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cozy-the-overlord · 3 years

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Just One Last Word

Summary: As children, she swore she'd become the greatest author in all of Asgard. Loki had his doubts.

Word Count: 4,360

Pairing: Loki x OFC

A/N: Look who's back! I got this idea from a made-up fic title sent to me by an anon a while back and I just loved the concept so much I had to write it. What can I say? I’m a glutton for childhood romance and angst

Thanks for reading! :)

Warnings: Implied/referenced domestic violence/child abuse

Tags: @lucywrites02 @gaitwae @whatafuckingdumbass @the-emo-asgardian

If you want to be tagged, feel free to send an ask/message :)

Read it on Ao3!

The first time Loki heard about Sága’s extraordinary book was the day Lady Gudrun decided that the spring weather was just too lovely to ignore and took her literature students to give them their lessons in the gardens rather than the stuffy palace classrooms. He couldn’t quite recall what year they were—childhood seemed so long ago that all of his primary classes had melted into one amorphous blur—but they had to have been young because Sága hadn’t yet chopped off both her braids in the middle of arithmetic, claiming that they were too heavy to think properly whilst wearing them. No, her braids still hung at her shoulders, and as Lady Gudrun read aloud to them on the lawn, Sága was busy weaving dandelion flowers into their intricate patterns.

“This is going in my book!” she whispered to Loki with a grin. “In my book, all the girls wear dandelions in their hair.”

Loki frowned. “What book?”

“The one I’m writing,” she said, fiddling with another flower stem. “It’s going to be the best book in all of Asgard.”

He had been going to say that there was no way in all the realms she was capable of writing the best book in all of Asgard, but then Lady Gudrun asked them if there was something they wanted to share with the rest of their classmates, since they seemed to be having such an intriguing conversation by themselves, and Loki had shaken his head, blushing. Sága wasn’t bothered. She kept playing with her dandelions and humming softly to herself, some horrifically out of tune melody Loki was almost positive she was just making up as she went along.

Sága Svanhilddottir was a strange girl. One day she had just plopped her bulging crocheted bookbag onto the desk next to his, and she never really went away. There were plenty of whispers about her—her mother was an Asgardian noble who had run away to Alfheim to marry a man in the Elvish court, only to return nine years later with a child in her arms and no husband to be found. At dinner, Loki would overhear the noblewomen’s hushed speculations on what could possessed her to leave in the first place, and what prompted her return. How had the Elf bewitched her so? A love potion? A spell? Had she gotten with child and fled to preserve her dignity? But then why return? Was he unfaithful? Was she unfaithful?

Sága had her own story. She told Loki very seriously before class one day that her mother had come back to Asgard because her father had been turned into a dragon by a wicked witch and now every time he sneezed he spat out enormous balls of fire into the air, and that her mother was afraid that the next time he caught a cold he’d burn the whole apartment down. She pulled down her dress sleeve to show Loki her burn scar, angry red flesh that stretched from her wrist all the way across her shoulders—a scar, she explained, she had gotten when she had tried to give her dragon father a handkerchief.

Loki didn’t believe her.

“Witches don’t turn people into dragons,” he bristled. “My mother’s a witch, and she would never turn anyone into a dragon.”

“That’s because your mother’s a nice witch,” Sága explained impatiently. “This was a mean old witch, with pointy teeth and spiky hair, who hated everybody.” Ruffling her shorn locks (this was after the ill-fated math lesson), she bared her teeth in demonstration. “She was mad at my father because he forgot to bring her mousetail pudding for her birthday like he promised.”

“He—what?”

But Sága only waved him off dismissively. “You’ll have to read my book,” she said. “I explain it all there.”

Oh, that damn book. It seemed like it was the only thing she ever talked about, this stupid, imaginary book. Because it had to be imaginary. Loki had never even seen the girl hold a pen, let alone write a sentence. No, she was too busy prattling on about her wonderous book, this book that would one day become the pinnacle of Asgardian literature.

“Someday, they’ll be making students read my book instead of this nonsense,” she’d whisper to Loki as their teacher read to them in the front of the classroom. “It’ll be much more interesting.”

Or when he ran into her in the library, and she’d drag him to the shelf where they kept all the classics.

“This is where they’ll keep my book!” she’d grin, having the audacity to pat the dusty wood where the great authors of millennia long past rested.

And then there was that one time during one of the feasts, when he turned around to find her staring at him intently from across the ballroom, a studious expression on her face. He shot what he hoped was an intimidating glare at her, but she only skipped across the room to join him.

“What are you doing?” he asked sourly.

“Looking at you,” she said, grinning as if it were the most natural thing in the world. “I need to remember how you look like, so I can put you in my book.”

Loki scowled. “I don’t want to be in your book.”

“Well, I want you in it,” Sága retorted. “And, since I’m the author, that’s all that matters.” She grabbed his hand and began pulling him towards the dessert table. “Come on, Prince Loki. Let’s get some cake!”

Thor said that he must be harboring a crush on her, to seemingly hate her so and yet be constantly spending time with her. Loki nearly threw a fit when he accused him of such at the dinner table. He didn’t like Sága. She was strange and irritating and talked far too much and he wanted her to go away. He spent time with her because she followed him around, not because he wanted to! She was annoying. And weird. And …

And yet.

One day she wasn’t in class. Loki thought he’d be relieved—finally, a lesson where he could listen to the teacher without having to filter out her constant chatter. But … it didn’t feel right. It was too quiet—he hated the empty stretches of silence that hung over the classroom every time Lady Gudrun stopped talking. For some reason, it seemed even more difficult to focus without the familiar presence of his deskmate hunched over the table and picking splinters out of the wood with her fingernail.

The library was more of the same. Loki perused the shelves, gaze lingering on the spot Sága had claimed for her own. She was the only person he really talked to, he realized. Without her, the day felt hollow.

She was gone for the rest of the week. Her mother was gone too, and rumors began to fly that she had decided to take her daughter back to Alfheim to rejoin her mysterious husband. Loki couldn’t help but remember her story about her father the dragon.

Just when he was starting to fear she had left for good, one morning a ratty old crotched bag smacked the desk next to his before class started.

He scowled to mask his sigh of relief. “Where have you been?”

But Sága wouldn’t say. She only grinned at him from under her crown of dandelions. “I was working on my book. Why?” she asked. “Did you miss me, Prince Loki?”

Loki flushed bright red.

It was strange to think about now, with everything that had happened. At the time, Loki thought he would have fallen on his sword before he ever referred to Sága as a friend. And yet, she was not only a friend, but the closest one he had. She continued finding ways to spend time with him even after they graduated Lady Gudrun’s class—she’d track him down and ask him for help with her arithmetic, or to wish him luck on an upcoming test, or to tell him about a book she thought he’d like. Thor and his companions drove Loki up the wall with their merciless teasing, but their words couldn’t quell the odd sort of fluttering in his stomach every time she came running up to him clutching some new story against her chest.

“Is it your book?” he’d ask jokingly, even as he took the novel from her hands.

“No,” she laughed. “I’m still working on that.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Are you now?”

Sága patted his shoulder, still grinning. “Don’t worry,” she said. “When I’m done, you’ll be the first to read it.”

She was pretty. Loki wasn’t quite certain when that happened. Sága didn’t really change all that much, even as everyone else grew and morphed into something resembling maturity. She continued cutting her own hair, keeping it messy and uneven and even shorter than his. She’d weave dandelion stalks into the shorn clumps and walk around in gauzy yellow dresses with cuffed sleeves that went past her fingers, looking like one of her fairy-story creatures come to life. It was generally accepted that she looked ridiculous, and Loki didn’t disagree. He just felt that she made ridiculous look good.

He noticed it when she came down to the sparring pit to watch him practice with his daggers. There she was, perched on the railing, beaming like the sun as she waved at him. She was pretty. Very pretty.

Loki turned around without waving back. There was a heat rising in his cheeks that he wasn’t quite sure how to address. He missed the target completely on his next throw.

He wasn’t the only person who noticed. The other boys his age were beginning to be quite drawn to Sága Svanhilddottir as well, although Loki suspected it was less due to actual interest and more because of her proclivity for disregarding traditional decorum. She loved to dance. It seemed every ball she was spinning across the floor in the arms of some new beau, giggling so loudly that her voice echoed down the hall. Loki hated the way they’d hold her, gripping her tightly to their bodies as if she belonged to them, but Sága didn’t seem to mind. In fact, she seemed to enjoy it. She’d laugh and whoop and make a show of it as they twirled through the song.

It might have made her popular with the young men, but older members of the court weren’t as amused. After all, such displays weren’t exactly becoming of an unmarried woman. But Sága didn’t mind that they whispered things like “promiscuous” and “loose” as she walked by. Unlike her fellow ladies, Sága wasn’t particularly interested in catching a husband. In fact, she once told Loki in no uncertain terms that she had no intentions of ever giving her hand in marriage.

“Marriage is horrible,” she said. Loki could barely hear her over the ruckus—it was Thor’s Nameday Feast, and such a raucous celebration was hardly ideal for intimate conversation. He thought Sága might have been enjoying the festivities a bit too much as well—she was swaying on her feet as she leaned in to speak. “You’re tied down forever to some person, and you don’t even know what they’re going to be like! Sure, they might seem nice, but who knows!” She hiccupped, and Loki found himself reaching out to steady her without realizing he was doing it, accidentally grabbing the shoulder he knew to be scarred under her sleeve.

Sága brushed him off. There was a bitterness in her eyes that made his chest ache. “I don’t want to get married,” she said. “I just want to have fun.”

He walked her back to her rooms that night. He had started doing that recently—partially because with the way she was staggering he didn’t trust her to be able to make it herself, and partially because the voracious looks some of her dance partners had been giving her were making the hairs on the back of his neck stand straight up.

Sága grinned at him when they made it back to her door. The dandelions in her hair were beginning to wilt. One was nearly falling off her head, held there only by a tangled strand.

“Are you going to kiss me, Prince Loki?” she asked.

Loki started. All at once, the fluttering was back. “What?”

“You’re my prince, aren’t you?” She was swaying quite a bit, but she didn’t look away. Her breath stank of wine. “Aren’t you supposed to kiss the lady goodnight?” She leaned forward as if meaning to demonstrate, but ended up falling right into his chest, giggling all the way. Loki caught her, hoping she couldn’t hear how fast his heart was beating.

My prince.

“I—I don’t think it would be very princely of me to kiss you right now,” he whispered.

“Maybe not,” she yawned against his armor. “But I’d like it anyways.”

Loki inhaled. I’d like it too. But she was drunk, practically incoherent—she didn’t mean any of the words coming out of her mouth right now, and he knew it.

And so, he helped her back up and through the doorway. “Not tonight.”

Sága perked up. “Tomorrow?”

She looked so childishly excited that Loki couldn’t hold back his chuckle. “Sure. Tomorrow.” Maybe he had had too much wine as well, because the thought of such a silly promise exhilarated him far more than it should have. “You come find me and I’ll kiss you.”

They never spoke about that night again. Sága didn’t seem to remember it—when he ran into her the next day she was nursing a headache and a new idea for her book and wanted to ask him a question about the mechanics of water seidr. Loki didn’t mention it either. The whole thing felt much sillier doused in daylight. What, did he think she was just going to knock on his door and cash in a kiss like a raffle ticket? No, it was better that the whole thing just fade into obscurity. Loki told himself he was relieved that Sága didn’t remember his promise.

It didn’t stop his thoughts from racing every time he saw her.

What would it be like to kiss her, he wondered? Would she let him pull her close? Would she wrap her arms around his neck and run her fingers through his hair? How would it feel to press his lips to hers, to close his eyes and just drink her in as if she were the only thing that existed?

He wished he could find out.

Loki remembered the last time he saw her. Her father had passed away, and she and her mother were returning to Alfheim for his funeral and to clear up several issues regarding his estate. They weren’t sure how long they’d be gone, but Sága predicted that the legal affairs would take years to resolve.

“Is it bad that I don’t want to go?” she asked in a whisper the night before she was set to leave. Loki looked at her, huddled against the balcony railing besides him. Inside, the feast raged on, but in the moonlight the world seemed almost tranquil.

“I don’t think it’s bad,” he said slowly. “Funerals aren’t exactly joyful occasions. I doubt anyone ever wants to go to them.”

She was silent for a moment, staring across the gardens spread beneath them. “I was happy when they told me he was dead,” she said finally, voice hoarse. “That’s bad, isn’t it? You’re not supposed to be happy because your father’s dead.”

Loki wasn’t sure what to say to that. He didn’t know much about Sága’s father—she almost never spoke of him, and Loki never asked—but he never could quite forget the stories she would tell when they were children, about witches and dragons and violent, fiery breath.

He inhaled. “I don’t think that’s bad either.” A part of him wanted to reach out and squeeze her hand, but he wasn’t sure if that was right. “If he was a good father, you’d feel differently. But he wasn’t, and you don’t. That’s all there is to it.”

Sága only nodded.

The next morning was less somber. When Sága came to say goodbye, she seemed her normal, airy self, bouncing and bubbling over every small detail.

“Hopefully, by the time I’m back, I’ll have my book done!” she beamed. “And I’ll bring it back for you to read!”

“Well, in that case, I’ll be counting the seconds,” he drawled. Sága laughed, and he found himself gazing into her eyes. They were lovely, those eyes—warm, like liquid amber, brown and sparkling with mirth. He had never really stopped to think about it before, but she had to have the most beautiful eyes he had ever seen.

Perhaps he was staring too intently, because Sága had stopped laughing. Loki felt his cheeks flush. He was about to apologize when she threw her arms around his shoulders.

He was so thrown off by the embrace that he couldn’t really comprehend what had happened until after she had let go. It was a quick hug, spur of the moment and over as soon as it began. It meant nothing.

Still there was something in the air as Sága pulled away, something he didn’t think either of them had the capability to describe. She patted his shoulder, nodding as if in agreement with something neither of them had said.

“Goodbye, Prince Loki,” she said thickly.

He nodded too. “Goodbye, Sága.”

It was the last time he saw her.

Loki stared at the book on the table. He had told his mother that he didn’t want any more books—he was beginning to feel less like a person and more like a pity case with each shipment she sent in.

Enough with it! Just let me rot in peace.

And she had agreed. The flood of books had ceased.

Except for this one.

He hadn’t heard them come in to drop it off, which was concerning. Loki had always been a light sleeper, and that had increased a hundredfold by the time he had returned to Asgard. He wondered if they were drugging him.

The book itself was crisp and clean—freshly bound. He always used to like those books as a child, so new that the spine let out a satisfying crack as he opened them for the first time. Now, he was almost afraid to touch it.

The mossy green cover was unassuming. No artwork, no patterns, just the title and author in simple gold lettering.

Dandelion

Sága Svanhilddottir

Loki didn’t know how long he stared at it. The dungeons made it hard to keep track of time in general, but in that moment it felt as if everything around him ceased to exist. He couldn’t tear his eyes from it.

Damn. She actually did it.

Sága … when was the last time he thought of Sága? She seemed to exist in a different lifetime, a character in a story that had long since been shelved. He remembered her, though—a scrawny little girl on the grass, weaving yellow flowers through her braids.

In my book, all the girls wear dandelions in their hair.

He picked it up. It wasn’t particularly heavy, nor particularly thick—certainly nothing like the texts of old she had once proclaimed herself equal to. It appeared quite average, really. Maybe he wouldn’t read it. The whole thing was birthed out of a childish fancy, and he no longer held any appreciation for fairy-stories.

But who was he kidding?

The story was about a girl named Dandelion (Loki groaned aloud upon reading it, although such puerility was to be expected from an author who went about her days with weeds dangling from her hair) who lived with her mother and her beast of a father off in some nonexistent realm, far away from Asgard. While her father had not the form of a dragon, he certainly had the temperament. He spent the days raging about their household, ranting and raving at every little inconvenience until he’d worked himself up into a violent frenzy.

Her mother didn’t know what to do. She was alone in a strange land, having forfeited her freedom to irrevocably tie herself to this monster of a man. She had nowhere to go, no family to turn to. And so she grit her teeth and took the beatings and the curses and prayed for a miracle.

Of course, little Dandelion was too young to understand this. She didn’t know why her mother cried herself to sleep at night, nor could she comprehend the foulness of the words that her father spat into the air. She had never known anything else. And so, every night she sat upon her father’s knee as he brushed out and braided her long, silky hair and read aloud to her from his rotted old storybook. Dandelion loved those stories, of monstrous dragons and evil witches who feasted on rats and tarantulas, fair maidens locked away in towers and dashing princes fighting their way through bramble-choked woods to awaken them with a kiss.

She’d dream about those stories as she lay in bed, writing her own in her head to drown out the crashes and cries ricocheting off the walls on the floor below her. In her mind’s eye, Dandelion could see herself as the maiden, nose pressed against the window as she waited for her prince to scale her tower and carry her to safety.

He never came.

But she was not long for this way of life. One night, during dinner, her father in a fit of anger overturned the candle on the tablecloth. The fabric went up in flames. They spread fast across the table and caught on Dandelion’s cuff, setting her sleeve ablaze. She survived—her father was quick to come to his senses and douse the flames—but her arm was badly burned. It was at that moment that her mother had had enough. She took her daughter and ran for it.

After a long struggle to secure the funds they needed, they were able to book passage back to her mother’s home realm. There, they found sanctuary.

She found something else there too. There, sitting in the very back row of the classroom with his head hidden behind a book, was a real, living, breathing prince. Dandelion was entranced—she had always thought princes to be some mythical creature that existed only within the pages of storybook. And yet, here was one right in front of her, like the most normal thing in the world. He didn’t seem very princely. He just seemed like a boy, a quiet boy who preferred reading to conversation. Dandelion would have never known him to be anything else if her mother hadn’t pointed him out to her.

But she was curious, and so when given the opportunity to choose her spot, she sat down next to him. He was a strange prince. He’d argue with her about the stories she told, but that only meant he was listening to her. He’d say he didn’t want to see her when she bumped into him outside of class, but he’d still follow her down the hall when she turned to leave. He didn’t strike her as the dragon-slaying tower-scaling type, but that was okay. Dandelion liked him just the way he was.

The story went on. Dandelion grew up to the whooshing of letters slipped under the door—her dragon father, asking her mother to come back, to come home, promising that he was different and everything would be all right. There were times when her mother seemed almost swayed by his sweet words—she’d sigh and say that it would be nice to see their family safe and back together again and stare off into the distance as if remembering something other than the screaming or the fighting or the burning, as if she had forgotten the way Dandelion would wake screaming in the night convinced she could smell her flesh burning. It sent cold shivers down Dandelion’s spine. She began tossing the letters into the fire before her mother had the chance to read them.

She’d turn to her prince for comfort. He didn’t know about the letters, but somehow, he made her feel better all the same. He was light and safe and everything she needed—she always seemed to be laughing when she was with him. And when he laughed—something about that laugh made Dandelion’s chest feel awash with a lovely sort of warmth.

She was in love with him.

But Dandelion didn’t say anything about that. She knew he only saw her as a friend—a silly, trivial friend who he could tease and laugh with without having to concern himself with the solemnity of his station. If he knew how she felt … she could lose him entirely. Dandelion couldn’t face such a prospect.

Instead, she danced with everyone but her prince, drowned herself in wine and spent her nights in the arms of any faceless man who wanted her, all in some vain attempt to sway her feelings in another direction. It only made things worse.

But life went on. Another letter came in from the realm of her birth, written in a different hand than usual. Her father had passed in his sleep, it explained. At long last, the dragon had been defeated. Dandelion was to return home immediately. And so, she bid her prince a friendly farewell.

The fallout of her father’s death was horrifically complicated. She was his legal heir, but she had also spent a majority of her life estranged from him and she found his representatives unwilling to hand over control of his estate to her. It was years before she could come back. And when she did—

Loki couldn’t bring himself to finish it. He knew very well what “Dandelion” found when she returned to Asgard—or more aptly, what she didn’t find.

You’re my prince, aren’t you?

He wished he had kissed her.

#loki marvel #loki fanfic #loki x ofc #just one last word #cozy writes

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ask-badlydrawn-mercosur · 4 years

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// I mean, I’m... honored that you want to know my opinions on sudaca shipping?

Although shipping in APH OC fandom is complicated because… Since we’re working with characters aren’t canon, every person will have their own interpretation of X,Y and Z nation and their relationships, and I think people are prone to have at least a bit of personal bias towards specific nations… which isn’t necessary a bad thing, after all we aren’t the same and come from different backgrounds (heck, even people from the same country can have very different interpretations of their own nations!).

I’m saying this because I’m taking your “new to South America” as “I do not have much knowledge about these nations and their international relationships”, so I just want to add that everything you see here or any of my blogs comes from my own personal interpretations of what anthropomorphic south american nations would be and behave like.

For example, I just cannot ship Argentina x Paraguay x Uruguay between themselves, because to me, they are related, I headcanon them as family.

Some people may disagree on that, some may see their relationships as romantic and that’s okay! All headcanons are valid and we can all coexist!

With that being said…I admit that I am not the biggest shipper around, lmao. I don’t get much asks/art requests about pairings in the first place, and my blogs are mainly multishipping/ship neutral, though I did addressed a few pairings before.

but here are few more thoughts under the cut:

[ and please keep in mind, these are just MY hot takes ]

---

Pairings that obliterates my heart, I luxury cruise them:

ParBra

OK I LOVE ONE (1) SHIP

Oh man... people who follow any of my blogs probably already know this I’m sorry, but they are my favorite pairing in the entire continent? I think their personalities would complement each other well? Also the role their historical baggage plays into their relationship? And how overlooked not only the possibility of a romance, but also friendship between these nations is, and how much in common they actually have? And not counting the fact they are founding members of the MERCOSUL, but both nations just so happen to run together one of the most important dams in the world so ofc they would interact all the time? And don’t even get me started on everything that led to the construction of said dam in the first place. They are both nations with a very complex relationship that often goes overlooked specially because there aren’t many people interested in writing about aph Paraguay, which I believe can’t be helped because Paraguay is a nation that often gets overlooked in South America. In this essay I will

(I'm going to expand more on this ship in another post, since I got an specific ask about them and I have many feelings)

I have a soft spot for them?:

ArgChi - honestly where do I even start with these two? They have, like, SO MUCH history together its not even funny. Like... Argentina helped Chile get their independence (Also Abrazo de Maipu anyone? like bruh, the 2 of them were there watching that), and as much as both nations had many conflicts, they still helped one another, like many times? and they may or may not have been growing on me lately?

EcuPeru - I've talked about them before, but they, like, their histories are intertwined and despite many conflicts they had through years, both nations relationship improved, and they have been stable for years (specially with trading, tourism, etc)... and I think it could work? Also I think its cute? also I ship my Peru OC with canon Ecu fite me irl

I Think about them... sometimes... I think they could Work?:

BraUru - They’re one of my brotps already but like...They both share a lot of history together as well? On top of having good irl relations, I like the way their personalities complement one another. also I think they look cute together.

VeneBoli - I already see them as good friends, but I think they could work as a pairing? And they have history together too? Not only Venezuela helped liberating them from spanish empire, the country was named after Simón Bolivar himself while its true that Bolivar didn’t want them to break free from Peru, but then again, he had that plan for an whole ass unified South America, but in the end, he relented lol idk man to me it could work.

ParaWan - Ok I just... I love the irl relations between Paraguay and Taiwan so much and they’re already a personal brotp of mine, but I think they would work as a couple too. They’d be adorable together. Pure fluff. Also I’m biased because I fucking love aph Taiwan so much

Honorary mentions because I think they’re cute:

ParaCol - I already see them being good friends. Good relations IRL, also historically Colombia stood up for Paraguay after the Triple Alliance War and offered to take in their citizens had anything happen to their homeland and I think that is beautiful.

BrArg - enemies, to friends to lovers, slowburn 200k. Its surprising how well both nations get along now despite being at each other’s throats for almost 2 centuries.They’re one of my personal brotps too, but I think they have such good chemistry and I think they could work as a couple.

ColBra - Nations with similar energy. I hc them as friends, maybe with a sorta vitriolic best buddies dynamic, they’d get into arguments a lot over football and who has the best coffee, but at the end they truly care about one another.

ArgVene - Uruguay & Colombia left the chat mainly because they have similar personalities. slightly prideful passionate older siblings figures? together? yeah, that works for me.

BraChi - I hc them as being good friends already, both have good relations irl they could bond over bullying Argentina ok tbh I do think they would get together just to make fun of Argentina, specially over football... also they were both members of the ABC pact (alongside Argentina) and Brazil hosts the 2nd largest chilean community in South America.

UruChi - they could bond over joking about Argentina There have never been any major conflicts between them (excluding fútbol ofc) and they have alright relations, they’ve done business together and tourism so... I can kinda... see something between happening? it would be cute.

#hetalia oc #aph oc #ooc #mun ramblings #shipping shenanigans #long post #🅱️lease don't end me these are just my hot takes ;_:#felt like I barely scratched the surface of a few of them but otherwise how much longer would this post get

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eoleolhan-a · 3 years

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I am STILL on my MonProm bullshit bc I’m grinding through Monster Camp so let’s do some more headcanons! This time it’s gonna be Jin’s opinions on the some of the more prominent characters from the two games, and what I think their relationships (platonic or otherwise) could be like. Obviously these are just my opinions, anyone who has any of these muses is free to disagree, ofc. I won’t include player characters (yet, maybe once Reverse comes out I will update) since the PC personality is kind of fluid to interpretation and change based on the player. There are spoilers for both Monster Prom and Monster Camp regarding main and side characters.

This is in alphabetical order just to make it easy to navigate.

Aaravi

He doesn’t trust her, straight up. She’s a monster slayer with a history of targeting demons and even with her therapy and growth in Monster Camp he’s wary. He’s worried she would turn on him and try to slay him too. He steers clear when possible but could learn to trust her if he could see her progress with monsterkind more directly.

Batniss

He really doesn’t know what she’s talking about most of the time. The main character thing is weird to him, but at least she’s interesting. He respects her combat skills and her archery prowess.

Calculester

He thinks Cal is cute, in the way someone thinks a puppy is cute. He’s just so clueless sometimes it’s endearing, like watching a baby giraffe take its first steps. On the other hand, though, something about this sentient computer robot is a bit uncanny. Since Cal is generally so nice, though, he tries not to let the whole “potential robot uprising/singularity” thing bother him.

Dahlia

He has absolutely no interest in being anywhere near Dahlia because of her reputation as a warmonger. He thinks she’s dangerous and doesn’t want to risk being the one who gives her the idea to try and invade the 2nd Circle. He absolutely doesn’t trust her, and is honestly a bit afraid of her. If he were able to give her a chance (ie probably forced to do school or camp things with her, or if they had mutual friends for some reason) he could grow to appreciate her determination and at times enjoy her exuberant personality. She has the capability to grow on him if given the chance.

Damien

Similar to Dahlia, he distrusts Damien. He knows of the LaVeys, and as mentioned in my big ol 2nd Circle/Cubi lore post sees their whole “we made love popular” reputation as a bit unearned (because I’m sorta canon divergent, but see that post for the details of that). He also doesn’t want anyone from the 8th Circle’s royal family to get anywhere near the 2nd Circle lest they try to take that over, too. He would also probably resent having to go to school or camp with a prince from Hell juuuust a bit, especially since Damien is considered one of the coolest/most well known students/campers. He would be envious of Damien’s wealth and status since that’s something he lacks, which colours Jin’s perception of him. He doesn’t know about Damien’s softer side, so he sees him as abrasive, dangerous, and annoying. Like Dahlia, if he were to give him a chance though he’d grow to like him, especially his fondness for hairstyling and makeup since Jin enjoys the latter (and being fashionable in general). He does, however, reluctantly admit that Damien is indeed hot even if he is an annoying LaVey baby.

Dmitri

Jin doesn’t really know Dmitri but he knows of him. He doesn’t really care about whatever the Coven is doing, but hey at least Dmitri is a hot vampire who never seems to wear a shirt. He doesn’t mind seeing him hanging around because he’s easy on the eyes. Jin would probably find his dramatic villain monologuing and cape swishing a bit funny.

Faith

Out of the Coven members he would probably like Faith the most. She seems pretty relaxed and chill, and he would respect her intelligence and skill as a witch. In general he appreciates the Coven’s colour scheme and fashion sense, though.

Hex

He thinks Hex is straight up irritating but if he was high then he’d probably like their company more.

Hope

His feelings towards Hope are similar to Faith. He isn’t all that bothered with their Coven shenanigans but does respect them. He would be confused by all of the Hope reincarnations but he doesn’t have much of a problem with her. She seems nice enough.

Interdimensional Prince

Although he can be kind of weird at times (maybe even a bit creepy) Jin has to admit the idea of being whisked off to another dimension by some handsome anime-alien-looking prince is kind of appealing. He would like the attention and ego-boost it would cause if the Prince ever flirted with him.

Joy

Jin would enjoy her company. They’d probably get along, but he does find her “main character saving the world” thing to be a bit Intense at times. Despite that he think’s she’s smart and cool and likes being around her, especially given how wild some of their classmates/campmates can be.

Kale

They smoke weed together and vibe. That’s all. 10/10.

Leonard

Jin wants to kick him in the face so hard that he flies into the sun. -10/10.

Liam

Usually he likes Liam and likes being around him. He appreciates his creativity and sense of taste, but sometimes Liam can be a bit pretentious and annoying. That’s fairly manageable though, and sometimes he’s quite the breath of fresh air compared to some of the more exuberant characters he encounters. Jin would especially enjoy indulging in fancy, rare artsy gourmet food so Liam could take pictures of it and he could eat it.

Milo

Out of everyone, Jin is fondest of Milo. Their sense of style, taste (wine and cheese platters? yes please), flirtatious streak (and not to mention good looks) would have Jin swooning. He would also find their personality a lot more calm in comparison to some of the other monsters at camp. The only annoyance would be Milo’s constant attachment to their phone and their somewhat self-centred nature. It takes attention away from Jin, after all. Competing egos.

Miranda

Jin likes Miranda most of the time. Sometimes he thinks her royal merfolk ways are a bit confusing, and he is a bit distrustful of foreign royalty in general but less so of Miranda; he doesn’t see any reason why the Merkingdom would attack the Cubi or really have much to do with them at all, but he knows that royal life can be vicious. He does find it interesting to hear about the culture and society of the Merkingdom, though. He also appreciates her manners and poise. Plus, they’re both pink so he’s a bit biased in that regard. Sometimes he does find the more murderous aspects of the Merkingdom a bit unsightly, and it can be a little frustrating at times trying to explain commoner things to her. He doesn’t like that he would sometimes feel a bit condescended or spoken down to by her, but sometimes this has more to do with his perception than anything she would be saying or doing.

Morty

He likes looking at Morty but his personality is a bit too self absorbed and intense even for Jin. Still, he appreciates the confidence and the sex positive energy. Sexual tension always makes rivalries better so Morty is a perfect candidate for Camp Rival Camp in Jin’s opinion and his presence is at least entertaining and engaging. Also he quite likes the heart-hole shorts, a bold fashion statement.

Polly

Polly is fun to be around. She can be boisterous, but at least she knows how to have a good time. Jin also likes that she isn’t bloodthirsty or a war criminal or something, so in theory they could just hang out like normal monsters/people. It doesn’t hurt that she can get good drugs, too.

Scott

Scott is a himbo, Jin likes himbos. Case closed. In all seriousness, he would find Scott endearing because of his good nature and cheerful personality. Sometimes his airheaded antics can be a bit annoying, but he knows Scott means well. Jin thinks Scott would be a good friend because he seems honest, loyal, and kind. Those are also qualities that would make him a good date, plus he’s a big cute wolfman who Jin wants to pet in more ways than one.

Valerie

He respects the hustle and the on campus hook-up for all sorts of oddities. Plus she’s Vera’s sister, and he has mostly positive feelings about her so by relation he thinks Valerie is pretty alright. Also soft because cat.

Vera

Vera is intimidating but he respects her, in a sense. As someone who isn’t affluent he’s more wary of her scams and often disapproves if he thinks it’s taking advantage of vulnerable people, but so long as she’s scamming rich people he’s down for it. He definitely thinks she’s smart and an interest conversationalist.

Wolfpack

Bad, stinky, 0/10. Only tolerable because of their connection to Scott but otherwise obnoxious.

Zoe

Last but not least, Jin would like Zoe. He’d appreciate her creativity and particularly her ship fics. They would have a good time talking about crushes, who should date who, and the latest books in their respective favourite series (or perhaps shared shows or books). She also tells Leonard to shove it and since he wants to punt the kappa into the sun he likes that a lot.

#yes im still on my bullllshiiiiiit #hc #ooc #v; monster mash

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boogiewrites · 5 years

Text

Choking On Sapphires 78

Characters: Alfie Solomons x Genevieve (OFC)

Title & Song: Blue Veins

Summary: Alfie confronts Horne and sees what has happened to Genevieve. As she is known for, Genevieve takes her fate into her own bloody hands. Song is Blue Veins by The Raconteurs.

Warnings/Tags: Fluff. Language.Graphic Violence. Blood, Gore, Fighting. Revenge. Alfie and Gen reunited. DRAMA. ANGST. Some Shelby boys.

Click on my icon then go to my Mobile Masterlist in my bio for my other works and chapters. (Had to do this since Tumblr killed links, sorry.) Please like, comment and reblog if you enjoyed it! It helps out us writers A LOT!

Alfie was a shadow of himself. He wouldn't have disagreed to the statement if someone had had the balls to point this out to him either. He was too tired and too close to redemption.

He exited the work truck from his bakery into the long and dusty warehouse with its wooden walls and contraband crates stacked almost ceiling high. The salt from the sea held it's natural tang in the air, clinging to his now red and patchy skin, as in Genevieve's absence it had bloomed fully into an itchy and red mess from stress and lack of care. He pushes back his greasy hair in an attempt to prepare himself for what he was about to see, but nothing besides the war could've helped him prepare to hold a stone face in the presence of the one thing he cared about the most being destroyed in front of him.

Cyrus Horne in all his American unearned confidence stands strong in front of the cars that brought him and his men. He sees the usual suspects behind Alfie, the Jewish boys from his bakery that served as muscle. What he hadn't expected was for the Shelby brothers to be there. Tommy stands lean and poised as always, an almost bored look on his face. The oldest Arthur couldn't have been more the opposite. His face was red and angry, mustache twitching and jaw tense at Horne and his smug exterior for what he'd done to his Genny. John acts as a wall for Arthur, ready to hold him back from bad decisions, the toothpick in his mouth almost snapping every time his teeth came down upon it in his underlying intensity, ready for a brawl.

"Where is she?" Alfie demands, stepping forward with the cane she'd given him for his birthday. He was worn down, in every way and image be damned he needed it to keep his energy up to potentially dismember the piss poor excuse for a man that stood before him.

"I brought her. Don't worry." Horne's smugness is obvious as he flicks a finger and the back doors, hidden from sight open and a bulking man carries out Genevieve's limp body over his shoulder. He moves to drop her with a thump to the cold, hard ground and Alfie points his cane at him.

"You don't fucking throw her on the ground mate or this will end before it even fuckin' starts." the veins in his forehead throbbing and spit flying with every over pronounced word.

He bends at the knee and set her on the ground, her body rolling out of his arms and onto the floor will a dull thud that he does not react to.

"There she is. See?" Horne motions with his hand towards her.

Alfie's face is held impressively still despite how he wanted to rip out Cyrus' neck with his own teeth. She was in such a state and he couldn't even see her face. What worried him was the blood. So much blood all over her torn and tattered, now filthy dress she'd been wearing at the party.

"What the fuck am I supposed to do wif 'is? She could be dead for all I can tell." he guffs out, cane still out and pointing now at Genevieve.

With another flick of his fingers, a man brings a bucket of water over and pours it down over her head. She awakes with a wheezing gasp, her hand moving up to her chest, her hair a black puddle around her head.

What she noticed first was that she was no longer bound. Her hands tremble and shake in pain and adrenaline, broken fingers and swollen joints ache as she moves to push her upper body off the ground, a veil of hair blocking her vision. She fails twice before finally locking her elbows and holding herself up. Alfie watches with a heavy heart as he sees her body shaking involuntarily. He wanted to run to her, to wrap her in his arms and sweep her away but he knew it wouldn't be going down that way.

"Now that that's established. Let's get to business." Horne says, ignoring the woman next to his feet.

She couldn't understand the words she heard, but with the eye that could still open, she saw a bright light. This light wasn't yellow tinged, it was spreading something she hadn't felt in what could've been days, warmth, over her skin. She moves her curtain of hair away from her face, the wet heaviness of it slapping against her back and the ground, revealing her face to the men who had come to save her. She raises it towards the light like a flower in the morning. Her skin the color of the iris and bluebells in her garden, a watercolor portrait painted across her, swollen and marked, showing the clear damage that had been inflicted upon her. John holds Arthur back, and he tries to hold in tears of anger.

As she heard Cyrus' voice, the babbling that her brain had stopped understanding some time ago now makes her gag. For the sound of his voice, as opposed to any of those of his men always meant the worst was coming her way. As she throws her weight to sit on bruised knees, she wheezes and holds what was surely more broken ribs. The pain was an afterthought now, it was the only thing she'd felt in so long. It could've been days, but she knew that her memories would not be reliable at this point, what with how many times she'd been hit in the head as of late.

What Alfie can't rip his eyes away from is the blood. It moves like a river, starting in her now dirty and matted hair, down from her scalp across the sides of her face, a sticky and clotted frame of the damage he could never apologize enough for.

"If I didn't know personally that she was a woman, I would say this one here was a man of most impressive strength." Horne remarks. "She withstood more than any man I've ever interrogated before that's for damn sure." he adds in an impressed tone, turning to face her.

Alfie's eyes moved down her body, the blood connected in a forked pattern and down the middle of her breasts to a thick line that ran all the way down the center of her dress, the inside of her thighs caked with clotted blood, her hands and knees leaving prints of it behind as she struggled to hold herself up.

She looks up and sees the silhouette she would know anywhere. A choked sound escapes her, as the tears form quickly now, seeping out over her filthy cheeks as she tries not to sob as the pain is too much when met with the relief the sight of him brought. Alfie was there. He'd found her. She wheezes and struggles for air, trying to focus her eyes but the bright light of the sun hurts too much after the days in the dark.

"Lucky for you. All of you." he narrows his eyes and points his finger to Alfie and the Shelby's. "She wouldn't talk. Wouldn't give up a peep about you. So I'll need to be compensated for that as well." he continues with a shake of his head.

All her loyal dogs had surely shown up to take her away from all of this. Even if it went badly, she knew they'd come for her and she wouldn't end up in a hole in a country field that would never be found. Taking these assumptions she decided to focus on the next most important thing besides Alfie, Cyrus. Although his men had followed his orders, he was the orchestrator of all the pain she'd been put through that had left her in such broken state. She had no weapons, she couldn't move fast or well, but she did know that he had to die. It's all that her mind would think and it shows on her face.

He catches the death stare she gives him openly. Out of habit, her brain disrupts her understanding of his words, she hadn't wanted to hear what was said as he touched her while she had been held captive and had taught herself to not listen. He asks something, leaning in and swiftly nodding his head her way. Glaring with a face of stone, she found a new well of rage in the knowledge that she wouldn't be fighting alone if she did attack him at this point. He puts his boot on her face slowly, giving it a hard enough push to knock her onto the floor to her side. She keeps her eyes on him as he moves, giving him no satisfaction to be found in her expression.

She knew the shuffle of Alfie's feet by sound alone. He moves closer to her and the way he comes into focus slowly distracts her from the hate in her heart for Cyrus. She sees his exhausted face, focuses solely on Horne at the moment. He knows there's the business to take care of before he got to her, and she accepted this as the way things had to play out. She wouldn't leap for him or beg for attention, that would show weakness. She would stay strong for both of them. Alfie was acting on certainty, knowing that Genevieve would want Cyrus murdered first and foremost before he tended to her. And he was right.

Shots fire off suddenly, and she doesn't know who or where they came from, but everyone hits the ground and scurries, including her. A gunshot even after all she'd been through was enough to fill her with the pain deafening adrenaline to make it behind one of the trucks on Horne's side of the line of defense. She doesn't move fast or well, and certainly not gracefully, tripping over her shroud of hair that grasped to her bare skin from the dampness of it. She ignored the shooting pain in her chest, back flat against the side of a truck with darting eyes that tried to focus and a mind that tried to concentrate despite the hard time she was facing attempting to do so. With shots now sporadic, men's voices yelling taunts from both sides, she moves to the open back of the truck she was brought in. She rests her upper body on the bed of it, searching for something to defend herself with.

She hears a familiar voice let out a call of pain, the clatter of buttons hitting the ground as she hunkers down and sees Cyrus on the opposite side of the line of vehicles. He was shot in the leg, and another wave of adrenaline spikes through her veins as she knows she's found her way in. She eyes an ax in the truck and lugs it out with her bruised and injured arms. The sound of the head hitting the ground a dull thud compared to the shots that still rang out. With both hands on the handle, she drags it behind her, her eyes with their blackness both inside and surrounding them are set with an unbreakable focus on Cyrus' face as she moves with a limp towards him. Her gate is broken and flawed, the scrape of metal against the poured stone floor a distraction to the men who were on Horne's side, giving Alfie's men opportunity to take more of them down. She can't hear the shots any longer, or the screams, she only hears her heartbeat in her ears. She lumbers forward with the ax and stands, her presence blocked by open doors and angles at Cyrus' side with the ax in her hand. He scrambled, looking up at her in the way he'd wanted her to feel while he'd exacted his revenge on her, with fear. She resembled more animal than human now, her hair a tangled mess, the blood and bruises only adding to the camouflage of her feminine self as she grits her teeth and grips the wooden handle of the ax in her hands. He pushes back with his feet to get away from her, only one leg being of much use, but it's not enough to escape her. With her stance like Athena bringing a sword down upon her enemy, her back arched and looking strong, the ax held above her head and a face that held the hell of a woman scorned, she brings it down into his body with a roar. Her lips snarled, her teeth barred and chest heaving as she brings her weapon of justice above her head again, the blood now dripping and blending with the red head of the weapon. She once again is chopping past the bones and flesh of his torso with a sickening and satisfying crunch. With a ringing in her ears, only her breath now registering as she loosely flings the ax away, she straddles his body, almost halved in her enacted revenge. She sees his face screaming, tears from his eyes, spit flying and teeth gnashing as he looked in unfiltered horror at himself, knowing his story was coming to an end by the woman who he had tried to break.

With dead checks on all of Horne's men, Alfie follows the animalistic sounds that blend with the echoing shrieks of Horne. What he sees happen before him, he was not ready for.

She kneels over him, a hand cracking his ribs as she puts her weight on the broken cage, her knees at his side and her eyes nothing but black and vindictive. As she sinks her hands into his bubbling mass of guts and organs, the men who had seen war all stop at stare at the carnage. She rips him open with her bare hands, his screams causing Arthur to cover his ears, reminding him too much of the war as he shakes his head.

Her voice is dark and raspy, barely recognizable or understandable as it raises in volume as she speaks, each statement more painful than the last. "You're screaming but I know you love it!" she says, throwing her head back and laughing maniacally at him. She digs his intestines out of his body, tearing out his stomach and liver and tossing them away. "Am I too big for you?" she asks him, leaning close to his face and working fast. "I bet I'm SO much bigger than he is. Come on now! Acting like you don’t want it only makes me want it more." her voice is now that of a banshee wail, all vengeance, and agony. "What's a broken bitch like you going to do about it? NOTHING! YOU CAN'T!" her voice sounds as if she's telling a joke, a madness lies beneath her words, as all the men that hear her know she's only reciting what must've been told to her during her time being held captive.

She sees him fading, and wants more from him. Her thumbs gouge into his eyes, sucking them out of their sockets with sickening pops as she digs her thumbs into the empty holes until he is no longer screaming, and no longer alive.

Alfie looks on in horror. He never wanted this for her. This was war. This was brutality that she should've never had to witness or perform, but because of him...here she was living this life.

"Chanah." he calls with a crack in his voice, walking towards the body and the blood that pooled around it. "Chanah." he calls out again, his voice more strong and certain. He had to put his guilt and his fear behind for her now. She was what needed all of his attention at this moment. "Chanah." he says, his shoes finding the edge of the sticky puddle of blood as she stops and wheezes, his voice finally registering to her. Her head rises slowly, hands running down his body before she holds them up and looks back and forth at them. Her adrenaline fades, her hands now shaking and trembling and pulsing in distress. She sluggishly rises, her knees giving out a few times, as he holds out his arms to her, not wanting to frighten her further or worse, have her attack him and have to restrain her. He'd seen men lose their minds on the battlefield, and he wasn't going to chance having to harm her further to keep her from hurting herself. But as she stands, stumbling and feeling his hands on her back, she moves to face him with unsure feet. "Chanah." he whispers with as much sweetness as he could muster in the face of the slaughter he was gazing at.

Her eyes meet his, the one that wasn't swollen shut was wide with fear, pupils dilated fully and as she takes in a forced shaky inhale before she squeaks out wordless sounds, her back bending and her body collapsing into a violent sob as he lunges forward and catches her at the waist. She calls out in pain and he moves, holding her as gently as he can. She was frail and pale, utterly broken as he saw the frantic nature of her eyes as she grasped at him. She reaches up for his face, finally eye to eye, the blood-soaked dress and limbs now slathering him in bits of Horne but he didn't even register it. Her hands at his face, her lips trembling and split, blood coming from her mouth and nose, her teeth pink from it, she tries to speak. "Ari." she chokes out, only seconds before her eyes roll back into her head, and she goes limp in his arms.

"Chanah!" he shouts, his hand moving to give her face a few light smacks as she lay without response in his arms.

Tommy pushes forward, his hand to her neck as Alfie shook her, each breath growing more desperate, fearing the worst.

"ALFIE!" he says holding his arm tightly. "She's alive. She's passed out. But we need to get her to a hospital NOW, yeah? She's clearly... hurt." he chokes out, the way Alfie was holding her, that look of loss on his face reminding him of losing Grace.

"Yeah. Fuck....yeah, mate. Yeah." he says with rushed words, scooping her up like a baby as he carries her to their car to take her to start the long and seemingly impossible recovery period for her.

The moment marked another chapter in their relationship, something neither had gone through before. But all Alfie thought while he kept his fingers on her pulse the entire drive was how he was going to murder everyone and anyone that had anything to do with Horne after he knew she would be alright. This day would come to be infamous in myth, but it was, in fact, a true story. And a love story nonetheless of gangsters and revenge. It would be told years down the line of the day the mad Jew almost burned down all of London for the woman he loved.

Please leave a like, reblog or comment if you enjoyed this! It makes me want to write more of what you want if you let me know!

@jaegeeeeer @cosettewinchester @lookuptheskyisfalling-blog@brianaisasongbird @cry5t4l-w4rri0r @jess2464 @hardygal69 @thegarrisonpublichouse @a-flock-of-angry-pigeons @pootle @negansdirtygirl22 @musingsby-night @shine-dont-shadow @inkinterrupted @vale0413 @emerald-bijou @elaenom @give-jack-a-lightsaber @anrm1@ultrablackwidower @tinastarkandco @arrowswithwifi @marvelgirl7 @they-are-not-just-stories @ugly-crying-over-bucky-barnes

#Peaky Blinders #Alfie Solomons #alfie solomons imagine #alfie solomons x ofc #alfie solomons x reader #alfie solomons imagines #tom hardy #alfie solomons au #alfie solomons x oc #alfie solomons fanfic #alfie solomons fic #alfie solomons fan fiction #alfie solomons fanfiction #alfie solomons angst #alfie solomons fluff #peaky blinders fic #peaky blinders au #peaky blinders fan fic #peaky blinder fanfic

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seventyfiveapples · 6 years

Text

Shaken

CHAPTER EIGHT

Bright / Nick Jakoby x OFC

Previous Chapters: One, Two, Three, Four, Five, Six, Seven.

Story Summary: Nick receives an unexpected invitation from a charming middle school teacher with a mysterious past.

Billie took a gulp of the stale diesel fuel the hospital was passing off as coffee and sat up straighter in the scratchy waiting room chair, attempting to will herself awake as she waited for any news about Lucy or Gilda.

For the last two days, Billie was either at work or at this hospital, waiting and drinking this shitty coffee.

Lucy was going to be okay, at least. The plaster had cracked into smaller pieces before hitting her, resulting in mostly surface injuries: a head wound that bled profusely but that was easily stitched, a concussion, a broken shin, and numerous cuts and bruises. Remarkably, she did not require surgery and would most likely be released in another day after a bit more observation. She was in and out of consciousness, but Billie was grateful she would pull through.

Gilda was another story. Her injuries were far more severe and she hadn’t yet opened her eyes since the earthquake.

Billie had insisted on riding in the police car as Nick drove to the ER, applying pressure to Lucy’s wounds as they rode so that she wouldn’t bleed out on the way, and trying to keep both as still as possible.

At the ER, one of the intake nurses asked for Gilda’s next of kin... and Billie was gutted as to realize that Gilda didn’t have a single name to enter. She’d lied and given her own name, saying she was an aunt. No one questioned her.

Since then, she’d kind of thought of herself that way, and since Lucy was more or less stable at this point she was glued to Gilda’s bedside. Every few minutes she looked up to scan the child for a sign - any sign - of movement. Nothing so far. She sank back into her chair and resolved to wait as long as needed.

Her heart broke at the possibility of Gilda waking up in her hospital room completely alone. How could such a good-natured kid have no one to look out for her?

It broke her heart even more to think she might never wake up.

Like most orcs, family was everything for Billie. She grew up idolizing her two older brothers, hoping to become a Fogteeth member herself someday.

When she was Gilda’s age, Billie was a real tomboy and was often treated as “one of the guys,” or at least like one of the guys’ little brothers. They used her as a "lookout" for some of their small-scale robberies and she was ashamed to remember feeling proud about that. As a kid, she saw her brothers as The Good Guys, no matter what, and the rest of the world - humans, elves, etc. - were villains. She'd justified some of their criminal activities by the idea that anything that benefited orcs and hurt humans was somehow righting the injustices she saw around her.

As she go a bit older, she started to understand that the world didn't work in absolutes. The more she understood about the world outside of her neighborhood, the more all the stories she told herself grew cracks, and those cracks spiderwebbed out, connecting facts and shattering long-held assumptions. Maybe, she was forced to admit, maybe her brothers weren't The Good Guys.

The first time she wondered who, exactly, her brothers really were was the first time she saw them actually hurt someone, punching and kicking a shop owner they were robbing. He hadn't done anything to draw their attention, he just happened to run a convenience store. The second time, the time she really pulled back, was when her first girlfriend had been shot in the leg by a stray bullet. The third time was the final straw. She was serving as a lookout for another convenience store robbery, and a small human child - no older than 6 or 7 - came up to her and asked who the men were who were talking to her daddy. Billie knew the child couldn't hear the sick thuds of body blows that her orcish ears detected, and she just stared at the child, unable to speak.

She went home that night and cried harder than she'd ever cried in her life, feeling guilty, torn, and trapped in a life she was finally starting to understand and resent.

Oddly, it was through the encouragement of a human teacher in high school that Billie built up the courage to confront her brothers. Her teacher saw real promise in Billie and encouraged her to apply for college, something no one else in her family had done. She passed along scholarship opportunities and articles about how to strengthen college applications. She asked her every week about her plans. Without that teacher, Billie didn't know if she could envision a different life than the one that was slowly taking hold of her.

Because of that teacher, Billie had made it her life's mission to be a positive influence on others, especially other orcs. She knew the impact that a teacher could have and teaching became her goal.

For their part, her brothers supported her in her decision not to follow in their footsteps, even though she never hid how she felt about their criminal activities. It was an uneasy version of "agreeing to disagree" that seemed to somehow work: Billie drew clear boundaries and her brothers respected them. The three of them had enough love and devotion to keep that commitment... at least, that’s what Billie hoped.

Nick walked into the hospital after his shift with arms full: flowers for Lucy and Gilda and a cup of what he hoped was “some decent fucking coffee,” per Billie’s request.

He walked in Gilda’s room and held out the coffee to Billie.

“Sweet Jirak, thank you,” she told him, shaking her head to wake herself.

"You’re welcome. Any news?”

"Lucy's been awake, off and on all day. She'll be thrilled to see you. No change for Gilda."

"And you? Have you been here all-"

"I'm not leaving," she snapped. It sounded harsher than she meant it. Nick didn't take her response personally. He placed Gilda's flowers - a small pot of violets - on the windowsill.

"If you want," he said in a soft voice, "I can come in here after I visit with Lucy so you can take a break, get a bite to eat or something."

Billie nodded but said nothing. Nick patted her shoulder gently before leaving the room.

To his delight, Lucy was awake when he came in, and all smiles.

"Hey, cutie!" she greeted him.

"Hey, yourself! These are for you," he said, placing a large flower arrangement on the counter facing her.

"They're beautiful! Come here and kiss me so I can thank you!" Nick happily obliged. "The doctors said I might get to go home tomorrow. Are you free? Maybe I could make you some dinner or something." He smiled as he relaxed into a chair by her bedside. Seeing her covered in bruises and cuts was torture, but he knew she wouldn't want his pity, so he tried not to stare.

"That would be nice. How are you feeling?"

"Oh, you know, like a building fell on me," she smirked. He reached out a hand for hers and slowly brought it to his mouth, kissing it. If he had sustained the kind of injuries she had, he'd already be back at work, thanks to orcs' healing abilities. Then again, if the debris had fallen on his head, as it appeared it would, he wouldn't be here at all. He couldn't believe she had risked her life for him.

"Well, do me a favor and try not to leap in front of any more falling debris."

She shrugged. "I can't make any promises. Hey, at least when I'm in here, there's people everywhere. I don't have to worry about Dave for a few days." She looked at him and tried to affect a casual tone as she asked, "Any news on that front, by the way? My car is back at the house - anyone get close to it?" They'd decided to leave the GPS tracker in place on her car now that they knew about it, in the hopes that they could use it against him at some point.

He just shook his head. All of their leads seemed to evaporate, and he felt like he was letting her down, time after time.

Worrying about Dave was both terrifying and exhausting for them both. She thought of ways to change the subject. She started to wonder how Nick would react if she pulled him down into the hospital bed and started a vigorous make out session...

Some commotion from the hall stopped her from finding out.

“GUYS!” cried Billie from several doors down. “It’s Gilda- she’s awake. She’s awake!”

A day later, and Dave was ready to make his move. He’d already spent more time on this than he’d thought possible, and he was more than just angry, now. He wanted to be sure that bitch paid for it. He prepared two syringes full of sedatives, wrapped up a knife for good measure, and headed to the hospital in order to arrive before the orc cop’s shift ended.

He looked in a mirror: his disguise wasn’t perfect but it didn’t have to be. The plan was to be in the hospital for five minutes, tops.

This bullshit would end today.

Sunshine!

It felt so good, Gilda thought, raising her face to the sky and breathing in deeply. She was outside for the first time in three days, and she was trying to enjoy every second. Ms. Billie would be here any moment and Gilda wanted to surprise her by casually sitting on the bench outside, although the nurse was anxious to get her back in.

”FIVE more minutes, please?” Gilda pleaded, then pulled an over-dramatic face. “I almost died.”

The nurse rolled his eyes but smiled and relented. Gilda smiled and got ready to relax on the bench again, when suddenly - BAM.

A man rushing past had crashed right into Gilda, knocking her on the ground. He was tall, with a lean frame, and he didn't even pause to apologize as he rushed in. He was dressed in scrubs, but they didn't smell like they'd been inside this hospital before, ever. In fact, the smell lingering after him was altogether... peculiar to Gilda.

“Hey asshole, watch where you’re going!” Called the nurse, helping Gilda up. Gilda wasn't hurt but she felt unsettled. The man radiated hostility and anger. He wanted to hurt someone, she thought, but she didn't know why.

Sniffing her arm where he had bumped right into her, she sensed an odd combination of smells. First, the ocean. She could smell seaweed and the kinds of fish that swam close to the shores. Next were the smells of fuel and creosote: odd chemical smells orcs could spot a mile away. Hovering just behind those, however, was something else that seemed completely out of place. Maybe she was mistaken? The last smell was something... sweet. Cookies? Pies?

She forgot about it as the nurse helped her back inside to her room.

"What do you fucking mean, someone knocked her over?!" Gilda heard Billie shout on the other side of the door. She'd been out there for a while, at first talking to Gilda's social worker, and now yelling at the hospital staff. "Aren't you guys supposed to help her get better, not get her more fucking injured? You know that girl's a goddamn hero, right?!"

Gilda's heart swelled as Billie yelled. She was almost able to stop wondering what Billie and the social worker had been talking about. The dormitories at Saint Emydius were nice, and there were a few other students who stayed there, but she loved being in this hospital. There were so many people around all the time, and they all seemed to care about her.

Especially Ms. Billie. She was funny and even though she cussed a lot, and brought her homework - seriously, homework in the hospital, Ms. Billie? - Gilda knew she really cared about her. She tried to remember if this was what it was like living with her orc family...

After a few minutes, Billie came in. She walked right up to the bed with an excited expression that made her face look like it was lit from behind. She tried to talk in a serious was.

"Gilda, the doctors say you are almost ready to leave the hospital. What do you think about that?"

Gilda's heart fell. She knew Billie was expecting her to be happy about this, and forced a smile.

"Oh... good news!"

"Well, the bad news is... the dormitories at school took some damage from the quake, and it will take at least a month to fix. I talked to your social worker, and she says - if it's all right with you, and if I pass a home inspection - and of course if you want to, you could come and stay with me and Miss Harris for a while." Billie looked nervous as she spoke.

Gilda had never seen Billie nervous before, she thought she was pretty much fearless. It touched her to realize how much she was hoping for Gilda to say yes. "What do you think?"

Gilda's eyes filled with tears and she couldn't speak. This was the best news she could have imagined. She sat up straight and pulled Billie into a tight hug.

"Yes! Yes! I want to stay with you, Ms. Billie!"

Only a quick moment later, Billie burst into Lucy's room, beaming, and ran right up to her bedside. She was so excited that she didn't even notice the stricken look on Lucy's face.

"Lucy, honey, guess what? Gilda's going to stay with us for a couple of weeks!"

Lucy opened and closed her mouth, seemingly in shock.

"I know, I know. I should have talked to you about it first. Aw crap, is this a problem? What are you-" Suddenly, her heightened orcish senses realized that something was very wrong in this room, and it had nothing to do with her news.

She realized Lucy was trying to draw her attention to someone or something behind her.

Billie tried to turn around slowly, casually, but this small movement was all it took for the strange man in scrubs to leap towards her and plunge a syringe into her neck. Lucy tried to scream as her friend slumped to the ground but Dave’s hand was already covering her mouth. He had another syringe in his hand, pointed towards her.

"Miss me, Jennie? Or should I call you Lucy now?" Before she could respond, Dave plunged the syringe in her neck and deposited her unconscious body into a hospital wheelchair. He tucked the orc's body behind the hospital bed and pulled the door mostly shut, then, as casually as possible, he wheeled Lucy down to the elevator and piled her in his car.

Nick had requested to leave a little early that afternoon, and he headed to the hospital. Lucy was getting discharged that day. He wanted to drive her home himself, and spend a little time together. It was a gorgeous, sunny day, with no sign of cloud or - he sniffed the air - earthquakes. He strolled onto the hall where Lucy's room was and noticed that her door was shut. He rapped a few times and waited for a response.

"Hmmm..." came a sound from the room. The voice sounded female, but it didn't sound like Lucy. His brow furrowed as it became more clear. "Heh- help. HELP!"

Nick flung the door open and saw Billie's hand waving from behind Lucy's hospital bed as she struggled to stand. "HELP! SOMEBODY!"

Lucy's bed was empty.

@beastlybfs @bonnietakesnosh-t @cinnamonroll-issues @abigfanofyours @fantasticauthoroafzonk

#bright netflix #bright #bright fanfiction #nick jakoby #nick jakoby x oc #nick jakoby fanfiction #orc #orc boyfriend

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lordzuuko · 7 years

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did shiro and keith ever break up during those 8 years of dating before they got married? like ofc not because of something serious but because keith was dumb and thought shiro deserves someone who can give shiro what he can't. but then shiro convinces him how much he loves him and how he doesn't care about any of that stuff. GIVE ME THE ANGST CATHREL xD

[The Voltron Pre-Family] The Time Keith and Shiro Broke Up Part 1 (Part 2)

Shiro felt like he didn’t have the will to live anymore. He didn’t want to sound a bit over dramatic, but it was dramatic. One minute he was at Keith’s door, ready to hang out with his boyfriend, the next minute, Keith was breaking up with him. It didn’t make sense. It all happened too fast.

“I’m sorry, Shiro. It’s just not working out anymore. Us, being a thing.”

What made it even worse was that, Shiro didn’t even get to say anything. Keith just said he didn’t want to see him anymore. His boyfr—ex-boyfriend—was being utterly unfair. And that was how he found himself crying on his bed while looking at the ceiling because he was confused and hurt.

He had no idea what he did wrong. Earlier that day, they even had lunch together and everything seemed fine—Keith was fine. They’d been together for a year now and he was sure he didn’t cross any line—they just kissed, cuddled, and held hands. Definitely, nothing that could’ve upset the younger one. He kept his hands to himself and 100% in places Keith could see.

His Mom called and he just cried. After an hour or two of his sob-fest, his Mom sighed and said some comforting words. He felt a little better but it didn’t last too long when he saw Keith the following day for their shared class.

It sucked because Keith looked so soft wearing his red beanie and a black hoodie. However, he had black rings under his eyes and Shiro could tell he wasn’t the only one who lied awake last night.

Usually, Shiro was good at paying attention to what the professor was saying, but that time all he could do was stare at Keith. He was still the most beautiful person Shiro had laid his eyes on and his killer side profile was causing him so much pain. The way Keith’s eyelashes would flutter when he looked down on his notebook to scribble something and then bite his lower lip when he couldn’t write faster to keep up with what their professor was saying—the agony.

The way Keith scrunches his cute nose when he disagreed about something, the way he raised his right hand (always the right one) to ask a question only to reveal those pale wrist Shiro loved kissing because it tickled his boy–ex-boyfriend. The way Keith turned his head slowly to Shiro’s direction only to have his eyes widen in shock for being caught when their eyes met (not that Shiro ever looked away from the first place, but Keith didn’t need to know that).

—

When the bell rang, Keith gathered his bag and quickly headed to the door. He’d been avoiding Shiro all day and so far his bo—ex-boyfriend—hadn’t talked to him yet. Not like Shiro had any opportunity in the first place. It was all going great until he felt a strong hand hold his arm to stop him from leaving.

“Keith,” Shiro’s voice sounded miserable.

Keith bit his lip because he felt the same. He turned around and let out an angry huff, “What? I’m busy.”

“No, you’re not. You have free period after this, so we have time to talk.” Shiro knew when he was bullshitting his way out.

“I don’t want to talk,” he grumbled as he tried to break free from Shiro’s hold.

“Well, I do and you’re going to listen whether you like it or not.”

They both knew the classroom would be vacant after their class, so it was the perfect place for them and Keith just wanted to leave. He crossed his arms over his chest and looked at Shiro, signaling him to go on and that he was listening.

“I hate you so much,” Shiro stated as he stared at Keith.

That caught Keith by surprise and his face softened because he felt sad? Upset? Confused? It definitely wasn’t the sentence Keith was expecting.

“I hate how you didn’t even give me the chance to say anything. You just slammed the door on my face—”

“I didn’t slam—”

“YES, YOU DID,” Shiro pressed on. “I can’t be the only one who’s not liking this situation, right? I’ve been listening to breakup songs since last night and I don’t want us to be the couple Gwen Stefani was talking about in her song ‘Cool’ where I call you by your damn new last name and I see you being happy with someone else and we just move on and become friends because I can’t do that with you, Keith. I can’t just be friends with you. Not anymore. Because when I see you, every time I see, I want to hug you, I want to kiss you, I want to touch you. Your hands, your cheeks, your hair, your friggin mole on your neck that you hate! But I don’t! Because it’s cute and it’s part of you and it makes me so mad,” Shiro held his hands up for emphasis. “…because you feel the same way. I know because I saw you stealing glances at me in the cafeteria during lunch!”

“What? No, I wasn’t.”

“Cut the bullshit, Keith,” Shiro glared and then let out a heavy sigh. “I don’t know what’s going on and I want to know because I honestly have no idea what I did wrong. First, we were okay, and then suddenly we’re not. You didn’t even mention why—”

“I’m not good for you, okay?!” Keith raised his voice as he stepped into Shiro’s space who in turn, stepped back. For a second, Shiro looked scared. Keith never raised his voice, especially not at Shiro. “I’m just…” he shut his eyes fighting his tears. “People know I’m not good for you. I hear them talk. Ever since people found out we were together, it’s never been really great to hear what they think.

“I usually ignore it because who cares what they think, right?” He let out a fake laugh as he gestured around the room. “But sometimes it just gets too much. Aside from the fact that people look down on my English major, they just had to add that I’ll never be good enough for you since you’re taking a Science one. The superior major.”

“Keith…”

“And you know what made it even worse? I went to the psychology department to pass a paper and overheard the professors gossiping when I left the room. They think I left already but I forgot my pen, so I heard everything. You know what they said? Such a pity Shirogane had to be tied to that gay boy. His grades have been slipping ever since they got together and he’s just going to ruin Shirogane’s chances for med school and having a family. Hopefully, it’s just a phase because what a waste of good genes.”

Keith didn’t realize he was already crying until Shiro wiped his tears. He took a step back only to be pulled closer to Shiro’s chest. He felt a hand softly caressed his hair and a chin rested on top of his head.

“They’re wrong,” Shiro said, almost in a whisper. “You’re not the reason my grades have been slipping. I took a terror prof because his time slot was the only one left. All of us are suffering in his class. The highest grade is a 2.5 and that’s already mine. Also, English Literature is hard and I know that because you’re always telling me to just kill you every time you write a paper.”

Keith smiled at that a little which just caused his tears to fall.

“What I do with my genes is none of their god damn business. Whether I use it or not, that’s my choice,” Shiro continued and it made Keith scrunch his nose. “I could be with the prettiest girl and have a family of my own and it’ll never be the same. I’d be the most miserable man because I’d be thinking of that boy I was in love with back in college. The One Who Got Away by Katy Perry.”

Keith rolled his eyes as he pinched Shiro’s side. “Stop it.”

“I told you,” Shiro looked down at him and smiled. “I was listening to sad songs last night.” When Keith didn’t say anything, Shiro added, “I know I say this a lot but honestly, Keith, I just… really love you so much? I’ve never felt so connected with anyone before in my life and we’re not talking about that type of connection, if you know what I mean.”

“Shut up,” Keith smiled as he buried his face into Shiro’s chest.

“What I’m trying to say is,” Shiro took a deep breath and said, “I don’t care. I don’t care about those things because when it comes to you, there’s just so much more. I look at you and I don’t think ‘Yeah, I get to take him home with me tonight and we’re gonna have so much fun in bed.’” He shook his head fondly. “I look at you and I think ‘I wonder how many bags of chips should I buy when we do our Ghibli marathon tonight? I wonder who will win this time around on who gets to quote the most lines of Howl’s Moving Castle?’ I look—”

Keith wrapped his arms around Shiro’s waist and just squeezed him. He felt like his cheeks just turned crimson. “Okay, okay. I get it. Just stop, it’s getting embarrassing.”

Shiro chuckled as he tightened his hug in return. “You’re Keith Kogane. You love to read, you love to dance, you love anime, you love to cook, you love the sound of the storm… you love a lot of things. I just wish a lot of people could see that. See how wonderful the broody, angsty, ace Keith is. Although, he talks a lot of shit sometimes. But mostly, he amazes the heck out of me. He’s also the strongest and bravest person I know. He’s been through a lot and yet he’s still here standing straight.”

Keith looked up and Shiro’s eyes crinkled.

“Horrible, dumb, and stupid pun, I know,” Shiro just stared at him and whispered, “I’d really like to kiss you right now. That is, if I’m still allowed.”

Before he could stop himself, he punched Shiro in the tummy.

“Aw!” Shiro cried out, placing both of his hands on his middle for comfort. “What was that for? You just ruined the moment!”

“I had to,” Keith frowned, but his face betrayed him as he began to smile. “You were turning too sappy and you were getting ahead of yourself.”

“Oh,” Shiro sadly said. “So we’re still broken up then?”

“Yeah,” Keith said as he slowly grabbed Shiro’s hand and interlaced their fingers.

The gesture made Shiro stare at their connected hands and then back up at Keith, “Okay? Then why are you doing this? Why are you holding my hand? This is sending the wrong signals to me.”

“You talk too much,” Keith tiptoed and planted a kiss on Shiro’s lips.

As soon as they separated, Shiro looked at him with a funny expression. “So I’ve been told by my not-boyfriend.”

“You’re such a dork,” he rolled his eyes fondly as he pulled Shiro with him out of the door. “Also it’s 6.”

“Six what?” Shiro asked, swaying their connected hands as they walk in the hallway.

“Six bags of chips for our Ghibli marathon later,” Keith gave Shiro’s hand a gentle squeeze.

#red-paladin #ask #sheith #the voltron family #i apologize this was long omg sadkjhflkjashdfasdf

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sarcasmfics · 5 years

Text

Stuck In The Middle: Chapter 6

Summary: Sarah is a scholarship recipient working at Stark Industries. Her job? To break the super-serum! But when she falls, literally, into the arms of those super soldiers, will she lose their trust when her work is stolen? At this point, it’s PG (some swearing), smut to follow, but mostly fluff and some anxiety(AO3 link here) BuckyxOFCxSteve, BuckyxSteve, OFC, OFC!scientist, poly relationship

Chapter 6:

The first month went fairly quickly. Between getting back into the swing of working in a lab, learning Bruce’s quirks, and taking in the overwhelming amount of new information I was learning, I was exhausted. I caught lunch with Bruce sometimes, but he seemed to meet with Renee quite frequently. After running into Bucky in the cafeteria, either him or Steve would just happen to be there, even though they had a fully functional kitchen in their apartments. I didn’t mind though; hanging out with them helped me get to know a few others, and I was really feeling at home.

I’d spoken with Nat a few times, but Wanda seemed to be a bit more open and friendly. Nat usually hung to the side while giving witty commentary; she knew how to make everyone laugh and everyone blush too. Wanda greeted me with a big hug when we met, offering to show me around the nearby shops and to visit her apartment any time. We chatted for a bit and she laughed when I showed her the picture of Bucky, Steve, and me with the Captain America impersonator. It was quickly passed around and soon it became everyone’s favorite story.

By Thursday, I was so tired, that by the time I made it to my room, all I wanted to do was sleep, but I was that weird kind of tired where no matter how long I shut my eyes, I couldn’t sleep. My phone ping’d a few times and I sat up, yawning as I opened the chat.

Steve: hey sweetheart, are you coming up tonight?

Bucky: I found some movies at Tony’s we can watch

I sighed, running my hands through my hair (which really needed to be washed). I wanted to see them, but I knew that the second I sat on that couch, I’d pass out. Not to mention I’d gotten a bit grumpy at the end of the day; we’d spent the afternoon solving a few problems, and mine didn’t seem to want to work out.

Me: sorry guys long day at the lab I’m beat

Bucky: you’re no fun :P

Steve: can we do anything for you?

Me: nah, I’m kinda grumpy rn think I’ll stay in

Bucky: okay, well call us if you need anything doll

I smiled down at my phone before forcing myself out of bed to take a shower. I knew that if I took a quick nap, I’d never get up. As I climbed beneath the warm water, I shut my eyes, wondering what was going on at home. Home, I’d had such a hard time calling it that, but as much as we disagreed, they were still my family. I only spoke to my parents during the holidays when I’d call for the obligatory ‘Merry Christmas’ conversation. Otherwise, my brother kept me updated, mostly through text. Although he moved out of the house, he still stayed local, working at the town’s small school district doing custodial work while coaching baseball.

He didn’t agree with everything they believed in, but he’d fallen in love with his high school sweetheart, and she was adamant that they stay close to the family, citing that it was a great place to bring up children. He didn’t have the heart to disagree, so they moved out (after the wedding, of course). Last I spoke to him, they were still trying for their first kid. I still had one unread text from him on my phone; I’d been avoiding it since I moved into Stark Tower. I’m sure he knew.

But it wasn’t just his text message I was avoiding. The red notification of a voicemail reminded me that I needed to make a decision. I’d looked into it before, but I’d never been to therapy. My doctor, who prescribed the anti-anxiety meds I was on had suggested it when he heard I was moving to New York for this job. I was way out of my comfort zone, he’d said, and he couldn’t have been more right. I knew Stark had a whole medical ward that employees could use, but I didn’t want anyone to know about this or my meds. They’d think differently of me and I didn’t want that. I didn’t want to look weak or incompetent. No, I’d do this by myself, but finding a way to hide it from Steve and Bucky would be tricky. The decision was made; I’d call tomorrow.

By the time I finished my shower, I put on my pyjamas and cleaned up a bit, tossing my laundry into the basket and straightening out the mess of papers on my desk from earlier today. Bring the work back, I’d thought, you’ll definitely think better later! Maybe I was shooting too high at this point. Once my desk was straightened up, I turned on the tv and climbed into bed. Before I knew it, I had fallen into a deep sleep.

***

What was that annoying noise? Slowly, I turned over, burying my face into my pillow until consciousness fully hit me; my alarm was going off. When I glanced up at the clock, I realized that I’d overslept, being in such a deep sleep that my alarm didn’t wake me until now. I had enough time, thankfully, and got dressed and ready fairly quickly. Before heading out, I grabbed a protein bar from my stash and headed up to the lab.

“Happy Friday,” Bruce greeted as I made my way into his office.

“Happy Friday,” I replied, holding back a yawn.

“Late night?”

“No,” I shrugged. “I’m just a lot more tired than usual. I didn’t do so much high level work in my previous classes, so I guess I’m getting a bit fried quicker than usual.”

“Yeah, that’ll happen sometimes. Did you take those home yesterday?” he asked, nodding toward the notes in my hands.

“They came back with me, but they didn’t get looked at. Sorry.”

“Don’t apologize. Sometimes the answers elude us. What do you say we get started?”

Bruce and I worked together on the some of the tougher work, explaining a few new concepts to me as I took vigorous notes. After, he helped me through the problems I couldn’t solve the day before, naturally taking a pedantic stance in front of the white board. Once I’d had my ‘ah-ha’ moment, we moved on to the work left over. If I felt intimidated by the work at this point, how was I going to make it through my dissertation?

As usual, Bruce took his lunch with Renee and I made my way down to the cafeteria, seeking out a cup of coffee. Just as I placed the ceramic mug beneath the karaffe, it was snatched away by a random hand. “Hey!” I practically growled, turning to find Bucky behind me, holding the mug above me with a smirk on his face.

“Hey back,” he winked.

“Buck, come on, I need my coffee.”

“Kiss first?”

“Fine,” I sighed, and pecked him on the cheek. “Now coffee.” He handed the mug back to me and, once I had filled it, followed me to a quiet table in the corner.

***

I’d left lunch a few minutes early on the guise of wanting to get some extra stuff done before Bruce returned. He hadn’t gotten back yet from his daily lunch appointment with Renee, so I closed the lab door and made the phone call. Ten minutes later, my first appointment was set for next Wednesday.

---

Thanks for reading!! <3

#steve rogers #bucky barnes #avenger #avengers #mcu #stevexofc #buckyxofc #stevexbucky #polyamourous

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