#sorry i didn’t do this on my tablet it has died
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Buried Alive
“I told you it wasn’t a concussion.” Jay says as he puts his jacket back on and follows his friend out of the treatment room.
“Pardon me for not accepting that from a guy who once insisted that he was fine and then ended up getting fifteen stitches.” Adam grouses.
It takes effort but Jay manages to keep from sticking his tongue out.
He sees Will and is about to approach his brother when he realizes that he’s talking to a patient – or maybe a family member – he recognizes the look on his brother’s face.
A death notification.
Shit.
Then the man lunges at his brother.
“Hey!” he shouts, sprinting forward to dive between them. “Don’t touch him!”
It doesn’t take long long for him to wrestle the man away from his brother, slamming him against the wall.
“It’s okay, Jay, it’s okay.” Will says.
“He attacked you.” Jay growls.
“I just told him that his daughter died.” Will says. “Cut him some slack.”
“He hurt you?” Jay asks.
“No.” Will assures. “You got there first.”
“You gonna try again?” Jay asks, directing his words to the man who’s arm he’s holding.
“No.” the man says, his tone broken and defeated.
Jay releases the man, guiding him away from Will and giving him a light shove.
“I’m sorry for your loss.” he says. “But the doctors here did everything they could for your daughter. They shouldn’t be the ones that you’re directing your anger at.”
The man shakes his head, glaring at Will.
But then he turns and walks away. Jay watches until he’s out of sight and then turns his attention back to his brother.
“You sure you’re okay?” he asks, reaching out to put a hand on his brother’s shoulder.
“I’m fine.” Will promises. “Good thing you were here, huh?”
“I’ve been telling you that for years.” Jay jokes. “I have to get back to work now. See you later?”
“Yeah.”
By the time he and Adam had made it back to the district the team had mostly finished with the paperwork on the case so they mostly just shoot the breeze with the team until Voight kicks them all out.
Jay walks down to his truck, rubbing his forehead distractedly as he fishes in his pocket for his keys.
Something collides with the back of his legs sending him dropping to the ground.
“What the -”
He’s cut off as something slams into his face, slamming him back against the door panel of his truck.
Another hit sends him into the black.
Which is where he still is when he comes too.
He tries to sit up and his head crashes against hard wood. He falls back flat, rubbing at his temple.
With a groan, he feels around the space that he’s in, searching out the dimensions.
He’s in a box.
A box that doesn’t extend far above the top of his head or far beyond the bottoms of his feet. There isn’t enough room at his sides to bring his arms out more than a few inches. And he’d bashed his head on the top of the box within six inches of lifting it off the bottom .
He’s in a coffin.
If only answering that question didn’t bring up a lot more.
Is he just in a coffin or has he been buried? If he is, how deep is he? How much oxygen does he have?
Why is he here?
He remembers getting jumped in the parking lot of the district. Tries to remember if he’d seen his assailant.
Shit.
The guy from Med.
He should have just arrested him when he had the chance.
Will leans against the desk, working on charting.
The brief lull between patients gives him the chance to desperately try to catch up on paperwork.
Which is why he’s more than a little annoyed when someone walks up next to him, dropping something on top of his tablet.
“I don’t really have…”
He trails off, glancing up to see the man who’d attacked him this morning. He swallows hard and looks back down at the photo of his little brother.
He’s in a dark space with glimpses of wood surrounding him. He’s also deeply unconscious with blood on his forehead.
“What did you do to him?” he asks quietly.
“Just a little knock to the head.” the man tells him. “Enough to get him in the box.”
“What box?” Will asks.
“You let my daughter suffocate.” the man snarls. “And now your brother does the same.”
Will shakes his head.
“You can’t do this. I’m so sorry about your daughter but there was nothing I could do. The blunt force trauma was too severe.”
“You should have tried harder.” the man says. “It’s too late now. My daughter is dead and soon, your brother will be too.”
“Security.” Will calls out, grabbing the man’s arm as he steps away. “Keep this man here.”
“Would you like me to call the police?” the security officer asks, talking hold of the man’s arm.
“I’ll take care of that.” Will says, reaching for his phone. “How long does he have?”
The man doesn’t answer and Will steps forward.
“How long has he been in there?” he growls.
“I buried him an hour ago.” the man admits.
A coffin can keep the average human breathing for five and a half hours. Jay’s size will work against him but his fitness will help. His training and ability to stay calm in stressful situations will also but him some time.
But none of that will mean anything if they don’t find him.
Voight answers on the first ring.
“Will. Is Jay okay?”
“Not really.” Will says. “I really need you to get to Med.”
“I’m on my way. What’s going on, Will?”
“I lost a patient this morning. Her father was angry, lunged at me. Jay got in the way which must have been where the bastard got the idea.”
“Will.” Voight says, gently but firmly urging him to get to the point.
“He buried my brother, Hank.” he gasps.
“Alright, Will.” Voight says. “We’ll find him.”
Jay thumps against the lid of the box for what feels like the hundredth time.
He doesn’t know why he keeps doing it. It isn’t helping the situation, isn’t helping him get out of this damn coffin.
Does Will know what’s going on? He assumes that the man would have told him, wanting to prolong his brother’s misery.
But Will would have called Voight so hopefully his team is looking for him, trying to get him out of here.
He just needs to stay calm, to keep breathing until they find him.
He doesn’t want to die here.
Hot tears streak down his cheeks and he scoffs, squeezing his eyes closed. He’s been in tight spots before, been pretty sure that he was going to die.
Why can’t he keep it together?
A sob escapes his throat and he maneuvers his hands up to scrub at his eyes.
He needs to stop crying. He’s wasting valuable oxygen by not remaining calm.
He needs to calm down and just breathe.
That just makes him cry harder, rolling his head toward the side of the box.
He wants to go home.
Voight stares through the observation window at George Penrod.
It’s been an two hours since that frantic call from Will, three hours if this man’s words are to be believed since Jay had been buried.
And they have nothing.
The bastard isn’t talking and they haven’t been able to track anything from his movements to tell them where he’d taken Jay.
The door swings open.
“Voight, I’ve got something.” Adam bursts out. “George Penrod is the undertaker at a local cemetery. We pulled records on upcoming burials at the cemetery.”
“Upcoming?” Voight asks.
“Kim’s idea. She figures the graves would have already been dug for burials over the next few days which would have made it easier to bury Jay.”
Voight nods.
“How many gravesites are we looking at?”
“Eight.” Adam answers.
“Let’s get out there.” Voight says. “Jay doesn’t have time for us to waste.”
Adam nods, scrambling back down the hall.
The tears have dried up.
In their wake, he’s just exhausted. He can’t even lift his head, as if there was anywhere to lift it.
He coughs weakly.
The air is getting thinner. Though maybe that’s just in his head.
It isn’t.
He knows it isn’t.
He doesn’t have much longer.
It’s an enormous cemetery and all of the spots on Adam’s list are spread out across the acreage.
It takes too long to check them all and the team’s desperation rises rapidly as one by one they all come up empty. Some of them haven’t even been dug yet and others are just empty holes in the ground.
After the seventh plot, even Voight is showing the weight of the pressure.
By the best account they have, Jay has been in the ground for over five hours and oxygen has to be running out.
In the dark, as they approach the eighth and final gravesite, it looks as if they’ve come up on another grave that hasn’t been dug yet.
“Dirt’s loose.” Kevin shouts. “This is it.”
His call electrifies the team as they scramble for equipment. The backhoe had been left nearby and Adam wastes no time diving behind the controls and starting it up.
The team watches with bated breath as he begins to clear the dirt.
It feels slow going, the fear of hitting the coffin and hurting Jay all too close to the front of his mind as he digs.
At five feet, he stops, backing out as Kevin and Kim jump in with shovels to continue digging.
Soon enough they hit something solid and the shovels are traded out to keep moving dirt by hand until they’ve cleared enough to open the lid.
Jay isn’t moving.
His face is pale with tear tracks marking through the dirt and sweat covering his cheeks.
Kevin presses his fingers into the side of their friend’s throat.
“Weak pulse but he’s not breathing.” he shouts back up, starting compressions. “Where are those paramedics?”
“Four minutes out.” Voight shouts back.
“Be real great if they could make it four minutes faster than that!” Kevin says. “Come on, Jay! Stay with us!”
Three minutes of compressions later, Adam is pulling Kim out of the hole so that a paramedic can jump down.
Kevin continues compression as she starts an IV, pushing medication.
Getting him onto the backboard and lifted out of the grave is a tricky scramble but they manage it, Adam taking over compressions at the top while Kevin and the paramedic are being helping out.
Just as they’re settling the backboard onto the stretcher, Jay comes back to life with a sharp inhale.
Adam stumbles slightly as he pulls back, righted by Kim’s hand on his shoulder.
Jay keeps trying to sit up, coughing and gasping.
“Easy Jay.” Adam tries to soothe, putting a hand on Jay’s shoulder, gently pushing back.
Terrified eyes lock on his face and he rubs circles on Jay’s shoulder with his thumb.
“We’ve got you.” Adam promises. “You’re out and we’re going to take care of you, okay?”
The skidding of tires through gravel sounds nearby and Adam looks up to see Will bailing out of the driver’s seat, his hair even more ruffled than usual.
“Jay!”
Jay jumps, twitching under Adam’s hand, eyes searching for his brother.
Adam takes a step toward Jay’s feet, reaching back to tug Will into place next to his brother’s head.
“Hey Jay.” he says, voice carrying an audible tremor as he fights to calm his nerves. “I’m here, okay. I’m here.”
“Will?”Jay breathes out, hand moving toward his brother.
“I’m here.” Will repeats, taking his brother’s hand. “I got you, kiddo. Let’s get him in the ambulance.”
“Will.” Jay repeats.
“Yeah.” Will says. “It’s going to be okay, buddy. How is he?”
The question is directed toward the paramedic.
“His vitals are stable but we have no way of knowing how long he was deprived of oxygen and how much.” the paramedic answers.
Will nods.
The fear and panic in his brother’s eyes, the way he just keeps repeating Will’s name.
All of that could point to damage from hypoxia.
Or it could just be the natural, completely expected terror of a man who spent five and a half hours buried alive in a coffin.
A man who slipped into unconsciousness not knowing if he’d ever wake up.
“Will?”
“I’m here buddy. It’s going to be okay.”
Hours later, with MRIs and CT scans cleared, neurological evaluations passed with flying colors, Will is sitting watching his brother sleep.
After the terror of those hours, of searching and wondering if they would be too late, Jay is going to be fine.
He’s being kept overnight for observation and in the morning Will gets to take him home.
No lasting damage.
At least not physically.
As his brother jolts awake for the second time in the last thirty minutes, Will leans forward, taking his hand.
“Easy Jay.” he soothes. “You’re at Med. You’re safe.”
Jay’s eyes lock on his, the fear slowly fading as his mind catches up with the fact that whatever horrors his nightmares had shown him were not true to the present.
Will keeps talking, providing gentle reassurance that the nightmare is truly over.
He almost thinks his littler brother has fallen back asleep when he hears the quiet voice.
“It wasn’t your fault, you know?”
“He hurt you because of me.” Will says. “Because I couldn’t do my job.”
“Your job is to treat patients not to be a miracle worker.” Jay tells him.
“I should have saved her. I should have been better.” Will argues.
“You are an incredible doctor. And you care so much about every single patient you treat.” Jay says. “His daughter died because her injuries were too severe to treat. You did everything you could for her.”
“I should have done more.”
“We do what we can.” Jay says, the distant look on his face reminding Will that his brother also has a job where sometimes his best just isn’t good enough.
“I’m still sorry he hurt you.” Will says. “Sorry you went through that because of me.”
“I am too.” Jay says. “I wish he hadn’t lost his daughter, wish I’d realized how dangerous he was when I had my hands on him, and I wish you hadn’t had to deal with losing a patient today and then had the fear of losing me stacked on top of that. And I can admit that not being buried alive would have really improved my overall evening. But that doesn’t make what happened your fault. You’re a great brother and I’m lucky to have you.”
“I’m lucky to have you too, little brother.” Will says, carding fingers through Jay’s hair. “I love you.”
“I love you too.” Jay says, jerking his head away from the touch. “Now stop being sappy on me and see if you can’t find a hockey game on, huh?”
Will chuckles but reaches for the remote.
Yeah, he’s going to be just fine.
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Clip Show: Part One
Pairing: Dean Winchester x Female!Reader
Word Count: ~2k
Warnings: canon angst and violence
Author’s Note: I do not own anything from Supernatural. All credit goes to their respective owners. Any and all comments on these are appreciated.
Castiel has never been to Bunker before, so when he sees it for the first time, he's shocked to say the least. You want to be there for him and to help him in whatever he needs, but everyone can tell you're distracted. The pain and the feeling of pushing down the issues with Robert is taking a toll on you.
You want to let it out, Dean knows you want to let it out, but you can't seem to muster enough courage to do so. You're scared the same thing will happen when your dad died... or worse. Dean needs to make sure you know he is there for you, and he has to come up with a plan to give you the safe space you're craving.
If you're going to move on like Charlie did, then you know you need to do this.
Dean's not having an easy time with this either. He's cried himself to sleep after he knows you've gone to bed, he has nightmares all the time, and he's trying to bottle it down himself. He's always wanted a son, and yeah, you two can make another one, but Robert was his first son.
It'll help if you two can cry about it together.
If you're going to complete the third trial, you have to know how to cure a demon. There must be something in this Bunker that will help with this, which is what Sam and Dean are doing. You're with Castiel since Dean refuses to be with him alone. Dean isn't over Castiel's betrayal, and he has every right not to be over it.
You just see more than what's in front you. Castiel was manipulated again, but this wasn't his fault.
"Please tell me that's everything," you say when Sam and Dean bring in the third round of boxes.
"Yeah, not even close," Dean chuckles. "You see, the Men of Letters kept files on every demonic possession for the last three hundred years. I mean, we've got Borden and Lizzy, all the way to Crane, Ichabod."
"That's impressive," you mutter.
"How are you feeling?" Dean asks his brother.
"Honestly, my whole body hurts. I feel nauseous and I'm starving at the same time, and everything smells like rotting meat."
"Maybe you should take a break," you suggest.
"Y/N, the only thing that's gonna make me feel better is finishing this."
"I'll go get you some food to keep your strength up."
Dean leaves just as Castiel walks into the room. Dean is still hurt, but like you said, it's understandable. It's easier to forgive him this time than last time, so you're on your way to.
"Morning. I like this bunker. It's orderly."
"Oh, give us a few months. Dean wants to get a ping-pong table."
"I've heard of that. It's a game, right?" Castiel groans as if he's still in pain.
"Are you okay?" you ask.
"My wound isn't healing as quickly as I'd hoped, but I am getting better. You're getting worse."
You get up and walk to Castiel before playing both hands on his cheeks. Your magic flows through his body, but it only heals a little bit. His wounds are far more extensive than your magic allows.
Still, Castiel appreciates the gesture.
"Thank you."
"Well, two trials down, one to go."
"Do you know what the final test is?"
"I have to cure a demon."
"Of what?" the angel chuckles.
"That's what we're trying to figure out."
"Well cure means to heal, make better, and to rehabilitate. Demons are scum and the lowest of the low. What if we're curing a demon of itself. You know, back to human?"
"I guess there's only one way to find out."
Dean returns with a plate of food for Sam--a soup he's good at making.
"Eat up. This is all I could make with what we have."
"I'll go food shopping soon," you promise.
"Sweetheart, I got it," Dean says and kisses your temple.
"Dean, I can go with you," Castiel offers, but he ignores him. "Dean. I'm sorry."
"For what?"
"For everything."
"Everything? Like ignoring us? How about bolting off with the Angel Tablet, then losing it because you didn't trust me or Y/N? You didn't trust us. Me."
"Yes."
"That's not gonna cut it. Not this time. So you can take your little apology and you cram it up your ass."
"Dean," you sigh.
"Dean, I thought I was doing the right thing."
"Yeah, you always do."
"Hey, uh, do we have a room 7B?" Sam asks, breaking the tension.
"Should be downstairs. Why?"
"I need help. Both of you."
Joanna and Maryann stay upstairs with Castiel while you three head downstairs to the storage room.
"Why would you leave them alone with him? He can't be trusted," Dean argues with you.
"You don't hear her when Joanna asks for her uncle Cassie. I trust him even if you don't. You don't have to trust him, you just have to trust me."
"Dude, go easy on Cas, okay. He's one of the good guys," Sam backs you up.
"If anybody else, and I mean anybody, pulled that kind of shit? I would stab them in their neck on principle. Why should I give him a free pass?"
"Because it's Cas."
"What are we supposed to be looking for down here?" Dean changes the subject.
"Anything on case 1138. It was a class five infernal event in St. Louis on March 8, 1957."
"Class five infernal event?" you ask.
"The Letters have this whole rating system. 'The Exorcist' would have been a class two."
"So, class five is really special. Why?"
"It was weird, I guess. One of the files just had a note written in the margin about room 7B and the word 'weird' with three exclamation points."
You three look through the boxes when Dean notices something on one of the shelves.
"Check this out."
Dean unhooks something from the shelf and pushes, revealing that there is a room behind the shelving unit. The room is bare except for a chair in the middle of the room. On the ground is a huge devil's trap.
"Is that a devil's trap? It takes up half the room." You walk inside and see chains on the chair. "These chains have spellwork etched into them."
"We have a dungeon. Finally!" Dean laughs. Sam shakes his head and searches some more before finding rolls of film like they used to have in the old days. "What do you have there?"
"Movie night?" he asks and holds up the film.
You three head back upstairs where Castiel is talking with Joanna and lightly swinging Maryann on her baby swing. There is an old movie projector that holds that kind of film, so Sam gets it set up. Once the film is in, everyone settles into chairs to watch.
The movie starts off in black and white, but what else did you expect? Someone is holding the camera, and there is a man wearing a priest outfit sitting on some steps, smoking.
"Simon, we're filming."
"Um, hello world," he chuckles.
"So this new ritual we're going to see, This new type of exorcism, how does it work?"
"I don't know. It's my first time," Simon says nervously.
The camera moves to a mirror so you can see who is filming. You gasp when Abaddon shows up on screen. You can only imagine this is the woman who she took over.
"Wait, is that Abaddon?" Sam asks.
"It's not kill-y enough. It's got to be the chick she possessed."
A woman can be heard in the background, and she is screaming and moaning. She is tied the ground with chains, and Simon joins another priest inside the room.
"Hurry, we must do it now," another priest says urgently.
"Dead! They're all dead! Everyone you ever loved," the woman growls with black eyes.
"Hey, those chains look exactly like the ones in our dungeon," Sam says.
"In your what?" Castiel asks, a bit surprised.
"Demon a leash... cool."
The two priests begin the exorcism, tossing holy water onto the woman. She is crying out in pain, but that doesn't stop them from torturing her. One of the priests cuts his hand and covers the demon's mouth with it. Her eyes shine so brightly that Abaddon's meatsuit moves the camera away to her. You can see how worried she is. When she moves the camera back onto the woman, her heart is missing.
"She's dead. Where's the demon?"
"Stop filming."
"What happened?"
"Will you just stop?"
The priest walks towards the camera, and that's when the movie ends.
"Well, that was weird... with three exclamation points," Dean says.
"That wasn't a normal exorcism. They changed the words."
"I believe 'lustra' is Latin for wash or cleanse," Castiel says about the language they used.
"Oh, yeah, because the most freaky thing was the vocabulary. What about the bloody high five or the chest burster? Anything else on the film, like director's commentary or a sequel, maybe?"
"Yeah, listen to this." Sam types on his laptop and brings up an article. "The older priest, Max Thompson, bit the dust in '58, but the younger one is still alive and still in St. Louis."
"Do you think this kind of weird is worth the drive?"
"Dean, we've seen everything in those folders. This video was all new. Yeah, it's worth the drive."
"Alright, let's roll." Everyone, including Castiel gets up, but Dean stops him. "Not you."
"Dean," you sigh.
"Sam is more damaged than I am."
"Yeah, well even banged up, Sammy comes through."
"Dean, I just want to help."
"We don't need your help. Just stay here and get better."
Sam and Dean leave you and Castiel in the library alone. Castiel is sad that he's lost Dean this way, but he hasn't lost you.
"Look, it sucks what you did, but you were being manipulated by people you thought were good. Dean will come around, just give him time. I know you want to help, and it would really help me if you stayed here and watched my kids."
"I understand. I will watch them."
You lean up and kiss his cheek, but leave the library to get ready. Joanna is excited she gets to spend time with "Cassie", and Maryann is happy being with the people who love her. You meet up with Sam and Dean by the car, and Dean grows angry that the kids aren't with you.
"They're coming with us."
"They're staying here with Castiel."
"He can't be trusted!"
"Then trust me!" you shout back. "Trust that I would never put our kids in danger. If I truly thought Castiel was bad, I would not leave them here. They're staying here. End of story."
You get into the backseat without another word. Dean can't sit here and argue when they have somewhere to be. He rolls his eyes and gets behind the wheel before pulling out of the garage.
It's only an eight-hour drive to get to the church, and Father Simon is more than happy to talk to you when you get there.
"Father Thompson had some unorthodox ideas, which is why the Men of Letters were interested."
"Unorthodox how? How could you 'save' a demon?"
"A demon is a human soul that's been twisted and corrupted by its time in Hell. Father Thompson believed that you could wash that taint away and restore their humanity."
"Do you believe that?"
"I don't know what to believe."
"This ritual can cure a demon, though?" Sam asks.
"I suppose, if it worked, but that night, something went terribly wrong. The Demon escaped into the world, and that poor old woman... It was horrible. I know father Thompson kept trying. There were other possessions and experiments, but I couldn't face that again. Then, a few months later, he was dead."
"How'd that happen?" you ask.
"Something tore him apart."
"Do you think it was the demon that escaped?"
"In my heart, yes."
"Did he keep any--" Sam coughs and tries to get it under control. "Did he keep records or--" He keeps coughing. "Do you have a bathroom, maybe?"
"At the end of the hall," Father Simon points in the direction.
"Thank you."
"Is he alright?"
"No, actually. He's far from being okay. It's why we're here, actually," you sigh.
""I don't understand."
"Short story is Sammy is gonna take whatever shredded your friend and every other black-eyed bitch out there, and he's gonna get rid of them for good."
"He is? In his condition?"
"Father, over the past couple of months, I've seen him do shit that I didn't even think was possible. I mean, he's miserable and he's hurting, but you know what? There's not a doubt in my mind that he's gonna cross that finish line. Not one. So, will you help us?" you ask.
"I'll get Father Thompson's things for you."
"Thank you."
x
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Fire: share a snippet with some dialogue you’d like to show off
Tail: share a fluffy or cozy snippet
(skip meeeee if they've already been asked 💜)
Thank you for the ask! From this ask game.
Feeling the urge to answer the rest of those with Glass Shards.
Fire: share a snippet with some dialogue you’d like to show off
I recently dug through some chapters to find something, and I came across this, and I still love it <3
Damien pulled her closer. “Why don’t you show me what this town has to offer? Other than lavender, that is.”
She smiled. It didn’t quite reach her eyes, but her voice was steady as she pointed to a random flowerpot sporting yellow and red blooms. “Daffodils. And Tulips.”
She grabbed his hand and pulled him along, no longer with the same urgency as before. “Marigold,” she exclaimed, pointing one way, and “Cornflower,” pointing another.
Damien grinned as she somehow found flower after flower to show him, even if most of them were not in bloom yet, had barely begun to sprout. After reaching a small square, she turned towards a series of low shrubs in front of an official looking building. “Bleeding Heart.” She pointed down. “Snapdragon.” With a sweeping motion, she encompassed some plants Damien would have taken for weeds. “Creeping Baby’s Breath.”
Damien raised his eyebrows at the unremarkable green growth. “Now you’re just making things up.”
Tail: share a fluffy or cozy snippet
Glass Shards is so much known for all the fluff, amiright?
This one's on the longer side, so I'll put it under a cut.
Damien sighed. “Do you wanna talk about it?”
Merridy shook her head.
“Do you wanna do something else?”
She looked up and around the room, scanning the furniture and boxes. There were a few things she could use to keep herself busy, but the chances that she would succeed were rather low. Damien was still waiting for a reply, though, so she forced herself to shrug.
“I could read to you,” Damien then offered.
“You?” Merridy asked, incredulously. Damien raised his eyebrows and Merridy gasped. “Sorry, that was rude,” she mumbled. She was used to him being so taciturn, this offer had taken her by surprise.
But Damien only laughed. “How hard can it be?” he said, an amused gleam in his eyes Merridy couldn’t quite place. “It’s just a bunch of letters, isn’t it?” He put the wax tablet aside and held out his hand. “Come on.”
Merridy got up, walked the few steps to the bed and handed him the book. Instead of returning to her chair, she sat down on the far end of the bed, pulling her legs up and under the blanket that was still wrapped around her shoulders.
Damien looked at the book, mock concentration on his face as he started to read. “There was one… once,” he said, pointing at each word with his finger. “A rich man, whose wife did… died.”
Damien read slowly, and with every sentence more mistakes sneaked in. Forgotten letters, wrong words that didn’t make sense, spelling out the longer ones letter by letter and still taking two tries to get them right.
“You’re pulling my leg,” Merridy said after Damien had misread the word ‘anxious’ three times.
He paused, looking up from the book without lifting his finger. The look of hurt on his face didn’t seem quite real, and he couldn’t stop the corners of his mouth from twitching upwards. “You think so?” When Merridy didn’t reply, he leaned back, taking his finger from the page and using his hand to prop his book against his leg instead. “How about I try it again?”
Merridy watched him straighten the page, take a deep breath — and then all her thoughts were swept away as he started to read in earnest. She had always thought that his voice was pleasant, but now it was warm and rich, enunciating each word perfectly. It brought to life kitchen and castles, glass and silk, princes and maids. She curled up at the foot of the bed and closed her eyes, listening to him read in different voices for each one who spoke. A tear escaped her eyes as the maid fled from the castle, leaving the prince she was in love with behind.
#salad-ask#writingkate#this ask is not oc related#listen it's 132k words plus bonus chapters#there's more than one thing to show :3
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Into the Reverb (Kylo Ren/Reader)
Chapter Seven
Your right hand holds two bottles of water as you walk down the hallway, eyes scanning for Kylo. His SUV is still outside. There are only so many places he could squirrel himself away in on a weekend. You turn left as you see one of the lounge doors cracked open. You open it slightly and look inside. Your knees go slightly weak at the visual before you.
Kylo is sitting in the middle of the long couch, leaning over writing something. He has his tablet and multiple notebooks around him. His long sleeve black shirt and dark gray jeans give him a casual relaxed vibe. His long hair hangs in his face but his nose and lips are prominent. A scowl of concentration written over what you could see of his features. A tattooed finger taps at an unknown rhythm.
“Hey” you say, trying not to spook him. He looks up and gives you a warm smile. “Hey Y/N, how’s work today?” “Good thanks, sorry about earlier” you say, cringing internally. You hope you won't get a warning about tardiness on Monday. “Why? It was fine. No one died” he says, chuckling at his own joke. Your cheeks warm as you sit on the chaise across from him.
“How is it going in here?” you said, silently hoping he won’t notice your awkwardness. “It’s going” he sighs “I have one song I am struggling with. You want to look at it and let me know what you think?” “Absolutely!” you chirp, spine straightening with anticipation. Kylo has been brilliant so far with his lyrics and musical choices, you feel honored he is even asking for your input.
His eyes lock onto yours as he starts to hand you the notebook “Here”. It's so deep you can feel it vibrate in your chest. As you grasp it, your fingers brush against his. A tingle shoots through you making you gasp.
You have never felt anything like that before. His eyes widened at your reaction. “I'm sorry, did I shock you?!” he says, quickly removing his hand. “No, no you didn’t” you say, trying to quiet your body's reaction to whatever just happened. You tighten your grip on the notebook, dropping your eyes from his fierce ones. “Where should we start?”
You do not when or how but you ended up next to him on the couch, soaking in the words on the page. His handwriting is surprisingly elegant. It floats along the page in random bursts of creativity. The content varies.
Most are lyrics. Some are guitar chords. One random page has his favorite take out places listed as well as what he orders. You giggle at that. It's like you have become immersed in his world and you have no plan of removing yourself right now.
—
Kylo is blown away and wants to just gape at you as you talk. But he doesn’t because what normal person would do that. You are sitting next to him, thighs almost touching and your beautiful voice is filling the space. “I am liking these here, the rhyme is fast paced. Gives you the opportunity for some vocal distortion here, here and here…” you say as your slim fingers fly across his tablet. “The pre-choruses should be short and super punchy, most memorable part of the song. Then you can flow right into the chorus and only use chord differences instead of lyrics...”
He could do this every damn day. Just sit next to you and work on music. You have become the best part of his day very quickly and he is totally okay with it. He clears his throat, pushing down those thoughts. Your fingers continue to fly across the tablet screen as you continue talking.
“I know you and Vic write all your own stuff, but I have a couple ideas in my head that I think will round up the song. You don’t have to use them obviously…” Wait what? “What?” he says, immediately cursing himself for floating away there for a minute.
Your face warms as you face him fully. “I have some ideas to bring the song together. I think you could use them in verses. I know you are experienced and you definitely don’t need the help…” Kylo could almost hug you. “Yes! Yes I want your ideas. They are great, I promise" he exclaims. "Okay…” you whisper as his eyes hold yours.
He cannot take it anymore. He cannot not stop what has been building inside. He slowly lifts his hand and holds your chin. He watches as your eyes widen. He takes a shaky breath, then leans forward to capture your lips with his.
The kiss is perfect. Your mouth immediately opens for him as soon as he licks at your bottom lip. As he tastes you, he groans and moves his hand from your chin to around your back, keeping you flush to him. Your soft lips and tongue send shivers of pleasure down his spine. He doesn’t want this to end.
You pull back swiftly, making him have to lock his arm around your back. You pant silently as you look at him with hooded eyes. He wants you to say something, anything. “I have to go” you state flatly, your face and chest still flushed from the activity.
That was not exactly what he wanted to hear. “Okay” he sighs, releasing you. He cannot force you to do anything you don’t want to. He would be an asshole otherwise.
You stand up and hand him the tablet. Your fingers brush again, and he watches you shiver at the feeling. You feel something too, he surmises, you are just scared. “I’ll see you Monday, right?” he asks cautiously.
“Yep, I’ll see you all at 12:30” you say quickly as you head to the door. “See you then Y/N” he says softly, wishing slightly that you will look at him. All he gets is a nod as you walk out the door.
A contined huge shoutout to my girls who have supported me every step of the way ❤️❤️❤️
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Coffee & Cowboys
Chapter 7
———
Word count: 1168
Pairing: Jack ‘Agent Whiskey’ Daniels x English f!Reader (no y/n, no descriptions)
Rating: Mature (For themes. No smut.)
Warnings: Slow burn; minor angst; post-movie; AU, fix-it fic.
A/N: I’m REALLY sorry for the long hiatus. I’m going to try my best to be more regular with updates (possibly a new chapter every 2 weeks?) Also posted on Ao3
———
“So, why me?” You ask Ginger when you get back into her lab.
“No idea about that. You ever been to Kentucky before?”
“No.”
“Ever visited any of the Statesman offices before?”
“No.” You pause, thinking of another question that’s just as important. “What about why now? I mean, it’s been 8 months since the whole Poppy thing, why not then?”
Ginger sighs, and places her tablet down on the desk next to her. “Jack can hear me, right?” You nod. “It may have had something to do with him dying.”
Both you and Jack respond at the same time. “What?”
“Only for about a minute.” Ginger quickly adds on, holding her hands up in defence. “…But you died, Whiskey.” The cowboy’s jaw is slack, and he looks a little like he did when you first saw him in your kitchen. It feels like a lifetime ago. Ginger continues to speak to the air, “when you were on the flight back from Cambodia, there were some complications from transport. The effects of those complications made you crash the other day, and you died. I’m sorry.”
You jerk your head up suddenly, “Wait, did you say Cambodia?”
“Yeah, that’s where Whiskey… got hurt,” Ginger answers.
“Shit.” You mumble, and clutch onto your necklace.
“What is it, darlin’?” Jack whispers to you.
“My necklace. My roommate visited Cambodia a while back, she bought me this necklace.” You hold onto the pendant. “Could it be coincidental, or have we figured something out?”
“When Poppy died, her entire place was emptied, demolished and parts were recycled. It’s possible, I imagine that it could be some of that metal?”
“So, some of the metal could have been melted down and made into my necklace?”
“Still don’t explain why me though, darlin’” Jack says, frowning.
“Um, Jack still doesn’t get the connection, and to be honest, neither do I?”
“Is it possible that it just happened to be something that belonged to him?” Ginger says softly.
Jack sighs, patting his hip. “My gun? It’d be one of the only things left behind?”
You repeat it to Ginger, and she taps a tablet screen, watches something, and looks back up. “Jack’s knife was put through the meat grinder. If the metal was used for the necklace, it could be acting like some sort of talisman.”
You look up to the cowboy standing next to you, him looking as dumbfounded as you feel. “So then, when you died, it brought you to me?” You whisper, as Jack looks at you, brows furrowed, and gives you a small nod.
A talisman, conduit, a lightning rod, for his what? Spirit? Soul? Consciousness? Your hand is still wrapped around the pendant, holding on to the necklace like an anchor, grounding yourself. This little thing, the smallest impossible chances, has connected the two of you together.
“I need a minute.” You say, and Ginger simply nods as you turn towards the door. You leave her lab, and return to the small room with Whiskey’s unconscious form within, Jack close behind.
“Darlin’?” whispers the cowboy, just a head through the wall, as if mounted on it, as you lean back against the door. Jack finishes walking through the wall, settling next to you, leaning back against it. Stupid metaphysical contradictions. “You alright, sugar?”
“It’s stupid.” You whisper as you turn to face him, a shoulder now supporting you. He mirrors you, leaving you face to face with barely a foot between you. “If I didn’t have this necklace, or if you hadn’t lost your knife, or if the stupid building hadn’t been demolished and recycled, then what? You’d just be there,” you gesture towards the bed, “and that’s it?”
“You could have gotten on with your life, sugar.”
“Oh come on, Cowboy.” You shake your head at him, and lean it back against the wall, a smile spread on your face. “This is the most exciting thing that’s ever happened to me. If I had a choice, I’d pick your moustache and stetson following me around, any day.” A faint smirk pulls at his lips, and a low chuckle escapes him.
“Well, thanks sugar. I’d pick the same.” He watches you blush a little, and you try to hide it from him, looking over to his physical form across the room.
“Are you alright with all this? Being here, seeing yourself like that? You’d tell me right, if you wanted to go?” He looks at your face, the concern written on it, your brows pulled together, and your lips pulled to a thin line. He opens his mouth to speak, when a knock on the door interrupts, breaking through the moment. Ginger slowly appears through the doorway to check on you. “Let me guess, more tests?” You ask her, and she nods, smiling softly.
“I’ve updated Champ, he said he might come down in a bit too, see our progress.”
“I imagine you want me to take the necklace off, right?” You ask Ginger back in the lab, though you’re sure of the answer already.
“It’s just to see if it is that that’s connecting the two of you.”
“But what happens if he disappears and doesn’t come back? What then?”
“It’s… just a risk we’re going to have to take.”
“But what if it’s one I don’t want to take?” You reply, accidentally snapping at Ginger. Jack chuckles lightly, touched at your concern.
“Darlin’, I’ll be fine. I’m already in a coma, what else could go wrong?”
“Well done for jinxing yourself there, Cowboy.” You look between the two, and sigh dramatically when you accept what needs to be done. “Fine. But I will say ‘I told you so’ if this goes badly.”
“Sure thing, sugar.” You reach behind your neck, undoing the latch of the chain, and breathe out when you take it off, keeping your eyes on the man in front of you. You place it into Ginger’s hand, breaking contact with the metal.
Nothing happens. Jack doesn’t vanish, fade or become blurry. “He’s still there,” you breathe out, a smile appearing on your face.
Ginger watches your reaction, a small sad smile on her own lips too. “Okay, um, let me…” she says as she puts it on herself. She waits a moment. “Nothing. I don’t see him…” she shrugs, murmuring to herself, “must have been wrong, I guess.”
She takes it off and passes the necklace back to you, still mumbling things to herself as she walks off to the other side of the room. You secure the necklace back in its rightful place as quickly as possible. Your shoulders relax a little, and you sigh, placing your hand over it in comfort. You look up at Jack again, and give the man a sad smile.
“For what it’s worth Whiskey Cowboy, I’m sorry you’re stuck following me around.”
You turn and start walking towards where Ginger’s stood, and Jack pauses for a moment before whispering to himself, “oh, English, I’m right where I wanna be.”
#Coffee & Cowboys fic#Martha writes#agent whiskey#agent whiskey x reader#kingsman 2#kingsman: the golden circle
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[Loulou*di S3V2 L 3-6] Hana-Doll 3rd Season THINK OF ME:ARK Translation
Translation below the cut.
Google Drive link | Listen to the album on Spotify
Project Archive: L 3-6
Ageha: (wakes up) …This is…?
(Ageha walks forward and draws a curtain)
Ageha: (sighs) I see.
(Someone knocks and enters the room)
Rui: Oh, so you were awake.
Ageha: I very much am. Your knocking’s just a tired formality.
Rui: It’s better than if I don’t.
Ageha: You don’t say.
Rui: Did you manage to sleep well?
Ageha: Yes. I’m wide awake now.
Rui: And how are you feeling?
Ageha: (inhales) … Fine.
Rui: I see. Then–
Ageha: No, that’s not what I meant.
Rui: Hm?
Ageha: I can’t remember when was the last time I ever woke up this refreshed. No matter how much medication I asked for, not even once could I dream.
Rui: So that’s how it is.
Ageha: I’ve completely forgotten what it feels like to just wake up, to face the start of the day with my head this clear.
Rui: (hums)
Ageha: What is it?
Rui: It’s nothing, I just wanted to have your reaffirmation. Your judgment is always correct. I’m glad we decided to come here.
Ageha: The solo concert was nothing short of a success. Seeing the soulless white walls of the medical facility on our opening night just dampened the entire mood. Surely we have the right to spend a few days here for that.
Rui: You’re right. Coming here is–
Ageha: –a first. It’s nice and quiet. I always knew there was a dual use facility. The one who financed Amagiri Production to own this place was my father.
Rui: I had no idea.
Ageha: It was a desolate mountain recess, with no real value or importance. At least, that was what I gathered.
Rui: No wonder this place is located so far away from civilization.
Ageha: I heard that it will be reconstructed as a cultural asset once it has fulfilled its purpose. It’s more convenient that way, with my father filling a government seat and the production company unable to use it in public.
Rui: I see. That’s why the facility is dual use.
Ageha: All that aside, didn’t you come here because you needed something?
(Ageha and Rui enter another room)
Ageha: …Toki. Is he conscious?
Rui: Yes. He’s alright.
Rui: (walks over) Toki-bou.
Toki: Rui-san.
Rui: Ageha’s here.
Toki: Ageha-san! Good morning.
Ageha: Good morning.
Toki: Sorry for not noticing you earlier, I was just lost in my own thoughts.
Ageha: … You seem to be in high spirits today.
Toki: That’s right, I feel amazing.
Ageha: That’s good.
Toki: I don’t even really need the wheelchair anymore. I can walk perfectly fine on my own, but Rui-san insisted that I use it.
Ageha: It’s because he just absolutely loves meddling with other people’s business.
Rui: … I’ll go prepare a meal.
Toki: Rui-san, you can cook?
Rui: I can if it’s something simple, but there’s no ingredients to use at the moment. The meal will be tablets. House system, morning plates for Ageha, Rui and Toki.
Toki: Seriously? Boo.
Ageha: ‘Something simple’, he says?
Toki: Huh? Ageha-san hasn’t tried Rui-san’s food before?
Ageha: In the training academy and star class dormitories, the meals are entirely monitored.
Toki: Ah, I see.
Rui: I would cook if I had the chance.
Ageha: I’ll pass on putting anything you make into my mouth.
Rui: The AI here functions more or less at the same capacity as the one in the dormitory. With the medical monitoring protocol, there’s not much I can do, even if I wanted to.
Ageha: ‘Even if I wanted to’?
Rui: I meant to say it as a form of reassurance.
Toki: I get it… so that’s why there’s nobody else here.
Rui: The staff were ordered to leave as per Ageha’s wishes, to be exact. With the AI, the level of monitoring is the same as in the dormitory. It will be enough for daily activities, even unmanned.
Ageha: I didn’t want to put up with their excessive instructions and counseling. This is our time off from work.
Toki: Time off?
Ageha: Yes. It’s not an ordinary rest day. It’s our special reward, for attaining a worthy achievement.
Toki: It’s special? So that’s why it’s just the three of us here in this nice place.
Ageha: Will you be bored, with just me and Rui?
Toki: No, not at all! I’m glad it’s just us three. There’ll be no one else getting in our way and disturbing us!
Rui: I’m pleased as well. Having our days off at the dormitory becomes dull after a while. Especially for Ageha.
Ageha: Rui…
Rui: I’m only stating the truth, not my concern.
Toki: That’s ‘cause resting up is also a part of our job, right?
Rui: As you said.
Ageha: (sighs) Toki. You can do the things you like during this time.
Toki: Do what I like? Oh, I wonder what I should do?
Rui: If you can’t decide, then we’ll have our meal first.
Toki: I’ll get the plates!
(Toki gets up and walks over to help Rui. They converse away from Ageha.
Toki: Is this my plate?
Rui: Go back and sit down.
Toki: Come on, I’ll be okay taking the plates!
Rui: Are you really that hungry?
Toki: Eh? (giggles)
)
Ageha: (laughs to himself)
Ageha: Rui. Toki. The tablets don’t have any flavor anyway, and with this nice weather, why don’t we eat outside in the garden?
Rui: …That concludes my report.
Staff member A: Seems like his condition has stabilized; that’s a relief. Now let’s take a look at the results of the medical check. (types something in) Looks good. It’s perfectly stable.
Rui: It might be from the success of the live performance, or even being able to be at ease in this environment. It seems that both treatments are having a noticeable effect.
Staff member A: I was initially worried about what would happen.
Rui: I sincerely apologize for causing concern.
Staff member A: I hope that this stability won’t be temporary. Changing the topic, what about you?
Rui: What about myself?
Staff member A: How are you feeling about your current condition?
Rui: There’s nothing in particular to report. Has there been a drastic change observed?
Staff member A: It’s just a personal compulsion. Besides…
Rui: Hmm?
Staff member A: The dual-use facility isn’t a place of fond memories for you, am I right?
Rui: Are you talking about Amemiya?
Staff member A: That’s right. When you came to check up on him, he–
Rui: There’s no need to concern yourself. I’ve said it once before: The emotions I was born with aren’t pretty.
Staff member A: Yes, I remember you saying that. But you are still an idol of Amagiri Production, a test subject of the Hana-Doll Project, and a member of Loulou*di. Please keep that in mind.
Rui: Of course.
Staff member A: I won’t police you about what you can or can’t do during your break, but please take care of yourselves. Also, please don’t enter any rooms that you don’t need to use.
Rui: Understood. I will be in touch.
(The screen switches off)
Staff member B: Good work out there.
Staff member A: Ah, thanks.
Staff member B: Loulou*di seems to be in good spirits, don't they?
Staff member A: Well, at least that’s what the latest data’s saying.
Staff member B: Please don’t try to scare us.
Staff member A: It’s scary to begin with. To think that just one performance could stabilize everything. We didn’t even need to step in to amp up their condition.
Staff member B: Isn’t that a good thing?
Staff member A: This recovery isn’t some touching success story.
Staff member B: What happened to the guy that was all ‘Now this is the positive emotion that should be used to influence the flower’?
Staff member A: That’s what I thought would work. But as the caretaker of the host[1] who bears the weight of this influence, how am I going to report and present the data to Dr Toudou? (types something in) No consistency across the data means no possibility of replicating the result. Carving the miracles of God on slabs of clay can’t be called research.
Staff member B: … What’s this? Their biorhythm is being sent here in real-time, isn’t it?
Staff member A: That’s right. Something got your attention?
Staff member B: Yes. Could you give me a moment with this? (goes to type something) A few days ago, I was here wiping out all of Loulou*di’s old data.
Staff member A: Eh? And what about it?
Staff member B: I wanted to get a deeper understanding of the project. There wasn’t much data left on Chihiro and with Anthos* being the latest addition, there’s been too many new entries popping up for them. It hasn’t been that long since they debuted, right? So I thought about using Loulou*di as my subject of analysis.
Staff member A: You were able to pull all of that up from just those few operations? Looks like you’ve got more of a backbone than a thought.
Staff member B: I’ve simply decided to graduate from being a greenhorn and start being a real researcher. As for the summary for this… here it is.
Staff member A: I see. Your perspective isn’t a bad start, but next time, send in a request to access the library before you begin your work.
Staff member B: Eh?
Staff member A: If you need this level of data… (types a few keys) …then this should do.
Staff member B: …Oh, my god.
Staff member A: Now let’s not put all your hard work to waste. What’s next?
Staff member B: Ah, yes… These values are from this morning, right? See, over here.
Staff member A: Hmm?
Staff member B: These values from him… Just what type of waveform is this? I’ve never encountered it before, so I’m just wondering what it was.
Staff member A: Now that you’ve mentioned it…
Translator’s Notes:
The dialogue for ‘host’ is spoken as ‘yadonushi (やどぬし)’, for which the kanji is ‘宿主’ and the definition is ‘landlord’. However, this kanji can also be read as ‘shukushuu (しゅくしゅ)’, which means ‘parasitic host’. This is also the more common understanding of the kanji.
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These fucking cargo crates
alright I’m doing another analysis because iron cameraman got me thinking about those damn crates. It always goes back to those damn cargo containers.
I am going to do this in the form of the 5 w’s and 1 h because it makes everything more organized for me. Maybe I’ll put miscellaneous questions on later. I’ll also go over everything I know about the containers and say some speculations.
SPOILERS FOR 72 PART 1 AND THOSE BEFORE BTW
WHO?
Who is involved with these crates? According to DFB, the containers contain the head scientist’s last project, so it’s pretty important to not only the plot but the character in general, because the scientist is dead. Another intresting thing that has been pointed out is that Gman himself (or a clone version of him) is guarding and supervising the movement of the cargo. Gives it even more meaning that one of the leaders of the faction is spending precious war time to be with these crates. I bet the scientist himself would have supervised the crates because of their importance(idk why i said that).
WHEN?
When is this episode taking place? When were these crates first teased to us? Well from the pov tablet we get at the beginning of 72, this is happening after scientists death. I think we see the Gman directing a moving crew or preparation drew all the way back in the full episode 69, and this moving crew was in charge of getting the cargo packed up and ready to leave. This move was going to happen whether or not scientist died. At first I thought that scientist was going to come with the crates, because he motioned for the guards to guard the door in season 22, but then I remembered that these guards were around when he was talking to secret agent, so it was confidential. The conversation he had with secret agent was also intresting, even though secret agent was the only one talking. If goes as follows, to the best of my knoweladge: ‘Because I am out there. You’re not needed. You cannot escape. My little pawn will kill you. Guess I can’t be trusted. Goodbye.’ It’s intresting to me how secret agent switches up on his language from full on threatening to kind of guilt tripping. Maybe they had an alliance at some point, and that alliance provided something that is in the crate? I don’t know why I think these two are connected. All I know is that scientist is dead, and Gman probably doesn’t know because he would have had a reaction of some kind. Scientist was probably going to also go with the cargo with the mech suit, before he died.
half of that paragraph isn’t digestible I’m so sorry I’m doing this late and i just want to get it out and see what yall think.
WHERE?
Where are they taking the crates? I think that they are taking them to a new base, or at least another location after they found out that the current base wasn’t safe anymore for the crates. They could also be taking the crates out into the open, because whatever is in the crates needs to be set loose or is finished. The location also depends on what state the project is in. I wish I could find the original screenshot of dfb saying stuff about the crate, the dialect he uses is probably very useful. But the project could be incomplete with all the security and secrecy around it, and the idea that scientist was going to come with his work before he was killed. But I like to think that the project is finished and waiting to be released.
WHY?
Why is the cargo being carried in the air? Do the toilets not have teleportation technology? Or does only scientist have it and can choose to give it to whoever he wants and didn’t give it to Gman for some reason? I think it’s more likely that they didn’t need to teleport to a new base or building but this is them trying to place the finished project away. Or maybe the crates are diversions, and they want to be seen and stopped even though dfb said that it’s a project I’m going insane can you tell
Why did the Astro detained let the crates past him? He is super speedy and has the power and full ability to knock the crates out of the air and into the ground. But he didn’t. Either detainer doesn’t care what’s in the crates, or he knows what they are and they don’t relate to him. He wants to bully Gman.
HOW?
I like how the crates are being carried by two skibidii back too back. The crates are extremely fortified, after being shot at by lasers twice and getting hit with something else. I couldn’t think of nothing for how, give me questions. How does Gman not know his husband is dead. Maybe he does, if he was supposed to come with them for the crates.
WHAT?
the questions that has everyone crying and banging their fists against the floor. WHAT’S IN THOSE CRATES? We know it’s scientists last project. And scientist typically makes other species of Skibidi toilets or weapons. So I’m going to go for the boring answer. It’s a weapon that could change the tide of the war, maybe it has something to do with the TVs. Maybe it’s a launcher or something. I don’t think they are decoys. There’s way too much preparation and security for them to be just empty Amazon boxes. It’s not relating to Astro, probably. But based on dfb we’re not going to get anything for the next episode or two, so the crate may get to its location. But we know that whatever’s in that crate is going to be epic :}
god im such a fucking looser
#skibidi toilet#Deranged night post#I wasn’t mentally here for the majority#I love contradicting myself every other paragraph#Cargocratesboxescargocargoes crates crates cargo
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Villain Arcane
Chapter Four, y'all.
Chapter List
It was a bit disorienting seeing AJ, Davenport and Douglas all in the same place, especially when it wasn’t the lab. It was even more disorienting to see them all come out of the Hyperlift with big smiles on their faces. It felt incorrect.
“We did it!” Douglas exclaimed. He was holding a laptop.
“We tracked down the location of Chase’s communicator,” AJ elaborated, as if it weren’t obvious.
“I should’ve guessed; he’s back in Mission Creek, where I built him,” Douglas said, “The closest thing he has to a home is the rubble he died in.”
“What?” Oliver asked, but got no answer. It seemed everyone else knew what it was though.
“Is that where he is then?” Bree asked, “Because if he is, I can just run and get him.”
“No, no,” Douglas said. “We can send the coordinates to your chip though. AJ?”
AJ had a tablet; considerably easier to use standing up than a laptop. AJ always carried around the same one, but after an amount of time being invited into the exclusive knowledge of the Elite Force, it was given access to Davenport Industries, along with an increase in security.
“Got it, be back in a flash,” Bree said before speeding off.
“It’s weird knowing that it’s literal with her,” Oliver said. He earned a small stifled laugh from Douglas, but a slight glare from everyone else, indicating that the joy of the moment did not erase how tense the whole situation was.
The tension in the room just got thicker while they waited with every second that Bree hadn’t returned.
“How long does this usually take her?” Skylar asked after a couple of minutes. Oliver could tell that Kaz felt uneasy at the question.
It made sense. The girl with superspeed is concerned about the other super speeded girl’s speed. They’d just lost a teammate— a bionic one at that. It was apparently someone who had a long grudge against the Davenport family.
Before any of them could start panicking too much, Bree finally sped back in. Alone.
“Where’s Chase?” Kaz asked, his voice clearly conveying his anxiety.
“I don’t know,” Bree said. “He wasn’t there.” She pulled a piece of paper out of her back pocket. “There was another note though.”
This time Skylar took it out of Bree’s hand and read it out loud.
“‘It’s pointless looking for us. I can’t believe you don’t trust me, after all we’ve been through. You’ll see Chase soon enough.’”
“Did you really have to go and invent Marcus?” Bree spat, hitting Douglas in the shoulder.
“Sure, no one cares about the amazing scientific feat it took,” Douglas grumbled.
“I’m so sorry, I-I thought we got it—”
“AJ, you did get it. It’s just that Marcus moved,” Kaz reassured, like he knew Chase would.
“If he radios again we might be able to trace it faster now,” Davenport mentioned. Kaz nodded.
“We’ll keep our radios on.”
“When’s the last time he radioed in?” Bree asked.
“Last night,” Oliver spoke up.
“Yeah, you didn’t hear it?” Kaz asked.
“Well, someone had me hand over my radio to my dad, my uncle and some weird kid in our apartment building,” Bree sassed. “No offence, AJ.” AJ shrugged.
“None taken,” He said.
“I heard it,” Skylar said, “It was really sweet,” She said. She was smiling at Kaz and Oliver could barely hold back his grimace.
“Yeah, it was,” Kaz agreed.
“Wait, what was it?” Bree asked.
“Oh, I’m not at liberty to share,” Skylar said, putting her hands up defensively. “But I do definitely think that it means we should find him as soon as possible,” She said, a big smile on her face.
Of course she would think that. Oliver understands that Skylar was never his. Fine. He could deal with that. But did she really have to date that ‘intellectually superior,’ bionic asshole? Did she really have to have a relationship with someone Oliver hated? How was that fair?
“Don’t you think he can handle himself?” Oliver suddenly asked. He wasn’t thinking. His right mind was long gone. “I mean, if he’s so amazing, right?”
“Oliver, what are you talking about?” Kaz asked tiredly.
“You guys are working so hard to get him back that you don’t even realise that things have been going way smoother without him. We’ve been working better together, things have been going way easier without him telling everyone what to do! He claims to have stepped down as mission leader, yet he still acts like he’s in charge!
“Things have been going fine without him, why do we even have to get him back? If he’s truly ‘Elite,’ can’t he escape Marcus without our help?”
The room fell silent. The first person to do anything was actually AJ. He just entered the hyperlift and left. He clearly didn’t want to be a part of this right now.
“Oliver, you can’t seriously mean that,” Kaz finally said hesitantly.
“What if I do?”
No one responded.
“I think you should get away for a bit,” Skylar offered. “Clear your head.” She led him to the door. “Come to your senses.”
Oliver was pushed out of the door before he could even argue.
He probably wouldn’t have anyway. He did, however, sigh and roll his eyes before boarding the elevator down to the lobby.
He got halfway across the floor.
“Must be really upset if you’re coming out of the apartment alone,” He heard, that same deep voice that made him falter. Oliver was able to turn to the source of the voice.
Marcus of course. He was leaning against the wall. There was no one else in the lobby at the time, and for some reason Oliver didn’t even question it.
“Tell me. What happened?” Marcus asked. Oliver swallowed, but stepped closer.
“Nothing,” He said bitterly, “It doesn’t matter.”
“Wow. Must’ve been bad,” He said. “Don’t worry.” Marcus put his hand under Oliver’s chin. “I’m here for you,” He said, flicking his hand up and away. “If you want,” He added.
And Oliver just couldn’t help it.
“Yes.”
#lab rats#lab rats elite force#mighty med#oliver mm#oliver lref#chase davenport#skylar storm#kaz mm#kaz lref#bree davenport#aj lref#donald davenport#douglas davenport#marcus davenport#villain arcane#villain arc
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You know what makes me sad? The whole Digital artist vs Traditional artist thing.
It’s gotten better but, even I have had multiple encounters IRL where I’d tell people I’m an artist but as soon as I’d explain I work digitally they would get really.. condescending??? I understand a lot of it is from a place of not knowing and I try to patiently educate people but some people don’t even let me educate them, brushing off what I have to say usually ‘cause they’re older than me.
These people probably exist so I’m not saying they do not but y’know what I always found interesting? As far as I’m aware, no digital artist (who people also support and is not a salty 15 year old (sorry, it’s true. Source: I was 15 once)) has ever gone “Wow! This traditional art? How lame!” Some digital artists are.. weeeirdly biased against traditional artists but all in all everyone respects it and admires traditional art, but as soon as you flip it, people start to question the validity of your work. “Oh well, this isn’t real art.” “You didn’t draw it yourself” and so on. All the shit you’ve heard before. I just thought it’s so interesting how as soon as artists discover some shortcuts for paintings, drawings, etc. and find new mediums, it’s.. shunned and put down.
Interestingly enough, that’s how it can be seen throughout art history though. Artists discover a new style and paint in it, “pah that’s not real art, realism is real art” and 100 years later those paintings go for insane amounts of money and have huge followings of people who appreciate it and love those styles.
So.. I truly hope it dies out. I so, so badly want to put the “You didn’t draw it yourself” people in front of my drawing tablet and go “okay. Make it draw for you. I’m waiting” because those same people will 100% only be able to draw a stickman and then go “This is so hard.” But hey, judging shit you don’t know anything about is always easier than to at least give it a try or try to get educated on it. :P
Not mad. Just.. rambling things that have been buzzing in my head the past days. ‘cause I remembered those encounters I had IRL and they make me so deeply mad because I know that those same people would not have said anything like that if I was a traditional artist. As if we’re not all artists and creators, putting such a divide between us. I always thought it’s so silly.
I am envious of those who can do traditional art. I am trying but I just can’t (yet). I can do crafts. Hell, I make fursuits. Which is like crafting olympics lmfao. But I got no talent for traditional art. Invested all my skill points into digital art. XD
I will of course keep studying and trying to get good at it but it takes time, which is ok.
But I’m glad it overall has been getting accepted more and more. I hope we stop dividing artists like this in the future or putting anyone down based on their medium of choice.
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I See You | Din Djarin x Male Reader
Fandom: Star Wars, The Mandalorian
Pairing: Din Djarin x male!reader
Summary: Din returns to his husband after Grogu’s departure.
WARNING: This has spoilers for the finale of season 2 of the Mandalorian! You have been warned.
…
As the Slave One flew towards the landing pad, Din could only think about the Razor Crest and how it felt to land her right there knowing he was home. He wouldn’t be doing that anymore, he wouldn’t be able to. The Razor Crest was gone...and so was Grogu.
Din tried not to think of it. The Razor Crest being gone hurt him greatly, he had that ship for years. Pretty much since he went out to become a bounty hunter. It was part of his armor, part of him...and now that part was gone.
Of course, the Razor Crest wasn’t the only thing that was gone. Along with his ship, Grogu was gone as well. The little womp rat stole his heart and had taken it with him. He had tried his best to get Grogu back from Gideon, he hadn’t expected a Jedi to show up and take Grogu away from him so fast. He understood it was important for Grogu to be with someone who knew how to train him, but it still hurt. He barely had time to say goodbye.
“We’re here.” Boba Fett’s voice spoke out.
The sound of the ship's engine died down a bit. Din saw the house not too far from the landing pad. He hadn’t been there in a few weeks. His home. Din stood from the seat, Boba and Fennec following him to the ramp.
“Thank you.” Din said, turning to the pair. “For all your help. You didn’t need to help me, but you did. I won’t forget it.”
Boba nodded. “Only returned a favor.” Boba then reached out his hand. “You’ll always have an ally here.”
“Thank you.”
Fennec nodded at him. “I’m sorry things didn’t end the way you wanted them to. I know you weren’t expecting to lose him again so soon.”
Din was quiet for a moment before nodding. “Yeah.” He turned to the house in front of him before turning back to the pair. “Thank you again.” With that, he walked down the ramp and towards the house. As he walked he heard the engines of the Slave One powering up again. He heard the ship flying off and far away from them. He was alone again.
As he walked towards the front door of the house, he passed by a large garden that was growing lots of different types of fruits and vegetables. He heard the sound of animals in the distance. After walking for what seemed like forever he reached the front door. He pressed his hand to the scanning pad and heard the door unlock with a clink.
Din then took a breath before stepping inside.
The moment Din stepped inside of the house he instantly calmed. The inside was warm. Both in temperature and spirit. They had worked hard to make this place a home and it was showing now. Speaking of the other person who helped make this home with Din…
The man walked out of a room into the living room. He was busy looking at a datapad and hadn’t noticed Din just yet. Din smiled underneath his helmet. There was his husband. “M/n.” Immediately, the man looked up from the tablet and broke into a bright smile. “Din.” He rushed at the Mandalorian, crashing into him with a tight hug. Din was quick to hug his husband back. “I missed you.”
“I missed you too.” Din said back to him.
M/n pulled back before looking down and around the floor. “I’m guessing by the absence of a little green baby...you found a Jedi?”
Din went quiet and nodded. “Yeah. I did.”
M/n gave him a small smile and gently rubbed his arm. “It’ll be okay. He’ll never forget you, and you’ll never forget him.” M/n let go of his husband's arm and began walking back. “Now...let me make you something to eat you must be starving.”
Din watched M/n walk towards the kitchen, as he did, he wondered if he should do the thing he's always thought about doing for M/n. M/n had never brought it up. He knew it was part of Din’s code and had always respected him for it. But Din knew his husband wanted to see him. He’d already done it twice very recently, his code was already broken...why not do it for M/n?
Without thinking any more on the subject Din moved his hands up to his helmet. He would be lying if he said it didn’t scare him, but this is M/n. His husband. He wouldn’t make things difficult for Din. Then just like that, his helmet was off.
“So what are you in the mood for? I can make Shaak, Kaadu, anything you wa-” M/n stopped as he took in the sight of his husband's face. A face he’s only caught glances of from reflections and from the side. “Din…”
“M/n. I had to take my helmet off to help Grogu.” Din thought of the first time he had to take his helmet off in the Imperial Refinery. Then the time he took it off when he said goodbye to Grogu...and all the people that saw his face. His code was already broken, but did the code really matter? “I don’t want to hide my face anymore. Not from you.”
M/n smiled and let out a huffed laugh before walking closer and holding Din’s head in his hands. He let his fingers trace every line of the man’s face, taking in every inch of him. Din brought his own gloved hands up to hold his husband’s face. It was clear, unlike looking through a visor he was able to see M/n clearly.
“I see you.” M/n said with a smile.
“I see you too.”
#star wars#din djarin#din djarin x male reader#din djarin x male!reader#din djarin x reader#the mandalorian#the mandalorian x male reader#the mandalorian x male!reader
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Secrets (Three) || Bucky Barnes
pairing: bucky barnes x reader
summary: bucky, natasha and sam find out where you’ve been taken and attempt to find you and bring you back. meanwhile you find yourself in an icy situation.
a/n: reblogs and replies are super appreciated!
word count: 3.1k
warnings: full angst, mentions of kidnapping and blood, someone attempts to kill reader as vengeance, violence
Prologue, One, Two
masterlist || request || taglist
When Sam’s eyes met Natasha’s as he and Bucky burst in through the doors of the lab at the Avengers Compound, he immediately grabbed hold of her arm and pulled her to the side, leaving Bucky to speak to Banner.
“What’s going-”
Before Natasha could even finish her sentence however, Sam cut her off in a hushed voice.
“Bucky didn’t tell his wife anything.” Sam explained, glancing over his shoulder to make sure the super soldier wasn’t listening. “Nothing about being a 100 year-old man. Nothing about being a super soldier-”
“Barnes didn’t tell her anything?” She asked.
“Nothing.” Sam confirmed. “He’s been lying to her this whole time.”
Glancing over at the other man in the room, Natasha shook her head.
“Shit.” She swore. “You think you know somebody... why didn’t Barnes tell her?”
“He figured she would leave-”
“So what?” Natasha said. “How can you start a family with someone and you don’t even tell them the truth? Hell, Barton told Laura everything a month into their relationship. That’s not an excuse.”
Thinking of her friend who had died for her back on Vormir so she could bring the soul stone back home, she could feel the anger running through her veins, but as quickly as it had washed over her, it had faded away as she looked at the man in front of her and the distress he was in.
“It just... it makes me sick, you know?” Sam said. “I should of... I should of noticed this... I should have known. Maybe she wouldn’t be in this mess right now if-”
Shaking her head, understanding the path Sam was heading down, Natasha laid her hand gently on Sam’s shoulder.
“This isn’t your fault, Sam.” She reassured him. “It’s not your job to take care of him. He should’ve known better.”
Sam knew that she was right. Bucky was a grown man, older than him who should have known better than to lie to those he cared about, but Sam couldn't help but feel guilty, knowing there was a woman out there who was kidnapped because of his friend’s mistakes.
Noticing the slump in Sam’s shoulder’s, she squeezed his shoulder once more before pulling away.
“We’re going to handle this, Wilson. It’s okay.” Natasha reassured him one last time. “I’m used to cleaning up after you boys- this isn’t any different.”
Leaving Sam in his spot, Natasha made her way to the center of the lab besides where Bucky was standing on the other side of a counter facing Bruce.
“Well,” Burce said holding Bucky’s phone in his hands. “It looks like you don’t even need my help. Her phone’s location is still on.”
Drumming his fingers on the table and tapping his foot against the linoleum floor, Bucky began to feel his heart race in his chest.
“And?” He asked, raising his voice. “That’s it? You can’t give us more than her phone location-”
Glancing between Bruce and Bucky, Natasha turned her attention to the man beside her, laying her hand his metal one, halting his fingers from tapping against the countertop.
“Woah Barnes.” She eased. “Calm down-”
“Don’t tell me to calm down!” He shouted once again, pulling his hand away from Natasha’s. “This is my wife.” He said, turning back to Bruce. “You can’t do better than a phone location? What makes you think she’s even there and she didn’t just drop it-”
“I don’t know your wife, but I’m guessing people don’t just lose their phones at old S.H.I.E.L.D bases.” Bruce said, cutting him off.
Sliding the device back across the table, Bucky caught the phone in his hands, glancing between your phone’s location on his screen and the other Avengers in the room.
“That doesn’t make any sense.” Sam said, making his way over from the other side of the room. “Why wouldn’t they get rid of her phone?”
Although the others in the room continued to discuss why you would be there and where there course of action would go from there, Bucky had tuned them out, staring at a wall on the far side of the room.
He understood why they didn’t turn your location off or throw your phone away. Better yet, he knew the S.H.I.E.L.D base you were at... he had been there himself. They had held him there, cryogenically freezing him during his time as the Winter Soldier.
Thinking about you in the base and the implications of what that meant, Bucky’s hands began to shake. As his phone fell from his hands, the sound of the glass shattering notified the other members in the room, halting their conversation. They turned their attention towards Bucky.
“Barnes?” Natasha asked.
“Buck-“
“They want us to go there and get her.” Bucky said, his mouth going dry. “They want me... I... I know this place.”
Glancing at each other and then the sullen man, Natasha was the first speak up.
“How do you know the place, Barnes?”
Beginning to feel his heart quicken in his chest, he attempted to find the words to explain the situation to those in front of him.
“They used to hold me there.” Bucky said. “That’s where they... that’s where they kept me frozen when they didn’t need me.”
At his confession, Natasha was the first one to move from her spot. Making her way over to Bucky, she picked his phone up off the floor and shoved it into his chest.
“If that’s true, we have to move now.” Natasha said, patting Sam’s back, making her way towards the door. “Suit up, boys!”
-
You swore if you had eaten within the past 16 hours you would have thrown up by now. The videos didn’t stop with the first one. The man forced you to watch more and more across all decades with so many different victims. It was sickening. After sitting there for so long your eyes began to burn and your stomach began to churn you squeezed your eyes shut, throwing your head back.
“Why are you showing me all of this?” You asked the man beside you. “I didn't... I didn’t know. If I had... I don’t... why are you coming after him? What did he do to you?”
Pulling the tablet away from your face, placing it on the table besides him, the man made his way over to the front of where you were seated, kneeling on the floor front of you.
“I’m glad you have finally asked, Mrs. Barnes-”
“Y/n.” You cut him off. “My name is Y/n.”
Not missing the fact that you had so quickly dissociated yourself from the man you had once called your husband earlier that day, the man continued.
“Y/n,” He said, testing the name before continuing. “You want to know why I want the Winter Soldier?”
You nodded.
“I want the winter soldier because he killed my wife.”
As soon as the words left his mouth, bitterness lacing every syllable, your eyes widened and you began to feel the pace of your heart quicken in your chest.
“I’m so sorr-“
“I went to your home this morning with the intention of finding your husband and killing him for what he did to my wife.” The still unnamed man said, pushing himself up from where he was kneeling in front of you, pacing around your chair. “They said she was just in the wrong place at the wrong time... she was innocent. She didn’t do anything.”
Although the man had kidnapped you, you felt your heart shatter in your chest for him. He had lost his wife. A woman who had no place losing her life, but did by the hands of a brainwashed assassin... your husband.
The same man who had told you nothing about the past. The same man who had lied to your face all these years.
The reason you were now sitting tied up in a seat in an abandoned operations base.
“So, imagine my surprise when I find he has a wife of his own.” The man said, stopping in front of you.
As he leaned forward, his face inching closer to yours, you leaned back in your seat desperate to get away from him.
Seeing the anger and despair in his eyes that were inches away from yours, you began to feel your own tears prickle in your eyes as you struggled in the seat, realizing now that you would be his mode of revenge.
“I didn’t... I didn’t do anything.” You pleaded. “I didn’t even know!”
Stepping away from you, you watched as the two other men descended the staircase, standing behind the man in charge.
“I understand, Y/n.” He said. “You were just a woman who got caught in another man’s mess. I feel sorry for you... I do... you were in the wrong place for far too long a time and you didn’t even know it. It saddens me to do this, Y/n, but your husband has to pay.”
Watching as the two men walked past their boss to your chair, turning it around to face the wall behind you, you were suddenly met with the holding tube you had seen photos of Bucky in during his time in cryo standing against the wall.
“What- wait!” You shouted, struggling in your seat. “There has to be something I can do-“
Despite your struggling you felt as the two men undid the ties on the ropes that had been wrapped around your wrists and ankles, each taking one of your arms in their’s.
“No wait!” You shouted at the man in charge. “Please! I didn’t do anything! I didn’t know!”
Rather than reply you watched as the man pinched the bridge of his nose, turning his back towards you.
Kicking at the ground below you, they dragged you towards the container, your heels scratched against the cold floor as you shouted, tears running down your face as you begged them to let you go.
In the end it was futile as they threw you into the container, slamming the door shut before you even had time to scramble to your feet. Hearing the door click in the lock you slammed the palms of your hands against the glass, beginning to hear the rush of air out of the vents and the cold bite of frost against your skin.
-
As soon as Sam threw the car into park, Bucky swung the door open and rushed out of the vehicle, Natasha quick on his heal.
“I know Y/n is in there, Barnes,” She said. “But we need to be careful in there. We don’t know who we’re dealing with.”
Glaring at Natasha, he shook his head, clicking the safety off on his gun.
“We’re dealing with someone who took my wife.” He said seriously, kicking in the door of the base. “That’s all I need to know.”
Entering first into the building, memories began to rush into Bucky’s mind- chopped up pieces of a life lived by someone else.
When his mind had been freed he had hoped that he would never have to see the inside of one of these facilities again but he should’ve known he wouldn’t be so lucky. Something was always going to come back to get him- he had just hoped it was him- now he wished it wasn’t you.
Making his way down a familiar staircase, leading down to the open area of the base where he used to be kept, he listened for any sign of where you were. You had to be there. When he shoved open the doors to the balcony that overlooked the large room he leaned over the railing, watching as two men slammed the door to the container shut, a loud ring sounding throughout the room.
Making his way towards the stairs leading down from the balcony, he heard pounding against the glass of the container coming from the inside.
“Y/n!” Bucky shouted, for once being glad he had been given the serum with the rate he was rushing down the stairs.
As soon as your name left his lips, the three other men in the room snapped their heads towards the super soldier.
“Mr. Barnes.” The man in charge greeted him, still standing straight in his spot. “I had hoped you would have gotten here sooner.”
Glancing over the man’s shoulder, Bucky’s gun raised and pointed at the man, he heard the sound of your palms pounding against the walls of the container, the sound of your wedding ring scratching against the glass with each blow.
Dropping the gun from his hands, the sound of its impact ringing throughout the room, he ran over to the container. Searching for a way to unlatch the handle, Bucky watched as the temperature in the container began to drop dramatically. His palms slamming against the glass, his eyes met yours on the other side, but before he was sure you even had time to register his presence, he watched as your eyelids fell shut, your body going slump against the walls of the container.
The ice beginning to freeze over the glass, Bucky pulled at the handle of the container, his nail beds growing bloody as he tried his hardest to pull it open and free you once and for all.
“Fuck!” He shouted.
“Mr. Barnes-”
Before the asshole in charge could speak once more, Bucky heard as the man grunted. Glancing over his shoulder as he continued to pull the handle, groaning from the strain that it did not seem to be giving at all, he watched as Natasha kicked the man in the stomach.
Just as the man fell to the ground, however, the two other men in the room came after Bucky. Feeling one of their hands land on his arm, Bucky released the handle form his grasp, grabbing the collar of one of the men’s shirts and shoved him back against the container, knocking him unconscious.
The other man with a knife in his hand came hurling at Bucky directly after. Dodging the blade, Bucky swiftly punched the man’s stomach, a grunt emitting from his mouth, swinging at Bucky once again. This time he caught the arm of the man, attempting to twist the knife out of his grasp. Just as the blade was about to fall, the man fell into Bucky’s arms and when he looked up his eyes met Sam’s.
“I could have handled that.” Bucky told him, turning his attention back to the container.
“I’m sure.” Sam lied.
Watching as the dial on the thermometer continued to drop far below where even he had been frozen at, Bucky’s heart began to once again race in his chest.
“Shit!” He shouted.
“It’s futile, Mr. Barnes.” He heard the only conscious man- the one in charge say. “She’s going below temperatures no man has ever come back from.”
Feeling the tears beginning to flood in his eyes as he watched the glass frost over, he felt Sam’s hand on his shoulder.
“Buck?” He said. “Don’t listen to him. We’re going to get this open.”
Although he heard his friend, his mind was elsewhere, thinking of how this was all his fault. You were innocent. You didn't deserve to die for his sins- especially those you didn’t even know about. Staring at the glass, he had begun to lose hope until he saw one tiny crack beginning to form in the glass in the place he had just thrown the first man who came after him. Beginning to form an idea, Bucky shrugged Sam’s hand off of his shoulder.
Throwing his vibranium fist against the glass, he heard as the crack grew. Punching his fist against the glass once again, he watched as the line stretched across the glass.
Having all the confirmation he needed, he began throwing both of his fists against the glass- vibranium and flesh. He ignored the sound of Sam’s voice, for sure advising him against damaging his bloodied, flesh hand against the glass, continuing to try his hardest to get to you.
He had to get to you.
He had to.
Glancing at the dial once again, the temperature had dropped so far it had gone past where even the thermometer could recognize.
Even though he knew better, he had to convince himself that you were going to be okay because you had to.
He couldn’t do this without you.
He didn’t want to.
Throwing one last punch with his flesh hand, the glass shattered, falling at his feet and scratching up his already torn, bloodied hand.
Sticking his vibranium arm inside the container, ice immediately frosted over it, freezing his arm in the spot. Still, he reached out for you, his unmoving fingers hooking into your frozen t-shirt, pulling you out of the container.
As soon as your body met the floor outside of the container, the ground around you began to turn to ice, matching the substance that coated your entire form.
“What the-” Sam said, stepping out of the range of the ice.
Kneeling beside your body, his knees freezing on the ice, he looked for any sign that you were still inside the icicle surrounding you. When your eyes didn’t open, he stuck his flesh hand above your face. When he saw and felt the frost begin to coat the palm of his hand, he sighed in relief.
You were breathing.
By some miracle, you were alive.
“She’s alive.” Bucky mumbled to himself, barely believing it. “She’s alive!”
Making a fist, the ice cracked off of his hands and he looked up to meet Natasha and Sam’s wide eyes.
“Is that... coming from her?” Sam asked, looking at the ice surrounding the ground in front of him.
“We have to get her out of here.” Natasha said, slipping her jacket off of her own shoulders, slowly stepping on the ice and wrapping it around your unconscious figure. “We should take her back to the Compound.”
Nodding and still in shock, Bucky made his way towards you, picking you up and off the ground, careful to only hold you where your body was covered in Natasha’s jacket, your body still covered in ice.
“What about the other guys?” Sam asked, gesturing to the three other unconscious men in the room.
“I called someone to handle it.” She said.
Staring at the ice surrounding the ground, your body coated in frost and the ice spreading down the back of Bucky’s shirt as he carried you, Natasha glanced between the two men.
“Something tells me we have something more important to worry about.”
#bucky barnes x reader#bucky barnes x y/n#bucky barnes x you#bucky barnes fanfiction#bucky barnes oneshot#Bucky Barnes imagine#bucky barnes angst#Bucky Barnes drabble#bucky barnes fic
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hear those bells ring deep in the soul (a katsuki bakugo/reader fic)
Summary: Pro Hero Dynamight was Japan’s Number Two Hero. He'd worked hard to achieve his position, his fame. And now it was all going down the damn drain, along with his hearing.
~*~*
Bakugo is suffering from hearing loss as a side effect of his quirk, and he struggles with how to face this new challenge. Enter Reader with a healing quirk.
Pairings: Katsuki Bakugo/Reader; Katsuki Bakugo/You
Rating: M(ature)
Warnings: Blood & violence.
A/N: No spoilers or anything. This is just a self-indulgent AU fic with aged up characters. Everyone’s in their mid-20s. Fic title is from a song called “Achilles Come Down.”
Ao3 Link: Here
*****A/N Part 2: This post has now been updated to include the links to Ch 2
Ch 2 Tumblr Link: Here
Pro Hero Dynamight was Japan’s Number Two Hero. Actually, he’d argue he was tied for first place with the current Symbol of Peace, Shitty Deku. Their victory statistics were basically the fucking same, the only difference was the freckled idiot was made of smiles and sunshine and stupid fucking sugar or something. The whole world ate out of his scarred, fucked up hand, and Darling Deku ate up all the media’s attention in return.
In contrast, Bakugo wasn’t a “people person,” as Deku loved to put it, but… he also wasn’t the same fifteen-year-old brat who got muzzled on live national television. Pro Hero Dynamight was known for his crass, blunt language, his vicious streak of justice when it came to villains, but people also looked up to him. Extras cheered for him in the streets as he exploded past mid-battle. Children ran up to him on patrol and asked him to sign their books, their photos, their Dynamight merch. On one memorable occasion, that he may or may not have saved on his computer, a national news channel ran a live clip from a disaster site, a villain attack turned rescue mission after a building collapsed. The soundbite was only thirty seconds, a close up of a pale, dusty woman with a shallow cut on her brow. The splash of crimson and her bloodshot blue eyes were the only spots of color on her, everything else washed out in white plaster and cement dust, tear tracks carving grooves down her cheeks.
But the smile on her face could have lit up goddamn Tokyo.
“Dynamight saved us,” the woman had said to the news reporter, her voice full of awe and tears. “I-I got stuck under some debris, but I heard the moment Dynamight arrived, and I just knew we were safe. The battle was over a minute later, and then he just… pulled me out of the wreckage. He pulled us all out. He’s… the greatest hero I’ve ever seen.”
That was a nice stroke to his ego. And the dazed woman had been right. He had pulled everyone out of that building, and not a single person died that day, which only confirmed what he already knew:
Katsuki Bakugo was the best of the best. Deku might have been the better show pony, but Dynamight was an undefeated hero, fierce, fearless, ferocious.
Except right now… he was fucking scared out of his mind.
This couldn’t be happening.
“What?” he snarled at the extra in the white coat standing before him.
The man flinched and visibly recoiled, shuffling back a step and partially ducking behind his tablet device. When he spoke again, he’d raised his voice an entire fucking octave.
“I-I’m sorry, sir,” the doctor stammered, but then he seemed to regain his composure and lowered his voice a little. “I… I wish I had better news for you, Dynamight, but…”
He trailed off and swallowed, the jut of his Adam’s apple bobbing beneath the thin skin of his throat.
“But what?” Bakugo spat, something like magma roiling in his veins, pops of heat crackling against his palms like splatters of hot oil from a stove.
“B-But this… can’t come as a complete shock to you,” the doctor said as he glanced back at his tablet. “Other physicians before myself must have warned you of the risks.”
The risks. Bakugo bared his teeth in a silent snarl. What did this fucking extra, with his soft hands and softer body, know about risks? The heat in his palms grew until he could see their red-hot glow out of the corner of his eye.
“Well, who and how much do I gotta pay to fix it?” Bakugo demanded as he shoved his hands in his pockets.
“That depends,” the doctor hedged and adjusted the square black glasses perched on his stupid face. “There are a variety of aid types—”
“I don’t want fuckin’ support gear or aids,” Bakugo sneered. “I want mine fixed.”
Now, the doctor’s face grew pitying. “I’m afraid that’s just not possible, given a number of factors, most importantly your current occupation.”
“My current occupation?” the hero seethed, teeth bared again like a wounded dog, a cornered wolf, snapping at the world. “Are you fucking KIDDING—”
A hint of fear sparked in the doctor’s eyes, but he suddenly raised a hand, palm out in the universal symbol for stop. “Dynamight, sir, I know this is distressing, but there are other sick patients in these walls, so please refrain from using your quirk.”
“I’m not usin’ shit,” Bakugo snapped, but then the doctor’s eyes flicked downward, and Bakugo followed them to his hands, wreathed in sparks and flares of flames, lit up like a fucking Christmas tree.
The breath stuttered in Bakugo’s lungs.
He hadn’t even felt himself call upon his quirk.
Even worse… he hadn’t heard it when he did.
He dropped his hands quickly, shoving them back in his pockets. Bile rose in his throat, but he washed it down with blood as he bit through his tongue.
“There has to be… something,” he gritted out, curling his hands into fists in their confines. “A healer—”
“Healers are rarer than you think,” the doctor sighed and shook his head. “And what’s more, they’re usually specific and limited. Their abilities are tied to blood types or restricted to relatives or even limbs. One nurse here can only heal femur bones.”
“Bullshit they’re rare, I’ve met at least two goddamn healers just this month,” Bakugo spat. “These paramedics—”
“And how strong where they?” the doctor cut him off again, raising an eyebrow. “You said paramedics, so I’m going to assume their talents mostly lie in the superficial and basic: triage, stopping the bleeding, knitting skin back together, etc.”
“What’s your fucking point?” He was this close to punching the asshole right in the glasses.
“My point is the inner workings of your ear are much more delicate than a broken rib or lacerated arm,” the doctor said in a really condescending tone that Bakugo did not appreciate. “But let’s say you do find a healer specific enough and skilled enough to restore the hearing you have already lost without damaging anything else in the process. What then? I don’t imagine Japan’s Number Two Hero retiring less than ten years after his debut and hanging up his quirk.”
Bakugo scowled, heart kick-starting in his chest, his gut tying itself in a knot.
No. No, that wasn’t possible. Katsuki Bakugo was a hero, the best of the best. It was all he’d ever wanted, and he would be damned if it was taken from him.
The doctor must have seen as much on the blond’s face because he sighed and adjusted his glasses again. “Exactly. Which means you’re just going to keep destroying your ears again and again, and even if say Recovery Girl was still alive, the repetitive healing sessions would destroy your own body’s healing factor, and after a while, you would still lose you’re hearing.”
“Tch.” Bakugo looked away and gritted his teeth so hard they ached.
The doctor sighed. “You’re already at moderate hearing loss, Dynamight, so while we do still have some options, they are limited. Honestly… I’m surprised you didn’t come in sooner.”
He should have. He fucking should have. He’d been noticing little things for years, but he just brushed it off, yelled at Deku to speak the fuck up and stop mumbling, told himself his phone must be a piece of shit and that’s why he didn’t hear a call or message. The low persistent ringing he’d been experiencing since UA was harder to write off, but after a while, it was also easier to ignore.
Then, on his last mission, Bakugo was shoving some weak ass villain at a couple of cops. The battle had lasted less than five minutes, and he was still itching for a fight, his quirk burning just beneath the surface of his skin, like embers waiting to explode back into flame. In the next moment, a hand had suddenly clamped down on his shoulder from behind, and he’d reacted out of reflex, flipping his attacker over his shoulder and nearly blasting them in the gut for good measure.
“Whoa! Fuck, dude, it’s me!” Kirishima had yelped, his skin rippling and hardening in an instant. Wide, red eyes gaped up at him, and Japan’s Number Three Hero even looked a little worried. “Didn’t you hear me? I called your name like five times.”
Bakugo had dropped Red Riot like he was on fire. No. No, Dynamight hadn’t heard his patrol partner. In fact, all he could hear in the moment was the muted wailing of sirens, the low murmur of shouting extras, and the blood roaring in his head.
Now, two days later he was standing in front of a doctor who was telling him there was nothing more they could do.
But that was fucking unacceptable. He couldn’t lose his hearing. What kind of shitty hero would he be if he couldn’t hear where the villains were in battle or where stupid extras in need of saving were in rescue situations?
He wouldn’t be a hero at all, just a fucking liability.
Bakugo tried to imagine having to retire, to hang up his hero costume, to leave Shitty Hair in charge of their joint agency. What would he do? He’d wanted, and planned, to be a hero since he was five years old. He had no other skills, not really. It wasn’t like he could work a damn desk job. Well, UA might throw him a bone, offer him a pity faculty position.
The thought left a sour taste in his mouth.
“What… are my options?” he asked haltingly as he snapped his eyes up and locked gazes with the doctor. “You said I still had some.”
The man in the white coat blinked in surprise, but then he straightened up and tapped at his tablet. “Currently, you have a few options, but you’d receive the best outcome if we did them all together. First, we can get you fitted for some hearing aids for you to wear while you are off duty. They would significantly increase your hearing capacity in your normal day-to-day life.”
Bakugo felt his face pull into a scowl. “Off duty? I need them while I’m on duty!”
“If you wear them while using your quirk, you’ll ruin the rest of your hearing in one blow,” the doctor said with a straight face. “Hearing aids amplify sounds. Amplifying your explosions is the last thing we want.”
“Well, what the fuck am I supposed to do then?” the hero snapped, heat flaring through his body with a supernova.
“Since I assume you’re going to continue your hero work, I would recommend contacting a support gear company.” The doctor made a note on his tablet. “We’ll email you the contact information for several companies the hospital has connections with, and once you chose one, we can send them your file. There are numerous noise-cancelling devices out there, but given your situation, you will probably need to collaborate with them for something custom. The goal is to having something to protect your ears-- a helmet, headphones, anything really—while you are using your quirk. Between such a device and the hearing aids, I hope we can preserve what’s left of your hearing and maybe give you a little bit back. But I will warn you… you’re hearing will never be as it was. You should know that now.”
You’re hearing will never be as it was.
You’re hearing will never be as it was.
You’re hearing will never be as it was.
The words cycloned through Bakugo’s head, round and round and round, destroying every other thought in their path. He felt detached from himself, the doctor’s voice fizzling out into a muffled drone. His vision seemed to narrow and darken, like he was viewing the world at the end of a very long and dark tunnel. One minute, he was standing there in that examine room, and then he blinked and was on the street, people rushing past him like a river unbothered by the boulder in its current.
He glanced down at his hand, at the paperwork for his follow up appointment and his fitting for the hearing aids. Heat squirmed under his skin, in his veins, like something living, something that wanted to get out.
Bakugo bared his teeth, crumpled the paper in his fist, and let the heat rush through his body, down through his arm, and into his hand. He didn’t hear the crackle, but he saw the flares of light, trapped between his palm and the paperwork like fireflies.
Then he opened his hand, and he watched the wind catch the ash and carry if off down the street, out of sight.
He needed a fucking drink.
~*~*~*~*~*~
Several hours later, Bakugo stumbled out of his usual dive bar, the taste of whisky still burning a hole through the back of his throat. The night was colder than he anticipated, colder than it should be for the beginning of autumn, and he grumbled and cursed as he hunched against the wind. He squinted at his phone, debating on whether to call a car, but in the end it was too much trouble. He was less than a half an hour’s walk from his apartment, and it was late, so he wouldn’t have to worry about extras coming up to him for photos or goddamn autographs.
Besides, the whisky hadn’t helped to quench the heat writhing through his veins, in fact the alcohol only made it worse. Bakugo felt restless, all pins and needles and ants, so maybe the brisk walk would burn off some of that energy.
Decided, Bakugo turned in the direction of home and began the long, stumbling journey through the midnight streets.
Time passed as sluggishly as his feet, which he made sure to stare down at so he didn’t trip over them. Like he anticipated, he passed no one on the sidewalks, and few cars rumbled past him. It wasn’t surprising, this neighborhood was mostly shops that closed by sundown and a few residences. The dive bar he’d left was a holdover from past decades when this side of town was rougher, but Bakugo suspected the old man who owned the joint would live on for at least another decade, if only to spite the development companies that kept trying to buy him out. The ornery bastard was half the reason Bakugo loved that bar, the other half being their decent whisky and usually empty stools.
“Shit,” he mumbled as he suddenly slipped, tittering on the edge of the curb.
He shook his head and managed to regain his balance, but when he took another step, he wobbled again.
“Come on, you drunk idiot,” he hissed at himself as he stumbled once more.
Except… he’d been standing still that time.
“Hah?” Bakugo squinted down at his feet.
The pebbles around his shoes rattled and jumped. He didn’t think he was that drunk, but he slapped his cheek with a bit of heat to his palm. The snap of warmth and pain woke him up a little, but when he glanced back down at the ground, everything was still moving.
“What the fu—”
Then the road undulated under his feet like a living thing, and the shockwave hit him a moment later.
Bakugo barked a curse as he was bucked several feet into the air, twin explosions blooming from his palms so he could right himself and land on his feet. He snapped his head up as he skidded to a stop, and the breath stilled in his lungs.
Up ahead, a man stood in the middle of the intersection, staring down the road to Bakugo’s left. Black rubble and goo floated around him like asteroids trapped in a planet’s orbit, and even from a distance, Bakugo could see the crazed smile on the man’s pale, black-streaked face.
A moment later, several heroes lunged out from around the corner and barreled straight for the villain, only to be blasted backwards as the villain flung out his hands and commanded the black debris and goo to slam into the idiots.
The villain threw back his head and seemed to laugh maniacally. Bakugo couldn’t hear it, but that didn’t matter. Lava was starting to boil in his veins, burning off the last of the whisky, and Dynamight felt an equally crazed smile stretch across his mouth.
This idiot had chosen the wrong road to fuck up tonight.
Heat condensed in his palms like collapsing stars, and then he was exploding forward, the taste of ozone and nitroglycerin on his tongue.
Within moments, Bakugo was able to determine the villain’s quirk revolved around asphalt. The bastard was able to pull large chunks of it out of the road and then liquify parts of them until they were scalding and sticky.
The other heroes—whoever they were, Bakugo didn’t even care to check—struggled to evade the villain’s attacks, but evasion wasn’t Dynamight’s style. He came at the bastard head on, exploding every rock and tar puddle in his way.
Of course, asphalt was flammable, so flames were flaring up all around the street now, but Bakugo wasn’t stupid enough to get burned. If the other heroes were, that was on them.
Dynamight was here to get the job done.
“Come here, ya sonvabitch,” Bakugo snarled as he blasted apart a chunk of asphalt aimed for his head.
The villain shrieked out something high-pitched that Bakugo didn’t catch, and then the fucker was swinging out his arm, a blob of black tar following the arc.
Bakugo let out a controlled burst toward his feet and backflipped through the air, crunching down on the roof of a parked car. He could see some of the other heroes waving at him from the corner of his eye, but he couldn’t hear what they were saying over the wailing of the car alarm below him.
The villain’s sneer was a white slash on his black, goo-streaked face, and Bakugo bared his teeth back in an expression halfway between a feral grin and a beast’s snarl. He could feel the heat crackling along his palms as he contemplated his next move, but then the villain shouted something, and all the asphalt floating in the air rocketed back towards him like the fucker was a magnet.
As Bakugo watched, the debris and goo coalesced into a singular shape, liquifying and hardening in turns until a giant black arm the size of a semi was hovering over the road. The fingers wiggled in a jaunty little wave as the villain shouted something again that was lost to the car’s still wailing alarm, and then the giant hand curled into a fist and dropped down on Bakugo like the hammer of some god.
He exploded out of the way and up into the air right before the fist smashed into the car he’d been standing on, and the siren cut out with a muffled crunch.
Bakugo had barely landed before the arm was shooting out again, but this time it wasn’t aimed for him.
A stupid fucking extra had stumbled out of one of the buildings and stood gaping like a goddamn moron on the sidewalk. Several of the on-scene heroes rushed forward, but the hand swatted them aside like annoying flies. The idiot civilian was still just standing there, though, and Bakugo found himself airborne before he could even process the thought.
“Run!” he roared as he reached the extra and shoved him out of the way, but an instant later, he felt stony fingers wrap around his torso and squeeze.
Bakugo wheezed out a curse as the giant hand lifted him into the sky, the pressure around his ribs increasing with every second. The asphalt was hot in some places, too, scalding the skin of his left arm where it was pinned against his hip. He wrenched his right arm around and tried to aim at the wrist of the asphalt appendage, but the angle was off, and the few chunks he was able to blast were quickly replaced by more rubble and boiling tar.
“Fuck!” Bakugo screamed as the fist clenched down around him. His ribs strained, his lungs unable to expand, pain licking at him like the flames flickering in his peripherals.
Distantly, he heard the villain’s laughter below him, and as the arm swayed to the side, Bakugo realized he was right above the bastard. His vision swam, his ribs screaming, his arm burning, but Bakugo gritted his teeth as he aimed his right palm down. He concentrated every ounce of his quirk into his hand until it glowed white-hot, and the asphalt around him began to liquefy again.
The villain’s eyes widened as he realized what the hero was doing, and the fucker wildly swung out his arm in a last-ditch effort. The giant asphalt limb responded in kind, but Bakugo unleashed his quirk right before the arm flung him through the air.
A massive explosion rocked the street an instant later, and the subsequent shockwave slammed into his back and propelled him through a window.
He felt the impact and pain as he struck the glass, and then…
Nothing.
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“Ouch, fuck!” you cursed as your pricked yourself for the millionth time.
A red drop of blood beaded up on the pad of your index finger, and you scowled before you sucked the smarting appendage into your mouth. It was more of a reflex than anything, since by the time you pulled your finger out, the pinprick of a wound was already healed. Healing such a small injury would usually barely even register to you, but the clock above your desk was inching closer and closer to midnight, and you’d been up since 6am. You also skipped dinner so you could finish altering the dress you were currently working on, which didn’t help your energy levels, but you were just a few stitches away from completing your task, so you hunched back over and powered through the next five minutes.
When you were finally done, you sat back in your chair with a sigh and threw down your needle and thread. The sewing table before you swam and doubled as your vision struggled to focus on something, and you rubbed at your tired, burning eyes. You always tried to work reasonable hours, have a healthy work-life balance, but somehow you always found yourself slaving away into the dark hours of the night. You tried to tell yourself it wasn’t your fault. You’d lived here less than a year, so you didn’t know many people beyond your few neighbors and the old ladies who frequented your alterations shop.
You were also trying very hard to keep your grandparents’ business afloat.
Your grandfather had been a tailor, your grandmother a seamstress. They’d opened a shop together over fifty years ago, and if your parents hadn’t moved to America before you were born, you were sure you father would have taken over the family business. In the end, though, after your grandparents passed, you were the one to take up the needle and pull up your roots. You’d always loved making your own clothes, and you’d always felt… disconnected in America. Nothing had ever felt… right, no matter how many jobs you hopped around to. The US had been the only home you’d ever known, but when you and your parents spoke Japanese together, it had made something ache deep in the center of you, something you couldn’t name or place.
So, when your father said he was taking a trip to the homeland to sell his parents’ shop, you’d gone with him and somehow convinced him to sign everything over to you. Which was more than just a little insane. Your prior work history had been in food service and clothing retail, and your degree was in linguistics for fuck’s sake. You had no idea how to run a business, let alone in another country. Thankfully, you spoke Japanese fluently, so that had been one less hurtle to overcome, but everything else had been a dramatic learning curve. Getting to know the new city, figuring out the currency, hell even navigating the vastly different social norms of Japanese culture was daunting, and you would be lying if you said you didn’t have numerous fumbles along the way.
It, everything, had definitely taken some getting used to.
Now, a year later, things were just starting to really look up. You had used most of the money your grandparents left you to renovate the shop, get new equipment, and fix the upstairs apartment you lived in. About two dozen loyal customers helped to pay your bills and keep you afloat, and one-to-two new customers walked into your shop each month just on word of mouth. You weren’t rich by any means, but you weren’t struggling like you did in America. You felt… happy here, if a little tired. Fulfilled.
That might also have had something to do with your little… side business.
You bit your lip as your eyes shot to your window guiltily, like someone was watching you. You weren’t doing anything wrong—right now, anyways—but for the last six months, it’s been hard to shake off your paranoia.
And your guilt. Which was ridiculous. You weren’t hurting anyone. In fact, you were doing the exact opposite.
But it was still against the law. Here in Japan, at least.
That was another thing that took some getting used to. The Japanese government had strict laws on quirk usage, unlike in America where everything was about individualistic rights. In Japan, only heroes were given almost free reign, but even they had some restrictions on when and how they could use their powers.
For the rest of the Japanese populace, using quirks in day-to-day life, without official permission, was frowned upon at best and illegal at worst.
Because of your specific quirk, you leaned more toward the illegal side of things.
Healing quirks were rare. That’s what you’d been told all your life. Your mother’s quirk was the ability to lower fevers by somehow using her own body to regulate the temperature. Nothing super special or powerful, but she’d gone on to become a pediatric nurse, so she had used her quirk to its fullest and made a long, happy career for herself.
When you were young and your quirk manifested, you thought you would follow in your mother’s footsteps.
But as a teenager, you’d come to some hard realizations about yourself.
One, you weren’t strong enough to be a hero. You’d tried to get into a hero course in the States, several in fact. One course rejected you solely on your application, and then you failed two entrance exams. It had been a devastating blow to your youthful dreams and self-esteem, but your mother encouraged you, said being a hero wasn’t the only way to use your quirk for good.
So, you turned your focus to medicine… and quickly discovered that wasn’t right for you, either. Your mother hated when you said this but… you just weren’t smart enough. You had tried, really did, but everything was such a struggle, like Sisyphus slogging uphill through the mud. It just didn’t click for you like it did for your mom. You also hated to admit it, but you were a little squeamish. You were fine with small stuff, cuts and bruises, broken fingers, but once you had to dissect a large pig in an anatomy class, and the smell and weight of the pig’s slippery organs in your hands made your lunch rise up into the back of your throat. You somehow managed to make it through the class, but directly after you ran to the bathroom and emptied your own guts into the toilet.
With your dreams of being a hero and doctor dashed, you’d been a little aimless in college, taking random courses to fill your time and see if anything spoke to you. Then, during an 8am linguistics lecture you signed up for on a whim, something ignited inside you. Languages spoke to you like science and medicine never did. So, you’d changed your major to linguistics, minored in Japanese to feel closer to your parents, and took ever other language credit you could get your hands on. In between classes, you’d taken up sewing again while you listened to your audio assignments. It was just something to keep your hands busy at first, a skill your father taught you as a child until you abandoned it, but then your roommates complimented your work and started asking you to hem their jeans or take in their skirts. They offered to pay you, but you always declined, saying it was no trouble, you liked the work, and you liked being able to help.
At some point, you realized that was all you had ever wanted to do. Help people. And if you couldn’t save them as a hero, you would find some other way to make yourself useful.
So, you studied languages in the hopes of being able to help others communicate. You altered your friends’ clothes and made them small things like a monogrammed scarf or mittens. And, occasionally, you healed your roommates’ hangovers or food poisoning, stopped the bleeding when they cut their fingers making dinner, pushing through their pain to make them whole again. It wasn’t a lot, nothing really, but it was something, and it made you feel purposeful.
When you moved to Japan, you mourned the loss of being able to use your quirk on others, but you shoved the thought aside and focused on your work and the shop and figuring out how to settle down in your first home on your own.
Then, six months after you took over the shop, Mrs. Kojima, a little old lady in her seventies, had brought in her grandchildren’s uniforms to be patched and altered. She’d known your grandparents for many years, so she was always kind and had a story to share with you about your father in his youth or the gorgeous dresses your grandmother used to make. You always looked forward to Mrs. Kojima’s visits, and she always had a way of making you feel younger than you were, but not in a bad way. She just made you feel… nostalgic and safe, like you were listening to your late grandma talk over the phone.
This was probably why, when Mrs. Kojima slipped and fell in front of your counter, you reacted without thinking. The old lady barely had time to hit the floor and cry out before you were hovering over her, a green aura illuminating your hands. Her pain hit you a moment later, like a heated slap to the face, a bone-deep ache in your leg, but you gritted your teeth and pushed through the discomfort. Then you moved your fingers over to the hip Mrs. Kojima was clutching, and a moment later you felt the drain as your energy siphoned into the elderly woman’s body. Thankfully, it had only been a fracture, not a full break, so you barely even felt the difference in your strength, but as Mrs. Kojima gaped up at you, realization struck you like a freight train.
You had used your quirk, without a license, without permission, hell without the consent of Mrs. Kojima. Healing quirks were illegal for a reason, so many things could go wrong, and you weren’t properly trained. Your breathing hitched as panic seized your heart, squeezing like a vise, and your entire world had just begun to crash down around your ears when Mrs. Kojima sat up and threw her arms around you.
“Thank you,” she’d sniffled into your hair in Japanese. “Thank you so much.”
After the initial shock wore off, you had helped Mrs. Kojima into a chair, and she’d continued to thank you over and over again, saying how money was tight and she would have hated to be a burden to her children with hospital bills and a long recovery. She talked about how a lot of her elderly friends were in similar positions, dealing with perpetual aches and pains but having no way to pay for treatment or seek relief.
The sadness in her face had twisted something in your chest, an ache you were all too familiar with. It was the one you felt after you failed the hero course entrance exams. The ache you felt when you realized you could never be a doctor. The ache of being helpless in the face of suffering.
Your mouth had opened without your permission, and you told Mrs. Kojima that you would help her, and her friends, whenever they needed it. The elderly Japanese woman tried to wave you off, saying she didn’t want to get you in any trouble, but you had just smiled and said, “I’m fine with making a little good trouble.”
You didn’t know where your courage had come from, but you let it carry you past your fears and doubts.
So, for the last six months, Mrs. Kojima had brought all of her friends, and sometimes their children and grandchildren, to you when they were in need of healing. They always brought dresses or pants or blouses for you to fix as a cover, and you did do alterations work for them, but you also eased flaring arthritis, cataracts, fevers, and scrapped knees in the backroom. You refused to take payment for these secret services, it just felt wrong, but the little old ladies somehow always snuck large “tips” into your register when you weren’t looking.
Mrs. Kojima and every one of her friends and family members swore to their ancestors to keep your secret, and you trusted them, but you still couldn’t help proverbially looking over your shoulder, holding your breath, waiting for the other shoe to drop and for the police to barge in and take you away.
It hadn’t happened yet, but the worry of it kept you up most nights, which was maybe another reason why you threw yourself into your work until you were so tired you just passed out.
You sighed again as you stretched and felt your back pop, releasing some of the tension in your spine. Glancing at the clock, you saw it was just past midnight, and you winced. You had to be up at five tomorrow—today, now—because Mr. Akane wanted to come in early before you opened the shop. His bad knee was giving him trouble again, an old injury he’d obtained as a boy. You were unable to fully reconstruct the joint—that took more strength and stamina than you currently possessed—but you were able to soothe his pain for weeks at a time, which he was immensely grateful for. He always brought you fresh fish when he came by, “gifts” he’d emphasized when you reminded him you didn’t take payment, and you’d be lying if you said you didn’t appreciate the gesture. You weren’t exactly hurting for money, but you also didn’t normally splurge on fish caught just that morning, and you told yourself you deserved the small treat. Besides, the protein helped boost your energy and stamina levels, which meant you could heal more people, so really Mr. Akane was merely investing in his future treatments.
Your stomach grumbled at the thought of food, and you dragged yourself out of your chair before picking your way across your messy apartment to the kitchen. The apartment wasn’t very large, one large space for kitchen, dining, and living room, with one small bedroom and one bathroom down a hallway to the right when you walked in the front door. But it had been your grandparent’s home for many years before they bought a larger house after having your father, and it sat right above the shop, so you never had to worry about running late for work.
Bolts of fabric, some client pieces, and a few of your own personal sewing projects were strewn over every available surface of the main room, but you had the cleared path through the chaos memorized, so you were tossing leftovers in the microwave barely thirty seconds later. The warmed-up curry and rice—another “gift” from Mrs. Kojima—tasted as good as it had the last several days, and you hummed as the spiced meat slid down your throat and settled in your belly. After the first bite, your hunger seemed to hit you in full force, and you scarfed down every last bite in a matter of minutes. When you were done, the minor headache that had been pulsing behind your eyes abated, and you yawned as you rinsed off the dishes.
You set the damp plate on the edge of the counter as you reached for a towel, but then a sudden tremor, followed by a loud boom, seemed to shake the building, and the plate tittered on the counter’s edge for a moment before it crashed to the floor.
“Fuck!” you gasped as you jumped back and away from the ceramic shards, but another tremor-boom combo had you stumbling, and you scrambled to grab the back of the couch so you didn’t fall on your ass.
Your wide eyes took in the broken plate scattered at your feet before they jumped to the window on the opposite side of the room. The night sky was dark beyond, cut only by the dim street light just beyond the window’s view. You held your breath as your heart hammered in your ears, the hair on the back of your neck prickling, sweat slicking your palms.
What the fuck was that? Your first thought was earthquake—you hadn’t experienced one yet, but you knew they were common in Japan—but then you remembered the booms.
Maybe… maybe an electrical box blew? But no, the lights were still working. A car crash?
Then another boom vibrated you down to your very bones, and you fell to one knee as the breath hitched in your lungs.
That sounded… closer.
With your heart in your throat, you half scrambled, half crawled the last few feet to your window, and you peeked your head over the sill just as a flash off white-hot light lit up the night sky.
“Shit!” You squinted your eyes against the glare as you leaned back from the window, but then you saw a shadow streak through the air before it crashed into a car just at the edge of your peripherals.
You had the distant thought that Mr. Takeyoshi’s vehicle was very obviously totaled before you realized the thing that had crashed into the car was a person.
Your jaw gaped open as a hero pulled himself from the wreckage and shook his head groggily. The shadows—only broken by more flares of light as more explosions and fire seemed to erupt along the street—made it difficult to tell how injured the hero was. You didn’t recognize their yellow and teal costume, but you saw patches of blood along the hero’s bulky frame, and bile burned at the back of your teeth.
Holy shit. This wasn’t an accident. It was a villain attack.
Just as you had the thought, another explosion rattled your windows, making your ears ring, and you snapped your head to the side to see a man standing in the middle of the road about half a block down.
The man—villain, you realized quickly—swung his arms around like a conductor of an orchestra, but his instruments seemed to be the black rocks and liquid swirling around him. The debris glistened like an oil slick in the light of the flames, and as you watched, the villain shouted something and slashed his arm through the air.
Then a figure suddenly exploded onto the scene, lunging out from the shadows in a flare of white-hot light. It moved too fast for you to track, but the villain swung his arm again, and rocks and viscous black goo shot toward the figure still in mid-air.
A futile scream of warning caught in your throat, but then the figure seemed to explode and backflip through the air, landing on his feet but crushing the roof of a car beneath his boots. The wailing of the car’s alarm split the air, and you clenched your teeth until they ached.
The flames illuminated this new man’s face, a snarl of white teeth against the flames and smoke, but only the barest hint of recognition flared through you before everything exploded into chaos again. Another shout from the villain had all the rocks and black slime streaking back towards him, and you watched in horror as a stony black arm fifty feet long formed above the ruined street.
You knew you should be running, trying to find cover, calling the police, but you were glued there, on your knees before the window, you fingers digging grooves into the sill.
The next fifteen seconds seemed to simultaneously happen in slow motion and at hyper speed.
The giant rocky hand wiggled its fingers before it curled into a fist and slammed down on the wailing car and the man atop it.
The man—hero, you distantly thought, although your chaotic thoughts still couldn’t place him—launched up into the air with another explosion that rattled your windows, the car alarm cutting off as the vehicle was crushed an instant later.
The blond skidded into a landing half a dozen yards away, but then you suddenly saw Mr. Takeyoshi standing on the street, a ghostly apparition framed by smoke and flames.
You blinked, and the giant hand shot toward Mr. Takeyoshi, batting away several more heroes who tried to intervene.
Then the explosive hero was just there, pushing Mr. Takeyoshi out of the way, right before the hand wrapped around him.
You could hear the hero’s anguished scream through your window as he was crushed in the fist’s grip, and the sound hit you right in the solar plexus, knocking the breath out of you, bruising your insides, the pain settling into the familiar ache of being helpless in the face of suffering.
You watched uselessly as the hero was lifted up into the sky, struggling, setting off explosions left and right. Then the massive arm seemed to pause in the middle of the road, right above the villain, and your eyes locked onto the hero, his pale hair and skin stark against the black, rocky hand that held him trapped.
In the next instant, a white light, like a star going supernova, bloomed to life around the hero, illuminating the white slash of his snarling teeth before it became too bright for you to take. You slammed your eyes shut against the burning light, and the hair on the back of your neck stood on end, like the moment before lightning struck, as you dropped to the floor below your window.
Then the world exploded, the building shaking to its foundations, right before the window burst into a million shards of glass.
#bakugo katsuki#katsuki bakugo x reader#bakugo x reader#bakugo katuski x reader#bakugo katsuki/reader#bakugo/reader#bakugo katsuki/you#bakugo katsuki x you#my hero academia#mha spoilers#boku no hero academia#bnha#anime#fanfic#my writings#katsuki bakugo
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Non-Stop Bickering
Pairing: Crockett Marcel x reader
Summary: Being a neurosurgeon, Y/N never thought she'd be spending most of her days in the ED, especially with Dr. Marcel, who she claims she can't stand being around
Requested: Yes, by anonymous
Warnings: slight swearing, mentions of death
Word Count: 1,468 Words
"Y/N," Dr. Abrams shouted to get my attention. "I just got a page about a neuro consult in the ED."
"Okay. And...?" I trailed off, unsure of what to say.
"So go down there and deal with it," Sam spoke.
"But the page went to you," I counter.
"And as the Head of Neurosurgery, I'm making you do it," Sam retorted.
"I hate you sometimes, Sam," I tell my boss.
Dr. Abrams cracked a small smile. "No you don't. Have fun!" It didn't take me long to make my way down to the ED, and when I arrived, I found Maggie, who was standing at the nurses' station.
"Hey, Maggie," I greet the charge nurse. "I was told someone needed a neuro consult."
"Yes. Dr. Marcel," Maggie called out and waved the doctor over. "Your neuro consult is here."
"I asked for Dr. Abrams," Crockett claimed.
"Yeah, well, he sent me instead," I say. "Lets just get this over with. I don't want to see your face any longer than I have to."
"For your information, many people find me handsome," Crockett shared.
"Uh-huh," I hum as we made our way to the patient's room. "I'm sure they do."
"It's the truth," Crockett insisted.
"Right. What did you need me for?" I ask.
"My patient, Jaimie, she's 17 years old and was just in a huge car crash with her parents. I took her to surgery a few hours ago and she was fine after that, but all of a sudden she crashed and has been on the vent since," Crockett informed me.
"Got it," I mutter as the two of us entered the room. I pulled my pen from my jacket pocket and ran it up the bottom of Jaimie's feet. When that didn't stimulate a reaction, I swapped the pen out for a flashlight and shined the light in the teenagers eyes while also glancing towards the heart monitor standing off to the side.
"Well?" Crockett posed.
"Sorry," I apologize and shove the flashlight back into my pocket. "She's never gonna wake up."
"What? But she was fine earlier," Crockett put in.
"Yeah, but she's shown no reaction to pain or light. I'd talk to the parents as soon as possible to see if they'd like her organs to be donated," I advise.
"I told them that she'd be okay," Crockett murmured. "I promised them that they'd get their little girl back."
"You did what?" I hiss. "Crockett, you of all people should know that you can never promise that someone will make it out okay. Not when you work in the ED."
"She was fine when she came in," Crockett argued. "I just assumed...no. Jaimie can't be gone."
I scoffed. "So you don't believe me? You're the one who called me down here!"
"No, I called Dr. Abrams down here," Crockett corrected me.
"Whatever! Dr. Abrams would've come to the same conclusion I just did," I declare.
"Yeah, well, I'm gonna page him down here," Crockett stated.
"Go ahead. But you're wasting your time," I warn him. "She's gone." And with that, I left Jaimie's room to go back up to the neuro wing. I stepped inside the elevator and pushed the button of the floor I wanted to go to before leaning against the back wall and crossing my arms over my chest. Just as the doors started closing, a voice from inside the ED became clear.
"Hold the doors!"
I leapt forwards and slotted my arm between the tiny open space, causing the elevator doors to spring back open. And there, standing before me, was Will Halstead. His cheeks were tinted a light shade of pink, and he seemed to be almost out of breath.
"Thank you," Will breathed out as he entered the elevator. He then pressed another button on the front wall of the elevator which lit up as the doors slid shut, leaving the two of us alone in the small box. As the elevator ascended, it was dead silent accept for the slight dinging that emitted from the speaker signaling that we had passed another floor. "So, I uh, I heard the argument you and Marcel had down in the ED."
"I'd rather not talk about it," I assert as politely as possible. "He asked for my professional opinion, I gave it, and then he questioned my ability to diagnose a patient. That's what happened. End of story."
"I don't think he meant it like that. I think he was just upset about his patient, and he let his emotions get out of control," Will offered. "And you know how he gets when his patients are kids."
For a split second, I felt bad for yelling at Crockett. I remembered that he once had a child who died, a little girl named Harper. And while she had never reached the age that Jaimie had, his fatherly instincts had kicked in. But that all went away at a moments notice when I also remembered that he had insulted my work.
"Yeah? Well you don't see me walking around talking shit about his work," I exclaim as the elevator came to a stop and the doors opened. "Just drop the issue, Will. I can't stand to be around Crockett, and I don't think I'll ever be able to."
"But Y/n," Will started, only for me to cut him off.
"It's okay. Things will sort themselves out soon enough," I assure him as I stepped out of the elevator. "See ya later, Halstead." I found Sam standing at the nurses' station in the neuro wing typing away on a tablet, and when he heard me approaching, he looked up.
"How was the consult?" Sam quizzed.
"Next time you get a page from the ED that Dr. Marcel needs a consult or whatever the hell else, you're taking it," I grumble and walk right past him.
...........................................
I thought that after telling Sam I didn't want to do neuro consults in the ED for Dr. Marcel anymore, he'd listen and not assign me to do them. So when I got called down to the ED my next shift, I wasn't expecting to be directed Crockett.
"Not again," I mumble quietly as I approached Crockett, who was standing at the nurses' station putting away a tablet. He looked up as I approached, and a small smile graced his lips.
"You just couldn't stay away, could ya?" Crockett questioned.
"Just let me do my consult and I'll be on my way," I mutter. The consult only took a few minutes, and I was glad that I'd be able to leave ED, but just as I started walking away from the nurses' station, Crockett grabbed ahold of my arm.
"What the hell is wrong with you?" Crockett seethed. "You didn't talk or even look at me the entire consult."
"Yeah, well, sorry if I don't want to be near the man who insulted my medical abilities," I retort.
"What? Come on. You're still mad about that?" Crockett asked.
"Of course I'm still mad about that! You can't just offend someone's career and expect everything to be okay after that! I mean, that really hu-"
I was cut off as Crockett surged forward, wrapped his arms around my waist, and pulled me towards him before placing his lips over mine. For a second, I was frozen where I stood. I didn't know what to do. But then my body reacted by kissing Crockett back. Crockett and I had always had a strange relationship. One minute we were fighting, the next we were flirting. And now here we were making out in front of the whole ED staff. After a few seconds, Crockett pulled away from me.
"I didn't think you'd kiss back," Crockett spoke.
"I didn't think you'd ever work up the courage to kiss me," I counter. "After all of our non-stop bickering, I thought you'd pick up that I liked you sooner."
"Believe me, I did," Crockett admitted. "I was just hesitant about approaching you because I didn't want our work to get in the way of what we could have."
"Well, I think I'll actually enjoy coming down to the ED now," I say.
Crockett smiled. "I'll look forward to seeing you. It'll probably be more often than we think since Dr. Abrams never comes down when I page."
I laughed softly. "Yeah, he doesn't like people interrupting his work, so he'll only come down if he's got absolutely nothing to do."
"Right, well, I'm off the clock in an hour, and I'm assuming you are too. What would you say if I asked you to grab a beer with me after work?" Crockett implored.
"I'd say I would love too," I reply.
"Great. Then I will see you after shift," Crockett claimed.
___________________________
Tag List:
@prettypyschoinpink @securityfriendly-jay @scarletsoldierrr @lorenakaspersen @virtualreader @carnationworld @caitsymichelle13 @king-crockett
#one chicago#one chicago x reader#one chicago imagine#one chicago imagines#chicago med#chicago med x reader#chicago med imagines#chicago med imagine#crockett marcel#crockett marcel x reader#crockett marcel imagine#crockett marcel imagines#x reader#imagine#imagines
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sister planets pt 4
broken bones
link for the part index: https://docs.google.com/document/d/1DYMuKK5CIgJgDapNbu5sBqr_b5uT1Yz4pJoJ2fuAk4w/edit?usp=sharing
"you want me to do what?"
"your the xenomedic, it's your job to help their injuries and take the tests."
"they have already proven to be dangerous!"
"one of them has proven dangerous! remember it is against universal conseil rules to pass judgement on a whole species based on the ones we made first contact with. also it's your job."
i sighed and put on my hazmat suit.
our inteital scan of the one that had died had shone the kind of air that they breathed was made primarily of nitrogen and had enough of a oxygen content it could have set the calo's on fire. as a zalo i had a higher tolerance but i still needed the suit, as we had filled their room with the needed air composition for them to take off their vacum suits.
i took the medical cart and went into the contact rooms air lock.
"is that a hazmat suit?" one of them asked.
"really we had be dangerous but we aren't that bad." the one with the broken leg replied, captain penner if i was correct.
"they had to sedate richardson of course they think were that bad." the third one piped in.
"hello, my name is twee-ake, i am the doctor for the contact crue. it is my job to insure that any new species we make contact with has their biome registered and that the specific ones we make contact with are healthy and any injuries are tended to."
half of the hexagonal room was divided into the three containment chambers one human in each.
"seams like a fancy way of saying that were about to get probed by aliens."
"that's because it is davoin."
"i am supposed to start with which one of you has the worst wounds."
"it's captain penner."
"i'm fine if your giving medical treatment start with one of my subordinance."
"i'm slightly burned, davoin has a few cracked ribs and YOU HAVE A FUCKING BROKEN LEG!!" the one on the right side yelled.
"oliveira i am fine."
"and a terrible liar."
I took down the shield in the middle. laying on the bed was one of them with light skin and a small amount of curly brown fur on the top of their head. they're leg was twisted unnaturally.
"can i please ask what the name for your species is?"
"homo sapien sapien in science, human in common language." the one name oliveira said.
"thank you." i logged that into my tablet. then used my sit to to a x-ray scan of the human. "i am sorry to inform you that your bone is extermy broken, it will likely take years to heal and you will never gain full function again."
i was used to delivering the news of life changing injury of illness and was ready for the humans to be upset. they started to make a reving noise from their chest and out of their month, the captain let out a loud burst of air from their mouth.
"ai!!!!!" the one on their right exclaimed. davoin the others had called him. "oh laughing was a mistake."
"you ok davoin?"
"i'll be fine." he said though his face was twisted in a horrible expression of pain.
"what is laughing? is it a response to grief?"
"what? no!" penner exclaimed, "its a human humour response, in this case that means it's what we do if we find something amusing."
"you find permanent injury amusing? depending on the strain this causes your body it could kill you."
"um no." the medic said, "we can recover from broken bones as long as they are set correctly so they heal the right way. i have enough medical training that i could set that easy and as long as i could use something to make a splint in 6 weeks they'd be golden. after some physical therapy."
"i'm sorry, you can recover from broken bones?"
"you can't?"
"no! there's only one species in the universe that can recover form minor breaks."
i determined that i should let out the mdic and they helped me tend to the others wounds, explaining some terrifying facts about the species, like that they have overactive scar tissue. the medic had already dressed her own burns, how i didn't know.
finally "penner is going to need some sort of crutch."
"what?"
"you know so they can stand?..."
"i assumed that they'd be bedridden until it healed."
"no... she can stand as long as she has a pair of crutches and keeps her weight off her bad leg."
"i'll call in engineering to figure something out them." i said, "finally we still need to do those tests."
"yeah, yeah you can use me." oliveira said.
"um no offence but i am not letting one of my subordinates get probed by aliens, if you must use me."
"um captain you can't even stand, i'm the least injured, plus i'm the medic i can answer questions, which i mean given your background..."
"you implying something officier?"
"no it's just..."
"if you want to keep your job, i'd tread lightly."
the medic raised her hands to either side of and just above her head. "i'm still doing it."
the medic stepped out of her area and sat down on my stecher, i started my tests.
the results were beyond terrifying
+++
to be continued
#humans are weird#humans are space orcs#human are weird#humans are space australians#the sister planets
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hi! hope you're alright! love your writing!! ~
can you do a fluffy sexy one where R and wanda are really close friends (not those secret crushs kind of friend - neither has realized that they are too close to be just friends) until one-day the avengers find out about fanfics and shipps and loose their mind over it cause they are all grown up and didn't know this was a thing, they are all reunited at the living room looking online what are the shipps and, let's say Tony is the one looking while they are all gathered listening, he says like "oh apparently everybody thinks Wanda and R are a couple" and someone -thor, bucky or Sam of course- gets surprise like "they are not dating???" (Wanda is even sitting on R lap and playing with her hair!!) the girls deny and the turns out all team thought they were together, later they are reading some fic about them cause they're curious and its a smut, R gets shy and wanda gets a little turn on about it and says "you know if I was to date anyone here it would be you" so R realizes the same and they eventually get together
I think it has way too much details, sorry
Hello anon! Hope you’re well. This took me long enough i know, but i hope you like it. It’s really short, but it’s all you asked.
Wanda Maximoff x Reader - The fandom knows best
Summary: Prompt based “Reader and Wanda are best friends who are one of the popular ships from the Avengers, but they have no clue. It takes one fan fiction for things to work out.”
Warnings: Fluff, humor, brief hint of smut (it’s nothing really), (brief) kissing.
Words: 1.400 k (Drabble i think) // Read on AO3
Marks: @mionemymind @abimess
Wanda Maximoff is your favorite person in the world.
You are colleagues on the Avengers team, and clicked together the very moment you first saw each other.
Everyone on the team knows that you are inseparable and if someone is looking for you and can't find you anywhere, it's because you are sleeping in Wanda's room.
You never really thought about what this implied, so during the Halloween party that Tony planned, you were very surprised when this subject came up.
The avengers were gathered around the table, a few hours had passed since the party had ended, and Tony was beginning to feel bored. So he grabbed the tablet on the table and announced it to everyone:
- I made a very interesting discovery this weekend! - he says with a mischievous smile. - Tell me Avengers, have you had a look at the work of our dear fans?
The team let out a chorus of apprehension. Tony laughed.
- God I'm surrounded by old people. - He comments as he activates the hologram playback function on the tablet on the table. - I found some interesting content about the Avengers. Say, folks, have you ever heard of fanfiction?
The group let out a chorus of excitement, and Tony giggled.
- I should have known you would eventually make us watch porn. - Natasha laughed, making everyone laugh. And then Tony was running through some files, mostly innocent artwork, of the team on adventures or facing supervillains, and you all looked excited. Then Tony let out a little laugh.
- Whoa, I found something interesting. - he says with a mischievous smile. - It has the hashtag "NSFW”.
- What does this mean? - Steve asked curiously.
- You're going to love it, Cap. - Tony retorted, and then there is a not-so-innocent artwork of Steve in the hologram. The shield being the only item he is wearing.
The team lets out a mixed exclamation of surprise and laughter, and Steve turns bright red.
For the next few minutes you laugh and are embarrassed by various more adult art that people have done, and then Tony lets out a wry chuckle.
- Look, this is interesting. - He starts. - The best couples from the Avengers.
- This is going to be good. - Nat mocked, crossing her legs and taking a sip of her beer.
- I am surprised that Potts and I don't come first, it is disappointing to know that people don't recognize a love as amazing as ours. - Declares Tony and everyone laughs lightly. He moves his fingers again, reading something on the screen. - Check it out, Romanoff. Your affair with Banner is in fourth place.
Nat laughs, and Bruce gets a little embarrassed, but he doesn't say anything. Tony continues.
- That is funny. - Tony says with a chuckle. - Apparently all the fans think that Wanda and Y/N are a couple. They are the most popular.
You let out a short laugh, surprised at the insinuation. Wanda follows you, settling better on your lap as she laughs.
- Wait, Tony, what do you mean they think? - Bucky asked with a confused expression. - Aren't you two dating?
You and Wanda frown confusedly in his direction, and you notice that Thor has the same confused expression as Bucky. And then you look around and everyone, except Tony, has the same look on their faces.
- Who else thought we were dating? - Wanda asks and the whole team choruses in agreement. Tony says "I thought you were playing along".
You and Wanda laugh awkwardly.
- Where did you get that from? - you ask in surprise. Then the team shares a wry laugh and you frown.
- Really Y/N? - Bucky replies. - Wanda is literally on your lap! And you've been playing with her hair all night!
You and Wanda shake your heads in denial, laughing lightly.
When you return to your room however, you are thinking about it.
- Hey, stop overthinking it. - Wanda jokes as you walk together down the hall toward your room, and you laugh weakly.
- Stop reading my mind. - You retort without any hint of aggressiveness. You loved to provoke Wanda, and you had no problem if she used her powers on you.
When you arrived at your room, Wanda threw herself on your bed, and you went to find something comfortable to wear.
- Lie down here, I got curious. - She says as you are putting on your pajama pants. When you are finished, you lie down next to her on the bed, stomach down on the mattress, mimicking her position. Wanda is on her cell phone, and holds it out a little to the side so that you can see it. She starts typing something next, and you laugh lightly.
- Why are you researching this? - you ask as you read "fanfic Wanda Maximoff and Y/N".
She shrugs, smiling.
- I want to know what people think we do.
- Wanda.
- Shh, look at that. - She says, holding her cell phone up to her face. She laughs lightly, and then pulls it away showing you a text.
- "Wanda and Y/N have always been in love with each other." - You start reading and Wanda lets out a giggle. - Wow, that is a surprise.
- "In the Avengers tower, they have always gotten along much better than any other member of the team." - Wanda continues reading and you make a noise of agreement with your mouth.
- Technically, I get along with everyone. - You comment and Wanda laughs, pushing her shoulders against you lightly.
- "However, the nature of their relationship changed during a particularly physical training session." - Wanda continues reading and you raise an eyebrow. - That sounds promising. - You laugh half-heartedly, but Wanda continues reading. - "The redhead had been assigned to train with her friend, and during that training she realized the undeniable attraction she felt for the other girl”.
- Oh my god. - You mumbled in embarrassment, trying to snatch the cell phone from Wanda's hands, but she just laughed, moving away. When you insisted, she stood up, laughing lightly as she continued reading.
- "When Y/N made a move that knocked Wanda to the ground, the witch couldn't help but kiss her passionately."- She read aloud and you let out a grumble, getting up. - "Their tongues fought together as Wanda let her hands go up the inside of her shirt to her breasts, making Y/N moan"
Wanda's reading died in a laugh as you tickled her to reach for the cell phone. She threw her body at you next, but you didn't return the device, laughing lightly.
- Stop it, this is embarrassing. - You say with flushed cheeks, dodging the girl's hands as you get back into bed. Wanda grumbles, but follows you.
You sit side by side, and you only hand the phone back to her when you close the page.
- You know what? - She says after a moment, her cheeks slightly pink. You look at her curiously. - If I were going to date anyone here, it would be you.
You blink in surprise, feeling your heart race at the phrase, and look away from Wanda quickly.
It takes a moment, but you finally speak.
- Yeah, I... I would date you too. - You confess, looking forward. To try to relieve the tension, you quickly add. - Maybe Bucky or Nat too, but my first choice would be you.
Wanda laughs, turning to you and ruffling your hair. Your natural instinct is to grab her by the wrists, and throw her on the bed. You laugh for a few seconds, but something has changed. The closeness of your faces makes your breath catch.
- Wanda... I...
- Are you trying to figure out the ending to that fic? - She teases breathlessly, and you laugh, letting go of her wrists. But Wanda uses her freedom to pull your face against her, kissing you softly, and making you sigh in surprise.
- Wow. - You say as you walk away, feeling your lips tingling.
- I know. - she whispers. - Why did it take us so long to do this?
You smiled, kissing her again, properly this time.
When you two parted again, completely out of breath, and with your clothes crumpled, you threw yourself next to Wanda on the bed, laughing lightly.
- I can't believe that the fans knew that you were in love with me before I did! - Wanda then announced.
- And you call yourself a telepath.
You scoffed next, and she laughed as she slapped you on the shoulder. It didn't take long before you were laughing together.
#wanda maximoff#wanda x reader#wandaxreader#wanda maximoff x reader#wanda x you#wandaxyou#wandamaximoffxreader#marvel imagines
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Who Knew Being A Youtuber Was Dangerous
requested by this anon: "Okay last one I promise…. I think. So CC!Dream x Bodyguard!Reader or reverse the roles, whatever works. Premise: Dream starts going to conventions and needs to be protected from all the antis and obsessive fans. But Dream didn’t know his bodyguard was gonna be attractive…"
dream x reader
trigger warnings: some swearing, yelling, general violence/threats
premise: The first vidcon after Covid has finally arrived, and with his face newly revealed, Dream's getting a bit worried a bout how a week in California will turn out, so, he (lets be real it was his manager) hirers you and your team for protection
{Also reader has implied military background}
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"You didn't tell me that they were coming all the way out here! I thought we were meeting them in California!" Dream argued into his phone.
You leaned against the rented escalade, watching as he paced back at forth.
One of your partners half leaned through the passenger seat window, "Sir? We're going to be late if you don't wrap it up!"
The man in the driver seat tapped his thumbs on the wheel anxiously, "I can handle politicians, I can handle CEO's, hell I can handle regular celebrities'- but youtubers? Dude why?"
You looked back at him, "Don't complain, he's paying bigger bucks than anyone we've had in years."
"I know but-"
You shook your head, cutting him off as Dream approached the car, "I'm sorry- I just thought I wasn't getting your services until I landed in California."
You shook your head, "You've still got to get through two international airports, and your flight. We'll be going along with you throughout the duration of your trip, but that won't happen, if you don't go get your things so we can leave on time."
"Yeah-" He sighed, "I'll- get my bags."
Shaking his head, Dream hurried back inside, grabbing his things before sending Sapnap a panicked snap 'sap help the body guard is hot'
When he got no response, he sighed, pulling his things out of the house and locking up behind himself, "You know for body guards you are dressed awfully casually."
You sighed adjusting your windbreaker, as you grabbed one of his bags to put in the trunk, "We're supposed to blend in. People might think it's suspicious that you need body guards, they could... plan things."
"And three extra people traveling with me isn't?"
"Smith and McAllen aren't going to be with us, with us. Within range, sure, but not following you around. You're going to be telling people I'm just- a friend or something- your life was private enough it would blend in." You reported, closing the trunk and moving to open the other door for him.
You moved around the car, climbing into your own seat, "Let's move."
~~
The airport was fairly crowded, but you navigated through it carefully, avoiding the biggest groups of people and instructing Dream to keep his hood up.
After almost two hours of anxiety, you had finally boarded the plane, tucking your backpack under the seat in front of you.
"Where'd the other two end up?" He asked quietly.
"Smiths on the other side of the row, two up, and McAllen's behind us." You reported.
Dream nodded, and the two of you settled in for take off.
Nearly an hour in, and you could tell he was getting bored as he leaned over, "So how does one end up doing body guard stuff anyway?"
You shrugged, "My contract was ended early.... I was looking for a job, retaining all my previous work experience, and I stumbled upon this agency."
"It's strange that it's even a real job."
"It's strange that playing a video game is even a real job." You shot back, grinning.
"How do you know what type of videos I make?" He asked skeptically.
"Well I have to make sure a client is legit before taking a legal offer, right?" You chuckled.
~~
The flight was nearing at end, finally, and you went over the plans again, looking over the layout of the airport on your tablet.
"What're you doing?" Dream asked.
"You never get tired of questions do you?" You sighed.
He frowned, "Sorry..."
You sighed again, "We're supposed to plan the routes around every fucking building you go into. We have a plan, we stick to the route, we keep idiots like you safe from anti's and crazy fans."
"Crazy fans?"
"Well you only just revealed what you look like, you've never been mobbed in public," You explained, "You can never trust what a obsessed person would do. That's how John Lennon died."
"Really? You're citing the Beatles on why your looking at airport maps?"
"You literally hired me for this!"
~~
So far, vidcon had been uneventful on your part, and you found yourself back in the old routine of standing off to the side, in hallways, or generally out of the way as your client did his thing.
The same lie had been told millions of times by now, Dream's partner, that's how the internet knew you, and lies grew, but all you had to do was walk along side him, nothing more.
Your partners could normally just explain away being assistants or managers working with vidcon organizers.
"Someone on twitter started a conspiracy thread that 'dream and (y/n) are not a real couple, I found so much proof this weekend'." Sapnap laughed.
From your place at the other table you nearly choked on your sandwich as Dream began to wheeze.
"why is this getting traction!?!"
"Someone added to the end," Smith reported, looking up from his phone, "Their debating if it's real, fake, or if the person made the thread cause they were jealous."
You took a sip of your water, "I can't wait till this is over, then we'll break up and the stans will forget about me."
Dream laughed, "That's too bad, I was thinking of taking you guys on full time."
You sighed, shaking your head, pretending to be annoyed, "Oh no, being paid to fake date some cute famous guy."
"You think I'm cute?"
You rolled your eyes, ignoring him, "Hurry up, we've gotta leave in ten."
~~
You were halfway through the convention center when suddenly you began to miss all that standing around.
As usual movement through the convention center was tough, but this time the crowd seemed different, particularly as someone near the back began yelling about something.
You scanned the crowd, and the woman seemed to lock onto you, "You! Yeah you! Who the hell do you think you are?"
You glanced back at McAllen, who nodded, starting to move to the side, Dream following, ever so slightly.
"You don't get to date him! How could you stoop that low Dream?"
More yelling erupted from the crowd, and someone seemed to charge forward.
You immediately took charge, grabbing Dream's arm and pulling him along with you as Smith hurried forward to block the man.
"What the fuck is going on?" Dream asked.
"Shut up, and stay behind me." You hissed turning down a side hallway as all hell started to break loose in the convention center, a single gunshot ringing out.
"Shouldn't you be going to stop that?" Dream asked as you and McAllen hurried him down another corridor.
"Job for the police, not us." You muttered, "Exit's through here, lets go."
From behind you, there were more shouts, something about stealing Dream.
“Motherfucker, these people are insane.” McAllen muttered.
~~
Somehow, you’d managed to get Dream out of the building, double back, and also collect Smith and Sapnap on the way.
Running on pure adrenaline, you’d then helped anyone else, evacuating civilians as the police worked to talk down the shooter.
By the time you had arrived back to the hotel, finished making statements and refusing to answer a frat deal of questions from father fans, you were about to collapse.
“I thought your job was just to get me out of there.” Dream said, looking up as you entered your room.
“I did.”
“And then you went back in.”
“I help people, okay?” You snapped, “Normally this job doesn’t include being shot at because I have to fake date someone who I’m protecting.”
You sat down heavily, “just- gimme a minute to breath. You’ve made my job more complex than it needed to be.”
“With my dashing good looks?” He laughed.
You rolled your eyes, “I mean with the amount of trouble you’ve caused me we might as well be actually dating, then I might benefit more.”
He grinned, “I just might take you up on that.”
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