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jmscornerlibrary · 2 months

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Set Me Free - Chapter Five - Clarity II

Next part to my Loki x OC fanfiction: you can find the first part here:

Enjoy!

***

When Henrietta had entered the room, she had half expected Laufeyson to have put on a shirt and gone back to sleep; instead, she found the shirt and bed in tatters and him sitting in the middle of this chaos looking fearfully feral and possibly trying to see whether he could set the carpet on fire with his vicious glare.

Her first thought was to call out and sigh about the mess he had made, but she read his eyes well enough and bit her tongue; then she saw his torso and felt something awful and delightful travel up and down her spine and lungs, bringing the blood up into her face. Though he was thin, his muscles had not receded; they were like drawn and like rope, stiff as wire, and she feared the effect beholding them had on her.

Naturally, she knew what this feeling was, as an avid reader and writer, so she shut her eyes and tried to block him out completely, of course to no avail.

This strange game lasted until she threw a shirt at his head, and stopped whatever he had taken into his head to play. Laufeyson was frightfully observant and intelligent, and she knew he would have no trouble in reading her, for he always did it incredibly well when she was young. The last thing she needed now was internal conflict, so when she turned to face him again, she became stern and drew on some more bitter emotions she carried within her soul.

“Put something on, Loki of Asgard, and then rest. I think both of us have had far too much excitement for today,” she said, then took up the box (still not looking at him) and placed it on the freshly-made bed.

He flicked at the box in response, then tossed it back on the floor with some effort which he expertly concealed and threw himself onto the bed instead.

She muttered some nasty words under her breath, then leaned down and pulled a brown shirt out of the box.

“There we go, that should do,” she said, ignoring him, as she examined it. “It’s not moth-eaten, and I don’t think it’s ever been worn. Here.”

She held it out and glanced up - he had folded his arms and was looking at the wall, his brows over his eyes and his face displeased.

“Oh, come on,” she almost pleaded, then stood firm again. “You’d do well to put something on; you’re in the presence of a lady.”

He looked her square in the face and snorted. Henrietta flushed, whipped around, balled her fists, then turned back with an icy expression.

“Some advice, prince of Asgard - polish your manners. As you may have deduced, you are thought of as nothing but a prisoner in your homeland, are in chains, in my house and generally at my mercy.”

Oh, he didn’t like that. Henrietta saw his pupils constrict and his nostrils flare. She matched his fury, drawing herself up tight, refusing to give in.

“There are a lot of people here who would love to have you behind bars, you know, like the Avengers and the police. So, unless you would like me to inform them of who exactly I’m fraternising with, I advise that you put on the shirt and you pack in this madness.”

She waited for her words to take effect and take effect they did: a pillow was energetically projected at her and landed rather pathetically at her feet. She opened her mouth to wittily tell him of his physical capabilities, when she was struck by his expression; his chest was heaving up and down, his knitted lips were twisted in a sneer, his eyes like two spears of ice. She bit on her tongue and regained herself, for she had never seen him so angry, but then again, she had never been so angry with him. If it was not for his attack on New York, things would have been different; uncle Haldanson would still be alive and so would hundreds of people, and her feelings for him wouldn’t have been muffled by hurt and accusation and rage.

Her eyes settled on his crudely stitched mouth, and she bit back another wave of worlds she would have much liked to pelt at him, for he was fighting a losing battle and she was being cruel; he couldn’t defend himself, he was stuck with listening and tolerating her assumptions and things she thought of him. Writing as communication was out of the question in this particular case.

Henrietta took a deep breath and tried to start again.

“I understand the situation you are in-”

Loki shook his head wildly, smashed the bedside lamp against the wall, scattered the cushions and tore the bedsheets off the bed, made some mad motions with his hands which could have been curses, then slumped against the pillow-less headrest of the bed, panting, grinding his teeth and sneering with the veins blue and taut in his forehead and neck.

She let him execute this all in silence, then sighed and massaged her temples. She looked up at him.

“Better?”

It wasn’t said to irk, so he didn’t quite repeat this fit, but he turned his face towards the wall and folded his arms, still sneering. Henrietta picked up the pillows he had scattered, then the bedsheets; she placed them on the bed, took the largest pillow, plumped it, then approached him.

“Come,” she said, tapping his shoulder twice. “Sit up. Let’s not ruin what we have any further.”

He remained stiff and cold.

“I understand,” she said after a moment, though slightly begrudgingly. “And I apologise. It was unfair of me to treat you like this, when you cannot speak.”

Still, he remained adamant. She looked at him, as he pouted like an adolescent girl, then bit her lip… but her attempts to keep her laughter at bay failed, and she covered her mouth and snorted. Loki looked at her, incredulous, as she laughed, then as she turned back to him with no more ice in her eyes.

“We’re a pair of geese, that’s all,” she replied to his look. “So much mess to clean up.”

She thought he’d remain haughty, but he reached out and took the pillow from her instead, rolled his eyes, then nabbed her nose with two fingers as though she was back to being six. In his eyes, she probably was.

“Stop that,” she said, annoyed in turn. “I’m still awfully angry and hurt by you. And I’m no longer a little girl, so you have to ask for permission before affecting my nose like that.”

He huffed through his nose, then his face changed as though he’d experienced a spasm of pain. She watched with worry as he rose, crawled towards the edge of the bed, then got up off it and kneeled with his hands on the frame for support, arching his back.

“What’s the matter?”

He made no answer, but he squeezed his eyes shut and a jet of air left his nostrils as he rested his head against the bedpost. She saw his hand on his back and pursed her lips.

“Hold on a moment.” She put the cushions back and straightened the bedsheets, then kneeled down next to him, the view of his torso shunned from her priority list for the moment. “Where?”

He reached behind him and tapped the small of his back awkwardly, his breathing constricted. She hesitated, then brought two fingers and ran them along the ridges of his spine, where he had shown her.

“Here?”

He rested his head against the mattress in response, and shut his eyes. He looked awfully tired; there were black smudges under his eyes, his face was peaky, and the black, knotted strands of hair made him look half-wild. Henrietta stopped running her fingers over his back and sighed.

“Get up into the bed,” she said, gently. “I’ll put a pillow below your knees… that should straighten your spine out.”

He lifted a hand in response and made a waving motion with it: that won’t help.

“Still. Shirt, then rest. One step at a time. Ah, and when you’re finally up, I’m going to cut your hair, because you look completely and utterly wild.”

He snorted, opening his eyes, and sought her face. She looked at him with her eyebrows raised, though she felt a tickle in her throat at how amused they seemed, despite everything, then stood.

“The blacksmith I told you about will be in town soon. Filip will get the sharp quarts off him, and then we can finally cut your mouth back open.”

Loki sighed, then rose, tottering, and sat on the bed. He picked up the brown shirt with two fingers, glanced at her, then dropped it.

“I haven’t heard your voice in so long,” she realised aloud. “Your words. Although I do remember them…”

She broke off, realising she was about to pay him a compliment, and she saw his eyes; desperate, hoping, waiting, his chest frozen as he held his breath and sensed it coming. She thought of uncle Haldanson, then glanced at the mottled burns on her former guardian’s torso, and resumed.

“I remember them fondly. I am yet to meet someone who matches your intelligent prose and eloquence.”

He beamed, as though to say, that’s my girl, then paused. He looked at her fingers, as though wanting to trap them once again, but his fingers twitched and he drew his hands further away, his eyes sad and corners of his mouth turned down.

Hattie nodded.

“And once your lips are open, we are going to talk long and hard, Loki of Asgard, about your decisions. They brought this onto you in the first place.”

She touched the metal choker still around his neck, then stood and quitted the room before something irreversible happened.

Loki had little idea what to make of this girl. He felt as though his own moods were swinging like balls on the chains of bulldozers, but she seemed to be blowing hot and cold like he couldn’t. Still, it made sense, did it not? He was a villain in her eyes. Perhaps not entirely, but he certainly wasn’t someone of a good, reliable character. Good, reliable character… he had actually quite forgotten what that meant. Who could be a good, reliable character? Odin? Thor? Ha, how droll.

Still, Loki wished to tell Henrietta so many things, both bad and good. His thoughts about her bordered on fury and longing, dancing on the ledge of hatred and love. The former especially, whenever she talked to him with her tongue sharp and cutting, for how dare she talk to Loki Laufeyson like a mistress does to a servant. It made him want to prod her with his words, make her know her place.

Her place? he thought, reluctantly. What is her place? Where is her place?

Then he realised his train of thought was mistaken, for Henrietta’s place was here, in this old house filled with dusty books and memories; it was rather that he didn’t have a place. He didn’t have one in Asgard, he didn’t have one in Midgard, and he didn’t have one with her. And then, a thought came forth: she wasn’t his inferior, at least not to him, and it was not up to him to make her know a place. She was his equal, and not because he had degraded to the level of a pathetic, weak wretch, but because her attributes balanced the lack of his, if they should compare to one another. Loki may have exceeded her in age (an understatement, he thought with a snort, for he was about one thousand years her senior), in wisdom and intelligence, in his strength and his power, but she towered over him in every other regard. Especially when it came to things like rationality and - oh, how Loki loathed the word - honesty. Kindness. Mercy. Thoughtfulness. Small sacrifices which made life more tolerable.

Equal, because their relationship was founded on respect and compassion. Of course, it was Hattie who had initiated both, superior in that aspect even though she barely knew how to walk, back then.

Again, Loki dwelled on that foppish little metaphor, about the eyes being one’s window to the soul. He reflected long and hard, sitting there on the bed with the lamp smashed beside him and his back in pieces, envisioning those two, huge pools of grey blinking in that little oval face. What could he see, except himself, mirrored within? There was sadness, there was hurt, that was certain. There were sparks when she was angry, somehow flashing orange when they were steely grey, then subduing into the warm glow of a fire as she regained her temper. But there was something else. Something glittering and warm and calm and collected, something like rolling, clear waves of the vast, eternal sea, something he lacked and craved so much; balance. And something better, something like…

Loki hesitated, freezing, though he sat still. His mother’s eyes had been like that, at times, when she had spoken with him, been with him. Especially when she smiled. A tenderness. A hope for the better. A sacrifice…

No. It couldn’t be love. Loki was a deformed monster, he knew and accepted this fact. Nobody could love his face but his mother, and he hadn’t seen anything similar to what he saw in her face in anybody else’s faces since.

Perhaps Henrietta hadn’t completely vanquished her regard for him. Perhaps there was still some hope. But was there? Was there hope? Was it salvageable?

But then, to rescue it, Loki would have to grovel on his knees, and that wasn’t something he was willing to do, because he was still Henrietta’s better. He was her guardian from the very beginning, the one who protected and arranged the course of the day. The responsibility of her safety and upbringing was down to him, now that Haldanson was dead, and if anything would happen to her, it would be his fault, and he’d be damned more than he already was.

He sighed, long and hard - it was pathetic, really, how that was all he was capable of recently - then looked at the brown shirt, pulled a face and moved so that he could look into the box for something slightly more tailored to his tastes.

Henrietta was a writer. It was what she did as an occupation, for even though she had everything she could ever want with the house and the amount of money Uncle Haldanson had left behind, she had to do something that would occupy her able mind. Writing was the perfect solution; stories were precious to her; she collected them though there was little shelf space left for them to sit on; she created her own, weaving the worlds that she would have liked to escape into when her own story became too much for her to bear.

Knowledgeability was a trait she had picked up as a result, and it became a habit. Thus, after leaving Loki alone to get dressed and rest, she picked up a particular book that had caught her eye a few days ago and she had left out for herself to see and remember, thinking it would definitely come in useful.

She picked it up now and began to read it, and within those few hours she had learned a remarkable amount from it. Applying it to her situation, she deduced the following: biting and jostling with someone like Loki Odinson, the proud, cunning prince of Asgard was going to get her nowhere; coddling him would only repulse him; pity was definitely not something she ought to be looking at him with, especially not when she was face-to-face with him, for it would injure his pride more than snarling at one another would.

“Men are such strange creatures,” she remarked to herself, frowning, running her finger over a particular passage. Apparently, there was nothing more in the world such men wanted than to be useful, in a relationship; to be needed, to be told that they are heroes, to be appreciated. Admonishments were to be said as suggestions, not as accusation or critique, for that made them defensive; any issues should be discussed gently and alone.

Henrietta supposed it made sense and was all quite sweet, in a sense, however there was one particular problem in her scenario: Loki Odinson was not a normal man in any sense, nor were the circumstances. He was prone to injuring himself in his stubbornness, wouldn’t listen to reason, and was prouder and more difficult than any man she had ever had the pleasure of meeting.

But then, she hadn’t really tried anything this book had said, and the results had been that he had gotten really defensive. Her temper didn’t help; she could be as fiery as he could and her patience wasn’t the best.

“Still,” she muttered to herself, pulling out a notebook. “There’s no harm in trying…”

She chalked up a few outlines and fixed the mindset into her brain; Loki had to be under the impression that he was the one in charge. Whether he was or not, that was another matter entirely - as they say, the man is the head, but the woman is the neck and thus has utter influence over the head - but she needed him to think that what she was suggesting was his own voice of reason. Especially since he had been so broken and pushed down into submission against his will. It would take quite a lot of effort for him to rebuild himself.

And Henrietta had a good reason to put so much effort into helping him, even if Uncle Haldanson had been taken from her by his hand; even if he had killed hundreds; even if he had been rightfully imprisoned; even if the horrors that he had suffered were his own fault. Perhaps not entirely, for she didn’t know his full story, but a huge part of his fault nevertheless. And if he hadn’t suffered to such a degree, if Hattie hadn’t seen the burn scars, witnessed how he sometimes flinched at sudden sounds without realising and seen how wild and despairing and terrified his eyes could be, she wouldn’t have even thought about beginning to forgive him. But Hattie wasn’t vengeful. She could be angry, she could uphold fury, but she didn’t hold grudges for long, and now that she had the prince of Asgard back from wherever he had disappeared to after the New York incident - perhaps not entirely back, but a part of him nevertheless - she wasn’t simply going to let him go.

When the hour of 16:00 clicked, she closed the book, sighed, stored up her patience, then made her way to the spare bedroom, resolute. Loki had led her onto the right path so many times when she was young. Perhaps he didn’t even realise that he did so, being a questionable figure of good influence, yet if he hadn’t taken it upon himself to so actively be part of her life - even if she could count his visits on her fingers - she wouldn’t have been the character she was today. She wouldn’t have been so sure of herself or her worth as a person. She wouldn’t love stories as much as she did, for it was he who had told her the most fantastical ones and directed them with his sparks. She wouldn’t have believed that even the happiest ones can come true, if one worked it into existence hard enough.

So she knocked, waited politely, then slowly creaked the door open and came in.

Loki looked oddly pensive as he lay on top of the covers. He had finally dressed himself in a grey, loose cotton shirt, the collar standing up and its sleeves rolled up to his elbows. The box of shirts stood neatly by the bed.

“Good evening,” she said quietly, observing his full form with a strange feeling in the pit of her stomach. He looked so different when he was calm and collected. A sudden thought flitted through her head about what it would be like to lie with her head in the crook of his neck in that position exactly, to hear his voice in her ear, low and beautiful, spinning silver words which sent her emotions into raptures so easily, then shooed the pesky thought away and straightened, though her heart protested at being shoved to the side.

He turned his gaze from the ceiling to her warily, as though she had come to berate him about something. She shook her head at him, then went to sit in the chair by the window, took a book off the windowsill and settled down to read.

She read for about three minutes before she began to feel the intensity of his gaze on her face and looked up.

“Yes?”

He looked at her pointedly for a few seconds, then at the door, then back at her. She realised what he meant and smiled faintly; it was funny how she could almost always tell what it was he wished to say without him speaking it, even when his lips weren’t so forcefully shut.

“Don’t look so surprised,” she replied, turning back to her book. “I wouldn’t be a very good host if I left a guest alone for such a long time.”

He snorted, absentmindedly rubbing his wrists. Don’t give me that.

She didn’t answer for a moment, but after a few pages, she spoke. “How’s your back?”

He shook his head slowly, then leaned against the pillow and folded his arms tight, like he was cold. Hattie ran her eyes over his face. She looked at his eyes, saw the sadness lining them which was never so firm in staying like it was now, then put down her book and went to sit on his bed by his legs. After a few moments of silence, she turned to him and managed half a smile.

“A lot of things have changed since you were gone,” she began, thinking that it would be good to fill the silence with something useful. “It’s only fair you should know what sort of world you live in. Or at least what sort of house.”

Still, he watched her with his eyebrows furrowed, though his arms unfolded and he clasped them on top of his stomach, looking slightly more relaxed.

“I’m a writer, now,” she began. “I went to university when I was eighteen. I graduated. Now I write books.”

She realised she was messing with her hands and that she felt strangely nervous, which changed into frustration, for she was never nervous. She was only ever relaxed or excited, never nervous - not with him.

She placed her hands on her knees and pursed her lips, wanting to go back to how things were more than ever, but still - the thought of Uncle Haldanson wouldn’t go away, the screams she had heard in the streets that day as explosions tore through the streets wouldn’t go away, his mad laughter which followed wouldn’t flee from her mind entirely.

“I’ve published a few,” she said, ploughing on nevertheless, “they’re not a huge success, but I hope I’ll get better at writing them soon. After all, I have so much time.”

She managed to look up at him and saw his eyes grow sharper, more in focus, as though he was finally here with her and not lost in whatever lived within his mind. But then his face shifted; he wanted to open his mouth to speak and, of course, couldn’t, his wit and freedom trapped behind the morbid bars that the black threads on his face were.

His expression twisted into such frustration that Hattie stopped speaking and simply looked at him, feeling her own sadness brewing up beneath her face and in her chest as his eyes cried out and shot daggers at the floor in their helplessness. The sounds and images keeping her back fled, for the moment - she moved forward and took one of the clenched hands in both of hers.

Loki stiffened. His eyes darted to their hands, looking fearful and disbelieving and wanting all at the same time, but he made no move to claim her fingers.

“It’s not your fault,” she whispered after a pause, unmoving, her thumb tracing the grooves between his hard, pale fingers. “You shouldn’t have gotten your lips sewn together. That was cruel and awful of whoever did it, and they should be ashamed of themselves. I’m very sorry it happened to you.”

She looked up to meet his revulsed gaze and shook her head at his black emotions.

“You mistake my words,” she said, holding his seething gaze firmly. “I do not pity you. I am angry on your behalf and… that’s different...”

She bit her tongue, her voice broke.

“Oh, I wish I could help,” she whispered. “I wish I could hear your voice, Loki of Asgard. That’s all.”

She looked up at him and found his eyes round and filled with so many conflicting emotions that she didn’t know how to read them, then realised she had addressed him as she had only when she was still little and he still had the world at his feet which he could place at her own.

She nodded.

“I do.” She squeezed his hand. “I speak to you as Knottie.”

She meant for him to be reassured, but if he was, she didn’t know. A slow, painful sigh left his nostrils as he deflated, as he leaned his head back on the covers like it weighed a tonne. He closed his eyes. His breathing became heavy, his hands relaxed, resigned, like she’d taken all strength from him by reminding him of what he had lost.

Hattie wished to hear him speak, she didn’t want to be left guessing, and again, came so close to reading his mind to see what it was he thought, but found she was afraid; she was afraid of this mind and what he thought. What he thought about her. How did he look at her? Was she still just a child, to him? Was she trusted? Was she mistaken in thinking he cared about her as much as she did about him? Was she mistaken when reading his eyes?

But then his fingers moved beneath hers - they slid into her hand, took hold of it gently, then grew firm and tight around it. She looked down at their entwined fingers, for his grip was verging on painful, and found his veins standing out in his turmoil; she felt it trembling as another scraping sigh left his chest as he battled with something invisible, then felt her own chest tighten and so did her hand.

“Write to me,” she urged when his eyes flicked back open wearily. “I’ll bring a notebook and pen - write, tell me your thoughts.”

He shook his head.

“Why not?” she said, clutching his hand tight in her resolution. “We can both write, can’t we? Oh…”

She bit her lip as one eyebrow was raised: see?

“You can read it, but… don’t know our alphabet well enough to write it,” she voiced. “And I don’t know yours well enough to try, though I can read it… Uncle tried to teach me when I was young, but… Oh, I didn’t ever think I’d need it. How foolish of me.”

Loki watched her face fall, then something changed on his own; he almost looked at her fondly, then he sat up and swung his legs out of bed, moving so that he was almost sitting beside her.

Hattie watched him as he raised his eyebrows and wagged a finger at her, puzzled.

“I don’t understand,” she whispered, forgetting that she was an adult and almost seeing him as she did when she was five; the towering, safe being who she would have jumped off a cliff after. “What are you telling me off for?”

He shook his head, then brought up one finger before her face. Hattie watched him as he gently placed a finger and thumb aside the corners of her lips and directed them upwards. Whatever it was he intended to do, it worked; she repressed a giggle and smiled.

“You should do more of that, you know?” she said to him sternly as his own eyes tried to mirror what was on her face and his hand went back to his lap, though her voice was light. “You’ve done nothing but glare at me and the furniture since you arrived here.”

He shrugged as if to say: oh, well.

Hattie opened her mouth to say something witty, but then her gaze travelled past him and settled upon something upon the bedside table. It was an envelope and a piece of paper tucked into it, yellow with age and certainly not there before.

She frowned and moved to reach it, but before she could, Loki stuck out his hand and snatched it from her.

“What is it?” she asked him, as he held it out of her reach, his eyes no longer amused in the soft, teasing sort of way, but back to being something prickly and foreign. “Is that mine?”

He shrugged again, waving the envelope airily. She spied one word upon the back of it and frowned.

Hattie.

“So it is mine,” she said, then stood up and reached to take it. “Give it to me, please.” He didn’t. “Loki of Asgard.”

She managed to snatch it off him, though it got slightly creased in the process, then shot a glare at him and moved away to read it.

“I cannot believe you read my letter,” she muttered, extracting the piece of paper from the envelope and looking at him sternly. “But then, I’m not really surprised.”

He returned her displeasure with his eyes glittering and a shadow of a smile around them as he watched her unfold it. Hattie didn’t know what to expect, and as she recognised her uncle’s handwriting she held her breath… and didn’t release it until halfway through the letter.

Hattie,

You may never forgive me for this. This is hard for me to say, hard to write, but… Ah, bother. You might think I am a strong sort of man, but I’m awful when it comes to saying goodbye and anything which comes to feelings in general. I’ll be frank. I always am.

I am departing to seek Valhalla. If you are reading this letter, it means I have finally made the decision and ventured forth to seek it. I just wanted to let you know that you were my greatest treasure, the greatest in all the years I have spent in both Asgard and Midgard. Honestly, Hattie. I often thanked Odin that you were given to me to care for you and raise you, for no amount of achievement or gold could have replaced the happiness and fulfilment I had with you. I love you, my dear little fiery girl. I know you’ll manage just fine by yourself, and you won’t be lonely for long - you have such a gift with people. You’ll be married before you know it and forget all about me.

Meanwhile, I will ask the gods to protect you. If I happen to meet your mother and father, I will tell them everything about you, of that you can be sure. I know they’ll be interested to know everything. Be well, my flower. I’ll love you always.

Yours until the stars burn out,

Your uncle Haldanson.

Hattie’s breath left her lungs strangled and torn. By the end of the letter she was having trouble with finishing it, and when she rubbed her eyes her knuckles grew wet as though she had doused them in a bucket of water.

She looked up at Loki when tears began to run down her cheeks, who watched her face intently.

“Oh,” she managed, her voice almost gone. “Would you look at that? It looks like you didn’t kill my uncle after all. He just…”

She bit her lip and shut her eyes, pulling at the scraps of herself. She swallowed, nodded, then opened her eyes and failed.

“He just… You know…”

Her voice went; her mouth worked silently and she felt her face flushing. She made a motion with her hand as though to cover her mouth, then succumbed to tears and fled the room.

***

Loki had never thought putting on a shirt could make one so incredibly angry. He struggled with it, his arms disobeying and aching, his back in pieces and cracking, feeling altogether useless and horrible. After another few moments of this forsaken battle, he gave a snarl through his nose and started smacking the garment viciously against the wall, cursing it to high heaven.

After he had let off some steam, he fell back onto the cushions, panting and scowling, then picked up the wretched shirt and considered it. It looked as though it had suffered enough. It certainly looked rather mangled; Loki brought it up to his nose and inhaled, then immediately wrinkled it, for it smelt of dust and forgotten use.

He looked at it properly, then decided that brown wasn’t really his colour, so he rolled off the bed, knelt beside the shirt box and perused its contents once more. Most shirts had holes in. Some were ludicrously too big. Some were made of fabric that peasantry wore, and he was no peasant, which rendered them completely out of the question.

But at the bottom of the box he found one which was only a little too big, grey, almost silvery, and when he picked it up not only did he find that it was free of holes, but that it was concealing something, because a letter fluttered out of it, back into the box.

Loki’s brows furrowed and he temporarily abandoned the shirt, his fingers reaching out to take the letter. He read Hattie’s name on the back and grew interested; somewhere in his mind he still thought of himself as her guardian, so nothing stopped him from opening it, then perusing the contents of the parchment folded inside.

As he read, he experienced many things at once. At first, it was puzzlement, then realisation, then glee. He smelled revenge, a very small but very satisfying revenge.

Henrietta blamed him for the death of her uncle, did she? Oh, what a nasty shock she would have when she read this, he thought, chuckling dryly. She wouldn’t speak to him for days out of sheer pettiness. She would have to apologise. And then he would be the bigger person… or perhaps he would make her suffer, as she had done to him by denying him words of comfort he so sought, by telling him of his faults so outrightly, for acting in a manner so high and mighty when just a few years before she had been asking him to help her tie her shoelaces.

She would realise that she had been wrong to look at him with blame and pity in those two, huge pools in her face which did not leave his pitiable mind these forsaken days. She would have to go back to staring at him with admiration and joy as she used to, as she used to when he was still free and sane, as she used to when he still knew better than her, in her eyes!

Oh, yes, this was a beautiful taste. Loki put on the shirt with newfound strength and though he didn’t know it, the glee on his face made him look almost snake-like, for it was a selfish glee, the sort of glee he was more than used to as he saw his enemies quiver before him. He put the letter in a place she was certain to see it when she came in and waited.

But as he waited, other thoughts stirred him and sank through his face and settled in his stomach; uncomfortable ones, ones which sucked all feeling out of him and made him feel as though he was a slab of lead. He stared up at the ceiling, wondering, searching as he always did, losing himself in the dark chasms which cut through his mind, his fingers sometimes twitching and his breathing arrhythmic as he tried to free himself of it. He folded his hands on his chest and tried to remember; tried to seek something which he had been excited for and found nothing but darkness and pain and the sensation of falling, but slowly; descending into something deeper and darker and thicker than ever.

But then Henrietta came in like an angel of saving grace. Loki stared at her as she sat herself on the armchair with a book, the rays of the sun lighting her shape up like a particularly warm, nostalgic painting, her eyes refracting the light like cut jewels, her lips like young roses.

She couldn’t possibly know what priceless pieces of existence she brought with her, with her voice, with her face, with the warmth and balance within her - it was impossible for her to know, for she had not been completely and utterly destroyed as he had. She didn’t know how one of her looks both arrested him and electrified him back into living; how one of her looks could send this heavy unfeeling which overcame him when he was alone for too long snarling and fleeing and leaving him with a lightness of chest; how she reminded him what it was like to feel, let it be fury or softness or even something which made him think he was beginning to remember what warmth felt like. To him she was life, she was memory, she was rays of light; like she was bitterness and regret and recollections about what he had lost. And the latter made him angrier than ever.

So he remembered the letter and waited, and when she finally noticed it, he forgot the small steps he wanted to take to remind her of the man he once was and who she once loved. He was Loki the Liar, the being of broken promises; the being with decay behind his eyes instead of a soul and black hands and a heart darker than the deepest void and he knew it.

Loki watched her as she read the letter. He saw displeasure on her face and felt a thrill of laughter and anticipation, for he was right… ha! He was right, and it was her fault for making assumptions, it was he who was superior - then his spirits and felicity came crashing down like shelves during a hurricane, because he saw grief upon her face and tears marking it like an official stempel upon a death certificate.

His heart stopped, his chest turned cold and painful as though it had been shrouded in ice. He saw little Knottie in her pink, fluffy coat, helpless, lost in the park like when he first met her, calling, never finding, seeking; like him.

Oh, upon all things with worth, like him. Like him, like him! She couldn’t be like him. She shouldn’t even try to understand what it was to be like him, let alone feel the beginnings of the despair he had felt. She was Knottie, unspoiled, innocent, a girl who deserved to be kept that way, keep her fingers unspoiled from the black goo which grew around unattended hearts! Didn’t he swear to himself he would do everything to keep her that way?

Loki felt his intestines yanking and pulling themselves into knots, but he couldn’t move to try and ease them even if he wanted to, because he felt as though he was falling through that black void again without but a star to see.

He stared at her as tears ran down her face and then came to realisation which pierced him more effectively than any real blade could: he was her plague; he was helpless in helping her.

Thus his face turned to stone as she spoke to him, and stayed in stone as she tried to explain the misunderstanding, as she would without being petty or anything else he had presumed. How besotted he was with this wretched darkness and decay. How rotten his emotions and mind was, how scummed and deviated from what ought to be.

When the door slammed behind her as she fled, Loki was brought back from his realisations enough to register the agonising twisting of his guts; he stood shakily, his face contorting, whimpering through his nose as he bent double and tried to draw breath without consequence. But the invisible cobra squeezing his abdomen was relentless; Loki’s eyes began to water and he felt sick, and he couldn’t do anything as his stomach twisted into an hourglass shape and began to dance a slow tango with his small intestines whilst something huge, ugly and blue danced in his vision, with many red eyes and a bloody hands and a laugh that made a smaller, pink shape clap its hands to its ears and cry out.

He came to himself later - he didn’t know how much time had passed, but he assumed it wasn’t long. His vision was blurry and his intestines had apparently dissolved into acid. He wondered why everything looked so strange and then realised he was lying on the floor, helpless like a gutted fish.

Then he remembered. Henrietta was upset.

He heaved himself up. The world spun, his insides sloshed together and made him whimper and clutch at himself again, but he stood, gripping the cabinet standing by the door, unable to unsee how she had looked towards him for help when she finished reading, looking exactly as she had when she was five.

And he had wanted to laugh at her. At his little Knottie. He was her guardian, damn him, the wretch, and he had wanted to laugh at her expense. Damn him, damn him…

He reached the landing and leaned against the bannister, his heart hammering from exhaustion, then heard a quiet scuffle and looked to his right, stopping, feeling his heart deflate and drop down to the bottom of his lungs.

Henrietta had sunk down by the large grandfather clock at the end of the corridor, tucked into the small space between it and the adjacent wall. He felt something incredibly soft and light in his chest as he watched her holding her knees, her face hidden in her lap, looking as small as a kitten despite all the pretences she kept about being grown-up and not needing any help.

He stumbled over to her, ignoring his own pains and shackles, then came to a stop a few feet in front of her. He stood there as long as it took for her to notice him; a minute later, her eyes peeked over the hill of her knees and glanced up at him, red and weary with sadness.

He stared down at her, heartbroken and helpless more than ever.

“Yes,” she muttered, her voice thick with crying. “You’ve come to gloat, have you. You knew I was wrong from the first moment, didn’t you?”

Loki didn’t move, for his mind was working. She clearly wanted comfort, but… Loki had been isolated and beaten down by life and others for such a long time. Comfort. How does one give it? How did Loki want to be comforted, when he used to wish for it, imagine it?

Ah. Touch. That was it. Touch gave comfort.

He kneeled down on one knee slowly, though the motion made his guts swim again, and extended two hands. She looked at him warily, and for a moment Loki was terrified she would leave him hanging and reject his efforts, but she didn’t: she sniffed, wiped her face, then placed her hands into his and let herself be stood up.

They were standing mere inches away from each other. Loki had her so close, so torturously close. He had but to reach out and he’d have an armful of her, of this warmth and humanity and tenderness he so craved, and at that moment there was nothing he wanted more, but something stopped him; perhaps how vile he imagined his touch to be, as spoiled as his thoughts. So he just stood there, dithering, then finally brought up an uneasy hand and laid it hesitantly on her arm.

Henrietta breathed out a shaky sigh and turned her eyes onto his.

“I’m sorry,” she said, looking ashamed, her eyes flickering towards the floor. “It’s just… I’m alone.” She gave an embarrassed laugh. “It hurts.”

The man trapped inside his useless heart gave a cry at her words, hammering on the crystalised goo that would never go away, throwing himself against it, unable to see and breathe through his tears.

No, he screamed, choking, sliding down to his knees and resting his head against the hard and cold. No, it doesn’t HURT. It’s agony… it’s a poison which destroys everything within you!

He didn’t realise how hard he was clutching her arm until she moved slightly, her crimson lips growing small; he relaxed it, then nodded. Fate help him, he used to be able to smile on command, yet now he couldn’t even give a forced one, though his intentions were good - it couldn’t have been taken away from him like his tears were, too!

But he couldn’t smile and so he didn’t. He couldn’t speak either, but he wished, he willed with his whole heart that he could, that he could tell her that he didn’t and couldn’t forget the only moments which had spurred his step onto going forward instead of faltering and stopping.

“You should be in bed,” she muttered, and for a moment Loki thought she would lean against his chest and embrace him, but she didn’t, and he felt a wave of disappointment wash over him. “Filip says you should rest as much as possible and definitely not be up before you eat something…”

She stopped talking because he had brought his finger up to her chin and lifted it, unable to bear her head hanging so low. It was to save himself too, to convince himself he was capable of helping and making her happy just as he was before he was melted and hammered into something despicable and indigestible.

“You’re right,” she whispered, looking straight into him as only she was capable of doing. “No use us snivelling, is it?”

Loki absorbed her, every detail of her face, though he couldn’t stop seeing the small and young and naive as he stared at her. He missed the chub of her cheeks as she grinned and that rich laugh which always accompanied them and their antics. The laughter which followed them like a trusty companion.

“You know,” she began, as he tapped the bottom of her chin gently to tell her to keep her head up, “I wrote a letter to SHIELD the day they took you away to make sure you were…”

She broke off, her lip trembling, then swallowed and looked back up at him.

“To make sure you were alive. I still have their reply,” she whispered, looking at him intently. “They told me… in between all the official language… that you were alive and well and that you had been taken back to Asgard.”

A sigh fluttered out of her, small and sad. “That was the last time I heard anything about you. After that… well… you disappeared.”

Desperation lurched and began to course through Loki’s fingers and limbs, destroying any restraint he had, cleaving his chest into two and messing with his insides so that they felt as though they were jumbled up within his torso. His hands shot out and he grasped her wrists, feeling almost terrified that she would go and leave him drowning in bitterness; Hattie’s lips twitched in discomfort and he realised his grip was of steel, but it took him a while to loosen it and for his heart to stop hammering. In fact, it wouldn’t: it worked itself up until he could feel his pulse in his throat and ears… it was choking him… he couldn’t get his thoughts straight…

His hands shifted - Hattie had brought her hands up with him still clutching hers; he let go of her and his hands hung as she took hold of shoulders, then began to slide her hands up and down them.

“Calm yourself,” she whispered as she looked at him carefully, her grey eyes mirroring his. “I’m not going anywhere and we have time. Take your time, Loki of Asgard. Speak to me. It’s okay.”

He breathed out a shaky sigh, his frame almost collapsing, his eyes stinging, then waited until the roaring in his head and ears subdued into something bearable.

A few torn breaths later, Henrietta bent down to look up at his face, still holding onto his shoulders.

“Better?”

How Loki longed to disappear within her, he realised, as he looked into her face, so soft and understanding despite everything. She was sanity. She was tolerance. She was peace.

And he was chaos and lies and deceit and she was undeserving of his havoc and mess and black goo.

He nodded nevertheless. She waited, then watched as he took her hand formally, pointed it at his forehead.

“I’m sorry,” she said, looking puzzled. “I don’t know what you want me to do.”

He shook his head and rolled his eyes, pretending he was back to being snide and sardonic, then released her hand and pointed at his own temple instead.

“Head,” she tried. “Mind?”

He nodded vigorously, then brought two hands together and mimed opening and closing them.

“Book,” she voiced. He shook his head. “Story? No… Reading? Read?”

Her lips parted as she realised, and for a moment a flicker of relief danced in her eyes.

“Ah! You would like me to read your mind!”

Loki nodded and took up her hand again, guiding her finger to his temple. She looked at him hesitantly, and he sensed her trepidation and didn’t blame her - his demeanour was unnerving in that regard, to say the least - but then she nodded once and her eyes grew distant, as though focusing on something else.

She read his mind.

#loki #loki x oc #loki fanfiction #loki fanfic #loki laufeyson #thor odinson #thor dark world #thor ragnarok #loki fluff #loki fandom #loki x reader #loki angst #no smut #part five #drabbles #fanfiction.net #wattpad #readers #loki fic

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lycanfuck · 3 months

Text

come to your brother cw rape/cocsa, incest, physical injury (cuts), sibling abuse

everything hurt.

luka led limply on his bed, staring at the wall ahead with glassy eyes, body trembling from the cold and the pain and the shock. he was afraid to move. afraid to make any noise that might draw zach's attention and bring him back. he could hear him on the other side of the room, on his bed, the occasional flip of a page.

slowly, he eased himself up so he was sitting on his bed, all his muscles protesting and pain throbbing somewhere deep inside. he pressed a hand to his stomach, trying not to double over with the intensity. luka did his best to breathe through the pain.

that was when he saw blood printing onto his hand. bloody fingerprints on his stomach and smeared on his thigh and a deep red stain forming on the bed covers beneath him. the stitching on one of his cuts had ripped open, leaving the parted skin hot and sore to the touch. with a little sniff, he forced himself out of bed, careful to not let any blood stain the carpet as he shuffled to the bedroom with his shorts bundled up against the wound.

flipping on the bathroom light, he saw himself in the mirror. his hair was messy, moreso than usual, eyes red-rimmed and cheeks tear-stained and smeared with his own blood. he let his shorts drop to the floor before staring at the rest of his body in the glass. red marks and bruises, old and new, all over his chest, neck and collarbones.

it was the feeling of zach's cum trickling down his thigh that made him rush to the toilet, throwing up the couple of drinks he'd had at the party, along with the pretzels he'd eaten to prevent himself from getting too drunk. he'd just wanted to cut loose, to have a little fun and then sleep well for a change. he was so stupid. if he hadn't been drinking, he wouldn't have said all those stupid things to zach and he wouldn't be bleeding out right now.

he heaved in the toilet bowl until there was nothing left in his stomach but bile. miserably, he flushed it all away and pushed himself to his feet slowly, climbing into the shower and turning the water on as hot it would go as he tried to scrub away the feel of zach's hands all over him. ***

luka knew he didn't have a lot of options, even as he climbed out of their bedroom window with pain radiating through him, backpack strapped on. he always kept it ready in case he had to leave quickly. it didn't have much inside: a couple changes of clothes, a handful of granola bars, a bottle of water and a bag full of quarters.

he couldn't go to anne's house for obvious reasons, but for all those same reasons, he couldn't go to any of his other friends' houses either. he ended up walking to anne's, making camp in her treehouse instead. nobody would look for him there, let alone zach.

he crawled inside, careful not to disturb any of anne's belongings as he pulled a blanket over himself and cried his eyes raw. ***

he didn't remember passing out, but he spent the rest of the weekend there not doing much of anything, grateful that anne never showed up. monday morning found him wide awake by 4a.m., and he ate his last granola bar and forced himself to start the long walk to school, planning to get there early enough that he can take a quick shower. he bid the safety of anne's treehouse goodbye for now and forced his exhausted, sore body into the five mile walk.

an hour into the trek, a familiar car rolled up beside him and it was all he could do to not start cursing under his breath.

"luka? what are you doing all the way out here?"

he was wearing two layers of clothes in addition to his lightweight jacket, and yet he still felt vulnerable. like she was going to see right through him.

"i was camping," he said finally, glancing over at judy, who had the driver's seat rolled down, arm flung out; cody poked a curious head out his own window.

"alone?"

"yeah."

"right," she said after a long moment. "well, hop in. i'll give you a ride home."

"i'm going to school. i have a project to work on."

"fine, then i'll drive you there," luka could hear a hint of impatience that crept into her voice.

luka circled around to the passenger side of her squad car wordlessly, easing himself into the seat, trying not to wince as he cast a sideways glance at cody.

fortunately, he didn't seem to notice anything was wrong. "you know, i'm not sure camping alone in the woods is very safe-" he began, and a short, humorless chuckle escaped luka.

if only he knew he was a hundred times safer alone in the woods than he was at home in his own bed. "i can handle the wildlife," he responded.

cody narrowed his eyes. "are you alright?"

luka stared out the windshield, ignoring the various aches and pains in his body, ignoring the way he felt hollowed-out and empty.

"i'm fine." ***

zach hadn't been surprised to discover luka gone when he woke up the next morning, nor was he surprised when he didn't come home that night, either. it was okay, though, because he knew he'd be at school on monday morning. luka knew how much trouble he'd be in with their dad if he skipped. zach did make note of the fact that luka's side of the room was cleaned up, sheets changed. he found it mildly amusing.

monday morning found him leaving for school a few minutes earlier than usual, hoping to catch a glimpse of the little asshole before he made it to first period. he and his group of self-righteous delinquents, of course, tended to avoid zach as much as possible, not that he made any efforts to be around them.

zach lured his locker open and set down his books inside. truth be told, he'd planned on dropping out mid-year to apply for colleges, see if he could get an in. he'd always been told it wasn't likely they'd accept a 14-year-old, but he wasn't any 14-year-old. besides, elke had done it, and she produced that redheaded devil-incarnate. but recently, zach had felt better about things. more in control than ever.

"zach!" he turned to see scotty heading toward him with a grin and he raised an eyebrow at him. "you weren't at the session saturday - you were at that party at the tuffin's, right?"

he nodded.

"i hear you ducked out early - you get lucky?"

that made him smirk. "you could say that."

"anyone i know?"

"some tight little sporty bitch," he shrugged and shut his locker, turning in time to see luka at his own locker down the hall, his damp, ginger hair gleaming in the fluorescent lighting above. there was an instant tightening of his gut.

"shit, really?"

zach patted the guy's shoulder, liking the obvious envy in his voice. "see you at lunch." he made a beeline for luka, enjoying the way his eyes widened slightly when he leaned against the locker beside it. "where were you this weekend?"

luka's eyes darted from him to the books in his locker as he reached for one.

"anne's," he replied simply. his voice was barely audible and zach couldn't resist the urge to reach out and tug lightly at the ends of his hair. luka stayed still. like a good little bitch.

zach kept his eyes on him, itching to reach out and put his hands on him, wishing nobody else was here so he could slam him up against the row of lockers, strip him down and see the marks he'd left on him the night before last. "meet me outside after school, okay?"

"i'm going to bri's for dinner," he said immediately.

"no. you're not," zach responded, knowing luka understood him when he closed his eyes tightly.

"okay."

"don't be late," zach said before pushing off the locker he was leaned against. ***

luka wasn't the least bit hungry by the time lunch rolled around, and he picked idly at the food on his tray as his friends conversed around him. a slight nudge from bri's elbow startled him out of his daze and he glanced up at her.

"what's up?" her voice was quiet, so quiet none of the others had even heard the question.

he just shook his head in response, swallowing heavily and trying to give her his best reassuring smile. "just a stomach ache," he answered.

it wasn't a lie. his stomach had been cramping painfully on an almost constant basis these days. if not that, it was headaches in their stead, or bleeding. he felt like he was bleeding around-the-clock, not just from wounds popping back open but bleeding from inside-out, too. zach wanted him to bleed. he wanted to hurt him and he succeeded. if luka had the option to go to the hospital and get it checked out, he would, but he didn't have such luxuries. not with all zach's threats looming over him. he wasn't sure what he was going to do if the bleeding continued much longer. he knew enough to know it wasn't normal.

not that there was anything normal about your brother fucking you when you're half-conscious.

his stomach turned and he exhaled slowly, fading back into attentiveness to the rest of the ongoing conversation around him.

"so, dinner at my place, and then i can do your homework and just hang out for a while? you brought the cash for that, yeah, luke?" bri was saying.

"i'm not gonna be able to make it," he said, trying not to sound like he was dreading the reason why as much as he really was.

cody turned his head to look at him, frown furrowing his brow. "what's going on?"

"teo is coming back tomorrow. i need to make sure the place is cleaned up or he'll blow a gasket," he rolled his eyes for the effect.

his frown deepened. "i could come over and help-"

"no," luka said immediately, alarm shooting through him. "no, it's fine. you should go to bri's with everyone else. i can vaccum and dust myself, and if i finish up early enough, i can come over."

he struggled to keep the anxiety off his face, shifting slightly on the cafeteria bench, resisting the urge to press a hand to his stomach. he glanced across the room and saw zach a few tables away with his friends and luka had to will himself not to shrink back as he found him staring back, grinning lazily and taking a bite out of the apple in his hand before licking the juices off his lips. luka felt his face drain of color and he looked away.

zach was gonna hurt him again tonight. luka just didn't know how much worse he possibly could. it was the stupidest assumption he'd ever made. ***

"are you sure you can't make it tonight? just for a little while?" anne asked as she walked with luka to his locker after the final bell had rung.

"i wish i could," luka told her quietly. she had no idea how much he wished he could go with her and the others instead of walking home with zach tonight. his stomach was already churning with dread, wondering what he was going to do to him this time. he knew he was going to be finding out soon.

anne leaned against the locker adjacent as luka rifled through his books and things, shoving all the books he had into it. he knew he needed some of these for this evening. he didn't care. what was the point? it wasn't like he was gonna be able to make time for it even if he wanted to do it. he shuddered at the thought.

"you okay, kid?" anne gave his shoulder a light touch with her fingertips. if luka didn't walk away quickly, he was gonna end up breaking down right in front of her.

"yep. cold chill," luka said shortly, hoisting his bag onto his shoulders. "i should get going. homework and cleaning. fun times."

"if something's wrong, you can tell me. you know that, right?"

how wrong she was. if luka told her anything, if he told anybody what was going on, they would try to do something to stop it, and luka would be putting his own life in jeopardy because he had absolutely no doubt that zach would kill him.

"yeah, 'course."

"'kay…"

"see you tomorrow, annie," luka hoped, anyway. at this point, he wasn't too sure. heart skipping in his chest as he clutched onto his skateboard, making his way out of the school, sure enough, zach was idling against the school's outer wall. luka stopped, trying not to look at him.

"look at that. you can follow directions when you want to. right on time," zach said, straightening himself up and beginning to walk, luka following suit, his skateboard's back wheels clicking against every bump in the sidewalk as he solemnly dragged it along.

he teetered on his footing as zach grabbed his sleeve and made a sharp turn luka wasn't anticipating, leading a straight course toward the tall, wooded area placed right by their school. it was fairly deep, dark enough to not see in there given you were positioned right, but was placed right beside two sidewalks that criss-crossed, hence why luka felt his breath catch in his throat at they approached it. too risky.

zach removed his hand from luka almost as quickly as he had rested it there. "unzip my pants," he said, a casual air to his tone as he leaned up against one of the trees.

luka stood frozen in front of him, blinking at the direction they had came from. sure, given the spot they were at, you wouldn't have been able to see them from the sidewalks, but someone could very easily wander over here. "is that a joke?"

"unzip my pants," he repeated, tone immediately shifting to something more authoritarian.

nausea rolling through him, luka reluctantly dropped to his knees, sharp shards of dead bark digging into his skin, and unzipped the zipper on the other's slacks, hand trembling.

"undo the button, too."

"please don't make me do this," he whispered, tears already gathering in his eyes. zach turned his head to look at him and the coldness in his eyes terrified luka.

"you're gonna cry, luka? like some little girl?" he reached down and undid the button himself, leaning back a little against the tree. "pull my cock out."

a tear trickled down luka's cheek and before he even had a chance to follow the directions, zach grabbed a hold of his hand and brought it to the front of his pants, holding it there and bucking his hips up a little before maneuvering his hand into his pants, circling luka's fingers around his mostly flaccid cock and pulling it out. the memory of having it rammed inside of him the night before last flooded luka's mind and he grew tense.

"stroke it," he ordered. "if you can't make me cum before someone finds us here, i'm gonna choke you out with the telephone cord."

biting down on the inside of his cheek, luka slowly started to jerk him off, trying not to think about what he was planning to do with it once they were home. the tension in his body made the pain in his stomach ramp up beyond what he thought was possible.

"fuck, yeah," zach shifted beneath his touch, already starting to grow hard at the contact. "move your thumb over the head," he reached down, guiding luka's hand and bucking up into his grip again. "faster."

cheeks burning with humiliation and shame, luka did as he was told, another tear trickling down his cheek.

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curydraws · 7 years

Photo

desert boy

#turns out drawing when you have stitches in your chest hurts a lot #misc #dragon #artists on tumblr

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sergeantsporks · 2 years

Note

Writing Request: literally anything Darius and Hunter, I'm obsessed with Darius being Hunter's dad

Maybe a cute comfort/fluff thing after Hunter has a bad day? Thanks :)

Darius flinched as the front door slammed shut, the sound crashing in his ears.

“Sorry!” Hunter’s voice called, and then Darius heard him thumping up the stairs. He frowned. Normally, he didn’t even realize that Hunter was home because he came in so quietly. Darius set his pen down, walking up the stairs to Hunter’s room. He knocked twice on the doorframe.

“Rough day?”

“’s fine,” Hunter mumbled, burying his face in a pillow. He was already in pajamas, his flyer derby uniform in a heap on the floor. “Uh, Darius? Where do you keep the sewing kit?”

“As if I’d trust you to sew anything. What’s ripped?”

“Mrgh.”

“You’re touchier than a griffin that just got its tail stepped on, what happened today?”

Hunter rolled over, and Darius spotted bruises and scratches on his arms and knees. “Fell off of my staff in flyer derby today,” he mumbled.

Darius took Hunter’s first aid kit down from its shelf, handing it to him. “Isn’t there a healer on the team?”

Hunter pulled out a cleaner and a cotton ball, dabbing at the scratches with a wince. “I ran off afterwards.”

Darius sent an abomination to get the sewing kit, examining the rip in the knee of Hunter’s pants. “That embarrassing?”

“It was…” Hunter sighed, drawing his knees up to his chest. “I just panicked.”

The abomination returned with the sewing kit, and Darius’ fingers roamed over his selection of threads, holding up a couple to match them to the color of Hunter’s uniform. “Flyer derby is something you’re quite good at, Hunter. You’re in sync with your palisman, and you’re quick. If you fail once or twice, or fall off of your staff, that doesn’t change anything. Your team is happy to have you, occasional mistake or no.”

“It wasn’t that. I mean, it was, but it was…” Hunter sighed. “We were scrimmaging against a few kids from the abomination track, and I… I saw this goopy hand reaching for me, and I panicked, and I swerved the wrong way, and I nearly hit Gus, and I fell and crashed, and…” Hunter buried his face in his arms. “RRRRRGH.”

Darius found a matching thread, and deftly threaded the needle, looping it through the rip. “And then you ran off,” he finished.

In and out.

Titan, I wish fixing people was as easy as fixing clothing.

Darius set down the sewing with a sigh. “Belos…”

Hunter stiffened at the name.

“…he took a lot from you. A childhood. A family. He lied to you and hurt you for years, and… no one noticed. Or if we did, we looked the other way.”

“I know all that,” Hunter mumbled.

“It’s… not something you can simply walk off.” Darius picked the sewing back up. “Healing will take time, and effort, and… there will be setbacks. Like today.”

“It’s an entire section of magic,” Hunter groaned, “It’s your section of magic, it’s Amity’s section of magic, I can’t be scared of it the rest of my life!”

Darius tied the final knot, looping the thread through a few stitches to secure it. “Little Prince, do you get scared whenever you look at my head?”

“What? No.”

“Why not? My hair is made of abomination material. The same goop. Sometimes I even turn it into a hand.”

“Well—it’s your hair. I mean, I’m not scared of you.”

“So. Rationalizing is possible? Recognizing that some goop isn’t scary?”

“Y-yeah, I guess, it’s just…”

“It’s hard to do in the heat of the moment. I understand that. You see a big hand made of goop come crashing towards you, and you panic.” Darius handed him the repaired uniform. “Belos can’t hurt you anymore.”

“I know,” Hunter grumbled.

“That abomination hand? It still can. It’s still a threat, and I don’t want you to pretend it’s not just because your reaction to it got out of hand. Dodging it is part of flyer derby. Your gut reaction of fear is still correct, just like your lack of reaction to my hair is correct.” Darius tapped Hunter’s forehead. “The trick is not to get into your head so much when your fear is activated. Fear keeps you alive, Hunter. Trying to push it down until you don’t feel it anymore will get you killed. The question is what you do with that fear. How you react to it.”

Hunter blinked. “I… guess I never thought of it that way.”

“Most people don’t. They see fear as something to overcome.” Darius gave Hunter a small smile. “But it’s a tool. Just like every other emotion.” He held out a hand for Hunter’s palisman to land on. “How about some practice dodging those abomination attacks? We’ll start simple. Let me know if it gets too much.”

Hunter grinned, grabbing staff. “You got it.”

#toh #the owl house #asks #writing requests #toh fanfiction #my writing #darius deamonne #toh hunter #hunter deamonne #dadrius

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azaleavi · 3 years

Text

Injury

Requested by anon: Is it okay if I request a smut with Bucky being injured from a mission and reader doesn't wanna have sex with him because she's afraid to hurt him but he convinces her he's okay?

Word count: 2.7k

Warnings: smut 18+, talk about stabbing, language, dirty talk, kissing, oral sex (f receiving), fingering, vaginal sex, unprotected sex, multiple orgasms

Author’s note: Thank you for requesting dear nonnie! I hope you like it! I got a little carried away so I hope you don’t mind.

Feedback is always appreciated and don’t forget to reblog and like if you enjoyed it and want to see more. Thank you!

Masterlist

18+ MINORS DNI

The jet landing on the roof alerted you on you place on your couch. Switching between channels you waited for the team to walk out of the elevator. What you didn't expect was Friday's voice telling you that Bucky got injured and they were taking him to the med bay. Shooting up from your seat you ran to the elevator frantically pressing the buttons as if it could make it come faster. When the door finally opened you stepped inside, pushing the button to the floor where the man you loved was, injured. You didn't know how bad it was, not waiting for Friday to explain.

The doors opened again and you started running. Following the noise you quickly found the team standing outside a door.

"What happened? Is he fine?" you spoke fast, panicking, stopping in front of the door, wanting to go in.

"Hey, it's fine" Steve stepped forward and put his hands on your shoulder to keep you outside the room. "They are treating him so you can't go in." he pulled on your body to get away from the entrance.

"But what happened?" you calmed down a little, but your heart was still beating rapidly, worried for your man.

"He got stabbed in the side." you sucked in a sharp breath. "But he will be fine, the wound is not that deep and the serum will help him heal fast." he spoke calmly. You let out a sigh just as the door opened and the doctor walked out with Bucky right behind him. You were in front of him in a few steps, worry clear in your eyes.

"Shouldn't he be resting?" you turned to the doc. How can he just walk around like this when he was stabbed? Were you the only one worried for his health?

"No, it's only a small wound. He didn't even need stitches." the doctor reassured you.

"You realize I'm right here, right?" he teased you, but the look you gave him shut his mouth.

"Yes and you should to be in bed, resting" you grabbed his hand and started pulling him after you. You had a lot of strength for your small body so you could easily drag him along. And he also let you, but you didn't need to know that. "We are going to your room and you are not leaving that bed until tomorrow, understood?" you pointed at him when you were in the elevator again.

"Yes ma'am" he nodded with a smirk playing on his lips. He had a few ideas how he could spend the rest of the day in bed with you. And it definitely didn't involve resting.

Walking into his room you immediately pushed him onto the bed. He grabbed your waist to pull you into his lap, but you held yourself up by placing your hands on his shoulder.

"No, Bucky, you need to rest and heal" you shook your head.

"I'm not trying to do anything. I just want you close to me" his beautiful baby blue eyes were enough to convince you as you sighed and let him sit you on his lap. Legs on either side of him you buried your head in his neck, your hands going to his hair.

"I was worried, hell, I'm still worried" you mumbled into his shoulder.

"I know, doll, but I'm fine." he placed your hand on his injury to show you he was truly fine. It really wasn't that bad. "See? Everything is fine" he smiled at you when you pulled away to look at him. "So..." he stretched out the last syllable as each hand gripped one of your ass cheeks, pulling you closer so you could feel the already growing bulge in his pants. "as I'm perfectly fine. I haven't seen you in 3 days and I missed your beautiful body under me." breath hitting the shell of your ear he whispered, making you arch your back into him. You almost got lost in him, but then you remembered that he was injured so you pushed against his chest to put some distance between you.

"You are hurt, Bucky. We can't let it get worse just because you are horny." you explained to him, not amused.

"It won't get worse. I'm a super-soldier remember?" he pulled you back and in one swift motion he flipped the two of you around so you were lying under him. He pushed you up on the bed until your head was on the pillows, his body on top of you, between your legs.

"Bucky!" you let out a small scream at his fast movement, which turned into a moan as he rolled his hips against you.

"What was that, doll?" he smirked into the skin on your neck, his hands traveling down and disappearing into your sweatpants to rub your clit through the fabric of your panties. His name leaving your lips again like a prayer, you lifted your hips to get him to move harder, but he pulled his finger away. Letting out a needy whine you grabbed his shirt and pulled it over his head.

He pulled your pants down along with your panties in one swift motion, making you moan as the air hit your wet folds. You opened your legs for him as he stood up to take off his pants, making his hands halt at zipper, his whole body frozen as he stared at you like you were the most beautiful art he has ever seen. The sight of you lying only covered by a t-shirt on his bed, legs bent at the knees, open and so ready for him, so eager had his cock strain against his pants harder, almost painfully. He pulled it down with his boxers, leaving him completely naked for you, his cock standing at attention, ready to please you in every way you wanted. Eyes roaming up and down his body you let out a loud breath, his body never failing to awaken the butterflies in your stomach.

"Take off that shirt, babydoll" he growled, hating the piece of fabric hiding you from his eyes. You quickly sat up and removed every last clothing you had on, never closing your legs. Hungry eyes traveled down your waiting body as you laid back down. They stopped at your glistening center, making you move your hips slightly, only for him to see. He groaned at the sight, his hand going to his cock and stroking it a few times. He wanted to look at you looking like this for an eternity, but his body couldn't wait any longer so he knelt at the bottom of the bed, eyes never leaving you.

"I wish I could take a picture of you like this" he crawled towards you on all fours, like a predator stalking his prey and you were the subject of his hunger. You opened your legs further as if offering yourself up for him, ready to be devoured. "So beautiful and so ready for me" he came face to face with you, his eyes following his index finger brushing along your body from the base of your neck to your wet pussy that was leaking onto the bed. Your body followed his movement, arching into his touch. "Would you like that?" he pushed his finger inside you, sliding in easily as you were already so wet, earning a loud moan. "Hmm?" he hummed into your ear, not moving his finger, waiting for your answer. You didn't even remember what he said, all your senses focused on his touch.

"I-" just as you opened your mouth to speak he pulled out his finger, making the words get stuck in your throat as you threw your head back.

"I want you to use your words" he growled, not pleased by your lack of focus. "You understand?" he looked into your eyes, the intensity in them almost making you moan again.

"Yes, yes I understand" you scrambled to answer.

"Good girl" his finger entered you again as a reward. His praise and his touch together made you let out a loud breath, your nails scratching on his back.

"You are so responsive to me. I love it." his thumb circled your clit. "Such a good girl for me, aren't you?" he was testing you to see if you learned from what happened before.

"Yes, I am" you arched your back as he let out a pleased chuckle.

"That's a good girl" he kissed down your body until he reached your mound, your hips moving constantly, trying to feel more. His metal hand gripped your hips so strongly you were sure it would leave bruises the next day, but right now it only added to your desire, your walls clenching around his finger.

His tongue finally touched your clit, your legs unconsciously closing around his head to keep him there. He pulled his finger out so his hands can push open your legs by your thighs again, even more than it was before. Your hands gripped his hair, pulling him closer as his tongue moved in every direction between your folds. You couldn't stop moving your hips in sync with him, moans spilling out of your mouth one after the other. He grabbed your hips to keep you down, his forearms keeping your legs open for him.

"Bucky, oh my god" you grabbed his hands as his tongue entered you briefly. He looked up from under his eyelashes as he did it again, your nails digging into his skin leaving crescent marks behind. Pupils blown as wide as they can be making your eyes almost fully black, mouth open in a silent moan, you were a sight he never wanted to forget. If it meant you looked like this under him every time he used his tongue on you, he would do it again and again and again until you couldn't take it anymore. He pushed harder against you, your back arching up from the bed in response. He pushed his tongue inside you again.

" 'm close- Bucky" you keened.

"Be a good girl and come for me" he talked into your wet folds, the vibration snapping the coil inside your stomach as white hot pleasure rushed through you, the butterflies in your stomach going crazy. He worked you through your orgasm and only stopped when you pulled him upwards by his hair, the bundle of nerves becoming sensitive. Climbing up he pressed a few wet, open mouthed kisses on your neck, his right hand drawing circles on your hipbone. The tip of his erect member brushed against your wet clit, making you gasp.

"Are you sensitive, doll?" he pressed his soft lips on your cheek.

"Yes" you closed your eyes as his lips found yours in a deep kiss, his tongue exploring your mouth. You could taste yourself on him, making you sigh.

"But you can take another one, can't you?" he nipped at the skin on your jaw. He spent enough time with and mostly inside your body to know the answer to his question, but he wanted to make sure you were fine. Forcing or pushing you was never something he wanted to do and if you said no he would immediately stop, no matter how turned on he was. He could always take care of himself if needed.

"Yes. I want you inside me" your words made his hand travel down to your clit again, rubbing a few circles on it.

"Mhm, so good to me" he mumbled into your skin as your hips started moving again. A finger entered your warm walls for a second time, a second one joining not long after, stretching you out.

"Bucky" you threw your head back on the pillows, his lips sucking on the skin on your neck. "Shit- I want your cock... please" you moaned, barely being able to form sentences. He pulled his fingers out, making you writhe at the emptiness. His tongue darted out to lick and suck his them clean, letting go with a pop. The sight was enough to get you even more wet than you already were. His hard cock pressed against you folds to gather the wetness on them. He grabbed you leg and pulled it up to wrap it around his hips. Your body never resting under him, you constantly fidgeted as the desire became too much.

"Inside me, Bucky please-" you pleaded and he heard your prayers as in one motion he was inside you to the hilt, your wetness strong enough for it to not hurt. The sound you let out was the sexiest thing Bucky had ever heard, making him move out and then forcefully back into you, your tight walls engulfing him. You felt every inch of him stretching you out, the slight pain only adding to the overwhelming feeling, your eyes rolling back in your head.

"You okay?" he stilled for a minute to make sure he wasn't hurting you.

"More than okay" you sighed, lifting your hips to make him move again. He understood your signal as he started sliding in and out of you in a slow pace, enjoying every minute of it.

"Bucky" his name was the only thing leaving your mouth, like a prayer. To whom, you didn't know.

He felt your walls clench around him, making him pick up the pace and bring your legs up and around his waist. The new angle allowed him to dive into your harder, your legs squeezing to pull him impossibly closer. Your lips found his in a messy kiss. You felt his cock twitch inside you as he moaned.

" 'm close" he groaned into your lips as he started moving more frantically, chasing his high. One hand found your clit as he rubbed circles on it, trying to get you to finish together.

"Fuck- Bucky" your arms wrapped around his neck as he bit down on your neck almost hard enough to draw blood. "Cum inside me please" you whined so close to the edge.

"Cum with me, doll" he snapped his hips against yours, balls slapping against your thighs, fingers not leaving the bundle of nerves between your legs.

"James!" you screamed as you fell apart, him not far behind you, his name leaving your lips sending him over the edge. He thrust inside you a few times before pulling out as you both came down from your orgasms. His body falling next to you he let out a puff of air.

"Are you tired, old man?" you turned your head at him, joking.

"You know very well I could go a few more rounds" he smirked at you, leaning over you to press a soft kiss on your mouth. Being a super-soldier had its perks, not getting tired that easily being one of them. But you weren't one so Bucky had to hold himself back from jumping you, fingers itching to touch you and make you sing underneath him again.

But then your eyes shut closed, your hand searching for his blindly and when it found it's missing puzzle piece, pulling it to your face to press it against your cheek a sigh leaving your lips, he realized that these moments were far more precious than anything else he could have done. A small smile worked it's way onto his face, watching you get comfortable, the need to feel him next to you while you rested, making his heart melt. The love he felt for you almost overwhelming him as he brushed a few strands of hair out of your face. A small smile showed on your lips as you sighed, content with his touch.

"I love you" you whispered so quietly he almost didn't hear you.

"I love you too" he whispered back, not wanting to break the moment by speaking louder.

The orange glow of the setting sun shone trough the window illuminating the two hearts beating for each other as their bodies touched, resting, knowing well that when the sun greeted them in the morning they would still be here, still holding onto the other, their hearts forever beating as one.

Permanent taglist: @byatomoe

get added to my taglist

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes one shot #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes blurb

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novamirmirsblog · 3 years

Text

Stubborn

Genre: Fluff, hurt? a little angsty? Idk. you tell me ;)

Request: Yes

Word count: 1135

Warnings: Swearing, mention of drugs, injury, blood (I think that's it but lemme know if any more should be added)

This is the request: May i humbly request a Natasha x reader where R comes back from a mission all messed up and doesn’t want any help. R hides their injuries from the team but Natasha can see something is up. Later that evening, she tries to talk to R but they are stubborn and shouts they want to be left alone! Suddenly the reader starts coughing up blood due to internal bleeding and collapses. A worried Natasha screams for help while holding R. Feelings are confessed after R wakes up at hospital. Happy ending!

A/N: I hope this is what you wanted anon!

The mission had gone okay. It was a success for all intent and purposes and on paper, it looked like the perfect mission. Perhaps the paper should talk to your definitely bruised ribs and chest. Unfortunately, Stark's newest 'shock absorbent' fabric was more shock and less absorbent. You'd have to let him know that this was nowhere near the finished product he had promised. You'd do that tomorrow though. Right now, all you wanted to do was curl up in bed and sleep the pain off. When the medics came to check you over, you waved them away, saying that you'd had worse and a bottle of painkillers would do just fine. You were hoping to just slink in unnoticed, have an extremely hot shower, followed by an even hotter bath and then pass out on your bed.

This did not happen.

Bless your team, you really did love them but when Stark decided today would be the perfect day to throw a little 'Congrats on doing so well' party, you wanted to scream. The only saving grace was that it was just the team attending.

The adrenaline had slowly begun to wear off and as you watched Peter's mouth move incredibly fast about a topic you didn't have the strength to listen to, you suddenly felt very faint.

"Sorry Peter, I think I had a little too much to drink. I just need to get some air."

"Oh sure - I'm sorry y/n - I completely forgot - you must be so tired from your mission and-"

You patted his shoulder tiredly and moved away before he could draw you back in with another conversation. Little did you know that a certain redhead's eyes hadn't left you since you came in.

"and then that's when- Natasha are you even listening to me?"

"Yes. And that's when you saved the kitten from the tree. Now if you'll excuse me. I think I need some air."

"But I was talking about the time Morgan gave me a makeover." Tony sulked. The sulk was abruptly replaced with a smirk when he realised who else 'needed some air'.

When Natasha made her way to the balcony, you had your back turned to her and were coughing. Your coughing fit stopped and you pulled your hand away only to see tiny red spots.

"Shit."

"I didn't know my company was that undesirable y/l/n." Natasha made her way next to you, leaning against the railing.

"Tasha! How've you been?" You nudged her and tried to wipe the blood into your hand.

"I'm pretty sure I should be asking you that question. Did you even go to medical before coming here?"

"Umm yes? Maybe?" Natasha gave you a look "Okay, no. I didn't. But it's not even that bad okay? Just some minor bruising. It's not like the time I got shot!" Even as the words left your lips, you could feel yourself slowing down, moving your mouth just took too much effort. That's when you were sent into another coughing fit.

"Y/n, we are going to the medical bay right now." Natasha looped her arm around your waist and tried to ignore the warm feeling she got by being so close to you. Now wasn't the time.

"Get off me, Natasha." You pushed her away and leant on the wall. "I don't need your help. I'm perfectly fine. I just-" You shook your head quickly, trying to clear the fog that was infecting your brain. "I just need to sleep." Apparently, sleep came a lot quicker than you expected because your vision suddenly went black.

Natasha's heart dropped. She didn't know what to do. She caught you before you fell to the ground but after that, she was frozen. She snapped out of her fear-induced haze and shouted for help. She didn't care how she looked, she just needed you to be okay.

~~~~~

An annoying beeping woke you up. "5 more minutes and ugh, turn that light off."

A low chuckle rumbled out, indicating that you were not alone. "Detka, I can't turn off the sun." Although Natasha would have surely tried to.

"Tasha" You reached your hand out and slowly peeled your eyes open. "What happened."

That was the wrong thing to say because her face switched from being concerned to pissed off.

"You didn't go to medical when I told you to." Her voice was low and dangerous. You had never been afraid of Natasha but right now, you weren't so sure you were going to make it out unscathed.

"I really didn't think it was that bad..." You at least had the humility to look a little guilty.

"You had internal bleeding Y/n. How is that 'not that bad'?"

"Okay so maybe it was a little worse than I thought but you're not exactly one to talk." You were offended that she had the audacity to shout at you when you remember multiple occasions of her walking around with bullet wounds just because she wanted to have a shower instead of being fixed up.

Natasha scoffed. "That's different."

"How. How is that different Natasha? Do you think I like having to find out that you're bleeding out because you refuse to go and get stitched up?"

"It's different because I care about you."

"Wow. You're saying I don't care about you? News flash Natasha - you're one of a few who I actually trust and care about."

"That's not what I-" You cut her off

"No no. I'm glad we cleared this up."

"If you would just lis-"

"You know I really thought we had something special Tash. Nice to know our movie nights were meaningless."

"THAT'S THE THING! Our movie nights weren't meaningless. They just meant more to me than they did to you. I came straight back from missions just to see your face Y/n. I didn't want to go to medical because I wanted to get to you as fast as possible. When you fell to the floor I realised I had to tell you. I've been sitting on this for far too long and today made me realise that. The thing is Y/n, I like you. Like a lot. So much that when I think of my future you're the only thing in it."

"I-" You didn't know what to say. The painkillers they gave you were pretty strong and words weren't being your friend at the moment. "I really like you too."

Natasha's lips reached yours and the kiss was slow and gentle, almost as if you were both afraid that if it was too passionate, it would break.

"I would really like to continue this but I'm on so many drugs Snoop would be jealous."

Natasha kissed your head "We'll continue this when you've come down off your high then."

#natasha romanoff imagine #natasha romanoff x you #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff fluff #natasha x reader #natasha x you #natasha romanov x reader #natasha x y/n #natasha romanov #natasha romanoff #black widow x female reader #black widow imagine #black widow x reader #black widow x you #black widow

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watercolorfreckles · 3 years

Text

Thanks for the Ride - Part 2

Part 1 Here

TW: asthma attack, slight angst, mention of blood and sc*rs

((Civilian’s name is now Kaira. Villain doesn’t have one yet.))

Kaira pushed open her apartment door and stepped inside. A flurry of snowflakes gusted in after her, dusting the welcome mat in her entryway as she shoved the door shut. She shivered and slid her boots off, shrugging off her coat next and hanging it up. She leaned heavily against the door to catch her breath, digging her inhaler out of her pocket and taking two puffs.

It had been a month since the incident, and she was left without a vehicle right as the weather turned frigid and biting. Just her luck, as well, that cold air triggers asthma. Kaira coughed and wheezed her way to the kitchen, putting the kettle on to make herself some eucalyptus tea. Her doctor had recently told her that it might help alleviate some of her symptoms. Still struggling to breathe, she dropped herself into a chair at the kitchen table, squeezing her eyes shut. She tucked the inhaler back into her pocket without opening her eyes.

Kaira stayed there until the kettle squealed, forcing her lead-heavy limbs to get up and finish making her tea. She took a few sips though they scalded on the way down, and bent down to scoop some of her cat’s food into her bowl. She coughed and took another sip of tea, shaking the bowl a bit as she ventured further into the apartment. “Missy! Here, kitty.”

No response. That’s odd… Her stomach sank as she realized the tv was on in her bedroom. The muffled chatter and buzz were unmistakable. Had she forgotten to turn it off before going to work?

She padded across the space, inching closer to the bedroom--though it was barely any use trying to be quiet. The ragged wheezing noises probably gave her away rather unceremoniously. Finally approaching the door and just about to cross the threshold, her cat hopped down in front of her, startling a yelp out of Kaira. The mug and food bowl in her hands crashed to the floor.

Kaira slapped a hand over her face, heart pounding all over again. “Missy. What did I do to deserve that?” she mused between strained breaths.

She picked the remote up off of the dresser, lifting it to turn the screen off when she noticed what was playing on the news, and listened. More about the villain. The media coverage was constant, barely wavering since the villain’s “death” a month prior. The city clung to the hero’s victory, celebrating with parties and rallies and parades and barbeques. “Superhero finally managed to inject Supervillain with a revolutionary new toxic serum that drained his powers away and rendered him helpless. Superhero triumphed over the monster and fulfilled his duty in keeping our city safe! The crime rate perpetrated by powered individuals has decreased significantly as they all now live in fear of the hero’s new bioweapon. Let’s hope they stay underground where they belong.”

“The thing about Hero’s little serum,” a second voice cut through the silence, making Kaira jump and whirl around, “is that its effects are temporary. Poison a villain, take his powers, incapacitate him, kill him while he’s down. It’s quite the cowardly approach, don’t you agree, Kaira?”

Kaira froze in place like prey, staring at the villain sprawled out casually on her bed. He lifted a hand and lightning crackled over his palm like a second skin. Her mouth had gone unbearably dry and all she could do was stare and try to squash down the harsh rasps of her wheezing.

Villain flashed a smile, looking thoroughly pleased with himself as he sat up, leisurely. “Your firstborn and I have gotten acquainted.” He wiggled his fingers and made kissy sounds, drawing the orange tabby closer to him.

Kaira inhaled sharply and took a step closer, freezing again at the look Villain cut her as he scooped Missy into his lap. “Do you truly think I would harm your cat?” He tsked. “You must truly think me a monster.”

She swallowed again but it did nothing to aid the dryness scratching her throat. “How-How do you know where I live?” she whispered.

Villain stroked Missy’s back, who purred and curled up on his lap. “You had some bills in your glove compartment--your insurance is overdue, by the way. You might want to pay that.” His lip curled in a teasing smile though his gaze rested intent and unwavering upon her.

Panicked, she fished her inhaler out of her pocket without taking her eyes off of him, inhaling a third puff. “I...I haven’t told anyone about you. I swear I haven’t. I-I didn’t even want to raise questions about where you left me, so...I didn’t call a cab until I, um, walked back to the main road. No-Nobody knows what happened, or that you’re alive, I promise.”

The villain hummed, straightening all the way.

Kaira’s gaze flicked down to his torso where she could see a deep red seeping through his shirt. “You’re...bleeding.”

“And you’re the only one who knows I’m alive, so. Do be a dear and bring me a first aid kit?” His smile widened, all amusement for now.

Kaira blanched and stepped toward the door when Villain lifted a finger to halt her. “Ah-ah, better have you toss your phone over to me first. The best relationships are built on trust, you know?” he purred, blatantly relishing in the glow of pink that spread over Kaira’s freckled cheeks.

She pulled her cellphone out of her other pocket and tossed it onto the bed, waiting for his nod of approval before staggering wide-eyed into the kitchen to fetch her first aid kit.

Oh my gods, oh my gods, the villain is in my house, oh my gods…

Kaira’s hands shook as she returned, easing herself lightly onto the edge of the bed beside him. She gingerly lifted her cat off of him and set her back onto the floor. “You’re bleeding on my bed,” she murmured. She carefully reached for his shirt and flushed red. “Um...can I?”

The villain grinned, wolfish. “Wishing to undress me so soon? By all means.”

Kaira spluttered, floundering briefly before reaching forward again, unbuttoning the bottom half of his shirt. No need to expose more of his chest than necessary, especially after that comment. Wow, he has a lot of scars…

She traced a finger featherlight over one of the pale slices of skin. When she realized what she was doing, her gaze snapped up to meet his. His laser focus made her feel like a bug splayed on a corkboard. “S-Sorry....” She looked away and opened up the first aid kit and gently examined his bloody wounds. “It...looks like you need stitches...is that okay?”

“Ah, what’s a couple more scars. Just clean them and bandage me up.” Kaira could feel the sudden electricity sparking the air as the hair on her neck stood on end. He smiled prettily, though his eyes were sharper, edging on dangerous. “Please.”

Kaira nodded quickly. “O-Okay, yes. Sure. No need to get, um...zappy.” She smoothed down a few pieces of hair that had been suspended by the static thick in the air like smoke. The energy released suddenly once she agreed, expelling like a popped balloon.

She released a breath through her teeth and got to work with trembling hands. “If nobody knows you’re alive, then who hurt you?”

Kaira jumped as the villain brushed a stray lock of hair out of her face. “Sorry, dear, I don’t kiss and tell.”

Her face burned all over again and she avoided his gaze, focusing on the task at hand. When she was done, the villain abruptly stood and crowded close, stealing the breath from her lungs.

Villain bracketed her in place with an arm against the bed on each side of her. “Thanks for the patch job.” He flashed another predatory smile, eyes twinkling, and dangled her car keys in front of her face. “Care to give me another ride, dear?”

Part 3

Thank you for reading!

Tiny taglist: @writing-on-the-wahl , @ vlerlove , @valiantlytransparentwhispers. If anyone wants to be added, let me know :)

#writing #creative writing #civillian x villain #hero x villain #writing snippet #flash fiction #my writing #supervillain

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rotshop · 3 years

Text

GONNA B HONEST W/ YOU ,,,,,, i rlly dont like how this is written lmao ,,,, but also im sleepy tired so i get a pass dhmu /j

[ TW ; gore, some violence, death ]

notes ; based offa DIS ,,, u might wanna read it for some context n shit ,,, lawl ,,,

Between the two of you, it's hard to tell who's suffocating more. It's hard to tell if its you, with the little pants that pass by your teeth in shaky steps, hitching whenever they're cut down when you have to stop to cough up blood. It should be you, you who has your guts spilled out onto the floor and your blood staining all the concrete underneath the both of you. It has to be you, who's leaning heavy against 2b's chest and drawing unfocused circles onto his shoulder. It had to be you, you just had to go inside by yourself, you just had to be slow on the draw and nearly be ripped clean in two. It just had to go wrong with just you.

Even with all that in mind, he feels like there's nothing in him. There's no lungs to draw in breaths, no mind with clear thoughts on what to do and how to stop this once more, and certainly no heart beating steadily. In those places was instead viscera, a mangled, nameless mess of pink and red weighing him. There was some clump of pink that drew in some shaky puffs, barely reaching him as he choked on his own pride. There was nothing but tangled strings and weights in his head, making his skull pound as something in the back of his mind screamed to do something. There was a heavy weight behind his ribs that stayed put, a finality hanging over his shoulder as it always would.

He doesn't want to cry. He shouldn't be, you're the one with your innards exposed to the eyes of any and all and your face buried in the crook of his neck, it should be you who's crying in pain. He shouldn't be crying, he shouldn't be shedding tears when there's not a single bleeding wound on his skin. He shouldn't be and yet they're tight in his throat, threatening to tumble past his lips and create an embarrassment of himself. A shift brings him back from his thoughts, turning his attention back to you.

There's a little stutter in your movements, a quick pause as your vision momentarily fails you and your breath is wheezed past your lips. A quick, aimless grasp at your innards to have them follow your movements, rather than stay partially stuck to the floor, tugged further from your soon-to-be-cadaver as you readjust. You're just pulling yourself ever closer to him, little to no space left between the two of you as you support yourself on his figure. He can't help the way his own movements choke and pause as he moves his arms to wrap around you. He can't help the way he takes a sharp, shaking inhale as the skin of his arm ghosts over the start of your gash.

He remembers the first time he'd been with you in your 'final' moments. He remembers how the line had fallen dead on your side and the others all fell into a silence. They'd only told him later on why, they 'didn't want to scare him off.' He was still a little upset about it, even now. He had always been stubborn like that, it was a fact of him that you regarded with warm laughter and endearing teases.

He remembers the pure terror that'd gripped him as he came across you, choked squeaks and hisses leaving your lips as you writhed. The debris around you and the tangle of pipes and bars you'd been impaled on told the story he never bothered to ask, the one he'd never truly questioned you on even to this day. Something about the way you'd glanced at him in that moment never left him. Maybe it was how the pure agony you'd been in moments before shifted to confusion on his being there, shifted into something gentler yet still as forlorn and miserable, either way it haunted him endlessly. He remembers how you were such polar opposites after he'd managed to tear himself from his place.

The clatter of his goggles against the ground fell on deaf ears when he'd rushed for you. He barely even noticed how quick his breath was speeding up, he was far too focused on helping you, on getting you back to base so he could fix this. It'd taken your weak swipes at him and breathless pleads to just stop to snap him back, he didn't want to listen to you. He wanted to tear you from that metal and drag you back to base, he wanted to set you down and get to work, and then he wanted to grab you by the collar and ask just what was going through your head. He wanted to be mad, he wanted to argue and to let go of all the tension wracking him and making his hands shake. It was tearing him limb from limb in the worst way possible, in the one way he never wanted to feel.

He was afraid. Honest to god terrified from the moment his gaze fell on your bleeding-out form. It shook him to his core in a way he hadn't felt in forever, breaking past the facade he'd worked so hard to build in an utterly humiliating manner. He hated the way he had to clench his hands and bite his tongue as he stared down at you, his weak attempt at keeping his tears back that hung by a thin string. He hated how he fell to his knees, coming face to face with you as you looked back at him.

Your eyes were still soft with accepting misery in the moment, a weak smile finding it's way onto your lips as you reached for him. You'd struggled, finding it difficult to meet his face when the world was spinning so dizzyingly. He'd hesitated, hand shaking as it found your wrist, him leaning into your touch with an unsteady breath. If the tears weren't already hanging behind his eyes, they would've burst up with a vengeance when you started brushing your thumb over the bandages on his face.

He couldn't remember how exactly you'd spoken, how you'd been able to between the gurgle of blood in your throat and the copper piercing you, but you had. It was a request ; a final wish of sorts he didn't want to deny you. You could've asked for anything in the moment and he would've done it for you, he would tear through whoever and whatever he had to for you. He would rend flesh and ruin relationships and scar the world if he had to in that very moment. He'd never been an especially generous type, he could extend a certain amount of kindness to others but there was a limit to his softness. Yet, you managed to turn him so, managed to make him give an excuse of 'it wouldn't hurt,' or 'it's just a one time thing,' when it came to you.

Even so, you'd made such a simple request. One he would've asked you himself in other circumstances if he weren't so stubborn with what little ego he clung to. One he would've been happy to hear from you in the comfort of home and privacy. Even so, he'd nodded when you asked. Even so, he'd ignored how his own hands shook as he held his over yours gently.

It was an odd feeling, your blood seeping into his mouth, iron heavy on his tongue as his lips met yours. The taste would've been revolting under any other circumstances, making him recoil and pull away with a note to never repeat the cause. Yet, he didn't. He kept his lips against yours gently, experience slipping him in the thick anxiety of the moment. Even then, reluctance followed when he pulled away.

Content lost its footing when you'd given him once last smile, then it fell with a crash when your gaze grew glassy and unfocused. He'd never forget the panic that gripped him so tightly, enough of a disturbance to slip past his guard and make the tears start to fall. He didn't even notice them in the moment, all he saw was your corpse and the end of the compassion and emotion you'd helped him regain over time. He never asked the others if they heard him then, if they heard him plead with you, if they heard the sobs and begs he never would've given if it weren't you. He's glad they never brought it up, it was just a touch easier to forget how he'd completely broken down for the first time in a long time when you'd fallen still.

He was glad you weren't able to hear them. He's sure you would've made some dumb comment about it as you stood before him, alive and well as though nothing happened. He's sure you would've smiled and hummed a question he wouldn't answer, he's sure he would've reacted all the same. He's sure he still would have grabbed you by the collar and shoved you back against the wall, he's sure he would've still hissed at you to explain yourself, ignoring the desperation laced in his voice as his eyes began to burn again. You had an effect on him, one he wouldn't ever admit to even if you poked and prodded at it time and time again by simple virtue of you being yourself.

You were a surprisingly good kisser for someone on the brink of death once more, but you were better at it when you could count how many of him there were.

He's not sure what pulls him back as he looks down at you again, noting your still form blankly. He's not sure why he pauses for a few long moments, simply keeping his arms around you as your body grows colder and colder. He's not sure why he tucks hair behind your ear and lets his hand linger, warm by contrast against you. He's not sure when he pulls himself up off the floor, careful of your innards as he pulls you up with him.

He is however sure he feels a hell of a lot better when you sit up from your previous place on the table, hand trailing over the stitches that line your stomach and chest as you give a little hum of approval. He's sure he's smiling a little at that simple bit of praise. He's sure you'd make a comment about it if you noticed.

"Happy to see me, huh?"

He's happy to be right.

#2b x reader #2bdamned x reader #madcom x reader #madcom imagines #madness combat imagines #madness combat x reader #rot writes #oughhhh imf uckgin tired but its only 1am (head in hands)

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clone-wars-imagine-2 · 3 years

Text

Bad Batch Preference: How they react when you make a doll for them that looks like them

A/N: This idea comes from a friend on discord, I hope you enjoy this.

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Sergeant Hunter: To begin with, you were hella bored and flying through hyperspace for 10 hours straight was making you insane. Meditation could only pass that much time, so you decided to start a little project for the remaining time until you would reach Coruscant again. Soon enough you gathered all materials and started to make a little doll. You didn’t have any particular thing in mind you wanted the doll to look like but having Hunter sit right across from you with his datapad in hand was a convenient thing. It only took you 2 ½ hours until the doll was finished, now you only had to show Hunter. “Hunter! I need to show you something really important!” You said dragging out the really, a grin plastered on your face. His response was a simple ‘aha’ but he glanced up from his reports to look at you for a moment. He seemed tired which made your heart ache, he is always overworking himself. You took the doll from behind your back and held it out to him. Hunter looked surprised at the sight of the doll and laid his datapad down, reaching forward to grab the little fabric version of him. He could see all the details you did, you even put a little bandana on the doll. The Sergeant was speechless to say the least. “Do you like it? I made it for you.” You made it for him… “Of course I do. I love it! Thank you, kar’ta.” “You're welcome, Love.”

Crosshair: Building something was one of your hobbies you had since you were a kid, it was always something you could do on your own, inside or even outside. You build things out of wood, metal, fabrics, flowers and basically everything you could find. So whenever the boys were out of the ship, getting supplies or doing assignments the thought would be too dangerous for you to tag along on they left you to look after the havoc marauder. This was one of those occasions. You’ve been sitting in the pilot seat for the past few hours making something for Crosshair. You weren’t quite sure if he would like it or not but if the latter would happen you’d just keep the little doll of him for yourself. Holding the doll up you looked it once over before deciding you were finished. It looked exactly like Crosshair, you even went as far as to carefully draw on his tattoo. You smiled and decided to put it away until he came back. It didn’t take long for your boys to come back and leave the planet as fast as possible. When everything calmed down you went to Crosshair, telling him you made something for him. He gave you a sceptical look but followed you to your quarters you had on the ship. Turning around you presented him with the doll. “You made a doll of myself? For me?” You nod your head and beamed up at him with one of your smiles. “It looks hideous.” You saw that coming. “But it’s you!” “I know.” “You want me to take it back?” “No it’s mine.”

Tech: Getting to spend time with Tech was hard after the Bad Batch stopped protecting you and your father after they catched the people who were after you. Now it wasn’t certain when and for how long you would see him again and it killed the both of you. The last time he came to visit he gifted you a necklace with a small piece of his armor hanging off it. He said it was so something from him was always with you and protected you. It was by far your most prized possession and you never put it off since you got it. So you decided to make something for him. You were amazing when it came to the knowledge of advanced technologies and new inventions but building something on your own wasn’t something you could say you were good at. So the only plausible thing to do was ask your mother for help which she gladly lended. Together you two made a little doll, it was only a few inches in size but it looked so much like Tech it made your heart ache for him even more. It even had a small replica of his goggles on. Now you only had to wait for him to arrive home. It was another two months before you got the message from Tech that they would be heading back to get some downtime. You were filled with exaltation and couldn’t wait until he was back, but you were also nervous about what he would think of the doll. You would find out soon enough. It wasn’t until a few hours of him being back and the two of you cuddling in bed that you showed him his little present. Tech was more than just surprised and you could swear you saw him stop breathing for a few seconds. A smile spread across his face and he gave you a kiss on the forehead, pulling you closer and nuzzling his face into your hair. “I love it, mesh’la. I will always keep it with me.” You blushed at the little word of endearment and hid your face in his chest. “Glad you like it, handsome.” Guess who is blushing now.

Wrecker: You were set at home on one of the few days you could take off, waiting for Wrecker to arrive after one of their missions. He had commed you earlier in the day, letting you know he would be there today and that he got some more stuff for you. The clones didn’t earn a lot of money so Wrecker never really bought much but he brought some stuff back for you that he found on his journeys. Be it intriguing looking stones, beautiful flowers he pressed under some weights to preserve them or shells he found on shores. Seeing all the little things lying on their own little shelf in the living room you took the opportunity of being alone for a little while longer and started making something you knew Wrecker would like. Wrecker owned a tooka doll he so fondly called Lula that you decided it could use a little friend and what better friend would there be than a smaller version of your boyfriend himself! It took you longer than you would like to admit until you got the hang of stitching the doll together. You were a mechanic, an inventor, not a sewer! But thankfully Wrecker wouldn’t arrive until late in the night as he told you in a message. Great, more time to figure out how to not poke you in the fingers 50 times in a row. You finished the doll around 11pm, mere ten minutes before he arrived. When Wrecker arrived he crushed you in one of his tight hugs which you endured with a smile, by now you were used to his strength. He immediately started rambling about the mission and taking the stuff out he collected for you during his time away when you stopped him. “Before you continue darling, I want to show you something I made for you. I-” “You made something for me?! When?!” You let out a laugh and smiled up at him. “Today, I had some time and thought you might appreciate it.” Wrecker immediately begged to see it and how could you keep him waiting? You showed him the doll of himself, it was by all means the first thing you ever made in that regard but it didn’t look too bad, and it resembled him which you wanted! His eyes lit up the second they met the doll and he took it out of your hands. “This is amazing! And it looks like me! I will put myself right next to Lula so she isn’t alone!” A laugh bubbled out of your chest and you looked fondly at him. “That was my intention. Glad we are both on the same page.” You got pulled in another bone crushing hug and you savoured every second of it.

Echo: It has been over a year in which you thought that Echo was dead. After the Citadel mission Fives and Rex came to you, bearing bad news. The moment you saw them you knew and cried your eyes out for weeks. You couldn’t believe he was just gone like that, taken from you from moment to the other. Both Rex and Fives tried to help you and they succeeded in some ways until Fives passed away. You had thrown yourself in your work for the senate, doing everything not to think about how your heart ached for the love of your life and your best friend who were gone. When your body finally broke down, telling you to rest and to process you did. In memory of the both of them you made two little dolls, the one of Fives you put right next to his gravestone. You did everything to make sure he got buried and his body wasn’t used for scientific research by the Kaminoans. The doll of Echo you always kept close to you. There was no body you could bury or mourn so this was the only alternativ you got, and it helped, it really did. And then Rex commed you, telling you Echo was alive right before one of your most important senate meetings. It was another few days from when they brought Echo back to when you were allowed to see him and your heart stopped when you saw him. What have they done to him? Tears filled your eyes and you threw yourself at him, not letting him go as you thought he might disappear again. Echo was very hesitant at first, fearing he could hurt you with his prosthetics, yet he still forced those thoughts from his mind and enveloped you in his arms. You talked for the maker knows how long, trying to comprehend what the other went through while giving as much comfort as possible. Every time Echo would flinch at your contact, even if it was tiny, your heart felt like it got stabbed a thousand times. When he carefully reached for your hand and told you he was leaving with the Bad Batch you tried to protest but he shut it down, telling you he had to do it and you only nod. “I promise you that I will come back, I always do, don’t I?” Echo had a smaller version of his usual sly smile on his face and for the first time in a long while you felt your heart melt again. You smiled softly at him, leaning closer to give him a kiss on the cheek. “I know you do, but before you go I want to give you something.” , you mumbled against the skin of his cheek, taking out the small doll you made months ago. Carefully you handed it to him and watched his face for his reaction. You could see tears gather in the corner of his eyes and you pulled him closer. “I made it a while after you… Well…” Echo shushed you and looked up into your face, smiling. “I will keep this close to me so whenever I see it I will think about you, cyar’ika.”

#bad batch x reader #star wars the bad batch #star wars the clone wars x reader #star wars the clone wars #sergeant hunter x reader #wrecker x reader #tech x reader #crosshair x reader #arc trooper echo x reader #bad batch echo x reader #echo x reader #the bad batch #hunter x reader #sergeant hunter #crosshair #wrecker #tech #bad batch echo

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chaoticpuff17 · 3 years

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When the Chips are Down

part 10

masterlist

Warnings: arguing, smut, pregnant smut, lactation kink (if you squint)

hello my darlings, so I did a thing, a thing I did not know that I was going to be doing, but enjoy!--- chaotic puff

She’d had some time with the other ladies after her appointment was over before Miss In ushered everyone out claiming that Y/N needed rest. Rest was well and good, but she would have preferred having company. She detested bed rest, but it was made better by the presence of a certain orange bundle of hate that had driven her regular fluffy white companion away.

Hoseok had come to get Iyla, and he’d brought with him Chester. He shoved the cat into her arms muttering something about taking her demon cat back, but she couldn’t bring herself to care as she held the grumbly little cat. She couldn’t blame Hoseok for wanting him gone. Chester liked very few people. He liked her best and then Iyla. Jackson had been tolerated, but Chester was her little grump, a little grump who had set up shop half sprawled across her belly and refused to move, meowing unhappily anytime someone got to close. This was how Namjoon found her later that night.

She was content as she could be given the situation, curled up a bundle of yarn and a crochet hook when Namjoon walked in.

“I’m sorry I was away so long.” he sent her a tired smile, crossing the room to kiss her forehead only to jump back as her little orange protector hissed at him. “What is that doing back here?” he asked, taking another step back to put a little more distance between himself and Chester. The cat might not have been in the estate for long, but everyone knew that he was a bad tempered little demon.

“Hoseok brought him over when he came to get Iyla.” she hummed, gently scratching under Chester’s chin earning herself a contented purr from the cat.

Namjoon sighed tiredly, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Can’t Hoseok take it back?”

“No.” she huffed, sending him a dark look.

“You have Moni.”

“I also have Chester.”

“Chester is a living horror.” Namjoon huffed, staring at the cat with distaste. “I can get you a new cat, a better cat.”

“I like Chester. Picked him up from the streets. He was a skinny little thing then.” she mused fondly, pausing the repetitive motion of her fingers so she could give the cat a little scratch around the ears.

“No. No street cats. He could have diseases.”

She scoffed, picking up the crochet hook again. “I’ve had Chester for years. He doesn’t have any diseases.”

“I’ll get you a puppy.” he offered, practically begging her to send the nightmare of a cat back to Hoseok.

“I already have a dog.”

“A dog who is terrified of that thing.” Carefully, Namjoon approached the bed again, wary of the cat. “It’s a street cat. I can find you something better, something nicer.”

Her hands stilled, her shoulders suddenly pulled back in a rigid posture that matched the incredulous look in her eye and the flash of ire in their depths. “So that means I’m free to go.”

“What? Of course not...”

“I lived on the streets, so did Iyla. Who knows what kind of diseases we could be carrying? You can find something better.”

He was silent, letting her words sink in, very quickly realizing the error of his words. “That’s not… I’m sorry, jagi. That’s not what I meant.” She huffed, refusing to answer him as she kept her jaw set in irritation, picking up her project again, aggressively working through the next couple of stitches. “Jagi…” He took a step closer, sitting down on the edge of the bed reaching for her only to draw his hand back as the cat took a swipe at him with an angry yowl.

“Careful. He’ll get you.” she scoffed. “And you never know what sort of diseases we could be carrying.”

“Jagi, I never meant…”

“Then what did you mean?” she looked up, quirking a brow. “I think you were quite clear on your feelings about it.”

“I would never… I didn’t mean.” he sighed trying to collect himself. “I could never find anyone better than you.”

“Go to the bad part of town and you’ll find a dozen girls just like me, just like I was all those years ago.”

“But they’re not you.” he urged sitting on the bed despite Chester taking another swipe at him. Joon had other ideas though. Quickly and carefully as he could, he removed the cat from her belly, earning himself some scratches in the process as the cat tried to take a bite out of him.

“What are you doing?” she cried setting down her project again.

“I’d like to talk to my wife without your little orange demon keeping me at arm’s length.” he huffed practically tossing the cat off the bed. As soon as the cat was out of the way, he took her hands in his, urging her to look at him. “I never meant to insult you or your past. I know how hard it was for you, for Iyla. If I could have taken you away from that, I would have. Marcus never would have laid a hand on you.” he reached up a hand to cup her cheek even though she turned away from his touch.

“You can’t change the past, and who even says I would have wanted you?”

“I love you, jagi.” he promised, turning her face back to his. “If you would just let me…”

“You’d what?” she asked, voice harsh and brows scrunched together. “You’d give up your business? You’d let Iyla leave? You’d let me have my freedom? What would you do?”

“I would give you the world.”

She huffed, rolling her eyes. “I don’t want the world. I never did. I just wanted my family to be safe.”

“I can keep you safe. I will protect you and our family.” he urged. “Nothing will ever hurt you while I’m here.”

“Except for you?”

He tensed but forced himself to relax. “I don’t want to hurt you, jagi. I want you safe and happy, you and the baby.”

“We were happy in Italy.”

“Happy with me.” he amended, slightly annoyed by her mention of Italy. He was still silently fuming about having to release Mark, and he didn’t want any reminders of her time away from him, not when they were so close to having their perfect little family. “I could make you so happy, jagi.”

She rolled her eyes again, turning her attention back to the project at hand, taking her other hand away from Namjoon so she could get back to work.

“What are you working on?”

“If all goes well? It should be a teddy bear.”

“For the baby?” she hummed her assent. “How did the appointment go?” he asked, settling himself on the bed beside her.

“Baby’s fine. I’m fine.”

He wrapped his arm around her shoulder, pulling her into his side as she continued with her stitches. “I’m sorry I couldn’t be there. I have to get things in order for the birth, so I can be here with you and the baby. Did you get a picture?” he asked hopefully.

“It’s over on the table.” she nodded. “Healthy baby. The doctor said that she should be here in about five weeks.”

“Five?” He asked, turning his attention away from the ultrasound photo. “I thought you were due in six.” His eyes darted between her face and the belly, before he froze his eyes, wide as saucers, slowly settling on her face. “She?” he asked, voice barely above an awed whisper. “It’s a girl?”

A bright smile spread across her features as she nodded. She couldn’t be mad when she was talking about her baby, her little girl, and she couldn’t deny his awe was endearing.

“A girl.” he whispered, eyes drifting down to her belly in awe, hands settling on it as he bent down so that he was eye level with her bump. “Hi, princess. Your mom and I are so excited to meet you, but you need to stay safe in there for a few more weeks okay? You have to stop giving your mom and I such scares. You’re giving me gray hair.” he murmured, pressing a kiss to her belly. “You can do that for me. Okay, princess?”

Y/N suppressed a laugh, and Namjoon looked up at her with a big grin. He was different now than when she left. He was less soft, more chiseled. His features had become sharper, and she could definitely see the muscles straining under his suit jacket. She had to admit, he looked good, a little tired, but good. Their time apart had changed both of them apparently.

“We’re having a girl.”

“We are.” she nodded with a grin of her own, only to be caught off guard as Namjoon darted up and caught her in a deep kiss, entangling his hands in her short hair.

“We’re having a girl.” he murmured again once he pulled away before diving in for another kiss. “I love you, jagi.” he went in for another kiss, only to be shocked by the moan that Y/N released. He pulled away slightly looking down at her, the cogs in his head turning.

Slowly, he slid a hand down to rest against her breast giving it a tentative squeeze and was rewarded by a gasp from his wife. “So sensitive.” he praised, feeling the weight of her breast in his hands. They were definitely bigger now.

“Namjoon…” she warbled, bringing a shaky hand up to his shoulder in a weak attempt to push him away. She would have been lying if she said she wasn’t horny. All the hormones rushing through her body had left her a little more than frustrated for a lot of her pregnancy, but Mark had taken care of some of that. Mark wasn’t here now though. Namjoon was.

“Shh, jagi.” he purred, trailing kisses down her neck, nipping at her pulse. “Let me make you feel good.”

“Namjoon… the baby!” she gasped, fingers clutching the material of his suit as he bit down on her collarbone

“The baby’s fine. The doctor tells me things too.” he pulled away to look up at her with a mischievous grin. “You’re leaking, jagi.” he chuckled, rolling her nipple through the thin material of her nightgown.

“Namjoon!” she scolded, pushing against his shoulder again.

“It’s good.” he grinned. “You’re getting ready for our baby.”

“It’s embarrassing.” she hissed.

“It’s natural.” he pulled down her nightgown to expose her breasts.

“They’re sore.” she warned, trying to steer him away from her chest.

“I can help with that.” he grinned, leaning down to take one of her nipples into his mouth, rolling the bud around with his tongue.

“Namjoon!” she cried, her hands flying up to his hair.

“You taste divine, jagi.” he purred looking up from her breast.

“Stop.” she gasped as he leaned down to pay attention to her other breast. “We should stop.”

He paused, looking up at her with that same mischievous look on his face. “Why?” he asked. “You’re my wife, and I want to make love to my beautiful,” a kiss was placed on her neck. “Pregnant,” Another kiss. “Wife.” by this point he had worked his way up to her face again, placing the final kiss on her lips. “Will you let me do that?” he whispered, forehead pressed against hers.

“Okay.” she whispered.

She could regret it in the morning, blame it on the hormones or the rush of endorphins or just the general horniness she’d been feeling for months, but for now she was going to let a very attractive man make love to her and pretend like this was normal. She was going to pretend that she was happy and in love and celebrating her baby girl with the love of her life even if she wasn’t. She could regret it in the morning.

Namjoon didn’t hesitate once he had her permission, getting to work relieving them both of their clothes, cursing himself for the three piece suit he’d chosen that morning. It had too many layers, too many buttons. This was the first time in months he was going to be able to touch her, to make love to her, and he was the idiot wearing a three piece suit.

He’d noticed during their bath the changes to her body, but it was fascinating to see them up close, to be able to worship them as he should have been able to do from the beginning. There were stretch marks on her hips, extending up her belly, and he made sure to press a kiss to each one. Her hips were fuller, and her belly, god her belly, it was glorious, round and soft and all because of him. That was his child, his daughter, in there, the perfect little angel that he and Y/N had made. He still couldn’t believe it. A daughter, he was going to have a daughter. He could practically see her now. She’d have her mother’s eyes and his dimples, and she’d be quick as a wip. She was going to be beautiful, just like her mother.

“I love you.” He murmured against her belly as he practically ripped her underwear from her.

It had been a long eight months without her. Yes, there had been other women, but they couldn’t compare to her. No one could ever compare to her.

“Namjoon.” she mewled a tone of neediness in her voice that he had never heard before, and he swore under his breath catching sight of what waited for him between her legs.

“You’re dripping for me, jagi.” he growled, rubbing two fingers over her slit. “Soaked just for me.” she whimpered, her hips bucking up a little in search of something more than the light touches he was giving her, and Namjoon was more than happy to give that to her.

She was wet enough that he had no problem plunging two fingers directly into her heat eliciting the most enticing moan from her. He wanted nothing more than to bury himself in her right there and then, but he knew she needed to be prepped before he could do that. He didn’t want to hurt her, not again. The last time they’d been together had been traumatizing for her, and he didn’t want anything to hurt her during their first time together again.

His thumb rubbed circles around her clit as he continued to pump his fingers in and out of her watching closely as she came closer and closer to coming undone. Just before she was about to fall over the edge, he pulled away, and Y/N cried out in protest.

“I want you to come around my cock, jagi.” He growled, flipping her over gently, helping her onto her hands and knees so that there would be no strain on her belly. “Can you do that for me?”

“Please, Namjoon.” she begged, resting on her forearms forehead pressed down onto the pillow as she stuck her ass out.

“Anything for you.” he promised, pressing a kiss to the small of her back before lining himself up with her entrance.

They both groaned as he sunk into her. “Shit, jagi. You’re still so tight.” he groaned, forcing himself to keep still as she adjusted to his size. “So tight for me.”

He was careful as he began to move. He went slow, each thrust deliberate, enjoying the feel of her around him, enjoying the sounds she made. Slowly he began to pick up speed, one hand kept still on her hip while the other reached between them to play with her clit building her back up to the orgasm that he’d denied her before. He was reaching his own high embarrassingly quickly, but it had been so long since he’d had the privilege of being with her like this.

He could feel her shaking, her walls spasming around him as she trembled on the edge of her high. “Cum for me.” He growled, his thrusts picking up speed. “Cum with me, jagi.”

It wasn’t long before they were both crying out in pleasure as their orgasms ripped through them. Namjoon kept thrusting lazily into her, dragging out her pleasure as she shook like a leaf beneath him.

Once they had both caught their breath, Namjoon eased out of her, carefully helping her back onto her side, wedging a pillow under her belly to help ease the weight of it.

“I’ll be right back, jagi.” he promised as she whined reaching back towards him. “I need to get you cleaned up.”

He was quick, washing himself up as swiftly as possible, and returning to her with fresh pajamas for both of them, and a wet washcloth to clean up the mess he’d left between her legs.

“Joon.” she whined, flinching as he cleaned her up, and he whispered apologies knowing she had to be sensitive.

Once they were both cleaned up and dressed, Namjoon settled them both down under the covers, pressing her back to his chest so that he could wrap his arms around her, so that he could keep both her and their daughter close.

“I love you so much, jagi.” he whispered into her neck as she hummed sleepily. “So, so much.”

part 11

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uwuwriting · 4 years

Text

Midoriya, Todoroki and Shinsou being hit by a de-aging quirk

Request: HEY HEY HEYYY! Since I’ve seen you simping over Shinsou and sometimes if not all the time over Todoroki I would like to request the boys getting hit by a deaging quirk and having to be babied by their girlfriendssss. Oh and if you’d like could you add Midoriya in the mix? My boy needs more simps and you are president of the group. -anonymous

I’m in tears from the ask. I’ve been caught simping one too many times and now yall are calling me out. Snitches. SNITCHES GET STITCHES!!! Jk ... unless. Love yaa. 💖💖💖

rules

warnings: mild angst and mentions of trauma/bullying, the majority is fluff though.

Midoriya Izuku

-Baby face™

-You sure you are not looking at his normal face?

-I mean he IS baby and he looks baby.....baby.

-Anyways

-You were on patrol with the hero you were training with when you got called in to deal with an attack.

-They didn’t give you many details only that the previous heroes that were on the scene were struggling.

-So once there you started fighting with the villain, dodging his attacks effortlessly until you spotted a puff of green hair.

-Izuku was here?

-Why hadn’t you seen him?

-It’s not like him to run from a fight, maybe he’s hurt?

-Calling out to him you dodged the villain again and slid behind the car you saw last saw him and was met with .... a toddler??

-Tears were running down the boys’ face as he was trying to pry a small metal bar from under some debris.

-He looked awfully a lot like you boyfriend and for only a moment you completely forgot about the villain and drowned in the adorableness of the toddler.

-He was mumbling All Might’s key phrase under his breath adding his own small punchlines.

-Once the bar was free he raised it in the air with shaky hands and called out, “I’m here! Midoriya Izuku will save you!”

-So that’s what those beams of light do if they hit you.

-Activating your ear piece you alerted your ‘boss’ that there was a child here and to not get hit by the beams unless you wanted to go back to your toddler days.

-After assuring you that everything was under control and that you could leave you picked Izuku up and made your way to the school.

-Recovery Girl said that the quirk should ware off in a day or two and until then Aizawa had named you his temporary care taker.

-In your dorm, Izuku was overly curious.

-He was opening boxes and drawers, rampaging through your equipment and fawning over your hero costume.

-He sat down after what felt like an eternity and started bombarding you with questions about your hero studies, your quirk, your technique, your teachers, All Might, your classmates, their quirks, All Might, your favorite hero, the hero you work with, ALL MIGHT.

-It was cute you would give him that but simultaneously he was talking your ear off.

-And when you told him that All Might was actually one of your teachers?

-You are now taking an impromptu trip to the teachers lounge to visit All Might.

-Thankfully he’s there and he doesn’t have any classes for the rest of the day so he spends most of his free time with baby Izuku.

-You are pushed to the side for most of the afternoon until Izuku notices you sitting alone while he plays with All Might and he feels by.

-Waving goodbye to All Might he waddled over to you and climbed on your lap, giving you a hug and asking what YOU wanted to do.

-HE IS SO DAMN CUTE EYE-

-You go back to your dorm and spend the rest of your afternoon and night there.

-You ordered his favorite food and put on a Disney movie.

-He wouldn’t leave your lap, always staying either between your legs or hugging you.

-He is such a cuddle bug omg!!!

-You find him adorable and just snuggle him, hugging him harder and kissing his forehead.

-When it was time for bed he really didn’t want to go to sleep.

-You may have chased him around your room trying to put on one of his shirts that you had in your room as a pj.

-You had to tickle him into submission.

-You tucked him in and went to make you own makeshift bed on the floor so you wouldn’t bother him.

- “Y-Y/N-san c-can you sleep h-here?”

-He was blushing and avoiding your gaze as he waited for you answer.

-Smiling at him you put on your own pjs *which were a pair of shorts and one of his sweatshirts* and jump under the covers.

-He snuggled into your chest, giving you a small peck on the cheek and falling asleep in like a second.

-You were soft to the very soul.

-You fell asleep rather quickly yourself feeling all warm inside.

-The next morning you woke up with strong arms wrapped tightly around your waist and steady breathing making a broad chest rise and fall.

-Izuku squinted at the morning light as you stirred slightly and looked down meeting your hooded eyes.

- “Thank you princess, for everything.”

Bonus:

“You were an adorable baby you know that?”

“Y/N stop!!!”

“Had me almost yeeting our protection out the window.”

“Y/N!”

Todoroki Shouto

-His dad called you.

-You were chilling in his dorm waiting for him to come back from his patrol with his dad.

-You were sick the past few days and didn’t go to your hero studies.

-Shouto had been taking care of you but he had to leave at some point for his own studies.

-Now Shouto has placed you as his emergency call on his phone along side Fuyumi and Deku.

-You were the first name on the list and that’s why you were talking with his dad.

- “Shouto was hit by a quirk while we were out and he is being ....difficult. I would prefer if you come get him I don’t think he would come near me anyways.”

-You heard a small cry in the back and asked immediately for their location.

-I swear you haven’t gotten ready faster in your life.

-Arriving at the location you were met with.... a sight.

-Standing trembling across from Endeavor was a baby Shouto.

-He didn’t look a day over four, his scar was gone but his eyes were full of fear.

-Endeavor was looking at him with a small frown on his face.

-When he spotted you his eyes stayed on what you were wearing before motioning towards Shouto.

-Look you were staying in YOUR boyfriend’s room surrounded by HIS clothes it was only logical for you to grab one of his hoodies.

-Making your way to the terrified toddler you crouched down a few paces away from him.

-Giving him a small smile you whispered a shy ‘Hi Sho’ and waited for him to approach you.

-His dual colored eyes scanned you before glancing back at his father who had turned his back to you and was talking on the phone.

- “He won’t hurt you while I’m here. I won’t let him Sho I promise.”

-At that his eyes widened further and without warning he launched himself at you wrapping his small arms around your torso, a hiccup leaving his trembling lips.

- “N-no he w-will hurt you l-like m-mommy *sob* I-I don’t want h-him to h-hurt you.”

-You carefully brought him into a hug leaving a kiss on the top of his head as you whispered reassurances in his ear.

-He stopped crying after a while and agreed on coming with you to the dorms.

- “I’m taking him to UA he will be safe there.”

-You didn’t really wait for a response before scooping him up in your arms and walking off towards the school.

-Once there you stopped by Aizawa’s room informing him of the situation.

-He allowed you to take him to his room and stay with him for as long as he is like this.

-In his room you didn’t put him down opting to get everything ready for your Disney marathons while he was still in your arms.

-All the while Shouto was playing with strands of your hair and asking you small questions about you, your room, your school.

-He was still shy though, never talking too much and always speaking in a hushed tone.

-Poor baby was so afraid of everything.

-Once all was in place, you settled on his bed covering both of you in a blanket while he rested between your legs.

-During the first movie he sat there his full attention on the screen.

-By the time you reached the third movie he was becoming restless, looking around the room and ignoring the movie as a whole.

-Then you heard his stomach rumbling.

- “Why don’t we go make some cold soba hm?”

-You haven’t seen him smile that bright since the moment he turned and it was the cutest most precious sight in the world.

-While making soba he was rather talkative even going as far as letting out giggles and small laughs.

-He enjoyed his soba and you were happy since you saw him without that petrified glint in his eyes.

-When it was time for bed he was very obedient, immediately putting on the clothes you had out for him and laying in bed instantly.

-He had made no requests all this time so it surprised you when he tugged at your hoodie sleeve and motioned to the spot beside him with his eyes.

-Giggling you settled next to him and gave him a small peck on the nose making him scrunch it up.

- “Goodnight Sho.”

-He was already half asleep when you whispered goodnight.

- “G’night, love you.”

-EVEN HIS MUMBLING WAS SO CUTE!!!

- “I love you too.”

-The next day you woke up alone and if you were being honest you had a mini heart attack.

-Then the door opened and your fully grown boyfriend walked in, tray in hand as the smell of pancakes filled the room.

- “I can’t thank you enough for yesterday, love.”

-Sitting down next to you he kissed you on the lips, a love struck look on his face.

- “I love you.”

Bonus:

“Seeing you being so motherly had me imagining our kids.”

“Shouto we are 15....”

“I can always steal my dad’s credit card....”

“......You’ve got a point.”

Shinsou Hitoshi

*BABY BOY WON’T YOU COME MY WAY?????*

-He was training with some of Aizawa’s old coworkers.

-He didn’t dodge an attack and was hit square in the chest.

-Now he was buried under a pile of clothes, whimpers leaving his lips.

-Aizawa went into a panic.....how many kids would he have to adopt??

-Now you two are not very vocal about your relationship, borderline keeping it under wraps not wanting to draw much attention to you.

-But Aizawa is dad and he knows... KNOWS when one of his students has a crush.

-Especially if it’s a girl since all the girls need an extra dad to scare bad boyfriends away.

-So he hasn’t missed how you look at each other or how you may have come back into class smelling like Shinsou.

-He has even seen you in one of Shinsou’s hoodies.

-If he was being honest he caught you off guard.

-It was like 3 am and you had gotten up to grab a glass of water.

-Aizawa was still up grading some papers and he scared the shit out of you; idk how your screech didn’t wake anyone up.

-The only comment he made was nice hoodie and you KNEW he had caught a whiff of your relationship.

-So that’s the reason why Aizawa is now knocking on YOUR door ready to leave a very scared Shinsou in your care.

-Babysitting......great.

-Once you opened the door your face contorted into three emotions: fear cause once again you were wearing your boyfriend’s clothes, confusion cause why was there a toddler sized Shinsou in his arms and anxiety cause well your homeroom teacher was standing right outside your bombarded room in which you should have been studying but you could faintly hear the animal crossing music coming from your switch.

- “Hitoshi was hit by a de-aging quirk and since you two are so....close I’ll leave him with you. Plus I trust you.”

-And with that he placed baby Shin in your arms and left.

-You two looked at one another before you let out a small laugh trying to lighten up the mood.

-Tears formed in the corners of his eyes as he stared at you.

-Bringing him closer to your chest you started rocking him back and forth humming a tune he would sing to you when you were having a bad day.

-He calmed down immediately.

-Like stopped sniffling the moment he heard the tune.

-He started humming along with you and as you pulled him from your chest you wiped away the stray tears giving him another smile in the process.

-He rested his forehead gently on your own as his small hands came to grab your cheeks.

-The rest of your time with him was very calm and quiet.

-He was a very reserved and calm child never making a request or whining.

-You two colored some outlines you printed and then played a few board games.

-He got out of his shell when you suggested going for a walk to the park to pet the kitties.

-He wouldn’t let go of your hand even when he saw the cats and you could feel how excited he was.

-He was overly attached to you calling you Y/N-chan and even going as far as to say ‘love you’ before his afternoon nap.

-Your heart was MELTING.

-He was adorable.

-So cute with his lavender hair standing up even at this age and his violet eyes scanning everything and everyone.

-He was a blessing.

-Then he started talking in his sleep and that’s when you realized why he was such a low maintenance child.

-His whimpers echoed through the dorm as he begged someone to leave him alone.

-That he wouldn’t use his quirk.

-That he wasn’t a villain.

-He had talked to you about his past, how people used to bully him for his quirk or how they would call him a villain.

-It broke your heart seeing that even at the early age of four he had nightmares of what those kids said to him.

-Climbing in bed beside him you brought him flush to your chest running a hand through his hair as you peppered his forehead with kisses.

- “Shhh baby shh. I’m here they can’t hurt you.”

-You fell asleep when he finally stopped crying.

-When you woke up you were laying flat on Shinsou’s chest his hands running mindlessly up and down your back.

- “I’m sorry for forcing you to take care of me kitten.”

-Kissing up his neck until you reached his lips you added:

- “You were an angel there’s no need to apologize love.”

-He hugged you incredibly tighter, burying his face in your hair.

-He was so deeply in love with you words cannot express.

Bonus:

“Next time I’m not pulling out.”

“Hitoshi what the hell??”

“What? You expect me to see you all motherly and NOT want to get you pregnant as soon as possible?”

“I think someone has a breeding kink.”

“Yeah yeah wait till you see me with a toddler....you’ll be begging me to fill-”

“SHUT UP!!!”

TAG TEAM AY:

@iwaqchan @the-arcana-fan-fic @angelwritings @axerrri @reinyrei

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team-gabriel · 3 years

Note

♟brightglass?

so, uh… yeah. I might’ve gotten a little carried away. enjoy?

[also on my AO3]

♟- patching up a wound

Jack Bright was almost certain that he’s bled through the half-assed bandage job he’s done on his shoulder. He can feel the throbbing pain radiating down his arm with every exhausting step that he trudged up the stairs to his apartment.

He fumbled with his keys for a few moments before he finally managed to pull the door open, kicking his shoes haphazardly by the mat and hanging his (now somewhat bloody) lab coat on the hook beside the door… he’d wash that out in the morning; he was too tired to do anything about that tonight.

Judging by the blood on his coat, he knew that his shirt had to be soaked as well, and, looking down at the ugly, dark red stain that had spread across his once-white dress shirt, he found that his guess was correct. Jack groaned in frustration — yep, that shirt was ruined… he really liked that one, too…

Whatever.

Simon, who had been sitting at the kitchen counter, was currently pouring all of his focus into the psych reports scattered in front of him. The commotion Bright caused as he entered the apartment was enough to draw his attention, but he still hadn’t looked up from his work.

“I don’t wanna hear it,” Bright muttered toward the psychiatrist before he even had a chance to speak.

“Rough day, I take i— Jack, what the hell happened to you?!”

Simon’s casual statement quickly turned into an exclamation of shock and panic the moment he glanced up to see his blood-covered boyfriend.

“Simon, I said I don’t wanna hear it,” Jack groaned in response. He was not in the mood for Simon’s fussing, and wanted nothing more than to just replace the bandages, put on a clean t-shirt, and go to bed…

“Jack—!”

“Don’t worry about it…” Bright dismissed as he tossed his keys and lanyard onto the table, undoing his tie and wincing as another sharp wave of pain hit him.

“Oh. Right. Yeah,” Glass replied in disbelief, his tone somehow managing to convey both sarcasm and utter panic. “There’s absolutely nothing to worry about here!”

“Simon. Really…” Bright groaned, both out of frustration and pain. “It’s fine…”

“Oh, sure looks it, Jack,” Glass replied, hastily gathering his papers into a pile and standing from his spot at the table.

Simon vanished into the bathroom and Jack could hear him rifling around through the cabinet for the first-aid kit… a lot of good that will do him, Jack thought bitterly.

“I’m too tired for this,” Jack muttered loudly. “Just let me go to bed—”

“Oh, so you can bleed to death?” Glass piped up, still digging around in the disorganized mess that was his cabinets.

“I’m not going to bleed to death.”

Jack heard Simon’s rummaging abruptly stop for a moment, and despite being in a completely separate room, Bright could practically feel the incredulous glare Simon was giving him right now. Simon muttered something under his breath and continued his search.

“…and so what if I do!?” Jack shouted back. “Wouldn’t be the first time I’ve bled out…! and sure as hell won’t be the last!”

Simon reentered the kitchen, having finally found the first-aid kit, and still refusing to give Bright’s previous comments any form of response. He grabbed the chair that he had been sitting in and loudly dragged it across the kitchen floor — Jack wincing at the harsh sound.

“You know, Si, those downstairs neighbors are probably loving you right now…” he remarked.

“Sit.”

“…You’re being absolutely ridiculous, you know that?”

“Sit.”

“Simon, just give me the bandages, I can do this mysel—”

“Jack Bright, sit your arse down in this chair, or so help me god—!”

“Damn, Si, look at you — taking charge like that,” Jack teased, his voice still having that sharp edge to it, once again refusing to acknowledge any of the severity of this situation. “…Keep talkin’ to me like that, and you’re gonna make me act up—”

Bright had enough sense to cut his statement short when he was met with that frustrated exhaustion in Simon’s eyes. He dropped his inappropriate comment and shook his head.

“Si, really… the only one working themself up about this is you,” Jack hissed, but nevertheless, he finally sat down.

Simon’s expression was still pressed in a tight frown as he muttered a tired “thank you…” turning and placing the plastic kit on the table, pulling out the supplies he needed.

Bright rolled his eyes as Glass returned, clearly trying his hardest to get a good look at the wound despite Jack being in no way helpful.

“Jack, would you just hold still—?”

“I am holding still—!”

“Well quit moving your shoulder th—!”

“Ow! Simon, that fucking hurts!”

“Jack, I can’t even see what I’m trying to work with—! Would you just—? Jack, just—!”

Glass exhaled a growl of frustration. Since Bright was clearly not about to make things any less difficult, he decided it was necessary to take matters in his own hands. He immediately began fumbling with the collar of Jack’s shirt, roughly undoing the buttons.

Bright’s grumbling quickly turned to a shout, and now it was his turn to raise his voice in concern.

“Hey — careful! Jesus, Simon, careful!” Jack snapped, throwing one hand over his amulet, the other snatching Simon’s wrist and roughly yanking it away before his hand could get any closer to the pendant than it already was. “Fuck, Si, would you just wait a fucking second?! I already feel like my shoulder’s been beaten to absolute hell, I don’t need you dying on top of everything else!” he screamed.

Simon flinched backwards, clearly startled both by Jack’s outburst and the realization of how close he’d come to accidentally touching the amulet. “I- I’m—!” Glass began unsteadily. “Jack, I’m sorry…!”

Jack stayed like that for a moment while he waited for his heart to stop pounding, Simon still staring down at him with that deer-in-headlights expression.

Finally, he sighed, letting go of Simon’s wrist and watching as the psychiatrist immediately drew his arm back, guarding it against his chest and unconsciously rubbing at the spot where Jack’s grip had been the tightest. There was another moment where their eyes met, and both of them decided to soften their demeanor…

“I’m sorry,” Simon mumbled again, backing off just a bit, but still unable to stop staring at Jack’s bloodied shoulder with concern.

He really wasn’t about to let this go, was he?

Bright weighed his options. The irritation of having Glass attempt to patch up his shoulder was decidedly not even close to being greater than the utter devastation that would come with Simon inadvertently killing himself — or worse — because Jack refused cooperate and Glass once again ends up getting a little too close to his amulet…

Another sigh as Jack undid the remainder of his buttons as best as he could with his one uninjured arm, allowing Simon to easily reach his shoulder. He sat back down and twisted the amulet behind his back, slipping it beneath the back of his half-unbuttoned shirt.

“There you go,” he said, still not overly enthused with this whole ordeal, but willing to bite the bullet if it meant just getting this over with so he can go to bed. “Have at it, doc.”

Simon’s expression was much softer than it had been just minutes prior. He stepped back up to Jack, first carefully taking in the scene, and then delicately beginning to remove the old bandages.

Bright cringed a little at the way they clung to the wound, and at the growing pile of blood-soaked gauze and tape that was accumulating beside him as Glass continued to peel them away.

“Christ, Jack… this looks bad…” Simon exhaled, gently dabbing some of the excess blood away with a damp rag.

Bright only hummed in agreement. To be completely honest, even he hadn’t really seen the full extent of his injury — he saw a lot of blood and he taped himself up with gauze until he couldn’t see it anymore — problem solved!

…But now he was beginning to see the jagged gashes where claws met skin. He didn’t exactly enjoy looking at it, but he continued to stare, as it was better than having to look at the worry in Simon’s eyes.

“This... might sting a tiny bit...”

A tiny bit proved to be an understatement. Jack sucked in a sharp hiss and dug his fingers into the arm of the kitchen chair the moment the antiseptic soaked cotton touched the wound.

“Sorry...” Glass whispered, still carefully dabbing the gauze around the gashes. “So sorry... Just a little more, Jack. It’s almost done, I promise.”

“Yeah…” Jack said through gritted teeth. “Whatever you say, Si…”

Simon worked with diligence, cleaning the wound with a delicate touch, methodically bandaging as he went. He managed to get most of the superficial cuts to stop bleeding using butterfly bandages, but it was becoming obvious to Jack that the worst of it needed sutures…

It was clearly obvious to Simon as well, who apprehensively bit his lip, looking from the wound to meet Jack’s eyes.

Jack sighed and shook his head. “Go for it, Si…”

“I’ll be gentle.”

“Whatever.”

Jack didn’t watch as Simon threaded the needle, he didn’t watch as he carefully examined the gash… but he definitely took in another little hiss of pain as the first stitch was made.

“Sorry, Jack…” Simon whispered.

“To be honest,” Jack gritted out again. “That fucking antiseptic was worse.”

As Glass continued to stitch up his shoulder, Jack once again found himself unable to look away, but now for a different reason. It always sort of amazed him when Simon did stuff like this. Granted, he’s only ever really seen it once — Jack had accidentally gotten his palm with a kitchen knife when he was washing dishes — but still, it amazed him. Glass worked with such exactness that, if he hadn’t known any better, Jack might’ve believed that he did it on a daily basis. He could tell by the meticulousness of it that this was no doubt a skill Simon acquired in medical school and perfected in his years as a field agent.

But, what Bright perhaps found the most shocking was how gentle Simon always was with him. No matter how much of a fight Jack put up, Glass remained delicate when it came to actually working on him. He’d whisper apologies after every wince or hiss of pain. He’d put such a high level of precision and care into his actions — when most everyone else at the Foundation (Bright included) would deem it unnecessary in the long run.

If Jack couldn’t truly die, then why bother putting in so much effort to save him? Why waste the time, skills, and material on keeping him comfortable?

But Glass… he always did. He’d care for him when he was sick. He’d tend to minor injuries no differently than to major ones. He’d sit by Jack’s side for anything.

But that was just a part of Simon’s nature, he supposed — to comfort. It was why he advanced so easily in his field. It was why the word “soft” was so frequently hurled at him like an insult.

And that softness was clear with the precise way he finished the last of the stitches… the way he gently cleaned away the residual blood… the careful way he bandaged his shoulder…

“Simon…?” Jack asked, watching as Glass finished up with the final bandages.

“Hmm?”

“Why do you do this?”

“Why do I do what?”

“Care so damn much,” Jack replied with a snort, although the heavy sincerity of the question still lingered in the background.

“About?”

“Me.”

“Why do I care when the person I love is severely injured? Is that really what you’re asking me right now, Jack?”

“You know what I mean,” Bright replied, rolling his eyes, only deciding to elaborate on that further after several moments of Glass doing nothing but staring at him incredulously. “I can’t die — not really — so, like, why put in all the effort, y’know?”

“Except you can die, Jack,” Simon replied. “…As you so frequently do. The only difference is that you don’t stay dead—”

“But is that really that different?”

“Yes, Jack!” Glass replied, the disbelief audibly rising in his voice, as if Bright were missing some point that was glaringly obvious to him. “Some may argue that it’s worse!”

Jack only rolled his eyes, prompting Simon to elaborate further.

“You aren’t invulnerable, Jack,” he continued. “You aren’t immune to feeling pain — in fact, you have felt such an immense level of pain, on numerous occasions, that a person should only have the capability to feel once, if ever, in their lifetime… You’ve experienced your own death, Jack. Over and over… And perhaps you’ve just become numb to it — or you like to claim that you have — maybe everybody else in this damned Foundation has as well—”

“Because it still isn’t the same as actually dying, Simon—” Jack butted in before Glass could cut him off again.

“Alright,” he replied. “Maybe it isn’t. But why does that mean that you don’t deserve to be treated with the same level of compassion as anybody else?”

Jack bit down on his lip, refusing to meet Simon’s eyes… he hated when Glass had a point on topics like this.

“Alright,” Simon continued, keeping his voice gentle. “The other month, when I came home feeling sick — you stayed awake with me—”

“Simon, that isn’t the same thing!”

“But was I dying, Jack?” Simon asked without so much as missing a beat, his tone rising with pretend disbelief. “Was I so critically ill that someone needed to waste their time on me? It was just a stomach flu — nothing serious, there’s nothing anybody needs to do for that except wait it out… why waste the effort, taking care of someone who was just going to get better on their own in 24 hours? Hm?”

Bright had gone right back to avoiding Simon’s eyes, this time going as far as to avoid looking at him all together.

“Simon, it’s…”

Glass sighed, letting his expression soften once more, losing the sarcastic edge to his voice.

“It’s what, Jack?” he asked softly, attempting to finish the sentence that Bright had given up on. “It’s not the same thing?”

Jack’s mouth was pressed in a tight frown as he turned his eyes to the floor, still unwilling to admit his ‘defeat’.

And, with a gentle, sincere expression, Glass finished his (albeit, mostly one-sided) argument.

“I love you, Jack…” he said. “I love you… and I hate seeing you hurt…”

Bright finally opened his mouth to respond, only to shake his head and close it wordlessly when he couldn’t find the proper thing to say. There was nothing he could say to disprove that final statement, and he knew that. He could feel the beginnings of tears prickling at his eyes… and he knew he was going to have a tough time trying to pass it off as still being caused by the sting of that stupid antiseptic.

That shield he put up was cracking, and Jack hated putting the vulnerability that lied beneath it on display. So, instead, he only leaned forward, gently bunting his head against Simon’s chest, burying his face in the soft, warm fabric of his shirt.

“I know, Jack…” Simon whispered softly, running his fingers through the back of Bright’s hair.

Jack took in a bit of a stuttering breath, letting the tears finally slip from his eyes and pressing his face harder against Simon’s chest. He couldn’t explain it with words — he never properly could — why there was something about Simon Glass that just felt so… right…?

Jack had never been good with feelings. And right then, he was swept up in such a powerful wave of different emotions that, for a moment, he thought he may drown.

He had come to believe that kindness almost always came with some sort of strings attached… but not with Glass.

Never with Glass.

He felt loved — so genuinely loved — that, at times, it almost overwhelmed him because of how unused to it he was.

So Jack held onto that feeling, staying there a moment longer, breathing in Simon’s warmth and feeling that gentle rise and fall of his chest. Until finally, he managed to gather enough composure to speak.

And, naturally, in true Jack Bright fashion, he attempted to change the subject entirely — anything to deflect from the fact he’d just been crying.

“You’ve got the hands of a surgeon, you know that?” he remarked, looking back down to his shoulder, trying to pull back up his cool, detached facade… although his voice was still a little unsteady and his sentence ended with a bit of a wet sniffle. “…Or maybe a painter. Ever think you might’ve gone into the wrong profession?”

He knew Simon had to see right through this pathetic attempt at a diversion as well, but he went along with it anyway.

“Don’t think I could handle the pressure of being a surgeon,” Glass replied softly. “Stitching someone up is one thing… don’t quite think I have the stomach for cutting someone apart.”

“So you settled for just taking apart their minds, then?” Bright teased, exhaling in what was half a laugh and half a choked, hiccup-y sort of sound.

“What can I say,” he replied lightly, turning and cleaning up his supplies. “Much less blood.”

Jack exhaled another quiet laugh and Simon couldn’t help but smile, and somehow, just seeing that made Bright feel warm inside.

His mind pulling him back to that unexplainable way that Simon just made him feel right.

Because there was just something about Simon Glass.

Something about those warm grey eyes and gentle smile that made Jack feel so at home.

Something about that open, deliberate way he expressed his love that made Jack truly believe that he deserved this… That this wasn’t a mistake. That this was what it felt like to be loved on purpose.

And Jack, despite years and years of denying himself the right to feel this sort of feeling…

He loved Simon right back.

✨send me a prompt?✨

#sarah answers stuff #brightglass #dr simon glass #dr jack bright #uhhh. I got carried away #nearly 3000 words later. here we are #blood tw #needles tw #I am fucking cringey…..but I am free

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maximoffcarter · 3 years

Text

Bloody girl.

Pairings: Wanda x reader

Warning: Mentions of blood.

Summary: Y/n’s trauma was blood; she couldn’t see blood, she couldn’t feel blood, she could barely keep herself together at the mention of the word. She had struggled with this for so long after being an experiment and developing this unusual but not too weird fear. So what happened when Tony Start makes a special necklace for her but she keeps forgetting it? Only one person understood what she felt, only one person could help her out.

A/n: This was specially requested by @mionemymind, again, another amazing request and was fun to write :) I am back again! I take requests, I have other ships I can also do and if you have any idea you can either use the ask box or you can message me privately ;)

There are a lot of phobias around the world; some have phobia to spiders, to heights, to the ocean, etc. Y/n thought it was silly that they called her own a phobia, it wasn’t. They just didn’t understand what she had gone through back with HYDRA, they didn’t know how much she suffered for them to get her powers. They didn’t understand what she felt all those nights lonely in that dark and small room where she sometimes almost fainted for all the blood that she found on her or on the floor. It was an image that she couldn’t shake away, she’d try to look away and focus on the wall and the little marks she had done, counting down the days; waiting for her dead.

But even then, she hadn’t died. She got to escape that horrible place and that’s when Tony and Steve found her. They didn’t treat her right away, they didn’t trust her, judging by the clothes and her powers, they knew she had been another HYDRA toy. Maybe she could be worse than Wanda, or faster than Pietro was. They weren’t sure, they needed to keep her away. But they Wanda went to the basement where they kept you, in that small cell but somehow it was better that the dark room. She had stared at y/n and understood what she had gone through.

It took them 2 days to figure out who y/n really was, just like her phobia, as they called it, though they didn’t know how bad it was, just knew what the brunette had told them. Tony decided to help her out and create this necklace that she always had to use; the necklace included a small blue stone, it seemed to have something inside, but Tony had said ‘Do not ask, just use it and I’m sure it’ll help’ and she didn’t ask anymore.

The first time she trained, after 4 months, Steve had accidentally pushed her to hard and she had hit her forehead, drawing a little blood from it which made Steve panic because he thought she’d freak out, but apparently the necklace had helped, and she didn’t have a reaction to it. Steve had carried her to one of the rooms so they could check her and make sure she didn’t have any problem.

Y/n held a small bag of ice against her forehead as she waited for someone to come check her. She thought it was ridiculous to wait if nothing had happened, surprisingly, she didn’t see any blood, which was weird. She turned around when she heard a knock on the door and Wanda stood there smiling at her.

“Hey there.” Wanda smiled.

“Hi.” She offered a smile. “Are you going to be the one checking my forehead?”

Wanda chuckled softly and shook her head. “No, but I heard Steve freaking out, so I wanted to make sure you were okay.” She then made her way to y/n. “But I can take a look if you want me to. Not a professional but maybe I can make it better.”

Y/n swallowed a little as she noticed Wanda coming closer. She nodded and put the ice bag on the table in front of her. “Sure. Whatever helps to get me out of here.”

Wanda offered another smile before she walked closer to her, standing between y/n’s legs, and placing her hands carefully on y/n’s cheeks to take a better look. This only made y/n tremble a little, as she felt the warm hands on her cheeks; she wasn’t used to this kind of contact, so Wanda touching her was strange but…also sweet. And it wasn’t the first time, Wanda had taken her hand before and had hugged her occasionally, and yet, it was surprising and sweet. She had started to like this.

“It’s not a deep cut, thankfully don’t need stitches.” Wanda smiled as she grabbed the first aid kit to clean the cut.

“Well good. Apparently, Tony’s necklace did work.” Y/n smiled as she looked up at Wanda as she cleaned the cut, how careful and soft she was, she tried to not hurt y/n. She now had totally forgotten about what was happening, thinking how Wanda was so close to her, she could easily wrap her arms around her waist to pull her closer.

“It did work, and I’m glad. Wouldn’t want to see how you react.” Wanda joked as she blew a little on the cut. She smiled at her work. “I won’t cover it today so we let it breath but if it bothers you, maybe we could do it later.”

Y/n nodded. “Thank you.” She smiled again as she cleared her throat and laughed a little. “Uh…no, you wouldn’t want to see that. It’s not pretty. No one has really seen it or like…they have but…they didn’t care.” She tried to sound normal about it, trying to cover the pain she felt as she confessed that, looking down at the floor.

Wanda tilted her head and placed one of her hands on her cheek, stroking it softly. “Hey…” she made y/n look up at her and smiled softly. “We care. We would care. We are here to protect you. I am here to protect you.”

Y/n’s eyes softened at her words, building up enough courage to wrap her arms around Wanda, pulling her into a hug. “Thank you.” She whispered softly.

____________________

Y/n made a mental note to never forget the necklace. She normally didn’t sleep with jewelry unless she was really tired and she fell asleep, but this time she swore she would never forget it because it was the only think that kept her sane and didn’t make her faint because of the blood. But a mission at 2 am in the morning wasn’t very helpful for her to remember she had put it in the nightstand beside her bed. She hadn’t really noticed even in the way to the location, she was tired, but they had specifically asked for her to go, along with Wanda, Steve, and Natasha.

Everything was good, they were fighting the bad guys, and everything seemed to be cool. Until y/n had to fight with one of the soldiers and she had apparently broken his nose. She froze in place when she noticed the blood coming from his nose, she couldn’t hear anything around her anymore, she felt her heartbeat raising as she backed away. Shit…the necklace. She kept her hand close to her chest as she tried to find it but knew there was no point, remembering that she had left it back in her room.

So the next move the soldier made, y/n didn’t see it coming. She only felt a sharp pain in her cheek, and she fell to the floor. If it wasn’t enough to have seen the blood in his face, it was now enough as she touched her face and saw the blood in her hand. She breathed heavily and felt herself already dizzy as she looked up and saw the same soldier looking down at her, ready to end her. But in that same moment, she felt something pulling her away from him; the last thing she saw was Wanda looking down at her and then she closed her eyes.

____________________

Y/n opened her eyes and groaned at the bright light hitting right in her eyes. She looked around as she tried to figure out where she was. She turned to finally find Tony standing right beside her, apparently checking something as he hadn’t notice she had woken up.

“What happened?” Y/n asked in a whisper as she tried to sit down.

“Calm down there, bloody girl. You got yourself a good punch in the face. And also…” He turned to look at her. “You forgot your necklace. I didn’t waste my time for you to keep it here.”

Y/n sighed. “I know, I’m sorry.”

Tony shook his head. “It’s good, now we know what happens to you. I wasn’t there but judging by the cut on your cheek and you coming back asleep, I figured it by now.” He looked down at her and sighed. “There’s someone outside waiting for you, she has been waiting all night.” He said before he left the room and a redhead walked in, closing the door behind her.

“Wanda.” Y/n smiled softly.

“Hey you.” Wanda smiled as she walked to the bed. “How are you feeling?”

Y/n shrugged. “Better, I guess.” She then stared at her for a few seconds as she smiled. “You saved me. I remember seeing you before I passed out.”

Wanda nodded. “I couldn’t let you get more hurt when you were unconscious.”

Y/n nodded. “Yeah well…now everyone knows what happens to me.” She shrugged. “But…thank you. I just…I don’t know.” She chuckled softly.

“No problem.” Wanda smiled. “So…what happens now? Do you need a follow up or anything? Or-“

“No. I mean…I’ll try not to forget the necklace again which I know it’s gonna happen again if they keep calling us at 2 am in the morning.” She chuckled.

Wanda chuckled. “Well…I won’t mind saving your ass again.”

Y/n stare at Wanda without saying a word, not sure what she could exactly say after that. What did that mean? Though, she wouldn’t mind either if she got to be in her arms and- “Well then. I’ll hold you to that.”

____________________

And y/n wasn’t lying, she did forget about the necklace one in a while, when Natasha or Steve would suddenly wake her up in the middle of the night. Y/n made them promise that they wouldn’t say a thing to Tony because it was enough with the long talks they had gone through all this time. Steve said something about Tony trying to protect her, even thinking about doing a suit for her to help her out but y/n was okay with her own suit, didn’t need to be another Iron Man. But what really caught her attention, and really everyone’s attention in these accidents, was that Wanda never missed a mission with her, even if they hadn’t asked her to go, she would join them and she would always make sure y/n was okay, of course she would check if she had the necklace and if she hadn’t, she would make sure to protect her, forgetting there were other people to protect too.

Then, it started to becoming a routine to take y/n’s necklace for her or remind y/n about it, making a joke or just being serious with her, threatening that she would tell Tony about it. But how could she even care about it if Wanda was always there? They had grown close together and she felt bad to putting the necklace excuse just so Wanda could be there. But she also didn’t do in purpose.

After the training, y/n sat on the floor as she took deep breaths, trying to relax her body. It had been a while since she had joined the team and she felt that she was getting much better at fighting, she tried to put her focus on pushing away the thoughts and the trauma that still haunted her at times. She hadn’t noticed that Natasha had been looking at her the whole time, she waited for the right time to come to go and talk to her.

“Are you going to be like Steve that you’ll need like 10 punch bags?” Natasha asked as she walked to y/n and sat with her on the floor.

Y/n jumped a little as she looked at Natasha, chuckling softly. “Don’t have that strength but…wouldn’t be bad.” She smiled as she looked down at her hands.

“How’s the necklace thing going?”

“Better. Wanda won’t let me take it off anymore so I’m learning to sleep with it.” She took off the bandages from her hand and sighed. “If not, I’m gonna turn into Iron Woman if I don’t wear it anymore, sooner or later, Tony would find out.”

“Maybe so. Steve can’t keep a secret for long.” Natasha grinned. “Wanda has been behind your back for a while now, hasn’t she?”

“Yeah, she has. I know she’s…protecting me.” Y/n smiled at the memories and looked back at Natasha, furrowing her brows. “Why you ask?”

Natasha shrugged. “Oh…I don’t know. It’s new.” She said as she found a better position to sit. “Wanda didn’t really open up to just anyone. It took time before she started letting herself be with us. But the moment you came…she looked out for you. Maybe the age, maybe the similarities you both have…” She turned to look at her again. “I don’t know, but I’m glad.”

Y/n took a deep breath. “Can I tell you something?”

“Anything.”

Y/n looked back down. “I like her…I did…I did notice that somehow we connected, or we just got along but…I don’t know if she feels the same way.” She chuckled nervously.

“You could easily find out.” Natasha smiled. “Just tell her, bloody girl, there’s nothing to lose.”

“Okay. You know what?” Y/n turned to look at Natasha. “It is annoying of you all calling me that. It is not my fault that I can’t handle blood.” She laughed along with Natasha. Natasha knew she was trying to avoid the truth, but she wouldn’t be the one to push.

____________________

The next few weeks, y/n never forgot her necklace, Wanda made sure of it. And even if she had her necklace with her, Wanda was always there to protect her and not let anyone hurt her. There was a moment where Steve decided she would let both of them rest a bit and they wouldn’t do missions, just a small break. Wanda was scared that maybe then y/n wouldn’t want her by her side anymore until they got back to missions, but that wasn’t it. They had spent day and night together, getting to know each other better and just enjoying time.

Wanda had offered a movie night with y/n in her room, to which y/n excitedly said yes. She had thought about what Natasha had said, she wouldn’t lose anything, or maybe even Wanda already knew about this, but she had decided to not say anything. She wasn’t really sure, but the only thing she knew is that she couldn’t lose Wanda, not now, not ever.

Y/n focused on the movie as she laid down with Wanda, both of them had somehow ended up in each other’s arms but they hadn’t minded a bit. There was a moment were Wanda looked up at her and couldn’t keep her eyes away. Y/n noticed this but enjoyed it for a little more as she thought it was cute and also it made her feel nervous, but mostly cute.

“I allow you to take a picture if you want to.” Y/n teased as she looked down at Wanda.

Wanda chuckled at this, not even ashamed that she had been caught. “Might take the chance then.” She smiled and bit her lip; but then the moment was ruined with Wanda’s phone ringing and a text from Natasha saying she needed them both to go on a mission. “I guess we have to go. Bucky and Peter are nowhere to be found.”

Y/n groaned but stood up with Wanda. “I guess we are the best on the team so they can’t leave us alone.”

Wanda chuckled and nodded. “Maybe so.” She turned to look at y/n. “Necklace?”

“Got it with me.” She showed it before they both left the room.

Both of them were quiet in the way to their destination, Nat kept staring at y/n, almost as if she wanted to talk with her eyes. Y/n just kept shocking her head and staring back at Wanda every now and then, not being able to bring any words up. Maybe after the mission it would be good to talk to her and tell her the truth.

As soon as they got there, they were informed that they needed to get a suitcase from inside, there were probably assassins around and they had to be careful. Wanda kept staring at y/n, not wanting to leave her side but knowing she had to follow Steve orders. Everything seemed to be alright at first, they had gotten in, no one around, seemed pretty easy which meant something was about to happen. And they were right; in a blink of a second, they had over 20 or more people attacking them. Wanda tried to stay as close to y/n as possible, but she then had to leave her side for a second and that’s when it got even worse.

Y/n hadn’t noticed there was someone behind her who kicked her right in the back of her knee, making her scream from the pain and falling to the ground. When y/n turned around, her eyes widened with fear, trying to crawl back and get away from the person in front of her.

“Oh, sweet y/n…why are you so afraid?” The women in black asked as she kept walking closer to y/n, a wicked smile plastered in her face. “Didn’t you miss me?” She kicked y/n again, causing y/n to fall back, she felt the blood streaming from her nose again as she stared up. “Oh…I see. You’re not weak anymore? Why would that be?”

“G-Get away.” Y/n whispered in terror as she tried to crawl back, but the woman’s heel was right in her abdomen, making her unable to move for the pain.

“I don’t really want to.” She leaned down and took y/n necklace and stared at it. “This little toy keeps you from being weak? How pathetic.” She crashed it in her hands and punched y/n right in the face, not having any mercy on her.

As soon as Wanda helped Steve, she turned around and freaked out when she didn’t see y/n, until she heard the screams, filling her head as she looked around scared. “Steve…is y/n.” She turned to look at him.

“Go!” He yelled as he ran inside with Nat.

Wanda ran as fast as she could and gasped for the scene in front of her eyes. With one movement, she sent the woman flying against a wall, not caring about what happened to her. Wanda pulled y/n and knelt down until y/n was in her lap.

“Y/n? P-Please, say something.” She had tears in her eyes as she placed her hand on her cheek. She could feel how she was in pain and her mind was slowly clouding with nothing but darkness. She could feel how scared she was, the fear filling her whole body.

“I…the…t-the n-neckla-“ she coughed blood as she stared up at Wanda.

“I know. I’m sorry I wasn’t here.” Wanda cried as she moved y/n to her side. “You’ll be okay.” She nodded rapidly. “Steve, Natasha, tell me you have it, we need to go, y/n is hurt, badly.”

“Take her to the Quinjet, we are meeting you there.”

Wanda looked down at y/n. “Please, stay with me, you can’t just…look at me.”

Y/n looked up at her. “’m sorry…” she closed her eyes slowly.

“Y/n!”

____________________

“You’re saying they crashed the necklace?” Tony asked as she stood beside Wanda.

“Apparently, but…it wasn’t the blood anymore. It was…she was scared. She was in pain.” Wanda sighed as she looked at Tony.

“Well, I got some news for you, witchy.” He turned to look at her. “Y/n lost the necklace 2 months ago. I noticed because the one she was wearing, was fake one. She tried to fool us, but she couldn’t fool me.” He looked back at y/n through the glass and shrugged. “She found something or someone else to help her.”

Wanda stared at him for a while until he left, and left Wanda thinking what he had said. She stared at her through the glass as she tried to get her thoughts in order and figure out what he had really meant. She noticed y/n moving and she decided to go in and check on her. Y/n looked at Wanda and smiled.

“Hey, sleepy head.” Wanda smiled. Y/n moved a little to leave some space for Wanda to sit, groaning a little. “Hey, try not to move too much. You were hurt pretty badly.”

“I know.” She groaned as she laid her head back. She turned to look at Wanda and smiled. “Thank you.”

Wanda only nodded as she looked down at her hands. “I’m sorry about your necklace.”

Y/n shrugged. “Steve said he would give me a break from missions so. He better be telling the truth now.” She chuckled quietly, her hand going to her abdomen.

“Maybe if you told the truth, he would too.” Wanda said quietly almost to herself.

Y/n furrowed her brows. “What does that mean?”

“Why didn’t you tell me about the necklace?” Wanda looked back at y/n. “It was fake, you lost it. Why would you lie about that? What if something really bad happened to you?”

“Wanda-“

“Don’t. This was proof of what can happen if you don’t have the necklace. She couldn’t have broken the necklace that easily, but I cared more about you than what happened to that. Why didn’t you tell me?” Wanda now had tears in her eyes, remembering how badly injured she had ended up.

Y/n shrugged. “I lost it, it’s true. I…I didn’t want anyone to get mad at me, so I got one that looked just the same. I couldn’t have you worrying or Tony yelling at me for it.”

“But look what happened. You could’ve…you-“

“Wanda, nothing happened to me cause you were there.”

It was Wanda’s turn to furrow her brows. “What?”

“You…” y/n sighed. “it’s you. You have been helping me all of these months. The necklace have been lost for 5 months now. I didn’t even have it with me for not even two months.” She tilted her head. “You are my necklace. You helped me in someway to not freak out or slowly get this fear away. It’s not gone, I still get dizzy, but you being there, holding my hand, holding me…” she smiled. “it’s what keeps me okay.”

Wanda shook her head in disbelief. “But how…I just-“

Y/n shrugged. “I don’t think I can explain it in any other way, I just know that… you being by my side makes all fear go. I know I was scared last night, I know I was filled with fear because I didn’t know what she was going to do next. And it wasn’t for me, it wasn’t for the blood…I was scared that you would get hurt.”

Wanda’s face softened at her words, bringing her hand up to y/n’s cheeks. “You still could’ve told me this.”

“I was a coward, I didn’t know what to say.” She chuckled.

“You could’ve said that you liked me. Easy as that.” Wanda teased as she smiled.

“I do.”

Wanda tilted her head. “What? I was…I was joking.”

“I’m not.” Y/n smiled. “I…I like you, Wanda. More than I should. And I am sorry if this ruins the moment and everything but…it’s true. I like you. Maybe that’s another reason of why you help me.”

Wanda smiled softly at this and shook her head. “It doesn’t ruin it.” She leaned down and stopped just a few inches away from her face. “Not at all.” She whispered against her lips before she tangled y/n into a loving kiss.

Y/n smiled against her lips. “So, you’re not mad anymore?” She whispered.

Wanda shook her head. “No, if you promise you won’t keep anything from me anymore.”

“I promise.” Y/n smiled as she looked right into her eyes.

“But there is someone else that might be mad at you. And you do not mention the 5 months. He thinks it’s been 2 months.” Wanda shrugged as she laughed.

Y/n laughed. “Okay, that’s between us and us only.” She grinned.

Wanda smiled. “I won’t let anyone hurt you anymore. Not even a drop of blood.”

Y/n giggled. “I’ll hold you to that.”

“That’s a promise, bloody girl.” She smirked as she pecked her lips.

“Don’t you dare, not you too!” Y/n exclaimed as Wanda laughed uncontrollably, knowing it would annoy her. But y/n wouldn’t care anymore if it meant Wanda would laugh again.

#wanda maximoff #wanda x reader #wanda x you #marvel #one shot #tony stark #Steve Rogers #natasha romanoff #I take requests #wanda maximoff fic #wanda maximoff x you #wanda maximoff/you #wanda maximoff x reader

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marshmallowprotection · 3 years

Text

Birthday Title Screen

Saeran’s title screen underneath the cut alongside my thoughts and feelings on the matter. Under the cut simply because if you don’t want to see it, you can go and wait until it’s officially released by Cheritz in your time zone. Anyways, we know why we’re here.

It’s that time again and boy, aren’t we happy to be able to talk about it? Now, this title was advertised as Unknown so I expected Unknown. I didn’t expect my boy Suit Saeran to be on the title. The game tends to imply that Unknown is the just Suit Saeran, and vice versa, but I don’t agree with that notion but I’ve explained that one many times before but the game never confirms outright one way or the other so, you know how that goes.

I’ll spare you that, I’ve got plenty of posts talking about that opinion for you to find if you want, lol.

Either way, this is the first time that Suit Saeran’s gotten the pointed limelight like this. He’s usually meant to surprise the player because they may not see him in their minds as their trying to uncover the mystery and everything. But, we’ve got to say, Cheritz has thrown all spoiler fears out of the window. I mean, they just plastered Seven’s true name on a boat.

I laughed about that but I digress, you’re here for the photo and you want to see me shriek like a banshee.

So, yeah, let’s just our obligatory scream out of the way presently. When I saw this one, I could think was: Oh my God, it’s BE2. The only reason my brain just decided BE2 was because of the framing of all the presents. In that ending, he gives you gifts, he gives you food, but “you’re not good enough to open them or touch them, toy.” He’ll give you all kinds of things but you know, you get what he wants when he decides.

And crumbs, if you’re lucky on a good day, you know?

That being said, it doesn’t have to be framed as BE2, but the presents and gifts just lead me to believe that this is the theme or the idea that it’s taking from to show the audience because what else am I going to be thinking when you’ve gone and thrust that idea into my face like that? Mmm, and I’ve been talking about that ending a lot lately.

Here’s that post if you want to read more about BE2. It’s a tragic ending that is bad for both Saeran and MC. He’s trying to get you back like Humpty Dumpty but he can’t put you back together again. He realized too little, too late, that he liked you the way that Ray did, that he genuinely liked you for you. He can’t say that aloud, so he... tries cruel ways to bring you back, but it will never work and he’s doomed to despair.

No hope for Suit Saeran if the kindness heart can be destroyed in hell. It means it’s only natural that he lose everything.

I appreciate that he’s sticking to his goth theme, though, that party hat is just red and black.

Suit Saeran’s very... minimalist in the sense that he just picks things that are truly intense and sharp. That’s why he wears a suit. That’s because it’s the thing that he knows that can radiate power. Business men are supposed to be strong and forthcoming with their ability, that’s why he leans that way.

His father is like that, the idea of what power and monster is feeds into how he chooses to dress himself.

That’s why he just says, “Suit time.” If anyone was curious about that, anyway, I never seen people talk about that. Ray was given his clothes by Rika, he never got a say in how he dressed. The boys always pick something dark because it’s going to match their mood... their mood is how they pick colors and clothes if given the ability.

That’s why GE Saeran is bright and cottagecore. It reflects the positive shift in his thoughts and perspective on the world. But, with Suit Saeran, he’s trying to emulate what he’s scared of and what he thinks that power is and this is the only way he knows how and it hurts to think about when you frame it that way, I do know that.

Is that meant to be a stamp and playbook? Did Suit Saeran really make a whole illustrated guide for his puppet show? Is he really making acts and stories for all of this? He had to make those puppets himself. We know that Saeran is creative and can make anything, but those things are clearly handmade, hand-painted, I have a strong feeling that he made those clothes himself, too...

You know, I like to imagine him drawing his emojis before he comes to you because he wants to make a good impression, but he’s a very specific artist and he gets angry when he can’t get things right, so I’m really thinking about him being out here in his workroom, painting fine details with a determined look in his eyes like—

“This’ll show that toy. This’ll show them how powerful I am.”

Suit Saeran, honey, this is a gift within itself, you are a dork and I love you so much, oh my God.

TLDR; Suit Saeran makes puppets and makes their own playbook like this is going to a musical or the opera.

He actually brought you the exact outfit. This means that he either made you that outfit, or he got himself, and then he made a smaller version.

I like to think he’s crafty with sewing so I pretend he does things like this, but honestly, if you’ve made it this far, are you also thinking about the fact that he made a doll versions of the both of you to show you something?

Because I can’t stop thinking about that. He really said, “Look at this, I made us, toy!” Like, I wrote a whole imagine once where MC and GE Saeran made each other plush dolls of the other person to sleep with. He just went out here and made puppets simply because he wanted to put on a show. He made y’all and I’m gonna cry what a fucking dork.

This is canon.

My God, I’m canon.

Once again, I’m out here living my best life and nobody’s going to stop me on that front. Saeran wants to impress you and astound you so badly that he does not even realize that the handmade things that he’s making actually would be something that flatter someone.

Like, he could use those to patronize me and berate me for control, but—

I’d really be sitting there compliment his fine eye and craftsmanship. It’s just that great.

“Wow, Saeran. You did this all by yourself? These details are so realistic and finely tuned. This must have taken you hours... no, days, it must have taken you days to paint everything and stitch all of this together, even the little fine details are perfect. You’re amazing! When did you have the time to learn all of this?”

He would scoff, “Of course, I am, you blubbering toy! Don’t suck up to me and think that you’re going to be treated nicely. I won’t tell you anything about me. You don’t deserve that. I didn’t do this to impress you, I did this to show you what I want from you. Now, be a good little toy, sit there, and do as I ask. I won’t repeat myself.”

I find it interesting that he framed himself in the Savior’s seat here. Is that just a tie back to BE3, or is it simply his power play? I think it’s a comment on the fact that he struggles to know how much power that he truly has in his hands. That is to say, he says he’s the strongest, but the reality is, Rika is stronger then him and he bows his head to her.

Even in his fantasy, she holds all of the cards and he has no choice but to bend.

But, with MC, he is trying to use them to control his idea of power... because it’s a fragile thing. It could break at any second. He screams and shouts all that he wants but he knows, deep down, he may be strong, but he’s not the strongest in this place. How could he be? That’s why Rika even says to you during those late hours—

“Mmm, you noticed? He’s using you to stabilize himself because otherwise, he would crumble. Thanks for your sacrifice to helping me win my goals. It wasn’t a pleasure knowing someone as bright as you, getting in my way and trying to turn them against me.”

He only feels strong when something placates the idea in his chest. It hurts, even in his numb and confused heart, he’s hurting and he can’t figure out a way to get out of the dark labyrinth. Did he make the Mint Eye playhouse? Did he? I am saying he did. None of you are going to stop me. Saeran is a creative artist and I will not be contained any longer.

Cheritz confirmed.

You’re a doll on a string in this for him. He wants to say that he bends and controls you to his whims, but... he’s also there. This isn’t just you being a toy, it’s Saeran realizing that he’s a toy, too. Why else would he make a doll of his person, then? This is about him not entirely getting it, though. He would make himself but not realize what he’s implying to know deep down, underneath all of his yelling.

When I saw him in the chair, I thought... this is him in relation to being the marionette king. That’s why they’re doing this, oh my God. It makes sense to frame the MC as a puppet or toy, they’re always “his eyes” and “his toy” and more and more and more. But, he’s also being played for a toy by Rika to get what she wants.

Who is really the puppet here?

Who is really on the strings?

Look at that cocky bastard. Look at him. Look at him forever and deal with me screaming about him, oh my God. In conclusion, I’m having a lot of feelings at the moment presently and I think I’m going to go and lay back down because I am going to need a minute to unpack everything that I’m feeling and dealing with because Suit Saeran.

SUIT SAERAN!

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