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onceuponaoneshotfanfic · 11 months

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Delicate (Superstar Chapter 4)

Sometimes when I look into your eyes

I pretend you're mine, all the damn time

'Cause I like you

Is it cool that I said all that?

Is it chill that you're in my head?

'Cause I know that it's delicate

Roy and the Reader deal with the aftermath of petty jealousy.

Roy Kent x Reader

5.9k words

Warnings: Language, some tension and innuendo, angst that made my heart hurt

“She’s my assistant.”

“Poor thing.”

The words kept floating in my head as I leaned against the exterior of the building, thankful that the photographers had left hours ago, not that they’d pay any mind to me. It wasn’t like I was a gorgeous model, or the ex-girlfriend of a famous footballer. Not like Brittany fucking Brett. Brittany Brett, who probably had her tongue shoved down Roy’s throat as he forgot all about nights cuddled in our booth as Rose brought us our usual drinks at the pub. Or texting each other dinner plans while Ted went off on one of his incoherent rambles in his office. Or humming “Something Good” in my ear as he passed me on the pitch. Or the dozens of little moments of kisses and touches and glances filled with fondness, all seeming to hint towards the something real that Roy had told Jamie he wanted.

Honestly, I should have known better. He was Roy "Here There Every-fucking-where" Kent. I was no one special. Girls all over England probably grew up with his posters on their walls and screamed his name at games. I just happened to be the one to share an office with the man. I probably just provided him with a fun, flirty distraction while he waited for Brittany Brett, who the tabloids more than once referred to as Roy's "one who got away". In twenty years, I'd chuckle fondly as I recounted my brief fling with Roy freaking Kent with friends at a party, maybe make a viral post about his love for The Sound of Music, and be little less than a memory to him.

I’d have to be mature. Agree that what we had was fun and assure him that I could stay professional. I was sure I could at least get through the rest of the season before sheepishly thanking Ted and Rebecca for the opportunity to be a Greyhound and asking for a good recommendation.

“Shit! There you are!”

Keeley looked wild and panicky as she approached me. I groaned, not needing her commentary on Brittany Brett, who was probably a good friend of hers from Keeley’s modeling days, sharing that Gorgeous Girl™ bond that surely trumped any burgeoning workplace friendship.

“Are you alright?” she continued. “What’d he do to you?”

I rolled my eyes at Keeley’s dramatics. “Fuck’s sake, Roy didn’t do shit,” I muttered. “He has every right-”

Keeley shook her head frantically, hair flying. “What? No, Richard. Roy’s in there ready to pummel him. I’ve got Jamie trying to calm him down, which was probably not the best idea.”

“Fuck.”

I turned and rushed back into the venue, mentally cursing Keeley for helping me find shoes that, while gorgeous with my dress, were not made for running.

The party was still in full swing, no signs of drama. I turned back to Keeley, who grabbed my hand and led me out a side door, to a smaller party room that was clearly not prepared for any guests, judging by its bright lights and lack of decorations. Sure enough, Roy, Jamie, and Richard all stood there, Roy’s face uncharacteristically expressive. Of course, that expression was pure rage.

“The fuck did you do?!” he was bellowing as Jamie did his best to hold Roy back, sputtering something about calming the fuck down, Grandpa, which was clearly not helping matters.

Richard, showing no signs of panic on his face, held his hands up defensively. “Nothing! She just said she wasn’t feeling well and ran off! She is probably just in the bathroom.”

“Bullshit!” Roy nearly broke free of Jamie’s grasp.

“Roy!” I hissed, stepping forward to grab his arm as Keeley made sure the door was closed. “What the fuck?”

He turned his firey gaze to me, his eyes full of rage. “The fuck did he do to you?” he demanded. “I saw you run out of there like your fucking hair was on fire.”

“He didn’t do shit,” I said in a rush. “I wasn’t fucking feeling good. I had about a million drinks, in case you forgot. Needed some fucking air.” I huffed, crossing my arms across my chest. “You can’t kill one of your players. If nothing else, it’s bad for recruiting.” I stared at him, trying to ignore the warmth that I felt seeing the protectiveness in his face. “Just fucking stop,” I added quietly. “Just leave Richard alone and go out there and act like you didn’t just make an absolute arse of yourself.” I turned to Keeley. “I’m sorry about this,” I grumbled. “Clearly, I’m not the only one who drank too much. If this causes any issues in the press, let me know. I’ll help you clean up Roy’s mess.” I glared at Roy, who was still behind Jamie’s arm, though no longer trying to fight his way through the player. “I’m his fucking assistant, after all. Part of my job.”

Keeley shook her head and sighed, confusion in her eyes. “No, it’s all fine. Jamie and I were able to get them in here before anyone noticed anything was amiss.” She nodded to Montlaur. “But in case anyone’s being nosy, Richard, you should head on out. Jamie and I’ll come along in a moment. That way it’s not just a big group of us coming out all at once.” She offered up a small smirk in my direction. “Though we’d probably look like we just had the hottest orgy in the history of football.”

Her attempt to break the tension with humor only worked on Jamie and Richard, who let out soft chuckles.

I approached Richard, not giving a flying fuck that Roy was watching me intensely. “I’m really sorry for Roy,” I mumbled. “He clearly misinterpreted what he saw and got protective.” I shot daggers at Roy again before turning back to Richard. “I hope this doesn’t make work… weird.”

Richard shook his head, completely affable despite the drama. “Oh please. This is nothing compared to the husbands and boyfriends I have had to deal with. Especially the ones that found me still in their beds!” He laughed amiably before glancing warily at Roy. “But perhaps I will not ask you again to dance. And, sadly, I will not give you a kiss goodbye.” With an awkward smile, he turned and walked out, the noise of the party bursting through the door before it closed again, leaving the four of us in silence.

Keeley popped her lips. “Well, that was fun.” She glanced at Roy, who was red in the face and pacing, then back to me. “You gonna be alright?” Her eyes told me that Jamie could wait with Roy if I wanted to leave with her. That I didn’t need to deal with whatever this was, and that whatever this was, she wouldn’t ask. At least, not tonight.

“I’m fine,” I assured Keeley with a weak smile. “I’ll be out there in a bit, yeah?”

Keeley nodded then grabbed Jamie by the arm. Jamie shot me an apologetic smile and landed a friendly punch on my arm before following Keeley back to the party. Once again, the room was filled with the sounds of music, dancing, and fun, before giving way to the tense silence.

Roy stopped pacing, his face now more of a pink than red, and stared at me. “What the fuck?” he asked. It was a hoarse whisper, barely leaving his lips, and his eyes were filled with question marks.

“I could ask you the same thing,” I countered, perching myself up on one of the empty tables that dotted the room. “Why the hell were you trying to kill Montlaur? I know you think he’s prickish and all-”

“Because he’s a fucking prick!” Roy practically shouted. “And-and I told you I thought he was a prick to ask you out because we all know exactly what he’s interested in and then I turn and see you fucking clinging to him and suddenly you’re running out of the room looking like you’re about to fucking cry, what the fuck am I supposed to think?”

A hollow laugh escaped my lungs. “No. Back the fuck up, Roy. What happened between the dancing with Montlaur and the running out of the room?”

Roy stared at me in silence for a moment, his shoulders slumped as the gears in his head turned. “The fuck are you on about?”

“Okay.” I slammed my hands on my thighs and stood back up, making my way past Roy and towards the doors. “That’s how it’s going to be then. I hope you enjoy the rest of your night. Lookin’ forward to seeing photos of you and Brittany Brett’s reunion in The Sun tomorrow. See you Monday.”

Roy reached out and grabbed my arm, his grip firm but tender. “Is that what this is all about?” His voice was as soft as his face, thick eyebrows raised. “Brittany fucking Brett?”

Apparently, I hit my boiling point. “Of course it’s about Brittany fucking Brett, Roy! Fuck! You spend weeks all over me, taking me out, singing along to the fucking Sound of Music at my place, you practically tell me you want me to be your date to this shit next year, you make me feel special, like I matter to you, and then you turn around and kiss your ex-girlfriend.” I pulled out of Roy’s grasp and crossed my arms. “Which, I mean, that’s your own damn business, I guess. You’re single, after all. She’s single. So, go. Be hot and rich and famous together.”

A deep frown twisted Roy’s face, his eyebrows more furrowed than I’d ever seen. “Single?” he repeated, practically spitting out the word. “You think I’m single? I’m not fucking single.” He shook his head earnestly. “I… I haven’t considered myself single since….” He glanced up at the ceiling and shrugged. “Well, fuck, since we kissed at your parents’ house surrounded by all those fucking posters of me.” He looked back down at me.

My breath caught in my throat as I gazed into those brown eyes that stared at me with that familiar anxiety swimming around. “Then… then why’d you kiss her?” My mouth felt dry as I prayed that the next words out of Roy’s mouth would magically fix things.

He shook his head earnestly. “No, no. I didn’t fucking kiss her.” He sighed and placed a tentative hand on my arm. “She kissed me. And I immediately pushed her off me, which you fucking missed apparently. Told her I’m seeing someone that I really like. And that even if I wasn’t- which I am,” he clarified tugging me closer when he realized I wasn’t fighting him, “-I wouldn’t want fuck all to do with her.” He looked down at me. “Don’t you remember what I told you on our first date?” His voice was barely above a whisper. “You’re the only person that has ever made me feel like you want me.” He scoffed and nodded towards the door, towards the party. “How d’you think Brittney Brett made me feel? Like I was some fucking accessory, this thing that would get her photo in the press more if I was next to her. You would never make me feel that way. It’s one of the many, many things I adore about you.”

“Oh.” I looked down at our shoes, blinking as I turned Roy’s words over in my head, my stomach and heart doing flips that Olympic gymnasts could only dream of.

“Oh?” Roy dipped his head. “That’s all you’ve got? Oh?” A hint of a smile graced his lips. “Come on. Put me out of my fucking misery here.” His arm wrapped around my waist. “Tell me… tell me we’re okay,” he whispered.

His eyes were still full of that anxiety, but now it was mixed with hope as he bit on his bottom lip, waiting for me to answer. I gulped, my head spinning from the alcohol and the events of the evening and whatever woodsy cologne Roy had on that I knew he was wearing just for me.

Roy sighed, his hand tracing gentle circles on my back. “Or we could go out there and enjoy the rest of our evening, and we can come back to this tomorrow?” He leaned his head against mine. “Come on, I’ve got some dopey surprise for you. Been looking forward to it all night. Real fucking romantic.”

I lifted my head. “You’ve got a surprise for me?” The corners of my mouth turned upwards in spite of myself. “A romantic one?”

“Yeah,” he confirmed, tapping his nose against mine. “So why don’t we get back out there before Keeley tells everyone we’re shagging in here?” He squinted at me. “Unless…”

Now completely smiling, I smacked Roy’s arm. “Come on. I want to see this surprise.” I slipped out of Roy’s grasp and took his hand, leading him towards the door. Just before I reached for the doorknob, Roy pulled me back to himself. “What?” I laughed, the weight on my chest dissipating.

“Just gotta do this first.” His hand cupped my face and he leaned close, pressing his lips to mine for the first time that evening. His grip on me tightened as his lips parted slightly, allowing me to taste the beer he’d been drinking all night. In the back of my head, I thanked Keeley for her high-end, smudge-free lipstick that would hopefully not create an obvious mess on Roy’s face.

When we parted, Roy smiled at me. As if he could read my mind, he hummed, “Am I wearing your lipstick now?” In response, I simply wiped away the small spot of red that I had left on the edge of his mouth, then shook my head to confirm that he was good. He studied my lips carefully. “Alright. If we don’t go out there now, we might never leave.”

He opened the door and gestured for me to lead the way like a gentleman, keeping a friendly distance as we rejoined the festivities.

“Alright, Kent,” I started over the music. “What’s this surprise?”

He pulled his phone out of his pocket and checked the time. “Should be happening in about three minutes,” he mumbled. “Why don’t we grab a drink?”

I raised an eyebrow at him. “Only if I can come to the bar with you,” I teased dryly, hoping it wasn’t too soon to joke.

His dramatic eyeroll assured me it wasn’t. “Come on then.”

As we walked to the bar, we passed Jamie and Keeley, who both eyed us curiously. Roy gave them a curt nod and I shot Keeley a small thumbs up, assuring her that all was good. I knew she’d either corner me later in the night with cheeky accusations or call me the next day demanding details of what had happened in that room after they left, but for now, all I wanted to do was be with Roy.

Once we were settled at the bar, drinks in hand, I turned to Roy. “Alright, what’s the surprise?”

He shook his head. “Nope. You’ll know it when you hear it.”

“Hmmf.” My gaze turned to the dance floor, where our friends and coworkers were moving to the admittedly great band, having a blast. I couldn’t help but smile as I watched them and enjoyed my drink. “D’you ever dance at this thing?”

“Not if I can fucking help it.” His eyes wandered to the stage, where the band was wrapping up their song. “But I might have to make an exception tonight.”

I took another sip of my drink. “What do-”

“Ladies and gentlemen,” the band’s singer, a woman with dark, wild hair and a flowing dress, called out, “we had an anonymous request earlier this evening that we are thrilled to fulfill. We hope there’s some Julie Andrews fans out there.” She plucked at her guitar, creating a familiar dreamy tune.

“Perhaps I had a wicked childhood,” she sang. “Perhaps I had a miserable youth.”

I turned to Roy, my mouth slightly ajar. “The Sound of Music. Was this you?”

He shrugged, placing his half-finished beer on the bar and taking my glass from me. “Do you see any other Captain von Trapp-ish grumps around here?” He took my hand and nodded towards the dance floor. “Let’s go.”

My heart hammered as Roy led the way. I wondered if everyone could see the flush covering my face, even in the dim lighting. On the dance floor, Roy kept my hand in his, placing his free hand on the small of my back while mine rested on his shoulder. He kept a respectable distance, not exactly a professional one for two coworkers, but nothing anyone would bat an eye at. Not that it mattered; I could not care less about anyone else around us. Not Keeley and all her teasing, not Richard and his flirtatious ways, not even Brittany Brett. All I wanted was to be close to Roy and feel his warm breath on my cheek as he quietly sang the words to Something Good in my ear.

The rest of the night was miraculous and wonderful. Roy assured me that I could dance with other people without him throwing another fit- so I did. I danced all night as Roy watched. He laughed with Keeley as Jamie and I attempted to do the robot together and smiled as Dani Rojas twirled me around and clapped as Sam Obisanya dipped me dramatically and rolled his eyes good-naturedly while Ted held my hand in an attempt to teach everyone some square-dancing moves. After a particularly fun salsa with Isaac McAdoo, I approached Roy back at our table, who held out a glass of water to me.

“Having fun out there?” he asked, taking a sip of his beer.

I nodded. “An absolute blast. My feet are killing me though.”

“Guess I’ll have to fucking carry you home,” Roy joked, the fondness in his eyes telling me that he wouldn’t mind one bit.

“Looks like it,” I agreed with a smirk.

The band’s singer called for everyone’s attention. “We hope you’ve had a fabulous time tonight,” she began. “But unfortunately, it’s time for us say goodnight. On behalf of Rebecca Welton and everyone at A.F.C. Richmond, thank you so much for joining us and for all your support and generosity. Here’s one more song before we go.”

I turned to Roy. “Are you ready to head out then?” A small part of me was hoping for some alone time before calling it a night.

To my surprise, Roy shook his head. “Did you really forget? You promised me the last dance.”

I laughed and downed the rest of my water. “Were you serious about that?”

“Dead fucking serious.”

He grabbed my hand and stood, pulling me up with him. He kept my hand in his as he led me to the dance floor, giving it a small squeeze as he pulled me towards him. He placed his free hand on my waist, just as he had earlier. But now he pressed me close to his chest, definitely closer than two platonic, casual coworkers should be.

“But don’t forget who’s taking you home and in whose arms you’re gonna be, so darlin’ save the last dance for me,” the band sang.

“Are you alright?” Roy asked, leaning down towards me. “Tonight…. Didn’t exactly go the way either of us had hoped.”

“No, it did not,” I agreed, wincing slightly. “But I think we did a good job of salvaging things, don’t you?”

He nodded. “Believe it or not, even with almost killing Montlaur, this is the best fucking time I’ve ever had at this thing. Mostly because I didn’t get auctioned off like a fucking basket of fruit.” The corners of his mouth tugged upwards. “And because I got to spend time with you.” He somehow managed to pull me even closer, close enough so I could feel his heart beating. “Not nearly enough time though,” he added. “And I’m sorry about that.”

I shook my head. “We’re okay,” I assured him. “At least, I hope we are.”

“How about we talk tomorrow?” he offered. “We’ll have a good night’s rest and be sober, and we can talk about whatever shit we need to talk about.” He squeezed my hand. “How’s that sound?”

“I… think it’s a good idea.”

“Good.” He cleared his throat. “Thank you, by the way.”

I tilted my head in confusion. “For what?”

“Saving the last dance for me.”

Roy walked me up to my apartment, his suit jacket having been wrapped around my shoulders since we left the venue. We paused at my door, the way we had for weeks now. He smiled down at me in that same way, softness in his eyes, lifting his hand to touch my hair.

“Well, I’m just glad the night didn’t end fucked,” he chuckled.

I rolled my eyes. “You sure know how to end a date.”

“This was a date then?” he asked, eyebrows raised in amusement.

“Eh.” I shrugged. “Depends, are you going to kiss me goodnight?”

His mouth was on mine in less than an instant. He pulled me tight against himself, one arm completely wrapped around my waist as I pulled him down to me by his tie. His tongue grazed my mouth, asking permission. I obliged, tasting beer and a hint of the chocolate cupcake he’d shared with me towards the end of the night. His hand that was still tangled in my hair tugged a little, trying to pull me closer to himself. We were a tangle of lips and tongues and hot breath and soft moans, neither of us caring about the possibility of someone seeing us.

I pulled back mere centimeters, just enough to whisper, “You want to come in?”

Roy gave a little groan, pressing his forehead against mine. “I want to. I definitely fucking want to. But I think we should say goodnight til we talk tomorrow, yeah?” He stroked my cheek, a deep sigh escaping his lips. “Want to make sure we’re on the same page about things.” He paused, his thumb ghosting over my bottom lip. “Come over tomorrow. I’ll make you dinner.

The disappointment I had felt a moment ago melted and gave way to delight. “Roy Kent can cook?” I teased, fiddling with his tie.

He smirked with pride as his hand rubbed my hip. “Fuck yeah, Roy Kent can cook.” He kissed my lips, pulling away as my mouth chased his. “Tomorrow then?”

I groaned and buried my head in his chest, drunk off the drinks and Roy’s kisses. “Fine. Tomorrow.” I looked up at him. “One more for the road?” I purred, giving my best pout.

“You needy thing,” he chuckled, planting one more kiss on my lips before pulling away with finality. “I’ll see you tomorrow,” he promised.

My mobile went off as I was lounging in bed late the next morning, smiling at Roy’s jacket draped over my bedroom door. I picked up the phone, my mind still back in front of my door, where Roy’s kiss had made my knees weak.

“Hello?” I answered, my voice dreamy.

“Alright, what the fuck happened?” Keeley’s squeals brought me back to reality.

I scrambled to sit up. “Morning Keeley!” I choked out, hoping I sounded breezy and casual. “How’re you? You have fun last night? Does Jamie remember doing the robot with me or was he too sloshed?”

I could practically feel her roll her eyes through the phone. “Oh no, we’re not playing this game. You owe me all the details about what happened with Roy last night. Spill.”

“Nothing!” I blurted, probably a bit too quickly. “We talked. He told me he thought Montlaur did something to hurt me and got protective. I mean, we share an office, we see each other every day, I kind of get why he’d be protective of me. Plus, you saw how much he drank, he probably doesn’t even remember what happened.” I cleared my throat. “So, we’re good. I’ll probably talk to him on Monday about apologizing to Montlaur, but other than that, I think we can all just forget what happened.”

“What about all the dancing?” Keeley challenged. “Roy never dances at the gala. Even when he’s brought a date, he’s good for maybe one dance. He danced with you what, like four or five times?”

I scoffed, flopping back onto my bed. “We danced twice,” I corrected Keeley. “As friends.”

Keeley hummed. “Oh, so you counted?”

“Shove off, Keeley,” I groaned, eyeing Roy’s jacket again. “Can’t you just accept that Roy and I are friends? I mean, shit, that’s headline enough.”

“Friends huh?”

“Yes!”

Keeley cleared her throat. “Then did your friend Roy Kent say anything about Brittany Brett? I’m desperate to know what happened there.”

My cheeks burned; I was hoping to forget that Brittany Brett had been at the party. “Nope. Didn’t say a word,” I said shortly. “Don’t know a thing.”

“Aw, babe,” Keeley clucked. “No need to be jealous. That’s long over from what I’ve heard.”

“’m not jealous,” I grumbled. But damn, I couldn’t resist the bait. “What have you heard?”

Keeley gave a small giggle. “Why don’t you come over tonight for a good old-fashioned sleepover? I can give you all the gossip like we’re little schoolgirls. We’ll throw on our pyjamas, get tipsy, sing some Spice Girl songs, crank call Jamie. Fuck, we can even go play knock-and-run at Roy’s place. Maybe we’ll catch a glimpse of him shirtless.”

Damn, this woman was a great friend. “Aww, Keeley, I’d love to hang out,” I started. “But I’ve got plans tonight.”

“Next time!” she gushed, unbothered. “What’s up tonight?”

“Oh, just some family stuff. Nothing too exciting, I’m afraid.”

Keeley gave a small hum. “Maybe brunch tomorrow?”

I nodded into the phone. “Sounds great.”

We stayed on the line for a few more minutes, making plans to meet for brunch at one of Keeley’s favorite places and agreeing that she should invite Rebecca to join us. After a couple more attempts on Keeley’s end to find out any dirty details about what happened between me and Roy, we hung up. Sometime during the call, I’d received a text message from Roy:

Can’t wait to see you

Of course Roy Kent’s house was huge. Of course it was. Sometimes it was easy to forget that the man was a retired football star. But standing in front of his house- mansion, practically- I was reminded all over again that this was the man on all those posters in my parents’ house. Roy “Here-There-Everywhere” Kent.

I stood tentatively in front of his door, debating if I should ring the bell or just send him a text to let him know I’d arrived. As I debated my choices and played with the hem of the dress that suddenly felt too short and too dressy, the door opened. Roy stood in the doorway, wearing the black slacks and shirt he’d been wearing on our first date. His eyes took their time eagerly traveling up my figure and to my face, where they settled tenderly.

“Fuck,” he whispered, cracking a full smile. “How’d you manage to look more gorgeous than you did last night?”

My face burned at the compliment. “You don’t look too bad yourself,” I answered, trying to sound casual as he ushered me in. “How’d you know I was here?”

“Got some sensor shit on the door,” he explained matter-of-factly as he closed the door behind me. “I dunno, Beard set it up for me. Man’s fucking paranoid.”

“Hmm.”

That was all I could manage as I took in Roy’s house. It was spacious, airier and lighter than I expected. I smiled as I recognized photos of his niece and sister everywhere, as well as an older man I assumed was his grandad.

“Sorry I don’t have posters of you all over the place,” he teased, taking my hand to lead me to the kitchen. “Could you believe they were sold out of you at the administrative-assistant-poster store?”

“Oh yeah, I’m really popular,” I played along as Roy pulled out a stool at the kitchen island for me to sit on. “Let me know if you want my autograph.”

He turned to the stove, stirring something in a pot. “How much d’you think I could get for it on eBay?”

“Enough to buy a nicer house. Sorry to break it to you, Roy, but this place is a regular shithole.”

Roy practically choked on his laughter. “Oi, now you’re getting personal.” He turned and faced me. “I’m really fucking glad you’re here,” he said softly.

My blush returned. “Me too.” I sat up to take a good look at the stove, trying to see what smelled so delicious. “Need any help?” I offered.

“Fuck no. You just relax.” He nodded towards a fully stocked bar in the adjoining dining room. “Drink? Or have you sworn off alcohol after last night?”

I shook my head. “I’ll take a drink,” I assured him.

Roy crossed over to the bar, pressing a kiss to my bare shoulder as he passed me. When he returned, he placed two drinks on the island, the same one I ordered every time we went to the pub. He then served dinner and laid one of the bowls in front of me.

“Beef tzimmes,” he announced, sitting across from me. “My grandad used to make this for me when I was a kid. First thing he ever taught me how to make.”

I could feel my eyes light up as I took my first bite. “Shit, this is good!”

“Glad to know Phoebe’s not lying to me then,” Roy muttered as he began to eat his own bowl.

We ate comfortably, drinking and laughing and sharing jokes, as if nothing had transpired the night before. It felt like every other time we’d hung out; comfortable, relaxed, but charged with the attraction we shared. God, it was good to know that we could still be like this.

Roy cleared the bowls and left them in the sink before helping me out of my seat. “Wanna go sit outside? We can have our chat.”

My breath caught for a moment as I remembered why I was there in the first place; a serious talk awaited us. Roy placed a reassuring kiss on my forehead and grabbed our drinks, leading me out to his patio. I settled in a loveseat while he turned on a set of string lights.

“My sister made me get these,” he grumbled as he joined me, handing me my drink.

“She has good taste,” I remarked as I leaned back.

Roy snorted. “In fucking lights, maybe. In men…” He bobbled his head, making a face. He caught my unsure expression. “Sorry. You didn’t come here to listen to me rant about Phoebe’s shit dad.”

“Not this time,” I joked, trying to break the tension.

He leaned back, laying his arm around my shoulders. “So,” he started, his face suddenly serious.

“So,” I repeated.

Roy took a deep breath. “I’m sorry again. Really fucking sorry.” He turned his body to face me properly. “I’m sorry for trying to kill Montlaur. I’m sorry for jumping to conclusions and not talking to you. And I’m really fucking sorry you had to see Brittany Brett kiss me.” He shook his head and looked at me with those anxious eyes. “D’you forgive me?”

My heart tugged gently in my chest. “Of course.” I laid my hand on Roy’s thigh. “I’m sorry for screaming at you. And for trying to make you jealous. And for making you apologize to Richard.”

He frowned, confused. “You didn’t make me apologize.”

“No, I was saving that for Monday.”

“Fair enough.” He rested his free hand on top of mine. “Why’d you get so jealous?”

I shifted in my seat. “I mean… have you seen that woman? She’s literally a model.”

Roy shrugged. “So’s Keeley. You didn’t seem to care when she danced with me while you and Jamie did what I can only assume was an attempt at the robot.”

“Keeley’s not your ex,” I pointed out. “Brittany Brett is. And she was hanging all over you, and oh yeah, she kissed you.” I paused, letting my words sink in. “And I just don’t get why you were talking to her,” I admitted. “You say you want nothing to do with her, and that she made you feel like shit, so I don’t know why you would hang out with her at the bar.”

“No, that’s fair,” Roy agreed. “See…” He tilted his head back, thinking. “We went out during this really fucked time in my life. I was already starting to realize that I was passing my prime. And I was starting to get fucking scared that I’d never be a superstar again. And being with this internationally known model allowed me to pretend that I would be a hotshot forever.” He paused. “And then she dumped me for someone who was actually in the prime of their career. Which, obviously, felt fucking great.” He wrinkled his nose. “And I guess seeing her for the first time since then brought back some of those feelings of not being good enough anymore. And I guess I wanted to show her that I’m doing great.” He squeezed my hand. “Really great since I started seeing you.” He let out a growling sigh. “And once she started flirting, I think some part of me wanted to reject her this time,” he admitted. “But it absolutely wasn’t worth it seeing how things turned out.” He cleared his throat, looking down. “That’s some stupid shit, eh?”

I quickly shook my head. “I mean, it still hurt, but I get it now.” I paused, giving the ground a small kick. “I didn’t really appreciate the whole ‘she’s just my assistant’ shit though.”

Roy let out a dry chuckle. “Also fair,” he conceded. “Sorry about th-” He stopped, thick brows creased. “Wait, how’d you know that?”

“I may have been eavesdropping,” I muttered. “That’s about the point where I felt really shitty and dragged Richard out on the dance floor to make you jealous.”

“Hmmf.” Roy stared at me thoughtfully. “Can I ask you something?” I nodded. “D’you consider yourself single?”

I blushed, remembering the way I had yelled at Roy the night before. “Not really,” I admitted. “I haven’t even thought about another guy since the first time you bought me kebabs for lunch.”

“And I told you last night, I haven’t thought of myself as a single guy since that night at your parents’,” he reminded me. His fingers drummed on my shoulder. “I think the problem is, we didn’t think of each other as not being single.”

“What d’you mean?” I asked; Roy was talking in circles.

He shrugged. “I mean, I don’t think either of us would have been so fucking jealous if… if we both knew we’re both not single.” He glanced up at the string lights, face twisted in uncertainty. “Is that right?”

Something in my brain clicked. “Roy, are you asking me to be your girlfriend?”

“Don’t talk like we’re fucking thirteen behind a Tesco,” he snarled. “But yeah, sure, however you want to fucking call it.” He leaned close, eyes searching mine. “I just want you to know I’m yours. That’s all. And I’d like to know that you’re mine. Because if we know that, then all the other shit- ex-girlfriends and stupid French pricks- none of it’ll matter. Because we’ll know how we feel.” He shrugged. “What d’you say?”

I closed the distance between us, pressing my lips against his harshly, desperate to show him how heartily I agreed with him. “I think it’s a damn good idea,” I mumbled against his mouth.

#he's here he's there he's every fucking where #roy kent #Roy Kent Superstar #roy kent fanfic #roy kent fluff #roy kent fic #roy kent fanfiction #ted lasso #ted lasso fluff #ted lasso fic #ted lasso fanfic

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shimmerwindow · 6 months

Text

I Never Really

Part One

Pairing: female!Reader x Sam

Warnings: Cigarette use

Words: 3.3k

Playlist | Masterlist

A/N: Hi everyone! I’m so pleased to announce the beginning of my first fanfiction for the gvf fandom! This fic was meant to be a short little exploration of a college AU, but it ended up completely running away from me. This is the most ambitious and longest piece I’ve undertaken in my 10+ years of fic writing, and I’m very excited and nervous to see how it turns out. Expect a slow burn at first, but it will turn into a raging fire soon enough. There will be ridiculous levels of pining, angst, pain, ceilings by lizzy mcalpine, the whole nine yards. I hope you all enjoy! I love you!

The fall air had a bitter chill to it. Though, when standing on a roof, that was to be expected. Wind whipped through your hair and numbed your fingers as you cupped your hands around your mouth to light the cigarette between your teeth. You inhaled, exhaled, and stared up at the few stars in the sky. Mostly black, the stars themselves blinded by the lights of men and their cities. You tried to commit that line to memory, it would make a good opener for a book.

You shoved your hand into the pocket of your sweatpants, fidgeting with the key there. You’d paid off the RA with a rather large chunk of change for that key. She’d had some connection to the maintenance man for your dorm building – a friend of a friend of a friend’s dad, or something, you couldn't remember anymore. She'd copied his key and gave the copies to those she could trust to keep their mouths shut about it. You were one of the lucky few. It was the key that unlocked the door to the roof.

You weren't a party girl, by any means. You didn't come up here to have drinks and play music with a group of 20 people. You just wanted to smoke in peace.

Peace that, apparently, was about to be short lived, as you heard a skittering sound behind you. You ducked behind an AC unit, as you’d done many times before. The sound was the falling of the rock that you’d carefully placed on the edge of the door, something of an alarm to let you know if you were being interrupted. It had happened many times in the past, but it was always a false alarm – just another key-bearer looking to light up a joint or stare at the sky.

Peering out from behind your shelter, you felt a sinking feeling in your chest. You didn't recognize the man walking through the door this time. He looked like he’d been startled by the falling rock, but was looking around inquisitively. Like he was searching for someone. He failed to set off your danger instincts, and he was far too young to be a maintenance man.

You stepped out from behind cover, taking a few steps towards him. You couldn't see his face clearly yet, as he was bathed in light from the stairwell.

“I think you went a floor too high,” you called above the howling of the wind.

He jumped like he’d seen a ghost, his hands flying to his chest.

“Woah, hey. Sorry to startle you.” You took another drag of your cigarette, inspecting it between your fingers. It was almost gone.

“Oh, perfect,” he called back, walking in your direction.

You gave him a puzzled look, but kept quiet.

“Can I bum one?” He asked, approaching you.

You pulled the pack of cigarettes out of your pocket and handed one to him. You had a deal with yourself that you would always share with a stranger – but only once per stranger.

He clapped his hands together in a praying motion and bowed at you. “Thank you. You’re a lifesaver.” He snatched it out of your hand and lit it hastily with a pink lighter he pulled from his pocket. You noticed his hands were shaking as he took a long, deep drag.

“Fiending?” You asked.

“Like crazy.”

You could just barely see him in this light. He had long brunette hair with loose waves to it that cascaded down over his shoulders, and kind-looking brown eyes that peered at you half-lidded. He flashed a smile, nearly blinding you with perfect teeth.

“Sorry to bother you.”

“It’s alright,” you said, stamping out the cigarette and putting the butt in your coat pocket. “Do you have a key?”

He cocked his head at you. “To the door? No. It was open. I just did a lap of the whole campus looking for someone to bum off of. This was my last resort. So, thanks for being here, I guess,” he chuckled.

“My pleasure,” you smiled back.

“I’m Sam, by the way.” He shifted like he was going to shake your hand, but decided against it. “I live here.”

You introduced yourself, telling him you also lived here. He repeated your name back to you several times, as if he was trying to solidify it in his mind.

“I haven't seen you around. Did you just start?” You asked.

“Nah,” he shook his head, giving you that wide smile again. “I just don't get out much.”

“Fair enough.”

You craned your neck up to face the stars, letting silence settle between you and him.

He broke it rather quickly. “That’s Venus, right there.” He motioned with his cigarette towards the brightest point of light in the sky.

“Oh, cool,” you replied, the phrase coming out much less enthusiastic than you intended.

“How much do you know about the stars?” He asked.

“I…don't know how to answer that. A bit, I guess?” You laughed, somewhat nervously.

He tipped his head back, taking a puff from his – well, your – cigarette and blowing the smoke high into the air. “Only a bit?”

You shrugged. “Yeah.”

“I think about it a lot.” He peered down at you, his head still pointed at the sky, but his eyes locked on yours. “Like, what’s up there, you know?”

“I’ve got more than enough to worry about down here.” The reply came off a bit more rude than you’d meant it to.

“That so?” He smirked. “What’s your major?”

“Communications. You?”

“The hell are you gonna do with that?” He laughed, seemingly at himself. “Sorry. That was mean. I’m just another business major. Just want a degree to say I have one, you know?”

You shot him a look that could kill. “If you must know, I’m trying to get a book published. It’s a little easier if you know what you're doing.”

“Wait, that’s actually sick. I love writing!” His tone softened, his eyes glinting. “Let me read your shit some time!”

“Absolutely not.” You dropped the remains of your cigarette, stepping on the butt of it to extinguish the ember. “It’s pretty mediocre shit anyway.”

He tilted his head at you, taking you in as he took another drag from his dwindling cigarette. “I doubt it. You look like you’ve got a lot of good stories to tell.”

Something about this guy was captivating. You couldn’t help but hang on every word, almost nervous to see what he would say next. A kind of giddy excitement started to rise in your chest as you watched him run his hands over his hair.

“That’s very sweet of you. But I assure you I don’t have much to write. Just boring mock articles and essays on Shakespeare.”

“Still sounds like my jam.”

It almost felt like he was hitting on you, and the excitement turned to panic. You could see where this was going, and you didn’t like the hypothetical ending one bit.

You glanced at your phone, pretending to be surprised at the time. “It’s getting late. I’d better go,” you said, blurting it out before he had the chance to speak again. You made your way towards the door abruptly.

“It was nice chatting with you! Thanks for the cig!”

“No problem!” You called back. It most certainly was a problem.

“Hope I see you again,” he shouted in your direction.

You turned just in time to see him waving, smiling around the cigarette between his teeth, before the door shut behind you. Making your way down the stairs, it felt like your brain was buzzing, and it was more than just the nicotine in your system.

The door to your dorm slammed shut behind you, and you collapsed into bed, kicking your shoes off.

Your interaction with Sam hadn’t been entirely out of the ordinary. You’d met several people that same way. Yet, something about it stuck out to you. Maybe it was the fact that he claimed he’d taken a lap around the entire campus, yet his feet were bare and he was wearing clothes that were much too light for a chilly autumn evening. He was only a little taller than you, but his legs had looked so long in those shorts…

Rolling over in bed, you forced yourself to stop your thoughts dead in their tracks. You had more important things to worry about right now. First and foremost, this place was a mess.

You’d been one of the very few lucky ones when assigned roommates at the start of the year. Only a few days before the start of the year, your roommate had dropped out. The school hadn’t been able to find a replacement, and you ended up getting the room all to yourself.

You milled aimlessly about your dorm, doing some light organizing here and there, your body trying to busy itself so your mind could slow to a stop. But you only ended up deeper in thought about him. About Sam. And you couldn't stop replaying his words in your head.

The question he’d asked you, about the stars. Such an odd thing to say. He’d said it so casually too, as if he'd been asking your favorite color. He seemed like quite the character. Maybe, in another life, when you didn't have the crushing weight of education holding you down, you could befriend him.

With your mind racing in a way that you hadn’t felt since high school, you gathered your things for the week ahead, trying to keep yourself focused. It felt so ridiculous that one interaction with one man would leave you so frazzled. It was simply the Sunday scaries manifesting itself in a different way, you told yourself. Feeling anxious over whatever your mind could grab ahold of.

You were able to forget about him just long enough to settle down for bed. Though he lingered in the back of your thoughts, and you fell into a restless sleep with his name on your lips and his face in your dreams.

* * *

Sipping at your coffee, you cringed at the taste – you'd ran out of creamer and hadn’t bothered to buy more. Black coffee was never something you drank willingly, but you would never make it to a 7 a.m. lecture without it. You barely noticed when a backpack landed in the seat next to you, followed by someone sitting beside it. Internally, you rolled your eyes. A giant lecture hall, and this guy had to take the seat right next to you?

“Hey.”

You recognized that voice. It was him. Sam. The guy from the night before.

Finally seeing him in the light of day, you fixed your tired eyes on him. You opened your mouth to respond, but no words came out, only a silent gasp and a sigh. Maybe you were just a bit too tired, but the man sitting next to you looked like a god incarnate. His hair was pulled back into a haphazard bun, revealing flawless skin and features sharp enough to cut glass.

He stared back at you with a soft gaze, his perfectly sculpted brows knitting in confusion. “Sorry. Do you not remember me? Last night, you gave me a cig–”

“I remember.” You spoke louder than you meant to, and cleared your throat, a little embarrassed.

Turning to face the front of the class, you could feel a blush creeping across your cheeks. You willed it to go away, but focusing on it only seemed to make it worse.

“I, ah…sorry. I can move.” He reached for his bag and half-stood.

“No, you can stay!” Once again, you spoke louder than you meant to. God, this was agonizing.

“Oh, alright.” He sat back down, and you could feel his eyes on you as you pretended to flip through your notes. “Are you feelin’ alright?”

“Just tired.”

“Me too.”

Right on cue, the professor cleared her throat loudly, finally cutting the tension between you and Sam. You relaxed a bit, thankful that god-awfully awkward exchange was over.

“Hey.”

You could only look at him out of the corner of your eye, worried that gazing on him fully again would shatter you.

“You got a pen?” He whispered.

First the cig, now this, do you own anything of your own? you wanted to ask, but you held your tongue, digging through your bag and handing him an extra pen.

“Thanks.”

The rest of the lecture was practically impossible to focus on. You could see him just out of the corner of your eye, and his mannerisms were distracting, to say the least. He played with his hair a lot, you noticed. And he chewed on the pen you gave him. Thanks a lot. You can keep it.

This class was a necessity to your degree, and you couldn’t have him screwing this up for you. Tomorrow, you would find a different seat. Maybe come a few minutes late so he couldn’t sit next to you. But there was something mesmerizing about him, something that filled you with dread and longing.

A lecture about the historical importance of Beowulf faded into white noise as your thoughts wandered, back to the night before. The way he’d ran his fingers through his hair and shrugged when you asked him what his major was – such a simple gesture, yet so memorable. That’s what you found so captivating about him, you ruminated. He didn’t outwardly seem like anything special, other than his Adonis-esque looks, and yet, he exuded some kind of aura. Something golden and glistening.

You heard your name, and the sound of backpacks rustling and feet shuffling. You’d zoned out for the past who-knows-how-long, and class was over. Sam was offering you your pen back.

“You can keep it,” you said briskly, stuffing your things back into your bag, slinging it over your shoulder, and hurrying out of the room. You could feel his eyes piercing you with that golden gaze as you walked away.

He was going to be a problem for you, and you knew it.

* * *

You had been seeing him everywhere. It seemed like every place you looked, there he was. The library, the dining hall, out on your afternoon walks, even in corners of campus few people bothered to go to. It had been a week since your first rendezvous on the rooftop, and you’d been avoiding the place ever since.

It isn’t a crush, but it sure feels like one. The phrase had been echoing in your head since the night before, still chanting itself over and over as you sat in the back row of the lecture hall. You took a long swig of your coffee, hoping the caffeine would rattle it out of your mind.

You could see Sam, sitting in the spot you’d been in the day before. You had shown up exactly one minute late, just enough to ensure he couldn’t sit next to you. Something inside you felt a deep guilt as you watched him glance around the room a few times when class started. Clearly, he was looking for you.

There was absolutely no chance you would allow yourself to sit next to him today, of all days. Not after the dreams your mind had conjured up the night before. You could still see it so vividly, the impossibly long and lush green grass in the field you laid in with him, the flowers you'd put in his hair, the birds that landed on the grass in front of you. Praying you would forget it, you strained to focus on the rest of the lecture.

The professor’s topic shifted to the end-of-semester project. An essay on Germanic heroic legend, to be completed with a partner. With a partner. With a partner. You hung on her every word as she explained, your eyes darting around the room for anyone you might recognize from anywhere, anyone but him. To your dismay, you’d done a horrible job of making friends on campus – Sam was the only person in the room you knew.

Her voice echoed like terrible bells in your ears. "Find a partner, and email me your choices tomorrow. If I don’t get an email by Sunday night, I’ll assign you someone who doesn’t have a partner yet. Have a good rest of the day."

You watched Sam turn himself around, his eyes locking on you immediately. Had he known you were there the entire time? Did he realize you were avoiding him? His long legs crossed the room before you even had time to gather your things and leave.

“Need a partner?” He gave you a wicked, perfect smile that made your knees feel weak.

“No. I’ll let her assign me one.” There was nothing you could do to stop the words from coming out bitchy. And it was reflected on his face, an expression of hurt washing over him briefly.

His eyes dropped to the floor. “Okay. Right. Sorry.” Without another word, he was out the door and out of view.

You stood unmoving for a minute, wondering why you’d done that. No wonder you have no friends here, your brain screamed. You tried desperately not to care, telling yourself it didn’t matter. But the truth of the situation seeped in slowly, chilling you like ice water running down your spine. You’d hurt him, for nothing. For no reason whatsoever.

Would he really be that bad of a partner? He seemed like a pretty nice guy, though you didn’t know him very well. And he actually went to class, unlike half the people in that lecture. The reality of being assigned a random partner hit you like a brick wall – the risk was enormous. This class was difficult, and the chance of ending up with someone who did zero work was too high to risk it.

You ignored the small part of your mind telling you these were all just ridiculous justifications. And you pushed away the much louder part of it that was reminding you of the way he smiled at you in your dream last night while your fingers worked his hair into braids.

You moved quick, skirting around the other students making their way through the doors, nearly running after him. You had no reason to tell him no. No reason to avoid him. If you kept dodging him like this, it would be just as bad as admitting it to yourself. Admitting what? Nothing.

Down the hall, you could see him making his way around the corner. Dashing through the crowd, nearly tripping and falling in the narrow hallway, you caught up to him.

“Sam,” you half-shouted, trying to steady your breaths so he wouldn’t know you’d ran after him like that.

He stopped, looking left and right, searching for the source of his name.

“Behind you.”

He turned around, a smug smile creeping across his face. That look was enough to make you want to turn back around and forget it. “Yeah?” He said.

“I’m sorry. I’m…in a bad mood today. I guess. We can partner up.”

“Groovy." His face betrayed the mundane reply, his eyes lighting up with a fire that almost made you flinch. "I gotta run, but I’m sure I’ll see you on the roof.” He gave you a haphazard wink, and continued his way down the stairs and out the door.

You were frozen, mind running a loop of blank static. Both regret and jubilation washed over you at once, leaving you a confused mess of a human. Trying to shake the feeling of unease from your bones, you made the walk over to your next class. You were certain the rest of the day would feel exhausting after that. Sending up a silent prayer, you hoped this would not be the start of something. Though you could feel gears turning, and worry turned to panic as it set in that, perhaps, you had just knocked down the first domino in a series of events that would lead you down a very, very long road.

#gvf #greta van fleet #sam kiszka #greta van fleet fic #greta van fic #greta van fleet fanfiction #greta van fleet fanfic #greta van fleet fan fiction #sam kiszka fanfic #sam kiszka fanfiction #sam kiszka fic #sam kiszka x reader #gvf fic #gvf fanfiction #gvf fan fiction #i never really

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codingpoodle · 1 year

Text

Blushing Tide

It wasn’t supposed to be like this.

Locked onto the brainwashed Inkling performing on Octavio’s Octobot, Marie releases the trigger, hitting Callie square in the face.

“Aaaah!” shrieked Callie, hypno shades lying shattered at her feet.

The lowtide ink was clearly working, though it was going to take some time before the effects fully hit. Callie swayed to and fro, almost drunkenly.

Below, the ink was flying in a ferocious flurry fending off the Octobot’s golden fists. A wild orchestration of Callie’s single “Bomb Rush Blush” blared through the arena, nearly deafening.

Whether it was the bass or white hot rage at Octavio, she wasn’t sure, but something powerful pulsed through Marie’s chest. “MAKE OCTAVIO PAY!” she bellowed.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

“BOOM!”

340-360. There was an actual number that represents her inferiority. An icedrop-like chill creeped through her heart, and everything started to fuzz over. She was happy for Marie, of course! But this Splatfest was different from the others -- those were fun little topics of contention and fandom. This... this was personal. Not like it was either of their choices. Management was trying to get engagement back up, so naturally the best way to make a splash was to pit the beloved Callie and Marie against each other. Who doesn’t like to watch some in-fighting?

Her mind went blank as she said the obligatory thanks...

Callie was the extroverted one while Marie was always the quiet but relatable introvert. Their voices seemed to reflect that as well; Callie’s being upbeat and sharp while Marie’s was soft in tone and had a flow that touched on some traditional techniques. Together, they had a unique harmony that propelled them to stardom.

That wasn’t to say they couldn’t find success on their own. After the final Fest, Callie plunged herself into work, be it music or acting. Marie had a rocking solo career, her final victory sailing her to the top.

She was happy for the white-ink woman -- carp, she was her biggest fan, but she’d be lying to herself if the loss didn’t sting. Her loss is directly tied to her this time, and she will always carry that knowledge.

It was selfish to keep coming back to these thoughts. She has a good life, and it’s not like she wasn’t able to find her own success. Not everyone can have as fresh a time as she’s been lucky to have.

But these intrusive thoughts haunted her, to the point it was reflected in her work. She took darker, angrier roles and her music’s tone became resentful. It resonated with the young Inklings who just discovered teenage angst, but she was no teen.

Callie couldn’t help it. Ever since she and Marie parted ways -- they had a good run, but it was tie for a change -- the Final Fest results crept up to taunt her. It came up in every interview, even when Marie had nothing to do with her current project.

It was exhausting.

One day, Callie needed a change in scenery. She found herself on the outskirts of Octo Valley. Maybe this barren scape could give her some new inspiration. At the very least the acoustics were great. Her voice echoed hypnotically as she belted her lungs out.

Callie didn’t know how long she’d been out in the valley. Her eyes stung from the dust, or perhaps something else. She heaved in and out, exhausted from freestyling but at least her chest felt lighter. Suddenly, she didn’t feel so private. A thick putter trailed behind her.

“Hey.”

She whipped around, eyes bulging, and gagged a few times (her throat was dry from the singing and acrid air).

Octavio, tentacles crossed and brows furrowed, stared her down. “What brings the better half of the Squid Sisters out to these lands?”

“How the kelp did you get out here?” Callie sneered.

The giant octopus shook his head. “I’m not here to pick a fight. In fact, I heard your little session.”

Callie flushed.

“I may be, as those Inklings may say, not the freshest, but I know talent when I hear it.”

“Can it. I’m going to put you back where you belong!” Callie reached into her bag and was about to draw her roller--

“There’s no need for that. I know how to drop beats, and you’ve been plateauing for some time. Yes, I’ve heard,” Octavio drawled, smirking at Callie’s embarrassed expression. “They say you’re getting stale. I can help you.”

“And why would I let you? You’re an enemy to society. I may be a bit out there, but I’m not dumb.”

“Didn’t say you were.”

“Shut up,” spat Callie, hiking the roller over her head.

“Your kind have the Zapfish. So be it.”

“Eh?” Callie dropped the shoulder, its weight making her lose her footing.

“It’s the cycle of our cursed world, but I accept it.” “You’re full of carp.”

“Not necessarily. I have something even better planned. Something that doesn’t require the Great Zapfish. It only requires your talent.”

Callie crossed her arms. “Oh really now.”

“Drop the act. I know you’re looking for something fresh. You would’ve splatted me by now if you weren’t interested.”

Her ears betrayed her, twitching in anticipation.

“Do I have your undivided attention?” He waited until Callie nodded. “You and me. Inkling and Octarian. It would cause quite the stir, would it not?”

Callie sighed. “Ok, fine. I’ll hear you out.”

#Splatoon #Splatoon Callie #Splatoon Marie #Splatoon 2 #Squid Sisters

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helliontherapscallion · 3 years

Text

Sweet Betrayal

Part 2 Part 3 Part 4

Spotify Playlist (collaborative)

Warnings: swearing, neglect, successful suicide attempt, death, insanity

(A/N): I had a little too much fun writing this

“I’ll help you.”

Tommy cheered and clapped a hand on your shoulder. Wilbur gave you a slightly manic smile, his plan is going to work out perfectly with you working with them. Techno merely grunted in acknowledgement. Something about your tone threw him for a loop, but he just summed it up to the voices and his growing trust issues. The voices were screaming at him not to trust you, that you were a traitor, that you’d betray them. But there’s no way his youngest sibling would ever betray them; they couldn’t hurt a fly. They were basically defenseless.

Tubbo looked slightly hesitant to accept you as his spying partner, but he figured that you joining him would take most of the stress off from his shoulders. You were close to Schlatt, he basically treated you as if you were his own. He was slightly jealous at how close to his father you were when he, Schlatt’s biological son, was often standing in the same room as them. He knew that Schlatt was a shitty father and could never shape up to being as good of a father figure than Philza was to him, but he just couldn’t help but feel hurt at the fact that his own father, who abandoned him at the side of the road as a kid, so readily took on another kid that wasn’t himself. Despite his resentment towards you, he accepted having you as a partner. Maybe once he got to know you better you weren’t so bad.

On the outside, you were giving your ‘brothers’ a sweet smile. Almost sickeningly sweet as you plastered it on your face to hide the resentment and hatred brewing inside of you threatening to escape and fill this ravine with it’s raging waves. They were never your brothers, always choosing to exclude you from everything they were doing. As a kid, you had nobody to rely on. Tommy had Tubbo and Wilbur had Techno and Philza. You were completely, utterly alone as a kid.

You were always deprived of social interaction, always being told to ‘suck it up’, ‘quit whining’, and ‘just accept it’. You watched from the sidelines as your brothers received all the love and support from each other and Philza, and you were sick of being left out. Their proposal has made you finally reach your breaking point. You came to the realization that you were only going to get their support only when you were of use to them.

Even as adults and as teenagers, they’re always acting like children. Whining over losing power, getting exiled, how ‘tyrannical’ every single government was, like get a grip. You brought this upon yourself. Manberg would be much better off without you two. Just accept leadership, it’s there to bring natural structure to society. This isn’t high school, stop overreacting. Oh, how you longed to scream in their faces, drop the happy, sweet, and defenseless facade you always wore. You were broken down by them, and you were going to be their downfall. You would make sure of it. At least, that’s what Schlatt promised you.

You met Schlatt one day when you were alone in the forest far from the house you called home. It was dark out and you were hiding from the mobs that threatened to take one of your lives. He found you by following your whimpers, taking you back to his house and giving you shelter for a few days. He treated you like you were a person, an actual human being, and that made you realize that you weren’t alone in the world afterall. Philza and your brothers didn’t even notice that you were gone until after a week of staying with Schlatt. You remembered how Philza stormed into Schlatt’s house, grabbed you by the ear, apologized to Schlatt, and drug you home lecturing you the entire time. You were grounded for a month after that and banned from talking to Schlatt.

However, you still talked to Schlatt in secret. He eventually treated you like you were his own, showering you with the love and support that you were deprived of. You supposed you craved constant reassurance and kindness, and you chopped it up to how you were raised. You had trauma and Schlatt was there to fix that. He gave you constant support, something your ‘family’ has never done. Well, they did once when you finally broke and fell into a deep depression, never leaving your room. They didn’t notice that, but what they did notice was the death message that flashed across their comm tablets: “(Y/n) suffocated.”

When they ran to your room, they caught the last of the golden dust that used to be your body drifting into the atmosphere. In the center of your room hanging from an exposed pipe in the ceiling was a noose fashioned from an old rope they had noticed had gone missing a few weeks ago. It didn’t take a genius to figure out that you hung yourself.

For a solid month after that, they treated you like they treated each other and you felt like you were soaring the entire time. Philza even told you that he loved you and that he was proud of you when you ate your first meal in a week! All of the attention and support faded when they saw you smile more and laugh louder. You faded again into obscurity and all that came out of that successful suicide attempt was not your family’s unconditional love like you had hoped, but an ugly scar that wrapped around the entirety of your neck.

You were going to fuck up their plans. They deserved it for ostracizing you all those years.

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

Your and Schlatt’s plan was unfolding swimmingly. Your idiotic brothers had no clue of your betrayal and that always made you want to laugh hysterically, but you held it in until you got back to the White House. You would laugh in Schlatt’s office with him. The cabinet often heard loud, boisterous laughter booming from behind the closed office doors, but they’ve long since learned not to question it.

They grew wary of you two, it seemed that your sanities were turning into slippery slopes. The Emperor and the Secretary of Defense could not be fully trusted to make any decisions anymore. Even Quackity, who loved his adopted kid to death, agreed that they couldn’t be trusted. You and Schlatt had changed so much from when he first started dating Schlatt. It hurt him to see his husband and his child slip into insanity.

While you were planning the festival with Schlatt and Tubbo, it was extremely hard for you to keep a straight face. Whenever Schlatt wasn’t looking, Tubbo would smirk and glance at you from the corner of his eyes. It was in those moments specifically that you would struggle the most with containing your laughter. Originally, Schlatt was only going to exile Tubbo for his treachery, but after the fiasco with the lame excuse of ‘farming totems of undying’, you convinced him to turn it into an execution. You organized every single part of Tubbo’s execution, it was perfect in your opinion. At the same time, you were giving Schlatt information of your brother’s whereabouts during the festival. You were going to put on a show for them.

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

On the stage, you were shifting and fidgeting relentlessly from your position between your adopted dads. From an outside perspective, one would assume that you’re nervous to be on stage in the middle of the spotlight. Everybody outside of the cabinet and your fathers still saw you as the innocent kid that wouldn’t hurt a fly. How wrong they were. Tubbo’s speech was the hardest to sit through, Quackity had to have a tight grip on your hand to prevent you from rushing the teenager and caging him too early.

After Schlatt gave you the signal, you, him, and Quackity quickly trapped him in a cage made of yellow concrete. You could hear the shocked gasps of the audience and saw Wilbur holding Tommy down from revealing their hiding spot. Schlatt gently nudged you up to the microphone with a kind smile.

You walked confidently up to the podium and gave the audience the widest closed-eyed grin they’d ever seen on you. “Hello citizens of Manberg, other guests,” you opened your eyes and shot a smug smirk over to your older brothers on the roof. You took great pleasure in the look of hurt, anger, and betrayal in their eyes.

“What you are going to witness today is my pride and joy. As it turns out, our dearest Tubbo here,” you turned around to give a grandiose gesture at the cage behind you, “is a filthy little traitor.” The last word ripped itself from your mouth like a rattlesnake spitting venom at its victims.

Tubbo banged on the walls in a rage, “you were a spy too! YOU WERE A SPY FOR POGTOPIA TOO!”

“On the contrary, dearest Tubbo. I was a double agent working for Schlatt, my father. I was never loyal to Pogtopia. Why would I be when you all used me?” You gave him a gentle smile. The insane and malicious glint in your eyes contrasted the kindness of your features. You turned back to the podium with that same smile. The combination of your words and your expression sent cold chills down the spines of the Manbergians. They now saw you as who you really were.

“Now, since I was so rudely interrupted,” you shot a glare at the shocked boy behind you, “hm, where was I?” You rubbed your chin in false confusion before you perked up, “oh right! What you are going to witness today is the public execution of our dear friend Tubbo.” You broke into a series of manic giggling, pounding your fist against the wood of the podium. The gasps of the audience sounded like music to your ears.

“TECHNOBLADE, GET THE HELL UP HERE BROTHER! YOU HAVE THE HONORS.”

You shouted through your laughter. Technoblade climbed up the stairs and stood facing you with a harsh glare. You grinned at him as he spoke to you with his usual monotone voice. This time, there was an undeniable angry undertone you could clearly detect, “what do you want me to do?”

“You still have that rocket launcher, right?”

He pulled it out of his satchel. You squealed happily and jumped up and down clapping your hands excitedly, “good! I’ve always liked fireworks. Now be a dear and make Tubbo go out with a bang!”

He walked over to face Tubbo’s cage and pointed the crossbow at him. You could see his finger trembling over the trigger and a nervous sweat gathering at his brow. After a while of seeing no firework action, you grew impatient and started to furiously shout at him.

“WHAT ARE YOU WAITING FOR, BLOOD GOD? WHAT, ARE YOU TOO MUCH OF A PUSSY TO DO IT NOW? KILL HIM! BLAST HIM TO SMITHEREENS! FUCKING DO IT.”

With every word that left your mouth, you stepped closer to him until you were screaming into his ear. You felt immense pleasure when you saw him start to shake. When you heard the shooting of fireworks and the agonized screams of Tubbo and saw the colorful blasts, you felt like you were on cloud nine. It was beautiful.

Your insane laughter was heard over the chaos that followed. Schlatt and Quackity, seeing Techno’s growing anger after killing Tubbo, moved to push you behind them. Quackity wrapped his wings around you in a tight hug before fireworks were shot at your family. After you pushed Quackity away from you, you saw your father’s corpse lying on the stage floor. It was clear that he had just lost a life.

Quackity collapsed to the stage with a groan before he briefly passed out. You checked if he was still breathing before you looked at Technoblade with anger written clear on your features. You gave a furious shout before you charged at him, determined to kill the unkillable.

You dodged the fireworks that he shot at you before you finally reached him. He dodged your flailing arms and the attempts to push him off from the stage with ease. “I SHOULD’VE KNOWN NOT TO TRUST YOU!”

His shout was dismissed by you, not registering in your clouded mind at all. He grabbed your arms and threw you to the edge of the stage. Before you could get up, he stomped a foot down on your chest and pointed the rocket launcher at your face. You were not phased by this, grinning and laughing with insanity-filled glee. “KILL ME TECHNO! DO IT, GO ON! FUCKING DO IT. BLOOD FOR THE BLOOD GOD!”

He stared at you with the most anger you’ve ever seen from him before he pushed you off the stage with a simple kick of his foot. As you were plummeting to your death, you saw Technoblade point the rocket launcher at you before you saw the colorful rockets shooting at you. Your laughter ending abruptly with the explosion of fireworks and the thump of your bloodied corpse against the pavement was something the citizens of Manberg would never forget.

Your brothers stared at your corpse as it disappeared with shock and anger. They never suspected you of all people to be a traitor, they thought you were the sweet, naive kid they knew growing up. They thought your allegiance to them would be unbreaking and you’d follow them blindly. Obviously, they were wrong. There was no saving you. You were too far gone.

When you woke up with Schlatt and Quackity holding your hands at your bedside, all of the memories flooded back to you. They held you as you cried in frustration, wiping at your tears with gentle, reassuring smiles and loving words. Rage filled you as you remembered how they got away with their lives. You had one life left, and you were going to dedicate it to their downfall. Even if you died in the process. They should fear the day you return. There was no saving them from your wrath.

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royalelusts · 3 years

Note

Could I have a request for upper demon moons with s/o gender neutral in a date in modern world ?

A/N: Here you go anon! I hope you enjoy these.

Kokushibo

I feel like he really enjoys quiet places

A day at the book store is usually you twos go to date

Just helping each other pick out books

Or finding really funny ones to make fun off

Another date you two go on regularly is to the park with your dog

Just watching you play fetch with her is enough to make Kokushibo laugh to himself

His favorite part about the walks though dont happen until the sun goes down

You two were walking hand in hand through the part

“Hey is something wrong?”

Your question caught him off guard. “Why would you say that love?”

“Well you keep checking your watch like somethings going to happen.”

Knowing you caught him he sighed leading you toward the tunnel of trees

As soon as the clock hit 9 the fairy lights in the tunnel turned on

“Oh so this is why you were in such a hurry.”

Pulling out his phone he put on a slow song and held out his hand

“May I?” “You may.”

And you two danced in the tunnel like you were the only people left on the planet

Doma

Did somebody say shopping?

He will buy you anything and everything

Oh you want that new book that your favorite author just dropped?

We’re picking it up right now

You want those shoes?

On it

Want the new video game that’s really hard to get?

Already in the bag

He absolutely loves to take you to buy clothes the most though

He pushes you out of your comfort zone in a good way

“Come on out darling. Let me see~”

“Doma I don’t know...”

“Nonsense. I bet you look amazing.”

After taking a deep breath you walked out of the changing room

“Look at yoooouuuuuu.” He squealed. “Do a turn for me won’t you.”

Rolling your eyes you complied to his wishes

“Ah you just look amazing. Yep we’re buying it.”

Yeah dates with Douma are a real confidence boost

Akaza

His dates are usually very chill

He’ll walk around town with you all day if he could

Doing whatever you wanted to do

But there is one time of year that is absolutely necessary for a date

And that my friends is fair time

You two wear matching outfits cause you’re that couple

He definitely makes it his mission to go on all the rides

Even the pirate ship

“Babe just one more time.”

You’ve had to pull him away from things more than once

You two were walking around having just got done eating when a certain clown started flying insults at your boyfriend

“Oh look at the big tough guy.” The clown teased

Of course Akaza ignored him cause he’s got self control like that😌

You two were walking away from the clown until he made a comment

“Oh I see you got a nice looking s/o with you. I would love to take them on a date.”

Yeah all self control out the window

Akaza walked straight up to the dunk booth and paid the vendor

“Come on big guy. Lemme take your lovely s/o on a date.”

Akaza smiled at the clown before hitting the target sending the other in the water

When Akaza came back you laughed

“Seems he got under your skin~”

“I can’t stand assholes like him.”

“Haha my hero.” You say giving him a kiss as a reward

Nakime

Dates with her are somewhat difficult

Don’t get her wrong, regardless of what you pick she’ll love it

But you really wish she would have some input sometimes

But that aside, stay home dates are more her style

Cuddling on the couch watching a movie, cooking together, self care nights?

The whole package

Absolutely loves when you play with her hair

Makes her soft

Lo-fi music played in the background as you typed away on your computer

Nakime, who just got out the shower, got behind you resting her head on your shoulder

“Rough day?” All she did was hum a yes

“You know what that means~” You turned around hugging her tightly

“Self care night!” She let out a soft chuckle at your antics

Hantengu

Like Kokushibo, his ideal date would be someplace quiet

But with less people

So he always has weird places to take you

There was this bookstore in this part of town very little people knew about

Or rooftop cafe that served your drinks in the strangest cups

Your favorite thing is when he find small events to take you to

“Sweetheart...I found this new cafe. Would you like to go with me?”

“Of course I will!”

The cafe was a little bigger than the ones you usually went to but not by much

There were plants everywhere, chairs were shaped like teacup mugs, and there were teddy bears of different sizes at each table

“Tengu this is adorable”

“It makes me happy you like it” He gave your hand a soft squeeze before deciding to head to the counter

Gyokko

He’d probably take you to an art museum

Since he himself is an artist he goes there to analyze insult the art pieces

“My art looks way better than whatever this is”

He said that about the Mona Lisa….THE MONA LISA

I actually see him to be a really respected artist in the art world

So he’s constantly being invited to art galleries

Of course he brings you along

Before you two met he went alone and got bored really quickly

None of the art truly caught his eye

But with you there?

He has the absolute time of his life

You two were staring at a painting

“...what is it supposed to be?” You asked tilting your head

“It’s fucking atrocious that’s what it is.”

You laughed at your boyfriend’s comment

The artist having overheard you two didn’t like the comments you were making

He was so fed up he went right up to your boyfriend

“You don’t know the first thing about art. How would you know what looks good?”

Already knowing where this was going you unhooked your arm from your boyfriend

“How would I know? Anyone with eyes can see that this doesn’t deserve to be here. These brush strokes aren’t even going the same way and you have the audacity to yell at me for not knowing anything about art?!”

(please know I know nothing about art so I’m sorry if I offended anyone🥲)

The artist having been embarrassed in front of everyone quickly exited the room

Gyokko wrapped his arm around your waist again smiling

“Ready to go love?”

Kaigaku

Dates with Kaigaku will either be super chill or chaotic

He once took you both to a rage room

It may or may not have ended with either of you crying

Another time he took you to paint pottery

It really depends on how he’s feeling that day

Tonight was going to be a chill night though

You two were laying on a mountain cuddled up on a blanket staring at the stars

“Babe look it’s orion.”

After a few seconds of him not saying anything you raised your brow “Babe?”

You looked over to see him staring at you

“Sorry I was just looking at the prettiest star ever”

You laughed at his horrible pickup line and pecked his forehead

“Thanks babe.”

Gyutaro

(ah the love of my life)

He’s not a guy who would take you to an extravagant restaurant or to walk around in a crowd

Unless that’s really want you want of course

Even then it would take a lot of convincing

You know that he doesn’t see himself that highly

(no baby you’re literally perfect please don’t talk down on yourself🥺)

He would much rather stay at his/your house and vibe

But if you REALLY REALLY want to go out he’ll arrange something

He has a spot he goes to that overlooks the city

It lets him forget his responsibilities for a while

Gyutaro: i’m outside get dressed

You raised your brow at the text but got dressed regardless

Outside he was waiting next to his motorcycle staring at the sky

“Sooo what’re we doing?”

“It’s a surprise. Here.”

He held out one of his hoodies and a helmet

You two drove for about 30 minutes before he stopped on a cliff

“We’re here.”

You walked up to the edge in awe

“Taro it’s….it’s amazing”

He hummed wrapping his arms around you resting his head on your shoulder

Yeah this is all he could ask for

Daki

Did someone say parties?

She 100% sees going to parties together as dates

I mean you get to see her in an amazing outfit

Who wouldn’t want to see that?

Now if this is your scene then there’s nothing to fix

If it’s not you’re going to have to explain that to her

You would probably take her to a flea market

Daki look around the building in utter disgust

“What the fuck? Why are we here?”

“Babe please just trust me.” You gave her a soft smile

Remembering this was supposed to be a 'date' she begrudgingly goes along with it

First you take her to the food section

She’s never seen food like this before so she’s a little hesitant

“...what is that?”

“It’s ox tail. Try it.” Hesitant she ate a piece and omg she absolutely loved it

You walk around some more until you get to the section with the perfume and jewelry

She’s absolutely amazed. They are so many different sizes with different colors.

“I want them all.”

“Babe no-”

#royal.request #demon slayer #kny #demon slayer x reader #kny x reader #upper moons x reader #kokushibo x reader #akaza x reader #nakime x reader #hantengu x reader #gyokko x reader #kaigaku x reader #gyutaro x reader #daki x reader #demon slayer fluff #kny fluff #doma x reader

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valwentinefics · 3 years

Text

Altruism Ch. 3 - Zemo x F!reader x Bucky

A/n: So this chapter isn’t the best but I thought I’d give you Bucky fans something. I am benevolent. I can’t wait till I don’t have to type out what the characters say word for word in the show, its torture.

Warnings: Cannon typical violence

Translations: Liebling (Darling)

Series Masterlist

Madripoor - 2024

Y/n’s mind ran at a thousand miles an hour as the group walked down the hall, her hand still intertwined with Zemo’s. She longed to go to Bucky, to ask if he was okay and help him through whatever thoughts were bound to be swirling through his head right now, but she knew she couldn’t, it would jeopardize the whole mission. She was grateful to at least have Zemo to cling onto, despite her feelings about the man. His cool, confident demeanor was comforting to her during this time and his warm hand wasn’t that unpleasant to hold.

“You should know Baron, people don’t just come into my bar and make demands.” Stated a short white haired woman who lounged on a snakeskin patterned couch. Her presence was intimidating, Y/n felt uncomfortable being around her.

“Not a demand, an offer.” Zemo stated, sitting down in a chair and pulling Y/n into his lap which startled her. “Keep with the act Liebling.” He mumbled into Y/n’s ear. She wasn’t sure what he had called her, she had to remember to ask him what it meant later.

“A lot has changed since you were last here.” Selby glanced over to Bucky who was doing his best stoic stare. “By the way, I thought you were rotting away in a German prison. How did you escape?”

“People like us always find a way, don’t we?” He paused, looking smug. “I’m sure you already know what I’m here for.”

Selby seemed to be stalling, pointing to Sam. “You’re taller than I’ve heard, Smiling tiger.” Sam replied with a nod as always. Y/n considered herself lucky, unlike Bucky and Sam, attention was never on her, she just had to sit there and look pretty. However, that thought jinxed her.

“And who’s the girl? Never thought you were the meek and pretty type Baron.” She commented on Y/n’s frightened demeanor.

Zemo’s arm wrapped tighter around Y/n’s waist “I just call her my little bunny. But Selby, to what we were discussing.” Zemo said, putting the conversation back on track.

“Right then, what’s the offer?” She asked, looking around the room, her eyes lingering on Bucky.

“Tell us what you know about the super soldier serum, and I give you him.” Zemo gestured to Bucky. “Along with the code words to control him of course.”

A mischievous grin spread on her face, sending a chill down Y/n’s spine. “I’m glad I decided not to kill you immediately. The serum is here in Madripoor, Dr. Wilfred Nagel is the man you’d want to thank, or condemn. He was working on it for the power broker but things didn’t go as planned.”

“Is Nagel still in Madripoor?” Asked Zemo. Somehow his confident and cool demeanor never faltered. Y/n had to admit, in a way the man was quite attractive with the way he managed to navigate the criminal underworld without batting an eye.

“Oh” she said with mock sadness “The breadcrumbs you can have for free, but the bakery is gonna cost ya’ Baron. And before you get all cute, don’t think you can find Nagel without me.” She got up and began to approach Y/n and Zemo. The tense moment was interrupted by the ringing of Sam’s phone. “Answer it.”

Sam tapped on his phone, a woman's voice coming out of it, the words she spoke making Y/n’s blood run cold. “Hey Sam-” Quickly Sam hung up, but not before the damage had been done.

“Sam? Who’s Sam? Kill them!” Selby commanded, that same instant a bullet came flying through the window and into her chest, a choked noise coming from her as she collapsed to the floor.

Y/n sprung up as Sam and Bucky fought the guards, swiftly disarming them with precision. Bucky looked through the scope of the gun he had taken, looking around with the precise caution of a hawk. Y/n moved closer to him, not wanting to be near Zemo any longer. It wasn’t that she didn’t like being around him, it was the opposite. She found his touch comforting, and she knew she had to stay away for that reason.

“They’re gonna pin this on us!” Sam worried, standing by the door and gripping his gun.

Zemo only sighed. “We have a real problem now, so leave your weapons and follow my lead.” Y/n was confused. Leave their weapons? How would they defend themselves? Nonetheless Sam and Bucky did as they were told.

The sound of cellphones chiming rang out all around them as they quickly walked down the street. Y/n’s nerves were acting up, her whole body feeling as if it was in fight or flight mode. She was scared of what would happen next, never before had she been the target in a battle. They had just crossed under a bridge when a few lights went out without warning. Y/n looked at her comrades with a panicked look, moments before gunshots rang throughout the area.

Zemo grabbed Y/n’s hand, pulling her away from the others. She stumbled after him as fast as she could, lucky she was somewhat adept at running in heels. Her breath was heavy as she resisted the urge to look back, her body aching to run after wherever Bucky and Sam went. Roughly Y/n was pushed against a wall in an alley, Zemo’s warm body flesh against her own. His breath was hot against her neck as they hid in the shadows until a set of headlights passed by. She barely had time to catch her breath before she was pulled away again. Zemo pulled a gun out of his coat as Sam and Bucky grew closer, shooting a man who was approaching them. Y/n watched in shock as he slumped to the ground. Two more men approached from the shadows, Y/n ran over to Bucky and tucked herself behind him, squeezing her eyes shut in fear before the sound of two more gunshots rang out. Hesitantly she opened her eyes, seeing the two men now dead.

“You seem to have a guardian angel.” Said Zemo, alarm showing on his face.

“Well this is too perfect!” A feminine voice stated, Y/n’s eyes widening as she realized it was Sharon Carter.

Sharon Carter was kind of awful now, but Y/n couldn’t complain as the woman agreed to help them out after she had the situation explained to her. Now Y/n and Bucky were alone in her apartment above her art gallery as a party raged downstairs. Zemo and Sam had been happy for the chance to let loose after everything that had happened and opted to join the party while Sharon looked for information. Y/n was glad to be out of that godforsaken dress and instead in an outfit of her choosing, no longer feeling like she was flashing someone every time she moved.

Y/n sat down next to Bucky on the green couch, leaning into him slightly. He didn’t seem to mind it, his arm resting around her body comfortably. Unlike Sam and Zemo, Bucky didn’t want to indulge himself in a fun night after the events that had happened earlier, and so as a good friend Y/n decided to stay with him to make sure he was okay.

“Bucky, how are you feeling?” Y/n broke the silence between the two, angling her body to face him.

“Fine… I’m fine.” He smiled at her, although Y/n could see through his façade.

“You don’t need to lie. What you had to do must have brought up a lot of feelings. You don't need to explain them to me, I just want to check up on you.” She looked at the man who’s steely blue eyes were filled with a deep sorrow she couldn’t even imagine feeling. Part of her wanted to hold him close, to let him know he’s loved and cared for, but she didn’t want to overstep right now.

Bucky exhaled, looking away. “I think Steve was wrong about me. Maybe I am just a monster.” His voice cracked as he explained, holding back tears. Bucky’s fear of being nothing but a coldblooded killer was a frequent discussion between the two during late night talks where they poured their hearts out to each other in Y/n’s apartment. So although this thought came as no surprise to Y/n, it still hurt her to see her friend and slight crush feel that way. “It was so easy to fall back into being the Winter Soldier… maybe it's because even after all this time that's who I still am. A killer.” He looked at his gloved metal hand with a sorrowful glare.

Y/n placed a comforting hand on his thigh, moving his gaze from his hand to Y/n, his eyes searching her face for comfort. “Bucky, that’s not who you are. You call yourself a monster but you’re the most caring and kind man I know.”

“I saw how you looked at me Y/n, you were terrified. You were clinging onto Zemo as if you were scared I lost control.” He looked away from her and down at the floor. “You’re the person I care for most now that Steve’s gone, and you were scared of me. I never wanted you to have to see me like that.”

Guilt bit at Y/n, blaming herself for her friend's state. “Yes I was scared. I was scared you would lose control, that you would revert back to the Winter Soldier. My fear was for you, not of you.” She explained. “Bucky, I could never truly be scared of you. Those late nights where we would watch movies or listen to music and just talk about our lives mean so much to me. I know you’re good in your heart, remember when I healed the wounds the Wakandans couldn’t fully fix before you went under again? If I thought you were a monster I wouldn’t have done that, I wouldn’t have wanted to handle your pain for you. But I knew you weren’t a monster, nothing you did was your fault. I know it, Sam knows it, hell even Zemo knows it! And Bucky, I’ll be here for you until you realize it too.” She held his hand between hers, her eyes studying the side of his face.

“Y/n.. I need to tell you something. I-” Bucky began hesitantly, only to pause when Sharon entered the room looking proud.

“Guys we’ve got to go, I found some information about the serum.” She said. The pair stood up, following her to find Zemo and Sam.

The question of what Bucky was going to say hung in Y/n’s mind as she navigated through the crowd of people, her hand reaching for Bucky’s to ensure she wouldn’t get lost. His hand firmly wrapped around hers, giving it a small squeeze as to let her know he would always be there for her. Through the security and safety she felt just by holding his hand, Y/n realized she didn’t need to find out what he was going to say right away. The two would have all the time in the world to tell each other things, because she knew Bucky would never let go, and she never wanted him to.

@yaskna @noavengers @lostghostgirl94 @whatawildone @lady-latte @chipster-21 @viviace @writeroutoftime @spookycereal-s @nadder37 @ajeff855 @safiakillspop @thiccmemechicc @sgold If I missed you, added you on accident, or you would like to be added/removed let me know!

#zemo x reader #helmut zemo #helmut zemo x reader #baron zemo #baron zemo x reader #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #the falcon and the winter soldier #tfatws x reader #tfatws

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uwumessenger · 3 years

Text

random headcanons i have for each om! character teehee

hi it's been a while since ive posted some hcs bc uni has been kicking my a$$! luckily i only have a few papers to tidy up and im done. here r some hcs for each obey me character that ive accumulated over the past few months wink wonk

most are random but some constants you'll find are what i think they smell like, languages they can speak (other than their native (demon/angel) and eng/jp), and music tastes !

lucifer

i have a strong feeling that he showers twice a day: in the morning after waking up and at night before going to bed

his cologne is probably the type that will last in an elevator for like a week after he uses it once. i dont think this mf ever smells like anything other than his cologne

has a secret folder on his phone of semi-nudes and other scandalous pics from when he felt sexy at the time omg

aside from demon language/eng/jp he can speak french and knows latin

listens to classical stuff yea but he also listens to diavolos mixtapes (re: diavolo's section)

not a fan of sweets but will eat sweet things when craving

really bland sense of humor...borderline cringey 😭✋🏻

mammon

has gone to google images and searched for "inspirational quotes tumblr" "gold aesthetic tumblr" & "relatable crush post tumblr" then reposts it onto his socials or just taps thru them and giggles bc he relates

his cologne doesnt last as long as lucifers and probably smells common. he has to reapply a lot but it's a people pleasing smell. it's cheaper hence the constant reapplying

he probably does have an expensive bottle but is the type to totally overspray...eek

he is canonically a car guy 🥲 and probably tells the one in his room good morning & good night + kisses the hood every once in a while. has tons of car magazines

he doesnt really speak other languages but has attempted to learn spanish before

listens to whatever is on the radio. doesnt rly stan anyone but he eventually will listen to mc's playlist and mc's playlist ONLY

levi

lurks on mc's socials ALL THE TIMEEEE like he will rewatch ur stories and scroll thru ur feed and overanalyze ur tweets/rts or blog posts. if ur mc isnt the type to use sns much he still googles ur name all the damn time just to find any sites u might be on fjdjdjdjskks

probably streams on whatever youtube or twitch devildom site equivalent there is, but only has like 40 or so followers. which he is okay with!

until he sees someone else who gets more attention than him. then the envy starts kicking in bad. especially if they suck 🧍🏻‍♀️

classic gamer boy smell. you know, sweat, tears, must, and (sometimes) axe deodorant. lucifer has to do a scent check before he goes out to any event & lets him use his cologne. how sweet!

kpop stan!! more girl groups than anything and his ults are probably GIRLS GENERATION, wonder girls, twice, loona, & red velvet

cried when ioi disbanded and refused to leave his room. the only thing u could hear was downpour on loop at full blast

can also speak korean & communicate in echolocation like dolphins 😏

satan

listens to country music you cant change my mind

smells like whatever environment he is in. he doesnt really have a designated smell just throws some deodorant on and goes about his day.

he's sooooo bad at driving...gets road rage way too often so his license has been REVOKED

but hes totally a backseat driver. needs to be sedated on long trips

do not let him watch finding nemo when luke asks to watch it. it's not worth it. he will cause mass destruction.

if he was a human or lived long term in the human world he totally has the ability to be a doctor

is studying as many languages as possible, but he mostly knows latin & french & german etc etc. wants to learn all the dead languages out of curiousity

asmo

dont think this mf has ever held down a relationship. ever

he doesnt compromise much & is not willing to change his lifestyle to fit an s/o into it. you keep up with how he lives or it just isnt meant to be (but dont worry! he'll eventually learn...maybe,,,,)

has the hardest time out of everyone when it comes to breaking bad habits

his smell varies bc he uses a variety of perfumes (whatever is the most popular at the time) but he probably sticks to floral and fresh scents. he never uses generic people pleaser scents like mammon

listens to electropop, mainstream pop, & some alternative rock

as for languages he too knows french, spanish, italian, etc. in general, if it's a romance language he knows it!

opposite of lucifer in the sense where he loves sweets and will refrain from eating too many bitter things

i think we all know that asmo is the biggest rockstar of the group! he's probably been in a boy band at least once, but now he makes his own music

has tried to teach mammon how to sing once. ended up in a broken piano and bleeding ears...

beel

i feel like he is SO SHY

like unless ur close to him he will not start conversations or anything

i think he listens to r&b a lot ! and jazz 😎 maybe rock as well

smells like ur typical athlete with undertones of wet wipes. he carries them around bc he likes to clean his hands before he eats & is prepared for when theres no sink nearby

he can drive and he drives really well. no rough turns, parallel parks perfectly, and never has problems with merging

driving with beel is probably really soothing. left hand is steering the other is gripping ur thigh 😫

dont think hes really fluent in any other language but hes probably semi fluent in korean because levi wanted beel to help him out

definitely know how to order food in practically every language tho HAHAHA

belphie

he reminds me of randall from monsters inc

smells kinda musty IM SORRY but not the way levi does hes more like the kind of musty u feel or smell when it's a shitty morning

but that's only because hes so lazy, when he cleans up hes like satan

has definitely murdered multiple people before. mc is not the first 😐✋🏻

with that being said belphie has been put into prison at least twice when visiting the human world, the mf had such a strong hatred for humans theres no way he never got into trouble before

lucifer probably broke him out and they used the pen thingies from men in black to erase everyones memory of that 🙄

dont think he listens to anything other than music that'll put him to sleep. really likes lazy song by bruno mars but thinks that bruno mars put too much effort into the song. should have been one acapella verse and then finish

similar to beel hes only semi fluent in one language, probably french bc of lucifer. doesnt remember much but knows a couple of lullabies and bedtime stories

the sandman used to be his bff until they drifted. they do, however, like and comment on each other's sns posts.

diavolo

once he found out who nicki minaj was he became her #1 stan

def an ariana grande stan too 😌

choreographs dances when hes stressed...idk just seems like a diavolo thing to do

also makes rly bad soundcloud rap music sometimes. turns to poetry when hes feeling emo but only lucifer knows this. barbatos is suspicious of him but doesnt have enough evidence to confirm.

his dad is like hudson abadeer from adventure time aka marceline's dad? something must have influenced him to want to unite the 3 realms + he would need the approval to do so, so his dad must be more chill than all the others before him 🧍🏻‍♀️ IDK ok anyway

currently going through his hamilton phase bc of mc. whether mc's intent was to get him hooked onto it or just to explain it bc of something he saw online, he tells everyone that he found out abt it bc of mc!

this man cannot drive his skills are only second to jumin han

not too fond of many languages but knows the widely spoken ones like spanish, mandarin, etc. if it's taught in high school he knows it

smells like a las vegas casino. not sure why but i feel like he does. but there's also an interesting & nice smell to him if he embraces you. it's a smell you cant quite identify. but it smells nostalgic, it's mysterious, and it's tempting.

barbatos

very calm demeanor but underneath hes WILD hes probably done everything at least once oof

he just has a lot of control and stability over himself (must be nice!)

on a more angsty note i feel like he might have had his heartbroken sO BAD IDK he is hurting and maybe that's why hes so willing to obey diavolo and not abuse his time lord power thingies bc he learned his lesson the hard way

mans is so smart he knows every language you could switch languages mid conversation with him and he wouldnt be thrown off. he'd probably start speaking it too.

BUT HE SPEAKS VIET P E R F E C T L Y

listens to the same stuff as lucifer but also likes eminem. likes the movie 8 mile but criticized it heavily

have you ever been to a chinese herb shop? naturally, he smells like that. his room probably smells like it too. he doesnt really have a significant smell like some of the others

when he bakes he smells like whatever hes baking tho

one of the few out of everyone listed to have been able to travel to literally everywhere

solomon

was probably on kitchen nightmares once, but only to get feedback from chef gordon ramsay. then he used his magic to prevent the episode from airing...

was in an orchestra, one of the best times of his life. played the violin. asmo watched him in the audience once, but didnt approach him until well after that performance.

he CANNOT sing. he can, however, rap.

doesnt listen to music. he listens to podcasts! but every now and then he turns on background music, but prefers it to be instrumental stuff

never wears sunglasses. also does not have a driver's license. cannot drive a regular car. could maybe fly an airplane.

due to his immortality he has learned almost every language to exist, but finds himself speaking mandarin the most. knows most dialects too

similar smell to barbatos but u can also smell some sunscreen on him too. like, generic beach day suncreen

he has a lot of pact marks, so he once had the idea to match foundation to his skin. it took him two weeks but he eventually perfected a combination. yes he will help u find ur perfect shade if u ask him to

simeon

another country music man. has also made a tiktok or two to that one song that goes "he cant even bait a hook." they are private tho

angel country music exists and simeon invented it

if he visits the human world and wears more causal clothing he probably tucks his shirt into his pants

wears a speedo at the beach i tell u, speedo at the beach

he can speak german...i can feel it

uses his pointer finger to type and holds the phone like 2 inches away from his face so sometimes his nose will push a key hence all his typos

has no signature smell. he simply smells like your favorite scent all the time. if multiple people are around him at once, everyone smells a different smell. it's pretty rad

"what does he smell like to himself?" u may be asking. hmm...a church? 💀

luke

his first pet was a goldfish and a few months before the exchange program happened, he was given a koi pond!

secretly likes hanging out with levi sometimes just to play with henry. makes him miss his pet fish back home

so his favorite movie is probably finding nemo and he threw a fit when nemo touched the butt

luke is probably learning german bc of simeon, though he'd like to learn more of the dead languages just for fun

i dont think he listens to music often or has any preferences, he just listens to whatever is playing on the radio

but he finds himself listening to the music mc listens to

smells like freshly baked goods all the time. or fresh laundry. but like, not combined. just depends on the day

266 notes · View notes

writtenonreceipts · 3 years

Note

Feysand and “You weren’t supposed to hear that.” - “Well, you shouldn’t be saying it then.”

Kinda sappy? Kinda cliche? Kinda...idk.

Thanks so much for the prompt!

Words, Words, Words

Escape.

Escape is all that is pounding through her head. Just that one word. One simple action that one would think it would be simple enough to obey.

But Feyre is stumbling as she back peddles and tries to weave through the bar. Why did it have to be a Friday night? Why did she have to pick tonight to come out with her friends?

“Feyre,” his voice is almost desperate in the way he calls out. Desperate and afraid. And everything she doesn’t need.

She ignores him. Feyre’s gotten pretty good at it too. As much as she loves her best-friend, it’s been harder and harder to be around him because that love isn’t what it should be. That love is a raging fire within her. That love should not be reciprocated.

“Feyre.” Rhysand manages to grab her hand and swing her around to face him.

In the jostling crowd she is pushed flush against him, the heat of his body flaring around her. His cologne, a familiar haze to her senses. By the cauldron she has to get away from him.

“I can’t do this right now, Rhys,” Feyre says.

Rhys’ violet eyes bare into her, scanning every inch of her face as though he can keep her there himself. But the longer she stares at him the harder it will be to walk away.

She shakes her head and pulls back, turning to leave the bar. She's not sure why she trusted Mor. Or course the young woman would spend the weekend hanging out with her cousin. She should have known Mor would want Feyre to talk to Rhys. It was Feyre's mistake to trust her friend with the sensitive information of being in love with her best friend.

Feyre is outside in the stiff chill of autumn and is desperately looking for a cab. But it isn't the right time of night. The street is just a touch too busy and Feyre is out of luck.

She pushes a hand through her hair and begins walking. A cab will show up eventually, won't it? Besides, it's only a few blocks to her apartment.

"Feyre!" Rhys calls again. She can hear him running to catch her. She doesn't slow down. When he finally does reach her, he makes it a few steps in front of her and stops, forcing her to run into him.

Feyre snarls, bracing her hands on his far too sculpted biceps. Damn him.

"Rhys," Feyre says when his hands grip her waist. She can feel her heart thundering in her chest. Feel her breath catch in her throat. Feyre refuses to look at him. Even when she can feel his eyes baring down on her.

"Please just let me explain," he says. The desperation to his voice returns and in the overhead street lamps she can see the tension lines in his face. This is so different from the calm and collected Rhys that she knows. So different from his usual confidence. It almost makes her want to laugh. To tell him that he’s being over dramatic as always.

“Rhys,” she begins. He lets her pull away and she wraps her arms around herself, holding her coat closed against the wind. “There’s nothing to explain. I decided I’m not feeling good and want to go home.”

The lie is blatant and obvious that it causes her to cringe and look away. A couple walks past, too engrossed in each other to even notice Feyre and Rhys.

“You weren’t supposed to hear what I said,” Rhys explains. He runs a hand through his hair mussing it up from its usual neat style. “Cassian and Azriel were being asses and wouldn’t shut up about and I just--”

He’s floundering for words now, his mouth agape and eyes wild. He doesn’t even know what he’s saying.

Feyre shakes her head and exhales slowly, trying to remain calm. “If I wasn’t supposed to hear it then maybe you shouldn’t have been saying it. I mean, dammit, Rhys you’re my best friend. It’s just--I mean.”

Now it’s her turn to struggle for words. Heat rises on her cheeks and Feyre looks down at her feet. She’s probably said too much as it is. But the conversation that she overheard is all she can hear and it’s hard not to say too much.

How can you be in love with me?

The words are on the tip of her tongue. They could slip so easily from her lips and stain the night with uncertainty. But she stays silent. Nothing good has ever come from bar gossip and if she knows Rhys, he’s already got at least three beers in him. Maybe more. Definitely on the road to getting tipsy if not drunk.

“Can I just explain?” He steps toward her, slowly, as though she’ll run away if he moves too quick. And she’s ready to bolt. Ready to flag down the next car that passes and bum off a ride.

All she feels is mortification. Why did she have to overhear that conversation? Overhear Rhys’ exact words. And then she ran out of there the way she did.

Feyre stuffs her hands into the pockets of her coat. Her keys dig painfully into her palm, but she welcomes the distraction.

“You know I’m an idiot Feyre,” Rhys says. He tries to smile, but she doesn’t return the gesture.

Feyre rolls her eyes and brushes past him, determined to walk home and get away from him. Because of course tonight she came to realize the extent of her feelings. Of course tonight she was feeling a bit more willing to act on them. Of course tonight had to be the night where Rhys went and ruined it all. He is actually very good at doing that--saying the wrong thing, doing the wrong thing. She used to find it endearing, humorous even.

Rhysand is quick to keep pace with her. His long legs eat up the distance with ease, his jacket flying open around him.

“Feyre.” He’s pleading as they walk. She knows he’s watching her so Feyre tries to keep her expression blank. But Rhysand has always been able to get under her skin.

She stops abruptly causing Rhysand to swing around and almost collide with her.

Standing flush together, Feyre has to tilt her head to avoid squishing her nose against his chest. Which wouldn’t have been quite a terrible problem if he weren’t wearing that cologne she likes. Swallowing roughly, Feyre meets his dark gaze.

“If I wasn’t supposed to hear what you said, then we shouldn’t be talking about it,” she says stiffly. And she really doesn’t want to talk about it. Because how did you tell your best friend you were in love with him? It didn’t matter that she’d heard him admit to the same thing just minutes earlier. He’s already denying what he’d said so why not help him along by keeping her mouth shut?

Rhysand’s hands come up to her forearms, holding her in place. He leans forward enough that Feyre’s heart skips a beat and she knows they’re in a far too compromising position. One that would be so easy to sink into and cross all the boundaries of friends.

She steels herself and lifts her gaze.

In the streetlights overhead Rhysands eyes become pools of black. Deep and endless it is so easy to get lost in them. There’s a furrow in his brow as though he’s trying to solve some equation or think of a solution to an impossible scenario.

“Feyre.”

He’s always used her name so casually. Tossing it around as though he’d never tire of it. Using it almost as a punctuation mark when they’re having the most mundane of conversations.

This time is an exception. This time her name is a prayer lilting off his lips.

Slowly he brings a hand up to her cheek. He brushes his thumb along her jaw and a shiver races over Feyre’s skin. She can’t help it, can’t control it. There’s always been something about Rhys that causes her to lose control and slip up just a little.

So now, when she has this little bit of courage, she keeps his steady gaze.

“You said you loved me.”

Somewhere in the din of the bar as she was weaving around patrons, Rhys had been sitting with Cassian and Azriel. He hadn’t noticed her approach otherwise she was certain the discussion wouldn’t have been anywhere near where it was. But Cassian and Azriel were pestering Rhysand about something laughing and giving him knowing looks.

And somehow amid the rest of the noise of clinking glasses, conversation, and music she’d heard Rhys’ words clearer than anything else in that bar.

I’m in love with my best friend, what else do you want from me?

Feyre isn’t interested in the exact nature of the conversation. The boys have always kept up strange discussions and debates. She isn’t interested in Cassian and Azriel’s reactions to what happened either. She's more concerned with the utter panic that consumed her and forced her to run in the opposite direction.

“Yeah,” he replies, “yeah, I did.”

Because, really, how can Rhysand be in love with her? It’s some sort of sick cosmic joke for this sort of mix-up to happen right when she’s starting to realize her own feelings for him. And hell, who is she to say that Rhys was even talking about her? He can have other best friends. Amren, for instance. Cresseida. Vassa. She’s grasping now, desperate to fil her mind with anything than to respond to Rhys.

Maybe a hole will open up beneath them and swallow her up.

“And I meant it,” Rhys continues.

“You’re drunk,” Feyre says and rolls her eyes.

He shrugs. “Only a little. But it doesn’t make what I said any less true.”

Feyre squeezes her eyes shut, unable to tell if he’s being serious or not. “Including the bit about being an idiot?”

She opens her eyes in time to see a smirk flash over his mouth. His hand brushes softly against her cheek and Feyre knows she could so easily get lost in his touches, so easily get lost in him. Despite his arrogance and nonchalance of everything--she knows Rhys for who he really is.

“I’ll let you go if you really want, but I just needed you to know, I meant what I said.” He drops his hand to his side, fingers flexing.

Unconsciously, Feyre tilts forward, missing the contact. In his eyes she can read every emotion. Everything on his mind is laid bare for her to see and Feyre knows just how deep his words run.

“Rhys,” Feyre whispers as she snatches a hand out to grasp the front of his jacket before he can pull away. Oh hell, oh hell, she has no idea what she’s doing. And before she can stop herself or convince herself it’s a terrible idea, Feyre surges up on her toes and kisses him.

Feyre never would have guessed that she would be able to catch Rhys off guard, considering how collected and confident he always appeared to be. But the second her lips meet his, Feyre knows she’s surprised him. And that’s fine by her. She put all her feeling into the kiss, despite leaving it at barely more than a brush. She still wants to give him the opportunity to pull back and take back what he said.

Rhys however doesn’t have any qualms about being surprised. When Feyre pulls away, his hands are already at her neck, her waist keeping her close. His mouth is urgent against hers as though he can’t quite get enough of her. Feyre gasps, the feeling of his mouth, his hands and the taste of his tongue on hers--everything has her begging to be closer to Rhys.

When they part, foreheads pressed together and hands desperately searching each other’s bodies, Feyre finally catches her breath.

“You didn’t throw a shoe at me this time,” Rhysand says grinning down at her.

“The night’s still young, we’ll see what happens,” she replies.

Rhys laughs, kissing her again.

tags, I think I got the acotar tags right? maybe...and if you didn’t specify which fandom, I put you on my fixed list, please feel free to correct me if you’d just prefer TOG.

tottenhamboys20 @more-espresso-less-depresso-xx @bamchickawowow @ladywitchling @ireallyshouldsleeprn @courtofjurdan @sassys-world @sleeping-and-books @superspiritfestival @chieflemming @julemmaes @harrymoncheri @aelinfeyreeleven945tbln @my-fan-side @sjmships @emikadreams

#feyre archeron #feyre x rhysand #rhysand #feysand #answered #thanks anon!#anon answered #acotar #acotar fanfiction #acowar

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colormeyondublue · 3 years

Text

Chapter 8: Trenvik

Chapter 7 Here - Chapter 9 Here

The next morning, you wake up feeling a little nervous. Yondu’s words and anxious behavior are still fresh in your mind. You wonder to yourself who these disloyal men may be. You have an idea who a few might be, but they’ve never really bothered you apart from the occasional catcall. Most of the time if you made a snide comment back, they would leave you alone. You idly get ready and fix your hair in a braid. This morning feels strange.

A knock at your cabin door breaks your train of thought. You head toward the door, putting on that silver bracelet Yondu got you. You open your door and find the most unexpected face there to greet you.

It was Trenvik.

Trenvik was a race that you had never seen or heard of before boarding the Eclector. Kraglin told you he was Chorak. Apparently, they were an isolated kind and they were not sociable. He was…odd to say the least. He has lemon yellow skin, with puke green blotches covering his neck and face. His eyes are a piercing green with yellow speckles, and he has goat-like pupils. His facial features are sharp and hollow, and he is totally hairless. Trenvik leans against the doorframe with two of his 4 arms. The other two arms are above you, all 6 fingers gripping the ledge over your head. He was tall – very tall. You would guess around 7 feet. His body was lanky and lean. You recall he has a very unnerving gait to his walk. Something about him always made you very uncomfortable. Maybe it was the croaking sound that always seemed to seep from his throat when he would pass you on the ship. It could have been the fact that you had caught him staring at you a number of times in the mess. He’s never spoken to you – until now.

“Y/n.”

“Uhh…Hi. Trenvik – right?”

“Why are you hiding – in your room?”

His words are measured and unnerving. You begin to fidget with your feet, gripping the door handle tighter.

“I’m not hiding, I was actually getting ready to get some breakfast.”

“Breakfast? My dear, it’s almost halfway through the day. You are a bit late for that.” His mouth spreads into a nauseating grin. Sharp, needle-like teeth showing beneath his thin lips. He leans in closer to you.

“Oh my gosh! It’s that late?! I had no idea! I’m sorry, Trenvik, I really need to go.” You try to push past him through the doorway and pull the door closed behind you. “It was nice speaking to you!”

“Not so fast.” He grabs you by your wrist and pushes you against the wall next to your door. “Why are you in such a hurry to get away from me?”

“I – I’m not. I’m just late. I have to get to w-work.” You stutter.

He slowly releases his grip on you. His eyes travel up and down your body, as if he is trying to decide if you’re lying or not. “Very well. We can finish this later.” He finally says.

He takes one step back and you turn to run down the walkway toward your office. Trenvik watching you as you flee.

As you reach your office, you slam the door behind you, breathing rapidly. You start to feel tears welling in your eyes when your wrist comm dings. It’s Yondu.

“Yondu?”

“Hey Darlin’, you alright? I haven’t seen ya all day.”

“Yondu! Umm…yeah. I slept through my alarm. And I’ve been dealing with some weird anxiety today. I just feel strange. On top of that, Trenvik came to my door a little while ago.”

“What did he want?” He asked with clear aggravation in his voice.

“I don’t know. He was just trying to talk to me I think, but it felt creepy – like there was something else. His whole demeanor was sketchy.”

“You in yer office?”

“Yeah, why?”

“Stay right there honey, I’m on my way.”

The comm beeped again, and Yondu was gone. You let out a heavy sigh, and sit down at your desk. Music…I need music. You reach for your holopad and pull up the music files that Kraglin got you a few days prior. You begin to find more and more American music. That was a huge comfort to you, regardless of what era the music was from. A song that came through your speakers almost broke you. “Devil’s Backbone” by The Civil Wars. You heard some of their music when you were back home, but this song was new to you.

Oh Lord, Oh Lord, what have I done?

I've fallen in love with a man on the run

Oh Lord, Oh Lord, I'm begging you please

Don't take that sinner from me

Oh don't take that sinner from me

Oh Lord, Oh Lord, what do I do?

I've fallen for someone who's nothing like you

He's raised on the edge of the devil's backbone

Oh I just wanna take him home...

You begin to think about the events that unfolded that morning with Trenvik. What if something does happen? What if Yondu does make me go back to Earth? I can’t leave him. He’s everything I never knew I needed. He’s brave and strong and true. Sure, he’s a criminal…but I don’t care. Sure, he’s a pirate, but I love him. I don't want to live a life without him in it. You look up at the screen of the holopad and the tears begin to fall. The last thing you want is to be the reason that Yondu runs into trouble with his crew. You don't want to be the reason someone freaks out and he gets hurt. You definitely don't want to put him in a situation where he would have to hurt someone else. He’s been through so much in his life. From being a battle slave all those years ago, being exiled by Stakar, and now he’s questioning his crew’s loyalty.

...Don't care if he's guilty, don't care if he's not

He's good and he's bad and he's all that I've got

Oh Lord, Oh Lord, I'm begging you please

Don't take that sinner from me

Oh don't take that sinner from me

What you didn’t know, is that Yondu was already in the room. He’s been silently standing inside the door listening to the music, hearing the lyrics along with your short breaths.

“Y/n?” His voice is barely above a whisper.

“Yondu!” You whip around, tears evident on your cheeks. “I didn’t hear you come in. What did you need?”

“Baby…what’s wrong? Did Trenvik bother ya?” You think his words over and absentmindedly rub your wrist where Trenvik grabbed you earlier. Yondu sees this and he raises his voice, “Did he put his hands on ya?!”

“Well…yes. He grabbed my wrist in the walkway. I’m a little scared of him, but he didn’t say anything hurtful or inappropriate. I just don't like the feeling he gives me. It’s…intrusive and creepy.”

Yondu's expression then turns angry. Eyes flashing with a seething light. Just as he is about to speak, the comm on his wrist beeps and Kraglin could be heard. “Cap’n, the crew is gathered in the mess fer the meeting.”

“Thanks, Kraglin, I’m headed yer way.” Yondu’s eyes meet yours, and he sees how worried you are. He forces his emotions to calm. “I’m gonna go talk to the crew. I’ll get this settled sweetheart, just ya wait and see.” He caresses your jaw with his hand, and places a single kiss on your lips. “Do ya wanna come with me? Ya can stand by me if that makes ya feel better ‘bout the whole thing?”

“I guess so.” You shrug.

“C’mon, darlin’.” He leads you out the doorway and toward the mess. Once there, you and Yondu walk up toward the officers table at the front. The platform you follow him to is raised and Yondu leans in close to you.

“Stay close ta me, I don’t expect much trouble, but I’d rather be safe in case anyone decides to get stupid.”

You take one small step back, but stay near Yondu’s side. The men in the mess are talking amongst themselves loudly. Kraglin approaches the Captain and murmurs, “Everyone is here sir, they’re all yers.”

Yondu clears his throat and lets out one loud, sharp whistle. His arrow flys up to his ear, and the room is immediately silent. Your heart is beating quickly, and you put your hands behind your back so you can fiddle with your fingers without being seen.

“Now…I bet ya’ll are wonderin’ why I called everyone here. It’s been brought ta my attention that some ‘a y’all think that I am keepin ya on a short leash around y/n fer no reason. It ain't fer no reason. Y/n is off limits, because she’s mine! It’s safe fer ya'll ta assume that she is my girl. I don’t want ta hear another complaint from anyone on this ship about y/n being off limits. If anyone has a problem with that, you are free to depart one of two ways: at our next port, which would be Knowhere, or out the airlock! If I get even the tiniest wind of more talk regarding y/n or this mutiny crap that’s been floating around, I will not hesitate to send this arrow straight through yer skull! Is that clear!?”

A resounding “Yes sir!” echoed through the mess.

“Not a single one ‘a ya is ta lay a hand on her. You do not speak to her in a manner she doesn’t like, and if ya do ya’ll can believe that I will know about it, and I will skin ya alive.”

The murmurs began again as Yondu turns to say something to the first mate. You scan over the crowd nervously. You catch Trenvik staring straight through you from the back of the room. His icy stare sending the worst chills down your spine. You overhear some mention of the Captain going soft, and something about you being his personal whore. The word “whore” lights your blood on fire, and you begin to see red. The murmurers start to get louder and the room is clouded with harsh laughter. The noise starts to get overwhelming. Without thinking, you yell into the room as loud and you can manage. Yondu snaps his head in your direction at the sound of your voice.

“SHUT IT!!” Your fists are clenched and your arms are shaking. Yondu can see the rage burning in your eyes. Anger is an emotion he has never seen you wear before. He isn’t sure if he should stop you, or let you continue. He keeps his eyes on you while you speak.

“Most of you in this room only know me as the Secretary – so to speak. Some of you have never spoken to me, where as some of you,” you glance in Tullk and Geff’s direction and smile softly, “talk to me on a regular basis. Yes, I am in a relationship with the Captain. Yes, I am his girl. Now, I have no authority here, but because I am his girl, I will not tolerate any mention of the Captain going soft! Some of you may have no idea what I am. Some of you might not be familiar with where I’m from. Sure, I’m Terran, but I’m more than that. I am human. We care for our own, deeply. We love, we defend and we protect. We Terrans may be small, we might be weak, and hell, we may not even be that smart by galactic standards – but back on my home planet, we have a saying: It takes a village. The meaning is simple…in order to survive, we have to work together. We have to care about each other. For thousands of years, my people have been beating the odds left and right. We’ve survived hostile environments, fierce predators, and devastating plagues. Just 4 Earth years ago, our global population reached over 7 and a half billion people! We survive because we figured out a long time ago that love is our strength, not our weakness.”

Apart from your words, the room is so quiet you could hear a pin drop. You take a big breath in, and continue.

“The point is, this crew could be a whole hell of a lot better off if you guys would trash this idea that caring about someone makes you soft! It’s absolutely ridiculous! Love can bring on a strength in each and every one of you that you never knew you had. It doesn’t even have to be romantic love, it can be something as simple as friendship and respect for one another, and for your Captain. Just know that this entire crew would be so much stronger and much more resilient if you would consider my words. With this knowledge, and with Captain Udonta at the helm, this crew could do anything!”

The crew just stares back at you, with a mixture of bewilderment and confusion on their faces.

“However, Rome wasn’t built in a day. So…just think about it.” You smirk confidently, and cross your arms.

Yondu just stares at you. It’s hard to read what he’s thinking, as he remains expressionless. He looks back out over the crew. “Yer dismissed. Get back ta work!”

Kraglin discreetly says something to Yondu, and he glances at you before leaving the mess as well. Shit…I might have way overstepped my boundaries. Yondu is probably pissed. Great.

Yondu turns to you. “Yer done with yer work fer the day. Come with me.” You follow Yondu out of the mess and straight to his quarters.

#Yondu and The Secretary #Yondu Udonta #yondu x reader #marvel #fanfic #gotg #gotg fanfiction #ravager #kraglin obfonteri #kraglin #eclector

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kinder-writes-surprises · 3 years

Text

Vision Blab: Plot? Never!

Hi, writer’s block is a BITCH and I have a personal grudge against it, however I also value my terrible writing, so I’m here to dump some Vision x Reader porn :)

PS. this sucks don’t read it if you don’t want to :)

-Mod Pasta🍜🍝

Word Count: 4758

It felt like you were drugged: You were absolutely and completely addicted to a computer with legs. His skin was tough like a rhinovirus, yet smooth on the outside, small patterns of hexagons only a trained eye could detect, with little bumps all over it and the chilled, metallic feeling of the outside of a gun. Sinking your teeth into that skin felt like a distant dream until the lock down.

You were used to staying in the base, but not being trapped inside. A small misunderstanding with the US Government had Captain America on the run. Stark assured all of the Avengers, including yourself, that the situation would be resolved in a few days time, and to just hunker down and perform your daily routine as usual, save for the lack of one teacher and the ability to leave and get donuts.

"I just don't see why he's gotta be up in their faces," Rhodey was clearly voicing his concerns to Sam, who hadn't been in contact with Rogers since he accidentally blew a "place" up. You were in the kitchen chopping vegetables to make a simple stew, watching them with feigned amusement. They already had this conversation two hours ago, five hours ago, and right when the facility went on lock down. You clicked your tongue, garnering their attention.

"Let the situation play out, we already know he's innocent," You went back to chopping the vegetables, throwing what you had in the pot and setting aside the others for precooking. Sam sat down with a sigh.

"Maybe, but the military doesn't know that," He raised his eyebrows, seeming apprehensive. Rhodey shook his head, hands on his hips.

"We need to step in and resolve this," He snapped, and you locked eyes with him before giving a decisive chop.

"If we step in, we risk escalating it. Your name is War Machine," You reminded him with deadpan in your eyes. He looked away with a twinge of embarrassment.

"True. This just feels wrong," He sighed, scratching the back of his head and glancing at the big pot you were adding to, "Whatcha making?"

"Stew. I figured we all needed some comfort food," A voice from the hallway behind you caught everyone's attention: a feminine, thick accent.

"It smells divine," The magical girl offered you a small smile, which you returned in full as you set the heat for the oil in the other pain.

"Thank you Wanda," You gave her a nod, "It'll be ready in time for dinner."

"Dinner? Oh c'mon it's lunch time!" Rhodey whined, and Sam nodded, looking to you expectantly. You scoffed, eyes wide.

"I'm not your maid, nor your mother. Make a sandwich," You chuckled, shaking your head. Wanda giggled, walking behind you to get to the fridge.

"If you slice the meats, I will make the rest," The boys were up and ready immediately, enticed by the idea of immediate food. You had to explain that stewing took time, and unbeknownst to you, a watchful eye was taking the information in, fascinated by the family recipe. Where were the instructions, rules, parameters? How did you know this all? Most human customs could be found on the internet, but not everything.

The same pair of blue eyes graced your presence for dinner, when everyone got together at the table and enjoyed the stew. Natasha commented that it reminded her of Russia, but Stark reminded her that leeks were Asian. The individual who couldn't eat tried to stay out of the conversation, but was eventually brought in as a human calculate to give Stark some closure on a bet with Rhodey.

You watched on with amusement, eyes mostly lingering around the neck of the walking AI. The way it moved when he spoke, the slow nods he gave that reminded you of a therapist gathering information. Your eyes travelled in from his broad shoulders to his collarbone, admiring the structure and wondering yet again how it tasted. The texture under your tongue would definitely be admirable, but you wondered if the robot could even have such thoughts. Surely he didn't understand the complexity of pining, wanton need, and he probably didn't even have a libido, much less one that matched yours that raged whenever he was near.

Your stolen glance at the man didn't remain unnoticed, "So, did you make the food just to distract us from you eating him with your eyes, or am I missing something?" Natasha asked cockily, and you nearly choked, turning to her with cheeks insanely dark. You were eternally grateful that she had kept her voice down, but the smug expression on her face gave most of the situation away.

"Natasha..." You scowled, face still red. She nodded, shoving a piece of stew meat into her mouth. She leaned closer from her seat beside you.

"He's a robot, subtle isn't his thing," She chuckled, and you groaned softly, looking down at your plate with complete embarrassment. You hadn't expected to be called out so obviously.

"It's my thing," You gave her wide warning eyes, to which she clicked her tongue and turned back to the boys, continuing the conversation.

You were safe from her teasing for the rest of the dinner. Most people resided to their rooms to do whatever heroes do after a long day's work and not being able to go out. Your idea had involved eating a spicy snack while watching a horror movie, but upon remembering the small smile Vision gave you during dinner, your focuses turned elsewhere.

His blue eyes, so captivating, so curious. You wondered if he was curious about the human body, if he had ever studied sex, if he'd taken a liking to any parts of it. Your hands travelled downwards, removing your bottoms and underwear. Movie and snacks forgotten, you turned the volume up a bit to cover your inevitable moans. No other ima`ginary bedroom fantasies could make you like this, but Vision? The soft soul who wishes only good on others, who yearns for friendship from everyone in the compound, who memorizes the staff's coffee orders just in case of a rainy day... You were head over heels for this man.

The rooms were mostly sound proof, but you were still paranoid, so you bit into your pillow while you worked yourself up, imagining it was his patterned, smooth hands, perhaps he would like you to match a pair of lingerie to his ruby red... well, you assumed it was skin. It was vibranium, but still.

Pumping in and out of you, figuring out what drove you mad and not stopping until he had pushed you over the edge, both of you excited for the finale. Your toes sunk into the bed sheets, your other hand roaming your body before resting on your clit, massaging it and causing your back to arch while you soft cooed the name of who you wish was your torturer.

It was a dreadful habit of his: he forgot that others couldn't phase through walls, and he ended up seeing things others would rather him not see. Half naked, them watching something out of character, etc. Alas, he was working on it...

He had stayed with Sam for a bit after dinner. He reminisced catching a sneak peak of the woman who made it, mesmerized by her harmonious movements, the quick quips back at Rhodey and Sam for wanting food sooner, and her shy humbleness during dinner when Stark complimented the dish. She was gorgeous, brave, and most of all, according to the internet, she liked him back.

She turned pink at all the right times, stumbled over her words only when speaking with him, and either is trying to violently get away from him or spend all of her time with him. He had downloaded all the information necessary to flirt, although seeing as Stark called them useless, he was back to square one.

Sam and him talked about his wings and the difference between flying with them and just having the ability to fly. Once Sam became bored, they both turned in for the night. Vision picked up after himself and went back to make sure the table was cleaned. Once he was sure everything was in order for the night, he made his way to the hall. With his enhanced hearing, he noticed what each Avenger was doing in their rooms. Bathing, watching TV, training, and some making noises he had learned meant to stay out.

Except he hadn't ever heard those noises from this particular room. It was (F/N)'s room, and he attempted to ignore them, keeping his head high and pace steady until he faintly heard his own name. He paused, then turned around elegantly to go back, standing in front of her door.

There again was his name, moaned in a long, drawn out voice that ended with more panting. It almost sounded like she was working out, but he knew from limited experience that he shouldn't take his chances. It was covered by a thick layer of music, but why would she say his name in such a way?

So he looked back down the hall, mind working a mile a minute. She was calling for him... Perhaps she was thinking about punching him? That would set his admiration scale back to below zero, like when he first met her. But the sweet sound of her voice didn't sound like it held hatred...

In fact, it sounded like it held pain. It previously felt euphoric, but it had suddenly become more desperate and higher pitched. If she was being assassinated, he would never forgive himself for not checking immediately. Her TV was also on, the assailant could be using it as a cover. He stepped through her door, making himself known before he saw her, "Miss (F/N)-"

The scream that erupted from the girl on the bed set his nerves on fire, and a few shuffles from other rooms could be heard. He stood in surprise: Her hands had been between her legs, fingers inside of herself. Her body laid out like a delicate flower, chest pushed up and muscles contracted. Upon hearing his voice, her immediate reaction was to scream and bolt upright, eyes wide and panting. She grabbed her bed sheets and covered herself, all while shouting at the shocked man.

"Fuck - oh my gods - GET OUT! Get out Vision, what the fuck? Get out!" She screamed, face beet red and clearly furious. He was given a stark reminder as to why he needed to knock.

"My apologies, I heard you calling my name and-" She didn't let him finish, instead wrapping herself in her sheets and pushing off the bed, her eyes spelling murder.

"You didn't fucking knock? What the HELL. You've got some fucking nerve, android," She snapped, stomping furiously toward him, obviously still embarrassed by her flushed expression. He put his hands up, genuinely worried that she would attack him. Instead, she stopped in front of him, "Why aren't you out? Get out!"

"I'm sorry, so sorry (F/N)," He took a hesitant step back, beginning to understand was real embarrassment was like. She was practically fuming, and before he could leave, she grabbed his arm, teeth grinding together while she tried to string a sentence together.

"Do you even - understand - how wrong.... what you did... was?" Her grip was tightening, and he observed her starting to try and calm herself down with deeper breathes.

"What you were doing was a personal, human affair," He stated with a hesitant nod, and you were about to nod with him, but you thought of a better option. When he first scared the living shit of out you, your reaction was purely instinct. Now that you were thinking straighter, you realized that if you could push your dignity to the side, perhaps you could get what you've been wanting...

You were still riled up after all, and you knew that learning how to be human was something he adored, "If you're trying to exclude yourself from that group," You took another deep breath, using your grip on his arm to steady yourself, "Technically, I mean, you can probably..." You looked down to his navel region, nodding. When your eyes snapped back up, you were met with a confused set of robotic eyes.

"I'm not following your logic, Miss (F/N)," His velvety accent wasn't doing your aching core any good. If he didn't leave soon, you might not be able to stop yourself from jumping him, "Are you saying you don't wish for me to leave you?"

"I'm not - wait, I'm just -" As he tugged away from you, you tried to pull him back, and he got closer than before, his eyes scanning your face with curiosity, "Do you remember when you first came here?"

"Yes, I remember my birth quite vividly," He nodded slowly.

"And you remember how you made clothes for yourself, then a big ol' cape?"

"Yes," His voice was a whisper now, as if he was starting to follow your reasoning, "So what you are saying is... You think I can create a penis?"

"Always straightforward, eh?" You don't think your cheeks could get any darker at this point. He so obviously stated that, as if talking about the weather. You swallowed hard, struggling to maintain eye contact.

"I could try, but I need an example," He reminded you, and you finally let go of his arm, wrapping your own around your stomach in a protective, shy manner. The corners of his mouth raised up slightly, as if amused.

"Example..." You whispered to yourself, looking at the ground, "It's uh... I mean, you don't even have to do this..."

"But (F/N), you have peaked my curiosity, and you seem to have thought about this before," He stepped forward with the confidence of a pride of lions as always, placing a hand on your arm delicately. This must be a dream - never in a hundred years did you think this situation would happen. This was something out of a cheesy porno...

"Maybe I have," You whispered, then cleared your throat, looking behind you at the loud TV, "I... Vision, this is a lot more important than you realize," You looked back at him, and he looked as placid as always. You tried to get the message to sink in, "Sex, Vision. Sex means a lot. It bonds two people, it's not just... Casual, between friends, at least it's not usually..."

"We are both unusual people," His hand traced up to your neck as he took another step forward, almost closing the gap between you. Your hand shot up to cover his own, leaning your head into it.

"I don't want this to be between friends," You sighed, glancing between his arm and his eyes, "Please."

"You wish for this to be between lovers?" He sounded almost breathless. You'd never seem him this surprised before, not even when Stark had painted his entire room pink as a prank. You nodded with wide eyes, smiling.

"Yeah, that. I'd love to do this as lovers," You stayed put, waiting for his confirmation.

"That would be... New. But you seem like a lovely teacher," You closed the gap between you, reaching up behind his neck and pulling him down for a kiss.

Once your feelings were established, you brought him to the bed, sitting down on the edge with your laptop. You felt like Stark would tease you for your search history, but you typed in "Erect penis," and scrolled through a few photos before landing on one. You handed the laptop over to the robotic man, and he studied it shamelessly. As he did, he muttered, "Could you turn your TV down, I'm terribly sorry, but I must focus."

"Of course, yeah," You bolted up, rushing to the TV. You turned it off completely, and when you sat back down, you observed him nodding slowly to himself.

"The structure is fairly simple. How large is it, might you say?" The question caught you off guard, and you scrambled for an answer. It's not like you thought about penises every day.

"Uh, sizes vary, but uh, the average is about five and a half inches tall. Most guys want more, girls too I guess," You pressed your lips together, looking away from him as he closed the laptop, the silence suddenly much too loud for your liking. This was about to happen - This was about to happen. You were going to teach a robot to love the old fashion way, and your adrenaline was surging.

He looked at you with confusion, but nodded, "What would you want?"

"Oh my gosh," You whispered to yourself, covering your mouth with your hand. He recognized the expression and was quick to apologize for stepping out of line, but you shook your head, "No, it's just... This is all so lewd. Like, you're asking me to choose what size... okay, um, seven inches? Is that okay?" Your voice was rising in pitch.

"Yes. Are you alright, (F/N)? You seem almost scared of me," He leaned closer to you, and out of embarrassment, you leaned away groaning and chuckling.

"I'm horny Vision, read my vitals or something," You waved him off, embarrassed, and he nodded slowly. Turning back to him with a small smile, you studied his robotic face that held that same curious emotion as always.

"My research has said I, as the male, should control the situation. Is this correct to your standards?" Your eyes widened, and you cocked a sassy eyebrow before smirking and scooting closer to him.

"You'll have to fight for control, Vision," You traced down his leathery metallic arm, "I've wanted this, I've wanted you to ruin me, but if you construct the nerves right," You swung yourself around, dropping the blanket covering you and straddling his legs, "I can ruin you," You gave him a confident smile, and he tilted his head to the side.

You were going crazy with the feeling of your bare skin against his synthesized own. You leaned closer, but before you could kiss him, he shifted his body weight and you were suddenly under him, breathless, "That wasn't much of a fight, (F/N)."

"Oh fuck me," You muttered with a voracious grin, shifting him back over and pushing him against the bed by the shoulders, taking a mouthful of his neck and biting. He gawked, then lightly pushed your head away. You were attached like a leech, however, and he chuckled nervously.

"This would break my capillaries (F/N), are you trying to-? Oh, a hickey," For a robot, he was still pretty slow on the update, "I could allow such things," Grinding against him while you bit, enjoying the fleshy, metallic taste, you were surprised when he pushed himself to sit up, and you tried to push him back down.

However, you felt his skin disappear, and you fell against the bed. Before you could turn around, his hips were pressed against your ass, and his hands holding you in place, "Please behave, (F/N)."

As hot as he sounded, you wouldn't go down without a fight. You struggled, pushing against the male. He stayed in place like a brick wall, but when you felt his "breath" against your neck, you paused, your breath hitching.

"I do hope this doesn't hurt," You cried out lewdly when he sank his teeth into the back of your neck, pressing your legs together uncomfortably and grinding back against him. You moaned as he pulled at the skin, his lips rough but gentle against your skin. His arms were on either side of your head, and through your haze of lust, you saw an opening.

You hooked an arm around his own, shifting your weight and slamming his back against the bed. You twisted expertly, straddling him and grabbing his wrists. You pushed them down, and he stared at you with wide eyes, flickering down to your lips, then back up, "You seem to prefer the power, should I let you have it?"

"Don't give up now Vision," You were panting, "The play just adds to-" He tried to slip out of your grasp, and you pulled away when his hands were free, turning around to scramble off when he grabbed your waist, pulling you back onto his lap. You clawed his arms that were wrapped around you, then melted when one travelled up to your breast, the cold metal soothing you immediately.

"Relax (F/N), this is my first time, I don't want to have to hurt you," You felt your stomach twist around with anxious glee; he was starting to get the hang of this. You needed him inside of you though, so you ground back against him, wanton and needy.

"M-Make it Vision," You whispered, and he went silent. You thought you had done something wrong, but then you felt something poke against your ass, and you immediately knew that he had succeeded.

"Mission successful," He teased, and you laughed, shaking your head, "I hope you remember to hide it after this."

"I will," He then shifted against you, the metallic penis pressed across your labia, "Will you let me aid you, (F/N), or must I fight for dominance more?"

"N-No, I'll obey," You mentally slapped yourself. It wasn't like he was your master or anything, you just wanted to give him the full treatment, "Please yourself and me, don't..." You whimpered, grinding against him for more friction, "Don't leave yourself without any pleasure."

"I must say, the amount of nerve endings in the genitalia is astounding," You laughed breathily at his words, but reached down to grab his penis, "Let me," You paused upon grabbing it, the girth and length exactly as you had specified.

"Alright," He then released his grip on you.

"Lay down," You followed his command, "Please," You chuckled at him remembering his manners. Your heart quickened when he crawled on top of you. You placed one hand on his chest, and grabbed his shoulder with the other, "Shall I?"

"Please," You leaned up to kiss him, and he met you with gentle fervour. His cold tip pressed into you, and you shivered. He then sent some sort of signal to his pelvis region, and it heated up to body-temperature, "Thanks," You chuckled.

"I forgot how cold my skin is compared to your delicate own," He pressed on, and finally he was almost completely sheathed. You would need to stretch a little to take all of him, however.

"I'm not delic-cate..." You whispered, "I'm an assassin."

He pulled back, then snapped his hips forward, sending stars across your vision and a soft whimper from your lips, "I must disagree, you are metaphorically melting underneath me."

"Fuck," You whined, and he started a rhythm, making your head spin. When he finally was able to completely sheath within you, you rolled your hips against him, "Tell me h-how you feel, Vision."

"I assumed the nerve endings would cause me to feel pain, however," He paused, "I feel a nearly overwhelming sense of oxytocin."

"Human t-terms, Vision," He started to move, and you whimpered, rolling against him again. He got the idea and started to thrust slowly and cautiously, as if testing what level of his vast strength this would take.

"It feels very good," He chuckled shortly, his usual 'laugh' due to his nearly completely nonexistent sense of humour.

"Don't la-ah..." Before you could tell him not to laugh at you, he hit a particularly sweet spot inside of you, raising your voice an octave and causing your eyes to shoot open, staring into his perplexed, interested own.

"How peculiar," He whispered, and like a robot would, he adjusted to only thrusting into that particular part of you. He was also picking up the pace in a methodical way.

"It-Ah, oh my gods, oh wow..." You grabbed the sheets under you, then grabbed his shoulders, taking deep breaths to try and get a hold of yourself, "Fuck... oh my gods Vision..."

"Please calm yourself (F/N), you're becoming quite loud," He almost sounded proud of himself, that bastard. You, however, didn't have much control over your moans, and you grit yourself, pushing a shaky breath out.

"Shut me up then," You let out a particularly loud whine, and he quickly covered your mouth with his hand, the other going to grab your waist to continue his ministrations. You felt your orgasm getting closer, and you grabbed his shoulder blades, writhing around and arching against him.

When it happened, you screamed against his hand, and his eyes widened, his hips not stopping. Your chest was heaving, and your legs wrapped around his hips, pulling him deeper into you. He didn't understand what you meant, however, and continued to thrust.

When you were just whining and whimpering, he finally lifted his hand and stopped, looking you over just like when he had first seen New York: absolutely mesmerized. You were flush red, panting, arched against his cool skin, and almost completely at his mercy. Maybe with a couple more rounds you would do anything for him, but you hoped it would take a while for him to learn that. You pulled him down for another kiss, and when he pulled back, a shaky, tasteless breath graced your lips, "You are objectively beautiful."

"That's just your oxyto-so-whatever talking," You giggled, and he shook his head as if it was the simplest thing in the world.

"I cannot lie unless I must, and why would I lie now? I could easily win against you-"

"If you say anything more," You had to take a couple deep breaths, still finding it hard to breathe, and envying his lack of needing to, "I'll tell Stark you know how to make a penis."

He nodded, and you had to laugh, shaking your head and sighing after. With him still inside of you, you sat comfortably for about a minute, then you asked him to pull out. He obliged, "You can talk now, just not about how pretty you think I am."

"You are, I must correct," You groaned, then whined, "Just lay next to me and cuddle, I think I only had one round in me."

"Cuddle..." He trailed on, his eyes narrowing in what you knew as 'searching the internet for every reference he can,' then he floated next to you and laid one arm across your stomach. You curled around him, wrapping a leg around his waist. You felt a distinct lack of penis now, noticing that he had dematerialized it. Not commenting on it, you cuddled closer. He seemed to heat up the part of his body you were cuddled into.

"You don't have to heat up that much... I kind of like how cold you are," You murmured, "It's you, distinctly you."

"Me," You felt him shift to look down at you, "I have a trait, that of a robot, that you view as special to me?"

"Some people are really warm, some are really cold. We call them human heaters or coolers. You're just a human cooler," You nuzzled into his chest, hugging him to you. He wrapped an arm under you, and you adjusted to get comfy. It wasn't like he would lose circulation overnight, assuming he would stay for a bit.

"Thank you," He spoke quietly, as if he didn't want to break whatever train of thought brought you to your conclusion. You swallowed hard, asking the inevitable question.

"What does this make us? Like, you know what dating is, right?"

"Of course," He rubbed your back softly, and you noted that it was right where it had been sore from earlier training. That bastard and his x-ray vision, "You may choose, for I have no experience to base this from."

"Let's call it dating, but not tell the others for a while, okay?" You smiled, starting to feel sleepy.

"Very well," He stayed in that position for a couple minutes until you realized something that brought the smile back to your now sleepy face.

"Did you make a heartbeat just for me?" You whispered, and he chuckled, the sound reverberating through his metallic chest.

"I thought it would sooth you. Would you like me to turn the lights down, (F/N)?"

"It does, and yes. Do you want to stay the night?" You felt your consciousness ebb and flow, and you fought to stay awake.

"Yes, I think I will."

#vision #vision x reader #the vision #the avengers #avengers #avengers civil war #marvel #scenario #smut #mod pasta

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wlwhovian · 3 years

Text

Lost

Thirteenth Doctor/Reader

Word count: 2119 Genre: Whump & hurt/comfort Summary: You’d hoped she’d be here by now. No Doctor and no TARDIS, you find yourself lost in the middle of nowhere with nothing and no one to turn to. Usually it would be fine, only the forest has things hiding in it that you would rather not meet face-to-face. You just hope the Doctor finds you in time. Warnings: Big bugs

It’s getting dark.

You shiver as the cold settles in futher, a chill running down your spine, and try to keep your teeth from chattering as you huddle up, trying to reserve what body heat you still have left.

You’ve managed to find an alcove in one of the trees that succesfully blocks most of the wind, but every now and then when the breeze picks up, it seems to puncture your meager shelter like paper. The forest is silent, save for stray critters skittering around, looking for food, and your own heavy breathing. You blow air into your freezing palms and rub them together. Fuck, it’s cold.

It’s been hours now. There’s no sign of the Doctor, or the TARDIS, and their striking absence is slowly forcing you to consider the chance that maybe she’s not coming, and if that really is the case, then you can’t afford to stay here and wait, slowly freezing to death. No, you have to do something. Right now. What that is, though, you aren’t so sure. Shelter is pretty high on the list of priorities, and you kick yourself for not thinking about any of this earlier, because now the sun is well past setting and finding anything useful will be, if not impossible, very, very difficult. Not to mention that you’d have to leave your meager cover and exchange it’s relative safety for a temperature that’s dropping lower by the second.

You think, once again, how the Doctor told you to stay close, to not get separated, to stay with the bloody group, but here you are all on your lonesome, lost in the middle of the woods. You just can’t listen, can you? You never can. And this time, it just might be the slow, unforgiving death of you.

You jump when something cracks in the distance. You quiet your breathing and try to remain as still as humanly possible, but you can’t keep your hands from trembling, and proceed to stuff them under your arms with a curse under your breath. You’re not sure if it’s the sudden surge of adrenaline or if it’s just the fucking cold.

You can see movement beyond a fallen tree, about ten feet away from where you’re hiding, and your stomach lurches when you get a better look at the source of the noise. It’s not the Doctor. It’s not even humanoid.

Halfway hidden by the treeline you can see a lengthy arching back, covered in some kind of plating, and what looks like dozens of little wiggling legs. Well, little might be an understatement. Try something more like the size of your forearm. They all move in unison with a thick, wet, squelching sound that makes your stomach turn. It slithers over the fallen tree, landing with a soft thump against the ground, and in the encroaching darkness you can see a pair of antennae wiggling in the air as it takes in it’s surroundings. When it gets closer you manage to get a better look and you can tell the creature is, in fact, a massive centipede, and it is headed right towards you with an uncanny determination that makes you wonder if it already knows you’re there. You need to run. Or hide. Anything. You can’t just sit here, for fuck’s sake! You shift your position against the tree, preparing to crawl through the foliage, or run for your life if you have to.

Your heart skips a beat when the ground crumbles under your foot and a whole patch of earth comes loose, sending gravel flying down the hill, cascading over the centipede in rock-hard rain. It turns it’s head on the spot and lets out a deafening screech that forces you to clamp your hands over your ears. The creature shoots towards you at an absurd speed, tiny legs shifting and scuttling and you back away as far as you can, but as your back hits solid stone, you have no choice but to admit that you’re trapped. You cover your face as the centipede rears up, throwing half it’s body in the air, and roars, slathering you in thick, gooey spit that smells like gasoline and spoiled food. You try to breathe in, but the air is heavy with the odour and your chest keeps tightening, like your lungs are being held hostage by your own ribs. You let out one final cry, a little high pitched hiccup, before the creature descends upon you, ready to rip you into shreds.

A flash of light. An electronic whirring. Very potent cursing spiced with a strong Yorkshire accent, followed by another screech from the insect before it crawls away into the distance. Hurried footsteps.

Something heavy and soft is dropped on your shoulders, and you dig deep into the warmth like your life depends on it. A hand lands on your shoulder, but you can’t bear to look up. Your neck is frozen in place, and you sit there, violently shivering, your entire body shaking with uncontrollable tremors. You hear rustling, before your head is gently guided towards someone’s chest, where it is held by a soft, warm hand. You try to breathe in, and listen to their heartbeat. Heartbeats. Plural.

”Doctor?” you manage to mumble, words coming out in a thick slur.

”Shh,” she says, and runs a hand through your sweat-soaked hair. ”It’s alright.” She bends down until her face is in right in front of yours, offering you a sympathetic smile. ”I’ve got you.”

A choked sob escapes from your lips, but it turns into a frenzied gasp that leaves you dry-heaving, and as you weakly nod in confirmation, your head lurches forwards. The Doctor grabs your shoulders and lets you rest in the crook of her neck, where you allow yourself to close your eyes for a moment. It doesn’t help though, because no matter how much you try to make yourself calm down, how many times you try to get yourself to just breathe, air refuses to enter your lungs and you’re left to claw at your throat with feeble, trembling hands.

The Doctor takes your hand in hers and gives it a squeeze, before she presses it against her lips. The simplicity of the intimacy in the gesture makes you press yourself tighter against her, as if you could burrow into her, somewhere she could always keep you safe.

”It’ll be okay. Promise,” she says. Her voice is strained and her brow is furrowed, and she looks so awfully sad that you want to kick yourself for not being able to do anything about it. ”You’re in shock. We need to get you somewhere warm and safe, ok? The TARDIS is just around the corner, we’ll be there in no time.” She pauses. ”Are you hurt?”

You shake your head what meager amount you can.

”Right. That’s good. Proper good.”

You wait for a moment, trying to get the words straight in your head before you try and actually speak them aloud. The Doctor’s chest rises and falls, and you try to focus on the motion instead of the swimming in your head. Eventually, you finally manage to open your mouth despite your tongue feeling dry as sand. ”I’m sorry.”

It’s such a small sentence, only two words, and yet, saying it feels like climbing a whole slew of mountains.

The Doctor shimmies you around until she has you in what she deems an acceptable grip, before rising to her feet, with you carefully secured against her. She takes a few tentative steps before settling into a steady walking pace. Once she’s sure that she’s not going to drop you, she looks down and makes sure she catches your eye. ”None of that now, love. There’s nothin’ to be sorry for.”

Her voice is so gentle, steady like a rock in the middle of a raging sea, that it makes you want to cry. You try to make yourself as small as possible, but all your extremities are numb and you’re not sure if moving would only make it harder for the Doctor to carry you. There’s a weight in your eyelids that’s getting harder and harder to resist, and you have to fight a losing battle to keep them from shutting.

The Doctor takes notice, and offers you an encouraging smile. ”Don’t you go fallin’ asleep on me just yet.” She speeds up to a jog, and you do your best to hold on to her shoulders, but your fingers keep slipping and your hands shake so bad that you can barely get them moving. ”We’re almost there.” She glances a the forest in front of you, before muttering under her breath: ”Really should’ve parked closer.”

You swear you had only closed your eyes for a second, but suddenly you’re being engulfed by the light flowing from the TARDIS, and Graham is ushering the two of you inside. The doors shut with a slam, and when your whole body is drowning in warmth and silken light, you find the world slipping away as deep, comforting darkness takes over.

You awaken to a great, throbbing headache and the scent of raspberries. It smells like safety, like home and saturday mornings spent with a cup of tea, and you let yourself bask in the quiet for a moment. Opening your eyes, you can immediately tell that you’re in your own bedroom, with the lights dimmed and softly playing music easing you back into the waking world. You’ve been stuffed under several thick blankets, but there’s still a persistent chill somewhere deep under your skin. You try taking a deep breath, and this time your chest rises and falls just as it should. The scent of raspberries only gets stronger with each draw of air.

”Gave us quite the scare, you did.”

You jump, but under the heavy weight, nobody but you can probably tell. You turn your head, wincing as pain shoots down your neck, and end up face to face with the Doctor. She’s sitting cross legged in a chair drawn up next to your bed from it’s usual place, holding what looks to be a cheap erotic romance novel, and a cup of tea in her hand. That explains the smell, at the very least.

You sigh. ”I’m sorry,” you say, eyes strictly trained on the frayed edge of the blanket. The Doctor places the book down on the armrest, before turning to fully face you.

”There you go again,” she says with a lop-sided smile. ”With the sorries and the apologies. I told you,” she pauses as she shifts to hold her cup more securely, ”You’ve nothin’ to be sorry for. Pinkie swear.” She holds out her little finger and you take it with yours. ”Unless you try to get up before you’re ready, in which case I’ll have no choice but to detain you.”

”Detain me?” you ask with a snort.

”Made you laugh,” the Doctor says, smiling mischieviously. You throw one of your pillows at her.

”Oh, shut up.”

”I’m serious!” she says. ”Bedrest is nothin’ to be laughed at, you know. Plenty of things get much better by having a lie down.”

”You’re one to talk. The last time I saw you in bed was probably two weeks ago.”

”But I’m not human, am I?”

You look away, sheepish. ”No.”

”And humans need their rest. Lots of it.”

”Fine,” you say, rolling your eyes. ”Have it your way.”

The Doctor grins at you. ”That’s more like it.” She drains her cup and stands up, giving her back a hefty stretch. ”You just try and sleep, alright? Doctor’s orders.” She turns to leave, and you find your hand shooting out from beneath the blankets to hold hers. The Doctor turns, surprised and a little confused. You can’t make yourself look her in the eye.

”Could you stay with me?” you ask, and you can already feel heat creeping up your neck, covering your cheeks in a flush. A second passes by. To you, it’s one too many, and you draw your hand back to where it was, an apology already on your lips, before the Doctor interrupts you.

”Of course.”

You’re not really sure what you expected, but upon being granted your request, you’re not sure what to do. The Doctor grins. ”Do you want me to hop on the bed too, or should I stay in me chair? I could read you this literary masterpiece,” she says, gesturing at the book that’s still open on the armrest.

”Come here?” you ask, your voice quiet and shy. The Doctor beams. She picks up the book and crawls over you, so that she’s leaning against the wall, her legs crossed on top of you.

”Right! Alright, so, in the previous chapter..”

You try to listen. You really, really do, but the comforting narration of the Doctor combined with the abysmal plot of the book has you falling back asleep in minutes. The last thing you remember before nodding off is her taking your hand in hers, holding it carefully as she lightly draws circles on your skin with her thumb. You only wonder how you ever got this lucky.

#thirteenth doctor x reader #13th doctor x reader #whump #doctor who #hurt/comfort #this is just a 2k words long excuse to be weak and get carried by the doctor

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cosmicbash · 3 years

Note

#8 of angst sentence starters for emgk?

"Is that blood?" "....no?"

TRIGGER WARNING: REFERENCED SELF HARM

-----

"Stupid prick-" Colson muttering under his breath, rubbing his cold hands together and puffing warm air over them with his mouth while he settles into his admittedly warmer standing spot right in the main foyer of Marshall's mansion.

He feels stupid.

He shouldn't even be here, in the house, in the neighborhood, fuck in Detroit at all. Not when a few hours ago he had blown up Marshall's phone with a dozen dramatic texts. Curses and promises that he was really done this time. That he wasn't putting up with the bullshit, and the lieing, and the hiding any longer. Hell, he'd even texted the asshole a screenshot of a last minute ticket home he'd booked.

A flight that just took off about 30 minutes ago. Around when Marshall's last pleading text had come through and he had outright lied and claimed to be on it.

Obviously he wasn't. No, instead he'd spent the last 3 fucking hours huddled up in the bushes of his boyfriends house. Wrapping himself up in his expensive fuzzy jackets and keeping himself warm off the boiling rage inside his gut.

Inevitably it had run out though, and the bitter Detroit nights had won their war against him too.

In LA crashing outside for the night over a petty squabble was totally possible. Downright easy most times of the year. But here? Where his humid high temperature weather preferring body was constantly fighting off a chill even on the sunniest day? It was impossible.

A toxic part of Colson wanted to hurt himself, sure, a little bit of self harm always followed these kind of manic blow ups in the days before Marsh. But the part of him that hurts just from seeing Marshall hurt over his stupid choices keeps those thoughts at bay.

It's what got him finally giving in and slinking back to the front door. His boyfriends genuine trust to give him the security code the only thing saving him his last shreds of dignity while he padded back inside.

He's not going to go crawling up the stairs and back into Marshall's bed though. Not even if the waiting warm body and even warmer makeup kisses await.

No, Colson's still got a flicker of anger resting in his belly from earlier. At best he's going to go sleep in one of the guest rooms. Just, silently sneak himself in there and await for the morning to come and for the sounds of Marshall spotting his bag in the foyer and rushing through the halls to find him.

He wants the asshole to really get it through his head this time.

That they can't keep hiding this forever.

Colson doesn't even want to be fully out, that's not a necessity here. He just wants to be a "friend". Someone who can openly visit Detroit and boast about his boyfriends new music in interviews. Who can drive to Marshall's studio and enter through the front door instead of some shitty secret alley entrance.

Colson just wants the basics. He wants to at least be able to stand up and say his boyfriends fucking name without the media going nuts and speculations rising about their "beef".

Is that really too much to ask after almost 2 years of sneaking around?

A loud clatter and string of curses from the kitchen almost scares a scream out of Colson. He's standing a few stairs up from the landing, his careful quiet stride temporary abandoned in favor of freezing.

Marshall's awake.

Of course he is. Why wouldn't he be? Colson knows he wouldn't actually be able to sleep if Em had been the one to dump him and take off in the middle of the night. So why would he assume Marshall would be any different? If the dick truly loves him as much as Colson loves him back than sleep will be impossible.

It definitely throws a wrench in the blonde's original plan. Theres no way he's hiding out until morning now, not when Marshall's going to spot the bag the second he leaves the kitchen and drags himself back up to their room to mourn his absence.

He could snag his bag and try to sneak the rest of the way upstairs, but, then how will Marshall know he's here? Waking up early to surprise the dude doesn't sound very appealing either.

So Colson hesitates. He shuffles his weight from foot to foot, lip chewed between his teeth while he weighs his options.

Talking over it all tonight feels still too soon.

Another crash. This time one with very audible glass shattering and a defined scream of anguish following it.

Both of which are more than enough to make up Colson's mind for him. His feet moving and heart racing before he can even finish his small gasp of surprise.

He can't leave him. Not after hearing that wail. He's never heard Marshall get that loud, or sound that broken amidst all the anger. It wrenches his heart right in two. Half flying right to the kitchen while the one still inside him drags itself along. Clinging desperately onto the stretched muscle tissue and tendons still holding them "together".

He's expecting broken plates. A good old post breakup fine China inventory session to ease some of the pain. He's done those a few times himself. It's therapeutic.

And yes, he does find porcelain and ceramic, and fucking glass sprinkled across the tile floor and across a few countertops. But that's not the only thing he finds decorating the marble.

"Is....is that blood?"

Suddenly his voice feels small. His heart does too, like its shrunk down into a tight ball and dropped to the pit of his stomach.

His eyes are locked on bright crimson.

There's drops of it, and then a splatter, he doesn't want to call it a puddle. Because a puddle would be bad. Calling it a puddle would mean all those rapid worried thoughts banging at the door to his subconscious about Marshall purposefully hurting himself would need to be let in. A splatter can still be from an accident.

There's nothing but silence meeting him in the kitchen too. So quiet that Colson can hear the seconds literally tick by on the clock. Every one loud and defeaning in his ears until just when he's about to choke out a frantic call of his boyfriend name, Marshall responds.

"...no?" It's quiet, quieter than even his own shocked question had been, and redirects Colson's gaze a few feet further away. To where he can see bare feet peeking out from behind the island.

Colson wants to drop to the floor from relief alone. His hand already covering his fast beating heart and eyes closing to thank whatever fucking deity exists above that his stupid boyfriend had obviously just cut himself smashing a few plates. "Fuck Marshall. You scared the shit out of me-" already whatever anger he still had lingering in his system feels snuffed out. A hysterical half smile tugging at his mouth as he side steps the broken shards littering the kitchen linoleum. "I thought you-"

"W-wait! Don't come in-" Colson's feet almost stumble him right to the floor himself in his sudden stop. That earlier knot returning to his stomach with a vengeance over Marshall's sudden shift in volume and tone.

The rapper sounds terrified.

"I-I thought you- You said you were done? You, fuck Colson, you sent me the ticket, you- you left!" He's never hear Marshall this frazzled, unstable. His voice steadily climbing in volume until he lets out a shout that rings Colson's ears. "You're not supposed to be here right now!"

It's the second push Colson needs to get himself moving again though. His feet stumbling the rest of the way forward to finally round the countertop.

"Shit...Marsh..."

This time Colson does let his body drop when his legs feel like they're going to give out.

Imagining even for a second Marshall hurting himself had hurt, but seeing it? Seeing his actual physical boyfriend right in front of him clutching some stained rag over his wrist all red in the face, tear tracks drenching his cheeks, and knowing it's all because of him taking off like a child? Thats so far beyond hurting. It's off the charts.

"I'm sorry."

#and gonna end it there becuase holy shit #that drug out very long #sorry #emgk #asks #i love asks #tw triggers #tw #twigger warning #tw: self harm #tw:sh #sh #i domt know if thats how to tw it

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round1addict01 · 3 years

Text

My experience on Apex Legends Mains:

This is just my experience, I can't speak for everyone since people have different experiences and opinions towards certain mains. This is for laughs and fun. Nothing serious and just stupid thoughts. Will go by alphabetical order!

Bangalore:

Really aggressive and quick to run in. Pretty good aim and for some reason the first one to be shot at. I hear her voice saying she's been hit at multiple times before anyone else. Sometimes can't wait for the team to catch up and end up being downed fairly quickly. Uses smokes for the rez but they do it at the wrong place. Forget that they are in the open when rezzing. Pretty slippery to kill due to their passive. Uses their Ultimate anywhere... even when the enemy team can easily go indoors... Overall, they're pretty solid teammates.

Bloodhound:

These feral people I swear to god-. A wild card when teamed up with. Unpredictable and most of the time exceed expectations. Will use Beast of the Hunt when the fight starts but the fight lasts 20s. *HEAVY BREATHING*. Uses scan on places that are empty just in case but then alerts people nearby. Wants to land in densely populated areas. I enjoy their company and they're pretty good at what they work with.

Caustic:

The one teammate who will block entrances with their gas traps. Hell breaks loose when there's 2 in a fight. Teammates are annoyed at them when in an enclosed space. Second most often to rage quit. Will stick traps onto the trident as the one driving will have to cross their fingers that no one shoots them. Will miss their ultimate, no where close to the enemies. Satisfying to play as and a piece of shit to play against. Ironically the most serious legend has the most hilarious moments.

Crypto:

This bad boy... is covered in traps or punched by teammates to a new location for laughs. Underrated. Super helpful but no one notices him. Teammates flock around him and t-bag until he gets back. Will most likely be around Mirage mains for the banter. Will hide behind a rock instead of being inside a building. Hearing the "wrrrrr" of his drone induces anxiety. They know this and try to mess with you. Shooting the drone and failing always gives them the ">:3". Please give these mains the attention they deserve.

Gibraltar:

I love them. They can slam my back and I'd thank them. That being said... they need to be more aware of their surroundings. They have really awful timing when it comes to rezzing. Sometimes forget that his shield is not as invincible and can be passed through. Dies while rezzing. The most protective and supportive teammate. Also really friendly. Praise them because they will die for you. *small smooch to the cheek for gibby mains*

Horizon:

"We can all use a pick me up" heard 99.999% of the match. Love to be on the high ground. Really pleasant to listen to her voice. Seen most often in teams now. Experimenting new strategies. People are still getting used to her so not much to say at the moment. Sweet people with the will to help teammates.

Lifeline:

Tries their best to be helpful but their kit is used poorly. Uses the shield from D.O.C. to fight instead of finding cover to help rez. Speaking of rez, the one being rezzed will be downed again and again until the enemy finally puts down their misery. Will lose the fight when the rez isn't finished and the person gets killed. Most likely to get pissed when another teammate rezzes downed players. Healing during a fight will result in being found and getting blasted with bullets. Will complain when they don't get the loot. Asks for the loot you have so they can later die with it.

Loba:

Queen of getting away. Bracelet is loud enough to attract enemies and they're not aware of this sometimes. Once the black market open you gotta look all areas just in case an enemy team sees or hears the outline. Will open black market 90% of the match no matter where they are. Never deactivates their black market. I have never ever seen it happen. Revenant and Bangalore mains will most likely be teamed up with her. Really helpful teammates and generous when it comes to loot.

Mirage:

These people absolutely adore his humor and banter with everyone. Will use the riding skydive emote the most. Bamboozles actually trick you and you realize how dumb you can be. Makes people waste their bullets and revel in this fact. Rezzing is very nice.... until you hear footsteps then it's extreme anxiety. Has meme potential in anything. Will try to use their ultimate to escape but will eventually be shot at. Half of the fakes run into walls or objects which will have the enemy team look directly at the real one. Goofy and fun to be around but anxiety goes straight up when they're trying to rez.

Octane:

Speedy bois. Hella hard to hit and never stop running. Try their hardest to get teammate banners. Cheer on these devil babies, they do so much. Slurps and throw up loot all in one go. *90's racing music in the background*. Unfortunately abandons their team behind when 1 person is downed. Can't stay indoors for long and keeps moving destinations. Cannot drive the titan for their life and crash land near edges of maps. Makes me grip the mouse and keyboard when they're driving.

Pathfinder:

Will use their grappling hook and either fly over their initial stop or be stuck under the building. I'm the one stuck under the buildings. Hella good at snipers and aerial shots. Is that one main who'd swing into action all cool but will crash face first into a building. Zip lines to fights and gets downed first. Gets impatient when groups don't show up and quit. 2nd most salty people in voice chat. Pretty good for rezzing and retreats. It's over when they have high ground.

Rampart:

Ballistic players who don't know how to chill. Gets the most attention with Shiela but also has their shields at all angles when a fight happens. Prepared for a gun fight at all times. Pair up with trap mains and create so much chaos. Will likely get pissed if teammates don't stay behind shield and get downed. Also underrated af. Shield get left all over the map and turns the fight around if the enemy uses it. Honestly need more Rampart in my life.

Revenant:

Guilty of playing him for his voice. I'm calling myself out here but I'll be damned if I don't drag the rest of the fandom down with me. Will keep climbing up to impossible heights until they get in the perfect spot. Crawly bois, sneaky af. Will forget to use their totem before a fight. This also is the case with their tactical. Throws themselves in the most populated areas as jump master. Pings loot for teammates. Ironic that the character is awful to other people but the mains are really nice people. Love to annoy Lobas and piss off everyone else if their teammates are trash.

Wattson:

Do not be fooled by their cute personalities and awesome skins. They are the most devilish mains. Will do the 90's anime laugh in your face as you get electrocuted. Anger them and the last thing you'll see is a finisher. Will put their Tesla in an open field and get it destroyed in seconds. FENCES EVERYWHERE. You'll try to protect them until you see that they've already won a 1v2-3 fight. Will kill in cold blood if you destroy a fence. Disposes your body by finishing you. Actually scary. The personification of ":)".

Wraith:

2 opposite spectrums. Either a noob or a 1000+ veteran. 1000+ veterans think they are privileged to own the best loot. Will voice chat just to complain and diss on your playstyle. Barely a team player and go off on their own just to die and get angry that "you're trash at the game". Very rarely will be cooperative to win a game. Noobs will have no clue and will follow you around like a lost child. T-bag moments. Will have you be the initiator of everything because the other teammate will just follow along too. Average Wraith players are the most chill players and don't say much but do a lot with their actions.

If I fucked up anyone's expectations then I'm sorry. This list is pretty stupid but if anyone else related to this or has anything else to add then put it in tags or messages!

Thanks for reading my opinions and please stay hydrated, unclench your jaw, don't send hate comments, and get some rest!

#apex legends #apex horizon #apex wattson #apex revenant #apex bangalore #apex wraith #apex pathfinder #apex mirage #apex rampart #apex gibraltar #apex caustic #apex octane #apex lifeline #apex crypto #apex loba

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nealiios · 3 years

Text

The Supernatural 70s: Part I - Corruption of An Innocent

"We're mutants. There's something wrong with us, something very, very wrong with us. Something seriously wrong with us - we're soldiers writers."

-- with apologies to the screenwriter of "Stripes"

Dear reader, I have the darkest of revelations to make to you, a truth when fully and wholly disclosed shall most assuredly chill you to the bone, a tale that shall make you question all that you hold to be true and good and holy about my personal history. While you may have come in search of that narrative designer best known for his works of interactive high fantasy, you should know that he is also a crafter of a darker art, a scribbler of twisted tales filled with ghosts, and ghouls, and gargoyles. I am, dear innocent, a devotee of horrors! Mwahahahaha!

[cue thunderclap, lightning, pipe organ music]

Given the genre of writing for which most of you know me, I forgive you if you think of me principally as a fantasy writer. I don't object to that classification because I do enjoy mucking about with magic and dark woods and mysterious ancient civilizations. But if you are to truly know who I am as a writer, you must realize that the image I hold of myself is principally as a creator of weird tales.

To understand how and why I came to be drawn to this sub-genre of fantastic fiction, you first must understand that I come from peculiar folks. Maybe I don't have the Ipswich look, or I didn't grow up in a castle, but my pedigree for oddity has been there from the start. My mother was declared dead at birth by her doctor, and often heard voices calling to her in the dead of night that no one else could hear. Her mother would periodically ring us up to discuss events in our lives about which she couldn't possibly have known. My father's people still share ghost stories about a family homestead that burned down mysteriously in the 1960s. Even my older brother has outré memories about events he says cannot possibly be true, and as a kid was kicked off the Tulsa city bookmobile for attempting to check out books about UFOs, bigfoot, and ESP. It's fair to say I was doomed - or destined - for weirdness from the start.

If the above listed circumstances had not been enough, I grew up in an area where neighbors whispered stories about a horrifically deformed Bulldog Man who stalked kids who "parked" on the Old North Road near my house. The state in which I was raised was rife with legends of bigfoots, deer women, and devil men. Even in my childhood household there existed a pantheon of mythological entities invented explicitly to keep me in line. If I was a good boy, The Repairman would leave me little gifts of Hot Wheels cars or candy. If I was being terrible, however, my father would dress in a skeleton costume, rise from the basement and threaten to drag me down into everlasting hellfire (evidently there was a secret portal in our basement.) There were monsters, monsters EVERYWHERE I looked in my childhood world. Given that I was told as a fledgling writer to write what I knew, how could anyone have been surprised that the first stories I wrote were filled with the supernatural?

"The Nightmare" by John Henry Fuseli (1781)

My formative years during the late sixties and early seventies took place at a strange juncture in our American cultural history. At the same time that we were loudly proclaiming the supremacy of scientific thought because we'd landed men on the moon, we were also in the midst of a counter cultural explosion of interest in astrology, witchcraft, ghosts, extra sensory perception, and flying saucers. Occult-related books were flying off the shelves as sales surged by more than 100% between 1966 and 1969. Cultural historians would come to refer to this is as the "occult boom," and its aftershocks would impact popular cultural for decades to come.

My first contact with tales of the supernatural were innocuous, largely sanitized for consumption by children. I vividly remember watching Casper the Friendly Ghost and the Disney version of the Legend of Sleepy Hollow. I read to shreds numerous copies of both Where the Wild Things Are and Gus the Ghost. Likely the most important exposure for me was to the original Scooby Doo, Where Are You? cartoon which attempted to inoculate us from our fears of ghosts and aliens by convincing us that ultimately the monster was always just a bad man in a mask. (It's fascinating to me that modern incarnations of Scooby Doo seem to have completely lost this point and instead make all the monsters real.)

ABOVE: Although the original cartoon Scooby Doo, Where Are You? ran only for one season from 1969 to 1970, it remained in heavy reruns and syndication for decades. It is notable for having been a program that perfectly embodied the conflict between reason and superstition in popular culture, and was originally intended to provide children with critical thinking skills so they would reject the idea of monsters, ghosts, and the like. Ironically, modern takes on Scooby Doo have almost entirely subverted this idea and usually present the culprits of their mysteries as real monsters.

During that same time, television also introduced me to my first onscreen crush in the form of the beautiful and charming Samantha Stevens, a witch who struggles to not to use her powers while married to a frequently intolerant mortal advertising executive in Bewitched. The Munsters and The Addams Family gave me my first taste for "goth" living even before it would become all the rage in the dance clubs of the 1980s. Late night movies on TV would bring all the important horror classics of the past in my living room as Dracula, Frankenstein, the Wolf Man, the Invisible Man, the Phantom of the Opera, The Creature from the Black Lagoon, and Godzilla all became childhood friends. Over time the darkened castles, creaking doors, foggy graveyards, howling wolves, and ever present witches and vampires became so engrained in my psyche that today they remain the "comfort viewing" to which I retreat when I'm sick or in need of other distractions from modern life.

ABOVE: Elizabeth Montgomery starred in Bewitched (1964 - 1972) as Samantha Stephens, a witch who married "mortal" advertising executive Darren Stephens (played for the first five seasons by actor Dick York). Inspired by movies like I Married a Witch (1942) and Bell, Book and Candle (1958), it was a long running series that explored the complex relationship dynamics between those who possess magic and those who don't. Social commentators have referred to it as an allegory both for mixed marriages and also about the challenges faced by minorities, homosexuals, cultural deviants, or generally creative folks in a non heterogeneous community. It was also one of the first American television programs to portray witches not as worshippers of Satan, but simply as a group of people ostracized for their culture and their supernatural skills.

Even before I began elementary school, there was one piece of must-see gothic horror programming that I went out of my way to catch every day. Dark Shadows aired at 3:30 p.m. on our local ABC affiliate in Tulsa, Oklahoma which usually allowed me to catch most of it if I ran home from school (or even more if my mom or brother picked me up.) In theory it was a soap opera, but the show featured a regular parade of supernatural characters and themes. The lead was a 175 year old vampire named Barnabas Collins (played by Johnathan Frid), and the show revolved around his timeless pursuit of his lost love, Josette. It was also a program that regularly dealt with reincarnation, precognition, werewolves, time travel, witchcraft, and other occult themes. Though it regularly provoked criticism from religious groups about its content, it ran from June of 1966 until it's final cancellation in April of 1971. (I would discover it in the early 1970s as it ran in syndication.) Dark Shadows would spin off two feature-length movies based on the original, a series of tie-in novels, an excellent reboot series in 1991 (starring Ben Cross as Barnabas), and a positively embarrassingly awful movie directed by Tim Burton in 1991.

ABOVE: Johnathan Frid starred as Barnabas Collins, one of the leading characters of the original Dark Shadows television series. The influence of the series cannot be understated. In many ways Dark Shadows paved the way for the inclusion of supernatural elements in other soap operas of the 1970s and the 1980s, and was largely responsible for the explosion of romance novels featuring supernatural themes over the same time period.

While Dark Shadows was a favorite early television program for me, another show would prove not only to be a borderline obsession, but also a major influence on my career as a storyteller. Night Gallery (1969-1973) was a weekly anthology television show from Rod Serling, better known as the creator and host of the original Twilight Zone. Like Twilight Zone before it, Night Gallery was a deep and complex commentary on the human condition, but unlike its predecessor the outcomes for the characters almost always skewed towards the horrific and the truly outré. In "The Painted Mirror," an antiques dealer uses a magic painting to trap an enemy in the prehistoric past. Jack Cassidy plots to use astral projection to kill his romantic rival in "The Last Laurel" but accidentally ends up killing himself. In "Eyes" a young Stephen Spielberg directs Joan Crawford in a story about an entitled rich woman who plots to take the sight of a poor man. Week after week it delivered some of the best-written horror television of the early 1970s.

In retrospect I find it surprising that I was allowed to watch Night Gallery at all. I was very young while it was airing, and some of the content was dark and often quite shocking for its time. Nevertheless, I was so attached to the show that I'd throw a literal temper tantrum if I missed a single, solitary episode. If our family needed to go somewhere on an evening that Night Gallery was scheduled, either my parents would either have to wait until after it had aired before we left, or they'd make arrangements in advance with whomever we were visiting to make sure it was okay that I could watch Night Gallery there. I was, in a word, a fanatic.

ABOVE: Every segment of Night Gallery was introduced by series creator Rod Serling standing before a painting created explicitly for the series. Director Guillermo del Toro credits Serling's series as being the most important and influential show on his own work, even more so than the more famous Twilight Zone.

#horror #70s #occult #supernatural #television #writing

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petite-ely · 4 years

Text

Afraid // JJ Maybank

four - siblings querelle

Pairing: JJ Maybank x fem routledge! reader

Warnings: bad language (who’s surprised at this point), mention of fighting and getting beat up, mention of blood, underage drinking, mention of gun and violence, mention of drowning, mention of smoking, fear of losing sibling, mention of death, I think that’s it?? Tell me if I missed something

Description: after a rough day, y/n has fun during a kegger on the boneyard, but John B doesn’t seem to like it.

A/n: here it is! Sorry for the wait school started this week and I was really busy, but yeah, hope you enjoy!! :)

previously next

Afraid masterlist

gif by @toesure

Song recommendation

It was a couple of hours later, the sun was starting to set, creating and beautiful golden light on the boneyard. The kegger was roaring. You could see Pogues dancing around and enjoying the music, tourons flirting with locals and even some Kooks were there.

“Chug it chug it chug it.” Y/n downed her red solo cup full of beer, throwing it at JJ once it was empty, a small giggle escaping her mouth. “Yeah! You go y/n!” The blond exclaimed cheerfully.

John B shook his head disapprovingly at his sister’s action.

“what?” Y/n stared back at him. “It was a long day. Can’t I have some fun once in a while? Or is that something you can’t possibly wrap your mind around?” he crossed his arms, a stern look on his face.

“Why are you acting this way? I’m just trying, to look out for you, y/n/n.”

She grunted at his words, rolling her eyes at the same time. “Well, don’t. You can’t just boss me around JB, you’re not my dad.”

John B’s expression turned sour at the mention of his dad. “Whatever.” He turned around and started to walk away. “If you wanna act reckless and irresponsible, I don’t care. I’m not stopping you, but don’t come back to me if ever you get in trouble. I won’t be there for you.”

“Damn, he’s really mad uh?” JJ now stood by the girl’s side, holding two cups full of beer. “What did you do, stab him in the back?” she scoffed “Well, he sure acts like it, all I did was have a little fun. Ugh he’s such vibe killer.”

“Give me that,” she took one of the cup out of JJ’s hand and swallowed the content of it in a matter of seconds.

“Whoa,” he put his hand on the girl’s back “are you good?“ “I’m wonderful, couldn’t be better.” JJ frowned.

“Are you sure? You’re not acting like your usual self.” Y/N scoffed. “Just because I’m having a beer or two doesn’t mean I’m about to have a mental breakdown J. Trust me I’m alright.”

“Look I know sometimes we all drink together, and once in a while you and I smoke a joint for fun, but this-” he motioned to her, or rather the way she was acting “-this isn’t you y/n.”

The girl bit her lip harshly, as she thought of what to say next. He was right, this wasn’t her. During keggers, y/n would usually spend her nights sitting on a log by the bonfire (when there was one). She would chat with Kie and some other friends about various subjects like environmental issues, astrology and other such things.

Sometimes she would stay silent and admire the shapes that formed the fire, listening to the conversations around her whilst making up poems in her mind. Other times, when she felt a little braver, she’d go on and talk with a cute touron that was there for the night (she might end up kissing them but nothing more than that). On some nights, she’d just take Kiara’s hand and drag her away giggling like a little child. The two of them would just dance together to the music playing in the background, as if they were the only ones standing on the beach.

On rarer occasions, she’d just slip away from the party and climb to the highest place she could think of, whether it was a hill, a tree or a rooftop. She’d just sit down somewhere comfortable and silently admire the constellations dancing for her. (Sometimes she’d bring one of the pogues with her and they would play some soft music and talk about anything and everything). Those were always the best nights.

Since the beginning of the party, y/n had acted like a total stranger. She had danced, yeah but with people she didn’t know and she had drank, a lot. She had actually volunteered to participate in some stupid drinking game, a thing she had criticized many times before. JJ enjoyed it in the beginning. Watching her get out of her shell, being friendly and mixing with the crowd. But right now, he didn’t know the person standing in front of him. Y/n was soft and kind (although sometimes she used a pretty rough vocabulary) and also smart and funny. Not reckless, insensitive, spontaneous or careless.

Why was she acting this way?

Truth is, y/n didn’t completely know the reason for her behaviour. She has had a long day, that was part of it (and also a rough year). She wanted to forget for one night, yeah that was it. Forget about her dad, forget all her problems, forget who she was. It was like she put on this mask and became a totally different person for the night. She just wanted to have fun and act crazy for this one night. After that she’d go back to being her normal self. After all, she was allowed to have fun.

She wiped the small trickle of blood that ran down her lip. “You’re right,” she agreed. “This isn’t me. But I- I don’t want to be me for the night. I don’t want to worry and think about all the sad tragedies of life. I wanna have fun. I want to get drunk and dance and do some stupid things.” She looked at him directly in the eyes, her gaze softening at the sight. “ I promise that tomorrow, I’ll be me again.”

JJ removed his hand from her back and pulled gently at his blond locks. “Alright. I just hope you won’t regret it all tomorrow.” He said, before disappearing in th crowd.

What’s it all worth if I don’t regret it just a little bit? She thought.

Y/n slipped away into the crowd too, looking around her for Kie. The sun had fully set now, making it a bit harder for her to see through the mass of bodies all stuck to one another. Finally, after a long five minutes of looking (though it felt like much more), her eyes landed on her curly headed friend, sitting on a large piece of wood.

“Hey cutie.” She sat down beside the brunette. “Hey girlie.”

“How are you doing?” Asked Kie, taking a sip out of her reusable cup half full of beer (y/n actually had a matching one, but forgot it back at the château). “Oh, I’m just uh peachy, I’m just peachy.” y/n said with a small laugh, happiness dripping off her words like sweet honey.

Kie took a second to look at her friend. She had the most ridiculous grin slapped on her face, like a five year old on a sugar rush. Her cheeks were flushed pink and so was the tip of her nose. (It looked very adorable.)

“Are you drunk?” Y/n giggled. “Maybe just a little bit.”

To be honest she didn’t remember the last time she had gotten drunk. It felt so far away. She felt warm and fuzzy inside and like nothing could hurt her. Thiose were all signs that she was slowly getting more and more intoxicated by the alcohol she was drinking.

“So,” she booped the tip of Kiara’s nose. “What’s with you and my brother. Do you like him perhaps?” she wiggled her eyebrows.

“Not the way you think.” “Uh?”

“I mean, John B’s very cute and kind and all, and I love and care about him, but the same way you do. Like a brother. I don’t see him as nothing more than that.” y/n nodded.

“What about JJ?” Kiara nudged the y/h/c girl. “Did you finally tell him?”

“Are you crazy?! No! I’m not that drunk,” y/n responded loudly. “Besides, I’m pretty sure he doesn’t like me that way. He seemed so-” she took a small pause to search for the right word. “he seemed disappointed in me or something when we talked earlier.”

“Why? What makes you-”

Kiara was cut off by some shouting and screams being heard further away on the beach. A fight was about to break. She grabbed her friend by the arm. “Let’s go see.”

The girls arrived to see John B and Topper facing each other with threatening expressions, surrounded by a circle of curious people who only wanted to see them hurting the other one.

Topper Thornton? When did he get there ? And if he’s here that means that- y/n stopped her thoughts as her eyes landed on the blonde girl, watching her boyfriend with a scared look on her face. Sarah Cameron, Kook Princess.

“Dirty pogues!” John B shoved the kook harshly earning a chorus of exclaimation from the crowd gathering around them.

“Woah!” The two of them were circling each other, getting dangerously close to the water.

“John B!” Pope yelled at his friend. “We’re supposed to be incognito remember?”

“Babe, babe, babe, babe!” Sarah approached them, trying to stop her boyfriend from hitting the pogue.

Topper hit John B first, the impact sending him down in the water. Y/n quickly sobered up from the slightly intoxicated state she was in at the sight of her brother getting beat up. It was almost as if she could feel the hit on her own body.

“Guys! Guys! Chill!” Topper kicked John B right in the sides as he was trying to get up, sending him back down into the salty water.

“Hey John B, don’t make me down you like your old man, alright?!”

Y/n’s blood boiled in her veins, her face turning red with rage. She was so angry. First he had insulted her brother, and then hurt him but that wasn’t enough for him. He wasn’t satisfied. He had to mention their father. That was like putting alcohol right into a fresh wound. How could he do such a thing? At this point, y/n was basically fuming, she couldn’t hold it back any longer.

“You take that back you brainless piece of shit!” She launched herself into the fight, not caring whether she’d get hurt or not.

“Y/n, no!”

She jumped on Topper’s back, in hope of sending him down and make him stop hurting her brother anymore. She was able to strike him a couple of times right in the jaw, before he pushed her off violently, sending her flying down and hit the ground with a loud thud. She was just about to get back in the fight when two strong arms dragged her away.

“Let go of me!” She yelled, squirming to get away from Pope’s grip.

“As much as I would like to see you take him down, y/n/n,” said the Heyward boy, still holding her firmly, “John B would kill me if I didn’t stop you.”

Y/n sighed loudly and stopped trying to get away from her friend’s hold on her. She watched closely as John B pushed Topper right in the water and winced every time he got hit.

“Stop you guys!” yelled Kie.

They were both hitting each other without taking a break, making small grunts and groans at the same time. It was getting so violent, so fast. JB pushed Topper in the ocean again.

“Come on Topper! Come on!” He screamed with rage before going back into the fight.

“John B please stop!” y/n pleaded. The crowd was cheering as the fight went on, only encouraging the two teens to continue hurting one another.

Y/n gasped as John B went flying backwards into the water. They were in a much deeper part now and Topper was holding him down into the water. He was gonna drown.

“Topper! Topper, stop! No!” Sarah screamed.

“He’s gonna drown him!” Pope’s voice shaking slight in fear.

Tears were filling the Routledge girl’s eyes and sliding down her cheeks. She was no longer angry but so frightened. Her brother had his head underwater, not breathing for more than half a minute. He was gonna drown, he was gonna die too and she’d be alone, for good now. She couldn’t do it without him, no she couldn’t. She had lived all her life with him by her side, her best memories were spent with him. She couldn’t do it alone. She needed him.

“Topper, please. Let him go!” she was so desperate at this point. She was practically begging him for mercy. She didn’t even bother hiding the despair and concern in her voice. Her tears were crashing on the sand. She was breathless, panting even, the world spinning around her. It was like she was the one underwater. Like she could feel exactly what her brother was feeling.

JJ took a look at her and then at John B, his heart squeezing painfully in his chest at the sight of both of them. He had to do something. He couldn’t let Topper kill his best friend. He hurried to find his backpack, taking the black object he had stolen previously that day.

He held the gun against Topper’s temple, the safety releasing a clicking noise. “Yeah, you know what that is. Your move brisky!” JJ spat, his face almost purple with fury.

Y/n’s hand went to her mouth. JJ brought the gun and he was holding it at Topper’s head. She couldn’t believe it. The sight of the firearm, barely visible but still slightly glistening under the moonlight, was enough to send shivers ripple along her back. She didn’t like seeing JJ hold it this way, with so much pride in his eyes, like it brought him so much power (though it kinda did).

He wielded it as though it was something that protected him against every possible danger. Like he was invincible. It was almost sickening. He shouldn’t be this proud, this brave while holding it. It was a deadly arm, he should’ve been just as scared as she was. What if he hurted someone? Or himself? What if he killed someone? Y/n almost regurgitated the entire content of her stomach at the thought.

“JJ, no.” She had wanted to shout, but her voice came out softly, barely louder than a whisper.

People were now running away, hurrying to their car to get away from the crazy maniac with a gun. Y/n was paralyzed with fear. She wanted to move, to run and throw the stupid gun in th ocean, but it was like her feet were glued to the ground.

“JJ put the gun down!”

“Did you say something princess?” JJ turned his head to Sarah, his hands still holding the firearm against Topper’s head.

“We’re good. We’re good.” Topper let go of John B’s body, his hand raised up in surrender.

“Kie can you check your psycho friend, please?” Sarah spoke, making Kiara glare at her with hatred.

“John B!” y/n rushed to her brother, pushing everyone that came in her way. She didn’t care about her clothes which were getting more and more soaked with every deacons she spent in the cold waves. She offered him her hand, helping him get up and then quickly pulling him into a tight hug.

“Thank god your okay.” She let go of him.

John coughed intensely for what seemed like an eternity, the three thousand liters of water he had swallowed coming out of his mouth at the same time. Y/n looked at him worryingly, her stomach still bubbling with anxiety.

One of his eye was starting to swell, a deep red colour surrounding it. He would have to ice it if he didn’t want it to turn purple. His nose was also bleeding, the blood flowing down and dripping on his lips. Y/n wiped the blood away with her palm and pulled him in an other hug, once he had caught his breath a little more.

“I don’t know what I would’ve done if you,” she choked on her words, “if you didn’t make it.”

“Hey, hey, hey,” he grabbed her by the shoulders, still slightly panting. “I’m alright, little bug, I’m alright. My eye might be turning blue and my body might hurt, but I’m still alive aren’t I? I’m still here.” he reassured.

Y/n let out a small smile. She was still incredibly worried for her brother. He was hurt, but he was alive, that was good. Now all she wanted was to go back home and help him take care of his wounds.

“Okay every one listen up!” y/n flinched at JJ’s voice. He was so angry, it almost scared her. “Get the hell off of our side of the island!”

He fired the gun twice in the air, the sound echoing on the almost empty beach. Y/n almost fell back in surprise, letting go of her brother at the same time. The sound was ringing in her ear, her hands trembling. Why was he doing that?

She had acted so carelessly at the beginning of the night that she became a stranger in JJ’s eyes. But now, he was the one acting crazy and stupidly. It was not uncommon for JJ to be reckless but this? No, that wasn’t him.

Who was that person standing in front of her?

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