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imerdwarf · 3 years

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I've Given All I Can

Summary: You and Bucky feel as though you're pulling apart from each other, your worse fears come true one night at a party but is it too late?

Warnings: Low self esteem, angst, language, Bucky is an idiot, tears, heartbreak, implied smut (but nothing explicit) at the end 💜

Author's Notes: Happy evening 😍 this is for @the-ss-horniest-book-club's Drunk Drabbles 💜

Bucky has that unreadable look in his eyes again as he watches you change clothes. Your jeans feel too tight around your waist and your shirts pull across your stomach, accentuating the bulge from your food baby from all the binge eating junk you've eaten the past few weeks to help you feel better.

In truth, eating like that made you feel worse about yourself. You thought of yourself as the worst human alive because you couldn't stop it, you couldn't stop anything from going wrong with your body and your mind was in overdrive.

Your self esteem issues were eating away at you, you felt helpless as if you were screaming into a void alone and nobody was around to help you. Your mind would play the cruelest tricks. For example, how your mind would pick up on the facial expressions your boyfriend Bucky would give other women in the compound. He looks at them how he used to look at you when you first started dating, and it's been a while since you have seen that look from him.

For Bucky it was completely the opposite though, he's felt this distance between the two of you for a while and figured it was because you weren't interested in him anymore. He knows of the stress you've been under, how your insecurities are eating away at your thoughts and he longs for the day he sees your beautiful smile again.

He just knows it won't happen anytime soon and quite frankly, he doesn't even know what he should do anymore. Trying to talk to you was impossible because you would only grunt in response or not pay any attention to what he was asking or you would just change subjects which has been the case lately.

He doesn't know what do to, he wishes you would just tell him what he needs to do to make you love him again. He stares blankly at you as you change into jeans and a sweater, making no attempt to look away when you catch his stare and that look on his face.

Bucky stands and leaves you alone in the room, the door closes behind him and it's then the waterworks come to life. Tears roll freely down your cheeks as you crumble to the floor, hugging your knees to your chest, you rock back and forth feeling your heart break in your chest. You would give anything to have Bucky wrap his arms around you right now, it just seems he feels disgusted being near you and touching you.

While you were crying in your shared room, Bucky made his way to the kitchen where he saw Sam sitting on the stool sipping a coffee and scrolling through some files on the glass tablet.

"Rough mission?" Bucky asks, taking a seat opposite him and playing with the strings on his sweatpants.

"You could say that," Sam coughs into his bent elbow and looks over at Barnes to notice that worrying look in his eyes, "what's wrong?" He adds with a frown.

"Nothin'" Bucky sighs and runs a hand over his face. He looks tired and almost defeated.

"Come on man, I'm good for some things ya know!" Sam chuckles to encourage the man.

"It's just me and Y/N, things aren't... so good lately, feel like we're drifting apart." Bucky sniffles, saying it out loud was almost reality.

"Well, as your friend, I would advise you to sit down and talk about things, tell each other what's on your mind and hug it out even." Sam has a point but he doesn't understand that Bucky has tried to talk to you about this in the past and got nowhere. Now you were barely speaking.

"It's not that simple Sam," Bucky sighs and shakes his head.

Now it's Sam's turn to sigh, "nothing ever is simple. Just act like an adult and talk like adults, it's gonna be alright, man! Anyway, I got to go. I have a support group to motivate, let me know how things go." Sam grabs his backpack from the stool next to him and leaves quickly, leaving Bucky to think over his irrational plan that he thinks might work.

1 week later

Tonight is the night of one of Stark's extravagant parties and everyone is invited. It's also the night Bucky has a plan that he wants to execute to hopefully bring the two of you back together again.

He stands in front of the floor length mirror and adjusts his bowtie for the umpteenth time. His black suit is tailored to fit him perfectly and he knows how much you love him in black.

Your own dress was a gift from Natasha. It showed a lot of cleavage and thigh, normally, a dress like this was not something you would have chosen.

And by the time you got downstairs to the party, the room was already crowded ranging from the less fortunate to the billionaires. You had to shimmy past a couple of people to reach the bar, you were hoping your dress might spark some interest from Bucky tonight but he's nowhere to be seen.

You take a seat on the barstool and order a martini, the bartender hands you the drink and you thank him with a smile, spinning on your seat to sip your drink and scan the room. A boisterous laugh grabs your attention and your eyes follow the offensive sound. Your eyes narrow in on the gorgeous blonde standing in the corner, but it's the man she's with that makes your heart drop into your stomach.

It's Bucky. And her hands are holding onto his biceps as he presumably tells her one of his jokes. He's smiling, he's laughing and it's the happiest you have seen him for a while. Was he miserable because of you? Were you holding him back from happiness? The scene unfolding was answering all of your questions and more when Bucky takes her hand in his and pulls her to the dance floor to dance alongside the other 'couples'. They look so happy and so lost in each others eyes that your eyes well up and the room feels like it's closing in and suffocating you.

You can't breath, you need air and fast. You slam your glass down on the bar and stand up, taking off your heels so you can get out of here even quicker. You don't excuse yourself as you barge past the happy smiling attendees.

Wanda sees everything unfold from where she was stood. She saw the way Barnes had approached the blonde woman and started flirting with her as soon as you arrived at the party. She also sees he's none the wiser of the fact you've already left the scene upset and heartbroken.

Wanda approaches the blind idiot and pulls him away from the woman he's with. "what the -"

"I could ask you the same question Barnes! What the hell do you think you're playing at? You're cheating on Y/N now? My best friend?" Wanda is seething, and the urge to punch the smirk of his face is harder to resist.

"Did it work?" He asks with a smug grin looking around the party.

"Oh yeah, if your plan was to break her heart and make her cry, it worked perfectly!"

Bucky frowns and his lip quivers slightly, "nononono! That wasn't the plan! Fuck, where did she go?"

"Who knows." Wanda shrugs, she wouldn't tell him even if she did.

Bucky rushes past her and starts to look in every room until he finds you slouched against the wall of one of the vacant offices down the hall.

"Baby!" Bucky rushes in and kneels next to you, his big arms immediately pull you into his chest. You try to pull away but his grip is too strong and you end up sobbing uncontrollably into his chest. "I'm so sorry baby."

You pull your face away to breathe, your palms flat against his chest, "you're leaving me," you croak, looking up at him through wet eyelashes. The room around you feels like it's spinning, this feels like a really bad dream.

Bucky staggers for a moment, digging his fingertips further into your flesh. "Absolutely not baby! No way! I'm so sorry you gotta believe me doll, I was just trying to make you jealous because I thought you weren't interested in me anymore and-"

"I thought you weren't interested in me!" You argue, fighting back the fresh tears threatening to fall, "you haven't touched me in so long I didn't know what to think."

"Then it's my fault doll, I read the whole situation wrong and I should have talked to you like an adult, please let me make it up to you and I promise I'll show you just how much I love you and want to touch you." His nose nudges against yours and his face dips slightly to capture your lips. His lips are soft and you quietly moan into his mouth as he spins you both around and presses you up against the door ready to make good on his promise.

Taglist: @smokeybluebrooke-lyn @pinkdiamond1016 @whatrambles @bestofbucky @ladyeliot

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cazimagines · 3 years

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Slipping through my fingers

Synopsis: While waiting for Bucky to arrive Zemo reflects on the past, remembering time he spent with his family and when he found them after the Sokovian attack

Warnings: Mention of death, blood, guns, dark imagery, this is a very sad fic, includes a scene from episode 5

Word Count: 2.2k

Author's note: This isn’t a fic that involves a reader this time, I wanted to write about scenes with Zemo and his family as every time I think about it; it makes me sad and I haven’t seen anything like this done yet. Recommended you listen to sad music while reading if you want to feel even more pain. Sorry if this makes you cry.

Masterlist

Screams echoed throughout the hospital room, bouncing off the walls. Nurses rushed around grabbing towels and rushing towards the bed. A man paced back and forth. He ran his hands through his hair in stress as he kept looking over at the hospital bed.

“Helmut” she whispered

Instantly he was by her side. She raised out her arm, palm open wide. He clasped it, giving a tender kiss on her knuckles. “I’m here, my love” he confided as she clenched her eyes. She let out an ear-piercing shriek, clenching his hand tightly as she squeezed.

After a few minutes she exhaled, and the sound of a baby crying filled the room. The nurses wrap the child up in a clean towel, wiping away as much blood as they could before handing it over to the women.

“A boy!” they say

The woman smiled down happily as the baby wriggled in her arms. She lifted her arm to tickle him as her husband wrapped his arm around her shoulders, smiling at his son. She looks to him and holds up the baby, offering him to Zemo. He carefully picks up the child, holding him as if he was the most fragile thing in the world.

“Your heir” she whispers as she watches them, a sweet smile gracing her lips.

Tears of happiness slip down Zemo’s face as he looks at his son, his smile as wide as it could be. He leans down and places a gentle kiss on his son’s forehead. Turning back to his wife, he presses a kiss on her forehead as well and hands their son to her.

“Our son, my beautiful baroness,”

Sirens echoed in the street. Though it was days later since the attack, dust still fell as if a reminder of how everything has crumbled. Fallen down.

Footsteps thudded across the pavement. His eyes scanned the wreckage of once his summer house, away from the city. He could feel people staring. They recognized him. The baron. But in a matter of a few days, he had lost any power he had. Now he was one of them, suffering because of the attack, desperate to find his family.

He called out their names. His father, wife, son. There was no answer. Just people staring at him.

He asked them if they had seen anyone else. They shook their heads.

Angrily he walked forward, grabbing the rocks, determined he would find them alive under the rubble.

They had to be alive. They had to be.

“Tonight I am a father!” Zemo declared, sitting down on the lavish seat next to his father.

“And I am a grandfather. I think a drink is in order” his father chuckles, pouring out whiskey into two glasses, placing the bottle back into the glass cabinet. He hands the drink to his son and they give a toast.

“To a long and healthy life for your son,” his father exclaims

“Cheers!” Zemo shouts, clinking his glass with his father’s then eagerly drinking.

His father sits back in his armchair, getting comfy and exhaling happily. He glances at his son, smiling warmly.

“What name have you chosen?”

“Carl. After Grandpa,”

Zemo’s father’s eyes glossed over with tears after hearing that name. His smile tightens as he reaches over to embrace his son.

“Your mother would be proud,”

Zemo hugs him back tightly, burying his head in his father’s shoulders, enjoying the comfort the embrace brought to him, as if he himself was a child again.

“Thank you” he whispers to his father, “Thank you”

After hours of searching, he could see them. The breath leaves his lungs, an inhumane noise falls out from him. He rushes to his father’s side, not caring at how the dirt clung to his clothes, the blood staining them.

His father was hunched over, his arms wrapped around two bodies. Blood stained his head. It trailed down the side of his face, tinting the floor and a rock. A piece of ceiling that had fallen down.

A sob was pulled from Zemo, his eyes clouded with tears he could hardly see. His hand was raised to his mouth, trying to keep everything in. His other hand brushes over his father’s head, wanting to feel his warming embrace one last time, but the skin was cold, clammy. Dead.

His eyes moved further down.

Zemo walked into the kitchen, grinning as he saw the situation before him. His son sat in a baby chair, the remainders of his breakfast split all over the table. His wife was also covered in parts of his breakfast. She held a rag in her hand, attempting to clean up the mess Carl made.

“I see we’ve had quite the disaster this morning” Zemo jokes, walking over to his son, placing a kiss on his head. He pulls out a tissue of his coat pocket and wipes the rest of the breakfast off Carl’s lips.

“Carl has decided he now hates porridge,”

“I don’t blame him. Why have porridge when there are so many other things you can have for breakfast that taste much better,” Zemo says, stepping over to stand in front of his wife, “Like for example, you,” he adds quickly giving his wife a peck on the lips.

“Helmut!” his wife exclaims, looking around the room flustered. “Not in front of Carl”

“I had not realised he suddenly understood the whole English language” he said glancing back to his son who was staring at them, his eyes sparkling and a giggle coming from him.

Zemo turns back to his wife, a smirk on his lips. He raises up the tissue and rubs the porridge off her face. Her eyes flicker to his thin lips, then back to his warm chocolate eyes.

“Oh Helmut” she purrs, warmth flooding her.

Zemo raises his hands to cradle her face, pressing a longer, passionate kiss to her lips. Her arms wrap around his abdomen, tugging him closer to her. He draws back from the kiss, instead burying his head into her neck, kissing it as he wraps his arms around her back, resting on the back of her head, gently stroking her hair.

“I love you so much darling” he sighs, inhaling the sweet smell of her strawberry tainted perfume.

“I love you to Helmut. For forever,”

Her hair was matted with blood, her skin deathly pale. Bruises ran down her arms, down her neck.

Zemo pulled her out from under his father. He whispered her name, shaking her.

“Please,” he begged, “Please wake up,”

But she didn’t.

A scream wrenched from his throat. Hot tears spilled from his eyes. He buried his face into her hair, letting all the pain out. His heart plummeted, shattering inside his chest. He didn’t care who was watching, who was taking photos, videos. He just wanted her. But she was gone.

“Come on, it’s bedtime for you,” Zemo declares, gripping his son’s hand and leading him to his bedroom.

Zemo helped Carl into his pj’s then settled him into his bed, tucking him in.

“Dad, I’m scared of the monster under by bed,” Carl whispers

Zemo tilts his head looking at his son, “The monster under your bed?” he whispers back, leaning towards his son

“Yeah! I think it’s going to eat me,”

“Well, we can’t be having that can we,” Zemo claims, “I’ll look under the bed to see if I can spot anything,”

Carl holds his breath as Zemo dips his head down, searching under the bed. He stays under there for a few moments till,

“ROAR” Zemo shouts suddenly jumping up and at Carl, maintaining his hands in claw shapes and opening his mouth wide to look scary. His son shrieks and Zemo instantly goes to tickle him, making Carl laugh hysterically.

Finally, they settled down and Zemo rested his head on the side of his son’s bead, leaning on his side on the floor.

“That was mean dad!” Carl claims, crossing his arms as he glares at Zemo, but he struggles to keep a smile off his lips.

Zemo chuckles, smiling warmly at his son, “Sorry Carl, but I can confirm there is nothing under your bed,”

“But what if it comes back at night?”

“I’ll always be here to protect you, son. You know that,”

Zemo glances around the room and his eyes land on the pile of his son’s superheroes action figures. He leans over and picks up Iron Man off the heap and hands him to his son.

“But while I am not in the room Iron man here will protect you,”

Carl smiles, hugging the toy tightly.

“Do you think I’ll get to see the real Iron man one day?” he begs.

“I’m sure I can arrange something,” Zemo says, “Now you need to go to sleep or mummy will be upset with us”

Zemo leans over and tenderly puts a kiss on his son’s forehead. He walks away from the bed and glances over one last time at the bed, watching his son gently fall to sleep. He smiles to himself and presses the light switch off.

His little hands were still clutching her body. His once smooth dark brown hair was messy, unkept. His favorite t-shirt, with the dinosaur on, was torn. Stained. Zemo clung to him tightly. He gripped his son in his arms, but his son wasn’t there anymore.

Zemo didn’t even try to suppress his shrieks of agony. The sound burst from his throat. The sound of complete and utter grief.

“Carl,” he wailed, “My son. Please,”

He didn’t even know what he was asking for anymore. For time to go back? For revenge? All he felt was the pain. His eyes squeezed closed, not wanting to see the ghostly face his son still had. He crumpled on the ground beside his wife. His son still cradled against his body.

Slowly he opened his eyes, wiping the tears away. Something red caught his eyes. Beside the bodies was an Iron Man action figure.

Zemo reached a hand out and picked it up. His jaw clenched in hatred as he glared down at it. Using the last bit of strength he had, he threw the toy to the floor shattering it into a thousand pieces.

Years later, Zemo found himself at the same spot where he had lost everything he cherished. Before him stood a statue. The memorial sculpture to all the lives that were lost. His family. There were no flowers by it. He should have brought flowers.

An exquisite landscape surrounded it. Though if he reflected back on it, Sokovia had always been beautiful. He’d just taken the scenery for granted.

He was waiting for the end he knew was coming. Any minute.

He was grateful in a way. He got to appreciate life for one last time. Enjoy what it was like being a Baron again just for a moment. And now he has to go home. Soon to join his family. To see them again.

As he stared at the statue, he could hear footsteps approaching. They finally stopped beside him.

“I thought you’d be here sooner,” he says, taking one last look at the memorial before him. He turns his head slightly towards Bucky, then looks down to the ground to gather his words.

“Don’t worry. I’ve decided I’m not going to kill you,”

“Imagine my relief,”

Bucky moves the gun as Zemo turns towards him, but Zemo already knew he had it. It was Bucky, after all. The winter soldier is still inside of him.

If these were his last moments, he could at least provide some advice to Bucky, though he doubted Bucky would listen. He’d grown fond of Bucky and Sam with the time they spent together and he knew them well enough to know they wouldn’t listen, but it was the least he could do to help.

“The girl has been radicalised beyond salvation,” Zemo says, stepping towards Bucky.

“I warned Sam, but he didn’t listen to me. He’s stubborn as Steve Rogers before him. But you…”

Zemo studies Bucky for a second, curious about his reaction, but Bucky remains impassive, expressionless. ‘One thing they had trained him for’, Zemo thought.

“They literally programmed you to kill. James, do what needs to be done. Karli has people everywhere and there is only one way to make sure she cannot continue her mission.”

“I appreciate the advice. But we’re going to do it our own way,”

Zemo chuckles slightly, looking away from Bucky. A slight melancholy in his voice, “Yeah. I was afraid you would say that”

There was a moment of silence between them, They both knew what was coming. What had to be done.

Zemo’s eyes flicker down to the gun as it clicks again. He perceived what was to happen, but now the moment was here, he could feel fear creep up on him. It crawled into his broken soul. He let out a shaky breath as he brought his gaze back up to Bucky as he raised the gun.

Zemo started down the barrel at Bucky, his gaze unwavering. Though he feared it. It was what he wanted.

He nods at Bucky signaling. It was okay. He would see his family soon.

Bucky pulled the trigger.

Taglist: @sinister-sleep @cable-kenobi @faustlyaccused @chipster-21 @icarusinstatic @yallgotkik @montypythonsholysnail @bunniwritesx @checkurwindow @huntheimpossible @jayxkelsi @avgravy @prestigious-tea @wonderwoman292 @there-goes-thefighter @multiyfandomgirl40 @freyjasamael @ineffablebean

#zemo #helmut zemo #baron zemo #zemo fanfic #sugar daddy zemo #tfatws #bucky barnes #daniel brühl #marvel #mcu

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littlemisslipbalm · 4 years

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“You get me” Pt. 2 -- aka “I got you” (famous!y/n x harry)

Harry x famous!y/n - FLUFF pretty much

ahh you all are so kind and literally you all mean so much for liking, reblogging, and commenting! Means the world to me! NOT PROOFREAD

also if anyone wants to let me know how to properly do a tag list ?? as of now I have a couple people on the tag list so yah but if it grows i might need some tips

Taglist: @marauderswhisperer, @morgannope, @daddystevee

Now for Pt. 2 - feedback super welcome, maybe we’ll have a part 3 and please no stealing of the work :)

Dedicated to all the peeps out there who find themselves constantly in line with Harry and his vibes but feel weird agreeing with him constantly because people think you’re only that way because you’re in love with him

Word Count: 3.5k

Warnings: kissin’ and stuff, nothing graphic

Pt. 1

“Am I right? I- I could be wrong” you rushed.

“No, no, I got you, don’t worry...I got you” his eyes outshown his smiling lips but nonetheless he reassured you.

It’s seldom that one person meets someone so perfectly matched to themselves. So similar yet not annoyingly so. Two pieces of clothing from the same custom collection, perhaps. You couldn’t believe you’d spent almost seven hours just talking with Harry. Your conversations ranged from silly situations to music inspiration to any dreams you had unfulfilled. Your answers always lined up - not the same, but exceptionally similar and the other was always quick to say “wait, me too” and jump into their own story.

It was the next morning after hanging out at Harry’s and you’d had trouble sleeping, worrying about not having your phone with you. Luckily, that meant your body was quick to wake you up in the morning even without your usual alarm. When you woke up, you quickly dressed in sweats and a tank top, shuffled some shoes on, and freshened yourself up with some quick hygiene care - teethbrushing, facewashing, and the likes. Then, you jogged to your car, anxious to reunite with your phone and the prospect of seeing Harry again so soon moved your legs far quicker than normal. You had figured you wouldn’t see him very often, despite the amazing friendship the two of you had already cultivated, he lived in England mainly and you lived in the United States - California specifically, the furthest you could get from the Harry within the continental United States, sadly. This mistake gave you the chance to see him much sooner than expected and you were very grateful for it.

As you drove out to Malibu, you kept the windows down and your sun roof open. It was a lovely day and you could never get enough of the warm wind whipping around you as you belted out the lyrics to the old rock radio songs. When you sensed you were getting closer to Harry’s you felt yourself begin to tingle, your nerves were gone this time, only excitement filled you as you took in the now familiar surroundings. Harry’s home was set further back from the street so that random pedestrians and street noises never reached the house. You noticed more and appreciated the total beauty of the grounds while you walked up to the house this time, the daytime sun and the lack of nerves both allowing you to soak it all it.

Your actions mirrored those of the previous night, just in a slight fast forward - everything moving faster. You had began to worry slightly though, ‘what if he is upset that I woke him up, what if he is out and I can’t get my phone, what if he has early morning company?’. Still you proceeded to knock and hoped to hear Harry’s footsteps any moment. Thankfully, your ears were greeted with the sound of rustling and soft, slow steps behind the door. You then heard the deadbolt turn and again Harry was before you. His hair fell into his sleepy spectacle-clad eyes, barely open, but he had raised a hand to rub out the sleep from one of them as he opened the door, skewing his glasses. You took in his disheveled appearance, you had obviously woken him, his sweatpants hung low on his hips and he had a hoodie on that was askew, showing a hint of his tanned olive skin - a corner of one of his laurels if you were being honest but you forced yourself to believe it was just a shadow. His feet were bare and you noticed his toenails were painted electric purple and a deep green.

“Hi,” you squeaked, biting your lip. Harry blinked hard and opened his eyes and raised his brows, just trying to wake himself up, but also slightly confused to see you at his doorstep. He had texted you last night, asking if you’d made it home safely, but had never heard back. He hadn’t worried, just assumed you weren’t always on your phone. His was a light sleeper and had heard the knock on the door echo through the house, so he slipped on a hoodie and went to see who it was, when it was you it was definitely surprising. Your presence was shining through his stupor, a small smile graced your face, but it radiated light as strong as the sun.

“Y/N... s’lovely t’see you again, but why’re you ‘ere, love?” He almost whispered your name, his voice catching in his throat due to the lack of use during his slumber. He quickly cleared his throat to get rid of the rasp and groggy sound he heard emit from his own voice. Your smile grew at the sound of his melodic voice, how he pronounced your name - like it was something fragile and needed great care, how it was rough from sleep, but it mostly grew from his use of love, so common for him, yet it felt so special for you. “I left my phone here last night, actually. Sorry for barging in, and, uh, waking you up, I’m assuming,” you said as you took in his appearance once again. He nodded and mustered enough strength to chuckle.

“When’d you realize you’d left it?” Harry asked as he let you in, as he swung the door open, he hung onto it, to keep him upright. “Oh! Right when I got home, of course!” you started as you began to talk with your hands again. You walked ahead of the slower Harry, through the house, back to the sitting room where the two of you had entertained yourselves last night with each other’s company. “Barely could sleep at all, was so worried you’d have jetted off again already and I’d have to figure out how to break in and heist it out of here.” More laughter. Being around you like this was like a shot of espresso straight to Harry’s veins. He perked up at the sound of your sweet voice and your accompanying hands. He noticed they were void of your rings this morning, he guessed you took them off to sleep and forgotten them this morning, due to the rush.

He pushed his hair out of his face with both hands and huffed out a breath as you looked around the room. “Where could it be?” you asked slightly desperate, more to yourself than to Harry. He suggested the couch, walked over, and began to take the leather cushions off. You sighed and began to help Harry with his search of the couch. The last cushion to be removed from the couch uncovered your abandoned phone. “Finally!” you both exclaimed. Then, you looked around, “We made a mess...shit, I’m so sorry, Harry.” “Don’t, don’t be silly, its an easy fix, and y’needed your phone, c’mon Y/N.” He was quick to discourage your apology, despite your surroundings looking like someone had ransacked his room. All the cushions were discarded haphazardly, some blankets had fallen to the ground, and magazines were strewn across the coffee table and the floor.

“Well I’m not leaving you here to clean up a mess I caused,” you stated matter of factly, quickly beginning to repiece the room. Harry threw on a couple of the cushions then said, “S’alright, really, but if y’insist...I’ll start a pot of coffee. Do you?..” he trailed off, but you understood his question. It was kind of him to offer, but you assumed it was more for himself than you. “Nah, I don’t love coffee, sorry, now tea, that’s another story, but I’m fine really.” Harry glanced over to you and there was that smile again. It’s like it lived full time on your face, Harry thought, no wonder you’d already seen such success, not only were you technically a good musician, you were also a good person. He quickly nodded with a breathy laugh. You two went about your self-given tasks, cleaning and “cooking”. Neither of you spoke much as you worked, but you glanced up when you heard Harry begin to play some song from his phone after he had set up the coffee pot. The moment was domestic and tranquil, like the two of you tidy the house and make coffee every morning together.

A whistling sound cut through the soft moment just as you were grabbing the final magazines from the ground. “I thought you said--” Harry cut you off before you could finish, “I made both, love. Any preference for your tea?” You moved into the kitchen and leaned against the bar top, amazed by the man before you. He’d gotten down two mugs, gotten out an assortment of tea, put on the kettle and the coffee pot, making you what you preferred despite your claim to be fine with nothing. He held the two mugs out to you, “Which?” he questioned moving them back and forth from his chest encouraging you to choose, raising his brows for added effect. One was a wide and short ceramic speckled mug with a line painted fish. The other was a taller cream ceramic mug with a shiny red interior with a colorful scene of a town around the outside, the sun was shining in the little town. You crossed the kitchen to him and placed both hands on the red town mug, encircling the little people and houses smiling up at the two of you.

“Good choice, very treat people with kindness of you.” Harry smiled down at you. Whenever you were in closer proximity to him, his body so obviously towered compared to yours. It would seem intimidating, but really just felt comforting, safe. This moment far tenser than any previous moments that morning. He stared into your eyes and you returned the gaze. His hands still holding the mug you had chosen, you felt the heat radiating off of him and warming up your cheeks. There and then it was gone, you turned from him and went to the stove where the kettle sat. You filled your mug with the boiling water and fished a packet of some pink floral Parisian tea you saw and dropped it in the mug. Again you turned and leaned on the counter. Harry had poured his coffee and was opposite you, leant against the counter as well. Like a silent conversation had gone on between the two of you, Harry said, “Creamer’s in the fridge.” You nodded and went and grabbed it. You scurried back to your place against the counter. Harry set his mug down and crossed the short distance between you. His movement was so sudden and disturbed the peacefulness occurring in the kitchen, the synchronous movements between you two. You tensed and your heart began to race when he didn’t stop moving closer. His body was almost against yours when his left arm reached above and past your shoulder, opening th cupboard, and taking out a box of brown sugar cubes. Slowly, he moved the package between the two of you, either side resting on parts of both of your bodies. His warm coffee saturated breath fanned your face.The smell was warm and all consuming when it mixed with the scent of just Harry, probably a combination of shampoo, laundry detergent, and sweat. “Sugar’s right ‘ere,” he spoke just for you, lingering in the bubble your proximity had created. He couldn’t pull away and neither could you. But you had to. You nodded and took the box of sugar cubes, plopping a few in your tea. With that, Harry huffed an inaudible sigh and grabbed his coffee.

Happy witht the taste of your drink, Harry and you journeyed back to the couch where you been last night. Careful to set your phone in eyeline, you got comfortable, tucking your legs under you on the couch, leaning back and gazing at Harry. Comfortable silence fell between you, but again it was like the two of you were communicating in someway that didn’t require words. You noticed you were situated closer to Harry on the couch than you had been last night. Maybe you were less careful or maybe Harry had chosen to scoot closer to you as well. “So, I’ve been thinking, I know we like literally just met, but I’m just so in awe of how well we get along, Harry. Honestly, when I was little I was a huge fan and when you said you wanted to meet to discuss my work I was on a new level of existence, seriously,” you stated, “Hey! Don’t laugh, I’m being for real,” you feigned hurt when Harry giggled from your word choice. “Anyways,” you emphasized and playfully gave a pointed look towards Harry’s shaking body. “You’re like image in my head that I never thought was attainable and now...feels like we’ve been friends for ages,” you finish softly. You weren’t exactly sure why you were sharing this thought with Harry, but the moment in the kitchen had set your heart beating. You had to say something to try and explain how you were feeling. Harry had grown silent again as you had pressed forward. His brows had slightly furrowed as he had watched you speak. You sensed you’d messed everything up, you believed the silence was a sign of your overstep. You both seemed always to be on the same page and now you’d jumped chapters and Harry was still behind. Learning a spoiler can always be upsetting, sometimes even ruinous.

Shit, you thought. “Am I right? I- I could be wrong” you rushed to add, hoping to salvage any work relationship possible after crashing and burning so hard with this presumptuous statement. “No, no, I got you, don’t worry...I got you” his eyes outshown his smiling lips, but, nonetheless, he reassured you. He reached out and cradled your exposed shoulder, his thumb brushing up and down. “I feel it too…s’a bit weird, innit?” Harry kept smiling and you had to smile too. His lips were perfect, you noticed, shape and color. Every feature of him was like that, perfect shape, perfect composition. In your heart, you felt the words of a song beginning to piece itself together just from his face. You wanted to explore its every nook and cranny, the slope of his nose, the peaks of his cheeks, the sleek lines of his jaw, the depressions under his eyes, all of it. You didn’t want to leave a single piece of flesh untouched. It stayed silent and you noticed Harry had leaned in to hold your shoulder and you shifted comfortably towards him in return. And you were about to reach out and touch want you wanted so badly, your faces closer than ever before, when a doorbell rang throughout the home.

Harry twitched his hand away from your shoulder and pulled back from your face exploration activity, throwing his head back on his neck in some sort of disappointment. You were in disbelief, pulled from the trance that was Harry’s beautiful skin, ‘I didn’t know there was even a fucking doorbell here’. “‘S one momen’,” Harry grumbled, running through the house to the front door. You took a deep breath, trying to cool yourself off from what you were pretty sure was just about to happen. You grabbed your mug and took a sip. You strained your ear to hear anything at the front door, but it was all completely muffled, but the conversation seemed to be coming to an end after a couple minutes. You looked inquisitively at Harry when he returned, he waved you off. “Unimportant...what were we doing?” Harry said as he regained his position beside you. “You were about to kiss me,” you replied, taking the arm underneath your resting head and grabbing at his hand. You intertwined your hands as you had last night, when you first noticed that Harry was being vulnerable with you and getting to actually know you. Harry was caught off guard at your forwardness in the moment, but melted at the sight of this confident and caring woman in front of him. You had been so true to yourself on your album he realized after your first conversation last night. You were beautiful inside and out. He looked down at your hand in his, “No rings today…” “I forgot them...had to get over here.” “Were you excited t’see me again?” Harry questioned somewhat out of the blue. “Of course. What about when I showed up at your doorstep?” It was fine Harry hadn’t really addressed your kiss comment, you were so comfortable with him, it didn’t bother you. “I’d ‘ave thrown anyone else out after they’d found their phone if they’d been the one t’wake me up this morning.” He raised his free hand up to your hair now and ran it through until he cupped your ear, then he ran his hand down your jaw and up onto your cheek, his hand cradling your delicate face. “Can I?” He looked into your eyes intently.You bit your lip and leaned forward into Harry. Your lips connected and the kiss was so tender and filled with mutual respect and care, passion just below that surface of soft kindheartedness. Your plush lips pushed against Harry’s and the two of you moved in unison. Soft touches and faint whispers.

The chaste kiss began to turn when you pushed Harry further into the couch and crawled into his lap, your legs seated on either side of his sweatpant clad leg. One of your hands held his jaw in a strong yet loving grasp, while the other was tangled in his hair massaging his scalp. You arched your back as Harry ran his fingers down the back of your spine to land on the side of your hip, his other hand on your neck. His tongue pushed into your open mouth and you made a noise of appreciation and your tongues danced in each other’s mouths. His touch was liquid fire on your skin, seemingly harmless yet burning you everywhere he felt. His hands traveled to the bottom of your ass, slowly sliding over its entirety and squeezing at the bottom. You squealed and Harry grinned, “Easy.” You couldn’t help it, your clothed core was pressed against his toned thigh, his hands were on your ass pushing you down and to top it all off, he was an amazing kisser. He kissed your lips one more time before moving to the corner of them, then your jaw, and finally your neck. He left open mouth kisses on your neck, soft and tender. He was slowing down, taking more time to run his tongue over your neck, massaging it in a way. This was just as amazing as the rougher makeout session that had just occurred. You resumed massaging his scalp and brushing through his curls. Then, you ran your hands down to his broad shoulds beneath his sweatshirt. You drew patterns over his skin and he hummed. “Mm I’like tha,” he whispered into your skin and looked up at you.

You both wore matching smiles, basking in the warmth the two of you had just created. You dropped your head into the crook of Harry’s collarbone beneath his neck, “We should do that again.” “We should definitely do that again, Y/N,” Harry responded emphatically, giving your bum a final squeeze before moving his hands to encircle your waist. You two sat there silently for awhile and then changed to a better cuddling position where you could both still drink from your mugs. You discussed your upcoming schedule, press, time off, and upcoming tour dates. Harry would be in town for a couple more weeks, but was going back to London afterwards. “You should come visit me when you’re on break before tour. We can go out and do somethin’. Tha’d be fun.” You agreed that it sounded fun and that you two should schedule something when it was closer. Harry was largely free during the time that you were on tour. “I dont wan’t to be presumptuous, but… if you wanted, you could come visit me while I’m on tour, we could explore when I’m on my Europe leg?” you said hesitantly. It was Harry’s turn to agree, “Sounds like a great idea, love,” he ran his fingertips up and down your arm idly. You continued to plan the future, nothing had to be defined, it was clear the two of you loved to spend time together, everything just seemed to flow when you were together. Everyone and everything else could fade into the background, as long as you had each other, you were pretty sure you’d be alright.

“Thank you,” you said quietly, breaking some silence that had settled over your cuddled figures. “What for?” Harry looked down at you in his arms. “For getting me,” you smiled for the thousandth time that day. You were sure you’d grow extra smile lines if you continued seeing Harry so constantly like this. Harry returned it and pressed a soft kiss to the top of your head, “I got you.”

Pt.3 🥺

#harry styles #you get me #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles x reader #harry styles fluff #harry styles x y/n #harry styles x you #harry styles fanfic #mine #my writing #not my gif #love you h #hope you all enjoy #PART 2!#famous!y/n #famous!reader #my writings

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trashmenofmarvel · 4 years

Text

Branded - Chapter 24

Pairing: Demon!Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: Bucky receives your Christmas present.

(This is a fan AU of Falling’s Just Another Way to Fly by araniaart. Please check out this incredible series for all of your demon Bucky needs.)

Chapter Warnings: So much fluff

AO3

You took your mission to get a present for Bucky just as seriously as your mission to seduce him. No alcohol was involved this time, just a little elbow grease and fighting through the cobwebs of the attic.

With your sister distracting Bucky downstairs after dinner (“Ohh, does this mean I can give him the shovel talk?!”), you had the time needed to find what you were looking for. A pile of cardboard boxes with your name written on them, along with the year you’d moved away from home.

You sat on the old wooden floor, opened a box, and began to rummage. Plushies and toys you hadn’t wanted to part with were in the first box. The next, various knickknacks you’d collected over the years. A crystal vial filled with water and gold flakes. A keychain full of dead Tamagotchis. A collection of bookmarks made out of wood and hand-painted with magical creatures.

Each new treasure brought a wave of nostalgia, bittersweet for a time when things had seemed simpler. No soul-sucking job. No demons stalking you, waiting for you to be alone and vulnerable to strike.

But there had been no Bucky, either. So while the memories held an alluring shine to it, you didn’t have a problem leaving the past where it was.

You came upon the object you’d been seeking tucked away in the third box. You opened it carefully, the weight surprisingly heavy in your hands. It was a picture frame, segmented into three parts that could close inward, almost like a book. An heirloom your grandmother had found at a flea market when her family had lived in New York.

It was clearly old, heavy with the weight of history, but the metalwork was delicate and beautiful. The last remains of a bygone era, a little bit tarnished and dusty but no less beautiful for it.

It reminded you of a certain other person from a bygone era.

Carefully putting away your childhood things and replacing the boxes, you went back downstairs and entered your mother’s study. The laptop on her desk was open to a webpage of a historical site regaling the Second World War. The glossy pictures you printed were still sitting in the printer’s output tray.

Taking the photos, you carefully cut them to fit the three windows of the picture frame. The pictures in them now were artistic drawings of anthropomorphic rabbits wearing whimsical, old-fashioned clothing. You carefully set them aside, planning to find new frames for your grandmother’s drawings; somewhere they could be displayed and not hidden away in the attic.

Technically, the frame was a family heirloom and probably valuable, but giving it to Bucky felt… right. He’d been a part of your life for much longer than two months, even if you hadn’t known it. The bond between you was strange, indescribable, and ran too deep to break. If that wasn’t family, you didn’t know what was.

Your mother would understand and forgive you, whenever you told her the truth. And you would tell her, someday. It was kind of unavoidable when you were dating an immortal being. You would go grey, and Bucky would always look the same…

The scissors froze halfway through a cut. What were you going to do when you grew old and withered? What happened to Bucky when you died? You’d thought about your own mortality plenty of times, but you hadn’t thought about the implications after meeting Bucky.

Would the bond break and Bucky would go on without you? Or would it hurt him. Kill him. Had the book said anything about the human slaves aging? All it had said in regards to death was they could die to protect the demon, giving the demon an extra life.

What if you couldn’t provide the energy he needed because you were too frail and gnarled with age?

What if Bucky didn’t want you when you got old?

What if—

Your jaw clenched and the scissors glided through the paper like a blade. Startled, you looked down at the photo, but thankfully you’d more or less cut straight. You stared at the photo, the last you’d chosen of the three.

A sepia photo of a handsome young man in a suit, the white dress shirt unbuttoned and showing the undershirt beneath, a familiar and easy grin on his face. Next to him, a scrawny blond boy who was much shorter, smiling reluctantly with encouragement from the brunet next to him. It was hard to believe the serious-looking boy would one day be Captain America and the young man next to him would become HYDRA’s most powerful soldier.

You carefully put the photo in one of the side frames. In the frame opposite, you placed a black and white family photo, one of Bucky, his sister, and both their parents. They were wearing their best clothes, the children on their best behavior, except the boy had an elbow pressed against his sister’s side as they both suppressed giggles.

The third photo, the one you placed in the center piece, was a simple one. A photo of Bucky in another suit, this one more formal, and his sister at his side wearing a pair of women’s trousers and a frilly blouse. They were both older than in the first photo, and according to the date, it was the summer before Bucky had been shipped out to Europe.

Bucky looked… happy. Genuinely, truly happy. You hadn’t included any photos from the war or him in uniform, though there were plenty to find. You didn’t think he’d want to be reminded of that time, and in all those pictures he’d seemed subdued, serious. It wasn’t an expression you were fond of, and the happiness he showed around his family and Steve Rogers was absent in them.

After all the pictures were secured, you leaned back and stared at them. You frowned and shifted restlessly.

What if he didn’t like it? What if it brought back painful memories he’d rather forget? You were confident that wouldn’t be the case, not after the fond way he’d talked about his family, but… reminiscing was one thing. Seeing the past staring up at you was another.

Sighing heavily, you stood and picked up the frame, closing it so only the polished metalwork was on display. It was better to get it over with, rather than stand here, frozen with the weight of doubt.

After wrapping the frame in pretty blue foil paper, you went into your old room and placed it on the bed. You took a deep breath—why were you so nervous?—and went downstairs to free Bucky from your sister’s clutches.

To your eternal shock, he didn’t look like a hostage when you found them in the kitchen. If anything, they seemed thick as thieves. Your eyes narrowed, suspicious of what tales your sister has clearly been telling.

And that’s when you froze.

Bucky was holding your infant nephew in his arms, looking for all the world like he’d done it a million times before. He didn’t look up at your arrival, his gaze entirely focused on the baby he was slowly rocking back and forth. Your nephew stared up at him with wide eyes, little chubby arms reaching up to try and grab a stray lock of hair.

You’d never experienced the phenomenon of “baby fever” before. You maybe wanted to adopt kids, sure, but have them yourself? It’d never been a priority or a desire… until that moment. The air had gone out of you like a sucker punch to the gut, replaced by yearning so strong it was a struggle to remain silent and not break the moment.

Somebody noticed your presence, though. Your sister was grinning at you like a shark from where she was leaning against the kitchen counter.

“There you are,” she practically cooed. “I was just telling Jacob about the time we snuck out of the house as kids and went to go perform ‘witchcraft’ in the middle of the woods at night.”

You made some kind of noncommittal noise, you were sure, because Bucky lifted his head and looked directly at you. Your nephew had managed to grab a lock of hair and was currently sticking it into his mouth.

Bucky didn’t notice, his entire focus on your face, a light frown forming. You still hadn’t moved or spoken.

“Did you find what you needed?” your sister asked, leaning forward to save Bucky’s hair from being eaten, lifting her son back into her arms.

“Uh. Yeah. I did.” You swallowed thickly, too much saliva in your mouth.

“Oh? What were you looking for?” Bucky approached, and when he was close enough placed a hand on your back and rubbed. The simple touch sent a white-hot flash through your system and you nearly choked.

“Nothing. I mean, something. Uh, you’ll see.”

Your sister gave you a pitying look over Bucky’s shoulder, and you communicated a silent what the fuck was that, you asshole, you know exactly what you did.

She returned the silent communique with a smug smirk, and then she drew you into a one-armed hug.

“I’m heading out, sis. Got an early drive back home in the morning. I’m gonna miss you.”

Your frustration evaporated in an instant and you returned the hug tightly.

“Drive safe,” you told her.

“You too. And call me more, or at least text!”

“I will, I promise.”

And you meant it too. You’d fallen out of touch with your family, and after appreciating everything Bucky had lost, you were going to make an effort to include him as well.

After you separated, your sister hugged Bucky with just as much enthusiasm.

“Take care of her, Jacob Miller.”

“I will.” Bucky tucked you against his side after your sister released him. Your face was on fire.

“I know you will,” she said with a conspiratorial smirk. “Because I watch a lot of crime dramas, and I know how to hide a body.”

“Oh, my God,” you groaned into a hand.

After your sister and brother-in-law said their last goodbyes and your familial humiliation was concluded, you couldn’t rush up the stairs fast enough, practically dragging Bucky behind you.

You shut the bedroom door and leaned back against it, releasing a sigh of relief, and then immediately sucked another lungful of air when Bucky crowded you against the door. His smile was amused but carried a hint of concern.

“Everything all right?”

“Yeah.” You nodded, smiling shakily as your stomach did flip-flops. It was hard to focus with Bucky so close, peering at you intently with those bright blue eyes.

“You sure?” He cupped the side of your face with a gloved hand, and you leaned into it immediately. “Because you got this weird look on your face. I didn’t go too far, did I? Your sister asked if I wanted to hold her son, and I didn’t think—“

“No, no.” You shook your head fervently, placing your hand over Bucky’s so you could squeeze it. “I’m happy you’re getting along so well with my family. Really. It’s… more than I could have asked for.”

His expression softened, the tension lines of his face smoothed out, and he leaned down and gently pressed his lips to yours. The kiss deepened when you tangled your fingers in his long hair, pulling him closer, and your knees would have buckled right then if he hadn’t been pressing you against the door.

What had started out as a chaste kiss was quickly going to end in somebody naked, so you pulled back and grinned at his noise of frustration.

“Just—hold on a sec,” you said. “I have something for you first.”

You ducked around him and approached the bed to where his gift laid waiting. Bucky was right behind you, not letting you go far as he wrapped his arms around your waist.

“What’s this?” he asked, propping his chin on top of your head.

“This… is your Christmas present.”

Another small noise of protest when you turned around and tapped it against his chest.

“You really didn’t have to,” he said with a hint of exasperation.

“Uh, you took me flying. A little gift is the least I could do.”

Bucky looked from your face to the present, as if he still couldn’t quite believe it. When was the last time someone had gotten the guy a gift? No, you didn’t want to think about that sad question or you might start crying.

He took the present from your hand, his expression still one of vague disbelief. You bit your lip to keep from smiling and ended up failing anyway. It wasn’t every day that Bucky looked so… cute. There was no other word for the little dip in his brows and the slight parting of his lips.

It was nothing to the expression he wore once he pulled open your less-than-perfect wrapping job, opened the frame, and saw what was inside.

As the seconds tick on and his face didn’t changed, where he didn’t seem to breathe, your excitement slowly drained away.

And then when his eyes grew glassy and red-rimmed, you started to panic.

“Is… is this too much?” you quickly asked. “Should I not have—Did I make a mistake?”

His guise dropped in an instant. It wasn’t gradual like it usually was; it was gone so fast you only had to blink.

Bucky wrapped his arms around you and pulled you against his chest, face buried in your hair as if to hide it. A fine tremor moved through his muscles. He was shaking.

“No. It’s—it’s perfect. I… Thank you.”

You raised your arms slowly and wrapped them around him just as carefully, holding him as close as you could. Being held in Bucky’s embrace never got old, or tiring; it was a place you could remain forever. By the desperate way he held you tight, you hoped he felt the same.

“Where… where did you even find them?” He pulled back and stared down at the picture frame, wonder on his face. No tears had fallen, but he still looked painfully fragile.

“Online.” You rested your head against his shoulder as your eyes fell to the pictures. “Museum websites. Lots of information on Captain America, of course, but quite a few on his childhood best friend.”

“Huh.”

“You’ve never googled yourself?”

“Once. Didn’t care to do it again.”

You winced. Of course, you had to go and bring up the fact most of the information on Bucky wasn’t about him, but about the Winter Soldier.

“Right. Sorry. Stupid question.”

Bucky sighed and carefully set the frame down on the nearby dresser. Without warning, he grabbed you by the back of your thighs and lifted, picking you up before setting you on the bed, swallowing down your squeal as he kissed you, open-mouthed.

You immediately went pliant, wrapping your arms and legs around him to try and get closer.

“That’s better,” he said, voice a raspy growl when he broke the kiss. His eyes were dark, pupils blown as he eyed you like a tasty meal. “Can’t beat yourself up if your mouth is too busy doing other things.”

“I can multitask,” you breathed out. Bucky grinned, a hint of sharp teeth.

“We’ll see.”

Next Chapter

#demon!bucky x reader #demon!bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #branded #my writing #my fanfiction

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oliviaischillin1204 · 4 years

Text

choose

Pairings: Platonic Prinxiety

Word Count: 2,546 words

idk i got into the idea of a “choose your own tickle session” type of thing, so this is kinda based on that!

“So,” Virgil said as soon as the door closed. “What are we doing today?”

He tried to be blasé about it all, but he and Roman both knew the giddy nerves that were rising in his chest. Roman had practically dragged him away after dinner, insisting that he had a new idea for a ‘game’ they could play. Virgil knew immediately that he was talking about tickling, and even if he hadn’t been in a particular lee mood before, he certainly was now.

Roman stood in front of him, bouncing on his heels and obviously excited.

“That’s just it! That’s what’s exciting about it! I don’t know what we’re doing!”

Virgil raised an eyebrow, playfulness mixed with genuine confusion. “You don’t?”

Roman happily shook his head, giving Virgil a sunny smile.

“I want you to choose!”

Roman waved a hand, and Virgil saw something appear on the bed.

He moved closer only to find it was... a lot of somethings. A lot of... pictures?

“Pick one!” Roman chirped, and Virgil had half a second to wonder what he meant before he got close enough to inspect them.

Immediately he gasped, face warming at an alarming pace. He tried to step backwards, but Roman’s hand was suddenly pressed against the small of his back.

“Pick one,” he repeated, reaching his other arm out to point at the row of pictures in front of Virgil. “Look at all of these memories! Which one do you wanna do again?”

Virgil pressed his lips together tightly to prevent any noises from slipping out. Right past Roman’s finger was a row of large, glossy photographs, each and every one portraying Virgil in some sort of... precarious siuation.

Slowly, he leaned over the first one. There he was, lying on the bed with his arms tied to the bedframe over his head. Roman was straddling his waist and clawing his hands into his stomach, his face frozen in a dastardly grin.

The next photo was Virgil in Roman’s lap, the creative side’s arms wrapped around his torso. The picture seemed to have been taken just as Roman’s fingers had made contact with Virgil’s ribs, given how his smile was stretched wide in a shocked laugh and his eyes were filled with horrified delight.

Next: a snapshot of Virgil holding onto the pull-up bar in Roman’s closet doorway. In the picture, he’s practically pulling his entire body off the floor in anattempt to curl up, while Roman stood beside him with his hands attached to Virgil’s hips.

Virgil-- present day Virgil, the one currently being tortured without even being tickled once-- kept going. A picture of him with his feet firmly pinned between Roman’s legs. A picture of him lying face down on the bed as Roman “massaged” his back. A picture of him from that one fateful day where Roman had him hogtied-- he had to moved quickly past that one before he straight up short-circuited.

“Why do you even have these?” he said, his voice coming out significantly more wheezy than he would’ve liked. Behind him, he heard Roman chuckle, his warm hand a plesant but distracting presence on Virgil’s back.

“For reference,” he simply answered. “But you still haven’t chosen one.”

Virgil fought the urge to say something snarky, because he knew that whatever he said now would only end in punishment later. Instead he forced himself to look back at the bed, taking in all of the photos of him getting wrecked, and pointed to one.

“That,” he squeaked. Roman leaned forward, his warm body brushing Virgil’s arm as he picked up the chosen picture.

“How interesting,” he said softly. His eyes flicked up, and he gave Virgil a smug smile.

Roman waved a hand, and now all of the photos were gone, as was the bed itself. In its place was a large, wooden chair with leather padding; with two wide arms and four sturdy legs, it looked just like an average kitchen chair.

Except for the four leather bands, attached to the arms and the two front legs of the chair.

Virgil was moving toward the chair before he even realized what he was doing, and he jerked to a halt out of embarrassment. Luckily for him (or perhaps unluckily), Roman seemed highly amused.

“Such an eager beaver!” he cooed, moving in between Virgil and the chair. “But it’s time for another choice.”

Virgil furrowed his brow, but then Roman’s hand come up to toy with one of the strings on his hoodie, and he felt himself flush anew.

“Hoodie?” Roman asked. Mutely, Virgil shook his head.

In the next second his hoodie was gone-- magicked away, probably, but he was a bit too distracted to know for sure. Roman’s fingers found their way to the collar of Virgil’s t-shirt, tugging just a little.

“Shirt?”

Again, Virgil shook his head. The rush of air that hit his bare torso covered his skin in goosebumps.

Roman’s hand drifted to Virgil’s thigh, pinching the excess fabric of his sweatpants.

“Pants?” he asked, giving Virgil an appraising look. Here, Virgil hesistated.

“Shorts?” he offered shyly. Roman smiled, and suddenly Virgil was only wearing a pair of baggy gym shorts.

He thought Roman would be done, but the creative side continued to smirk at him. Virgil furrowed his brow again, thinking about what else he could be wearing, until--

“Socks?” Roman asked sweetly, and it took everything in Virgil to keep his feet planted firmly on the ground. He looked down, wiggling his toes within his socks, and wordlessly shook his head.

His feet went bare in front of his eyes, and he could feel a smile already rising to his face at the thought of what would be happening to him soon. Roman’s hand entered his vision, taking Virgil by the wrist and leading him into the chair.

“All good?” he checked in as he strapped Virgil down, tightening the sturdy bands around his wrists and ankles. Virgil nodded; he didn’t trust himself to speak normally right now, not when all he could focus on was the cool leather against his skin.

“Virgil,” Roman sang, and the anxious side raised his eyes warily. Roman was smiling, and his hands were behind his back.

“Time for another choice,” he continued smugly. Virgil’s jaw dropped.

“More?” he asked before he could stop himself. Roman quirked his head.

“Don’t you want the very best tickle session you could have?” he asked innocently. Virgil made a little noise that was not a whimper, his fists clenching and his feet curling up on instinct.

Roman grinned, and slowly from behind his back he pulled out one long, white feather, which was stiff at its base and got progressively fluffier further up its stem. Virgil bit his lip, but Roman wasn’t done.

He then pulled out a makeup brush with a long handle and a wide, round brush top. Then a square hairbrush with rounded bristles. Then an electric toothrbush. Then an electric flosser. Then a pinwheel. Then a feather duster--

“How much shit do you have?” Virgil exclaimed. Roman laughed outright, breaking character a bit; he was, admittedly, having trouble holding all of the items in only two hands.

“Well, I guess you don’t need many more options than this,” he said, giving Virgil a teasy look. He held out the mass of items for Virgil to inspect, even though they both knew Virgil was already intimately familiar with each and every one.

“Choose, Virgil,” Roman practically sang. Virgil felt as if he were stuck in one of those photographs right now: frozen in both fear and excitement, his mouth opened and shut wordlessly as he struggled with the decision.

“Too many choices,” he finally managed, going for snarky and falling adorably short. Roman chuckled.

“Well,” he replied smoothly, eyes dropping to the items he carefully held in his hands. “No one said you had to choose just one.”

He held up the toothbrush, clicking it just once to let Virgil hear the buzzing. “I mean, just think about this guy getting to play all over your ticklish little tummy? Would that be fun?”

Virgil shook his head, but he couldn’t stop the few random giggles that managed to escape his clenched mouth. Roman moved on to the hairbrush, turning it over and over in his hand.

“I could whip up another one of these,” he offered, “and really go to town on your sides and ribs. We’ll need a safeword, of course, because I doubt you could last more than a minute with all of those bristles tickling your sensitive skin.”

His eyes flicked back to Virgil’s as he gave him a wicked smile. Virgil curled in on himself as much as he could; he wished he could cover his face, but all he could do was pull and strain against the bands around his wrists.

“Hate you,” he wheezed desperately, ducking his head as far as he could so he didn’t have to look at the other side any more. Roman laughed again, but before he could say anything else, Virgil ground out, “Feathers. Makeup brush. And-- and the duster.”

There was surprised silence from the creative side for just a moment. Then, Virgil felt a hand under his chin, gently easing his face upwards until he was forced to look directly into Roman’s evil smirk.

“Oh, Virgil,” he said softly. “You wanna be tickled bad today, don’t you?”

Even hearing that word at this point was enough to make Virgil laugh. He wiggled in his seat, rocking the chair back and forth. Roman laughed, giving a quick scratch underneath Virgil’s chin before he pulled away.

“Your wish is my command, Giggles,” he said, summoning a small stool and sitting right in front of Virgil. A small table appeared next to him, with a myriad of feathers, makeup brushes, and the large feather duster available for Roman to grab without hesitation.

“You know, Virgil,” he said conversationally, grabbing one of the feathers and stroking the plumes with a finger, “I was really excited to do this with you today, because I’ve always been curious if our little games have been as fun for you as they are for me.”

Virgil felt slightly lightheaded from the anticipation, but he was still able to furrow his brow at Roman’s words. “Of course I have.”

“Oh, I know you have fun!” Roman explained, his eyes on the feather. “But I was thinking, I’m always the one calling the shots, and you always do what I say. Mostly because you’re such a good little lee who loves getting tickled no matter what--”

His eyes flicked upwards, smirking and winking at Virgil. The emo side bit his cheek to keep from laughing at the tease.

“But I always wondered,” Roman continued, “if you had the chance, what would be your ideal scenario to get tickled? Is it... light tickles, or harder ones? Lots of tools, or just my fingers? Do you prefer being pinned, or being tied down?”

With each word, he continued to stroke the feather’s plumes, over and over and over again. Virgil couldn’t take his eyes off it. It was like hypnosis, and he was quickly losing the battle to not laugh.

“Above all, my biggest question was this,” Roman said. He leaned forward to catch Virgil’s eye, who met his gaze with a wobbly smile.

“If given the choice, would you make it easy for yourself? Or much, much worse?”

The question hung in the air for just a few seconds. Then Roman smiled, and lifted the feather up to Virgil’s eye level.

“I think we both know the answer to that question now, don’t we?”

Without warning, Roman’s hand dove forward and began fluttering the feather all over Virgil’s exposed neck.

Virgil made a noise between a gasp and a shriek. His chin clamped down to his chest, but Roman easily maneuvered the feather to stroke up and down the side of his neck, from his ear to his shoulder.

“Tickle,” he cooed, voice making Virgil’s laughter grow louder on reflex. “Tickle. Tickle, tickle, tickle, tickle--”

“No!” Virgil shouted, cackles spilling from his mouth unprompted. Roman pulled the feather back, twirling it pensively.

“Did you really mean no?” he asked. “Do you want me to stop teasing you? Because I will, if that’s what you want. You can just sit right there, as I tickle and tickle and tickle you, and I won’t say one little word, so that there’s nothing to distract you from the ticky-ticky-tickles all over your skin--”

“Shut uhuhup!” Virgil squealed, eyes closing and head falling back against the chair.

Big mistake: Virgil immediately felt the head of the makeup brush teasing his throat. He squawked, ducking his chin once again, but now Roman could easily attack both sides of his neck at once.

“Na-ahaha! Not thehehere!” he cried out, whpping his head back and forth to no avail. True to his word, Roman stayed totally silent; Virgil hadn’t realized how loud his own laughter could get, but now that it was the only sound in the room, he couldn’t help but flush at how desperate he sounded.

This went on for an unbearable few seconds before Virgil squeaked out a “Wait!”

Roman pulled back, looking at Virgil appraisingly. “Yes?”

Virgil groaned, shaking his head at Roman’s faux innocent tone.

“I--” he started, voice cracking. “I want--”

Roman kept looking at him, and Virgil watched as he slowly set down the feather and makeup brush, picking up the feather duster instead. He fluffed the feathers with one hand, but his eyes never left Virgil’s face.

“Is there something I could do to make this better for you, Virgil?” he asked primly. Virgil growled, but he still felt giddy on the inside from the entire scene, so it couldn’t have sounded very threatening.

“I want you...” he ground out, eyes on his laps as his face grew warmer, “To. Tease me... please.”

For a few seconds, nothing happened.

Then Virgil-- who was still looking directly at his own lap-- watched as Roman shoved the feather duster directly against his belly button.

Virgil jumped and screamed, eyes and mouth going wide as the feathery touch traced all over his ticklish tummy. He bounced his legs as much as he could, bright peals of laughter escaping from his lips as he despertaely looked to Roman.

“Aw,” Roman cooed, hardly having to move at all to completely torture Virgil. “I bet that tickles like crazy, huh? All of those little bitty feathers, wiggling all over your cute little tummy. I think you have a lot of dusty spots on you, Virge. We’ll have to go over each and every one, very slowly, to make sure you’re all clean! Starting with that tiny little tummy button-- is that some lint in there? Well, we’ll just have to clean that all out before we can go anywhere else!”

He propped an elbow on the tool table and put his chin in his hands, smiling up at Virgil as the emo side howled in ticklish ecstasy. It tickled, it tickled so bad, and the teasing was awful.

And Virgil knew that it was going to get so much worse.

And it was exactly what he wanted.

#my posts #my writing #tickling #tickle fic #tickle community #sanders sides tickling #choose #lee!virgil #ler!roman

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writer-and-artist27 · 3 years

Text

Blanket of Meaning

Note: I was listening to Eternity Blue by Sachi, the song used for the ending of Part 1 of FGO, and ended up coming up with this. And considering how friends have been helping me regain my energy, this is my little ode to one of my newest ones, as an extra honor to this story that went up earlier this month, I feel.

A gift for @partialdignity.

I don’t know when you’ll see this, Carim, but just know I did this because I wanted to and because I appreciate you. Thankie for sticking around these past few months. :)

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

Vy wasn’t surprised to find Rem fast asleep against Arjuna’s shoulder. The amount of farming the duo did for QP was (for once) a lot more than anyone had expected. It was all the more surprising considering the sudden pile of gold that Rem suddenly brought back to Chaldea once the QP was all collected — was that a part of the bonding process or something? Vy could’ve sworn Arjuna didn’t have any pockets to hold that much gold. So, even with all that in mind, Vy almost expected her fellow Master to fall asleep after a hearty dinner of homemade curry rice courtesy of Tama Cat and Archer EMIYA.

Still, looking at Rem’s sleeping face had Vy pause for a moment. Arjuna’s eyes were equally relaxed and closed as his head lulled against Rem’s, but knowing his status as a Servant, he could wake up at any time if there was even a sign of danger.

Vy considered for a single second.

She took the only hairband she had off her wrist, a dull blue no thanks to the number of missions it had accompanied her on since Fuyuki, reaching back to tie up her long hair into a quick ponytail. Even with a few strands out of place from a messy brushing, Vy didn’t mind. She then ran out of the room as quietly as possible, glancing around the hallways before finding the cupboard she wanted.

1, 2, 3—

Vy did her best to jump up onto the nearest ledge, opening the topmost cupboard to reveal extra blankets hidden inside. Glancing over, she immediately picked the fluffiest-looking one, pulling it into her arms to hold as she slowly climbed back down to floor-level. An equally quick yet quiet dash back was all it took to return to the room Rem was in, and sure enough, Rem was still asleep.

For once in their shared lives together as Chaldean Masters, Rem actually looked relaxed and happy with Arjuna, napping away without a care for anyone else in the world.

Even if we're not that close...

Vy let herself smile just a bit as she chose to tiptoe towards the other Master in the room, carefully unfolding the blanket the entire time. Gently draping both Rem and Arjuna in it was a bit harder than intended no thanks to the small couch they had chosen to sleep on and the length of the blanket intended to be only for a single bed, but Vy settled for having the comforter reach their waists before lurching back to give them space.

I'd like to be there for you too.

“Congrats on a new bond, Chị Rem,” Vy whispered softly. “Be Vy will do her best to take things from here. Get some good rest with Anh Arjuna tonight."

Without waiting for a response, Vy tiptoed backwards to reach the doorway, staring at Rem for a few seconds longer before scurrying out.

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

“Vy,” Tamamo Cat said in quiet consideration over a pot of tea, “you didn’t have to help us with the dishes tonight, woof. You went farming just as much as Master did today, woof.”

“As much as the cat over there really needs to change her dialogue choices,” Robin Hood sardonically added with a brief glance at Vy over his shoulder drying dishes with a towel, “she has a point, little sparrow. We Servants could’ve cleaned up by ourselves tonight, more so since you helped us cook too.”

Vy rocked her head back and forth for a moment, pretending to think on it before brushing some stray hairs away from her neck and holding the sponge in her right hand a bit tighter. “Nah,” she opted for simply. “Could’ve, but nah.”

“Nah?” Cat echoed with a small bounce in her step, a furry ear flicking in Vy’s direction. “What’s this ‘nah’, Vy? You’re acting suspicious, woof!”

“Just that,” Vy added with a small shrug, giggling. “Nah!”

Tamamo Cat gave her an open mouth of disbelief — one that was enough to show a peek of fang.

On the other side of the kitchen “island,” Robin scoffed under his breath, putting down the newest dry dish in a coffee cup against a counter before strolling over. Vy did her best to stay still once he eventually loomed over her head, and sure enough, calloused hands were tugging at her ponytail. “This coming from the girl who needs a better hairbrush?” he said sarcastically, but the tugging at her hair said otherwise.

Vy waited about a minute or two for Robin to finish cleaning up her hair, and once the hair tie snapped itself into place (was it new? Vy couldn’t tell, but it was definitely tight and snug), she leaned back on the heels of her boots to beam up at the May King.

“Hairbrush or not, what’s wrong with doing something for a friend, Big Robin?” Vy giggled, leaning back a bit more to bump the top of her head against his apron-clad chest. “The least I can do is wash dishes for a friend to rest easier!”

Tamamo Cat took a step back at that, just as Robin blinked down at her before averting his gaze, a hand covering his mouth.

…Huh? With a turn of her foot, Vy looked at both Servants with a confused face. “O-Or what, is there something wrong with spontaneous acts of kindness? Rem’s done a lot here too, so I thought the least I could do is wash dishes and help around the kitchen so she could eat and sleep well—”

Tamamo Cat simply raised one paw to purr a happy, “No~!” just as Robin Hood wordlessly reached over to pull Vy into a tight hug, cutting off her ramble session. The entire thing was enough to throw Vy off guard, a high-pitched (and honestly quite clumsy) squeak leaving her lips, but she still returned Robin’s hug via a hesitant pat on his back, blinking up at him from past all the faceful of green apron.

“…Big Robin?”

Robin stayed quiet, his fingers merely cradling the back of her head as he tightened the hug.

Vy tried one more pat, this time with a bit more strength. “Robin?”

“Silly sparrow,” he said finally. “You silly little sparrow.”

With nothing else in mind, Vy gently bonked her head against his shoulder after a moment, a giggle leaving her lips. “Still yours, right?”

Robin laughed too. “Damn straight.”

“Let’s get back to the dishes?”

Robin pulled back at Vy asking the question, rolling his eyes. “Always work with you.”

“I don’t hear a ‘no’! And besides, we have to finish this before mi amiga wakes up! Tomorrow we’re having pho and we still need to simmer the chicken!”

The entire time, it looked like Tamamo Cat was beaming too. Vy let herself take a little pride in that. Just a little.

#gift #writing #rem #mastersona vy #arjuna #robin hood #tamamo cat #long post #fate grand order #short story #drabble #kinda #passing days #partialdignity #for you friend :)#unedited

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livinghostly · 4 years

Text

one missing firefly

theo raeken x reader

not my gif!

words: 2900

request/summary: even with the newest threat to beacon hills, the reader is hesitant to accept theo's help. to her misfortune, scott sends them out together to take back something stolen. as usual, the plan falls through.

warning: fighting, blood

a/n: i still write for my favorite apathetic bastard <3 i'm not sure how many parts this'll have

[...]

"are you sure they have it?" stiles probed, one arm crossed over his chest and the other picking at his lips. "like, 100%? you didn't just lose it in one of your many, many cross country trips fleeing from law enforcement?"

exasperated sighs echoed from around the room, drawing an offended expression on to his face. it was dark outside and the pack's tiredness had escalated to shared frustration, being woken up or pulled out of their plans at 12 a.m. with a sudden house call from scott.

you stood over the kitchen table with both hands on the wood, pushing your tongue against the inside of your cheek. you rocked on your heels, looking up at the rest of the pack, and other additions.

scott was standing on the other side of the table, listening intently to the conversation. he met your gaze and shrugged, as if asking you to stay and listen a little longer.

derek closed his eyes and clenched his jaw in annoyance. "yes, i'm sure. before they broke in, it was there. now, it's not."

a new round of hunters had infiltrated beacon hills after more mysterious news coverage had spread outside of the town's close quarters. they were more of exterminators, they had no code, no ethics. they wanted to eradicate every last living supernatural creature, despite the clean history they may have.

hours ago they had broken into derek's loft, and if he'd chosen to fight instead of run he wouldn't have made it out. when he returned, it was ransacked. they were looking for something, and they found it.

the container of nemeton wood, which held the nogitsune.

"why would– why would they take it?" liam asked, he was standing in the doorway next to stiles, who nodded along. "if it's supernatural and they have it, isn't that good? they'll keep it contained."

you licked your lips, "it's leverage. and if they're desperate they could set it free, into a new host.

"i don't doubt that void will have a vendetta for us," lydia spoke up. "we put that thing in a box for over two years to rot after ruining his game. if they let him go, he'll come back. and he'll tear us apart."

silence settled over the room, your pack members shifted their gazes fo the floor to cope with the tension that filled the space. stiles looked the most ruffled, messing with his fingers whilst deep in thought.

"you okay?" your voice broke through the air, barely above a whisper but it caught everyone's attention. their heads snapped up to you, and then followed to stiles.

he sighed. "i'm not all that enthusiastic of the spirit that once possessed me coming back with a vengeance."

malia nodded, crossing her arms. "then, we stop them. we know where they're staying, we go in, and we get it."

"yeah," scott said in confidence, but the expression on his face was uncertain. too long of silence passed until he continued. "we'll figure out a way. me, and derek."

they were the strongest, you knew it was what he was getting at. and he was right, out of all of you, a true alpha and an evolved werewolf were the ones who would have the best chance at bringing down a pack of hunters– maybe liam, too.

but this wasn't a fight on neutral ground, it would be on their turf.

"not to step on your toes, scott, but that's a terrible idea," you said, straightening your posture. he raised his eyebrows, surprised, and multiple heads turned to you in question. "it's a hunter's den. it'll be lined with mountain ash, you won't get past the welcome mat and you'll kill yourself trying."

"so, what are you saying?" he shrugged.

you swallowed, but stated strongly, "i'm saying i'll go."

you didn't have claws or amplified abilities, and you didn't need them. you had enough experience with weaponry and hand-to-hand to defend yourself, he knew that. you knew the thought process of a hunter, what to look for and how to look over your shoulder as second nature. derek helped you fight like a werewolf– in addition to the years of supernatural encounters riding on your back, you were enough.

but scott seemed to have his own internal conflict. he looked past you, his eyes fixated on something. silently begging, you could tell, as he drew his eyebrows together and tilted his head to the side.

you looked over your shoulder and spotted theo, strewn over the couch with apathy. he was so quiet you'd almost forgotten he was there, mostly observing the pack meeting. he rarely said anything unless he was directly involved in the discussion or there was a sly remark aimed at him. and when he did open his mouth, he was shut down by malia or stiles.

he raised his eyebrows, seemingly bored. he met your gaze.

widening your eyes, you turned to scott. "no."

"y/n, you can't go alone. you need someone that can fight and go through mountain ash."

"then, i'll go with–" you searched around the room, and gestured to the boy in the doorway. "stiles. he has a bat."

"that's not exactly inconspicuous," scott chuckled weakly.

"i don't need inconspicuous, i'm not ringing the doorbell!"

"i'll go," theo spoke up, breaking the staring contest you held with scott. his voice drew the room to a silence, and the pack point their eyes to him, but you refused to turn around and look at him again.

you heard the couch shift beneath his weight, and then he brought himself to his feet. your gaze flickered to malia, who's nostrils flared in silent defiance as he stepped closer to you.

"i don't need you to go," you growled.

"i don't see any other volunteers." he glanced around the room, your pack members averted their eyes shamefully. but no one spoke up.

you couldn't blame them, the hunters were terrifying and all of you– even stiles –had been at the barrel of their guns at least once. they were worse than the argents are the calaveras ever were.

but you were unmoved by his words, and turned around to face him with a cold expression.

scott sighed. "he's right. and we can trust him."

"until he stabs us in the back, again," stiles spoke up. "or sticks his claws into someone's chest, again. probably yours, scott. again."

"i've done a lot for this pack," theo said, raising his eyebrows as he looked around the room. "and i'm not even in it. i'm here to help you guys."

"you're here because you don't want to be put back into the ground," you shot back, narrowing your gaze. he looked to you, annoyed with your disapproval.

the pack began to bicker back and forth, forming sides. aggression began to seep out of everyone, it was written on their faces. the majority of the pack trusted theo, whilst you, malia and stiles didn't even want him in the room.

as argumentative as theo was, he wasn't saying anything. he kept his arms crossed, listening to the chaos unfold as everyone vouched for their own solution.

there was only one person who could make the final vote.

"enough!" scott demanded in a shout, his voice becoming distorted with a low growl slipping through. all eyes turned to him as he heaved, and after a few seconds passed, his voice became soft again. "theo is going with you. both of you are safer that way."

you adjusted your jaw, resisting the urge to argue further. a sigh passed through your lips. "fine."

two p.m. is when you decided that it would be the path of least resistance to get in and out. they spent most of the days away from home, slithering through the town, watching and waiting for someone to slip up and reveal their true colors.

they'd been asking around, feigning as journalists or investigators to the townspeople to get leads on some of the creatures. at night, they would hunt or go back home to sleep, depending on the progress they made that day.

you stepped carefully through the woods, keeping on the trails and avoiding any sticks or leaves that could break under your feet. theo, a few feet behind you, wasn't so careful. his footsteps were heavy and racked up the dirt beneath them.

"you've never dealt with real hunters, have you?" you asked aloud. when the anuk-ite had infested beacon hills it turned everyone into killers, not hunters. they were inexperienced and trigger happy, but that wasn't the case now.

he stiffened, the weight of his heels digging into the leaves and drawing a crunch. he continued walking, keeping his head to the ground as he stepped around the loud obstacles. you smirked to yourself.

"not exactly," he responded.

an awkward silence filled the air, flowing between you constantly. you tried to shove off that feeling, as well as the hyperawareness you had to his presence, and kept your eyes peeled for any sudden movements or traps as you approached the property.

suddenly, you stopped in your tracks. theo kept walking until he was nearly against your back, following your gaze steadily. over the hill was the house, seemingly abandoned, it looked like it hadn't been touched in years.

licking your lips, you turned to him. "can you hear anything? a heartbeat?"

theo swallowed, and looked to the side as he focused. his jaw clenched as he strained to hear. "no, nobody's home."

"this is a good start," you breathed, continuing your trek up to the property. you circled around to the back of the house, theo following your every step.

suddenly, he spoke up. "i don't know much about this plan."

"get in, get the triskele box, and get out."

"it can't be that simple, it never is."

you rolled your lips back into your mouth, walking up to the back patio. it was covered in dust and the boards of wood looked as if they were ready to snap in half at too sudden of weight.

he huffed at your silence and continued, "what if something goes wrong?"

"what if you just trust me?" you countered, stopping at the door. you cast a glance over your shoulder and placed a hand on the doorknob.

"you would have to trust me first."

you frowned, and pushed open the door carefully. it lead into a kitchen, where the majority of the space on the countertops were coated with dust and cobwebs. there was a leather holster laid out, numerous knives missing, and the others that were left had been wiped clean of blood with a red-stained rag thrown to the side.

the windows were boarded up on the outside, creating a darkness over the room. you could still see, but it was difficult.

there was ruined furniture around covered in plastic wrap and shards of glass on the floor swept to the wall out of the walkway.

"this place doesn't feel too welcoming," theo whispered, his voice alerting you how close he was, practically stepping on your heels.

you opened one of the cabinets, searching for it, but there were only broken or stained plates left. "go upstairs. i'll check down here." you turned and met his eyes, he was reluctant to leave. "and if you find it, don't open it."

he raised his eyebrows. "i'd appreciate it if you had a little more faith in me."

before the conversation could continue, he followed your orders and turned around towards the living room. when he walked, he nearly dragged his feet across the ground and let his weight sink into the floorboards. painstakingly loud, without the belief that there was a reason to be quiet.

each cabinet you opened only left you more frustrated, finding nothing more than bugs and abandoned silverware. after you deserted that idea, you turned to the living room.

you peaked into the fire place first, finding a collection of guns hidden away inconspicuously. but no box. you rolled your eyes at the armory and turned towards the other side of the room, your gaze falling to the couches. they looked scratchy and the cushions sank after being sat in too many times. there was something about it.

tilting your head, you walked behind it, and then bent down to the floor. you curled your hands underneath the bottom of the couch and lifted with a strained groan. not wanting to be loud, you gently set it down, now on it's flipped side.

"i don’t see anything up here!" theo called down, you could hear his footsteps coming towards the stairwell.

you knelt down, your eyes falling to a poorly reattached seem. it was holding something inside, heavy enough to create a dip. "it's okay, i think i found something."

he waltzed down the stairs, raising his eyebrows with surprise upon spotting you. he came closer, pausing in his tracks for a moment as you unsheathed a pocket knife, and then tiptoed for your side.

theo bent down as you were, his eyes on focused on you as you dragged the knife down the material of the couch. you were curious, your features contorting with concentration as the fluff began to sprout from the couch.

you dropped the knife to the floor and dug your hand in, searching blindly. you tried to hold back your wince as something sharp dragged along your skin, but he caught the expression.

"what? you okay?" he leaned forward, one hand on the ground to steady himself.

you nodded, "yeah, i just–" you stopped yourself as your fingers wrapped around the edge of a cylinder. it was rough against your flesh, and heavy as you began to pull it out.

you set it in your lap with narrowed eyebrows, you hadn't seen it in a long time. the wooden container decorated with a symbol– the triskele. you ran your thumb gently over it.

"that's it, right?"

"yeah," you met his gaze. he was ready to stand up and leave just the way you came, his eyes flickering from the box to your face.

"okay, then let's go."

you nodded, pulling your wounded hand into a fist.

he gently placed his hand on your wrist, turning it over and pulling at your fingers to expose the palm of your hand. fresh blood was slowly pooling, it had dripped on to the floor and stained the couch fluff. "you're bleeding."

sighing, you pulled it from his grasp. "it's not that bad." you brought yourself to your feet again and he mimicked your actions. "i'll fix it when we get back to scott's."

a new voice broke through the air. "i- i don't think i can let you do that."

you nearly jumped and looked past theo to the archway of the kitchen. he turned as well, spotting a boy only a few years younger than you holding a shotgun in his hands.

theo reacted before you had time to. he jumped towards the kid and grabbed the barrel of the gun and lifting it into the air as a shot rang out. he snarled, shining his yellow eyes and he pushed the boy further into the kitchen.

loosening your grip on the container, you leaned down and swiped your pocket knife on the ground. you set the box on one of the tables and pursued the boys in the kitchen, walking in on theo being thrown to the fridge, creating a large dent.

the unnamed boy turned to face you, raising his weapon into the air, and you ducked. he shot at nothing and you charged at his torso, pushing him to the ground. the shotgun clattered next to you, and you held your knife to his throat.

as you looked at him, your stance faltered. he couldn't be any older than fourteen, but he was strong. he had fear in his eyes, panic piercing into yours.

in your moment of weakness, he took his chance and punched you in the jaw. you leaned back and held the point of impact, allowing him to shove you off and to the floor. he picked up his shotgun again, and aimed it at you.

"okay, wait! wait, wait, wait, wait, wait!" theo shouted, one hand on the counter to steady himself as he nearly stood over you. there was blood seeping from her corner of his mouth, as well as his stomach. "she's not like me, okay? she's human."

the boy was unmoved, keeping his stance and watching you prop yourself up on your forearms.

theo continued, "we'll leave the container, and we can go. but if you shoot her, i'll rip your throat out."

"no," the hunter said, his lip twitched. "they wouldn't like it if i let you go."

he turned the shotgun around, facing the butt of it towards you. for a moment, you found yourself confused thinking his actions betrayed his words. but then, he raised it further up before bringing it back down against your forehead.

#theo raeken #theo raeken x reader #theo raeken imagine #theo raeken fic #reader x theo raeken #teen wolf #teen wolf x reader #teen wolf fic #spleen writes

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lilyvandersteen · 3 years

Text

The Christmas Guest Chapter 4

Author’s Note:

Thanks to @redheadgleek‘s Write a Little Every Day project, this chapter is done much earlier than I’d hoped, yay! Enjoy the snowball fight, and Blaine realising that (HUGE SPOILER) he might actually like Kurt for real. Who’d have thought, huh?

Read Chapter 1, Chapter 2 and Chapter 3 here on Tumblr, or read the story on AO3 or FF.net.

Chapter 4: Sweet Surrender

In spite of his nocturnal trip, Blaine woke up early, and decided to dress and get downstairs to see if Kurt needed something.

When he arrived in the living room, Kurt was sleeping peacefully. The snoring had stopped, and when Blaine checked his forehead, he was glad to find the fever had subsided too.

“Good, you must be feeling better already,” Blaine murmured, grabbing the blanket that had fallen off Kurt and tucking him in again carefully. “I’m going to let you sleep a little longer.”

As he tiptoed out of the room, he was greeted by Carole.

“Morning, Blaine! You’re up early!”

Blaine smiled at her. “Good morning, Carole. Yes, I’m an early bird. Always have been.”

“Best let the others sleep another while, or they’ll be grumpy. Come to the kitchen, we can make a nice breakfast for everyone.”

Burt came downstairs as soon as the smell of bacon started to spread.

“Bacon!”

Carole shook her head at him. “Not for you. We don’t want you to have another heart attack.”

“Just one rasher? It’s Christmas!”

“In two days.”

“Oh, come on! Please?”

Carole gave in. “All right. One rasher. But then I don’t want to hear any more complaints about the healthy food I’m serving you the rest of the week. Deal?”

Burt sighed. “Okay, okay.”

Carole winked at Blaine, who suppressed a snigger and busied himself with setting the table.

When he had nearly finished his plate, he heard a groan coming from the living room.

“Ah, Kurt is waking up!” Carole said. “I’ll make him some eggs too.”

“I’ll go see if he’s okay,” said Blaine.

He arrived just in time to keep Kurt from face-planting, and escorted him first to the bathroom and then to the kitchen.

After pouring Kurt a mug of tea and adding a generous spoonful of honey, Blaine sat down again to finish his own breakfast, smiling at how out of it Kurt still seemed. He didn’t seem to be sniffling or coughing anymore, though. That was good.

They made cookies after breakfast, and it made Blaine’s feeling as if he’d stumbled headfirst into a Hallmark Christmas movie even stronger. Kurt was clearly an experienced baker, whipping up two kinds of dough in no time, and letting Blaine eat the scraps.

Then Kurt’s stepbrother Finn arrived, all six feet plus of him, his size and demeanor reminding Blaine of the jocks who’d bashed him into hospital before he transferred to Dalton Academy, and he shrank into a corner until Carole introduced him to Finn and he got a smile and a hug from the gentle giant, who seemed genuinely pleased to meet him.

By the time they had all decorated the tree together, Blaine’s worries had evaporated, and he enthusiastically agreed to a snowball fight in the garden.

He and Finn were having so much fun goofing off that it took some time for them to notice that Kurt had joined them.

Unlike them, Kurt hadn’t chosen to just grab some snow, pack it together and throw it. No. Kurt had chosen stealth and strategy. He’d built a shield he could hide behind, he’d made towering stacks of snowballs and had even fashioned some kind of sling to be able to throw the snowballs further.

He also had deadly aim. His first snowball hit Finn straight in the chest, with so much force that he almost fell over.

“Uh oh,” Finn said. “Okay, man, we’re going to have to team up, or we’re toast.”

The two of them hid behind trees, but every time they ventured forth from their hiding place, they were pelted by such an onslaught of snowballs that they couldn’t get round to launching an attack of their own.

It took Kurt only ten minutes of this to wear them down. By then, their coats and trousers were white with snow and pretty much soaked through.

“Aw, man, this isn’t fun anymore!” Finn complained. “Kurt, why do you always take these games so seriously?”

Kurt appeared from behind his snow shield, his clothes as good as pristine, his stance regal and his eyes blazing with determination. Though Blaine had suffered just as much as Finn and was just as ready to give up the fight, he thrilled to this version of Kurt, who looked magnificent. It lit a flame somewhere within and made him forget all about his freezing fingers and toes.

“Do you surrender?” Kurt asked, his chin up and his back rigidly straight.

And ugh, the steel in his voice made the fire inside Blaine burn even brighter.

Finn shrugged. “I guess. I’m going back in.”

“I surrender,” Blaine answered, not entirely capable of keeping a quiver out of his voice.

Something sparked into Kurt’s eyes, and he started coming towards Blaine without looking away even once, but a mere two foot from him, he seemed to change his mind and veered off towards the house. “Let’s get inside, Carole is going to make us hot chocolate.”

Blaine felt himself deflate. What had he expected to happen, exactly? Why was he all a-tingle like this? And what was this strange energy between him and Kurt?

A sudden gust of wind made him shiver and hurry to the back door. Hot chocolate sounded heavenly.

When Blaine came in, Finn was complaining again, this time about the seating arrangements in the living room. As victor of the snowball fight, Kurt had claimed the big sofa for himself and Blaine, and forbade Finn to squish in too.

“You can take the loveseat,” Kurt said.

“That one’s hard as a rock!”

“Sit on the floor for all I care. The sofa is ours! Come, Blaine! I’ve got your hot chocolate right here. That will warm you up.”

Blaine accepted the mug gratefully, holding it with both hands to get his fingers warm again, and drinking deeply.

Ah, that’s better!

Finn stomped out of the room in high dudgeon to go complain to his mom, but Carole agreed with Kurt.

Blaine saw Kurt grin in satisfaction, and the grin only widened when Finn came back in and found fault with his film choice too.

“Seriously, man? I wanted to watch Die Hard!”

“I won the fight, so it’s my pick.”

“Burt, back me up on this, come on!”

Burt looked up from his newspaper. “We can watch Die Hard tomorrow.”

Kurt added, “Now stop being a baby about this. Either shut up and watch, or go do something else.”

Finn looked mutinous, but plonked down on the loveseat and shut up.

Kurt hummed along with the opening music and pulled Blaine a little closer still. His arm around Blaine’s middle felt both possessive and grounding. Blaine felt the spark from before rekindling, a jittery feeling that made him want to… What? He didn’t even know, but he wanted. Oh, he wanted!

“What is it?” Kurt murmured. “Are you uncomfortable like this?”

“No, no.”

Blaine wiggled until his head fit exactly into the crook of Kurt’s neck, and then let himself sink into Kurt’s embrace. “Perfect.”

He felt a laugh rumble through him, and Kurt’s hold tightened infinitesimally.

“Good,” Kurt whispered, and softly kissed the crown of his head.

Blaine felt his lips stretch from ear to ear and closed his eyes to bask in the feeling of utter contentment that washed over him.

He couldn’t imagine anything that could ruin the moment now.

Of course, that was because he forgot about Finn.

“Mom, I’m hungry! Can I have some more cookies?”

“You already ate them all, hun!”

“So when’s supper?”

“After the movie.”

“But I’m hungry!”

Finn disappeared to the kitchen, grumbling under his breath, probably to search the pantry for snacks to tide him over until supper.

“Want a chocolate chip cookie?” Kurt asked Blaine softly, holding out a cookie tin and looking very smug.

Blaine burst out laughing. “Is this still payback for Finn putting snow down your shirt?”

“You know it! Also, I wanted to save some cookies for us. Finn ate all the shortbread and the last of the sugar cookies before we even got a chance to have some. Greedy pig!”

Blaine took a cookie and savoured it. “These are the absolute best.”

“Mmm.”

However lovely it was to cuddle up with Kurt, Blaine became uncomfortable after a while because his wet trousers felt cold and clammy and seeped all the heat out of his legs.

“I’m going to put some other pants on,” he whispered to Kurt. “I’ll be right back.”

That promise fell into the water when Cooper called him while he was in Kurt’s room, blathering on and on about all the fancy parties he’d been to and would still be going to.

It took nearly an hour for Coop to stop talking about himself and to ask what Blaine was doing for Christmas.

“I’m in Ohio,” said Blaine.

“But Mom and Dad are on a cruise!”

“Yep. Thanks for telling me about that, by the way. How long have you known?”

“Oh, they told me this summer, I think.”

“Lovely.”

“You didn’t know?”

“Nope. Flew out here for nothing.”

Cooper whistled low. “That sucks. So you’re all alone for Christmas?”

“No, actually, I’m not.”

There was silence at Cooper’s end. Then he asked, “So… You’re saying you’ve been hooking up with Sebastian again?”

“What? No! Ugh. Coop, please. As if! He cheated on me!”

“So who’s with you, then?”

“Kurt. I’m staying with his family.”

For the second time, his reply managed to silence Cooper.

“My boyfriend, Kurt, remember?”

“Um, no?! Now who’s forgotten to tell their brother something?”

Blaine laughed. “Well, it’s recent, so that will be why. I probably haven’t called you yet since we became an item.”

“So… Tell me about him.”

That was all the prompting Blaine needed to start singing Kurt’s praises, and it wasn’t until he’d rung off that he realized two things.

One: he’d referred to Kurt as his boyfriend without even thinking about it, whereas they were only faking a relationship. He’d regret that later, since Coop would tell their mom for sure, and he’d have to hear about it for years.

Two: he desperately wished they could be boyfriends for real. Somehow, in what the Warblers would call a classic Blaine move, he’d fallen for Kurt. Hard. And in a matter of days. There was no way this was going to end well. He was so screwed.

#klaine fanfiction #my fic #The Christmas Guest #chapter 4 #enjoy!

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atomicdetectivehideout · 3 years

Text

This is for @lilliankayl as part of @destielsecretsanta2020. I hope you like it!

Their wishlist: Fluffy Retired AU Domestic Fluff with their dog Miracle.

Christmas Surprises

On Ao3

Words: 1777

Summary: Dean's going to be making Christmas dinner for the whole family this year and Cas wants to sneak a gift into the oven before Dean has it claimed for the rest of the day. Too bad Miracle has woken him up before Cas is ready.

When Dean wakes up he’s alone. He stretches his arms and legs and back, getting as many cricks and cracks out as he can before flipping to face the other side of the bed. It’s cold. He’s tempted to burrow back into his blankets but he can hear the clanging in the kitchen so he knows he’s the last one awake.

He sits up rubbing his eyes and is steeling himself to leave his cozy bed (there’s no real getting used to how cold the bunker is first thing in the morning in winter) when his door is nudged open and a cream colored blur launches itself into the bed.

(source)

“Hey, buddy! Good morning,” he said wrapping his arms around Miracle and rocking the two of them back and forth in a deep embrace while he steals her warmth.

(source)

It's only when Miracle starts licking at his ears (and he does not giggle) that he decides to get up. He flings the blankets off himself, covering Miracle in the process. She burrows her way out and gives a shake before huffing almost exasperatedly at him.

Dean pulls on his robe. "Don't give me that look," he tells her. "That's for slobbering in my ears." He turns to the door and catches a whiff of something delicious so he follows his nose to the kitchen, Miracle by his side.

***

The toast pops and Sam looks over his shoulder away from the stove for a moment and warns, “It’s hot,” before turning his attention back to scrambling the eggs.

(source)

Castiel pauses what he's doing to carefully grab the toast and butter the slices. Sam is on breakfast duty this morning since Dean decided to do a full Christmas dinner for them, Eileen, Jack, Jody and Donna, and their girls. Cas, newly human since his rescue from the Empty, still doesn't know much about cooking but he's proving to be a quick learner and he's always ready for the next lesson. This morning, in addition to helping with breakfast, he's working on his Christmas surprise for Dean.

Last week while out for their usual grocery shop, he'd brought the subject up to Sam. Always ready to help a friend, Sam agreed and immediately pulled up a few possible recipes to choose from on his phone. On their trip home, Cas insisted on holding his bag of ingredients on his lap so he could read all the labels to try to understand why each ingredient was important.

It's when Dean walks into the kitchen saying, "All that bacon better be for me!" that he realizes that his Christmas surprise might not be much of a surprise if Dean is already here. He thought for sure Dean would still be asleep after their late night together the night before.

Like Dean can hear his thoughts, his eyes snap from the stovetop searching for bacon to Castiel and the bowl he's holding.

"What's in the bowl?" Dean asks, eyebrow raised.

"It's… uhh…" Cas tries.

"It's none of your business," Sam swoops in with the save. Dean scoffs, a reminder that Dean considers the kitchen to be his territory, and Cas releases the breath he didn't realize he was holding when Sam adds absentmindedly while plating everyone's breakfast, "Besides, he needs to do this now."

"Why does he need to do this now?" Dean asks, confused.

Sam realizes what he's revealed by accident, alarm in his eyes as he looks at Castiel for his reaction. Castiel's eyes are just as wide in surprise.

And while this wasn't how he'd planned on this going, it seemed like this was how events wanted to play out and he wasn't ready to be upset on Christmas Day.

So instead, he smiles at Sam before turning to Dean and taking his hand. Miracle nudges at his ankles looking for attention and he'll be sure to give her plenty soon.

Sam sees his chance, and fills a plate with food and exits the kitchen at high speed.

"Well, you're about to be cooking all day so I wanted to get your gift in the oven before you need it," he tells Dean.

"My gift?" Dean asks, still confused. "I thought we all agreed no gifts."

"We did, but this is a bit of a gift for everyone, if you choose to share," Cas tells him with a grin. "Do you want to know what it is now?"

"Do you want to tell me now?" Dean counters instead.

Castiel frowns at him and crosses his arms. "I asked you first."

Dean just rolls his eyes. "Yes, please tell me."

Cas looks to Miracle for good luck before looking to Dean. "I'm baking you a pie. A pecan pie."

Dean's mouth immediately starts to water. Pecan might not be his first favourite flavour, but it's easily second or third (depending on how good the slice of cherry pie in front of him is) and he knows why Cas has chosen pecan: at the end of his Christmas feast are four apple pies he had finished baking the day before.

"Awesome," Dean tells him. "Pecan is a great choice and perfect for the holidays." He puts his hand on Cas's shoulder and sighs dramatically. "I can't believe you want to encroach on my dinner plans though," he teases.

Cas gasps, not picking up on the joke. He raises both hands and takes Dean's hand from his shoulder to hold it. "Dean, I would never want to infringe on that. This is merely to supplement what you have planned. If you even want to share at all," he explains in complete earnestness.

And Dean just laughs, "I know!" he reassures Cas. "I'm just kidding with you." He clasps his other hand on top of Cas's. "Do you want help?"

"No, Dean," Cas says in horror. "This is your gift. You can't help to make it," he pauses with a head tilt. "That's a rule, isn't it?"

"We make our own rules," Dean tells him with a kiss to his cheek. "And we can definitely make our own Christmas traditions too. If you want my help, I'm all in but if you don't that's okay too." He lowers their hands still holding on though and looks around the kitchen. "Now how about we eat?"

***

Dean couldn't wait a moment longer for his plate of bacon (with his spinach omelette, god, okay he'll eat it) and they're back in the kitchen right after.

Sam finished up the breakfast dishes quickly and got out of Dodge right after. He's been around enough to know that Dean treats a full meal preparation like a battle plan and it's best not to be around if you're not needed.

Cas is nervous now that Sam is out of the room and Dean turns to him expectantly. "So what's the verdict, sweetheart? Do you want my help or should I hit the road?"

He takes a moment to consider it before answering. "Yes, please stay," he says simply. Dean's grin lights up the kitchen and Cas knows he could never send Dean away. Cas returns the wide smile and pulls on his apron. It's a white apron with pastel flowers embroidered along the bottom that Dean had bought him as a gift when his eyes lingered on the flowers. He picks up the bowl and spoon he had earlier and gets ready to start. Dean can't help himself.

"Hang on a sec," he tells Cas. He pulls his phone from his robe pocket and opens the camera. "Give me a smile." So Cas does as he's asked and Dean snaps a photo (or several). "Perfect," Dean tells Cas, showing him the photo.

Dean quickly sends the image to Claire captioned Hard at work for dinner. See u tonite. She replies moments later saying stop burning my dinner and pay attention! Dean scoffs and puts the phone down.

“Let’s see this recipe,” he says to Cas. He takes the piece of paper he is offered and reviews it. “This doesn’t look too hard. Where are you?”

Cas leans over his shoulder and points. “Number three. I performed the blind bake before you got up. I was hoping to get the pie in the oven before you woke up."

Laughing, Dean says, "You should have pulled our bedroom door shut. Miracle nosed her way in." Miracle had settled beside the table to be near to her humans while they were busy and perked up at her name. She huffs in disappointment when she realizes they have nothing for her and flops back to the floor with a thump.

"I will do that the next time I intend to bake you a surprise," Cas deadpans.

"You know I'll never say no to something baked,” Dean tells him matter of factly. "I'll be sure to keep that in mind."

They get to work pulling out all the ingredients for the filling. Castiel carefully fills the measuring cups and spoons with precision and Dean supervises, answering any questions Cas has. When Cas is done whisking the mixture, he removes his apron revealing his current favourite sweater with a majestic grey wolf on the front and hangs it up. He reaches for the cellophane package of pecan pieces and returns to the counter. Resting his foot on the stool in front of him, his pants pulling tightly against his thigh and he lifts the bag to his mouth and opens the package with his teeth.

Dean swallows, eyes drawn to Cas’s thick thighs automatically. Cas might hear him because he makes eye contact with Dean, pecans still at his mouth and he raises an eyebrow in question. Dean shakes himself back to attention. “Don’t forget you’re human now,” he pulls open a drawer of utensils, “and the dentist is expensive. Use scissors instead of your teeth.” He’s gruff, but not unkind and Castiel gives him an affectionate smile before pouring the pecans into the pie shell. They get the pie in the oven and set a timer and Dean turns to the recipes he’d printed out for today. He’s got a lot planned and that means a lot to do, but he’s wanted to do this for a long time now and this seemed like the perfect time.

The holidays are the time for family, good food, sweets, and surprises after all. And tonight Dean and Cas have a surprise for all their friends and family: they’re officially retiring from hunting.

***

As the smell of the baking pecan pie fill the kitchen, it is no surprise to anyone that Dean decides that he will not be sharing his gift from Cas with anyone else.

***

Merry Christmas to those of you that celebrate and Happy Holidays!

Love, Atomicdetectivehideout

#destielsecretsanta2020 #destiel fic #deancas fic #supernatural #dean winchester #castiel

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cuquitalocita · 4 years

Text

'Tis the Season- Percabeth

AN: Percabeth AU where Sally Blofis is an art teacher and a new student has just moved in down the street. Percy wants nothing more than to spend his Saturday relaxing on the couch with his little sister, but when he meets this new blonde... well, needless to say things weren’t what he planned.

This is based on a real encounter my friend had so thanks Caeden, I hope you learn her name :)

Percy puffed a mouthful of ice-cold air through his conjoined fists as he rocked back and forth on his heels. He glared at the bare wooden door, manifesting it to open as he knocked again with more force this time, suddenly annoyed at everything-; the early hour, the freezing weather, the art supplies his mother had asked him to drop off at her new student’s house- the student that also happened to be his new neighbor, and even the lack of decoration on said neighbor's house.

He couldn’t believe it, but sure enough, his hand had come into contact with the one door in the neighborhood- hell- the one door in New York that didn’t have a wreath on it.

No lights rimmed the house’s massive exterior and no cheesy blow-up Frosty’s or Rudolph’s littered the front yard, no smoke came from the wood-burning chimney which was everyone’s favorite house perk around this time of year, and from what Percy could see through the windows, no extravagantly bright Christmas tree stood anywhere in the house.

Who were these people? And what the hell was wrong with them?

Percy almost felt as if it was a personal attack on himself and his family who always went all out for the holidays starting right as October ended, shoving up the largest tree they could find in the living room and munching on his mother’s delicious blue chocolate chip cookies as he and Estelle decorated the tree.

His little sister had even asked him to let her put the star on the tree this year and Percy had been more than obliged to do so, lifting her up until she sat on his shoulders and reached over his head to set their Christmas in motion.

So as he stared at the cold dark house, he couldn’t help but feeling a negative prejudice against them without having met the people.

Distaste soured his mouth as he rolled his eyes and scooped up the box of heavy art supplies that had been lying at his feet. This time his knock was anything but friendly and something a bit too aggressive for the holiday season. Percy heard rushed angry footsteps stomp through the house before the heavy door flew open as if it was nothing to reveal-

“God what-”

The rest of the words buzz out of comprehension in Percy’s mind as he stared at the blonde in front of him. He wondered if his jaw had dropped to the floor or if he was just imagining the sudden hollowness in his stomach and facial features as though one look from her had made his soul soluble and had phased through his body and onto the ground, ready to be stepped on by her.

She was- well, she was gorgeous.

Wearing simple black leggings and a sweatshirt covered with a flannel and toes covered in fuzzy bear socks. The girl couldn’t have been any older or younger than him if Percy had to guess, but her high and defined cheekbones gave her the illusion of utmost respect and entitlement that also happened to frame her face in the picture of elegance. Her tan skin indicated that she definitely wasn’t from New York or anywhere without too much sun but with her blonde hair it was unlikely that her tan was too genetic. It was wildly curly, stuck in a strange knot she had clearly done up at the last minute, even forgetting some pieces that were sticking out in ringlets that framed her perfect face, some of them even covering up her eyes.

Her eyes.

God, Percy didn’t even know what to think about her eyes or where to start. The sharp gray color like storm clouds that reflected a power he didn’t know a teenage girl could possess? Or the sharp electricity of the calculating gaze they fixed him with? Her eyes held an intensity unlike Percy had ever experienced and he found himself unable to pull away- matching her look with his own, and green and gray met in the middle, colliding in some sort of delightful chaos.

Apparently, she had asked Percy a question- she was now looking at him under raised brows.

“Uh-” Percy managed out. “Sorry, what?”

The girl opened her mouth as if to snap out a retort but quickly shut it tried again, her eyes slipping away from his for a second before returning.

“I asked if I could help you?” she asked, not kindly. But Percy couldn’t have cared less considering that her voice was just about as perfect as her face- smoky and lower than a girls usually was. He knew he could listen to it for hours.

“Hello? Are you conscious?”

Or- maybe not.

Get it together Percy.

“Sorry I’m just- uh, never mind. It’s so cold I think I have a brain freeze,” he tried.

She didn’t laugh, and he couldn’t say he was surprised. But something in her features softened, making her look younger, and the cold sent a blush onto her cheeks.

“So...” she urged him.

“Oh!” he reached into the top of the box to pull out a white piece of paper. “Uh, I’m supposed to give this to... Annabeth Chase?”

The girl inhaled and held out her arms, letting them drop to her sides after a second.

“That’s me.”

Annabeth. And of course, the name had to suit her perfectly, clearly chosen with thought about which two names to mesh together for a child intelligent enough to probably invent a new space shuttle.

“Great.” Percy had managed to find his voice again. “This is for you. From my Mom.” She fixed him with a bemused look and as an explanation, he said, “She’s the art teacher at Goode, and because of the stuff her AP students are doing she usually thinks its easier for them to use her own supplies instead of the crappy public school stuff.”

Annabeth had started nodding halfway through his sentence, clearly picking up the hint quickly enough and before Percy could move an inch, the box was out of his hands and in Annabeth’s arms. She held the weight like it was nothing which Percy- due to the walk there- could say definitely wasn’t true.

“You don’t have to-”

“I’ve got it,” she replied dismissively. “Anything else?”

“Trying to get rid of me so quickly Chase?” he smirked to cover up how fast his heart was pounding as her eyes met his.

“Well you know what they say. When you try and don’t succeed...”

“Ouch!” Percy feigned an injury, clutching his numb hand to his shoulder as if he had been shot. But Annabeth just rolled her eyes and Percy was able to catch the almost unrecognizable tilt to the side of her lip in a small smile. A beat of warmth coursed through him at the sight. “I was also sent to give you...”

Percy picked up the tin container that was on the ground next to Annabeth’s feet.

“These.”

“What are they?” she asked, and her gray eyes took on a curious note.

“They’re your official welcome to the neighborhood- from my Mom. They’re cookies, she makes the best batch you’ll ever taste.” Annabeth’s mouth almost pulled into a smile before flattening out again and when she looked back at him- well, Percy didn’t know what to think.

She arched a brow. “What if I said I’m allergic to gluten?”

Percy smiled, playing along. “I’d say you’re an awful liar and a buzzkill.”

“And if I said I just don’t like chocolate chip cookies?”

“I’d say you’re a psychopath and a witch. How did you know they’re chocolate chip?” When Annabeth smiled, a piece of Percy’s heart seemed to chip off, leaving him breathless at how beautiful it was.

“I guess I can just read you like a book Jackson,” she shrugged then turned her back to him as she looked inside the house as if contemplating something.

“Well, I have to put this inside and I’d rather your Mom didn’t fail me for killing her son, so you can come in.” She didn’t wait for his response before turning and strutting into her house, leaving Percy with no other option but to follow.

He closed the door behind him and relished the warmth of the massive house and before he could look around Annabeth was back at his side and grabbing the tin of cookies from him. She opened the lid and took one out- pausing to observe it.

She adorably quirked an eyebrow upwards. “Blue?”

Percy shrugged, scratching the back of his neck to cover up how red it probably was.

“What’s wrong with blue?”

“I didn’t say there was anything wrong with blue. Your choice?” she assumed, and Percy could just nod. She was sharp, he’d give her that.

He tried not to watch as she took a bite and her eyes widened a fraction.

“Are you sure your mom is an art teacher and not God? These are amazing!” Percy smiled and rolled his eyes, shrugging. His first Annabeth Chase compliment, and it had been to his mother.

“Every Mom has two things,” he said, and he watched as Annabeth’s gray eyes darkened a fraction.

“No,” she said quietly, finishing off the cookie and dusting her fingers off. “They don’t.” Percy opened his mouth to say something but Annabeth had moved to the kitchen counter and was unpacking his mother’s box.

He glanced around the room in silence, his eyes quickly migrating to a painting he could have recognized anywhere. His feet seemed to fly across the house quicker than ever to observe the painting and his jaw dropped as he realized-

“Annabeth. Chase.” he managed out.

Annabeth spun around and one look at his face had her own turning cold and letting out a broken laugh.

“Of course you recognize the painting. I keep forgetting you’re the son of an art teacher.” Her feet were silent as she walked to stand next to him and observe the painting, her calculating gaze back on display.

“Your mother is Athena Chase?”

“The one and only,” she replied without taking her eyes off of the painting. Angry eyes.

Percy gaped at her, somehow even more impressed with the blonde girl in front of him. If her mother was one of the best painters he had ever seen and she was in a college-level art class- he could only imagine how talented she was. “She’s amazing! I mean- she painted The Eye of Nobody in-”

“Twenty minutes. Yep, I’m aware.” Annabeth’s eyes shot back to his and the fiery anger in them stopped him in his tracks. “And if you’re just gonna stand there and gawk all day, you can look it up on the internet. So if we’re done here...” she began walking towards the door and suddenly Percy was the angry one.

He hadn’t said anything wrong. So why was she suddenly so pissed at him?

The words were out before he could stop them.

“Do you have an issue with me?”

Annabeth’s hand stopped on the handle of the door and she turned back to him, her gaze searing into his face.

“Did I say I have an issue with you?” she snapped.

“You seem like the type of girl who has an issue with everyone,” Percy shot back, suddenly sick of being Mr. Nice Guy.

Since the moment she had opened the door, Annabeth had been colder than the ten-degree weather outside and Percy was just about sick of it.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Annabeth folded her arms in front of her and Percy could’ve felt the power and stubbornness in the stance all the way from North Korea, where he would much rather have been at this moment.

“That maybe if you stopped glaring for two seconds people might tolerate you.” The measly seconds that Annabeth had smiled- or even stopped glaring- had made Percy feel warmer than any present on Christmas day, and it seemed to be the one thing Annabeth refused to do.

“Don’t flatter yourself into thinking I care what you think of me Jackson,” she scoffed, and damn if the sound didn’t make him want to kiss her annoying face. Glaring at him in blind anger and she was still the most beautiful girl he had ever seen, and Percy was starting to hate her for it.

“Bold of you to assume I was talking about me, Chase. Maybe I was referring to whatever poor soul gets stuck walking next to you on the sidewalk.”

Her eyes flashed.

“It’s cute how ignorant you are. Keep it up. We wouldn’t want anyone to think the Jackson boy is anything less than perfect, now would we?”

“So you do think I’m cute? At least you admit it,” Percy smirked.

Annabeth rolled her eyes, apparently done with this conversation. Her mouth pulled into a cold smirk.

“The only thing that I think is cute is your complete lack of knowledge about anything not having to do with your precious swim team,” she gestured to his Goode High Swimming hoodie, “or what skateboard you’re getting for Christmas this year,” she sneered.

“Oh because you think of much more important things,” he rolled his eyes.

“I didn’t need to meet you to know that I do, Jackson.”

He hid how the comment stung, unable to give her the high ground.

“Well, that’s not a very nice thing to say, Miss Chase. We wouldn’t want you to end up on the naughty list.”

Annabeth gave him a look of pure disgust and yanked the door open, grabbing his arm with so much force that Percy wasn’t ready for how fast he was thrown out the door. Percy ignored the electricity her touch had felt like on his arm as he looked at her again.

“I’ll tell you exactly where you can shove your list.” She arched her brow as if in a challenge and Percy couldn’t help it as a laugh burst out of his mouth and he caught the lift of Annabeth’s before she turned it back down again.

“Well I have to say, bantering you has been fun, it really has. I probably burnt off enough calories to eat an entire tin of cookies again. But that being said, I am sad to announce that it’s time for me to make my departure.”

“An unfortunate event,” Annabeth replied in a monotone voice while rolling her eyes.

Percy ignored her comment. “Aw don’t worry Wise Girl, I know you’ll miss me but no need to fret. I’m sure our paths will cross once more. So with these final words, I leave you.”

“Why, Jackson, do you insist on being such a royal pain in my ass?”

“Well I can’t very well be a peasant pain, now can I? Have you seen this face?”

Annabeth took a step out of the house until they were almost nose to nose, due to her being a step above his and Percy’s heart skipped a beat.

“Indeed I have. You better get going before I change my mind about getting an A and make some changes to that pretty face. And say thank you to your Mom for me. For the supplies-and the cookies.”

Had she said something? Percy was hardly listening with how close they were. She smelled of lemon. Of course, she had to smell like one of the best scents ever.

“Well in that case,” Percy managed to get out.

So Percy forced himself to step back and didn’t mistake the look of victory in the blonde’s eyes as he walked back to the front of her house where the mailbox sat. He turned back one final time.

“I knew you thought I was pretty Wise Girl,” he called out with a wink, and Percy would’ve paid money to see her roll her eyes in such a humorous way again.

“Maybe I was pitying you. ‘Tis the season and all that,” she shrugged, leveling him with a gaze he never wanted to break.

“Have fun with Max, Mrs. Grinch,” was all Percy said as he walked off without hearing the retort he knew she had ready on her tongue.

Because she always had something to say. Annabeth Chase could dish it out as well as she could take it and Percy had never met anyone like her. She was witty and intelligent, and so damn beautiful that he couldn’t resist looking back just in time to see her turn to go back into the house.

And there was no mistaking the expression on her face as anything other than a true, gorgeous Annabeth Chase smile.

And hell if Percy didn’t trip on his own feet and go careening straight into Mr. D’s massive pile of old snow that lay on the side of his house after seeing it. The snow shocked him enough to get out of Annabeth land long enough to dust off the snow and stand again, shaking the wet snow out of his hair when he heard the unmistakable voice of a certain blonde.

“I saw that Jackson!”

‘Tis the season indeed.

ahhhhh!! that’s it! i hope you guys enjoyed reading this as much as i enjoyed writing it even though i totally strayed from my original idea of a cutie meet cute hehe my bad. but hey, what’s percabeth without a little fighting right?

anyway, thank you so, so much for reading and ily!

#percy jackson #annabeth chase #percabeth #fanfic

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la-fille-en-aiguilles · 5 years

Text

Blackout | Random One-Shot Series, #2

Billy Russo x Female Reader

Second Billy Russo one-shot featuring one nasty citywide blackout. But really, it’s just a matter of perspective.

Warnings: S.M.U.T., language.

Synopsis: What happens when a major blackout hits the city of New York, and you find yourself stuck with Billy goddamn Russo in an elevator, your least favorite person under the sun? Well, you’re about to find out.

Feeling cold winter wind bite at the bare skin of your calves, you mentally curse yourself for zapping that pair of tights, now peacefully resting at your place on the kitchen table. Pacing back and forth in front of a posh building, gleamed with secretive whispers of for-glamorous-crowd-only, you keep squeezing your phone, waiting on Karen to show up with a fervency of a Christian awaiting for the second coming of Christ.

Oddly enough, the metaphor quite fits: through the glass doors of the apartment complex you make out polished wood floors of a foyer that could accommodate hell of a lot of sinners and a graceful mirror-like doors of an elevator that probably go all the way to heaven.

Why Karen has chosen this 12,000-square-foot executive lifestyle hub, a dramatic and tasteless atrocity, to hold Frank’s surprise birthday party is beyond your understanding. Even though you only arrived ten minutes ago you already miss your loft in Brooklyn, where everything feels warm, spacious and familiar.

Karen is running late, but what else is new. As much as you want to help her with the finishing touches, there is no way in hell you’re going up there all alone. You frown as you wonder for a second if there are already people up at Billy Russo’s penthouse quarters, because you’d rather freeze to death than find yourself one on one with the man. It’s been so long it has become a running inside joke among your close circle of friends - with you and Billy locked in the same room, the only way either of you is getting out is in a body bag.

Still, despite of their big mouths, you love your friends. So you make an effort to care about almost everything and everyone they hold dear.

There are, of course, exceptions. Tired of waiting outside in the cold, with a deep sigh, you enter the building. After a brief hesitation, you force yourself to push the elevator button and once it arrives, you step inside, inhaling a pleasant, sugary smell. Even if no one has arrived yet – in New York people tend to be late, just to make everyone think they have a life – you’d simply make yourself scarce and hide out in Russo’s bathroom until Karen or Curtis finally decide to show.

Just when the doors of the elevator are about to slide shut, a deep, raw voice calls out to you :

“Could you hold the doors for me please?...”

Driven by the sense of civic duty and by sheer curiosity, you press the necessary button. Little do you know, one look at the man’s face would make you want to singlehandedly shut them if needed, with his head smashed in between, his brain leaking out his ears and onto the floors.

Here he is. Your almost everyone. Your exception.

The first thing you see is, of course, his toned chest, wrapped in a neat white shirt that probably costs more than this goddamn building, and a hell of a don’t-fuck-with-me attitude. His eyes, deep bottomless black oceans with glimmering flakes of ice, narrow as soon as he spots you, the muscles in his strong jaw chiseling.

“Y/L/N,” he breathes out in a badly masked annoyance, as he stumbles into the elevator, nearly slamming his right shoulder into your frame.

“Russo,” you retort, rolling your eyes. Out of all people attending the goddamn party, it’s with The fucking Pretty Boy that you somehow happen to share the elevator ride.

The last thing you want is to deal with Russo’s narcissistic antics and inferiority complex. The last time you crossed paths with him, you ended up bitching at each other for thirty minutes straight, making nasty side comments to each other until the all-American self-made jerk has finally crossed a line and you smashed a huge chunk of Curtis’ birthday cake into his face.

So yeah, Russo and you aren’t exactly buddies. And you remember exactly why.

“Aren’t you a ray of sunshine today,” surprised at the fact that Russo dares to attempt a small talk, you turn to stare at him blankly, second guessing how exactly he is expecting you to react.

Russo meets your gaze head-on, his eyes nearly begging you to start an argument.

Geez, you’re taken somewhat aback. Someone’s got their panties in a twist.

Your last chance to escape a long, torturous ride with the person you dislike most in the world goes out the window just as the doors of the elevator finally slide close.

“I was before you showed your face,” you fire back after sizing him up and turning away. From the corner of your eyes you notice Russo’s expression, like someone has just shit on his face.

“If youl keep looking at me like that the lunch in my stomach will turn sour”, you add, your eyes stubbornly fixed on the glowing numbers above the doors.

3 – 4 – 5….

Russo huffs contemptuously at your comeback, hatred that his body’s emanating hitting you in nauseating waves.

“Charming, as usual,” Billy states bitterly, showing mercy for your lunch for some reason and immediately looking away. Choosing to ignore whatever his problem is with you today, you fish your iPhone out of the Balenciaga bag, wanting to check whether Karen has shown any sign of being alive. Lightening up the dim screen and steadily fighting your desire to spit in Russo’s face with a booming Fuck Off!, you dial Page’s number, silently begging her to pick up.

“Hey, Y/N. What’s up?” Karen answers on the fifth beep, her voice a little too thin, betraying an emotion you can’t quite place. Page quickly clears her throat before continuing. “You’re….uh…. You’re at the party yet?”

“Hey to you too,” you raise an eyebrow in suspicion, worry digging a hole in your lower stomach. “So you’re not yet at the rave that you’re yourself throwing?... Classy, ” your eyes still glued to the switching numbers, you try to ignore the way your skin ripples, feeling Russo’s eyes piercing through your head. Surprised at your own angst, you squeeze your eyes shut and try to ignore the jerk’s presence entirely.

“Gee, I take it you stumbled into Russo,” Karen’s guess seems all too perfect, and you give Billy a suspicious side look. “I asked him to go fetch candles for the cake because I am already late as it is... I sure as hell hope he did not invite any bimbos to the party tonight, because I know how much you…”

“…thank you, Karen, you’ve made your point!” you blurt out as you try to contain the blush you know is spreading across your cheeks. Every time Karen speaks, she’s loud and confident - there is no doubt Russo heard every single word. “Listen, we’re in the elevator, I’ll shoot you a text when we’re….”

…at his place. The words never leave your lips. What you do let out is a yelp when your entire body jerks, the world spinning before your eyes. Your iPhone falls flat on the floor as the elevator comes to an abrupt stop, the building’s lights all going out simultaneously just as you lose your balance. When you’re about to fall back on the cold and dirty floors, you vaguely register strong hands snake around your waist, keeping you in place. It all happens in what feels like a millisecond, smooth and so frustratingly natural, that without even thinking twice about it, you go with a flow. Back in the vertical position, you blink rapidly as a few emergency lights turn on, casting a dim glow on the confined elevator space and your palms, pressed against Russo’s rock-hard, lean chest.

His scent immediately engulfs you, a subtle mix of oud and hickory spices, and you suddenly realize you’ve only been this close before once, save for the moment you smudged a piece of cake all over his face.

As you catch on Karen’s distressed voice, coming from the phones’ speaker, you fight off the butterflies fluttering in her stomach. As soon as they’re dealt with, you use your hands to push away from Russo’s dangerously enticing body, uncomfortable with the thoughts that circle around in your head.

And just like that, whatever it was that you shared just for a second, this moment, is gone. You pick up your phone, pressing it against your ear, as Billy backs himself against the wall, groaning and facepalming at the same time, the reality only starting to hit him from the looks of it.

“Guys? Helloooo? What the hell happened?!” Karen’s voice comes and goes, the service shitty on whatever floor you’ve stuck.

“Karen!” you exclaim, low key panicking. “Hey, Karen, we’re alright, we’re just stuck in the goddamn elevator!”

You press your free hand against the other ear in an attempt to hear Page better.

“She can’t do anything,” you flash Russo an irritated look, ignoring his words.

“Okay, listen you two, I’m going to call the building’s security or the fire department or whatever so they can try and get you out before you bite each other’s heads off. Meanwhile, I suggest that you sort out whatever the hell is going on between you two, because I won’t be held responsible for two deaths when I barely had time to enjoy my relationship with Frank. Understood?”

Something in Karen’s tone makes the horror of the situation finally dawn on you.

“Fuck,” you groan, running fingers through your messed up hair. You can almost swear you hear Russo echo your words. “Yeah alright, it isn’t like we have much of choice anyway. I’ll see you later then,” you say before giving Russo one of your trademark glares. “If I’m not behind bars for a homicide by the time help arrives”.

“Don’t worry”, Karen responds rather cheerfully. “I’ll bail your ass out.”

As soon as the call ends, heavy silence settles in, so thick you could cut it with a butter knife.

“Do you think the dynamic duo planned it?” Russo finally speaks, referring to Karen and Frank, without any doubt, as he leans against the wall and crosses his strong arms across his chest.

“Sure, they planned a fucking blackout. Your denseness never ceases to amaze, Russo”.

Upon the hearing of your unceremonious comment, Billy narrows his eyes, watching you, sporting a glower fierce enough to put the fear of God in anyone.

This is sure going to be a long wait.

******

The silence in the elevator is deafening. It’s so quiet, Billy swears he can hear the dust move in whirls, its thin layers disturbed by your heavy and impatient breathing. With your cheeks red and your eyes darting all over the elevator, you breathe in and out. It probably takes every once of your self-control not to grab him by his hair and smash his head against the elevator panel, repeatedly, till the fucking thing can function again.

Billy watches you fume silently in your corner, the question he’s been asking himself for ages threatening to fall off his tongue.

He hears you sigh again, as you wipe tiny beads of sweat from your forehead, and he knows. He just knows that this is his chance to get some answers. Actually, he couldn’t have found a more convenient time and place to demand some kind of an explanation from you – at least, now, you have nowhere to run.

“Why do you hate me so much, Y/L/N?” Russo’s voice cuts the silence like an nuclear bomb going off. He can feel your entire body shudder as you turn your head in his direction, your eyes widening a bit, as if you’ve just acknowledged he was here the entire time.

Billy knows exactly what to expect from you, and as you confirm his expectations, he starts to regret his attempt at a heart-to-heart talk with you.

You roll your eyes before crossing your hands over your chest, your stare blank but determined.

“Please,” you huff, “I don’t hate you, Russo. Hating is exhausting”.

“Exactly,” Billy picks up almost immediately after you’re finished talking. “Why waste all that energy?”

You look at him, chomping on your lips in annoyance.

“I said I don’t hate you,” you repeat stubbornly. “In order to hate you I’d have to be emotionally invested. And I’m not. If you must know, you’re an asshole, and it’s just that I have zero tolerance for assholes”.

For some reason, your answer makes Billy chuckle quite heartily, as he turns away and slides down the elevator wall to sit on his ass. Spreading his legs some, he stretches his long arms and puts them on top of his knees, his head pressed against the cool wall.

“Something funny?” still standing, you narrow your eyes at him.

Russo bites on his lips in order to keep his outburst of emotion in, and shakes his head, like you’re hopeless and he’s done with you. This makes your blood boil in your veins.

Arrogant little fucker.

“If you have something to say, just say it,” your tone is dismissive and calm for the most part, but it suffices to wipe the smirk from Russo’s face.

“Why bother?” he asks bitterly, his black eyes sparkling in the red light. “You probably have your head filled with bitchy comebacks that you’ve been preparing for this kind of situation. I’d rather you keep your mouth shut and we spend time stuck in this hot box in silence”.

Before you even realize it, you push off the wall of the elevator, your eyes blazing.

“Excuse me?” you hiss. “You are the one asking me to fucking talk! And when I do, you’re surprised that I actually have balls to tell you the truth, unlike all those Barbie bitches you spend your time with, getting off at the sound of them saying how awesome you are”.

Russo’s jaw drops open slightly. He definitely didn’t expect you to push back, but he should have known better by now.

A real Ballbuster, aren’t you?

“So this is why you’re always such a bitch to me,” Billy feigns revelation, his lips stretched in what can only be described as a devilish grin. “Is this because of that night in New York two years ago? When you had to ruin everything, without even telling me what the fuck was wrong?”

The way you watch him, unblinking, biting the inside of your cheek lets Billy know he has just hit a nail on the head. He doesn’t know what he’s expected from you, but it definitely wasn’t nothing; and that is exactly what he’s faced with.

You don’t speak. You blink a couple of times, hanging on to your composure, probably even mentally counting to ten... For a moment there, Billy thinks you really are going to kick him in the balls and thus justify the nickname that he’s long since given you.

But it’s like you don’t even see him anymore. Turning your entire body away from him, you stare at the closed doors, peeling off your jacket, hot leather sticking to your arms.

Billy’s watching your every move, taking in your body slowly and you can’t help but feel exposed – vulnerable. When his eyes meet yours, he asks:

“Why?”

His voice is stern, yet calm, and you bite on the bottom lip, your stomach churning.

Both of you know exactly what he’s talking about.

“It’s not important,” you finally speak, your voice steadier than you thought it’d be. “No one gives a damn anymore”.

“I do”, Billy’s voice rolls over you like thunder, your skin tingling at the sound. “I give a damn. If it wasn’t important, you wouldn’t take every opportunity to chew me the fuck out when I’m around”.

He stands up in one gracious move, and makes a couple of steps in your direction, closing the space between the two of you. The smell of his cologne hits your nostrils again as he finally rests one of his arms on the wall behind you.

Staring into his pitch black irises, you still hold your ground, not moving an inch.

“What did I do?” Billy whispers, his lips itching closer to your face.

“What didn’t you do!” you throw both of your hands in the air, making Russo back off instinctively. Your mind is reeling, and you suddenly realize that all the shit you’ve had brewing inside of your head because of Russo for so long has got to spill out. You’re a bit surprised when you see a flash of relief momentarily grace Billy’s stare, but you brush the thought away quickly.

He wants to know why you hate him, well, the fucker is about to find out.

Billy watches you in what can only be described as an awe as you push towards him, until it’s his turn to back right into the wall. He’s about to ask what the hell do you think you’re doing, but the question is caught in his throat when you start to yell, finally letting go of all the anger you had bubbling inside for so long.

“How fucking dare you pretend like this is all some huge surprise to you?”, you’re full-on screaming now, and tears are ringing in your voice. “I thought we shared something that evening. I loved spending time with you on the roof, after everyone’s left! And I made it pretty fucking clear that night that I wanted you. I fucking told you so. I was waiting for your ass for hours, and a fucking prick that you are, I shouldn’t have been surprised to see you suck Madani’s face off the next day at the Homeland’s!”

God knows that this is a fucked-up situation. And as twisted as it is, your anger stirs something inside of Billy, causing his blood to flow south, straight to his groin.

“Have you any fucking idea what that felt like, with Madani and the others talking behind my back, the girl who was ready to spread her legs in front of Billy fucking Russo, and he didn’t even bother to take what was offered? Of course you don’t, because you didn’t give a shit. You barely looked at me, let alone spoke to me for the last two years, and now you dare asking me what did you do?!”

“You are insane”, Billy can’t help the harshness in his tone as he hears your ridiculous lies. As the words leave his mouth, he instantly regrets them, but the damage’s done. You turn your head away from him, hugging yourself, ashamed of the tears slowly rolling down your cheeks.

“I don’t understand,” he runs his fingers through his hair in desperation.

“Of course you don’t,” you huff, and quickly wipe your tear-stained cheeks. “You are so used to everything being offered to you.”

“Not everything”, Billy bites back, feeling irritated and helpless, because he is just so confused. “I texted you that night after you left the party telling you how much I, too, loved spending time with you. I even asked you out on a date for breakfast next morning. You never fucking answered.”

You stare at him like he’s grown a penis on his forehead.

“Were you that drunk?” you let out a bitter laugh. “I told you I’d have loved to, and I said that we could order in, and gave you my fucking address! Drop the fucking surprised act, Russo, you wrote me you were coming over! And of course you never showed. You left me feeling like a stupid whore, more so when I saw you kissing Madani on the steps of the Homeland Security next morning, out of all people!”

Confused expression slowly fades from Billy’s face. Something clicks in his head, and he looks like he’s finally assembling a puzzle on which he’s been working for quite some time.

“I’ve never gotten your texts. I checked twice that night… After Frankie brought my phone that I left at the bar, where Curtis, him and a couple of my Anvil guys were playing poker after the party…”

Silence is tense, and you can hear your ragged breaths join in an odd kind-of harmony.

“...Madani was with them, wasn’t she?” your voice is barely a whisper, when you finally figure it out.

“And Madani was there with them, yeah”, Billy repeats, still struck. “Unbelievable. The bitch hacked my phone.”

How dared she take his phone and violate his privacy like that? How fucking dared she meddle with something so important to him?

The next twenty minutes pass by slowly, the only sound coming from the confusion within the building. Both Billy and you don’t speak, letting this new discovery sink in, before he finally breaks and says:

“I’m an asshole.”

You look at him questioningly, and he can tell you're distancing yourself from him.

“I just saw you laughing with Curtis that morning when you showed up at Homeland, you looked so happy, and you didn’t even look at me, I was… hurt,” he confesses, staring into the ceiling. “I acted like a goddamn fool, and for that I am sorry”.

“It’s fine,” you answer almost immediately, avoiding his gaze. “Whatever. What’s done is done. It’s been two years, I honestly couldn’t care less”.

And there it is. Billy can see it now. The mask you wear whenever he enters the room. He isn’t going to buy it, not this time, when he’s finally gotten you to let your guard down a little, when you’ve finally admitted how hurt you were… When you’ve finally admitted you cared, for this entire time.

“You’re lying”, you shiver as Billy reaches out, his hands sliding up your arm, until his fingers grip your elbow. He manages to draw you closer to him, his mouth nearly caressing your ear as he whispers the words to you.

When you turn your head, ever so slightly, you catch his black eyes that burn into yours, and the rough grip of his fingers tightens on your hipbones.

How…? For how long has he been touching you like that?

When Billy’s name escapes your lips, it comes out in a breath, your tongue and lips caressing every syllable.

“I’ve been tortured for two years, thinking about how my name will sound falling off your lips,” Billy whispers, his eyes drinking in every detail of your face. “The way your pulse goes crazy when I touch you like that,” his lips hover over a sensitive spot next to your jawline as he speaks, “tells me you don’t mean it. Tells me that you care.”

Billy’s lips press against the tender beating just below your ear, and the sensation is overwhelming. You moan involuntary, as your skin catches fire, your hips bucking into his.

“I want it slow,” he says, his voice hoarse, but his hungry hands, running down your sides and squeezing your ass, tell another story entirely. “I want you to feel just what you have been missing”.

Heat pools in between your thighs in answer to his words, bare millimetres separating your lips. You take a second to look into Billy’s eyes, glassy, his irises so dark they’re indistinct… Burning rooms filled with dense smoke.

Billy meets your lips halfway, soft, full and demanding. He slips his tongue into your mouth, eliciting a moan from you, that he swallows greedily. His hands fist your hair, as he deepens the kiss, biting on your bottom lip.

It’s a feverish and emotional kiss, and Billy could pass out from the relief of feeling your mouth on his. He even fucking dreamed about this moment. Granted, in his mind this was never happening during a citywide blackout in an elevator, but it wasn’t as powerful as it feels right now, either.

He takes in every movement of your tongue, massaging his, every gasp falling off your swollen, reddened lips, and he’s so hard his pants might fucking split. The things get worse when you wrap your hands around his neck, your bodies pressed to each other in all the right places. Billy growls, something animalistic in the way he moves, when he grabs your hips again and lifts you up, pinning you to the wall.

The friction that results from your movements makes both of you moan, and you are suddenly glad you didn’t put that pair of tights on. Billy’s calloused hands slide up your thighs, your dress a mop of chiffon around your waist. When he presses one of his thumbs to that pulsating spot in between your legs, you swear under your breath; then he pushes your lingerie out of the way and draws circles on and around that swollen bud, making you whimper and bite his bottom lip so rough it surely must hurt.

“Please, Billy,” you gasp, and dig your nails in the back of his neck.

“Please what?” he asks, his breath hitting your collarbone.

When you don’t speak, grinding your hips on him, Billy growls again.

“You want me to fuck you raw, is that it?” your eyes go wide at his words, but your thighs part further. “I know, baby, I want that too. I need to feel you”.

Pressing your body into the elevator wall with his weight, Billy makes short work of his pants, letting them slide down his thighs. Quickly slipping a condom out of the pocket of his dark grey number, he tears the foil packet and rolls the latex on himself. Then he guides you gently as you lower yourself onto him, and you both gasp at the contact.

He bucks his hips to meet yours, and the feeling is exquisite. Billy cups your ass in his large hands, pushing his cock deeper inside of you, and your mind is reeling, as his mouth sucks on your neck so hard it’s sure going to leave a mark.

Billy circles his hips slowly in an attempt to find that spot, the one that will have you screaming his name in seconds. He nearly makes himself tear his gaze away from your chest, beads of sweat rolling in between your breasts. The shape of them is fucking perfect.

Your nails dig harder into his neck and that how he knows he found the spot he’s been searching for. His thrusting speeds up, and he can’t help but curse as your back arches into him. Your lips bite into his as you come undone, muffling your screams of pleasure.

Two more thrusts, as deep as they would go, and Billy moans, spilling into the condom.

Both of you are a panting mess, as you press your foreheads together. This is the moment the steady white light chooses to suddenly flick on.

“Right on time,” you whisper against his lips. You smirk at each other, and moments later it’s a full-blown laugh.

Letting you slide off him smoothly, Billy can’t stop picturing the way your body looked, pressed against his, as he wraps his silk handkerchief around the used condom and tucks it into one of the pocket of his trousers. He buckles his belt, never looking away. As you smile at him adjusting your dress, he cups your face and smashes his lips into yours, letting them linger.

Thank God for the fucking blackout, he thinks, lacing your fingers together, facing the elevator doors again. He turns his head to you though, because he can’t help the urge to stare at you, admire how beautiful you look with your wild eyes and smudged lipstick, still wearing the heat from his kisses and that rumpled dress…

Thank you for reading! Feedback and other blackout-related ideas are appreciated!

#billy russo #billy russo x reader #billy russo imagine #billy russo x you #billy russo smut #ben barnes #ben barnes imagine #ben barnes x reader #ben barnes oneshot #ben barnes smut #the punisher imagine #the punisher

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sleephyjhs · 4 years

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You Suffer with Anxiety (REACTION)

[ requested / masterlist ]

tw :: talks of anxiety throughout (no anxiety attacks)

KSJ

Whenever you felt unnecessary nerves beginning to build up within you, you took it upon yourself to prepare some tea. When you were diagnosed with anxiety as a teenager, one of the coping methods you discovered for yourself was hot drinks. The warmth from mugs somehow manages to calm you to a certain extent and steady your trembling hands.

Unknowingly to you, your partner Seokjin had easily picked up on your coping method. As you weren’t the biggest fan of caffeine, it always became apparent to him when your anxiety was particularly bad. He figured quickly that each period of anxiety was different from another and that there was no set way to help you. Any support you needed was completely in your control.

You felt sick. Anxiety never failed to strip you of your appetite. Jin would be home before long, and soon after he would begin to prepare a meal for the two of you. Everything he made in the kitchen always tasted incredible, but you always felt bad breaking it to him that you just weren’t in the mood to eat.

Soon enough, he came through the door and leaned over the armrest of the sofa to kiss your forehead, “What’s with the mugs? You never drink tea.” You shrugged, struggling to find the words, “Alright, what’s going on?”

Seokjin crouched at your head and held contact with your eyes. Only then did it occur to you that he’d figured you out, “My anxiety is pretty bad today. I don’t know why. I feel like I can’t eat, sleep, breathe-“

“Woah, it’s alright! We don’t have to eat or sleep right now. We can talk through some things if you’d like?” You shook your head. Talking about what was wrong made you feel even worse about it, “Well then, all I can offer is to leave you alone, or just.. hold you?”

Physical contact and your anxiety could often be a hit or miss, but that evening, it seemed right to you. You raised your torso from the couch to let Seokjin slide underneath and embrace you on his lap, “You don’t have to tell me anything, but I promise I’ll help you as much as I can, alright?”

MYG

The single most thing you hated about anxiety was its unpredictability. You’d experienced first hand how it easily ruined long-standing plans and disabled you from living the packed lifestyle you once did.

Everyone had different standards for being at their ‘worst’. For you, when the concept of leaving your bed became overwhelming, it signalled to you that perhaps you should take each day a bit slower.

You had felt Yoongi leave the bed early that morning for rehearsals, but as he kissed your cheek as a goodbye, you had pretended to remain asleep. Looking him in the eye would have certainly caused you to burst into tears, and the last thing you wanted to do was make him late.

While Yoongi was gone, you had chosen to stay in bed. All the premonitions you had told you that your legs weren’t strong enough to carry you anywhere else. Collapsing wasn’t on your agenda. You tried music and television, even reading. Nothing helped. You needed company. You needed to know you weren’t alone.

When the clock turned 9pm, you began to count down the minutes. He hadn’t rung to alert you he was staying later, so before long, Yoongi would be home. As you raised yourself from lying down, your stomach growled at the lack of food you had given yourself.

In all honesty, comfort food was what you really needed. Nobody made bulgogi like Yoongi. Mist of your willpower to get through the day was knowing he was treating you to your favourite when he returned home.

As you lost track of minutes, the bedroom door pushed open gently. A blur of black hair and pale skin peeked through the crack, before emerging to reveal a concerned boyfriend, “One of those days?” You nodded sullenly as he paced towards you, “Have you actually gotten out of bed today?”

“Maybe once or twice. I just feel weak.” He folded a wavy piece of hair behind you ear and offered you his hand, glossing over your pale knuckles.

“Would food help?” You nodded before Yoongi could finish his short question, “Come on then, let’s get you sorted out.” He linked your left arm in his right, and held you steadily to guide you downstairs, grasping your hand particularly to let you know he was still there.

JHS

After a year of being with Hoseok, it was finally time for him to embark on another world tour. Because of your job, you were unable to join him as much as he would have liked, which in turn caused you a decent amount of anxiety. Travelling worried you sick, and so the thought of your partner travelling was almost paralysing.

Without realising it, you sat in the artist lounge with Hoseok biting and peeling skin away from the edge of your nail. You couldn’t help it, it was just a nervous habit. As he waited for his turn to record for the new album, all the possibilities of things going wrong on an international trip played through your mind.

It wasn’t your job to mother him, you knew that well. Hoseok didn’t even know about your worries. Your concern stemmed simply from your own anxiety, and you quickly realised there was nothing you could do to stop it.

“Ah, fuck!” In the meanwhile of chewing on your fingers, you forgot to take notice of how hard you clenched your teeth, resulting in you biting more than you had anticipated.

“What happened?” Hoseok asked, drawing his eyes over to you, where you caressed a now bleeding finger, “Oh my god, let me get you a plaster.”

“No, it’s alright. It’s just a nervous habit,” you convinced him, sucking the small droplets from your tiny wound. In his silence, you gazed up to see Hoseok more confused than you ever had before, “Sometimes when I get anxious I bite my nails.”

You dreaded this moment, but after asking you what you were worried about, you confessed your anxieties about his upcoming travels, “I know saying this might not help but you really don’t have to worry, jagi. It’s safe! And you don’t have to worry about being alone either. I can always fly you out if you feel a bit left out.”

KNJ

Namjoon carried through a glass of cold water, watching you and your shaking frame more than the glass itself. After an hour of persistant crying and breathlessness, you had come to a somewhat peaceful state. Although you were calm, you still felt uneasy and unstable, which you were hoping some comfort from your partner might help.

“Just take it easy. There’s no rush for anything right now.” Namjoon urged as he placed the glass on the coffee table. You’d been sat on the hardwood floor for too long, but you couldn’t bring yourself to move. Not even support from another person could make you strong enough.

Sure enough, Namjoon places himself next to you on the floor and slipped an arm around your trembling shoulders. You were thankful that skinship was something you both enjoyed, “You don’t need to tell me what’s wrong. If you want to, we can talk about it if you’d like. Or we could sit here. Or do anything you’d like to do.”

“I don’t know what’s wrong, Joonie. That’s the problem. I don’t know.” You explained, your voice still shaky from the previous troubles, “Nothing’s straightforward-“

“Hey! Hey, it’s okay. It’s okay not to know what’s going on up there. Main point is, you’re safe right now. That’s all that matters.”

You paused in your thoughts for a moment to absorb the gentle comfort Namjoon’s presence gave you. Even his physical warmth made you feel better in one way or another. You didn’t want to turn him away. You needed him.

“Let’s just sit for a while. Is that okay?” Namjoon nodded and nestled his fingers between yours. Without realising, the pair of you began to rock slowly back and forth. In that moment you felt content. Still not fine, but just content.

PJM

As soon as he felt your hand begin to sweat in his, Jimin was unable to resist checking up on you. Walking around the city was something you did together regularly, but often the large morning crowds were enough to overwhelm you.

“Can we sit down for a minute somewhere?” Without needing to ask any more, Jimin led you into the next coffee shop along (which thankfully, was quite drained for the capital’s morning rush) and found you a table in a far corner where music was drowned and company was scarce.

“Usual?” He checked, before strolling to the counter to place your order. Unable to focus on the muffled commotion by the door, you rested your forearms on the table and leaned over your elbows, steadying yourself from your trembling limbs.

Although you hadn’t looked up to witness, Jimin was unable to take his eyes off you. It was endearing how much Jimin cared about you and how much he continued to demonstrate his love. What he wouldn’t tell you is that he also worried about you. A lot more than he’d ever admit to.

Before long, he carried over to you your regular tea and his iced americano and settled it between your still shaking hands, “Take your time. We have time to calm down and sit for a while. Talk to me. Talk to me about anything.”

Only blank thoughts filled your mind. You felt nothing but guilt towards your partner, “I’m sorry. I never mean to do this.”

“You don’t need to apologise, my love. I know crowds aren’t your best friend. You’re okay with me, I promise you.” His words came as a great comfort, but the regret that came woth ruining what was a perfect morning walk was unbearable, “We can chill out here for a while? Karaoke, park, cinema. Today’s all about you, okay?”

KTH

You’d never realised it, but your anxiety had led you to develop some habits that for your partner, Taehyung, had become more like warning signals.

Mental health was a struggle you had opened up to him early in your relationship. You knew that sometimes your behaviour could alert other people, and the last thing you wanted to do was make it seem like he made you uncomfortable or that you didn’t want to be there. Explaining that your expressions or habits were sometimes ahead of you came to be of benefit.

When you entered the dining room, you ignored Tae’s greeting and sat beside him. Withdrawing from conversation was an indicator of your anxiety, and so he turned off his tablet to focus on trying to talk to you, “How is everything?”

You could hear him perfectly well, but talking to him would surely induce your tears. Instead, he laid his hands out on the table. Without hesitation, you grabbed onto him.

Ignoring him was the last thing you wanted to do. In fact, you felt as though you desperately needed him. However, you didn’t want to break down in front of him, he shouldn’t have to see that, “I’ll listen to whatever you want to talk about.”

A few seconds of Tae caressing your hand pulled a tear from your eye, and within seconds, you were deep into his embrace, “I’m sorry. This is so pathetic.” You weeped in between deep breaths.

“No, it isn’t. Let’s go up to bed and get more comfortable, yeah? I’ll keep you company.”

JJK

Jungkook has been stroking your hair for the past half hour as you wound down by watching an animation film. After an anxiety attack, going back to a comfortable memory could help you sometimes. Cuddling with Jungkook only helped you to feel even better.

His gentle hand running through your hair was hypnotic and you were close to falling asleep. Something stopped you. Something was still playing on your mind.

“Jungkook?” You turned your head upwards to search for his brown bambi eyes. His small almond eyes were framed by raised eyebrows. He was listening, “I think I need to get help.”

“What do you mean?” He asked, twirling loose ends of your hair around his fingertips. You readjusted your twisted body to cause less strain on your neck and held eye contact with your partner.

“Like professional help. I can’t go on with this anxiety, it’s too much.” Jungkook nodded along with your narration, “Do you think they’d see me?”

“They can’t turn away somebody who asks for help, surely. And if for whatever reason they do, I’ll make sure we find someone who will work with you.” He moved his thumb over to your cheek, where your dried tears had created a rubber-like layer of skin.

“You don’t have to do that, really.”

“But I want to. I can’t help as much as a professional can, and I want you to feel better in your own skin. I really do, angel.”

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marvelmadam08 · 4 years

Text

Meanwhile, In Quarantine...

Part of 100 Days of Marvel

Prompt 7: Well which is it? I’m getting nervous. // Prompt 79: You just ignored rule one through five. // Prompt 39: We’re gonna die here. // Prompt 11: I remind myself murder, even attempted, is illegal.

A/N: I’m on day seven or nine (honestly I lost count) of my quarantine, and I am slowly loosing my mind. Then I thought ‘What would the Avengers do during this quarantine?

~~~~~

One Week Earlier

“Miss (Y/N), Mr. Stark is calling for a mandatory team meeting in the common area.” Friday announces to you, interrupting your workout

“Right now?” you huffed out

“Yes, he says it’s urgent.”

You were the last to show up, annoyed and sweaty. Nat seemed to be the only other one who looked as annoyed as you, with her hair wrapped in a towel. Bucky, Sam and Steve lounged on the couch, while Clint was sharpening his arrows. Wanda and Vision stood off to the side to themselves. Thor sat next to Peter, who was hunched over his homework and Bruce stood next to Tony by the muted television displaying the news.

“Everyone here?” Tony pointed to everyone “Good, well I’m not sure if you all heard about this whole ‘virus’ that’s going around.”

“The Coronavirus?” Steve asked

“That’s the one,” Bruce nods “there have been a few cases popping up throughout the city, as well as the country, and within the next few days the entire country is going to be on mandatory quarantine.”

“Quarantine?” Peter spoke up “Like we can’t leave the country?”

“No, as in you can’t leave your house. And that includes The Compound and Tower as well.”

The room erupted in numerous hisses of disagreement.

“Half of us don’t even need to be in quarantine.” Nat stated loudly

“Yeah, stupid super soldiers.” you muttered

“That’s uncalled for.” Bucky gave you a stink eye

“Doesn’t matter, we’re being order by the government and Fury to stay put.” Tony tells you all “Parker, I’m only gonna say this once, you to stay put. No school, no parties, no dates.”

“But here at The Compound would be more ideal, seeing as it’s away from the city.” Bruce adds softly

“So we’re stuck here?” Wanda asks “For how long?”

“Well they say the quarantine could last between two weeks to two months.”

“Well which is it? I’m getting nervous.” Sam unmuted the TV

‘....stores have already begun to run out of water, toilet paper, and even baby wipes...’

Day 1

You, Wanda and Laura (Clint’s wife) were organizing the last of the quarantine supplies. Clint couldn’t stomach the idea of not being with them during the whole pandemic, so he asked to bring them up until everything blew over.

“Okay so the kitchen is fully stocked, all the cleaning supplies are put away.” Wanda sighed “It’s kind of scary, how everyone is reacting out there.”

“Yeah, I had to wrestle some hand sanitizer from some grown woman wearing a face mask and rubber gloves.” Laura admits

“I wish I could’ve seen that, since you had Nate strapped to your chest.”

“Speaking of, I should go check on him.”

Just as Laura walked out, Steve, Bucky and Peter walked in with large pizzas in their hands.

“This is the last of take out for the next few weeks. Enjoy it while it lasts.” Steve tells us

Everyone swarmed for their chosen slices before gravitating towards the TV to get an update on the quarantine. You were instructed to stay inside, only to leave unless it was absolutely necessary, and then return back to respective homes. Keep your contact with other people down to a minimum, and overall to sanitize and wash often.

“This is what I do on a regular basis.” Bucky scoffed

“Same.” Wanda and Nat chimed in

“This is gonna be so cool, like one big party.” Peter clapped

A few of the other groaned at Peter’s optimism.

“The kid is right,” Tony agreed “most times we’re on missions for weeks at a time. How is this any different?”

“He does make a point.” Vision nods “And surely there’s enough room for everyone to find their own thing.”

Day 4

You glared at Bucky, who was tapping his pen against his teeth, while trying to figure out the crossword puzzle in front of him. You were trying to do silent yoga, silent being the key word.

“Barnes, can you stop that?” you said through your teeth

“Stop what?” he paused

“Tapping the pen on your teeth.”

“It helps me think. Why aren’t you in the gym?”

“Because I can’t take Steve and Nat talking smack when they spar each other. And Sam is playing his music too loud, and his room is next to mine.”

“And it’s the tapping that bothers you?”

“Forget it.” you closed you eyes again and worked on tuning Bucky out

Tony hurried in, scanning around the room “Has anyone seen Parker? I can’t find him and neither can his aunt. (Y/L/N)?”

“Shh, doing silent yoga.” You hushed “And no, I haven’t.”

“He left.” Clint spoke from above the rest of you. There was a small whirling noise, and metal scrapping against more metal, then Clint and his daughter poked their head out from the vent above us.

“What do you mean he left?”

“He said something about building a death star.” The younger Barton, Lila, answered

“Friday, override and track the kid’s phone for me.”

“Of course Mr. Stark.”

Tony turned his attention to the TV, tapping on his phone and started to call Peter over video. At this point you gave up on silent yoga and just laid out on the mat. Peter’s face popped up on the screen but he wasn’t looking at his phone

“Trust me, they don’t even know I’m gone.” he told someone off screen

“Hello Mister Parker.” Tony waves

“Mr. Stark!” He hurried to pick up his phone “Hey, hi... um that’s so funny I was just about to come down to the lab, from my room.... which is where I am.... right now.”

“Oh you’re in your room? Not at Ned’s place building legos?”

He paused “No? I just got so bored! And there were so many rules to just stay in.”

“There were six rules max, and you just ignored rule one through five!”

“Are you sure he’s not your kid?” you chuckled

Day 7

“Twenty-three bottles of pop on the wall.” Sam half sung, eyelids closed, while rocking Nate to sleep

Steve and Bucky were each cuddling a plush stuffed animal on the floor. Morgan ran back and forth between poking Steve with a wooden spoon and the spot where she had a pile of cookies waiting on a plate. And Lila and Cooper were on their phones, headphones in, and not paying attention to their surroundings.

“What the hell you guys?” Nat groaned

“Ooh Auntie Nat said a bad word.” Morgan giggled

“Hey Monster.”

“Auntie (Y/N)!” Morgan jumped over Bucky and ran over to climb up your side until she reached your shoulders. “Guess what, I got to have cookies and chicken nuggets, gummies and a bunch of soda.”

“Nat? (Y/N)?” Bucky lifted his head from the floor, a flattened gummy beard on the other side of his cheek “Please tell me the others are back too.”

“On the contrary, Clint and Tony wanted to know if you wouldn’t mind watching the kids a little while longer.” Nat went to relieve Sam from baby duty “Tony talked to the mayor and got her to extend the quarantine curfew for their double date night.”

The three men groaned, you swore you saw a tear in Steve’s eye.

“We’re gonna die here.” Sam curled into a ball

“Why did we agree to babysit?” Steve spoke into the stuffed penguin he held

“Nat, maybe we should help them out.” You held Morgan tightly while she flipped upside down from your shoulders “They’re only men.”

“When the Earth spins, how do we know when we’re upside down?” Morgan poked you in the back

“Tell you what, clean up your mess, we’ll go get in our pj’s and then I’ll tell you.” you carefully set her back down on the floor, she ran off, picking up her toys and stray snacks

“Coop, Lila, your homework better be done, because if I have to check myself-.” Nat started.

They jumped up from their seats and rushed out the room, Steve looked up at you and Nat in awe, Nate fast asleep in her arms.

“How did you-”

“We have a way with kids, don’t take it personally.”

“Done!” Morgan cheered before pulling at your arm “Can we get in our pj’s now?”

Nat chuckled “Let’s go princess, (Y/N) will meet us there. You can help me get Nate ready for bed.”

Morgan took Nat’s free hand and skipped along side her. You took the stuffed animals and blankets from the guys.

“How did four children manage to out-do two super soldiers and a former air force vet?” you asked

“They’re small, but stealthy.” Sam yawned “Morgan has been asking us that spinning Earth question for hours.”

“I tried to explain how the Earth rotates but she told me I was wrong.” Bucky added

“Oh, it’s a joke. How do you know when the Earth turned upside down?” you paused, waiting for one of them to guess the answer “Fall time.”

Day 12

“What is this called again?” Thor points to Peter’s phone screen

“Twitter.”

“Twitter? Like the sound a bird makes? Oh and there’s a symbol of a bird there.” he laughed “Humans are so creative. Tell me Son of Stark, what is Twitter’s purpose?”

“Uh.... basically you just post whatever’s on your mind.” Peter handed over his phone to Thor “Sometimes people will like it, and retweet it, or leave a comment.”

“Please tell me you didn’t make Thor a Twitter page.” You spared a glance from your book

“He asked me to show him. What’s the worse that could happen?”

One Hour Later

“Who gave Thor a Twitter page?” Steve marched into the kitchen

You immediately point to Peter.

“He wanted to know about social media. I didn’t think it’d do any harm.” Peter blurted out

“What did he do?” You asked

“He keeps posting.” Steve scrolled through the tablet in his hand “Things like ’What is black twitter?’, ‘poptarts and coffee’, ‘Just noticed how Director Fury sounds like the freeze man in this Disney movie’, ‘Over heard Natasha and Wanda judging who had the best ass. Barnes or Rogers. Clearly it’s me’ He’s trending.”

“Steve it’s harmless fun, he’s excited to be apart of Midgard culture.” you dismissed “Or are you upset because you weren’t voted for the best bum?”

“You should see his latest, and most liked, tweet.” Steve handed the tablet to you with a smirk

“‘Pretty sure (Y/N) and Barnes are dating. How else do you explain their sexual tension?’ I’m gonna kill you Parker.” You went to grab Peter but Steve pulled you away at the last second

“You don’t mean that.” Peter started to back out of the kitchen “Do you?”

“Who gave Thor a Twitter?” Bucky spoke from the other room

“I can give you a ten second head start.” Steve warns Peter

Day 15

“I can’t take this anymore, no missions, no take out, I can’t even go get a freaking smoothie.” You paced from one end of your room to the other “I thought this thing was only suppose to be two weeks.”

“Well Tony said two weeks or two months.” Bucky lounged on your bed, playing with the rubic’s cube “Looks like it’s gonna be two months.”

“How are you staying calm?”

“I remind myself murder, even attempted, is illegal. Plus I’ve been in isolation most of my adult life, so this doesn’t seem so bad.”

“Right.” you said softly “Sorry.”

“For what?”

“I’m complaining about being stuck in here, for my health when you’ve had it way worse.”

“Hey,” he caught your hand and pulled you closer “Don’t apologize, I know you didn’t mean any harm. And you tend to get cabin fever when we go on long surveillance missions. These next few days are gonna fly by, trust me.”

He trailed his hands up and down your arms, traveling to your waist and under your shirt.

“Uh-huh Barnes, not again.” you pulled away slightly “Vision and Wanda almost caught us last time.”

“Because you weren’t quiet.” he kissed up your torso

“No, because you dragged me into a linen closet for wearing shorts.”

Bucky gave you a small pout “I’m from the 1940′s doll, I fantasized about your calves when I first met you. And that we’re... is this considered dating or are we just messing around during the lock down?”

“I hope this means we’re dating.” you combed his hair back with your fingers “I’m not the kind of girl that you hump and dump.”

“Hump and what?”

You chuckled “Nevermind.” You straddled his waist, he gripped yours a little tighter “So Sergeant, you gonna take me on a date after this quarantine?”

“I’ll take you to Rome as long as you keep calling me ‘Sergeant’ doll.” he left soft kisses on your neck

“Mmm.”

“(Y/N).” Steve knocked on your door “Have you seen Bucky? I’m looking for him.”

“Nope, haven’t seen him.” Bucky pulled your shirt over your head, and tried to add to the bite marks he left the other day, but Steve wasn’t letting up.

“You know where he might be?”

You rolled your eyes and made Bucky stop “Have you checked the garage?”

“Why would he be in the garage?”

“Steve, pal, can it wait?” Bucky shouted “I kinda got my hands full in here.”

“Oh.” You could only imagine how red Steve’s face was at that moment.

“You are horrible James Barnes.” you giggled

“Sergeant.” he corrected you in a low growl

“Sergeant.” you brought your lips down to his, quickly fighting for dominance in the kiss. Bucky flipped you over, the bed squeaking under your shared weight

“Uh- should I go now?” Steve asked

#marvel #quarantine #Bucky Barnes #sam wilson #tony stark #100 days of productivity #coronavirus #spiderman #Sebastian Stan #bucky x reader #black twitter #Thor Odinson #clint barton #natasha romanoff #Black Widow #marvel studios

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nekoabiwrites · 4 years

Text

Theatre Technicians are basically Vampires

This was an idea that I had after many conversations about how being a vampire would be easy to hide if you were a techie. Also was inspired by a first draft of an old secret santa thing I was doing... but I like this a lot!

AU: Vampire/Human Pairing: Implied Pinning Logicality Words: 4228 Warnings: Vampires, talk of death, blood, mauling, suicide, illness, injury - all are backstories of how they turned. Anything else, please let me know!

Summary: Six men live under one roof. They seem to have nothing in common, besides their chosen career paths, but there is one thread that ties them all together...

Logan adjusted his glasses as he flicked through the prompt copy of the script he’d spent the last few days completing. He had a video up on the computer screen adjacent to him showing footage of the final rehearsals before tech week was to begin, allowing him to add the final blocking notes to scenes that were fine-tuned just before the deadline. It had taken him a long time, likely multiple days, but it was rewarding work to see such flawless execution. Logan turned the final page and sat back in his chair, sighing contently.

Then a loud shout, a shuffling of feet and a thump from outside the study. It had been going on for a while now, but that last noise was the final straw. Logan pushed himself up from the chair, stretching out his arms as he walked across the room. He rested a hand on the door handle and steeled himself with a deep breath before swiftly opening it, “What is going on?”

The regret was immediate as was the slight throbbing of his head.

On the floor directly before him were two men, utterly motionless as they looked up at the man in the doorway. Three more figures scattered the room; one nervously chewing at his bottom lip as he stood over the two on the ground, one sat at the dining table with a glass in hand and an expression of light amusement, and the final one perched up on the kitchen counter, a smug grin pulling at his lips.

Logan put a hand to his head, massaging his temple, “Patton, tell me what happened?”

“Why do you ask him?! He’s not even involved!”

“Because, Roman, I expect he shall provide me with the fairest outlook of the entire situation. Both you and Remus would attempt to argue that your side was not at fault.” Logan flatly responded, eyes shifting down to the one pinned to the ground.

Roman, still entangled with Remus’ limbs, pouted harshly but quickly relaxed, “Alright, fair enough.”

“Well, Patton?” Logan absent-mindedly adjusted his glasses as he locked eyes with the other.

Patton stood up to full height and rocked back and forth on his feet, his own glasses slipping down his nose a little, “I’m not really sure of everything, but I did see Remus sneaking into the sewing room again and then I heard a crash before I could say anything or even try to stop him. Then he ran out and Roman followed. They kinda circled around the couch a few times, I tried to stop them! Honest, I did! But, Remus kinda got caught on the edge of the mat and tripped and fell down, and Roman couldn’t stop in time so he fell on top and then they started fighting and rolling around!” Patton clapped his hands together and put on his most innocent face, “I tried to separate them, Logan! But you know… they’re stronger than me…” His gaze fell to the side, as if he were ashamed of his ability.

“Patton, it’s alright. I didn’t expect you to stop it, but your attempt is very much appreciated. Thank you for telling me everything.” Logan couldn’t help the twitch his lips gave when his compliment made Patton’s sunny grin return full force. He quickly turned his attention to the two still on the floor, eyes narrowing, “You two. Up.”

The twins fought to scramble to their feet quicker than the other. Remus may have pushed Roman back onto the floor and Roman may have used Remus as a hand hold and squashed him down, but who could really say.

“If the floor is damaged yet again, you are the ones who are repairing it. It’ll be a fine use for your skills, I’m sure.” Logan offered a falsely pleasant smile as the two gaped at him.

A loud bark of laughter had everyone’s attention turning across the room over to the kitchen. “That’s the best awful idea you’ve had, L. Good thing I’ve got work for a while. Wish I could see the shit show from a safe distance though. Dee, take notes for me?” The glass holder nodded before taking another drink, “Sweet.”

Logan pulled the glasses from his face and cleaned them, “Virgil, have you received the file from the designer yet? I was told there were some issues in getting it to you.”

Virgil hopped down off the counter, holding his phone out towards Logan as he exited into the main body of the room, “Got it today, thank god. Or else I may have actually had a heart attack or something.”

“You say that as though it’s possible.” Dee pointed out smoothly, only watching Virgil out of the corner of his eye.

The standing man seemed to retreat into himself at the comment, “It’s just an expression, geez.” Virgil shoved his hands into the pockets of his hoodie, eyes cast downward in embarrassment, “Can’t say anything around here anymore… I’ll be in my room. Call me when it’s time to go.” With that, Virgil stalked off.

Just after the door shut behind him, Patton turned sharply to Dee and purposely crossed the room to stand in front of the still-indifferent man, “Dorian! You know not to provoke Virgil like that. That was mean and we’ve already had the talk about being mean! When you see him next, you will apologise, right?”

Dorian shrugged, but after he caught sight of Patton’s harsh father-like glare, he gently smiled and nodded his head in a bow, “Of course I will. I promise.”

Patton narrowed his eyes suspiciously but seemed content enough to leave Dorian alone for now. He took a seat on the couch and stared at the dent in the floor.

Both Roman and Remus had vacated the room and headed into their own workspace once Virgil had begun to leave. It gave the remaining three a good look at the large dent in the floor. “Boy, it’s a good thing we own this place, huh? Imagine if we didn’t! Like what if we were on a floor above someone else! We’d be found for sure…” Patton blew out a breath, puffing his cheeks in the process, and cradling his chin in his hands. It bounced along with the alternating bouncing of his legs as his elbows rested atop his knees. Logan crossed to join him, seating himself alongside Patton.

“How is the script coming along? I saw you were up for a really long time.” Patton attempted to ask casually, trying his best to not to sound concerned.

“Patton. You are aware that none of us require sleep.” Patton went in for a rebuttal, but Logan continued, “To answer your question, the prompt copy is completed as much as it can be at this moment in time. Noting down every aspect of blocking takes a long time, but it is extremely satisfying to see the finished product.”

“As long as you’re happy with it, Lo. You are the one who needs it after all!” Patton giggled and grinned widely. “I hope to not have to give you too many things to add, but I’m not the designer so I can’t really promise anything! Though, from what I read, I can’t imagine there being that many cues, not like that one time where there were over 800. That was so crazy! I feel bad that you had to call all of those!”

Logan snorted lightly as he smiled, “You still surprise me, Patton. Your empathy and concern seems to have no limit, which is admirable…”

Dorian downed the final part of his drink and placed the glass back onto the table almost soundlessly. “I would just love to stay here and watch the two of you. Unfortunately, I have to prepare myself for the day’s work ahead. I shall see you later.” He headed into his own room, leaving the two spectacled men alone.

“I almost can’t believe it’s been so long… I mean, 689 years is a really long time! I wonder how they feel…” Patton’s eyes drifted towards the twins’ doors.

“I am confident in saying that they are more than accustomed to their lives now. There is nothing to be worried about.”

“But… why do they fight? Even after what happened?”

“Uh, well… likely because they are siblings. It is a common thing, to fight.”

Patton hummed, “I guess… Still, I would think that Remus would be more careful with him… I mean, he did save him and all…”

Logan had no response to Patton’s musings. The twins had been turned years ago in a horrific incident. They had been living normal, unassuming lives when the tragedy struck.

Two creatures of the night infiltrated their home and found Roman sleeping soundly. They seized the opportunity and attacked but hadn’t accounted for there being another presence in the home. Remus had heard a bone-chilling screech of pain and fear followed by more screams of agony, so he rushed from his room to the source of the noise. Upon throwing the door open and calling for his brother, Remus was also attacked by one of the figures in an instant. Somehow, he managed to fend it off and it fled the scene once the mortal had swung a broken leg of a stool that was propped up nearby at it. Roman’s cries were no more, and Remus was having a hard time keeping his balance as he felt far too woozy to do much more than stumble over to the creature still looming over his brother.

Unbeknownst to Remus, the creature he’d scared off had been cut in the initial attack with the leg and a few droplets of blood had fallen between the man’s lips. It was quickly passing through his system, though he had no reason to be suspicious of a few small droplets of blood. It remained dormant until he was within reach of the second creature.

Remus doubled over in pain, feeling something changing about himself. He didn’t know what, but he did notice that his jaw was in pure agony for what felt like forever before dulling to a gentle throb. New instincts kicked in and Remus was reenergised. He knew immediately what he had become. Before taking a second longer to think, he threw himself at the other creature, tackling it to the ground with surprising strength. It quickly fled after its companion and Remus scrambled to his feet.

“Roman! Roman! Hey, say something!” Remus shook his brother roughly, trying in vain to get any kind of response out of him, but it was useless. Roman was fading fast, getting close to succumbing to death. His new instincts told Remus what to do. He used his sharp fangs to slice a cut on his finger and drip some of his blood into Roman’s open mouth.

Seconds felt like minutes as Remus waited to see if he had managed to act in time. He was about to try a second time when Roman coughed violently and curled up in pain, grasping as his mouth. A tear of relief slid down Remus’ cheek before he dived on top of Roman, cuddling him tightly as he wept. The brothers hadn’t moved for the rest of the night, both figuring out what they were going to do.

They were both years ahead of them all. At least they’d never been alone. A sad reality that faces most vampires.

“Logan? You still with me?”

“Huh?” Logan snapped back to the present, seeing Patton’s concerned face mere inches from his own. If he’d been able, he likely would have flushed at the closeness. Instead, Logan cleared his throat awkwardly, “Oh, yes. I apologise. It seems I got a little caught up in my thoughts, Patton.”

“No problem, Lo! Just wanted to make sure I hadn’t lost you is all.” Patton smiled warmly, settling back on the couch, turning his attention to the TV that sat directly opposite.

Time crawled on by, with the normal daily sounds filtering under the doors of the bedrooms all around them and the sounds of people beginning their days outside the window, mixed with the varying audio from the television. Eventually, Patton stretched out his limbs in front of him and made a loud noise to accompany it. He then stood, “It’s almost time to get going! I’m gonna grab my things. Want me to get yours too? Saves you getting up! I bet you have all your stuff in a bag already and all organised too!”

Logan graciously thanked Patton for the offer and took him up on it. He sat and continued to simply exist in the living area. It was quite strange to think that he and Patton had met so many years ago, and that the twins had entered his life before even that. ‘I suppose time has little meaning to an immortal being...’ Logan mused.

The door shutting and a small surprised yelp pulled Logan from his thoughts. Patton had gone over on his ankle by stepping in just the wrong place in the newly formed crater in the floor. Time slowed as Logan stood and sprinted over to Patton, catching him before he hit the floor.

“Are you alright?”

Patton seemed to falter for a second before grinning and hoping out of Logan’s arms, “Yup, all good! I’m gonna need to get used to that, haha!”

Logan narrowed his eyes, “That will not be necessary.” He stalked over to the two doors located directly next to each other and banged on them both loudly. Patton, behind him, was fretting and telling Logan it was fine, there was no need to interrupt them. But it was too late for that.

“What do you want?”

“Yeeeeees?”

Both doors opened almost simultaneously. Roman’s face held an annoyed pout, while Remus was grinning in an unhinged manner. However, both their expression faltered as they caught sight of the death glare Logan was giving both of them. “You will repair the floor today. You should have already dropped off your things, so you shouldn’t need to come along with us. If your presence is necessary, I shall call you. Do I make myself clear?” Both of them nodded sharply before slamming their respective doors upon Logan’s gesture.

“Right. Shall we fetch Virgil and Dorian? I believe it is time for us to head out.” Logan asked, completely softening as he looked back to Patton.

“Uh… y-yeah!” Patton agreed after a moment of hesitation. No one would dare argue with angry Logan. It had been a painful lesson for each of them to endure. Patton scurried off to Virgil’s room, knocking specifically before entering in order to let the man inside know it was him. Logan approached Dorian’s room and knocked significantly lighter before calling out to him.

Their odd quartet made their way through the streets, all huddling under their parasols. They used to get a fair few stares from the locals, but everyone had become accustomed to them by this point. Seeing the bright colours of Patton’s attire contrasted by the dark colours of Virgil’s, the oddly formal outfit of Logan’s alongside the more casual outfits of his companions, and all of this didn’t hold a candle to Dorian. He wore a veil over half of his face, completely shielding it from view. They always seemed to be in a rush as well, especially on extremely sunny days like today. But it was normal for them, so they managed to reach their destination without incident.

After dropping their belongings into their respective positions, three of them took up seats in the crew room and waited for the rest of their colleagues to show up. Logan was absent as he was doing last minute checks over at the prompt corner, preparing it to his liking. He did make an appearance before all the cast and crew once they had arrived in order to introduce himself and reaffirm the point of the technical rehearsal.

It went well. As well as the first day of technical rehearsal can go for such a large show. Logan had to call over comms multiple times to tell the director that the technical departments were not ready to continue on just yet as Patton was working to programme lighting for the entire show, and it was not as simple as programming a few washes to change. Virgil had several issues with QLab messing up and not playing the sound files correctly, meaning that it took an extended break to sort out the issue each time it occurred. The one who was least stressed was Dorian as he sat up on the fly floor each time there was a long break, which was basically after every scene change. Comms were particularly busy, and tensions were already rising in the theatre. Thankfully, they had the evening to go and cool off in order to come back the next day refreshed.

“Thank you Virgil.” Logan said, as Virgil signed off comms for the day. “DSM off cans.” He finished, just to be thorough, even though he’d already heard everyone else sign off. He hung the headset up on the prompt desk and ran his hands down his face, sighing heavily. His technical notes were a complete mess and it was already stressing him out, but nothing was truly set in stone yet so Logan couldn’t do much but wait. He groaned to himself before resting his forehead on the desk.

“Not doing so well?” Dorian’s voice called from behind, causing Logan to sit up sharply.

“Just a little stressed is all.” Logan said plainly.

“I can’t understand why at all. That director was just a ray of sunshine the whole time, never losing his temper once…” Dorian drawled sarcastically, crossing his arms.

Logan shh’d him, “Be careful what you say in here. He could hear you.”

“Not that he’d even know who I was, but I understand.” Dorian held his hands up in defeat, “I’ll attempt to be more careful from now on.”

“Thank you. Shall we head back home? I believe we could all do with a break from being here.” Logan suggested.

“I thought you’d never ask.”

The way home was far easier. The sun had already set and so they slowly meandered back to their joint home, venting their frustrations about the production on the way. Virgil was extremely outspoken, even going so far as to illustrate some of his threats with gestures that made Patton gasp in horror each time. It was a far cry from his quiet attitude during the work day, but no one minded.

As they walked, Logan watched Dorian out of the corner of his eye for a while. The veil was on the opposite side of him, meaning that Logan could at least see some of the man’s face. He’d only joined them recently – well, if you could count 125 years ‘recent’ – and there was still a level of trust they were yet to reach with him. They did know the reason he covered his face, however. His turning had not been easy. It had been a vicious attack by particularly ferocious vampire, who’d torn away at his face and neck for some unknown reason. Thankfully, Logan had been passing through the area nearby and came across the mauling. He fought off the attacker and helped Dorian, offering to ensure that he turned in order to save his life. Only Logan and Patton had seen the injury left from the attack and Patton had almost thrown up once he saw it. He apologised immediately, saying he didn’t expect it to be such a fresh wound and be so bad. Patton began crying and had hugged the man, but since that day, Dorian had kept the scarring hidden from all around him.

“Oh no you’re not! You’re sitting here and we’re having family time!” Patton’s stern voice alerted Logan to the fact they had already reached their home. He watched with vague amusement as Patton wrestled with Virgil in order to get him to sit in his chair before running over to fetch Roman and Remus. Dorian casually took a seat and gestured for Logan to join them.

Virgil groaned, “Why do we have to do family night? I just wanna go sleep and forget this day happened…”

“Virgil, c’mon!” Patton pleaded, puppy dog eyes in full effect, “Family night is important, and we can’t have family night without the full fam, now can we?”

“I dunno. Seems like you could, especially since I barely count anyway.”

Patton and Virgil continued to go back and forth whilst the twins took spaces on the couches.

“What are we doing for the family night?” Roman asked, brushing small pieces of thread onto the floor. In his hands, he held an in-progress sewing project. It was a small extra piece of costume that Logan had to inform Roman about as the director had demanded it be added – after yelling for five entire minutes about how it was crucial to the character or whatever.

“How about something exciting!?” Remus twisted up onto his knees from his cross-legged position on the floor, “Like strip poker, or truth or dare, or Russian roulette! I have a gun in the prop room, I can go get it ri-”

Patton squeaked, “No, no, no! Absolutely none of those! We’re playing a nice easy board game tonight!”

“Can’t wait to hate you all again.”

“Dorian! What did I say about being nice?”

“I don’t quite recall.”

Family nights had always been chaotic when only four of them had attended, but now that both Dorian and Virgil were opening up to them all a lot more, it was getting far worse… but not particularly bad. It was a chaos that encompassed them all and it made them feel, well, like a family. An odd, pieced together, hodgepodge of a family, but a family, nonetheless. Logan had given up hope a while ago about Virgil ever getting comfortable enough with them all to sit down like this. Let alone allow Patton to drag him in and convince him to actually stick around.

The two had gotten off to a rocky start, and that was still an understatement.

Patton had been strolling through the woods nearby, stretching his legs and just enjoying some alone time after a hectic day of helping out the twins with their projects for an upcoming client. It was supposed to be peaceful and calming, but Patton got the shock of his life when he found a body hanging from a tree. As quick as he could, Patton got the young man down and checked for signs of life. There was a faint pulse, but not much else. As he was fretting about what to do, a flash of white caught his eye. A folded note was nailed to the tree the man had previously been in. It took only a sentence or two for Patton to realise it was a suicide note and that this had been self-inflicted, which only served to make Patton even more distraught. Here, before him, was a young man, with his entire life ahead of him, and he’d chosen to attempt to get rid of that life. Tears welled up and Patton acted rashly. A drop of blood later and Virgil began to turn.

Once he regained consciousness, he was a little confused. Patton explained what he’d done and started to tell him why, but Virgil lost his temper. He screamed and shouted, cursed and cried. He called Patton every name synonymous with stupid as well as more than a few unsavoury terms. Tears fell like rivers down his cheeks as he screamed his throat raw. Virgil then ran off into the forest. Patton couldn’t move for minutes afterwards. He was in a state of shock. No one had ever said anything like that to him. No one had said such harsh things. Least of all a stranger, someone Patton wanted to help. Silently, he cried. Patton walked back home and launched himself into Logan’s arms as soon as he could.

Weeks passed and not a soul had seen Virgil anywhere. After a short meeting, the four of them had decided to each take a night in rotation and search for him, but absolutely nothing had turned up. Until…

“I found hiiiiim!” Remus sing-songed, holding a squirming Virgil in his grip as he burst through the door one night.

From then on, Virgil had a room in their home. It took a long time, but he started to trust Logan, and then Roman, and then Remus. It took well over 100 years for Virgil to come to terms with what Patton had done and forgive him somewhat. But no one would ever have guessed that the pair had been at odds ever if they saw them now.

After a stressful day and a lot of reminiscing, Logan was thankful that his own turning was simple and boring. The same could be said for Patton’s, who had actually asked to be turned as he was dealing with some incurable illness at the time. But that was all in the past. Logan was here, in the crowded living room, with his five family members, playing some childish board game for entertainment. He wouldn’t have it any other way.

My other stuff: http://nekoabi.tumblr.com/myworks Mobile Accessible Masterlist: http://nekoabi.tumblr.com/post/181954641376/fic-masterlist

General Tag List: @not-so-innocent-bi-sander @didsomeonesayprince @llamaly @justanotherpurplebutterfly @iaminmultiplefandoms @ultimate-queen-of-fandoms2 @lowkeyvirgilobsessed @louisthewarlock @fangsandrainbows @xxladystarlightxx @sleepyssnail @ao-koshka @notalwaysthevillian @pumpkinminette @doces-e--tuga @coloursintheblur @safesandersides @hogwarts-my-love

#Sanders Sides #Fanfiction #Logan Sanders #Patton Sanders #Roman Sanders #Remus Sanders #Virgil Sanders #Deceit Sanders #Logic Sanders #Morality Sanders #Creativity Sanders #Anxiety Sanders #Vampires #Blood #Suicide #Injury #Scarring #I'm a techie #I can say this stuff

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yandere-society · 4 years

Text

Day 3 | Secret Santa

Synopsis: Secret Santa in your small friend group was always light and playful. But when Hoseok gets his first-ever invitation, he is fully set on making sure his gift is in your hands no matter how bad he needs to play.

The 12 Days of Black Christmas Event Masterlist

Pairing: Hoseok x Female Reader

Admin: @nomnomsik

Warnings: Yandere themes, stalking, obsession

⊱ ────── {.⋅ ✯ ⋅.} ────── ⊰

“Hoseok you’re invited!”

With trembling hands, he stared at the card in front of him, gold foiled calligraphy printed across the paper. The card was littered with christmas decorations and doodles, with your hand-writing at the bottom, next to a smiley face.

“Me? Are you sure?” He asked dumbfoundedly, as you just laughed, readjusting the clasp of your bag that hung over your shoulder.

“Yup! Oh, it’s a secret santa, but we’re going to flip it a bit.”

“Flip it? What do you mean?”

“So, we aren’t picking names. It’s like, you buy a gift that almost everyone can use or would enjoy and everyone will pick a gift in the order of the number you draw. Kind of like a first come first serve basis.”

Hoseok’s body slackened as he let out a sigh of relief. At least he won’t have to give a present to somebody he doesn’t even care about.

“So, if everyone is satisfied with what they have, that’ll be that. If not, people can swap gifts and whatnot. I don’t have everything sorted out, but we are definitely not picking names!” You smiled only to earn a heart-shaped smile back from Hoseok.

“Thanks for the invitation, y/n. I think I’ll be able to make it.”

“Of course! The only rule is that you have to wear a onesie.”

“Wait-” Hoseok started, only to see you jog away in the other direction, a sly smile on your face as you turned the corner. “... I don’t own one…”

»»————-　♡　————-««

As Hoseok sat in the middle of his living room apartment, the only mess being the papers littered all over the wooden floors, he thought of items to purchase. It was obvious that his gift was going to be in your hands at the end of the day. Sure, he didn’t want to threaten some of your friends if he didn’t have to, but if they were making his life more difficult, then so be it.

“Ahh-” Hoseok groaned, falling onto his side as his hair sprawled out in different directions. “I need to find the perfect gift…” He mumbled to himself, reaching for his open laptop and looking through Amazon.

As Hoseok aimlessly scrolled, his mind was elsewhere, trying to remember if there was anything you might have wanted, anything you might have hinted at. It didn't matter what the price was. If your expression could light up because of him, if you never forgot what he did for you, that was good enough.

Enough leeway to slowly make you feel indebted to him.

Maybe stationary? He wasn't sure whether you too found stationary cute like all the other annoying females that chattered in his ear, trying to get his attention. It reminded him of all those pointless dates trying to forget about you, only to compare how everyone lacked in comparison.

Their laughs were fake, their personalities morphed to a projection of what they thought he liked. They wanted something from him, which he gave them at the end of the day, bed sheets wrinkled underneath him.

-------

"This will have to do." Hoseok murmured, placing his delivered package next to him and standing up from his spot on the floor, stretching his arms over his head as he took slow steps over to his hallway closet. He rummaged through, pulling out his recent purchase of Christmas wrapping paper and carrying it to the living room.

As he set it onto the floor, Hoseok waltzed into his kitchen, picking up his kitchen knife and setting it down next to the tape. He measured out the dimensions of his box, making a clean cut with the knife.

Hoseok, with painstakingly long movements, neatly wrapped his present up, taping each side and tying a ribbon on top. He let out a sigh of satisfaction, staring at his work and placing it into a Christmas themed bag.

The days until the secret santa event went by quickly and Hoseok found himself outside of your cheap apartment complex, ringing the doorbell as he patiently waited. You opened the door, pink bunny ears bouncing as you greeted him with a smile. Hoseok sheepishly smiled back, his body stiff and uncomfortable in the shark onesie he had purchased, a size too small.

"Hi! Welcome in!" You exclaimed, opening the door wide as Hoseok stepped in. He could hear Jingle Bell Rock blast from the living room and several loud voices chattering about the home.

Hoseok shyly joined the rest of your friend group who mostly talked amongst themselves, leaving him out, not that he really minded. He set his gift underneath the small Christmas tree with all the other presents, readjusting his onesie and taking a seat on the carpeted floor.

"Okay everyone." You called, waddling into the living room. "Is everyone ready to pick a present? You'll all have to draw numbers to determine the order though."

You shook a cup full of popsicle sticks, each labelled from one to twenty. Hoseok didn't care what number he got. He had several plans ready just in case on how the scenario played out. As he pulled out a number, he received number eight, drawn on with a thick sharpie.

It was too risky to just randomly guess your present, even though he did want it. His eyes carefully locked onto his gift as each number passed by, one, five, seven. If he grabbed his own present and swapped it with you, there was a chance nobody would pick him. They all ignored him tonight and he prayed that they keep that same energy.

So when it was his turn, he grabbed his own gift, setting it onto his lap as he waited for everyone else to make their move.

One by one, people carefully opened their present, describing the things inside and so on and so forth. You told everyone that if there was a gift you wanted to swap with someone you could, but you couldn't swap again nor could anyone swap with you. Hoseok stayed frozen in his spot, hoping nobody would pick him.

"Hoseok? Don't you want to swap with anyone?" You called, as he awkwardly scratched the back of his head.

"Ummm-" he started, his heartbeat growing pace. "I think I'll be alright…"

"Nobody will have hard feelings if you do, okay?"

"Then… I'll swap with you, I guess." Hoseok lifted his gift up and traded with you. He smiled, knowing that there was one last thing to do.

The rest of the night was filled with laughter, screams, and joyful memories, at least to everyone besides Hoseok. He was content with sitting off to the side and watching everyone fool around.

"Y/n, where's the bathroom?" He asked as you pointed around the corner, then redirecting your attention back to your friends who fooled around. Hoseok disappeared into the dark hallway, walking past the bathroom door as he tested the doorknob which he guessed led to your room. It wasn't locked.

He slipped in, eyeing your desk and slowly rolling the drawers for anything he could take. Everything was filled with papers and as he shut it closed, he quickly made his way to your bed, inhaling the sweet scent of your blankets.

Hoseok readjusted the things he touched to make sure nothing looked suspicious as he swiped a hair tie or two, shoving them into his pockets as he softly shut the door.

As he reentered the rowdy living room, he gently tapped your shoulder.

"I have to leave now to catch my bus." Hoseok pouted as you gave him a goodbye hug. He squeezed you tight as you followed him to the entrance of your home.

"Did you have fun?" You asked. He nodded, picking up the present he had traded with you.

"I did… I hope you like my present, y/n."

"Oh! It's yours?" You smiled as you thanked him for his gift.

"I'll enjoy my gifts too." He chuckled as you cocked you head to the side in confusion.

Hoseok stepped outside as you watched him leave, your stomach dropping as you slowly realized Hoseok had chosen his own present from the start.

#bts #hoseok #yandere bts #yandere hoseok

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