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usaigi · 2 years

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Marc & Dad

Lunar sys au character cards | Read all chapters on ao3

CW: internalized ableism (oh hi marc)

They waited a couple of days before doing anything. Marc even texted his therapist for this time, outside of session, asking to talk about this at their next session. By the end of the session, Steven, Jake, and himself agreed that Jake would (slowly) explain their past to Birdy, starting with the truth about their mom, work up to the truth about their dad.

Marc thinks back to Steven, how his heart shattered like glass when he found out the truth about their mother. Maybe it’d be easier with Birdy–she has a support system after all. A system, a therapist, and Layla.

Or maybe not–it isn’t as easy to hate their dad like it was their mom. His dad never raised his hand, never raised his voice. That was the problem, wasn’t it? How he prayed day and night that his dad would, just once, raise his voice for his sake.

Ugh, maybe it would have been easier if everyone had been in the asylum afterlife with them, speed run right through the trauma to catch everyone up. Marc keeps that thought to himself, he can just imagine Steven scolding him with, ‘no Marc, that experience was very traumatic and we should be glad the younger parts did not have to experience it.’

His therapist's words echo in his head as he stares at the number, each digit flashing over and over in his mind. “Communication with alters has to come from a place of compassion and gratitude, it cannot be from a place of resentment. Birdy’s actions did hurt you and you’re allowed to be frustrated but it’s very likely that her motives were to alleviate the pain. There is a part of you that cannot move on from the trauma you experienced in your adolescence. Maybe you can, maybe your pathway to healing requires cutting all contact with your father. But maybe that’s not what Birdy needs, so you’ll have to negotiate that with her.”

Marc sat with that for a bit. Negotiate with Birdy… He dials the number.

Ring-ring-click.

“Hey Birdy, how are–”

“It’s Marc,” he says right away.

“Marc…?” his dad croaks.

“I found the messages.”

“Oh.”

“So. What do you think about this?”

“Do you mean what I think about your disorder? I feel terrible, all the pain and suffering I let happen, and like I owe you a million ap–”

“Cut the bullshit. You think I’m crazy, right? I’m still a pathological liar an–”

“Of course not, Marc. I’ve never thought that. I know I’m responsible, I know that I hurt you. I don’t want to hurt you anymore. I am really sorry for going behind your back, I knew it was wrong to get between you and Birdy but I couldn’t just ignore her. I’m still processing everything but… she’s my kid too.”

“So open minded…” Marc scoffs, listening to all the bullshit spilling out of his mouth.

“I won’t lie, it was quite a shock. When she told me that she wasn’t the real ‘Marc’ I didn’t know what to make of it. And then slowly it all clicked. Even just speaking with you over the phone, I see how different you two are.

“When she first started calling, before she told me, I thought it was a bit odd that you acted so…young. You acted exactly how I remember you, as if no time had passed.”

“Yeah well, a lot of time has passed. And I’m certainly not the same.”

“I know. And the fact that so much time has passed has been my greatest regret. But I know you had to keep your distance to be safe. I’m glad that you escaped.”

“So what, you have Birdy and you get to pick up right where I left off? She’s around the same age as I was when I left home so it works out great, right?” Deep breaths, Spector. Don’t let your anger show.

“Of course not. I can’t change the past, no matter how much I wish I could. When… she … died, I realized how much of my life I’ve lived in fear. Really says something when the first emotion I felt when she passed was relief instead of sadness. I was a coward and no matter how many times you tried to tell me it fell on deaf ears. There is nothing I wish more than for us to reconnect, all of you, but I will respect your boundaries. I just ask… if you wish to cut contact again, can you let me say goodbye?” His dad has always been a doormat; a bleeding heart fool.

Marc sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose, “What exactly did Birdy tell you?”

“Shouldn’t… you ask her?”

“I don’t want to fight. Can you please just tell me?” She was bound to tell Jake eventually, who would tell Steven who would tell Marc would then tell Layla, and somewhere along the way everyone else would find out. The classic lunar system gossip train.

“She calls me sporadically a couple of times, just asking about how I’ve been and how I’m doing. Then, she asked me if I’d heard of dissociative identity disorder or multiple personalities. Send me some books to read. Thought it was an odd request but I humored it.

"On the fifth call or so she broke down crying, she’s saying she wasn’t ‘Marc’ and her name is ‘Birdy’ and she’s fake and not my real son but she remembers me sitting by her side at the hospital. How the ‘real Marc’ refuses to talk to her about it and she feels so isolated because even her best friend won’t explain.”

“I’m not the real Marc either…” The real Marc died in that cave years ago, holding his brother’s hand.

“I um… starting seeing a proper therapist. I was seeing a grief counselor but it seemed like the right call. We talk about you. And…taking accountability for what happened. Coming to terms with the fact that in trying to be a pacifist I was actually an enabler. To abstain from violence is a form of violence. I share the blame with her; I hurt you too, I tra-” his voice breaks. Marc hears from crackling in the background before his dad composes himself. “ I traumatized you too. I know my actions aren’t forgivable but… I can’t move on if I’m living in shame. Been processing all of that in therapy.”

“Why now? I don’t need you now, I’ve built my own life without you just fine. I need you back then, why couldn’t you have come to that realization then? When it did matter. You had so many opportunities to change and help us and you didn’t.” Marc doesn’t even feel the tears until they fall down his cheek.

“I know… And I’m sorry. I don’t have any excuse that will excuse the pain I caused you. I was scared and in denial and– I’m sorry. No words will ever express how heavy my shame is. But that’s not important, you were a child and I’m sorry I didn’t protect you.”

‘You didn’t,’ he wants to say. But he closes his eyes, thinking back to when he was younger, and how badly he wanted to hear those words come out of his dad's mouth.

“Birdy told you about herself and the DID, what else did she say?” Marc asks, calmer than before.

“Not much. She says that Jake shelters her a lot. Mostly just about herself and how she’s doing. She did tell me about all the different alters. Aside from the new one, the business one? She can’t say his name. She said I've probably already met you all already.”

“Aren’t you… scared of us? You’ve seen the movies, aren’t you worried that we have some kind of evil alt–”

“You are my son, you don’t scare me.” That phrase sounds so familiar, sending him back to a darker time. But the tone, the delivery of his father’s voice is completely different; sounding self-assured, confident.

“So… what now?” Marc asks, after a moment of silence.

“It’s up to you and your system.” Negotiate with your alters.

“You’ve been reading, huh? Using all the correct terminology and all that crap.”

“Birdy says you haven’t. It’s mostly just her and Steven…”

“We have different hobbies.” From reading French poetry to Animal Crossing to protecting the world, different hobbies may be a bit an understatement. “I’ll talk to them. That doesn’t mean you are forgiven but if Birdy was so adamant to talk to you I guess that means some part of me wants it. Steven has been wanting to meet you too… and I’m sure Kid too. If I can convince Jake and Daniela then I’ll let you know. And Layla too.”

“Thank you.” Stopping for a bit before asking, “Layla…is another part?”

“No, no, she’s my wife. She won’t be happy with me if I take another spontaneous trip to Chicago without talking to her first,” Marc explains, although he doubts his dad will even understand the reference. “And I haven’t agreed to anything yet. We can always say no, you understand that?”

“Yes, of course. I will accept any conditions you and your system set.”

“You… won’t think it’s…weird? If you meet the others in person… It's a lot easier to pretend Birdy is Birdy over chat or even over the phone but we still… share a body. It’s… embarrassing.”

“Accepting who you are is my own responsibility not your burden. You shouldn’t feel like you have to hide who you are from me anymore. I’m really sorry I ever made you feel unsafe to be yourself.”

“I’ll…let you know,” Marc finally says, voice trailing off.

“I love you Marc. I didn’t say that enough to you growing up but I do.” His dad states, the voices endless bouncing around his head. “You don’t need to say it back”

“Bye dad.”

#moon knight #marc spector #steven grant #jake lockley #marvel #usaigi speaks #layla el faouly #mk lunar sys #lunar sys & dad arc

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strcngergirls · 11 months

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continued from here @theolderhenderson

elie was still trying to get use to the name change. after calling eleven el and switching it to jane was difficult. espeically when everyone still called her el. it felt wrong though to give a nickname of the number that was tattooed to her skin by an abusive man. elie still had no idea what had happened behind the walls of the lab. not for sure because jane never really spoke about it but she can only imagine what has gone down.

“listen, after the shit i’ve seen, you could tell me you changed colors and i would believe it.” after monsters, the death, the upside down, billy’s possession. who knows what else could happen if that was just the surface of everything. she listens as the other speaks. “more traumatizing.” she counters with a soft sigh. “he really didn’t help at all, huh? man was just evil and freaky.”

“they tried but she’s safe. being taken care of by someone i trust with my life. actually two adults that i trust. who’ve been there from the beginning of us finding all this shit. i’m not sure if they know. they’ve gone through every way they can to keep her hidden so i hope so.”

"Freaky is one way to put it." Francine can't help but laugh. For the first time in what feels like forever she feels seen, feels heard and understood. Something she never felt with anyone besides Ricky. But if Elie was telling the truth, if Eleven was safe and far from Brenner's clutches, she might be able to move on with her life. Ever since she left, a piece of her has been lingering in those hallways. A part of her mind that can't let go, can't forget about the other kids still in there. She always told herself she'd go back when she regained her strength, when she was sure she could take down the patriarchy once and for all. But when would that happen? Would all those kids die before she found the proper courage to do something about it?

She hadn't even realized she'd been holding her breath until a gust of air escapes her lungs, taking a heavy weight with it on the way out. She was safe. Francine didn't know how the girl managed to get away, but she wanted to think it was because of her and Ricky. Brenner had been caught off guard with the trios escape, his men were sent to look for them. Brenner only allowed a select few people to know what was going on inside the lab, so it wasn't as though he could just print a 'HELP WANTED' advertisement in the Hawkins Post to find replacement guards and orderlies. No, it meant his ranks were thinned and it might've helped Eleven get out. And maybe Henry had left, too. She desperately hoped that was the case.

"Thank you." The redhead has never said anything so sincerely in her life, or so it seemed. The Francine that existed before Hawkins Lab was dead, and this new hybrid of Fran and Six was all that was left. The guilt about her parents didn't exist anymore, instead replaced with a desperation to avenge the other kids in Brenner's care. Although she didn't do it herself, she was eternally grateful to whoever helped Eleven get out and stay out.

"I saw the way she looked in there. The way he watched her and controlled her like a pet. She deserves better than that." Francine wrapped her arms around herself, remembering the handful of times she'd seen the blonde little girl from behind the glass like a caged animal, not even knowing what kind of world existed outside those walls. Brenner had been so proud of his little experiment. He'd beamed when he told Francine how she looked at him like a father, and she remembered how it made her stomach flip-flop at the though of it. Her own father was evil, so she knew what it looked like. But even Roy Murphy wasn't as subtly maniacal as Martin Brenner. Her father was a fire, burning hot and destroying everything in it's path. Brenner, on the other hand, was like a venom. He slowly took hold until it was too late, until you were at the mercy of his bloodied hands.

"Is she..." Tramatized? Scared? Homesick? There were so many possibilities, and not all of them positive. Francine knew that Eleven wasn't under normal circumstances, but Eleven herself didn't know that. The Lab was all she'd ever known. "Is she happy?"

#a million years later ;a;#006. ━━ francine murphy ♡ interactions.#♡ queued ♡

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youngbugandtonystank · 3 years

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what's the difference between what wanda did to those people in wandavision and what tony did with ultron?

I have so many asks about this. Hate asks, and people wondering what’s going on. This is the only one I’m answering.

Both of them are responsible for their actions. I’ve seen people try and take away either Tony’s responsibility for that or Wanda’s engagement and accountability.

In Tony’s case, the Ultron program was supposed to be a global peacekeeping program to protect the people, acting as a suit around the world to prevent events like the Battle of New York. He was doing it in the name of peace and safety. Tony was rightfully scared because he was the only one who knew what was coming. Wanda intentionally enhanced that fear in him and this drove him to create Ultron with Bruce. He has responsibility for it. Same as Bruce. He owns up to this, he took full responsibility and agreed that they needed to be regulated.

Tony Stark: A few years ago, I almost lost her, so I trashed all my suits. Then, we had to mop up HYDRA... and then Ultron. My fault.

Tony Stark: There's no decision-making process here. We need to be put in check! Whatever form that takes, I'm game. If we can't accept limitations, if we're boundary-less, we're no better than the bad guys.

Tony Stark: That's good. That's why I'm here. When I realized what my weapons were capable of in the wrong hands, I shut it down and stop manufacturing.

If people think he needs to be in jail for it, then I’m guessing the rest of the Avengers too since all of them have made mistakes and killed people too. As a matter of fact, after the events of Wandavision, I’m sure that Wanda should be in the Raft, but because she’s ‘a poor baby’ yall won’t think she deserves that.

SPOILERS

It’s a big possibility that we don’t have all the info about what happened in Wandavision but we’re going to go with what we know so far.

In Wanda’s case, she did it to appease her grief and pain, and I can understand why she would get to that point, she’s been through a lot and maybe she was about to lose her mind. Instead of recruiting Wanda after the Sokovia incident, they should’ve given this girl treatment for her mental health problems. She just lost her brother and passed through a very traumatic war zone, of course she needs assistance. Cap and Natasha were the ones responsible for her because they were training the ‘new’ avengers. Sam was with them and he used to be a counselor to veterans with PTSD. He could’ve helped Wanda with some of her traumas. As shown in the series, Wanda did the whole hex business before meeting Agatha, which means creating that little reality was all Wanda’s responsibility. Hayward and Agatha did exactly what Wanda did to Tony (and the avengers/other people) in AOU. They manipulated her and played with her emotional traumas. Hayward showed her Vision’s body parts and Agatha started to pull strings to know how Wanda did what she did and her real powers while orchestrating against her.

Both of them have made mistakes. No one is better than the other. I don’t understand why some fans want to make someone responsible more than the other or blame one character for the other. While Wanda gave Tony that vision and pushed his self-destructive side to obsess over saving the world, he did create Ultron, what Tony didn’t predict was that the robot was going to corrupt itself. Same with Wanda, while Agatha and Hayward contributed to her trauma, she held hostage and isolated 3,892 people to create her perfect reality, ripping these people away from their identities and free will to fit her own fantasy. Don’t turn this into ‘omg poor her, it’s Tony fault that she’s this way'. I can’t believe I have to repeat this but you don’t see Peter Parker obsessively looking for the person who manufactured the gun instead of the criminal who actually killed Uncle Ben. Ridiculous that I have to repeat this example.

Oh and about Vision’s body (damn yall have a gift to turn everything into Tony’s fault for some reason). I can’t believe some of you think Tony (while grieving for 5 years) would give Vision to Hayward. You’re either pulling stuff out of your asses or you didn’t pay attention to the show. Maria Rambeau founded and was the Director of S.W.O.R.D. In 2018 (when IW happened), this is where she came up with a new policy within S.W.O.R.D. to ground snapped agents in case they ever returned. Maria was diagnosed with cancer, then two years later (2020), she passed away. Then, Hayward was promoted to Director of S.W.O.R.D., in his first years (2020-2022) he refocused the organization’s work from extraterrestrial operations to robotics, nanotechnology and artificial intelligence, etc. There, that was the 5 years. Then in 2023 it’s when he started project Cataract, which revolved around rebuilding Vision as a sentient weapon. Tony was dead when this happened. How come yall don’t get this part? I don’t understand, do you really think his dead corpse signed some papers to give Vision to those people? LMAO

Instead of thinking Tony would give up Vision just like that, think (possibilities):

Maria was the head of S.W.O.R.D., she might have just been keeping his body safe without doing anything with him. Maybe she trusted Hayward and he, obviously, betrayed her because he’s turning her organization into something else after her death.

One of the Sokovia Accords regulations states that the use of technology to bestow individuals (the term ‘enhanced individual’ in this book is defined as any person, human or otherwise, with superhuman capabilities) with innate capabilities is strictly regulated by the government, as is the use and distribution of highly advanced technology. Vision signed those accords ('I'm saying there may be a casualty. Our very strength invites challenge. Challenge incites conflict. And conflict... breeds catastrophe. Oversight...oversight is not an idea that can be dismissed out of hand’) The Avengers were no longer be a private organization and they operate under the supervision of the United Nations. This means they (UN) were the ones that referred Vision’s body to S.W.O.R.D., to a trustworthy leader, Maria.

Vision died in Wakanda, not in New York. Tony was missing for 22 days after the snap, the rest of the avengers should’ve taken responsibility for his body.

Why is it always Tony’s fault but never consider that other parties are also involved in this?

I want to address some other asks with this one. I know some of you are angry because people are starting to blame Tony all over again, so a few things to remember:

Tony did not create the Accords. The Accords were the result of all the collective actions the Avengers have done in their superhero careers. All of them have made mistakes and the collateral damage of that was taken into consideration by the government and 117 countries around the world. He signed the accords because he knew that he could amend them with the support of the rest of the avengers and he knew about Thanos (something big was coming).

Obadiah Stane (it’s so bizarre for me seeing that some people don’t know who this guy is, I’m guessing that the people who are watching Wandavision are too young to remember or didn’t watch the Iron Man movies at all which is highly probable) was the one selling weapons to the wrong people, not Tony. Obadiah was the CEO of Stark industries and became second-in-command for two decades. He grew jealous of Tony and began cooperating with the Ten Rings in Afghanistan, selling them Stark Industries weapons illegally. Imagine blaming all of it on Tony when Obadiah basically murdered thousands only because he felt a little green. If someone who you trust (he had no reasons to doubt Obadiah since he was like a second father-figure for him) does something behind your back (take into consideration that people like Pepper; who was Tony’s assistant and had knowledge of all of Tony’s activities and responsibilities, Rhodey; who was the liaison between the military in the department of acquisitions and Stark Industries, and Happy Hogan; who was his personal bodyguard and Head of Security of Stark Industries, didn’t know what Stane was doing either), how are you going to know about it? Tony trusted him. And when he realized what was going on he immediately stopped all of it. He worked hard to be better and people overlook that because they want other characters to look better.

Don’t act like Tony was the only one assisting the military. All of the avengers assisted in one way or another. Natasha (who used to be an assassin) was in the Red Room, trained in the Black Widow Program in association with Leviathan and the Soviet Armed Forces, served for KGB, etc. Bruce Banner used to work for the United States government and was commissioned to create a super serum for them. Same goes with the rest, Sam, Clint, etc. Steve Rogers was a soldier lmaoooooooooooooo like, what happened to Tony with Obadiah happened to Steve with SHIELD/HYDRA in TWS. He trusted the people working in there (SHIELD), served for them, did missions for them and as soon as he found out what they were doing behind his back he turned against them.

Knowing all of this, how is Tony always the villain for yall? I’m guessing because Tony’s popularity in the MCU, but still, aren’t yall tired of not understanding the plot and having people repeat it to you constantly? Watch the movies if you want to understand the franchise, people. Stop following the crowd.

Also, Wanda is not a kid, she’s a 35 year old woman in Wandavision, she was 26 in AOU and 27 in CW. Hardly a child. Tony had almost her same age (38) when he realized Obadiah was selling illegal weaponry behind his back. The only reason people don’t fully forgive Tony is because 1. he’s a man and 2. he’s a billionaire. Even if Wanda was poor she still killed and hurt many people over the course of her life. Stop trying to make Tony the villain only to downplay Wanda’s actions.

Both have killed people, both have made mistakes. They’re both responsible for them.

#wanda maximoff #wandavision #vision #tony stark #avengers #marvel #mcu #this is the only ask I'm answering about this #exhausting

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sentinelpri · 3 years

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Oh owo

What about a reader who's techno organic and joins the tfa bots? But unlike Sari they were made that way? Maybe a government experiment gone wrong or Powells up to something. The bots are pretty protective of the techno organic. However during a fight they get exposed to save their freinds??? The cons are taking an interest like excuse them

w h a t 👀 👀 👀

Hi! Glad to write this one, it seems fun. I'm gonna go ahead and make it Autobots Reacting To A Techno-Organic Reader and add the part about the Decepticons trying to recruit them in some of it, assume that the reader has become techno-organic in whichever/whatever way you’d like. Also assuming this request was meant to be romantic, so I'm going to write it kind of that way, if that's alright. Hope you enjoy!

Optimus Prime: Dude... He’s overly cautious with you. Doesn’t want you to use your powers until you fully understand them, doesn’t want you in the eye of the public, doesn’t want the Decepticons to know you exist, but it’s out of some weird combination of guilt and love that he has over you. He’s fallen in love with you from the very start, but he feels guilty that you’re always brought into his conflict with the Decepticons and even targeted by them, and sometimes that comes off in the wrong way. There’s conflicts all the time between the two of you, because while you argue that you’re an adult who’s fully capable of handling your own safety, he argues that he’s just trying to protect you and that for both of your sakes, you need to heed his advice. I imagine one of these arguments gets so heated that he just comes out of the box and admits to you that he’s not doing it only out of obligation, but out of the intense love he feels for you.

Ratchet: He’s definitely more mature than the others about it. He worries about you, but knows that you’re a capable adult, and that you aren’t his property to protect and lock down, but a beautiful, thinking, strong techno-organic who he simply wants to see happy. So, his form of protectiveness is mostly just tagging along when you go places and helping you when you either ask for it or clearly need it, but those things don’t happen very often. He’s happy supporting and loving you from the sidelines.

Bulkhead: You revealed that you were techno-organic to the Autobots as soon as you met and that you’d grown up that way after some sort of failed experiment that you didn’t want to get into the traumatic details of, but Bulkhead felt like he understood you pretty well. Both of you were large and scary compared to others of your species, often feared without others getting to know you first because of your power, judged without question, so he felt like he got you to a certain extent. He becomes noticeably protective of you after you start trying to join their battles with the Decepticons against Optimus’s orders, telling you that it’s not your responsibility to get involved in their conflict. You end up confessing afterwards that you love him and appreciate how kind he’s been to you, and that any battle of his is a battle of yours, and he can’t help but feel the same way.

Bumblebee: Bumblebee is both irresponsible and obsessed with you from the very start, which is a horrible combo. He was interested in you before he found out you were techno-organic, before you even technically joined their team, but for some reason, when you revealed your powers to the Autobot team to protect him from Blitzwing in the middle of a battle, he was told by Optimus to protect you- which made sense, of course. Decepticons were closing in on them and both the Elite Guard and the Decepticons wanted to take you for their own causes, and with Bumblebee being the closest to you and the best at getting out of conflicts fast, it was his job. He doesn’t take it as seriously as he probably should and uses it as an excuse to spend time with you, but you don’t seem to mind, enjoying the time watching movies and playing videogames and teaching him your hobbies/skills.

Prowl: Prowl finds techno-organics quite fascinating; you’re soft skin and (h/l) (h/c) hair and (e/c) with metal on your body in your transformed mode. You’re very alive and soft and delicate, but strong and durable and tough at the same time. He admires your beauty, your intelligence, your abilities, and doesn’t mind you assisting him and his team in combat like some of the others would, but he finds that he frequently has to help you assist in warding off attempts from Decepticons like Starscream, Lugnut, Blitzwing, and even Swindle to convince you to join them and help their cause with your powers. He doesn’t mind that either, enjoys the bonding that comes with battling by your side, even. The two of you sneak off a lot and go on camping trips together.

Ultra Magnus: The main reason you interact with him is that since unlike Sari, you’re an adult, and he wants to get to the bottom of how Cybertronian technology got into human hands to make techno-organics like yourself and Sari. So, with you and your team’s permission, he has the best scientists in the Elite Guard come to earth to do studies and research on you. He’s typically around supervising, and you and him become close, to say the least. He didn’t think he’d have much in common with you since you’re a young adult human and he’s an older Cybertronian, but you two have a lot of the same struggles; alienated by those you’re around for the power you hold, a lack of close relationships, unsure of how to handle all of your responsibility and the pressure to perform that comes with both of your positions. It’s difficult, and though he doesn’t divulge much, he finds it therapeutic to talk to you when no one else is around and finds himself harboring feelings for you after a while.

Sentinel Prime: Sentinel assumes you’re just any regular human until he sees you absolutely clobber the Headmaster in your newly transformed, techno-organic body to get his body back for him after you and Optimus find his head on the city streets of Detroit. He didn’t know you possessed that kind of power and realized there was a reason for that lack of knowledge when Optimus immediately started scolding you for using your powers. After that, you were on the news since some reporter caught camera footage of you in your robotic form, and Decepticons started trying to lure you out of the base and talk to you/talk you into joining them. If Sentinel was being honest, he’d been wary of you at first for being organic, but after you stepped up to get his body back for him with Optimus despite him having been so rude to you, his opinion changed, and he quickly started developing feelings. So, he volunteered himself to help guard you from the Decepticons and train you to fully utilize your abilities, even if you were fully capable. Throughout the weeks of him being by your side, he softens up around you a lot, learning to laugh and joke and even be vulnerable with you until it hits him- oh, dear, he’s smitten with you. Definitely the most protective out of all of the Autobots and doesn’t like you being out of his sight, loves spending time with you even though he won’t admit it, etc.

Jazz: He thinks you’re neat! As a bot who loves earth and earth culture, he’s fascinated by you, someone who’s both human and Cybertronian by the looks of it; you’re beautiful, intelligent, strong, and have an array of powers that you don’t bother hiding from anyone. However, that makes you a prime target for the Decepticons, who try to either eliminate you or recruit you whenever you have encounters, so Jazz is put in charge of keeping you safe and away from Autobot/Decepticon encounters while he’s on earth. You’re upset by it at first, upset that you can’t help your friends and need to be protected, but Jazz tries to ease the brunt of the emotional wound by keeping you company instead of acting only as a guard. The two of you share earth music, talk into the late hours of the night, and go exploring your favorite spots despite everyone telling you to stay at the base (it’s fine as long as he’s protecting you, right?). He falls for you pretty quick, admiring your strength and sense of adventure, and he has no problem singing his praises to you.

#tfa #transformers #transformers animated #optimus prime #ratchet #bulkhead #bumblebee #prowl #ultra magnus #sentinel prime #jazz #tfa optimus prime #tfa ratchet #tfa bulkhead #tfa bumblebee #tfa prowl #tfa ultra magnus #tfa sentinel prime #tfa jazz

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zodiyack · 4 years

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Who’s Watching

Requested by @cai-neki: May i ask a request; Youngest Shelby!reader one an angsty again, where someone's haunting the reader (she couldn't grasp if it's a past memory or person) ending up into various looks from her brothers thinking she may have a trauma but it turns out there is really someone following her around. Kinda long and messsy but yeah.

Pairing: Shelby & Gray Family + Shelby!Female!Reader

Warnings: Stalkers, swearing, my horrible reference in the title, angst

Words: 1,642

Summary: (See Request)

Taglist: @matth1w, @redspaceace-writes, @peakysputain, @fandom-puff, @darling-i-read-it, @cai-neki, @simonsbluee, @marquelapage, @sebastianstanslefteyebrow, @thewarriorprincessxo

Masterlist | Peaky Blinders Masterlist

Her chest heaved with uneven breaths as she slammed the front door shut behind her, back pressed against it. Her brothers walked in to see what the noise was about, surprised to see their sister’s disheveled body blocking the door.

“What the fuck happened to you?” Arthur exclaimed first. He eyed her with wide curious eyes, not all that sure whether he should be mad at her or getting revenge for her.

“S- some- someone-” She couldn’t form a full word with how heavy she was breathing, gasping for air as she rested her hands on her knees.

“Someone what? Did they follow you?” Tommy moved to the windows, looking around before drawing the blinds. “Are you alright?”

“W-wat-wah-”

“Water. Get her some water, Finn!” Arthur yelled before turning back to his sister. “Nod or shake your head. Are you alright?”

She shrugged.

“Do you need help?”

Again, she shrugged.

“Did they want to kill you?”

She shrugged once again, this time taking the water as Finn passed the glass to her.

“Can you stop fucking shrugging?”

A few gulps of water later, the cold liquid soothing her dry throat, she spoke up. Her breathing was still off, but she was recovering. “Someone was following me. I don’t know if they’re trying to kill me or if they followed me home, I just know that I did the thing you taught me-”

“What thing?” Finn furrowed his brows in confusion.

“Tommy. He told me that if I got a bad feeling about someone walking in the same direction as me, to turn a couple times, walk in directions off-route. This person followed me even then. As soon as I realized that, I ran as fast as I could. I didn’t even take the time to look back.”

“Good girl.” Every head in the room turned to Pol, who leaned against the door-frame of the family room. She slowly walked forward, moving her niece aside to look around outside the door before shutting it and locking it. Tommy gave her a questioning glance, to which she replied, “all clear at the front door.”

“Alright. Finn, go check the back, Arthur, can you patrol the house? If one of the doors were unlocked, they could have gotten in while we were talking.”

“Yep.”

The three waited in the main room for over an hour. Tommy and Polly took turns comforting Y/n as they waited for the boys to return. When Finn and Arthur did indeed return, Tommy was suddenly more doubtful than Y/n expected. Finn confirmed that all the doors were locked, Arthur reporting no one but themselves in the home.

Thomas turned toward his sister. “Are you sure someone was following you? Did you forget a turn and assume they were?”

“What?” Y/n’s face morphed into an expression of disbelief, hurt that her brother would question her. She was horrified, looking as if she’d seen a ghost, when she ran inside. The entire time she was running, her body felt uneasy, like she would faint had she stopped for even a second. It felt like her stomach had dropped.

“Are you one-hundred percent serious?”

“Yes- well- I-” It was ironic. She’d looked like she’d seen a ghost and for a split second, she thought it was a ghost. Had she been hallucinating? No, the chase felt too real. Whether it be a person or something from long ago, she knew it was after her. “I don’t know if they were human but-”

“You don’t know if they were human?” Arthur cackled. “Tommy, she thinks a mummy ran after her!”

“I never said that!”

“Was it a werewolf? Was he going to eat you? Gobble you up?” Arthur continued to poke fun. Only Thomas, Polly, and Y/n remained straight-faced. Polly noticed Y/n tearing up, the genuine hurt in her eyes saying that whatever it was, she was still terrified for her life.

“Arthur. Stop.” Although he continued to chortle, Finn’s laughter faded as he made eye-contact with his aunt. “Arthur.”

Finn nudged Arthur harshly. He stopped laughing and turned to Pol. “Yeah?”

“Stop teasing your sister right this damn moment or I’ll find whatever was chasing her and let it have you instead. She was beyond terrified. Look at her!” Polly snapped. “Can’t you see she thought she was literally going to die?!”

As the arguing went on, Y/n sighed and headed to her room. Her aunt was a great save, but that didn’t mean she believed her either. Only defending her due to catching how mortified she was. The embarrassment gifted to herself by a simple overthinking thought. ‘What if I was only imagining things...’ her brothers made her second guess herself.

The night went on, lights turning off, Shelbys and Grays lying in their beds, until everyone in the home was fast asleep. The windows and doors were locked, blinds drawn, and home quiet. The creaking of the wood, however, was new. It sounded like someone was stirring, but no one was awake to hear it.

Screaming awoke the members of the Shelby home. John had just returned, Ada as well, and had a head start to their sister’s room. She had sat up so quick it felt like she should’ve gotten whiplash. When the other four got to Y/n’s room, Ada was sitting on the bed beside Y/n, holding her close to her, and John was sitting on the edge of the bed, shooting her a sympathetic look.

“Did you see them again?” Finn inquired. Arthur slapped him up the back of the head, earning a glare from his little brother. “I’m being serious!” He whisper yelled at Arthur, only to be ignored.

“See who?” Ada looked at her family with widened eyes of confusion. She turned to her sister then back to her brothers and aunt. “What happened?”

“Ada. I’ll um...tell you in the study, okay?” Polly mumbled softly. Ada nodded and rose from the bed, hugging Y/n reassuringly before walking to her aunt. Both women stopped in their tracks as Y/n’s voice sounded again.

“I had a nightmare. The same person. They were in...here. My room. They opened my door and began to walk over to my bed. I couldn’t move. I was terrified. I thought it was all over, but another door opened and the person ran away. I screamed when I could, but for some reason, it was delayed.” She didn’t even take a break to breath or rethink details. It was like she was reliving it even at that very moment.

Tommy looked concerned. He whispered something to Pol before gathering his brothers and the other two females. They left the room, Tommy closing the door behind him, and left Y/n by herself to meet in the study.

“She’s got some kinda flashbacks or something like that.” Finn commented.

“We went to war, she...well, whatever happened, it wasn’t as bad as war. I doubt it’s some kind of thing she’d seen. Perhaps it’s her imagination again.” Arthur grunted in response.

The three older brothers had dealt with PTSD before, the effects similar to Y/n’s awakening, but Arthur didn’t believe she was hurt. He couldn’t bring himself to believe it. The man wanted his little sister to be safe, and knowing he couldn’t keep her so would hurt him more than the war did.

“I say it’s a trauma.”

“What kind?” Ada was quick to question Thomas, as per usual. “Injury related or event caused?”

“Either. If she hit her head, perhaps walked into something on the way home, or if she saw something she didn’t want to see...”

Unbeknownst to the family in the study, Y/n was on the other side of the doors. She pushed them open with a furry. “I’m not traumatized. Nothing that happened is from my imagination or some injury! This person is real and no matter what you do or say, they won’t stop.” She stormed out just as quickly as she stormed in, leaving her family to dwell in her warning.

She hadn’t left the home all day. It concerned the family, but they understood. No one had spoken a word to her since she’d made her point. When it was time to sleep again, Ada and Pol were the only ones to bid her goodnight, the boys cowardly, even more so when it came to admitting it.

The creaking occurred again. Y/n was awake this time, wide awake. The dream felt just as real as her escape had. Last night, she’d fallen asleep, given the person an advantage. Not tonight, she swore, not tonight.

Footsteps grew louder as they neared her door, the small squeak of the door opening causing Y/n to clench her eyes shut. Cold air followed the stranger; Y/n thought to herself, the person must have opened a window...but they were all locked, were they not?

She couldn’t be certain.

They stood over her bed, hesitating for whatever reason. Y/n had her own advantage this time. She wasn’t in sleep paralysis, she wasn’t incapable of showing the stalker what Shelbys learn since birth. Right as they reached for her, the mirror next to the wall by her bed positioned so she could see them, she slid under their squatted legs and darted out her bedroom door.

Behind her was not her concern as she ran for a specific room. Their footsteps thundered loudly, yet not loud enough to wake the rest of the family. Hot on her trail, they aggressively swung for her, but her distance was just far enough that they couldn’t reach her fully.

Reaching the room, she grabbed the first gun in sight, turning and firing. A few seconds later, steps padded throughout the house and stopped at the door. There they saw their little sister with a gun, standing over the person who’d been stalking her, wounded but not dead.

“Told you.”

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badgirlcovenrep · 3 years

Text

The Goddess' Blessing (of a daughter)

Chapter One

(NOTES: the raylla adopts Tiffany fic everyone's been asking for

this is going on AO3 once I get home from my sister's but I wanted to post here first. If you'd rather read it there follow me and I'll post once it's officially in there.

Obs: Tiffany is six in this. Mostly because I wanted to write our witch moms carrying their baby and canonically she's like ten so..... and she's also like severely traumatized. We'll get to the healing soon enough though.

+ Edwin is the best papa. And Scylla has p much already adopted this kid, she just doesn't know it yet.

It's half past six p.m when their train screeches to a halt at the Chippewa station. In all the chaos of the last couple of weeks, Scylla hadn't realized Yule was well on it's way. It is still mid November, but the station has been prematurely decked in civilian Christmas decorations, and almost every wall and corner twinkles in golden speckles and fake pine.

Tiffany had been dozing in and out of sleep on the bench next to her, holding tight to her stuffed parrot as well as Scylla's coat sleeve with her restless small hands that spasmed in pure energy even as she slept. Since coming back from Nicte's mission, Scylla had been in a frenzy to get everything ready for their trip, and Tiffany had followed her around the (no longer safe) safe house, clinging on to her attention with wide blue eyes. She'd always liked kids. Before everything happened Scylla even used to babysit for dodger families.

It was never a lot of money, but she appreciated the levity and humor kids carried. They had hope Scylla prayed she could one day get back. Hope that could only come from the fleeting innocence of childhood. But even then, Tiffany was special, she still had all those wonderful, bright things, and she carried them in bulk, spilling out of her tiny little hands for anyone to see.

Yet she was also touched by things so horrible Scylla sometimes shuddered awake in the dead of night, when her mind conjured up terrible nightmares of being in her place. Of being squeezed into a tiny cage, fed dog food, strung up on a stage as masked psychopaths snickered and passed around stones bigger than fists. It showed, sometimes, in how every once in a while her expression became somber and reserved. How she stopped mid-sentence, and Scylla could see the glint of tears in the corners of her eyes.

It reminded her of Raelle - Raelle, who'd sat in her bed just yesterday and snacked on the stupid expensive popcorn her mother had bought - Raelle, who also carried so much darkness behind her strong, steady demeanor - those were the parts of her Scylla couldn't help but want to protect, and as a result, those feelings also extended to Tiffany. Scylla lost a lot of people in her life, and she'd decided the day she found the child's parents that she would do whatever it took to keep her safe. Just like she wished someone might have done for her. Because that sort of hidden, desolate pain could just as well transform itself into something entirely awful if exploited the right way.

People around her start getting up from their seats, reaching to the compartments for their luggage, there aren't many of them making their way up North this time of year but they still fill the cart in humming conversations, deciding on what to do next or where to get dinner. Scylla takes this as her cue to skim her fingers through Tiffany's hair, gently nudging her awake, "Hey, T, wake up, we're here."

The little girl sits up, bleary eyed, and yawns, looking around at the commotion, "it's already Christmas?" She asks, catching a glimpse of the boisterous decorations set up outside.

"Not yet, no." Scylla chuckles, getting up from her seat to retrieve their own bags - they had everything the two could think to bring, and yet were still not much. A duffel bag for Scylla and purple backpack for Tiffany, with unicorn stickers and colorful buttons sewn to the front. Scylla had retrieved it, along with some toys and clothes, from the girl's home, "People just love decorating early."

"Oh." Tiffany quips, as Scylla helps her fit her arms into the straps of her backpack, then takes her hand in a steady grip once they are done, pulling the young girl towards the door to leave the train, "The lights are pretty!" She exclaims happily, blinking in wide eyed wonder.

Outside, November has definitely made itself known, and Scylla is glad they are both warm in their coats as the wind bites her cheeks until they turn a dark blush. She looks around for Edwin, not sure she'll recognize him from the pictures she'd seen Willa scatter around the house, but still willing to try.

For a second, in that moment, she thinks this might not have been a good idea. When Scylla agreed to it, she'd admittedly not been in her full faculties, brain too preoccupied with seeing Raelle again after so long to completely comprehend what she'd been offered.

After everything that happened, she can't help but be a little nervous to meet the father of her ex (?), the same girl she still very much loved. The girl who had run back to her in that dark forest a day before and clung onto her face until all they could breathe was each other.

If she thought too much about it, Scylla could still feel the soft, almost painful impact of her lips as Raelle knocked her off her balance and breathed fire into her chest like molten lava. It'd been so long, she almost forgot the kind of power Raelle had when she kissed. Like she was always on the verge of tasting your very soul. Their whole day back together before was so very delicate and tentative, air fizzling with electricity like the tension of a bow, pulled tight with an arrow ready to shoot.

The time they've been separated her heart was squeezed tight under an elastic band. Whenever she stopped to think, even for a minute, she could feel it taught, so very strained, reaching from the very inside of her ribs. It was there from the very start. The tightness was what propelled her diaphragm into breathing Raelle in that very first night they spent together, even if she knew she shouldn't, and then, it was what kept them orbiting around each other like their very own solar system. Never too far apart. Always wishing to be closer.

When they kissed in the clearing, hairs messy with the wild strumming of the bat just a few feet away, for the first time, she felt like the band released. The invisible string, so very tight, loosening from under her heart to extend around the both of them and wrap them in what Scylla could only describe as exhilarating, shaking relief. The touch of Raelle's cotton gloves, that she never thought she'd feel again - the taste of her lips, like blood and rain droplets and a mouthful of just her.

It left Scylla running on a high since she walked away from Raelle just the day before, in the early hours of the morning.

It's not how she hoped she'd meet Raelle's dad. Deep down, no matter how much she tried not to, Scylla had imagined herself, more than once, coming to the Cession hand in hand with the blonde fixer. In love and together, going home to meet the parents. It's bittersweet to be here with Tiffany instead, and she has to squeeze the young witch's hand slightly to ground herself from the urge to run.

To just take the child's small body in her arms and run- leave the station in lieu of a cheap motel, one with vending machines, where they could hide from the world a little longer.

When the witch looks down, however, Tiffany smiles reassuringly back at her, squeezing her hand slightly in return, and Scylla can't help the wave of affection that washes over her.

"Excuse me? Are you Scylla and Tiffany?" A voice coming from behind wakes them back from the moment, and when they turn, both come face to face with Edwin Collar.

Scylla's sure it's him. If not because he does still look quite a lot like the pictures she's seen, then because the necromancer can definitely see the telltale signs of Raelle written all over his face. It's mostly there in the kind drop of his eyelids, and the way his mouth creates tiny wrinkles of soft skin when he smiles, but it's there, nonetheless.

"Yes, we are, nice to meet you, Mr. Collar." Scylla greets, settling down her bag to shake his hand.

"Of course, it's amazing to finally meet you. Raelle talked you up a storm," he declares, chuckling proudly, "only good things, I assure."

"Oh, I'm sure I don't deserve that." She let's out, hoping it sounded more playful than it feels for her.

"Nonsense. You seem like a kind girl." The man decides, with a solemn nod, before turning to Tiffany, "and you- Tiffany, I'm very happy to have you with me this week as well, I'm sure we'll have lots of fun together."

"Thank you, Mr. Collar." The small blonde replies, half-hiding herself behind Scylla's pant leg.

"Let's go then. It's getting cold." Edwin finally declares, taking Scylla's bag from the floor without a question. The girl goes to complain, but he cuts her off before she can - "and don't fight me on this. Raelle also never let's me carry her bags, for once I'd love to help."

Scylla still wants to protest. Mostly because she feels that they have already asked so much - and she doesn't quite deserve the kindness - but he seems sincere, so she nods instead, and with the affirmative, all three begin their way to the parking lot.

"Is Raelle your friend?" Tiffany asks innocently, skipping happily over her boots.

"Uh- she- yeah, I guess you could say that."

"Well, you said we were going to a friend's dad's house." Tiffany notes. "Where is Raelle then?"

"About that-" Edwin stops in his step, "did you see her? How is she?" He asks, an uneasy tension settling over his demeanor as he studies Scylla for answers, "they told me she was alive but that was it-"

"She's okay. I saw her yesterday, she was well." The brunette assures, and that seems to send a wave of relief over the man, who breathes deeply before continuing their walk along the various cars.

"Oh, thank goodness." He sighs, "when those people took her I thought- I'm so glad she's okay."

"Yeah. We were all worried." Scylla declares. And this, she can relate to. The way he cares so much for Raelle, it spills into the very movement of his expressions. It's familiar, and it warms her heart. She decides right then that she likes Edwin.

"Did the bad people take Raelle too?" Tiffany questions, frowning in scared surprise as they reach Edwin's old truck.

Scylla sighs, not having revealed much of the mission she'd gone on the day before. She knew it'd be scary for her. Tiffany was still very much traumatized, and rightfully so, after everything she'd been through. But Tiffany was also very smart- and observant. She'd catch up eventually and Scylla feels stupid for not dealing with this before coming.

"Yeah. They tried to hurt her, but me and her other friends didn't let them." The necromancer assures, as she helps the girl into the backseat and clicks in her seatbelt, "she's okay now. We're all safe here."

"Oh- Okay." Tiffany nods, but Scylla can see the doubt shining under her eyes.

Scylla wishes she knew what to say, but words fail her, so she squeezes the girl's hand reassuringly once more, winking in what she hopes is humorous solidarity, before closing the door.

***

Raelle's house is just like she imagines- small, rustic - surrounded by a thick canopy of trees and bushes. It reminds her of the places she used to stay with her parents, scattered over random cities all over the U.S. Scylla likes it.

"It isn't much, but we always have warm dinner and pancakes in the morning." Edwin quips, humbly, as he leads the pair of witches to Raelle's room, "you can stay here. Hope it is comfortable."

"This is more than enough, Edwin." Scylla smiles gratefully, "it's too much, really. Thank you for letting us stay."

"Nonsense." He waves his hand with a half embarrassed chuckle, "It's good to have people here again. After Rae and Tally left everything feels a lot quieter." Scylla nods in agreement, as the man turns to leave the room, the two witches inside watching him carefully, "You guys should change and rest a bit- I'll call you for dinner.

Scylla thanks him, and waits until the door clicks behind his back to turn her attention to the luggage that had been settled over a random chair. The room is filled with so much Raelle, she can't help but notice the letters, pictures, memories and song lyrics, glued to every single wall, from a time before Fort Salem, before them.

The blonde used to leave notes on her dorm walls back at Fort Salem. Lots of silly things like "I'll be back after training" or "You fight people in your sleep. It's cute.". Scylla wonders if they are still there or if they've been taken by the army when she was captured. It doesn't matter anymore, the necro realizes, and she shakes her head in an effort to bring her attention back to the room.

"You should put on some pajamas." Scylla says toward Tiffany, who sat, grievously quiet, at Raelle's bed.

She looked thoughtful, in a way regular six year olds don't quite show unless they have to go through way too much. Her small, bright eyes hide barely concealed darkness as she shifts her looks everywhere but at the older witch.

Scylla sighs, finding this place - this relationship - so very painfully familiar. She'd been the scared little girl last time, feeling so very small and alone. And now, as the adult, she was definitely going to try her best not to fuck it. As difficult as it might be. The world didn't need another suffering witch.

After a few minutes of silence, Scylla realizes she was not going to get an answer, so she opens the girl's backpack and fishes out a pair of mermaid themed leggings and t-shirt, along with the small bag that carried her tooth and hair brushes along with some other toiletries. Scylla places the items by Tiffany on the mattress, kneeling in front of the young witch and studying her clear, soft little face.

"Hey. Are you feeling alright?"

"Are the bad men coming here to hurt us?" Tiffany asks, instead of a response, and Scylla frowns in worry.

"No, of course no-"

"They came and took Raelle too." Tiffany notices, tears escaping from her eyelids that Scylla dries up with her thumb, "and they hurt Miss Willa, the other kids' at the office and my mommy and daddy. What if they come here again? What if they really hurt us this time?" As the questions stumble out of her mouth, sobs begin to wreck across her throat until she's shaking, ever so slightly, with the force of her tears and heavy, panicked breathing.

Scylla sighs and rises from the ground to cuddle the girl close to her chest, squeezing tight until she can feel Tiffany's little arms squeeze her back. Scylla's afraid too - most of the time, if she allowed herself to be honest - Ever since watching Raelle leave her in that cell the year before, the girl could feel even more perfectly the path of death and destruction that marked their (the witches') way through the world.

One of the bad things about being a necro - Death didn't like not being known, and it showed itself insistently, to anyone able to notice.

"We don't know whether or not they'll come again." Scylla ends up responding, sincerely, as she squeezes her arms even tighter around the little girl, "but I won't let them hurt you, you hear me? I dealt with them before, I can deal with them again."

"No" Tiffany shakes her head, frowning up at her in teary-eyed fear, "You too. You're safe too. I don't want you to get hurt either."

"Hey." Scylla forces out a chuckle, trying to lighten up the situation for the young witch's sake, "don't be silly, ok? I'm pretty much invincible."

Tiffany doesn't laugh, her breathing having somewhat returned to normal. The girl just stares back at Scylla with a seriousness that's all too unfair, coming from a six year old, and she reaches out, her pinky finger lifted in expectation, "Pinky promise you'll be safe too? Please?"

Scylla knows she shouldn't. The truth is, she doesn't know what will happen. After their plan to capture Nicte was said and done, Scylla barely had any idea what she would be doing now. But Tiffany obviously needs the reassurance, from the way she stares ever so desperately at the necro's face.

"Okay, I pinky promise." Scylla smiles, trying to convey some calm toward the other girl as she let her pinky link with the smaller one. It seems to work, as Tiffany's expression softens and her tense posture falls, "now let's get you under a shower and into some pajamas, ok? You're a very smelly little witch right now."

"Am not!" Tiffany replies, and Scylla can't help but full on laugh this time, pulling the small girl to Raelle's bathroom as she mockingly protests.

Second chapter is almost done, just needs to be read over for mistakes. For C2, Raelle calls home, Scylla meets old dodger friends and she also has an important conversation with Edwin.

Hope you guys enjoyed!

#motherland fort salem #scylla ramshorn #raelle collar #raelle x scylla #motherland: fort salem #raylla #taylor hickson #amalia holm #mfs tiffany #tiffany mfs

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makeste · 3 years

Note

Do you think Deku will ever get mad at All-Might for keeping so many secrets from him? Deku has been giving All-Might free passes on things he should have known about like AFO, previous holders of OFA and now that Tomura is Nana's grandson. It feels like AM needs to be held accountable at some point.

I think it’s likely; he’s gotten fairly mad at him about this before, back when All Might hid the truth about his falling-out with Nighteye.

and he’s probably going to feel a bit betrayed at the realization that All Might is still keeping things from him even after this conversation. and it’s not like it’s just small things, either; these are some pretty major things that Deku is still getting blindsided by as a result of All Might’s secrecy. it feels like AM hasn’t really learned his lesson at all and is still Dumbledoring his way through this mentorship.

but the thing is, I can understand All Might’s point of view here as well, and I get why he keeps doing it, even if I don’t agree with it. I’ve been meaning to write a post about this anyway, especially since it ties into the matter of the Fourth OFA User and his quirk, so let’s take a look at All Might’s ever-growing List of Secrets, because there’s a pattern there.

1. OFA

starting with the big one. now obviously Deku is very much in on this particular secret. however it is still a secret from just about everyone else, and it’s probably the one secret that All Might has been the most adamant about keeping, going to increasingly elaborate lengths even as it becomes more and more obvious that all of these efforts are eventually going to prove futile.

the thing is, it’s pretty obvious why he’s been trying so hard to keep the truth of Deku’s quirk hidden. OFA paints a huge target onto Deku’s back, one that would attract notice not just from the villain side, but from the hero side as well. OFA is basically the ultimate prize. it’s probably the most powerful quirk in existence, aside from AFO. and once word gets out that this power can be passed on to literally anyone simply at will, things could start getting very ugly.

Deku would suddenly come under pressure from all sides, with people trying to use and control him (well, I say “people”, but mainly I mean the HPSC sob). that’s if they see him as a useful tool and a weapon in the battle against the League, mind you. but if they decide that he’s not, or that he’s not ready, there would instead be pressure for him to give up OFA to a “worthier” candidate. either way, Deku himself isn’t going to be taken into account. his thoughts, his feelings, what he wants, what he deserves; none of that is going to matter to these people.

and these are the good guys, mind! that’s not even mentioning the villains, who have already destroyed an entire city in pursuit of him. Deku is in a lot of danger now. and so far, Tomura/AFO have been surprisingly honorable in their attempts to get ahold of OFA, in that they’ve been targeting Deku directly. but AFO is a notoriously underhanded guy, and it concerns me that there are a ton of more underhanded methods still on the table for him to try out. because we’ve already established that Deku is notoriously self-sacrificing. I mean literally notorious, as in both his friends and enemies alike have all picked up on this trait and made a note of it. so imagine if Tomura ever decides to take hostages, for instance. “give me OFA or I’ll kill so and so.” then what?? jesus.

so yeah, all in all it’s pretty clear why All Might has been exceedingly careful about keeping OFA a secret even from most of Deku’s allies. this isn’t even getting into the whole U.A. traitor thing as well, but I mean, you get the idea, right? the reason All Might has gone to such lengths to keep OFA a secret is to protect Deku.

2. AFO

and now we get to the first of many things that All Might kept hidden from Deku himself! and these are generally going to be a lot harder to defend. like yeah, you probably should have told this barely-pubescent child that that the quirk you were giving him came prepackaged with a built-in mortal enemy, All Might. might want to actually lead with that part next time.

so why didn’t he tell Deku about AFO? well first of all please understand that I’m not trying to justify this decision, lol; I’m just trying to rationalize it from All Might’s point of view. he was less than six years removed from his fateful battle with AFO in which the both of them were gravely injured. and yes, he said that he believed AFO had died from his wounds; but if he really thought that was true, why didn’t he listen to Nighteye and pass OFA on to someone else back then? why did he stubbornly stay in the field for as long as he could? his actions just don’t line up. if he really thought AFO was dead, you’d think he would have been able to retire in peace, as there wouldn’t have been such a great need for the Symbol anymore.

so honestly, what I’m learning towards here is that he didn’t really believe it, deep down. but once his powers really started to wane, he felt like he had no choice but to pass the quirk on to someone else and just hope for the best. and then, once he met Deku, I think he really started to want to believe it was true. because he empathized with Deku and he saw himself in him, and he wanted to give him that chance. Deku wanted so badly to be a hero, and All Might saw that he had the heart and the spirit of one, and only lacked the physical ability. and there All Might was, with a quirk he could bestow on him that could potentially make his dream come true. he wanted to believe he could do that. he convinced himself that the threat of AFO really was nonexistent -- after all, it had been six years! -- and that it wasn’t a burden he was passing down onto this child anymore, but a gift.

and so he didn’t tell Deku about AFO because he wanted to believe it wasn’t something Deku needed to know. so in this case it wasn’t just Deku he was essentially lying to, but himself as well. so yeah, not the best rationale in the world, but a very human mistake for him to make, and one that once again has its roots in wanting to protect Deku. or more precisely in this case, wanting to protect Deku’s dream. he wanted to believe it was all right for him to hand down this power which he so strongly believed that Deku deserved.

3. the Vestiges

honestly it’s a bit up in the air whether or not this one was really a secret, because All Might genuinely didn’t seem to realize that the Vestiges were conscious inside of OFA. or so he says at any rate. regardless, I’m going to include it in the list because he was definitely acting pretty cagey about the subject back during the sports festival, and I’ve never been fully satisfied with his explanation.

if you ask me? I think one of the reasons why he didn’t want to discuss this more in depth with Deku back then was because he was afraid it might inadvertently lead to some other topics that he wasn’t yet ready to discuss.

the idea of the previous OFA users living on inside the quirk is comforting in some ways, but that’s also a conversation that inevitably leads to the subject of AFO and AFO’s brother just for starters. not to mention Nana, whose death was deeply traumatizing for him and which I don’t think he was emotionally prepared to bring up just yet.

but I think the biggest factor that led to All Might being mum about this was the fact that he himself was included among the Vestiges. because I’m thinking he might have been a bit paranoid about avoiding a conversation like this:

All Might: “hey Midoriya-shounen, I just wanted to let you know that those weird little shadow figures you saw during your fight were the ghosts of the previous users of OFA, who are all living on inside of the quirk. my master once told me, 'even if I die one of these days, we can always meet again inside One for All.' so you know, that’s nice.”

Deku: “huh okay, so you’re telling me I have the souls of eight other people trapped inside my quirk, well that’s pretty trippy but I’m a weird little boy who lives for this kind of wild quirk shit so I’m okay with it! but it’s not like it matters though anyway since you’re still here to guide me haha! it’s not like you have any reason to suspect that might not be the case in the very near future, right?”

All Might: “...right.”

so yeah. once again, the reason for All Might keeping this a secret is because he doesn’t want to burden Deku. spoiler alert, the next two secrets also have the exact same reasoning behind them. in fact I’m just going to go and lump them both together.

4. Sir Nighteye, and 5. Sir Nighteye’s prophecy

so #4 is the one that actually finally set Deku off in the scene I posted earlier lol. and yeah, All Might should have told Deku, especially since it was inevitable that Deku was going to find out anyway. once he learned about Nighteye and All Might’s falling-out, him finding out about the prophecy was a given. and so once again I want to stress that I’m not actually trying to defend All Might’s decision here lol. just trying to relate to it.

anyway but that said, the reason why he didn’t tell Deku is pretty straightforward: he didn’t want to burden Deku with that knowledge. he knows Deku looks up to him. he knows that Deku looks to him for support. and All Might has spent his entire career doing everything he could to be that strong support for everybody, for the entire nation. he wants everyone to feel secure and safe. he wants nothing more than to be able to keep them safe. and it’s so hard, when you have that mindset, to let yourself show weakness and allow the cracks to show and to admit and accept that you can’t protect people from everything, no matter how bad you want to.

how do you tell the kid you’re mentoring, the kid who’s come to depend on you for so much, that there’s a good chance you might not be around much longer? that there’s a good chance he’ll be left to deal with everything all on his own, the same way that you were? how the hell do you even begin to approach that conversation? especially knowing what kind of person Deku is, on top of everything else. for a hero, someone who’s dedicated their whole life to helping and protecting others, nothing is more devastating than being told that something terrible is going to happen, and that no matter what, there is nothing you can do to change that fate. that alone would have been reason enough to not want Deku to know. he didn’t want him to experience that kind of helplessness.

and Deku is still just a kid!! Nighteye, a fully grown man and a hero with years of experience, completely fell apart after that prophecy. meanwhile Deku just started hero school less than a year ago. he’s only sixteen. he is far, far too young to have to deal with all of this. yes, he needed to know, both as a matter of trust and as a matter of practicality. but the fact that he needed to know is pretty fucking cruel on the universe’s part, and I get why All Might was so reluctant to tell him. I get it.

side note!! I feel like it’s worth mentioning that this one is still a secret as far as a certain other person goes. like, I feel that’s pretty noteworthy. pretty much every other person who knows about OFA also knew about Nighteye’s prophecy, including Rat Principal, Recovery Girl, Gran Torino, and Nighteye himself. (although it’s not clear whether or not Naomasa knows, come to think of it. but it’s likely, since All Might probably physically can’t lie to him lol.) and of course, Deku now knows as well.

but aside from Naomasa, there is one other person who’s notably missing from that list.

Kacchan knows about OFA and AFO, but neither All Might nor Deku have told him about the prophecy. even though Katsuki has firmly elbowed his way into the OFA Scooby Squad and knows about all sorts of other things including SIXQUIRKS and the Vestiges and all that jazz, and he’s been helping Deku train and has been included in pretty much everything for months now, he still doesn’t know about this.

and honestly, this might be the one time where I actually agree with All Might’s decision. I say that as someone who loves Katsuki to pieces and very much wants him to find out about this, because I’m mean and because I love angst. but once again, I get it, though. because you probably don’t want to tell the kid who was thinking this...

...that at the time, when you came to save him back at Kamino, you were thinking something like this:

yeah. I’m just saying. I don’t think it does Katsuki much benefit to know that All Might originally went out to Kamino fully expecting that it would be his last battle, and fully prepared to die the horrible death that Nighteye foretold. like, on the one hand there’s definitely an argument to be made that Katsuki should know about the prophecy just so that he’s prepared in case anything does happen, because he would then be the one to have to step up and replace All Might as Deku’s primary support. (and this is something All Might already seems to have been grooming him for in recent months, which is a bit of a red flag as far as All Might’s mortality prospects are concerned, but that’s another discussion for another day.)

but on the other hand, Katsuki is a pretty smart kid. and if and when he does find out about this, there’s a good chance he’s going to connect the dots and realize that Kamino was actually a hell of a lot riskier than All Might ever let on. and there’s close to a 100% chance that he starts blaming himself all over again if he ever learns that. I don’t think it would set him back too much, because he’s made a lot of progress, but I do think that even now it’s still something that he feels a lot of responsibility for. and so really this is just an additional burden that he doesn’t need to be carrying on his shoulders. Deku’s not the only one who’s still just a kid.

anyway! so tl;dr this is yet another case where All Might was keeping something a secret because he didn’t want to burden Deku. and is, in fact, STILL keeping it secret from Katsuki because he doesn’t want to burden him, either. basically just trying to protect both of these kids here.

6. Nana’s relation to Tomura

almost done with the list now! for real though, it’s crazy how many of these there are. how can one man have so many secrets. like seriously, calm the fuck down, All Might.

so! again, Deku should arguably have been told this as soon as it became clear that the responsibility of dealing with AFO and Tomura was going to fall to him. except, I guess, the thing is they didn’t think it was going to fall to him. or at least they hoped it wouldn’t. AFO was in Tartarus, and Naomasa and Gran were planning on hunting down Tomura and the League themselves. and Deku is just a high school kid with an internship. so in an ideal world, he would have never gotten near Tomura, and vice-versa. the adult heroes in BnHA may be inept as fuck, but I’ll give them credit where due: none of them wanted this kind of responsibility to ever fall on any of the kids until they were ready. even during this arc, the kids were all originally assigned to the evacuation teams, and the handful who were on the front lines were there because it was essential to the mission. and even then they pretty much had assigned babysitters (Midnight, Fatgum, etc.) shadowing them the whole time and ready to haul them back out as soon as their tasks were accomplished. like, don’t get me wrong, the child soldiers thing was and is still very fucked up, lol. but they were clearly trying to keep them out of harm’s way.

anyway! and so of course this applies to Deku as well. never mind that he’s All Might’s heir and well on his way to becoming more powerful than anyone could have ever dreamed. he’s still just a teenager. and we don’t send teenagers out to hunt the bad guys. we leave that to the adults, supposedly. and so in these guys’ minds, there really wasn’t any reason to tell Deku about the whole Nana/Tomura connection, because even if it was true, in their minds it’s not really relevant to Deku. they weren’t planning on him and Tomura becoming arch-nemeses. and so it was really just another thing that All Might presumably didn’t want to burden him with at the end of the day. “by the way, Midoriya-shounen, you should know there’s a possibility that Shigaraki Tomura is actually the grandson of my late mentor whom All for One killed.” that’s basically just a very unfun fact that Deku can do absolutely nothing about, except feel bad about it. it doesn’t change the fact that Tomura is still a mass murderer who’s eventually going to have to be captured or killed. so in All Might’s mind there’s really no benefit to telling Deku about any of this.

anyway! and so now finally, last but not least,

7. the Fourth OFA User

so now we finally get to the one secret we don’t actually know yet! OFA IV, and his whole mysterious deal.

All Might, after doing all that research on the previous OFA users and their quirks, suddenly changed his mind at the last second and decided not to tell Deku about this one specific user and his quirk (and notably, his cause of death). why is that?? “I don’t want to speculate and talk about things I’m not sure of...” really?? so you think the better option is for him to be unprepared and to not have any idea of what’s coming, then??

no, seriously. I’m seriously asking that. does All Might, in fact, think that it’s actually a better option for Deku to not know anything about the fourth user than for him to be aware of it. I am genuinely asking that question, because I truly suspect that this might actually be the case.

because, you see, that’s the pattern. if you look at all the other things he’s kept hidden either from Deku, or from others on Deku’s behalf, that’s the one thing they all have in common. he kept them secret in order to protect Deku. either to shelter him from the burden, or to keep him safe from people who might try to do him harm.

so I think it’s safe to say that even though we know absolutely nothing about this particular secret yet, it’s still going to follow that same pattern. All Might isn’t telling Deku about the Fourth yet either because he doesn’t want to burden him with something, or because he thinks there’s some other reason why Deku is better off not knowing.

here are a few other things we can extrapolate here:

All Might’s next line after this is “because I’m worried for him”, so yeah. whatever the reason, he’s trying to protect Deku somehow.

All Might has a history of avoiding truths he’s not ready to face yet, such as AFO still being alive. so even though he says here that he’s “not sure of” whatever it is he found, it’s very possible that he is in fact pretty sure of it, but just doesn’t want to believe it.

the fact that he wrote something down but then crossed it out would seem to support that as well. he says “not yet”, but I’m definitely not convinced that’s actually the case.

whatever this secret about the fourth user is, it’s something All Might isn’t willing to tell Katsuki either, even though Katsuki specifically presses him about it. this makes me think that it’s not just something shady or unpleasant about the fourth user’s past (like him being a villain for instance), because if it was just something like that, I don’t think he’d be so insistent on hiding it from Katsuki as well. and also that wouldn’t explain why he’s keeping the quirk a secret, especially since he knows Deku is going to manifest it at some point.

so my thinking is that it’s not something about the Fourth’s history, but rather something about his quirk. and after all, the Vestige storyline is mainly about the SIXQUIRKS anyway, so that tracks. and so if it is something related to the Fourth’s quirk, and this something also convinced All Might to hide the Fourth’s cause of death, I think the most likely explanation is that something about the Fourth’s quirk ended up killing him, and All Might fears that this quirk could potentially harm or kill Deku as well.

“but if the Fourth’s quirk is potentially dangerous, then wouldn’t it make more sense to tell Deku about it so that he can be prepared?” well, yeah. definitely it would. unless, of course, All Might has somehow concluded that the danger to Deku is actually GREATER if he knows than if he doesn’t know. in other words, the risk of the quirk manifesting with Deku unaware of what it is, is outweighed by the risk of Deku knowing and manifesting it on purpose.

and this, I think, is where the rest of Katsuki’s conversation with All Might in ch 284 comes into play:

All Might has no doubt observed the same thing himself. and so what I’m thinking is that this must be some kind of super high-risk, high-reward quirk that Deku, if he knew about it, would be tempted to use while battling someone like Tomura, even knowing there was a risk of it hurting or even killing him as well. this is Deku, after all. Deku, who takes himself out of the equation. Deku, who is ALREADY pushing himself to extremes with OFA and has been doing so from the start. Deku, who barring a miracle will be lucky to have even 1/10th of the normal function in his arms when this arc is said and done. and that’s just with normal, everyday OFA and Blackwhip and Float. if you were to go and add some sort of super-self-destruct quirk on top of all that?? jesus christ. they’d be picking up the pieces of what was left of him, probably.

so yeah. if this really does turn out to be the case, and the Fourth’s quirk really is a potential suicide quirk? I could absolutely understand why All Might would keep that hidden from him. once again, it’s all about protecting him and keeping him safe.

and it’s problematic though, for sure! and most likely futile just like all of his other secret-keeping efforts have been. at some point he’s just going to have to start trusting Deku to handle this stuff, and letting him know these things. like it or not, he’s not going to be a kid forever, and Destiny is currently being Thrust Upon Him at a fairly alarming rate! pretending like all of these threats will just magically go away all on their own is not it. if you didn’t want peril lusting over him at every corner then you shouldn’t have chosen a motherfucking Shounen Protag as your motherfucking heir, my dude.

anyway! so those are all of my thoughts about All Might and his secrets. I do think Deku is gonna call him out on it again soon, and I think All Might will be apologetic for not telling him about Tomura and Nana, but I don’t know if it will be enough to finally get him to change his ways and reveal everything else. he is an overprotective dad filled with anxiety over his trouble magnet son and his arm-exploding ways, and it’s a tough position for him to be in, knowing that either way there will be pain that Deku can’t avoid. it’s rough. anyways, maybe I’m too soft, but while I don’t necessarily want him to just keep getting free passes on everything, I kind of hope they don’t rake him over the coals too badly for it either. he means well!! he is doing his best. hopefully they can manage to talk it out, sob.

#bnha #boku no hero academia #all might #midoriya izuku #bakugou katsuki #bnha meta #bnha spoilers #mha spoilers #bnha manga spoilers #makeste reads bnha #asks #anon asks #I'm so behind on my metas that while everyone else is posting about dabi and enji #I'm only just now getting around to organizing my thoughts on stuff that was revealed seven chapters ago lol #ah well #no chapter this week so I'll have some time to catch up maybe

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there-must-be-a-lock · 3 years

Text

All That I Ask

Sam x Reader

Word Count: 6990

Warnings: Smut. Smut, feels, and Sam Winchester being wonderful. There’s a brief moment of post-traumatic dissociation, but the traumatic event itself isn’t discussed or really even named. Otherwise, it’s about as gooey and sweet as a fuckin marshmallow. This is like... fix-it fic for life-canon.

A/N: Whether it was rape or coercion or just a partner who didn’t care enough to make you feel comfortable, I think almost every woman knows what it’s like to feel powerless or unsafe during sex. This is about agency and trust and hang-ups and recovery, and how partners should handle those things.

This was inspired by a request from @the-departed-patato. Thank you for trusting me with this one. I didn’t realize until I started typing that this was something I really really needed to write.

Also, major thanks to the Slack squad for edits and support and trying to curb my comma habit: @rockhoochie, @icemankazansky, @fangirlxwritesx67, @stunudo y’all are amazing.

Here’s my heart, don’t break it. It’s all that I ask, nothing more. - “Moonlight,” Future Islands

This is so stupid.

This is Sam. This is sweet, kind, gentle Sam, and I’m head over heels for him.

I want him. How could I not? I’ve wanted to do this since I met him, and now I can. He tugs his shirt over his head, and I can run my hand up his side, down his chest, tracing the ripply contours of abs, and god dammit, I want him.

He rolls me onto my back, hips slotting in against me. I can feel the drag and catch of denim, I can feel where he’s hard against the crease of my thigh, and I can feel his weight on me, holding me, pressing into me, trapping me, and I can feel myself start to shut down.

This is so stupid.

I remind myself that I’m safe. He’s being gentle, I tell myself. He’s not holding my wrists, he’s not pinning me, he’s not doing anything that should make me feel unsafe.

I’m still shutting down. I stare at a point somewhere over his shoulder as he kisses my neck, and I remind myself that I’m being stupid, and I can’t fucking breathe.

“Hey,” he whispers, and then he’s looking down at me, rolling onto his side again, and I try to focus on him but part of me is seeing someone else.

“Sorry,” I whisper, voice small and tight around the lump in my throat.

“Did I do something wrong?” he asks, so fucking sweet with his sunflower eyes wide and concerned. I shake my head.

“No, it’s stupid,” I squeak. “I’m being stupid. I’m sorry, it’s not your fault, you didn’t — we can — I’m fine.”

“Do you need space, or — how can I help?”

“Don’t go,” I breathe. “Please don’t, I’m okay, just come… come here?”

“Okay, sweetheart,” he whispers, putting an arm around me, kissing my forehead. “Hey, I’m right here, okay? I’m not going anywhere. I promise. I’m right here. Take your time.”

I burrow into his chest, tears stinging my eyes as I start to break the grip of whatever cold thing has been clutching at my ribcage.

This is so fucking stupid.

I remember to breathe, and Sam waits. He strokes my hair, whispers soothing nonsense, cradles me close.

“I’m sorry,” I choke out eventually. I can’t look him in the eye; I look at his neck instead, the steady flutter of his pulse under the skin.

“You don’t have anything to be sorry for,” he says, soft but fierce. “Nothing. You hear me?”

“‘Kay.” I swallow hard and try to shake it off. “We can — it’s not that I don’t want to. Do you want—”

“Stop,” he interrupts. “There’s no rush, okay? If you’re doing this because you think you should… for my sake? That’s not how it works.”

He curls a gentle finger under my chin, tilting my head back until I meet his eyes, and I feel hot all over at the tenderness in his expression. I blink away tears and give him a tiny nod.

“This is about the guy you told me about?” he asks, tentative. “Was it… it was more than you made it out to be, wasn’t it?”

I nod again. I don’t trust myself to make words. My heart is racing, and I can feel the panicked beat of it in my throat, choking me.

“We need to talk about this, at some point. Okay? You don’t have to tell me anything you don’t want to tell me, but I need to know what not to do. I don’t ever want to scare you.”

“Okay,” I whisper, feeling raw and exposed and so goddamn crazy about him.

“We don’t have to do that now, though. Just rest. You’re safe with me.”

“Good morning, gorgeous,” Sam whispers when I stir. He’s spooned up behind me, one big solid arm around my waist, and I settle myself more comfortably in the cocoon of his embrace. Then I remember.

“About last night—” I start hesitantly.

“If you’re going to try to apologize again, stop right there,” he says, and I can hear the wry smile in his voice. “But if you want to talk about it…”

We didn’t close the curtains, and the morning sun is filtering through the blinds of the motel room, making everything feel clean and bright and fresh. It’s easier like this, too, with my back to Sam. I don’t have to feel his eyes on me.

“There hasn’t been anyone else, since,” I admit. My voice sounds very small in the quiet of the room. “So… I don’t really know what causes it. Not for sure.”

Sam exhales slowly, his breath tickling the curve of my neck. “What happened last night, to set it off?”

“Having you on top of me, I think. It’s not — you didn’t do anything wrong.”

“Neither did you. That’s all on him,” Sam says. The faintest hint of a growl in his voice takes me by surprise. “No blame, okay? I’m not going to take it personally. Not ever.”

“Okay. Um. Feeling… held down, or trapped. And you shouldn’t — don’t grab my wrists?”

“I can do that. What else?”

“I think… just, not too rough?” I ask, cheeks burning. “I don’t think I could handle… too much. The first time, at least.”

“Okay,” he agrees calmly. “And what else? What does work for you?”

“What do you mean?”

“This isn’t about, like, just making it manageable for you,” he says, low and earnest, kissing the curve of my neck. “I want to make you feel good.”

“Oh,” I say breathlessly. “Oh. Um.”

I’m suddenly very conscious of his hand splayed over my lower abdomen, his palm warm through the thin cotton of my tank top. He must feel the way my belly tightens, because he slides his hand a little lower, thumb tucking under the hem and stroking back and forth, tickling deliciously.

It’s such a light touch, a barely-there brush, but it’s sending sparks down my spine. I wriggle back against Sam, wondering if the sudden crackle of tension in the air is just my imagination.

“I want to know what gets you off.” Sam’s voice is husky and heated, and my breath hitches. It’s not just my imagination, then. “I want to make you come. It’s not just about… penetration, or whatever.” He lets out a quiet huff of a laugh, and I wonder if that’s the first time someone has made the word penetration sound sexy. “Do you want me to touch you? Do you want my mouth?”

I shift, and I can feel him getting hard through his pajama pants.

“Yeah,” I whisper.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, I want that. Sam… want you.”

His hand slides lower, until the tips of his pinky and ring finger are dipping under the elastic of my shorts.

“When you touch yourself,” he says quietly. “What do you do? Can you show me?”

“I don’t—”

His hand finds mine where it’s curled loosely on the mattress, slides under it so that my palm rests on the back of his, and he laces our fingers together, bringing our joined hands back to my stomach.

“Can you show me?” he repeats, and the warmth of his hand is burning through my shirt, pooling in my core, making me want like I haven’t wanted another person in a long time.

“Oh.” I take a deep breath.

I guide his hand lower, flush against my skin, under my waistband and down until his fingers cup my cunt. When I press my middle finger down against his, he moves with me, one long finger parting my lips and stroking through silky wet heat. He follows my lead, waiting for me, his knuckle bending when mine does, nudging against my entrance. His finger is so much longer than mine. When I curl it, pressing in, it’s him sliding into me, his fingertip, shallow and easy.

I exhale slowly, not pushing, and he stays, chest rising against my back as he sucks in a deep breath, waiting for my direction.

“Can you feel how much I want you?” I ask.

“Yeah,” he says, low and gravelly.

“Good.”

I’m shaky and wet and aching with how much I want him, and I’m not sure where this is going, not sure I’m ready for more than his fingers, but I need him to understand: none of this, none of my hesitation, is because I don’t want him.

I draw his hand up, showing him where to stroke with one slick fingertip, circling my clit, and I can feel him trembling too, all down my back, his cock hard where it presses against my ass. This torturous drawn-out intensity, the way he’s waiting for me… it’s almost unbearable, but at the same time, I can’t bring myself to move any faster.

We breathe in sync, both our chests heaving at the same time as the zing of it ripples out through me, and —

Someone bangs on the door.

“Up and at ‘em!” Dean shouts. “C’mon, let’s hit the road.”

“Fuck,” I hiss, as Sam lets out a low groan. It takes every bit of my willpower to pull away. When I roll to face him, he’s just as wild-eyed as I feel, flushed and panting and gorgeous.

We’re both paralyzed for a second, staring at each other, until he lets out a long sigh.

“Later,” he husks, and it sounds like a promise.

“Later.”

Later, when we fall into bed, I’m shaking for a completely different reason.

It wasn’t a bad hunt, in the end. It’s just one moment that keeps replaying in my memories on a sickening loop. There was so much blood, all down the side of his face and neck, and he went still in a way that made my heart stop for a second.

Apparently ears bleed a lot.

I felt a little embarrassed when I saw the injury, a barely-there slice through the cartilage, but I couldn’t shake the sight of all that blood. There’s still traces of it on his skin, dried in his hair. My stomach churns whenever I catch a glimpse of rusty red.

He pulls the comforter up over us, lying on his uninjured side, and I kiss him, deep and starved, my entire body vibrating with the tension of lingering adrenaline, like my skin is sparking up with the reminder that we’re still alive and we should enjoy it while we can.

I can feel it in his muscles, too, the way he’s holding back, holding himself stiff like he has to restrain himself. He rolls onto his back and takes me with him, arms strong around me, body warm and ready under me.

I choke on a quiet sob, trying to hold it in.

Sam freezes, big hands cupping my cheeks as he breaks the kiss. He looks at me, eyes deep green-gold in the lamplight.

“It’s not — it’s not that. You scared me.”

“I know,” he says. “I know. It’s okay. I’m here.”

“Want you,” I say fiercely, watching the way his swollen-red lips twitch into a bittersweet smile.

“Not like this,” he says. “Not when you’re already on edge. If your fight or flight system is still all revved up…”

He’s right, but I hate it. He brushes hair back from my forehead and kisses me again, chaste and quick.

“Okay,” I whisper, against his mouth. “Just… god, you scared me, Sam.”

He’s quiet for a moment, and I kiss one corner of his mouth, then the other.

“I need a shower,” he says.

I frown, feeling childish as I confess, “I don’t want to be alone.”

“I didn’t mean — come with me,” he suggests. “Shower with me. Not — no sex.”

I raise an eyebrow at him skeptically. “Really?”

“You don’t have to,” he backtracks gently. “If you’re not ready to—”

“Sam, I’ve wanted to see you naked since I met you,” I say flatly. “Believe me, that is not the problem.”

He laughs, dimples flashing as he grins up at me. “Then… yeah. Come shower with me. I don’t want to let you out of my sight either.”

“Yeah, okay.”

He only turns on half the bathroom lights, keeping it dim. The harsh fluorescents would be too much. It’s easier to pull my shirt off when I feel like I can still hide in the shadows.

I try not to stare as he strips down matter-of-factly and steps in, but it’s not easy. It’s not easy to look at myself, either, when I compare my body to Sam’s. I get my clothes off before I can talk myself out of it, tripping clumsily out of my jeans.

He must see something different than I do when I look at myself, because the way he stares at me when I step into the shower… he looks at me like he never wants to stop looking.

I’ve never felt like this before, shaky and vulnerable and open but in a good way, because somehow I’m sure I’m not the only one feeling like this. I’ve never trusted anyone like I trust Sam. That trust is what stops me from covering myself with my hands, stops me from doubting myself as I step under the spray with him and stand up on my tiptoes for a kiss.

One kiss turns into more, syrupy-slow, water streaming down our skin as we melt into each other. Sam licks and sucks and nibbles at my mouth until my lips feel puffy and bruised. I adjust, slowly, to the feel of his body against mine, the way my soft curves mold to the muscled planes of his chest, the way his cock twitches against my stomach as he gets hard, and even though I can feel the length of him hot and heavy between us, he doesn’t press for more; he kisses me like this is all he’s ever wanted to do.

By the time he pulls away, I’m light-headed. He looks down at me with water beading in his spiky eyelashes, and he smiles.

“You’re beautiful,” he says simply, and somehow, I believe him.

I don’t know what to say, but it doesn’t seem to matter. He grabs his shampoo from the edge of the tub and turns me around, my back to his chest.

He massages little sudsy circles into my scalp and combs his fingers gently through the tangles. He shields my eyes when it’s time to rinse, tilting my chin back gently into the spray. Nobody’s done this for me since I was a child. It makes me feel innocent and serene and fucking treasured, the way he takes care of me.

Sex has always felt like the height of intimacy to me. I always feel vulnerable, like that’s the closest I can get to another person, the most exposed.

Sam’s fingers in my hair feel like a better expression of trust than anything I’ve ever done in bed. Sex has never felt this intimate. I’m not sure anything has ever felt this intimate.

Everything starts to fade, the leftover adrenaline draining out of me, the outside world ceasing to matter. It’s just Sam and me, completely bare, wrapped in our little steamy cocoon. I feel safe. I feel exhausted, heavy-eyed and heavy-limbed, muscles aching, but I don’t feel pressured and I don’t feel nervous. I just feel safe.

Maybe it’s the booze talking, but I want to lick Sam’s arms.

He’s stretched out over the pool table as he lines up his shot, eyes laser-focused, hands curled around the cue. He has his sleeves rolled up past his elbows, and I can see veins standing out under the skin, corded muscles rippling, bunching and shifting with every twist of his wrist.

Yeah. I want to lick Sam’s arms.

Dean spits out a sip of his beer, spluttering out a vehement, “Ew, I don’t want to hear that shit!”

So apparently I said that out loud.

Dean stalks away, muttering to himself, and I chirp a quick “Sorry!” to his retreating back.

He’ll get over it.

Sam’s done with his game, and he’s walking toward me, grinning in that slow easy way of his as he tucks his hair behind his ears. He’s so fucking gorgeous. I can’t handle not touching him any more.

“Can we get some air?” I ask breathlessly, and his eyes sparkle with amusement as he lets me tug him outside.

There are a couple people smoking by the door, so I pull him farther away, down to the end of the building, where a tacky wooden statue of a bear stands between us and the door. It’s close enough to privacy.

Sam slouches back against the brick, and I stand up on my tiptoes to kiss him, leaning against him and trusting him to keep me upright. He goes with it, opening up for me as I take control of the kiss, his lips pillowy, and I can feel him smile.

“What was that for?” he asks, when I give him a second to breathe. I nuzzle into the side of his neck and nip at his pulse, and his fingers tighten on my hips.

“Just want you,” I say bluntly. I kiss him again, a deep filthy kiss that I can feel down to my toes. “I was watching you, and… yeah. Want you. Can we go back to the motel?”

“You’re drunk,” he says, mock-admonishing, but he’s still smiling.

“‘M not drunk, you’re drunk,” I mumble sulkily.

“Yep,” he says, popping the P, and raises an eyebrow.

“Yeah, okay,” I concede. “Tipsy, maybe.”

“Which is still too drunk,” Sam says gently.

I let out a tiny frustrated sound as he kisses me again. “Fine.”

He laughs, shifting his weight, getting one knee between mine, and when I settle closer, I can feel the blunt pressure of his thigh right between my legs.

“Believe me,” he whispers, between kisses, “I would really, really love to take you back to the motel right now but… it’s not a good idea.” He shifts, and I whine at the friction. “I’m not going to have sex with you tonight. I want us both to be sober for that. When we get there… I want to remember every second of it.”

“Kinda worried I’m gonna combust before then.” The drag of denim on denim pulls at the seam of my jeans, almost painfully good, and I shiver.

“Oh,” he says quietly, like he didn’t realize that he was torturing me. He rocks forward experimentally. It feels like fireworks.

“Don’t oh me,” I grump, except it comes out more breathless than grumpy.

“It’ll be worth the wait,” he whispers. “Don’t want to rush it. Want to take my time with you. I want to watch you come for me, want to taste it —”

I whimper, rolling my hips helplessly, clinging to Sam so tight that my fingers must be bruising his biceps.

“Do you like thinking about that?” he asks, growling low against my ear. “My mouth?”

“Please,” I bite out. “Fuck, Sam, I need — something. Anything.” I tilt my hips down again, trying to make my point.

He hesitates for a split second before rocking up to meet me, and I let out a ragged sigh.

“I won’t — not tonight, not more than this,” he says hoarsely, stumbling over the words. His hands grip my hips, holding me still as he asks intently, “Are you sure this is okay right now? If you really want —”

“Please,” I say again. I meet his eyes, embarrassed by how much I want him but steady in spite of it.

Maybe it’s the alcohol making me feel like this, loose and relaxed and reckless, or maybe it’s just Sam, the way he’s letting me take the lead, the way he groans when I shudder against him, the way I trust him with my life and trust him enough to let him see me fall apart like this.

And I am falling apart. I work my hips in little circles, feeling the dull burn of it clench in my gut with every tiny movement, pushing myself closer to the edge.

Sam just lets me, chest heaving, murmuring filthy-sweet things in my ear: “I’m all yours. Anything. Don’t care how long I have to wait, just — want to make you feel good. Want you on top of me, want you to just — ride my mouth, rub yourself all over my tongue, want —”

I let out a tiny, bitten-off whimper, hiding my face against his shoulder. My muscles spasm as I come, jerking against him, feeling it thud through me all at once like a punch to the gut.

I’m almost surprised by it, and by the wave of relief that washes through me. It’s not the most intense orgasm I’ve ever had, but it’s the easiest by far. I never realized I could get off like that.

Then again, any experience I’ve ever had with dry-humping was with the guy on top of me, hipbones bruising my thighs, and… yeah. No thank you.

“Jesus,” Sam breathes, arms around me, supporting my weight as I collect myself.

“That was… unexpected,” I blurt out, and I giggle helplessly as I pull back to look at him. He grins back, and there’s something so dazed and beautiful in his expression that I lose my breath all over again.

“I —” Sam starts, but he catches himself, shutting his mouth abruptly.

I’m falling in love with you, I think, heart pounding, but I know I can’t say it now, can’t say it like this.

Sam and I look at each other in silence for a second, and then the moment passes. I flush, self-conscious, an apology on the tip of my tongue.

“Don’t apologize, that was one of the hottest things that’s ever happened to me,” Sam says preemptively, before I can form the words. “You should go inside, before Dean comes looking for us. Just… give me a second?” He adjusts himself in his jeans, making a face, and I giggle.

“See you in there.”

“That was easy,” Dean comments, as we buckle our seatbelts. “Where to next? Sammy, did you find anything in the paper this morning?”

“Actually,” Sam says. “I could really use an evening off. Can we grab some food and go back to the motel and just… chill for the night?”

He and Dean exchange one of those Winchester looks that don’t mean anything to anyone else but the two of them.

“Sure,” Dean says easily. Sam smiles at me in the rearview, and I think, oh.

My brain is my worst enemy. By the time we pull into the motel lot, I’m panicking, and I’m not even sure why.

Sam’s laughing at something Dean just said, bathed in gold late-afternoon light, and he’s incredible, and I should want nothing more than to get him in our room and jump him, but my chest feels tight and I’m convinced that I’ll freeze up, freak out, mess it all up, and he’ll give up, he’s already been so patient —

“Hey, you okay?” Sam asks. The driver’s side door slams behind Dean, breaking me out of my trance.

“Fine,” I say, too brightly. “I’m fine.”

He studies me for a second, head tilted, and I try to smile at him. It doesn’t work.

“I’m not fine,” I amend, and feel my face crumple.

“Hang on one sec?” Sam asks, and I take a second to compose myself as he jumps out of the car. He and Dean have a whispered powwow and then Sam returns, key in hand, sliding into the driver’s seat.

“Come sit up front,” he says easily, without explanation. “Let’s go for a drive.”

“We can —” I try, but he cuts me off.

“I didn’t mean to make you feel like there’s pressure,” he says firmly. “I just want to spend time with you. Let’s just… go for a drive.”

So that’s what we do. When we leave the strip mall hell that surrounds the motel, Sam gets off the highway and we’re in the woods, driving up a winding mountain road. Sam seems to know where he’s headed; he mutters “Think it’s around here somewhere,” at one point, and then eventually he turns onto the Blue Ridge Parkway.

He drives slow, easing into the sharp curves. I can breathe again. It’s hard to feel panicky out here, up in the open air, close to the pink-tinted sky. When the trees open up there are views of sprawling valleys, just starting to turn orange and yellow in the first hints of fall.

There’s a wide pull-off for a scenic overlook, “Rocky Knob,” and Sam parks. The sun is setting behind us and the clouds are lined in deep pink now.

Sam spreads his coat out on the scratchy grass, right in front of Baby, and we sit next to each other, watching in easy silence as the light fades and dusk falls.

“Thank you,” I say quietly, tilting my head onto his shoulder. He slips an arm around me and I shift, turning to settle more comfortably against his side. A sliver of moon is just visible on the horizon.

“You know you don’t —” he starts. His voice sounds choked and strange. “There’s nothing to thank me for. I just like seeing you happy. That’s more important to me than… any of the rest of it.”

“Thank you,” I repeat, firmly, and he lets out a laugh that’s more of a sigh.

I twist to kiss him, intending to make it a quick peck on the corner of his mouth, but he turns to meet me, tongue flickering over my lower lip, teeth scraping ever so carefully. One hand finds my cheek, and his fingers are so long that I feel dwarfed by the way they cradle and caress and pull me closer.

I crawl into his lap, straddling him. He has one hand on the small of my back and the other between my shoulderblades, steadying me. I trace the hard lines of bones under skin, running my fingers along the jut of his jaw and stroking the hinge of it with my thumb, sliding the other hand back to cup the shape of his skull, and for all his size and strength he feels fragile under my fingers. I brush over his pulse and rub the soft hollow behind his ear, and I can feel how fragile this is, this thing between us and the way it makes him shake when he breathes.

We’re both shaking, I realize, as I rest my forehead against his. The tip of my nose nudges against his. The curve of his lower lip brushes mine, barely, not intentional enough to be a kiss, just… close.

Not close enough. Never close enough.

“Sam,” I start, voice wobbling dangerously, but I don’t even know where to begin. His fingers twist in the back of my shirt, fisted in the fabric like he’s afraid to let go. He exhales — inhales — trembles.

Somehow I never considered that I might not be the only one here who’s scared.

I kiss him one more time, trying to tell him how I feel even if I can’t say the words yet, and then I pull away to look at him. His eyes catch and reflect the moonlight, glittering in the dark.

“Let’s go,” I say, and my voice isn’t shaking any more.

Sam’s nervous. He doesn’t know what to do with himself once the motel room door clicks shut behind us; he turns the desk lamp on and just stands there, rubbing the back of his neck and shifting his weight uncomfortably.

“We could watch a movie?” he offers. His hesitation makes it easier, somehow, to take the lead; I go up to him and tug at the hem of his shirt as I kiss his jaw.

“I don’t want to watch a movie,” I say firmly. I slide my hands under his shirt and run my thumbs over the ridges of his hipbones. “Take this off?”

He strips his shirt off and tosses it to the side, smiling, shy and happy.

We kiss and shed layers and kiss again, stumbling back toward the bed. When the backs of my legs hit the mattress, we’re down to our underwear, and even though I’ve seen Sam naked, now, the sight of him takes me by surprise. It doesn’t seem fair, how beautiful he is. All the bare golden skin throws me off-balance.

He moves slowly into my space, running his hands up my arms to cup my shoulders, and when he kisses me, my head spins. I sit down heavily on the edge of the bed, feeling clumsy and stupid. Sam just folds to his knees in front of me, smiling up at me patiently.

“Can I?” he asks softly. He runs his hands up my legs and hooks his fingers in the elastic of my panties. When I nod, he tugs, and I lift my hips to let him slide the fabric down until it’s out of the way.

He moves closer, kneeling between my spread legs. He doesn’t look shy any more. He looks hungry, pupils huge in kaleidoscope blue-gold irises as he watches me through his lashes.

I nod again, silently giving him permission, and his lips curl into a smile. Sam hooks his hands under my thighs and pulls me forward, until I’m right on the edge of the bed.

“Give me your hand?” he asks, and when I do, he brings it to his head, tangling my fingers through his silky hair. I lean on my other hand to brace myself and the position opens me up for him even more. “You’re in charge,” he reminds me.

The first lick is slow, just a smooth wet curl of heat tracing up my center, good in a way that’s easy and sweet even if it’s not the ‘god more now’ kind of pleasure. I run my fingers through Sam’s hair idly, trying to relax. He does it again, dipping down and dragging up, before swirling his tongue over my clit, and the friction coils up and rolls out through my core. The next lush swipe of his tongue has more pressure behind it, and he lingers on my clit, flattening his tongue, massaging. I let out a little sigh, and he hums approvingly.

“Want you to tell me what feels good, okay?” he asks, mouthing at the crease of my hip. “Or show me. Hold me where you want me.”

How does he just say those things?

Sam buries his face between my legs again, not just licking but working me over with his open mouth pressed to my cunt like he’s kissing me. He gets my clit between his lips and sucks gently, and it’s so good that I tug him closer helplessly, giving in to the pleasure before I even have a chance to hold back.

“Sorry,” I gasp, relaxing my grip when I realize how hard I’m pulling. “Shit, sorry, didn’t mean to —”

“I like it,” Sam growls, the words vibrating right up against me. Then he’s doing that thing again, slick pulsing pressure, and I give in, twisting my fingers in his hair and tilting my hips up to meet his mouth as my eyes roll back in my head. He moans low in his throat.

Every wave of suction feels more intense. It’s sharp and bright and perfect, building so fast I’m not sure what to do with myself; all I can do is hold on and arch up and shudder. I can feel it pulling up from my fingers, my toes, an inevitable swell of pressure under my skin until the wave of it finally crests and I come with a shout, long and drawn-out, one shock of pleasure after another.

“Fucking — fuck, Sam,” I whine, my voice coming out embarrassingly high-pitched and cracked. He flicks his tongue over me again and I twitch, jerking away from the raw-nerve feel of it.

When I drag my eyes open he’s looking up at me, smiling, a dimple just visible as he turns his head to kiss my inner thigh.

The fuck am I supposed to say to that?

Apparently I can’t say anything to that. I think my brain has gone permanently offline.

Sam sort of scoops me up and deposits me farther back on the bed, where I’m not at risk of falling down on my ass, and I grin dazedly as he stands up. His mouth is red and swollen and it looks like sin.

“Still with me?” he asks, and I nod. “Be right back.”

I scoot back until I can get under the blanket and sink into the pillows. I hear Sam rummaging in his shower kit, then the water running, but I don’t have the mental capacity to pay attention. My eyes are half-closed by the time he comes back.

He sets a bottle of lube down on the nightstand and I avert my eyes uncomfortably, taking the glass of water he offers before he slides into bed next to me.

“Why did that just make you get all shy?” he asks softly, correctly interpreting my expression. I shrug and twist away to set the glass down, but when I turn back to him, he’s still waiting for an answer.

I cuddle close, tucking my head under his chin, listening to him breathe for a moment. He’s naked, hard against my hip, and I’m almost surprised by the way my body responds to that; my stomach flips, hot and eager, in spite of my racing thoughts.

“It’s like… all of this,” I say hoarsely. “It just makes me feel like I’m being a pain in the ass. Because it’s supposed to be simpler than this. It means I’m not wet enough, and… I want you, and that should be the only thing that matters, and instead we have to go through this whole process of talking about my issues and… it’s supposed to be easier than this, and it’s my fault.”

Sam is very still, muscles stiff, and for a moment I’m afraid he’s angry.

“It’s not ‘supposed to’ be anything other than good for you,” he says sharply. “Look at me for a second.”

I pull back, taking in the fierce, raw expression on his face. My chest feels tight.

“Everybody’s different,” Sam says, quiet and intense. “Everybody has shit they like and don’t like, places they like being touched… it’s not an issue, and it’s especially not your issue. You’re not being difficult by telling me how to help you enjoy yourself. I want that. I want to know how to make you feel good. Okay?”

“Okay,” I whisper.

“And if I ever meet any of your exes —” he says, jaw clenching, eyes stormy. I let out a nervous little giggle, and his expression melts from thunderous to soft before he continues, “It makes me happy knowing that you feel safe. It’s hot, watching you get off on it… your reaction is what turns me on more than anything.”

My stomach swoops. I slide closer, running a thumb over the soft swollen curve of his lower lip. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” he breathes, voice dropping down low. “You have no idea what you do to me.” He rubs his palm over the curve of my hip like he can’t get enough of my bare skin. “When you were pulling my hair and just — the way you were shaking —”

I cut him off with a kiss, melding my body to his, and he smiles against my mouth before opening up easily, kissing me back with these slow, sultry swipes of his tongue. I can feel him everywhere: bare all down my front, hands roaming like he can’t help himself, close and feverish under the blanket. I push it down, shivering at the cool air on my sweaty skin.

When I tangle a hand in his hair and tug slightly, Sam makes a gorgeous needy sound, and his cock twitches, hard and thick against my stomach. I push him onto his back and he goes easily, pliant under me, looking up with a flush on his cheeks and a smile on his lips as I straddle him. For a moment I feel paralyzed by the sight of him. The moment stretches and I just stare.

Sam runs his hands up my hips, sliding one hand up between my breasts before tracing the curve of one with his knuckles, dragging his thumb over my nipple and circling as the skin pebbles under his touch. My shivery sigh of pleasure breaks whatever spell we were under.

I duck down to kiss him again, and the movement presses the ridge of his cock right between my legs, silky skin hot where it slots up against me. When I roll my hips, we both groan.

I reach for the lube. His smile goes smirky at the edges.

“If you say ‘I told you so’ right now, I swear to god —” I blurt out, and we’re both laughing as I touch him, slicking him up messily.

It’s the laughter that erases the last of my doubts. My nervous giggle bursts like a bubble in my chest, releasing whatever tension I was holding there. I just feel light and giddy and happy as I wipe my hand on the blankets and position myself.

Then I’m sinking down, opening up around him, and the sudden aching stretch turns my laugh into a breathy moan. Sam is watching me as I work my hips down, taking him in. His eyelashes flutter against his cheek.

I understand, now, what Sam meant: your reaction is what turns me on. Because if I’d wanted him before, it was nothing compared to how I feel now. He tilts his head back, arching up and exposing his throat, tendons shifting under the skin as he strains under me and gasps out my name, and the clenching wave of need in my belly is blinding.

Fuck.

I shift, lean forward, sparking up some new kind of friction deep inside where I’m so full of him, and I’m whimpering as I kiss him gently.

“Okay?” he asks. I cup a hand to his jaw and he brings his own up to cover it, an oddly tender gesture.

“So much better than okay,” I tell him. It’s the truth.

I take it slow. We kiss, mouths clumsy with need, and I take it slow.

It takes a few minutes to adjust to his size. I rock my hips in tiny little movements, circling, twisting, feeling all the different ways there are to just feel him. Every movement brings some new sort of sensation as he drags against every sweet spot deep inside me.

I’m barely moving. I know he must want to fuck up into me, thrust, but he holds back, holds himself steady, lets me take what I need while he whispers sweet bits of nonsense against my lips. He tells me I’m beautiful, tells me I feel incredible, tells me I’m safe, and I trust him.

Then I grind down harder, and something flares up inside me, quivering out from where his cock is pressing deep in my belly. I do it again. The low dull throb of it has me trembling, panting against his mouth as I brace myself to get more, harder, clenching around him desperately.

Sam slides a hand down between us, flattening his palm over that spot, and I can feel the pressure building right there, but I need more.

“Sit up for me?” he asks raggedly. “Lean back, it’ll —”

He grits his teeth and cuts himself off, but I do it without questioning, sitting back on my heels and bracing my hands behind me. I would feel exposed if I wasn’t distracted by how good this feels. I’m barely moving, still, but Sam presses his palm down and tilts his hips up, and it’s like I can feel the molten force of it everywhere, like it’s going to split my skin.

Sam looks as close to the edge as I feel, eyes glazed, and I can feel him jerking up to meet me.

“Do it,” I hiss, and when he thrusts up for real, the surge of pressure makes me cry out, loud and shameless like I never am.

One last urgent grinding roll, one last surge of pressure, and I’m gone. I let my head fall back and let go, trusting Sam to keep me tethered to the earth as everything else goes brilliant white and sends me flying.

I’m distantly aware of the way he curses and twists up, the way he swells and twitches inside me, but there’s so much sensation that I can’t separate what’s him and what’s me; it’s all just one hot slick rhythmic pulsing rush as we ride it out, together.

When I start to go shaky and useless, Sam tugs me so that I flop forward onto his chest. I melt against him, face buried in the sweaty crook of his neck, skin thrumming with satisfaction. I kiss whatever bit of him is close to my mouth, and he tastes like salt.

“So that’s what that’s supposed to feel like,” I mumble.

“I don’t think it’s ever felt like that, with anyone,” Sam says quietly, like he’s telling me a secret. “But… I’ve never felt this way about anyone, so.”

I can tell he’s holding his breath. I put my palm on his chest. His heart is pounding, racing in counterpoint to mine, and I want to tell him that he’s safe; he can trust me with this.

“Me too,” I whisper, and he exhales.

If you enjoyed this, please reblog and/or leave me a message? It means the world.

Thanks for reading.

#spn fic #sam winchester fic #supernatural fic #sam winchester smut #sam winchester x reader

768 notes · View notes

pigeonp0st · 3 years

Note

Hey can you do a fic where reader is under mind control of some sort from an enemy and is forced to attack Nat and the rest of the avengers and Nat has to talk her out of it and calm her down something rlly intense and angsty pls

Natasha Romanoff x Reader #6

Words: 2,177

Warnings: Agnst

(tell me if there’s more I should add)

Notes:

I realized after I finished writing that I didn’t have Nat talk R out of it like you asked...I solved it in another way...i’m sorry!! I hope you enjoy anyways, thanks a lot for requesting (and sorry for spelling mistakes...there’s probably a lot) also sorry for this in general...I’m disappointed in it and the ending...I was sleep deprived and delirious for half of it...

———

It was supposed to be a simple mission, and a simple day. You and Nat had planned to head to the beach for the first time in a long time afterwards and everything. It was supposed to be a good day.

Good day...ha.

The sad truth is, is that things don’t always work out the way you expect them to. Sometimes things go horribly wrong.

Sometimes you get mind controlled by the ‘big bad’ and hurt the people you love most. Or maybe that stuff only happened to people like you. ‘Heroes.’

——-

You were conscious. That was the cruel agonizing part of it all. It’s that with every swing of your knife, every landed hit, every plea that fell from their lips, you knew what was happening.

You knew what was happening but could do nothing about it. Well...you could, technically, but it hurt. It hurt to fight. The pain was similar, you imagine, to what it feels like getting burned alive and then ran over eighteen times.

You didn’t think you could do it. Your will power wasn’t that strong. You would probably die trying to gain control—

It hurt. It hurt. You didn’t want to. You couldn’t, you—

Natasha. Natasha was saying; “fight it, Y/N, fight it,” and to you and to the pain that fighting the mind control caused, she may as well have been saying, “die, Y/N, die”

And yeah. Okay. For her, you will. For her you must.

Tears were running down your cheeks, it was the one thing the mind control didn’t have control of. It was...weird. Weird feeling such an immense amount of pain, such an immense amount of suffering, and being unable to show it. Unable to scream. You were silent, but your body felt loud, your head felt loud.

For a long minute you couldn’t hear them, you couldn’t even register the things you were seeing, all you knew was pain, everything outside of that was illegitimate.

Then, silence. For a brief, blissful moment before it was gone again. Nat’s arms were around you, and you were shaking, but completely still otherwise—finally, finally, you weren’t hurting them— “You’re okay,” Nat whispered, and how could that concept, in a few moments of agony, become something so foreign. Have you ever been okay before? Have you ever lived without this much hurt?

———-

“Nat,” you croaked, the words shaking almost as roughly as your body. “Natasha, kill me.”

Those three words, said with an immeasurable amount of desperation, were just as much not your own as your body was at this moment. They were said in a moment of pain.

Somehow, Natasha knew that. She knew that. She knows what you look like when you’re experiencing physical pain. It’s been seared into her mind countless times, but that doesn’t prevent her heart from aching as much as it does when you start begging.

“Natasha please, please baby, please. Somebody, please! Before it—”

And then you were screaming, and Natasha hates how it’s even worse than the begging.

Somehow you’ve managed to gain control of your vocals, but your body isn’t yours again, she realizes it when you start struggling against her arms…it’s a terrible thing to realize.

“Stop,” Nat yells, so obviously terrified and raw that half of the Avengers freeze where they’re circling you. “Stop fighting it, it’s okay, it’s okay.” She holds you as tightly as she can, with her eyes screwed shut. “I love you, I love you, I love you.”

And god, she hates the way it sounds like a goodbye too, but she just knows that even if you could register her voice right now, you aren’t going to listen.

You’re going to keep fighting to protect her and the others, because it’s what you’ve always done.

So Natasha takes a deep breath, in and out, and tries to think about her options. She tries to think about her options with you struggling and trying to reach for your knife, and the Avengers circled around her with nothing but ashen expressions that speak of nightmares to come, and she doesn’t know. She just doesn’t know.

There’s no safe way for her to knock you out for a long period of time, not ones that won’t cause long term problems afterwards, but she doesn’t need any because suddenly your body stops struggling, and stops moving, and you’re slumped unconscious in her arms.

It’s a great relief for everyone until Natasha lifts her hand from your pulse, and says, shockingly and terrifyingly devoid of emotion; “I think she’s going into shock.”

——

Everything is a blur to Natasha after that. She recalls yelling, lights, arriving at the hospital, a countdown of; one, two, three, and then she’s sitting in a seat next to your hospital bed wondering when everything went so wrong.

——

All Natasha hears when she closes her eyes is you screaming in agony at the top of her lungs, and all she feels is the phantom touch of your cold ashen skin against her hands.

You’re okay now, Natasha reminds herself. You’re going to be okay, but there’s something deeply traumatizing and everlasting about the moments where you’re sure everything won’t be—the moments you’re almost sure the love of your life won’t be.

Hearing someone you love beg you to kill them, seeing the person you love most in so much agony, it’s...scarring...but Natasha will be strong. She has to be, because being weak hurts too much, but more importantly; you need her to be.

As traumatizing as the experience was for her, she knows that yours was just as bad—if not worse. You were strong for her, so she’ll be for you.

Like protecting her to you seemed like your only option, even while you were hurting so much because of it, it’s Natasha’s only option too.

So she’ll keep it all together, until you’re back to normal and she doesn’t have to anymore.

——-

Natasha startles when you wake up. She physically startles, because the first thing you do is start sobbing, sobbing hard enough to make Natasha concerned that you’ll start hyperventilating.

“Are you okay?” Natasha asks, up from her seat in a flash to be by your side, “is he still mind controlling you? Are you still hurting?”

You aren’t looking at her, Natasha realizes with a large amount of grief. You won’t look at her, but you’re shaking your head no to her questions, and she supposes that perhaps you are okay—physically.

She wants more than that for you, so she sighs, heavily and sadly— because she can’t protect you from this anymore than she was able to protect you from the mind control—and wraps her arms around your distraught form.

“It’s okay,” Nat mumbles, and then winces and corrects herself because it’s so clearly not. “It will be okay.”

That she is sure of, but you aren’t.

“Natasha,” you force out (Natasha tries not to remember the way you said her name yesterday), “You’re covered in- you’re covered in bruises and cuts...baby, i’m so sorry.”

Your voice cracks on sorry, and Natasha closes her eyes to prevent her own tears from falling. “It wasn’t you,” she whispers fiercely, “i’m not mad at you. Of course i’m not.”

“You should be.”

You pull away from her then. Natasha feels the loss in her heart, she’s sure.

All she wants to do is hold you in her arms and never let go, but with the amount of unjustified shame you’re feeling she doubts you’ll let her.

“Your arm,” you stutter, “did it need stitches?”

Natasha won’t lie to you, so she says nothing—instead she tries to meet your haunted eyes. It’s a useless attempt.

She knows what you’re remembering, and she hates it. “The cut on my neck...it wasn’t that deep. It shouldn’t even scar.”

“I didn’t ask you about the cut on your neck, Natasha.”

Natasha tenses where she’s standing, caught off guard by the loathing in your voice until she realizes that it’s not directed at her, but at yourself.

Your eyes finally, finally, meet Natasha’s. They’re tear brimmed, scared, and unbelievably angry. “I’m going to kill him,” you rasp brokenly, “Natasha, i’m going to kill him.”

——-

Nat says nothing. She just continues to stare back at you.

“He had no right, Natasha, he had no right to do that to me,” your face is crumbling now, anger turning back into devastation in an instant. “Nat, why—why was it me? I—god, i’m so angry, i’m so—i’m so sorry. I’m sorry, i’m sorry. God...what did I do?”

Natasha still says nothing, why isn’t she saying anything? You want to yell at her, you want her to yell at you, you want—you want.

“Is Clint...is he okay?” You ask wobbly.

You remember vividly the moment you stabbed him, and the betrayal on his face, the betrayal on everyone’s faces until they realized you weren’t in control of your own body.

“He’s okay,” Natasha says simply. Then, “the man who did what he did to you...Wanda is handling it. She’s able to block out his mind control.”

“Okay.”

“Can I hold you?”

“What?”

Natasha shifts where she stands, looking down. She’s never looked more uncertain. “You didn’t seem to want me close before...I wasn’t sure…”

Oh.

“Nat,” you whisper, heartbroken, “I don’t trust myself. I don’t trust I’m me.”

Natasha tucks a strand of your hair behind your ear and leans down to kiss your temple. You want nothing more than for her to get away from you. You don’t want to hurt her ever again. You can’t. “Oh baby,” she laughs a sad sort of laugh, “you’ve been handcuffed.”

And that, for whatever reason, starts another wave of unreleased tears, but you're laughing now too...if only at the insanity of your situation.

You feel restricted by the handcuffs, trapped in the way you were during the mind control, but you also feel safe. Safe from doing harm, so you allow her, between breaths, to join you on the hospital bed.

She lets out a relieved breath when you do, both because she’s allowed to hold you, and because you’re laughing...yeah it might me a manic sort of laugh, but it’s something.

Something is better than nothing. It’s a start.

——

“Natasha, I can tie my own fucking shoes.”

Nat looks up at you from where she’s crouched by your feet, raising a questioning eyebrow. “Then why’d you ask me to do it?”

“W-What? No I didn’t.” Mind controlled. You were mind controlled again. Fuck—

“Yeah you did,” Natasha reminds gently, “while you were eating your disgusting jello.”

Oh. Yeah.

You release a shaky breath, laughing quietly all the while, because wow. Wow. You’re losing your mind. “I totally remembered that...they just slipped something into my jello…”

Natasha watches you carefully for a few moments before rolling her eyes and getting to her feet. “Tie your own shoes.”

“Asshole,” you mutter bitterly under your breath. Natasha pretends not to hear you and simply presses a kiss to the top of your head.

“I love you,” she confesses quietly. Natasha’s been saying as much over and over again since you first awoke.

“Now I feel like the asshole. Just go get the discharge papers.”

Finally, Natasha laughs.

——-

You’re healing still, emotionally, the Avengers and Natasha are very aware of that. They’ve been as gentle as they can possibly be with you since you left the hospital a couple of weeks ago, but now—now it’s time for an intervention.

So naturally, you press the big red emergency meeting button Steve hides in his room and force everyone to meet in the living room.

“I’m not sad anymore,” You announce to them all when Wanda asks why the fuck she was woken up for.

The grumbling immediately quiets.

“Well,” you pause, considering, “I...am. Deep down. I’m tryna work through it but it’s kinda hard now that I'm forgetting a lot of what happened.”

Natasha sits up at that, alarmed. “You’re forgetting?”

You wave your hand dismissively. “My mind is blocking it out. I’m traumatized...but pretty okay otherwise.” The others don’t look convinced, so with an annoyed groan you relent. “I’m thinking about seeing Steve’s therapist. You guys should too.”

A chorus of protest instantly comes forward, not to your surprise...but Wanda...Wanda does surprise you.

“I am, too.”

Then Natasha, “I...was actually considering it myself.”

Well then.

“I’m also considering making my own sitcom,” Wanda continues, resting her head in her hand. “What do you guys think?”

“Stick to therapy, Wanda. Stick to therapy.”

At that, everyone comes forward in agreement.

You’re sure, in that moment, that with these people you’ll be okay.

334 notes · View notes

eyebagsbutglam · 3 years

Text

Meet the Parent(s)

A/N: This is a quirkless AU, lets pretend the Todoroki's are a happy functional family. My apologies to @myheelsdontmatchmysweatpants thank you for beta reading this exceptionally traumatic piece of comedy. Get ready to bleach your eyeballs y'all.

Warnings: 18+ NSFW, taboo themes, vanilla sex, fluff, alcoholic mother.. I mean its pretty tame

Pairing: Touya x F!Reader

Word Count: 3983

“NEVER trust men.” You rolled your eyes as your mom went on another one of her man-bashing tangents.

“I’m serious Y/N. They’re always amazing at first, wining and dining you, promising you the world. Then when shit gets real- BAM! They’re gone, leaving you in the dust.” She shot back her last sip of wine and wiggled the glass in front of you asking for a refill.

“Mom please. Touya’s different. He’s dependable and considerate. I promise if you just give him a chance you’re gonna love him.” You walked into the kitchen and instead of grabbing the wine you poured her a glass of grape juice. She was sloshed enough to not notice the difference, you were experienced enough to recognize the signs of when she needed to be cut off.

“I know he is baby I’m just saying -hic- keep an eye on him. I know I will be tomorrow night!” She slumped over setting her elbow on the table, clumsily resting her chin in her palm. Her eyes were already at half mass.

“Yeah about tomorrow night. Could you maybe hold off on the drinking? At least keep it to one glass..” You wanted to add instead of one bottle, but you knew where that would lead the conversation and you’d rather not get in an argument tonight.

“Oh yes of course sweetie. You know I would never want to do anything to -hic- embarrass you.”Even her smile was crooked.

“Okay well maybe we should call it an early night. I want to make sure we’re nice and fresh for meeting Touya’s family tomorrow.”You helped her out of her chair and walked her to her bedroom, tucking her in.

Your mother was stressed. And when she’s stressed, she drinks. You couldn’t blame her. All in one night you revealed things are getting pretty serious with the boy you’ve been talkng to, and told her the following night you’ll be bringing her to dinner to meet him and his family.

She never did well with you having boyfriends, always so worried they were going to do you wrong like your father did her. You knew very little about the man, only the bits and pieces she shared about him. He was a regular at the bar your mom worked at, always flirting with her. They started dating and six weeks in she got pregnant. When she told him he flipped. He offered her a very large sum of money to disappear and she agreed, leaving town with a broken heart and swollen belly.

You felt bad for your mom, knowing the experience really jaded her. She never dated again, throwing herself into a new career all while being a full time mom. You hoped that seeing how amazing Touya was and how good you two were together, she would change her mind about love and get back out on the dating scene.

On the drive back to your place you called your boyfriend. You were beginning to feel nervous for the upcoming event.

“Hello dollface.” His deep voice was hypnotic, instantly soothing you.

“Hi handsome. How did it go telling your family about dinner tomorrow night?”You absentmindedly chewed on your bottom lip, a terrible habit you developed when anxious.

“Fine. Natsuo and Fuyumi won’t be able to make it. Shouto’s still doing his internship with dad’s company so he’ll be late along with my mom since they carpool to work. My dad however insisted on driving with me. He’s very interested to size up the woman who might give him grandchildren one day. Has to make sure you’re up to his standards.”His lighthearted chuckle did nothing to calm the nerves caused by his terrible joke.

When you didn’t respond he continued, “Oh come on Y/N I’m only kidding. I know they’re going to fall in love the moment they make eye contact, just like I did.”

“God I hope so.” You sighed, “Although its not just me I’m worried about.”

As you were getting ready for bed there was a knock on your door. Looking through the peephole you spotted a beautiful set of cerulean eyes and your heart leaped. You opened the door, forgetting you were in a skimpy set of silk pajamas.

You practically jumped into him, bouncing on your tippy toes so you could snake your arms around his neck. He held you close, splaying his palms across your lower back before reaching down further to grab a handful of buttcheek.

“What are you doing here handsome? Shouldn’t you be at home? We have a big night tomorrow.” You leaned back so you could see his face but stayed in his grasp.

“I wanted to surprise you. When we were on the phone earlier you sounded like you were stressing out about dinner tomorrow. I thought I’d come by and.. distract you.”He held you at arms length and let his eyes wander down to your lips, then chest, legs, and back up to your face, taking his time to enjoy the view. “But it looks like you were already expecting me?” A cheeky grin split his face.

Just then, the realization that you were standing in the hallway in basically underwear hit and you turned, wiggling your booty at the man behind you before pulling him inside. The latch clicked into place and he used your hold on his hand to spin you so your back was against the door, placing his hand behind your head to cushion it from hitting the hard surface.

Your lips parted and a small yelp escaped. Touya pressed his body into yours, sliding his hand to the back of your neck, his other hand untangling from yours to join. He nipped at your bottom lip and then slowly traced his tongue across it before enveloping your mouth with his own. You closed your eyes and kissed him back, arching your body into his. His kisses started migrating to your jaw, and then down the side of your neck. You hummed, tilting your head to the side to give him better access. When his kisses went from feather light to opened mouthed your eyes shot open. You grabbed a handful of his hair at the nape and pulled his head away from your neck. A growl rumbled in his chest and the feral look he gave you sent a shiver down your spine.

“No marks! Dinner tomorrow.. remember?”Although you could kick yourself for stopping him, you knew you’d thank yourself in the morning. He rolled his eyes at you, letting out an exaggerated sigh and rolling his neck to add effect.

“Okay okay fine. I’ll just have to leave my mark in other ways then..” And with that he bent down and tossed you over his shoulder in a fireman’s carry, heading straight to the bedroom. He unceremoniously dropped you onto the bed and began to take off his clothes. You leaned back on your elbows and laid there watching his movements. The way his muscles flexed as he pulled his shirt over his head. His strong hands undoing the buckle on his belt to then pull down his pants so he was in nothing but boxer briefs. You pulled your lip between your teeth while you enjoyed the show.

With a cocky smile on his face he leaned over you on the bed, moving so his lips barely grazed your ear. “Are you going to undress or do you need me to do it for you?” The baritone of his voice vibrated down to your core, causing your panties to dampen.

You began to undress but he grabbed your wrists and pinned them above your head against the bed. “It’s okay dollface. Let me do it for you.” He slid his hands down the length of your arms and down your sides stopping at the hem of your shirt. He pulled the fabric up over your head, your body lifting to assist the motion. He took a moment to admire you, slowly tracing your areola with his fingertips, one at a time, and watching them harden into perfect peaks. The action made goosebumps raise across your skin.

Once he was satisfied he moved to your lower half, hooking his fingers into the waistband of both your shorts and panties. Leaning in close to your body he began to pull the fabric down your legs, immediately noticing the string of your juices attached to your panties.

“Damn baby girl, is that all for me?”You recognized a hint of pride in his voice.

Smiling you nodded and squirmed a bit on the bed underneath him. “Mmm yes Touya. Its all for you.” There was no point in hiding the lust in your voice, It was useless to pretend you didn’t need him right now.

Once you were fully naked he grabbed you by the back of your knees and pushed your legs up, settling himself between them. He rested the side of his face on your inner thigh and examined you, grazing his fingers down towards your slit and the back again, never touching where you want him to. You felt so vulnerable in this position, everything splayed out for him to see, but he made you feel safe.

His eyes met yours as he continued his teasing touches. “You are so beautiful.”

His pupils were blown, just as you imagined yours were. Finally his index finger skimmed over your opening, gathering your juices, and found purchase on your clit, rubbing small circles into the little bundle of nerves.

You let out a moan, closing your eyes and throwing your head back against the pillows. He turn his palm and slid his middle finger inside you rubbing his rough pads along your favorite spot. A heat began to collect in your core. “Eyes on me babygirl.”

You struggled to keep your eyes open as he continued his ministrations on your g-spot, adding another finger. Your hips bucked again and you began to whimper, you were getting close. He brought his face to your pussy, keeping his eyes on yours. You could feel the heat of his breath on your sensitive skin as his tongue slipped out to trace circles around your clit. Your hips started to wriggle vigorously until you were nearly riding his face. He pumped his fingers in and out of you, every so often to rubbing at the spot that he knew would have you seeing stars.

The heat grew, turning into a volcano about to errupt. Your hands grabbed at the sheets, balling into fists. “Touya.. Fuck- I’m gunnA-” But your words were cut off with a moan as you came undone. Your hips rose off the mattress and you squeezed your legs around his head. He ceased his movements, letting you ride out the wave of your climax.

Lost in a cloud of ecstasy. The release did wonders to calm your nerves. You opened your eyes trying to bring them back in focus. Suddenly you felt a tap tap on your leg and looked down. There sat Touya, head trapped in the fleshy prison of your thighs. You gasped and released him, sobering up from the orgasm he just gave you. “Oh my gosh Touya I’m so sorry!”

He chuckled, rubbing his jaw. “That’s quite alright dollface. If I died between those beautiful legs of yours I would die a happy man.” He placed a quick peck on your lips. “Besides, I know how you can make it up to me.”

Before you could register what was happening you were flipped onto your stomach and your ass was being lifted into the air. He started to rub his length along your slit, smearing your juices on the underside of his shaft. The sensation of his veiny cock rubbing your already sensitive pussy sends jolts of electricity through your body. You groan, grinding yourself back onto him.

“Mmm that feel good baby girl?” He smacks your hip, using his other hand to line himself up with your entrance. A hiss leaves his lips when he pushes himself into you, savoring the way you feel around him. He bottoms out and stills, rubbing tiny circles on your lower back. The stretch feels incredible. He fills you up perfectly, reaching to your deepest erogenous zone. His inaction starts to drive you crazy and you begin to bounce yourself on his cock.

He grabs your hips and leans over your body. “So impatient. Alright then, do you want me to start moving?”You try to grind against him but his grip is firm holding you in place.

“Use your words dollface. What is it you want me to do?”Even though you can’t see him you can hear the shit eating grin on his face.

You let out a whine. “Ple-ease Touya.. p-please move! Need to f-feeel you.”

He starts with shallow thrusts, barely enough to cause friction. You whimper burying your face into the comforter.

“Is this what you want baby girl? Huh?”His grip tightens, so much for no marks. At least its somewhere you can cover with clothes.

Tears of frustration collect at the corners of your eyes and you shake your head no. Another smack lads on your hip. “I said use your words.” This time the command came out in a growl. His thrusts, though still shallow, began to snap harder against you. You needed more.

“Harder please! Ple-ease go harder!” Your pleas were granted when he pulled almost all the way out and thrust into you hard. Once, twice, then sets a brutal pace, pounding into you. He reached forward and hooked his fingers into your mouth, causing droll to spill down your chin. You were a whimpering mess. Moans and grunts filled the apartment, volume raising as you both reached your peaks.

“Fuck- I’m close. Where do you want it baby?”His thrusts turned erratic. You were almost there too.

“Inside! Cum inside me!”Arousal had completely taken over your thoughts, your pussy was the one making the decisions now.

His hand left your mouth to find purchase around your neck, pulling you up so your back was flush against his chest. His other arm wrapped around your body, grabbing your opposite shoulder and pulling you into his thrusts. He released himself inside you moaning in your ear, the pressure sending you into climax once more.

The both of you sat there a moment, steadying your breathing.

“That was..”He began.

“Necessary.”You finished.

You’re the first one to arrive at the restaurant. It was a local place, family owned, making for an intimate setting. The host seats you and you wait for the others, pulling out your phone to check for any notifications. As you look up you spot your mom walking in, she looks anxious. She notices you and smiles, almost walking into someone on her way to your reserved table.

“Hi mom.” You say with a sympathetic smile, “You good?”You rub her back in an attempt to soothe her, thinking to yourself which one is the child again?

“Oh I’ll be fine, as soon as i get a drink.” She flags a server over and orders a cocktail. You drop your hand and sigh, hoping she sticks to her promise of only one.

When her drink arrives she takes a sip, “Aahh much better.” She sighs, smacking her lips.

“They should be here soon, if you wanted to save your one drink for when we get our food..”You watched her take another sip, or more like a gulp.

“Mmm yes, yes. You’re right.”A sense of relief washed over you as you watched her put the drink down.

Your server walked up to the table. “Hello I’m Sou, and I’ll be your server for the evening. Is there anything I can get started for you? Some bread?”

“Yes we’d love some bread, and can we have water for six please? We’re waiting for some more people to arrive.” You smiled at the man.

“Actually, could you point me in the direction of the little girls room?” Your mother asked rising out of her chair. He directed her to a hallway to the right of the table and your mom was off with a quick “Be right back!”

She disappeared into the hallway right as a man with bright red hair and very large in stature entered the restaurant. You knew who he was immediately, him having the same cerulean eyes as your boyfriend. Confirming your suspicion Touya walked in behind him. You stood up and waved them over to the table, not being able to control the smile beaming on your face.

Touya got to you first “Hey babe, you look stunning.” He reached a hand around your waist and kissed you on the cheek. Then he stepped back, giving his father room to approach you. Your stomach did a somersault.

“Dad, this is Y/N.”He kept his hand resting on the small of your back to help calm your nerves a bit.

“Hello Mr. Todoroki. Its a pleasure to make your acquaintance.” You held out your hand and it was soon engulfed by his much larger one.

“The pleasure is all mine Y/N I assure you.”He smiled, which somehow made him look more intimidating. “Touya, you didn’t mention how stunningly beautiful Y/N is.” You grinned, glancing at Touya who looked like he was going to pop a blood vessel trying not to roll his eyes.

“Lets sit. Y/N is your mom here yet?”Touya quickly changed the subject.

“Yes she’s here. Shes just in the ladies room, she should be out any minute.” Sou the server returns with a basket of bread and some waters.

“So Y/N, what do you do for a living?”Mr. Todoroki asks taking a sip of his water. You give Touya the side eye. This was a subject you were hoping to avoid, unsure if his father would approve of your line of work.

“I actually own my own business.” You feel Touya’s hand squeeze your knee under the table, encouraging you to continue. “I’m a salon owner. I have a shop on the other side of town. I started off behind the chair but with the salon as busy as it is now I only do hair one day a week. The rest of the time I’m running the business.”

Mr. Todoroki eyes you from across the table and your heart starts to palpitate. Shit. Is he disappointed?

“Ah! An entrepreneur. I’m always telling Touya in life a person needs to take risks, do what makes them happy. See Touya, you could learn a thing or two from this one.” You let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding. Touya gives your hand another squeeze before letting go.

You begin sharing the ins and outs of the salon world when someone clears their throat to the right of you.

You look up to see your mom, frozen in place, all the blood drained from her face. “Mom?”You start to stand.

Touya and his father turn to greet her, but upon doing so Mr. Todoroki’s face drops and he can’t seem to find the words he was about to say.

“Is this some sort of joke?” Her words were like venom, and seemed to be directed toward the large man in front of her.

“Mom what are you talking about?”You try to laugh off your moms behavior, “This is Touya and his father Mr.-”

“Enji Todoroki.”She sounded furious. You looked to your boyfriend, relieved to see he was just as confused as you were.

“Do.. you two know each other?”Touya asked hesitantly.

Mr. Todoroki finally spoke. “Mira, I-”He looked at you, studied your face, then over to his son, and back to you.

“Oh.. oh no.”

“Can someone please tell us what the hell is going on?”Touya’s volume was raising in irritation.

“This..is all my fault.”You mother said before grabbing her purse and running out of the restaurant.

“Mom!” You called after her, but she was gone.

Anger and confusion rose inside you. The evening started off perfectly, of course your mom would be the one to ruin it. But how did she know Touya’s dad? You weren’t even sure if you wanted to know the answer to that question.

“I..” Mr. Todoroki looked at you, his face unreadable. “I can’t be here.”He too got up and left the restaurant with haste.

“Dad!” Touya called after him, then looked at you. “Do you know what all that was about?”

“I have no idea, but I’m going to find out.”You grabbed your phone out of your purse to call your mom, but just as you unlocked the screen a text message came in, and then another.

Mom<3: I know you’re probably confused, I’m so sorry you had to find out this way..

Mom<3: I don’t know how else to tell you, so I’ll just show you. I only have one picture of your father, and it was taken the night before I found out I was pregnant.

An attachment followed the texts and when you opened it you felt your heart fall out of your butt.

It was a picture of your mom in a skin tight dress with a drink in her hand, she was laughing and leaning into the arms of a much larger man with fiery red hair and cerulean eyes. Your father. Enji Todoroki.

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

Bonus Scene (that no one asked for):

Slowly you turned to see the same look of trauma on your boyfriends face. He had been reading her texts over your shoulder, and he already knew the story of your father.

Nausea overtook you. You couldn’t speak. You dropped your phone on the table with the picture still open and the two of you sat there staring at each other.

“Touya?”A young man with split colored hair broke the silence. You both turned to look at him.

“Shou..”Touya addressed his youngest brother in a daze.

“What’s wrong?”Shouto asked, then glancing at the phone on the table he added, “Is that dad?”

#bnha smut #bnha x reader #touya todoroki smut #touya todoroki x reader #i am so sorry #female reader #reader insert #mha smut #mha x reader #dabi x reader #dabi smut #bnha lemon #mha lemon #dabi lemon #touya todoroki lemon #eyebagsbutglam #eyebagsbutglam writings

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shreddedparchment · 4 years

Text

A World of Our Own Pt.06

Broken Hearts

09/20/2020

Pairing: Bucky x Reader Word Count: 6,012

Warnings: violence, blood, suggestive themes, language

A/N: I’ve been so excited for this chapter for so long. Probably just one or two more chapters after this. I hope you enjoy it! If you happen to reblog, thank you so much for helping me spread my work. xoxo

Ryan’s chuckle is infectious, and you can’t help but laugh along with him as he leans over to stoke the flames of your campfire.

It’s warm. Cozy by the roaring ocean waves that bring with it a cool briny breeze.

“Don’t laugh at me. It was very traumatizing.” Ryan demands, putting the large stick he’s been using to poke the fire aside before leaning back against new palm logs that he and Bucky had chopped for seating.

Even though you’re meant to sit on them, all of you seem to prefer to sit on blankets you’d stitched together from clothing too worn to use anymore.

“I feel bad for the shark. It has probably never seen a naked man before in its life and you’re out here dangling your bits all over its face.” You tease, shaking your head as if you really disapprove of him.

“Wha-?!” Ryan gasps, mouth wide open as he struggles to find a comeback.

“I was mindin’-” he takes a lengthy pause. “-mah own business-”

He places his hand on his chest as he pauses again, the wheels in his brain working quickly to come up with his excuse.

“-when this very large an’ scary fish comes out of the depths an’ charges me. I was the one scrambling ta get back ta shore. I was the one who was given a heart attack. Not the bloody shark!”

“Well, why were you swimming so far out?” You ask him, chuckling again and feeling your cheeks warm with embarrassment at the memory of watching him run out of the water screaming at the top of his lungs, “Shark! Shark! Shark!” completely naked.

You’re not ashamed to say that there was nothing there that wasn’t worth looking at, but it was only an afterthought that you now think of as opposed to noticing in the moment.

You’d turned around instantly and gasped, completely confused as to why he was running towards you naked until you’d heard what he was saying.

“Should I start the fish?” Ryan asks, reaching for the folded leaves beside him where you’d put the cleaned fish when the sun had still been out.

It’s very obvious that Ryan isn’t answering your question.

Both you and Bucky have been watching him closely over the past month, since he’d first shown up completely wet, wondering where it is that he goes when he swims.

It wouldn’t make you so suspicious if he weren’t randomly disappearing when he takes these swims. He waits until you and Bucky are busy, distracted, then wanders off without a word.

Bucky has made you swear not to follow him, afraid of what Ryan might be capable of if he is up to something and is suddenly caught.

Problem is Bucky also refuses to leave you alone anymore, so he doesn’t get to tail Ryan either.

Until Ryan chooses to answer your question, neither of you will ever know where he goes.

“Sure.” You nod, then reach to place the metal sheet that Bucky had made for cooking food without having to deal with embers and ash on the fish.

Ryan separates each fish into one leaf on its own then places them on the thin sheet so that they might bake.

The two of you work in silence for a bit, sitting across the fire from each other, you steal glances at him, and he returns each look. He smiles, his expression kind and so trustworthy that you think in moments like these that you and Bucky might be wrong about him.

“Ryan?” You begin, hesitant.

He smiles to encourage you.

“Can I ask you something?”

“Of course.” He nods, smile vanishing as his face becomes a little more serious. Confused as to why you think you have to ask.

“Why don’t you talk about your son?” You wonder, now having said the words your mouth keeps going. “You drop this bomb and then never mention him again. I wasn’t sure whether you didn’t want to talk about him, so I never asked. If you’d prefer not to, I understand. There are things I’d rather not talk about to. Everyone is entitled to their secrets. I just—a kid is such a big part of who you are, right? Not the only part of you, obviously but he’s your son. You must think about him all the time.

“Who did you leave him with? He must miss you so much. I’m so sorry that you’re stuck here, with us, instead of home with your boy.” You sigh, and your breath shudders.

You smile at him awkwardly, realizing you’ve rambled on nervously.

“Sorry.” You offer, “I kinda just go off when I’m nervous.”

Ryan’s face is the picture of relaxation, however. He’s not smiling, but he doesn’t look upset that you’ve asked.

“I’m sorry.” He shakes his head and you’re certain that he’s going to tell you he doesn’t want to talk about it, but then… “To be perfectly honest, I wasn’t really sure that you or Bucky cared to know about Conor.”

“His name is Conor?” You gasp, smiling already like an idiot as you start to imagine a mini version of Ryan. Sandy blonde hair, lovely eyes, light skin.

“Aye, wee tyke is only five but when he talks to you, he sounds much older.” Finally, he smiles, the admiration of a father pouring out of him as he thinks about his little boy.

“Does he look like you or his mother?” You wonder, eager for details now that he’s talking.

“He looks like his mother. Almost my exact opposite. Dark hair and skin. Perhaps a bit lighter than his mother but he’s her spittin’ image. Dark eyes too. Just as beautiful.” Ryan says, a bit more forlorn than before.

Your own smile falters, wondering if maybe he and Conor’s mother are no longer together? Jeez, you really hope that he isn’t still married and flirting with you the way he has been. Not that you blame him being stuck on an island with no other women, but still.

Ryan seems like the type of man to devote himself completely.

“Is she-?” You offer, just to see if he’d like to open up.

He meets your gaze, holding it for a long moment before he tilts his head a little as he makes his choice quickly.

“Grace died. Just after giving birth to Conor. Conor almost went with her, but he pulled through and we have made a go of it, I think.” He gives you another smile. “I think he’s happy. Or was, before all this.”

“I’m so sorry, Ryan. I’m sure Conor loves and appreciates you very much.” His story is tragic, and your heart truly breaks for him.

“Thank you. Gettin’ back to him is the only thing that matters now.” He nods, looking more at ease. “It feels good to talk about them if I’m honest. I havin’ really spoken about it ta anyone other than mah parents. That’s who Conor is with, by the way. You were wonderin’ earlier.”

“You can always talk to me. About anything.” You assure him.

His smile grows wider and any sorrow left in his eyes vanishes as he looks down at the cooking fish before giving his head a minute shake.

“What?” You ask, your own voice shaking with the hint of laughter at the amused expression on his face.

“I was just thinkin’ about how unfortunate it is that you’re taken now. You would have made him a proper step-mom maybe.” His bold words stun you.

At a loss for what to say, you can only seem to focus on the way your neck begins to burn.

Ryan clearly enjoys watching you squirm for the two second that he has to do so before Bucky’s voice breaks the tension.

“Keep that up and you’ll lose your room.” Bucky warns, a playful note in his voice but really you can hear how serious he is.

“I just got it.” Ryan protests, looking towards the hut down the beach.

Bucky worked so hard on the build, elevated and sturdy with each brick placed with care and somewhat expert precision. The gambrel roof, which Bucky chose so that you could use the extra space to hang clothes and food away from where animals might find them, is tall and thatched with the fronds you’d worked so hard to tear and resew to keep the hut safe from the elements.

The hut is split in two down the center with two entrances. When you face the hut, the left side of it is taken by Ryan, a flight of bamboo stairs leading up to the curtained entrance. The right side belongs to you and Bucky.

“Stop flirting with my girl then, and I’ll let you keep it.” Bucky threatens, this time it’s clear he means it.

Ryan holds up his hands in defeat as you turn to devour you freshly bathed Bucky. In jeans and a t-shirt, he looks almost as if he’s ready to begin his day but instead of being productive he drops his dirty clothes into the handmade basket you’d woven with the extra strips of palm fronds then moves towards you. He takes hold of your face, tilting it back so that you might look up at him.

He leans down to look at you, smiling pleasantly.

“Hi.” He tells you, voice deep and penetrating.

“Hi.” You reply. “You smell good.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

He leans down and kisses you, lips so sweet and fresh you could really just do this all night. He holds it for a few moments before he begins pushing you to scoot forward.

You move as he wants you to, looking back at him as he sits himself behind you, legs spread wide before he pulls you back to sit between his legs which he props up on either side of you. His arms wrap around your stomach and while your happiness quadruples with this unyielding affection he seems to shower on you lately, you can’t help but notice the way Ryan looks away, a small twinge of bitterness in his expression.

It’s just the island. You tell yourself, certain that if you all weren’t stuck here, you wouldn’t be so lucky as to hold the attention of two very beautiful men.

Although you’re certain, you can’t help but wonder if Ryan really does like you. Is it possible?

~~~~~~~~~~

Time doesn’t stop. Not for you stuck on this island. Not for Bucky, torn from the promise of a new life. Not for Ryan who misses his son and is losing more and more time with him. With time is taken all hope that you’ll ever be rescued but the three of you refuse to speak the words aloud.

In silence, there is the illusion of hope and you cannot afford to let it go.

Days roll into weeks and the three of you try to keep your spirits up. It’s easier for you and Bucky, you assume. Finally, being with him has changed very little and so much all at once.

The biggest change is your sleeping arrangements. The hut has been built for a while now. Two months it feels like, going on three. Six months going on seven since you three have been trapped here.

With the hut came privacy, the adobe wall that splits it in two gives you and Bucky the luxury of cuddling as you used to in the fuselage without the worries of being accidentally disturbed.

Because of this, in the morning Bucky’s warm kisses trail along your cheeks, your neck, onto your collarbone raising tingles in all the right places before he finds his way up to your lips.

His arms wrap themselves around you as hey lays himself over you and you raise your leg to hold him close.

“Good morning.” He whispers and your eyes open, devouring the beautiful image of him. Clean and dry. Not a drop of sweat on his perfect skin whereas your own is dewy and you’re in need of a morning swim.

“Good morning.” You whisper, your body burning for him.

It doesn’t help that you can feel him pressed against your thighs, stiff and awake with the morning.

With your lips suddenly dry, you run your tongue along them, wetting them as your breath hitches when he rolls his hips from side to side as he adjusts himself over you.

You know that he doesn’t mean it to make your blood boil, but it does and you snake your hands down to his waist before your fingers worm their way underneath his t-shirt and gently tickle his smooth skin.

“What are you doing?” He asks you, a smile in his voice as he raises an eyebrow but hold you closer.

“I don’t know.” You shrug, licking your lips again.

He huffs a laugh, cool air raising goosebumps along your neck.

“I think you know.” He counters, amused by your attempt to seduce him.

“Then why ask?” You reach down, sliding your hand down underneath the waistband of his underwear, breath catching in your throat at the swell of his bum.

“Y/N,” He pleads, a small hint of a chastising tone to his words. “We can’t.”

“But I want to.” You whimper, tired of begging. It’s been so long since the two of you have been together. For what feels like forever now.

“So, do I, kitten. Trust me.” He wiggles his hips, probably just trying to get comfortable but he inadvertently eggs you on, proves his point by pressing his erection against you—accidentally of course.

“Then…” You try it even though you know he’ll say no. Even though this argument has failed so many times. “…I can just-I’ll give you something and you don’t have to give me anything back.”

“I could never do that.” He argues, his face contorting a bit more. The hints of anger rising.

“Then we can just stop there, Bucky. We’ve got control, don’t we? I wanna suck your co-”

“Jesus, Y/N.” Bucky rolls off of you, sitting at the edge of the low bed with his elbows on his knees as he looks across the hut to the opposite wall, his breathing a little heavy.

You sit up, blinking away the tears of rejection because you know he doesn’t mean it in that way. You know what his worry is because it’s you’re worry too.

“I’m sorry.” You move up behind him, hugging him around his chest and resting your cheek against his solid back.

The rapid rate of his heart tells you how much he wants you even if he can’t see to let himself show it. You take solace in that as you splay your hands on his chest, breathing in the scent of the coconut oil you’d infused into the handmade soap you’d worked on several weeks ago.

“I…you know that we can’t.” He frets, still upset.

“I do.” You shake your head. “I’m just-”

He hears the sob trapped in your throat and he turns so quickly you nearly fall over but he’s there, holding you tight against his chest, hands caressing the back of your head as the other wraps around your shoulders.

“I want you, kitten. Believe me. I do. If I could be sure that we wouldn’t mess up…You were the one that set this boundary.” He reminds you, pulling back to look at you as shame overcomes you.

He’s right of course. You’d told him that you didn’t want to sleep with him until the two of you could be sure that you wouldn’t get pregnant. Not here. Not on this island. There was too much that could go wrong. Too much danger for a baby, not to mention birthing one here with no doctors in case something went wrong.

No, you couldn’t do it and so you’d both agreed.

But…

“I didn’t think we’d still be here.” You huff, burying your face into his chest to hide your embarrassment.

Bucky breathes a little more lightly, almost laughing again at the shift. This conversation has gone from up to down and right back up.

“I know, babe.” He whispers, resting his chin on your head as he strokes your back with both hands. “To be honest, my patience is also wearing thin.”

You pull back quickly, searching to get a look at his eyes to see if he might be lying. He isn’t and it does make you feel better that you aren’t the only one struggling with this abstinence.

“I don’t know how much longer I’ll be able to wait.” He confesses.

“Me neither.” You sigh. “But you already knew that.”

His face breaks into a smile and you’re calm again, happy to see that beautiful expression on his handsome face. Silver blue eyes all crinkled at the corners.

You reach up to touch his hair, giving it a decent appraisal. “You need another cut.”

“I think we should go shorter this time.” He nods.

“Like a little higher than your chin?” You touch the spot, but Bucky shakes his head.

“No, I mean, short.”

You gasp. “Bucky, I don’t think I trust myself to do that.”

“I trust you.” He counters but you shake your head.

Nope. You’re not going to risk butchering his lovely locks.

“I won’t do it, Barnes.” You frown.

“Stubborn ass.” He glowers.

“Fuck you.” You retort.

“Not yet.” He teases.

“I hate you!” You spit at him, because you can already see the laugh coming at that unfair statement and you shove away from him, moving towards the clothes you’ve got packed in one of the salvaged suitcases to pull out your favorite pair of jean shorts and a plain red t-shirt.

He’s laughing as you dress and doesn’t stop when you’re gone.

Making your way down to the campfire, you search for Ryan, half expecting to find him cooking fish for breakfast but he’s nowhere to be found.

As Bucky joins you, dressed in the same t-shirt with his own favorite pair of jeans on, you place your hands on your hips and look towards the stretch of water where the cockpit had once been visible.

It seems to have sunk to the floor now that the tide has risen and fallen so many times, taking the plane with it.

“What’s the matter?” Bucky wonders, lifting his foot onto the trough he’s been mixing more clay in again, working on something secret that he refuses to let you in on just yet.

“I’ll tell you when it’s relevant. Right now, it’s just a precaution. Trust me, okay? If I need to bring it up, I will.” Then he’d gone back to lining the outside of the hut with metal sheets from the plane before sealing them over with clay.

He laces up his boot but watches you as he works.

“He’s gone again.” You shake your head.

“He hasn’t tried anything.” Bucky ponders. “If he was going to hurt us, he would have done it by now.”

“I know, it’s just…” You bite your lip.

“He is hiding something.” Bucky agrees, this conversation having played out so many times. “But I think he also wants some distance from us. We’re probably annoying to be around.”

“We’re not that bad anymore.” You argue.

“Oh yeah?” Bucky whispers, his lips suddenly at your ear.

He kisses it, slipping your lobe into his mouth as your eyes shut to the pleasure the gesture raises.

“You’re not making this any easier.” You sigh but turn to look at him and without hesitation pull him down to meet your lips with his own.

The kiss is a frenzy, heated and eager as your hands grope and cling as Bucky’s also press and pull against the flesh of your hips and ass leaving burning bruises behind.

Out here where you might get caught is the safest place to be this affectionate. Where you can’t take this any further than this passionate kiss.

“Do ya really have ta do that so early in the mornin’?” Ryan’s voice cuts in, interrupting just as you both intend.

Bucky pulls away first, letting the smack of your kiss echo before giving you one devilish grin then marching back to the trough.

“Sorry.” You turn to Ryan, hoping your expression is rightly chastised. “Fish?”

Ryan holds it up to indicate his catch then moves towards you to hand it over for cleaning.

You settle down beside him on your usual stump, pulling out your makeshift knives and gut the fish with the precision of someone who’s done this everyday for half a year. Ryan gets to building a new fire, gathering as much of the ash for you as he can for when you decide to make more soap.

While you work, you watch him, stealing glances at the subtle downturn to the corners of his lips.

The longer he works the more he seems to wallow.

Once the fish is settled over the fire, you turn in your spot to focus your attention on him.

“What?”

Slightly startled, he turns to you with wide eyes, all traces of the depression he’s been in gone.

“What?” He sounds confused.

“What’s the matter with you?” You clarify.

“Oh.” He sighs and shakes his head.

You know you can guess. “Conor?”

“Aye, Conor.” The sadness returns to his face and your heart gives a painful lurch for him.

He must miss his son so much.

“He’s probably startin’ school this month.” He laments, stoking the fire.

“It’s his first year?”

“Aye, I hope he isn’t scared.” Ryan hopes.

“I’m sure he’s just as brave as his dad.” You offer in comfort, giving Ryan as kind a smile as you can muster.

“We’ll get off this island, Ryan. Someone will come. Even if it’s by accident. Even if it’s years from now. You’ll be with Conor again.” You hope, because even though you want it to be a promise, you don’t know.

Ryan’s face contorts, agony ripping through him for one quick second before he meets your gaze and reaches out to take hold of your hand.

“I think…” Bucky begins from the trough, Ryan’s hand freezing mere inches from your own.

He takes it back and clears his throat, the look of pain vanishing from his handsome face before he looks to Bucky just as you do.

Bucky’s gaze is focused on the horizon, the ocean waves unnaturally gentle. It’s a beautiful day.

“What is it babe?” You call, trying to pull Bucky out of his thoughts.

He turns his furrowed brow back to the two of you, “I think we might have to move to the cave. Soon.”

“The cave?” You rise, glancing at the fish to make sure they’re not burning. “The one Ryan was in when he landed?”

Ryan sits back, a perplexed gaze fixed on Bucky.

“Yeah. Do you think you can show me where it is?”

“Why would ya need to go there?” Ryan reaches out to stoke the fire once again, pulling his gaze away from you both.

“Bucky?” You worry, moving towards him as he straightens up and wipes his hands clean to take your hand as you reach him.

“We won’t need to go there yet.” He assures you, wrapping his metal arm around your waist to pull you into his side. “It’s just a precaution.”

“A precaution against what?”

“It’s hurricane season. The hut is…I’m not exactly an architect. I’ve done what I can with what we have but that hut is not meant to withstand a hurricane. When it comes down to it, we might be able to take shelter in the fuselage if we have to but with the three of us, the cave might be a better option. How did you hold up in the caves during that first storm?” Bucky gestures to Ryan.

Ryan spares you both a glance before nodding. “There was minor flooding at the back jus’ before the exit by the jungle but otherwise it was dry and safe. It’s not a bad plan.”

“Then you’ll show me where it is?” Bucky insists.

“It’s not hard ta find, but sure. Tomorrow morning?” Ryan turns to him.

Bucky nods leaning down to press a kiss to your head.

The memory of that initial hurricane just after you’d crash landed here fills you with worry. What if you do have to go through another one and this one is worse? How likely is it that you’d die from a storm before you get rescued?

“Don’t worry, kitten. I’ll keep you safe.” Bucky whispers, reaching up to stroke your cheek with the back of his hand where there is no clay.

“I wish you didn’t have to shoulder so much.”

“Taking care of you is never too much.” Bucky smiles. “I kinda look forward to it actually.”

“Why?” You wonder, absolutely confused.

“Because I do. Don’t question it. Just accept it. You’re never getting rid of me.” He teases.

“Even when we’re rescued?” You turn to face him, wrapping your arms around his waist.

“Especially when we’re rescued.” He wiggles his eyebrows at you once, then starts to lean down towards you for a kiss.

“I’m going for a swim.” Ryan announces, breaking the little bubble you and Bucky are in.

Without ceremony, Ryan moves straight for water headed towards the crash site without even feigning a different direction.

This draws both yours and Bucky’s attention as both of you are well aware that Ryan has still been swimming out to the cabin, but he’s taken such great care to go at it in roundabout ways. While strange, you guess that he must be more upset about Conor than even you could tell.

Your mind replays the agonized look he’d given you before when you’d promised him that rescue would be coming. Maybe he could tell that it was only your hope?

“He misses Conor. He should be starting school soon.” You explain.

“Mm.” Bucky nods, accepting your explanation.

“If there were any photos, he would have found them already, wouldn’t he?” You wonder, curious to no end about your new friend.

Sure, you have suspicions, but after so much time spent with him, you’ve both accepted him as a part of your life here. Ryan has your trust. And though you know it was given reluctantly, Bucky’s too.

“Maybe he just can’t bear to give up. I know I wouldn’t.” Bucky looks down at you, giving you a squeeze.

“If you had a son?” You ask.

“I’m not opposed to the idea.” Bucky stuns you, pulling you to look at him with his words to see how serious he might be about it. “With you. When the time is right.”

Your heart is pounding. Your mind is reeling. Bucky wants to have kids with you?

“You promise?” You gasp, so shocked your voice is mostly air.

“I love you.”

You smile, loving the words that spill from his lips.

“You do?”

Bucky smiles then chuckles, reaching up to squeeze the back of your neck, and you know that he’s telling you the truth.

~~~~~~~~~~

“You smell good.” Bucky sighs, holding the blanket open for you as you take off your shoes and slip into the bed and nestle into Bucky’s arms. “Good bath?”

You can hear the exhaustion in his voice. He’s been working so hard to fortify the hut for smaller storms that might hit.

“Yes.” You hug him, cuddling in against his side as he drapes the blanket over you.

“You’re wearing your shorts?” He checks, and he’s right.

You’ve chosen to sleep in your second set of shorts, dark gray cloth instead of jeans and your tattered blue floral dress.

Because you don’t answer, Bucky adjusts to look down at you, forcing himself awake.

“Kitten?”

“I’m just…I want to be ready if we need to go short notice.” You confess, shutting your eyes and refusing to look at him. You don’t want him to see the fear.

“Ready for what?”

“Anything. Hurricanes.” You admit and wish you could throw away this fear.

You’re almost expecting Bucky to chastise you for your worrying but instead he settles into the plane cushion bed again and cuddles you closer.

“That’s smart.” He approves. “But we won’t have anywhere to run until tomorrow morning. Ryan has to show us the cave first.”

“Can I come?” You’re already drifting off, voice weak and slurring.

Bucky’s is the same, both of you exhausted from the day’s work.

“You kidding? I’m not letting you outta my sight.” He mumbles, his breathing getting heavier.

You almost smile but sleep takes you and your mind is overcome with dreams of thunderous clouds.

~~~~~~~~~~

For a moment Bucky isn’t sure what he’s hearing. He can feel you stirring to the sound in his arms and he tries to hold you tighter.

You were so scared before, the look of terror in your eyes at the prospect of being caught in a storm worse than the one you weathered before.

He wants to make sure you feel safe and secure with him. He’ll protect you from weather and predator, whether that’s animal or stupid fucking Ryan.

You tug away from him hard though and the sound…a humming…no, a loud thumping. It’s hard to place as he tries to both understand the sound and also figure out why you’re no longer lying beside him.

“Y/N?” He searches, sleepily pushing himself onto one elbow as he hears you bolt for the door.

Suddenly he’s wide awake and he can hear you rounding the hut to the other set of stairs on the other side.

He pulls his boots on quickly, sliding his feet in and lacing them with nimble fingers loosely.

“He’s gone!” You cry out, the pure panic in your voice as the sound overhead suddenly makes sense to Bucky.

A helicopter! It thuds loudly, motor whirring and buzzing and blowing sand everywhere while whipping trees back and forth.

Bucky springs form the hut and sees you already racing towards the trees where you can see the chopper headed.

He passes you quickly, easily. But he doesn’t stop because he knows that you would never forgive him.

Bucky runs faster than he’s ever run in his life, barreling through dense jungle but never once missing a step.

The branches of certain trees scrape at his skin and slap his face, but he doesn’t relent in his pursuit.

It takes minutes for him to reach a small field of tall grass. It’s sways violently in the chopper’s wind and at the center of this field is Ryan.

Bucky stops, taking in the sight as a blinding spotlight shines on Ryan first then quickly swings towards him.

Ryan follows the beam and when he sees Bucky take a step towards him, he reaches down to his hip where a holster suddenly sits. He pulls a gun, a 9mm Beretta from what Bucky can tell, and stops his advance.

“Stop!” Ryan orders, his voice tight and commanding.

As the chopper descends a little more to hover at fifty feet, a steel wire ladder falls down towards Ryan as Bucky begins to notice the metal case in his other arm.

“What’s in there?” Bucky asks, staying as still as he can until he might have a chance to pounce.

“The other black box.” Ryan says simply, his voice softer but defiant. “Parts of it.”

Bucky’s glare is piercing and if Ryan didn’t have that gun, he would probably have already fled.

“I had to…” Ryan begins, still combative in tone but Bucky realizes that the anger in it is not directed at him. “They have me by the balls, mate. When Grace died, Conor would have followed, but they found me, and they offered to save his life. That is a debt I can never repay.”

Bucky’s fists tighten, anger bubbling up to choke him so that he cannot speak. These schemes, it has to be Hydra. No one else would want him dead.

“Who’s they?” He forces himself to ask, just to make sure.

It could be the U.S. Government too if he’s being completely honest. They could very well want him out of the way.

“I don’t know. People.” Ryan throws out, and Bucky believes that he doesn’t know. “All I know is they wanted you out of the way. If I had known that she…I didn’t know that she would be there. I didn’t know that they would die.”

Ryan’s voice grows thick and he shakes his head, ridding himself of whatever thoughts his guilt have conjured up.

“If I don’t finish the job, they’ll kill mah boy.” He holds the gun steadier, catching his breath before he makes his face as stoic as possible. “This is all I can give her. I can’t save her, but I can at least do this much. I can give her you. They’ll think you’re dead. I’ll make sure.”

Bucky sees it now. The real emotions behind his eyes. Ryan does love you. He’s certain of it now. He also understands what he’s saying and leans forward, angling himself so that when Ryan shoots, the bullet will hit his shoulder. Too high to be his chest and endanger his lungs or heart.

“Tell her I’m sorry.” Ryan pleads, and squeezes the trigger.

Bucky’s mind races with possibilities. Ryan might miss. He could hit him where he will not recover and then you’d be left here alone on this island. You’d hate him for not fighting and hate Ryan for killing him. He could bleed out and Bucky can’t imagine you here without him.

The bullet pierces him just where he’d hoped and falls to the ground with a heavy thud and goes as still as he can possibly can.

He holds his breath, pushing through the pain that burns from his right shoulder, and hoping that the chopper will leave quickly.

~~~~~~~~~~

Gasping with a stitch in your side and your legs made of jelly, you break through the trees onto a field you’ve passed a few times here on the island but avoided in case of snakes.

The sight before freezes you. Ryan shoots. Bucky falls.

Ryan turns to a wire ladder and begins to climb, and you race to Bucky, sobs already shaking your body.

“Bucky, no!” You gasp. “Please. Please, don’t be dead.”

As you reach him, you turn him over, and see that his eyes are wide open, reading your heartbroken expression as he remains unmoving while you press your hands against his wound.

You continue to sob, turning your eyes to the chopper overhead as it pulls away and takes with it all hope of your rescue.

As it fades into the distance, Bucky pulls himself up a bit, sitting up and pressing his much larger hand against the bullet hole on the front while you fuss with the exit wound in the back.

“W-We need to s-stitch you up.” You cry, voice low and controlled despite the sobs still ripping through your throat.

Without hesitation you reach down and tear away at your dress reducing its length even further, now just barely reaching your hips. You wrap it around the wound as best you can, slapping Bucky’s hand away to shove more fabric over it and then place his hand back over the spot.

“I’m alright, kitten.” Bucky tells you, voice strong and certain.

“Like fuck-all you are.” You sob, fisting the front of his shirt as you refuse to look back to where you can still hear the chopper’s sounds, fading. “H-He shot you.”

Bucky strokes the side of your face with his metal hand, directing your gaze up so that you can look at him.

As you meet his steel and ice eyes, full of warmth and reassurance, you fall to pieces as you realize that Ryan has betrayed you. All your suspicions, as unlikely as you’d thought them, were true.

Bucky metal arm pulls you closer, his lips pressed to your crown as you sob against his chest, knowing now that you will never leave this place. You and Bucky will live and die on this island and no one will ever know you were here.

#bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #castaway au #bucky x reader fanfiction #bucky x reader fic #winter soldier x reader #bucky barnes x reader fanfiction #marvel au #marvel fanfiction #a world of our own #awooo #a world of our own pt06 #desert island au #stranded au #bucky x reader romance

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kingandfireheart · 3 years

Text

Just Breathe

I originally planned to write this one for Elriel month but then it kind of spiraled into something else entirely, so I'm posting it a few hours late.

Summary: Elain falls into a pool of water. Azriel saves her. Things happen.

TW: character experiences symptoms of Post Traumatic Stress

Elain was lost... well not lost, she knew exactly where she was. One moment she was walking through her garden, carrying a bag of new soil and her watering can, watching someone fly above Riverside Manor, the and the next moment, she was in the Cauldron.

She was so cold. So unbearably cold. She could hear screams far away from her, above the water. She could her him. She could hear Nesta and Feyre begging. She could hear Feyre’s friends' screams.

For her. They were screaming because she was in the Cauldron. And the winged male had an arrow In his chest. And it was real - The Cauldron, the Fae. It was all real.

Elain gasped, her lungs filling with water- she couldn’t breathe, she couldn’t-

And then she was in the Hybern camp. Her lungs weren’t full of water, but she couldn’t move. Her arms and legs were shackled. She was holding a bit in her mouth.

She could hear the girl - Briar’s, no, Feyre’s- cries. Or were they Nesta’s? Her sisters were here, which meant this time, there would be no rescue. He wasn’t coming to save her this time. Her sisters wouldn’t find a way. No one was coming.

And then, she heard felt arms around her, moving her, and the words that she had been hoping to hear, the ones that meant she was safe, that the nightmare was over.

“Are you hurt?”

Elain opened her eyes. She was looking into kind hazel eyes, as a warm hand brushed her hair out of her face, the sun shining behind him.

“Elain?”

She was still surrounded by something wet. Elain tried to catch her breath. “Where- what? The Cauldron? And Hybern? They had my sisters. He wasn’t coming for me.”

“Elain. Breathe.” He said softly, his hand was picking things out of her hair.

She tried, but when she closed her eyes her lungs were still full of water and she couldn’t move and she was so damn cold.

“Look at me” Elain opened her eyes at the command in that voice. “Breathe.”

She obeyed, completely ensnared by those hazel eyes. He looked absolutely ethereal, wings splayed, the reds and golds shining in the sun, shadows around his shoulders swirling.

“Just breathe.” The kind voice said “Again.” She took a deep breath, again. She was in a garden.

“And again” Elain breathed. “You’re okay. I’ve got you.” She wasn’t cold anymore, but her dress and hair were soaked. She was by the reflecting pool. In the garden. At Feyre’s Riverside Manor.

She was safe. She was home. He was here.

“Azriel” she said as recognition ran through her. He wasn’t hurt, wasn’t screaming. There was concern on his face. “You saved me.”

Azriel reached a hand out, helping her sit up from where she lay on the chaise lounge.

“I saw you fall in.” He said, somewhat teasingly. “I flew down as quickly as I could."

Elain felt her whole body flush. This was embarrassing. She fell into the fountain and was triggered. And of course Azriel had saved her, from a 3 foot deep pool filled with water lillies. Immortality wouldn’t be long enough to get over how utterly embarrassed she was. She moved her hands to cover her face.

A few minutes passed. Azriel said nothing, watching her, as if he were waiting for something, for her perhaps.

“Did you have a vision?” He asked carefully. “You said someone had Feyre and Nesta. And someone wasn’t coming for you.”

Elain shook her head, “It wasn’t a vision. My sisters are safe?” She asked. He nodded in response. His shadows must have found a way to check. “It was a flashback, like a nightmare.”

“Of when you were captured?”

“Yes.” She rasped. “Sometimes it’s different. I was in the Cauldron. And I heard y-... I heard everyone scream.” She corrected quickly. “And then they had Feyre and Nesta instead of Briar, and then you....” she dropped off, realizing what she was admitting to, what she was about to say.

“What did I do?” He asked, in a tone Elain imagined he used to interrogate people.

Elain shook her head, dismissing the question.

His gazed softened, as he placed his hand over her arm. “Elain. Talk to me. Please?” His voice was almost pleading.

Elain looked down at his hands, shaking her head. She always thought they were beautiful. The siphons, the scars. All of it. All of him. Telling him about this wouldn't help her. It would only make it harder.

“Did I hurt you?” He asked, moving his hands back to his sides, as if afraid of the answer. He turned to look out on the garden.

Yes. She thought. But that wasn’t what he was asking, she realized, as he hid his hands behind his back. His voice wasn't the voice of the interrogator she had just heard, she realized... he was afraid. He was asking if he ever harmed her in her nightmares, if she was scared of him.

“No." She shook her head. "Of course not. Never.” She said as she reached for his arm. She should have lied. Said it was Grayson who wasn’t coming for her, said anything else. Now she had no choice to tell him what she feared, what found her in her nightmares. “You weren’t coming for me. To save me. From the Hybern Camp. That’s what I saw.” She clarified.

He looked at her with an intensity she wasn’t wholly prepared for. “I know you still struggle with everything that happened during the war, no matter how much you want us to believe you’re okay. And I know that it's my fault things are odd here...” He gestured between them.

“But know that I will always come find you. They’d have to cut my wings to keep me from saving you. And even then, I’d still try, whether it’s a pool or the Cauldron or a godsdammed army. No matter what happens between us. I would come for you.”

Us. If only - if only there was an us. If only the Cauldron had- “You know that don’t you?”

Ever since Solstice she had feared, worried in her nightmares, that she had done something to push him further away. But the way he was looking at her, she knew. She couldn't bring herself to speak, so she nodded her response.

He frowned, as if unsatisfied with that. He held her chin to force her gaze to meet his. “Promise me that you know that, Elain”

“I know.” She said, her voice rough. “I promise I know, Azriel.” She said, blushing again as she met his eyes, although not from embarrassment.

She'd known Azriel to be many things. Mysterious. Stoic. Strong. Quiet. Competitive. Surprisingly funny. Endearingly shy. But it was when he was like this... when he let his masks fall, and he looked at her with such intensity, she felt stripped bare before him.

Azriel was...he made her wish for things she’d never wanted with Grayson. Made her wish for things she was too proper to say out loud. Made her wish things that were impossible.

Elain felt her body react to that gaze, and Azriel stiffened, pulling his hand from her chin. His cheeks reddened as he looked down at her, as if he was just realizing how he was holding her face, as if he was remembering the last time he had touched her.

She followed Azriel's gaze, which had gone to her dress - the thin fabric clung to her every curve, doing nothing to hide the clear effect Azriel had on her. She looked like an absolute mess, mud and vines from the pool tangling in her skirts. She reached for her hair, pulling it forward to cover her.

“Azriel...” she whispered, not knowing what she could say. She knew that what she smelled was evidence that she was affecting him the same way he had affected her.

"You're okay?" He asked, his voice rougher than it was moments ago, as he quickly pulled something from her hair.

She nodded, "I am".

“Then you should get out of that dress.” He said, clearing his throat. He raised his finger to tap her nose playfully - something she’d only seen him do with Nyx. “Unless you want to be the one fishing me out of the pool.”

“I wouldn’t want the spymaster whispering any secrets to the water lilies.” Elain smiled, returning the gesture, before she stood and made her way to the house.

"I don't mind the company of flowers" he called from behind her.

She turned to face him, not knowing when she’d see this version of him again. When he’d look her in the eyes again. When he’d say such nice things. Azriel remained by the reflecting pool, his hand on his nose, where her finger had just been.

“Az?” She said.

“Yes?” His gaze snapped to hers, as he let his hand return to his side.

“I’d come for you too.” She said. It was confession as much as anything she’d said to him, but one she wasn’t embarrassed of. She would do everything she could to keep from hearing his screams, seeing his wings ruined, ever again.

He smiled broadly. A smiled she’d never seen before. On anyone else’s face it would have looked ordinary, but on Azriel it looked... boyish. She fall into a million reflecting pools to see that smile again.

“I’m glad.” He said, before launching into the air again.

#elriel #elriel fic #elrielmonth #azriel #just breathe #acotar series #kp writes #elriel fluff #does Az sound like Cas or is it just me?

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aurabird · 3 years

Text

Haunted Dreams

Sausage just wants to sleep...but trauma weighs heavy on the mind.

Tw: Nightmares, blood/violence, brief disassociation

Also on Ao3

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

He walked through Mythland, a casual stroll through the streets of his empire to see it in all its restored glory now that he’d removed the corruption that had overun it. His citizens greeted him as he passed and he made a point to at least try and speak with as many of them as he could.

Then the sky grew dark, thunder echoing as lightning split the heavens and suddenly, the citizens around him were gone, as if they’d never been there to begin with.

Sausage knew what the storm meant and he ran; fear in his heart and panic in his mind. He needed to get away, he needed to hide. He was fooling himself, there was no hiding from the harbinger of the storm, no matter how much he wished there was.

He ducked into a building as he was inflicted with a blindness spell, cowering in a corner like a frightened animal. Maybe...maybe if he pretended they weren’t here like Joel did then they’d go away. Positive thinking right? That’s what Gem always told him.

“Hello, Sausage.” Xornoth said with a wicked grin as he came into view, “You and I have much to discuss.”

“No! G-Go away! I don’t work for you anymore!”

The demon laughed, “Oh Sausage, did you really think I’d leave you alone? You will never escape me!”

The next thing Sausage knew was been teleported, now on a netherbrick floor where familiar crimson tendrils were quick to bind him.

The blindness spell wore off and he felt his blood run cold. He knew where he was, he’d been here before when he was still under the influence of corruption. Even now he could almost hear the agonized cries and pleas of those he watched Xornoth torture...that he himself even tortured. Sausage could almost see Fwhip, Gem, and Kathrine bound and helpless, their blood still staining the ground.

“Its a new perspective isn’t it? Being on the receiving end of something you once enjoyed?” Xornoth questioned, twirling a dark, bloodied dagger in his hand as he walked “I cannot let your insolence go unpunished, Sausage.”

Suddenly, the demon was in front of him, its gaze meeting his own. “I wonder how easy you’ll be to break.”

Sausage jolted upright with a cry, pain radiating in his right arm. He quickly looked at it in panic, expecting to see pulsating crimson veins. Instead, all he saw were the web-like scars where corruption had once been seared in his flesh. His gaze followed them from where they started at his wrist, and ended right over his heart.

He grimaced at the permanent reminders of what he’d done and averted his gaze to the room he was in. It wasn’t a dungeon where he would be tortured, it was his bedroom...in his keep...in Mythland.

There was no storm outside, moonlight shining brightly through the window and casting a gentle glow on the floor and walls.

A nightmare...that’s all it’d been. A remnant of the trauma he’d gone through. Still, there was no going back to sleep, not after that. Maybe...maybe he could go on a midnight walk to clear his head?

He swung his legs over the edge of the bed and stood, going over to his wardrobe and grabbing a simple undershirt, pants, and a cloak. It was a casual attire, much different than what he would normally wear, but it’d work.

Once he was on the cobbled streets he began his walk. Mythland was stunning at night, lanterns lit the paths and fireflies flickered in the air. The sound of night wildlife was therapeutic as it was joined by his quiet footsteps.

The bleating of blood sheep made him smile, with the corruption tentacles gone the symbols of his empire’s culture had come out from hiding, no longer afraid.

All was fine until Sausage could have sworn he saw a shadow move in the darkness. When he turned to look, it was gone.

Just a nocturnal animal he told himself before continuing down the path towards one of the residential areas.

He’d helped design some of the houses here himself and the sight of them made him smile. Light shone dimly through closed windows, alerting him that the residents were safe.

Then, in one of the alleys, he caught sight of a shadow, but it disappeared seconds after he made eye contact with it. A stray dog or cat he thought, that was all, there was no one out on the streets at this hour other than him.

As he continued he noticed that the sounds of the night had gone quiet, his footsteps echoed by another set behind him. He turned, but saw no one, not even the particles of an invisibility potion.

He was tired, that was all. He was tired and just imagining things. He was alone out here...he should probably head back home to rest.

Countless times more on his way back did he swear he was hearing footsteps, close enough to be in earshot, yet far enough away to be unnerving. He also could have sworn the shadow he kept seeing was following him. He knew it was just paranoia, once he was back in bed he’d be fine.

Soon, his home came into view and he went inside, climbing the stairs back to his bedroom.

He discarded the cloak, hanging it on the railing to put away in the morning and made his way over to his bed, not even bothering to get undressed again.

As he passed the mirror by his wardrobe though he froze, the reflection in it drawing his attention out of the corner of his eye. The second he turned to look, he recoiled with a yelp.

In the glass was a man that looked like him, a man dressed in black and grey with piercing red eyes and black veins marring their skin that had a faint crimson light flickering underneath. A sinister grin crossed their face as their gaze met his own.

“Look at you.” his reflection began in a distorted version of his voice, “Pathetic and weak once more. You were so powerful Sausage, you were feared. Don’t you miss it? The strength flowing through your veins, the magic at your fingertips. You could have had so much more too, if you’d stayed.”

It clicked then who the reflection was, it was someone he never wanted to see again, someone that terrified him. “I’m not you. I’m not a puppet for someone to order around.”

His reflection vanished and for a moment, Sausage thought he’d beaten his subconscious. He’d been wrong as he felt a sword go through him, the blade dripping with ink black blood as it protruded from his chest.

“You’re right,” came the voice of his doppelganger once more, “Because I am what you should have been.”

The sword was yanked back out, and Sausage fell to the ground, hacking and sputtering as the life drained from his body.

“All I have to do, is kill you and take your place.”

The black blade of a corrupted netherite axe tore through the flesh of his neck.

Once more he awoke with a cry, his hands instantly flying up to his throat instinctively in panic. Once he realized that his head was still attached did he dare open his eyes.

Sunlight came through the window and lit up the room, birds sung outside and the wind rustled the leaves of trees. In the distance, he could hear the faint sounds of his people going about their lives.

Tears formed in his eyes and he began to cry, ugly sobs coming from his throat at what he’d witnessed in his nightmare.

Then it dawned on him...what if he was still asleep? What if he’d just passed into another part of the illusion his traumatized mind was inflicting upon him?!

What if...what if he wasn’t really in Mythland? What if he’d failed in the spirit realm and as punishment he was left to suffer a nightmare for eternity?!

Who was he? The King of Mythland? The servant of evil? The condemned spirit left to be forgotten by those he cared about?

The mental turmoil was maddening and Sausage clutched the sides of his head, “Stop...make it stop...” he pleaded quietly.

A knock on the door snapped him from his spiraling thoughts, bringing him back to what he hoped was reality.

“Sausage are you home? I know you said you wanted to rest but I’m worried about you.”

Gem’s voice was music to his ears and Sausage quickly regained his composure as best he could before heading down the stairs to open the door for her.

“Hey, Gem.” he said with what he hopped was a happy tone, he didn’t want to worry her any more.

The wizard’s smile faded, “Sausage you look horrible, I thought you said you were going to get some sleep and recover!”

“What are you talking about Gem? I feel perfectly fine!” he countered casually, “I’ve been resting like I said I would after all!.”

Gem wasn’t convinced, “Sausage, have you looked at yourself in the mirror?”

The question had been an innocent one, but the nightmare from the night before quickly flashed before him. “N-No, because I’m...I’m afraid of what I’ll see.” he admitted as he wrapped his arms around himself.

"What do you think you’ll see?”

Sausage grit his teeth, his body beginning to shake, “Him, Gem...the corrupted puppet of Xornoth...”

"He isn’t you, Sausage.”

“No...he’s not...” because he’s who I was supposed to be...

Gem broke the momentary silence that followed, “You’ve gone through a lot, Sausage and while I still don’t know if I can fully trust you yet, if you need to talk about anything then I’ll be right over alright?”

Sausage nodded and wrapped his arms around her just to make sure she was real and not another trick played by his mind, “Thank you.”

He had spent the next several days working, doing everything he could to keep himself from falling asleep, afraid of what would await him. He’d dozed off a few times and had found himself in several scenarios.

Sometimes it’d been in the arena, the other rulers falling to his blade over-and-over again, bathing him in their blood while he smiled in sadistic pleasure.

Sometimes he’d be running from a shadow that would always catch him, its claws digging into his mind to puppet him around once more

Sometimes he’d see the wicked grin of his twisted doppelganger as they drove a blade through him, their words poisoning his thoughts and filling him with doubt and fear.

Sometimes he’d be laying helpless as Xornoth tortured him. Trying countless painful methods to ensure that this time the corruption taking over his body would be permanent.

And when night fell he’d just lay in bed awake, guilt and trauma weighing heavy on his mind. The things he’d done were horrible and now that he was free, he would be hunted relentlessly by the one that had controlled him and the hybrid that still followed them.

Sausage was scared. He needed sleep...he needed help...

That had been the one word shakily scribbled onto the paper he’d tied around a raven’s leg before sending it to the Crystal Cliffs.

A knock on the door the following morning forced him to get out of bed and go to open it. Sausage’s movements were sluggish but he managed to succeed in his goal. Gem stood in the doorway, her expression morphing into a grimace once she saw the sorry sight he probably was. “Oh Sausage...what have you been doing to yourself...”

He collapsed into her, unable to hold back tears any longer, “I can’t sleep Gem! Every time I close my eyes the nightmares come, even if its just for a minute. Please Gem, sleeping potions...or even some kind of sleeping spell...just something, anything to help me fall asleep peacefully!”

Gem couldn’t think of any way to reply, only held the broken person in her arms.

“How about we get you inside? See what we can do?”

A distressed but agreeing sound came from Sausage and Gem helped maneuver him upstairs and back into his bed. The Mythland king looked terrible, his clothes disheveled and his face pale enough that the dark circles forming beneath his eyes were extremely noticeable.

“Tell me everything, Sausage. Tell me about the nightmares and anything that is bothering you.”

So he did. Sausage spilled every detail about his nightmares and paranoia, about every little thing he feared and pondered. Gem listened intently as he spoke, never once interrupting, just letting him get his thoughts out.

By the time he finished Sausage felt as if a burden had been lifted from his shoulders, it was...nice.

The last of his energy had been sapped from his venting and the clutches of sleep tried to bring him into their hold.

Gem stroked his head, her sympathetic eyes meeting his own tired ones. “Go to sleep, Sausage.” he coaxed, “I’ll be here to wake you if I sense something is wrong.“

Sausage only gave a sigh, his eyelids slipping shut and lulling him into darkness.

But, for the first time in an unknown amount of days, the nightmares didn’t come. Sausage was at peace, finally able to rest.

#empires smp #empiresblr #empiressmp #My writing #mythical sausage #geminitay

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just-dreaming-marvel · 3 years

Text

Out Of Time ~ 114

MASTERLIST

< previous chapter

Word Count: 2,310ish

Summary: Where is Y/N?

Notes: Sorry if this chapter sucks. The next one should be longer with more about how Y/N’s dealing with everything.

Previously on Out Of Time…

Y/N woke up, already knowing where she was. Her hand immediately went to her stomach as her eyes replayed the fighting she had witnessed. Her heart beat quickened as she relived those terrible moments. The monitors she was connected to warned the medical staff outside. Helen and her nurses rushed in.

“Y/N,” Helen called. “I need you to breathe.”

“My… I… the baby…” Y/n stammered through the struggle. “Is my baby…. It is okay?”

“You came in sweating and trembling,” Helen explained carefully. “It was obvious to me that you had been struggling to keep food down and that there was blood loss. You were immediately brought into—“

“Just tell me,” Y/N begged, voice small and cracking. “Just get it over with and tell me…”

“I’m sorry, Y/N. The baby was lost due to a miscarriage.”

A sob ripped through Y/N’s throat and out her mouth. She leaned her head back against her pillows and cover her mouth with a hand as tears began to cascade down her cheeks. Her heart began to beat rapidly, causing the monitors around her to freak.

“Y/N, I need you to calm down,” Helen coaxed. “You’re body has been through a traumatic experience and needs rest. You need to try and calm.” The sobs and strangled breathing only escalated. “I need something to help calm her down. Now!”

A nurse quickly handed Helen a syringe. Helen rushed to insert it into Y/N’s IV. It almost immediately helped, but didn’t put her to sleep.

“I’m going to go inform Tony,” Helen stated. “We’ll be right back.”

Then Y/N was left alone to her thoughts. The blame and the guilt that she was feeling, all for herself. Her baby was lost because of her. Because, if she would have just told Steve and Tony, they might have stopped fighting. If she would have just told them, they wouldn’t have let her anywhere near the stress. If she had just been a little more focused on the health of her baby instead of the chaos around her, her baby still might be safely inside of her.

But instead, she didn’t do any of those things. And she tried to stop things she couldn’t control and saw things she wishes she could unsee. Y/N’s hands rested above her belly as she let the tears flow. Nothing mattered now. How could it? Her family was torn apart. Her child was gone.

She could feel Tony’s thoughts as he came towards her room. He was feeling all the guilt and blame as well, putting it on himself. Y/N didn’t want him to feel that way, but she had no energy to stop it. There was nothing left inside her to help him feel better, especially when she felt that way too. She quickly decided that she couldn’t be there anymore. She couldn’t face him, watch him slowly turn to hate her because she had killed their child. It would break her more than she was currently broken.

So, with a deep breath, she focused on the one place that she felt she might be safe for a minute. She ripped off her IV as she opened a portal. Y/N hurried through it the best she could in her weakened state, falling onto the ground on the other side of it. Turning around, she caught a glimpse of the door opening, but the portal was shut before Y/N saw anything else. She curled up on the floor where she was, not caring to look at her surroundings, and let herself go.

~~~

May and Coulson were in a bar. Coulson was reading the newspaper as the news played on a TV above them. While Y/N had been away, their troubles didn’t stop. They now were facing a new threat by the name of Hive, with the face of Grant Ward. He was trying to control all Inhumans and even create them. Hive was currently in control of Daisy.

“Still no word one the whereabout of Steve Rogers after his public feud with Tony Stark and the Avengers over the controversial Sokovia Accords,” the news anchor stated. “Ratified by 117 countries, the Accords place the Avengers under UN authority and provide a framework for the registration and monitoring of all enhanced individuals.”

“We knew this was gonna happen sooner or later,” May said.

“Cap, Agent Carter…” Coulson started, glancing down at the newspaper that held an article on Peggy’s death. “They were my heroes growing up. Both of them were there at the beginning of SHIELD. Now we may be there when it ends.”

“The last thing we need right now is the government hamstringing us with the Accords. We need to stop Hive, by any means necessary.”

“I’ll deal with the government. You do whatever it takes to end this.”

“All options on the table?”

“Desperate times, desperate measures.”

May nodded, glancing back down at the newspaper in Coulson’s hands. There was a picture of Steve, Y/N, Peggy, and Howard with the article.

“Have you heard from her?” May asked, not looking away from the newspaper. “She can’t be taking this well.”

“No,” Coulson sighed. “I haven’t. Which honestly terrifies me.”

“Y/N can hold her own.”

“Yes, but this is against her family. I can’t imagine her choosing a side.”

“She didn’t sign. She must have chosen Cap’s.”

“Her not signing doesn’t mean anything. You should no that, you know Y/N.” He glanced down at his wrist watch. “You might want to go out the back. He’s coming in.”

May left out the back as General Talbot entered the bar.

“General Talbot,” Coulson greeted, getting out of his seat. “Right on time.”

“What in the Knievel happened to you?” Talbot wondered, noticing that Coulson was sporting a cane.

“Little fender bender. No big deal.”

“You sure you should be in the driver’s seat? I thought we agreed on full disclosure.”

“You want to see my x-rays? I’ll put them in a nice frame for ya.”

“I’m talking about this gin joint out in the middle of no man’s land. You promised me you’d show me the base without any three hour fly arounds this time.”

“We need to talk first.” Coulson turned and headed to sit in a booth, Talbot following.

“I’ll talk. You listen… I’m here because the President sent me. The Sokovia Accords are law of the land now. He’s concerned you may have some undocumented enhanced assets working for you.”

“And why would they think that?”

“Cause he’s not a moron. Come on, Phil. It’s time for SHIELD to come in from the cold, relegitimize.”

“In exchange for revealing and registering any Inhumans we may have? Not gonna happen.”

Talbot scoffed. “Why are you so pigheaded? It’s good enough for the Avengers.”

“Not all of them. And the Avengers operate in the spotlight. We work in the shadows.”

“First, how can you even say that? You have an enhanced Avenger on your team.”

“Y/N hasn’t been with SHIELD in months. You know that.”

“Second, what’s going on in those shadows, Phil? That’s what I want to know. You better start opening some doors, or I promise ya, I’m gonna start kicking them down.”

“Alright. Let’s go for a ride.”

“No blindfold?”

“No blindfold, but you might want to buckle up.” Coulson lifted a seat belt from the seat, buckling himself in.

“What?”

Coulson nodded to the bar tender. The bar tender pressed some buttons on the cash register which caused the booth they were seated in to lower into the ground.

~~~

May was walking from requesting that Fitz-Simmons focus on stopping Hive instead of stopping Daisy from breaking in. As she walked, she heard whimpers coming from a side room of the base. She pulled out her gun and slowly made her way into the room. With her gun held up, May turned the corner, surprised to find Y/N laying on the floor.

“Y/N,” she gasped, hurrying to her side. As May turned Y/N to face her, she could tell she was running a fever. “Y/N, look at me.” Y/N’s eyes keeping fluttering, unable to focus on anything, as whimpers left her mouth. “I need to get Simmons. Stay here.”

May knew she needed to be careful with Talbot in the building, but it was obvious Y/N needed medical help ASAP. She rushed to the lab, where Fitz-Simmons was working.

“Simmons,” May called from the doorway, “I need you.”

“What is it?” Simmons asked. “Is someone—“

“Just follow me. And Fitz, I may need you too.”

Fitz and Simmons looked at each other before quickly following May.

“May, what is going—“ Fitz questioned was halted when he saw Y/N on the floor. “Oh my—“

“We need to get her to the lab, now,” Simmons ordered, already taking over. “She needs an IV and to be heavily monitored.”

“Not with Talbot here,” May stated. “We have to find a safer place. Who knows if they’re looking for her, she didn’t sign the Accords.”

“My bedroom it is then. Fitz, I need you to go grab supplies and maybe Mack.”

“On it,” Fitz hurried away with a nod.

“May, help me get her to the room.”

May and Simmons hurried Y/N to Simmons room before May rushed to get Coulson. Fitz came back with Mack and a new Inhuman on the team they called, Yo-Yo.

“What’s going on?” Mack asked.

“I don’t know,” Simmons answered, her and Fitz getting set up. “May found her in a closet.”

“How can we help?”

~~~

May got roped into helping Coulson with Talbot’s tour before she was able to tell him. It was getting on her nerves that she couldn’t get Talbot out of their hair fast enough. They ended up having to tell Talbot the truth about Daisy and Hive on their way to the lab.

“Where’s Simmons?” Coulson asked, looking around. “I need her to talk to Talbot about the Inhumans Hive tried to make.”

“I think she’s in her room, why don’t we go get her,” May suggested. “And the lab techs can start going over the research.”

Coulson looked at May, confused to why they both needed to go. Studying her face, he realized that she was serious. Something was going on that she needed to tell him about, and Talbot couldn’t get involved.

“Right,” Coulson agreed. “Collins.” A lab tech came running over. “Let General Talbot have access to all our research on Hive, start walk him through it while he go get Simmons.”

Coulson and May exited the lab before Talbot could question them.

“What the hell is going on May?” Coulson whispered.

“It’s Y/N,” May answered.

Coulson face grew worried. “What’s wrong?”

“I don’t know. But I found her in a closet, whimpering and burning up.”

“Where is she now?”

“Simmons, Fitz, Mack, and Yo-Yo have her in Simmons’ bedroom.”

“Okay.”

When they entered the bedroom, Coulson took Y/N in. She was under the covers, her hands resting at her sides on top. IV’s and monitors where hooked up to her.

“How is she?” Coulson asked.

Simmons shook her head. “She’s not fully conscious, so I haven’t been able to get anything from her,” she explained. “But it seems that Y/N’s been through a traumatic experience.”

“If she came here then that must mean—”

“I couldn’t…” Y/N interrupted softly. “I couldn’t be there right now…”

“Y/N.” Everyone took a step closer. “What happened?” Before Y/N could answer, Coulson’s phone rang. He looked at it, holding it up for her to see. “It’s Stark. Does he—“

“I can’t,” Y/N shook her head, tears running down her cheeks. “Please don’t.”

“I won’t. But I have to answer or he won’t stop, you know that.” Coulson pressed answer and held the phone up to his ear. “Stark, I really don’t have time for you—“

“Coulson, I need you to be honest with me…” Tony’s worried voice could be heard over the phone throughout the room, causing Y/N to cry more. “Is Y/N with you?”

“I really don’t think that—“

“Is. Y/N. With. You?”

Coulson paused with a sigh. He looked at Y/N. She had turned her head away, clenching her eyes shut as the tears rolled down. It hurt him to see her like this. He longed to tell Tony the truth but he also knew that Y/N wouldn’t have come back her unless if was for a good reason.

“No,” Coulson finally spoke up. “I haven’t seen her. But I’ll let you know if I do.”

“You better not be lying to me, Phil. I…. I need to find her. She shouldn’t be alone right now.”

“I’ll send a search out for her and let you know as soon as I see or hear anything… Mind telling me, what happened?”

“No,” Y/N begged, so quietly everyone in the room almost missed it.

Tony sighed shakily, covering his eyes with his free hand. “Everything fell apart…. and…. She lost a lot today. Her family… her child…”

“Her child?” Coulson gasped. Everyone’s eyes widened, looking at Coulson before snapping back to look at Y/N.

“Now you know why it’s important that I find her.”

“Yeah… I do… I’ll keep you updated.” He hung up. “Y/N…”

“No,” she whimpered. “I don’t want your pity… It’s m-my fault my baby’s gone… my baby’s gone…. My brother’s gone… my Bucky’s gone… and, if I’d stayed, I would have lost Tony too…. I don’t have anyone…”

“Sshhh,” May cooed, moving to sit on the bed beside Y/N. “You have us. It’s going to be okay.”

next chapter >

NOTES: from now on the taglist when be added by a reblog. I will reblog it using my second account, @just-dreaming-marvel-2. Just so that my main page doesn’t get too cluttered.

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#tony stark x reader #Phil Coulson x Reader #the avengers x reader #avengers x reader #aos x reader #agents of shield x reader #marvel imagine #tony stark imagine #agents of shield #Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D.#tony stark #Phil Coulson

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