecessary, really. The rest of you followed behind like the mere mortals you were, clambering as silently as you could between the intersecting beams, the metal cold beneath your hands.

You looked back once, finding Namjoon and Jin still on the ground.

“I’ll see you afterwards,” Namjoon was telling him grimly, “all of us have to fight.”

“I know,” Jin agreed. Then he punched him in the arm. “And I had better, alright? See you afterwards, I mean.”

Your leader nodded, then stepped forward to the pylon. You looked ahead and pushed on upwards.

It shouldn’t have surprised you to find Bolt in a penthouse. Following the others, you hopped from the pylon onto the skyscraper’s rooftop; only Namjoon stayed behind. It wasn’t so tall as Kuyang’s lab had been, but it felt miles above. In the darkness, a few glimmering lights dotted the edges of what appeared to be an eerie garden of sorts, although no plants were in sight. Dark tile slabs ran underfoot, broken up by sculptures you couldn’t discern beyond shadows.

The rooftop was halved, your group gathering on the lower segment while a set of stairs rose another floor to more of the same; Bolt’s viewpoint over the city. Though your eyes darted between the statues, each one playing tricks on you as if they were people watching, your gaze rested eventually on two large glass doors beside the stairway.

A distant light from further inside showed just enough for you to see beyond the glass. An entire wall was decked in little plates, things you vaguely recognised as city awards, only seen on the screens and papers.

A trophy for each life Bolt had taken would have filled the whole building, let alone a feature wall, you thought.

The small huddle of you poised still, hunters, waiting. In the last few seconds before that silence would be broken, you felt Jungkook step behind you.

“This ends now.”

The voice coming over your shoulder was made of everything he was. Electricity, cold and bitter like metal, aflame with determination. The rows, fists and shouting, the tentative midnight whispers, his kisses.

His hurt and all the things he covered it with.

Namjoon didn’t even have to ask his soldiers if they were ready. He raised his arms and slammed palms back down against metal, and a red glow silhouetted you all like a sinister halo.

Everything went dark.

The meagre light inside the property blinked off. The glare of signs across the road plunged away to nothing. Only the dotted perimeter lights, which must run on for emergencies, remained.

Footsteps behind you brought Namjoon through the pack to its head.

Ahead, something moved beyond the glass. Your gaze sharpened on it as the handle turned, the door swinging soundlessly outwards.

While not in full gear, as he had been when he first attacked you, Bolt’s blue mask was in place. Otherwise, he wore dark, comfortable clothes. Internally, you celebrated the small evidence that you really had caught him unawares.

“I should have known,” his voice carried over to you, inflated with arrogance. “Flush out the rats and they’ll have nowhere left to run.”

In your ear, a sharp inhale sent your eyes to Jungkook for a second. His fists tightened at his sides.

“You’ve taken enough, Bolt,” Namjoon spoke. If you didn’t know him, you may not have caught the dark rage burning below his even words.

Then he raised his arms, stretched them towards the man in blue.

A great gust whisked from behind you, snatching at your hair, but you stood firm. In front of you, Bolt was thrown backwards by the air, colliding with the glass behind him.

The starting gun had been fired.

As your enemy crashed through a shower of glass, you began to run. Shards of it scattered, glittering, under your pounding feet. You skidded to the doorway just as Bolt drew back to his feet in the shadows.

Raising your arms to continue the offensive, you were cut short. A startling flash blazed in your vision. In that split-second, it illuminated a smiling Bolt, gun ready at his hip. Just long enough for your heart to sink.

The shield rifle, the very one you had failed to protect.

It seemed only right that you should pay the price.

Its impact slammed against you, wrenching your outstretched arm backwards. The pale sphere it had fired, glowing and crackling, caught hold and took you with it, ensnaring your wrist like a constricting snake. Helpless to detach yourself, your body flailed through the air behind it.

Someone called your name.

Just as fast, you jerked to a stop. Below you, your feet flung out above nothing. Your heart jumped.

Looking around wildly, you found the forcefield had snagged on the wall, stuck fast to it just like it did your arm. It was the only thing holding you here.

Somewhere behind you, above you, grunts and thuds assured you that the fight continued. For now, you had to get out of this trap before Bolt could reach you again, attack you in this helpless position.

“Y/N!”

Jimin’s voice rushed closer. It was an effort to crane your head up to see him. Pale pink hair poked over the ledge.

“Grab on!” he called.

You didn’t hesitate. Swinging yourself up with a kick, you grabbed desperately for the hand he reached out. Finding it clumsily, you clutched to his wrist with clammy fingers. Next moment, he hauled you up, clamping both hands around yours until you rolled over the wall and your feet stumbled against solid ground.

But you still weren’t free.

The forcefield bit at your arm when you tried to drag it free. You cursed.

“It’s just energy,” Jimin spoke, frowning at the luminescent mass.

Then he took a breath, frowning in concentration. With one push of his hand, the sphere shifted, as if it was simply a ball from training.

Resisting, you pulled the other way. For a second, it constricted harder, making your heart clench in dread of following it. Then all at once you were falling free, tumbling to the floor as the forcefield rolled out of sight over the edge.

Hurried hands tugged you up and you were wheeling around to face the battle.

“Thanks,” you quickly clapped Jimin on the shoulder. A brief grin from him, and you dived together back towards the fray.

More shining energy fields pulsed against one wall, but it seemed the others had dodged them. You ran past the discarded weapon on the floor. But there were more where it had come from.

A bright blue jet, just like your own, fizzled against a statue and sent it thundering to the floor. Behind it, Yoongi leapt out of the way just in time. He came sprinting towards Bolt, eyes burning white.

In an instant, the hero let out a yell, clutching his eyes. Staggering, he slipped onto one knee. But in his blind panic, he whirled around, lashing out again even without a target to aim at.

Blazing blue roared outwards. Namjoon had been marching towards the fallen Bolt, but was forced to duck for cover. The lightning sliced clean through the top of the stone figure he hid behind.

Even as Bolt’s attack died, something else caught your eye. Fast as a spark from a flame, he tossed a blade into the air. It whistled, carving a streak of seething blue through the night.

A shout shot echoed across the rooftop, straight to your veins. Yoongi.

Falling from his invisible cloak of darkness, you saw a glowing blue shuriken whizz along his back. The current flew outwards across his body, throwing his pained grimace into haunting relief. The blade skittered, useless, to the ground, having wreaked its injury.

“Yoongi!” you screamed as he fell, blue light dancing over his spasming body.

Staring in horror as you were, the next flash of blue nearly caught you. Running on pure instinct, your body retaliated before you did. Snarling, your powers leapt from your palms, clashing against Bolt’s in mid-air. Blue on blue.

In the flare of sparks, Bolt smiled slowly. Never breaking the connection, he took a step forwards, cocking his head.

“So it’s true,” he spoke, “I heard about you.”

Heart hammering now, you pushed back with all your might, feeling his hostile powers wrestle with yours. They may look the same, but they felt all wrong.

“Tell me,” he took a step closer. You barely resisted the urge to draw back. “How did you do this?”

Steeling yourself with a breath, you unleashed a surge of rage, your electricity hissing through the air. It should have satisfied you to feel his power startle, stutter at the sudden attack.

All you could do was glare. He had no idea. He never thought twice about who he killed, what he took.

But as you stared, there was movement behind him. It was all you could do to keep your eyes on Bolt, willing his attention to stay on you. As it was, he had no idea that Jungkook was stalking towards him.

“I didn’t do this,” you blurted out, needing to keep him focussed. Buying Jungkook time as his face came into sharper focus, closer to the battling blue lights between you and Bolt. “You did this to me.”

You spat your words with all the venom locked inside, ready for one last push as you watched Jungkook raise both arms-

WHOOSH.

You snapped the connection, staggering backwards as Bolt whirled around.

It had not been gold that fired. In a blur, Jungkook was slammed to the ground by a column of water crashing into him.

Everyone on the rooftop turned to its source.

“Shit-” you heard someone curse.

“No,” you breathed.

Feet touching to the rooftop up ahead, among a flood of water, was Monsoon.

Another cold, arrogant grin met you all. You stared in horror. Only Bolt laughed, stepping forwards to climb to his ally’s side. They faced you all from the staircase, looking down.

Pushing himself to his feet, Jungkook’s eyes blazed gold beneath dripping strands of hair.

“Jungkook! No!” you cried, but too late.

Gold split the night, but against Monsoon there was no use. Water surged instantly towards him again, and though your powers protested, burning in your chest with the need to act, you could only stand by. You couldn’t fight him.

Shimmering water engulfed the gold strands. Soon they would immobilise Jungkook, the moment it made contact…

Instead, a red glow sprung up in front of Jungkook with only a split-second to spare, sending the deluge spraying around the shield.

“Let’s start with you, then,” Monsoon smirked.

When you looked back to him, you swore your heart stopped beating.

Raised in one hand, pointing straight at Jungkook, was the Razer. Its eerie white form stood out starkly against the night sky.

The dead white light at its centre jumped to life. A whirring began, menacing and low. It rose at the same rate the strands of light started spinning within the sphere, preparing to drain its victim of all power.

It was stupid. It was stupid, you had already failed once before. You had watched Jungkook fail just seconds ago. There was nothing you could do, yet you had to do something.

You fired at Monsoon.

Easily, he raised his free hand to deflect.

But as the water rushed towards you, Jimin sprinted towards Monsoon. Thrusting an arm forward, he sent a fallen statue flying between you, a silhouette. Your eyes widened in realisation.

The inundation hit the stone with such force, you almost thought it would crack. But no – it sent the writhing water shooting straight back at its commander.

Darting forward, you shot without hesitation. Blue burst from you. The bright tendrils wove into the stream, flying like darts through the current and towards Monsoon. There was no time for him to react; only a fleeting shadow of shock stole over his face before the electricity caught him and his eyes rolled back.

You knew how it felt for your muscles to lock in place, for your body to leave your control entirely. You watched as it took hold of him, too, and smiled.

The force of the water, with no way to resist it, knocked him backwards until the floor no longer held him. A blond blur flew past you, just before the white-clad figure that was Monsoon dropped out of sight forever.

Lowering your palms, your chest heaved. Adrenaline rushed through you; this still wasn’t over.

Your eyes narrowed in on Hobi, whose feet made impact with the roof on landing. Clutched in his arms was the Razer, scooped from Monsoon’s arms just in time.

Bolt, apparently, had got over his ally’s demise already. His grief lasted the space of one step, away from the edge, before he swung round. Like you, he honed straight in on the weapon.

And then everyone moved at once.

Diving out of the path of a sinister blue bolt, Hobi rolled away on the floor. Bolt himself thudded closer, making your friend dodge again, leaping up and out of his reach. The air crackled by Bolt’s hand, but before he could summon electricity to chase Hobi down, a sheet of purple fire swept like a curtain in front of him, the fleeting shadow of V disappearing within the flames.

You were already sprinting at the enemy when Hobi touched down next to you. Stumbling around, he glanced behind him with a curse.

Confused, your eyes first darted over your friend. He didn’t seem to be more hurt, so then what-?

A clatter of metal rung through the spitting flames. Frantically searching, you quickly found the deathly white streak of the Razer on the ground, spinning away. In the desperate fumble to escape Bolt, Hobi must have dropped it.

It didn't matter how it got there. Darting to the side, you changed course towards the weapon. But you weren’t the only pursuer.

Bolt was a silhouette in front of the fire, growing rapidly in the corner of your vision. Your feet thudded as fast as you could make them, heart pounding out the same rhythm, and you were almost there, but Bolt was coming in fast-

A flash of blue. Instinctively, you pulled back, letting it cut through the air in front of your nose. Precious distance you couldn’t afford to waste.

Throwing your weight back further, you followed your body’s momentum. Your hip met the tile and you let your speed carry you, sliding over the tiles and kicking out-

Your toes met the weapon hard, snatching it from right under Bolt’s fingertips as he lunged down. His furious glare shifted to you, but he did not stay to fight. Both of you watched, panting, as the white gun hurtled over the staircase, resounding against each step out of sight.

Then Bolt was off again with you not far behind, jumping to your feet. Stairs flew beneath you as you surveyed the scene.

Bolt charged a decisive line towards the still-falling gun. Namjoon, Jimin and Jungkook assembled on the lower part of the rooftop, ready to strike.

With relief, you saw Jimin move first. Raising one hand, he brought the gun arcing through the night. Though you kept running, something loosened in your chest the closer it came to the hands of your leader.

So focussed on the gun as you were, you almost missed it. Just as the Razer landed firmly in Namjoon’s grip, something glinted in Bolt’s hand, inches ahead of you.

A sizzle of blue. Another shuriken sliced through the air. Namjoon dodged to one side, the blade sailing past him, a spark of blue losing itself in the darkness of the city.

But another blade followed.

Namjoon clearly decided not to hang around. The low whirring began again, piercing your senses straight away as if it was a chainsaw roaring. White light pounced against the glass containing it. Close as you were to Bolt, you couldn’t help the jolt of nerves fizzling in your chest.

Lifting his gaze from the weapon, Namjoon’s eyes widened a fraction. There wasn’t enough time to react. The blue lightning raced straight for his heart.

The image of Yoongi, stricken and fallen, flashed through your mind then. Helplessness burned through every part of you – even as you pushed yourself to sprint, there was no catching it.

Until a shadow leapt in the way. Obscuring your view of Namjoon, they turned in mid-air to face the shuriken.

Jungkook.

Your heart punched into your throat. In a single beat, the blade found its target.

A twitch of pain spasmed across Jungkook’s face. You couldn’t breathe. You couldn’t move. Your trembling heart choked you, the world falling silent for a deathly second.

Then his feet thumped onto the roof, the clatter of the thin blade following a beat later. Though he stumbled against the outer wall, he remained standing. Utter, blank shock painted on his face, he brought a hand up to his chest.

There, a thin red line was spreading where he had been cut. Nothing more.

Heart still hanging on a precipice, you were suspended in your shock. Numbly, you glanced down to the still-spinning shuriken lying powerless on the floor. Powerless. No more sparks surrounded it. No hint of blue, no colour at all.

Where a heartbeat ago there had been panic, now came no movement at all. Your lungs ached for air after your short race, but you hardly dared to touch the silence by breathing. Shakily, you drew in cool air, turning, as you all did, towards Bolt.

Standing in front of the shattered entrance to his home, he was equally still.

You expected some kind of joke. For him to laugh in your faces, or lash out again.

Instead, he looked down in horror. His hands steadily rose, tuning over in front of him. A downwards turn tugged at his mouth when he raised his face.

Then it turned into a snarl, and he lunged, flinging a hand straight towards you. Everyone on the rooftop jumped.

To your shame, you almost stepped back. Phantom burning, from months ago as you fell from a skyscraper like this one, rocketed through your mind. But the pain you braced for never came. No flash of blue. You stayed rooted there, disbelieving eyes tracing the air which should have been ablaze, and instead was dead and dark.

And you noticed another thing: the whirring had stopped.

Glancing to one side, you saw Namjoon lowering the Razer, face hard and a grim glint in his eye.

“You!”

Bolt’s voice brought you sharply back to him. His mouth twisted into a snarl, and his voice was sharp.

To your alarm, his rage-filled eyes, though devoid of blue, were fixed right on you.

“Give them back to me! Right now!”

With a sudden start, he marched towards you. You actually stepped back this time, in no hurry to be the target of his new warpath.

“You- I gave you those powers!” He ranted, “My powers! You can give them back to me the same way. Do it now!”

Disgusted, you could only shake your head.

Another step and he was right in front of you, reaching for you. That same face which hadn’t looked at you twice when he sent you hurtling to your intended death. The man that had since become the face of your elusive fear, sending others to attack you, never getting his hands dirty unless for a media-worthy cause.

His hand on your arm made your skin crawl.

“I made you what you were,” he pleaded – you saw it now for what it was – “you were nothing before I gave them to you-”

“Get off me!” you snapped, yanking your arm roughly from his grip. When he made to reach for you again, you barely kept control of your powers. You were sure to let just enough slip through that your eyes would light up blue with a reminder.

It clearly found its mark. He stilled, stunned. He had never been in this position before, unable to fight, and he would do well to remember it.

“I was someone before you,” you spoke, low and level.

Bolt seemed robbed of words.

Then his glare flicked to the side. Jungkook stalked up to stand beside you, drawing himself up to his full height. There was a special venom in his eyes, reserved only for the man who had ruined his life.

“Don’t touch her,” he spat.

Something in Bolt snapped. Closing his mouth, his feet scrambled beneath him. He hurried in the opposite direction, staggering a few desperate steps backwards before wheeling around, racing to get inside.

You didn’t move. Any one of you could easily kill him from where you stood – in any case, it wasn’t needed.

Someone was waiting for him.

Stepping from the dark hallway, broken glass crunching underfoot, Jin emerged into the dim light of the rooftop.

He reared back a fist, and brought it down in a blur to collide with Bolt’s face. The moment the fallen hero hit the ground, Jungkook strode forwards. Bolt’s usually vivid mask was finally dislodged, lying dull against the tiles where Jungkook’s boot crushed it against the floor.

Calmly lifting a hand, he fired gold, but not right at Bolt. Instead, you watched the molten light latch around a large shard of glass. The burning ring made dappled gold ripple in the glass, a golden dagger, the brightest thing on this dark rooftop.

Unsteadily, Bolt was getting his hands beneath him again. His ragged panting almost stirred pity in your chest. Almost.

Jungkook pushed his palm forwards, his power moving with him. The dagger struck Bolt’s back. You did not smile, but watched as it plunged ruthlessly into him, making his back arch and drawing a pitiful cry from his mouth.

No one was around to hear it, or to care. Tonight was as desolate as the night you had woken, alone and afraid, in a dark alley, left to die.

It wasn’t painless, but it was quick. Looking to Jungkook as Bolt fell silent, you found his hardened face awash with gold, like it was made of the metal itself. Only the twitch of his jaw as he yanked the glass from its victim belied the impression.

A thump as the body slumped among a soft chorus of grating glass.

The gold faded from Jungkook’s eyes. They turned to you, and you took his hand.

Thank you for reading this far into the series and sticking with it!!💜💜

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#jungkook x reader #jungkook au #jungkook angst #jungkook mafia #jungkook enemies to lovers #bts enemies to lovers #jungkook series #jungkook fluff #bts mafia au #jeongguk x reader #jungkook imagine #jungkook x you #jungkook fanfic #jeongguk scenarios

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secretlythatsme · 7 months

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ALSO for your angst dpxdc consideration: danny would absolutely still be considered a meta. the term "meta" is used in a very vague, umbrella way where basically anyone who isn't a normal human is a meta. so even without the proper meta gene, danny would still be considered a meta by basically everyone (especially bruce). canonically speaking, danny isn't just a normal booooo kinda ghost - he also has some insane powers (like his ghost wail!) so he'd be considered a person with superpowers and therefore a meta.

so when you're writing dpxdc fics, please consider this! danny would be a meta in the dcu! kick that kid out of gotham!!!!

#im sorry i know tensions are high rn with the whole 'canon vs fanon' shit however #it does make me giggle a little whenever i see fics that are like 'danny isnt really a meta so he has nothing to worry about'#oh yes he does #i think a fic where danny himself thinks he's safe cause he's not a meta but Actually He's Wrong has great potential for angst And comedy #but any fic thats like 'oh bat.man wont consider him a meta once he learns danny is a ghost!'#nahnahnah im not letting y'all pull that actually #you havent considered the angst potential properly cmon guys #guys.. guys please.... guys if you learn more about dc you have more potential for angst guys guys are you liste-#ajdhgjlhdga #people should learn about the dc canon because fanon sucks!!! <broke #people should learn about the dc canon because it gives us more chances to wring danny like a towel <bespoke #aldhgl #dcxdp #dpxdc

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astroboots · 1 year

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EVERY YOU EVERY ME #11.5 SPECIAL

Pairing: Miguel O'Hara x female reader

Summary: Let’s start from the beginning one last time.

Word count: 5,800

Warning: Heavy angst and character death. Dead Dove do not eat.

Series Masterlist | Spiderverse Masterlist | Astroboot’s Masterlist | thirstworldproblemss’ Masterlist

[Previous] [Next]

Let’s start from the beginning one last time.

My name is Miguel O’Hara, and in an experiment gone wrong, my genetic code was partially rewritten with Spider DNA, giving me superpowers.

My home is Earth 928-C where I was the one and only Spiderman... of my home dimension at least.

I invented and built a dimensional travel device that allowed me to jump between universes with the goal of exploring the limits of the multiverse.

And then I met a woman in this other world who nearly died from a crazy freak accident.

I saved her of course.

Then I saved her again.

And again, and again.

... And again.

We fell in love, and I decided to stay with her in her world.

You know the rest. We got married. We had a life together.

I was happy. Really happy.

For a while.

[Earth 383-D]

3 YEARS AGO

"Goddamn idiot bird," Miguel mutters under his breath.

Vulture is on the loose again, wreaking havoc on the city. The maniac is flying high above the city grounds, leaving a trail of mayhem in his wake.

Miguel's been in pursuit for the better half of two hours. In that time, the bird has derailed the High Line, literally hit a traffic light and managed to knock over the spire on the Statue of Liberty as if he was flying under the influence.

Then somehow flew across town through Tribeca, along Lower Manhattan and Greenwich Village and now reached all the way to Midtown Manhattan.

Dumbass ugly stupid bird.

Miguel digs his claws into the exterior of the limestone and granite of the Empire State Building to steady himself, using the momentum to leap forward.

The Vulture crashes into a skyscraper 50 feet ahead of Miguel, and in the mad dash, he can see a man tumble out of the building head first to the ground from the 30th floor.

Swinging forward, Miguel slings out a web from his palm, catching the screaming and sobbing office worker in midair and lands briefly against the windowpane. He ensures the man is secured to the building in a cocoon of webbing until the fire department can get him to safer grounds.

Miguel doesn't even get a second to catch his breath. From afar, he can pick up the sound of another window being crashed into by the unwieldy metal bird.

Crap.

It's impossible for Miguel to both chase the Vulture and keep everyone else in his path of destruction safe. One superhero can't be in two places at once (none that he has encountered).

Gritting his teeth, Miguel leaps off the building swinging freely into the air to make up on the lost ground between him and the metallic cuckoo bird.

He needs backup, and the backup is unfortunately running late.

Where is he? Why is he always late?

Does that man not understand that when someone calls for backup because of an emergency, the emergency part indicates that there's some urgency to it?

Flying through the air 100 feet above the ground, from the corner of his eyes, Miguel catches the familiar garish red flowing cape that billows from the cowl of the grand cloak and suit.

Miguel would know that weird wizard get-up anywhere.

"Strange!" Miguel calls out, and he can feel irritation rattle in his chest. "You're late! Where the shock were you?"

"The word you're looking for is 'fuck.' Where the fuck was I," the man responds with a sarcastic drawl.

Strange levitates through the air, effortlessly without expending any energy at all as he catches up with Miguel. "You gave me no notice. Be happy I showed up at all."

From a distance he sees the dumb bird soar high up into the sky and towards the all too familiar crowned roof of the Chrysler building.

No. nononono.

Why is he there? What is he doing there? Anywhere but there.

His back flashes cold then burning hot as the Vulture makes a straight beeline for the familiar building.

It’s fine. Maybe he’s not going to fly in there. Maybe he’s just going to fly past it.

Miguel watches as the metallic bird soars up and up and up, past the midpoint of the building, past the 40th floor of your office and up to the 50th floor. The tight squeeze in his chest eases.

Then the vulture stops, mid-flight and looks down below, as if he changed his mind, before he descends again.

Shit! Shit! SHIT!

He dives into one of the windows between the 40th and 50th floor. The sound of broken glass and shrill screams can be heard even from where Miguel is.

Blood freezes in his veins and nausea overtakes him. Calm down. Breathe.. Maybe you’re not in. After all, Lyla’s security protocols would’ve been activated by now if you were. He would’ve been alerted.

Soaring through the skies, Miguel reaches over to his wrist to punch in the dial for Lyla to check in and reassure himself you're safe. But his tracker blinks back in an alarming red, and he darts down his head towards the display.

Error.

His heart stops.

The flying silhouette reappears through the shattered windows and the metallic harness strapped onto the vulture gleams bright against the sun.

It’s only then it hits him. Lyla's been deactivated by the madman's stupid Electro-Magnetic Harness.

Why hadn't he foreseen that as a technical flaw?

Against the reflective glass panes, Miguel sees you, caught in the Vulture talons like a mouse captured by a large predatory bird. Every hair on his neck stands on end. His vision bleeds into red, blood roaring at the sight of it.

Kill him.

Miguel's gonna murder that freak for touching you. Crush his windpipe so he can't ever squawk again, then rip his throat out with his claws and feed it to the street pigeons for good measure.

Launching himself through the air, Miguel tears up the side of the building. The tempered glass beneath his claws and feet, shatters into sharp jagged pieces as he closes the distance.

He is almost within reach. Only some 30 feet that still separates you from him. Leaping the final distance he slams hard into the side of the Vulture until metal crunches beneath his feet.

Miguel roars until his throat burns with it. Palms gripping at the man’s jaw and prying it back to get at his bare throat. His fangs are ready to sink into the jugular. He can see the dark pupil of Vulture's eyes dilate with fear.

Good. Miguel's anger will be the last thing this freak sees.

"Miguel calm down," Strange shouts at him from behind. "You're gonna knock her off."

Miguel freezes at the warning, forcing himself to hold still as he looks down to where you are dangling precariously from the Vulture's claws.

"Be ready," Strange shouts, and Miguel looks to him, not understanding what the hell he means.

Strange rests his hand over the shiny blue gem hanging around a chain from his neck.

What does he mean by be ready? What is Strange going to do?

"What'd you mea–"

Miguel doesn't have a chance to finish the rest of his sentence. An unnatural force vibrates through him. A pulsating wave that pervades his senses, punching through his lungs and knocks him back.

In an instance, you're propelled away from Strange and the Vulture, and you are freefalling towards the ground below.

Miguel leaps mid-air, arms outstretched to catch you as you plummet towards the ground below. His fingers clasps around your wrists, your warm skin against his fingertips.

He's got you!

Taking hold of you by the arm, Miguel pulls you into his chest as he wraps one arm securely around your waist.

Immediate relief fills him from the inside out as the adrenaline and the searing anger is already starting to fade now that he knows you're safe.

"You okay, nena?" he asks.

You nod, arms finding purchase around the back of his neck, and squeeze down tight. He swings you both to the safety of a nearby rooftop.

There's barely time for him to touch the surface, he hears the nearby explosion and sees Vulture crash into the concrete wall of the nearest building.

Strange is levitating nearby, hands making wild gestures, presumably to perform some hocus pocus ritual. There’s a magical glow as strobes of light manifest out of thin air surrounding the Vulture from all sides and wrapping around him in a restraining bind.

Miguel sets you down. You're a little bit wobbly on your feet, and seeing you stumble the way you do has that protective streak spark anew in his chest.

Stupid Strange. He can't just do shit like that.

What if Miguel hadn't reacted in time? What if you had fallen?

This is why Miguel hates working with the guy, even if they’re friends. Always on his moral high horse about Miguel being reckless, then he pulls shit like this.

"Everyone alright?" Strange asks as he levitates through the sky to set feet close to you both on the rooftop.

Miguel grits his teeth with annoyance at the man’s casual demeanor when he nearly threw you out of the sky.

"Shock you, Strange," he spits out.

"Miggy..." you sigh in a reprimanding tone next to him.

Stephen shakes his head at him. "I told you. It's fuck"

"Fuck you, Strange."

Sanctum Sanctorum is closer than home and Strange has, comfortable sofas in his ridiculously big mansion. Big enough sofas that Miguel can actually lounge in them comfortably without it feeling cramped. It's why, given the choice, he always prefer to regroup there, over your tiny apartment.

Besides, while the man's control over his magical powers can be suspect at times, he used to be a doctor. Supposedly one of the leading brain surgeons in the world, and Miguel is a lot more comfortable at the prospect of Strange giving you a checkover to make sure you don't need further medical attention than trying your luck at one of the local ERs.

"Follow my finger," Strange says as he shines a little flashlight into your eyes and moves his index from side to side.

Your eyes follow him dutifully, and Strange proceeds with the rest of his medical check, asking you the boring standard questions. "Any symptoms of dizziness, lightheadedness, or a sense of vertigo?"

He fires them out in rapid succession, and a bit too perfunctory for Miguel's liking.

"Noticed any changes in your vision, blurriness or double vision, etcetera etcetera?"

Miguel's jaw tic in irritation at how Strange is putting in minimal effort and just going through the motions.

"Yeah, you're fine." Strange pats your knees, then whisks the flashlight away into nothingness with his cape.

That medical check wasn't anything close to thorough. Miguel crosses his arms over his chest. "Are you sure? Her feet were wobbly before, I wanted to make sure she didn't sprain her ankle."

"A little bit overprotective as always aren't we?" Strange says.

Miguel shoots the man a glare and Stephen sighs, "Her reflexes are fine, I don't think anything's sprained."

"Check again, you seemed sloppy," Miguel accuses.

"You know, I'm doing this as a favor because you’re a friend. Do you have any idea how much a medical examination by one of the leading neurological surgeons in the world would cost you normally?"

"I'll have Lyla transfer the money."

“No, it’s not actually about money just–" Stephen shakes his head, then sighs. "Nevermind.”

He gestures for you to drape your leg across his lap, then he reaches over to gently assess your ankle as requested.

"What is this necklace?" You ask. You lean closer to Strange, inspecting the blue gem where it rests against his chest.

Strange swats at your hand, the way an adult scolds a child with sticky chocolate smeared hands trying to touch the fine china.

"It's a protection amulet. When activated it forms a protective barrier that forcibly repels everything within ten feet of you."

"Huh," you reach back for the amulet undaunted by the earlier reprimand, fascinated and clearly enamored by it. "I'll give you fifty bucks for it."

Strange looks offended. "It's not for sale, and if it was it would certainly be worth a lot more than fifty dollars. It's a genuine magical artifact, not fake costume jewelry from the theater department."

You purse your lips, considering the amulet.

"Forty," you offer.

Miguel has to choke back a snorting laughter in his throat at the way Stephen's eyes goes wide in confused outrage.

"Wait, why is the price going down?"

“We’re in the middle of an economic crisis, Stephen,” you counter.

Strange's head darts over to where Miguel sits, presumably for backup, but he's knocked on the wrong door. The man must be mad if he thinks that there is ever a world where Miguel would side against you.

"Strange, we both know it’s easier if you just give her the amulet." Miguel says.

The man sighs, shaking his head in defeat.

"Be careful with it," he says as he drags the chain over his head to place it in your awaiting palms. "And don't lose it like the invisibility amulet with Mysterio. Had to spend a whole month clearing up your mess when that creep used it to get into the women's locker rooms at every local gym in Greenwich!"

"That wasn’t my mess! Miggy lost that one during an aerial fight. You can't blame that on me."

"You married him, so you're responsible for him. I consider you two jointly to blame."

"Now you're just lashing out," you shoot back.

Miguel watches the two of you in patient boredom, his head propped up by an elbow on the arm of the sofa. He expended way too much energy during the fight, and now he needs to refuel.

If Miguel leaves you two to it, you'll spend an eternity bantering, the way you do. His stomach growls. He wants food. Wants wantons and beef ho fun and a dozen custard salted egg buns for dessert. And the longer you two are at it, the longer it's going to take for him to get it.

"Nena," he calls out, "I'm hungry. Are you two done? I want to go for dinner."

You shoot Miguel a quick smile, pulling out your wallet and take out a wad of green bills then fold it into Strange's hand with a happy grin.

Strange looks down at the crumpled up money in his hand. "Wait, you're only giving me thirty? I thought we said forty."

"You still owe me like ten bucks from mini golf last week."

Strange pockets the money with a grumble. "Unbelievable."

“C’mon,” Miguel says as he stands up and gestures to the both of you with a curt nod of his head towards the door. “Let’s go. I’ll pay for dinner this time,” Miguel says, and that seems to abate Strange’s outrage somewhat as the man grabs your coat from the sofa cushions and offers it to you.

Life on Earth 383-D is strange.

Life here is borderline primitive. The technology is something out of the stone ages.

Social media is a wasteland. Reality TV is a dystopian concept. And he doesn't understand who Kardashian is or why everyone is obsessed with her and her family.

He does like fax machines though. They are basically teleportation machines and it boggles him that the people of your dimension do not seem to understand its potential.

The one thing he will give this version of earth credit for is that the food here is nice. Everyone in his home dimension is too health conscious, and fried food has long been banned by the government for the long term damage it does to the cardiovascular system.

He also likes the life that the two of you have built together here. You have a home in that tiny shoebox apartment. You have friends. Strange friends. Like the Doctor who flies around with the help of a magic cape and now practices the mystic arts after a gap year in Asia. A young girl whose main superpower is the ability to communicate with squirrels. Then there’s that ugly red-masked wise-cracking, katana-wielding maniac who never dies.

Sadly, your friends are not the only thing that is strange about your surroundings.

Miguel perches himself on top of the Chrysler building sitting hunched over on the ledge of the roof. He’s drained and bone-tired, chasing down a helicopter that had gone haywire and was hurtling towards your office building.

Luckily Strange was able to assist and sent it through a magic portal to crash into the Atlantic without putting any lives at stake.

"Just had to do some cleaning up," Strange says as he sets his boots back down on the ground.

Miguel doesn't answer him, staring out at the city view and the setting sun as he takes a well earned breather for a moment or two. New York is a bit of a shit hole, but it does look pretty from a high viewpoint, especially when the sun is setting, Miguel has to give this city that.

It's silent between the two of them. Or at least it is until Strange decides to break it with a harkle of his throat. When Miguel doesn't react the man does it again, coughing discreetly in a clear attempt to get his attention.

Miguel doesn't say anything about the man's sore throat. He ran out of the lemon drops you bought him as snacks hours ago, but he does tilt his head up at the man.

"She's been getting into a lot of these incidents lately. More than usual, more than any normal human for it to be a coincidence" Strange says.

The whole of Miguel's back stiffens.

"Have you noticed the abnormal uptick in strange unexplainable supernatural occurrences lately? Indoor tornadoes. The rain of poisonous frogs outside of whole foods. A sinkhole appearing right next to the cafe your wife frequents."

Miguel doesn't love the insinuations. Even with his lips pressed tightly together, Miguel can feel the small muscle in his jaw flex like a nervous tic at the mention of it. Because yeah, he's noticed, kind of hard to miss when your wife's life is in constant peril at all hours of the day.

Ice storms in July that hit right outside your workplace. An inexplicable solar flare causing a blackout that had every single vehicle within a 5 miles radius go haywire in the dark near your apartment. A swarm of mutated mosquitoes with a venomous bite that chased you down Central Park.

The incidents are occurring more frequently. They are also getting increasingly bizarre and dangerous.

No one can say it’s just bad luck when the daily occurrences around you are defying the very laws of nature itself. Something isn't right with the universe, and he's not sure what else there is to do except pretend that everything is still ok.

"What are you implying?" Miguel asks through gritted teeth.

But for the first time in the years that Miguel has known him, Strange's talkativeness is nowhere to be found. He doesn't answer Miguel. He's smart that way, the clever bastard. Knows that if he says one wrong word, Miguel is going to unhinge his jaws like a feral alligator and snap at him.

Strange has said what he needed for Miguel to know exactly what he's getting at. The man just meets his eyes with an intentional stare, not shying away from Miguel's glare.

It's not like the thought hasn't crossed Miguel's mind. Not like it hasn't been keeping him up at night, every night.

Even though you've always been accident prone and suffered from bad luck, at this point it's a mathematical impossibility that anyone would run into as many near death incidents as you have.

This isn't by chance. It's by design. Miguel's suspected as much for a while now. He just doesn't know whose design and why.

"It's not her fault," Miguel spits out.

"I never said it was."

"Even if what you are saying is true..." Miguel stops, and stares down at his fisted palms with a sinking feeling in his guts. "There's nothing she can do about it to stop it. You can't put that on her."

"Whether she knows about it or not, if it's true, none of this is going to go away.

Strange walks over to where Miguel is, sitting down next to him.

"It’s been escalating in severity," he continues. "There are strange universal energies attached to her. There’s warping of the universal order and space around her. We don't know how bad this can get, if we don’t do anything about this, it could unravel the fabric of reality itself."

Despite the calamity of what Strange is implying, his voice is even and calm as he says it as if he might as well be discussing the weather. That trait has always annoyed the shit out of Miguel.

"What are you planning to do if this continues?" Strange asks.

It's such a silly question. Strange says it as if this is a multiple choice question. But for Miguel there's only one correct answer.

"Protect her. I have to. She's everything to me."

Miguel is staring into the sunset bu all he sees before him is your face even though you aren’t here. The happy smile that he wants to preserve forever. He tries to fight the ache that's building in him at the thought that it would go away.

"Strange, don't tell her. Please. She doesn't need that burden."

He fists his palms into his side.

Miguel never liked asking for help, but even he knows that if what Strange is saying is true. That if the universe for some unfathomable reason wants you dead, then he's going to need all the help he can get.

If Strange has figured it out. Then it's only a matter of time before others do as well.

Soon enough, you won't just have the universe coming after you but every superhero and villain combined in a united front to take out the common threat that you pose to this entire universe.

Even Miguel knows he can't do this alone and as much as that helplessness tastes like failure and bile in his throat, he can swallow his pride if it helps keep you safe.

"Stephen, you have to help me save her."

From behind, Strange rests one hand on the corner of his shoulder. The weight of it feels like a promise being made. For the first time in a long time, Miguel feels like he can breathe just a little bit easier.

"I will do what I can, my friend."

Weeks go by. There are more incidents. Runaway vehicles that go haywire. Electrical storm fires. Rain of poisonous locusts.

Somehow he manages to protect you from it all.

It just means that he has to be more vigilant, that's all. The universe doesn't rest and neither does Miguel now. Lyla has been set on constant alert to wake him up whenever he's napping at any small signs of abnormal occurrences happening near you, with an electric shock to make sure he wakes. Something the A.I. is taking a worryingly amount of glee in (which probably means he needs to retune her programming when he has time).

And today, today Miguel was meant to have a Sunday lie in. Universe be willing, his goal was to sleep all the way into the late afternoon and then you had promised to take him to IHOP and get him all the pancakes he could eat for late breakfast.

But right now he's not asleep. He's trying to. But there are hushed words and whispered murmurs, buzzing in his ear that keeps trying to drag him away from sleep.

It's you and Strange.

Judging from the distance of the noises, you're both standing outside in the hall. The fact that you two are trying to be quiet makes it worse. If you'd spoken in normal volume he could tune it out as white noise, but the conspiratorial quietness of it all makes the hair on the back of his neck tingle with alertness.

Fuck's sake. He swears to god if you two are gossiping and making fun of Hercules’ costume (or the lack of it) again.

It's too early for this crap. Don't you two know that people are trying to sleep? He was up all night chasing crazy Kraven worshippers releasing animals from the Brooklyn zoo. Miguel had to gather wild zebras and crocodiles all the way down East Village til 4am.

With a groan, he drags himself halfway up along the mattress, about to go and growl at you both to be quiet, when the cluttered noises register as words and the fuzziness of sleep clears momentarily.

"He'd destroy this world for you."

Huh? What are you two talking about?

Miguel's too groggy to make sense of the context of what's being said. Even with his super hearing he has to focus to make out the words.

"You can't let him."

Irritated, he gets out of bed and walks to the front door to swing it open. The first thing he sees is you standing with Strange in the hallway. You jump at the suddenness and look up at him with wide eyes.

You have the worst poker face of anyone he's ever seen in his life.

"What are you two jabbering on about this damn early?" he asks.

He'd expected the two of you to act coy, maybe a clever 'wouldn't you like to know' retort back from the Mystic. Instead, Strange's face is entirely inscrutable, tone serious as he responds.

"We were just catching up. Nothing important. I need to head back," Strange says, then he turns to you with a meaningful tilt to his head. "Think about what I said."

"What was that about?" Miguel asks you as he watches Strange step through a portal and disappear.

You don't say anything. There's a worried frown etched between your eyebrows as you bite down on your lip.

Something crawls under Miguel's skin at the whole interaction.

You're oddly quiet the whole afternoon. Deep in thought and walking around as if in a daze, which unsettles him.

It's not difficult for him to guess what's wrong. He might have been half asleep when you and Strange were whispering in the corridors, but Miguel can put one and one together. Having two PHDs and a lifetime's experience of working in theoretical physics gives you that leg up.

In a last ditch effort to get you out of the uncharacteristic blues, he orders a dozen of your favorite cupcakes from that tiny shop in New Jersey. It costs an arm and a leg to have it couriered, but it'll be worth it if it makes you smile.

Then he sits down next to you on the bed and places the pink pastry box down on the mattress. It's your favorite place to eat cakes and it’s why you two always end up with crumbs and frosting all over the sheets.

You happily cram half a cupcake into your mouth in one bite as you eat, and he watches you contently. If there was any fairness in the world, this quiet idyllic moment could last forever. In a good world, Miguel wouldn’t have to burst this perfect bubble.

Sadly, this world is neither fair nor good sometimes.

"Strange said something to you right?" Miguel asks.

You still next to him, clearly torn between whether or not to share what was said to you, probably in secret with the very intention of being kept away from him.

“Nena,” Miguel tries again, and you close your eyes taking a deep breath, caving into his prodding.

"Strange thinks that my incidents might be correlated with the strange natural occurrences lately."

That fucking asshole. He knew it. Irritation pings across his jaw, and Miguel bites it down. He tries to reel it, forcing back the rant that wants to surface. Instead he tries to focus on you instead of his own anger.

"We don't know that. It could just be a series of coincidences," Miguel tells you.

You nod, but Miguel's not an idiot and neither are you. He can see the worry creasing your eyes as you look down to your lap.

Putting down the cupcake, he reaches over and links his right hand with yours.

"Nena, don't worry.” He cups his free hand over your cheek to drag you up to meet his eyes.

“I'll fight the whole universe to keep you safe if I have to. Nothing's ever going to harm you so long as I'm here. I'm not gonna let anything happen to you. You're the most important thing to me."

You smile at him at the words, but there's a wistfulness to it that embeds a dull ache in his chest that he wants to physically rub away to make it stop.

You lean into his touch, until your forehead presses up against his and the physical touch blunts the ache in him for a moment, putting it on pause.

"You’re the most important to me too," you say.

The sky itself cracks open not long after.

It doesn’t take the combined forces and intellect of the entire world too long to hone in on you being the root cause. Soon enough every superhero, mutant, villain and alien starts coming after you. Because hero or villain alike, no one truly wants their world to end, not if it’s not on their terms.

Mysterio tries to kidnap you by the elevator in your apartment building. The Human Torch even tries to burn the whole building down. The Punisher tries to murder you point blank outside your office.

Miguel can’t remember the last time he slept. He’s running on fumes. Day after day, he feels like he’s getting by on borrowed time.

The friends and allies you have thin out fast as the threats to the world increase in severity. Miguel never imagined having Deadpool standing outside his door stating that the life of one single person cannot outweigh the universe itself.

It’s all so stupid. None of them know what they’re talking about. A lynching mob with their torches and pitchforks. Never stopping to think whether harming you could trigger something much worse.

If Strange is right and you are the knot at the center of the fabric of reality that is coming apart, then ripping that out leaves a hole. Miguel gave up on explaining that fairly quickly because he realized that theoretical consequences doesn’t matter to an angry mob scared of facing the reality of extinction.

It all becomes a blur.

Exhaustion eats into his bones, until he can no longer tell the days apart. No matter how many times he saves you, disaster is always waiting just around the corner.

And now he’s chasing down the Green Goblin to the top of the Chrysler building from the 61st floor, where the green freak has cornered you to the edge of the rooftop.

Miguel is already out of breath, running away from the coalition of superheroes and villains that are hot on his heels, trying to stop him from saving you.

Adrenaline beats fast in his veins as he keeps running. Miguel is only able to make out those in pursuit in brief glimpses. The bright blue spandex suit of Reed Richards as his freakishly long elastic limbs stretch towards him. The blocks of metal hurtling towards Miguel, missing by inches and crashes into the side of a building as Magneto’s form hovers nearby.

He ignores them all, not sparing a glance behind him. He just has to keep moving. It doesn't matter that his muscles scream and burn in exhaustion. Doesn't matter that his head dulls with a heavy ache from lack of sleep. He has to keep going for you. Has to save you.

He's so close, he's almost there.

From the corner of his eyes, he makes out the familiar garish red flowing cape fluttering against the blue sky.

Strange.

Miguel marginally relaxes, at the sight of the sole ally he has left in this universe. He leaps across the rooftop, into the temporary safety of the observatory deck.

His feet doesn't even reach the ground. Something restrains him from behind. Bright lights materialize out of thin air. It wraps around Miguel's limb with the strength of unbreakable manacles, hugging him so tight it restricts the flow of blood to his fingers. Then he’s brought down to his knees.

Miguel whips his head back and Strange stands there, hands formed in a holding gesture.

“What are you–”

"I'm sorry," Strange says.

Miguel snarls at his restraints, wrenching and twisting in every direction he is able to even with the limited range of motion, but it's to no avail. The harder he struggles the more forceful the restraints seem to close in on him, mirroring his strength.

"I'm sorry it had to come to this. I really hoped there was another way but every life in the whole of the universe is at stake, Miguel."

Hot burning anger spears through him, and if he could he would raze it all to the ground with it. This place, this world and this fucking traitor standing there can all fucking burn. Miguel is gonna kill him. He's gonna kill this fucking bastard. He can't believe he trusted him.

“Strange, fucking let me… Stephen!”

He hears your pained shout and snaps his head towards the sound.

Miguel is only ten feet away from you. Ten measly feet from where the Green Goblin is holding you by the ledge of the rooftop. He can still reach you, if he can get free he can still save you.

Tearing through the magical binds, there’s a bone-cracking sound in his shoulder. Searing pain spreads through his arm. For all his struggles, he doesn't know if he’s even an inch closer towards you.

He watches you drop from the ledge.

It's a pin drop moment where everything stops. His heart is no longer beating.

No. This can't be how it ends.

He's moving forward, even as the sharp restraints digs into his limbs and flesh and burrows in with an excruciating ache. But the pain doesn't matter. All that matters is you.

It claws into him, and digs and tears, until he is sure that his entire limbs are going to be torn off, but he doesn't stop, keeps pulling against the resisting strength that surrounds him, rips against the hindrance embracing every ounce of the pain until finally, the pressure gives.

There's a cacophony of sound that's left behind him as he leaps through the air. He slingshots downwards, cutting through air as he tries to reach you.

Miguel catches your hand and relief fills his chest.

"I got you. I got you," he murmurs. He's not sure if those words are to calm you or himself.

Pulling you up in defiance of the pull of gravity, he tries to haul you up towards him. Your hand squirms in his, and if you keep going you're going to slip out of his grasp.

"Nena, don't move," he shouts in alarm, but you don't stop, twisting in all directions, making it harder for him to get a better grip.

What're you– You're resisting against his strength, why would you...

It hits him with a sickening realization.

You don' want him to save you.

"Stop!" he shouts. “Stop!”

You shake your head, tears filling the corner of your eyes that flow upwards and everything is upside down to him.

"We’re out of time. You have to let me go,” you say.

His fingers squeeze down even harder at your words, refusing to hear it.

“There's still time. There are still other options. I can still save you!”

Your hand reaches for the amulet pressed against your collarbone. Dread floods every nerve in his body as he sees your fingers squeeze around it.

"No!" He shouts. Screams it so loud it burns in his lungs. But deep down he knows it's not going to make any difference. "Nena, don't!"

The wind whips too loudly against his face. The sound of your heart pounding so painfully hard in his ear that it's deafening and he knows that sound will haunt him forever.

You're scared.

He sees your lips move, but he can't hear what you're saying.

But he's heard these words so many times before from your lips that he knows them by heart.

''I love you.''

An invisible force blasts away at him, it shatters through him through his limbs and torso into the very soft tissue of his stomach and makes his teeth shake. He's propelled upwards, unable to control his movements or defy the gravity that he's learned to navigate after all these years mid-air.

He holds on as hard as he can to your hand, but it doesn't matter. His fingers slip, his grip is lost.

You're falling through the sky.

Miguel doesn't remember much after that.

Somehow he makes it back onto the ground.

Somehow he finds you amongst the cracked dirty concrete.

Somehow, despite falling from over a 100 feet your body is still intact where it lies lifeless on the ground.

Your bones are broken though. Body limp and soft in his arms in a way that has never felt more wrong to him. His only consolation is that you're still warm in his arms, and he thinks that maybe if he just doesn't let go, if he holds you tightly pressed to him the way he is doing now, it'll remain that way forever.

The sky has cleared above. There are no cracks in the azure blue canvas.

This world is saved.

His world has ended.

~ Next Issue

Dedication & Credits: To @thirstworldproblemss who has been with me on this journey since chapter one without her enthusiasm and her companionship and friendship and listening to my wild ramblings about this story, I would never have set out to write this thing. She gave me so much joy in the process, she also gave me her time and her skills and brainy talent to help me process and brainstorm this into a shape that I was excited to share with you all! You also have her to thank for that devastating last line.

@guruan who has been a constant well of inspiration with her amazing art, her bright sense of humor and her sharing of theories of what's going to happen! You've made writing this story so much fun!

Author's note: Here we go guys, we've officially entered the final arc now. With only three chapters to go! I am so excited to share the remaining puzzle pieces with you all!

#miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara x you #miguel o'hara fic #miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara fanfic #miguel o'hara fanfiction #spiderverse #oscar isaac #across the spiderverse #marvel #marvel mcu #spiderverse fanfiction #miguel ohara x reader #miguel ohara #miguel ohara x you

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brucewaynehater101 · 5 months

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I know there’s a bunch of stuff about Bruce being oblivious about Tim being his parent. I want to see the moment of dawning realization. (This might have been addressed.) I don’t know if it’s a slip of the tongue where he calls Tim “Dad” or someone in the know casually asking Bruce about his parent (referring to Tim and maybe even Bruce answering without thinking about it and then realizing what he said). I want to know if Bruce freaks and tries to establish himself as the parent, only for it to backfire horribly, or if he makes a family tree and stares at it until he starts to have those optical illusions behind his eyes that you get when you look at things too long.

In the Tim is Bruce's parent AU, there is a semi-established point where Bruce finds out. It's after the BruceQuest. I'll go more in depth below, but I wanted to acknowledge that I'm totally chill if people utilize any of the ideas for their own fanwork (and thus have a different "discovery" method). Feel free to write or draw about whatever scenario inspires you most.

Anyways, the semi-established one already cooked up occurs because Tim has a famous reddit account. From years of receiving and then finally giving advice to other parents, he's established himself on a few parenting threads. His account has become something of a legend, especially for his advice with superpowered kids. He hasn't asked for advice for a few years and mainly just helps other parents out. From his past requests and his more recent advice giving, everyone knows that the kid he is raising is quite the handful. The kid sneaks out, gets hurt often, doesn't sleep, doesn't eat, destroys things when mad, screams, pushes away others, and isolates. The legend account states that they adopted their kid and, after establishing rules and open communication, have been doing much better with the extremely traumatized child.

Bruce, who's returned from the timestream and realized how important family is (and how much of a lacking dad he's been), goes to reddit for advice. He finds this really famous account with an extremely traumatized kid and realizes a lot of the advice (and perspective of where the kid is coming from) is helpful to Bruce's relationship with his own kids. Tim and Bruce befriend each other unknowingly until Bruce asks for advice that is pretty similar to Tim's siblings.

Tim suggests Bruce implement specific advice to deduce that Bruce is the account he's befriended.

Tim has a mental breakdown for a bit cause of that.

Bruce notices that his online friend is being distant and becomes a bit sad. He's suspicious, but he's trying to respect boundaries now. Besides, this account is at least five years old (Tim is eighteen now and started when he was thirteen).

I don't have quite the method of discovery set, but Bruce finds out both that it's Tim's account and that the "kid" is actually Bruce (although feel free to add misunderstanding shenanigans and angst where Bruce thinks Tim's been hiding his kid from him for that long).

Bruce, understandably, does not take this well. A child should not parent an adult. The fact that Tim did is a failing on Bruce's part. Bruce tries to correct this by suddenly being a parent to Tim (and ignoring some of the advice/habits Bruce has picked up from Tim). This is frustrating for both parties. Tim is an adult and has always been allergic to parenting/authority. He would rather have a fake uncle than a parent who tells him what to do (I know this isn't the actual reason for the fake uncle). Bruce doesn't know how to parent a child like Tim either.

Suffice to say, their relationship falls to part for a bit while they both try to work through the new dynamics and emotions. Tim is trying really hard to let Bruce be a parent to Tim, but it's just not their relationship. Tim has always been the parent. It feels condescending, belittling, and restrictive.

The entire time Bruce is trying to change their dynamics, he's getting the sense that Tim is only letting him do this in the way that a father let's their kid make mistakes or decisions so that they learn a lesson or practice. It doesn't feel genuine.

Eventually, they manage to figure out the new limits of their relationship and new boundaries. Bruce will always be Tim's child, but Bruce doesn't have to acknowledge Tim as his dad. He never did before.

But, yes. Bruce does spend many days after the realization blankly staring in space as his entire worldview shifts, and he goes over every interaction he's ever had with Tim

#dc comics #tim drake #dc universe #bruce wayne #dc au #the parentification of tim drake

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thalia-amongst-the-thorns · 2 years

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Whumptober No. 3 - Gun to Temple, “Say goodbye”

Late, but better than nothing! Today we have the start of the second ongoing tale set in a world of superheroes and teen angst.

We begin with a super fight on a school night...

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

It said something about Mrs. McCloud’s excruciating extended essays that Ed still preferred being at the center of a supervillain jailbreak to being at his computer forcing himself to crank out meaningless paragraphs safely back home.

Honestly, Nobody’s warning that Fear was planning something at the Moldoff Penitentiary had been a welcome interruption. And with Beacon currently off planet fighting alternate universe doppelgangers in space or disassembling Brainwave’s orbital satellite that radiated cosmic brainwashing rays or whatever (maybe Brainwave had summoned Beacon’s alternate universe doppelgangers so she could brainwash them to take over the world for her? Eh, if he cared enough about it he could ask Warp to explain it again later), Nature had put out an all hands on deck text for the team to assemble on a school night and keep an eye on the suped up penitentiary. Who was Ed to put his education above the safety of the tri-state area, perhaps even the free world?

Mind you, it’d still been a bit of a surprise when something had actually happened, Moldoff’s power cutting out around midnight just before the red emergency lights kicked in and sirens blared and Nature was signaling them all to move in to help the overwhelmed prison guards. Nobody tended to get… obsessively paranoid about anything that even marginally hinted at being connected to Fear. Not that Ed could blame her. Fear had more than proven she was capable of the kind of villainous behavior that needed someone to track her down and kick the ever loving crap out of her. Ed just didn’t didn’t want to do it personally.

No, it was much better to be tangling with a cyborg who currently had him in a headlock. Maybe he should have stuck to the essay writing after all.

“You doing okay over there, Pillar,” Solar Flare called out from where they’d posted up behind a toppled security desk, popping up to shoot off a few plasma bolts before ducking back down for cover. Bodies swarmed everywhere, a mixture of their team and the scattered guards trying to contain the tide of villains forcing their way through the bottleneck at the penitentiary’s main doors.

Ed shook his head, throat currently preoccupied, while his opponent let out a surprised guffaw underscored by the screech of metal on metal from his rusty jaws.

“‘Pillar’? Shit, really scraping the bottom of the barrel there, aren’t yah? Or did the capes crowd finally move on from alterative aliases while I was locked up to just naming themselves after literal random crap?”

“Hey, it’s a good name!” Solar Flare rose to Ed’s defense as he flailed ineffectually, their skin shining a defiant red underneath their white and yellow costume. “I picked out that name and it’s freaking fantastic and you’re going to regret saying otherwise when Pillar kicks your butt right back into its cell!”

The cyborg merely laughed harder, jostling Ed as his flesh and wire laced arm squeezed tighter around Ed’s throat.

“Isn’t that cute, you gotta have a cheer squad to hype up how powerless you are, eh Pillar?”

A dull flush washed over Ed’s cheeks. Thank god the stupid orange visor covered up most of his face.

He’d been trying to put Nature and Animal’s lessons into practice, all that patience and thinking before you rush in with no plan shtick, but what this guy really needed was a swift smackdown. Especially if he was going to keep mouthing off.

Ed screwed up his face, reaching deep down for the current of power humming at his core. There was the usual level of push back that happened when he tried to make the switch mid-fight, his body instinctually wanting to stay invulnerable to protect itself, but Ed had enough experience now to power through the resistance and direct that current of strength to flow into his muscles instead. Instantly his neck was crushed with the pain he could now feel from the cyborg’s vice-like grip and Ed gave a panicked and embarrassing squeak as his lungs suddenly realized they needed air again.

“Waiting for that butt kicking any time now kid,” the cyborg cackled, and Ed gritted his teeth against the heat creeping up his whole face.

Clapping one hand over the cyborg’s, Ed pulled back as easily as he would the lid of a tin can and there was an agonized squeal of metal giving way. The man gave a very satisfying yelp of surprise as Ed easily broke out of his grip and proceeded to throw a super strong jab to his jaw followed by a snap kick to his guts. Ed pulled back on the hits just a smidge, both because he didn’t know how much the cyborg could take before his head literally got knocked off his shoulders and because without his invulnerability Ed would end up shattering his own hand if he put that much power into a hit. As it was he could feel his knuckles bruising on impact, his toe popping painfully as the kick set the cyborg flying back ten feet into a wall where he left a man sized crater in the concrete as he slid to the floor.

“Nice!” Solar Flare whooped, skin changing from annoyed red to amused yellow. “Consider your butt officially kicked, mean metal man!”

They flashed Ed a quick glowing thumbs up before they turned back to blast a woman with a lizard head before she could bite into Red Pulse, and Ed was thankful they hadn’t noticed the flush continuing to burn through his cheeks.

“Playing possum?” The cyborg had pulled himself up off the floor, an ugly welt forming across what skin remained on his face. With a whir his dislocated jaw snapped into place and he gave Pillar an impressed leer. “Guess the next generation of supers is down for playing dirty. What an improvement.”

With inhuman speed he launched himself at Ed, cracking him across the face with one meaty fist that had Ed’s ears ringing. It hurt, his body screaming, disoriented, unable to process what had happened. Ed wasn’t used to being hit, to feeling pain, the blow probably wasn’t even that bad he was just weak.

The cyborg pulled back for another punch and Ed latched onto his wrist with first one hand, then snagged his second wrist with the other, easily holding the other man in place. His human eye bulged in panic, mechanical one whizzing erratically in its socket, and Ed grinned.

Fuck being weak.

“I was going to offer to let you go back and make yourself cozy in your cell,” Ed said, trying to come off as coolly blase and not desperate for a one liner, “but it looks like you’re just really dead set on an ass whooping.”

“Dead set is right, kid.” The voice was feminine, so close that Ed could feel her hot breath on the back of his neck. There was a click right in his ear, the sound of a chamber settling in a revolver. “But I intend to make things a bit more permanent than an ‘ass whooping’.”

A low, mocking chuckle rumbled in the cyborg’s chest, both eyes focusing on the new challenger right behind Ed’s shoulder, and he pushed back against Ed’s grip with renewed vigor, about the same strength as a charging rhinoceros. Child’s play for Ed to overpower if he weren’t being distracted by the cold barrel of a gun being pressed into his not invulnerable and very shootable head.

“Fear warned us about you, bean pole. Told us to get our shots in right quick if you started throwing your weight around and getting handsy with people.” A woman draped in a maroon overcoat and matching honest to God chaps and cowboy hat sauntered into Ed’s line of sight, in stark contrast to the prison uniforms the other supervillains were wearing. Shit, when had Fear started teaming up?

The gun tip slid around Ed’s cowl in tandem with the woman, and awkward as the angle was Ed could just make out a mess of wires and blinking acid green lights, like someone had put an old fashioned revolver in a blender with a laser pistol. A trail of cold sweat slid down Ed’s spine.

“But if a game’s what you’re after,” the woman drawled as the gun hummed sharply, “then let’s see what gets to you faster; my hex shot or Stoic Sentinel’s fist.”

Stoic Sentinel grinned, muscles flexing, and Ed couldn’t stop the terror that seized his body, squeezing his heart until he was sure it would explode. His eyes darted around, cowardly, for help, but more bodies had flooded in between him and Solar Flare, blocking their line of sight. Something orange flashed in the distance, but Ed wasn’t sure if it was Warp or some freaking D-list villain with radioactive citrus powers.

“Say goodbye, white hat,” the woman hissed, and there was no time to think as her finger pulled the trigger.

In a panic Ed let go of his hold on his internal current of power. Immediately the energy snapped back into its preferred shape, a stretched rubber band released, and Ed was sent flying back, no longer strong enough to hold Stoic Sentinel back as the cyborg surged forward and plowed both of them into the gunslinger. The woman yelled in surprise as her shot went wide and all three of them powered through the surrounding crowd before Sentinel lost steam and they collapsed in a heap on the floor amidst stomping feet and stray plasma bolts.

#whumptober2022 #no.3 #gun to temple #say goodbye #fic #oc #ed #sasha #my writing #b listers #everyone has superpowers and angst #you really realize how silly super alias are when you have to write them like five times in a row #but its okay ed hates it too #superheroes

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winwintea · 1 month

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ᴍᴀʀᴋ ʟᴇᴇ ᴠꜱ. ᴛʜᴇ ᴡᴏʀʟᴅ: mark’s “friends”

MARK ↬ bassist of 'dream on', 24 and unemployed! been over a year since his breakup with minjeong, recently decided to start dating a 19 year old college freshman.

JAEHYUN ↬ dubbed 'the talent' of 'dream on', he's the leader, main singer, as well as guitarist for the group. let's give it up for JEONG JAEHYUN!

SHUHUA ↬ drummer for 'dream on', as well as the queen of sarcasm. also became mark's 1st ever girlfriend after mark 'saved' her from a guy named lee know. broke up with mark after he moved back to toronto, however for some reason she also moved there... so along with jaehyun the trio formed 'dream on'!

TEN ↬ mark's gay ass roommate (don't let the twitter banner fool you.) and best friend who mark shares a bed with, because unfortunately they are unable to afford 2 separate mattresses. flirts with mark for shits n giggles, also enjoys stealing chuu's boyfriends.

HANEUL ↬ the unfortunate 19 year old that mark is dating, but she doesn't think that way. haneul is more than happy to gossip with mark about the tea between yeseo, jeongsob, and riki in her class. she also enjoys going on cute little dates such as, shopping at goodwill, visiting record stores, and getting pizza! puppy love is so real!

YIZHUO ↬ certified green tea bitch? certified mark hater wop wop wop wop wop. literally. yizhuo loves hosting parties, and knows everything about everyone. also works, like. everywhere? how does she do that.

CHUU ↬ mark's sister and tea lover (both the drinking and spilling kind) friendship with ten is (?) confusing to say the least, but ten always reports to chuu what is happening on epsiode 754 of the mark lee show today.

GYUVIN ↬ jaehyun's roommate, a young sophomore in college, loves listening to 'dream on' practice when they come over to perform, probably tied with hanuel for the title of "dream on's # 1 fan" also sometimes subs in for mark when he's busy. (doing what i'm not sure. man is unemployed.)

prev ↤ masterlist ↦ next

SUMMARY ↬ mark has never wanted anything in his life. the lead bassist for 'dream on', unemployed, and quite literally a loser, mark expects he's hit rock bottom from here. that is until you, the girl of his dreams quite literally skates out of his dreams and into his life. mark has never wanted anything more. but is love really worth the emotional baggage when you have seven evil exes, who each possess superpowers and are intent on defeating him?

GENRES ↬ social media au (smau), fluff, angst, drama, fantasy au, band au, scott pilgrim au, explicit(?), gay people (ten) help mark find true love

TAG LIST ↬ @lyvhie @h-aechanie @aquaphoenixz @galacticnct @spiderm444rk @nerdsungie @nanaxwi @lotties-readings @nessaassen02 @alethea-moon @222brainrot @kittydollzz @n0hyuck @dudekiss3r @wony1e @whr4nakin (if your username isn’t in blue/grey, please check your visibility settings so i can properly tag you <33)

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padfootagain · 9 months

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Pink Helmet

Hello everyone ! Today, we’re answering a request for my 6k event made by @wolfmoonmusic : “First of all.... CAROLE CONGRATULATIONS!!!! THIS IS HUGE!! I am so happy for you!!!Second of all.... Super cute idea for the celebration. Here's my request.

Sirius Black + Modern AU + Kissing in the Rain.

Like they have an argument on the way back from a party (they aren't together yet) where Sirius flirts with everyone (because I mean it's SIrius) and reader gets up and due to the argument she asks him to stop the car and she gets out and the rest is up to you!

Thank you and congratulations once again!!”

Thank you so much for your request, this is indeed an adorable idea! I hope you like what I wrote for your request! I’ve changed it a bit, I hope you don’t mind, but I got carried away with my own setting involving his bike, and not a car, so…

Hope you all like this! Tell me what you think!

****

Pairing: Sirius Black x reader

Warning: angst, and then lots of fluff. Honestly too much cuteness… even for me…

Summary: You get jealous on a night out with your friends, because Sirius is flirting with some random girl at the bar. Your anger is about to cause a chain reaction that will bring unsuspected consequences… for the better!

Word Count: 3312

Sirius Black’s Masterlist – Main Masterlist

Sirius has a headache.

He has a headache in this buzzing pub, a numb hand after holding onto his cold drink for too long and a broken heart because of his stupid crush on you.

Crush. Were it not so painful to think of you, Sirius would laugh at himself for believing in such an understatement.

Because the truth was that he was head-over-heels for you. Smitten with. Absolutely, irrevocably in love with you.

Had been for the past two years, as a matter of fact. Since that last year of school, when you had punched an asshole in the face, hence breaking two of his teeth, who had been insulting one of your friends. That was enough to turn Sirius on, big time, but the crush had turned into actual love a month later, when you spent an entire night listening to his twisted familial story. God, he still remembers every detail of that night to this day. The way you leaned closer to him, how you had wrapped your arms around his frame. All done in silence, without a word, just a presence he desperately needed. He reckons that it was the first time in a long, very long time when he didn’t feel utterly alone…

He drinks now the rest of his beer in one large gulp, because all of this is ridiculous. He’s painfully aware that a) you do not see anything but a friend in him, and b) that he will never be good enough for you.

So, might as well drown his sorrow in alcohol, at least for tonight. Besides, the woman before him is pretty, she’s not boring, she has a nice laugh and she seems kind enough.

Will it help him to forget you if he spends the night with her? No, must definitely not. But it will numb the pain for a while. It will make it easier for a few hours, and after loving you for two years, he’s grown accustomed to asking for no more than a temporary salvation.

Still, while he talks with the pretty girl in front of him, leaning against the bar, his eyes keep on drifting towards your frame. He knows perfectly well where you are, he always does. A superpower of his, or an unbreakable spell of yours, hard to decide if it is meant as a blessing or a curse…

You remained with Remus and Marlene for most of the night, but you’ve found your way to the dancefloor now, or rather the small space right before the stage, it is too narrow to be called a dancefloor. Still, you’re dancing now, and Sirius tries hard not to glance over at you, not to look at the way you’re moving your hips in rhythm with the drums, the way your hands fly upwards as if reaching for the ceiling, the way you throw your head back, the way he longs to kiss every inch of the throat you’re making particularly visible now in your movements…

Instead, he’s staring at this woman before him, and he has your name on the tip of his tongue, and it’s the thought of your presence near him that makes him blush and shift uncomfortably on his stool.

“So… huh… I’m going to be honest with you, Sirius,” the woman is leaning closer now, flirt written all over her graceful features, and Sirius can’t deny that he likes the sweetness of her perfume. “I’m really not looking for something serious, but I like you, and I think we could have some fun together, don’t you think so?”

He plays it cool, looks down for a second, summons his most seductive crooked smile, the one he knows drives everyone crazy. It’s easy to do it. He doesn’t know her… now that he thinks about it, he realizes he’s forgotten her name. He doesn’t care. He’ll spend the night with her, stay for breakfast or at least till she’s awake, so as not to be a douche, and then he’ll walk out of her apartment and out of her life.

It's easy. There are no consequences, no requirements, no strings attached. Your perfect opposite…

You. Sirius can feel a stare burning a hole in his head, and when he slightly turns to see who’s looking at him so intensely, he gets caught in your eyes. Even from across the room, he’s trapped in them, unable to look away, as always, whenever he looks at you. He just gravitates towards you, he can’t help it…

But when your eyes meet, you avert your gaze to the ground, fists clenched and jaw set, and Sirius can’t refrain a small frown. What got you so worked up? The thought of some scumbag being disrespectful towards you makes him blood instantly boil.

His frown deepens when he sees you making a bee-line towards the exit.

Something’s wrong… someone’s hurt you…

Sirius remembers there’s a woman before him only when she asks him what he’s doing. Indeed, he’s stood up from his stool and is grabbing some money in the back pocket of his jeans.

“I have to admit I wasn’t expecting you to be this up for it,” she jokes, but her smile falters when Sirius turns to her with an apologetic smile on his lips.

“No, I… I’m sorry, I really like you too. I really do. But… not tonight. I… I just saw a friend heading out, and she seemed upset, so…”

“She…”

The stranger nods, and Sirius doesn’t try to argue. There’s no need for any argument. She’s right, anyway…

Sirius pays for his drinks and hers, he can at least do that. Before she can argue though, he’s striding towards the door.

It’s October, and the nights are cold. And it’s raining tonight, heavily so, a curtain of freezing raindrops blurring his view of the street. While his feet slip upon skeleton leaves, he tightens his hold on his black leather jacket, pushing back his long hair while he tries to spot you in the large street…

There you are, a few feet away, looking for a cab.

He hurries to you, calling your name, but you turn away from him as he does so, and he frowns at the sight.

“Hey! Y/N! You’re alright?”

You nod, but keep your back to him.

“What are you doing? Everybody’s still inside. It’s not even eleven yet. Are you sick?”

“No, I just… I want to go home.”

“Oh… okay. I’ll get you home…”

“No, Sirius…”

“I have an extra helmet. The pink one you like.”

He bits his tongue before letting slip that he always carries your favourite helmet around, just in case, just for you… thank God he doesn’t say that out loud.

You look up at him, frame and face and hair drenched with the heavy rain, and you’re surprised when Sirius takes off his jacket and places it over you, holding it up above your head to protect you.

He’s wet all over too, with dark locks of hair now clinging to his neck and cheeks, his black t-shirt revealing more of his biceps and the ghosts of abs because of the rain. He’s shivering, and he doesn’t even notice it. He only sees that you’re cold, and that you’ll catch your death standing in this unforgiving rain.

He frowns hard when you angrily push him away though, his jacket falling between the two of you, still held in his idle hands but now acting like a barrier between your bodies instead of a protection.

“What’s wrong?” he asks, taken aback by the rage burning in your eyes.

Wrath… there’s no other word to describe the flash that passes through your gaze, and he doesn’t understand why you aim such a feeling at him. He’s barely spoken to you tonight, how could he have done something wrong?

“Nothing,” you answer in a better tone.

“Did I do something?”

Anger fades, it declines just as it mingles now with another emotion, one that he wishes he could forever banish from your face: pain.

“No, nothing,” you answer, and this time it isn’t a lie.

“Then, what’s wrong? Why are you angry at me?”

“I’m not…”

“Of course, you are. Come on, what’s wrong? You can tell me, I’ll fix it.”

But as you shake your head now, there are tears shining in your eyes, catching the light of the white streetlamps.

Your teeth chatter, and Sirius moves closer again, protecting you once more with his jacket. And it doesn’t really help, but it’s still sweet, and you look even more on the verge of crying now…

“What’s wrong?”

But you don’t say anything; instead you merely nod in the vague direction of his motorcycle, a few metres down the street.

“Please, take me home.”

He clenches his jaw, bits his tongue so he won’t insist. A curt nod is all he can summon, and he walks with you to his bike.

He hands you the pink helmet you adore, the one with the skull and the ‘pink is punk af’ logo on the side. But you don’t put it on. As he shrugs his jacket back on, he stares at you with a frown while you stare at the silly logo.

“Would you have given it to her?”

He catches your eyes as you look up, and he doesn’t understand why there are now tears mingling with rain on your cheeks.

“What?”

“To that girl, in the pub. Would you have taken her home like this too? Would you have given her my helmet?”

His frown only deepens.

“Why are you asking this?”

But you shake your head, hand him back his helmet.

His helmet. It was never yours in the first place, you need to remind yourself that…

“I’ll call for a cab.”

“I can take you home…”

“I don’t want you to.”

And it hurts to say it. It hurts even more to look at Sirius’s expression change, from confusion to pain.

“Stop that,” he complains. “Stop being mean. I haven’t done anything wrong, I’ve barely talked to you tonight, for goodness’ sake!”

“No, you’re right, you were too busy trying to get laid.”

There is such bitterness in your voice, Sirius doesn’t get where it comes from.

“And? What business is this of yours, anyway? You’re not my mother…”

“She’s pretty, I’ll give you that.”

“Why are you judging me, all of a sudden? I can sleep with whoever I fucking want to!”

“Oh, I know that, thank you! You’ve been doing a lot of that lately…”

“And whose fault is that?”

The answer slips before he can bite it back, and you’re a little taken aback by it. But Sirius drives your attention away. Your voices are still low, but both your tones cut like sharp stones, almost like knives, and every word strikes right where it hurts…

“Look, I don’t know what’s gotten into you tonight, but you’re being ridiculous right now.”

“Me? Ridiculous?”

“Yes! It’s raining, I’m freezing my arse here, so just take the fucking helmet and let me take you home safe and sound, alright?”

“You should go back to miss pretty hair…”

“Stop acting like you’re jealous.”

“Well I…”

But you fall silent, clearly biting back your words, and again, he doesn’t know what to make of it.

“I’m not jealous,” you finally let out.

And it hurts to hear you say it. It’s stupid, it’s selfish, this longing Sirius has in his chest for you to feel like that, for you to be jealous, for you to care…

It’s your turn to be taken aback by his tone when he answers in a quiet voice, all traces of anger gone, only something fragile left in his words.

“I know you’re not. I know…”

He heaves a sigh, running a hand through his wet hair.

“Look, I don’t want us to fight. I just want to make sure you get home safely. So, let me take you home, alright?”

“How many drinks did you have tonight?”

“Only a beer. I can drive.”

You’re about to yield, when the door of the pub opens… on the stranger Sirius has been hitting on the whole night.

“Oh, you really do have a motorcycle!” she exclaims, a little drunk, staying in the doorframe to avoid the rain.

She looks pretty like this, framed with golden light, cheeks flushed with alcohol, long hair cascading on her shoulders…

Sirius barely has time to register what’s happening, you’re already walking away.

“Y/N!”

“Siri! I wanted to give you my number!”

He’s started to follow you, but he turns to the stranger before hurrying after you again.

“Look, you’re nice, but I don’t think it’s gonna work out between us. Sorry about tonight.”

He doesn’t wait for her answer, for her protest. He’s running after you now. How come you can be so damn fast on these slippery wet leaves…

“Y/N! Wait!”

“Leave me alone…”

“You were about to finally let me give you a ride…”

“Yes, and then I was reminded that you have other obligations tonight.”

“I don’t have any, I don’t want to spend the night with her.”

You turn on your heels at that, and Sirius almost bumps into you as you stop dead.

“Why not? Have fun!”

“Why are you being mean again?”

And it’s true, you are. Your tone is aggressive, unnecessarily so.

But it just hurts. It hurts to see him with other women when you’ve been longing for him for years…

“Because I’m mad at you!”

“Why? I only offered you a ride! I’m still freezing to death under this bloody rain for you!”

“I’ve never asked you to do that!”

“You don’t have to!”

“Why not? Why do you always help me, why are you always here, always kind, always ready to take care of me, but the next second you’re throwing yourself into someone else’s arms?!”

Tears are back to stain your cheeks, and Sirius suddenly grows very still. His entire body tenses up, his cheeks grow paler.

You can’t be meaning this…

“What?”

You realize he’s still holding this bloody, stupid helmet…

“You were going to give her my helmet.”

And it sounds so stupid, but it isn’t, really. You’re surprised when Sirius raises up his free hand to cup your cheek, guiding your eyes up to face him.

He blinks a few times, trying to read through you.

You can’t be meaning this…

“What do you mean?”

He takes a step closer. And his fingers are cold on your cheek, it’s raining too hard for him not to be unbearably cold, but it doesn’t matter. His breath draws white patterns in the air between you as he struggles to slow down his heartbeat.

“Are you jealous?”

The question is simple, the answer should be easy.

But you know he doesn’t feel the same, and he knows you don’t see him this way. And you reckon that he could have better, and he thinks he doesn’t deserve you…

“No.”

But your voice is weak, and everything screams ‘liar’ in your demeanour.

“You’re jealous.”

This time, it isn’t a question, it’s a statement. A realization, rather.

Sirius can barely breathe. Because he is jealous whenever a guy flirts with you. And that’s because he’s in love with you.

There, he said it, at long last, it’s out in the open. He’s fucking in love with you, and that’s why he wants to punch any guy who kisses you, why it feels like his heart is being ripped out of his chest whenever you have a boyfriend and he sees you happy with someone else, why he…

“It doesn’t matter,” you chirp, your voice barely there at all by now.

“Why are you jealous?”

“I’m not.”

“You… you said we were just friends. You keep on saying that. Every time anyone says that we’re more, you keep on saying we’re just friends.”

But you frown up at him. He guesses that’s because you’ve noticed how breathless he is now.

“Because we are friends.”

“Yes, but… I thought you… you friendzoned me.”

“What?”

“You. You friendzoned me. You’ve never let me think that you could feel anything for me. Romantically speaking, I mean.”

He runs his hand through his hair again, trying to push the drenched locks away. It’s raining even harder, the sound is deafening. He barely feels the rain colliding with his cheeks at all…

“Why would I have? You… you were clearly never interested.”

“I’m interested.”

“What?”

“I’ve been interested for two years.”

“WHAT?!”

“Why do you think I keep this ridiculous helmet with me all the damn time?”

He almost stops himself when he opens his mouth to speak again. Because he’s a mess, and you could have better. So much better. Someone who’s not as fucked in the head as he is.

But you’re looking up at him with the same kind of hope that he feels whenever he thinks of you, and even if it can’t last, he wants to believe in this dream of his, even if it must fade in a minute…

“I like you. A lot.”

“You… you like me?”

“Yes.”

“Why do you keep on sleeping around, then?”

“Because I thought I didn’t stand a chance, and I can’t get over you. Also… I’m a mess. A hot mess, but still a mess.”

He tries to give you a crooked smile, but it lacks the confidence he usually wears. He’s too fragile for now, at that moment. And this smoothness he has mastered over the years is altogether gone. Instead, he’s shaking out of both coldness and nerves.

“Are you mad at me?” he asks, and his fear is genuine as it shines in his stormy eyes.

He waits for your answer, and it doesn’t come. Each second his heart is beating faster and faster, to the point where he wonders how it doesn’t simply explode. You open your mouth once, close it again.

And he’s cursing himself for his stupidity, for his vanity, for even imagining for a second that someone as wonderful as you could fall in love with a mess like him, for wasting it all, for fucking up the best friendship he has ever had…

Until the cold of the rain is replaced by the coolness of your palms on both of his cheeks. Until all the air is knocked out of his lungs when you press your soft lips against his. Until all he can do is kiss you back, rain now falling on his closed eyelids, getting caught in his lashes. The pink helmet slips from his hands, allowing him to wrap his arms around your frame, to pull you closer, so damn close, there is no space left between your bodies, only the layers of your wet clothes.

When you break away, you are both out of breath, and the rain is still falling just as hard, and none of you notice.

“I like you, too,” your admittance is a whisper, it makes Sirius grin anyway, brighter than you’ve ever seen.

He truly looks like the star he was named after now, beaming at you, holding your face with both hands.

He dives in for another kiss, and then another, and another, and it’s only when he feels your teeth chattering under his fingers between two kisses that he finally breaks your embrace.

He bends down to pick the helmet, hands it to you again.

“Please, put this damn thing on. I’m taking you home.”

“Will you stay?”

He can read in your eyes that you don’t mean tonight. You mean tomorrow morning. You mean the day after that. You mean forever.

He’s the one to put the helmet on your head, a tender smile on his lips, one that you’ve never seen before.

One that’s full of love.

“Don’t worry, love. I’m staying.”

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

Taglist :

@reg-arcturus-black @hells-escapees @omgrachwrites

@wolfmoonmusic

#sirius black #sirius black x reader #sirius black x you #sirius black x y/n #sirius black fanfiction #sirius black fanfic #sirius black imagine #the marauders #marauders #marauders era #marauders fanfiction #marauders fic #hp #hp fanfic #hp fanfiction #writing #fanfic #fanfiction

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frownyalfred · 5 months

Note

Ooh the angst of that idea... the insidious "it was for your own good Bruce, everyone's been telling you to retire for years" "we just wanted to keep you safe, you need to understand". Not understanding that Batman and Bruce are the same person. Bruce having to use his "Brucie" tactics to placate the people imprisoning him and communicate with his charges.

I see a lot of stories that center Batman's fighting prowess, and fewer that focus on the soft skills he has; the classic detective abilities like investigation, getting people to spill secrets, finding sneaky ways out of difficult situations. I feel like a situation where he's in this gilded cage, supposedly in the safest place in the world, having people assume he's siding with the enemy when he's actually walking a tightrope every day...it's so much fun as a concept

Right?? I'm frothing at the mouth thinking about what Bruce Wayne, in all his subdued glory, would teach to a budding class of superpowered teenagers. Especially with Kal's teeth hovering over his neck.

I could easily see Kal and Diana justifying it like you did above. Bruce isn't old, but he's vulnerable. And he's good at training Robins -- his proteges go on to be even more incredible than almost any other powered sidekick. So what could he do with a powered one?

I'm really thinking about writing this now, and I'm throwing around the idea of it being from Duke's POV, as a powered recruit who wasn't close with Bruce and the Batfamily before things went south. They have Gotham in common, and maybe that's what snaps Bruce out of it a little.

Or maybe Duke sees, both with powers and with his own mind, what the other recruits haven't this far. That this is a gilded cage, and Bruce is slowly being abused by Kal and Diana, who were supposed to be Earth's protectors. And he lets it happen, because he loves his kids more than anything. And beating commons sense into recruits helps him feel like maybe, somewhere, they could help keep his kids safer too if they ever crossed paths on the field.

Bruce raising a whole generation of highly-skilled field members purely because of the noose around his neck is so compelling to me.

#asks #anon #bruce wayne #batman #dc #myfic #theresurrectionist #clark kent #superman #injustice #duke thomas #diana prince

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anki-of-beleriand · 9 months

Text

Bad Liar ch. 15

Summary: Life is about lessons, and Wanda has been learning some harsh facts that had define her life and taken her to a place in which she was given a second chance. Then, all of a sudden, she meets you, and she realizes why it's easier to lie to yourself than to accpet what's right in front of her.

Pairing: Wanda Maximoff/ Female!reader - America/Kate - Mentions of past Vision/Wanda - past Natasha/Reader - Some Female!Reader/Carol Danvers - Mentions of Natasha/Maria being married

Warnings: Slow burn - Enemies to friends to lovers - Mentions of abusive relationships - Toxic relationships - angst - drama - mentions of abuse - violence - mentios of abused and sexual assault - more tags as the story progress.

Author's note: They needed to find a way out, but it turned out to be a deathly way to deal with the current confrontation.

This chapter was really hard to write because I didn't want to focuse too much on the violence but I did want to put the tension around everyone. They are not agents or people with superpowers, so perhaps their reactions is tied up to what they had seen in movies and who they are more so that because of that expertise. Guys, we are almost there!!! Please rmemeber English is not my mother tongue so forgive my grammar, spelling and funny mistakes, hope you like this one.

Chapter 1 - Chapter 2 - Chapter 3 - Chapter 4 - Chapter 5 - Chapter 6 - Chapter 7 - Chapter 8 - Chapter 9 - Chapter 10 - Chapter 11 - Chapter 12 - Chapter 13 - Chapter 14 - Chapter 15 - Chapter 16 - Chapter 17 - Chapter 18

Chapter 15

Five minutes to midnight

You let out a groan, your body weighted you down and the world in front of your eyes was spinning out of control. You opened your mouth, but no sound came, only the ragged breathing that created a piercing pain on your chest.

Wanda

Her name came into mind, and soon after panic rose in your mind. You needed to move, and fast, Wanda was outside and she was in danger. With great effort you tried to sit up, pain clutch at your arm and the office spiralled in front of your eyes. You held your head, taking a deep breath that made you open your mouth in discomfort.

You tried to evaluate the damage, your legs were left mostly unharmed, but your midsection, your arms and your head had been harmed quite badly. You grimaced trying to stand up holding onto the table, your eyes closed for a moment before you found the broken mobile on the far corner. Staggering towards the place, you let out a cry when you tried to grab the mobile. The screen had been crushed, and the normal functions of the phone were not available for you.

“Tony.” You rasped out, “Friday call Tony.”

The mobile flickered, the sound was not good and suddenly it just turned off. You dropped the article turning around, it would be up to you to get help. You dragged yourself to the door, each step a painful reminder of the fight you held with the man.

Your hand lifted to the panel to call for the elevator. You waited, taking slow breaths, trying to hold onto your sanity while thinking about Wanda. About your family.

“Y/N!!!!”

You let out a whimper, turning around fast made you crash against the wall. your eyes went wide, and relief soon filled your expression when you noticed Maria coming towards you with the security detail of the building and Nick Fury.

“Maria, Wanda…” you started watching as everyone started checking the floor, Fury held you up with Maria cupping your face, completely pale and trembling.

“Wanda…you didn't tell me…” you groaned trying to glare at the woman, but Maria shook her head.

“I wasn't supposed to, Y/N. Natasha made me promise, it was to make sure Wanda's secret was safe…”

You shook your head glaring at Maria and Fury, “if anything happens to her…”

You groaned again, tears coming out of your eyes, Maria’s lip quivered while putting your face in her hands.

“I'm sorry, they already sent a search and capture warrant with Wanda's car description and plates.” Maria tried to soothe your worries; Fury nodded to the lift where a pair of paramedics came in ready to assist you.

“America, Billy and Tommy…”

“I sent someone over there, everything is being taken care of.” Fury placed you on the floor slowly, the stern glance firmly in place.

“He said something to you, anything else that may help us in our search?”

You shook your head letting the paramedics do their job, you tried to wrap your mind in what was happening, the officials and security looking around the place.

“I just wished you had told me…” You mumbled tiredly; your attention turned to the two men attending to your wounds. “How bad is it?”

“I think we need to take you to the hospital,” one of them started checking the bruises and the general stated you were in, “some bones may be broken but we cannot be certain unless we take some x-rays or…”

“No, I need…I need a computer.” You replied shaking your head, lifting your face to see Maria there, “call Tony.”

“Y/N I think…” Fury started but your eyes shot a heated glare towards the man.

“My family is in danger, Fury.” You motioned to the paramedics so they could help you up, “you need help, and right now Tony and I are your best hope, you got us into this mess, you better pray to God that this ends well…”

Fury held your stare with his sole eye, he pursed his lips tempted to say something against your plan but you were probably right. He nodded curtly, with Maria already making the call to Tony; you let out a breathy cough shivering while motioning to one of the medics to come closer.

“I need something for the pain, but not to leave me out of it, do you have something like that?”

He hesitated glancing at his partner then at you, “we’re not supposed to….”

“Don’t worry, I will take full responsibility, just…give me your best drug I will need it.” You mumbled making your way to the closest lab, you sat down in one of the chairs while turning on the computer.

“There are two patrols driving right now towards your house, they will be there in twenty minutes,” Fury entered the room with you, his eye glancing curiously at the screen, “Tony is coming over, he will be here in ten. What exactly are you doing?”

“This man…I know you guys want him for the deals he is making but, Maria, how bad is it going to be for Wanda? I need to know everything.”

Fury and Maria glanced at one another, you hit the table with your fist glaring at the both of them while pointing to the screen.

“I can hack into her mobile and his, I can put a tracker on them or the car Wanda is using, but I need to know everything! I need to know she is going to be fine! That nothing is going to happen!!”

This last part was said with tears welling up in your eyes, “tell me you don’t think this man is going to hurt Wanda or Billy or Tommy or even America…and I step aside…”

Maria clenched her jaw sitting right beside you turning on another of the computers, “what do you want me to do?”

Fury huffed putting his mobile out and typing really quick before making a phone call, you winced with your eyesight getting blurry every once in a while, but your fingers moving decisively over the keyboard.

________________

Wanda drove in silence, her mind completely blank reflecting what her face was trying to convey. The world passing her through was moving in slow motion, Wanda could not feel anything at all, she was just going through the motions with the weight of Vision's hand on her thigh gripping her tightly to the point she could almost feel the bruises he was leaving on her.

For a brief moment Wanda played with the idea of crashing her car against a tree or a wall. She could actually spot a couple of places that could work for her plan, she knew that whatever happened her boys would be okay. She liked to think that you wouldn't leave them alone and that maybe Natasha would also come forth to help them out. But Vision cut her hopes off when he punched her thigh pressing the barrel of the gun on her ribs.

“Don't even think about it,” Vision spoke in a dangerous whisper, the cold anger sent shivers down Wanda's back, “if we're not there by the time the clock strikes the six, Agatha will make sure our children join us in death.”

“No…” Wanda held her tongue before she could say something else.

She was not surprised that Agatha's name came into play in the conversation. The young woman had known that their neighbour had been playing on Vision’s side from the very beginning. At first, Wanda had fallen for her good-natured smile and the complicity she came by on that first meeting, it took Wanda some time to realise that all her secrets and mistakes were being told to her husband by the very woman she thought was her friend.

Soon, Wanda discovered Agatha enjoyed her suffering while also flirting with Vision and making her children's life impossible. The fact that, at the end of everything, Agatha had come forth to be with Vision in such a predicament was not a surprise at all.

“Yes, Agatha is a good pet, I have to admit that much.” Vision said offhandedly, he turned to Wanda and this time around his hand drew circles on her thigh going up and down until he was grinding Wanda's crotch pressing his knuckles harshly.

“But you, my love, have the most exquisite moans and tears I have ever seen in a woman,” he clenched his jaw when Wanda grimaced holding back her disgust but unable to hide it from his eyes.

Wanda let out a groan when he hit her hard on her thigh, he did it again, and again, and again until Wanda almost lost control of the wheel.

“Look where you are going, my love, or the kids will suffer. Now you are going to take your punishment quietly, like a good wife, are you not?”

“No.” The word came out of nowhere, it left her lips with more strength and conviction to what she actually felt at the moment.

Wanda flickered her glance through the rear mirror, Vision was left dumbstruck never before having heard such a tone of voice, or that strength behind his wife. He was so tempted to hurt her, to teach her…but, he leaned back on the seat if the car chuckling darkly.

“Sooner or later, my love, you will bend to my will.” He cocked his head pointing to the road, “for now, drive faster, we are almost there and I'm dying to see my kids.”

Wanda clenched her fist tightly around the wheel, she tried to hold back the tears welling up in her eyes. Her mind was screaming in pain, confusion and terror, she was trying desperately to give of a signal to one of the cars moving past her, she was trying to make faces or make sure anyone could see the state Vision was in. But it was as if the world was deaf and blind, for a moment she let go of her thoughts, and soon enough she thought of you.

The panic that had risen inside her went limp for a moment, the memory of your smile and your words almost made her smile. She held onto these memories, while trying to quiet down her worries. She remembered Vision's words, the story of you laying on the floor in a pool made of your own blood.

And now, she was driving to her home begging and hoping that perhaps America had decided to go to her place with the twins or opted to take them out to someplace.

She could only hope, though.

With a heavy heart, and fear she drove down the highway trying to make sure every camera on the road could take a good picture of her and the wounded Vision sitting by her side.

Time, all she needed was time.

__________

Agatha Harness stood by the window, her fingertips caressing the soft texture of the curtains protecting the intimacy of the house. She smiled, the two cops that had parked in front of Wanda's home had finished the inspection on the property talking through their radios before making their way to the car.

She turned around to see America and Kate tied together on the ground while Tommy and Billy had been frozen on the sofa. The little boys were trembling, each one of them wearing the signs of the struggle they tried to put up when they came across the woman.

The ordeal had been far too easy, nor America or Kate knew of her, and by the time the twins were ready to scream she had put the weapon against the Bishop heir. Now, all she had to do was wait.

“I don't suppose your sister keeps the alcohol in the living room, right?” Agatha put a hand on her cheek, her eyes gleaming mischievously at America who was glaring at her. “Yes, I think a house filled with teenagers would make her think twice about the storage of the alcohol.”

America struggled against the ropes on her hands, she lifted her chin in defiance only to be soothed over by the side glance from Kate and the whimpers from Tommy. Agatha rolled her eyes approaching the young teen, her fingers mapping out the features of the young woman.

“You are quite the beauty, Missy, just like your sister,” Agatha lifted a brow walking towards the closest table that held a picture of you and America, “I can see why Wanda fell for her. I have always suspected Wanda was odd, but never imagined she was into women. Tsk, no wonder she could never please Jarvis.”

The woman strolled around the room taking notice of the different objects adorning the living room, the pictures and the technological gadgets, the expensive furniture and the layout of the house. Without a doubt, you had money, and Agatha could appreciate the sleaziness behind Wanda's actions to get you wrapped around her finger. Too bad this wouldn't last,at least at the end you would be grateful that her and Jarvis would free you from such an arrogant, and quite dangerous individual.

The mobile she brought with her rang three times, her face lit up picking up the gadget from the table before turning to the twins.

“Well, boys, I hope you are ready because daddy just got here!” She exclaimed happily clapping while rushing to the sofa, she tried to put a hand on Tommy's shoulder but Billy slapped it away.

“Nos, Billy, don't be like that,” the woman slapped Billy under the muffled protests of America and Kate, she glared at the boys before grabbing both of them harshly. “You two will behave, you will go out there and greet your dad and then we will be on our way. There is a long trip waiting for us, and your dad has made a great effort to make this perfect for the family.”

America winced under the biting pressure of the ropes on her hands, she felt the slashes on her wrists and the burning pain running up her arm. To her left, Kate was just breathing with her eyes, the only indicator that she was scared. America felt like an idiot, she knew it was her fault the woman had entered the house that this freaking woman had trapped them in and then dragged them to her house so the police couldn't notice they were missing. Many thoughts were crossing her mind, she was thinking about Wanda that was looking so beautiful that day, with hope and happiness at being on a date with you, she thought about you perhaps back at work ignorant of what was happening. America wished she could do something, but her fight against the binds on her wrist had caused a lot of damage and she couldn't risk anything foolish that would endanger Kate, Billy or Tommy.

Agatha fixed herself pushing the twins forward to the door, she put on a big smile while opening the door. America's breath caught in her throat when her eyes fell on the figure of Wanda Maximoff and Edwin Jarvis. Both of them wore the signs of struggle, blood and bruises covering their bodies but whereas Wanda was scared with her green eyes falling on her children then on America; Jarvis was looking enraged.

“Jarvis!! What happened to you?” The other woman ran to her lover, but the man dismissed her pushing her and Wanda away to greet his children.

“Billy, Tommy, my boys,” he opened his arms waiting for the greeting of her children, his expression changing into one of anger when the boys didn't move from the spot, if anything their eyes went wide open sending glances to Wanda.

“Is this the way I teach you to greet me, boys?” Jarvis never lifted his voice, he spoke calmly, softly with a hint of coldness in his voice.

Wanda nodded at the twins, and after a moment of hesitation they came to Jarvis hugging him with trembling hands. Jarvis smirked ruffling their heads harshly making them wince under the pressure.

“That wasn't so hard, was it?”

The man limped inside the house closing the door behind him, he pushed Wanda further into the house before settling his eyes on America and Kate. He raised a brow quite amused at Agatha who smiled back.

“They were in the way.”

“Indeed.” Jarvis sat down on the sofa, his eyes falling on America for a long moment before pointing at Wanda, “now dear come sit here, we need to talk about the future.”

Wanda held back her facial expression, she tried to conceal the disgust she was feeling at the thought of her sitting on Vision's lap. The man path his thigh three times, and Wanda knew she would need to comply or else, this would end up badly. With some reluctance, she stepped forward knowing America and Kate were looking at her shaking their heads while Tommy and Billy cried silently sitting on the chair in front of them.

“Now, dear, we're going to talk about the future and your misdeeds,” the man passed his hand through Wanda's uncovered knee, his eyes gleaming in lust ignoring the open frown from Agatha.

“You see, Mrs. Y/L/N,” he said directing his attention to America, the young woman scowled but said nothing, “I gave everything to my wife, I took her in when no one else loved her, I educated her, dress her, I have her children, a house…and what does she do? She leaves in the middle of the day and takes my children with her. Why? Because she is a bad woman and a bad mother, and she is always defying me and going against my wishes, even though she has been mine since the very first time his father sold her to me.”

Wanda felt her lower lip quivered; the fear she was experimenting soon mixed up with the anger his words were fuelling. The muscles on her arms and shoulders tensed, her fingers twitching trying to form a fist she still didn't dare to throw to the man that had his hand on her thigh. The young woman was trying with all her might to look for a way out, her eyes found those of America and Kate and she regretted the moment she hid the truth from you or rejected the idea of this ever happening. But, what she regretted the most was dragging you and your family into this mess.

Would you still love her if something were to happen to America?

Would you still want Wanda after all of this?

Wanda needed her kids, America and Kate safe, she let her eyes wander around the room before turning to Vision. Nausea raised inside her throat, her heart almost stopping with the shiver of sheer repulsion as she lifted her hand to cup Jarvis face.

The man let her eyes wander back to Wanda, he had not lost his scowl but now there was curiosity in his gestures. He raised a single eyebrow, his lips curling slightly when he spotted the fear and submission in Wanda.

“Are you going to apologize?” He asked Wanda nodded, opening her mouth only to close it again.

The words tangled themselves on her throat, Jarvis snorted lifting his hand only to wrap in around her neck.

“You will have time for that for now I think we need to go.” He grabbed Wanda tightly making her stand up while he did too, letting out a groan of pain.

His face was swelling slowly, while the eye you had hurt was bleeding profusely. Wanda stepped back when he almost fell down, but the man held onto Wanda before straightened up.

“As fun as this has been,” Jarvis turned to America and Kate, “we will leave, I'm sorry about your loss, but surely you understand that when you mess with a taken woman the consequences may be…deathly.”

America opened her eyes, they stinged with unshed tears just as her struggle against the ropes started again. Jarvis smirked when Wanda shook her head, and desperation filled America's face.

“I'm sure you will thank me, once you are able to come upon such a good inheritance.” The man stepped away from Wanda going over to where the twins were sitting, he grasped their clothes pulling them to him harshly making them yelped and Wanda almost went to their rescue. Agatha was right on top of her stopping her before pushing her to the entrance door.

“However, if by any chance, Y/L/N survive then…you may let her know that I make sure to take my wife in body and soul,” Jarvis continued with his rant, “and that the last thing she did before the end was scream my name.”

Kate clenched her jaw trying to hold back her tears, America was still struggling trying to get free to get to her phone. Her mind wrapped around the idea of you being dead or badly wounded without any help.

Jarvis pushed his family to the door, and he was about to close the door when his ears caught the sound of guns getting ready to fire. He turned around only to see five police cars parked on the street cutting off the exit. He snarled, grabbing his own gun and pointing it to Tommy. This time around Wanda did react by hitting Agatha on the face while going to Tommy, she stopped dead in her tracks when Vision pressed the barrel on Tommy's head.

“Are you ready to risk it, dear?”

“Vision, please…take me, just…take me, leave him alone.” Wanda begged, her voice trembling with her eyes wide open.

Tommy started sobbing with Billy gripping his brother wide eyed with tears streaming down his cheeks.

The moment of tension grew amongst them, Vision ready to risk everything to get out of the situation alive. And everything would have ended in tragedy if it wasn't for his phone that started ringing. The man blinked a couple of times confused, he kept the gun pointing to Tommy while also grabbing the phone with a hint of annoyance and curiosity.

His brows got lost on the hairline, with his lips twitching back while the skin around his cheeks tensed. His eyes went quickly to Wanda who was struggling with herself ready to grab her children, Vision huffed, pressing the green button while locking his glance with Wanda.

“I am very surprised to see you survive.” His voice dripped sarcasm, a hint of anger tainting his words.

“I can't say I was left unaffected, but my people were nearby,” you trailed off holding whatever else you wanted to say to the man while fear gripped your heart tightly, “but your failure is not the reason I call you about.”

You winced when Peggy Carter and James Logan glared at you while pointing to the script they had set up for you. The man at the other end of the line chuckled darkly, the scream from Wanda and Tommy almost made you drop the phone.

“I wouldn't call it a failure if you are at the office and I am at your home with them, and your sister.”

You clenched your fists tightly, wincing when the effort tensed the bruises in your body.

“Touché.” You took a deep breath, the words leaving your mouth with a bad taste, “I have a proposal for you.”

This time around Vision was looking extremely interested, he didn't lose sight of the police patrols or the people surrounding the house. He could see everyone waiting for the action while he spoke with you. His eyes soon drifted to Wanda and the kids, before settling in Agatha who had her own weapon tightly grasped on her left hand. He weighed his options, the tension kept growing and he knew any moment now a team of negotiators would arrive to control the situation.

The end of this particular chapter of his life wasn't looking bright, and he hated that he let himself be caught in such a foolish action. He contemplated his options, but your voice soon brought to the table a most suitable deal.

“Kingpin sold you out for a pretty good deal of money you stole from him,” you let out a raspy cough, the pain shooting electric spasm through your body, “you know what will happen, jail would be your grave.”

Vision narrowed his eyes, nodding to Agatha and Wanda to go back inside the house, his hand never wavering while pointing the gun to his son. He frowned, noticing that not since the phone call had anyone done or said anything, no one had dared to even approach him or try to talk him out of the threat. Vision’s mind started working fast through the different possibilities and ways in which he could get out of the situation. Your words had made his blood run cold, a shiver of sheer terror went through him knowing that his previous associate knew of the embezzlement of the money he had done while working for the man.

How did you know him?

Did he really rat Vision out?

“He is a practical man, and I'm a woman of business. Why do you think the police have done nothing to try and take you out and away from my family?”

“Perhaps they are afraid I could keep my promise of putting a bullet in my son's head.” Vision retorted, you sighed in exasperation and the man was really tempted to put the bullet in your forehead.

“You are not an idiot, they won't do anything unless I say so. Money can buy a lot of things, Jarvis.”

Jarvis was starting to feel tired, his head was hurting and his eye was actually killing him. The sight on his right eye was getting blurry and with every minute that passed his body felt heavier and sensitive on his skin.

“And how much does your sister and her girlfriend cost, Y/N?” this time he turned to America who was torn between relief and fear.

“Enough to make an effort and call you back.”

“What about the life of my children and Wanda?”

This time around he could hear the intake of breath on your end, he smirked tilting his head until his eye was mocking Wanda.

“Ah, not that much, I see. Don't worry, I don't blame you, if she did this to me, imagine what she would do to you.”

Wanda was trembling, her arms limped at her sides. She had her eyes on her children, forgetting the tears rolling down her cheeks or the ability to move, her only concern was to get Tommy and Billy out of the situation she was in at the moment. Wanda blinked, turning to Vision wrapping her mind around his words, soon she understood who was behind the line talking to him and her heart almost stopped beating at the relief she felt knowing you were alive. How did they end up in such a mess? How was it possible that Vision had access to you? Or that he had found her and the twins?

So many questions, and Wanda was trying to gather her strength to fight. She could live with the idea of her dying or being taken away by Vision but her children…she had left the man to make sure they could grow in peace. They would have a chance.

Wanda waited with her heart at her throat, and her mind moving through different scenarios while Vision continued talking through the phone.

The room was only filled with the sound of Vision's conversation with you, everyone had their eyes on him waiting. Making time.

Jarvis snarled into the phone, finally giving into his own pain and sitting down. Sweat rolled down his forehead, her hand was trembling while holding the phone against his ear.

“I am a businesswoman, Jarvis, so I have a proposal.”

You took a deep breath; you had rehearsed this speech before but it didn't mean you felt comfortable saying it out loud. Peggy nodded curtly at you; Logan was talking on the other line while Fury was snarling orders to two different teams right outside the van you were in. You waited to hear the laboured breath of the man at the other end of the line, your mind going to your sister, to Wanda, to Kate and the twins. You should have been stronger, you should have hit first and ask questions later, you should have…

A hand placed softly on your shoulder; Tony offered a single smile shaking his head. Your lower lip quivered but the man shook his head placing a hand on his chest before pointing a finger at you. You nodded, turning to face Peggy once more.

“I have resources, I have money…more than you can even imagine.”

“I can imagine a lot.” The man stated before adding, “but right now I am imagining my freedom, and my life…with my family, of course.”

“You don't need the kids, but you need Wanda and Agatha.” You made a face, scrunching up your nose paled and nauseous, “they can be bred and I can get you someone suitable for your tastes.”

Jarvis chuckled darkly, he glanced at Wanda putting his phone out of his ear and putting the conversation on speaker.

“Are you really telling me to leave my children and breed my wife again?” Jarvis smirked when Wanda's expression faltered at those words, “how fast is the affection you held for her.”

“Again, I deal with business, not so much emotions. I needed a good time, and Wanda offered that.” You closed your eyes before continuing, “I have a jet ready, a country without extradition and the means to make you rich, give you a new life and stop Kingpin from torturing you after you decided to steal from him.”

Wanda couldn't help but lowered her eyes at your words, she was confused but she also knew there was something else behind what you were saying. She had to hope, she had to wait. Jarvis shifted on the sofa, for the very first time since this whole mess started he finally took into consideration the woman that had come to him into this mess. Agatha approached him tentatively, her hand brushing his hair away from his face.

“Do you think it is true? Do you think she is offering a good deal?” The woman was not so sure, she had seen you beside Wanda and the twins, you looked pretty much in love with Wanda and this was a little fishy for her, but so far she had let Vision's lead the way and was not about to contradict him.

Jarvis tilted his head glancing with his good eye to the woman, he grabbed her by the hair crashing his lips to hers.

“What is the catch?” Jarvis finally asked and you chuckled.

“Let my sister and Kate Bishop go with the twins, the police are not going to stop you once you leave the house with Wanda and the other woman.” You stated flatly, your eyes burning with rage, “I will be your bargaining chip, they won't dare to hurt me or intervene in any way, and you will have access to my power, my money.”

Everyone in the room went silent, America opened her eyes shaking her head in disbelief with Kate frowning. Wanda felt dizzy, her heart dripping to her feet while she tried to wrap her mind around what you just said. Jarvis weighed his options, his good eye flickered to the kids and the teens, undoubtedly they would be too much dead weight to carry around while trying to get away from the police. Wanda was the easiest option, she and Agatha would obey Jarvis's instructions if necessary while also a great source of amusement for him. Besides, you were offering something equally interesting: yourself.

Could this be a trap? Yes, of course, but Jarvis bet he could play his cards carefully and get away with it. He could get freedom, money, and a new life.

“You have yourself a deal, Y/N but I will put the conditions to ensure I'm not double crossed.”

“Very well, tell me what conditions do you have?”

___________________

No one was speaking, your hand held the kevlar best with your eyes examining the article closely. Fury and Tony waited patiently for you, pursed on your lips telling the two men you were not convinced about using this for the mission. The bulletproof vest was body contoured built to adjust to your torso to offer the best protection, it was a near-fit of military engineering.

Still, you were not convinced.

Jarvis could notice the article, and everything they had been working for could fall down in a second. Besides, Wanda's life depended on you doing your job well.

“I won't do it, Wanda's life is still on the line.” You fault out refused the item putting on your jacket, your eyes glancing from Tony to Fury.

“Y/N, this is a dangerous mission and you're a civilian, you're being sent because…” Fury started for the tenth time, you lifted a single hand shutting him immediately, much to his surprise.

“You got me and my family in this mess while keeping the identity of this maniac a secret.” There was a heavy huff behind your words, your stare hardening as you continued, “don't try to patronise me with this, you messed up and you need me, so I'll do this part my way.”

Fury rolled his sole eye ready to fight when Peggy Carter entered the trailer, her sharp eyes pinning you to the spot.

*Everything is ready, are you sure you don't want the protection?” She asked curtly, you shook your head and after a second of hesitation Peggy nodded.

“Your car is right outside, you have your phone and the tracker and the teams are getting ready.” The older woman hesitated before stepping closer to you, “your sister is doing okay, she is being looked after by Hope and Natasha, the twin and Ms. Bishop is doing fine though a little scared.”

“Thank you for the update.”

“You know the plan?”

You nodded curtly; the older woman smirked her eyes twinkling smartly at you.

“Then, let's move it.”

Jarvis had chosen an abandoned military station in the midst of a forgotten highway. The place had hosted the secret service working against the Nazis back in the 30’s, night was already there the lights of the cars had disappeared almost forty minutes ago while the radio finally gave in to the lack of signal. You drove fast, as fast as the speed limit and your car allowed it, your heart had not stopped beating with a constant thud with your mind going over and over through the plan that you had been subjected to by the authorities.

New year was closed now.

And Camp David was just around the corner.

The place looked empty, the gates had been opened recently and you could see a car parked in the distance the lights still on. Your body trembled with anticipation, the pain of your wounds pulsating through your senses keeping you awake while the night engulfed the place in a dark, and sinister silence. The car came to a stop with the lights falling upon the form of Edwin ‘Vision’ Jarvis, who was wearing the signs of the fight you two engaged in hours ago. Tension is quite obvious, the fact the man trusted you enough to come here without any questions was enough to tell you he was desperate. As much as you were.

The door of the car closed with a dry thump; your eyes shifted to Wanda who was sitting by the passenger’s seat trying to hold onto the tears while Agatha had a gun to her head. Vision smirked when he realized you kept your word of coming alone, of giving into his demands and getting him closer to the escape he needed to have his freedom filled with money and pleasure.

“You kept your word.”

“I am a woman of my word, Jarvis.” You replied limping towards the man, his smile grew nastier noticing the pain and the effort it took you to make your way towards him.

“So it seems.” Jarvis nodded to the car, and in that moment your eyes crossed for the very first time with those of Wanda. Something inside you stirred with violence, you wished you could go to her and comfort her, to tell her the children were fine and that everything would be fine.

But you couldn’t, and what you did was to drift your stare to go back to Jarvis.

“Very well then let’s get this over with, you and I need medical attention and I already have someone in mind.”

Without any warning he lifted his hand wrapping it around your neck and squeezing hard, “I think you are in no position to order me around.”

You lifted your chin holding onto his eyes, he made sure that his hand never left your throat until your face turned into a nasty red colour and your eyes filled with tears. He kept his grip on you, growling while putting his face closer to yours.

“Jarvis, please!” Your heart fluttered tenderly when your heard Wanda speaking, and you couldn’t help the curve on your lips when the man let go of you.

You took a deep breath massaging your neck, your eyes gleaming with anger and defiance, an expression Vision would have a pleasure to take off of you as soon as you kept your part of the bargain.

“I hope you know that if you double cross me or if you try something against me nor Agatha, Wanda will end up with a bullet in her head.”

You clenched your jaw tightly, nodding curtly while nodding towards the car. Jarvis snorted pushing you hard against the car opening the driver’s door.

“Come on, time is of essence right now.”

The car smell like blood and sweat, your eyes found those of Wanda and for a brief moment you could see the doubt in her green eyes, you could sense her fears and the uncertainty of the whole situation. Agatha huffed hitting Wanda with the gun, she then turned to you making a face of pure disgust.

The car was put into motion, you glanced out of the window while giving the directions to the closest private airport. Without a doubt, Jarvis knew his way around the seclude parts in the country, and while he didn’t fancy to have anyone know where he was about to go, it was quite obvious for him he needed you and this place to get away from the authorities. He didn’t trust you that much, if the police had arrived at your home he knew they would be looking for you and him after the scene at your place.

Jarvis drove fast, erratically showing the signs of exhaustion and pain that had been consuming him all through the afternoon. You could see him losing the battle against his wounds and the state he was in, just as you could notice the craziness consuming the woman sitting beside you with the gun tightly pressed against Wanda’s head. The silence in the car was only interrupted by Jarvis ragged breathing, and the engine of the car.

Soon, and after more than an hour of driving you saw the gates leading to the private airport. The place was empty, the guard that was supposed to be watching over the gates was absent though the security hut held onto white light flickering from time to time. Jarvis stopped the car holding onto his grunts before turning his eyes to you.

“Well?”

You frowned leaning forward, your head turned left and right shrugging.

“The guard is not supposed to leave his post.” You commented softly, a sigh left your lips with your eyes flickering to Wanda, “I can try and see…”

“No, Agatha, give me the gun go and see who is in there and open the gate.”

Agatha hesitated before giving in and handing the gun to Jarvis, the man enjoyed the control he had over the women in the car. Not only did Wanda obey without protesting and was now as she had always been, quiet and submissive, but Agatha was ready to comply with all he needed and wanted and you…well, you were smart, you did nothing to jeopardy your security and that of Wanda, with time Jarvis would make sure to correct your sexual deviation while submitting you to him.

The place looked empty, though Jarvis could see the workers of the night shift filling out the hangars, small cars moving in and out before settling for the night. Everything looked quite normal, a night in a private airport in which charter planes waited for a new trip, you shifted in the back seat glancing around the place while directing Jarvis to the last entrance.

“When is the plane schedule to leave?” Jarvis asked glancing back at you through the rearview mirror, you furrowed your brows putting your phone from your pocket before handling it over to the man.

“Five minutes to midnight.”

“Why? Why so late?” Agatha asked with tension dripping from her voice.

Jarvis quirked a brow, he too was quite interested in the answer to such a question. He had never known of a plane to take off at such an hour, his eyes went back to the road taking close attention to everything and everyone making sure no one would dare to stop them.

“We need to justify the flight, I told the pilot I was needed it in Paris for a meeting.” You replied shrugging, “I told him I didn’t want to wait so he got the permissions and that’s the latest we could get.”

“Permission? I thought that you could fly whenever you want.” Agatha furrowed her brows, but it was Jarvis the one who laughed shaking his head.

“Don’t be an idiot, we need to ask for permission to take off, it’s not like grabbing a car or anything like that…” Jarvis then shrugged, “I did think it would be faster…”

You huffed rolling your eyes, “no, flying it is far more complicated than driving.”

“Very well, do we go in or stay outside?” Jarvis was approaching the last Hangar, he lifted his eyes to you.

“Let’s get in.”

The place was lit up by the white and yellowish lights of lamps hanging from the ceiling; the gate was completely open with the nose of the plane pointing to the runaway ready for the trip. Jarvis exited the car walking around to stretch his hand to Wanda, the young woman hesitated enough for him to lean in and gripped her forearm tightly. You tried to step closer but Agatha stood by your side pressing painfully the barrel of the gun on your ribs.

The place was alone, but the plane had the cabin door open with the stairs down waiting to be boarded.

“Look at the efficiency of your lover, dear.” Jarvis whispered in Wanda’s ear, “soon, you will know pain, and I won’t let you die until I have taken new children off of you. Until you are begging me to end your life.”

Wanda shivered clenching her jaw while keeping her eyes ahead of her, you shifted letting your eyes wandered around before settling on Jarvis. Out of the corner of your eye you saw movement in the cockpit, Agatha narrowed her eyes shifting uneasily at the silence in the room.

You worked hard on what you were supposed to do, Jarvis needed to go inside the cabin with Agatha but Wanda was a problem. You saw movement inside the plane once more, and you could feel eyes on you.

“We can wait inside the plane,” you suddenly offered, your voice trembling while you grabbed the phone, “I can call the pilot asking where he is.”

Jarvis frowned turning to you, “why is he not here?”

“I don’t know? Maybe you can ask him when he comes,” you replied harshly earning yourself a hard hit from the gun Agatha was holding, you were seeing stars while trying to hold onto your consciousness.

“I would hold back my tongue if I were you, Agatha doesn’t appreciate rudeness, much less if it is directed against me.” Jarvis commented approaching you, he snatched the phone off of your hands narrowing his eyes he tried to see that your communications were being done with the pilot.

He read the messages, his hand clenching into the mobile when he caught sight of those messages you had exchanged with Wanda.

“Very well, I think I need a drink, I hope you have a good whiskey inside.”

You scowled lifting your chin, “I do.”

Your heart was beating really hard, so far you had only seen one gun and it was the one that Agatha had been flashing all night threatening Wanda and then you. Your eyes drifted quickly to the cockpit and then to the back office in the Hangar. Your muscles tensed in anticipation, counting in your mind so as to distracted yourself from the growing anxiety inside your chest.

You followed Jarvis who pushed Wanda ahead of him, then he went behind her and Agatha staggered behind you. From the moment she arrived to the airport, Agatha had felt uneasy; there was just something so…strange about this. It was so easy, without any unwanted encounters.

Silence filled the place, you took a deep breath.

You trusted Fury and Peggy and all the forces that had filled out your building were capable of doing what they said they would without harming anyone. Your eyes flickered again to the cockpit window, this time around you could see the reflection of someone wearing military gear inside, then the swift movement in the back office and you knew you would need to get to Wanda before Jarvis could do something.

Behind you, and totally forgotten, was Agatha.

The woman that had obsessed over Jarvis, ready to do his biding as long as she got to enjoy a piece pf affection from him. She grabbed the gun, her eyes going big as saucers when they caught sight of someone inside the plane.

Everything happened in a second.

Wanda and Jarvis crossed the threshold of the plane’s gate, with you almost putting a foot on the stairs when the woman shrieked for Jarvis to come down. She grabbed you by your hair pulling hard, while Jarvis having heard and understood the meaning behind such a scream grabbed Wanda by her neck punching her several times on the ribs and abdomen making sure his grip on her was tight almost to the point of choking.

“GO! GO! GO!”

You grunted struggling against the older woman, your elbow finding her abdomen hitting her hard until she had to let go of your hair. You heard more than saw the screams and heavy footsteps moving towards you, you turned around hearing Wanda’s gasp and tiny scream for help.

“NOO!”

Agatha screamed and then, you stood there…

You didn’t even register the sound of the gun.

But you felt the bite from the bullet, the burning pain running through your body. And then, you knew no more.

______________________________________________________________

Next Chapter: Wanda can't sleep, the twins don't know how to deal and America is trying to hold it together. What is the price of happiness?

#fanfic #wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff x reader #wandaxreader #female reader #imagine wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff x female reader

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