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scar-crossedlvrs · 1 year

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I have an idea... I'm not sure you'd like it, but I love your writing, so I thought I'd give it a shot - what if Carlos S/O's ex ( who are now distant friends ) shows up at their place, totally hammered after a really tough situation and out of pity/friendship and fear hes going to drunk drive she lets him stay on the couch for the night.

Meanwhile, Carlos is trying to be understanding but is having a hard time hiding his annoyance and jealousy? Could be fluff or smut- :) up to you

Carlos Oliveira - Only Yours

i’m flattered that you love my writing!! hearing compliments like that are the reason i keep going!! anyway i definitely loved this idea and went with fluff on this but idk part 2 smut someday???

ft an unnamed blonde hair blue eyed ex bf.

“Babe I think there’s someone at the door.”

Carlos’ voice coming from the next room is the only thing that tears you from the book in your lap, and you finally can hear the inconsistent knocking on the front door. Your eyes slide to the clock on the mantle, glowing a faint 11:30 pm.

It was late. Too late for a visitor.

“I’ll see who it is.” you sigh, marking your place in your book and traipsing to the front door as another string of haphazard knocks come from the other side.

The door swings open, and the first thing that you notice is the reek of alcohol, whiskey breath from the figure in the doorway. Familiar icy eyes that you hadn’t seen in months stare at you, the man drunk beyond comprehension.

“What are you doing? It’s nearly midnight.”

Your arms cross as you speak, brows furrowed in a mixture of concern and annoyance. His head tilts, seemingly confused. “Can’t visit an old friend?” the blonde’s words are slurring as he sways in his spot.

“Not at midnight and definitely not after months of no contact.”

He was a mess and you couldn’t help but worry about how he had managed to get here, or why exactly he was here.

“ ‘m sorry ‘bout that. Been busy. Jus’ wanna talk. Need a friend right now.”

Your eyes soften slightly, and open your mouth to speak when a possessive arm wraps around your waist.

“Everything okay over here?” Carlos’ voice is in your ear now. “I was getting worried.”

He’s speaking directly to you, eyes trained on your face and you take a moment to glance up at him with a nod. “You remember…?” You gesture to the door as you speak.

“Yeah, we met last time.” His arm tightens around you as he glances at the drunken man finally, giving him a stiff nod in greeting.

“He’s gonna stay here tonight.” Your words seem to surprise both of them, but you continue before either man could protest. “We’ve got a pretty comfy couch, and I’m not taking no for an answer.”

Unable to argue with you, Carlos helped you to get the drunk man into the living room and onto the couch. As amiable as he was being, you could easily tell he wasn’t exactly happy with the situation at hand. His eyes stayed glued to you as you took the time to help the blonde male get his jacket and shoes off without hurting himself.

“Thanks.” He said with a sheepish grin, leaning back on the couch with a content grunt.

“I’ve got some extra blankets and pillows in the bedroom, just wait here.” You reply, heading off down the hallway to find the stash of spare bedding somewhere in your bedroom closet.

You’re digging through the closet when the bedroom door closes behind you. A soft smirk pulls across your lips, as Carlos sulks across the room. It’s obvious that he wants to say something by the amount of pacing he’s doing. “You’re upset.” You say, turning with an armful of bedding in your arms. “You’re really bad at hiding it when you are.”

“No.” His answer is short and sharp, and you give him a knowing look. “Okay fine, maybe a little bit. You can’t blame me though.”

“There’s nothing to be worried about.” “So you’re telling me if my ex-girlfriend showed up here late at night claiming she wanted to talk, you’d be okay with it? You’d be okay if I let her stay here?”

His arms cross as you can feel his eyes on you. You let out a soft breath, dropping the blanket onto the bed with a sigh. “He’s drunk and a lot more harmless here than he would be driving home. I’d hope you’d consider the same if you were in my position.” You reply, slowly taking a few steps around the bed in order to close the distance between the two of you. Fingers find purchase on his crossed forearms, hoping that he’d relax under your touch. “Plus you didn’t have an issue when we had met him for drinks last time.”

You could feel the muscles tense under your fingertips. “That’s different.” His eyes avoided your gaze, “We were in public with other friends. And it was before everyone started talking about how they thought you were going to spend an eternity with him.”

There it was, the source of his annoyance. You sigh softly, moving your hands from his crossed arms to the sides of his face, pulling his eyes to yours gently.

“You have absolutely nothing to worry about, Carlos.” Your voice is soft and reassuring. “That was years ago, plus might I remind you I’m the one who broke things off.”

His arms relax a little falling to his sides, and you take a moment to guide them around your waist before resting your hands back on his face. Instinctively, Carlos tightens his arms around you.

“I love you, can’t help but worry that someone’s coming to snatch you away.” he says, still grouchy.

“There’s nobody else for me but you.” You pull his face closer, placing a sweet kiss on his lips which finally makes him smile. “I’ll prove it if I have to, just as soon as I’m done dealing with our guest.”

You let go of his face and move to collect the spare bedding once more. There’s a grunt as Carlos tightens his arms around you once again.

“I’ll deal with it, you get to wait here and think about how you’re gonna prove it.”

He lets go of you with a cheeky wink, obviously feeling better.

Just what had you gotten yourself into now?

#carlos oliveira #carlos oliveria x reader #resident evil x reader #carlos oliveira fic #tea writes things

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dutchdread · 5 months

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Hi I'm not sure if you already answered this before, but do you like the ending of Rebirth? And how Aerith's death was played out? Why do you think Aerith's spirit lingered after her death? Was it to help Cloud cope or to make things worse for him? Sorry so many questions? 😅

There's a lot of questions but that's ok, as long as people don't mind that I probably won't get through them all since the long responses tend to take A LONG time to make, and I do actually have a life and hobbies, then people can keep sending em. If I really get overwhelmed I'll just close the inbox since I do prefer to write stuff that I can reuse. Which is sort of the case here, because yeah, I have addressed the ending, and no, I was not a fan. Really should make a single comprehensive review tbh.

Link

As for why Aeriths spirit lingers, it's hard to say, it's hard to even say if it is her spirit, we can't even be sure if every Aerith we see post death is the same Aerith, or even is Aerith in the first place. Could be Clouds mind coping and making something up. Could be a vision imparted by Sephiroth, could be anything, although I do think that Nanaki recognizing her in the ending cinematic is strong evidence for her actually being present. Now if that means her being present as a spirit, or present in another world, I could not tell you. I could not even tell you if there is a real difference between "existing in another world" and "being in the lifestream". That's the problem with making your story too convoluted, you are no longer able to effectively "read along" with the story, so you just have to accept whatever happens. There is no feeling of "ohhhh, so that's what's going on, duh", you instead get a sense of "ok, if you say that's whats happening I'll take your word for it". It's extremely unsatisfying, like bashing a puzzle into place with a hammer, sure you solved your complicated puzzle, but the only reason I was interested in the solution was because I though it was something clever that I should have been able to figure out myself. The one thing I can say is that despite all the grief Aerith gets from certain parts of the fandom (some of which deserved, some not) she's not intentionally trying to make things worse for Cloud. If Aerith is really there in body or spirit, and is fully able to exercise her own agency, then it's because she thinks that doing so will ultimately be for the best. She might be unsure of what to do, she might think that acting as though everything is alright is what is best for Clouds psyche, I don't know, but it's certain that she wants to help. My gut instinct is that this mirrors Aeriths attitude in the sleeping forest, she's realized how messed up Clouds psyche really is, and is trying to unburden Cloud the best she knows how. In the OG she tells him to go take care of himself and she'll go take care of Sephiroth, and here she takes a similar "it's all good, don't worry about me, I'll go stop meteor, you just go after Sephiroth ok?" attitude. The biggest question is why she specifically asks Cloud NOT to go after Sephiroth originally, but does an exact 180 here, but it could still be argued that the core of the message remains the same "don't take too much on your plate, you just focus on what you can focus on, and leave the rest to me". Hope that satisfied you, hard to answer things that are still this uncertain.

#ffvii #ffvii rebirth #aerith gainsborough #cloud strife

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direstraitscomic · 3 years

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Dire Straits: in a very bad or difficult situation

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Two years before The Robot War the RED team finds themselves in a bitter loosing streak against the BLU team who've somehow managed to procure a suspicious amount of fire power. With their tactics outmatched and the Administrators silence on the matter, the Mercs of the RED team grow exceedingly desperate. As their pay gets cut with each loss, and each fight getting more humiliating than the last they look to request the help of a third party. Through blind desperation this help comes from something most unforeseen. From something teetering on the very edge of mortal comprehension. Particularly from some poor bastard in the wrong place at the wrong time. ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

LOL YEP I'M STILL GOING WITH THIS. COMIC IS GETTING ONE MORE REVAMP. The final one god willing. More on the update under the cut!

So to provide a little context for those who've been waiting for this. I'm sorry. I'm so so sorry. Real life stuff really came around and beat my ass. Currently, my situation is slowly getting worse but I refuse to stop now. The comic had to be put on hold because of how outdated it ended up getting. I did go back to revamp the pages before but I kept finding errors and inconsistencies that just didn't make sense. I feel this comic deserves the effort and I feel you guys deserve a good well-written story. Not only that, but Elly got her final redesign and it's a pretty heavy change. Throughout making this comic her back story changed three times. YES, THREE TIMES, because I kept finding shit that just did not make any fukin sense, some parts were terribly cliché and unoriginal that I ended up growing to hate and one was accidentally too similar to the plot of a game that, at the time, I was unfamiliar with(Maybe it was different enough to get away with I don't know I didn't want to take chances). I unfortunately am a bit of a perfectionist and have very high standards for my work; as shown by how many times models were changed between pages. This is partially due to the fact that she never had proper HWM sliders and setting models up for SFM is HELL. She kept breaking so she needed to be fixed up and given a simpler design to made her easier to operate. As of right now however, her appearance and narrative is set for good, she has HWM now, clean topology, cleaner textures and less bones. Not only that, but I had to make an entire map for this. That meant learning the ins and outs of the Hammer Editor, and gathering up a shit load of props. The Hammer editor (while very powerful) is a right pain in the ass to use, especially if you want a clean functional map.

This took quite longer than it needed to be. This is THE LAST TIME I am going back and redoing these pages, and this time I'm going to stick with it if it freaking kills me. I don't care if it's cringe. This comic means a lot to me as do the characters and those who've read it. Plus it's FUN and I'm allowed to have FUN Janet I wouldn't have been able to make this story if not for the help of @the-talon-ted-meem She well practically co-wrote it. Go give her love and spam her inbox with horrifying emojis or some shit Lastly, this comic is, in a way, made to commemorate Colin "Elliott" Wyckoff a.k.a Kitty0706. There's a lot I can say that's been said a thousand times already but he wanted us to laugh in his stead not be sad. In his honor, I'll help what he influenced live on for as long as I can. Pages will be uploaded weekly. Old pages will be probably deleted enmass soon unless people want to keep them. Then maybe I'll stuff them into a google drive link, I dunno

#tf2 #team fortress 2 #teamfortress2 #tf2 fanart #tf2 sfm #source filmmaker #comicart #comic covers #dire straits comic #dire straits #tf2 heavy #tf2 soldier #tf2 medic #tf2 engineer #tf2 spy #tf2 sniper #tf2 pyro #tf2 scout #tf2 demoman

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spice-chan · 3 years

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Legally Incapsulated

yandere!Bakugou Katsuki x darling!reader

In a different, dystopian world, yanderes are allowed to run rampant and they make up 15 percent of the population. It gets a little interesting when Bakugou, a protective yandere falls for you, a taken darling.

warnings: dystopian society (ig?), yandere themes, unhealthy relationships, reader has a bit of an early stockholm syndrome kinda thing, blood and near death, captivity.

also hi, i came back from the undead with an update.

.........

Bakugou laid on the ground, bleeding profusely, cold and alone. The red liquid soaked through his clothes, painting him as an ugly manifestation of destruction and death. However, he did not welcome the latter yet, clinging to-hanging tooth and nail to the threads of life.

What cruel irony. To be dumped somewhere so public, yet at a time when no one would bother to come. To have the Hero hanging onto the hope that someone would visit the park at three in the fucking morning.

A brutal fight between him and a particularly vicious villain ended in Katsuki suffering not only the humiliation of defeat but injuries that will do him in soon enough from blood loss. All alone, with no back-up, Katsuki suffered possibly the worst defeat of his life, for it might cost him that very same thing. Fucker attacked him after he finished his night shift too when no reporters or anyone would be around, knocking Katsuki out and dumping him in a public park just for the mockery of it.

His head felt light and doozy, and he was starting to succumb to the feeling sucking him in when he heard a gasp amidst the fog.

With what little stamina he has left, he turned around, sharp red eyes spotting a petite woman heading towards him.

You quickly got to his spot beneath a tree, crouching down and inspecting him, your warm eyes becoming horrified at the blood pool.

“Oh no, what happened here?! No matter. I’m going to call an ambulance. You’re going to be ok.” You reassured, or tried to, for the words coming out of your mouth could only be taken as self-assurance when one notices the dampness of your eyes. He tried to concentrate on what you were doing, but the next time he was aware of what was happening around him was when you clutched his hand tight with tears streaming down your cheeks.

“You’re gonna be ok.”

He sure hopes he will be now.

“What’s your name?”

Despite the haze covering, his red eyes zeroed on you, calmly taking you in despite the battered state he was in. You froze.

You stammered, heart hammering as you finally had another person's attention for once. It should’ve made you really ecstatic, but it just made you feel like you were naked on live TV.

“It’s um-“ you nibbled on your lip as if unused to your name, Katsuki just got lost in the dainty, delicate sound of your voice.

And when you said your name, as if testing foreign words on your tongue for the first time, he couldn’t help but think it suited you.

So pretty.

Honestly, if the sight of you is the only thing he’ll see before dying, he’ll be content. Your hand remained in hold his, your warmth travelling to his frigid hand and warming his very soul.

But the sound of ambulance sirens broke him out of his trance, and you too, it seems. For you broke away from him in fright, he had to hold back from grabbing you and keeping you close. He would, had he not been injured.

“Whe-where are you going?” He asked brokenly, desperate to keep the angel that saved him close. You shook your head, frightened and frantic. Looking at the time, and seemingly getting further and further.

“I’m sorry-I—I’ve got to go. I’m gonna late, I’ll get punished if I’m late.”

His heart sunk with every syllable you uttered, feeling a pain he had never felt before, something not tangible enough to be compared to injuries and not comprehensible enough for a man like Katsuki to express.

You’re a darling.

You’re someone’s darling.

By the time the ambulance rolled in and took him, you were long gone…

But not for long.

……………...

Katsuki Bakugo: Yandere.

Classification: Protective

Darling: Unregistered

In a world where yanderes are allowed to go rampant with their love, an ordinary citizen doesn’t know when they’ll become trapped by a person who claims to ‘love them unconditionally’. Thus making them a darling. And from the moment that label is put on them, the law ceases to help them and they become entirely at their yandere's mercy.

Yanderes are often separated into their schools and housed in their specified yandere classification ranging from obsessive, possessive and protective, and if a person overlaps two during their classification test they get reign into which house to go to. At UA, the houses are split between those three types and are equally split.

Katsuki, who scored rather high in both protective and obsessive traits, chose to go with the protective unit where he met Kirishima, who’s currently blabbering on about nothing in Katsuki’s hospital room.

“You barely made it man, I still can’t believe it. One can never be too careful these days.” He said, for the hundredth time. Katsuki was topless, the nurse having just finished bandaging his wounds. The stark white stood out against his chiseled, muscular front, it had every nurse swooning but he only had one thing on his mind.

You.

Where were you? Who were you? Did you really have a yandere? How can he take you away now?

No, he doesn’t like you. He’s just curious.

He’s survived this long without a darling. He doesn’t need one, contrary to popular societal belief.

When babies are three, they undergo tests and scans to see whether they have OLD, obsessive love disorder, which is something about 15 percent of the population suffers from.

They go to their own schools and such, but their identity as yanderes won’t be revealed to the general public, making it easy for yanderes to take their darlings by surprise when the grand reveal comes.

Katsuki himself attended a yandere oriented hero school, but what the public doesn’t know is that the acceptance rate is so low because only yanderes are accepted. Yanderes rarely, but not never, go for other yanderes so it poses as less of a distraction.

And so, the talented in the 15 percent of Japanese yandere are carefully picked and honed.

And the separation only proves something. That darlings are a distraction. He won’t be like other wanderers, he’ll get a hold of himself.

…………..

Y/N L/N: Darling

Under yandere of classification: Obsessive

Yandere name: Nagisa Mura

Katsuki ground his teeth, red orbs staring viciously at his computer screen. Hypothesizing and being faced with the fact that you do belong to someone else. The distraction, unneeded angel who fell from heaven just to save him.

Poor you, he bets that piece of shit doesn’t treat you as good as he could.

After looking further into you, he found several allegations of sexual assault made towards Mura that got completely dropped after he captured you.

A flash of searing pain made Katsuki jerk back, narrowly missing scorching his screen to smithereens.

He...he hurt you. The fucker hurt his angel, his princess...he hurt you, he hurt you, he hurt you.

He thought of your pretty, kissable lips, making unsure, clumsy movements as you tried to vocalise your name.

No, Katsuki has to have you. He needs to save you. It’s the only way for both of you to be happy at this point.

And this, spurred on a thorough check at your yandere, and Katsuki delved so deep that when he found what he wanted, he couldn’t help but break out into a lopsided, sinister grin.

………………

Nagisa burrowed his face in your neck, breathing in your scent while you sat still and rigid, not wanting to move away and risk his sanity flying away.

“Did you enjoy it?” He asked softly, suddenly attentively look at you with his cat-like, loving, sick eyes. Your heart palpitated in fear for a second before you nodded.

“Oh, where did you go? You...didn’t talk to anyone right?” Your heart erratically hammered, thinking that he might’ve somehow found out you did, and even told him your name. You shook your head at the speed of a sewing machine, then thought that might’ve perhaps been too aggressive to be convincing.

“I didn’t. I walked to the park and came back home.”

He sighed in satisfaction at that, moving his dark bangs back to stare at you with his green hues.

“I knew night time was a better idea. There would be no one around at this time that you can’t deal with with pepper spray. Fewer people to talk to, fewer people who see you” he was smiling, not breaking eye contact once, and with each syllable, his soft voice seemed to get more sinister and sinister.

You only nodded, pliant as a lamb in his grip as he twisted you however he wished. He buried his nose in your hair, inhaling the scent of you as if smelling a rare fragrant flower.

“We’ve gotten so far since the days in the orphanage when you refused to share your dolls with me when we were five.”

Memories. Something that should fill one with nostalgia, only filled you with an unbearable sense longing to a freer, more easy time. When you only had to worry about Nagisa bothering you during breakfast, lunchtime, movie time, sometimes worship time and wash time.

Desperate for a sense of normalcy, you hugged him back, feeling icy cold in his embrace.

“Nagi, what are we having for dinner?” A twinge of regret pierced you as you lowered your guard for a second. His hold became stiff, and he didn’t bother to swipe back his bangs as he flashed you a blank face.

“You’re thinking about dinner while we hug?”

But you knew how to deal with him better by now, deflecting his anger and turning it into something more malleable.

“Oh no, it’s just that I feel a little dizzy. I don’t think I ate or drank well those past few days.” You paired the lie with a yawn for extra measure, and the ice of his face melted to reveal a familiar worried expression pouted lips and widened greeny eyes.

He carefully put you down, bundling you in a blanket before he rushed to the kitchen to prepare you some food.

The worry he harboured for your well being should’ve filled you with warmth, but instead, you were left twiddling your thumbs and rocking yourself back and forth, an unexplainable feeling of doom filled you.

The feeling of a hand touching you caused you to spring out of your reverie in fright, but the sight of the green hues staring back at you only calmed you a fraction. He put the food in front of you, which he brought back with some vitamins because he can’t have you getting sick.

“Thank you…” you murmured, feeling incredibly stupid and useless.

He insisted he feed you and that you go to bed early.

But as you laid in bed, thoughts of strange red irises and their bewitching beholder swarmed your thoughts along with the fatigue. You hope he’s alright…

You wanted to check on him, but if you asked or even implied to Nagisa that you met someone, let alone a man albeit injured or not, that he will opt to not let you out for a year again, or possibly longer this time.

Even in his injured form, there was something undeniably feral about him, as if ready to pounce any second and gamble his chances at life if the situation called for it. It frightened you.

You shook your head, willing comfort to return to you through the soft duvet and sheets enveloping your body. You better sleep before Nagisa comes to bed and finds you awake…

…….

Finally, Bakugou has the best reason to get that fuck arrested. And you? Poor you, you’re going to have your yandere taken away, and you can’t *just* be let free. You didn’t earn it after all. Well, you would have, had there not being a perfectly suitable yandere for you to be rehomed with.

Heh, to think of it, you might hate him a little for this...but he’ll show you that he can treat you better, in no time, you’ll be wrapped around his finger like he’s shamefully wrapped around yours.

Bakugou’s thoughts come to an abrupt halt when the L-word is mentioned, not noticing when his thoughts spiralled to that degree. His deranged obsession with you had been planted the moment you saved him, but Katsuki didn’t notice when he lost the wheel of his rationality to his heart.

Yeah, sure, he did background checks on you, felt a twinge of pain when he realised you grew up in an orphanage, felt a tornado of anger when he saw the assault charges that went nowhere after that obsessive fuck captured you. Yeah, ok, he felt proud when he saw that you were the valedictorian. But… where did the stone hearted Katsuki go? Where did the one who was afraid of getting close to anyone in case his true nature shows and distracts him from his dream go?

But then, he remembered your glassy eyes, staring at him in worry that no one ever showed towards him before, fumbling with his phone to dial the ambulance while holding his hand. Telling him he’ll be ok.

The moment Bakugo looked in the mirror, he knew he lost.

His cheeks were flaming hot.

Whatever, he better start preparing your room.

…….

It felt like preparing the room of a newborn baby, Katsuki bought enough stuffed animals and plushies to make it resemble a fluffy asylum, along with pastel pink sheets. Your name was also put on the wall, with cursive pink letters that had butterflies surrounding them.

Not to forget a dresser filled with all kinds of things you could ever desire. But his favourite was filling the closet.

Besides adding some of his own shirts, he stuffed it with all kinds of pretty dresser and cute clothes that he can’t wait to see you wear.

Bakugo dusted his hands, taking a sigh and looking at the finished guestroom, previously a spare but now your own room, it looked as if a sparkly fairy vomited all over it. Hopefully you’ll like it…

He wishes you were here to see it…

An unfamiliar sense of isolation invaded his heart, perhaps it was the realisation that he just finished a room to a person who doesn’t even live with him *yet*, or knowing what he’s missing out on with you, but he knew he desperately wanted you here.

He wanted to protect you from the bastard who has you in his clutches

……..

A day later

You sat on the sofa, munching on some popcorn while you sat on Nagisa’s lap, watching anime.

A rough knock sounded out, the sound so aggressive is sounded as if the wood itself was gonna break under the aggressive force. Nagisa tensed up, he wasn’t expecting any guests, in fact, he rarely invites anyone over. He disassociated the both of you from any acquaintances from the orphanage, and you weren’t allowed to mingle with anyone.

He saw your curious look, even without any verbal question, but he opted to simply kiss your forehead and put you on the sofa.

He quickly went to answer the door, but not without grabbing a dagger and hiding it somewhere discreet.

He turned the knob, feeling his chest tighten painfully, as if sensing a near, imminent loss.

Three aggressive, toned cops welcomed his sight as soon as the door was open. They forced their way inside, cuffing him and telling him things, words that were spoken too fast and went over his head as the only thought that went through his head aas you.

He turned around to where he left you, but you were suddenly standing besides one of the officers, not allowed near him. No…

“According to our database, you are a yandere who has a darling. This means that she will be permanently taken away from you and handed to an eligible yandere as part of your punishment.”

He swallowed, his gaze, which always seemed morbid to you, now looked panicked and morose, gaze moving like a boomerang between you and the officers, as if not processing what’s happening.

“Nagisa, what have you done?” He couldn’t answer you, he couldn’t speak a word. You were leaving him, and there’s nothing that he can do.

“Eligible yandere? But as far as I know, there’s no one after her besides me.” The thought comforted him. Maybe he’ll recapture you after he serves whatever sentence he has, even though he’ll have to do it on the down low now. It’s illegal for a yandere who had their darling taken away to go after them again.

“Well you thought wrong. Scum”

Bakugou felt like the star of the show, coming in to rescue his damsel and finish his quest, with you as the prize.

Your mouth was agape, the little hope that simmered in you that you might possibly be free is now crushed, confusion coming full force in place of it. His face was all too familiar, it was the face of the man you found on death's door only a few days ago.

Nagisa’s face blanked, turning to you with bloody accusations in his eyes, which made your vision narrow to only focus on him, afraid to make eye contact yet afraid not to. You almost felt the bile rise up your stomach as goosebumps covered your entire body at his familiar, haunting stare.

“(Y/n)...how does he know you?”

“I-“ you swallowed, unable to answer. Who is he?

The dots were starting to connect in Nagisa’s head, however, instead of his chilling rage, all you got was a sad, nostalgic smile.

“Very well (y/n), it’s ok.” You couldn’t feel relieved from his ambiguous tone. Your very gut screaming at you that something was wrong.

And your gut was right.

“It’s ok, I know you didn’t mean for any of this to happen, I’m sure of it but I’m sorry because if I can’t have you then nobody can.” In the blink of an eye, Nagisa charged at you with a dagger, with speed you didn’t know he possessed, while you were frozen in place in fear.

However, before he could reach you, the blond, brawny man moved like the wind, catching the hand that threatened you, firing an explosion at the wrist in a show of wrath, probably giving Nagisa third degree burns, then twisting his arms behind his back and pushing him harshly into the floor. The level of strength between them was visibly imbalanced to the blondes' favour, Nagisa was by no means fit or sturdy, not at all when compared to the wall of strength in front of you.

The officers, novices who should have expected this turn of events by all means, have proven to be useless until the very end of this spectacle, thanking the blond the blond profusely while handcuffing the hysterical Nagisa, who was taken kicking and screaming by one of the officers while one stayed behind.

“Miss (y/n), I believe? Sorry we couldn’t prevent this unsavoury turn of events, that criminal will be locked for good, you don’t have to worry about him.” The officer tried to reassure the frightened lady in front of him, disappointed that a yandere would try to kill the person he loves. That was one of the most prohibited laws, though what can he expect from a criminal?

“You don’t have to worry about your safety though, as it turns out, you will be rehomed with Mr Dynamight. This will serve as both a punishment for the offending yandere and a way for darlings who haven’t earned their freedom to stay with their next eligible caretaker.”

You nodded shily, overwhelmed by the influx of information directed at you. It didn’t help that you barely spoke to anyone besides Nagisa in years.

The officer took your agreeableness in stride, scramming quickly as he physically felt the burn of Bakugou’s stare.

Now it was just him and you.

“You ok?” He managed to mutter, not sure how to start a conversation with you now that he had you.

You nodded, not facing him. Are you ok?

You felt the moisture gathering in your eyes, making your eyes seem like gleaming crystals.

Of course you weren’t ok.

You just had the person who, for years, claimed they loved you, stole you against your will and forced you to adapt to a lifestyle that suited them try to kill you. You didn’t know whether to laugh or cry but apparently your body did as it broke into a sob.

Your shoulders shook in failing effort to try to hide yourself from him-Mr Dynamight or something, but he felt his heart clench when he heard you sniffle.

You heard him kiss his teeth, and you had a half mind to apologise, having unfond memories of the sound, but he instead, to your surprise, brought his beefy arms around you and embraced you warmly.

Your crying halted, head turning up to fave him with a ‘deer caught in the headlights’ look in your eyes, making him blush and turn away from you with another kiss of his teeth.

“Stop crying.”

Why did his simple gesture stop your tears? Why are you not trying to make a run for it?

Most importantly, why do you feel something warm blooming in your chest instead of hate?

You looked at him, trying to channel all the hate you harbored for Nagisa for this newfound captor of yours, but all you could think about is when he saved you from Nagisa’s sharp blade— how strong and capable he was, really, shouldn’t you be thankful?

At that moment, you experienced something that never happened to you in your years of being with Nagisa.

You blushed.

……

You stepped through Bakugou’s house, already having an idea of what kind of lavish place it is from the exterior, but you were nevertheless impressed.

The place is something out of a movie, extremely different to the small and cozy apartment you lived in. Everything seemed up to date and costly.

You didn’t notice Bakugou preening in pride at the impressed look on your face. He tried to appear nonchalant, but he was seconds away from grabbing your hand in excitement as he tours you around the place.

Still, he wanted some form of contact with you, so he opted to put a hand behind your back, excusing it as you being too slow when you turned to him with a quizzical look.

His hand felt warm on your back.

“This is the bathroom nearest to your room, but there’s one in your room as well.”

Your room. It felt strangely delighting to have something be your own, when previously everything was ours with Nagisa. Everything was happening so quickly, you didn’t know whether you should try to pause to catch your breath or pick up your pace.

“And uh, this is your room.” This time you did notice Bakugou’s redness, it was quite hard not to when his entire face was red. Of course it would be.

The room looked like it was something out of a barbie house. Soft, pastel rugs paired with baby pink curtains. Plush, stuffed dolls littered the place, some small and some big enough to engulf you. You slowly stepped inside, unsure how to feel about this interior, until you felt your bed. It was also a gentle pink, but the catch was how featherlight soft it was, it felt silky, and the mattress reminded you of when you’d dream of sleeping on a cloud.

“Like it?” He asked, not taking his eyes off your blessed face. That’s the first he’s seen this expression on you. He feels almost cheated, like he would have seen way more of you and learnt way more than he already knows if that piece of shit let you out.

You hummed to him in response.

“Good, ‘cuz it’s your nap time now.”

“Huh?” You straightened your back, looking at him in protest.

“But, I still have things to ask you! Plus, I don’t need a freaking nap-“

“Sleep now, questions later.”

The sun was starting to dip, giving the room a warm, orange glow which did make you feel somewhat lethargic. Bakugou closed the curtains, and shut the door, but surprisingly didn’t leave your room. He pulled the covers back, gesturing for you to slip under. You were afraid for a moment that he was gonna slither his way inside as well, uninvited. But he merely sat besides your supine form.

“Um-?”

“I’m gonna stay here ‘till you fall asleep.” You nodded mutely, not finding a point to objecting anymore. You never have a say anyways. But, this wasn’t so bad. He put his large hand on your head, caressing it and admiring its texture, and how amazing it feels beneath his fingers. You felt his touch to be invasive at first. Who does he think he is, touching you when you don’t even know him?

But you don’t speak. You instead relax and let the stress you built up melt away, and you welcome sleep.

…..

Your eyes slowly fluttered open to the feeling of someone lately shaking you. You were disoriented, glancing around the fluffy place in confusion, your eyes looking adorably lost and confused.

“C’mon dumbass. It’s time for dinner.”

Oh, right, you were living with him now.

“I put the clothes you’re gonna wear on your bed, and here are your slippers.” You glanced on the bed, seeing a comfy looking white, silky pyjama dress slippers at the foot of your bed.

“Ok.” You nodded, “I got it.”

He gave you one final final intense look leaving your bedroom.

…….

In the dining room, Bakugou had already set everything up. He made your favourite food, lit up some candles and sat down, anxious glancing at the door and waiting for you to appear. Will you like it? Will you ask him questions? Do you enjoy living with him so far?

If the answer to some of those questions is no, he doesn’t know what he’ll do. He does know that you aren’t going anywhere though.

You quietly walked in, feeling the tension increase with each step you took.

You spied the contents on the table, salivating at the smell of your favourite food like a starved ogre, not even bothering to grimace at the memory of Nagisa’s poor attempt at making it.

Bakugou was salivating as well, but for different reasons. He couldn’t look away from your exposed skin, staring creepily as if he’s never seen a leg before.

The meal was consumed with awkwardness, neither party breaking the ice. You were afraid of confrontation, of asking too many questions and receiving nothing but anger and resentment in return. He seems so much nicer than Nagisa, you didn’t want him to hate you.

The silence reigned, and the dishes were cleared away and being washed by Bakugou, who insisted you stay near him but also insisted you stay unoccupied.

Every moment that passed felt like a moment lost, and you kept summoning your courage, but the words just wouldn’t leave your mouth. Maybe you should build up to what you really wanted to ask instead of jumping straight to it.

You saw his red eyes sneakily glancing at you, rapidly leaving your form when you noticed him, causing his ears and face to flush.

“So um, what do you do?” he quirked an eyebrow, looking at you strangely while his movements didn’t pause.

“You-you don’t know?!” he exploded, looking at you in disbelief. You just shook your head like a deer caught in headlights.

Oh, that shit must’ve not let you watch TV much.

“I’m a pro hero.”

Your eyes widened in wonder, the decadence of the place suddenly making sense.

“Cool! What’s your quirk?” he ditched the dishes, excitedly showing you his quirk and explaining how it works, delighted at your cute smile and interest in him. The air felt charged and lively, and maybe that’s what led you to ask the questions that have being nagging at you.

“So um, how did you-uh, how did you even find out anything about me?”

Your heart dropped when you saw the excitement on his face disappear, his usual scowl in place of it.

“You told me your name, that’s all I needed to know. I never stopped thinking about you ever since I saw you, I tried but I couldn’t. If even someone as strong as me can end up on death's door, then what would happen to you? I couldn’t just leave you.” At this point, he was caressing your face, looking at you with love stricken eyes. You were reminded of who you were talking to, you were talking to a Protective yandere, who took you.

You didn’t have to ask anything else really, pandora’s box opened, and everything you weren’t previously privy to is now made obvious to you.

“It sickened me though, knowing you actually fucking belonged to someone else. So how could I leave you? I had to save you like you saved me.” he had both of his huge hands on your face, looking at you with pure insanity, love, adoration and bloodthirst swirling and mixing in his irises. He was a yandere, he was the person every ordinary person should fear, he has you in his clutches, you should be trying to escape and regain your freedom, you saw first hand how easily capable of hurting you he could be if he wanted… So why weren’t you scared?

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jomamaofficial · 3 years

Text

You should have said something: Finale (Bakugou x fem!Reader)

A/N: HELLO BESTIES, IT'S YOUR *lmao I just realised I wrote sentimental here instead of CRUSTY here* CRUSTY TOE HERE. Now please, for the love of whoever's up there, PLEASE READ THE TRIGGER WARNINGS. I'm not going to dawdle along because this was the finale you all were waiting for, so enjoy. Social Media & LinkTree & Discord Server TW: Very gruesome descriptions of: Death, Burning, Heavy cursing, Blood, Abuse. Masterlist Taglist: @spicy-therapist-mom @speedmetalqueen @silentw-lkr @loki-an-idiot @clickbait-official @captainchrisstan @kamalymaly @idk-sam @runrabbitrun3 @power-house-fan12 @mrslawliet @memeingcheetah27 @lonleyweeb77 @midnight-storm Word Count: 1743

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Sirens flooded the scene, police cars blinding passerbys. Ambulances rushed to the location, paramedics pushing their way through the crowd of people, the heat travelling the smell of iron across the streets of Musutafu. Firefighters reached the estate, dragging people away from the hazard, eyes gawking at the uproar of fire. The house was engulfed in flames, crying voices piercing through the ears of those who looked on. Ashes here and ashes there, belongings erupting into soot and red embers.

A body was heaved onto the stretcher, blood staining the white cotton.

“The heart rate is lowering, I repeat the heart rate is lowering.”

The static noise from the walkie talkie was merely another addition to the tumultuous screams and orders.

Wind ran through his hair, panic stricken over the nurse's face who ran as fast as her environment could let her, the heavy but precious, bleeding body straining her arms and staining her hands.

The door was held open, commands being barked at her.

The reporters bombarded her, obstructing the nurse’s view. She shoved past them; her heart hammered in her chest inspecting the monitor, her movements speeding up as she reached her destination. The body was rushed into the ambulance, attached to pipes and machines.

It was the last thing the public saw before the door was shut and the sirens fled away.

Trending headlines and hashtags spread like wildfire.

Masaru switched on the TV, his wife finishing up her dinner in the other room.

“I am now live at the Bakugou-L/N estate. Word from our information team has come out and the fire has been going on for twenty minutes, however these twenty minutes were enough for Prohero Ground Zero to be sent to the emergency room after a local found him covered in burn marks and injuries inside his already smoking house. Prohero Y/HN is nowhere to be found and all forms of contacts have been shut off. I am now handing over to Tanaka-san who is live at the-”

Switched off. Masaru sat there glued to his seat with his fingers pressing on the power button.

Hope came crashing down and you could only stare at the broken screen of your phone, tiny glass particles spewed on the floor.

Your skin was boiling up but your blood ran cold. Your throat dried up but your tears were wet. You couldn’t feel anything but his nails, digging in through the layers of clothing you comforted yourself in.

If you could go back in time, you would have. If you could stop yourself from dialing Izuku’s number, you would have. Anything, anything would have been better than this.

Silence. And you still had the urge to cover your ears. There was nothing to look at apart from your only form of communication. Everything else was black. And the traitorous phone that gave you away was dissipating as well. It faded away from your sight, leaving you a wide smile on your face. Too wide. Stretching from one cheek to the other, your lips were quivering, forcing it to stop. But it didn’t stop. It was getting wider and wider and it was hurting but could you stop it? No.

You couldn’t stop anything. Not this marriage, not this moment, not your own body.

He pulled on your hair and you couldn’t even stop the pain. He crushed your face between his hands, searing pressure building up in your skull and you still couldn’t stop him. He shouted and he screamed and it was slowly seeping into your skull how loud he really was. Nothing would stop. You couldn’t stop it.

You were useless. Your shrieks were useless because he drowned them out with his own voice.

His words were barely comprehensible. You could either focus on the warm blood trickling down your hairline, or him.

But that took energy. And right now, trying to stay alive was sucking all of the energy out of you.

“YOU FUCKING BROKE RULE NUMBER THREE, YOU FUCKING WHORE.”

Rule number three spiked your interest. Not because you remembered what it was. It only drew your attention to him amidst all the repeated curses and the names and the agony, ‘rule number three’ was something new.

Why would you understand rule number three though, you couldn’t even understand why you were smiling, giggling underneath your breath.

“And out of all the people you could have gone to”, he sucked in a breath, squeezing your cheeks. He could feel your clenched teeth fighting against the strength of his hold.

“You fucking went to that useless cunt Deku”, Bakugou spat out, a crazed glint in his eyes as he felt your face shake and crumble under his grip.

“Where is he now huh?” he scoffed, a breathy laugh escaping from the depths of his body.

“WHERE THE FUCK IS THAT PATHETIC BITCH NOW?” Screaming once again, he activated his quirk, missing you by a hair. The flames mocked you, free to move, free to grow.

“Is he gonna come and get you now? See your precious ‘Izu-kun’ anywhere?” he derided, smiling at the blackened area his palms left on your shoulders.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’M SORRY.”

Your tears said it enough, tears that were mixed in with the sweat and blood that dripped from your forehead. All you wanted was someone, someone who would hold you and stroke your head and clean you up. Someone who would take him away from you and let you live in a fantasy where you weren’t wrong anymore.

You apologized in the false anticipation that he would stop, and caress your face and pepper it in small kisses. You apologized in the false anticipation of thinking that’s what he needed all along. Just an apology.

So when he pushed you off of the sofa, your knees igniting in irritantance and bruises, you could only look at him. And when he crouched down in front of you, tilting your chin upwards, your heart almost fluttered at the thought that he would pull you into a kiss. A warm kiss where you would feel at home and feel loved.

The sad part was that you knew that you would forgive him if he kissed you once.

But the worst part was that you knew this would never happen. And it didn’t. But you were happy to live in your delusion. Because your delusion masked the sheer force at which he defiled your body.

The lethal blaze mirrored the lethal blaze that ignited his eyes. And this was the last time you’d ever see such hate, and animosity in them.

With your hands shielding you too late, all you saw was a blinding light shining through you, filling every crevice in your body with a scorching glow. But then it was extinguished by the darkness.

Alarms were going off in your head, telling you to breathe quickly and panic and scream and reach out and find something to see. And you did. And it entertained him.

So small and so vulnerable, scrambling around beneath him to try and escape. But he had you under his grip. And he wasn’t going to let you go until you remained lifeless under him.

Smoke infiltrated your lungs, forcing you to flail and writhe on all fours. You were heaving, trying oh so very hard to breathe in the oxygen that limitlessly surrounded you.

But you were useless. And you couldn’t breathe to save your life.

Coughing and slobbering, kneeling in front of him, you begged.

“Please, forgive me.”

“Please, I’m sorry.”

“Please, I didn’t mean to.”

“PLEASE, MAKE IT STOP. PLEASE JUST MAKE IT STOP.”

The fumes were stabbing at your throat, filling your head with fog.

And your world was running slowly. The noise was slowed, darker and deeper, slurred beyond understanding. The agony was slow; equally as painful, but slow. It gave you little breaks in between to piece everything together, bit by bit.

Growing up, your world was black and white: heroes were benevolent, there to serve the society and protect them whereas villains were malevolent, there to wreck the balance of society and harm them as they pleased.

Growing up, the first people you relied on were heroes. Even as the Number 3 Hero, Y/HN, you relied on your colleagues who worked day and night to ensure the safety of the country you served.

Maybe that was your downfall. Blindly trusting heroes as if they were some sort of untouchable deities who could never harm. Because here you were, taking the last few breaths with your world spinning around you and being snatched away from you.

And it wasn’t at the hands of a villain that you were dying. It was at the hands of your so-called superior, the Number 2 Hero: Ground Zero.

Ground Zero; the hero who everyone respected but feared. His snarl, his anger, his drive. The very hero who was found in every treacherous battlefield. He was the same hero who took on anything he found that threatened the life of the citizens he made his duty to protect from harm's way.

But who would take him on when he caused harm to you?

No one.

It wasn’t the smoke, or the burns, or the bleeding that caused you to take your last breath. It was the realization that no one would save you.

The pulse under Katsuki’s fingers diminished until it was nothing. And he cried. Veins standing out in livid ridges, his eyes seared in rage as they watered and dripped down his face, cooling his body in the circle of fire he put himself in.

If he wasn’t trained to suck his guilt up every time his hands were responsible for someone’s downfall, he would have been consumed in his own self loath…

But what was the point of feeling guilty when you deserved it?

It was because of you Eijiro broke up with him. And he internally promised himself he would always stand by this.

Blinking away his tears, he channeled all the remaining energy he had, letting his anger flow through out of his body.

His wrists were giving in but he swore it was the final time. Just one more blow. One more big blow.

Silencing his cries underneath the deafening roar of his explosions, he clenched his jaw, pressuring his body on and on.

No one would find you now. No one would know.

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teeth-farie · 3 years

Text

Tender

Julian/Reader(GN)

Notes: dacryphillia, praise, implied amab but can be read as gn

((First posted on my ao3!))

Slow and steady, Julian’s breathing becomes even and his hands not as shaking. His palms brace on your shoulders, thighs framing yours as he hovers over your lap. You grip his hips in a way you know he loves, bruising and in control. Slowly, he sinks down, taking you inside of him with a delighted groan. A pleased sigh leaves your lips as Julian sits flush against the tops of your thighs. He doesn’t wait to get used to the feeling, already shifting his hips before rising up and sinking back down. You pull him into an eager kiss and he shares his enthusiasm, nearly shoving his tongue down your throat and you can feel the vibrato of his moans. He tastes of bitter coffee, what you’d caught him chugging down before you lured him to relax.

Julian picks up his pace, long legs folded under him as he rides you, spreading nimble fingers across the expanse of your shoulders and chest. His head tilts back as you trace your lips across his jaw, to his neck, to that sensitive place where neck meets skull under his ear. You bite, teasing the idea of sinking your teeth into him. Julian sings his praise, grinding down into your lap while exposing his long neck to you, muscles pulled taut and Adam’s apple bobbing.

“Da-haah-ling, you needn’t be so gentle.”

Your tongue lathes across his neck, sucking at pulse points, his fluttering pulse rhythmic against your lips. “You’ve had a tough day, let me treat you, won’t you?”

It’s true the doctor had an eventful time at his clinic, a cold chill spreading and with that, colds of varying degrees. You can feel the slight stubble on his face, a signal he truly has been preoccupied. “Such a hard worker… you deserve something gentle, don’t you?” The question is punctuated with a roll of your hips, one that has Julian gasping like a fish out of water. His fingers curl into your back, clutching you close as he meets your languid thrusts.

“Y-you’re—ah! Too..too kind.” Your lover pants in your ear, pressing breathless kisses to the line of your jaw. “You’ve set the bar too low, handsome.” You coo, planting your hands from his hips to his ass, lightly scratching lilywhite skin with red traces of nails left in its wake. Julian whimpers, a needy noise that makes you feel light and sends a plummet of heat through your body.

“I love you, my smart, brave man,” you whisper your adoration into his ear, smooth like honey and the sweetness of it addictive. You widen your legs under him, bracing your feet and thrusting your hips up to meet Julian’s in a slap of flesh. His mouth drops open, garbled nonsense spilling from slack lips and so you repeat, gripping his hips to tug him down quicker.

“So, so good for me. How’d I get so..huff..lucky?” Your skin feels hot and sweaty, tingling with perspiration. “So beautiful, too. Don’t you know that?” You lean your head back against the propped pillows, digging your nails into Julian’s bony hips. His eyes screw shut and his head tosses back as he grinds down, his ass flush against your pelvis. “Say it back, baby.”

The redhead swallows thickly, gathering his voice that only warbles with each down slide of his hips. “B-beautiful…I’m—uhn.” He whimpers, a gorgeously obscene sound accompanied by the roll of his eyes. You hit him right where he needs it, fire erupting through his veins—a blooming, aching thrum he can’t get enough of. “There! Oh, please!” A sharp intake of breath and a harder thrust has Julian keening, his weeping length slapping against his taut stomach with each bounce. You meet his frantic, desperate thrusts, lifting him with each meeting, his hair bouncing and voice hiccuping from the force.

“You’re such a good man, Ilya. Always, ah, know how t-to make me happy.” You can help the sweet words that flow from your tongue, smooth contrast from the manhandling Julian prefers. He kneels over you, clammy forehead sticking to your shoulder as the bounces of his hips slow to a feverish grind. Your hands smooth over his back, fingers riding along the bumps of his spine.

Suddenly, almost like being doused in cold water, you realize Julian is crying. Your skin is wet with salty tears and you guide your lovers head up to lock his eyes with yours. “Hey—hey, what’s wrong?” You have to still him from moving, making him stop rutting against you to make sure he’s ok. Julian sniffles, red faced and lips kiss swollen. “Am I really a good man?” He asks, sounding small and vulnerable. “Of course you are! You’re brave and intelligent, selfless and kind—you’re all I could ever want.” You thumb away his tears, holding his face with care and adoration.

Like a bursting dam, tears start to burn from his waterline and drip down his cheeks. Julian feels like his heart has lodged in his throat, a delicacy he was still becoming accustomed to. “M-my love, I-I don’t deserve you.” He falls against you, skin flush against skin like he wanted to melt into you. “Yes you do, you deserve everything.”

Julian, without realizing, wipes his nose on your shoulder as he buries his face in the crook of your neck. “Here—let me..” on the small nightstand lays a handkerchief, one you use to clean his dripping nose. The doctor sputters, processing the situation with burning embarrassment. “Sorry…could you, could you tell me, ah,”

You save him from his twisted tongue, setting the handkerchief aside and clearing your throat. “What I love about you? How much good I see in you?” You ponder, rubbing circles over his hip bones. With a quick nod, Julian huffs out a yes, wiping his eyes on the back of his hand.

“Why don’t you lay back, get comfortable.” Julian follows your suggestion eagerly, pulling off of you with a shiver. You move aside, helping him to get adjusted on the soft mattress and settling in between his legs. You lay his legs over your thighs, hips slotting with his as you slowly push back into him. Julian dribbles onto his stomach, thighs trembling, the most decadent little whine escaping him. “There we go, nice and full, yeah? Only the best for my perfect man.” You pull back a little, pushing back in, forming a languid pace while fanning your hand over his stomach. You can feel the tightening of his abdomen and the clenching of his thighs around your hips, his skin sweat slick.

“It’s good..it’s ahh, good.” Julian’s blubbering is barely comprehensible and you can only make out snippets of words.

“I always love how you look under me, the way you wiggle around and the noises you make. Hah, It never fails to get me hot.” You slide in deeper, a little harder and your lover's body jolts up against the sheets, his long legs wrapping around your waist in reflex. You brace your hands beside him, extra stability and aim in your movements. Your heart beats quicker with each snap of your hips, heat flooding through your body with every noise, every face Julian makes.

“By far, that pretty little head of yours doesn’t fail to impress me,” your knees press into the mattress, cushioning while you hammer into him. “So smart and clever… you’ve done things others could only dream of.”

Julian’s nose starts to burn again, scrunching it as a hot wetness rises up to his waterlines. It felt so good to hear what you’re saying, to be forced to listen to what he’s always been so insecure about—it was so cathartic to be able to cry while it happened, letting everything flood while you praise him for it.

A warm palm presses against the side of his warm cheek and his eyes crack open, blurry with tears that soon flow over the curves of his cheeks in thick streams. “How are you doing, my dear?” Such a simple question, yet it has Julian’s sobs growing louder, accompanied by his fervent nodding. He stumbles over his words, wailing his pleas and love, voice stuffy with congestion.

“Good.” Is your single answer, leaning down to capture him in a searing kiss, holding the back of his knees to pry his legs apart. He’s breathless in the kiss, gasping and parting frequently to take in gulps of air before pressing back against you. When your hand closes around his dick, his mind crumbles, any sense of restraint in him shattering and it only takes a few strokes to have him spilling. His body clenches, arms curling around your back to hold you as close as possible, sniffling into your shoulder between his choked calling of your name. Your rocking slows to a gentle glide, coaxing him through his high while the stars bursting behind his eyes start to fade.

You’re already pulling out of him, reaching over for the handkerchief from before, cleaning his face while you coo your love to him. Julian lays there, overwhelmed in everything while you wipe his eyes and nose, pressing soft kisses over his face. He sniffs, wiping his nose again, feeling the bed dip. “I’ll be back, ok?” He’s nodding without realizing, yet his hands trace along your skin until your too far for him to reach. Julian sits up slow, body feeling far too weak.

When you return with water and a washcloth, Julian is all too eager to chug it down, gasping for breath while you clean his cum splattered stomach. “You did so good, I’m so proud.” The praise comes easy, like second nature. “You didn’t..” Julian starts to feel a pang in his chest. Usually he's the one to please you, and yet he has gotten too it yet. “It’s ok, we can do that in a bit, just relax, ok?” You sidle up next to him, setting the empty glass aside and pulling the blanket over his lap.

Typically, Julian would be on his knees right about now, bending over backwards to your every whim—not that he didn’t enjoy it, he’s usually begging for it. Yet, the comfort of being coddled is too great to ignore, perhaps this time he can be a bit more selfish.

Like me work? Support me on kofi!

#julian #spicy #my writing #the arcana smut #dom reader

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sophie-jen · 3 years

Text

“Prove it”

answer to @jilytoberfest prompt: “Prove it”

read on ao3 / ffn

Hidden by the cover of night, an eerie castle loomed in the darkness. Woodland creatures never strayed too close, for there were tales of dreadful goings-on within the tall stone walls. The sound of tinkling glass and polite conversation drifted out into the surrounding forest, curling through twisted trees like smoke, while pale moonlight poured in through the narrow windows, illuminating the sinister soirée taking place inside.

Two gentlemen stood beneath a cluster of candles, speaking agitatedly and paying no heed to the other party-goers. One had artfully coiffed shoulder-length black hair, and was swatting repeatedly at the candles floating not far above as he spoke, while the other, who was bespectacled and had a head of hair that could only be described as the opposite of coiffed, eyed the nearby window like he was considering defenestrating himself at any moment.

Candle swatter’s voice rose in pitch as he gleefully hammered the final nail in his interlocutor’s coffin.

“Prove it,” he sneered, watching the confused man in front of him with poorly hidden jubilation. In his excitement, he gripped his wine glass so hard he risked shattering it, spilling the viscous red contents in the process. He had the idiot cornered, and he would relish it like a cat playing with its food.

“Excuse me?” the man asked.

“I don’t believe you,” he said again.

“Well, what do you suppose I do, Mr. Black? Go into anaphylaxis to reassure you I’m not lying?” the flustered gentleman responded, trying his best to hold his ground.

“Except I know there won’t be any anaphylaxis, Mr. Potter,” Mr. Black retorted, “because you’re not really allergic.”

Mr. Potter ran a hand tensely through his hair, at a loss for words. He was saved from further interrogation by someone calling his name.

They both turned to see a woman in a black evening gown holding two glasses and walking toward them, eyes trained on Mr. Potter. “James, you’ll never believe what Morticia told me...”

“Honey!” James practically yelled, relief immediately apparent in his slumped shoulders and softening face. He took a step toward her, grabbing onto her forearm as though anchoring himself.

The woman smiled bemusedly at him, unsure how to interpret the outburst. She had hair as striking as her husband’s, though hers was a deep, blood red, and fell past her shoulders. James gratefully accepted the glass she handed him, taking a long drink, before remembering that they weren’t alone and turning back to his tormentor with a look of dread.

“This is Sirius Black.” James gestured toward Sirius, though he did not take a step back towards him. “Mr. Black, this is my wife.”

The redhead looked over, noticing for the first time the particularly pale looking gentleman standing across from her husband, who was going to great pains to look moody and mysterious.

“I hadn’t realized I was interrupting,” she said. “Lillian Potter, but you can just call me Lily.” She strode closer, James following reluctantly behind, and held a manicured hand out, the nails deadly sharp.

“Pleasure to meet you, Lily,” Sirius greeted her, watching her claws carefully as they shook hands.

There followed an awkward pause as they all stood looking at each other. Lily had evidently been expecting them to continue their previous conversation, which James did not seem eager to do, and Sirius didn’t feel quite as confident in his attack in her presence.

“So, Sirius– is it alright if I call you Sirius?” The man in question nodded, not seeing any other option. Lily continued. “How was your trip? We’re holding this little party in quite a remote location this year.”

“The trip was very pleasant. My car– er, carriage, I mean, kept me shielded from the inclement weather.”

“Your carriage?” The couple looked surprised at this. “I haven’t heard of anyone coming in a carriage in years. It’s quite an old tradition,” Lily commented with a smile. “Why didn’t you fly?”

Sirius took a moment to ponder the question, swirling the liquid in his glass, though he did not drink any. “Naturally, I couldn’t risk ruining my hair. A lot of work goes into maintaining it, you know.” He smoothed the black strands delicately. “Funnily enough, I wanted to check it earlier and couldn’t find a single mirror here,” he added.

Lily burst into laughter, as though the notion of having a mirror was uproariously funny. “Yes, that took me some getting used to at first.”

James, having grown less weary now that Sirius was acting civilly, finally chimed in. “I don’t mean to pry, but I can’t say I’ve heard of the name Black before. Are you...” he winced, not knowing how to broach the sensitive topic, “new?”

A flash of confusion disappeared in Sirius’ eyes as quickly as it had appeared. “Yes, yes I am,” he answered, putting on a sorrowful face, which seemed to fit the tone of the question.

“I’m so sorry,” said Lily. “That must be so hard for you. We’re glad you could make it to this little gathering though. Having a sense of community was very comforting for us in the beginning.”

James hummed softly at the words, settling a reassuring arm around Lily’s shoulders.

“What about you?” inquired Sirius. “Are you new?”

“No, not at all. It’s been–” James began, and looked down at Lily. She shrugged, a sad smile on her face. “Years,” he sighed. “You lose count eventually.”

Sirius had no idea what response would be appropriate in this situation. “You’ve aged quite well,” he said.

“Well, we were quite young when it happened,” Lily remarked. The small party sank back into silence, Lily and James looking on with wise solemnity, while Sirius looked a little lost.

“So!” exclaimed James, in an attempt to liven the mood. “What do you think of the refreshments?” He winked at Sirius.

“Marvelous!” Sirius held his glass up, which was still just as full as it had been at the beginning of the evening.

“They’re particularly delicious this year,” said Lily. “But you haven’t drunk anything. Are you not feeling well?”

“You know, now that you mention it–” started Sirius.

“Oh, he was doing just fine earlier, sweetie,” interrupted James with a scoff.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Sirius’ apprehension grew as he realized that James was no longer turning the other cheek, instead choosing to bite back.

Lily looked confused at the sudden display of animosity. “James...” she muttered, warning in her tone as she placed a placating hand on his arm.

“He was full of energy right up until you got back!” James accused, his voice growing louder.

“I don’t know what he’s talking about, Lily.” Sirius leaned towards her and spoke in a conspiratorial tone, as though her husband shouldn’t be privy to what he had to say.

James looked affronted. “He tried to make me eat garlic!” he cried, pointing at Sirius like he was tattling to a teacher.

“I did not!” lied Sirius, with the instinct of a 4-year-old being accused of stealing his classmate’s pencils.

Lily simply stared. At length, the poor woman asked, “What?”

“He asked me whether I’m allergic to garlic,” James explained, “and when I told him I was, he said he didn’t believe me. He tried to convince me to prove it to him by eating some in front of him!” he finished, a whiny edge to his voice.

She whirled on Sirius. “You tried to convince my husband to eat garlic?”

Sirius only stared, figuring it was best to keep his mouth shut.

“Why would you–” Lily looked at him in confusion for a beat, and suddenly her eyes widened in comprehension. Sirius’ heart dropped as he watched her turn to James, who was having a revelation of his own, and saw the understanding pass between them. They looked back at him in unison.

Before he could understand what was happening, Lily had grabbed him by the wrist and was dragging him out of the room, James following quickly behind. She pulled him into an empty corridor, lit only by a few sconces hanging on the stone walls.

“Who are you?” she hissed, her eyes glowing red in the murky darkness.

“Please don’t drink my blood!” howled Sirius, “I’m young! I’ve got a long life ahead of me!”

“Shut up, you prat,” growled James, slapping a hand over the prat’s mouth.

“We’re not going to hurt you, but you need to tell us who you are and what you’re doing here right this instant, or I cannot promise that things won’t get ugly,” threatened Lily. She nodded at James to let go of the whimpering intruder.

It all came spilling out. “I’m not a vampire! The invitation was delivered to me by mistake and I figured it was a joke, but when I got here and realized you were all actually drinking blood out of bloody wine glasses it was too late to leave! I just did my best to blend in,” he finished meekly.

“By accusing a vampire of lying about his garlic allergy?” Lily asked incredulously.

“You’re shitting me,” came the sound of James’ voice from off to the side.

Sirius looked over at him apprehensively, expecting to see anger, or worse, hunger. But James was looking at him with an expression of such wondrous awe that Sirius thought for a moment he might kiss him. “Mate,” James said hoarsely, “that’s wicked.” His face split into a shit-eating grin.

Puzzled yet thrilled by the development, Sirius grinned back. The two boys immediately began chattering, speaking over each other in their excitement.

“–the balls to do something like this–”

“–really like the taste of blood?”

“–a carriage? Oh yes, it’s delicious–”

“–it seemed old-fashioned, and you’re, like, old. Can you really not see your reflection?”

“No, it’s a bloody nightmare. But we never age! On the other hand–”

“Sorry about the garlic thing, by the–”

“–no more cake. No worries, but I really am seriously allergic–”

“–can fly?!”

At the mention of flying, James’ eyes lit up. “Wanna see?” he asked excitedly. He took a few steps back and turned into a bat to the sound of Sirius’ whoops of delight.

Lily watched her husband fly around a cheering Sirius from a safe distance away. “Un-fucking-believable,” she muttered, pinching the bridge of her nose so hard she looked like she might draw blood. Had there been any blood to draw.

Several minutes later, after an aerial demonstration and a tour of James’ fangs, they were finally able to discuss more pressing matters. Sirius now had to field Lily’s questions, which weren’t quite as easy to answer as James’.

“Why would you go all the way out to the middle of nowhere, to a party you weren’t invited to, with people you didn’t know?” she inquired.

“Because he’s awesome.”

“James, please.”

“Right. Er, this is very serious.” James waggled his finger gravely in his newfound soulmate’s face. “We do need to figure out a way to get him out of here though,” he remarked, looking back at Lily.

“Can’t you just fly me out?” Sirius asked, all inhibitions lost now that he had James to back him up.

“You think a bat can carry your body weight?” Lily snapped, at her wit’s end.

“I read about a passage through the cellar that leads out into the forest, I think,” offered James, feeling guilty for having left Lily on her own to try and solve the very real issue of Sirius’ presence at a party of bloodsuckers.

“That might work. Lead the way.” She exhaled tiredly, then hummed appreciatively when James wrapped a supportive arm around her waist.

The unlikely trio made their way down the hallway together, Lily’s head resting on James’ shoulder as she grudgingly answered Sirius’ barrage of questions about the ethics of vampirism.

The two vampires and the impostor snuck out of the castle and disappeared into the gloomy night.

#possibly biting off more than I can chew #but here we go #jilytoberfest #jilytober #lily evans #james potter #james x lily #jily art #jily fanfiction #jily oneshot #jilytober 2021 #prompt 1

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ruffboijuliaburnsides · 3 years

Note

Hi! Obviously ignore this if I'm asking something too personal, but you've mentioned that you're in the process of converting to judaism and I've been wondering how did you start? I've done a good bit of research and think it's something I'm interested in, but I have no idea what the actual process of conversion looks like, much less where to begin. Obviously feel free to ignore, or send me towards someone else, but thought I'd ask!

Hey no worries, anon! So, I will preface this by being forthcoming and saying I got partway through the conversion process, was forced to move, and ended up in a different part of the country with only one shul nearby whose rabbi (and community) are… very unfriendly to converts. They don’t SAY they are, but a few months of attendance and a handful of meetings with the rabbi with regards to conversion really hammered home that neither my wife nor I felt even remotely comfortable converting here, considering it’s a very personal and often vulnerable process, and wherein you have to actually like… trust and communicate with the rabbi you’re working with. So my conversion, while I still consider it “in progress”, is in an indefinite stall until we can move somewhere else or can reliably get to the next closest shul, which we currently cannot for various reasons.

ANYWAY. I started by doing a lot of research. Mostly I was just looking into… all kinds of religion, including Islam actually, because I missed the community and the structure and the spiritual anchors of my very conservative evangelical christian upbringing, but I didn’t like or want to return to the actual, y’know…. beliefs and tenets of Christianity. I found Judaism and just… the more I read and researched about the beliefs and the general culture of questioning and grappling with things within it, the more I felt like I’d found a people who I could understand, and a religion that understood me and would allow for me to be uncomfortable and question why things are taught certain ways and so forth. Which was one of many things that drove me away from Christianity, as I was not good at the whole “blind faith” thing. (they insist it’s not blind, but if you’re not supposed to question god then… what else IS it?)

At that point we were living in upstate new york, and the nearest reform shul was very small, did not have a permanent rabbi (there was one for a number of local communities that cycled around every few weeks), and really while they were officially reform they seemed to as a community have a practice and beliefs a lot closer to something like reconstructionist or humanist Judaism. I went to shabbat services on fridays there for a few months, and they were very nice but said they were very much not a usual reform congregation and that I should probably actually convert somewhere with a permanent rabbi and that was a bit more traditional, but that in the meantime they were more than happy to have me attend services and events with them. They were very sweet and I did appreciate that opportunity to accustom myself to the general pacing and content of a friday night shabbat service.

At that point we get to the part that you’re actually asking about, and I’m sorry if you’re just like “OH MY GOSH MAGS PLS JUST GET TO THE POINT” which is when we moved back down to Florida and I actually properly started the conversion process with a rabbi! I started out emailing the local shul and saying that I had just moved to the area, I was not Jewish but was interested in possibly converting and had been attending services at a very small shul up north, and is it all right if I attend a few shabbat services while I consider converting? I will say, I have never been told “no please don’t attend” about going to shabbat services, but especially with the world the way it is, and me being new and not knowing anyone in the community or having anyone to vouch for me, I prefer to ask beforehand so that they know to expect someone new who is reaching out and less likely to be a threat.

Anyway after a couple of weeks at that shul, I already loved the people and could tell I would get on pretty well with the rabbi, so I emailed her again about setting up a meeting to discuss converting. We had the meeting, talked about why I wanted to convert, what would be required of me, etc. She got me set up with a book list and some books from the shul library, gave me a reading assignment and asked me to write down any thoughts or questions I had, along with some other things that were kind of reading comprehension stuff, and told me to email her when I had finished so we could have another meeting. She also stipulated that she would have me live and practice through a full year of the Jewish calendar at minimum before she’d declare me ready to go to the mikvah, and we’d meet regularly, I’d do a lot of reading, I needed to attend a beginning hebrew class for adults that would be starting again over the summer, attend services (both weekly and holiday) as much as possible, and engage as much as possible in the community. (I really loved them. I was a soloist in the Purim spiel that year and I had friends and once I’d finished converting and could join the synagogue I’d already been needled to join their tiny choir and it was just a great group of people.)

Aaaand then we had to move due to things outside our control, and I couldn’t attend as often due to being a heck of a drive away (in a car with no A/C, in Florida, in the summer) so I tried to shift over to a closer shul whose rabbi my old rabbi knew, but it was High Holy Days and then he was travelling for some studies and couldn’t start doing anything like conversion until that was all over, and then we had to move again and now we’re here and have a very unfriendly rabbi and congregation, so we don’t attend services right now.

…………all this to say: you’ve done some research and you think you’re interested. Next step is to find the nearest shul that is of the movement you want to convert in, and call or email them and just let the rabbi know where you’re at and ask if you can attend some services respectfully to see if you still feel drawn to Judaism when engaging with it directly. If so, let the rabbi know, set up a meeting, and go from there. It’ll take time, a year at the LEAST and usually longer even if you DON’T have the sort of issues I’m currently having, but if HaShem is calling you home, it’s worth it.

(and if your rabbi requires to you take any classes or what-not, most organizations that run them that require you to pay some kind of fee offer scholarships or reduced tuition if you’re not financially able to enroll in them initially, so be sure to reach out about stuff like that, too.)

#i use ‘calling you home’ specifically bc #one of the books i read talked about how all jewish souls were at sinai at least metaphorically #it’s just some of them weren’t born into jewish families #and that every convert is just a wandering jewish soul coming home #and i really really liked that #talked about it a lot with rabbi T back when things were on track #but that IS what it’s been like from start to finish #it’s felt without reservation like coming home #in a way nothing else in my life ever has #so y’know #jewish stuff #judaism #conversion stuff #sorry that this got so long and rambly #i’ve been having The Feels lately about my stalled conversion #it’s very frustrating and i think I just needed to get it out a bit heh

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xhanisai · 3 years

Text

What if you had it all, But nobody to call?

AO3 / FFN

Summary: "...Am I dreaming?"

Marinette almost leapt to her feet and turned around, only for common sense and the hammered identity rule to slap her in the face and keep her rooted on the spot.

Her Chaton was crying...crying. His entire body shook and shuddered as the sound of his quiet gasps filled the tense air, his touch now a raging inferno coursing through her veins.

And she couldn't even bring him into her arms and brush his tears away with her pinpricked fingers.

~(x)~

Ladybug and Chat Noir's abilities were capable of many, many things. Things that were miraculously incredible to say at the very least and beyond scientific comprehension- for goodness sake, how many times have Ladybug brought the dead back to life after the umpteenth distraught puppet villain razed them to the ground? And how many times have Chat Noir managed to take down La Tour Eiffel with one singular touch, rendering it to nothing but ashes and dust in the wind? However, as magnificent and majestic as their powers were, not even they were able to prevent the dreaded pandemic that took over the world by a storm and put everyone completely at its mercy. This time, the heroes that the world needed were those with medical training, scrubs and a vow to the Hippocratic oath. Mon Dieu, were they such brilliant, resilient heroes indeed. . Despite the United Nations worldwide urging all civilians to stay indoors at all times (unless necessary outings were needed) and countries locking down dozens at a time, Le Papillon let it all flow through one ear and out the other. It's as if he has an addiction to sending out akumas left, right and centre as severe as a chain-smoker and the fact that there's an airborne virus that could completely destroy even the most healthiest person was just a muted buzz in the background.

Then again, what does one expect from the tunnel-visioned, single-minded, 'father of the year', Gabriel fucking Agreste?

"There are people literally dying out here and this crusty old man can't even take a hint!?"

"My Lady, what do we expect from the same man who regularly akumatises M. Ramier?"

Of course, the teenaged vigilantes had no choice but to risk their safeties as well as their loved ones by sneaking out of their abodes and battling the millionth akuma on the streets.

"Chaton...my parents are starting to think I'm constipated. CONSTIPATED."

"I told you, just use the shower excuse rather than the toilet excuse."

"But then they'll think I have some sweaty teenaged puberty problem!"

"Either way it's a bit shit, isn't it?"

"Oh fuck off..."

Thankfully, Tikki and Plagg were able to upgrade their traditional superhero suits, extending the masks downwards so that they covered the heroes' lower faces and filtered out the air, keeping them safe as they battled. However, social distancing was a whole new different obstacle that made these very fights thousands of times harder to win. The numerous events that Chat Noir had to be verbally restrained from going absolutely apeshit on akumas that gave Ladybug a beating that went too far when he could have pushed her away in ordinary circumstances was just insane. The heroine never realised how dangerous her infamous clumsiness could be at times, concluding her completely vulnerable and at the akuma's mercy whilst Chat Noir has no choice but to scream her name in agony a good distance away. And vice versa. Oh mon Dieu. She has had witnessed her poor partner get skewered and burnt alive by the more unforgiving victims too many times, her shaking arms aching to bring his body against hers so that she can feel his heart beating under her touch and lay kisses upon his tousled locks just to ensure her barely sane mind that he was still alive. That he won't leave her forever. The pandemic was such a vile curse... And it made everyone feel so, so alone. Finally, after months of these life-threatening fights, both physical and internal, both Ladybug and Chat Noir against le Papillon and the doctors and nurses and essential workers against the virus, a new testing system was introduced.

"I finally got my results! I got negative. What about you, Bug?"

"I got negative too! Dieu merci...looks like those sniffles I had really was hayfever after all,"

"You have no idea how relieved I am to hear that, Ladybug. I...I couldn't help but think the worst when you mentioned about the sniffles last week...and I even yelled at you for coming out to battle the other day..."

"Chat, you only had my best interests in mind...and I would have had done the same. But you can make it up to me, now that we can share a social bubble,"

"How?"

"Follow me!"

"-And now, we can freely grab each other whenever we want and we will be back in sync during akuma battles in no time. Isn't that great? Neither of us has to wallow in guilt or cry because we weren't able to push the other one out of harm's way." Marinette sighed happily, her bare hands squeezing her Chaton's as they both rested their backs against the pillar in between them. The noir-haired girl couldn't help but let her fingers and thumbs map out every nook, every crevice and every feature of her partner's hands like a desperate lover. The way that his longer, thicker fingers flexed under her touch and curled warmly against hers, the rough callouses on the palms that indicated years of hard work to whatever sport he's dedicated himself to, the glossy smoothness of his detransform miraculous on his right hand and its ridges poking into her skin and the sweet body heat that emanated from his caresses and sent her entire body aflame. She missed this. Dieu, she missed her partner's physical touch so much.

"...Am I dreaming?"

Marinette almost leapt to her feet and turned around, only for common sense and the hammered identity rule to slap her in the face and keep her rooted on the spot. Her Chaton was crying...crying. His entire body shook and shuddered as the sound of his quiet gasps filled the tense air, his touch now a raging inferno coursing through her veins. And she couldn't even bring him into her arms and brush his tears away with her pinpricked fingers. "Chat Noir?? What's wrong?" She asked, her heart skipping multiple beats when she attempted to move her hands away from his, only for Noir to grip them tightly and entwine their fingers firmly. A perfect fit. . "S-Sorry...heh-I'm not upset," He reassured her, tightening his clasp on her hands lovingly, his lips aching to press against her sweet, bare-knuckles in a sound kiss. "It's just...it's just been a while since I've had proper human contact, My Lady...so I've almost forgotten what it's like to be touched...or touch another..." Adrien felt her move, rather than saw, his Lady's breath hitching in her throat as she in return sent a squeeze back to him. It was as if his entire being was surrounded by a pool of warmth, lighting up his crushed soul and cleansing his shattered heart. The urge to just turn around and envelope her in his greedy arms was exorbitantly unbearable. She was right there, just behind him, tempting him with that oh-so-familiar bakery scent of cinnamon and vanilla that he could taste it. Alas, his unwavering sense of loyalty to her rules and his primal feelings to keep her safe kept him chained down. . But sometimes, even the most beaten down, the most saddest and the most broken of people can receive a glimpse of hope.

"Well, now you can have all the human contact you want, Chat. C-Close your eyes and I'll come to you- mine are closed too."

She didn't give him a chance to answer, using her hands to manoeuvre her way towards him until finally, she found his lap and settled down before bringing him in for a well-needed embrace and burying his head into the crook of her neck. Adrien didn't hesitate in crushing her body against his chest, his arms locked around her waist, one hand digging into her smooth tendrils whilst the other one clenching the fabric of her shirt on the small of her back. He selfishly inhaled in her scent, his tears saturating her neck whilst she in turn let her fingers tangle with his blonde strands, lips puckered against his nape as she memorised the pattern of his heartbeat in tandem to hers.

"How long can w-we stay like this?"

"As long as you would like, mon Minou..."

They stayed like that in the same position, all night.

~(x)~

#my writing #my fanfiction #ml fanfic #ml fanfiction #miraculous ladybug #miraculous ladybug and chat noir #ladynoir #ladybug #chat noir #Adrien agreste #marinette dupain cheng #pandemic #prompt: covid-19

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amerrierworld · 4 years

Text

Babysitter (pt 9)

Thor (Ragnarok) - fanfiction

Pt 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8

Summary: A Loki interlude.

Characters: Hela, Loki

Word Count: 2,111

Warnings: Idk, swearing?

Loki was incredibly annoyed at the current situation.

He’d woken up on a random, clunky spaceship with a pounding head and a bruised neck. He remembered the world going blank and being quite certain that he’d been dead until, frustratingly so, his lungs gasped for the most painful breath he’d ever taken.

A janky pirate ship had snatched him from floating in space amongst the debris, stripped him of his armour -no doubt to sell or melt down into other knick knacks- and left him in the back amongst the cargo. They’d presumed he was dead, so when he had woken up, they had a bit of a shock.

Not a word was comprehensible, Loki couldn't understand whatever gibberish language they spoke, so he ignored them and shuffled to their food supply. That got him a whack on his back from a whip and a kick to the back of the knees.

Trying to take back his armour also earned him a few bruises. They didn’t seem very dangerous, but quite a nuisance.

Amongst the cargo he found familiar debris that struck an icy chord inside Loki. There were piles of Asgardian clothing- ripped and filthy, but Asgardian nonetheless. Bags with very few belongings, and metal scraps of the ship they had been on.

It didn’t take a genius to figure out that the remainder of the ship of refugees was probably lost. When the pirates began to beat him again for rummaging through their stuff, a rusty old pipe amongst the stolen goods helped quiet them down immensely.

With his kidnappers knocked out, Loki scarfed down what measly rations they had and set course for Earth at light speed -well, the closest speed they got to light speed which was more like a quick paced jog.

He tied up the crew and tossed them in the back, and lounged in the cockpit as the ship traveled on autopilot, picking scraps of food from between his teeth.

Communications on this ship were absolute garbage, he concluded. There was barely any signal and he couldn’t figure out where the closest planet was. So, he took a nap, ate some more food, and tried not to think too much about the harrowing experience of Thanos choking him to death.

Hours later, they entered a very familiar atmosphere. Loki let the ship crash-land, grabbed a bag of few supplies and hopped out just before they hit the ground.

He marched on through the thicket of trees where they landed. Angry shouts that were no doubt curse words echoed from the smoking ship as he left them behind and tried to gather his bearings.

An old cabin was the first building he saw. With a rusty dagger at the ready, he inspected the home around the back, looking for a vehicle he could take, something to get him moving faster than his legs, when suddenly a high pitched shriek nearly shattered his eardrums.

A young girl, no older than six, was staring at him with big brown eyes. Rain boots covered in mud, an aged stuffy in her hands. Loki put his finger to his lips, dreading that he was going to have to kill the girl before she gave him away or screamed bloody murder.

“Daddy! There’s an Avenger in the yard!” she sped off towards a shed, where there was a light on inside. Loki’s shoulders slumped in disappointment. Whatever outcome he was expecting, this was by far the worst.

“I’m not- fuck.”

He shoved the dagger away and out of sight and stomped towards the shed, fuming with annoyance. He was about to go off at the man for letting his daughter talk to random strangers and how he certainly was not an Avenger, but the man in question had a large saw in hand and about 200 pounds of muscle to carry, so he snapped his mouth shut.

“Oh, hello there,” he said, his daughter bouncing about the workshop. “What brings one of you all the way out here?”

“And where exactly is out here?” Loki asked.

“Canada! What, you superheroes never been to Canada before? Always hanging around New York, eh? Are you taking a trip or something?”

“No. I, uh, crash-landed here.”

“From space?” the girl piped up, gawking.

“Yes, from space,” Loki said through gritted teeth. “Fighting angry aliens.”

“I told you, Daddy! He’s a hero!”

“I bet you’re trying to find your way to America, then? Lord knows why, there’s all kinds of weird things happening around town nowadays.”

“What do you mean?”

“Half the world’s gone! Poof! Just like that, some alien business I bet.”

“Are you going to save us from them?” his daughter asked again. Loki sighed.

“I’ll try my best. Now, can you please show me how to get to New York as fast as possible?”

The lumberjack’s husband took Loki and his daughter in his jeep and drove a merry long way to the nearest airport. On the way, the little girl asked him all sorts of questions about the Avengers, that he could only half-answer.

“Is it true Thor is super powerful?”

“Well. He's not that powerful. He just uses a hammer. Anyone with a hammer can use it as a weapon and suddenly be considered powerful.”

“I wish I had a super powerful hammer. Then my brothers would stop teasing me so much.”

“Hey,” her second father softly scolded.

“They’re mean!”

“Sibling feuds? I know the feeling,” Loki muttered.

“Do you have siblings, Mr. Avenger?”

“Sure do,” he smiled wryly. “Absolute bullies.”

“Me too!”

“Hey now, let our guest settle down a bit,” her dad said. “She gets a little excited around new people, so sorry.”

“It’s no problem.”

“The local airport’s just up here. It’ll take you to Detroit, and then you gotta get a connection flight to New York.”

“Thank you,” Loki said, genuinely.

“Why are you going to New York, Mr. Avenger?”

“To find my siblings,” Loki sighed. “At least, one of them should still be there.”

“But they’re mean to you?”

“Yeah,” Loki pondered as the car came to a stop. “But they’re family. I suppose.”

A few cunning lies and disguises later, Loki was suddenly landing in New York, amidst chaos. It had been a few days since he’d woken up, and apparently a few days since what they call the ‘Blip’. Humans clearly don’t like having their realities altered.

Your home was abandoned. Alfred didn't even greet Loki at the door, and no amount of pulling and prying opened it for him. The lights were off, and he feared the worst.

It wasn’t until he was in the streets and overhead muttering about some crazy goth lady terrorizing a nearby street that Loki thought he had finally found something.

He marched down the street until, to his surprise, he found Hela sitting hunched on the side walk, scowling and daring anyone to come close to her. She looked incredibly tired and disheveled, but her eyes were clear and angry, and recognized her idiot brother immediately.

“What the hell brought you back here?” Hela snarled.

“A toddler’s wisdom, if you’ll believe it,” Loki said, ignoring her glare as he sat down next to her.

“You look like shit.”

“Thanks. So do you.”

Hela grumbled.

“Have you eaten?”

“Since when did you become Mother? I don't need your help.”

“Really?” Loki picked up a filthy scoop from a pile of three ice cream tubs that were fully devoured. He dangled it from his fingertips for a moment, pulling a face. “I think you do.”

“You’re supposed to be dead.”

“Glad to see you too, sister.”

Silence. Hela really did look like shit, Loki noted. Her hair was mussed, and there were rips and broken pieces in her armour, reminiscent of the time they’d met. She had to be weak not to bother fixing it with her powers, or was just too preoccupied to even think to fix it.

“Where’s Y/N?” Loki asked.

“Beats me.”

“Did you kill her?”

Hela’s eyes snapped to his, a sudden fire in them. “How dare you say that?”

“Well, her home is abandoned and no one answered the door, and you’re here cowering like a criminal. One makes conclusions.”

Something changed in her expression, and she turned her body to face him. “Abandoned?”

Loki frowned, “yes. Didn't you know?”

“No- I.. I’ve been here, the last time I saw her...”

Hela jumped to her feet, nearly kicking Loki in the process. “That bastard, he took her, didn’t he? Him and his awful, forsaken pieces of shit he calls friends.”

“Who?”

“Our darling brother,” she spat. “He came in and- and threatened me, and then took her from me.”

She paced in front of him, green fire trailing behind her heels, hot with anger. She had expected you to come find her, take her back to your home, make her feel safe. But when you never came she had assumed you had abandoned her. Now, knowing Thor had taken you instead, filled her with rage.

“Where does your little posse hang out, hm? Some supposed secret lair? A great big castle in the sky?”

Loki blinked at her, at her sudden outbursts, at the scared glances from passerbys, and didn’t know what to say.

“Fine then, I’ll get her myself,” she growled, turning away from him.

Loki nearly let her walk away, let her walk into whatever doom she was getting herself into, but with a groan and a mad realization, he knew she was the only one he could rely on right now.

“Wait,” he said, reluctantly, hurrying after her and grabbing her arm. “You can’t just go running off. Tell me what happened.”

Hela spat at his feet. “I don’t need to tell you anything.”

“You care about her, don't you? Y/N? Why else would you want to ‘rescue’ her from our brother?”

“Be silent,” she hissed.

“No, no, I’m right, aren’t I? You care for her, but you messed up, and now you have no one on your side. That’s why you left, and that’s why Thor had to take her.”

Hela yanked her arm away before Loki could see her face, but he knew what she felt; remorse, and loss.

“Tell me.”

And so, reluctantly, knowing she had no other choice, Hela sat him down, this time on an actual park bench rather than the ground. She told him what had happened, how her mistrust had turned to affection for you, and how Thanos had destroyed everything in the end, and how the Avengers had fought her out of fear.

“I know the feeling,” Loki agreed, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees, watching an elderly lady feed a bunch of pigeons as if nothing drastic had happened to the world the past few days.

“And now I don't know where she is, and she probably hates me, but who am I to blame her for that?”

“If I know anything about Y/N, is that she cares about everyone, but it takes a lot more to win her love. She doesn’t hate you. She’s just afraid. I mean, you did after all break her window and run off into nowhere.”

Hela stayed quiet, made an annoyed sound in her throat, and looked away.

“I’m starving, how did you get all that ice-cream? Why not an actual meal? Or were you just eating your feelings?”

“Y/N doesn’t like it when I kill people, so it was either massacre the street or steal their dairy products,” Hela bristled.

“Fair enough.”

“Now what, hm? You come out here, seemingly from the dead, chastise me for messing up, and now judge my diet? What do you really want, Loki?”

“Not sure, to be perfectly honest,” Loki said. “I thought I was dead, and then I wasn’t. Frankly, my priorities are shifting.”

“And what is your current priority?”

“Getting you back to Y/N so you stop moping around and fix this.”

“And how do you suppose we do that?”

Loki grinned, standing up. His armour shimmered and regained its full glamour; horned helmet and deep green cloak.

“Taking notes from me, are we?” Hela grumbled. Loki glared at her.

“I was wearing this look long before you got here. Now, get up, we’re going to infiltrate the Avengers and give you your romantic happily-ever-after so you stop being such a pain in everyone’s neck.”

“You think we’ll just be able to get in? You really are as mad as Father was.”

“I’ve broken into quite a few places over the years, I’ll have you know. I’m the God of Mischief after all.”

“Am I supposed to be impressed?” Hela stood, her own armour strengthening again.

“Shut it.”

A/N: Loki is not dead! I know he’s technically alive in an alternate universe or whatever.. but I wanted the Odin Trio to be together sooooo here we are. Let me know what you think!!

taglist: @midnight-lestrange @cheerfullyvenomous @germansarechill@gaylorrds @amii-nyc @waitingfortheendtocome @novakitten0901@marvels-writings

#hela #hela x reader #hela/reader #hela x you #hela odinsdottir #thor #thor ragnarok #thor ragnarok fanfiction #loki #loki odinsin #marvel #mcu #marvel fanfiction #cate blanchett #tom hiddleston #best siblings amirite #wlw #lgbt #merry writes

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deliciouspeachpirate · 4 years

Note

How about number 7 from the fluff prompts for Javid? Btw I love your writing, it always makes me super happy!

A/N Hey there! Sorry this took me a bit. Thank you so much for your kind words and for requesting @justsomequeergirl! I’m so glad my writing makes you happy! I hope you enjoy this. Its almost 1,700 words or pure fluff and banter from these two sweethearts. I don’t think there are any warnings for it. Don’t worry, I haven’t forgotten about your other requests! That goes for everyone who has requested something too. Have a great day/night! <3

“You’re an idiot.” “But you love me”

The last thing Davey Jacobs was expecting to have wake him up at who-knows-what-time o'clock a dripping wet Jack Kelly banging on his window. Okay actually it wasn't that surprising and it also wasn't the first time it had happened, but he still wasn't really ready for it that night. Groaning slightly and moving gently so as not to wake up Les, who had sleeping curled up in his arms, he stumbled over to the window while Jack bounced excitedly on his toes outside on the fire escape. Davey unlocked the window and pushed it open so that he could see whatever the hell it was Jack wanted at this time of night.

Before he even got his arms down from the window though, Jack was pulling him in by his night shirt and pressing their lips together in a fervent kiss. Davey blinked several times, surprised that Jack hadn't even said anything first or waited to be acknowledged, but he quickly melted into it as Jack pulled him further out so that his upper half was getting rained on. Jack pulled away just long enough to grab him under the arms and start to try and pull him out over the window sill and onto the fire escape, smiling winningly all the while. Once Davey had made it all the way over the ledge Jack's lips were on his again, this time pressing quick, sweet kisses over and over again that made Davey weak at the knees. Jack's arms were wrapped around him, seemingly pulling him closer by the second, and he was laughing into the kisses like he was crazy. Seeing as how he was kissing Davey senseless on the fire escape at one o'clock in the morning in the rain and still hadn't said anything about why he was there, it might have been slightly true.

Davey felt his legs giving out under him, letting Jack take all of his weight while he tried to get his wits about him so he could ask Jack what was going on. Jack was still laughing, cradling the back of Davey's head and drawing him in as close as he could to repeatedly kiss him with no end in sight. Davey finally managed to pull back, closing the window as quickly as he could without waking Les. When he turned back around he had to pause a minute to take in the sight in front of him. Jack's shoulders was shaking with laughter, eyes sparkling, his face split into the biggest smile he'd ever worn, hair dripping wet, and his striped undershirt clinging to his torso and making all his muscles stand out.

Davey stood their for a second leaning against the window sill watching Jack run his hands through his wet hair before huffing out a laugh and attempting to speak comprehensively.

"Jack wha-hat was that?" Davey was giggling a bit himself, still weak from Jack kissing him. "Come under eves or something so we don't get anymore wet!"

Jack laughed again, spinning around once before grabbing Davey and pulling him back into his arms and pressing their foreheads together. He stayed their quiet for a moment, letting the rain fall over them. Davey was about to ask him what was going on again when Jack finally spoke his first real words of the night.

"Dave, you ever just lying there not really asleep and then think of something? Like something you forgot or didn't realize?" Jack spoke just loud enough to be heard over the rain. His voice was full of a warmth that Davey couldn't exactly identify but knew had something to do with the passionate kisses from before and the way he felt with Jack's sturdy arms holding him.

"I mean yeah, sure...what's on your mind, Jackie?" Davey wasn't too worried for Jack. Yeah the situation wasn't really like the other times Jack had come to his window without notice for a midnight conversation or kiss on the fire escape but this certainly didn't seem like anything bad.

Jack huffed out a laughed before turning his head so his mouth was positioned by Davey's ear before muttering, "I realized that I am completely, totally, unbreakably in love with you." Jack pulled back a little to look Davey in the eyes before continuing.

"I mean at first I was real scared, Davey, cause kids like me don't end up with someone like you. An' I mean most people would probably say I shouldn't love ya at all, but I ain't gonna bring myself to care bout that because I mean just look at ya you'se perfect and I sure as hell ain't gonna just let ya go cuase some old geezer says I can't love you." Jack was shaking a little now, weather form emotion or the cold it wasn't quite clear, but he still clutched Davey to him like he was the most precocious thing in the world.

"Davey Jacobs, you own my whole heart an' I kinda realized that cause I was talking about ya to Crutchie and he was kinda like 'yeah Jack I know you love him now shut up' but then I realized I guess that lovin' you and being in love are two differnt things? Or I hadn't told ya that I loved you? I mean I- I know I have, but this is different and I kinda just needed you to know right now..." Jack trailed off, realizing that he had been rambling for a bit, and settled for intertwining Davey's hands in his and pressing a soft kiss to them while watching Davey for some kind of reaction.

"So- you mean to tell me...Jack you ran all the way here in the middle of the night WHILE IT WAS RANING none the less to tell me you loved me?"

"HEY, it was also to kiss you!" Jack said in fake outrage.

Davey full on laughed at him then, leaning his head against Jack's shoulder.

"Darling, you could have gotten sick!"

Jack snorted lightly, "too bad. Don't care. Wanted to see you."

"You're an idiot."

"Well yeah, but you love me."

"Jack Kelly, I am completely, unendingly, irrevocably, indescribably in love with you. You make me braver than I ever have been before, you make me feel safe, you are the first person who listens to me is willing to understand what's going on in my life. You make me realize that I am worth something and that I do deserve someone who loves me unconditionally. When I'm with you its like the that facts I thought mattered don't matter at all. You paint the world in so many colors that I didn't know existed before I met you. You treat me with the utmost respect and kindness and I. Love. You."

Davey punctuated each of the last words words with a kiss on Jack's cheek before landing a final lingering one on his lips.

Jack tried to smirk confidently up at him once they pulled back, but it turned into more of a dopey grin.

"That's a lot of words for being 'indescribably' in love with me. I'm not really sure I understood half of them," Jack chuckled, "sure was pretty though."

"Not as pretty as you," Davey hummed, tucking Jack's head to rest under his chin. Jack wiggled out of his grasp in mock surprise, finding Davey smirking above him.

"I'm sorry, but is David Jacobs flirting with me?"

"I mean, I guess it depends on whether it would convince you to kiss me again."

Davey's smirk was intoxicating and any witty comebacks Jack had on the tip of his tongue flew from his mind entirely and he surged forward to claim Davey's lips again. The only thought hammering away at his mind was Davey. The way his smile could light up a room, how thoughtful he was, how he snorted when he laughed to hard, the way his eyes would light up when he talked about something he was passionate about, everything. His boyfriend, his Davey. Jack still couldn't believe that he got to call him that.

Jack nipped at and flicked his tongue over Davey's lip, reveling in his little choked gasps. One of Davey's hands was tangled in his hair, pulling him in even closer, and the other was grasping his shirt like Jack was the only thing keeping him standing. If the way Davey stumbled back into the wall was anything to go by it was actually true. The two of them pulled back, gasping for breath and giggling at each other. Davey was the first one to recover. Sliding down to sit on the fire escape with his back against the brick wall, he wrapped his arm around Jack's waist and leaned his head against his shoulder sighing contentedly.

"I still can't believe you ran all the way over here in the rain to tell me you loved me."

"It was important information, Davey."

Davey huffed out a laugh and snuggled closer to Jack's side as the rain slowed to a light drizzle. "Yeah, but it could have waited till morning, right? I mean then we wouldn't be out on the fire escape soaking wet."

"I would have forgotten by morning," Jack joked, wrapping an arm around Davey and leaning their heads together.

Davey shook under him, laughing slightly. "I highly doubt that Jack."

"Okay well I wanted to tell you nowwww," Jack whined out, pulling Davey down so that he was laying half in his lap.

"Well now I'm all wet!" Davey stuck out his bottom lip and pouted up at him, moving his hand to play with some of Jack's hair.

Jack leaned down to press a quick kiss to Davey's forehead causing him to scrunch up his nose and whine in fake annoyance.

"Well that's too bad, Jacobs, I had to tell you I love you."

Davey hummed and leaned into the hand that was carding through his damp hair.

"Yeah, I love you too, Jack. You are going to get sick though."

Jack laughed gently, smiling down at his boyfriend and continued running his fingers through his hair, the other arm holding Davey securely on his lap. The two of them drifted off to sleep together on the fire escape. To say Davey was smug the next morning when the boys at the circulation gate were confused as to why Jack suddenly a runny nose and a slight cough would be an understatement, but that certainly doesn't mean he didn't mother hen Jack until he felt all better.

#newsies #newsies fanfiction #jack kelly #davey jacobs #javid #this is entirely fluff #like sickening amounts of fluff #i hope #please enjoy this guys!#sorry I haven't posted anything in a bit

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evanstarff · 5 years

Note

Damn it Maggie, you always do this things when I'm sleeping. Well, if you still doing this can yo do "please, just look at me." with Steve?😘

❝ beware of dog

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader

Summary: Steve Rogers is bad with dogs.

Warnings: One idiot in love.

A/N: Sorry this took so long, Paula! 🖤 Prompt is in italics. I do not proofread.

All filled prompts are tagged ‘evanstarff drabble’.

---------

Talking to someone with a tendency of not listening to instructions – a concept mildly unfamiliar to a man like Steve Rogers.

"Please, just look at me," and the voice coming out of his mouth is truly pitiful. None of that surety, finesse, not grounded articulation most have come to know and appreciate. "Just spit it out, please?"

She buries her nose even further into her paws and Steve decides she is the most adorable, well-behaved monstrosity he's ever come across in his entire century of existence.

The creature has something akin to a wooden box in its slobbering mouth and Steve Rogers is on his hands and knees with his ass in the air, trying out some semblance of begging with dignity.

Of course, this is the opportune moment you choose to come home to America's shining beacon of hope grovelling to a furry creature with four paws and the grace of a child who knows they're the centre of your universe.

"...okay," you start, shutting the front door behind you as Steve turns his head, face pinking right down to his collar. "Is this some kind of mating ritual you forgot to tell me–"

"It's not what it looks like," he splutters, scrambling up from the floor before it threatens to swallow him whole.

Your face lights up, a burst of laughter and cheer spreading sunshine and warming his shy, quiet heart, and Steve can't help himself – hands on your waist, eyes all longing and loving on yours and you offer your lips, which he greedily accepts, all hunger and want. How lovely and divine it is to have you here, home with him, here with him – reminding him that greatness truly does exist in unfamiliar ways, tasting of sweetness and sin and all things in all ways and he has his whole world, his whole universe right here in his arms. His own.

The sweet imbecile of a dog bounds right up, jumping on you, breaking the kiss and substituting it with its own and goddammit, why did he agree to adopt such a massive dog.

"Okay, bubba," you're laughing, pure joy and delight. "Settle down, yes, yes."

Yes, that's the word – that's the word Steve hopes to hear and he watches you, enchantedly, distractedly, and realises too late when the box falls into your hands.

"Oh, um," Steve stammers, words failing as your eyes grow glossy wide with comprehension. "Oh," and that's really the only word left in his vocabulary when you glance up at him from the shining ring in your hands.

"Is this," you start, trying to swallow the growing ache, love, and fullness in your heart. "Is this what I think it is?"

And that's just it, there's no hiding it now and Steve swears his face now lives in the dictionary under the word 'idiot'.

"Marry me?" he asks ever so softly as the world whizzes by, hollow and sound and wonder all coupled up, distilled into this one hazy moment where time slows down, slower, quieter and all you can hear is the beating of your heart, hammering away.

"Yes," you cry, joy full and overwhelming and wonderful. And that's how it goes, that's how it is, will always be and Steve realises there truly can be nothing better than this.

---

Masterlist in bio!

#steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers imagine #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x you #steve rogers drabble #steve rogers fluff #steve rogers x you fluff #evanstarff drabble

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spacestationdaedalus · 4 years

Text

Happy late Christmas to @malevon!! I might not be able to throw you a party but at least I can give you a fic to read to celebrate the last day at your job. This is the longest single piece I’ve written in a long time and my first time writing injury/whump, so I hope it’s comprehensible, at least. It was SO much fun to write, thank you for the lovely prompt <3

ao3 link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28435182

...

She's coming apart, now.

I’m not scared of you.

Helen...was that...a lie?

Once he heard it, Saw it, Jon knew it was over. Her doors and hallways bend and creak under the weight of the Watcher’s gaze, and she herself is twisting. She’s always twisting of course, but this is different. It’s uniform, too comprehensible for the incarnation of lies and deceit. She’s screaming, crying out-

- it’s me, it’s Helen -

Channeling the power of the Eye comes a bit easier each time, which Jon registers in the back of his mind as vaguely concerning. The corridors are crumbling, colors blending into each other as Distortion and Spiral become indistinguishable. Jon staggers as the walls and floor shift, disorienting still even with the Eye staring down at them. It reaches out, then, a last-ditch effort to save itself. Stretching and warping with hands, sharp fingers that don’t belong to Helen or Michael or anyone with a name. Jon doesn’t stop talking.

He registers a pain, vague and far-off. Everything warps into red and a million colors all at once, and then he's nowhere.

Dry grass crunches under his feet, and icy wind cuts through him. He can’t actually hear it over the ringing in his ears, but he can definitely feel it, bracing and whipping the dark strands that had come free from their bun. There’s a ringing in his ears; it travels into his jaw, rattles his teeth. There's a coppery taste in his mouth and warmth trickling down his face. Another nosebleed. Great.

"Christ, Jon!"

Martin's voice comes from behind, and Jon sags with the relief of it.

"Oh, Martin! Good." Jon turns to greet him. His words sound strange to his own ears. Slippery and lopsided and wrong. The ringing in his ears is replaced with the dull roar of rushing blood. Accented by a rhythmic thud - his heartbeat, surely. Was it always so loud? He can feel it behind his eyes, and with every beat it hurts just a bit more.

"Wh-what happened? There was the hotel and then..." Martin's voice trails off, eyes widening.

Jon laughs, bringing a hand up to wipe his face. His fingers are cold. Which is strange because the rest of him is light and warm. He shivers. "Oh calm down Martin, it's just a nosebleed." He can taste the copper, still.

Martin rushes toward him. He's saying words that Jon desperately wants to hear, but he can't. Not over the roaring in his ears, or the blur of color and static. He can feel Martin's hands on his arms, his shoulders. Jon reaches up, tries to grasp one of his hands. Has his arm always been this heavy? He feels a pulling, sudden and deep - his abdomen. And it hurt.

He blinks. He's on the ground, half kneeling. Martin's arms are around him.

"-my god, what happened? Oh god Jon-"

His head is heavy, eyes tired. He looks down. And there's blood. His blood?

Oh.

He opens his mouth to tell Martin that it's alright, it's ok, it's not as bad as it looks. He makes a sound, he thinks. He hopes, desperately, that Martin understands.

A wave of dizziness overtakes him, followed closely by darkness.

Without himself to talk to, the dismal weather is a bit distracting.

Martin braces himself against the wind and the light pattering of rain. There’s hardly a way to tell if he’s walking in the right direction, or if there even is a right direction to begin with. He’d simply picked the way that felt right and began the trek, hoping he’d meet Jon along the way. Which isn’t an outstanding plan, sure, but Martin has a hunch that wherever the fog of the Lonely ends is where he’ll find Jon. Or, where Jon will find him - not that there’s much of a difference. Regardless, Martin hopes it’s sooner rather than later. His other self had slipped away into the fog long before, with all the fanfare of a breath dissipating into cold air. At the very least he’s walking with the wind instead of against it, though it doesn’t stop the minuscule droplets from painting his glasses. He’s already given up on cleaning them, resigning himself to the rivulets that form and drip down the smooth surface.

When the rain lets up and the fog clears just enough to catch a building crest over the horizon, the relief marginally outweighs the apprehension. The sight of something other than gray mist and dead grass is promising that he’s reaching the boundary of his domain.

Hidden horrors beyond comprehension aside, at least he can get a break from the damn wind.

It’s a hotel, Martin realizes, one of the old kinds you see in travel magazines and history shows. It’s weather-worn and outdated in a way that might have seemed charming at one point, but now practically oozes terror. The wind dies down as he approaches, for which Martin is grateful.

And in a matter of moments, it’s gone.

Although "matter of moments" might be pushing it. One second it was there, and then Martin blinked, and then it wasn’t.

And Jon is there.

"Christ, Jon!" Martin says, half startled-fear and half relief. The wind picks up again in the hotel’s absence, but it seems more tolerable, now.

"Oh, Martin! Good." Jon turns, a dazed look on his face to match his tone. There's a thin trail of blood dripping from his nose. Overusing his powers again, Martin realizes with a bolt of apprehension.

"Wh-what happened? There was the hotel and then..." Martin looks to the space the hotel once occupied, and back to Jon, who’s facing him now. His voice trails off as slow sinking horror creeps in its wake.

Jon's shirt is ripped open, tatters fluttering like wind chimes in the frigid breeze. Four gashes, deep and red, run diagonally across his torso, from mid-rib cage to just above the waist. Blood is coating his stomach, his clothes-

Oh, god

Jon's wiping the blood from his face and laughing - why is he laughing? - as Martin closes the gap, heart lodged and hammering in his throat. He grabs Jon with shaking hands, holding him, steadying him when he sways back. Martin’s vaguely aware that he’s speaking, words and half-formed questions rattled off rapid-fire.

What happened where were you when how oh god fuck fuck-

Jon's knees buckle. Martin brings him into his arms, supports his weight as he lowers them to the ground. Jon is dead weight at this point, head falling to rest on Martin's shoulder. He brings a shaking hand to Jon's hair, then his neck. He can feel his pulse against his palm, light and fast and as frantic as the beating of Martin's own heart.

He lays his down, gently, as gently as he can with how bad his hands are shaking. He rips the backpack open and grabs the first piece of cloth he sees. It's an old t-shirt, one of the few Martin brought with him from the safehouse. A faded band logo adorns the front. Jon had been pleasantly surprised to find Martin wearing it, since he was a fan of the same group. They’d laughed and sang their favorite songs together-

“I can’t believe I didn’t know you could sing!”

“I can’t really sing, Martin, it’s a functional skill more than anything-”

“Bullshit! You’re good! Like, actually good.”

“Is now a good time to mention I used to be in a band?”

“What?!”

Martin crumples the old shirt and presses it to Jon’s bleeding stomach.

That pulls a low moan from him, eyes closed and face screwed up against the pain.

"Sorry, sorry, I know," Martin placates, high and strung thin. Out of the grab-bag of work experiences Martin had gathered over the years, anything tangentially related to health care was nowhere to be found. Everything he knew came from corny 90’s job safety trainings and overly-dramatic television shows.

He wants desperately to check the wounds - how deep are they? Will Jon be able to heal them before he, he bleeds out or something?! - but his arms are locked at the elbows, fists clenched in the white fabric ever-so-slowly seeping with red. He fears that if he were to move even a millimeter, everything would slip between his fingers.

A touch, feather-light on his arm, feels like a shock. It’s Jon’s hand

"I-it's fine, it's ok-" Jon's voice is soft and ragged.

"It's-it’s really not, actually," Martin replies, and it might have come across as playful if it didn’t crack so deeply through the middle. He sacrifices a hand to grasp Jon's. It's ice cold and small and thin.

Martin uses his other hand to gingerly lift the shirt. The bleeding is slowing now - thank god - and Martin is sure the edges have closed ever so slightly. Not that he had gotten the best look before. He remembers how quickly Jon’s leg healed after Daisy-

It wasn’t a miracle though, his mind supplies.

He throws the bloody shirt aside and digs through the backpack once more, Gauze, some tape, a knife, a bottle of water. There’s only a half-roll of the gauze left, and it’ll have to be enough. With a jittering determination Martin uses the water to clean away some of the blood, cutting away the remains of Jon’s shirt as he goes. As the red washes away, the wounds don’t look quite as deep, quite as awful as they did before. He feels the smallest sliver of panic leave him and he draws in a deep breath to calm himself. Martin notices, really notices the wind for the first time in minutes - or hours, how long has it been? It burns the tips of his fingers numb, slicing through him like the knife in his hands. They don’t have anything in the realm of antiseptic, because of course they don’t, and Martin desperately hopes that Jon can heal himself before it becomes a problem. He gently wraps Jon’s middle with fumbling hands, placating as best he can when Jon winces against the movement.

They aren't in the Martin's domain anymore, technically. Just on the edge between Lonely and god-knows-what. But the open, gently rolling hills and vestiges of fog sends his spine tingling. Like a rabbit with no cover, and a hawk circling overhead. Not to mention the wind - now that Martin’s brought attention to it, he can’t stop shivering.

There’s a cobblestone wall, maybe twenty meters away. Left over from the perimeter of the hotel, if Martin had to guess. Wedging themselves into a corner to block out some of the wind is probably their best - only? - option.

Martin leans forward, brings his hands to cradle Jon's face. For as frozen as his fingers are he can still feel the chill against Jon’s skin, which isn’t the most comforting sign. He caresses his thumbs against Jon’s cheekbones in an attempt to coax the barest bit of attention out of him. Jon hums as he opens his eyes, slowly, foggy and unfocused. Whether it’s blood loss or pain or the after-effect of using his powers, Martin isn’t sure. Probably all three.

“There you are,” Martin whispers, and as small as it is he can’t hold back the relieved smile. He presses a soft kiss to Jon’s forehead. “We need to get out of the wind, love. I’m going to pick you up, alright?”

“I can walk.” Jon murmurs, almost lost in the air between them.

Idiot man .

“Not a chance.” Martin kisses his forehead once more, the comfort at the sound of Jon’s voice, ragged as it is, bringing tears to his eyes. He re-positions the backpack and slips his arms under shoulders and knees, rising to his feet with only a slight stagger. Jon cuts off a cry with his teeth, and Martin whispers apologies once more.

The stone wall on both sides makes more difference than Martin had dared to hope. He sets Jon down delicately on the grass, followed by the backpack with a bit less care. As he rummages through it once more - he’d packed that blanket, hadn’t he? - Jon shifts, raising himself on shaking arms.

“Oh, no you don’t,” Martin starts as Jon leans himself against the cobblestone, arm wrapped gently against the new bandages.

“It’s ok, I can manage it,” Jon replies in between deep breaths. He’s shaking, Martin can tell, pale and drawn. Martin grabs the blanket from the bottom of the pack at last, crawling to kneel next to Jon.

“Alright, alright, just stay there now, will you?” Martin chides as he leans against the stone, dragging the blanket over them. He was starting to think they’d never need it, but with the cold air still biting against them he was more than grateful they’d kept it around. “It’s not like we can give you, y’know, stitches or anything, so try not to move around so much while it’s healing.”

Jon leans his head - and most of his weight - against Martin’s shoulder with a hum, eyes sliding shut. They sit in a not-uncomfortable silence for a few moments. Martin takes a breath to ask-

“I killed Helen.” Jon speaks, soft and half-muffled by the sleeve of Martin’s jacket.

“...oh.” Martin says, quietly, because what else is there to say? Then, louder: “Wait, did- did she do this to you?!”

“Not her fault.” Jon takes a breath, slowly. Martin thinks he’s about to fall asleep. Or pass out, but he certainly hopes it’s the former. “It was self-defense.”

Oh.

Martin’s not exactly sure what to do with that, and by the time he figures it out he’s sure Jon won’t be conscious anymore. Jon’s breathing evens out into something resembling sleep - or rest, at least, since he can’t really sleep anymore - and Martin resigns himself to his thoughts and his still-slowing heartbeat. The feeling of Jon’s breaths against him are enough to dispel the last dregs of his panic, leaving exhaustion in its wake.

Jon couldn’t have been asleep, because he didn’t dream.

The sensation is similar though; the lost time, the panic, the awareness that comes back to him with all the subtlety of a freight train. The headache isn’t exactly new, but the deep ache that sinks its teeth into his bones is an interesting touch.

He’s against Martin, still - Martin it’s Martin he’s safe you’re both safe - who’s breathing is slow and deep. He’s not dreaming, though. The last dream he had, at the safehouse, was about his mother-

Jon sits up, sudden, fast. He didn’t know that. Not before. But now he Knows.

Knowledge; a familiarity, awareness, or understanding of something-

Stopstopstop

The knowing pushes against him, against the back of his eyes that throb in time to his heartbeat. It’s hard and fast and it hurts -

Fever causes and increase in heart rate, breathing rate, and blood circulation to the skin-

Temperature is considered elevated when it is higher than 38 degrees Celsius, or 100.4 degrees Fahrenheit-

(32°F − 32) × 5/9 = 0°C

He brings his hands up, foolish to think he can force the onslaught back with the heels of his palms against his eyes. His hands are frigid and damp against his face, or is it his face that’s burning against his hands? The movement of his arms tugs against his chest, his stomach, and folding in on himself only makes it hurt more but he can’t stop-

You think you could be saved without paying the price?

T̶h̵i̷s̴ ̵i̷s̷ ̷h̸e̶l̴p̵i̴n̸g̶ ̶y̸o̵u̴.̴

Ỳ̶̧̮͎͔̇̑o̷͚̖̬͈̙̽̅̆̕u̷̢̙͍͙̅̽̌̂́ ̸̯̈̓͠ͅs̵̙͇̗͠͝ȟ̸̩̝̗͚͓̈́͒̈͑o̸̢͉͎̯͒u̸̬̩̯͇̿̿̍͛͝l̶͇̗̮̦͒̾d̴̠̪̰͉̉̃̈́ ̵͍̙̺͖̮̒̊b̵̡̯͕͕̘̑e̶̫̹̒͊ ̴̬͑̓g̸̟̝̻͕̣͊͠ ̶̞̰̯͍̟͌̑̌ṛ̶͍̹̀ ̴̲̭̚͜ã̸͎̼̥̜̦͆͝ ̵̝̺̈̿t̴̢̛͗͝ ̶̺̝̂͛e̴̙͆̆̉̚ ̶̜̦̮͓̱̓̒f̶̢̗͓̥͗ ̷͓̾͜ụ̵̭͋͛ ̵̝̪̃̋͗͘l̶̨̥͈̼̝͂͘͝

He tastes copper again. Copper and static and paper and magnetic tape pooling on his tongue. He clenches his teeth against the need to vomit every bit and piece of knowledge and horror he’s ever known. The door in his mind is cracking now, buckling and splintering with the pressure and the weight of it all.

It was a small, unremarkable door, painted dark yellow, with a matte-black handle.

Something touches his shoulder and he would scream if he could open his mouth. The same something - hands hands two hands - touches his face, his hair-

And he had long, straw-coloured hair that fell onto his shoulders in loose ringlets-

“Jon,” someone says, and it’s Martin because of course it’s Martin. He’s kneeling in front of him, blessedly cold hands cradling his face. One hand brushes his hair back - had it come undone again? - resting against his forehead. It’s so soft and cool and comforting Jon can barely hold back the sob against his throat.

I felt the cold night air on my face and, and wet tarmac under my hands and knees.

“Good lord, you’re burning up!” He sounds frantic and Jon wants to comfort him, but he doesn’t know how. Martin starts on about medicine and things they don’t have and things that Jon knows, Knows can’t help him. He Knows it’ll pass and he Knows it won’t kill him, but in the moment that doesn’t feel like the mercy it should.

Jon shakes his head against Martin’s hands and tries, really tries to tell him it’s ok -

I decided to come to you and tell you my story.

“ I- ” The one syllable is jagged and dripping with compulsion and tellmeyourstory . Jon clamps down on it with a whine, shaking his head again. He brings a shaking hand to touch Martin’s on his cheek. He meets his eyes for the first time, wide and searching. Jon realizes he must look as wretched as he feels for Martin to have that look on his face.

I’msorryI’msorryI’msorry

“Oh, Jon.” Martin must understand, at least some of it, because his face softens. He pulls Jon to his chest - Jon would put his arms around him if they weren’t so heavy-

-held up my arm for a handshake, but he just looked at it, and laughed-

-but he settles for burying his face in the crook of Martin’s neck, eyes shut.

...felt like I couldn’t trust my eyes.

Her statement echoes in his ears and on his tongue. He remembers her face, her real face, before Helen twisted it into endless, sickening spirals. The bounce to her hair, the odd way she held her pen, the bags under her eyes that mirrored his own. He wasn’t mourning her. He certainly wasn’t morning Helen . She didn’t deserve that. He wasn’t mourning the woman he’d never known, a woman he probably wouldn’t have liked anyway , a woman that he let walk through that fucking door -

There has never been a door there, Archivist.

He doesn’t realize he’s crying until his next breath catches in the middle. It’s silent because he makes it silent, because the second he opens his mouth the words will come spilling out and they’ll never stop. So his shoulders shake and his chest heaves from the force of it, and it hurts . His tears drip down the collar of Martin’s shirt, and Martin - god Martin - has one hand on his back and another in his hair, making soft circles with the pads of his fingers. He’s talking to him, and Jon can’t hear the words over the static and statement pulsing through his eardrums. But the vibration of his voice is gentle, comforting, and it makes breathing just a bit easier. His face is hot and he shivers against the chill creeping up his frame, but Martin is here and warm and safe and Jon hopes that he never has to leave.

“Here,” Martin says - and Jon hears - after who knows how long, shifting slightly but never taking his arms away. He repositions himself, back against the wall, and lowers Jon by the shoulders until his head is pillowed on his lap. The motion hurts, Jon knows, but it’s muted and far away against the burning of his skin and how cold he is in spite of it.

Later they’ll talk, when he’s better, about Helen and friendship and other things. Jon will say I’m sorry for worrying you and Martin will say it’s ok and they’ll both say I love you . But for now, Jon drifts off to Martin’s hand resting on his head, his whispered reassurances reminding him that he’s safe.

“Rest, love.” Martin presses a kiss to his forehead and brings the blanket over him. “I’m not going anywhere.”

Jon can’t stop himself from Knowing that, not now, but he doesn’t need the Eye to know that it’s true.

#my writing #tma fics #jonmartin #i wrote a lot more than i expected to for this!! i really hope it like #makes sense hahaha #tma

21 notes · View notes

anika-ann · 4 years

Text

Errare Humanum Est - Pt.21

Two Confused Men, Two and Half Culprits

Type: series, soulmate AU series (part 1, part 2) x Supernatural

Pairing: Steve Rogers x reader Word count: 3780

Summary: Jarvis is the half culprit. I wonder who the two confused men could be…. Hint: for once, it’s not Sam and Dean.

Warnings: swearing, brief angst, nightmare (about drowning), brief mention of blood, guilt trip, attempt at humour

Story masterlist ༻༺༻༺༻ღ༺༻༺༻༺

You woke up, suffocating weight preventing your chest from expanding. You remembered dreaming about water, the light at the surface gradually receding from your grasp. All you could see now was darkness, the pressure against your lungs and the burn in them remaining.

Your throat closed up in panic as you fought to suck some oxygen into your airways.

Vainly.

You trashed around, elbowing the warm mass behind you that seemed to be pulling you under – only for the grip on you to grow stronger, your ribcage feeling like collapsing any minute.

You struck harder and the vice-like grip on you loosened with a huffed protest. You instantly rolled away—how were you rolling away in the water? What was that sound?

You blinked away the tears that prickled in the corners of your eyes with your previous effort and chased each inhale, your heart hammering in your chest wildly.

Your vision clearing, eyes adjusting to the dark, you came face to face with a perplexed and very much half-asleep Steve.

Oh thank god, you were okay. No water. No drowning. Just Steve’s strength and nightmares combining and resulting in the least pleasant outcome.

His pupils were dilated in horror and he shot up into a sitting position, blinking away his own daze. With a hand still on your chest, you closed your eyes and forced yourself to dial down your fight-or-flight instincts.

You were safe. Steve was safe, with you, definitely not a danger to you. You still flinched when he rasped out the apologetic words, heavy with guilt and concern.

“Oh my god-- are you okay? Doll? Can you breathe?! Does it hurt? I’m sorry. Oh god, I am so, so sorry-”

You raised your hand in his general direction, gesturing for him to give you a sec.

Rationally, you knew you were fine and you needed to chill the fuck out, but it was a bit harder to actually do so.

Steve let you take your time, ominous silence falling on the bedroom. You forced more air to your lungs, the burn slowly dissolving. You focused on the pleasant soreness instead, the result of your first night together after a long time-- what time it was now anyway?

You snapped your eyes open, finding Steve’s motionless form in the shadows, still sitting on the bed. Only this time, his face was buried in his palms, his fingers tangled in his loose golden strands in a brutal manner, and when you looked at him – truly looked – you detected the slightest tremble of his body.

Any pain caused by his crushing embrace vaporized at instant, the urge to comfort him taking over; big time.

You carefully reached out to him, your fingers curling around his wrist and gently pulling it away – or attempting to. He didn’t move an inch.

“Steve?” you called out softly, surprised by how hoarse your voice sounded and flinched. Steve did as well and you cleared your throat – uselessly, because the problem was somewhere lower. “Steve, are you alright?”

His hands twitched on his face, but he didn’t withdraw them.

“Steve, are you back with me?” you whispered urgently and the only answer you got was a frustrated muffled groan. Your lips curled up in a tight smile, sympathetic. “I’m okay. Are you?”

“Please stop asking me that,” he breathed out, his palms uncovering his mouth only for the words being comprehensible.

“Okay. Okay, I’ll stop,” you promised and wiggled your way closer to him. “Can I touch you further though?”

His ribcage expanded generously with his sharp inhale, but he didn’t respond.

“…please?” you added, pressing further.

“Doll…”

“Yeah?”

“I’m so sorry,” he whispered, his voice breaking simultaneously with your heart swelling in your chest.

“I know.“ At that, he finally allowed you to lower his hand, the other following its suit. Wet eyelashes created a tiny tornado with their furious blinking when his eyes found your face and saw an encouraging soft smile. “Can I hug you now?”

He opened his mouth slowly only for it to fall shut with no sound coming out. He gave a cautious nod and that was all you needed to wrap your smaller form around the big sad bundle of a supersoldier. You basically climbed into his lap, hiding his face in the crook of your neck, planting a kiss on the top of his head before laying your cheek on it.

Huh, that was nice. No wonder he did the same to you as often as he did.

“It’s okay, Steve. We’re okay,” you whispered to his hair, kissing it again. “I love you.”

“I’m sorry.”

“…that’s not what a girl wants to hear when she confesses her love to a guy,” you joked hesitantly, but you could feel his lips curling up in a smile as he breathed in against your skin deeply.

“I love you too,” he cooed, his arms finally sneaking around you and cautiously holding you as close as possible.

“Uh-uh.”

“Exactly what a guy wants to hear when he confesses his love to a girl,” he threw back at you in a hushed voice.

You chuckled breathlessly, swallowing the whine of pain at motion of your chest, and caressed his shoulders without even a thought of letting go.

“Will you be able to fall asleep again?”

“Will you? How are your ribs? Is your breathing okay? I’m really, really sorry, sweetheart. I’ll just lie on the couch-“

“Don’t you dare-“

“Don’t argue with me. I literally just tried to crush your lungs,” he growled, regret radiating off him in waves the size of a tsunami.

“Not intentionally!” you spat back, somehow maintaining gentle tone at the same time. “…right?”

“Of course not! It wasn’t- I would never-- but that doesn’t mean it won’t happen again,” he bargained in the end, sorrowful pools of blue and green shining even in the shadows of your room.

What he said was undoubtedly true. But the picture of having him lying several feet from your reach now (with his mind full of awful scenarios keeping him awake for sure), was unimaginable. Just terrible. Heartless. Not to mention you just got him back!

The solution seemed easy enough, though it was less comfortable; still better than the other option he had offered.

“Then put on your big boy pants and be the little spoon,” you challenged, earning a bewildered look with his eyebrows near his hairline.

“…for real?”

“Yep.”

He observed you for several moments that felt like eternity, while he considered his options. Then he sighed and you knew you won.

“…okay.”

“That’s what I thought,” you smiled at him a lop-sided smile, pulling him down to the mattress again; and he let you.

It was a little ridiculous and definitely strange to switch positions resulting in your arm enwrapping Steve’s thin muscular waist and being glued to his back – not to mention your other arm, where the hell did he usually put the other arm when spooning you? –, but in a way, you enjoyed it, more so when after a moment, his hand covered yours, careful not to apply too much pressure.

It was still the first night after you regained your memories; there was no way you even considered anything that involved Steve not being pressed to you without an inch remaining between your bodies an option.

You scooted even closer to him; you fell back into a more peaceful sleep in no time.

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Steve was very mature about the whole thing – so much that he decided (just like you did) – that you wouldn’t address the matter again. You spent the better part of waking up process making out like your life depended on it and then you might have winced the tiniest bit when Steve brushed your tender ribs, which ended up with him leaving to take a shower.

But not in the ‘oh god, I’m sorry, let me drown in a bathtub’ kind of leave, more like ‘maybe we could at least wait for the evening before we jump each other’s bones again’ kind of leave and it overall felt… rather alright.

With Steve occupied, you moved onto the funnier matters – like going through his closet to find a suitable outfit for your morning shenanigans, while Jarvis kindly replayed a conversation that felt like an ancient history to you.

You found yourself humming under your breath, wondering how good of an opening Tony could give you, when your eyes fell on something that took your breath away; just enough of it to leave some to yell for your soulmate.

“Steve! Steve, come here please!”

There was a crash in the bathroom, rapid pats of his wet feet and he flung out of the door in impressive speed with only a towel around his waist.

“What?! What is it?” he blurted out while he rapidly scanned the room for any danger and you almost felt bad for making him panic.

Almost. Because boy, this was awesome. You held out the t-shirt of your choice to him, amazed nearly beyond words.

“How did I not know you had this?”

Steve blinked furiously, his stance easing when he realized it was a false alarm.

“Christ, doll,” he huffed a relieved breath and sheepishly scratched he back of his neck upon seeing the famous shield on the clothing. “Eh… pretty sure it was a gag gift from Clint…”

“That’s so friggin’ perfect. Can I borrow it?”

His lips spread in a content smile as he walked to you, one hand landing on your shoulder, his lips incidentally catching your temple. “It’s all yours, doll.”

You debated washing your hair when Steve let you use the shower afterwards, but a little devil on your shoulder told you that ruffled hair and overall sleepy lookTM would work much better for you. You smiled at the reflexion with satisfaction, re-entering Steve’s bedroom, giddy.

“So, what do you think?” you asked him cheerily, spreading your arms and turning a full circle to show off your outfit in all its glory.

Steve looked up from where he was making the bed and froze. For a second, his skin paled to a very dangerous shade of white, his gaze glued to the brand on your torso. It gave you a pause; an amused grin you expected, a heated glare caused by you wearing his insignia maybe, but not the look of utter horror.

As fast as he turned to a statue, he recovered, plastering a smile on his face again – but it didn’t reach his eyes, a shadow of something that twisted your gut uncomfortably remaining.

“Looks good on you,” he stated approvingly and averted your gaze to pat at the mattress pointedly. “Honestly, it kinda makes me want to pull you right back to bed and have my way with you in it only.”

“Hold that thought, Captain, and maybe next time leave a different kind of your brand,” you suggested and added a wink, which seemed to finally erase whatever ugly thought had attacked him earlier from his head. “We have a billionaire to mess with.”

“Every time…” he echoed his words form last night, chasing blood to your cheeks and causing a giggle to spill from your lips.

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Steve fell into his role as easily as you did; he led you to the kitchen, your shuffling feet giving an impression of you being only half-awake and hesitant about walking the right direction.

Much to your luck, all the occupants of the Tower were already in the kitchen as Jarvis had informed you prior to entering the room. You smiled at each of them sheepishly, letting Steve gingerly seat you on one of the bar stools – not before you had enough time to show off your supposed pyjama.

Your plan was working perfectly as upon your bashful ‘Good morning, everyone,’ each of the poor Avengers got caught in a different intensity of staring. Natasha was tactful enough to revert her gaze shortly after noticing your choice of clothing, only smirking a bit, while Bruce took a little longer. Clint had been in the middle of stirring his cereal with milk, now paused mid-motion, recovering after about ten seconds. Tony was blatantly gawking at you, the pot of coffee in his hand dangerously atilt.

As if you couldn’t see their reaction, you smiled at Steve shyly. “I don’t want to impose, Steve. I can make my own breakfast…”

He only replied with a sweet smile. “You wanted to try eggs and bacon, right?”

“If it’s not too much trouble… but I really-“

“Nat. Let me take care of you,” he pleaded lowly and wow, the gentle but conflicted look he gave you was an Oscar-nominee-worthy thing.

“Thank you, Steven. You’re very kind to me,” you thanked him genuinely, meaning every word. It earned you a wince from five different people (including Steve, who hadn’t seen that one coming) as you used his full name and it took a lot of your strength not to burst out laughing.

Natasha cleared her throat. “So… how are you holding up? Did you sleep well?”

“Very much. Thank you, Ms. Romanoff… uh, you?”

“Natasha is fine, Nat. And yeah.”

Wow. Not even the great spy was onto you apparently – or she was, seeing right through your little stunt and deciding not to ruin your fun, being that much of a good actress.

Not certain about how exactly to proceed from now on, your gaze travelled around the bar, eyes landing on Tony.

He looked like he wanted to say something, but Clint, as if sensing the nature of his prepared exclaim, shut him up with a glare. You, on the other hand, were an incarnation of innocence on the outside, dying of laughter on the inside already.

“What is it, Mr. Stark? I can see you want to say something,” you nudged him gently and fiddled with your fingers nervously as Steve cracked the eggs in a bowl and started stirring.

“Nope. Not really,” the billionaire cleared his throat awkwardly, something so uncharacteristic of him. “And I told you. It’s Tony.”

“Right. Tony. Sorry.” You would swear Steve’s shoulders shook a little as he put the pan on the stove. You worried your teeth over your lower lip, eyeing your outfit. “It’s the clothes, isn’t it? You want to say I look right at home in it, don’t you? And I am branded on top of that…. It’s okay. I can see you’re barely holding the comment back.”

Tony finally put away the pot, his hands seeming rather frantic as he reached for sugar. “Well, I mean,… eh-“

“It’s a sign of a… successful night, right?”

“I didn’t mean to imply, uhm…“ he started, quickly lowering the cup so he could raise his hands defensively, but you interrupted him, mentally biting your cheek as you charmed your best innocent puppy eyes at him.

“-that last night I got thoroughly fucked?”

Exactly four people choked on their own spit; Steve had been expecting it, though the tips of his ears still turned a pretty shade of red and he stopped cooking, removing the pan before he could burn something. Still, at least he could tell which pipe was for breathing unlike the rest of the Avengers.

Natasha was the first to recover, soon followed by Bruce – they both had somewhat knowing glint in their eye now, figuring out what was this about, or at least partly. Smiles were tugging at their lips.

Tony’s face was definitely the most hilarious one. His eyes were bulged, wheels in his hear whirling rapidly, his mouth opened ajar even though he eventually stopped coughing.

Natasha was kind enough to hit Clint’s back, because he was still unable to breathe in.

You smiled sweetly at both the billionaire and the archer who was now taking a sip of water to sooth his sore throat. It was the perfect moment to casually drop the other bomb on them.

“…’cause I was, just FYI.”

The water sprouted out via Clint’s nose and Tony stumbled towards the counter and he gripped to steady himself; he seemed ready to pass out, gaping like a fish out of water, a perplexed crinkle between his eyebrows.

He looked so comical that you broke down. You burst out laughing, clutching the bar so you wouldn’t crash on the floor to roll in laughter.

You could see precisely when he got the light bulb moment, an accusing finger pointing at you, then at the very red but chuckling Steve, who was making his way to you, and then back at you.

“You-! You-… did you-?! When- what—you!”

His stutter sent you into another fit of roaring laughter. Steve’s arms appeared, sneaking around your waist, pulling you to his shaking chest as he stood behind your stool. In attempt to stop laughing, you turned your head to him to catch his lips in a kiss.

“Thanks, Stevie,” you murmured against his mouth, giggling and kissing him again. His embrace tightened.

“When did you get your memories back?” Bruce queried, a wide smile, rather rare for him, on his face.

Steve’s chin rested on your shoulder as you replied.

“Yesterday.”

“Was it the woman?”

“Yes, we believe so,” Steve confirmed, nuzzling your neck as if the others weren’t truly in the room. Was he afraid them might want to steal now when they knew as well? Please. It wasn’t like you were that popular.

“It just took some time to clear that out with Steve and with myself,” you explained, this time a bit ashamed for real. Steve’s fingers caressed your stomach soothingly over the material of the infamous t-shirt.

Natasha was definitely beaming though. “Understandable. I’m happy for you. Especially for making fun of those two, extra points, you guys.”

“Thanks. It felt amazing. Oh Tony, if you could see your face,” you chuckled again, melting into Steve’s frame when Tony glared at you. “I hope Jarvis caught it.”

“I did. Would you like to see it again now?” the AI offered readily.

“That was mean!” Tony accused you. “And seriously, Jarvis, we will have a conversation about your loyalty.”

“It was funny,” you opposed him, hoping he wasn’t truly offended. He wouldn’t, right?

“Yeah, alright, it was funny. Welcome back, sass queen.”

“Thank you. It’s good to be back.”

“So… do we get a hug or is it like Cap’s hands only?” Clint asked with a teasing smile tugging at his lips, apparently not having any hard feelings despite you causing him to nearly choke to death.

Touched, you hopped off your stool and Steve hesitantly released you.

“I’d love to hug you,“ you admitted honestly, not quite expecting the offer. The more surprising it was, the more it warmed your heart. Who would have thought?

Clearly, accepting the invitation was a mistake.

As Steve let you go, they all went for it at once, starting with Tony and Clint, Natasha joining about two seconds before the most reluctant Bruce did. It was lungs-squeezing, bone-crushing and absolutely delightful.

“Dammit, guys,” you sobbed, indescribably moved by the force they embraced you with. Tears gathered in your eyes, threatening to spill soon. You would never imagine such a warm welcome from Steve’s friends.

“Hulk happy,” a roar by your ear made you jump and you caught a glimpse of green on Bruce’s neck; it was enough for the levee to break. You started crying like a little girl.

“Oh, девушка…” Natasha’s soft voice reached your ears and you sobbed again, vainly trying to keep more tears at bay.

“Stop making her cry…” Steve muttered, but didn’t sound irritated at all. If anything, he had a fond smile on his face when you got a glimpse of it between the bundle of bodies. ‘I love you and they do too,’ he mouthed at you then, his eyes glistening with tears as well.

You squeezed your eyes shut and attempted to tighten your grip on four people at once. You weren’t sure about the result, but no one complained.

“Yeah, let’s not shed more tears than necessary. Actually, I think this calls for a party,” Clint exclaimed as he patted your back and released you.

Others reluctantly followed his suit – they had to, because letting out only one person from the bundle of limbs and bodies would be difficult. The moment you were left cold again, Steve snatched you back to his arms at instant, which earned him an amused grin from Natasha.

“Barton. I didn’t believe that the day would come, but you actually became wise,” Tony pronounced dramatically. “Big party?”

“Nah, just family,” the archer opposed jovially and you sunk into Steve’s embrace in hopes not to release fresh tears at being considered family. You would have to somehow deal with your family by blood eventually too, but you selfishly didn’t want to think about it just yet. One step at time.

“I’d say I take it back, but surprisingly enough, I agree.”

“Oh, the end of the world is here…” Bruce lamented since the two clowns agreed on something and you chuckled, enjoying their banter probably more than you should.

“Alright. We might want to ring Drapes from Asgard. He does love his revels,” Tony pointed out and exactly five people agreed.

“No shit.”

You, as the sixth, wavered. Not because you wouldn’t want to see the God of Thunder again; it was just that you didn’t think he owned a cell phone. Oh, and he was also off to another planet, you assumed.

“…how exactly do you call Thor? Is there service on Asgard? That would be crazy, right?”

“I heard crazier,” Clint scoffed, pointing at you and not bothering with being subtle.

“That’s fair.”

“Thor told us to call out for Heimdall if we needed him,” Steve explained to you and while you had no idea who Heimdall was, you shrugged it off. You didn’t want to deal with that right now.

You were back, you had your soulmate, you had friends that, unknowingly to you until now, considered you a family and you wanted to just be and be happy.

“I’ll do that…” Tony’s hand shot up as if he was a first-grader offering to clean the blackboard and you sent a silent wish for Thor to survive whatever Stark planned on doing.

“Good luck. Now… I believed I promised you breakfast, doll,” Steve whispered to your ear, nuzzling in your neck again.

It was very hard not to melt at spot. “I meant it, Steve. I can make my own breakfast.”

“Well, I didn’t exactly wine and dine you before we had our… successful night, so if you let me do this at least…” he teased on the lowest volume possible and you slapped his bicep before he released you to make good on his promise, the radiant smile on his face lighting up the whole room.

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Part 22

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So... I had a lot of fun writing that. I hope you had fun reading :-*

51 notes · View notes

sweetmemories2606 · 4 years

Text

Miraxus Day Fic (late)

First of all, sorry this is a bit late. It's been a long road but I'm so glad I managed to finish this story. I haven't written Miraxus in so long and they deserve this appreciation, specially on their day.

Here's the info:

Title: New Beginnings

Pairings: Miraxus + ElfEver

Summary: Mirajane and Laxus had spent too long denying their feelings, convincing themselves it was for the sake of their niece. After an intense kiss which briefly led to heartbreak, they were forced to face the truth.

Word Count: 2K

Hope you enjoy!

September X792

"You did it, Ever!" Mirajane watched with a soft smile once her brother happily embraced his girlfriend. They were currently in the infirmary of Blue Pegasus and it had been nearly a year since the Thunder Legion had joined the guild.

"Congratulations!" She happily offered the couple.

"Thanks, Mira." Elfman briefly glanced at her before his attention went to Porlyusica. "Is everything okay?"

"Everything's fine." The healer reassured. Sensing his and Evergreen's worry, she approached the bed where the fairy woman lay. Looking down at the green bundle in her arms, she smiled. "She's perfectly healthy."

Relief filled everyone in the room. Elfman and Evergreen shared a smile before he brought her even closer in order to kiss her.

"Thank goodness." Mirajane whispered meanwhile.

"Good." Laxus said.

"So, can we meet her now?" An impatient Freed asked.

There was a cry in response, thus everyone glanced at the newborn in Porlyusica's arms. For so long they had been waiting to meet her, but now she was here. Finally.

"Here you go." Arriving at the bed, Porlyusica carefully passed the baby to Evergreen. Carefully, the fairy woman held her daughter for the first time.

"Hey." She laughed, but tears came crashing down a moment later and Elfman was no different. Both were clearly overwhelmed with happiness and all Mirajane could think was how happy she was for them.

While the couple was lost in the joyful moment, everyone moved closer to the bed in order to get a look at the precious baby girl.

Upon trying to get to her brother's side, Mirajane accidentally bumped into Laxus. The two apologised in perfect synchrony, avoiding looking at each other because it was still awkward. Every interaction had been awkward since a few days before when they had kissed.

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

Such intense moment had been neither unexpected nor unforeseen. Ever since she had saved his life by eliminating the bane particles which had nearly killed him and Porlyusica had suggested that Mirajane accompany him to Blue Pegasus to keep an eye on him, something had shifted in their relationship.

Though they had tried to maintain their friendship from before the war against Tartaros, it had been impossible to ignore that she was the reason he was alive. He owed everything to her, even if she didn't see it that way.

Perhaps they could've kept on pretending if they hadn't had to spend so much time together over the past few months. Being together had only increased feelings that both continuously denied were ever there. A lie which no one believed anymore, themselves included.

Yet they had managed to remain dishonest despite their friends' constant, annoying and truthful comments. Freed and Evergreen were particularly keen to point out how unusually cheerful Laxus had been lately and the reason behind it. Similarly, Lisanna noted how happy Mirajane seemed ever since arriving at Blue Pegasus. Laxus and Mirajane had undeniable chemistry, but for so long they had refused to act on it. The main reason for this was fear. Fear of being rejected, of not being worthy, of starting something which may not last. They convinced themselves it was because of Evergreen and Elfman unborn child and how they didn't want to take any risks which could affect her. After all, this baby would tie them together as family and thus they had decided to prioritise her happiness over their feelings.

Until they hadn't managed anymore. A few days before, during Blue Pegasus' annual festival, they had forgotten about all the reasons not to be together and thrown caution out the window. After a wonderful night of dancing, drinking and telling stories, neither had been able to deny how they felt anymore.

The kiss had happened after someone had put on the most romantic song and all the couples had started dancing. Laxus and Mirajane had found themselves on the dance floor as well and being so close like that made it extremely hard to pretend they weren't in love.

Before they knew what they were doing, they were leaning in and for a moment everything else faded away. Blissful. Magical. Perfect. They had been in their own world.

Until the yells and cheers had brought them back to reality and they realised what they had done. He had pulled away too quickly, erasing any hope of a confession. Surveying the room, he had avoided her eyes. Face flushed and voice shaken, he excused himself and left.

Just like that, the bliss was gone and she had been left wondering if perhaps she had read him wrong. Heartbroken, she had chosen to avoid him after that and he had done the same.

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

After multiple awkward and tense interactions, they had been forced to be in the same room for a long period of time because Evergreen was giving birth. Once again, they had pushed all feelings aside and tried to focus on the precious baby girl that was about to enter their lives.

However, neither could deny that watching Evergreen and Elfman so happy and in love made their hearts ache and their minds wonder about what could be.

"She's so beautiful, Ever." Mirajane told the fairy woman.

"She is, isn't she?" Evergreen looked fondly at her daughter.

"Just like her mother." Elfman did not miss this perfect opportunity to compliment her, which earned him a soft smile.

"She certainly got Ever's looks." Freed commented.

"So, what's her name?" Laxus asked in curiosity but also hoping to distract himself from dangerous thoughts that made his heart race.

"Yes, please tell us!" Lisanna begged.

"You've been keeping us in suspense long enough." Bixlow added rather impatiently.

The couple shared mirrored smiles before she nodded. He looked around the room, but did not give the answer they expected. "We found the perfect name last night."

"Which is?" Freed raised a brow.

Silence. Everyone prepared for the long-awaited response. "Bella. Bella Strauss." Elfman finally answered with the brightest smile.

"Bella..." Laxus whispered, testing the name.

Mirajane couldn't help but to smile too. "It's perfect."

The others soon joined in with their own reactions and for a while everything was okay. Able to focus on her niece, she momentarily forgot about the defining kiss, heartbreak and all that remained unsaid.

Until Evergreen and Elfman called both her and Laxus. "Look, we know that things are weird between you two..."

"But we'd really appreciate it if you could put your feelings aside for now and focus on Bella." Evergreen finished her boyfriend's sentence.

Mirajane nodded immediately. "Of course."

Laxus followed that with his agreement. "I can do that."

Clearly relieved, Evergreen and Elfman shared a meaningful look. "Do you want to ask them or..." He began asking and she replied with one word. "Together."

"Ask us what?" Laxus wondered, confused.

"Is everything alright?" Mirajane became concerned.

"Everything's fine." Evergreen replied while accepting her boyfriend's hand. Together, they made an important yet unexpected request. "We were wondering if you would do us the honour of becoming Bella's godparents."

"Are you sure?" Laxus asked, shocked.

They nodded before Elfman answered. "We thought it over and this is what we want."

"Oh, thank you." Unable to contain neither emotions nor tears, Mirajane moved to hug her brother. Laxus stood there, watching her, a significant look upon his face. There was no doubt; he knew what he wanted and what he needed to do in order to fix things.

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

Later on, when everyone was still fawning over Bella and all had gotten a chance to hold her, he asked to speak to Mirajane in private. She was surprised, but followed him to the garden nonetheless.

It was a warm night but there was a cool breeze which kept them from being too hot. The sky was beautiful with so many bright stars and a full moon which they hadn't seen in a while.

There could not have been a more perfect nor romantic setting; which Laxus was thankful for. While Mirajane was appreciating the endless night sky, he tried to remain calm and composed.

"It's so beautiful." She looked up in amazement.

"Certainly is." Only he wasn't looking up but at what was in front of him.

Noticing his gaze, she blushed as a soft smile came upon her face. However, it quickly turned into a frown upon remembering the last time he had alluded to her beauty.

Noticing this, Laxus sighed. "I'm sorry."

Though necessary, an apology wasn't enough. "What are you sorry for?"

Part of her feared his answer, but that was soon dismissed. "For leaving you and avoiding you."

"Thank you." Mirajane let out a sigh as well. "But why did you leave?"

He looked away, frowning. "I guess I just couldn't stand there with everyone judging us and coming to their own conclusions about what happened."

"I understand that." She nodded, giving him a comprehensive look. "But didn't you think about how I would feel being left alone after we..."

"Of course I did!" Laxus interrupted, looking back at her, then taking in a breath to calm himself. "But I needed to be alone. To figure out exactly what it meant before I could face you again."

"And? Have you?" Mirajane raised a brow.

His answer was unexpected. "I realised there was nothing to figure out. I knew exactly what it meant but I wasn't ready to accept the truth yet."

Heart hammering in her chest, she asked. "What truth?"

Looking into her eyes, he saw hope which eased his fears. It was time to be brave. "That I love you, Mirajane."

Silence. Tension. He awaited for a reaction but she was too stunned. Though she had been hoping for this confession and was relieved that her feelings were returned, it felt unbelievable.

Time passed and Laxus started getting uncomfortable. Nervous again, he suddenly worried she didn't feel the same. What if he had read her wrong?

When she finally reacted, it was nothing like he had imagined. Closing the distance between them, she took his face into her hands and kissed him. Though caught by surprise, he was quick to reciprocate with as much passion and wrapped his arms around her like he had been wanting to do for so long.

They were in their own world again, only this time there were no interruptions. When they pulled apart it was only due to the need for air. They stared at each other giddyly, but still Laxus needed confirmation. "So... what does this mean?"

Mirajane answered without hesitation. "It means that I love you too."

Both filled with joy, they leaned in for another fiery kiss, forgetting that they were supposed to be catching their breaths. Blissful. Magical. Perfect. This moment was everything they had dreamed of and more.

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

What they didn't know, though, was that this wasn't just their moment for Elfman and Evergreen were watching them through the window. Smiling brightly, the other couple rejoiced in this happy turn of events.

"See? I told you he would confess." She smirked at her boyfriend.

"I'm glad he did. Mirajane deserves to be happy." Elfman stated.

"They both do. They've been through so much." Evergreen noted with sadness.

"That's true." He nodded. "We've all been through so much."

Thinking back to darker times when they had almost lost each other, they frowned. Fear and sorrow briefly persisted before happiness filled them again once Bella let out an intelligible noise as if trying to catch their attention. Looking down at the perfect baby girl in his arms, they smiled again. "She really is perfect. "

"She is." Evergreen agreed before looking at him with love and adoration. "Our new beginning."

They shared a soft kiss and there was no doubt what it meant. While some people look forward to that infamous happy ending, they knew that true happiness could be found in second chances and new beginnings.

#fanfic #miraxus day #miraxus #elfever #fairy tail #relationship #mirajane strauss #laxus dreyar #elfman strauss #evergreen #family #romance #fluff #angst #tartaros

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