#“I guess we gotta hold hands. For safety. And warmth.” | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

smutsonian · 3 years

Note

Mafia bucky with size kink, belly bulge, choking with vibration arm, sub space, daddy kink, creampie kink and squirting, breeding kink, maybe exhibitionism with Steve. This could lead to a part 2 as a 3 way with double vaginal penetration, no anal

that smile on her face

bucky barnes x reader

summary: mafia!bucky x reader ft. mafia!boss!steve and it’s basically just p0rn with a little bit of plot i guess.

warnings: smut, (whatevers written in the ask), violence, rumlow, not proofread, idk please tell me if I missed something.

word count: 3.1k

a/n: why was it so hard to write this fic vjhafvu im rusty with writing soz

masterlist

It was becoming too much for you. The palpable tension between the two brooding men and the looming figures of terrifying men on each side that serves as guards for both sides didn’t bring you any comfort and the fact that your boyfriend is a few feet away from you right now isn’t giving you any reassurance that this situation is under control.

Steve, your boyfriend’s best friend, stands face to face with an unknown man wearing an eerie smile on his face but his aura is producing anything but a positive vibe while your boyfriend stands beside Steve, glaring at the strange man. You thought you remembered someone calling him Rumlow.

You know about your boyfriend’s line of work but you never really got to witness his job with your own eyes. Life with Bucky has always been laughs and giggles, passion and love behind closed doors so you never really thought about the dangers that may come with his job. You thought you could continue to live happily and carefree with him until now.

When you saw Rumlow turning his attention to Bucky’s louring face and smirking at the emotion he’s able to get from your boyfriend made your stomach turn. You saw Rumlow’s hand rise from his side and time seemed to stop for you when you saw a gun pointed in your boyfriend’s direction. You saw your Bucky’s jaw clenching and you couldn’t help the small whimper escaping your lips when Rumlow turns the safety off with a deafening click.

Bucky’s eyes subtly searched your face but you weren’t looking at him. Your eyes were begging Rumlow to drop his gun and let your boyfriend be but the moment Rumlow turns to look at you, your stomach begins to feel more horrible than it already is. But you would do everything for your Bucky. You had to try.

“P-Please don’t…” You stutter, glancing at the gun pointing towards your Bucky then looking back up at Rumlow.

He mockingly juts his bottom lip out, pouting at you before tilting his head to the side. “No?” He asks.

You could only nod, ignoring Bucky who was trying his best to get your attention, for sure trying to make you stop talking to Rumlow.

“This your girl, Barnes?” Rumlow asks, scanning your form but nobody answers him.

Rumlow chuckles before putting the gun down, giving you a sense of relief before your breath hitches when the gun is suddenly pointed in your direction.

“Should I just shoot you then, little girl?”

Bucky’s form stiffens, as well as Steve’s and his guards, ready for an order to attack when Rumlow speaks up again.

“Are you willing to risk your life for this motherfucker?”

You didn’t know if it was your nerves making you dizzy but everything went by in a flash but in slow motion at the same time. You saw Bucky side-stepping quickly towards you, his metal arm raising as if to shield you both. A bullet makes contact with his metal arm before bouncing off of it and you stare at his arm in awe before looking at him with crazed eyes. He scans you for a quick second before he rushes you both out of the place, and onto a car before caressing your face with both of his hands. The sounds of guns being fired filling your ears.

“You shouldn’t have done that, baby girl.” His words are dark and it would’ve scared you if you didn’t know him. If he wasn’t giggling with you about a silly movie yesterday, you would’ve been frightened of him.

When you don't answer, he tightens his grip on your face, forcing you to focus on him instead of the continuous gunfire.

“Y-You’re arm… How did you know it would save us?” You stared at his face while your hand absentmindedly wrapped over his metal hand, caressing it gently.

His eyes flicker to your hand on his metal ones before looking back at you with an earnest look. “I didn’t. I just know that I had to protect you.” He says, chest heaving as he finally let himself show his emotions. Something that he only does with you.

“Y-you… You could’ve died, Bucky…”

“I will do anything to protect you, doll.” He presses a kiss on your forehead before the driver’s door opens and Steve crawls in, breathing heavily.

“We gotta fucking go,” was the only thing he says before stepping on the gas.

You did your best to ignore the blood splattered on his face and the white shirt under his black suit.

You lay your head on Bucky’s shoulder as he hugs you extra close to him, fearing that you might slip away from him and you bask in the closeness and warmth of his body. Your brain starts to fog up, and the only words running inside it are the words your Bucky said. You snuggle closer to him, humming unknowingly in satisfaction.

‘I will do anything to protect you, doll.’

Bucky Barnes watched you curling closer to him, your cheeks brushing against his arm as your eyes remained close, face finally relaxing as you go deeper into slumber. He smiled at your form, pecking the top of your head before pulling you closer to his body.

If someone told him that his heart would be palpitating because of a pretty little thing like you, he would’ve shot them in the head for poking jokes at him but now that you’re beside him…

“Is she okay?” Steve’s voice cuts Bucky’s thoughts off as Steve looks at him through the rearview mirror, quickly turning back to look at him then towards his girl with worried eyes.

“She’s resting. Calm for now.” Bucky’s jaw clenches at the thought of you producing tears for the likes of Rumlow. His heart skips a beat at the memory of that gun being pointed at you. His grip on the door handle becomes tighter while he tries his best to keep his other hand calm, the one that he’s holding you with.

“She’ll be fine. We won’t let anything happen to her. I know you won’t. I sure as hell won’t…” Steve gives Bucky a reassuring smile, mumbling the last words under his breath.

The car ride was silent throughout the ride, thoughts eating up on Bucky’s mind as he thinks of Steve’s words as well as what to do with you. How to make things up for you because he’s taking the blame for you being in a very dangerous position.

“We’re here,” Steve states, stopping the car and getting out before quickly going over to Bucky’s side, opening the door for Bucky and a groggy you. You’re still in Bucky’s arms, already squirming into consciousness while Bucky tries to coo you back to sleep.

“Need any help?”

“I got it,” Bucky answers Steve before carrying you inside the manor, Steve quietly following behind.

Once inside, Bucky feels you squirming more and he lets you go, gently putting you down on your feet. He looks down at your face that’s looking back up at him with a blank expression. He takes note of Steve’s form leaning on the doorway.

“Bucky…” He hears you mumble.

“What is it, princess?” Bucky notes the way your eyes flutters at the nickname and he fights a smile that wants to force its way onto his face.

“You almost d-died because of me,” Your sob breaks his heart and he’s suddenly on you. He’s eager to make you wipe the tears away. Eager to bring back the smile that always makes him swoon because this isn’t how he wants to see you cry.

“Don’t cry, princess. I’ll do anything for you even if that means getting hurt.” He continues to wipe at your tears but it was no use. You’re a broken dam right now.

“Daddy’s here, princess. Daddy’s right here.” He whispers, not caring if Steve hears him but he takes note of the way Steve’s form stiffens by the doorway. It wasn’t hard to miss because of his broad shoulders.

“You trust Daddy, right, Princess?” He pulls back, caressing your face and that’s when he sees it.

Your eyes are fogged, face wet with tears but the flow has stopped. You’re just looking at him with those foggy eyes filled with something so much intensity.

“Yes, daddy. I trust you.” He hears you whisper and he knows you’re deep in your space right now.

Bucky wipes your face with a cloth that’s conveniently in his pocket before walking back, away from you. You whimper at the loss of his touch but one word from him made you stop.

“Stay.”

Bucky feels himself grow proud at your obedience. He flicks a look at Steve before looking back at you.

“Take your clothes off for Daddy, princess.”

“Steve, you fucking stay there.” He doesn’t even glance at Steve but he hears his steps stopping. You didn’t even notice his words towards Steve because you were eagerly obeying his command, stripping out of your clothes with haste.

“Come here, princess,” Bucky motions you to come over and you do. He instantly wraps his metal hand around your throat, not clenching it at all. He just rests his hand on your throat, careful not to frighten you.

“You trust me, princess?” He asks one more time.

“Yes, yes I do, daddy.” You breathe out, nodding against his hold which he tightens. Bucky’s eyes flicker at how your thighs clenched together and hear the tiny moan slipping out of your mouth.

“You like this, princess? You like my hand around your pretty little throat?” Bucky tightens his hold a little more, eyes gleaming at how his hand is covering your whole neck now.

“Your neck is so tiny, I can easily crush it, princess. You’re not afraid of me?” Instead of being afraid, you whine, suddenly thrusting your naked hips towards him and he chuckles at you before letting you go.

Bucky glances at Steve who was fixing his pants, no doubt tightening uncomfortably at the scene in front of him.

Bucky stares at you, eyes begging for him to touch you but he ignores it before walking over to the long sofa and sitting down. He pats his lap as he calls for you which you eagerly obeyed, almost skipping your way towards his lap. You were about to straddle him when he stops you.

He turns your body with so much ease before pulling you down, earning an “oof” from you when your back hits his hard chest. He guides your legs so they’re resting outside of his legs. He easily spreads your legs with his and he dwells at the shiver your body makes when you’re completely exposed.

“Sit, Steve.” Bucky motions to the long sofa opposite to where the both of you are sitting and he feels you stiffening against him so he whispers soothing words in your ears. “I got you, princess.”

Steve walks towards the sofa before awkwardly sitting. Bucky could see how much his best friend was trying to control himself but, in the end, his best friend loses his inner battle for he looks at you and then to your cunt, before looking back at you.

“Don’t worry about Steve, princess. We can trust him. He did kill that awful man for you…” He chuckles at the way your body shivers, your stiffness has long gone now.

“H-he did?”

“Yes. Now let’s give Steve a little show, yeah? Show him just how fucking precious my princess is…” Bucky’s metal finger goes to your breasts, teasing each of them with equal attention. He pulls little whimpers from you here and there and he can see Steve squirming uncomfortably from across the both of you and he chuckles.

“Don’t be shy, Steve. You can touch yourself.” Bucky’s free hand goes to your core, rubbing his fingers on your clit, making your moans grow louder.

“But you won’t be able to touch my girl. You can just watch and you can be thankful that I’m letting you.” Bucky takes pride in how he’s able to make his best friend look so powerless when he’s the boss. Right now, Bucky is the boss though.

“D-daddy!” You’re suddenly shaking against Bucky as you reach your first peak, your juice covering Bucky’s fingers while his other hand continues to play with your hard nipples.

Bucky hears a groan from Steve, smirking how his friend has his hand down his pants pathetically.

Bucky continues to play with your body, pulling a few more orgasms from you until you’re crying from all the pleasure he’s giving you.

Now that’s how he wants to see you cry. Only in pleasure and nothing else. Only the best for his girl.

“Daddy, please!” You scream at Bucky, your small hands gripping his flesh hand that was on your cunt.

“What is it, princess? Tell daddy what you want.”

“W-want more, daddy,” you whisper, almost shyly, and Bucky coos at your embarrassed face.

“You need to be more specific than that, princess. Don’t be shy. You’re so fucking beautiful that you got Steve and me so fucking hard, baby.” He turns your head to the side before pressing a hungry kiss on your lips, tongue lapping every corner of your mouth before pulling away, admiring the string of saliva that connects your lips.

“Tell daddy what you want, princess. Be more specific this time.” He whispers against your ear before nipping at it and earning another whimper from you.

“Want your cock in me, daddy,” you finally say, begging with your hips grinding against his hard cock that’s under you.

He hums in approval before easily lifting you up and positioning his tip in your entrance. He looks at Steve who was looking hungrily at your slit that’s ready to take his swollen cock.

A gaudy moan escapes from your mouth as Bucky pulls your body down his cock, your head instantly falling back to his shoulder at the feeling of his cock inside of you.

“Fuck!” Bucky hisses at the feeling of your warm and very tight walls hugging his thick cock.

“God, baby… You’re so fucking tight!” Bucky’s eyes shut at the feeling of your walls clenching him and he even whimpers when you start to grind against his lap, asking for more.

He gives it to you.

He stares at Steve’s face as he guides your body on top of his, bouncing you on his lap while thrusting his hips into you to reach deeper inside of you.

Bucky sees Steve’s hungry eyes staring at a certain spot as he bites his bottom lip. Bucky follows his gaze and he too, grows even more hungry, if that’s even possible, at the sight of your lower abdomen bulging out every time his cock thrusts deep inside your tight cunt.

“Princess…” Bucky groans, stopping you from bouncing, earning a whine from you which turns into loud cries of pleasure when he starts impelling you with his cock again and again. His flesh hand goes to press on your lower abdomen to feel himself inside of you.

The three of you groan at the scene and Bucky looks back at Steve, smirking and moaning at the same time. Seeing Steve hungrily looking at you but not being able to touch you gives him a rush. Especially when Steve is choking his own cock while he watches the both of you. Oh, Bucky loves showing people that you’re his girl.

“D-daddy, I’m gonna—”

“Fucking cum for me, princess.”

And you do. You cum with a loud cry, followed by Bucky’s loud cry as he felt your walls suffocating his cock which only gave him more motivation to pistol into you, riding your orgasm. His vibranium fingers find your clit, ignoring your tiny hands that wrapped around it.

“Too much, daddy!”

“Give me one more, baby! I wanna cum inside your pretty cunt,” he whispers into your ear before pressing his lips on your neck, sucking your skin with wet kisses. That seems to make you more compliant. You wanted him to cum inside you and Bucky chuckled at how your walls clenched around him at the thought.

“Oh, you’d like that, won’t you? Want daddy to give you his cummies? Want daddy to breed you? Get you all nice and round…”

“Y-yes daddy!” You let out a squeal when his fingers started buzzing around your clit.

“Yes! Cum inside of her, Buck…” Steve’s wanton voice catches both of your attention and Bucky feels your walls tighten around him when he sees you watching Steve beat his cock with his own hand, his girth swollen and ready to cum. And it’s all because of you. His girl.

Bucky doubles his efforts, metal hand vibrating against your clit, flesh hand pressing on the bulge that his cock continues to make on your lower abdomen.

With a few more thrust, Bucky feels his balls tightening and you must’ve felt his thick cock twitching because your walls tightened again and this time, it’s enough to make him burst his seeds into you so, with a loud grunt, Bucky pulls you down on him as his cock twitches inside you, spurting his seeds into your cunt while the head of his cock remains touching your cervix.

With his metal fingers still vibrating against your clit, you follow him with cumming as the mixture of the feeling of him filling you up with his cum and the intense vibration of his fingers on your sensitive bud.

Across from the both of you, Steve watches how Bucky is filling you up with his cum, and the moment Bucky’s excess cum starts slipping out from the sides of your slit, he loses it. With a whimper, Steve’s cum shoots out and his hands get covered with his thick white cum while a few lands on the floor. Steve licks his lips when he sees Bucky pulling out of you and using his metal fingers to push the fallen cum back inside of you.

Steve, still shaking from his orgasm, watches as Bucky picks you up after covering you up with his suit jacket and walking toward the stairs.

He stops to look at him though.

“Thanks for killing the bastard for her, punk.” And with a smirk, he leaves with you in his arms.

Bucky places you on the bed before cleaning you up. His hands are gentle as he wipes his cum off your thighs and your swollen cunt before getting in beside you and wrapping you up in a blanket.

“Thank you, daddy.” You slur before curling up beside him. He chuckles before pulling you closer to him.

“You don’t have to worry about anything, princess. I’ll do anything for you, okay? Seems like Steve will too,” Bucky laughs but doesn’t earn a reply from you. He looks down at your face, seeing you already fast asleep with a smile on your face.

Oh, how he loves that smile.

And he’ll do anything to keep that smile on his girl’s face.

a/n: i just wish I did this request justice :3

taglist

General: @readermia @unlikelygalaxygiver @xoxabs88xox @anncutamarica @chaoticfiretaconerd @i-love-superhero @caffiend-queen @coconutqueen21 @jtargaryen18 @jennmurawski13 @mushyjellybeans @ninjabucky @buckstaybucky @donutloverxo @rebloggingeverything @adriannajackson @la-cey @awaywithtime @gotnofucks @empath-bunny @belovedcherry @white-wolf1940 @the-soulofdevil @mianorth @scorpiosmalfoy @rottenstyx @littlegasps

Bucky Fics: @jeremyrennerfanxxxx123

Anything Chris: @patzammit @princess-evans-addict @shadowcatsworld @notyourtypicalrose @onetwo3000 @bluemusickid @heyiamthatbitch @inlovewiththefictionalcharacters @slytherinandoutasgard @chrisevanisliterallysir

Chris and seb: @harrysthiccthighss

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader #mafia!bucky barnes x reader #mafia!bucky x reader #mafia!bucky barnes #steve rogers x reader #mafia!steve rogers x reader

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toomanystoriessolittletime · 3 years

Text

Distraction

Summary: Meeting a single Dad on the plane back to the states was maybe just the distraction you needed to get over your fear of flying.

Pairing: Frankie Morales x F!reader

Wordcount: 3k

Warnings: reader is afraid of flying, one panic attack

A/N: First time writing for Frankie. I don’t know about fear of flying or about babies, so of course I decided to write about both 🙈 Let me know if you like it 😂

Masterlist

taglist in reblog

Maybe it was time to find a new job. A job that didn’t require traveling to other continents at least once a year. You could be a barista. Or… any work that would require you staying on the ground where you belonged. Not in a tiny capsule that traveled way too fast and way too high.

You felt anxious throughout the whole day when you knew you had to go on a plane. It wasn’t even the height you were scared of. You couldn’t describe it. You always were very independent. Maybe it was the fact that you had to trust a stranger not to fuck up and make the plane crash. You didn’t know who would be the pilot. Of course, you knew that they were all trained professionals, they have to be but… ugh. Overthinking. You were overthinking again. Handing the stewardess your boarding pass she smiled kindly at you and you tried to smile back before you sighed and slowly walked down towards the plane.

As soon as your nose smelled the engine (yes you could smell it) you felt like your stomach wouldn’t make it. Closing your eyes you breathed in deep, trying to remember that millions of people did this every day. Opening your eyes you looked at the plane door where a man was just climbing in, a baseball cap on his head. He was carrying a baby that was sleeping on his shoulder as if nothing else mattered. You smiled softly. If a baby could do it, you could too.

Nope. No you couldn’t.

You felt your throat getting dryer the further you walked into the plane in search of your seat. You never sat at the window, always in the middle. You read that it was more safe once. When you arrived in the row you would be sitting you couldn’t help but smile, finding the man with the baby sitting on the window seat, the baby carrier in the middle seat. He looked up and you were met with warm brown eyes. His hand was on the baby’s back, almost covering it entirely. He gave you a tired smile and you nodded.

“Hi,” you whispered, not wanting to wake the baby.

“Hey,” he nodded quietly. You took your coat off, putting it in the cabinet over the seat, and sat down. You intended to work on your way back to the states so you brought your laptop. Pushing your bag under your seat you got out your phone, putting it in flight mode before you secured the seat belt. People were still coming into the plane and you felt yourself getting more nervous. Sucking your bottom lip in, you took out the card with the safety instructions in front of your seat, reading it carefully. Your assigned security exit was just two rows behind that was good to know. You were unaware of the man sitting two seats next to you watching you. You crossed your legs, your sweaty hands on your thigh when they closed the doors. You turned your head as you heard the man next to you mumble in Spanish and noticed that the baby had woken up and was now looking at you with big eyes. She was still lying against the man’s chest, her head just under his chin, his lips kissing her head. You looked at him then, noticing how attractive he was, his eyes closed as he gently rubbed circles on the baby’s back. His base cap sat deep on his head, dark wild curls underneath that peaked out. You never thought a mustache could be attractive but maybe he was the exception.

People were finally settled in their seats and you felt the plane move as the announcement from the boarding crew came for the safety instructions. You heard a tiny whimper and looked at the man. The baby was clearly not happy with the loud voices from the speaker. You wondered why he was alone on a plane on a seven-hour flight back to the states with a baby that couldn’t be much older than maybe four months. A noise made you jump and he looked at you.

“Sorry,” you mumbled embarrassed.

“First flight?” he asked. You shook your head.

“I wish it was. That wouldn’t make me being scared so embarrassing,” you sighed, your eyes wandering between him and the baby on his chest. He smiled a little.

“You can’t choose your fears,” he shrugged. He was right you couldn’t.

“I wish I could though. I feel like I’m gonna faint every time I have to fly.”

He looked at you before he began to open a bag that was laying in the baby carrier.

“You probably already heard all kinds of solutions for going over your fear but as a pilot let me assure you, that it’s perfectly safe.” He seemed to have found what he was searching for, a baby bottle with milk in his hands.

“You’re a pilot?” you asked fascinated.

“Was. Military. But can’t with this one needing me around,” he kissed the baby’s head.

You smiled. “She’s adorable.”

“She’s my whole world,” he put her in the crook of his left arm, his right hand checking the bottle.

“Gotta make sure the entire plane doesn’t hate me for bringing you on here, baby girl,” he said quietly. She looked up at him with big eyes, her little arms going up as he brought the bottle in her line of view and you chuckled. He looked at you, giving you a soft smile.

“It’s our second flight but she’s a trooper,” he explained. “Feeding her during take-off and landing helps with the ear pressure,” he explained.

“Are we taking off already?” you asked, feeling the nervous flutter inside your belly.

“I can talk you through it, if you want to?” he offered as he brought the bottle down and the baby began to suck eagerly just when the plane seemed to be in starting position.

“I don’t want to bother you,” you shook your head.

“I wouldn’t have offered, if it would bother me,” there it was again, that shy smile that made your heart seem to stop for a second.

“Okay. Thank you…”

“Frankie,” he offered.

“Thank you, Frankie,” you smiled.

You still felt nervous after an hour in the air but now you weren’t sure if it was the flight or the man sitting next to you. Finding an attractive and, as you found out, single Dad that looked at his baby girl like it was his whole world, didn’t help to settle your nerves or ovaries. But you would take this kind of nervousness in a heart beat instead of your fear of flying. He had talked you through every little step on what the pilot would be doing. It may vary from flying a helicopter as he did, but the steps were the same. He had squeezed your hand that was grabbing the seat like a lifeline an hour ago. You swore you could still feel the warmth of his hand.

Sofia, the 3 ½-month-old girl that was his daughter was now laying in the baby carrier in the middle seat, her hand squeezing your finger as she slept. Every thought of working on your project was gone as you looked down at the sleeping baby.

“She’s got a pretty hard grasp,” you said looking down at her.

“Yeah. She’s so big already. I can’t believe it,” Frankie said. You looked up, seeing him lift his hat, his hand running through his hair before he put his cap back on. You smiled at him.

“What brought you over here?” you asked. He made a face.

“One of my military friends was wounded.”

“Oh. Is he okay?”

“Yeah, he’s fine. Thank you for asking.”

“I wish I had friends like that. Flying for me over the globe in a heartbeat,” you sighed, trying to overplay the sadness in your face.

“Oh I’m sure you have someone,” he mused.

“I used to. But I moved across the country after my father died and I never really got settled in where I live now if that makes sense?”

“Well, why don’t you hang out with me… uh us?” Frankie suggested. You looked up at him.

“Careful with an offer like that. I might just say yes to hang out with Sofia,” you teased. As if she could hear you, she squeezed your finger and you just about melted.

“She’s great to hang out with, I’ll give her that,” Frankie said “But can she hold an hour-long conversation with a beautiful woman?”

You looked up then, seeing him look at you and you felt your cheeks getting warm.

“Guess I’ll have to talk to you until she can, huh?” you teased.

“Guess so,” he shrugged, a small smirk on his lips.

Frankie had just left to use the bathroom, leaving Sofia under your watchful eyes when her eyes blinked open. She seemed to look for her Dad until she looked at you. You could see her small lips pouting, her face frowning and your heart broke before she had even whimpered for the first time. Carefully you took her out of the baby carrier, hoping Frankie would be okay with you taking her out and took her into your arms. She was fully crying now.

“Shh…” you mumbled, propping her up so she was lying in the crook of your arm.

“Dad’s gonna be here any minute now, sweet Sofia,” you said soothingly. She didn’t stop. Sighing you changed so she was with her head on your shoulder as you got up from your seat. Maybe taking a little walk with her would help. You run your hand over her back like you had seen Frankie did before as you walked down the aisle and her cries got quieter until they stopped when you were close to the cockpit.

“There you go. You just wanted to see something different, huh, baby girl?” you asked whispering soothingly.

“Where’s your papa? What’s taking him so long?” you ask, beginning to walk back towards the seat. Frankie’s wasn’t back so you took Sofia down to the other side of the plane. You giggled as you found Sofia grab your hair and pulling lightly.

“Hey… Do you do that with your Dad’s hair too?” you asked, knowing you wouldn’t get an answer. You pulled her from your shoulder and she looked at you with big eyes as you put her in your arm so she could look up at you. Passing an older lady you smiled.

“She looks just like you,” the woman smiled softly as she looked down at Sofia who was still looking at you. You felt your cheeks getting warm again.

“Oh... I’m not…” you began but she only nodded at you and walked back to her seat. Confused you walked further until you saw Frankie walking towards you. He had an unreadable expression on his face as he looked at you and you hoped you didn’t overstep.

“I’m sorry. She was crying and…”

“She likes you,” he said, his hand brushing over her cheek and she smiled, clearly noticing her Dad was back.

“You want her back?” you ask, secretly hoping he didn’t.

“I think she looks very comfortable where she is,” he said. You looked up, finding him looking at you. He was taller than you but he was close. So close. You didn’t notice the spot on his jaw that was beard free before and you found yourself wanting to kiss him there. Kiss him everywhere. You gulped, looking down again.

“Let’s get back to our seat, huh, little lady?” you asked and walked back.

Sofia was sleeping again and you were trying to read your book. And not think about the man sitting two seats next to you. You looked at him from the side and found him always already looking at you. You felt like a teenager. You had to smile to yourself, thinking that must have been the longest date you had ever been on. You chuckled to yourself which made Frankie look at you, an eyebrow raised. You just shook your head embarrassed.

“I was thinking…” he began.

“Yes?” you asked.

“Can I invite you for a drink?”

You blinked at him, sucking your bottom lip in. You were about to answer when the whole plane shook with a turbulence and you sucked your breath in harshly. For a moment you had forgotten where you were.

“Shit…” you whispered to yourself, leaning with your head against the seat, closing your eyes, while your fingernails grabbed into the seat. The plane shook again and you breathed in and out to control your rising panic.

“Hey…” you felt someone grab your hand. You were too scared to open your eyes.

“It’s just some minor turbulence. We gonna be out of it in no time,” it was Frankie. He felt how your hand was shaking and didn’t let go.

“Just breathe. Can you open your eyes for me?” he asked. You shook your head, squeezing his hand harder.

“I know you can, look at me Hermosa,” you could sense that he was closer. Turning your head towards his side you opened your eyes.

“There you are, now breathe with me,” he looked at you and you got lost in his eyes as he breathed with you and you felt yourself calm down.

“That’s better. You made it,” he smiled. He was still holding your hand.

“Thank you, Frankie,” you said quietly. He leaned down, kissing the back of your hand he was still holding and you shivered when his lips connected with your skin.

“You’re very welcome,” he mumbled.

He didn’t let your hand go until Sofia woke up and demanded very loudly for her bottle.

It was you who gave Sofia her bottle as the plane landed and it made you forget about your fear of flying. Frankie watched you the whole time and it made your heart flutter. You wanted this. Only 7 hours ago you were on another continent and alone and now you had the baby of a man you met on a plane in your arms you didn’t want to let go.

You never even thought about children. There never was someone you could imagine having children with. It was always you. Just you.

But Frankie had shown you more attention in the last hours than any other person ever since your father died. You were lonely, you knew that. But you had made your peace with it. You were enough. But maybe you didn’t have to be just enough. Maybe you wanted to be more. Maybe Frankie wanted to be more.

The plane stopped and you smiled sadly down at Sofia in your arms. Slowly you put her in the baby carrier and she wasn’t happy about it. You almost cried.

“Come on you were so good the whole time…” Frankie whined and you giggled. He looked at you with a playful pout.

“I think she misses you already,” he said and you sighed.

“I’ll miss her too,” you smiled down at her, your hand brushing over her head and she took hold of one of your fingers again, making you chuckle.

You helped let Frankie out to get his stuff first, staying seated with Sofia. He gave you your coat and you reached for your bag under the seat before you got out of your seat. He had a backpack on and reached for the baby carrier. You were the last people on the plane. You waited until he had everything before you slowly walked towards the exit of the plane. Thanking the stewardess who was standing near the cockpit with a smile you got out of the plane, thankful to finally be on solid ground. You were about to turn around to look where Frankie was when you felt him grab your hand, squeezing it once. There it was, the nervous flutter in your belly again as you looked up at him and saw his small smile.

You were standing together waiting for your suitcase. Frankie had put Sofia in her stroller where she was sleeping peacefully. He already had his suitcase and was waiting for you.

“So…” you began, looking at him. He turned, now facing you fully.

“So?” he asked, a teasing smile on his lips.

“I was wondering about that drink you offered?” you asked. He nodded.

“How would you feel about dinner on Saturday? I’ll come and visit you in the big city?” he smiled. You felt your heart almost jumping out of your chest. You couldn’t wait.

“What about Sofia?” you asked.

“My friend can watch her. He owes me and… I want to be alone with you,” he stepped closer and you sucked your bottom lip in as you looked up.

“It’s only an hour drive, please say yes…” he whispered.

“Yes,” you breathed.

“Great. You have to get a table I have no idea what’s good over there. I’m more of a country guy…” he brought his hand up, cupping your cheek and you leaned into his touch.

“How about I cook dinner?” you offered, “So we truly are alone,” you clarified.

He leaned down, his lips brushing over yours softly and you closed your eyes, your hand clutching his soft shirt. He leaned his forehead against yours when he parted from your lips, breathing deeply.

“Yeah. Alone. I like to be alone with you,” he whispered, his nose brushing over yours. You nodded before you took a step back.

“Saturday?” you asked as you walked out.

“Saturday,” he replied and kissed you again.

#my writing #frankie morales #francisco morales #frankie morales x reader #francisco morales x reader #frankie catfish morales #Pedro pascal #fanfic #fanfiction #fan fic

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andvys · 3 years

Text

New friend

Warnings: mentions of death and injuries, clickers, some fluff?

Pairing: Ellie Williams x Reader

You were exhausted. You don’t even remember the last time you had something to eat and you just drank the last bit of your water that you had left. You were walking forever it seemed and you still haven’t found anything, no food, nowhere to camp, no people, nothing. You were tired. You got separated from your group a couple of months ago when your camp got overrun by a horde and you’ve been alone ever since.

You missed them, you tried finding the few people who survived that day, you’ve seen most people die, torn to shreds by clickers. Your group tried fighting them at first but there were too many of them, you had no choice but to flee.

A few days after your camp got overrun you went back and tried to find any trace of the people who survived that day, you searched for them for weeks but you just couldn’t find them. So you just started walking in hopes to come across someone from your group. But that has been months ago and you haven’t seen any of them. Maybe they just went the other way, at least you hoped they did. Not wanting to think that your friends may have died while you were still here.

You were getting tired and it was starting to get dark, you’d have to find somewhere to set up camp fast, walking around the woods in the dark was never a good idea.

Suddenly feeling like you were getting lightheaded, the lack of food and water was starting to get to you. You tried pulling yourself together but that was impossible. Your vision getting blurry, tripping over branch that was lying on the floor, you tried catching yourself but didn’t see you were stepping in mud close to where it was going downhill, you started slipping, trying to hold on to a tree, but it was too late you started falling down the hill. Landing on your back you hit your head in the process, grunting you were annoyed at yourself, looking down at your clothes you realized you were covered in mud now. You looked ridiculous.

Sitting up, you were exhausted, you desperately needed sleep, a shower and some food. Deep in thought you didn’t acknowledge the sound of clicking until you heard a branch snap somewhere behind you. Quickly you turned around seeing three clickers coming your way from afar. Jumping into action, you got up, wanting to grab your gun from your holster only to find it empty “shit, you gotta be kidding me.” This day couldn’t get any worse. Your gun must’ve fallen out when you were falling down the hill.

You grabbed your machete out of your backpack and started running, no way you could’ve fight all three of them at once without being bitten by one of them. You’d have to do it strategically. You ran as fast as you could, the clickers getting closer to you. “Damn it.” Your whole body ached, from days of walking, falling down the stupid hill and now running from those ugly things.

Suddenly you saw a gated cabin a little further away, “finally.” You sighed, running faster. That would have to do. You could jump over the gate and kill the clickers through the bars of the gate.

You got to the gate, quickly trying to climb over it, just when you were halfway over it, a clicker latched onto your foot, you tried pushing it away but it wouldn’t let go, “fucking let go, you ugly piece of shit.” You yelled while trying to kick it away, you were getting angry now. Suddenly two shots went off and your foot was free, you lost balance and fell down backwards over the gate just when the other two clickers got to the gate. Landing on your back once again, you grunted, being so over this day. “Fuck me, I hate this.” You sighed laying on your back, trying to catch your breath, totally forgetting that someone just shot the clicker that tried to eat you for dinner. You heard two more shots and the other two clickers fell. Realizing you were just laying there defenseless, you quickly got up and turned around holding your machete in front of you. Just because they shot the clickers, saving you from a gruesome death, didn’t mean that they wouldn’t harm you later on.

There stood a girl with a gun in her hand, she was around your age. Half of her auburn hair was up in a bun, while some strands fell in front of her face. She was beautiful and she was clean unlike you. You must’ve looked like a mad women right now, covered in mud from top to bottom, your hair in a ponytail with half of it already out of the hair tie from falling and running.

Not to mention the machete and you yelling at the clickers as if they could understand what you were saying.

“You good?” The girl asked you. Looking you up and down trying to analyze if you were a threat. Great with the way you looked right now she probably regretted saving your life.

You stared at her, she was the first person you have seen in months. Your people skills probably didn’t even exist anymore at this point, not to mention how beautiful she looked, as if you weren’t nervous enough already. Snapping out of your thoughts.

“Umm yeah.. I.. thanks for that.” You put your machete back into your backpack. Showing her that you weren’t a threat. You brushed your hair out of your face not realizing you just got blood on your forehead until you felt it drop on your cheek. Looking down on your hand you saw a deep cut wound, you didn’t even realize you hurt yourself when you were climbing the gate because of all the adrenaline.

“You look like shit, and the cut looks pretty deep, I can help you with that.” She said.

You look like shit? Man, that’s not nice to hear from a pretty girl but looking down on yourself you really did look like shit.

“Thanks for saving my life but I can take care of myself.” Could you really trust a stranger? You wanted to but there’s just too many bad people in this world, you never know who you can trust.

She smiled at you “you’re scared, I get that but let’s be honest by the way you look right now, I should be the one scared. You look like one of the crazy people that live in the woods and attack people just for fun.”

“That’s...rude? But yeah I guess you’re right, I’m not crazy though, I slipped and fell in mud.” You were embarrassed but gave her a shy smile.

She laughed, “how about you come inside and you get cleaned up and I’ll look at your wound, it’s just me right now, you don’t have to be scared.” She assured you.

You sighed, contemplating if you should trust her. She looked nice enough and she didn’t look like a threat. She looked badass but she didn’t seem like she would hurt you.

“Alright.”

She motioned for you to follow her into the cabin. Holding the door open for you she gave you a small smile, you looked at her one more time before going inside, immediately hit by the warmth, you sighed, you don’t remember the last time you have had that. A warm place. Safety.

“You can clean up a little, there’s a bathroom at the end of the hallway. The water is cold but it’s better than nothing, you can take a hot shower back in Jackson, I mean if you want to.” She shyly added.

“Jackson?” You questioned.

“Yeah, it’s a gated community where I live. It’s basically a small town, you can become a part of if you want to, we always take people in.” She explained, playing with her hands, she seemed a little nervous.

A gated community? You’d love to become a part of something like that but could you? After what happened to your previous group? Could you go through something like that again? You weren’t sure but keep on being alone and just wandering around the woods wasn’t a life you wanted to live.

“Sounds good.” You looked at her, she smiled at you. “I’m gonna go clean up now.” You told her. “Of course, I think I’ve seen some clothes laying around here somewhere, I’ll get them for you.”

After you cleaned yourself up and got dressed with the clothes the girl gave you, you remembered she didn’t even introduce herself to you and you didn’t either.

Walking out of the bathroom, finally clean. You saw her sitting on the sofa reading a comic. The only thing you could here was the crackle of the fire from the fireplace. She looked up and started smiling “look at you, all cleaned up. I knew there was a beautiful face under all that mud.” Looking you up and down you noticed, she started blushing.

Cute. You smiled at her “thanks, you’re not too bad yourself” trying to play it cool you introduced yourself to her.

“Oh right, I’m Ellie, umm should we stitch up your wound now?” You noticed she had a small kit laying on the table in front of her, having prepared it already for when you were done in the bathroom.

“Oh yeah, sure. I can do it myself though, you don’t have to.”

“Nonsense come here.” She motioned you to sit down on the couch next to her.

You went over sitting down, noticing how soft the cushion beneath you was, you could just fall asleep right then and there.

Ellie took your hand in hers and started disinfecting first. You focused on her face while she was stitching you up. Noticing how pretty she actually was, her face covered in freckles, the slit in her eyebrow, a strand of her hair kept falling in front of her face but it didn’t even seem to bother her. You catched yourself staring. Luckily she was too focused on stitching you up she didn’t notice it.

Her hand was soft on yours it almost felt too nice on your skin. This moment was almost too intimate, she was a stranger you just met and now you were sitting so close to each other, sure it was only because she was helping you but it felt nice you haven’t had that in so long not to mention how beautiful this girl was.

“Alright, all done. You hungry?” She asked. Looking at you.

“Umm I don’t want to be more of a bother than I already am by eating all of your food.” You suddenly felt shy under her gaze, avoiding her eyes.

“Come on, there’s a bunch of food in Jackson and I have some snacks with me. You can have them, you can get some actual food back at home.”

“Okay.”

She gave you some jerky and some nuts to snack on while she was telling you about Jackson, trying to convince you to come back with her. She explained to you how everyone had a job there and how the kids go to school there. It almost sounded to good to be true but Ellie already convinced you to come back with her.

“So it’s almost dark, do you want to come back with me? If not you can stay here but Jackson is safe and you’d actually have your own place?” She looked at you with hopeful eyes. She wanted you to come back with her. Something about you pulled her in right away and she wanted to get to know you.

“Alright, I’ll go with you.” You smiled at her noticing how she started smiling back at you.

“That’s nice, then we should head back before it gets too dark, let’s go shimmer is outside.” She got up putting her jacket and backpack back on.

“Shimmer?” You asked.

“My horse.” She answered noticing how your eyes widened at the mention of a horse.

“No way a horse!? I love horses, I always wanted one, ever since I was kid!” You were excited about a horse. Ellie almost started laughing. It was almost too funny, the way you were covered in mud earlier with a scowl on your face, machete in hand looking like you were ready to kill anything that would come your way and now you looked like a kid excited about riding a horse for the first time.

“We got a lot more horses back in Jackson, come on, you’re even allowed to get on it.” Ellie smiled at you opening the door.

She guided you towards the back of the house where Shimmer was. You immediately went over to it.

“Wow, hello you beautiful creature.” You stared at the horse, touching her.

Ellie watched the interaction, thinking how cute this moment was. “Alright we should get going”.

She got on the horse and helped you up. You sat behind her suddenly feeling shy about being this close, not knowing what to do with your hands.

“You should hold on to me, don’t want you falling off now.” She looked back at you and gave you small smile. You put your arms around her waist holding on to her.

“Alright shimmer, let’s bring our new friend home.”

Part 2?

#ellie williams #ellie williams x reader #ellie williams imagine #tlou imagines #tlou #tlou ellie

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bokettochild · 3 years

Note

oh maybe some four and wild friendship for the prompt thing?? i almost never see anything with them

I saw this and immediately thought of Four teaching Wild weapons maintenance, which, while cliche, was all that would come to mind. It was by accident that it turned out being much more, and I'm really happy with how this turned out!

Thanks for the ask anon! And if anyone else has a situation or relationship they're like to see, I'm open for fic requests!

(Fic below the cut)

"Along the edge, see? Take it slow or it won’t come out right.”

Wild frowned softly, scars pulling across his cheeks. “You guys go pretty fast with this though.”

They resisted the urge to scowl, “We-I’m a smithy, Wild, I know weapons better than a soldier. I’m practiced with this. You’re just starting with it, so you need to get your body accustomed to the motions slowly before you can do anything quick or easily.”

The champion cocked his head in a perfect imitation of Wolfie.

“Why is this so hard to grasp?”

“It’s Wild, guys, he’s fast on his feet, not in his head.”

“Don’t call him dumb! Blue! That’s not nice!”

Green sighed. “Let’s just compare it to something else, that usually works with kids.”

“Why are we teaching him this anyway?” Blue huffed. “Shouldn’t Captain Fancy-Hir be teaching the kid this sort of thing?”

“Wars can be just as bad as the rest of them, if we want Wild to not- destroy things, we need to make sure he’s taught properly.”

“Think of it like this.” Four offered, taking back the weapon and demonstrating how to sharpen it correctly again. “What’s something you like doing?”

Wild frowned. “Cooking? Shield surfing? What does this have to do with anything?”

Four nodded. “Okay, think of it like shield surfing.” Cooking wasn’t going to work, not considering their own poor attempts at it. “When you first started us out, you told us to practice on small hills, so we could get accustomed with how we should hold our feet and move the shield.”

“Steering.” Wild nodded along.

“Exactly! So, when you start out, you start slow so you can figure it out, and when you’re comfortable, you keep moving, you can go a bit faster and try doing things that are a little harder.” Red grinned. “Like surfing down a mountain that gives Time and aneurysm or doing smithy work of your own.” He handed the sword back over to Wild. “You just have to start small.”

The champion’s ears twitched as he looked down at the blade in his hands before smiling and nodding to the smithy. “I think I can do that.”

“Great.” Green took charge again as they reached over to tug on Wild’s good ear. “Because if you don’t, I will recruit my fellow smith to help me kick your ass.”

Wild yelped, pulling away to rub his ear. “Fellow smith?”

They nodded knowingly, eyes flickering violet as the stared up at the champion. “Legend.”

Wild had never paled so quickly save for when he was bleeding out (which, honestly, happened a lot with the kid’s tendencies). “Yes sir!” Scarred fingers formed a hasty salute.

They grinned, nudging the cook’s arm gently. “’m not the Captain, you don’t need to salute me.”

Wild nodded. “I know, it’s... just muscle memory I guess.” Ears drooped as the champion stared down at the blade in his lap, brows furrowed.

Something pulled inside them.

“Poor Wild!”

“No, we are not turning Twilight on the kid and fussing like a mother cucko.”

“For once, I agree with Blue, let-”

“Guys, Rancher isn’t the only one who can care about the kid.”

“Vio?”

“We help people who need help, be they brothers, shadows or strangers. Besides,” Had Vio had physical form he would have smiled in that sad way of his. “We’re not little kids anymore, we can handle talking about emotions.”

…..

“Okay, Vio’s sick. GReen, can I know him out?”

“Blue! No!”

“Guys,” Red’s voice was soft but firm. “He’s right, who says Twi’s gotta be the one to do all the loving around here?”

Small hands settled on Wild’s sleeve as Four looked up at him. The champion started slightly at the contact as he turned to face swirling hazel eyes. “Hey, no shame in... whatever, okay? We’re all a bit messed up, everything is, that’s what makes us alive. What’s important is we don’t dwell on it, ‘kay?”

Wild nodded.

They sat back with a grin still playing on their features, eyes traveling over the others in the group briefly to make sure no one was watching. The kid needed cheering up, or comfort, but they had some sense of pride (and maybe a bit of a need to keep up a mysterious aura, but Vio could be blamed for that). “There’s something to be said for having more of you, and if that’s a past and a future then, well,” They shrugged. “Two lives means more time to try more things and more knowledge to learn from.”

“But I lost all my knowledge, all that’s let is,” Wild flexed his hand. “Muscle memory.”

“All the better!” Vio had fully taken over now. “You get a fresh start but with a safety net. Sure, you have some memories, but they don’t define who you are now; they contribute but nothing’s set in stone, and you can break free altogether if you want.”

The doubtful look the kid sent them almost made Blue huff, but Green and Red reigned him in.

“We’re not telling him this.”

“Suck it up and go along, I’m not telling everything, just a little.”

“We can’t blow our secret!”

“I’m not, just my own.”

“Green! Tell Vio to shut up!”

“Don’t you think this would help though? Wild’s not the only one who lost who he was, and he deserves to know that.”

…

“Fine, but don’t tell him everything.”

“Ooh, can I help with this part?”

“Red, maybe let Vio tell it, this is his secret he’s spilling, not ours.”

“Okay.”

“You know,” They couldn’t meet Wild’s gaze, but there was comfort in staring at the blade in the kid’s hands. “During my adventure, something happened, I- made some mistakes, and I hurt the people I cared for the most pretty badly.” They didn’t need to look to feel the weight of Wild’s shocked gaze. “I hurt people I loved, and I changed as a person in ways no one expected, and not everyone could understand that.” A smile pulled at their lips. “But that’s okay. I changed a lot, but I became a person that I could be proud of, and I did my best to move past my mistakes after I did everything I could to right them.”

They looked up, Wild’s brows had drawn together in confusion, but his eyes glimmered with understanding all the same. A heavy breath escaped them. “The past doesn’t create us, not if we don’t want it to. We’re people, flawed, yes, but people. Everyone messes up, and sometimes they don’t remember it, but it still happened.

“We don’t have to let that define us though. I don’t let my failures define who I will be, any more than I let my current status as a hero alter the fact that I did things that were wrong in the past.” Words were beginning to run out without any reply, but they pushed forwards, Wild needed to hear this. “You’re a different person than you were yesterday, and every day is a new chance to define yourself. Someday, everyone will forget yesterday, what matters is what you are today. Does that make sense?”

Wild didn’t answer, but as the sword clattered on the stones at their feet and blue enveloped their vision, warmth settling over them as Wild hugged them tightly, Four felt content in the fact that the Champion understood.

#fic requests #one shot #one shot request #linked universe #linkeduniverse #four linked universe #wild linked universe #fluff #fluffics

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i-write-newsies · 3 years

Text

A/N:

(Y/N) - Your Name

(L/N) - Last Name

(N/N) - Nickname

(H/C) - Hair Color

(D/N) - DEEZ NUTS!! /j Deadname

(E/C) - Eye Color

(H/L) - Hair Length

(Y/A) - Your Age

Ships Included:

- Jack x Davey

- Spot x Race

- Finch x Smalls (Platonic)

- Albert x Elmer

-Katherine x Sarah

- Spot x Reader (Brotherly Platonic)

- Race x Reader (Brotherly Platonic)

Summary:

You have always dreamed of living in the world of your favorite characters, to escape from whatever rotten life you have and make friends with the people you love. One day, fate decides to give you a chance. But when you're not prepared to be rushed into that universe, it becomes a roller coaster of balancing good and bad emotions and events.

Good luck, Reader!

!!TW!!

~ SELF HARM

~ TRANSPHOBIA

~ MAJOR INJURY

~ ABUSE

~ ARGUING

(Y/N) POV:

I'm (Y/N) (L/N). I'm (Y/A) with (E/C) eyes and (H/L) (H/C) hair. At least it used to be (H/L). I cut it all off today. I can tell my mom just found out because of the loud cursing and stomping. "GODDAMMIT, (D/N)!!" she yells. What scares me the most about this situation is the fact that I'm kinda used to this. I hear her coming up the stairs to my room and rush to the door and lock it. As expected, the door handle starts rattling violently, "(D/N) YOU LET ME IN RIGHT NOW, YOU UNGRATEFUL LITTLE SH!T!" She starts banging on the door, stressing the lock.

I sigh. Today was one of the worse days. I slip on my noise-canceling headphones and press play on my musicals playlist, consisting of:

- Waving Through A Window

- On My Own

- A Little Fall Of Rain

- Angel of Music

and of course...

The entire Newsies soundtrack.

By the time I get to 'Seize the Day', it's twilight outside. I lift one of my headphones to check if my mom is gone. I hear nothing. I look out the window and don't see her car. Perfect.

Unplugging my headphones and letting the music play, I walk over to my dresser, open it up, and reach deep in the back. Aha!

I pull out some bandages (A/N: DO NOT ACTUALLY BIND LIKE THIS OK BYE). I take off my shirt and try not to look in my mirror, fearing what sort of feminine body I may see. I start wrapping my chest to the point that it gets a little hard to breathe. This kinda hurts, but my dysphoria is stronger than my need for comfort and, let's be honest, safety.

Slipping my shirt back on, I look into the mirror and smile, satisfied with my flat chest and somewhat choppy short, (H/C) hair. I jump onto my bed and plug my headphones back into my phone which is now playing Santa Fe. Santa Fe honestly makes me think. I'm only, what, (Y/A)? And I still go through all this BS. I need out. Somewhere my mom can't tell me I'm female. Somewhere like...Newsies. I mean, Race is canonically trans, right? Not to mention all of them are definitely fruity. They'd accept me. The fresh, bandaged cuts on my arms are the only things keeping me in reality right now

As the song ends, I realize that I've been crying. God, why am I stuck in this wretched place? The question as well as thoughts of Newsies reverberates in my skull, a sort of white noise until I fall into a much-needed sleep.

"Aye, kid! Watcha doin sleepin on the street?"

"Especially in a place this..."

Ω~Ω~Ω~Ω~Ω~Ω~Ω~Ω~Ω~Ω~Ω~Ω~Ω~Ω~Ω~Ω~Ω~Ω~Ω

Jack POV:

I yawn, rubbing sleep from my eyes as the circulation bell drones on an' on. I let my eyes adjust to the view of the sunrise from my penthouse in the sky.

As I try to get up to get ready, a pair of arms drag me back down. "Jackieeee" a half-awake Davey groans, "come back down, it's freezing up here." "Dave, we gotta get to work. The boys can always count on me being at the gates early, so if you don't get up, I'm leaving you behind." This seems to wake him up a little more, "Alright, alright fine." he shivers as he gets up. I throw him his top shirt and vest and he desperately claws them on to gain warmth. Carefully, we climb down the ladder.

"What'd I tell ya, Dave? Even in the middle of summer, the night's always freezing." Davey rolls his eyes and does a little shiver "I know, Jackie, now c'mere and warm me up" I grin and move in closer, holding his hand, as we start walking to the gates. "Still not warm enough!" Davey said in a singsong-ish voice. I sigh and feign annoyance, leaning in to give a short but sweet peck on the lips. I think he's satisfied now. We're not usually this lovey-dovey, but I think we're both touch starved and subtly begging for a hug.

Davey, being the amazing boyfriend he is, stops by Jacobis to get us some breakfast. "Dave, you really don't hafta-" "I insist, Jack. After all, breakfast is the most important meal of the day," he says in an almost snobbish voice. I give him a small smile. That's my smartass Dave.

As we get to the gates, I notice a small figure leaned up against it. By now, the sun has come up some more over Manhattan 'n Dave 'n I don't have to walk as close to warm ourselves up. The figure seems to be sleeping, a newsies cap over their eyes. I think it's a kid. Maybe a new newsie looking for work?

I crouch down in front of him lift his hat, and start tapping his shoulder, "Aye, kid! Watcha doin sleepin on the street?" "Especially in a place this..." Davey notes. The kid seems to wake with a start. He rubs his eyes, and I chuckle a little "Whatsa matter? Ya look like youse seen a ghost." He doesn't seem to find this funny and repeatedly switches from looking at me then Davey with some confusion and shock in his eyes.

"I um-" he stutters over his words, "Aye, aye, kid, calm down, you ain't in trouble or nuttin." He takes a few deep breaths. "Okay... I'm (Y/N). I'm just freaking out because This isn't where I fell asleep, and- and I just- feel like I know you..." "Well, (Y/N) it sounds like you're one of da Newsies now," I say with a grin, "Now, we gots ta give you a nickname, we rarely eva call someone by their real name, 'cept Dave 'n Albert of course," The kid stays silent, clearly still shocked from waking up in a foreign place. "I feel like I know you.." he says, barely discernible. "Maybe ya do, maybe ya don't, Dave here's the only one good with faces." The kid looks up at Davey, who seems deep in thought, "(N/N)" he exclaims, "Ah, sorry, what I meant was your nickname should be (N/N)!" "I like it! But why (N/N) exactly?" I question, "Well, *insert reason why here*" "Well ain't you a clever boy, Dave!" I say, ruffling his hair. Davey shies away, "Jack! Now I have to fix my hair!" he complains, "Sorry, sorry." Davey then leaves to fix his hair in front of a shop window nearby, leaving me and (N/N) alone.

(N/N) seems to want to say something, but as soon as he opens his mouth, he shuts it just as quickly. I try to fill the awkward silence, "So, what's wit' da bandages, kiddo?" He freezes, "Nothing, just a ploy to get people to buy more papes..." he trails off. I have a feelin' he's not tellin' the truth, but I go along with it anyway, "Ha! What an idea, I wonder how I neva thought a' that before." he smiles, seeming satisfied with the praise. Davey returns from the shop window, "Alright! Ready to start the day?" (N/N) nods, and so do I.

Newsies start gathering, some glancing at (N/N) and some anxiously peering through the gates. I look at the headline for today: New Newsie Price! "Aye, Dave, you seein' this shit?" "Language- and yeah... what in the world was runnin' through Pulitzer's head when he thought of this??" I look at (N/N), whose mouth is a thin, pale line but whose (E/C) eyes are glinting with determination. "Heh, kid, what's that look for?" He looks at me, a little startled, but quickly regains that same tough expression, "I have a feeling that this ain't some silly little joke. And I'm worried 'bout the kids that may get hurt in the crossfire." I laugh, "Youse just bein dramatic! Surely, they wouldn't be as dumb as to underpay their own employees." I walk over to Weasel and slap down a penny "100 papes please!" "That's gonna be dime, Kelly."

My heart almost stops, and it takes all my strength not to break down in front of the boys. I fake a laugh, "Surely you're joking." "100 papes costs a dime, take a look at the headline." I hit the money box out of anger, "Then we'll just take our business to Brooklyn." Someone pipes up, "The same thing's happenin' there." "Then we'll go to Rushing!" Specs jogs over, seemingly out of breath, "I'll save ya the walk; it's the same everywhere."

Fuck.

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Y/N POV:

A sharp pain in my chest temporarily distracts me from the situation at hand. Ah. I almost forgot. I still have to bind. This sucks. I feel a pair of eyes on me and turn just in time to see Racetrack Higgins avert his eyes. I give him a confused look and turn back to Jack singing "The World Will Know" I forget all about his weird staring and get back into the determined beat from before.

Soon, the newsies and I make our way to Jacobis for some...water I guess? I do happen to have some extra money in my pocket so I think I can treat all the boys to some seltzer. I sit down on a hard wooden chair in a slouch. The room is buzzing with excited talk of the strike. I give a small, sad smile. These boys have no idea what they're getting themselves into. Crutchie sits next to me serving a wide smile just as Jacobi enters with a tray full of waters, "And here's one for you, and for you, and for you- who's the big spender that ordered everyone seltzer?" shyly, I raise my hand, "That's me, sir." "You know these cost a quarter each, right?" I pull out a handful of quarters with a cheeky smile "and I got more where that came from." The boys go wild, "Where did ya get all that money, kid??" Davey, being the concerned mom, asks "Please tell me you didn't steal that." I shake my head, "I used to live comfortably, but my mom kicked me out for...reasons." my grin falters for a second, but no one seems to notice.

"Well!" Jack stands on a table, "Here's to the strike! And, of course, (N/N)" He gestures towards me with a wink as everyone cheers. As Katherine enters, I start to zone out and stare at a speck of dust on the ground. After all, I know the plot all too well. I perk up, though, as soon as Jack asks who's goin' to Brooklyn. My hand shoots up, "I nominate me and Race!" I exclaim. I look over at Race, who's staring at me, blushing and jaw dropped a little. I grin at him and look back at Jack, who's a little shocked. "A-alright! Me and Dave'll take the Bronx, I guess."

*Timeskip to after the restaurant scene*

I walk down the Manhatten alleys blindly, no clue where I'm going, when I hear someone come up behind me. "Hey, (N/N)! It's me, Race." I smile weakly, "Oh, hey." "I always sell my papes at Sheepshead in Brooklyn, so I know where to go."

It's almost completely silent except for the clicking of our shoes on the paved roads. "So... how'd ya get here as a Newsie, (N/N)?" "Well, Jack 'n Davey found me sleepin' on the street just this mornin'" He laughs, "Wow! So you got used to the Newsie life real quick!" "Yeah, I did.." I let out a small chuckle as well. Race pulls out a cigar and clamps it between his lips and goes to light it but hesitates. "Uh- Wanna cigar?" "Wow, Racetrack Higgins giving me one of his own cigars? I'm flattered!" I joke, "But, yeah, I need smoke." He digs into his pocket and hands me another cigar, "You eva' smoked before?" he stares at me as I put the cigar in between my lips. I grin sheepishly, "No." "Okay, maybe we should stop for a second. Coughing while walking ain't the most fun thing in the woild."

We lean up against a wall as Race lights first his, then my cigar. I inhale and immediately spiral into a coughing fit. Race smacks my back, "You good, (N/N)? I ain't neva' seen a fella cough that hard on the first puff." I roll my tear-filled eyes and continue coughing.

Once my coughing fit subsides, I feel a wave of relaxation. "God I should do this more often." I groan, Race grins, "Yeah, once you get past the whole blowin'-your-brains-out part of smokin', it's real nice. Anyway, shall we continue?" he gestures to the streets ahead. I nod my head and take another puff, "Yeah, it's gettin' kinda late and we do NOT wanna wake up the Spot Conlon." Race nods in agreement and we hurry along. Even though I know Spot is kind of a softie, that doesn't stop me from being intimidated by his prowess.

We reach the Brooklyn lodging just as Race's cigar burned out. Race takes a deep breath and gives three solid knocks on the door. A kid younger than me answers the door, "State ya business" "I'm here to let Conlon know about some very important news." The kid squints his eyes but responds "I'll ask him if he's willing to meet with anyone right now. Who should I tell him is askin'?" "Race. Higgins." He says somewhat awkwardly.

The kid closes the door. Race and I stand quietly waiting for the OK to see Spot. Suddenly the door swings open to reveal Spot. "Ra-" he notices me and coughs, "I mean- Higgins, would you like to step in to discuss the important news?" I almost laugh at the way he went from totally in love to distinguished gentleman. I shoo them away, holding in laughter, "don't worry, I'll wait out here and give you lovebirds some space." (A/N: or should I say sprace) I see them both go tomato red.

I sigh as they head inside. I take a drag from the cigar and start thinking. How did I end up in the newsies universe and act this calm about it? This feels so surreal. But I want to stay here forever. Far away from my sh!tty mom and all my responsibilities.

Lost in my own head, I barely notice as Racetrack storms out of the lodging, clearly pissed. "C'mon (N/N), we're leaving." he grabs my hand and angrily powerwalks to the next street over. Once we're there, he lets go of my hand and sighs harshly, walking slow. "I assume it didn't go well?" I ask, already knowing the answer. "Not. Well." "Wanna talk about it?" he shakes his head and starts walking "No, thanks. I think we's better get to bed before Jack gets worried." he stops. "Do you have a place to sleep?" I look down, "Not really..." "Well!" he grabs my hand again with a big grin, "Looks like youse bunkin' wit' me." I start to protest, but realize it'd get me nowhere with this stubborn SOB, so I let myself get dragged along. Oh, well. I might as well get rest for the strike tomorrow, goodness knows I need it.

As I settle down into the rough sheets, the gentle snoring rocks me to sleep with thoughts of the strike. One thought flashes through my mind before I fall asleep; God help us all.

I wake up to someone poking my face. My eyes flutter open and I almost fall off the bunk at the sight of Race's face right in front of mine. "JESUS CHRIST, RACE, YOU SCARED THE SH!T OUTTA ME!" He backs off, putting his hands up in surrender, "Sorry, sorry, it's just that Jack said you had to be up and out in 10 minutes so we can have an organized strike or whateva'" Race rolls his eyes, "I'm startin' ta think that Davey's rubbin' off on 'im a lil' too much."

I groan, tempted to slide back under the covers, but get up anyway. I slept with my clothes on so I don't have to do anything about that. As I look into an old, rusted mirror and comb my fingers through my now tangled hair, I feel another sharp pain in my chest, accompanied by a dull throbbing. I really should have taken off the bandages while I slept, but now it's too late. I take one last look in the mirror and, ignoring my eyebags, quickly head out the door to join the others. As I get to the gate, everyone's waiting with anticipation, faces grim but hopeful.

Everything happens in a blur. One moment we're striking, and the next we're beaten into a pulp. I manage to soak a Delancey in the eye when suddenly a familiar sharp pain fills my chest and wince, faltering. Morris takes this as an opportunity to knee me in the stomach, forcing me to the ground, where their take turns kicking my chest and body with those damn steel-toed boots of theirs until my clothes are torn and the cuts on my arms reopen. Suddenly, there's a small crack as my body swells up with pain and the taste of metal enters my mouth. I let out a blood-curdling scream as the pain registers in my brain. In my blurred vision, I see the Delancey's walk away, ready to torture their next victim; Crutchie.

I try to get up and reach out, try to scream at them not to hurt him, but all I can do is weakly move my hand in their direction and spit out blood. Suddenly, a small but rough hand reaches out and drags me into an alley. "Dammit, (N/N) what were you thinking?! Fighting in a gawddamn binder, and a makeshift one, no less!" "R-..Race..?" "Not now, (N/N) I have ta get youse to safety foist." I watch as he chews on his nails in thought, "Dammit! The only way back to tha lodge is through the Delancey's again!" He sighs. "Brooklyn it is..." He gingerly picks me up and carries me as fast as possible to Spot's turf.

Setting my feet on the ground and propping me up against him, he bangs on the door. "Spot!" Please! This is serious, I need your help!" I can hear the tears in his voice. Spot flings open the door, obviously very concerned. He's confused for a second, then looks at me and his eyes go wide. "GET THE MED KIT AND A COT OPEN, WESE GOT SOMETHING HORRIBLE THAT'S HAPPENED" he yells behind him. Race, now more calmed down, takes me in his arms again, but seems to refuse to look at Spot, who looks away as well, but more in shame.

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Race POV:

I watch as some of the Brooklyn newsies take (N/N) and lay him on a cot, anger surging through my veins. I take a deep breath "I'll take care of him. You guys don't have to worry about it." As they leave the room, I look down at (N/N) and can't help but feel guilty. Like this is my fault. I only got away with a black eye, but he got all this?

I regain my composure and start by taking (N/N) shirt off. I can already see the bruises starting to form and cringe. I take off his binding bandages and see his chest expand immediately. Poor kid. He must have been hurting in more way that just one. I take the gauze from the wooden box and gently wrap his torso with it. Maneuvering around his arms, I notice something. The bandages on him arms. When he was wearing them before, Jack said it was a marketing ploy, but now I see red bleeding through the white gauze.

I unwrap (N/N)'s arms and gasp. Hundreds of tiny, but deep cuts litter his forearms and wrists. F#ck. He was hurting so much more than I could have ever known. I wrap them with fresh gauze and treat the rest of his wounds, stepping back to admire my handiwork. That's when I start to cry. Full-on tears falling, face in hands crocodile tears. I turn my head with a start to see Spot, standing over me with a hand on my shoulder, looking apologetic "I'm so sorry..." Suddenly this sadness turns to rage. I grab him by the shirt collar and drag him outside to an empty alleyway. "SORRY?? SORRY, MY 4SS! (N/N) AND SO MANY OTHER 'HATTEN NEWSIES ALMOST DIED OUT THERE BECAUSE YOU DIDN'T WANT TO JOIN UNTIL YOU KNEW WE WOULDN'T "CAVE" WELL, WE DIDN'T CAVE, AND LOOK WHAT F#CKING HAPPENED! AND DONT YOU SAY SORRY TO ME AND EXPECT ME TO FORGIVE YOU JUST BECAUSE I LOVE YOU, THAT'S FOR CROW TO DECIDE." Spot seemed silent at first, but now I could see his anger building up; "WADDAYA THINK WOULD O' HAPPENED TO MY BOYS, HUH?? I WANTED TO WAIT TO SEE IF WE WOULD BE THE ONLY ONES FIGHTIN IN THIS BATTLE AGAINST PULITZER."

I open my mouth then close it. He has a fair point, but doesn't he trust me and the udda newsies not to bail in their hour of need? I sigh, pinching my nose. "I'm sorry Spot, I just-... I just wish you trusted me a bit more..." I look up at him to see tears in his eyes. "OH, SPOT HONEY, ITS OKAY, I'M NOT MAD, DON'T CRY, DON'T CRY" I shush him, pulling his head into my chest, which isn't tough considering his height.

As he lets go, the adrenaline rush from today dies down. God, I'm so tired. My knees nearly buckle and Spot notices, "Aye, aye! Tony, you doin' okay?" I nod at him, but the bags under my eyes are making them droop, "Race, honey, you need to get some sleep, okay?" I shake my head but soon fall into Spot's arms as my legs give way. "Fine..." I mumble. I can feel him grinning, "Good, we gots an extra bed for youse to sleep in." I sigh, grateful. I can feel Spot picking me up, the rhythm of his boots tapping along the ground, a pause and shift as he opens the lodging door and kicks it closed behind him as I fall asleep.

I wake up in a cold sweat. (N/N). I need to see (N/N). I need to check if he's okay. I climb out of the bed Spot laid me in and let my eyes adjust to the dark before maneuvering around all the other sleeping kids. I make my way as quietly as possible to where (N/N) is resting. I crouch down and take his hand in mine. How could I let this happen? And how did I not notice his suffering? I press the back of his hand to my forehead, closing my eyes. My body is so tired right now, but my mind is too tortured with guilt to let me sleep.

By the time my thoughts finally leave me alone, the sun is rising in the sky. I'm finally drifting when- "Race?" I turn my head to the voice, "Oh, jesus, you look horrible!" Spot exclaims, "did you even get any sleep last night?" I shrug, to be fair, I lost count of the hours. Spot sighs, "Race...go sleep. At least for a few more hours. I can watch (N/N) if that makes you happy," I nod, rubbing my eyes. I stumble back to my bed amongst all the Brooklyn newsies and fall asleep the moment my head hits the pillow.

My mind dreams of talkin' cigars and bloody bandages. I see Crow propped up against the wall, smokin' a cigar. "(N/N)! (N/N)! Oh my god, I'm so happy that you're okay!" (N/N) doesn't answer, I slowly starts walking towards him, "(N/N)...?" he starts laughing. Softly at first then roaring, and the laughing turns into a heavy coughing fit. As (N/N) coughs, red smoke pours out of his lungs and clouds my vision. I swipe at the air, trying to brush away the fog, "(N/N)?? (N/N), where did you go?!" suddenly, the smoke clears and I see (N/N) bruised, damaged, bleeding body at my feet, I gasp and step back. (N/N) slowly turns to face me, and in a painful, teary, almost sickly whisper asks, "Why did you let this happen?" Tears start spilling down my face, "I- I didn't me-" "You did this to me Race. Race. Race. Race! Race! RACE! RACE!--

Spot POV:

--RACE WAKE UP!" He wakes up with a gasp. He looks around wildly, tears dripping from his chin. I've never seen him like this. He must care for him like a brudda. To be honest, I'm worried as well, not only about (N/N) but now that we know 'Hatten isn't gonna back down and we join the fight, what's gonna happen to the newsies in general? Kids could get hoit. Bad.

"Spot?" Race starts sobbing, clinging to my shirt fabric, "Please...tell me it'll be okay..." I can't. Race, I don't know if it will. I almost start sobbing on the Spot ( A/N: heh...), but I hold my composure and smile at him, "It'll be okay, Tony...we're all gonna be fine" He seems to believe this, at least a little bit. "Now, don't you gotta meet up wit' da udda newsies?" He retracts his head from my chest, eyes wide. In a nasal voice, he goes "AW SHOOT, I 'MOST FORGOT" I watch him with a small smile as he rushes to get dressed like the goof he is. God, I love 'im.

Race POV:

Silence. I got there too early. Fuck. I can't just be alone with my thoughts, but at least I have some extra money to... I don't know? I walk up to the bar, where the owner of Jacobi's is cleaning out glasses. I sigh and sit down, "Got anything to help forget? At least for a little while...?"

"Ain't you a little too young for that, kid?" I give him a look and push my money over the counter to him. He quietly collects it, "So what can I get ya?" I'm silent for a bit "Fireball." I say with some demand in my voice. He disappears behind the counter and comes back with some shot glasses and a Fireball bottle, pouring it out into the glasses as I watch. I notice as he sighs, "Feel betta, kid." Can't promise that.

I pick up a shot glass, watching as the orange liquid spins around in it. I take in a breath of spicy cinnamon before letting the liquid slip down my throat, leaving a trail of a burning sensation. Soon, one turns into another, and another, and another and before I could comprehend it, the room starts to spin and blur. Eventually, the room fills with newsies, mumblin' 'bout how crappy the strike went. I do my very best to fit in and not act drunk, but the time zooms by and I find myself singin' 'bout bein' the king o' new york. At some point in the blurry memory, Katherine suggests getting drunk and I throw my hands up and cheer. More free Fireball! But then she clarifies that it was a metaphor, to which I am very disappointed.

The rest whizzes past me and soon I'm stumblin' my way to Brooklyn. I knock heavily on the lodging door, then lean on it. Unexpectedly, the door opens and I'm left to fall flat on my face at the feet of my boyfriend, Spot Conlon. "Race! Darlin', you okay? Youse fell flat on ya face!" He extends a hand that I receive and pulls me up. I giggle, "Ahhhh, my Spotty! Always carin' 'bout uddas. Pshht! Yeah, I'm fiiiine." I flop my hand down to wave off his concern. He wrinkles his nose, "You reek of cinnamon....and alcohol." He widens his eyes and I let out anudda giggle, "Race! Tell me you didn't jus' get drunk!" he whines, I grin, "Okey, 'you didn't jus' get drunk'" I imitate him in a deep voice and he sighs, "Jesus Christ, Racer.." he grabs my hand pulls me inside, eventually laying me on a bed, face red with a giggling fit. "Goodnight, my liege," I giggle some more, "and you my Prince," he gives a small smile before covering me with a blanket. I fall asleep before it's up over my shoulders.

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I wake up with my head feeling like it's going to explode.

Fuck Life.

I groan and sit up. "Mornin' Sleepin' Beauty" Spot smirks and hands me a cup of water, "Shut the fuck up" I whine and grab the glass, "Ooh feelin' feisty today, huh?" I shoot him a look that could rot a squash with one gaze. He holds up his hands in defense, "Alright, alright, my bad," He shrugs. I sigh and take a sip of water, which turns into me chugging the whole thing. "You betta get ova this hangover fast, hon" I groan, not ready to do anything at all today, "We gots the meetin' wit' Jack."

End my life.

"No, I don't think I will," "fuuuuck did I say that out loud?" I let out a small wail, and Spot chuckles a little, though you can tell there's somethin' on his mind still, "Yeah, ya did sweetheart." I grumble something incomprehensible and look down, red. He smiles, "Get dressed and drink as much water as possible, okay? We can't have you hungover for the big meeting, right?" I nod...which causes my head to hurt. Ow.

I sigh and decide to take my sweet time getting dressed. This sucks. "Spotty!" I call, then cringe after a new wave of pain hits, he pokes his head through the door "Yeah?". "I don't have the energy to deal wit' all dese gawddamn bandages. Help me?" He blushes a bit but agrees to help me bind. All I focus on is not hurting my head again. Spot ties the bandages and stands back to admire his handiwork but quickly notices my cringin'. "Do you want somethin' cold?" he asks gently, I nod as gingerly as possible.

*Timeskip to after the newsies meet n greet bcuz I'm power-finishing this at 12am and my mental health is steadily declining*

My hand shakes as I bring a fresh, unlit cigar to my lips.

Jack. That sellout, that traitor.

A sharp pain knocks me out of my angry thoughts. Ah. I burned myself.

I feel a hand on my shoulder, "Racer.." says a gentle voice, "You okay? that's your 3rd cigar in the past 2 hours or so." I look up to see Finch leaning over me as I sit on the ground, a concerned look on his face, "You're gonna run out all too soon" I give a bitter laugh, "Yeah, I guess I will." Finch can see that there's not much he can do to help me. He gives a weak smile and turns to walk away.

I see Davey run off somewhere. I wonder where they're going? I sigh and turn my head back down to the ground. Who cares? Without a leader, the strike'll just fall apart and Pulitzer'll win. Who was I kidding when I bragged abt being da "King o' New York"? I'm just some nobody kid without a nickel to my name. The bigger guys always win, so what's with me tryin'?

Jack POV:

I can't let any more kids get in this much danger. I visited (N/N) today. I found out about all his... injuries, as well as whatever he was born as. He's been through so much before all this, he doesn't deserve it.

It's my fault for being so ignorant. For not noticing anything was goin' on. My fault for inciting this stupid strike. For getting all these kids hoit. and Crutchie...poor Crutchie, locked up in that godawful place. I know he ain't helpless, 'e's a cheeky little bastard, I'll give him that, but the Refuge breaks down even the biggest of smiles and smothers the brightest of people. I will never forget that hell I went through. I went in a cheeky fightin' kid with a deep, strong flame, and came out with the embers barely glowing. It took years just to spark it up again. I'm terrified as to what'll happen to him.

I lean over the railing of my penthouse, not even noticing as it shakes and squeaks, making way for a young boy a little younger den me. "-Jack! JACK!" "Jesus Christ, yeah??? Oh, it's you, Dave..." I look away shamefully, he's probably here to chew me out and tell me we're done and gone. "What the hell was that?" I wince, I knew it. "Waddya mean 'what the hell was that?'?" "You know what I mean, JACK KELLY." I'm fucked. "YOU BETRAYED US FOR MONEY?!" "I WOULDN'T HAVE FELT PRESSURED TO IF I WADN'T DEALIN' WIT' A FLAKER!" Davey gives a bitter laugh and balls up the front of my shirt in his fist, tugging me towards him. "Ohoho! And if I wasn't your 'best friend' you'd be lookin' at me through one swollen eye!" "Oh, yeah? Well, don't let that stop ya, huh? Gimme your best shot!" something soft roughly pressing against my lips. The only thought at the moment is; 'Well, this is new... and passionate, 'specially from Dave' there's a heavy, awkward silence.

I back away from him, knocking over my drawings in the process. One specific drawing rolls out seemingly by fate. It taps on Davey's shoe and he looks down. His eyes widen a little as he reaches down to get it. "Is this.. the Refuge?" he puts a hand over his mouth, "weren't you stuck here once? Rats, cockroaches everywhere, 6 kids to a bunk? Holy fuc- I mean fudge." If the moment weren't this tense, I might've laughed. "Jack..." I feel a hand on my shoulder. "You don't have to tell me if you're not ready." I shake my head and he drops his arm understandingly. "Either way, we could use this. Heck..." Davey seems deep in thought before his face lights up, "We could make our own newspaper!" I look at him in disbelief, he notices, and speaks again "think about it, Jackie! Kath's a real talented writer! This art could change the perspective of hundreds! We could write to tell all the workin' boys to go on Strike tomorra'! And we could expose Snyder in the process!" Hey, that's not too bad..."But, Dave, how're we gonna print it?" His face falls, "I didn't think about it...we're banned from every printin' press in New York.."

Oh no. Ohhh no. "No. Noooo." I whine, Davey chuckles, amused "what?" "I know a printin' press that no one would ever think of!" Davey grins, "Then what are we waitin' for?" He puts my drawing back into the case, and slings it over his shoulder, getting ready to climb down. Suddenly, a thought strikes me, "Wait-" "Yeah?" "Dave- what are we exactly? Like I know how we act to each other n' everything, but we've never really said out loud what we are..." Davey giggles, "Jackie-" "No! Tell me right now, are we... in love? Boyfriends, I guess?? Or am I just something for your own experimentation?"

He cups my face in his hands, "Jackie..." he kisses my nose, "Of course I love you! And yes! We are in love! Dating! Boyfriends! Whichever way you want to define us!" Soon we're both grinning ear-to-ear and blushing. "Now!" he exclaims, hopping up, clearly on a high from the whole kiss and convo, "Let's get to it!" I laugh and stand up as well, following my over-enthusiastic boyfriend down the ladder. As Davey said; Let's get to it!

(Y/N) POV:

'My head hurts...' I think groggily. I try to open my eyes, but my vision is blurred and wonky. I sit up. Nevermind. Everything hurts. As my vision starts to clear, I see a very tired Spot Conlon sitting in a chair in the corner of whatever room I'm in rubbing sleep from his eyes. He fixates his eyes on me for a second, and I can see the sleepiness and confusion in his eyes turn into shock and joy. "(N/N)! Ohmygod! I'm so glad you'se awake!" I can see him go to wrap me in a bear hug before holdin' himself back after he remembers all my injuries. Wait. My injuries. "Does this mean you know about...?" I vaguely gesture to my arms and Spot nods sadly, "And..." I cringe and gesture to my chest, now only lightly bound with medical tape, but tighter than needed for a typical injury. I smile to myself. That must've been Race. He's like a perfect older brother, not only thinkin' about my physical health, but also my mental well-being.

Spot notices the look on my face and sees me lookin' down at my chest, he chuckles, "Yeah, Race decided on that. He wanted you to feel as comfortable as possible while you heal." I start grinning even harder. Spot spoke up again "Don't forget that even boys born seen as boys don't have perfectly flat chests, so binding as tight as you did wasn't necessary or safe, for that matter." I give him a look, is Spot really trying to be the cis savior right now? He gives me a look right back, "What? I know what I'm talking about." He lifts his shirt up to reveal two scars on his chest. I gasp, "But you're only *insert years/months* younger/older than me! How did you even know that this was an option, as well, how did you do it?" He smirks, pulling his shirt back down, "Thought so. Anyway, I don't really know. I needed them off desperately and randomly thought of it. As for the how, Buttons is AMAZING with scissors and blades. Like, scary amazing." He shivers. I blink. Damn.

He gives a shy grin "Do I really pass that well?" I look at him enviously "Of course! But... how do you look so...masculine?" "Well, I tried my best to copy the behavior of other boys I saw. And the whole working out didn't hurt." I nod, taking a mental note. Behavior, got it. Can't promise sticking to a workout, though. Spot scoots closer, taking my hand in his, "But the most important thing to understand is- behavior, body type, and a powerful reputation doesn't define being a true boy. What does is what's in here-" he taps my head, "-and here." he points to my heart. Spot looks me in my eyes, "You could wear dresses, skirts, use a 'girly' name, hell, even go by she! and you'd still be a boy in my eyes." I feel my eyes water, and Spot opens his arms to me with a sincere look. I fall into his arms and cry tears of joy. Spot and Race are the older brothers I never had, helping me at every fork in the road of my transition.

(A/N: I noticed that a big issue in trans fanfics was that the cis person was always the one to condescendingly teaching the helpless trans kid how to bind properly. I decided to make both of your mentors trans, had them both know what they're talking about, and made sure that you weren't completely useless or clueless, only that you needed guidance seeing as (Y/N) is a trans kid with no former knowledge about his transition. As well, I kinda wanted this fic to be of help to any newcomer trans men. Anyway, on to the last of the story!)

"So how are your ribs feeling?" Spot asks after we both calm down, "A little sore, but pretty much moveable. Is it really this painful to bind? I mean, the past few weeks I had the binding stuff on was my first time." "It shouldn't, I mean, lookit Race. He seems energetic and flexible even when he's binding." I think he sees my insecure face because he speaks again, "What I mean to say is- if you have more experience binding, you'll know how to mix mental and physical comfort. Either way, what fucked up your ribs wasn't the binding, it was the Delancey's. Not saying the way you were binding wasn't bad and wouldn't have caused lasting damage, of course."

I see Spot have a flicker of thought behind his eyes, he pulls out an obviously stolen silver pocket watch with the initials H.A. engraved on it to check the time. "Almost time..." he mutters. I give him a suspicious look, "Almost time for what...?" he looks sheepishly at the ground, "Nnnnnothing." I let out a noise halfway between a snort and a scoff, "Uh huh." "Fine." he sighs, "All the newsies and workin' boys is comin' together today. We'se hopin' ta finish up this strike Once And For All."

"Let me guess, I shouldn't go because I'm still healing." He nods, "Spot!! I need to do my part in this strike! I can't miss the most important day of my life." he gives me a weird look, "You don't even know what the outcome'll be, plus I promised Race that you wouldn't get hurt." "Please, I've been bedridden for WEEKS. And I won't get hurt" I protest stubbornly, he sighs exasperatedly "FINE, but I'm gettin' you right outta there at the foist sign o' danger, okay?" "Okay!" I say, content with the compromise. "We should prolly get you up and used to legs again before the strike--" my stomach rumbles harder than Les when he sees the chocolate croissants in the Pastry Shop window, and that's seriously saying somethin', "--and something to eat, too."

Spot holds my hands as I get out of bed and basically learn to walk again with wobbly legs. You could just paint my back with spots and call me a baby deer. Once I get my legs to work with me, Spot leads me to a tin tub. I give him a 'seriously?' look, "What am I doin', goin' ta church?" he laughs sarcastically, "Ha, ha. (N/N), you haven't cleaned yourself since the last time you were conscious. I also need to refresh your bandages since those haven't been touched since Race changed them in the foist place." "Fiiiine" I growl.

Spot unwraps my arm and chest bandages, but when it comes to me taking off the rest of my clothes, he looks away (not even for my privacy, but just because he is highly repulsed to the idea of naked bodies) I add enough soap suds on top of the water to cover my body so he's comfortable.

He grabs some soap and lathers up my hair with it, soon rinsing it. He also lathers and rinses my face, removing the built-up dirt, grease, and sweat, which accumulated surprisingly quickly for only spending a month, or was it two, here. Spot brings out a small piece of scrap fabric and a bottle of some liquid, then gently grabs my arms. "This might burn a little," he said empathetically. He dampened the cloth with what I am assuming is disinfectant and started pressing it against my healing cuts. I tried to hold in my pain but let out a small hiss when the cloth reached the deeper cuts on the backs of my arms. Spot stopped temporarily, letting my arms adjust to the sting a little, before continuing. Once he's finished, he hands me the soap and leaves the room to let me bathe myself in peace and picks up my dirty clothes and old bandages. "Holler if you need anything!" he yells on his way out.

I create a lather in my hands and stand up so I can actually wash my body. The air is chilly compared to the bathwater, so I do my best to be quick as I let my soap hands travel gingerly over my body. I look down, and for the first time in a long time, I don't feel ashamed. Spot words echo in my mind as I smile softly; 'You could wear dresses, skirts, use a 'girly' name, hell, even go by she! and you'd still be a boy in my eyes.' I guess, for now, I'm confident in my masculinity.

I sit back down, enjoying the warmth, and rinse myself off. I step out of the bath and look at the grey-ish brown-ish water. Ew, was I really that dirty? As the cold air envelops me once more, I realize I don't have a towel. Or clothes. "Spot!" I call out, "Yeah?" I hear a faint voice, "I need a towel and some clothes!" I answer. There's quiet, then a series of rustling sounds that slowly get closer. The door opens a crack and I see a tan, muscular hand slide a pile of clothes and a towel in my direction. I smile gratefully, "Thanks, Spotty!" "Aye! Only Race can call me dat..." "Okay, fine."

I dry my hair as much as possible, before continuing to my body. There's not much actual rubbing rather than patting because of my injuries, so when I get my pants on and slip my button-down onto my shoulders, they get a little damp. "Spot?" I call out again, "Do you think you could help me with my bandages?" "'Course!" He casually picks up the chest bandages and binds it pretty much perfectly- Tight enough to make a difference in my chest size, but loose enough to let my ribs heal. Spot then starts re-bandaging my arms, "Can I ask you a question, Spot?" "Sure, (N/N)" he says nonchalantly, "Why is it you are repulsed by fully naked bodies, but you're perfectly casual and fine about helping me bind my chest when I'm half-naked?" he clears his throat as if he was ready to spin a whole story, "Well, Race used to live with me and we started trusting each other a lot more than when we first met. He trusted me enough to teach him the best way to bind, and he trusted me enough to feel comfy without a top on when around the house, so I'm kinda desensitized. But when it comes to people being naked or bein' overly suggestive, I just..don't like it. At all."

'Asexual,' I think, 'Knew it."

"Anyway, you ready to fight off the bulls and get our rights back, (N/N)?" He stands up and offers a hand to help me up, which I receive. I catch my reflection in the dirty bathwater. I can see crystal clear, that I am dapper, strong, and ready to kick some Delancey ass.

But first, Lunch.

Ω~Ω~Ω~Ω~Ω~Ω~Ω~Ω~Ω~Ω~Ω~Ω~Ω~Ω~Ω~Ω~Ω~Ω~Ω

I arrive at the strike on Spot's shoulders, hyped for the happy ending they all worked so hard for. Spot sets me down gently and scans the crowd for someone. It seems he found them because his face lights up. I see Race run over to us. "(N/N)! Oh my god, I'm so fuckin' glad that you're awake! Especially today of all days!" however, his enthusiasm is soon replaced with concern, "But is ya sure yer okay? You must've woken up just today, so are you feeling good? Yer injuries don't hurt too bad, you're not dizzy, hungry, thirsty?" "Calm down, Tony, I gave him a bath, changed his bandages, gave him food n' water, even a pep talk, so you don't need to worry!" Race takes a few deep breaths, "Okay, okay, yeah I'm fine. But that's great!" He engulfs me in a firm, but gentle hug. I look around the crowd and see some familiar faces, Katherine seems to have brought another girl with her, who I'm assuming is Sarah, Davey's sister. I see Albert and Elmer tightly holding each other's hands. I see Finch and Smalls exchanging jokes as a form of distraction. I look back at Race and Spot, who are being so romantic, it's almost gross. Almost.

The adrenaline still hasn't left me so when people start getting as excited as me, it just hypes me up even more. We look up at the window of Pulitzer's office and see Jack and a few others standing there, waving. I wave back vigorously. Not too long after, Jack, Davey, Pulitzer, and The Governer appear on a balcony, Jack at the front. "Newsies of New York City..." cue the pause for dramatic effect, "WE WON!!" The crowd of newsies roars with joy. I watch as Crutchie limps out and beats Snyder's ass as the abuser is dragged away, I don't understand why so many people see him as an angel, it's obvious that he's a cheeky lil' rat bastard.

Suddenly, it's like everything is in slow motion. I look around once more and see Katherine and Sarah kissing, same with Albert and Elmer, Finch and Smalls are hugging each other tightly. I look back up at the balcony and see Davey and Jack gettin' it ON. I look once again to Spot and Race, who just finished kissing. Spot reaches down and hoists me onto his shoulders to cheer. And as I take in this momentous victory one sense at a time, I realize in a moment of pure bliss-

I finally found my true family.

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

Word Count: 8190

(A/N):

This took VERY LONG (approx. one month, I just finished after working from 9 pm to 5 am) I know it was supposed to be a simple one-shot, but since there was no one to help narrow down and shorten the plot for me, I got carried away. I am, however, pleased with the length of it. This may be the longest fic I've ever written. As well, I hope any underlying advice or tips mentioned in the story helped you to understand/realize something.

I would love it if you were to vote, give me some constructive criticism, and/or request something for me to write! Don't forget- I live to write that one fanfic you can never find.

Love y'all!

~ Race

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echo-of-sounds · 3 years

Text

fear of the water

Small drabbles of Aizawa, Hizashi, and Gang Orca helping you overcome your fear of water.

It’s so weird writing about swimming while being bundled under five blankets and it’s snowing outside.

Aizawa Shouta

“What if you drop me?”

Shouta cradled both your thighs, staring straight at you. “Do you think I would ever do that?”

You shook your head.

“Come on then.” He huddled close. You ran your hands up his tall happy trail and wet skin, wrapping your arms and legs tightly around him. Holding under your thighs, he casually walked backward, inching into deep water. Nails pricked him, but he didn’t comment. He just continued supporting you.

Pool water rippled with his wading. It plashed over your legs the further he wandered. When it reached your waist, chilling and startling, every muscle in your body went rigid at the unfathomably abysmal depths waiting to suck you under.

“Are you alright?”

“I think- Don’t move- Don’t- I don’t want to go any deeper.”

His chest thrummed with a hum. Body heat offset the liquid cold. You tried to relax in his arms, but your muscles wouldn’t give. He kissed your temple and whispered in the already dead quiet room, “Nothing’s going to happen to you. You’re doing perfect.”

Aizawa strolled back and forth, not once moving deeper than you could handle. The mellow waves resembled a lullaby. His voice interrupted it, “Do you want me to set you-”

“No! No! Sho, you said you wouldn’t drop me. Don’t drop me.” You were probably near strangling him now.

“Stop squirming or I will.” You stilled. He kissed your brow. “I won’t let you go. However, I want you to try to stand in the water.”

“Sho-”

“It’s only three feet deep. You just have to stand.”

You nuzzled his neck. His lips grazed your skin, muttering in his direct-but-caring teacher voice, “The only way you can get used to water is to be in the water. It’s only four feet deep. I’ll hold you the entire time. My hands will never leave you. All you have to do is stand for a few seconds.”

“I guess… Alright. Don’t let go.”

“I won’t.”

“Okay…” You unwrapped your legs and hesitantly lowered them. They submerged into the cold, dark horror. You kept a firm embrace on his neck while you blindly reached for the bottom. Hands smoothed up your sides, then your arms, gently removing them next.

“I’m right here,” Shouta assured. True to his word, his hands never left you. They braced your hips as your toes touched down, followed by your heels. You were standing in water yet you weren’t drowning.

“It’s not so bad, is it?”

“I guess not.” A swishing sound from behind startled you. Not knowing what it was and not wanting to risk anything, you jumped back into his arms, clinging tenser than before.

“It’s only the drain. You’re safe,” he hushed. Shouta said nothing else. He simply held you, leisurely treading around the pool, allowing you to feel his warmth and listen to his heartbeat as you adjusted to being in the water.

Yamada Hizashi

Hizashi cannonballed in at the deep end, swimming to you underwater. Kids played with noodles. Teenagers laid on floatables. Adults relaxed on chairs while their children enjoyed themselves. You sat on the stairs leading into the humongous pool, only wetting your ankles, cursing him for bringing you to such a public place.

He popped up directly in front of you and shook his head like a puppy. Droplets splashed your arms and face. He smiled wide, “You ready?”

“No,” you muttered, so people didn’t hear.

“Nobody’s paying attention.” His arms flung out as he spun around. No one spared him a glance. “See.”

You didn’t move. As much as you wanted to hate him, his dripping chest and eyelashes were attractive. Wet hands patted your knees. “Nobody’s going to watch you or judge you. Not a soul.”

You shrugged.

Hizashi sat beside you. His water-coated body snuggled yours. Lips pressed to your temple, embellishing the smooching sounds. He hummed, “There’s your pretty smile.”

Your head dropped to his shoulder. He rubbed your back, speaking thoughtfully, “You were excited to try this morning. What’s changed?”

“The people… I don’t want them to laugh.”

“They’re not paying attention to us. They’re really not. Besides, we’re starting small today. You only gotta go three feet in. I know you can do it.” Fingers tilted your jaw up. His long, dark eyelashes were exquisite. All the more so when he smiled, illuminating his eyes. “Don’t let them ruin this for you.”

“Alright,” you conceded.

After kissing your forehead, he praised, “Good girl. Now, c’mon, let’s start by getting down the stairs.”

You grabbed his outstretched hands, letting him haul you to your feet. The first step down was rather easy. It chilled your calves, but it was manageable. The second brought water to right beneath your knees. The third and fourth caused a creeping shiver that grew.

Once on the pool floor, muscles and bones refused to walk forward. The glistening blue, delicate waves, and lively cheers didn’t fool you. You knew what water did. It was powerful and dangerous and took lives. Maybe you didn’t want to do this after all.

Your voice was shakier than your hands, “Hizashi, I don’t- I don’t think I- I can’t go any further. Don’t make me.”

“Oh, baby, it’s alright.” He secured your waist, stabilizing your body because you couldn’t. “I’m not gonna make you do anything. You got down the stairs. That’s the first step, and you did wonderful. I’m excited for you to do more.” He kissed your forehead, bear-hugging you after. “But that’s for another day. Right now, let’s go get some ice cream.”

Gang Orca

“Do we really have to go deeper?”

“You’re only ankle-deep. I know you can go further.”

“Kugo…”

“Trust me, I’ll keep you safe.”

“I don’t…”

Kugo returned to your side, rubbing your arms, searching your eyes for any distress. “You already stepped into the water. That’s an achievement. We can stop for today.”

“No.” You rested your hands on his chest for extra support. The cold sea surf lapped your ankles. It was only going to get colder and darker and scarier with horrors beyond recognition lurking in the black depths-

“My love, there are no monsters here.” He read your mind and childish fears. “If you want to continue, we’re only going up to your knees. I don’t want to do too much today and scare you more.”

“Okay. I- I‘ll do it. Can we go slow?”

“Of course; slow and easy.” He steadied your forearms while you took the first step. Every footfall pushed you deeper, familiarizing yourself with the sand cushioning your feet, the washing waves rising up your calves, and the salt rushing with the wind and water.

Kugo squeezed your elbow, encouraging you, “You’re doing great. You’re almost there.”

Your eyes wedged shut during the final five steps. And before you knew it, goosebumps covered your knees, and they were submerged. You didn’t die in the process.

Despite it being a juvenile accomplishment, you smiled and laughed and hugged Kugo, thanking him. He lifted you in a snug embrace, nuzzling your neck, “I’m so proud of you.”

The joy didn’t last. When he set you down, the chill chilled you a little too much. The beach’s safety was miles away. Your legs wouldn’t make it. Tentacles or talons or teeth are just waiting to nab you.

He said your name. “Let’s go back and get warm. You’re shivering.”

“Carry me? Please?”

You knew he wanted to laugh, but he spared you any teasing. “Let’s go.” He hoisted you into his arms, ferrying you out of the shallow water and back to your towel.

#aizawa shouta #aizawa x reader #present mic #present mic x reader #yamada hizashi #hizashi x reader #gang orca #gang orca x reader #kugo sakamata #kugo x reader #aizawa imagine #present mic imagine #gang orca imagine #bnha #bnha x reader #bnha imagines

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amintyworld · 3 years

Text

Wilbur's Crows - A Dream SMP Drabble

A/N: Have a little fluff for the soul, featuring Phil's Chat! - Minty

TW: Crying? (Lmk if I need to tag anything else!)

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

Sunrise bled through the white curtains, slowly melting away the peaceful starry night into a new day. Creatures stirred out of their slumber, and monsters retreating back to the darkness from whence they came, a few slowly turning to ash and bust. The smell of burning flesh ran potent through the forest, a smell that meant safety to those living within, a smell they were more than used to, blind to. The ground began to warm under the sun's gaze, the cool breeze of night turning to warmth. A warm hug mother nature gave to her children, easing them away from dreamland.

Beside a window, a crib rocked slightly back and forth as a breeze blew through the room. A messy brown-haired tyke held a teddy bear protectively to his chest, sleeping soundly. The light growing brighter behind his eyes, he shifted uncomfortably. Finding no relief, a noise of annoyance rose from his throat as he buried his face into the stuffed animal.

Swiftly, hearing the distress, a few black crows landed on the windowsill overlooking the three-year-old. Some brandished shiny necklaces they wore as a badge of honor. Some were simply bare. A crow to the left of the other two put down a shiny glimmering rock from its beak down by its feet, putting the gift aside for now. Looking to the side, the left crow could see the one on the far right putting down a large chunk of a diamond before the one in the middle met its gaze. Together, all three stared down at the toddler in concern for a moment as the small human squirmed, his chest heaving in breath like he was about to cry.

The two crows looked to the right one with the badge, wondering what they should do. The right one hopped over toward the headboard of the crib, taking in the child. Then, they let out a loud call. "Caw!" The loud noises made the small human's eyes snap open to see a black crow staring down at him, cawing. "Caw! Caw!"

The other two chimed in occasionally, adding to the caw-rus. That was, until the toddler in both annoyance and a little fear clutched his teddy closer and began to cry. The two on the windowsill looked at each other in panic - something was wrong with the small human, it was crying! - and began to caw louder to draw the attention of their owner.

As the door creaked open, all crows silenced, watching their owner as he entered. Watching for any sign of what he wanted them to do. The blonde locks fell a little past his shoulders, with kind blue eyes. He approached the child, reaching his hand down and gently brushing any hair out of his son's face. "Shh, it's okay mate, everything's okay..." When the child's eyes met his father's he silenced, simply looking up at him. Phil smiled as he moved to pick him up, holding the toddler against his hip. Wilbur's grip failed on the teddy during the transition, dropping on the ground as the left-sided crow flew down to try and grab it, flapping its wings wildly to get the surprisingly heavy stuffed animal in the air. Phil let out a warm chuckle as he kneeled down to take it, the crow backing off. After the small child got settled in his arms, he raised a finger to his lips and kissed it, pressing it to his son's nose as he giggled. "There's the Wilbur I know." Phil cooed.

Turning toward the window, his crows looked on silently, wanting to help but unsure as of how. "He's okay, Chat. Wilbur's okay." The caws returned in relief at the statement, breaking the somewhat silence. The crow with the necklace flew over toward Wilbur, trying to land on Phil's shoulder before the tyke waved his arms in protest and annoyance.

"Caw!"

"Caw!" Wilbur mimicked. "Caw!"

Phil chuckled at his son's outburst, trying his best to sound stern. "Now Wil, we don't wanna try to hurt Chat, do we?"

As Wilbur turned to face his father as he talked, the crow in question changed course, landing on top of Wilbur's head with a "caw". Phil tried to hold back his laughter at it all as the door creaked once more, someone else entering the room. Their voice was warm like Phil's but soft, comforting. "So I'm guessing Wilbur's okay?"

"Yeah, just a little grumpy this morning," Phil answered.

"Mumza!" A crow chanted.

She walked further into the room, behind her husband, giving him a small peck on the cheek. "Hm, I wonder where he gets it from..." She teased. Phil turned to face his wife with a smirk, leaning over to give her a proper kiss on the lips. As Wilbur moved closer, he could see a silver glint around her neck.

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

"Uhm, Wilbur..." Ranboo began as he looked up from the crafting table and out the window of their van. "Wilbur they're here again."

Wilbur sighed from his spot on the hammock, arm over his eyes. "You've gotta be joking. I told him to stop sending them!"

"Honestly? I don't think he has any control over them, they just kinda... do what they want." Ranboo shrugged.

Grumbling, frustrated, Wilbur marched out of the door of his burger van and toward the thousands of black crows lining the trees of the surrounding forest. A few brandishing those unmistakable necklaces, he knew exactly whose crows these were. He told Phil multiple times he was fine. He told Phil multiple times he didn't need a babysitter and that he wanted to change. Phil told him multiple times that he trusted him.

Ha, 'Trusted him'. He was sending in his fucking bird surveillance!

If scaring them didn't work, talking to them didn't work...

He pulled out a water bucket from his inventory, the murder of crows staring down at him as he stared up at them. "This is your final fucking warning, go away!"

Spinning he launched the water into the air as it came splashing down on top of the tree. Caws rang out amongst the forest as a few gave up and flew away, but the rest simply flapped their wings and flew a little higher, soaking wet... and mad.

"Oh Shit."

Wilbur's eyes widened as a murder of crows flew toward him as full speed, knocking him over onto the grass. Their talons caught on his skin and clothes, scratching and leaving him sore. Blinded by a sea of feathers and black, Wilbur struggled to his feet, coughing out a few feathers that landed in his mouth before finally getting his bearings, the murder traveling to settling on top of the van. After shaking himself free of feathers, guilt weighed on his heart - they were only following their owner, after all.

"Look, I'm sorry Chat. I... I didn't mean to hurt you, I... uhm..." Wilbur sighed. "I just don't like being watched, okay?" As Wilbur turned to leave, he heard the fluttering of wings and saw the crows surround his feet, one perched on his head and one on each shoulder. He mustered a bit of an awkward smile - it was strange that he was literally talking to birds. His father's birds, but still. "Thanks, Chat."

Walking off deeper into the forest, Wilbur could hear the flapping of wings behind him, and found himself smiling. Maybe it had some weird psychological effect from trying to run them off his property for almost a week straight... but his father's crows were growing on him.

They settled wherever he went as he worked collecting wood and finding some cows to bring back, the flapping always a telltale sign. One always liked settling on top of his head, and after a few hours, Wilbur allowed it. Chat was a silent presence, but not an unwelcome one to Wilbur, who didn't have many friends besides Ranboo to hang around.

As the day came to a close, he walked back toward the van. "I'm guessing I'll see you all tomorrow, then?" He got a few caws in response as the murder took off into the sky and over the horizon, back towards his father's home in the artic. One crow remained - the one perched in his brown curls. "Go on then, you'll see me tomorrow after all." Wilbur gestured toward the others. "And please learn to listen to Phil, okay? You guys could've gotten yourselves lost trying to find me."

The crow landed on Wilbur's outstretched arm, and for the first time, Wilbur could see the crow had something in its beak. A grand silver necklace with a black stone pendant, that shimmer silver in the sunset's glow. Wilbur's eyes narrowed, scanning it. "Is... Is this...?" He looked up toward the crow, who let out a caw and flew away.

Wilbur ran his finger over the pendant that he'd never seen before, and yet he felt like he'd known it his whole life.

Mom.

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

General Writing Tagging List (Let me know if you'd like to be added/removed!):

@bones-sprouts

@foolishcaptains

@benzel

#my writing #dream smp #dsmpblr #dream smp fic #dream smp drabble #philza's crows #philza #philza dadza #c!phil #wilbur soot #c!wilbur #kristen mumza #philza and mumza #philza angel of death #mumza goddess of death #ranboo #ranboolive #c!ranboo #daily drabble

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key201303 · 3 years

Text

Pairing: Soobin x @msmadness99

Genre: fluff, birthday drabble

Word count: 850 words

Warnings: None!

A/N: Guess who's birthday just started???? YASSSSSS 🤩🤩 Our queen @msmadness99 is turning into 22 today 😍😍 Ngl, when I asked you in the morning for help and said about the spotify excuse I lied, I was actually going to ask with which idol did you thought I could write this but it would have been too obvious so I decided to abort the mission LMAO. Anyways, I really hope you enjoy this little drabble and that we can share more birthdays for more years ❤❤ it's been 8 years already and I wanted to make something a bit more special this year to thank you for all the things you've done for me, specially in the last years ❤❤ I know we hardly say this kind of stuff but I really love you and consider you a sister already more than a friend ❤ You're the best, never change ❤❤ With so much love, your golden maknae 🤪❤

🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸

(11:55 pm)

“If you keep eating you are going to explode.” You said giggling, admiring Soobin’s face as he chewed a ton of the third bowl of noodles you have ordered. You couldn’t help looking at him with soft eyes, unable to resist how cute the boy looked, resembling a small hamster with chubby cheeks because of food. “Babe we only live once, we gotta enjoy.” He said, finishing the bowl and taking a sip from his drink. “The storm doesn’t seem to fade away.” He added, looking out of the huge window placed next to your seat. “Guess this is what happens when you were born in summer and you take the risk of having a summer storm on your birthday.” You said laughing, looking at the outside of the restaurant as well. “There’s still 5 minutes left for your birthday.” He said checking his watch and teasing you. “Oh come on, don’t be like that, there are only 4 minutes left.” You said, impatient to receive his birthday gift. He has been making a lot of expectations lately about your birthday gift and of course you couldn’t wait to see what was so amazing and wonderful. “Oh no no, there’s more left, let me check, I don’t trust you.” He said, grabbing your hand and pulling it closer to him to check the watch he gifted you last year. Little did you know it was just a cheap excuse to grab your hand. “You’re right, we should get going then.” He said, letting go of your hand and standing from his seat, walking to the exit and holding an umbrella to cover your bodies from the rain.

“You’re too big, you occupy 80% of the space.” You complained, teasing him about his broad shoulders. “Oh come on, you now complain about that.” He said laughing and grabbing you by your waist to pull you closer to his warm body. “Can you stop bumping into me?” You kept complaining as both of you walked around tripping into each other’s feet and laughing. “Okay, stop, let’s organize.” He said laughing and grabbing your hand so you both stopped walking. Now you were finally facing each other and no rain drops were getting trapped in your jacket. “You know? You look so beautiful under the moonlight.” Soobin said, complimenting you and making you blush at his sudden confession. “Suddenly?” You said with a surprised yet blushed expression. “You’re always beautiful.” He said caressing your red cheeks and admiring the beautiful gleam your green eyes held. He took a few minutes to admire you. Your red cheeks that were due to the sun that have been shining in the past few days and that burnt your skin a little even though you wore sun cream, just like he ordered you every single day. Your nose piercing, making him remember the day you got it and how tight you held into his hand trying to feel the safety his warmth always gave you. Your green eyes that were beautifully holding the moonlight and the stars you both couldn’t see well because of the dark clouds. “I love you so much.” He said, cupping your left cheek and pulling you into a soft and sweet kiss under the umbrella you both shared. Your lips melted into his that had a slight taste of coconut due to the few mochis you ate for dessert. Thankfully he decided to order coconut ones as well and not the strawberries, otherwise you wouldn’t have let him kiss you until you arrived home and he brushed his teeth to remove the disgusting taste of the strawberries.

“Will you stop complaining now?” He said, slightly breaking the kiss but still brushing his lips against yours. “Never.” You whispered with a teasing tone, addicted to the feeling of teasing your sweet boyfriend. “Fine.” He said, closing the umbrella and letting the rain ruin your clothes. “What are you doing??” You screamed, slightly laughing at his brave move. “Now you have a reason to complain.” He said smirking, admiring your wet figure and laughing at the red string of hair glued to your forehead. “You’re an idiot.” You said laughing as well at his funny and wet figure. “I am. But I’m an idiot in love.” He said, pulling you back into his arms and pressing another kiss on your lips, this time a wet kiss under the rain. It felt like an american movie you and Soobin always hated because of how cheesy they were. But now that you were living in one, you weren’t complaining at all. “Happy birthday babe.” He whispered against your lips, taking you back to reality. Finally, the clocks of the town marked midnight, signaling your birthday has finally started. You were sure there wasn’t a better way of starting a birthday, even though you both would have to be in bed for the next few days with a terrible flu. But at least you could be together, definitely the best birthday gift you could ever ask for.

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dr-brainwash · 3 years

Text

a little thingy about domestic life where ulysses has moved into the pines near jacobstown with the courier. they smooch and they are So Married... yeah

—

For the first time in a long time in Ulysses’ life, it was calm.

How different the snows of Mount Charleston were from the winds of the Divide. They stung in a different way—reddening Ulysses’ face with the cold harshness, with glittering life rather than coarse, skin-sanding death.

The Courier favored this place for many reasons. One of them being that torture from the Mojave sun got tiring through the years, and it was unlikely too many people would go too far into the dense pines to find them. It was flattering, in a sense, to be welcomed as the one soul breaking into their isolation—save from their trading with Jacobstown from time to time.

Ulysses always spoke about duties to places—his to the Divide, the Courier’s to the Mojave—but over time, the well-wandered marrow in his bones wanted to take up again, and they took him all the way up this mountain. To this cabin, one he helped build, a temple too small for hold the messages the Courier delivered: some that were spoken to the world, with lungs full of fire, and others that were brought to Ulysses himself, whispered and closed with a kiss.

But perhaps this place needed not carry the burden of their speech. Perhaps it was fine, rooms comfortable enough to hold the ghosts of their little words in hazy mornings, the sound made when they fiddled with a gun to keep their hands busy, the feeling when those hands held his. Perhaps it was just right. Perhaps it was home.

In fact, there was no “perhaps” in it, Ulysses reminded himself—for there was that warmth that he thought he’d lost for years, that great endearment that welled in his chest. The Courier had strolled into the living room a yawn budding in their mouth, a call to the rising morning. Ulysses smiled, and yawned too—chuckled, even, when he realized the contagion of their voice which still held true.

“Slept well?” he asked gently.

“Would have been better if your busy ass actually stayed in bed,” they quipped as they crossed their arms, a gesture of judgement they couldn’t hold too long, love pushing it away so their hands could reach over and cup Ulysses’ face instead.

They placed a kiss upon his forehead, ever so tender, one he returned upon the quirk of their smile. “Habits die slow and painful,” he mumbled into their mouth.

“I guess I can tolerate it. So long as you ain’t tryin’ to bomb anythin’ else,” they joked back. “Wakin’ up earlier than God’s fine.”

Too many wisecracks for such an early morning—Ulysses lightly pushed their shoulder with a snort. The Courier back leaned in for another kiss which he begrudgingly allowed, before they pulled away and began looking for something to cook up for breakfast.

Ulysses, not quite wishing they’d moved away so soon, followed after them, and in his dramatic fashion, leaned his shoulder on the wall as he observed them squint about, trying too hard to look handsomely thoughtful.

“Got mantis legs we can cook up,” he suggested gently. “Rub it with the dry herb.”

“I don’t want anything crunchy right now...” they mumbled back with a scrunch of their brow.

“One who wanted to live up here is you. Not like we have many choices,” he chided, to which the Courier stuck a tongue out at—but agreed with a huffed “fair ‘nuff.”

Ulysses gave them a lighthearted smile as they passed by him to grab a thicker coat. He doubted that the Courier would ever grow accustomed to these wintry conditions, however long they both stayed, and thus would always be dwarfed in the heavy fur of their jacket.

“What are you snickering at?” they asked in a cut through his thoughts, to which he just snickered more.

“Look so little in the fur,” Ulysses jeered, “like some mouse wearing an Old-World rich woman’s garb.”

“Oh—bastard!” the Courier gasped, marching up and softly batting at his chest which now heaved at laughter. It was as if their voice got higher the smaller they seemed.

“I am the Courier! The savior of the Mojave! A bastion against imperialist forces and you’re out here callin’ me mousy!—” they ranted on haughtily, before Ulysses caught their jabbing hands in his and leaned over yet again to kiss them—this time peppering their face in the act until they laughed too. He let go of their hands then so they could snake them around the back of his neck.

There was nothing he so much adored nowadays than these kisses, and so at every turn the man tried to bring them forth, and at every turn the Courier was happy to deliver them.

“Well—now—“ they sputtered through their giggles as Ulysses pressed his lips again to their cheek, “I gotta grab those mantis legs like you said. Don’t go on eating me.”

His smile pressed to their skin, he squeezed his arms around their waist first before letting go. “Go ahead. Will start the hot plate in here... maybe we could make a soup this time. Good for the cold weather.”

There were far better remedies for the cold, though—and they both knew this, as even after drinking up the said soup, Ulysses and the Courier stayed upon the couch for a time, covered over by that large fur coat.

Nose-to-nose and warmed by home and love, Ulysses felt himself beyond hope, now—he didn’t need it here. There was safety. There was softness. And in power, by his weapons which gathered dust in some trunk, it would never be lost to him again. For that, his hands could scarcely leave theirs.

#guess who whipped some fucked shit up under two hours in a daze #lakan’s writing #ulysses fnv #ulysses/courier six #fallout #shut up lakan #i just wanted to write somethin happy for a while #and my compulsion to Yell about ulysses helped #so here’s him having soup and keeses and cuddles #pinned post #ft. my over usage of like. long hyphens or whatever #they match my thought process all dotty and shit

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anika-ann · 4 years

Text

The Winter Tale (S.R.)

(Of Snowflakes, Hard Fallings and Soft Landings)

Pairing: Steve Rogers x fem!reader Word Count: 3900

Summary:

Scoring a date with Steve Rogers is not easy. One’s gotta be patient.

Fall might blend into winter before you get to go out with him, but know one thing; Steve Rogers makes things worth your while.

Warnings: swearing and tooth-rotting fluff (no really, it’s strong with this one, and it’s me saying that, so...)

A/N: Sequel to The Fall Tale, works as a standalone too I guess

The Fall Tale (previous one-shot)

💙❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️🤍❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️💙

Fall was reluctantly letting winter take over, as it usually happened towards the end of November, and you were still painfully single. Technically at least, because you yet had Steve Rogers to take you out on your first date.

How was that possible? Glad you asked. It was because fate was a bitch, to put it eloquently. Steve had got your number with almost a scout’s-honour promise to call you soon, and then he didn’t. He lied. Like a liar.

To be fair, after three days of you being mad at the embodiment of truth and justice for all, Steve Rogers did call you, awfully apologetic and sounding truly regretful and either he was that good of a liar who even hired foreigners to be his alibi, or he really was on a market somewhere in Eastern Europe, catching his breath in a middle of a mission.

Being angry with him got considerably harder after that, especially since two days later, you read about a major showdown in his supposed current location and saw a brief footage of him protecting innocent civilians.

Because Steve damn Rogers just had to get more perfect.

The thing was, right after that mission, there was another one, this time lasting twelve full days. You were incredibly pissed at the circumstances – and maybe a little bit angry with Steve too – but mostly mad at the circumstances that didn’t want you to get romantically involved any time soon.

Sure, you could have just told Steve off, bid him goodbye and find someone else, but you couldn’t.

Because Steve tried his best to stay in contact whenever time and safety measures allowed it, texting, calling and on one precious occasion, even facetiming. And once he relaxed a bit – which seemed to be always happening rather soon into the communication, allegedly because you made him feel like a normal guy – Steve could be an entirely nice guy and you couldn’t make yourself let go.

Steve Rogers was kind, charming, witty, which was a cocktail you would never say no to, but on top of that, he was panties-dropping gorgeous. So even if the chances were that eventually, after the date actually happened, you might only end up like friends due to the immense distance between your league and his, you would feel like an idiot if you didn’t try to make it work, hence waiting for him to have a damn day off.

And you didn’t regret it; the date was totally worth the wait.

Yes, the weather sucked, so your clothes was perfectly damp just like your hair just from walking from your door to the cab due to the wildly swirling snowflakes, but Steve held the car door open for you, standing right there in the cold just to be a gentleman for you. He also reluctantly took your hand once inside the cab and even dropped a shy kiss on its back, his demeanour and bright blues reminding you exactly why you had been patient.

The restaurant was nice but not too fancy, which didn’t prevent Steve from opening doors for you, pulling out your chair, letting you order first and generally doing swoon-worthy things that made you feel both touched and aroused. The less posh environment didn’t make either of you feel bad for laughing and being entirely unsubtle, as the conversation varied from light to serious, laughter blending into chuckles and need to touch each other’s warmth for comfort. There was teasing, there was touching, there were unexpectedly dropped lines that made your heart flutter and there was inevitable falling deeper into the pit labelled ‘adoring Steve Rogers.’

“You really are going for the whole shebang tonight, aren’t you?” you teased him lightly when he helped you put on your coat and informed you that he made a reservation to a cinema.

The blush that crept up his neck caused you to feel even giddier than before. The wine you had both ordered might have not affected his brain as he had told you, but it had definitely coloured his cheeks rosy – and yet, now they grew even hotter.

“I mean, we don’t have to-- I don’t-“

You took his hand and squeezed, which shut him up effectively, his expression puzzled and hesitant.

“I would love to spent more time with you, Steve,” you assured him and he smiled sweetly as the cold air from outside caressed your face.

Your breath caught in your chest at the sight you were offered. Yes, New York never lasted long as a winter wonderland, but right now? Now it seemed almost magical as the freshly fallen snow proudly displayed its silvery white.

“Is the reservation paid?” you blurted out, your head snapping to Steve’s only to see disapproval on his face.

“I don’t want you to worry about that-“

“Not an answer.”

“… it’s not,” Steve replied, frowning a bit. “I wasn’t sure how long we would need for the dinner or if you’d even like to go. So… you don’t? Want to go?”

You wondered how Steve did not see the child-lie enthusiasm radiating off you with how perceptive he appeared to be so far. He missed it altogether, apparently, because he sounded disappointed.

It dawned to you that he didn’t get many chances to just go and see a movie and you instantly felt bad for rejecting something he kept his hoped up for.

You couldn’t have Steve sad, even if he was barely showing it. Not to mention that he had been treating you almost like a princess, you sure as hell wouldn’t treat him like you were the evil queen.

“Well, if you really do want to go, we can…”

He only shrugged his broad shoulders, charming a small smile for you.

“It’s up to you. I can cancel the reservation if you have something else in mind. Whatever to keep that beautiful smile on your face,” he offered and your stomach actually flipped as butterflies filled it for the hundredth time that day.

That was your thought exactly about him, but nope, of course he beat you to it and on top dropping a line like that, he was the embodiment of perfection when delivering it.

Steve looked so hot and adorable at the same time that you had to fight yourself not to jump to his arms and kiss him senseless. Pink plush lips, slightly red cheeks, gorgeous blue with a drop of green of his eyes twinkling and he wore such a kind expression that it made your heart simultaneously weep and race.

He kept complimenting you so effortlessly and was so considerate the whole evening too and you weren’t sure how much more you could take before you forgone all self-control and pinned him to the nearest wall; or casually confessed your undying love for him.

“Steven, you are a dangerous man. You should wear a damn warning,” you grumbled insetad, smiling so widely your mouth might actually tear.

He pursed his lips a bit, head tilted to side a fraction, looking like a confused kicked puppy.

Jesus, Steve, stop it or I’ll have to kiss you and I want you to kiss me, so please, be considerate of my lack of self-restraint.

“What did I do?”

“You’re being annoyingly perfect-“ oh now he was frowning hard, “-not like annoying annoying, but—you know. Just… I have a hard time believing this is actually happening. I really like you, Steve Rogers.”

The lines of his forehead smoothened out at your admission, his expression softening as did his gaze.

He helped you put on your gloves, fingers skimming over the first bare and then clothed skin tenderly, small sad smile playing in the corner of his lips.

His eyes met yours, the twinkle in his eyes you which already learned to love dimming. “Well, I did sort of make you wait for almost a month. Not so perfect. No warning needed.”

You had to physically fight yourself so you wouldn’t snort unattractively at the remark; yeah, the said waiting did nothing to protect your heart now. Sadly, your brain-to-mouth wasn’t fully functioning, still letting out more than it was appropriate for a first date.

“Steve, even with that, you’re making it very hard not to fall for you.”

Well, shit. The first admission had been playful. This one sounded pretty clingy. Now he was about to run off and think you a crazy girl-

But Steve didn’t. His face lit up with gratitude and affection and then a smirk found its way to his lips.

“That’s good to know. But I happen to recall a particular moment when you have already fallen-“

A surprised exasperated laughter erupted from your throat, and you actually had to gasp to gather both air and your wits. That little sh-

You yanked your hands free from his, raising your index finger towards his face.

“You know what, forget it, I’m taking it back!” you exclaimed, taking a pointed step back as Steve chuckled. “You are not perfect, you are a jerk and I think I should go home-“

“No, no wait-“ He reached out for you, but you took another step away, squinting at him playfully.

“I wanted to walk with you in the park, taking in the romantic sight of clean New York snow, but you know what? I don’t think I wanna anymore-“

Steve made a lunge for you and grabbed your hands, raising it to his face to drop kisses on your gloves- well, damn, now you regretted that he had so kindly put them on you.

“No, wait, doll, let’s walk. Unless you’re going to be cold-“

“There are some thermal microfibres in those tights or whatever, I won’t be,” you grumbled and he beamed as you unwittingly showed him that you weren’t really mad even despite his little-shit display earlier.

You said won’t be not wouldn’t have been and Steve appeared to be entirely content with you yielding so easily.

Well, damn it, it was really hard to keep up with Steve’s wits and humour; you loved it.

“Very well then. May I offer you a walk in the park, ma’am?” he said, holding out his elbow in invitation – the one farther from the road, of course, gentleman – and you chuckled, unable to help yourself.

“It was my idea, you know. Also, depends – are you going to be a jerk?”

“You wound me, miss,” he clutched at his chest theatrically, but definitely tugged you a bit closer when you slipped your arm through the loop of his own just in case you were about to change your mind when another of his jokes inevitably arrived.

“Sure I am.”

You barely made few steps without a word, when his gaze fixed on your face for long enough for you to get nervous.

“…what is it?”

He smiled, gently tugging at your joined arms, and looked you dead in the eye. “I really like you too.”

Oh. Oh. Okay. Where did all the oxygen go? And when did your heart started pounding so loudly in your chest?

“And for the record, I find it impossible not to fall for you.”

You lowered your gaze under the intensity of his, watching your feet walking in tandem as your cheeks burned and your head spun.

“A friggin’ warning,” you muttered under your breath darkly, drawing a breathy chuckle from Steve, followed by his ‘I mean it.’

Truth was, a warning wouldn’t have helped, probably. Because Steve Rogers was impossible not to fall for; but he was definitely worth it.

💙❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️🤍❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️💙

You weren’t sure what possessed you; must have been the wine, lowering your inhibitions.

Once again, you couldn’t contain your child-like behaviour.

One moment, you were walking in the park, dim street lights causing the snow glow brighter, fluffy and pure, as not many people were here to disturb the peace. Even the city fell almost silent in the first snow’s honour, as if grateful for the good two inches it was given.

The next moment, you freed yourself of Steve’s warm hold and hurried from the path to gather enough of the wet delight to make a snowball – and hit the pole nearby streetlamp with a surprising precision.

You turned to Steve with a grin, finding him mirroring your expression and clapping, a sound muffle by his own thin gloves.

“Very good aim. I’m impressed,” he assured you and you curtsey for him like the child you were and went to try again.

Before you could finish making a perfect ammunition, three balls hit the very same pole in quick succession, causing you to gasp and swiftly turn to Steve – who winked at you with a shit-eating grin on his face.

It was a justified display of smugness, because he stood almost ten feet behind you, the distance from which he hit the pole actually impressive.

Wow.

“Show-off,” you called out silently, drawing a shrug from him. You went to try your aim again to settle the unofficial score and whined when you missed. “Okay, you win, Rogers.”

Steve, on the other hand, continued his strike and hit three more; you noticed him bending for more snow, making a quick and very dumb decision as an idea popped up in your mind.

As he was busy showing off his skills, you got your own two bullets ready and shot-- one of them did hit your target, which just happened to be Steve’s chest.

His mouth formed a theatrical ‘o’ and you couldn’t but double over in laughter despite missing with your next attempt.

“You didn’t!” he gasped, clearly genuinely shocked that you in fact had hit him with a snowball. “Now you’ll get it!”

In hindsight, you should have known that it was like waving a red cloth in front of a bull; you should have realized that Steve would take it as a challenge to a snowball fight.

And it was very obvious from the start that you stood no chance, even if he was blatantly holding back as you tried and failed to hide behind a bench, behind a tree and anything in your reach, your and his laughter carrying through the park as if you were damn children, both of you. You hadn’t felt so alive in years.

Steve however stepped up his game upon you hitting a point of him so high that some of the snow clearly got behind the collar of his coat. The hiss he let out and the flames in his eyes when they met yours after your perfect hit made you run away with all you got, your heart thumping in your ribcage frantically as you knew all too well that there was no escaping a supersoldier.

You tried and failed to speed up as you heard him closing in; perhaps it would be much easier to catch your breath to run faster if you weren’t laughing at the expression of pure shock that had been on Steve’s face when the snow tickled the sensitive skin of his neck.

A yelp escaped you as he grabbed you a tackled you to the ground, spinning you to he would take the brunt of the impact and only then he rolled you over – trapping you against the cold wet ground, making you squirm at the biting sensation on your own neck.

“No! No, Steeeeve,” you whined miserably, but your cheeks were hurting from the laughter and he was a solid mass on top of you to keep you warm, so you didn’t have any reason to complain. You in fact enjoyed the feeling and the intimacy of it a little too much, considering that this was still only your first date.

How? You felt like you knew him for months now; it was like having an unfairly handsome best friend you not-so-secretly had a crush on.

“You brought this upon yourself,” Steve exclaimed, grinning down at you and for the first time, it dawned to you that not only his torso way lying on you and that his hands were caging your head as he tried not to crush you with his weight, but also his gorgeous face with his tempting lips were in dangerous proximity to yours.

Dangerous to him – if he wasn’t careful, he might get kissed very soon.

You stared up at him, lost in the beautiful colour of his eyes and you were only mildly ashamed to find your gaze wandering down to his red lips.

“I—I suppose,” you whispered as your laughter died down, your breathing still heavy and only growing heavier with each second spent mesmerized by Steve’s face so close to yours.

“You suppose right,” he whispered back, voice slightly hoarser than a moment ago, his gaze roaming your face with intensity that had your heart stumbling in your chest. “This is a nice trip down the memory lane.”

“I-uhm… I remember it being the other way around.”

A smile grazed his mouth, still so damn tempting and you really found yourself barely noticing the snow melting into your clothes when—him.

“You complaining?”

You smiled right back when he lowered his head a fraction, so so painfully close you would barely have to move to finally taste his lips.

“Well, the snow is cold, but-- you know how it is… I had worse things happen to me than having a handsome fella land on me.”

Steve chuckled, the vibrations of his chest sending liquid fire through your veins, especially when his eyes seemed to brighten despite the dilatation of his pupils.

“You remember that, huh?”

“You kidding?” you mused quietly, wondering if Steve decided to torture you; if he wasn’t about to kiss you in the next thirty seconds, you might actually combust. His gaze was now more on your mouth than anywhere else and if you were honest, you might have been trembling with anticipation a bit. “That was the line, Steve. I thought you were so smooth.”

An inch. One damn inch, if not less of a distance remained between his lips and yours, practically touching, his radiating warmth and begging for yours to lick at their sweetness.

And yet, Steve still spoke, words you could almost taste: “What do you think now?”

“I think that I’d really like you to kiss me.”

This time, his lips brushed yours, a soundless ‘kay’ tickling deliciously, your eyelids fluttering shut.

Your hands automatically gripped the lapels of his coat, using them as leverage when he withdrew, giving you space to breathe and process what happened. Too bad you didn’t want to, you needed more right in that moment; you tugged at the fabric, chasing after his lips and lifting your head without even opening your eyes.

You could feel his smile as he kissed you again, lingering this time, a tender dance of lips, parted a fraction to breathe in each other’s air. Your head was spinning, your tummy tingly and you truly felt like you could fly, not even ashamed if Steve was grinning at your eagerness – he seemed pretty board on with continuing to kiss you too.

So you smiled back, happy to let him take the lead as long as he stayed-

A discontent hum rambled in your throat when Steve retreated again, even if he caressed your icy-cold nose with his, dropping a kiss there too to warm it up.

You met his eyes, heavy lidded, misted with emotion and you found yourself smiling wider.

“Can’t have you catch a cold, doll,” he rasped and before you realized what was happening, before you could as much as frown in confusion, a silent yelp left your throat as Steve rolled you over again, one arm secured around your waist, keeping you on top of him.

You might not be lying on the snow anymore, but your wet back was exposed to the cold night air now, which wasn’t much any better.

But you were too busy to care, because Steve lost one glove, cupping your cheek for a better angle and he sank his lips into yours again, causing you to see and feel the stars.

💙❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️🤍❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️💙

If Steve walked you all the back to your apartment and you invited him in to dry off, only for him to end up spending the night, well, no one needed to know – even if you kept each other warm with nothing but tea and cuddling under the covers.

Whether things got a little more spicy than sweet in the morning… that was only for the two of you to know.

Either way, you decided that while the fall, early or late, had its serious downsides… you were willing to put up with it, because it had brought someone as amazing as Steve into your life.

Which got even more handy when you ended up catching cold from your snowy adventures.

💙❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️BONUS❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️💙

Blissfully wrapped in each other, not you nor Steve (which was more of a wonder) noticed two pairs of eyes focused on you and your shenanigans in the snow. Neither of you heard Bucky sigh under his breath either as he lowered the night-vision binoculars.

“Thank God, I thought for a minute that the punk wasn’t going to go for it,” he muttered under his breath, handing the device to his field partner.

Sam took one glance through the binoculars before rising his hand for a high five, which Bucky instantly complied with.

“With the way they eye-fucked in the restaurant, I would have to rip him a new one if he didn’t,” Sam stated.

“You’d have to get in the line behind me,” Bucky retorted, but grinned, truly happy for his friend.

“More like get ready for being ripped a new one,” a voice behind them opposed, causing both soldiers to nearly jump out their skin in surprise – and literally jump to their feet in fright, ready to face their enemy.

Their enemy seemed harmless to an untrained eye: the one and only Black Widow, watching them with her arms crossed on her chest and a raised eyebrow.

“We knew you were there,” Sam blurted out instinctively, earning an eyeroll from the redhead.

“Sure you did,” she scoffed and nodded in the direction of the pair still rolling over in snow in the distance. “Now that you know that Rogers still got some game, you going to stop stalking him or do I have to keep an eye on you?”

“Please. You were just curious as we were, otherwise you wouldn’t be here,” Bucky smirked and Natasha shrugged with one shoulder dismissively.

“Maybe. Maybe I just wanted to make sure you wouldn’t crash their date to ‘help’,” she said, taking care to make air quotes with the last word. “Now let’s get out of here. If you really want to help, you can start looking up some chicken soup recipes to cure her inevitable sniffles.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Bucky replied dutifully with only an edge of irony, while trying hard to remember the recipe for the soup Mrs. Rogers or his ma used to cook back in the day when the always sickly Steve Rogers refused to take normal (disgusting) medicine.

The thought of Steve not being on the receiving end of that treatment and instead being the caretaker had his lips curl up in a smile.

💙❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️🤍❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️💙

S.R. masterlist

💙❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️🤍❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️💙

Thank you for reading!

I don’t often write sequels to one-shots when asked, but inspiration struck this time (I went to a wedding and caught very mushy feelings). I hope you enjoyed. Don’t sent me your dentist bills, you’ve been warned.

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half-bakedboy · 3 years

Text

i'm not bullet proof (when it comes to you) (read on ao3)

Pairing: Evan “Buck” Buckley/Eddie Diaz Rated: Teen Summary: Every instinct inside of him told him he needed to protect Buck. He was on the other side of the truck, hands in his pockets, rocking back and forth proudly from heel to toe. Eddie had gotten out to go see him. Buck had complimented him, made Eddie blush until he had to walk away before he said something dumb. Buck was—

Where was Buck? Even though it was broad daylight in the middle of the city, not in the darkest hours of the Middle East, there was another gunshot, and he thought he heard Buck scream.

“Get down! Everyone down! Firefighter down!” A voice had shouted, but it wasn’t Buck. Where was Buck?

Speculation for Season 4 Episode 13: Suspicion (contains spoilers from the promo)

Eddie’s ears were ringing. He could hear the distant sounds of sirens but he didn’t remember turning them on when he had left the truck. He didn’t need to turn the sirens on because they had saved the little boy and the emergency was no longer that. They had done their job and everyone was safe and—

Gunshot. He thought he heard a gunshot, barely, too far away for it to fully register in his mind. He wasn’t sure at first if that was what the soft pop was because he was in L.A. He wasn’t overseas and he wasn’t in the line of enemy fire. He had rescued his team, dead and alive, and they had been flown to safety. They were back with their families and he was back with Christopher. He didn’t need to protect anyone in L.A.

Buck. Every instinct inside of him told him he needed to protect Buck. He was on the other side of the truck, hands in his pockets, rocking back and forth proudly from heel to toe. Eddie had gotten out to go see him. Buck had complimented him, made Eddie blush until he had to walk away before he said something dumb. Buck was—

Where was Buck? Even though it was broad daylight in the middle of the city, not in the darkest hours of the Middle East, there was another gunshot, and he thought he heard Buck scream.

“Get down! Everyone down! Firefighter down!” A voice had shouted, but it wasn’t Buck. Where was Buck?

Eddie tried to move, but his body was on fire and there was a heavy weight pressed against his chest. He reached to push it away, but his hand only swatted through the air. What was holding him down? He ran his fingers up his chest and along his neck, knowing before he could even pull them into view that they were covered in blood. His mind was fuzzy, his vision foggier than he remembered it to be, and when he tried to call out for help, no pleas left his scratchy throat.

Gunshot. Buck. Firefighter down.

He turned his head away from where the sun was glaring down at him, focusing on the familiar redness of the firetruck and hoping it would calm his rapidly beating heart. His eyes drifted from the window, shattered from what he could only assume was a missed bullet, down to the silver metal that spanned across the front of the truck. His mind clouded while he stared at the bumper and he couldn’t stop his eyes from dropping to the cement that was covered in blood. His blood, if he had to guess.

Underneath the truck, he could see Buck. He was lying on his stomach, a hand covering the back of his head while he reached out frantically, clawing at the clean cement in front of him. Eddie could see his lips moving, the way his eyebrows creased in panic and his eyes widened in fear, the redness of his face mixed with the splatter of blood on his neck.

Buck was hurt and Eddie had to get to him. He tried to move but he couldn’t. How could he protect Buck if he couldn’t move?

Then Buck was crawling toward him and Eddie held his hand out, fingers reaching for solace in his best friend’s. Buck was getting closer, dragging himself across the pavement, underneath the truck like a shield. A bullet clanged above Eddie’s head, destroying the perfectly polished metal and sending shards of it flying in every direction. Buck was covering his head again and that was good. That meant he could be safe. He had stopped moving which meant he wouldn’t be in the line of fire.

Eddie had to protect Buck, save Buck, make sure that Buck was okay. That was his only priority.

“Back,” Eddie choked out as Buck tried to move toward him again. “Stay back!” Eddie yelled as best he could. The intensity of his words caused his mouth to sour with the taste of blood and he knew that wasn’t a good sign. He coughed, trying to clear his throat of the pesky liquid that stopped him from warning Buck away and spat on the pavement beside him.

“Let me help you!” Buck screamed. The terror was clear in his voice and it did nothing to lessen the worry that continued to flood through Eddie.

He wasn’t sure if he could feel his legs. He could see his toes wiggling and his fingers trembled from where they stretched out for Buck again, but he had gone numb. Numb wasn’t good. Numb was far from what he should be.

He vaguely registered the hand around his wrist before he was being pulled underneath the truck and tucked firmly against Buck. The move jerked him out of the black hole his mind had pulled him into for protection against the worst pain he had ever felt that blasted through his core. He screamed in agony and he was sure the wetness of his face was from tears of misery. He thrashed and tried to sit up until he realized that only made it worse and Buck slid an arm across his chest to keep him steady. The solid weight was welcome and when focused enough, he could feel the warmth of Buck surrounding him.

He was safe so he let his eyes drift close, the noise around him deafening until everything went silent.

__________________________

“Stay with me, Eds, stay with me. Hey, that’s it. Open your eyes for me.” He awoke to Buck’s voice.

He wasn’t sure when he had fallen asleep or why his head was pounding or why he couldn’t move his body. He was strapped down to what he assumed was a backboard with Buck straddling his waist, his hands pressed to Eddie’s chest, their placement instantly recognizable. That and the way Buck huffed above him meant that Buck had just given him CPR - which meant that Buck had probably started his heart again.

He also realized that the pain surging through his abdomen was from the broken ribs Buck would have inevitably given him. He blinked rapidly, trying to take in his surroundings, his mind trying to puzzle the pieces of the last few minutes together. They were still outside the same building, the firetruck glowing brightly beside them. There was still blood on the pavement in more spots than he remembered, but people in uniforms of all kinds were stomping through it.

“Buck,” Eddie tried to say through the burn in his throat, gathering the strength he could muster to grip Buck’s bicep weakly.

“Hey, don’t talk,” Buck instructed. He must have seen Eddie’s confusion and panic because he moved his hands to cup Eddie’s face, leaning a little closer so they could focus on each other. “We almost lost you there for a minute. Don’t scare me like that, okay?” He didn’t wait for an answer. “You got shot, but I’m sure you’ve already figured that out. We don’t know what happened. One second things were fine and the next—”

Buck was babbling, a symptom of his fear, Eddie guess, so he choked out, “You okay?” He rested his hand on the blood dripping down Buck’s neck, lamely attempting to check him for injury through his own anguish.

“What did I tell you about talking. We just got your neck all bandaged up, okay? So you have to stop talking,” Buck pleaded. “Now I know how you feel around me, huh?” Buck teased but the joke was lost in the fear so prominent in Buck’s eyes as he leaned into Eddie’s touch. Eddie’s arm dropped down again because he couldn’t hold it up any longer.

“I—“ Eddie began but then he felt like he was drowning.

Why was he so weak? How bad was it? How could he make Buck look less destroyed at that moment? Was Buck going to be okay? Would he be okay?

His mind reeled with questions, all of them thwarted by the hot liquid filling his throat. He ignored the fact it was probably blood, turning his head abruptly to spit onto the already bloodstained pavement beside him. He could feel his heart slow from where Buck’s pressed against it and his lungs didn’t seem to want to take in the air he inhaled.

“Eddie, please, just stay still. Stop talking, stop moving, stop— No, no, no!” Buck shouted, “You’ve gotta stay awake, okay? You have to stay alive, Eddie. You just saved that little boy and Christopher is going to be so proud of you, just like we are.”

Eddie was safe with Buck above him, so he allowed his eyes to start drifting closed again.

Buck begged and pleaded, but Eddie couldn’t take the pain anymore. His mind hazed even as Buck pressed his lips to his forehead and whispered, “Stay alive for me.”

Eddie wasn’t sure that he could, but for Buck, he would try.

__________________________

There were flashes of bright lights. The sounds of electricity crackling above him. The smell of blood and iodine. The metallic taste he wasn’t sure would ever leave his mouth. He couldn’t feel his fingers, his body still numb, but his awareness of his other senses comforted him. He was hurt, that much he could feel, and if he had to guess, he would open his eyes and be in a hospital room.

Where was Buck?

He couldn’t get the question out of his mind. He had asked it too many times to count. Where was Buck? Was he okay? He had blood on his neck from what Eddie could briefly recall. Was he hurt? Did he get help or did he just help Eddie? Was anyone else hurt? What the hell happened?

“Hey, you gotta calm down, Mr. Diaz. Your heart rate shouldn’t be this elevated so soon after surgery,” a soft voice comforted. Eddie took a deep breath, ignoring the way his entire body burned at the subtle movement of his chest, and finally focused on the nurse beside him.

“Buck—”

“Mr. Buckley is fine. He’s been asking about you every 15 minutes since you got here and annoying most of my coworkers, but he’s okay. We told him the same thing of you, but neither of you are good listeners, are you?” She said and Eddie knew he didn’t have to answer. “You two are quite the talk of the hospital,” she noted conversationally as she checked Eddie’s vitals. He gulped dryly, thankful when she gave him a small cup of water.

“What happened?” Eddie asked. He had more questions, but he wasn’t sure he had the energy to ask them let alone wait for their answer.

“We don’t know, honey. You were shot, that’s all the information I have. I’m sure that intimidating sergeant out there will have more for you when she comes in,” the nurse explained, patting the back of Eddie’s hand softly. He knew she must have been referring to Athena and he instantly felt better that Buck had someone out there with him.

“Can he—?” He couldn’t even finish his question, suddenly hit with an onslaught of fatigue from whatever the nurse had given him for the pain. She patted his uninjured shoulder and nodded.

“He’ll be in here when you wake up,” she said and the prospect of opening his eyes to Buck was enough reassurance for him to drift off again.

__________________________

“Yeah, Bobby, he’s already been up once… Christopher’s with Pepa. I let him know what was going on and he wanted to be here, but I convinced him to wait another day… I know, I know. He’s okay, I know.”

Eddie could hear Buck’s voice as he slowly pushed himself out of the cloud surrounding his mind.

“He almost wasn’t, Bobby, and I—” A long sigh left Buck’s lips and he brought Eddie’s hand up to his mouth and pressed his lips to the back of it as it was the most normal thing in the world. Eddie cleared his throat to speak and Buck whispered, “He’s up, I gotta— Yeah, I’ll tell him. You, too, Cap.”

“Bu—“ He couldn’t even get the name out before Buck made a noise somewhere between a laugh and sob that had panic arising in Eddie. “You’re okay?” Eddie asked because even staring at the man beside him wasn’t enough for him to believe it. He tried to pull his hand away to inspect Buck’s bandages on, but he couldn’t even try to remove his hand from Buck’s grip.

“I’m okay, but only because you’re okay,” Buck explained, kissing Eddie’s skin once more. “You know, I’ve decided that the only thing worse than almost dying is thinking you are dead,” Buck began, holding Eddie’s hand to his chest as tightly as he could. “This is the second time I’ve thought you were dead and honestly, one time was too many.”

“I’m good,” Eddie choked out. He was still struggling to speak, his vocal cords much weaker than he had ever remembered them being. He used his unoccupied hand to reach up to his shoulder where he had felt blood back when he was laying on the street, but Buck swatted it away as if protecting him.

“Bullet went through your shoulder. Sent a chip of your collarbone into your neck. It just missed your carotid but did a number on your vocal cords. The sniper must have thought they were shooting me,” Buck teased and Eddie shot him a look that he hoped warned Buck away from any ridiculous notion that he should’ve been the one to get hurt.

It already pained Eddie to know Buck had to be the one to keep him alive.

“Idiot,” he said with affection before he added, “thank you.”

“For nothing,” Buck responded quickly. “I would have thrown myself in front of you if it meant saving you, Eddie, you know that,” Buck noted and Eddie knew just how true that was. Eddie remembered Buck crawling toward him, putting himself in the crossfire of still flying bullets even after Eddie warned him away.

“Stop doing that,” Eddie pleaded, but Buck shook his head in response.

“If one thing became abundantly clear to me today, Eds, it’s that I will never stop putting you first. Seeing you lying there--” Buck shook his head and Eddie squeezed his hand to urge him to continue, “--it’s like you’ve always been just out of my reach and I don’t want that anymore. I can’t do that anymore.”

The implication of the words wasn’t lost on Eddie. They had been dancing around each other for weeks, months, maybe even years if Eddie thought about it. It was obvious to everyone around them, including themselves, that their relationship wasn’t as simple as coworkers, best friends, or partners. There had been an unwritten line between them that neither was willing to cross, both too scared for the future and what it could mean, what it could damage.

The admission shocked Eddie more than the bullet had. He had always thought that Buck would never be the one to fully cross over, always allowing Eddie to be the one to control the ease and direction of their relationship, so to hear him erase the last of that nearly invisible line had his heart soaring.

“I don’t—“ Eddie coughed, burning pain rising through his entire body as he struggled for air. He could hear Buck calling for a nurse and felt their hands separating but he wouldn’t allow it. He pulled Buck back because he couldn’t allow him to move away again and risk him backpedaling his words. “I don’t want that either,” Eddie said through bated breaths as the same nurse from before pumped him with new medications. He sent her a grateful smile and her eyes shined back as she watched the two of them. Everyone always looked at them like that and for the first time, Eddie knew what they saw.

“Well, good. I’m glad we’ve, uh, cleared that up?” Buck squinted, his eyebrows furrowing as if he was still confused, and Eddie reached up to stroke the side of his face where the skin around his eyes had crinkled.

“We’ll talk,” Eddie promised, his hand falling only to be caught by Buck who entwined their fingers and brought them to his mouth again. He nodded before resting his head on Eddie’s lap, cradling Eddie’s hand against his chest as he let his own eyes fall shut. It couldn’t have been comfortable but he figured he wouldn’t be able to send Buck home even if he tried, and he wasn’t about to try. Instead, Eddie rested his other hand in Buck’s hair and gazed down at him until he couldn’t keep his eyes open anymore.

Buck was there. He was mostly uninjured and holding onto Eddie as if nothing would ever make him let go.

Buck was safe, so Eddie was, too.

#buddie #evan buckley #eddie diaz #buck x eddie #911 #911 on fox #911 speculation #speculation #but i really want it to be real ajskldf;asd #my writing

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fabricated-misslieness · 4 years

Note

Ok so like I know bottom Ushi was already talked about and shiz, but this is just an imagine, so like imagine you introduce ✨Physical Affection✨ to Ushiwaka and now he can’t get enough of it cuz he been touch starved this whole time, n’ like, can we talk about his fucked out face when he gives you a bj? Like, he got lil tears in his eyes and red blotches on his cheecks and he’s all timid and stuff cuz he’s new to it so you gotta keep praising him and like— ❤️❤️💕❤️💕✨✨🤡🤡🤡

✨imagine giving Ushi physical affection✨

I guess this is a new format for imagines and scenarios- I don’t even know the difference between imagines and headcanons now

(/^-^(^ ^*)/ ʜᴜɢs

Your hugs are... wow. He’s never felt something like this before.

Sure he’s been hugged before, by some family relatives he should know but he really doesn’t; Those hugs felt empty, like they didn’t have much affection put into them.

Your hugs, in comparison, felt life-giving. They spread warmth all over his body. When you’d pull away, his chest would still be warm, but this warmth wouldn’t be comforting. It’d be the warmth of yearning, yearning for another hug.

Is this what relationships are supposed to be like?

(っ˘з(˘⌣˘ ) ᴄᴜᴅᴅʟᴇs

Cuddles are salvation. He gets to feel this warmth for a longer amount of time, laying down, relaxing? He could never get tired of this.

He’s actually not a big fan of spooning. He prefers other positions because he doesn’t get to wrap his arms around you while spooning, and if he was the big spoon, he’d miss the feeling of your arms around him.

He loves it when you caress him, rubbing his skin, scratching his scalp.. he could fall asleep like this. It’s normal to fall asleep to this? Oh, okay.

Though it’s a little hard and awkward at first for him to figure out how to.. anything. He needs guidance.

ε=(｡♡ˇд ˇ♡｡）ʜᴀɴᴅ ʜᴏʟᴅɪɴɢ

He didn’t really get hand holding before he met you. He understood it as holding hands to not get lost in the crowd or for safety, as a child.

As a teen, he doesn’t think you’d need guidance for crossing the street or keeping together.

Anyway, now he meets you.

He realizes hand holding isn’t just for guidance, it’s endearing, it’s affection!

Rubbing circles along his hand with your thumb is very soothing, too.

（*＾3＾）ᴋɪssɪɴɢ

Like hand holding, he doesn’t understand it at first. Why would he put his lips on your lips? That’s digusting. What’s a french kiss? Ew

Then he actually does it. It doesn’t feel like he think it would, it actually feels good. When you pull away from your first kiss, he goes in for another, making you laugh.

It doesn’t just feel like skin against skin, it feels like fireworks.

（●´∀｀）ノ♡ ᴘʜʏsɪᴄᴀʟ ᴀғғᴇᴄᴛɪᴏɴ

So, overall, he didn’t understand it at first, but now that he’s gotten a taste of it... He wants more, he wants a lot more.

PDA? Pff, what is that? No, I want hugs, I want affection-

Eventually, he’ll learn PDA, but that doesn’t stop him from wanting any affection. It’s like his drug, he’s addicted to you and your affection, in a non-yandere way.

( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) ʙᴊ

How-- How do you do this?

As a test, he sort of kitten licks you. It’s cute, but you want more.

With a little praise and reassurement, you convince him to take you into his mouth. Once he has most of what he can take in his mouth, he looks up at you. It’s like he’s asking if it’s good.

You praise him more, encouraging him to start bobbing up and down.

He gets into it, but he’s not really a natural. You might get some teeth in there, but how do you learn without practicing?

As a little ‘experiment’, he decides to try to take the rest of you in.

Poor man doesn’t know what deep throating is. When you looks down at him, surprised you feel more of you inside of him, he’s got tears in his eyes and his face is flushed red. It’s like he’s choking on you.

Though you gotta make sure he’s not actually choking on you.

#ushijima x reader #ushijima x male reader #ushijima wakatoshi x reader #ushijima wakatoshi x male reader #ushijima smut #haikyuu x male reader #haikuu x reader #⚠️nsfw🙈

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trashmenofmarvel · 3 years

Text

Branded - Chapter 43

Pairing: Demon!Bucky Barnes x Reader

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

Chapter Warnings: Heavy angst

AO3

You didn’t know how it was possible that Bucky was awake, but you knew it in your bones and in the steady thrumming of your shoulder.

The mark had been benign and latent for weeks, and it was making a considerable fuss now. From the stinging wetness on your shoulder and the glimpse of red when you turned the mark toward you made it obvious that it was bleeding too. Agitated, inflamed, and letting you know it was as awake as the demon it was bound to. Something you had wished for, but now filled you with dread. You couldn’t imagine what state of mind Bucky would be in when he awoke to find you in agony across your connection, and then being told you’d gone missing.

He was going to come for you, you had no doubt about that, but you wished he would stay away. Bucky was being lured into a trap, and you had no way of warning him.

Your head thunked back against the table. Zemo had left you here, and from your glance around the room you couldn’t see any signs of the Alp. You struggled at your restraints, but your muscles were fatigued, bones acting in the aftermath of your torture. All you wanted to do was close your eyes and sleep.

Holding back as long as you could, you fidgeted with the metal shackles until your wrists and ankles twinged in sharp pain. You couldn’t wriggle out of them, not even with cold sweat dotting your skin. And as the minutes wore on, you could hardly keep your eyes open to the point of alarm.

You were cold all over but your sigil burned and throbbed, leaving you with two uncomfortable extremes. Giving in to the exhaustion, you closed your eyes and silently tried to send Bucky a message. A sign. Anything to make him stay away or at least warn him about what he was walking into.

The heavy weight of unconsciousness dragged you down as the fire in your shoulder continued to burn. You wondered if it would consume you. The thought should have jerked you awake, but you were so, so tired…

Slowly, so gradually you didn’t notice for a while, warmth built in your chest and chased the chill away. It was comforting, safe… and very familiar.

Hold on, it seemed to say. I’m coming. Just hold on.

Don’t, you tried to call back, even as it hurt so badly to say it. Stay away…

The warmth didn’t vanish, only increased, and you held onto it, terrified of slipping away just to wake up in your cell and find it was all a wishful dream.

But it didn’t disappear like a half-remembered dream. The warmth manifested into a physical sensation: hands on your arms, one rougher than the other but both carefully avoiding your shoulder before cupping your face.

“No, please, I can’t be too late. I can’t.” The voice was beautifully familiar, dark and husky with panic.

You wanted to answer, to shout, but you could barely move. Your limbs were heavy, your confused mind picturing you covered with frost as the warmth leeched from your bones.

Why were you so cold?

“Please, please, open your eyes, sweetheart. You gotta open your eyes.”

That voice, so full of desperate fear when it should sound warm with amusement, teasing you with unmistakable fondness, was what finally forced you to open your eyes.

A blurry image was defined against the lightbulbs overhead, vaguely human except for the swept-back horns and the hovering, half-curled wings.

“Bucky…”

He retracted his hands from your face and you nearly cried out, please, don’t go! But then you felt a tug at each ankle and wrist as Bucky shattered the chains of your manacles. Arms lifted you into a sitting position, and you groaned with relief as those arms, and a pair of wings, wrapped tightly around you.

“I’m so—fuck, I’m so sorry.” He spoke into your hair, his embrace everywhere around you. Your cold, clammy skin was on fire but you wouldn’t have traded it for anything. You just wanted to remain like that forever, your sluggish thoughts almost slipping away from the urgent, desperate things you had to tell him.

As quickly as he’d hugged you, Bucky pulled back just enough to scan you, his wings still cradled across your back. His brows were deep with worry, his lips pulled into a flat line. His voice wavered.

“Did… did they do anything else to you? Any experiments? Rituals? Did they—did they try to turn you into a demon?”

You blinked slowly and shook your head, trying to clear it as much as tell him he was wrong. Your voice was little more than a rasp from all the screaming.

“Zemo.” You coughed into your hand, struggling to get the words out past your dry throat. You were dehydrated on top of everything else. “His name is Helmut Zemo.”

“It… it’s just one guy?” Bucky raised his head to look at the expansive missile silo. “Where’s the rest of HYDRA? Strange and Wong and the rest are searching the place, but there’s some kind of crazy wards keeping them out. Steve and I could get through, but we had to split up to find you—“

That. That was the thing you couldn’t focus on, that slid from your mind like oil.

“It’s a trap!” You tried to push him away from you, but you might as well have been shoving against a boulder. “He-he wants you! That’s why he took me, he just wants you.”

“Good,” Bucky growled, gently helping you down to the ground. You could barely stand, so he held on tight. “He’s got me. Fucker won’t live to regret it.”

Next to your feet was a large dark red puddle, and the mystery as to why you were so cold and sluggish was solved. You must have bled more than you realized.

But beyond that… was arguably something worse.

“Bucky…”

He followed your gaze to the white chalk line that encircled the entire table. Now that you could actually see what they were and you weren’t being strapped down to a table, you noted the complicated glyphs were drawn into the concentric rings. It didn’t take a wizard or a demon expert to know what they meant.

With a small noise of panic, you tried to rub at the lines of chalk with your socked heel, but the lines stayed firmly in place. Bucky grabbed you by the shoulders, carefully moving you between the table and his half-spread wings as he faced the room.

“Listen to me, and do exactly what I say.” His command was low, nearly a growl as he never took his eyes from the exits. “Steve and Strange should be here soon. You take this—“

He reached into his pocket and pulled out a walkie-talkie, holding it backwards for you to grab.

“—and run as fast as you can.”

“What?” You stared up at him. Surely, you hadn’t heard right.

“I’m not walking out of here,” he said, lips pulled into a grimace. “You need to run, find any stairs you can that lead upward. We’re too deep for that radio signal to penetrate the stone, so you need to get close enough to the others to alert them to your position. You get to safety first—“

“—Bucky, no!—“

“—and then they can come back for me.” He turned his head to give you a piercing glare out of the side of his eye. “You do not want to be here right now.”

“I’m not leaving you!” You pushed yourself between his wings, face pressed in the middle of his shoulders blades. The familiar musky, earthy smell hit your nostrils, and you yearned for him so badly it hurt worse than the torture. “Not again!”

A shudder moved through him, and instead of yelling at you to leave, his tail wrapped around your waist and held you tightly to him.

“Not when I just got you back,” you whispered into his vest. It wasn’t one you’d seen him wear in person before, but you recognized it from the shared memory. The Winter Soldier tactical vest. If you’d had time, you’d wondered where he’d gotten a new one.

“I know.” His voice wavered. “I don’t want to be separated from you again either, but… this room. That table. I’ve been here before. There’s only one weapon that could make that kind of wound on a demon mark. And let me guess… he’s got a red book with a black pentagram on the cover.”

You held onto him tighter and nodded.

“Yes. He does.”

“Then he has everything he needs to bind me to him. He could make me do anything he wants and I would be helpless to stop him. He could… he could make me kill you.”

Maybe it was because you were so physically close that you were able to feel Bucky’s horror and sorrow, curling in your chest as if it was your own.

“You gotta go, sweetheart,” he said again, voice strained almost to the point of cracking. “Get to safety. I’ve got enough firepower on me that if he gets stupid enough to show his face, I’ll shoot it off before he’ll get the chance. But you can’t… can’t be anywhere near me. He’ll just use you for leverage.”

The truth was bitter, but no less true for it. Zemo had used you once; he would use you again without hesitation. All he wanted was Bucky so he could take vengeance on superheroes who could handle this situation far better than you could. Bucky was right, and the best thing you could do for him was to find the wizards or Rogers.

“Okay,” you said. The adrenaline had helped, you were more alert now than you were before, but you still sounded weak. Felt weak too, and not just because of the blood loss. You were tired of being the source of Bucky’s anguish, and you wouldn’t cause him any more pain if you could help it. “I’ll find them.”

“I know you will.” He didn’t face you, couldn’t when he had to watch the entire room with his hands rested on the pistols strapped to his thighs, but he still gave you an encouraging squeeze of his tail. And then he let you go, folding his wings inwards to give you room to walk away.

It was the hardest thing you’d ever done, turning away from Bucky and stepping over that white line. Your hands shook around the radio, and your legs were boneless and without strength.

You weren’t sure you were going to make it to the end of the room, which was just as well, because you didn’t.

Black smoke popped into your vision, and before your brain could process was what was happening, dark furred arms grabbed you, spun you around, and laid razor sharp claws against your neck.

Bucky’s head whipped around and he let loose a terrifying roar. Wings spread, he leapt toward the Alp—and immediately hit an invisible surface. He was knocked backwards, hitting the table and making it strain where it was bolted to the floor.

You didn’t dare speak or move a muscle. The hand over your neck had a firm grip, and the tips of its talons lay directly over your pulse point. Bucky was trapped within the chalked circle, helpless to do anything more than growl menacingly at the demon that held you by the throat, his tail lashing back and forth like an angry cat.

An old speaker system crackled to life, Zemo’s voice echoing disturbingly around the cylindrical room.

“Sergeant Barnes, it is an honor,” he said, opening a viewing window from what appeared to be a control room. “Even if you did keep me waiting.”

Before he was done speaking, Bucky pulled out one of his pistols and fired, a bullet sparking across the glass dead center of where Zemo’s forehead would be.

The man clicked his tongue, unimpressed.

“Please, Sergeant. The Soviets built this chamber to withstand the launch blast of UR-100 rockets. Not even that arm of yours could put a dent in it. It’s no matter; I will find better uses for it.”

He peered at Bucky like a scientist would at a fascinating experiment. Your skin crawled unpleasantly.

“Now…” Zemo said, “disarm yourself of all your weapons and throw them outside the circle. You’re a smart man—you do still consider yourself a man, don’t you?—and I’m certain you know what will happen if you do not cooperate. But I will say it, anyway.”

Zemo’s gaze slid past Bucky and onto you.

“Refuse to follow my orders, and she dies.”

Bucky lifted his lips in a snarl but said nothing as he began to strip his weapons, of which he had many. Pistols, knives, even a combat grenade launcher and several small explosives you didn’t recognize as any kind of traditional grenade.

“Thank you for your cooperation.” Zemo gave a ghost of a smile before shutting the viewing window. You only had a few seconds to act.

“Captain America and the sorcerers are here,” you said under your breath. Bucky, ears twitching as he turned his head to stare at you, furrowed his brows in confusion. But you weren’t talking to him. “You have to lead them here. You know if he…if he binds Bucky, he won’t keep you around for long. Find Strange.”

The Alp made a noise, a rumbly one you didn’t understand, but Bucky’s gaze went wide. He opened his mouth but immediately closed it as Zemo’s footsteps preceded him.

He was carrying the red book in one hand, and the onyx blade in the other. Your stomach turned and you broke your rule not to move. Thankfully, the demon holding you didn’t let you cut yourself on his claws, but he did hold you tighter to still your struggles.

Bucky crouched on the ground, teeth bared as his tail twitched, wings half-unfurled as if about to pounce. But Zemo continued to walk forward, completely indifferent to the display of aggression. He stood outside of the circle, opened the book to a page marked with a colorful tab, and began to read aloud.

The words were Latin, or at least they sounded Latin, but there was a strange, musical quality to them. It made your skin want to crawl right off your body, but the effect it had on you was nothing compared to Bucky. He dropped fully onto his knees, hands raised towards his ears as if to cover them, and then they fell to the floor as if he didn’t have the strength to hold them up. He was trembling, panting, and terror resonated across your bond.

You shouted to be heard over the ritual, begging Zemo to stop, but he ignored you. Facing Bucky’s left side, Zemo brought the knife down and slashed a mark across one of the pentagram lines on his demonic arm. The knife cut through the plating like butter, and Bucky cried out through clenched teeth.

The pain exploded in your own mark, and you weren’t nearly as quiet as Bucky. The Alp was having a difficult time holding you still—the same murderous fever haze came over you as it had in the Sanctum, and you clawed and bit at the demon to get to Bucky. It may have suffered a bite or a few scratches, but it still wouldn’t let you go.

Bucky was able to barely raise his head, only enough to make eye contact, his expression full of regret and sadness. That look of hopelessness fueled your rage, and you screamed wordlessly at the man who had Bucky on his knees.

Zemo was focused solely on his task, continuing the strange Latin as he cut into his own palm. Deep in your bones, you knew how wrong this was. And there was nothing you could do to stop it.

Slamming his hand down onto Bucky’s bleeding mark, agony exploded inside your shoulder. The pain ruptured through your whole body, filling your very being with fire and acid. The golden rope that connected you was burned to a cinder, but not entirely. Something of it remained, but you couldn’t focus on it long enough to figure out what it was.

Panting and trembling, you realized the Alp was holding you up more than you were. Your world had been pulled out from under you, but all you could do was stare at Bucky.

He was disturbingly quiet and still, on his knees with his head bowed. Not even his tail, restless as it was, moved, lying on the ground like a dead thing. For a moment, you were terrified that’s exactly what he was.

And then Bucky slowly rose to his feet, his expression blank as he stared forward, blue eyes as warm as ice.

You’d seen this version of Bucky before. The air left your lungs as if you’d been punched in the gut.

Zemo walked in front of him, head tilted curiously.

“Солдат?” he softly asked.

"Я жду приказаний,” Bucky answered, voice gravel and entirely inhuman.

“Incredible,” Zemo breathed out in a reverent whisper. “With a rebinding, it seems you have taken on your old persona. The ritual should have given me your body, not your mind. HYDRA’s programming runs deeper than even I imagined.”

Something burned in the back of your throat, and when your stomach heaved, you leaned over and vomited. The noise drew Zemo’s attention.

“My offer still stands,” he said, eyes half-lidded as he stared down at you. You felt very small. “You may continue to be his food source, if you so choose. Unfortunately, this version of Sergeant Barnes will, most likely, no longer recognize you. I cannot guarantee there won’t be rough treatment, even with my commands.”

That certainly didn’t help the queasiness of your stomach, the absolute wrongness of the situation. The blank look on Bucky’s face and the emptiness in his eyes.

No, not entirely empty. Bucky assessed the room and each of its occupants with a cold, detached expression. When his icy gaze fell on you, there wasn’t even a flicker. No glance of warmth or love or even recognition. You were a stranger. No, worse, you were nothing to him.

“I hope he turns on you,” you said to Zemo while still meeting Bucky’s eye, voice low and filled with hate. “I hope he rips you to fucking pieces.”

Zemo gave a sardonic sort of smile.

“I suppose I have your answer, then. Let her go.”

The Alp released you, and you barely avoided the dirtied floor as you collapsed onto your legs. Bucky’s expression never changed, and when Zemo ordered, “Come, Soldat,” he turned to follow his new master without hesitation.

You reached out, desperate to stop them from leaving, when the large iron door burst open at the end of the room. In came Steve Rogers in full Captain America regalia, complete with his signature shield. His eyes widened when he spotted Bucky, and he didn’t hesitate to walk forward, incorrectly believing Zemo was the most immediate threat.

“Hold on, Buck, I’m coming!”

“Rogers!” you screamed. “Don’t! It’s not Bucky!”

He came to a quick stop, immediately bringing up his shield before him, expression troubled.

“Buck? What’s going on?”

The Winter Soldier said nothing, not an ounce of recognition in his gaze. Zemo gave the tiniest smirk.

“Steve Rogers, how good it is to see you.” He turned to his newest demon slave. “Time to put your skills through their paces. Let’s see how you fare against the great Captain America.”

Like a hound let off its leash, Bucky strode forward, spread his wings, and launched himself at his best friend.

Next Chapter

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