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hollandorks · 8 months

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haven

battinson! bruce wayne x f! reader

chapter four

Summary: After the sudden deaths of your mother and grandmother, you’re forced to return home to Gotham…and to the man who broke your heart three years ago. Back in Bruce Wayne’s inescapable orbit, you vow to get to the bottom of your former best friend’s new cold personality. But Bruce’s secrets aren’t what you’re expecting. a

a/n: had today off work so I wrote two chapters while watching the film for the *checks notes* millionth time. Anyways, in this chapter we get to see why the reader hasn't figured out Batman's identity...and it's because she as one (1) braincell to her name.

Series Masterlist

word count: 2.6k

“No,” he said. He went to walk away, the lines of his body rigid, but paused. “I’m glad you’re okay,” he said over his shoulder.

She wondered if it was true.

The next morning, y/n woke up to good news in the form of an email from her editor granting her a leave of absence and temporary assignment at the Gotham Tribune. The editor there had been cc’d and asked her to call at her earliest convenience.

Then she saw the small package on her nightstand, delivered by Alfred sometime while she’d slept. Her phone had been returned and his short note told her to check to make sure everything was in order.

She immediately called the editor of the Gotham Tribune.

“Jansen,” he said in a gruff voice.

“Hi, this is y/n, we emailed about my temporary assignment?” She absently spread the articles about Batman across her bed. One of them was a huge picture of some sort of…light signal against the night sky. Her brain turned that picture over while she spoke. It looked like a bat. She almost laughed. Subtle.

“Oh, right!” She could practically hear the editor, Jansen, sitting up eagerly. “We heard about your attack, but your identity is being protected by Gotham police. What are you proposing? A tell-all?”

“Well, I’m glad they’re tight-lipped. You heard one of them got away?” A noise of assent. “And a tell-all is only part of it. Part tell-all, part investigative report, part vigilante op-ed. I want to investigate who was murdered and why. I have a hunch that this was…not your run of the mill hit. There were four of them, two victims bound and gagged. And then this bat guy–I assume you know plenty about him–he steps in and tells me to run.”

Jansen paused for so long she was afraid he would tell her no and hang up. “That’s a lot of work,” he finally said. “But if you do it right…hell of a piece. Front page, at least.”

“You’re not going to tell me my hunch is made up? Or tell me not to go after the Batman?” She raised her eyebrows. Part of being an investigative journalist was getting the boss to believe in it enough to pursue the story–and part was pursuing it even after being told no.

Jansen scoffed and said, “Fuck no. My source at GCPD is thinking the same thing about the murders. One suspect may have ties to the Gallo family in New York. All three who were caught lawyered up real quick without a word. And the Batman? Three years this guy has been around, even made national news last year, and you know what I have on him? Squat.”

Y/n scrambled for a pen and flipped over the picture of the light signal to scribble notes. “Can you get me that source’s name?” She wrote out a note about the Gallo family and underlined it twice.

“Nope.” He popped his lips on the P. “But I heard that Gordon took a shine to you. Batman’s right hand man.”

She hummed and wrote another hasty note. “I preemptively asked for an interview but he told me to shove it.”

“Sounds about right.”

“Listen–can I work from home? Since the fourth suspect got away, I…don’t really want to be out and about in the city if I don’t have to be.” She would go into the Tribune offices if she had to, though, but working from home would also offer her a lot more freedom with the article. She was concerned about her safety, sure, but really she needed free reign to do what she wanted.

Jansen chuckled darkly. “I get it. Sure. Send me updates as you get them and weekly summaries of your work. If I come across any leads, I’ll send them your way. Are you in protective custody right now?”

She glanced around her room and thought about all of the security Wayne Tower offered. “Yes,” she said, and it wasn’t a lie. It just wasn’t the police protecting her. It was the Wayne legacy.

“Well, be careful. If it is the Gallo family and they’re trying to set up here in Gotham….” He didn’t need to finish the sentence.

“I will be. I have a lot to research right now anyways. And thanks–this helps me out a lot.”

Jansen outright laughed this time. “Listen, kid, if you turn out right about any of this–or even manage to get more information about our friendly neighborhood vigilante–it helps me out a lot. I’m not being altruistic here.”

“Thanks anyway,” she said with her own laugh. She had known as much when he had agreed to the assignment. It was a big thing, and she was willing to tackle it. She knew how the business worked. She could make the paper and its editor look really good if it worked out. “I’ll be in touch.”

“I’d tell you to be safe, but we both know you investigative types aren’t like that. So I’ll just say this: don’t die before you get me a story.”

They hung up.

Y/n immediately opened her laptop and typed up everything she’d learned from the phone call. Then she made a list of research topics: the Gallo family and their potential ties to Gotham, how to get the GCPD to feed her information, the Batman, and a whole lot of other things that may or may not be connected.

Her eyes fell again on the picture of the light signal–to the bat in its center.

She chewed her bottom lip as she stared at her phone on the bed. Gordon wouldn’t give her an interview, at least not yet.

The idea was a flash of lightning.

Officer Martinez, with his mustache and wide eyed wonder at the home of Bruce Wayne.

She did a quick internet search but couldn’t find any contact information for him specifically. There was, however, a general call number for the GCPD station he worked at.

“Hi, I, um, had you guys come out for a robbery not too long ago and this really cute–” She gave a fake giggle, “–officer came to take my report…I’d like to send him an e-giftcard, you know, to say thank you? So if you have an email or something I could use…I promise it isn’t a scam. This is so embarrassing, I’m sorry–”

The woman on the other end of the call sounded like she mostly just wanted y/n to hurry and hang up. “What’s the name?” she interrupted.

“Officer Martinez. Cute mustache and–”

“I know the one. Hang on.” The sound of a keyboard clicking filtered through the call. “Here’s his official work email. So no funny business, alright? Or we’ll trace it back to you.”

Y/n typed the email address in as the woman gave it to her. “Oh thank you so much!”

Before she even finished hanging up she was writing the email.

Officer Martinez–

You came to Wayne Tower after I witnessed a murder, and I was just reaching out because you seem trustworthy. I know that one suspect got away and, honestly, I’m afraid. If you have any information you can give me it might help with my peace of mind. Another truth? Lieutenant Gordon intimidates me, so I definitely can’t ask him.

Anything you can give me would really help.

Feel free to email me–I know giving out any more personal information would be unprofessional and I really respect what you do. I don’t want to get you in any trouble.

Sincerely,

Y/n

She read through it and wondered if she was laying it on too thick. But she knew, the same way she knew this case was big, that Officer Martinez would be a willing source. Even if he didn’t know that that was what he was doing.

–

Y/n spent the rest of the day in a deep research hole, her eyes aching by the time the sun set. She hadn’t seen Bruce or Alfred either time she’d left in search of food or caffeine.

She was in the study again, feet bare against the chilly hardwood floors, staring at a spot that looked like faded…white paint? She frowned as she ate her sandwich one-handed. Since when had someone painted on the floors? She tried to make out what it said, but almost all of it was scrubbed away. Maybe it was leftover from the bombing investigation. There was a section of flooring and a window that were much newer than everything else.

It was late again, nearly one in the morning. Time always passed quickly when she was deep into a story. Her back and eyes hurt, her wrists cramped, and her brain was mush. But she hadn’t thought about her grandmother all day, and the ache in her chest was a little better than it had been the day before.

She leaned against the nearest window. She wanted to go out, but she would be lying if she said she wasn’t still scared.

She rested her forehead against the window as she finished the last bite of her late dinner. Something bright caught her eye.

The light signal. The one with the giant bat.

She straightened. What had that article said? A way for the city to call the vigilante when in need?

She stared at the light. It was cloudy, which made it almost easy to trace the path of the light down, down, down…

She could see the half-built tower in the distance. Wayne Tower had a perfect view of it, in fact.

A thrill ran through her blood.

Forget staying in–she needed to get to that light before it was turned off.

She ran down the hallway, the sound of her footsteps reminding her of a million games of tag, half of which had ended with a sleepy Alfred scolding them for waking him. She slowed her steps automatically. She didn’t want to be caught now, either.

She grabbed her shoes, jacket, phone, and pepper spray then ran back out again.

The elevator ride felt like it would never end. She was afraid that she would step outside and the light would be gone.

But no–when she stepped out to the chagrin of the security, whom she had to remind weren’t there to keep her prisoner–the light was still bright in the sky.

She held a hand out for a taxi. Thankfully one was passing by.

Maybe her luck was turning, she thought as she got in. Things had to go right after going wrong so often, right? Especially lately. That was one thing she believed in her life–things would always revert to the mean. A lot of bad meant a lot of good would come to even out the scales. Bruce had broken her heart…then she’d accepted an offer for her dream job in Bludhaven.

“Where to?” the cabbie asked as he scrolled Instagram with one hand.

“Um,” she said, smushing her face against the window and trying to estimate the distance. “Can you just take me like ten blocks straight that way?” She pointed.

The cabbie set his phone down and looked at her skeptically. “Whatever you say, lady.”

The ride was quick, made quicker still by the lack of traffic. She paid and got out, eyes on the sky. The cabbie muttered about crazy rich people as the door shut.

It was harder now that she was closer, but there was an entire city block nearby that seemed to be under construction. And there were two really tall buildings there, each still only half-finished.

She jogged down the sidewalk. One hand clenched the pepper spray while the other held her keys between the fingers. It wouldn’t be enough if a murderer wanted to shoot her in the head, but it was all she had. Maybe it was stupid, coming out so late when she was probably the target of a mob hitman. But she couldn’t let it go.

The block under construction was surrounded by a huge fence topped in barbed wire. The only way in, as far as she could see, was a gate that required a code for entry. She cursed under her breath, the words fogging in the chilly air.

There was a roar from behind her.

She whirled and ducked behind a trashcan in the same breath. Her heart stopped as the noise came again.

Headlights pierced the air and a car sped straight up to the gate.

Calling it a car was like calling a dinosaur a lizard. It had armor or something on it and an honest to god rocket on the back. It was less of a car and more of a tank. She could see the bones of it underneath, some type of semi-familiar sports car. Bruce would love a car like that, she thought. He loved adding ridiculous modifications to cars.

She shoved away the thoughts of Bruce and quickly took out her phone to take a couple of pictures, just in case. She’d left her actual camera in her room and silently cursed herself for it.

The gate slid open and the car sped through. The gates started to slide closed almost immediately.

This was her chance. The signal light was still on for the moment and she doubted many other cars would drive into a construction zone at nearly two in the morning.

She ran through the closing gates.

They clanged shut behind her a second later.

Okay, now what? she wondered, glancing around. One of the tallest towers was to the left, another one to the right. Now that she was almost directly below them, it was nearly impossible to tell where the light was coming from without circling the whole block. It looked like it was coming directly from the spot where she stood, but she knew it was only because it was coming from somewhere close.

She chewed her lip and glanced around more carefully. And–there. That weird tank of a car was parked beneath the tower to the right. She heard soft clanking and then a caged elevator started to lift on the outside of the building.

Bingo.

She ran over, wishing she had more skills suited for being a secret agent. Her footsteps were anything but silent and her breath gasped through her teeth as she ran. She kept to the shadows as best she could, which was made easier by the lack of lights on the whole site. But if there was anyone else around, she wasn’t being that stealthy.

She looked up.

The light switched off right as the noises of the elevator faded.

Double bingo.

The elevator was descending, empty now.

There was another car, too, half-hidden.

An unmarked police car.

She took a picture of that for good measure. She knew for sure now that she was on the right track.

That fire was back within her. She was so close to finding out if her hunch had been correct. She was close to…well, something. She knew it.

She went to the elevator and stepped inside. One button, and she was headed to the top.

Her palms were sweating. The long ride up gave her time to think, which was bad. She had fucked up. She realized that now, but hitting the button to go back down did absolutely nothing. She really should have thought things through more.

She had no idea what–or who–was at the top of the building. She had no idea if the Batman was actually a nice guy or not. He could very well take one look at her and toss her off the edge. Her mind spun with possibilities, including her death being ruled suicide, the trauma of the deaths of her family too much.

Or what if the murderer who’d gotten away had lured Batman up there? Or what if they were in cahoots? What if that editor, Jansen, was in on it too?

She really, really should have thought this through a bit more.

The doors opened with a noise so loud she winced.

When she looked up, she was face to face with a gun.

Next Chapter

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#bruce wayne x reader #the batman x reader #battinson x reader #batman x reader #the batman #the batman 2022 #battinson #bruce wayne #haven #haven fic

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late-to-the-party-81 · 10 months

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Power Play - Chapter 1

AN: And here is Week 5 of HBS and the start of a new multi-chapter fic, this one a Bucky x Reader story, cos I like to give you all some variety. This also strays into Soft!Dark! Territory, cos, you know… Mob! Bucky. Thanks @buckybarnesevents for the inspo.

I’ve chosen the prompt When I first met you... Electricity

Beta’d by @buckysbarne

Dividers by @firefly-graphics and banner by me. Pictures of Seb courtesy of https://sebastian-stan.com/

Master list | Hot Bucky Summer Master list

Summary: Waking up in a mobster’s house the morning after the night before was not how this was supposed to go…

Relationship: Mob! Bucky x Undercover Agent! Reader

WC: 2.3k

CW: Kidnap, Manipulation, Soft!Dark! Bucky, Alcohol consumption, Reader briefly believes Bucky will force her against her will (use of R word once), kissing, Russian Pet names as mangled by Google translate (all variations of sweetheart/darling except Pchelka, which is explained.)

Your head was foggy and your mouth grainy as you opened your eyes, blinking against the harshness of the late morning sun coming through the window.

“Good morning, Pchelka.” Strong fingers gripping your chin and pinching your jaw harshly, brought you out of your stupor, and you looked up at the owner of the gravelly voice.

“Did you sleep well? I slept like a log. I’m going to say that it was because of the connection we made last night.” He chuckled darkly. “Did you feel it, sladkiy? The electricity when I first took your hand in mine? Because I did.” His body shivered at the memory, and you felt a fission of fear travel down your spine.

His eyes were blue - cool and chilling - and you wished you were looking at them under different circumstances. Wished you were here with him under different circumstances, because although he was your enemy, you weren’t blind.

James Buchanan ‘Bucky’ Barnes. Revered head of the New York Mob, and so sinfully handsome it was no wonder that men and women swooned at his feet.

“Are you going to answer me, Pchelka?”

His brow was arched, amusement still playing at his lips. Challenging you to defy him.

“I’m not your ‘little bee’. And I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

He let your face go with a snort that told you that he knew you were lying. Because you were. How could you not have felt it, when your slim hand had been completely engulfed by his when you’d been introduced? When he’d raised your hand, gently turning it to press a kiss to the fluttering vein in your wrist.

You should have known then that you were fucked. Should have called the whole thing off and got out of there.

But no. You’d decided that you had to stay - had to pull your big girl pants up, get a hold of yourself and prove to everyone else that you were capable of carrying out this mission. You wondered if your colleagues, your fellow agents, were trying to actually rescue you, or were they laughing at your ineptitude?

Barnes crossed to the far side of the room, a classic dark wood office with floor-to-ceiling bookcases filled with leather-bound tomes. Turkish wool rugs covered the wooden floor that matched all of the furniture. He picked up a decanter, poured a hefty measure of amber liquid into a matching tumbler and brought it up to his lips. You didn’t even realise that you were watching him that intently until he smirked.

He walked back over to you, power and grace showing with every move of his body. He sank into a crouch before you, dipped his finger into the alcohol and then painted it over your lips. Instinctually you licked it away, and the whisky burned on your tongue.

“They think you’re dead, by the way.” That got your attention, making you halt with your mouth part open, tongue tip still midway through catching the errant drops he’d applied. His finger returned to the glass, then back to your lips once again as you sat, stock still.

A sudden anger burned through you, and you tried to leap to your feet, but you hadn’t counted on the bonds that tied you to the chair. You struggled against them, hands curling into fists and feet ineffectually kicking as you let out a wail of frustration.

“Tsk tsk.” Barnes admonished you for your reaction as he stood and backed up to rest against the edge of his, no doubt antique, desk. “And here I was thinking you’d be more grateful. If you’d continued in that job you’d have died of boredom, milyy. Just think. I’ve actually saved you.” He took another sip of his drink, observing you and you wanted to shrink under his gaze - you had to look a mess.

Your evening gown, which had looked stunning on you when you’d gotten ready for this op, was now torn and filthy. Your nail polish was chipped, a couple of the nails torn, and no doubt your makeup was smeared across your face. Somewhere along the line, you’d lost your shoes, or had they been taken from you? Admittedly a lot of it was a blur and you’d also been unconscious for some time, only waking up once you were here, tied to this chair, a smirking Barnes looking down on you.

Conversely, he looked so put together it should be illegal. Last night he’d smouldered in a dinner suit, but this morning he exuded power and danger. His shirt was black, with two opened buttons, showing off the silver rope chain around his neck. His suit jacket and pants were also black but covered with a wide pinstriped check. He had a large signet ring on the pinky of his left hand, and silver and black onyx ring on the adjacent ring finger, and it was hard to take your eyes off them. His pants were tight across his crotch, leaving little to the imagination, and he’d finished off his outfit with a pair of patent black boots and a pair of blue-tinted sunglasses, perched on his head. In a nutshell, he was sex personified and you needed to get your head back in the game before you did something you’d regret.

“You’re deluded, you know that?”

“Focused, Pchelka. Not deluded. I didn’t get where I am now without knowing what I wanted and taking it. And I want you. I think you want me too.”

It was your turn to snort, and you didn’t bother to hide your derision. “In your dreams!”

He was back in front of you in an instant, his beringed fingers curling into the leather chair back, his face millimetres from your own.

“I don’t think I imagined how you trembled when you were in my arms, lyubimyy. When I led you around the dance floor and you felt as though you were made to fit in my embrace. I don’t think I imagined how you sighed and leaned against me as I spoke soft words in your ears.”

Heat burned your cheeks and you tried for some bravado.

“All an act, I assure you. As you know, you were my mark.”

His mouth broke into a feral grin and, for the first time, you were worried. Worried about what he had in store for you… and worried that you might like it.

“You keep telling yourself that. I don’t think you’ll be able to maintain that lie when you’re screaming my name later.”

“I didn’t know your name was Rapist.”

He moved one hand from the back of the chair to rest at the base of your throat, fingers applying just enough pressure to remind you who was in control here.

“Don’t insult both of us, Pchelka. When I take you, you will welcome it. Want it. You will be begging me to make you mine. And I think it will happen sooner than you think.” His voice was a hypnotic whisper, and you could feel yourself spiralling, enchanted by the power that he exuded from every pore, so when he kissed you, you were unprepared.

Barnes used the thumb of the hand he had around your neck to tip your chin up. His pink, sinful lips demanded entry efficiently and you were powerless to resist. His mouth explored yours, tongues tangling, and when he teasingly broke the kiss you were horrified to find that you were whimpering.

Your captor just continued to smile, animalistic and condescending.

“Electric, as I said. You betray yourself without even meaning too. It’s a good thing that I’m a nice man, and I’m not torturing you for information. You wouldn’t last five minutes.”

Feelings of anger, shame and embarrassment rose within you. He was right, god damn it. You weren’t cut out for this work. You knew it. He knew it. The people you worked with knew it. Backroom paper shuffling was where you excelled, but there was no way you could’ve turned down the opportunity for undercover work, because success would have meant a level of recognition and respect that you could never have hoped, to gain otherwise, even if the op was a classic, and somewhat demeaning, honey-trap.

You closed your eyes and willed the tears not to fall.

“Please, Mr Barnes. Just let me go. I don’t know anything. Nothing has happened here that can’t be forgotten.”

“Call me Bucky, lyubimaya. And I don’t want to let you go, or forget you. Stay here with me. Leave those narrow-minded idiots you work for. I would treat you with the respect you deserve. And you wouldn’t just be on my arm and in my bed, you would be by my side. You have useful skills that shouldn’t be wasted.”

Your eyes snapped back open and looked at him in surprise and confusion. “What do you mean?”

Barnes - Bucky - ran the knuckles of his left hand down your cheek, the coldness of his rings a balm to your heated flesh. Tattoos peeked out from under his sleeve, twisting and winding down his skin, and onto his fingers. Vines and flowers and thorns. Letters of the Cyrillic alphabet.

“You think that I would bring you here, to the seat of my power if I didn’t already know every… little… thing… about you? I know what your role was before you started this ill-advised op. I know where you lived. I know what cereal you like for breakfast and what your regular coffee order is. You’re always flitting too and fro, concentrating on work. Busy as a bee.”

You weren’t sure why you weren’t shocked, but you asked him all the same. “There’s a mole inside my unit?”

“Of course, Pchelka. There’s always a mole. Always someone who is more than willing to trade loyalty for power and money, or someone who is so desperate that they can be easily persuaded. Desperate people do desperate things, and tell themselves they aren’t really the bad ones, it’s just their circumstances.”

Both his hands had now settled on your waist, the size of them making you feel smaller than you often thought of yourself. Bucky himself was still on his knees, between your bound, spread legs, his torso virtually pressed against your inner thighs. You absently noticed that the knife you’d placed in a thigh holder was missing. No doubt Bucky or his men had found it almost straight away once you’d been rendered unconscious. You hoped it had been the man in front of you - the idea of being touched in such an intimate place by someone other than him was abhorrent. A part of you wondered why you didn’t think that him touching you was also horrifying.

“And which one do you think I am? Disloyal or desperate?” You arched your brow, trying to ignore the way his fingers were branding you through the satin of your dress.

“You, milyy, are a secret third thing. You are an intelligent woman, who makes decisions based on all the information available. It’s not disloyalty if you’ve been betrayed first. It’s also not desperation that would make you join me if I have no pressure point - no sick aunt, no cousin in debt to a loan shark, that sort of thing. If you joined me it would be because you wanted to. Because you saw the merits of such an action.”

You had to admit, his offer was tempting. You hated your job and you hated your co-workers. It was still a ‘boy’s club’ and all the inclusion and diversity training in the world couldn’t counteract the toxic masculinity that the job attracted. You hated that, despite putting up with this job for so many years, you were still living in a crappy apartment with too long a commute to work.. You hated that, despite the fact you never even got around to taking your PTO, you also weren’t making any decent deposits into your savings account. Okay, you weren’t quite living paycheck to paycheck, but you were by no means where you thought you’d be by now.

The long hours also meant little time to socialise, and the friends you’d once had, had all dropped away one by one as you’d cancelled one social engagement after another. This also meant that your love life was, as the song goes, DOA, and after a while, all the toys in the world failed to satisfy. Which also meant that the feeling of soft, expensive wool, encasing a warm, hard body, rubbing against your inner thighs was upsetting your equilibrium quite a bit.

Then, as if he knew exactly what he was doing to you, his face dipped closer again, his breath, tinged with whisky, fanning over you.

“Imagine how it would feel, Pchelka. The power. The pleasure. You’d want for nothing. Every need would be met. Every whim indulged.”

It was your turn to shiver and as your eyes fluttered closed again you heard him chuckle.

“You want it, don’t you. You want me and everything I can give you. It’s okay to want those things. I want things as well. I want you, lyubimyy. I’ve waited a long time for a Queen.”

“You don’t know me…” Your denial was whispered, and even you didn’t believe what you’d said.

“But I do. I know exactly what you need...”

His lips captured yours once more, but this time you didn’t even pretend not to respond. You drank him in as though he would quench your thirst and you only remembered your bonds again when your body strained against them. Your knees managed to dig into his waist though, and you felt him smile against your lips.

His hands slid from your waist, to one wrist and then the other, freeing them. You threw your arms around his neck, not even trying to get away. In any case, your ankles were still bound.

Your fingers brushed over the short hair on the sides and back of his head, the strands prickling your skin. His own hands were now cupping your face as he continued to kiss you, and you knew what was going to happen. You were falling under his spell.

Chapter 2

Tag list: @jobean12-blog @bucky-bucky-bucky-bucky @tuiccim @sidepartskinnyjeans @flordeamatista @bodeckersdiamonddoll @goldylions @luxeavenger @wheezy-stucky @doasyoudesireandlive @chemtrails-club @seitmai @peaches1958 @pono-pura-vida @writing-for-marvel

#hot bucky summer #bucky barnes x fem!reader #bucky barnes x female reader #mob!bucky x reader #mob!bucky #late writes

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ladykailitha · 9 months

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Royal Pain Part 19

Hey, guys. Sorry it took so long to get this out. The chapter was fighting me and I have had the absolutely worst week. However in slightly happier news, my partner got a new job and that means I should be able to quit mine and go back to writing full time. I'll let you know more when I do, but it's looking more and more likely.

I realized it had been a while since we had an Eddie centric chapter and decided this would be the one. And I left it on a cliffhanger again. But don't worry next chapter will see more than one villain vanquished.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 15 Part 16 Part 17 Part 18

***

Eddie was seething. He hadn’t been this mad since he learned Max was moving to New York. Actually. No. He was madder then that. He was pissed.

Gareth grimaced. “They won’t do anything?”

“No,” Eddie growled. “Because he technically hasn’t violated the protection order, according to them.”

“If he can’t get with in five hundred feet,” Brian said, “then how did he find out about Steve.”

Eddie threw up his arms into the air. “That’s what I asked.”

“I’m betting,” Mandy said, “that they didn’t have a good answer?”

“Apparently since Seth showed up at Hopper’s,” Eddie snarled, “and not Steve’s shop, that he was just going around to all the tattoo parlors and threatening everyone.”

Jeff rolled his eyes. “I bet they didn’t even check with other tattoo shops and just made that shit up.”

“I even talked to Officer Callahan who was in charge of the original case file because he’s not supposed to be out of jail yet,” Eddie said, beginning to pace. “He never went.”

“What?!” came the shocked cry of outrage from everyone.

“Yeah,” Eddie continued. “Apparently he made a deal with the DA and they didn’t tell me. He got two years probation.”

“That’s bullshit!” Mandy hissed. “He was going to kill you.”

“Criminal mischief,” Eddie said. “Domestic abuse down to criminal mischief. $300 fine, two year probation, and forced to take a class about how not to be a violent offender.”

“It’s because you’re a man, isn’t it?” Gareth asked, licking his lips slowly. “These fuckers don’t think a man can be abused.”

Eddie pursed his lips into a line and nodded.

“Hop’s calling in a couple of favors to keep Steve safe,” he said. “But that does jack shit about me. And this isn’t me calling out that shit. That’s Hop’s prerogative but he’s my dumb ass ex, who’s protecting me?”

“We are,” Jeff said. “You don’t go anywhere without one of us. Garth, since you’re the only one without a roommate at the moment, Eddie’s going to stay with you. Brian, talk to Cecil, he’s studying law. See what he can recommend.”

Gareth and Brian both nodded.

Eddie buried his head into his hands. “This is such bullshit.”

Mandy came up and gave him a hug. “We’ll get through this. We did before and we will again. And this time we have more people that would be willing to help. Steve, Robin, Chrissy, hell the whole of the Royal Pain would throw hands for you.”

Eddie chuckled. He knew that too. “Well, maybe not Erica.”

Brian snorted. “That girl would sell her own mother for a cookie.”

“Not even a Girl Scout cookie,” Jeff agreed. “That girl is bound for world domination.”

“No doubt.”

“You tell me right now,” Wayne said when Eddie had called that night, “do you need me up there? Because work be damned, boy, I’ll be up there in two shakes of lamb’s tail.”

Eddie chewed on his nail. He felt like that little boy all over again. Being given the choice between being with his uncle or being put in a foster home. He didn’t want to be a bother to anyone, but he knew. He knew that Wayne was someone that wouldn’t care. That he could be as big a bother as he wanted, he would still be loved.

He let out a shuddering breath and like that little boy all those years ago said, “Yes. Please.”

“I’ve got some vacation time coming,” Wayne said as if he didn’t have weeks and weeks of it stored up because he was never sick a day in his life. “I cane be up there for as long as you need me, you hear?”

“I’m staying with Gareth for the time being,” Eddie said solemnly, “because Jeff is worried that Seth will follow me home.”

“Smart man, your Jeff,” Wayne agreed. “I have a friend in Indy I can crash on the sofa of for a couple of days until I can find something a little more permanent.”

“Yeah,” he whispered. “Let me know when you get into town and we’ll meet up for lunch.”

“You can finally take me to that pizza place you’ve been going on about for months.”

Eddie laughed, a knot loosening in his chest. “You’ve got it, old man.”

A few days later Steve was waiting for the pizza he had ordered for the shop, playing silly games on his phone when the bell announced new arrivals. He looked up instinctively and grinned.

He waved. “Eddie!”

Eddie lit up with a big smile. “Stevie?” He hopped over, an older man following a little slower behind.

“Hey!” Steve greeted. “Fancy seeing you here.”

Eddie’s smile turned into a grin. “DiMaggio’s is the best pizza place in Indy, not coming here is a crime.”

“If it’s not it certainly should be,” Steve agreed with his own answering grin.

“Steve,” Eddie said, “this is my uncle, Wayne. He’s staying in town for a few days.”

Steve’s mood was dampened a bit, knowing why he was in town. “Nice to meet you. I was planning a trip back down Hawkins at the end of the summer so that Eddie could introduce us, sorry we had meet under lesser than ideal circumstances.”

Wayne blinked at him for a moment before turning to Eddie. “This one is a keeper.”

Eddie blushed, shoving his hair in front of his face, ducking his head to hide his embarrassment.

Steve just smiled fondly at him. “I think that’s up to him.”

Wayne’s eyebrows shot up. “I like him.”

That surprised a laugh out of Eddie causing him to drop the hair. “Me too.”

“Let me just go order our pizzas,” Eddie murmured and darted for the front counter.

“He’s cute,” Steve said, waving his hand to the chair in front of him for Wayne to sit.

Wayne took the seat and smiled. “He certainly is. I’m glad the world didn’t beat the silliness out of him.”

“Me too,” Steve agreed. “I love how earnest and outgoing he is.”

Wayne hummed. “He tell what was going on?”

Steve nodded. “I’m afraid it’s my fault. Seth came after me at a friend’s shop, tried to threaten me into leaving Eddie alone.”

“I don’t think being threatened is the fault of the victim,” he said, his voice a deep comforting rumble.

Steve blushed. “That’s what Jeff and Robin said.”

“Jeff I know,” Wayne said, “Robin I don’t, but it sounds to me like they both have their heads on straight and you should be listening to them and not that voice in the back of your head.” He tapped Steve forehead for emphasis.

The bell above the door rang again and Mike and Will walked in. Steve raised a eyebrow when he spotted them.

“DiMaggio’s is certainly hopping for a random Thursday,” he commented dryly to Will when he lead a slightly reluctant Mike over to their table. Eddie arrived at the table just moments later and there are hugs and greetings all around.

“You caused quite a stir at the latest family dinner,” Will said with a huge grin to Steve.

Steve huffed out a laugh. “Yeah, how did that happen?”

“Jonathan is back on Mom’s couch,” he said with a smirk.

Steve reared his head back. “And how did that involve me?”

“Argyle kicked him out of the apartment because him and Nancy lied to him about who’s fault your and her relationship ended.”

“Nancy is furious at them both,” Mike said with a half shrug. “I’m not sure their relationship is going to survive that little revelation.”

Steve winced. “Yeah...that’s on them though. How was I to know that Jonathan hadn’t been honest to Argyle about that.”

Eddie bumped his shoulder. “You weren’t.”

“Oh we are totally on your side,” Will said.

Mike nodded. “Yeah, man. It was straight up bullshit all the lying they did.”

“Mom’s pissed because she really liked you,” Will continued, “and believed Jonathan about how things went down. Like of course she did. He’s her son, but she should have tried to get your side of it.”

“Those eight years are totally on her,” Steve said, holding his hands up in surrender. “You’ve been trying to tell her for years to at least talk to me about it.”

Will and Mike nodded.

Mike chewed on his lip as he played with the loose string on the hem of his t-shirt. “Is it bad I hope Nancy and Jonathan break up?”

The table got silence for a moment.

Wayne lifted his chin. “Why’s that, son?”

“Because I don’t think she wants a relationship. I think she was only with Jonathan and Steve,” he said waving at him with his left hand, “is because that’s what you’re ‘supposed’ to do.”

“Steve!” the counter called.

Steve got up to get his pizza order, he stopped back at the table. “I don’t think it’s a bad you want your sister to learn how to be herself without a partner. I think it shows that you’re more mature then she is. You’re a good man, Mike.”

He clapped Mike’s shoulder and then waved goodbye to everyone. He pulled out his keys and walked out to his car, flipping the key ring around as he thought.

He never intended this to happen when he saw his ex at the grocery store, but honestly? Maybe it was a good thing to get all those wounds brought to light so that they could heal properly.

For all their sakes.

Steve was ready for the weekend. His week had been a literal hell. But Eddie had promised that he would have fun. The band had been practicing a couple of new songs and were debuting them Saturday night.

He sat at the curve of the table, sandwiched between Robin, who wouldn’t care, only to tease him mercilessly later, and Mandy who got it, how fucking sexy Eddie and the band was when they were on stage.

Steve wished he could say he was better prepared every time Eddie got on stage, but every week Eddie went out of his way to drive Steve absolutely wild.

“He does this on purpose doesn’t he?” Steve asked after a particularly hot number where Eddie fell to his knees grinding on his guitar.

Mandy laughed. “I would like to put you out of your misery and say yes, but no. When Eddie gets on stage he loses all connection to the audience and just rocks out. His fans love it.”

Steve looked around the dingy bar and had to agree. They were just as turned on as he was. He shifted uncomfortably in his jeans, clearing his throat. “If we...” he cleared his throat again. “I mean if Eddie were to–if we were–”

Mandy took pity on him. “If you two were going out would the fans tear you to pieces for touching what they can’t?”

Steve bit his lip and nodded, looking at his hands that were twisted in lap.

She gave his knee a squeeze. “I honestly don’t know what the fans would do. But Eddie wouldn’t give a damn what they think. He��s been booed before for a song that they didn’t think was metal enough and he didn’t let that stop him. Not once.”

Steve let out a breath. It was always something that worried him. He knew he went against the grain in everything he did, but he didn’t want that with Eddie. He didn’t want to be with Eddie just because it went against the norm of what was expected of either of them.

They arrived at the club and already Robin was on the dance floor. She loved dancing and soon Mandy, Chrissy, Jeff, and Brian were out there with her. Gareth, Eddie, and Steve watched in amusement as their friends let loose on the dance floor, living it up under the rainbow lights and the thumping beat of the music.

Steve turned around and Eddie wasn’t there.

“You seen Eddie?” he shouted at Gareth.

Gareth shot up and looked around. “Shit.”

Somehow during their watching of their friends cutting it up, Eddie had slipped away.

“You check out back to see if he’s gone for a smoke,” Steve said.

Gareth nodded.

“I’m going to check the bar.”

Gareth nodded again.

Across the crowded room, a man in a tailored white suit grinned as he moved to the back of the club where the restrooms were, eyes glittering with want and rage as he scented his prey.

***

Part 20 Part 21 Part 22 Part 23 Part 24 Part 25 Part 26 Part 27 Part 28 Epilogue

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rosesofenvy · 11 months

Text

I was very inspired by @sha-biest goldenfuture au so I wrote a drabble for some of her most recent posts that I’m linking below! (they're also linked in the fic)

The arm incident

Leoichi

Kendratello

Check out the goldenfutureau tag if you’re confused!

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I'll Be the Sweetest Thing To Ever Scare You (5350 words) by rosesofenvy Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Rise of the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles (Cartoon 2018), Samurai Rabbit: The Usagi Chronicles (Cartoon) Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence Relationships: Leonardo (TMNT)/Yuichi Usagi, Donatello/Kendra (TMNT) Characters: Leonardo (TMNT), Donatello (TMNT), Yuichi Usagi, Kendra (TMNT), Michelangelo (TMNT), Raphael (TMNT), April O'Neil (TMNT), Cassandra Jones | Foot Recruit, Agent John Bishop (TMNT) Additional Tags: goldenfutureau, shabiest golden future, Post Movie, Violence, Loss of Limbs, bishop is a dick, kidnapped donnie, saving donnie from bishop, both leo and donnie lose an arm, Confessions, Hurt/Comfort, Lots of Hurt, lots of comfort, Nightmares, Injury Recovery, lowkey donnie whump, but kendra makes him laugh so it's all ok

Summary: Leo doesn't regret his choices to safe Donnie from Bishop, it just means a longer recovery for everyone involved.

Enjoy :)

Leo doesn’t regret his decision.

Donnie had been missing for a week, a week of no contact, a week of frantic searches, and a week of desperate calls to every friend and enemy they had ever encountered. They spared no expense in their efforts to find him, but it was almost a slap in the face to find that Donnie had been so close to them all along - he hadn’t even been taken out of New York. The sudden burst of Donnie’s mystic energy, coordinates and maps tracing to his exact location had been a source of relief and frustration as they mobilized and moved out.

Leo doesn’t regret moving when he did.

Raph and Mikey were holding down the lower levels of the base, guaranteeing their escape route since their abilities were dampened by whatever that mad scientist Bishop had cooked up. Leo was in charge of the extraction of their brother since he was by far the fastest and they were relying on the element of surprise here. Someone who’d been able to take down Donnie without their knowledge wasn’t someone they were taking lightly. Whatever Bishop had installed in the building had disabled most of their mystic powers, he can’t even risk using his portals if he didn’t want to lose a limb.

That doesn’t matter, he didn’t need mystic powers. He would tear this building apart with his bare hands if that meant he’d get his brother back safe. Faceless scientists run screaming past him, those who attempt to stop his progression are swiftly taken care of. Whether or not those rebuffs are nonlethal doesn’t matter, what does matter is that he’s reached the main lab. Kendra had shown him the blueprints, this entire floor was a blackout but he could assume it followed the general path that the previous labs had. As he bounds up the stairwell - and enters the open floor plan, every sense screams to high alert.

Even though Kendra was controlling every electrical aspect to the lab, this floor only had emergency lights. Even with the low glow of bulbs placed too far apart Leo’s senses are overwhelmed. There’s too much. Wires sparking from where they’d been torn from the wall blood on the floor static from a radio system now defunct thanks to Kendra’s interference blood on the wall his brother's blood everywhere. It reeks of iron and metal and sickness and despite the nausea curling in his gut Leo doesn’t hesitate to sprint forward because there’s his fucking brother.

Leo doesn’t regret throwing himself directly into the path of danger despite every time he’s been told to stop being such a self sacrificial idiot.

Donnie is crumpled near some sort of shadowed metal robot. Leo can’t quite make out the details with the intermittent flicker from the emergency lights, but it doesn’t matter as he darts across the length of the lab. He couldn’t see any humans in this room, something that made his scales itch with paranoia as he searched the dark corners of the lab for movement but he can’t afford to waste his attention on the absence of a being when what he came for is right in front of him. As he’s almost to Donnie, the robot his brother is kneeled in front of activates with a flash of red and a creaking of metal.

Leo regrets not moving faster.

There’s a blankness in Donnie’s gaze that makes Leo’s heart clench as the softshell staggers to his feet, clearly exhausted and with blood dripping from a number of wounds. Despite standing, he sways and Leo can see that Donnie doesn’t or maybe can’t register the danger directly to his right. Leo can’t tell if Donnie even recognizes him.

“Donnie! Move! ” Leo screams, finally getting in range of his brother, but it’s still not enough. There’s a red light shining over the both of them, a warning burst of heat just as Leo wraps his left arm around Donnie’s shell and uses his momentum to shove them both out of the way. The blaze that wraps around Leo’s shell and scorches his arm clean off is so sudden that he doesn’t register what had happened until Donnie is on the floor beneath him. Pain radiates from the remains of his arm and he gasps through clenched teeth as he takes in Donnie’s uncomprehending stare and the blood slowly seeping from the partially cauterized remains of the softshell's left arm. Leo slams his panic button as he takes in the physical wounds Donnie had suffered over the past week.

“You gotta keep your eyes open for me, we gotta wait for Raph, no passin' out yet.” Leo pants desperately, trying to follow his own order as he practically collapses over Donnie, "Is anyone still here?”

Donnie’s eyes flicker open, and Leo follows the path of his gaze up to where he recognizes an observational balcony. Leo didn't see it before in his desperation to grab Donnie, but there’s an outline of a man holding some sort of control panel. Bishop. Leo’s grip on Donnie’s shoulder tightens, but the human makes no move towards and instead sinks into the shadows where Leo couldn’t follow. The building shakes and Leo tries to lift Donnie, but it’s useless with the weakness that has filled his limbs. Pounding footsteps reach his ears and Leo turns to see Raph emerge from the same stairwell he had run up just moments earlier.

“Leo, Donnie!” Raph’s voice is frantic as he runs into the room. Leo feels his muscles going limp despite his best efforts to remain conscious as their older brother scoops them both up, then punches the machine to destroy the glass embedded in the robot that had nearly killed them both. The floor splinters beneath their feet and Raph wastes no time making their escape.

Leo regrets not being able to stay conscious during the destruction of the lab. He would’ve liked to revel in the downfall of one of Bishop’s pride and joys.

Waking up in the med bay was unfortunately a familiar experience for Leo. The steady beep of a heart monitor - although it was doubled for some reason, the scent of antiseptic, and the herculean effort it took to pry open his eyelids.

The light was nearly blinding as he tilted his head to the side, registering the flow of drugs from the IV drip making his limbs feel heavy and grimacing at the dryness of his mouth. Mikey was sitting in a chair at his bedside, and at his movement the box turtle leaps up and grips the bars to the bed.

“Leo! Are you awake?”

Leo can’t do much more than click in response, already wanting to go back to sleep but the stress in Mikey’s expression keeps him conscious. How long had he been out for Mikey to look so concerned? What had even happened this time? What were they all doing before…

“Here, I’ve got some water for ya,” Mikey says quickly, grabbing a cup and urging Leo to drink, “Do you want-”

“Donnie?!” Leo interrupts, voice rough as the memory of his brother, bloody and bruised, surfaces. He realizes through the sludge of the painkillers that he’d managed to grab Mikey’s hand before he could help him with the water and his grip was trembling as he searched Mikey’s face for answers. “Is he here? Is he ok?”

“Donnie’s fine,” Mikey reassures, pointing over Leo’s shoulder, “look he’s right there.” At Mikey’s gesture Leo lets his head fall to the other side and can see Donnie laying flat on his plastron still passed out. That nausea swirls again at the sight of all the bandages and wires that seemed to mirror what was hooked up to Leo so he tilts back towards Mikey with a small sigh of relief.

“Does Yuichi know?” He asks after he takes a few sips of blessedly cool water and can talk without it feeling like his throat is being carved to pieces.

“Can you worry about yourself for two seconds Leo?” Mikey murmurs miserably as he fidgets with Leo's blankets, “What do you remember? Raph didn’t see what happened and Kendra couldn’t pull cameras since Bishop had everything disabled on that floor.”

“I had to get Donnie out of the way,” Leo replies with a frown, “If I didn’t then…” It all hits him at once. The scene in the lab, the blood, the pain of a part of him being rendered from existence. He rolls his gaze down to his right arm, feeling an odd choking feeling overtake him as he realizes that his arm ends at the bicep, wrapped tightly in stark white bandages.

“Bishop had built something, I couldn’t see all of it since the power had been cut to most of the lab, but Donnie had just been left there. When I was trying to get to him, it lit up and I realized…” He trails off, swallowing hard as he recalls the sharp angles and the alien features of the robot, a shape that had often haunted nightmares, “If I didn’t get him out of the way, then he would’ve-” his words are cut off by his own choked sob. He’d been so close to losing his brother. Donnie was so close to being gone because of some stupid fucking scientist.

“Ok ok I got it,” Mikey quickly says, trying to calm the rising heart rate of his older brother and prevent those pained noises from escalating.

“You gotta tell Yuichi, Mikey you gotta call him, it’s been a week he’s probably worried sick, ” Leo gasps, tightening his grip on Mikey’s arm. The guilt of unintentionally keeping Yuichi in the dark was eating at every ounce of air in his chest.

“I will, I’ll get Raph to do it right now ok?” promises replies, holding onto Leo’s hand with both of his until he can feel Leo’s grip loosening and can see his eyelids fluttering.

“Okay,” Leo mumbles, the burst of energy leaving him as quickly as it had arrived. “Mikey imma sleep now ‘kay?”

“That’s fine Leo, rest up,” Mikey whispers, patting Leo’s hand as the slider relaxes and almost instantly falls back asleep. Mikey breathes a sigh of relief once he’s sure Leo’s under then sends a text to Raph.

-------

Yuichi knew that it wasn’t necessarily uncommon for Leo to go radio silent on missions, it came with the territory of keeping the world safe. However, it’d been a week at this point and with the abruptness of Leo’s departure, he was anxiously pacing the length of his room and overthinking everything that could’ve gone wrong. It had become his habit within the week, spending his downtime in this way but the routine is interrupted when his phone begins buzzing.

He leaps at where it had been set on his bedside table, dropping it on the floor once before he manages to hold onto it, seeing Leo’s caller ID and nearly crying with relief.

“Leo! It’s been a week, are you ok? What happened to Donnie?” He rattles off once he answers, clutching his phone up to his ear and holding his breath for the response.

There’s a beat of silence before Raph replies.

“Hey Usagi, I don’t want you freaking out ok?” Raph greets gently, “I’m gonna tell you what happened and then Mikey’s gonna bring you over here.”

“What went wrong? Is Leo hurt?” Usagi questions anxiously, feeling his phone beginning to creak with how tightly he was holding it. All of the worst case scenarios he’d been considering claw their way to the forefront of his mind.

“Leo and Donnie were both seriously injured in the escape from the lab that Donnie was being held in, but they’re both alive and recovering,” Raph reports, “Leo’s been in and out of consciousness for the past day and he just woke up for longer than just a few minutes. He’s been asking for you. Are you ok to come over?”

“Yes yes of course,” Usagi replies quickly, darting around to grab his katana and tug on his shoes, “Get me over there.”

A golden portal opens in front of him as he’s pocketing his phone and Usagi doesn’t hesitate to step through. Once the spots clear from his vision he sees that Mikey had pulled him into the atrium of their lair, both Mikey and Raph waiting for him. He can see the exhaustion in their expressions and it makes the anxiety that had been simmering begin to boil over.

“Where is he?” Usagi demands, dropping his katana onto the nearest empty surface and flicking his ears to see if he can catch any sound of the slider. He can hear the slightly raised heartbeats of the brothers in front of him before he catches the steady electrical beeps further into the lair.

“I’ll take you to him,” Mikey says, raising his hands in a placating gesture, “He’s still kind of out of it from the painkillers, but he’s been asking about you since he woke up.”

Usagi knows that’s supposed to reassure him but it just makes his heart beat harder as he follows Mikey to the medical bay. He’s seen Leo hurt before, but it was very rare that he or any of the brothers had to be completely hospitalized. Their healing factors often kicked in before it was needed, so the thought of both of them being injured badly enough to need serious painkillers was nerve wracking. Since Donnie was on the far side of the room, Usagi’s gaze catches on the softshell before he fully enters and turns to see Leo.

He’s not sure what to look at first, eyes flickering from the bruises under Leo’s eyes to the bandages wrapping around his upper chest and his right arm - his right arm that was gone from the elbow down. He can’t help his gasp, moving quickly to Leo’s bedside. Leo opens his eyes at the vocalization, gaze taking a moment to focus before he smiles gently.

“Yuichi,” He says, voice soft but clearly rough from disuse as Usagi scans the lines of IV’s and wires before leaning over and cradling Leo’s head. He wraps his arms as gently as he could, tucking Leo’s head against his own as he whispers his name. He waits until he can hear the steadiness of Leo’s heartbeat before he takes a shuddered breath and shifts to hide his face against Leo.

“‘Chi?” Leo inquires, drawing back a bit as he can feel the heat of Yuichi’s tears against the side of his neck.

Yuichi moves back just enough to meet Leo’s eyes as he bites back the angry choking thing that wants to scream about unfairness and instead presses his cheek against Leo’s, seeing the tears budding in the slider’s eyes.

“Don’t you dare do this again,” He whispers fiercely, “Next time you leave, I’m coming with you.” He can feel Leo’s tears mingling with his own, and it takes only a tilt of his head to connect the two of them in a kiss. Usagi would normally worry about the fact that Leo’s brothers were likely still nearby, and would be concerned if Leo was in any pain with the proximity, but all he can think about is how he nearly lost the slider and he would’ve only known when his brothers had been able to contact him. He curls the fingers he has cradling the back of Leo’s neck, feeling the slider sigh into his mouth before he pulls back and searches out Yuichi’s hand with his remaining one. Once their fingers are intertwined, Leo visibly relaxes.

“I won’t Yuichi, promise.”

“Damn straight,” Yuichi says firmly, “And if you think I’m leaving anytime in the near future you’d be sorely mistaken.”

“Well the angle you’re standing at doesn’t look comfortable,” Leo offers quietly, “Care to join me?”

Yuichi frowns at the number of wires that Leo was connected to before carefully arranging himself on the bed beside Leo. He can feel the tension fade as he carefully tangles their legs and props his head against the side of Leo’s. The slider melts into his side, sighing in comfort and it brings Usagi back to many of their sleepovers. If there wasn’t the scent of antiseptic and the sounds of heart rate monitors, he’d be able to pretend that it was just another night after coming back from a mission. The sleepless nights spent worrying over Leo’s condition catch up to him, and he allows himself to rest with Leo tucked into his arms.

-------

Kendra had seen a lot in her time. Being a teenage hacker often meant seeing things that she really wasn’t supposed to. Sometimes it was what the neighbors Tuesday afternoon drunken parties entailed, sometimes it was the ledgers of foreign governments and lists of experiments that were far from ethical.

Helping two of the Hamato’s through their amputations? That was new. She can’t help but thank her instinct to pursue medicine (sure it was veterinary medicine but it had helped them out here hadn’t it?) as she clears away the materials she’d used for stitches.

She wasn’t sure what to think when she was first contacted about Donatello being missing. It seemed that the Hamato’s had just been going through each of Donnie’s contacts to see if they’d heard anything. She wasn’t sure if she was surprised that she was one of the first on his list since she was contacted mere hours after his disappearance, but she was not ashamed to admit that she threw herself back into her computer hacking days to provide her services.

It was odd, returning to watching cameras and scanning security footage for any signs of the freakishly large turtle instead of attending to her much more morally correct job of a veterinarian. When Donnie’s systems finally pinged his location and the brothers had ran in yelling about his mystic energy, she remained as the “woman in the chair” despite every instinct to strap on one of Donnie’s battleshells and join the fight herself.

She watched through security cameras while she remotely detonated the lab’s systems - reveling in the panic on the scientists faces as they realized that rooms were locked and sirens were growing louder thanks to her call to every station in the area regarding illegal experimentation and unauthorized lab usage. They wouldn’t be able to access the building until she opened the doors, but it was good to rile them up. The building would be going down regardless thanks to April and Casey’s actions to rig the foundations with Purple Dragon grade explosives. She had already evacuated nearby blocks, the only danger was to those that had chosen to imprison and experiment on Donnie and whatever other poor mutants Bishop had gotten his slimy hands on. Unfortunately the only area she wasn’t able to see, much to her and everyone else’s frustration, was the lab that Donnie was being kept in.

This means that the only thing she sees when the battle ends is Leo and Donnie being carried out by Raph before she loses access to her systems as the cameras explode into a golden light. Whatever Raph had done to that lab had disabled what was hindering their powers then if Mikey was able to begin the detonation process. She hurries to the med bay, keeping her panic tucked away as the blood that had been trailing the trio flickers through her mind. There’s another flash of golden light just as she’s set up the beds and the brothers appear through Mikey’s portal.

She still doesn’t allow herself to panic as she helps with the surgery, an odd mix of modern medicine and magic keeping the two brothers alive and stable until she steps back and deems it all they can do for the moment. Through numb lips she explains the aftercare and the Hamato’s set up schedules and watches. She should be surprised that she’s included in these, but she also knows that the only way she’s leaving Donnie’s side is if she’s dragged out. Well, after she scrubs their blood from her clothes anyway. She borrows some of Donnie’s while hers are being treated, drawing comfort in the too large hoodie as she sets up post beside Donnie’s bed.

Leo wakes up first, unsurprising since he hadn’t been locked away for a week in a psychopath's care. Their healing factor has clearly kicked in as within a day Leo is taken off the heavy painkillers and requests to move back to his room. Kendra tries not to be impatient as she routinely checks on the stitches, monitoring for infection between her shifts with Donnie. The brothers regularly switched off with Kendra - barring Leo since he was bed bound - but Kendra insisted on spending as much time as possible with Donnie. He should be waking up soon after all and if she didn’t get to tell that stupid idiot her true feelings she’s going to lose it.

It’s late on day two when she hears movement, glancing over to see Donnie’s eyes open wide and staring at her uncomprehending. She freezes, staring back and not even daring to blink as she waits for understanding to wash over Donatello’s expression.

It doesn’t.

Instead he snarls, lips drawing back to expose sharp teeth and she scrambles to press the call button (more of a localized panic button for the med bay) before Donatello tries to sit up, becoming off balance and falling to his side as he tries to balance with an arm he doesn’t have. “You’ll hurt yourself,” Kendra barks, hands going to help him sit up when he snaps at her arms, then hissing a warning when she doesn’t immediately draw back. She is so not qualified to deal with a hostile mutant turtle who had probably been through an excess of uncertified medical procedures over the past week if his injuries were anything to go by. Thankfully she doesn’t have to worry about her hand being bitten off as Raph and Mikey come running in.

She backs off, only so that Donnie doesn’t feel overwhelmed and becomes more violent, but remains in eyesight in case he tries to rip out the IV’s. Mikey does disconnect the heart monitor since its high-pitched scream was doing none of them any favors and she could see how quickly Donnie relaxed at the quiet. It still clearly takes a moment for him to recognize where he was and who was around him with his brothers reassurances the only reason he’s willing to settle back onto the bed with a low whine. Kendra steps in, quickly checking fluids and changing out the painkillers since they were low. She can see the concern on both Mikey and Raph’s expressions, but completes everything clinically before returning to her spot at his bedside.

“You can leave now, I can handle it,” She says only a bit harshly. It was true, she’s sure she can handle whatever reaction Donnie may have now that he’s aware of where he is. She knew the dangers of an unfamiliar face attempting to administer care, but now Donnie could see her and understood why he was hooked up to the various equipment. She had no concerns about her safety.

“If you’re sure…” Raph says hesitantly, “You know how to get a hold of us.”

“Yep, now go back to bed, you two are dead on your feet,” Kendra says, trying to be cold but it’s difficult when all she can do is trace the bandages wrapping Donatello’s shell. She hears the brothers leave and heaves a sigh of relief. From the glaze over Donnie’s eyes, she can tell the painkillers have a hold on him but she can't help but slowly reach out to grasp his left hand.

“I know you’re probably loopy because those are high grade as shit,” She starts quietly, “But if I don’t get this off my chest before you fall asleep again I think I’ll actually lose my mind.”

Donnie blinks slowly at her.

“You’re an idiot,” She whispers harshly, “You scared the hell out of us you know? You scared the hell out of me.” She squeezes his hand, feeling him squeeze back before she can force herself to continue. “You know I didn’t even realize it until your brothers called me, but I care about you. I care about you, the guy who humiliated me every chance he could get, the dumb turtle who put a stop to a whole ass alien invasion, and the absolute dickhead who got kidnapped and hurt by an actually crazy scientist and leaving me behind.”

She doesn’t know when she started crying.

“You’re really making me say it, Donatello Hamato, but I like you, and if anything - I mean anything - happens to you again? I’m going to kill whoever did it with my bare hands.”

She’s not sure if Donnie understands, but she can see the corner of his lips quirk slightly before his eyes slip shut and he stills. His breaths become deep with sleep but his hand still remains firmly grasped in Kendra’s. She doesn’t let go until Mikey comes in to take over.

-------

A week goes by in silence. Not from all of the Hamato’s, Kendra doesn’t think it’d be possible for them to be quiet for more than ten seconds. No. Donatello has not said a single word, or even made a noise of discomfort since he’d first woken up. He rarely even signs, much to the disappointment and worry of his brothers. He doesn’t ask for food or water, although they’re brought to him anyway, and he remains in his room nestled under his blankets and only moves when absolutely necessary. Despondent is the word that immediately springs to Kendra’s mind and she hates it.

They retain their rotating shifts, although Kendra takes as many of them as she can. The last thing Donnie needs is an interrogation from his family, since it’s clear that he’s still gathering his thoughts over what had happened to him and shows discomfort any time his brothers try to remain alone with him. She justifies her veterinary knowledge, but she can also see Mikey whispering to Raph whenever the older brother looks like he’s going to protest. Thank whatever pizza thing they worship for the younger brother’s empathy. Kendra sets up a cot that Donnie had in his lab and sleeps across the room when she can.

This is how she knows Donnie’s having a nightmare almost exactly a week after he’d moved back into his room.

He didn’t sleep very often, fiddling at all hours with some form of tech since he had to avoid screens with his head injury or pretending to sleep as he laid on top of the mattress. Kendra’s relief at his breaths finally evening out is short lived as a few hours after he slipped under she hears him begin to thrash, then cries out in pain as he aggravates the wounds on his shell. She’s out of the cot and onto his bed in seconds, cupping her hands gently onto his face and tapping gently at his cheeks. His eyes snap open and for a moment she wonders if she’s going to lose a finger or two before clarity comes to his vision. For the first time in a week she feels like he recognizes her.

She finds herself wrapped in an embrace, a surprising development but not one she’s going to take lightly as she feels Donnie trembling against her. She squeezes, not enough to hurt but enough to ground as Donnie’s forehead falls heavy to her shoulder. The two of them sit there, Kendra gently rubbing Donnie’s shell until she feels his breath hitch.

“He…made a control panel…like the technodrome…” His voice is raspy from disuse and Kendra almost wants to stop him so he could get a drink or something, but she also understands that this is important both for Donatello to say and for her to hear. Regardless of how sick the thought of hearing what caused these wounds makes her feel.

“Or…tried to…’t was…nothing like her…”

Kendra recalls the ship that had hovered over New York. She thinks of its size and the terror it struck into its citizens. She couldn’t imagine anyone willingly recreating that, this Bishop Bastard was even worse than she thought. Mikey had told them a bit about how the ship had been controlled - access directly to the nervous system as far as they could tell. One sleepless night Donnie had even described what it had felt like to control the ship, Kendra never forgot the almost melancholic expression on his face as he recalled connecting to it.

“There was no synergy…just pain…it tried to control…it tried to take…take… take ….” The anguish in Donnie’s voice has Kendra holding him all the tighter, burying her face in his shoulder in the only way she could try to comfort. The words are spilling out of him now, faster and every word sounds worse as he explains in fractured segments what Bishop had done.

“...I felt violated …it tried to control me even though it was supposed to be controlled. Bishop was furious…he didn’t understand why it wasn’t working…” Donnie let out a broken laugh, “took it out on me…but it was nothing compared to it…nausea got worse…every time I was hooked up to it…”

She can feel him shudder at the memory and she squeezes him the best she can, hoping that the weight of her against him was helping to keep him grounded as he continued talking.

“He kept upgrading it…and connecting me to it…” He pauses, exhaling hard and coughing a bit as he does so, “It noticed too late when I took control...That’s how I got the signal out. You already know the rest…”

Kendra can feel that he’s done, the way he slumps against her and the ragged breathing as he attempts to reign in his thoughts. She’s never been great at comforting people in the conventional sense, but she has a feeling she can share what she was feeling about the whole situation.

“What an absolute shithead.”

She feels him jolt in surprise before he snorts, finally finally returning her hold and tugging her closer to him as he laughs. It’s the best sound she’s ever heard.

“Yeah, he really was an absolute dick! A real piece of work, shit from the sewers!” Donnie manages to choke out between chuckles and Kendra can’t help but lean into his laughter.

“So just to make sure I wasn’t just high on painkillers…you did say you liked me right?” Donnie murmurs after they’d both calmed down enough to lay comfortably on the bed. Donnie doesn’t let Kendra go, drawing comfort in her warmth as she messes absently with his hand. She pressed her palm against his own, twining and untwining their fingers until he spoke - then she abruptly dropped his hand.

Kendra groans, rolling over to hide her face against the mattress despite their tangled legs keeping her mostly facing Donnie, “Yes, yes unfortunately I did.”

“What was that? Could you repeat it?” Donnie asks cheekily, laughing again when Kendra lifts her face from the mattress to scowl at him.

“Yes! I did! Got a problem with it ?”

Donnie’s face is priceless, shifting from teasing to blushing in a way that makes Kendra smirk victoriously as she gently rubs his arm.

“I…suppose…I like you too,” Donnie manages to stutter out.

“You tell anyone I got mushy like that and I’ll strangle you,” Kendra mutters.

Donnie barks out a laugh, “Wouldn’t dream of it Kendra.”

Kendra knows deep down that this isn’t over. Bishop was still out there, a destroyed lab surely wouldn’t keep him down for long. For the moment however, she’s going to enjoy Donnie’s warm embrace and do what she can to help him feel safe even if that means tearing down the bastard herself.

#rottmnt #rottmntfanfic #samurairabbitusagichronicles #samurairabbit #leoichi #kendratello #goldenfutureau #ao3 #fanfic #leonardo hamato #usagi yuichi #rottmnt kendra #donatello hamato #honestly all characters are featured a little bit in here

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writer-by-the-sea · 1 year

Text

College Professor Elliott x Gn! Student

Part 1 of ? I stopped, my words trailing off as I gazed into a pair of eyes in the front row. Two beautiful eyes, breathtakingly perfect eyes that stared right back at me, unafraid to maintain eye contact with me, unafraid of the successful author standing directly in front of them… Ready to challenge anything I might throw their way.

Chapter one: The meet cute

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A sea of eyes watch me as I pace back and forth before them, the sound of laptops opening, bags zipping, pens on paper, and the occasional snore from one of my already uninterested students; the true college experience. When I was younger I never saw myself teaching a class. My main goal was to become an author. A New York Times best seller, famous and rich beyond my wildest dreams!

It was much easier to obtain than I’d ever imagined.

Thirteen novels later and I was here, teaching a class full of young and eager faces; each one just as desperate to accomplish the same goals that I’d managed to do early on in my career. They always took every word I spoke as the one and only truth, the end all of how to become a published author and a well known one at that.

After all, the class was called ‘Humble Beginnings - How to publish your first novel.’ Humble being that it was my last name, a little joke to myself when I came up with the class title. It was very much the opposite of ‘humble’ especially when I stood before all of them, dressed in clothing that most of them could never afford, my hair perfectly styled with products shipped from all around the world, the watch on my wrist costing more than my first car— Humble Beginnings… when in reality, it was all pure luck and a dash of talent.

I begin by scribbling my name on the white board in the font of the class, something I don’t find myself using often and will usually only keep my name up the entire semester. Professor Elliott Humble. I hate being called ‘Mr. Humble’ but Elliott feels too familiar in this setting.

I turned and looked out to the class, taking time to memorize the faces as I scanned over them. Some excited and eager to begin, others nervous and scared of what’s to come, and one in the back with his head thrown back as another light snore rips around the room. “Theme stated, can anyone tell me what that means?”

A few hands raise, those who have already done their research, those who may have read ahead on the required book in my class— not one that I’ve written myself, but one that would be very beneficial to any future writer. Save the Cat! Writes a novel.

I point to someone a few rows back. She wore a brown oversized sweater and a mustard yellow beanie. My quick thought is that she’s a bit of a hipster, someone who dreams of writing the next most inspirational and unique novel. A dream that will fail once they come to learn the truth of publishing. “Yes, you. Let’s hear it.”

“Theme stated— A hint at the transformation that the main character will make.”

“Wonderful!” I grinned, earning a blush from my praise. And nothing new there, it was common to attract a few shy glances and not so subtle swoons from my audience. Be it from my interviews, book signing, or here in class, someone was bound to develop a little crush. Usually the entire class by the end of the semester. So much for being Humble.

“Can anyone give me a good example of a theme stated?”

More hands go up this time, either they now knew what it meant or they were too nervous to try to answer the first question of the class.

I hummed as I looked out at the class, one man vibrating in his seat with excitement. I could already hear his answer, something from a Marvel movie or maybe Star Wars. He wore glasses that were too small for his face, a worn out Iron Man t-shirt, and a chain necklace that showed off a single heavy lock that hung just above his collarbone. “What’s your example?”

“You either die a hero or live long enough to become the villain.”

“Ah, that’s a very good one!” The student was beaming, proud of himself and rightfully so— it was a very good example. “The Dark Knight, correct?” DC and not Marvel, but close enough.

“Yes, Mr. Humble!”

I cringed a bit at hearing my name, luckily it seemed that no one noticed. “In The Dark Knight, we see Harvey Dent and Batman, both considered heroes. Dent in his attempt to rid Gotham of crime, and Batman as a vigilante protecting the city.” Can’t say I was prepared to reveal my own slightly nerdy side of myself so early on. But it couldn’t be helped. “Later on, Dent becomes a villain while Batman allows himself to be considered a villain for the greater good of Gotham.

“Some of you may be tempted to shake your head or roll your eyes. You may be asking yourself, ‘why would I ever want to be so on the nose with the theme of my story?’ And it’s rather simple, a strong theme, a strong statement in the beginning of your novel or script, in Batman's case; can take your work from being your average basic story, and into something so much more powerful. Something that moves your audience, something that captures their attention and holds onto them for dear life…”

I stopped, my words trailing off as I gazed into a pair of eyes in the front row. Two beautiful eyes, breathtakingly perfect eyes that stared right back at me, unafraid to maintain eye contact with me, unafraid of the successful author standing directly in front of them… Ready to challenge anything I might throw their way.

“Uh, I-,” I turned my back to the class, quickly pulling my collar away from my throat, my tie suddenly too tight. Clearing my throat, I spoke again, “What else do some of you think is the most important factor in a novel?”

I meant to keep going on, to ask for more examples, to spin more on how important the theme stated was but— I turned and looked back to the class, forcing a smile to them and looking at the newly raised hands to pick another answer. But then my eyes fell back to them. No hand raised, but still paying full attention as they waited for the chance to learn more. I knew I was blushing now, my cheeks no doubt turning bright red as I ripped my gaze away from them again. I pointed to a random student, not paying attention to anything about them as they answered.

“A novel outline?” They were unsure, their voice going up at the end of their answer. But it was an alright answer, a more obvious one, but still a decent enough answer.

“Yes, good point! Outlines are important. Not everyone uses them and it’s something we’ll dive into throughout the class— I’ve done both methods, outlining and not, and.. I’ll tell you which novels sold better,” I teased.

The class laughed, some of them nodding along with me, most likely the ones that struggled with outlining and wanted to know how to avoid it.

“Now, I’d like to take a little bit of time to get to know some of you. I’m going to end class a little early—“ Some students dropped their jaws, looking around the room at each other in confusion. “Don’t mistake this for kindness,” I said quickly. “You’ll be receiving your first assignment and it will take some time.”

I chuckled at some of them as they groaned and relaxed back into their seats. “Homework after the first class? I know, I’m so cruel. But—“ I jogged to my desk, grabbing the first book that sat on top, one of my own. I smacked the cover and showed it to the class, not my first novel but it was one of the best selling ones. “If you want to become published, you have to write every single day!” I tossed the book to someone in the third row, some gasps escaping as they caught it.

“Tell me your name and your future novel genre!”

The student looked to their left and then to their right, uncertain and apprehensive to answer.

“Look at me,” I said softly. “Don’t worry about the others, tell me what you want to write.”

They shrugged, their fingers playing with the edges of my book as they stared at the cover. “It’s kind of lame.”

“I promise you, it isn’t,” I said. “No genre is boring, except maybe a manual on how to change a lightbulb.” A few laughs came through, and the student smiled. The laughs were what we needed to get them to open up a bit. “So?”

“Historic fantasy.”

“Ah, yes. A battle of blades between elves and humankind! How can they ever settle the war between their people?! A marriage alliance? A fight to the death? Or perhaps an even stronger enemy arises that forces them to work together!”

The student laughed, “Goblins and- and trolls!”

“I’m excited to see what you come up with! What’s your name?”

“Tony,” he was grinning now, facing me fully and no longer hiding his face behind my book.

“Excellent, Tony. Very nice to meet you. Toss the book to someone else!”

Tony nodded and stood, looking out to everyone around him and trying to decide who to throw to. He tossed it carefully a few seats away from himself, landing on the table of another student. She grabbed it quickly and stood up, holding my book to her chest.

“I’m Angie, and I want to write romance.”

“A personal favorite of mine,” I replied. Most of my novels were, in fact, romance. Something I felt I excelled in, and most likely the reason she was really here. To get into the head of her favorite author. “Meeting for the first time and falling in love, reawakening the romance of a dying marriage, or a forbidden romance between two criminals — so many possibilities!”

“Rose Petal is my favorite book of yours!”

“Thank you,” I said with a laugh. “Please, toss it on!”

Angie didn’t even hesitate, she quickly threw the book into the front row, nearly nailing the student in the back of the head but luckily they were able to turn and catch it. They stood slowly, their eyes locking with my own as they held the book with both hands. I made my way to stand in front of them, reaching for the book and taking it from them, my fingers caressing across the back of their hands as I took ownership of the book once again.

“And you? Are you wishing to write romance as well?”

“No,” they replied, their voice so soft the students in the back missed it.

I waited a moment, my attention focused fully on them… I found that I could stare at them for hours, days, weeks even. I allowed myself to study their face and memorize every gorgeous detail. “What is it?”

They smiled before they replied, a smile so wonderful that I almost missed their reply—

“Horror.”

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mermmarie · 1 year

Text

The Red String of Fate

Authors Notes: So, I had been thinking about this idea for a while, and admittingly I started this ahead of OC x Canon week, but the idea fits perfectly for the Day 3 prompt: Soulmate. So please enjoy chapter 1 of my Red String of Fate fanfic featuring Donnie!

Pair: Donatello x Reader

Word Count: 2k

Rating: T?? (Although, characters depicted are adults)

Content/Trigger Warnings: Mention of blood.

||Chapter 1|| ||Chapter 2|| ||Chapter 3|| ||Chapter 4||

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

Chapter 1: Cosmically Bound

The Red String of Fate was a fairy tale you didn’t believe in anymore. A long time ago, yes, but after so many rejections, heartbreaks and betrayals how could you now? It was silly to even consider it a possibility in the first place. Just the idea that two people could be romantically bound by some magical, crimson colored thread was ridiculous. Especially when there was a zero point zero, zero, zero, zero, zero, zero, zero three percent chance of it happening to anyone, let alone you.

While it was a fantasy you daydreamt about from time to time, you understood that it was just that; A fantasy. So, when you noticed a string of red laced around your ring finger, your first initial thought was that your head was in the clouds once more, dreaming of the impossible. However, the usual trick of closing your eyes and shaking your head of the thoughts only made the fantasies disappear, but the little red string remained.

You straightened in your recliner, head cocking curiously as you focused your gaze on the thread. You flexed and curled your fingers, thinking that the illusion might disappear if you were to physically affect reality, but just as before, it stayed. A small gasp escaped your mouth when you lifted your hand into the air and the string extended. Following the red thread, your eyes grew wide with disbelief when it pointed out the window that was lined up next to your chair and suddenly all the dull sounds of New York were drowned out by the pounding of your heart in your ears.

Somewhere out there in the bustling city was your soulmate.

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

SCANNING.

UNKNOWN PERSON NO.1

SEX: MALE

HEIGHT: 6 FT 0”

WEIGHT: 190 LBS

OBJECTS ON PERSON: SWITCH BLADE

SCANNING.

UNKNOWN PERSON NO.2

SEX: MALE

HEIGHT: 6 FT 2”

WEIGHT: 211 LBS

OBJECTS ON PERSON: CROWBAR

SCANNING.

UNKNOWN PERSON NO.3

SEX: MALE

HEIGHT: 5 FT 9”

WEIGHT: 173 LBS

OBJECTS ON PERSON: BOX CUTTER

Fittingly, Unknown Person No.1 had struck first, then Unknown Person No.2, but Unknown Person No.3 had decided to stay behind. Possibly a strategic tactic to fall back and assess the situation first, but it was more likely that he was just a coward. Although, his Sensei had taught him that a wise man was able to recognize when he was beaten. Unfortunately, none of them were wise. Just foolish thugs thinking they had the upper hand in the situation because it was three versus one.

The realization came quickly to Unknown Person No.3 however when Donatello easily disarmed and knocked out his fellow associates. The whites of his eyes became more evident as the lean turtle approached him. His shoulders inching upwards and nearly touching his ears while he attempted to put on a menacing scowl, but by the way his teeth clattered against each other the front was obvious. Still, like a cornered rat, fear driven adrenaline compelled him to make a move, despite having already witnessed how that turned out for his comrades.

Donatello effortlessly maneuvered out of the way of his first attack, and prepared himself to counter in the midst of his recuperation but faltered after having noticed something peculiar…

As his metal staff spun between his large green digits, he saw a contrast of red on the smallest finger of his left hand. For a split second he assumed it was blood, thinking he somehow had been wounded in his scrap with the other two crooks, but there was no open gash or cut present on his hand. His eyes narrowed behind his goggles to focus his vision on the stark color and he brought his appendage closer to his view, nearly forgetting that he was in the middle of a fight until a familiar voice called out to him.

“Donnie!!” They warned and he flinched. Fear striking him when his gaze snapped to the short blade of the box cutter that was being thrust towards his face. Luckily, years of reflex training had him move just in time to avoid a critical injury, but he didn’t go unharmed. Unknown Person No.3 managed to nick him on the top of his cheek just below his left eye. Ignoring the sudden appearance of red momentarily, he turned his attention back to the thug and spun his bo into his diaphragm.

Another one of his Sensei’s lessons about ‘ never underestimating his enemies ’ and ‘ to remain focused during battle ’ echoed in the purple-coded mutants’ head and spite burned between his brows. Just as the man recovered from the air being knocked out of his lungs and he lifted his head, Donatello smacked him across the face with the tip of his staff. The man finally falling to the ground and unconscious.

Bastard.

Before he had time to inspect his injury, his cold-colored brother was at his side with his hands on his shoulders.

“Donnie, are you okay?” He asked, but didn’t wait for his answer. Instead, he moved his hands to his face, maneuvering it into a position where he could get a better look on the cut of his cheek. His normally, cool-blue eyes we’re blown up with a look of fear that Donatello didn’t witness often, and it had him reconsidering the severity of the attack. However, the anticipation that built in his chest subsided when Leonardo’s gaze softened.

“Bad news; it’s gonna scar. Good news; you’ll finally match the rest of us.” He smirked.

Donatello huffed and pulled his face out of his brothers’ hands. Pushing his goggles to the top of his head and sheathing his bo staff to his shell.

“What happened back there, Donnie? I kind of expect Mikey to lose his head in the clouds but not you.” He pressed.

Donatello grumbled and dropped his gaze. He could feel that his eyes wanted to wander back to his left hand, but he was almost too afraid to look. As he swung his final blow on the assailant, he caught the crimson color in his view again and recognized it for what it really was. He had heard of the ‘Red String of Fate’ as a myth. A legend, a rumor, an old wives tale. There had been some speculation of it happening to people throughout history, but no scientific proof. And Donatello wasn’t the kind of guy to believe in something without seeing it first hand for himself.

So, if he didn’t look at it, that would mean it didn’t actually exist… Right?

Uncertainty pulled at the corners of his lips as he extended his hand in front of his brother and splayed out his fingers. A bright red string wrapped snuggly around his smallest digit. Leonardo’s eyes widened again as he stared at the thread, but this time he looked with confusion. He brought his gaze back to him expectantly and naturally, he opened his mouth to explain.

“It’s–” He started but paused when he realized how silly it would be to speak of it out loud, let alone embarrassing… “Um–”

“The Red String of Fate.” Leonardo finished for him.

Donatello’s brows arched with surprise. “Y–You know about the myth?”

“Well, I wouldn’t necessarily call it a myth now.”

“Oh. Right…” Donatello lowered his hand and his gaze fell with it. His eyes locked on the red string in deep thought. He curled and flexed his fingers, speculating that the construct might simply vanish if he were to tamper with its existence. But as he turned over his hand, the tail end of the string extended and pointed into a specific direction away from the both of them. The two cool-colored mutants straightened in attention, but stayed silent as they looked off in the distance.

Eventually, Leonardo broke the silence with a question that had Donatello snapping his head back to him in disbelief.

“So… We gonna go find them?”

“ W-What?!” The lean mutant exclaimed and cringed at how his voice cracked. His cheeks immediately turning a darker shade of green.

Leonardo couldn’t help but to smile, albeit a bit sheepishly. “Okay, the way I worded it was a little– weird. ”

“ Ya think? ”

“What I meant was, don’t you wanna– investigate a little? See who your cosmic soulmate is?” The blue clad turtle shrugged.

“No!” He covered the red string on his hand with his other, as if that would snuff out his brother’s questionable curiosity.

“What do you mean?--”

Donatello groaned tiredly. “I don’t even know if I believe in this!”

“How could you not? The proof is right there!” Leonardo pointed at his hand.

Cautiously, Donatello lifted his right hand just enough for him to peak underneath it. Checking to see if the little red thread was still intertwined around his finger. It was of course and he groaned again.

“Okay… I suppose I can’t deny its legitimacy but–” He chewed on the inside of his bottom lip.

Out of the twenty-million residents who lived in New York, fate had decided that he, a mutant ninja turtle, was to be romantically bound to another. Who they were or what they looked like, he had no clue, but statistically thinking… His ‘other’ was most likely a human being. And from his experience, most human beings didn’t react positively to the fact that he was a nearly seven-foot tall, bioengineered reptile when they first saw him. He doubted that it would be any different in this case.

Even with the literal string attached.

“I’m not ready.” He paused again before adding on quickly, “To see them yet that is.” He shifted his weight from one leg to the other and averted his gaze from his brothers’.

Leonardo stared at him in silence, and it felt as if he was trying to burn a hole into his head. As if to get inside his mind and find out what he was really thinking. Just as it was beginning to feel like too much, he finally spoke.

“Alright.” His arms flopped against his side and he turned away from him, looking in another direction. “Let’s tie them up and head home then.” He gestured to the thugs with a cock of his head and started to walk off, but Donatello reached out and grabbed his arm, stopping him from going any further.

“Leo,” he started, but licked his bottom lip in hesitation. “Thanks… And please don’t tell Raph or Mikey. Especially Mikey.”

An amused puff of air escaped Leonardo’s nostrils. “I won’t say anything to them, but you know Mikey’s gonna be upset when he eventually finds out. Probably cry about how it didn’t happen to him instead.”

Donatello hummed in agreement and for a split second, he kind of wished it had happened to his orange-clad brother instead. At least then he’d be able to observe the phenomenon from the outside and record his findings on the matter if he were to experience it for himself. Normally, he didn’t mind going into things ‘ blind ’, metaphorically speaking. It was part of being a scientist, figuring things out through trial and error. But with this kind of subject? He’d prefer to have some knowledge on how to go about it. Unfortunately, he was on his own.

Turning to follow his brother, Donatello took one last look in the direction the red string pointed off to and wondered if you were having the same troubling thoughts? Then, the idea of you looking for him crossed his mind and it pushed his focus back to the round up. The last thing he wanted was for you to find him in the middle of the night, amongst bodies of thugs, and with a bloodied face.

#OC x Canon Week #OC x Canon Week 2023 #TMNT #TMNT x Reader #TMNT Bayverse #TMNT 2014 #TMNT 2016 #Donatello #Donatello x Reader #TMNT Imagine #TMNT Lit #Mermies Writing

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the-not-so-silent-back-up · 4 months

Text

The Love We Choose

Geraskier ModernAU

a big THANK YOU @cherrychapsticksteve for helping me out figuring some stuff out

Summary: Geralt is a Firefighter, but more important he is a single Dad to 4 y/o Ciri. Regularly they go to a cute little Coffeeshop where Jaskier works. And little Ciri is on a mission to help her Dad to find somebody to love.

Chapter - 1 -

Geralt is waiting outside the Kindergarten to pick up his daughter, there are a few other parents who are talking. But Geralt only knows one of them really so he just waits in silence. He has been alone with Ciri for a few months now, but it's still a weird feeling to come home and see Yennefer's desk empty.

They have loved each other, they really did but he is bound to his hometown and she needed to be flexible and be able to go on Business trips all the time. Geralt believed that after Ciris' birth things would be different, and things were different for a year at best. But then everything went back to the same old routine. Yennefer was in New York or London or Berlin and Geralt sat at home, the only thing that was truly different, Geralt wasn't alone, no there was Ciri, his daughter, his whole world that he needed to protect.

When Ciri was old enough to go to the Kindergarten Yennefer and Geralt figured out that they needed to go separate ways. Yennefer loves her Job to much, she really was the unpaid intern that made it to the top of this really big Marketing firm. And she isn't a family person, she tried to be one for Ciri, but she was afraid that she will regret that and will blame Ciri for it in the future, and her daughter didn't deserve this.

So now when Yennefer is in town, the three spend time together as a little family. It wasn't the family Geralt hoped for, but it's real. And some parents might not believe it but they are all really good with this. In the time they spend with Ciri they are really happy, and the phone calls Ciri has with her mother weekly are really good for their relationship.

Geralt came to the conclusion that having a family that is really happy and working is much better than to force a family together to fit the image everyone has.

Roach is pulling on the leash, Ciri has to be in sight. This Dog really loved this Child, and she would do anything to protect her. She once growled at a pigeon because it scared Ciri.

"Daddy, Daddy did you know that hedgehogs eat slugs?"

"No ,I didn't know that, where did you learn this from?" Geralt picked the little backpack up and took Ciris tiny hand.

"Miss McHall read a book about hedgehogs and there was a list of what they eat. And then in the garden Benni searched for a slug to try it himself, but he didn't find one."

"Hmm" Geralt didn't know how to reply to that.

"Daaaad is today a hot chocolate day?"

"sadly not sweetheart, I forgot my wallet at work but tomorrow is a hot chocolate day I promise"

"Oh Daddy, you really forget everything when I don't remind you" Ciri shakes her head a bit "But this time I wanna try the strawberry pie for real this time"

"I think Benni wanted to impress the girls," Ciri said at the dinner table "with the slug". What a strange topic at dinner. Geralt frowns in surprise.

"He always does those stupid things and then he runs up to the other girls and shows what he did. When Dara and I were spies we saw that."

Geralt carefully listens to his daughter.

"I mean finding a slug isn't impressive, and eating one is kinda mean because what will the hedgehog eat ? What you do is impressive Dad, you save people and teach other people how to save people."

"Thank you darling" Being a Father and a Firefighter isn't always the best mix but everytime Ciri says things like that it makes Geralt so proud.

"Uhm Dad, did you see that woman again, the one you went on a pizza date with?"

"Hmm no, she called me this morning and told me that I am nice but she has some family trouble and needs to focus on her family."

"Oh okay"

Yeah Geralt had a few dates every now and then. Yeah Ciri is his whole world, but he still is a Human and he misses the Romance in his life. The truth is Geralt hasn't the best dating game. He doesn't know what to talk about, when he doesn't talk about Ciri or his work or his Dog. He doesn't mention his daughter on the first dates, and when they actually reach a second or third date and Geralt tells them he is a single dad, most people refuse to see him again, it's just a big commitment for them. But also some of them just saw the big strong firefighter with all the muscles and not the man behind them and that's when Geralt says this isn't working out.

Ciri lays awake in bed, she could hear the TV from the living room. For sure her dad is lonely, but all this adult stuff is so confusing. In Kindergarten everything is easier, like you ask someone if you wanna be friends, then they ask you what you like to play and what's your favorite animal and then you are friends. And one day you draw a picture just for them and you are best friends. But adults don't work like that.

"My Dad needs my help to find someone to watch those silly romantic movies." Ciri whispers to herself. And she already has someone in mind and she has a plan, sort of.

The next day Geralt brought Roach back home before he went to pick up Ciri, and he checked for his wallet three times. He waited as usual in front of the kindergarten. Ciri is running right up at him, in her beautiful green dress. This morning they had an argument because Ciri wanted to wear her favorite dress so badly and Geralt was afraid that she would mess it up in the Kindergarten, but as Ciri promised it's all fine and she looks like the little princess she is to Geralt.

"Hot Chocolate Day!" Ciri is chanting as she is running to her Dad.

"Yes Sweetheart today I am fully prepared for the Coffeeshop."

"Then what are we waiting for? Let's go!"

The Coffeeshop is near the Park where Ciri's favorite playground is. That's how they discovered it. Geralt pushed Ciri on the swing when a heavy rain surprised them. Geralt covered his daughter under his jacket and ran in the next building he found. The sweet little Coffeeshop at the Park. Geralt liked it because it wasn't that big and not many people fit in there and Ciri loved it because it's near her favorite playground and because they have so many beautiful cups and mugs.

They arrived at the Coffeeshop and because they already became regulars so they got greeted nicely. At first Geralt didn’t like it that strangers knew Ciri’s name, but he got used to it and the staff here is really nice.

A young tall man came up to their table and Ciri jumps up and ran towards him

"Jaskier! Look that’s my favorite dress”

“Oh hi Ciri it’s really beautiful, you look like a princess”

Geralt watches the scene with eagle eyes, but he knows Jaskier is no harm for his little girl, he is usually their waiter when they are in the Coffeeshop.

Jaskier lets Ciri twirl around herself, so the pretty green dress starts flying.

“My Daddy says that too.” Ciri stops spinning.

“Your Daddy says what ?” Jaskier seems to be confused with that statement.

“This morning my Daddy also said that I look like a princess. And when I am a princess my Dad must be a king right?”

“Then lead me to your king, princess Ciri.”

Jaskier could clearly see Geralt sitting at their favorite spot at the window, but he likes to play along with Ciri’s little games.

“Your Majesty I present to you, your daughter princess Ciri” Jaskier takes a bow in front of Geralt and Ciri tries to stay in character but could resist a little laugh.

“I have been sent directly from the kitchen to ask what the King and his daughter would like to eat and drink today.”

Geralt is a little lost for words, normally these silly games stay between Ciri and Jaskier, but now he is dragged into it like a theater play and he hasn’t learned his lines. Geralt tries his best to play along because he knows how much it means to his little girl if he does.

“May he bring us hot chocolate and strawberry pie for the princess and mint tea and cheesecake for me the King.”

Ciri giggles again.

“I like Jaskier he always so funny and nice to us”

“Yeah that is true”

Geralt stares out of the window, and he just enjoys the quiet coffeeshop. It wasn’t actually quiet but it wasn’t stressful like his day at the fire station. There was a fire near in the forest this morning, just because some stupid assholes had Barbeque last night and didn’t end their fire properly.

He turns around and on the table are the ordered pies and his tea but no hot chocolate is there and Ciri is gone too.

Panic runs through Geralt's veins, where is she? He was just looking away for a second. But then he saw her holding on to Jaskier’s hand as they picked a cup for her hot chocolate. How could he forget that she always picks a new beautiful cup to drink her hot chocolate from. She walked back to her Dad and sat next to him on the bench.

“I picked a cup with stars and the moon on it”

Jaskier walks over to their table and places Ciris cup right next to her pie.

“I saw there was smoke in the forest, was there a fire?”

At first Geralt is confused because he never told Jaskier that he is a Firefighter, but then he remembered that Ciri talks a lot with Jaskier if he has the time.

“Yeah there was a fire, but gladly it was near the forest not directly in there.” Jaskier looks relieved.

“Some people made a barbeque there and the remaining hot ashe lit the dry grass on fire”

Geralt could see the disbelief in Jaskier’s face, he really couldn’t hide his emotions.

“I hope you and your crew are okay”

“We are good, it was just another fire because of careless people”

He didn’t wanna say drunk people in front of Ciri, but the look on Jaskier’s face showed him that he did understand what he meant with “careless”.

“Ciri, your Dad is truly a hero, he and his crew saved the forest”

Ciri grinned and cheered “yes they are all heroes, my Dad, uncle Eskel, uncle Lambert and Vesemir”

New customers enter the place and Jaskier has to leave Geralt and Ciri. They eat and drink and Ciri told stories from the Kindergarten and from her best friend Dara. Even more people entered the coffeeshop as they left. They waved Goodbye to Jaskier and left the busy place. With Ciri’s tiny hand in his own he was so happy he had a daughter like her and this little coffeeshop they could call their special place.

#personal #jaskier #the witcher #geraskier #geralt of rivia #geralt x jaskier #witcher #the witcher netflix #modern au #Alina writes #ciri #kinda a coffeeshop AU

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firewalkzwit · 11 months

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peace of mind - masterlist

peace of mind // miguel o'hara x reader (PAUSED)

English is not my first language so some spelling mistakes are bound to appear !!

AO3 parallel

In the eve of 2050, Spider-Woman is New York's vigilante trying to maintain order in a revolting society, soon to collapse. The only reason to keep going is the hope for change, as the darkest hour is just before the dawn, but an unexpected turn of events will result in more than just New York to watch over.

(Contains some elements and references I gathered off other pieces of media to inspire the universe and, vaguely, the character.)

CHAPTER 1 - introduction.

CHAPTER 2

CHAPTER 3

CHAPTER 4

CHAPTER 5

CHAPTER 6

CHAPTER 7

#miguel o'hara #miguel spiderverse #miguel o’hara x you #miguel o’hara x y/n #miguel o’hara x reader #across the spiderverse #spiderman 2099 #spiderman 2099 x reader #spiderman 2099 x you #angst #slowburn #atsv fic #atsv #atsv fanfiction #friends to lovers

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luckyportuguese · 11 months

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When Y/n Macher Loomis said her first word

(This is my first time writing a story, pls give me a break)

Daddy! Stu Macher x Bubba! Billy Loomis x Toddler!Fem!Reader

Summary: Your dads bring you into a high school reunion and they never expect you say your first word. (In this story Tatum Riley and Randy Meeks are alive, they never dated Sidney and Tatum in this story, Neil Prescott is the Ghostface)

Warnings: Fluff, soft!Billy Loomis, soft!Stu Macher, Tatum and Sidney being the lovely aunties, Randy being the goofy uncle.

Billy Loomis and Stu Macher never thought of getting married and having kids.

After the graduation of the Woodsboro High School, they decided to departure in different ways.

Sidney Prescott was traumatized by learning that her dad Neil Prescott, murder her own mother, Maureen Prescott because she was cheating on him with Nancy Loomis' ex-husband Hank Loomis, causing her leaving Billy and his father behind and murdering other students who had nothing to do with his marriage.

She wanted to forget the horrible things that happened in Woodsboro and decided to moved to New York with her girlfriend Tatum Riley.

Randy Meeks decided to leave the town and move to London, starting his chapter away from that once called peaceful town who turned into a nightmare.

After their friends and family left this once peaceful town, Stu had realized that he fell in love with his best friend from middle school.

He thought that it was just a stupid crush and it would be over but it didn't stop, he was just afraid of Billy's reaction.

Billy fell harder for Stu, the person who he could trust, he couldn't trust his own parents or himself, after realizing that Stu was the only one he trusted the most of his life.

He wanted to hold him, to hug him, saying 'i love you' over and over again, building a home, having two dogs and children running around their home, so Billy and Stu decided to tell their feelings after they wanted to stay in Woodsboro.

1 year later after the graduation happened in California, Stu and Billy decided to get married in Las Vegas and they had their honeymoon in Paris, when they come back from the honeymoon, they found a baby girl in their front door, sleeping with a note next to her tiny body saying:

"Hello my name is Y/n Macher, I'm Stu Macher's daughter, by the time you are reading this, my mom decided to be in a place called heaven, she did love me but she was so sad because people left her alone with a child, she couldn't hold the pain and wanted me to be taken care of, she said that she will be watching me.

Please take care of me for her,

Rebecca Morgan. "

Billy was surprised when Stu had a daughter but he slept with a 30 year old woman named Rebecca Morgan when they graduated in high school but he wasn't mad at him, Y/n wasn't at least 2 years old, it's not her fault that her slut mother fucked others guys to have Stu's attention.

So they decided to adopt her and she was their hope, pride and joy.

Y/n Macher Loomis born in November 2nd 1999, adopted daughter of William 'Billy' Loomis and Stuart 'Stu' Macher.

Stu is the emotional and overprotective parent while Billy is the most overprotective and caring parent, he makes sure that you listen and don't disobey their rules.

Stu loves to dress her up, gives her showers and spoils her while Billy has a soft spot just for his daughter and husband, she love to give him kisses and cuddles while Stu takes pictures admiring the daddy-daughter bound.

They decided to bring Y/n to the reunion, she was wearing a pink dress with a white socks and shoes, while Billy and Stu are wearing suits.

Billy was in love how she look, he and Stu weren't mentally ready when her first prom dress, her first wedding dress, the anniversary dress. They weren't ready for their daughter to grow up but they knew that she can't be small forever.

Tatum, Sidney and Randy arrived to Woodsboro High School and they were surprised when they saw Billy and Stu married and Billy holding baby Y/n on his hips while looking what was around her.

Tatum and Sidney were so in love with the baby and Stu decided to talk with Randy while the girls went to see Billy and Y/n.

"She's so cute and adorable" Tatum said with happiness on her face, admiring Y/n's beauty

"Thanks Tatum, how are you girls?" Billy asked to Sidney and Tatum

"Well we moved to New York, Tatum works as a fashion designer and I'm an actress, you?" Sidney said and asked

"Well that great for you, me and Stu got married and we have this pride and joy" Billy said while he smiled at his daughter and making her smile

"What's her name?" Tatum asked

"Y/n Macher Loomis, we found her in the front of our house when we came back from our honeymoon" Billy explain it to Tatum and Sidney.

"At least she has two people who cared about her" Randy said him and Stu were next to the girls while Stu picked up Y/n to put her on his lap.

After a while, they stared to talk about their life after the graduation and they heard a voice saying

"Bubba?"

They started to look at Randy and starting to get suspicious

"Randy, stop doing that voice" Sidney said while being annoyed by him

"It wasn't me, I'm promise" Randy defending himself

"Sure, keep lying." Tatum and Sidney said at the same time

"I'm not lying, maybe it was the baby" Randy trying to blame Y/N

"Really, are you going to blame my child Meeks?" Billy defending her while Stu looked at her

"I can't do that voice Loomis!" Randy trying to defending himself

45 minutes later, they talked again but this time they didn't look at Randy instead they look at the toddler in Stu's lap

"Bubba?!" Y/n said while pointing to Billy while sitting in Stu's lap and everyone was shocked

There were tears threatening to leave Billy's eyes and he was so happy that his daughter said her first word.

Billy decided to pick up Y/n and hug her while Randy was next to Billy and asked her

"Y/n can you say Randy?" Hoping that she would say his name

"Bubba!" Y/n saying while hugging Billy

Billy never thought that he couldn't be a good husband and father, after all, Y/n and Stu proved him wrong

thank you for watching and reading :)

#stu macher x billy loomis #billy loomis x child!reader #stu macher x child! reader #billy loomis #stu macher #stu macher x billy loomis x child! reader #sidney prescott x tatum riley #tatum riley #sidney prescott #randy meeks

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super-mario-somethings · 19 days

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twilight house fic ch. 1

[A/N: hello! i just wanted to put my writing out into the tumblr world and hopefully reach other fanfic writers!! plz enjoy this first chapter of my ongoing super mario fic, which is currently untitled, but there's ghosts, intrigue, cultist stuff, the works!!!]

It was just a house in the woods.

Unlike the haunted mansion he’d recently cleansed and fixed up, Luigi had known of the Twilight House since before he’d lived in the Mushroom Kingdom. Back in Brooklyn, New York, the Twilight House was the thing of children’s storybooks—not unlike the Mushroom Kingdom itself. But Luigi had seen the Kingdom, knew the castle’s corridors like the veins in his pale hands—and now, towering above him, stood the Twilight House. Most of the windows were shattered and vines twisted through its wooden frame. Various mosses grew along the foundation.

“Ready?” a delicate voice asked him from his side.

“Jesus—” Luigi jumped, already feeling spooked by the House’s atmosphere. The woman beside him chuckled and placed a reassuring hand on his arm. Dressed in leggings and a baggy T-shirt, she didn’t look like the Princess, but rather she looked like Sapphire—like her true self. Luigi felt soothed by her touch and her presence and allowed his shoulders to relax.

“Sorry,” he said. “Y-yeah, I think I’m ready.”

“Ready as we’ll ever be, right?” Sapphire winked at him, a smile on her lips.

Every conceivable terrifying assumption about what was in the house flooded Luigi’s mind.

“Right,” he said, doing his best to return Sapphire’s smile.

Luigi and Sapphire both grabbed their flashlights from their utility belts and clicked them on. They exchanged a glance tinged with nerves.

“All right,” Sapphire said, stepping ahead of Luigi onto the first porch step. It groaned under her weight—Luigi wondered when the last time was that anyone had stepped there.

Sapphire reached the porch and motioned for Luigi to follow her; he quickly ascended the steps and crept closely behind her, his head on a swivel.

The porch had once wrapped around the entire house, Luigi could tell, but termites or some other critters had eaten away most of it, so that the other part of the porch was inaccessible from both sides. Luigi supposed they were lucky the front door wasn’t blocked, somehow, though he felt rather the opposite of lucky in that moment. The hand holding the flashlight trembled; Luigi fought to keep it to a minimum.

In front of him, Sapphire took in a breath.

“Okay,” she said through the exhale, and nudged the front door with her shoulder. The rusty hinges clattered to the ground in pieces and the door fell to the ground with a thud!

Luigi caught Sapphire’s arm just in time to save her from falling inside with the door.

“Are you okay?” he asked her, his voice unsteady.

Sapphire grunted and squared her shoulders, wincing.

“Yeah, but the arm you caught is gonna be sore tomorrow, I bet,” she said. “But I’d rather that than a face full of splinters from the damn door.”

Luigi chuckled softly, unable to hide the lump of fear in his throat.

Sapphire turned to him, placing a hand on his shoulder. “Lu, you really don’t have to come with me—I mean, I still wouldn’t go alone, but I could ask Mario or—”

Luigi thought of losing his brother again, let alone in another spooky house, and his spine straightened.

“No,” he said. “No, I…really need to do this.”

Sapphire hummed sympathetically, then let go of his shoulder.

“Just say the word, though, and we can leave. Promise.”

Luigi nodded, and she smiled. She turned back to the doorframe, peering into the blackness of the Twilight House.

“Right, then,” Sapphire said, aiming her flashlight inside. “Let’s get going.”

🍄

Luigi frowned as he inspected the bookshelf before him, holding his breath as he dusted off the spines with his gloved fingers. Each book appeared to be leather-bound, the words on each spine inked in a script Luigi didn’t recognize.

“Saph?” Luigi called over his shoulder. He didn’t move his gaze from the shelf; a floor-to-ceiling piece, each shelf filled to bursting with knowledge.

Sapphire appeared beside him within seconds, eyes sparkling. “Oh! Books? Hell yes! What language?”

“Not sure.” Luigi pulled one volume out from the shelf at his eye level and handed it to her. “What do you think?”

“Hmm.” Sapphire took the book and shone her flashlight on it, carefully turning it over in her grasp to catch different angles in the light.

“Something about this seems familiar,” she murmured. “Do you think I could open it if I’m careful?”

Luigi shook his head. “Remember, we’re here to collect. We’ll analyze what we collect when we get back to the lab.”

Sapphire huffed. “You’re right,” she said, kneeling to place the volume in her backpack. “Damn you and your overactive left brain…”

Luigi chuckled, his shoulders relaxing a little. Exploring and collecting with Sapphire always felt like something akin to coming home.

Sapphire had just stood up when she furrowed her brow. “It’s…brighter in here.”

Luigi looked around the room—sure enough, he could see parts of it that he wasn’t shining his flashlight on. “What…”

“Look!” Sapphire whispered.

Luigi followed her finger’s direction until his gaze landed on…

“The bookshelf?” Luigi said, perplexed. Either he had lost his mind, or there was a soft glow emitting from the old wood, from the aged books. He’d been staring at it for a long moment when he noticed it was getting tough to look at without squinting—was it getting brighter?

“Lu, shield your eyes!” Sapphire confirmed his fear with her command.

Luigi closed his eyes and buried his face in the crook of his elbow. Was this the end, somehow? Was this bookshelf going to bury them both in light so bright it became thick and tangible, like gelatin in the oxygen, to be choked and gagged on until they just…died? Luigi’s throat tightened and he squeezed his eyes shut tighter.

“Okay.” Sapphire’s calm tone directly juxtaposed Luigi’s own internal dialogue. “Okay. You can open your eyes.”

“What?” Luigi asked. He didn’t move.

“I’m serious, open your eyes.”

Luigi reluctantly removed his arm from his face and obliged, expecting to see Sapphire and reeling at what he saw instead.

A ghost. More specifically, a Boo—and not just any. A being Luigi believed to be King Boo hovered before him, its glowing gaze cast downward at him. A crown forged from dark metal floated above the King, a large purple gemstone seated in its center.

Before he could react, Luigi felt a cold sensation creep up behind him, and when he tried to whirl around, his entire body was stuck in place. A wave of exhaustion hit Luigi like a punch in the stomach. He felt his body relax; he still couldn’t move, but instead of being stuck upright, he fell to the ground in a heap. Luigi didn’t register that he’d hit his head on the way down; everything just went black, all at once.

#super mario #luigi nintendo #princess peach #super mario bros #super mario fanfic #super mario fanfiction #super mario bros fanfiction #haunted house #king boo #fanfiction

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snappedsky · 4 months

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ROTTMNT: You Are Not Alone

The war against the Krang begins.

*Reblogs appreciated*

Chapter 16

Leo and Casey stand on the roof of a building, looking out at Metro Tower. It looks normal from the outside, albeit quiet.

“That’s it,” Leo says, “the tallest building in the city.” “Of course, we should’ve known,” Casey replies, “it’s like the stories. ‘And behold- from their perch atop New York City, the Krang ripped open the sky itself. What came out was terror and what rained down upon us was worse than death’.”

“Yeesh,” Leo remarks. “Well, that’s not gonna happen this time. You ready?” “Yeah,” Casey nods and Leo makes them a portal.

They step through into the lobby of Metro Tower. Everything seems fine, except for how empty it is. There’s no receptionist, no security guards, nobody.

“Are they really here?” Leo asks as he pushes the elevator button. The door opens to reveal the elevator has been completely taken over by the Krang flesh. “Okay...that answers that question.”

Leo and Casey glance at each other worriedly before stepping into the elevator. “Eeewww,” Leo scowls with disgust as the flesh squishes beneath their feet. “I wish I could wear shoes.”

Without pressing any buttons, the elevator closes and carries them to the top floor. The doors reopen to an absolute horror of a room.

The floor, walls, and ceiling are completely covered by flesh with bulging eyeballs and wriggling tentacles. Only a little bit of light is being let in through a crack of an uncovered window. The boys approach it and look out at the street below.

Suddenly, they sense movement and turn, weapons at the ready as Krang monsters and hounds emerge out of the walls surrounding them. They growl and snarl but keep their distance as their masters approach.

“You came,” Krang 1 remarks, “I was beginning to wonder.”

“Where’s my sensei?” Casey demands.

The Krang smirks with amusement and waves a tentacle. Out of the ceiling, Leonardo is lowered on fleshy scaffolding. His arm and legs are bound, his mouth is covered, and little tendrils are burrowed into his eye sockets. He’s barely conscious as he looks at the boys, too exhausted to even react.

“Now, do you have what I want?” the Krang asks.

Leo glares at him and nods at Casey. He removes from his cloak the key.

#rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles #rise of the tmnt #rottmnt #rottmnt fanfiction #rottmnt au #rottmnt casey #future leo #casey jones #casey jones jr #myart

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seblaineaddict · 6 months

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You Kissed My Flaws...& Made Them Perfect

In a world where every single person has a Soulmate bearing their identical Soulmark and is bound by law to pursue a life with their Soulmate once located, Sebastian and Blaine are gay as a rainbow men from very different countries, who have never met....yet.

Sebastian Smythe is a charming, devilishly handsome (and doesn't he know it!) 30 year-old commitment-phobe still living in his native Paris, where he is an LGBTQ+ Rights Lawyer. He is highly promiscuous, enjoys the finer things in life, especially very expensive Wines and Spirits and First Edition Science Fiction novels, comes from old and new money, and is a bit of a risk taker, to boot.

As far as his 'love life' goes, he pretty exclusively prefers hookups and shuns anything serious, to which end he has never sought out his Soulmate. He really doesn’t see the point, is 100% against people being forced into 'unnatural' liaisons with someone they have never met, just because they share some unremovable (believe me he has tried to remove it - many times!) permanent Body Art that's branded into their skin.. somewhere...on their bodies, and he is determined to challenge, then ultimately overthrow, the Law that decrees you will become bound to your Soulmate from the very second you locate them.

29 year-old jaded (hopeless!) romantic Blaine Anderson is an equally gorgeous (though with a much more dapper and sweet side) Broadway star who lives in Upper Manhattan, New York, and is currently playing Elder Cunningham in The Book Of Mormon. He has had a similarly privileged upbringing to Sebastian, albeit in the US, and is not in the best place in himself. when our story begins

He (spectacularly!) failed to find his Soulmate after a long, long, long and arduous quest to do so, then gave up on men completely after his Fiancé Kurt, with whom he shared a tumultuous, unequal and in truth pretty freaking toxic six year long relationship, finally broke off their engagement. His heart is bruised and battered, and his self-esteem is in tatters, after Kurt slowly but surely eroded the very essence of Blaine and dulled the shine of everything about him that made him so unique and so vibrant….

...then fucked Blaine's co-star and ran off into the sunset with him…

What will happen when (via Grindr - of course!) these two polar opposites discover they are intrinsically and irreversibly linked? Can twin flames bound by law to meet, then pursue a life together, no matter how much the Fates seem to be weighted against them, make a go of things without killing each other in the process? Can an arranged (by law!) relationship ultimately beat the odds and lead to a happy ever after?

Well..you're going to have to read their story to find that out, but rest assured it will not be short on drama, heartache, pining, Angst, laughter, happiness, many hilarious and absolutely NOT so hilarious misunderstandings, and of course…a great deal of good old fashioned…

…hot sex! Oh, yes, and romance and Love of course, too! 😏😉

The unexpected news is - this is actually going to be turned into a fic! Yes..despite still having been unable to update my three ongoing Longfics, due to my increased commitments, I sat down last night to write a short bio to accompany this graphic, and..it took on arms and legs. So yes. A fic it shall become. Either a One-Shot or at most four chapters, but definitely a fic. Soon... And now that I have managed to make time to write, I'm determined to update my other three fics by New Year's Eve!

Wishing everyone a fantastic 10 Days Of Seblaine, and also an amazing 12th (ahhhhh!) Seblainiversary on 8th November!

10 Days Of Seblaine 2023

6th November 2023 : Day 1: Soulmates/Soulmarks

@seblaineworld

#seblaine #sebastian smythe #blaine anderson #10daysofseblaine2023 #seblaineworld #seblaine graphic #seblaine fic #seblaine AU #Seblainer event #my graphic #my art

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intheorangebedroom · 2 years

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Pleased to meet you, chapter 1

Summary: You meet Frankie Morales. Twice.

Pairing: Frankie Morales x Fem!Reader. Reader's French. 😬

Rating: Explicit 🔞

Word Count: 2.9k

A/N: shameless mention of the fucking Andes™️.

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Chapter One: Lovesong

“This is a Brooklyn bound L train. Stand clear of the closing doors, please”.

The distorted voice booming from the speakers comforts you in your theory that New York is a city made for New Yorkers, and New Yorkers only. You can’t imagine how anyone who doesn’t live here year round can go by in this monster of a city. Paris is so much more tourist friendly. You don’t get why everybody thinks it’s so dirty. Okay, maybe you do, but riding the Parisian métro is definitely easier than dealing with the MTA. And Paris is the most visited city in the world so if it is, indeed, dirty, it's probably because of the hordes of tourists roaming the city streets. Parisians can be unpleasant, though. You can admit to this.

Sitting beside you on the hard plastic seat, Rosie is chatting animatedly. Her bubbly enthusiasm soothes your flaring anxiety and a surge of affection warms up your heart, knowing all too well that’s precisely what she’s aiming for. It’s only the third time you two meet in the flesh but the familiarity between you is a testimony to the deep bond you’ve been sharing since chance brought you together five years ago, through a student exchange program during your freshman year in high school. You’ve been writing one another twice, three times a week, long letters, short postcards, a few words on a scrapped piece of paper, witty jokes etched in markers on ripped off magazine pages… The recent acquisition of an internet connection in the shape of a very expensive and noisy black box has brought you closer yet, with the ability to communicate in real time. You would spend endless hours on the phone, but phone calls are for emergencies only, as you simply can’t afford it. You’re entirely on your own since you left “home” after graduating from high school, and if you haven’t looked back, money’s tight. Despite working two part-time jobs on top of your scholarship, you never could have paid for this summer trip to New York, if Rosie’s mother hadn’t wired you a hefty part of the airfare. You’re pretty sure she won’t let you give her back the money either, even though they’re not exactly rolling in money, sharing a two-room apartment above a laundromat at the corner of 1st Avenue and East 115th Street. You don’t feel good about it, but being surrounded by their loving natures is a welcome respite from your loneliness, one that surpasses your guilt. You've never known such generosity from your own mother, despite her situation being more enviable than that of Dolores.

You shrug away the thought of your mother and bring your attention back to Rosie. It has got to be about the hundredth time she’s babbling on about the guy from her improv class who’s throwing the party she’s currently dragging you to, her black eyes shining bright with excitement. You nod absent-mindedly, taking in her perfect features, high cheekbones and golden skin, her luscious black hair tied in an effortless bun.

Notwithstanding your physical differences, you two come across as very similar, at least at first glance. However, where her extroverted nature is one of her chore character traits, yours is only skin deep. If you had to explain why, you’d probably say that the only thing setting you apart is that her mother loves her. Both women got pregnant during their senior year in high school, but while Rosie’s mom affectionately talks about her daughter as the best thing to ever happen to her, yours refers to you as "her failed abortion”.

Putain, just stop thinking about your mother, already.

You smile at Rosie, hoping it will convey all the affection and gratitude you feel toward her right now, unaware you’re riding at a 30 mph speed into an evening that will forever alter the course of your life.

Ignorant as you may be, you’re absolutely terrified. You don’t do well at parties, you usually drink too much, feeling too awkward in these kinds of social settings. A bunch of unemployed aspiring artists with useless BA degrees, you can’t imagine what you’ll have to offer any of them with your equally useless French degree in Roman History.

The dimly lit apartment is already overcrowded when you get there, garlands of colourful bulbs hanging from random pieces of furniture. The acrid smell of sweat mingled with smoke stings your eyes and you feel slightly light-headed for a minute or two. Despite her many promises not to do so, Rosie leaves your side almost immediately, having spotted the birthday boy upon arrival. You don’t resent her for it, you could have bet on this outcome the moment she told you about the party, but you feel utterly lost nonetheless. There's a lot of alcohol, some drugs, the music's loud, people are cool, you guess, but you're overwhelmed so you step aside for a beat, seeking refuge on the fire escape.

He’s hiding, just like you, but he sees you right away, and it’s not long before you see him too. He's standing in a corner by himself, a plastic cup in his left hand, tall and lean and broad, you can tell by the way his green plaid shirt is pulled taut over his shoulders. A strong nose, a sharp, clean-shaven jaw, thick brown locks swept back. When his dark eyes dive into yours, your breath hitches. A gentle smile lifts up the right corner of his lush lips and you have to pull yourself away from his gaze. You don't hear him arriving but you feel him as he slightly brushes against the naked skin of your arm with a bottle of ice-cold beer.

"Hey" -you can barely hear him over the music, his voice a low whisper, is he shy? "I thought you might need this."

“Oh yeah, cheers.”

You take the bottle, chug on it for dear life with a silent prayer of please please make me drunk not too drunk just enough because your insecure brain can’t make out what he’s doing standing next to you on the metal grid. The first notes of Song 2 by Blur blast from the giant speakers inside the room and your damn brain yells at you to go dance, you love this song, just get out of here.

“I’m Frankie.”

His eyes pin you down.

You chat for a while. A long while, actually. It’s hard because you can’t comprehend for the life of you why a guy so smart and handsome would be… into you? Is he into you? But it’s easy because he can’t comprehend, for the life of him, why a girl so smart and sweet would be into him. You’re into him. You talk about your lives and your dreams, it's that age. You’re broke but in France college is free so you get by, you’d like to be an archaeologist one day but you’ve no connections, and you’ve been told they are needed, never mind, education’s education, you’ll take it, see where it takes you. He’s very broke and he wants to be a pilot (“you wanna fly things?” He’s so handsome when he laughs, is that a dimple on his right cheek? You feel very hot under his gaze. It’s too deep. “Yeah I wanna fly things. Over the fucking Andes!” a flash of the dimple and you refrain from touching). He’s been working as a mechanic in a garage in Queens for the past two years, to pay off some of the student loan for his Bachelor’s degree in Aviation, and it’s about how long he can put up with the status quo. So he did the logical, efficient thing, he enlisted with the US Army pilot training program. They’ll educate him for free, or so he thinks. He’s unsure whether he should have told you that last bit. It probably won’t sit right with what he can tell are your politics. Did he fuck this up already? God, you’re sweet. Would you taste as good as you look? Probably.

There’s a pause. Not uncomfortable. Just unsure. Expectant. You rest your hand on his forearm and you squeeze, “when you’re a pilot, will you fly me over the fucking Andes?”

***

You leave with him, something you’ve never done before. Something about his eyes that makes you bold. You spend the entire weekend locked up in his apartment, in a bedroom with orange curtains, losing track of time and fucking until you start making love. You hardly talk. You don’t need to. You’re both young and fairly inexperienced but the attraction and the curiosity make up for it, and you venture so far, so, so far, you let him take you anyhow anywhere and he gives just as much as he takes. On Monday he’s shipping out. So you give and take and give and take as much as you physically and emotionally can. And then some. He writes his number on a piece of paper, swear you’ll call me, you don’t even own a cell phone but you swear, i’ll call you. You safely tuck the paper in the watch pocket of your jeans. And you part ways.

***

On your way back to Rosie, you’re caught in one of those NYC rainstorms, and the distance between the subway exit and Dolores’s apartment is enough to have you drenched completely. Rosie’s rightfully pissed at you for disappearing all weekend, and yes, you get it, but you can’t bring yourself to care. She’s mid sentence into telling you no one at the party seemed to know that tall dude she saw you leaving with, that anything could have happened to you and she’d never know, when you suddenly blurt out “I’m in love, Rosie.”

Your tone speaks of certitude.

She stares at you with owlish eyes. She knows you to be overly enthusiastic about a lot of things, books, movies, places, heck, even cheese, but hardly ever about people. She wants to crack a joke, one of her witty one-liners that never fail to single her out in a crowd, you look every bit the hectic walk of shame you just came from, your features drawn with tiredness, runny makeup, hair a mess, soaked in rain. But your demeanour stops her abruptly and the words die on her tongue. She narrows her gaze on your neck, eying closely the extent of your skin speckled with purple mottled spots tracing a constellation, and at the crook of your neck, deep, red, bite marks, Jesus fucking Christ, did that guy try to eat you up? You’re standing up tall. What happened to you this weekend? Your eyes are alight with a bright, profound spark, there's no trace of the blurry sadness that usually lingers around you like a halo even when you laugh. She stares at you in disbelief for a beat. It's palpable. You’re vibrating. She knows at this very moment that she will never experience the depth of feelings you’re experiencing right now. Her smile drops. For just a fleeting second, she envies you.

You recount your weekend but you remain scarce with details. The orange bedroom is yours and Frankie’s, and yours and Frankie’s only.

Later that night when you pull out the little piece of paper with the intent of calling him from the kitchen phone, the digits are just a smear of wiped ink, washed away by the rain.

You cry until your voice is hoarse, until Dolores suggests you return to his place to leave a note in his mailbox. He told you his sister was scheduled to meet his landlord there in the afternoon, to retrieve his remaining belongings and negotiate for the deposit, but you’ll try anyway. Rosie escorts you, Dolores insists on it. On the never ending subway ride, you curse the size of this city, your leg bouncing nervously on the hard train floor, your jaw clenched. She throws anxious sideways glances at you, it drives you crazy.

When you exit the G train on Greenpoint Ave, it’s late already and the usually busy street has been nearly emptied by the heavy rain. You turn around the corner of Huron street, and you see it right away: the orange curtains are no longer hanging from the third floor window.

***

On a bleak Sunday morning, thirteen years later, you wake up to the sobering realisation that you can’t conjure up any of your youthful dreams, save for the ones of the orange bedroom. You’re definitely not an archaeologist. Your father died before you had a chance to reconnect with him, not that he ever seemed interested. You’ve come to terms with the fact that your mother is nothing more than a mean stranger who gave you life.

You did, however, make an effort to mould yourself into some kind of normality. The one thing that brings you joy and balance is your job in one of Paris’s most prestigious patrimonial libraries. You go out to the movies, visit exhibitions, argue with friends about the latest series over expensive beers in hipster bars, attend weddings and birthday parties in Buttes Chaumont in the summer and celebrate Christmas at your in-laws… Not your in-laws, really, you’re not married. But you bought an apartment with Eric, the man you’ve been dating for the past 5 years. An apartment is big enough of a commitment. Eric. Cold blue eyes behind 500€ tortoise shell glasses, thinning blond hair, more charming than handsome, junior editor at Gallimard. The loan is bleeding you dry. A civil servant, your income doesn’t quite match up with his. All things considered, the person you’ve become is not that different from the young woman you once were: enthusiastic, caring and fun, if a little insecure (and around the edges of you, ever present, the lingering sadness). Why, then, does he treat you like dirt? Why do you put up with it?

So on that bleak Sunday morning, you finally walk out. You walk out after too many years of trying your best, with nothing to show for it but a small nest egg and a persisting feeling of waste.

The following year is a blur of depression until Rosie shows up on your doorstep one day to wrestle your head out of the water. She convinces you to use that money to turn your life over, move to New Jersey and live with her. At the moment, it makes sense, she’s the one steady, comforting, benevolent element in your life. It’s a relief to put your life in her hands and to follow her.

The two first months after that are exhilarating, if a little terrifying. Rosie was right, as always. You needed a drastic change in your life, one that would place you so out of your depth you’d be forced out of your thoughts and propelled into action. Action is where you excel.

Your superior isn’t too pleased when you announce to her that you want a three-year sabbatical. You’re a very good asset. But as a civil servant, you’re entitled to it and she can’t deny you. She reminds you however that it is tacitly renewable every year until the third year, when it will become definite. She also stresses out that she cannot, statutorily, hold your position beyond the first year and will have to recruit a replacement. You don’t budge. You reckon three years is all you need to get back up on your feet.

You start drawing lists of what has to be done and sorting your belongings into categories: keep, storage, sell, charity. You happily get rid of what little furniture you own, as it was acquired during the period of your life you are currently trying to leave behind. Plainly spoken, none of it is in your taste. Nothing makes it into storage, either. You can’t part with many of your clothes, and your books even less. You’re going to have to use some of the money from your share of the apartment -and Eric made sure to screw you over the increase in value- to have them shipped to you anyway, so you might as well add your collection of vintage photographs and the many trinkets you brought back from your travels across Europe. Being virtually on your own, you have surrounded yourself with objects that bring you comfort, and a sense of home your failing family never provided you with.

You stay with Rosie for a while, in her cosy little house with two gardens (“one in the front and one in the back” she’s keen to precise with great pride) working with Dolores in her thrift store in Manhattan, near St Mark's place. The commute is insane, exhausting and long and has you questioning the entire enterprise. You hardly ever see Rosie, she works the night shifts at the hospital and when she comes home you’re passed out on the couch. But after a couple of months that feel like a lifetime, you find a position in a bookstore near Rosie’s place. After that, the rest of the plan is quickly set in motion. You rent out a furnished apartment, have your belongings shipped, and you unpack.

Jersey City is certainly not the place you would have singled out for a recovery, yet it works just fine. Far from home, you get reacquainted with yourself. After a while, it becomes less painful being you, until it starts feeling good again. You even date. You meet this playful, kind-hearted, spontaneous guy, Benny, in the most unlikely place. He makes you laugh and fucks you right. It’s a slow pace but he likes you and you like him, he wants more of you in his life, so on a Friday evening in early April, he takes you to a bar to introduce you to his friends.

“And this right here is Frankie, he’s like a brother to me.”

Taglist

#Francisco Catfish Morales #Frankie Morales #The Pilot™️#frankie morales x fem!reader #frankie morales x you #triple frontier fic #Frankie morales x fem!reader #frankie morales x ofc #frankie morales/fem!reader #frankie morales/you #frankie morales/ofc #triple frontier

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iambutmortal · 10 months

Text

Chapter 4 for @elucienweekofficial Day 5: Sunshine

Summary: When Elain signs the divorce papers she’s sure she’s done with Lucien Vanserra. Until they’re offered the chance to recreate their honeymoon as a part of her job. For free. But reliving all those memories with Lucien proves leaving may be more difficult than she thought.

Word Count: 2.8k

Authors Note: I had a bit of a brain crash yesterday, so this was supposed to be for day four. I'm either going to post three chapters in the next two days, or two longer chapters to make up for it, sorry.

Read on Ao3 | Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3

True to Lucien’s word, Elain was confined to the bed for overnight, while he ran around actin as a dutiful nursemaid and she grumbled and complained.

“I don’t think laying under an umbrella outside is going to change anything,” Elain moaned, for what felt like the thousandth time. “And I’m sick of this room.”

“Too bad,” Lucien said, handing her a mug of tea. “Interview is in three hours and you’re not stepping foot outside until then.”

“But—”

“Nope,” Lucien said. “And both Nesta and Cassian agreed before you start complaining about how mean I am. You need rest.”

Elain pouted, but took a sip of her tea. She felt the warmth work its way down her throat, and was relieved to find the sip didn’t leave her running to the bathroom. After a night of sleep her stomach had settled considerably, but she would much rather play it safe than sorry.

“Can I at least start to get ready?”

Lucien huffed and glanced down at his phone. “Give it another twenty minutes. I’ll get you a piece of toast to gnaw on.”

Elain muttered something rude at him, but grabbed the kindle from where she’d discarded it across the bed. She was still only halfway through the book she’d started on the plane, and the heroine had ended up in a small town. With her ex. Really it was getting far too realistic for her tastes.

Lucien, cruel warden, did relent when he came back and saw Elain was managed to keep the bread down.

“Go take a shower.”

Elain practically bounded out of bed, slamming the door on him.

“But sit down when you blow dry your hair,” he shouted at the wood.

Elain opened the door a crack, just enough to show him her middle finger.

Lucien’s laughter followed her, something warm burning in her chest. She did concede to sit on the bed to do her hair, definitely for Lucien and not because she felt a little light headed after standing on her feet for too long.

“Ready,” Lucien asked, when the clock hit four. He’d thrown on a pale yellow polo shirt and stiff tan pants, to match the white and yellow flowered sundress Elain had pulled out to wear. His hair was back in a neat ponytail, a few strands escaping to frame his face.

“Do we look home and garden approved?” Elain asked, sticking the last bobby pin in her hair. She’d done her best appropriation of beach waves, pinning the front sections gracefully behind her ears.

Cassian wasn’t officially on the job as photographer, but image had more power than anything in an interview.

“We’d fit right in Cassian’s magazine,” Lucien said, offering her a hand.

Elain took it, letting him pull her to her feet. And then held it as they walked through the resorts, savoring the feeling of calluses earned from the gym against her fingertips. Outside the air was so humid she could feel her hair curling in rebellion, frizzing around her temples. She cursed herself for not bringing anything to tame it with.

She reached up a hand to try and smooth it down.

“Your hair looks fine,” Lucien whispered, before throwing open the door to the conference room they’d be using.

Elain was almost instantly wrapped in a hug. “Oh my gosh it’s been so long,” gushed Mor, giving Elain a squeeze before pulling back to embrace Lucien.

“I didn’t know you were coming,” Elain said. She had met Rhys’ cousin a handful of times, at the wedding and a few dinners around the holidays, whenever she could come from New York and had always liked the blonde woman. They’d had several long conversations over coffee on the latest fashion trends, or whatever celebrity was currently acting like a fool.

“I wasn’t,” Mor said. “But when I heard Viviane had you as an assignment I made her switch. She’s currently in Brazil covering fashion week.”

“That’s a hell of a trade on her part,” Lucien said, lacing his fingers with Elain’s and leading them over to the makeshift interview space set up. Three chairs, for Elain, Lucien, and Cassian, who was joining them later, stood across from the one Mor had already draped her red purse across.

“But I get to see you guys,” Mor replied, sweeping elegantly into her seat. “So I think I got the better deal.” She reached into her purse to pull out a small notebook and pen, both matching red, and flipped to an open page. “So,” she said, clicking the pen. “How are things going?”

“Good,” Elain squeaked.

Mor’s eyebrows arched dangerously close to her hairline. “Just good? A sharp decline from Christmas then.”

Elain could feel her face burning under the scrutiny.

Lucien tightened his grip on her hand, placing it on top of his thigh. “We’re in paradise, all expenses paid, with each other. What could be wrong?” His voice was innocently neutral, a perfect deflection of the question. God he would make such a good politician.

Mor tilted her head, golden blonde hair sliding over her shoulder in a silky sheet. “Alright, so what makes here paradise?”

“It was the first place we went while being married,” Elain said, meeting Mor’s brown eyes. “So it’s always going to have good memories associated with it.”

Mor tapped her pen against the notepad. “Bad answer. You could have stayed anywhere after your wedding. Why here?”

“Because I’ve always loved the beach,” Elain admitted. “We only got to go twice growing up because of money and both times it was magical seeing that much open water. Lucien took me to Santa Monica for our second date, so it only made sense to come to a beach for our honeymoon.”

Mor was nodding along to her story, scribbling furiously with her pen. “And Lucien? Why this resort?”

He cleared his throat. “I like to see Elain happy. And she never stopped smiling on our honeymoon.”

Mor gave a disapproving hum and Elain was reminded of why Mor was the top of the top in the industry. Every other interviewer would have gushed over that answer, and how romantic it was.

“And I didn’t get the chance to make a lot of good memories as a child,” Lucien continued after a moment. Because he’d grown up with his step father, Beron, who was by all accounts horrible. “So anytime I get to see someone I love happy I get a strong attachment to the place.”

“And how do you feel being back now?”

“It’s…different,” Elain said. Mor gestured for her to go on. “After three years we’re in a new place in our relationship retreading someplace old.”

“New good or new bad?” Mor asked.

“Just new,” Lucien answered quickly.

“So bad.” Mor underlined something on her notepad. “Elaborate.”

“It’s called a honeymoon period for, I don’t think people can be expected to stay in it forever,” Elain said defensively. “Not three years after the actual honeymoon.”

“Feyre and Rhys are still in theirs.”

“They’re the exception,” Elain said. “The rest of us don’t live in a fairytale.”

“Hard truth for a story about a fairytale honeymoon,” Mor said softly.

Elain was saved from responding by a knock on the door.

“Just a minute,” Mor called.

Cassian walked in anyway. “You’d leave me in the hall like a dog? I’m wounded.”

Mor rolled her eyes, but stood to press a kiss to his cheeks. “I missed you, you big oaf,” she said.

“Move back to LA then,” Cassian begged, taking the third seat. “Then I’ll never leave you alone.”

“Absence makes the heart grow fonder.” Mor flipped to a fresh page. “We’ll come back to that conversation later.” She gave Elain a pointed look. “For now, Cassian, what’s the best part of working here?”

Cassian launched into a spirited discussion about the lighting and angles the resort offered, how he framed his shots, and what he was planning tomorrow when they went into the jungle.

“A lot of houses today are sharp angles,” he finished, “which is interesting, how do you make set shapes look dynamic, but this is just so different and it’s really pushing me to the limits.”

“Amazing,” Mor muttered. She looked up. “Anything to add, Nesta?”

Elain turned around to see her sister standing in the doorway. She’d been so engrossed in Cassian’s explanation about his work she hadn’t noticed her arrival.

Nesta cleared her throat. “I hadn’t quite realized how much work Cassian put into this, it’s nice to know I can trust my sister to him. I always thought this was just some blow off beach job for him.”

Cassian shook his head. “It was never a blow off job, Nes. None of them were.”

Nesta looked the most regretful Elain had ever seen her.

“So,” Mor said, “then what is it like to work with Cassian?”

Lucien was nice enough to take that question, gushing about how good of a director Cassian was while Cassian looked sheepishly pleased with himself.

Elain watched over his shoulder as Nesta slipped out of the doorway and back into the hall, with one final look towards Cassian, and made a mental note to talk to her about it later.

Mor worked her way through several more questions, teasing answers out of Elain, Lucien, and Cassian, until Cassian’s phone buzzed in his pocket. He pulled it out with a frown, scanning the message before quickly typing out a response.

“Is there a problem?” Mor asked.

“Sorry,” Cassian said apologetically, setting the phone down face first on the chair arm. Only to pick it right back up when it buzzed again. “I sent some concept photos in and they’re just now getting back to me.”

Mor nodded, waving for him to carry on, and turned back to Lucien to discuss what his possible political career held. Cassian was still typing, his frown deepening.

Elain leaned towards him. “What’s wrong,” she hissed.

Cassian startled. “It’s nothing.”

“Is it about what happened yesterday?” Elain asked, feeling guilty all over again.

Cassian shook his head emphatically. “Absolutely not. It’s something I’ll handle.”

His phone rang and he sighed deeply. “I have to take this,” he whispered, sliding out of the room.

Mor and Lucien were still deep in conversation, and Elain made the split second decision to follow Cassian out. She had no doubt it was about yesterday, and had every intention of begging for forgiveness to the producers.

She made sure to shut the door behind her, lest Lucien find out and chastise her for making it her responsibility.

Cassian was pacing the hall, agitated. “I’m not doing it,” Cassian snarled at whoever was on the other end of the line. “So tell them to shove it.” A long pause. “What do you want me to say? Sorry your face looks like that, I'm only photographing the other side from now on?”

White hot anger shot through Elain at the words. She’d never quite understood the concept of seeing red before now, but her body felt like it was on fire. She cleared her throat, catching Cassian’s attention, and motioned for him to mute the phone.

“Tell them I’ll walk,” Elain said. “I’ll walk and they’ll have none of their photos then if they want to say a single thing about Lucien.”

“Elain—”

“And tell them that I’ll also make sure everyone knows what ablest assholes they are.”

“I can’t—”

“Tell them,” Elain ground out.

Cassian unmuted the phone and put it on speaker. “It’s going to be a no from Ms. Vanserra on retaking from a different angle.”

“Tell Ms. Vanserra she’s not the one in charge of this shoot.”

Elain cleared her throat. “Well Ms. Vanserra would like to remind everyone that her brother in law is Rhysand Night, and I’m sure he has a magazine that would love to cover what Cosmopolitan had to say about people with facial scarring.”

Elain could almost hear silent panic on the other end of the line. Because Rhys’ dad had given him full control over their media empire, and he was currently trying to expand into the fashion space. Something Elain was sure had the executives on the line very, very worried.

“I think there’s been a miscommunication,” said a voice through the speakers after a pregnant pause. “We just wanted to make sure Cassian was capturing a full range photos from all perspectives. To make sure he wasn’t missing something special”

“I think Cassian’s photos are very special,” Elain countered. “Especially with the framing he chose to use.”

Another long pause. “Looking at them again, I think you might be right, Ms. Vanserra.”

“I know,” Elain said, her tone far too prissy for any model. There went her reputation for being easy to work with. “I’m glad we could come to an understanding.”

Cassian took the phone off speaker to say a few farewell remarks and then hung up.

“This is a new side of you, El,” he said.

Elain flushed. “Sorry.”

“No, no, I like it.” Cassian swung open the door. “Besides, knowing your sisters I shouldn’t be shocked.”

They both took their seats. Mor didn’t miss a beat, shifting her attention back onto Cassian to ask about the logistics of planning a shoot like this.

“All good?” Lucien whispered as soon as Elain sat down.

Elain smiled weakly. “Peachy.”

“Okay,” Mor said, slamming her notebook shut. “That’s all I need for now.”

“Really?” Elain asked.

“No, but I have a dinner reservation with Cassian in twenty minutes,” she said with a wink. “And I have both your emails if you need anything else.”

“Plus you two also have a dinner to get to,” Cassian added.

“Do we?” Lucien asked slyly.

“A little treat from us,” Mor said. “For putting up with my questions. And yes, what you have on is fine.”

“Now go,” Cassian said, shooing them off. “Do something fun that’s not photographed.”

“Roger,” Lucien said, taking Elain’s hand and pulling her out of the room. Elain had a sneaking suspicion Lucien was in on it as he led her straight to the beachside restaurant in the resort and to a table overlooking the sea, candles already lit. The same one they’d sat at on the second night of their honeymoon.

“You know,” he said after they sat, “you’re sexy when you’re angry.”

“You weren’t supposed to hear that,” Elain said, mortified.

Lucien shrugged. “You don’t need to spare me. I already knew they were thinking it.”

“They shouldn’t have been,” Elain muttered. “Assholes.”

“See,” Lucien leaned back in his chair. “Sexy.”

“And it’s not sparing you it’s—” Elain searched for the word.

“Sparing.”

Elain sighed. “Okay maybe a little.”

“You can tell me things,” Lucien said, eyes imploring.

Elain smiled at him weakly. “It’s just hard for me sometimes,” she admitted. “I don’t want to rock the boat.”

“Calm waters are boring. Speaking of which,” Lucien’s eyes gleamed, “how long after dinner will it take for Nesta to find Cassian alone somewhere.”

Elain choked. “Oh god, you don’t think—” Lucien raised an eyebrow. “An hour, max.”

He snorted. “Ten dollars says he leaves halfway through dinner.”

“Twenty says he tries and Mor makes him wait.”

Lucien held out his hand. “Deal.” They shook on it. Their hands hung suspended, neither willing to let go. Lucien’s thumb ran down Elain’s skin, causing her to shiver slightly. It felt like middle school all over again, with how agitated she was getting by mere contact with Lucien. My romantic life has reverted to hand holding. Perfect.

“Dinner menu?” asked the waiter, appearing with copies in arm.

Elain went to drop Lucien’s hand but he tightened his grip, resting their hands atop the table. Another stroke of his thumb.

“We’ll take whatever you recommend,” he said, not looking at the waiter. His gaze was focused entirely on Elain, with an intensity that made her feel like she was burning.

“Of course sir,” said the waiter before disappearing.

“Your stomach feel okay?” Lucien asked.

Elain nodded. “I’m starving honestly. I think I could eat anything you put in front of me.”

“Good,” Lucien admitted. “Because I have no clue what I just asked for.”

Elain feigned shock. “And I thought you were so smooth too.”

“I aim to impress.”

Thankfully, the waiter had an excellent pallet, and the evening passed quickly, the two of them talking so easily Elain could almost convince herself the last couple months weren’t real. That this was their relationship.

And on the way out of the restaurant Lucien slid an arm around Elain’s shoulders. She leaned against him, resting her head on his chest. “You don’t have to set the pillow wall up tonight if you don’t want to.”

“Trust us to behave ourselves then?”

Elain hummed. “We’re both adults aren’t we.”

“I do want to do very adult things to you, yes,” Lucien said.

“That’s not what I meant,” Elain protested, smacking his chest.

Lucien pressed a kiss to her forehead. “I know. But let me have my fun.”

Elain rolled her eyes, but didn’t pull away.

#elucienweek2023 #elucien #elucien fanfiction #elucien fanfic #acotar #acotar fanfiction #acotar fanfic #elain archeron #lucien vanserra

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mochie85 · 2 years

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Hi! I love your Loki series and one shots💚💚

Can I request a Loki x villain!Reader. Like, she do some shity things and the avenger defeat her, but her powers are kinda a mystery so them decided to secured her in the compound for study her powers (like something to do with darkness or fire). Loki started to "visite" her. She's mean, egocentric, and gets under his skin. But at the same time he is amazed of her.

Just Breathe - Chapter 1

Just Breathe Masterlist Complete Masterlist

A/N: Sorry, Nonny, I got carried away and made this into a series. I'm sorry I made you wait too long. I know you requested this a while ago. So, thank you for being so patient with me. I hope you like it. Edit: Thanks to Inkywinds on AO3 for the German translations. Pairing: Loki x Female Villain Reader Word Count: under 3k Warnings: Angst, history of trauma, some cursing, mild violence, more of my bad translations Dividers by: @firefly-graphics

Loki watched through the monitors as they brought you in. They secured your arms in weighted metal cuffs that went straight up to your elbows, constricting your wrists as well as your hands. You walked in with no less than ten SHIELD agents accompanying you. You looked like a maiden sacrifice being led to her fate.

“Who is that delectable creature?” Loki asked with a growing smirk.

“She calls herself Zephyr,” Thor answered watching Loki to the side of his eyes. “She’s been setting fire to hidden SHIELD facilities up and down the eastern seaboard. Killed 20 people, and injured 50. She’s targeting your record.” Thor laid his hand on Loki’s shoulder. “She threatened to blow up the whole site, but we can’t find any explosives. Leave it to you to be attracted to the outlaws,” Thor whispered with a chuckle. Loki just raised an eyebrow at him and dusted his shoulder off where Thor had patted him.

“We need to know how her powers work. Before she does it again,” Rogers added. “FRIDAY is running a background check on her as we speak to give us any clues. Wanda is still on her honeymoon with Vis. I don’t want to contact her unless absolutely necessary. Do you think you can get into her head? See her memories?” He asked Loki.

“I can try,” Loki answered, trying to hide his elation.

They led you to a cylindrical cell in the lower levels of the building. It was made out of indestructible glass and light. You couldn’t escape the watchful eyes of the cameras or the glaring reflection of yourself.

You had formed dark circles under your eyes. Your hair was knotted and singed at the ends. You looked like you hadn’t eaten in days. They took the manacles off of you, leaving welts below your elbows.

If only they knew. It wouldn’t have mattered if they bound your whole body. You’d still be able to set fire with or without your hands.

The first time you used your powers, was when you were eight. You set fire to your shared bedroom and nearly killed your baby brother. You didn’t need your hands then. You just simply stopped breathing.

Your parents, being the doctrinal extremists they were, had decided that eight years of loving a child was not enough to protect said child. So they had abandoned you to a research facility in upstate New York. Fear and loathing in their eyes. They had solemnly believed that they were looking into the eyes of the devil herself when they looked at you.

So, you became one.

A figure stepped into your reflection, interrupting your thoughts down memory lane. You instantly knew who he was. His long face and high cheekbones were more prominent in person. His long dark curls were secured in a half-ponytail. The sleeves on his dress shirt were rolled halfway up, exposing the veins in his arms. He carried a small plate with a sandwich and a bottle of water.

“It’s peanut butter and jelly.” He said to you, holding the plate up to the glass for you to inspect it. “I was told, it’s a favorite amongst you mortals here in this region.”

“I’m not hungry.” You snapped at him.

“Oh no darling, this is for me.” He chuckled. “I hadn’t eaten lunch yet. I was about to until you had to pick this time to come in with your retinue.” He grabbed the nearest chair and sat down on it, backwards. His legs spread apart as he straddled the chair facing you.

He took a bite of his sandwich, eyeing you. You paced back and forth in your cell. Your eyes darted between the man and the sandwich he devoured. You really hadn’t eaten in days. You couldn’t help the growling complaint of your stomach as you watched him demolish it bite after bite.

When he finished, he licked the jam off his fingers and proceeded to drink half of the water bottle. You could see his Adam’s apple bob with every chug of water he swallowed. You crossed your arms and narrowed your eyes at him.

“Oh, I’m sorry. How rude of me…” He said to you, acknowledging your hungry stare.

“Finally! What’s a girl gotta do to get a meal around here?”

“…I didn’t introduce myself. I am Loki, Prince of Asgard. The rightful heir of Jotunheim. Odins…”

“OH MY GOD! Do you come with an off button? I know who you are!” you growled, matching the energy of your empty stomach.

“So feisty! You know my name, but I don’t know yours.” Loki beamed.

“Does it matter?” you rolled your eyes.

“Yes. I’d like to know the name of the person whose head I’ll be rummaging through.” He said.

A new sense of panic trickled through you, but you refuse to show him the effect he had on you. He stood up from his chair. His long legs unmount the seat. He stopped right in front of your cell, his hands in his pockets, staring you down.

His gaze felt intrusive and speculating. You could see his smile, so sweetly towards you, and a glint in his eyes. How is that possible? That shit only happens in books, right? You walked up to him slowly, pressing yourself up against the glass. Your wrists cross over, above your head.

“Why don’t you come in here then? I’ll let you rummage all you want.” You tried to say in the most seductive way you could.

“Oh, I won’t do it right now, darling. You’re too guarded and wild. Plus...” Loki knocked on the glass causing you to cover your ears from the loud echo. “It’s no fun being in there. I would know.”

He started to walk away. “When you’re ready, dear. Do call for me.” He saluted and walked off. You continued to growl at him as he retreated. You slammed your fist against the hard glass trying to make a dent, knowing it wouldn’t have mattered.

You turned, leaning against the blue-tinged glass, and slid yourself down onto the floor of the cell. That’s when you noticed a small plate in the center of the chamber with a full sandwich, and a bottle of water.

Loki came to visit you that night, unbeknownst to you. You had fallen asleep on the floor of the cell. You used your jacket as a pillow, leaving you to weather the cold of the basement. He conjured a blanket over your shivering figure and he saw you instantly relax into a fit-less sleep.

He had already seen inside your thoughts earlier that day but didn’t lead on. There was so much heartache and pain. Trifling through your memories had triggered his own childhood recollections. It also triggered some protective instinct of his that he didn’t know existed.

Maybe he just felt a kindred spirit with you. That perhaps you would understand what it was like. Because he certainly understood the suffering you were going through now. He tried one more time.

He let his invisible strings find their way inside the cell. Crawling slowly over the floor, then into your temples.

You must’ve been eight or nine. You were so small, but you had the same shade of hair, the same intelligent eyes. Loki looked around and saw that he was in a nursery, perhaps your bedroom. He could hear an argument in the background happening somewhere inside the house. You sat on your bed as your baby sibling started crying in his crib from the loud argument outside the bedroom doors.

You covered your ears. It was too loud. You rocked your tiny self, back and forth. Loki saw you take in a deep breath and shut your eyes. That’s when the first flicker of flames appeared.

It started with the bedsheets you were on. Then it traveled to the curtains. Pretty soon the whole room was engulfed. Your parents entered the room alarmed. Your mother grabbed your brother from his crib and then tried to grab you. “Y/N!” She yelled. But you were surrounded by flames. Your father came back with an extinguisher, dousing the room with white foam.

The flames had receded enough for your father to grab you from your bed and haul you out.

Loki jumped out of your head as you started to stir awake. You sat up, looking around the brightly lit room outside your cell, not seeing anyone or anything. Except for the chair that Loki was sitting in earlier. Vacant. You went back to sleep, pulling the blanket over your shoulders.

Blanket?!

You recalled the dream you had just woken up from. Loki was there in your dream, reliving the fateful night you triggered your powers. Now looking down at the conjured blanket on you, could he have been here? Could he have gone into your thoughts, unguarded? Just like he said he would? You threw the blanket across your cell and stayed up all night.

The next day, Loki came in with two sandwiches on a plate. “Let me guess, they’re both for you? You little glutton,” you asked eyeing the plate.

“No, darling. One’s for you. I wouldn’t be that heartless.” He splayed his hand and the other sandwich appeared inside your chamber with a bottle of water. “I figured we could have lunch together.”

“Usually, you take the person to lunch before you intrude on their thoughts.”

“I was not aware you knew I had done it.”

“Does it make you feel better? Does it make it any more moral? Now that you’ve fed me?”

“No. Not really. But innocent lives are getting hurt-”

“Innocent, my ass!” you chided.

“And an amazing ass it is. But pray, tell, what exactly makes them not so innocent?” Loki asked.

You raised your eyebrows at him. Then rolled your eyes. “You have got to be kidding me! That’s all you people ever see, isn’t it? The damsel in distress. Surely, we can save her. Well, listen up ‘Lucky Charms.’ I’ve been way past saving. Where were the Avengers twenty years ago when I nearly burnt my house down? Where were you guys when my own parents sold me to the nearest SHIELD facility for research? Where were my heroes, huh?” you yelled out to him, tossing the sandwich against the glass wall.

“I wasn’t here twenty years ago. But we’re here now, Y/N.”

“Don’t you ever call me that again!”

“It’s your name isn’t it?”

“It’s what those hypocritical excuse-for-a-parents called me. I refuse to answer to it!”

“Ok. Zephyr it is. Zephyr. Zep. Phyr? Zee? Can I call you Zee?” Loki said, trying your name. Trying to taste it on his lips. Feeling how it sounded with his tongue.

“No. Is my name too long and complicated for you? Loki? Prince of Ass-guard. Yada yada yada.” You deadpanned. Loki was getting agitated with all your irreverent backtalk. He almost preferred it to when you were asleep.

“I’m going to try and get into your mind again, Zee. It would be easier for you if you didn’t resist.” Loki warned.

“Or what?”

“Or else, you might see something you might not like. Memories you’ve tried to repress. I can guide you. But you’d have to follow my directions.” Loki said ever so calmly, putting his hands back inside his pockets.

“Oh, I’m not worried about what I’ll see. I know what goes on in my head.” You taunted. You walked back towards the opposite end of your cell, leaning back on the cool glass as an invitation to him.

In an instant, Loki was transported to a dark room. A brick façade lined one side of the walls. On the opposite side of the room, floor-to-ceiling windows showcased the moonlight outside. The view was six, maybe seven stories up, and overlooked the Brooklyn Bridge. Loki took note of some major street names that he could read.

A soft moan from behind him stole his attention. There was a couch and some furniture that had appeared mere seconds before. He saw you on the couch. Your back to him. A man’s hand tangled in your hair and his other hand gripped your hips tightly.

The man’s legs spread apart as he pulled you in closer to rub against him. You whimpered. And that sound sent a delicious rush down Loki’s spine arousing him.

Who were you tangled with? Loki was curious. You started grinding against them, eliciting a staggered familiar moan from the stranger. You cocked your head slightly to give Loki a better angle to watch.

Loki jumped back in shock to see himself staring back at him. The Loki under you smiled a mischievous grin as he grabbed more of your hair and angled you to get a better kiss.

Loki quickly jumped out of your head. Shaking in disbelief. He stared at you, unable to say anything. He knew that neither of you had ever met before. So this wasn’t a memory. Were you strong enough to block his advances? To make him see what you wanted him to see?

“I told you. You might not like what you see.” You gave him a knowing smirk.

“What did she show you?” Bruce asked through his headpiece.

“Are you alright, brother?” Thor added.

“Do you need one of us to go down there with you?” Rogers offered.

“No. I’ll try again.” Loki whispered.

“Try all you want. You’re not getting anything out of me. Those fuckers deserve to die!” You yelled as you hit the wall of your cell with your fist. Hot white light erupted from your hands, momentarily blinding Loki.

Loki jumped back in and landed in a field with tall dry grass. The half-moon had shown above and the only sounds he could hear were that of cicadas.

He spotted you walking through the grass and muck. You were younger, but well past your teenage years. You were wearing a tattered jumpsuit. Your hair was greasy and slick. Your eyes were a lot deeper and darker than they were now. You had a chain wrapped around your ankle attached to a heavy metal ball. You pulled on the chain, its weight slowing you down, dragging along the dirt. The cuff biting into your weak ankles.

Alarms sounded in the air as searchlights began their hunt for you. You looked up and sucked in a lungful of air, then blew at the weight around your foot. The surrounding air began to lift the heavy ball and carry it as fast as you could run.

The ball and chain followed you. There were men chasing after you now. They had the SHIELD insignia patched on their arms. One caught up with you and grabbed you by your arm, marginally missing the ball you had thrown his way.

“Come, kleiner lufthauch, we mean you no harm.” The man said to you. You sucked in your breath again, but this time you held it. All of a sudden the reeds around you caught fire, catching the pant leg of your assailant. The man was too distracted to notice that you threw the metal ball at his head. All by just exhaling your breath. The man fell. A concave dip where his face should have been.

You ran.

Loki snapped back to reality. Air, breath. That’s her power. He sent a projection of himself into the control room. Thor, Banner, and Rogers standing around a giant monitor, watching the two of you on the screen.

“Her powers come from the air around her,” Loki said behind them. Two of them stumbled forward, startled by Loki’s sudden appearance.

“For goodness sakes, Loki!” Rogers warned. Thor stood unfazed, accustomed to Loki’s surprise attacks.

Loki rolled his eyes as he continued. “It seems she can control the air around her.”

“How does the fire come into the equation?” Thor asked.

Bruce contemplated. “Fire needs three things. Fuel, heat, and-”

“Oxygen!” Rogers finished his sentence.

“She was being held against her will at a SHIELD facility. I saw her trying to escape.” Loki started again.

“Why are there no records of her?” Rogers asked. “Even with her given name, FRIDAY still can’t seem to find any trace of her.”

“The jailor I saw in my memory-walk called her ‘little breath’ or ‘little air?’ You could try looking that up.” Loki offered.

“How did he say it?” Bruce asked, typing into the keyboard.

“Kleiner lufthauch.”

“That’s German.” Steve stood straighter looking Loki in his eyes. “You don’t think she escaped an undercover HYDRA facility, do you?” Rogers said starting to put pieces together.

“Maybe the facilities she’s been targeting have been undercover HYDRA bases?” Thor questioned.

“If that’s true, how does she know which ones are true SHIELD offices, and which ones are HYDRA bases?” Banner posed. Loki left them to ponder it out. His projection leaving.

Back down below the building. Loki still sat in the chair facing you. “I have a proposition for you, darling?”

“No,” you said without hesitation.

“But you haven’t even heard it yet,” Loki said feigning hurt.

“Don’t care. Don’t want it. Especially from you.”

“What if it means, I could get you out of this cell?” He dangled the sweet bait of freedom in front of you.

“Loki! Don’t promise something we can’t deliver.” Rogers said in his ear.

Loki ignored him and continued, “What if…you join us, and we can go after your little HYDRA spies with you?”

⬅️Series Masterlist | Chapter 2➡️

Taglist: @lokiprompts @lokiprompts21 @lokisninerealms @lokisgoodgirl @alexs1200 @a-witch-with-words @britishserpent @huntress-artemiss @mischief2sarawr @one-oblivious-nerd @user13cabs

#loki fandom #loki fluff #loki fanfic #loki laufeyson #loki angst #loki series #mcu #loki x you #loki x reader #loki x OC #Marvel fanfic #MCU fanfic #song fic #marvel fanfic #villain reader

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