#( was reminded i wanted to toss this ol' beauty in | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

strang3lov3 · 9 months

Text

Cup of Sugar

Dilf!neighbor!joel x fem reader (pre outbreak)

Summary: You often borrow from your neighbor, Joel. He catches you in his home, digging through his belongings for batteries when your vibrator dies.

WC: 4.5k

Warnings: Smut!! Dirty talk, smug joel, masturbation, blowies, vibrators, unprotected piv, joel is fully clothed and reader is butt ass naked! Soft!dom joel vibes

AN: Dedicated to all my faves, @notjustjavierpena, @macfrog, @gracieispunk, @toxicanonymity and @speckledemerald i love all y’all with my entire heart<3

Please comment/reblog if you enjoyed ❤️

The ceiling fan needs to be fixed. You’ve been meaning to get that taken care of. It’s the first thing you think of on Saturday morning, when you wake up in your bed to the sound of lawn mowers and weed whackers. A gentle breeze comes from your open window and ghosts over your skin, reminding you to get your ceiling fan fixed.

Saturdays were often your busiest days. Between cleaning, grocery shopping, and getting ready to go out for drinks with your friends, you don’t have much time for just you. Which, arguably, is what weekends should be for.

You get out of bed and start getting ready for the day. You shower, get dressed, do your hair and your makeup just how you like. You feed your pets and you’re out the door to take on this beautiful Saturday.

Out of the corner of your eye, you see someone waving good morning to you. It’s Joel, wearing nothing except for his grass stained jean cutoffs as he mows his lawn. His dark curls are damp and stuck to his forehead, his torso shimmers in the sunlight. You catch a glimpse of his soft tummy and the thin line of hair leading down from his navel.

You nearly faint right then and there. Joel’s your ridiculously sexy dilf of a next door neighbor. You’ve been absolutely smitten with him for what feels like eternity, and his slutty lawn mowing outfits are not helping you one bit.

“Mornin’, sweetheart,” he calls to you after turning off his mower. “Big plans today?”

“Grocery shopping,” you reply plainly, trying to keep your cool. You don’t want to say much and trip over your words. God, he makes your knees buckle. “And chores. Then going out to drink with a few friends.”

He nods. “Stay outta trouble,” he tells you with a charming wink, and then he pulls the cord of his mower and begins working on his lawn again. You watch his back muscles twitch and shine in the hot sun, his plump ass filling his shorts just right.

Fuuuck. You’re nearly salivating at the sight. He’s gonna be an issue again today.

And an issue he was.

At the grocery store, you walk past the lawn mowers and other yard work supplies. Joel. You scan your groceries and check out, and you just know you’re forgetting something.

At home, washing your bedding. You can’t help but wonder how his bedding looks, how it would smell and feel with your face pressed into the mattress as he pounds you from behind. Does he keep his bed neatly made? Messy?

At the bar, watching the drops of condensation slide down the glass. You’re thinking of the way Joel looks with beads of sweat dripping down his face, down the dip of his temple and the sharp curve of his jaw. Your friends are trying to talk to you, but your mind is elsewhere. The condensation pools at the table under the glass.

As the night finally draws to a close, you drive yourself home. It’s late, most of the lights are off in the neighborhood, including Joel’s. You walk into your home, toss your keys on the end table by your door and make your way to your bedroom.

You’re aching between your thighs, your skin feels hot and your mind is focused on just one thing. You strip bare and flop on your bed, reaching for your hot pink bunny eared vibrator. Ol’ reliable.

Usually, you like to take your time with your self-love. Tease yourself a little, build up that anticipation. Joel’s done that enough to you today, so you get right to business. With your legs spread wide, you turn the vibrator on and press the toy to your center, using it to spread your arousal up to your clit and back down again.

Maybe two minutes in, just as you find the perfect spot and the perfect pace, and then the whine of the vibrator begins dying down. You let out an incoherent stream of obscenities as you realize what’s happening, then the vibrator’s buzzing finally comes to a heartbreaking stop. “Fuck,” you hiss. Batteries.

You’re irked. You fucking knew you were forgetting something at the store. And you’d think the way you were fantasizing of Joel all day, you would have remembered to pick up the fucking batteries for your vibrator. He is the object of your affection, after all.

You have extras stashed, don’t you? You open your bedside table drawer to check and…nothing. Maybe in the closet downstairs, where you keep your cleaning supplies and first aid stuff? You throw on your robe real quick and check. Nope. You slam the door, irate with frustration.

You’re getting desperate now, and out of the corner of your eye you notice a dim green light, flashing gently. The smoke alarm. That has to have batteries you can steal for a little while, right? It’s not like it’s preventing you from dying in a house fire or anything. You grab a stool and unscrew the alarm from the top of the ceiling and, and,

It has batteries.

But they’re nine volts. Not even close to the triple A’s you require.

Jesus. Fucking. Christ. You need to calm down. Women have fingers for a reason, after all. But god bless it, it’s not the fucking same!

In the dark of your kitchen, you get yourself a glass of water and stare out the window at Joel’s house. And as you take a sip of water, it hits you.

Joel probably has batteries.

You slip on your flip flops and leave your house, heading over to Joel’s backdoor.

Are you about to break and enter into his home? No, of course not. That would be absurd. You have a key, duh.

It started with a cup of sugar.

Once, you had knocked on Joel’s door asking to borrow a cup of sugar for the sheet cake you were making for the neighborhood barbecue. You, ever so forgetful, had failed to remember to pick up sugar on that particular grocery shopping trip.

Joel left and returned moments later with a large container full of sugar, way more than a cup. You were expecting a baggie with a single cup of sugar inside, not the whole bin. Men, you thought. You thanked him and promised to give his sugar back soon. You never did.

The next time, it was eggs. You knocked on Joel’s door, but were met with no answer. So you called him.

“Hey, what’s up sugar?” Your heart swelled at the nickname. It’s what Joel teasingly called you when you never returned his bin full of sugar, not that he really minded. “Just need a favor. Are you home?”

“Maybe,” he said. “What do you need?”

“Just like, three eggs for the cupcakes tomorrow,”

After trying your delicious sheet cake, Joel was hooked. He had asked you to make cupcakes for Sarah’s birthday, strawberry with vanilla frosting. You had all the ingredients except for a few eggs, and you didn’t feel like running all the way across town for them.

Joel exaggerated a groan, faking annoyance. “Those are my last eggs, you know. Am I gonna have to starve at breakfast tomorrow morning?” You let out a giggle at his dramatics. “It’s your breakfast or your daughter’s cupcakes, Joel,”

“Cupcakes,” he decided. You could hear the smile in his voice. “Take the eggs. S’all good, sugar. I’ll have toast.”

You were about to speak, but Joel interrupted. “Won’t be home for a while. Help yourself, just use the key I gave ya. Happy baking, sugar,”

Joel had given you a key long ago. If he was ever in a pinch working late, he’d call you and ask you to babysit Sarah for him. He gave you a key so you could help yourself inside to make her an after school snack or dinner before she got home. Not that Sarah really needed the help, being so self sufficient. But he liked knowing you were there to take care of her when he wasn’t.

“Bye, Joel,”

And that was your neighborly routine. Babysitting Sarah, borrowing different things from Joel. A flashlight or a screwdriver. Ice, when your freezer broke. Sarah and Joel would borrow from you too, a pair of scissors or a hot glue gun for school projects. Once, they had borrowed your printer late at night when Sarah forgot she had a history paper due the next morning. It’s what neighbors are for, after all.

At Joel’s door with his key in your hand, you jiggle it into the doorknob and quietly open the door, careful not to let it creak too loud. You don’t want to wake up Sarah or Joel.

You tiptoe through his house, first to his living room. You check the drawer of one of his end tables, nothing. Then the entertainment center where he keeps his video game controllers and such, surely he would keep batteries there too? Nope. You close the doors of the entertainment center and make your way to the kitchen. As quietly as you can you open his junk drawer next to the sink and begin moving items around. There’s a phone book, notecards, pens and pencils. The scissors you lent to Sarah. But no fucking batt-

“What are you doin’ riflin’ through my shit at this ungodly hour?” You jump as a voice interrupts you. You stand up straight and turn your head to the source of the sound, and it’s Joel. His hair is messy and sticking up six ways from Sunday, his soft gray sweatpants hang low on his hips and his thin t-shirt hugs his biceps just so. He’s got one eyebrow cocked, half in amusement and half in annoyance.

“I just need to borrow something. I'll be out in a second. Didn’t mean to wake you Joel, I’m sorry,” you apologize. You curse yourself for being so noisy, but you can’t help it. You’re frantic for these fucking batteries.

Joel steps down the stairs. “What do you need so badly right now?”

“Just some batteries,” you mumble.

“Batteries?” Joel asks. “The fuck do you need batteries so bad for it can’t wait til’ morning?”

You didn’t think this far ahead. You were expecting to find the batteries and just go, not be interrogated by Joel. But you know you’re not in a place to argue.

“Uhh,” you start, “Flashlight. I need triple A’s.”

Joel just nods quietly, his eyes are droopy with sleepiness and he walks to a kitchen cabinet, the one containing different odds and ends. You see the box of batteries and he reaches to pull a few out for you, but then pauses before handing them to you. “Wait a minute. Thought you didn’t have one. S’why you’re always stealin’ my flashlight,”

“Yeah, sorry. I meant the remote,” Smooth.

“Mmm,” Joel murmurs, rotating the batteries in his hand. He’s staring you down, taking you all in. Your eyes are wide, your cheeks are flushed, your hair is messy. You’re wearing just a robe, and he’s sure there’s nothing underneath. Your voice is shaking, your breathing is loud and unsteady.

“Come on Joel, I’m missing my show. Please,”

Joel doesn’t give you the batteries yet, he just keeps playing with them in his hand. It’s distracting, the way his fingers move so deftly. He bites his cheek and raises his eyebrows at you. He knows exactly why you’re so flustered, and he suspects it’s the same reason you need batteries at the fucking dead hour.

“What show?”

“What?”

“I asked what show you’re watching tonight,”

You swallow thickly, your brain is racing as you try to think up a lie. “X-Files,”

“Hm. Who’s your favorite character?”

Damn. Ask more questions, why don’t you? “Sully,” you reply with partial confidence, even though you’re not really sure if that character exists or you’re confusing them with something else.

“He’s from Monsters Inc, hon. Try again,” You stammer. Maybe it was a bad idea to pick a show you don’t watch to lie about. Joel answers for you, “Did ya mean Scully?”

You nod. “Yeah. Him,”

Joel just smiles tightly, nodding slowly like he knows something you don’t. You’re so full of shit. “Guess what, sugar,”

“What?”

“X-Files ain’t on tonight,” he whispers with a lopsided grin.

Busted.

“And I can tell you don’t watch it,” Joel takes a few imposing steps toward you, you take a few steps back as well. Your lower back hits the counter behind you, pinning you between itself and Joel. You hear the sound of him setting the batteries down next to you. “You think you’re slick, don’t ya? Lyin’ t’me like this.”

Your heart is racing out of our chest as he places his two hands on either side of you on the counter. “What?”

“Did your lil’ fuck toy die on you?” he taunts, his breath is hot on your face. Your eyes widen at the accusation. “It did, didn’t it?”

Your silence is the only answer he needs.

“So that’s what you’re playin’ with when I hear you whimperin’ for me late at night, hm?” You can only look down at the floor in shame. You didn’t realize you were loud enough for Joel to hear through his own bedroom, which mirrors yours. “You really should keep that window closed, sweetheart.”

You’re not exactly sure where this is going, you’re nervous and excited. Is he mad? Turned on? You can’t tell. “The fan’s broken, it gets hot,” you try to explain while stammering.

“I’d be happy to fix your fan for ya, but that’s not what we’re talkin’ about right now,”

Joel’s eyes are piercing, he never breaks eye contact as one of his hands leaves the counter. He pulls the fabric of your robe away from your chest a little more, and you look down to watch his next move. “Joel,” you gasp, surprised.

“Nothin’ under here, hm?” he croons as he begins playing with your nipple, hardened by your arousal and the cool air. You moan quietly when he teases it, pinching and twisting it slowly. He looks at you with big and concerned eyes as if to ask that this is okay. You nod in response, of course it’s okay. This is what you’ve dreamed of for so long.

Joel’s hand slides down your body until his fingers find your dripping seam. He slides them through your slick folds teasingly, he cocks his eyebrow when he finds you’re soaked to the bone. “And you were right there, weren’t you?”

You don’t answer, you just keen into his touch a little more.

“Don’t get all shy on me now, sugar,”

“Yeah,” you admit.

“Shoot. You poor thing,”

It’s completely silent between you both. Deafening silence. Joel wears a smug grin on his face. He pulls his hand away from your center, reaching for the batteries he set on the counter.

Before you can even process what you’re doing, you reach for his hand again. “Please,” you breathe.

“Please what, sugar?”

You don’t have words right now. Not that you did before this moment, either. You put his hand back at your pussy, using your body to tell him what you want. That you want this to continue, that you’re begging him not to stop touching you. Fuck the batteries.

“Ohhh,” he whispers, realizing. “Want me to get you off tonight, don’t ya?”

You nod with hungry and desperate eyes, thankful that this is going in the best direction it possibly could have. “Please, Joel, need you to touch me,”

It’s not a second before he grabs you by the hips, turns you around and shoves you down to your knees. “No,” he spits, one of his hands is tangled in your hair as the other is untying the knot at his pajama bottoms. He pulls his cock out before you, rock hard and angry. “Think you can just sneak into my house to steal batteries for your little toy?”

You’re at a loss for words, in disbelief that this is the position you’re in now.

“And now you want me to help ya rub one out. S’that right?” When you don’t answer he impatiently taps your cheek with the tip of his cock, smearing precum on your face. “Answer me.”

“Yes, please,”

Joel scoffs. “You’re unbelievable,” he remarks. “Think you’re pretty fuckin’ entitled, sugar. That’s not how this works.”

You feel your heartbeat in every inch of your body, blood rushing through your head. Your eyes dart between his face and his cock in front of you, not sure which part of him to focus your attention to.

“Here’s how this’ll go,” he begins, pressing his cock against your plump lips. They part slightly at the intrusion, but he doesn’t yet push himself into your mouth. “You do what I say, when I say it. We clear?”

You nod.

“Repeat it,” he demands.

“I follow your rules,” you whisper against his member. You can just barely taste him, and you’re hungry for more.

“Attagirl,” Joel praises you, and he shoves himself unceremoniously into your mouth. You nearly gag, pulling back slightly but he holds you right where he wants you.

He’s big. That’s the first thing you notice. He stretches your mouth out wide and fills you up entirely. Then you notice his tuft of slightly unkempt pubic hair that your nose is nudging. Your eyes flutter shut and you savor the way he tastes, tangy and slightly salty from the sweat.

His voice interrupts your thoughts. “Take your robe off f’me, sug,”

You do as you’re told, untying and shimmying off the thin robe from around your shoulders as you bob your head on his dick. You hollow your cheeks around him, letting him feel every inch of your mouth, so soft and wet. He’s domineering above you, but his hand on your head is gentle. He untangles his fingers from your hair and moves them to your cheek, caressing your skin gently. You can’t tell what the gesture means, if it’s supposed to be comforting or his way of letting you know he’s the one in charge.

You feel him twitch in your mouth every so often as you continue sucking his cock. You look up at him with wide eyes, he looks down at you through hooded lids. You wonder what he’s thinking.

“I wanna watch you touch yourself,” he requests, but it’s more of a demand. His voice low and gravelly.

You spread your legs slightly and your hand finds your center, your fingers slip and slide through your dripping pussy.

“Fuck yourself,” is his next command, “Deep as you can go. Come on now,”

You insert a single finger inside of yourself, using your body’s rocking motion to propel your finger deep inside you. But it’s not quite what you need. You pull your mouth off Joel’s cock, which garners you a look of irritation from him. “Need more,” you beg.

“Yeah? Whatcha need?”

“You, Joel. Please,”

“Awh,” Joel tilts his head and pouts at you mockingly. “Beggars can’t be choosers. You know that, silly girl.”

You open your mouth to plead for him, but he shuts you up by shoving his cock back into your mouth with a grunt.

“Keep fuckin’ yourself real nice f’me,” he says. “Gonna watch you come all over those pretty fingers.”

You whine a little and shift on your knees, trying to find the right angle while still taking Joel down your throat. Eventually you do, and you add a second finger while grinding your clit down on your thumb.

You and Joel find a steady pace, him fucking your mouth and you fucking yourself. You feel the beginning of an orgasm coming on and focus hard on that feeling, letting it build and wash over you. You moan and choke on Joel’s thick cock as you come, spit dribbling down your lips and your chin.

“Good girl,” he praises you. “Good fuckin’ girl.”

At this point, your lips and your jaw are sore. You wonder what’s next to come, Joel finishing down your throat or something else. It’s not long before you find out, he pulls away from you and brings you to your feet.

“What was it you were wantin’ again, sugar? D’ya wanna come all over my cock?”

You try to hold back your excitement, slightly embarrassed by the effect he has on you.

“Tell me, were you thinkin’ of me tonight? Before that lil’ fuck toy of yours died?”

“All day, Joel,” you whine. “Needed you all day.”

“All day,” he repeats, amused. He turns you around to face the counter, pulls you back by your hips a bit and nudges your feet apart. “How ‘bout that. What were ya thinkin’ about me?”

“Y-” you gasp, your words interrupted when you feel the thick head of his cock prodding your slit. He drags it up and down your folds, coating himself in your arousal.

“Go on, now,” His southern accent is thick like honey as he teases you.

“When you were mowing this morning-” you choked out. “You looked so handsome.”

“Handsome, hm? S’awful kind of ya,” Joel notches the tip of his dick inside you and sort of pulses inside you, ever so slightly moving in and out of your dripping entrance. “Got me blushin’, sugar.”

He doesn’t give you time to respond before he buries himself inside of you. You yelp at the sudden intrusion and without missing a beat, Joel wraps a hand around your mouth.

“Pipe down,” he growls. You nod frantically into his hand, which he promptly removes from your mouth and places on the back of your head. Firmly, but not so rough that he hurts you, he pushes your face down into the counter and holds you steady there by the back of your neck. His hand is warm on your neck, the pressure of his strength against you is both comforting and somewhat of a warning. Your guts churn as desire shoots through your veins like electricity.

Joel finds a steady pace. Not too fast, not too slow. His cock hits you right where you need him.

“Jesus, sugar. Feel good?”

“Fuck,” is all you can get out. You’re lost in him, your skin is on fire and all you can feel is Joel. His thighs hitting your ass, his balls slapping against your clit. One of his hands on your waist, holding you steady. “You feel good, s’good.”

Joel lets out a strangled kind of noise, somewhere between a whine and a groan. You hear his sharp and unsteady breathing through his gritted teeth, and you wish you could see him like this. You can just about picture it perfectly, his messy hair flopping with each of his thrusts and his brow furrowed, the little line between them more prominent than it usually is.

He fucks you at a devastating rhythm, both of you panting and moaning. Joel’s a little more vocal than you would have expected. You can tell he’s trying to keep as quiet as he can, but he lets out strangled moans here and there, as if he can’t help it at all. When he’s quiet, you wonder how he does it. Is his lip pinned under his teeth? Is he holding his breath?

He taps your cheek. “Look at yourself, baby,”

You open your eyes, and you see your reflection in his glass patio door. You’re stark naked and being mercilessly fucked and Joel’s behind you, still fully clothed. His plump ass peeks out from his gray sweats.

“You look real pretty with my cock in ya, sugar. Always knew you would,” he purrs.

“Fuck, Joel,” you moan, and you reach an arm behind you to hold onto his own, where he’s still gripping your hips. He holds you in a vice grip and you’re sure you’ll be a painting of bruises tomorrow, a picture of pure, unadulterated sex.

His hand on your neck finally leaves, and he wraps it around the front of your body until he finds your clit. You almost miss the way he pressed you into the cold countertop.

“Alright, now,” he breathes, “Keep lookin at us when you come.”

You nod into the countertop. Even if he didn’t tell you what to do, you’d still be watching yourself and him in the reflection of the glass. You couldn’t peel your eyes away if you tried.

He expertly paints circles into your clit as his once calculated and steady thrusts turn frenzied and he loses his rhythm.

“Oh fuck, oh fuck, Joel,” you’re gasping, feeling your walls clench and squeeze him. “Right there, right there, fuck.”

“Go on, let go f’me,” he pants.

With a few more circles tracing your clit, you fall apart on him. You come with a loud whine, and Joel pulls you up to cover your mouth with his hand once more. His arm is between your breasts and you’re not sure if the hot sweating on your back is from you or him. You don’t mind either way.

He doesn’t yet stop fucking you, and the sensation is becoming all too much. Your moaning is muffled by his hand as he chases his own orgasm, and he spills into you with shuddering breaths and grunts, painting milky white ropes of come on your insides.

You groan at the loss as he pulls out of you and his spend is warm as it drips from your pussy and down your thighs. You turn around to face Joel, both of you panting as you catch your breath. His dominant demeanor is gone as he bends down to pick up your robe and holds it open for you, you turn around and slither your arms through the sleeves. Without words, he turns you around and ties it in the front, then you slide your flip flops back on your feet. The whole song and dance feels oddly domestic and sweet.

With his hand on the small of your back, he guides you out his door and walks you to your home.

“Don’t have too much fun,” he warns you teasingly, placing the two triple A batteries in your hand. “And close that window. I wanna be the only one to hear ya moanin’ all pretty like that.”

You nod with a shy smile, and Joel kisses your lips and then your forehead. The gentleness of the gesture feels odd, but not wrong. You’re suddenly feeling bashful, as if Joel just didn’t have you butt naked and bent over his kitchen counter.

“I’ll be by to fix that fan for ya, sugar,”

And then he walks away. And you go inside and back to your bedroom, first making sure to close your window. You watch the light in Joel’s bedroom turn off.

You lay in bed and play with the triple A batteries in your hand, still feeling the tingle of his lips on yours, the dull ache of the bruises his fingers left on your hips.

You never did end up replacing those batteries. Just like how you never gave back the sugar.

@swiftispunk @rosaliedepp @pedrotonin @kittenlittle24 @walkingintheheartbreaksatellite @brittmb115 @bigboiseason123 @laysmt @venusdemonroe @guiltgoreglory @aubreysylvain @leeeesahhh @oliveg95 @ifall4dilfs @alloftheboysivelovedbefore @harriedandharassed @vickie5546 @louisxosblog @southernbe @ravenouswild @luvrking @r02eg0ld @amythenortherner @walkintheprk @zpandaqueen @silkiers@angel-with-a-heart @kdogreads @boofy1998 @theoremrobin @ihatespoilers @2valentines @happy--birthday--kiddo @elissaaa @paleidiot @brie-annwyl @str84pedro @sesigsss @bigcreatorwombatdreamer @palomaluvsdilfs @kyloispunk @tiredbuthappy @yuk-for-president @jazzy-music-cat @anoverhwhelmingdin @dontatmethebeasts @venus122idkpleaze @nopealoupe @blackvelveteen1339 @monboudoir @darleneslane @bbyanarchist @spideysimpossiblegirl @speckledemerald

3K notes · View notes

that-one-anxious-mango · 1 year

Text

Summary : What happens when all the secrets start to tumble out and the truth about many things starts to unravel...including people.

Contents: BIG OLE JUICY ANGST. I mean this is what some of you all wanted. But caution this installment includes the following: DRAMA! Allusions to and discussions of abortion. Arguing between friends. Accusations. Tension. Allusions to rough childhood upbringing. Hospital setting. Cursing. Protective/Anger Austin!

Please read with caution.

A/N: Hello Beautiful Humans! I hope you're all well. Here it is. The Second installment. I hope you enjoy it. Just a reminder next installment (3) will be the finale. Thanks so much for the love and reading!

P.S Feel Free to comment and send me letters about thoughts, feelings, or anything else! And also comment if you'd like to be added to the taglist.

Much love *hugs*

Taglist: @wacoshuffle, @purejasmine

---

“ And do you remember what it was like when you stepped into the studio for the first time to work with Baz and the crew? What that moment was like when you realized what you were about to fully do? " The interviewer asked Austin.

Austin nodded offering a somber smile as he tried to grasp his words, " Of course. Yeah..it was..ummm..."

He'd been asked this question before probably fifty thousand times and usually answered it with ease, but today the thoughts weren't coming together.

Instead his mind was somewhere else, his mind was with you.

All night long last night Austin had tossed and turned thinking about not having you in his arms, and the look of hurt replaying in his brain over and over. He wanted nothing more than to get up and go down the hall to your bedroom to scoop you up and love on you until you let him fix all your problems.

But knew he couldn't because he needed the boundary.

He needed you to know he was serious.

For the rest of the interview he politely muddled through it while giving his best efforts and little attention.

Once they wrapped he thanked the interviewer and staff before making his way off the soundstage.

As he approached his awaiting team, Austin couldn't help but notice the grave looks on their faces they were doing their best to try and hide.

Kate, his publicist looked extremely antsy and nervous, while James, his agent stood beside her with a monotone expression holding Austin's cellphone.

" What's going on? " He asked looking between them. " Aus. You need to take this." His agent stuck his hand out with the phone.

Immediately Austin could feel his heart sink to the floor and anguish walk over him.

" Is everything alright? " He asked hoping to God nothing serious had occurred. " Who is this? "

" Can't say. Just take the phone." The man beckoned.

Skeptically accepting the device, he pressed it to his ear and took a deep breath before speaking, " Hello? "

As soon as he heard the voice on the other end his scrunched in uneasiness, " Grace? Whoa--Hey! What's the matter? "He tried listening to your sister go on a mile a minute until he stopped her dead in her tracks when she revealed your whereabouts.

" SHE WHAT? "

———-

Upon arrival to the hospital you'd been admitted to the OB fifth floor and Alana had made the rounds calling everyone she could think important to call, which included Alex, Phoebe, Beatrice, and your co-worker, Tia, who she knew you were good friends with.

She left the family calling to Grace whom she'd talked to on the ambulance ride.

Phoebe then called your uncle in Texas, uncle in London, and grandmother who was traveling in her retirement.

But amongst those calls Alana made, still Austin's name wasn't included. When Grace asked if Austin had been called Alana told her that in the ' heat of the moment ' she'd forgotten.

Grace then volunteered to do it leaving Alana's hands clean.

After they all were informed Phoebe was the first to show with her kid sister, Sprite, in tow who was visiting for the week on a school break.

Soon after followed Alex who came in looking distraught as she had just fought her way through bounds of LA traffic to get there as fast as she could have from set.

And Beatrice also came in with her husband, Santiago, as they both apologized for the wait citing how they would have been there sooner but had to frantically find a sitter to take their youngest who was out of school.

Avery had also called Alana and let her know that she'd been caught in afternoon traffic on the freeway and would get there as soon as possible.

All together asking a thousand and one questions, they hadn't been the least bit calm until one of the nurses had come over to assure the group that while you were stable, none of them would be allowed to see you until the doctor okayed it.

Calling Grace back when a nurse questioned who was the physical next of kin, it was revealed that she had already been in contact with the hospital staff and the person who was granted power of physical next of kin, was Phoebe.

Eagerly waiting to get a update they all sat praying and hoping for your well being until the doctor would come to notify them with a update.

Fifteen minutes later...

They could hear him before they seen him, Austin had practically came barreling into the open area of the fifth floor OBGYN sector with members of his team behind him.

He looked completely disheveled with his shirt wrinkled, suit jacket half off, hair moussed like he'd been running his fingers through it every five seconds, and his face were wide and extremely alert as they zipped from place to place in panic.

He went first to the nurses' station to try and gather information, although everything he said came out fast and jumbled.

But while he still looked around in a fearful daze, he then spotted the group nearby and by passed the check in nurse at the desk, to charge toward them and immediately go into question.

" What the hell happened? How is she? Where is she? I-is she okay? " Austin moved to try and walk down the hall toward the rooms determined to search each one until he found you, but was stopped gently by Phoebe's hand.

" Aus wait. It's the room three doors down, but we can't go in there right now. The doctor just went in and they're running some tests. We don't know much because they wouldn't tell us really but what we do know is she is stable so they say." She looking at him empathetically.

Austin just shook his head not understanding, " What do you mean ' so they say ' ? And why wasn't I called AS SOON as this happened? Who was all there with her? " She just collapsed? " He threw out looking around at the group.

Before anyone could answer him, their heads whirled around at the sound of the room door opening and closing.

Seconds later they could see a nurse exit followed by a doctor who began walking over to the group, " Is this the family of Y/N L/N? " She asked when she stood in-front of them.

A multitude of keen yeses could be heard, " Wonderful, now if there anyone here that is next of kin, or a supp-"

" She's my wife." Austin cut her off. Nodding the doctor was about to continue but heard a voice speak.

" He's the fiancée. And Phoebe is technically the appointed next of kin as we've been made aware." Alana could be heard correcting from the back.

All turning to look at her, some in disbelief and others in distain, still the doctor continued, " Well I can say she is still stable. But I can only go into detail with whoever is appointed next of kin and I also can only allow this person in the room for visitation right now." She informed.

" Austin should see her first." Phoebe spoke up, " He's her fiancée and her family, so I consent to him going in the room but once you're done all I ask is for you to come update us as well. We're her family too. " She decided giving the go head.

Turning his gaze to Phoebe who nodded in encouragement, Austin in return mouthed a 'thank you' and then brought his attention back to the doctor.

" Hi I'm Dr. Mackenzie Floyd, I'm the head of the OBYGN department here at Emory Moss. " The doctor informed reaching out to shake hands with Austin who in return offered his extremely clammy and shaking hand.

" I'm Austin. The husband." Austin introduced himself while making sure to put a extra emphasis on his last words so Alana could hear.

" Nice to meet you. I'm sure you're eager for an update on your wife and would like to see her, so why don't you follow me. " Floyd motioned.

The two them set off to your room leaving behind the group who'd begun to chatter.

When inside, as soon as he saw you lying there, all the air in his lungs seemed to leave all at once and his hands began to feel ice cold against themselves.

You looked like you were sleeping.

Finally relaxed and not so uptight and tired like you'd been.

And while he was glad you were resting, he still couldn't shake the aching need to want to see your eyes pour into his.

" So just give it to me, doc. How's she doing? " Austin asked still not taking his eyes off you.

With a sigh Dr. Floyd began, " Well Mr. Butler it seems that your wife's collapse was the result of a significant drop in her blood sugar and pressure. When she came in her vitals showed that she was a tad bit under nourished for our liking so we've put her on a standard saline trip as well as fluids. Her weight is also lower than the standard at this stage so that's something else we'd like to work on. We suspect she hasn't been eating or hydrating the way she should. " She revealed.

" Overall she also seems to be quite tired. Has she been sleeping at night at all?" Dr. Floyd asked.

Austin thought back to the late nights in your office you'd been pulling and the tossing and turning he could feel come from you during the night.

" As of recently, not much. Usually she is a stickler about her sleep and tries to get a strict nine hours a night. But that hasn't been the case as of late." Austin confirmed. Dr. Floyd, " I understand. That's not unusual though at this stage. Many women experience some form of insomnia early on and it can be an adjustment. But just to be safe we'll give you guys some options of what you can do at home to combat this." She finished taking down some notes.

Austin nodded still not fully understanding what she was getting at.

This stage? Early on?

Still he was trying to wait until he felt she was finished to ask questions.

" But on a happier note, we've a extensive amount of tests and the baby's vitals are strong. Placenta looks healthy. There's thankfully no signs of trauma or malnourishment. They seem to be hitting all their markers right on schedule." Dr. Floyd informed knocking the wind out of Austin.

Hold on.

Baby? What BABY?

Grace on the phone nor anyone else hadn't mentioned anything about a baby. So what was truly going on here.

" I'm sorry Dr. Floyd. " Austin put his hand over his duly aching head as he tried to process the information that had just so casually been given to him, " Forgive me, but did you say a b-baby? As in my wife is pregnant? "

Dr. Floyd cautiously motioned for a nurse via the window to step into the room to check on Austin who'd gone a bit stiff as a board.

She carefully went on, " Why yes, Mr. Butler. Your wife is in fact nine weeks pregnant. My apologies I thought you knew. One of the friends disclosed the information to EMTs in the ambulance on the way here."

At the sound of her last sentence like a switch had been hit, Austin's head snapped up and he became all too alert now with a twisted expression of fury and chariness being displayed.

It was like he could feel his entire body be stricken tense as he forced himself to ask, " Do you by chance know which one of them that would be? "

—- When Austin entered the new private waiting room the group had been moved to, they had all been too quick to jump up and toward him to form an unintentional circle around the man.

As he looked around at his fiancée's friends he was doing his best to keep his composure.

Never had he ever had any real problems with these people, he knew how much your friends meant to you so ever since they'd all been introduced he'd done his best to at least get to know them all and be cordial. Go to parties, be polite at hangouts, bite his tongue on occasion.

And sure him and Alana had had a couple of tiffs here and there, but nothing the two hadn't been able to uncomfortably fake a laugh about and keep their distance after.

So that's why it was mind boggling to him that after hearing from the doctor herself that Alana knew about your pregnancy this whole time, it was shocking that she'd stooped so low to make the decisions she'd had of keeping it a secret and icing him out.

Breaking Austin's thought process Alex was the first to speak up, " Well..how is she? Is she okay? Lord knows we've been praying." The look she carried was one of pure concern, like her face wouldn't physically be able to rest until she heard the news.

Looking around he could see that her sentiments were shared as everyone also looked on anxiously wanting to hear, " She's okay." Austin spoke followed by a harmony of sighs and deep breaths released , " Doctor said that she'll be on bed rest for the next couple days since they want her to replenish her energy with sleep and meals. She was dehydrated and tired. Thank god she didn't get to hit her head. I'll have to just watch her closely is all at home, but she'll be okay." He explained taking in the relieved facial expressions of everyone, everyone but Alana who instead held a hard look to herself while the two participated in a unsanctioned staring contest.

Austin knew he should have taken the high road and privately addressed the woman, and any other time he truly would have.

Ya' know, acted like the gentlemen his parents raised him to be.

But alas something dark and petty took over him when he seen the look on Alana's face. Anger and resentment pooled through his being. These feelings prompted his next choice, " And as for the baby.." Austin purposefully dragged out.

As if everyone had suddenly been cast in a stop motion picture, all movement ceased and heads all snapped in his direction at a eerily slow pace. Faces of shock and confusion were everywhere.

Beatrice's knees seemed to buck underneath her and Santiago with the help of Phoebe ushered the startled woman into a seat. While Alex looked on rapidly blinking like she'd been punked.

Alex's voice rose above the silence, " Austin. What do you mean as for the baby. Are you trying to tell us that, Y/N. I-is pregnant? "

He ran a hand across his mouth as he could feel himself getting upset, " She indeed is. She's about nine weeks along. Baby is healthy though, thank god." He confirmed, voice still hard. "

In shock Beatrice shook her head not being able to wrap her mind around what was occurring as everyone did the same, " No. no. no. That can't be, right. Austin that can't be right. I mean we would know. She would have told us. Are you sure?" She tried reasoning looking all around the room.

Austin nodded. From their reactions he knew that Alex, Phoebe, and Beatrice couldn't have know. As a actor he also recognized their reactions were too raw. And if Bea didn't know Santiago surely didn't, plus Sprite was only a kid who didn't even live here which knocked her off the board of thought about who knew.

" Well, Bea. That's the same thing I thought until the words came out the doctor's mouth herself. Only thing is she didn't find out from any of the tests. She said that one of Y/N's friends informed the paramedics that she was pregnant in the ambulance." He revealed.

Puzzlement spread across the room on every face but one.

Immediately Phoebe who'd been quiet while trying to process spoke up, " Well that can't be true because none of us knew." She looked around the room at all of her friends hoping that not a soul had kept something like this to themselves. " Right, ya'll? "

" No it is true." He started, " Isn't it Alana." Austin spoke turning his attention to the woman who'd been quiet the entire encounter. To him she'd always had this holier than most attitude about her, but right now she wouldn't get that right with him.

And it rang true, as she held a look of complete casualness to her face. " You were one that told the EMTs that Y/N was pregnant aren't you? I mean it couldn't have been Avery because before I came in here I ran into her. She didn't know anything and she wasn't in the ambulance. In fact she was shocked. Even though she tried to follow the ambulance she got caught in traffic on the way here. After we spoke I told her she could go home and I'd keep her updated. "He revealed.

All eyes were on Alana now, six pairs keen on her.

But still she wasn't going to let anyone see her sweat. Instead she just keep her cool. " I was." She simply stated.

" Lana you knew? " Beatrice's eyes bucked thinking about how a few days ago she'd sat through a whole dinner with Alana and she hadn't said a word. " And you didn't think to say anything?"

" Yes, Beatrice I knew. I was there when she took the test." She stated matter of factly.

A bitter chuckle emerged from Austin, " Of course you were. Isn't that rich." He continued laughing and clapping to himself, taking a seat while everyone looked on in bewilderment.

" Alana when the fuck was this? " Alex questioned flabbergasted and needing to know how long had this been going on. How long had they all been kept in the dark.

Groaning she started, " About three weeks ago when I came to drop off the final details for the Pace book-tour to her/ She'd opened the door and looked like she'd been crying. I mean a downright mess. " She recalled.

" After practically prying it out of her she confessed to me that she'd been upstairs in the bathroom trying to build the nerve to take some pregnancy tests. Said she hadn't been feeling well and that Aunt Flo had been MIA. After she calmed down I offered to stay with her while she took them and the whole time we waited all she did was worry and cry about how scared she was about the whole thing and how this hadn't been in the plans yet." She explained.

Austin recognized the day she was talking about. He'd been out reading some material for Masters of Air and when he'd gotten home that night you'd already been in bed asleep, and weirdly enough it was also the night that you stop letting him hold you.

" After all the tests came back brightly positive I could barely get her to stop panicking. It was horrible. It took about a hour before she partially stopped. She made me promise on my life I wouldn't tell anyone. She felt like she didn't wanna ' inconvenience those around her ' is what she said. From there she worried about what she should do, and I let her know that she had a number of different possibilities to explore. The end." She concluded folding her arms against her chest.

" So that's it. You just agreed with it and encouraged her to go through it all alone." Phoebe scoffed, " Knowing that I- we would have all wanted to be there for her." She corrected herself quickly knowing her emotions were ab out to get the best of her.

" It was her choice, Phoebe. And she wasn't alone. I helped and talked to her often enough. All she ever did was worry about the type of mother she would be and how she was going to raise a child at this point in her life. I did all I could to console her." Alana challenged.

" And how much of it was actually comfort and encouragement rather than added confusion." Alex icily shot out.

" Hey! I encouraged her to do what was best for her. I encouraged her to explore all her options without the interference from others ." Alana seethed.

" Wait? What do you mean encouraged her to explore all her options? What options? " Austin questioned standing up from his seat. His face was stone cold. " What does that mean? "

Again all eyes shifted to Alana.

Still unwavering Alana repeated, " Like I said. I encouraged her to explore all her options. She needed to know that her life didn't have to change if she didn't want it to. Especially if it's not something she really wanted it. I mean why should she have to put a possible end to her career and fall behind in life for something she wasn't a hundred percent sure she wanted. At one point she asked my opinion and I told what I thought would be best. " She shrugged still maintaining her eye contact with Austin.

" Which was? " Alex beckoned her on. " What did you say? "

It was no secret that Alana had no desire to have children whatsoever. In fact the only children she truly tolerated was her friends.

Her most famous line was, " I detest anything that crawls. Bugs, most animals, and most of all, children. Wastes of time and resources."

She believed parenthood was obsolete task.

Tearily looking to the ceiling in distress Beatrice said, " Alana you don't mean you had her consider..." She brought her eyes to search Alana's face for her to dispel what she thought may be true.

But still Alana remained silent. And the silence was almost deafening.

" Alana...look me in my face and tell me you didn't try and tell her that having an abortion was her real best option...say you didn't do that without getting her the proper mental help she needed to make a decision like that.. say it isn't true." Phoebe interrogated with the rest of the weighing silence of the room.

Locking eyes with a teary eyed Phoebe, Alana figured with her being Y/N's best friend and all. She was the only one she felt needed a explanation.

" Yeah I did. It's her body so she should have taken in to account all her choices across the board. Plus she wasn't sure she wanted to be mother. Why go through nine months of uncertainty. Why take such a huge gamble." She confirmed.

At the confession the whole room feel into a chorus of reactions.

Santiago comforted a now crying Beatrice. Phoebe took her leave of absence since she could feel herself getting to a point of unreasonable anger. And Austin had begun slowly pacing the corner of the room while doing his best to piece together what he just heard.

" Oh my god." Alex whispered moving across to the other side of the room. " Oh my god. " She spoke louder. " OH MY GOD." She yelled before turning to Alana. " HOW COULD YOU DO THAT TO HER. HOW COULD YOU PROJECT YOUR OWN SHIT ON HER LIKE. THAT." She yelled.

Face twisting in offence she returned the energy, " IT'S HER BODY AND IT'S HER CHOICE." Alana shouted.

" OF FUCKING COURSE IT IS. IT'LL ALWAYS BE HER CHOICE. BUT SHE ALSO WASN'T OBVIOUSLY IN THE RIGHT STATE OF MIND TO TRY AND BE MAKING DECSISIONS LIKE THAT WITHOUT SOME FORM OF HELP OR GUIDANCE. GUIDANCE YOUR BIAS ASS WASN'T GIVING HER! WHY WOULDN'T YOU TELL US SO WE COULD HAVE HELPED?" Alex questioned.

" I WAS GUIDING HER." ALANA screamed, " GUIDING HER TO SEE HER FULL POTENTIAL! YOU SHOULD HAVE SEEN HOW TORE UP SHE WAS. HOW SCARED AND MEEK SHE LOOKED. SHE DIDN'T WANNA TELL ANYONE ELSE. WHAT WAS I SUPPOSE TO DO. IT WAS A SECRET."

" YEAH BUT YOU OUT OF ALL OF US SHOULD VERY WELL KNOW HOW SOMETIMES IN A FRIENDSHIP, THE WELL BEING OF THE OTHER PERSON TRUMPS KEEPING A FUCKING SECERT. AND HOW DO YOU KNOW THIS BABY ISN'T HER DREAM! " Alex shot back.

" I KNOW THAT BEING JUNIOR EDITOR IS ONE OF HER DREAMS. AND TODAY SHE TALKED ABOUT THROWING IT ALL AWAY ON A UNSURE GAMBLE IN LIFE. I ENCOURAGED HER TO DO RIGHT BY HERSELF ABOVE ALL ELSE."

" No what you encouraged her to do was not only keep us her family in the dark but more importantly her fiancée because of whatever reason you gave." Beatrice spoke up amongst the yelling. As a mother she felt a certain cord struck inside her at Alana's comments, " And what the fuck would you know about motherhood. Yeah it may be a unsure gamble, but it's the biggest win I've ever gotten out of life. But you wouldn't ever consider seeing it that way because your obsession with wanting to be successful enough to prove people wrong in your life has projected on to others. And i-t's toxic." She finished honestly.

At this Alana felt some of her wind be taken from her. Never had she heard Beatrice speak to someone this way, let alone her. So it not only took her by surprise but to her dismay, it stung.

" I agree. " Spoke Alex calmer now, " I mean did you even stop and consider her life with Austin in all of this?

Holding back tears of her own to look at Austin who remained silent she shifted her gaze back to Alex, " Who gives a fuck about that. ITS HER LIFE. HERS. Everything isn't always about him. And that's exactly why I advised her not to say anything to him until she made a solid fucking decision so he couldn't influence her as always."

Alex and everyone else watched in horror as Austin's head immediately snapped into Alana's direction, but before anyone could intervene his voice carried, " You. " He seethed, " Had ABSOLUTELY no fucking right to try and decide what my wife should and shouldn't be telling me. NO RIGHT! " He expressed pointing a accusatory finger. The tone in his voice made Beatrice and Alex both flinch.

They had never seen Austin the slightest bit upset really, let alone livid. So this was a whole new side of him to see.

But he couldn't help it. Where the fuck did she get off on saying something like that to the love of his life.

Alana's neck curled around to look at Austin shooting him a glance that could out anyone six feet under, " She's not fucking your wife. And she surely isn't your child or someone whose life you can dictate! She has dreams and goals! A-and values! But she's about to throw all of that away! FOR YOU! " She hissed taking strides closer to Austin. " Just because you spent the better part of your last decade long relationship constantly wishing that you'd been with a more housewife material girl. Doesn't mean that you can turn my friend into your little housewife to clean, cook, and shoot all your babies out whenever you so please." Alana raged.

Beatrice swallowed the sizably growing lump in her throat before cautiously motioning Sprite to and grab a security guard and Santiago to go stand in-between the two. Because she could tell this was not about to go well! She was actually surprised no one had been called already.

She knew Austin could contain himself, it was Alana she was cautious about.

Alex shared the same sentiments as Beatrice, especially because she could practically feel the heat radiating from Austin but still she knew better than to intervene.

Austin's voice became eerily low, " That woman has been my wife since the moment I slipped that damn ring on her finger. To hell with the legality of it!" He paused, " I support, love, and encourage Y/N in everything that she wants to do with every fiber of my being! EVERY-FUCKING THING! So for you to stand here in some self righteous ass pride and accuse me of trying to turn her into some type of " housewife " is fucking ridiculous. Especially when your so called advice damned near almost killed her!"

Santiago tried his best to diffuse, " Hey guys c'mon I think that's enoug-" but his efforts fell silent on their ears.

" But aren't you though. " A sharp laugh escaped Alana, " The Y/N I knew wouldn't have even considered giving up the opportunity to be Junior editor. There's no way. Not after all the work she's put in. So the only fathomable reason there remotely is has to do with YOU! You and your needs and your wants for someone to hold your hand and support you!"

Throwing his head back in anguish as he tried to control himself he went to look at her again with eyes that practically radiated distain, " You know what, Alana. What the fuck is your problem? I mean really what the fuck is the issue because as quiet as its kept you never really liked me in the first fucking place. Which that's fine. I didn't care as long as Y/N was happy, I could tolerate your little slick comments and glares whenever I was around or even brush aside that fact that you once tried to advise her to break up with me in the beginning of our relationship when we were having problems because I know friends always try to do right by each..I guess. " Austin explained.

" But today...I'm not doing this anymore. I need to know what the fuck is your issue! Can you not stand to see her happy that bad? Are you that fucking miserable in your own life that you need someone to wallow with you. Because I'll be damned if I let it be her. " He finished.

Stunned at his outburst the room remained silent expect for Alana who was fuming as tears raced down her face, " Wanna know what my problem is Austin! Like I haven't said it a thousand and one fucking times already! My problem is that you're a distraction and your holding her back from her potential! The success that would truly make her happy! That girl has the opportunity to be excellent and excel in a field not too many people like us get to be in. But she's about to throw it all the way to be some pathetic dull little stay at home housewife without a life for you!"

As soon as the last part left her mouth Alana was filled with instant regret.

Immediately all eyes surged to Beatrice who was in fact a stay at home mother and wife, but was not dull or pathetic in any way.

She had tears in her eyes and a look of hurt on her face that couldn't be described by any words, " So is that what you think of me, Lana? Huh? That I'm dull and that I don't have a life? Pathetic? " Beatrice questioned through rolling tears.

" Baby..." Santiago immediately reached for his wife.

Alana wasn't able to get a word out to Beatrice as Santiago ushered the poor woman out of the room as she had begun to sob.

Leaving Alex alone in the room with the two where everything had been spilled, she spoke freely, " Shame on you for saying that." She said with venom behind her words looking to Alana. Before turning to Austin, " And you need to step outside and gather yourself." She pointed.

Before either of them could form a rebuttal one of the hospital security guards had finally come to intervene and diffuse the situation, " Alright folks I get this is a very tense time and subject for everyone but if we could, why don't we just take it down some notches and go our separate ways to cool off for a bit.

Looking around at everyone Austin felt his chest heaving in anger and confusion. Deciding Alex was right and he was best to leave, he exited going to find a place to talk to someone who he knew could help him see the light at the end of the tunnel.

Leaning against the outside of the building the sound of the dialing tone rang in Austin's ear until he was graced with a voice, " Hello."

" Ash. It's me...you got a minute? "

----=

After having a conversation with his sister who'd come and sat with her baby brother for what seemed like hours. All Austin did after she and everyone else had left was sit and just look at you.

The love of his life and one of the only things that truly mattered to him.

He'd been in love before sure, but for the life of him he couldn't understand how he could love someone so much the way he did you. Because looking at you laid up in a hospital bedlike this was physically making him ill.

He couldn't have imagined what he'd had done if something had been seriously wrong or worse. And he didn't want to either...because the sheer thought was almost too much to bear.

His ponders were interrupted when he heard a faint knock come onto the door-seal.

Looking he could see Phoebe in the doorway with a apologetic smile, " Hey."

" Hey. Phoebe." He responded offering what he could of a content face.

" You got a minute? "

" Of course. Yeah let's do it."

Looking to you once more Austin got up moving to follow her to the hallway.

Once they were both outside Phoebe went to speak but Austin stopped her.

" Please don't." He sighed, "Don't apologize because it isn't your fault. You couldn't have known either." He stated.

At his declaration Phoebe turned to look away at the feeling of dampness hitting her eyelids, she hated crying infront of people, " I'm her best-friend, Austin. I should have seen. I should have noticed. I mean I knew something was off but I just thought it was the normal seasonal depression we all go through. And weren't wasn't exactly around each other as much since we were both busy..but still how did I miss this. Did I let this fall to the back burner? She' s my little sister." She questioned herself.

And it was true. The relationship you and Phoebe had went way beyond the bounds of friendship...you shared a sisterhood.

Nodding Austin understood her frustration, " How could you miss this, huh? I guess maybe the same her fiancée who wakes up and goes to sleep with her almost every night did, Phoebe. It happened. Don't know how her little crafty ass did it it..but she did." " He said letting the realization set in.

Smirking Phoebe laughed, " I'm just dumb founded that she was able to keep up this charade from us all for almost a month..a whole month. Sneaky little...OUU." Phoebe hit her hands together, they both laughed.

" Well not everyone it seems." Austin sighed referring to Alana and his blowout.

She nodded, " Yeah about that." She looked to him, " I'm super sorry you had to go through that. I can't imagine what all of this had to be like. Finding this all out at once and then having her say those things to you..it wasn't right. And I know I can't apologize for her but still...I'm sorry she acted that way." She says really giving him her most genuine empathy. " And I talked to Grace. She didn't know Y/N was pregnant either. Alana didn't even say anything to Grace about it, she had to find out through the phone convo with the nurse. She's pissed."

" She has every right to be. And you're right you can't apologize for her. But Phoebe be honest with me. " He shakily started, " Do all of you feel that way. Like I'm keeping her from her goals or I'm not good for her? " He asked knowing that if he got the dreaded answer he was prepared to do the unthinkable..and set you free if he was holding you back.

Without the slightest hesitation she went, " Absolutely not. No. Never. " She responded shaking her head, " If that were the case we wouldn't have even let you take our bestie out in the first place, trust me." Phoebe alerted. " If anything we feel the opposite. We see that you make her the happiest we've EVER seen her and she adores you just as much as you adore her. You're both disgustingly cute I admit and that's great because we support you two." She set the record straight.

Feeling a brick taken off what he felt like was the weight of the world on his shoulders, Austin nodded, " Thank you for that...but do you think she feels the same way about the baby...happy? " He asked.

Since you weren't awake and he couldn't ask you himself. Austin felt his need to prepare himself for what could happen..what decision you could make. He needed to know how to support you.

With Phoebe being your best-friend of so long he knew that this was as close of a look into your mind as she was going to get right now.

Acknowledging the look of desperation and fear on his face Phoebe started, " Truthfully after what Alana may have said I don't know." She spoke, " But before that what I can say is that whenever we joked around about the two of you having little curly haired chunkers tumbling around she always was so giddy about it. Smiling from ear to ear and shit." She informed making the embers of hope in Austin warm.

" But the one time we had a serious convo about right before the engagement she seemed open and fond of the idea..but in the same breath nervous and scared. And you know why I'm sure." She referenced to your abnormal upbringing.

" I do." He nodded taking in what she said.

Sighing Phoebe grabbed his shoulder, " I don't know. Honest. But not matter what just stick with her. She needs you..alot more than she may let on." Phoebe said.

Smiling small he responded, " Always. Because I need her too..a hell of a lot more than I let on."

#austin butler x black reader #austin butler imagine #austin butler #daysofourlove #angst #themangowrites #austin butler x reader #austin butler fanfic #austin butler fic

117 notes · View notes

nescaveckwriter · 2 months

Text

Wandering Love - Chapter Three❤️💞

A/N: Awww I know it's been awhile, but here's Chapter 3 🐞, hope y'all enjoy this one💞

Side note: Thank you for the love and support 🐞💕

Warnings: Violence, mentions of sexual content, some scenes may be triggering please read with care.

The glistening moon is high in the sky, no stars in sight, a shotgun, resting against the wooden door, a rocking chair , going back and forth, lean fingers clasping to the handle, the long blond hair, getting tossed around, every now and again as the wind picks up, the brown worn out Stetson boots, tapping to the sounds of the crickets, the cowboy hat, is drawn low, so that you can't make out her face.

A smile tugging at her rosy plum lips, as she recalls the memories of the man she loves, the deepest blue eyes, you've ever seen, his accent deep Texan, definitely different from the folks she used too know in New York, he was a large big man, towering over her, but she never felt afraid no, she felt safe, thinking back now, she felt home, but she left him there that day on the train station, wanting to explore the world, searching for a adventure around every corner, to learn less privileged kids literature, her parents never quite understood her wild spirit, she was highly educated, but wanted to travel, instead of marry a banker and get a white picket fence, with little ones running around.

Its been almost five years now, that she left him, standing there, she almost didn't leave, her heart was breaking, but she knew if she didn't go, she'd might look back one day and blame him, and no way she'd wanted to do that, she loved him to much to. But, if only she never left, she was always a lover and not a fighter oh no, but that sweet man, of hers told her that, if she's going to leave he will make sure she can protect herself, he taught her how to ride a horse, how to throw a punch, or two, always so careful not to hurt her, he's such a gentle teddy bear, but when the training with the guns, came she didn't want anything to do with it, but he insisted, so the first time, she pulled that trigger of that '45 the kickback was so surprising, that it threw her to the ground, of course he laughed but he helped her up, dusting her off, placing a sweet kiss on her lips, saying "you can do this my sweet little woman-child" and well today, she's got two 45's holstered on her belt, yeah her life, didn't exactly turn out as planned, she went about three towns over, when she got a place to stay by a sweet family of four, growing quite fond off them, two beautiful children and boy who took after his father and a little girl, who reminded her a lot of herself of that age, so she taught them how to read, and write.

A tear rolling down her cheek, one day when she came in from the fields, bringing some corn and other vegetables, she heard the kids screaming , "Mommy" and as she ran in, she saw the two kids hiding underneath the table, there mother beaten, her dress torn, three men towering over her laughing, she screamed at them "leave her alone" which made one of the pigs turn around, tapping the other men, "aren't she a pretty one, so young, I will have some fun with you," she's not really sure where she got the courage from but she howled back, "you want me come and get me" the big man laughed, walking towards her with big ole steps, he stood a few inches from her and she threw a punch to his face, he didn't even dent backwards, he just laughed and threw her to the ground.

As he wear tearing at her dress, she saw his weapon at his side, and she went and grabbed it, pulling the trigger without any warning, the big guy, fell on her, and it must've been the adrenaline, but she rolled him off of her, getting up and shooting the other man and then the other, she was shaking like crazy, she was forced to take not only one life but three that day, tears was staining her cheeks, but the woman was grateful and the kids still had a mother, as for her , the sheriff of that town wanted to arrest, her, she shot he's brother so that's probably why. And ever since that day she's a renegade that's on the run, standing up for the folks who can't stand up for themselves. That's what brings her too this old town ' Grave Springs'

Sitting on the porch, waiting for other heartless bandits, and bounty hunters to come take this older man Bobby Singer and get the reward, dead or alive, he supposedly murdered his wife, but she knew it was the Jefferson brothers, her good friend she made along the way, he's a sheriff a couple towns over, one if the good one's, Dean Winchester, Bobby is like a father to him and his brother Sam, so when she got the request to come and keep an eye on him, till they can get here, she said she'll do it without hesitation. So while the old man is getting some shut eye for the road ahead, she's out here keeping watch, reminiscing about her life, and every now and again, remembering the love she found in Benny.

Whispering underneath her breath "I still miss someone, I'll never get over those blue eyes, I see them everywhere, I miss those arms that hold me," she heard the song playing in a saloon and it stuck with her, resonating with the words, the only problem is she is the one who left, not him.

Her eyes wet as she dreams about what could've been, but he's probably gotten a wife by now, no way, he'll wait for her, he has gotten quite a few more years on her. Oh how many times, did she wanted to get on 'Savannah' and ride her up in the mountains, tell him she's there to stay in his arms, till the day she dies, but how could she bring all this to him, not much the people chasing her, but more the person who she is now, she's not the little woman-child he used too know, she's not his Willow now more, nowadays she goes by, CJ, short for her real name, Charlotte June.

She not the lover anymore, but rather a fighter now, fighting in more ways than one, fighting to stay alive, fighting to stay out of jail, fighting to stay the woman she was five years ago, fighting not to give into her hearts request to and get her man, hell all she ever does is fight, and to be honest she's tired of feeling so damn tired.

Taking a sip, of the small bottle of Jack, she can't help but smile, remembering how much Benny liked he's liquid gold, that was until they spend some time together, he didn't drink as much, they were to busy, loving each other.

Glancing over the stretched out darkness she can't help to feel that's the way her soul feels, she hated sitting still, that's when her head is filled with all those memories and thoughts, its exhausting. But it's her fate, and there ain't a damn thing, she can do about it!

Her head shifting to the left as she hear the rustling of the leaves, already getting up out of the chair, grabbing the shotgun pointing it in the direction of the noise, the moonlight just lining out a figure of a big fella stepping out off the bushes...

Chapter Four Here :)

#benny lafitte #spotify #dean winchester x reader #wandering_love #nescaveckwriter #dean winchester fanfiction #jared padalecki #jensen ackles x reader #sam and dean #dean winchester imagine #Spotify

13 notes · View notes

ronearoundblindly · 1 year

Note

Hi hi! A thought for your Sweet Sunday prompt (but only if it works/you have time).. could I suggest "a long walk in winter" with your preference of Bucky or Steve? Cosy knitwear vibes optional!

Thank you! Hope these days are being kind to you.

I chose Bucky because I haven't written him in a hot sec. Also, this turned into a love confession, so...whatever. (Wait, how did this get sooooo long?!?! WHY IS IT SOOOO SAPPY???) Warning for mild romance, i.e. kissing and vague groping, I guess.

It's just the most beautiful day.

Unusual of a request as it may be, you're glad you suggested it. The whole team is worn out from an odd mission, and you don't know how to explain why this seemed a better option than going straight back to the compound but you were right.

Within minutes of your mission site is a national park. Last night you tossed out the idea of wanting to explore it, even though the area is usually closed for the season. You all have a jet and you're Avengers; you can handle yourselves in a bit of frost and snow.

Everyone rummaged through their lockers in the morning, gathering all the warm, civilian clothes they could find and trading anything that would fit another better until everyone was properly bundled up.

Most of the group goes off in their own directions for some solitude and a good think. Bucky, Steve, and Sam all walk along with you for a ways as you climb toward higher ground and a better view.

"You hear that, Steve?" Sam stops and points off to his right.

Steve looks focused for a second, brow furrowed. "Either stream or waterfall, I think."

"Wanna check it out," Sam questions, shrugging.

"Sure. You guys...?" He gestures to you and Bucky.

"Maybe on the way back," you chirp. "I want to see the valley with the most sunlight."

Bucky just shakes his head at Steve and turns back around, hands deep in his pockets.

"Alright, we'll catch up later." Steve and Sam wave with small smiles, heading off.

You and Bucky keep climbing, but even when the path is a bit steep--steep enough for you to have to grab forward to step up--his hands remain buried.

It's when you reach a nice lookout ledge that you see it.

Bucky's shivering.

It's not consistent, but the cold sometimes races up his spine so fast he can't contain it. He peeks over his shoulder guiltily, worried you've noticed.

Automatically, you come over to press against his covered, metal arm, wrapping yourself around it and resting your cheek on the shoulder.

"Sorry, Buck. I didn't think to layer you for this."

He may run warm, but the shocking disparity between cold metal, his clavicle, and a lung must be terrible.

"'S alright, doll," he mumbles back.

The team--the whole team--is close. You all have to be to do what you do, to be ready and in sync in the chaos of battle, to communicate without words in a split second. They are your family, all of them, but if you're being honest with yourself, it's always been Bucky.

To you, he's not a broken man and he never had anything to prove. His personality--his real personality--was just a bit hidden. You had to excavate his sense of humor, convince him to joke around with you, and encourage him to enjoy things. It's been the greatest joy of your life and likely your greatest achievement to bring the world back to Bucky...to bring Bucky back to the world.

Of course, you have to remind yourself, it wasn't just you. A lot of that was Steve. Sam, too. The whole group really. You can't take all the credit, but you're still proud.

Finally, he stops shivering, and Bucky presses his arm into your hold a little.

"This was a good idea," he says softly, and you shift your head to see him squinting out over the landscape.

Evergreens are dusted with glittering snow at their peaks. The whole area smells of earth and ice, and it's the purest moment you've felt since...well, since the first time you ever witnessed Buck smile.

Steve said some ol' time phrase you didn't understand, and Bucky just burst into snorts of laughter, like a kid losing his shit over a dirty joke. His eyes flickered over to you several times while he got control over himself. Neither ever explained what was so funny, but you were already a goner for that shy and slightly devious smile.

Bucky pulls his hand from his pocket, making and relaxing a fist before bending at the elbow. The hand presents in front of you like an invitation.

"Do you mind..."

"Oh gosh, of course," you scramble, curling one hand in his palm and spreading your other over the back of the metal digits. "Better?"

The rumble of a hum replaces the path of his shivers.

You both take in the beauty of nature for a long time after that, warming each other, comforting wordlessly. At some point, you shut your eyes and just listen to the quiet whistle of the wind and the sweet song of birds carried along it.

"Doll?" His whisper is so soft that you almost miss it in your mind's floating.

You have to fight heavy eyelids to look up again. "Hmm?"

He's bathed in cool sunlight, cheeks ruddy from the burn of the wind, and Bucky opens and closes his mouth several times. A few whisps of his hair have fallen from the low, tiny ponytail he can get it into now. His icy, piercing gaze stalls your heart without warning. He licks his lips before looking at the ground again.

"What?"

Bucky shakes his head. "Nothing." He drops his hand from yours.

"You want some time alone, too? I can just--"

"God, no--" he turns, both his hands at your waist, and you're shuffled backward by the force of him "--don't leave me. Don't ever leave me."

"I'm not." Your butt hits a solid surface of rock, and he still doesn't stop advancing until his body stands flush with yours. "Buck, I'm not...I'll never leave you," you end in a whisper.

His head is down, forehead a mere inch from your nose, and he nods. "Okay." He nods again, breathing almost labored in the cold, puffing steam across your covered chest.

You have no idea what's wrong, but in all the time you've known Bucky Barnes, he's only ever been upset by bad things. You think he must be struggling with the weight of the mission, burdened by a detail only he witnessed, and you want to help. You've only ever wanted to help him.

You raise your hands to his jaw, sliding them over his rough, stumbled cheeks when he looks up into your eyes, mouth agape.

"It's okay. It's okay, Buck." You continue to move your fingers into his hair, circling lightly over the nape of his neck, and his eyes close again. "You're okay, Buck."

He sighs heavily, and when he starts to lean closer, you think he's going to hug you. He gives the best hugs, so you're melting at the thought alone, but he is not about to hug you.

His arms do curl around the small of your back. He does pull you against him tighter. His chin does not find your shoulder.

Instead, warm, smooth lips find yours, a sharp contrast of scorching heat in the winter air. Your heart is pounding in an instant. The flare of bewilderment stretches your body taut.

"Buck," you question in arms.

His mouth seals to yours again, harsh, needy, and chaste all in one long drag.

"I love you," he whispers. "I've loved you for so long, and even if you don't feel the same, can I just love you? Just for today?"

He keeps pressing little kisses to your lips while you gasp for searing cold breaths. "Okay, Buck," you manage before he's against you again.

"If--" you break away only by tilting your head back onto the rockface "--only if I get to love you tomorrow."

You stroke your thumbs over those scruffy cheeks as before, a comfort to you both this time.

The sky-blue of Bucky's eyes watches the changing expression on your face as it dissolves from shock to sincerity, and then he smiles.

It's a shy and slightly devious smile.

Bucky takes the deal, and again, you're a goner.

#ro answers #sweet sunday asks #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x you #bucky fic #bucky fanfic #bucky barnes fluff #fluff #fluff and feels #fluff and romance

94 notes · View notes

jo-harrington · 10 months

Note

loch ness monster pls

Mouse. Good morning. Happy Monday. You are...the love of my life and for that I bring you a little gift of angst...I'm sorry...

TW: Difficult relationships with families on both Eddie and the little Knight's part

Haven't ready Heaven yet? Find it here.

And find the Master List for As Above, So Below here.

Christmas Eve 1984

He hadn't meant to do it.

He was only trying to help.

You'd been working as many shifts as you could get your hands on at Bradley's. Tim, the manager, approved overtime for everyone and you jumped at the chance. Eddie couldn't blame you; Wayne did the same thing at the plant and, if he had a job, he probably would too.

You had your little date nights planned throughout the month, but aside from that...you both agreed that Christmas wouldn't be anything special.

Wayne was working, like he did most holidays, but the grocery store would be closed after 5pm. That meant the two of you would post up on your couch, watch It's a Wonderful Life, and eat a shit ton of Bagel Bites until one of you (probably Eddie) puked.

And then tomorrow you’d drive across town to spend the morning with Wayne after he came home from work before doing it all over again.

It was the perfect Christmas.

The simple act of luxuriating in the indulgent laziness of a holiday without actually celebrating anything. Because Christmas was not just a time of festivities and joy; it was a reminder of everything you didn't have.

Eddie had a key to your place, so he figured he would get everything started while you wrapped up your shift.

He just wanted to surprise you.

Wanted to make you smile.

It was the least he could do.

As he unlocked the door, he noticed your mailbox was stuffed. Overflowing with letters and envelopes.

He shuffled the handful of plastic bags filled with gas station treats into one hand as he emptied the box with the other. And right as he thought he had a hold on everything, one letter--a postcard--fluttered to the floor.

"Fuck," Eddie hissed, and decided he was better off running everything upstairs and then coming back for it, than trying to grab it and drop everything.

Truthfully, he forgot about it for a minute. Got too distracted.

Your cozy little apartment above the deli was a mess. You didn't really have a lot--it's why you always insisted that nights in were spent at the trailer, it felt more like a home--but what you did have was in disarray. So he tidied it a little, did the ol' Munson 5 Minute Clean Up. Dishes out of the drying rack and into the cupboard, wrappers and random bits of paper into the garbage, half folded laundry in the basket shoved into drawers.

He got the snacks all set up on your little coffee table, grabbed pillows and a quilt from your bed to set up a nice little nest for the two of you on the couch. He turned your shitty second-hand television on to NBC so it would be all ready when you got home.

And just as Eddie slid the trays of Bagel Bites, he remembered the postcard.

The intention was to run down, grab it, and then toss it into the pile with the rest of the bills and flyers and holiday cards from neighbors around town.

But the colorful picture was too enticing not to take a closer look.

Beautiful, cool watercolors. A large and imposing draconic figure gliding through, each scale inked in detail. Block letters spelling "Greetings from Loch Ness."

Eddie, curious, turned the card over and looked at the handful of stamps, all unfamiliar and from various countries, that overlapped each other in the corner. Your name and address were practically carved into the cardboard, the sender's hand obviously too heavy with anger or stress or regret.

And on the opposite side...

Merry Christmas. From, Dad.

He was suddenly overcome with the feeling that he made a mistake.

It was the one line he had yet to cross with you.

Eddie could talk about his family until he was blue in the face. His anger towards his dad that he used humor to cope with. The hole in his heart that formed when his mother died. His unending gratitude and respect for his Uncle. The worry he felt and the responsibility he had towards Rick, a man who couldn't claim him by name or by blood, but still did his best.

But you?

He knew you had an elderly grandma who lived in Chicago; you lived with her right up until you left. You...had a mother. And your father...forbid you from dropping out of school and you did so anyway.

Now he was sending you a postcard from Scotland. Carried with him all over Europe, it seemed, if the stamps were any indicator.

Eddie was a typical, hyperactive young adult who considered himself in love with you. And because of that, he wanted to know everything about you, just as you were eager to learn everything you could about him. It was a mutual agreement not to push one another...

But you'd been together for months...

Suddenly the doorknob jiggled and Eddie jumped. He fumbled to look casual since he knew he was nowhere near athletic enough to make it up the stairs and into the apartment before someone walked in.

It was his luck, or lack thereof, that you walked in.

Your weary eyes brightened when you saw him--it took you a second to realize why he was there but it wasn’t the first time he had done something like this--and then they immediately darted down to the postcard in his hands.

You scrunched your nose and reached a gloved hand out to take it from him. There was enough force in it that Eddie immediately thought it was annoyance directed at him.

You flipped the postcard over once, twice, and then you folded it in half and tucked it into the pocket of your coat.

You opened your mouth to say something and his heart practically stopped in his chest. He thought you might yell, tell him that he was invading your privacy, that he should just go home. Instead you shook your head and stepped closer to engulf him in a hug.

He asked you about your day, you asked if he had done any of the homework that had been assigned over holiday break.

It was warm, it was familiar, it was everything he wanted--to be fully consumed with each other--if only it wasn't for...

"Don’t worry about it,” you muttered into the fabric of his shirt, face still squished against him. “It’s just a postcard.”

Eddie could only assume that you felt the turmoil within him and felt the need to soothe it.

He wondered whether those words brought you any comfort at all.

Hours later, as the two of you tidied the mess away before going to bed, he saw the postcard in the trash. Ripped to bits. The beautiful watercolor eyes of the Loch Ness monster staring up at him woefully.

And he knew that the answer was no.

#mouse <3 #blurb game #aasb #hymns of heaven #eddie munson x reader #as above so below #Eddie munson fluff #eddie munson angst

20 notes · View notes

heretolurkandnothingmore · 24 days

Note

Hello tumblr friend!

Sending this off to a few mutuals in efforts to be more social, so please enjoy a random ask :) No pressure to answer if you do not want to, of course!

Which SW movie is your favorite cinematically speaking, and which is your favorite just because it’s a good ol’ fashioned comfort movie? (quality be damned!) Either live action or animated.

Which is your least favorite? Could be for any reason. Wasted potential, acting, plot, directing, pacing, etc.

*pretends it’s my sw blog asking, signed @fem-anakin-skywalker*

Hi there! Good to hear from you! Yeah, no worries, I figured out the side blog thing a couple tag games ago) Thank you for sending this random ask, I am enjoying it 💜 Feel free to send more))

So, let's see...

Let's get the least favourite out of the way - I don't actually think of the sequels. Ever. Most of the times I forget they exist. It's not like the Star Trek Reboot (that sends me spiraling into the burning fury of a thousand suns), I don't hate the sequels, just have no real desire to watch them. So I guess that's that)

Now, to the positives.

Favourite cinematography-wise is RotS. Because so much of it is a carefully choreographed ballet, a sort of crescendo chord in a song with a damn long and complicated intro. This beauty rarely gleamed makes the goofier parts feel almost inevitable, like they're balancing out the weight of the tragedy you're watching unfold. I know every single prequel meme by heart at this point, and still weep a little at the ending. That's how it works out)

The comfort movie for me is a toss-up between AotC and ANH. AotC is actually eclipsed by TCW, but there's still something so enticing to my brain about the good times that are ending in this movie. Kind of like that scene in Merlin Season 4 where they celebrate a long period of prosperity - that happiness is so close we can taste it, but the story won't let us in to see it. Also, Coruscant as a setting just scratches an itch my inner architecture lover suffers every day. For tiered cities, futuristic nightclubs, all that jazz. (Now I'm thinking about Star Wars characters in Chicago the Movie Musical's outfits. Saving this as a drawing idea for later))

Anyway, I watched AotC while sick with a fever once and it altered my brain chemistry.

To explain ANH - I love the OT's movies equally, but the first one is the one I watch with the little ones most often, and it just has that nostalgia for me. Haven't seen it until adulthood, so it's not nostalgia for being young, it's more the aesthetic of old movies that I enjoy immensely. Practical effects especially (Star Trek TOS lover reporting for duty). The imperious ambitions coupled with shabbiness and dictatorship vibes remind me of my hometown :D

That's about it! What's your opinions on these movies? And what's your answer to your own questions, I want to know))

#ask #love ask games #beloved mutual #hello!!

6 notes · View notes

gemwing2010 · 5 months

Text

In The Season of Love

A/N: Just a small early Christmas present for my good friend, @Nataliepthatsme. This small fanfic will be based off from a scene from The Swan Princess Christmas with a Cuphead twist. All of the characters from the Cuphead franchise belong to StudioMDHR while Audrey, Josh and Monica belong to Natty and the song, “Season of Love (the movie version)” is from The Swan Princess Christmas. If anyone wants to know how the song goes, try checking it up on YouTube. Hope you like it, Nat.

************************************************************************

It is Christmas on the Inkwell Isles and everyone is getting into the spirit.

While everyone is hustling and bustling to buy some gifts and some tasty foods for the big dinner on the most wonderful time of the year and decorating their homes to add in some extra festive sparkle, the residents of Inkwell have one special tradition that takes place before Christmas Eve and Christmas Day.

Every year, all of the good people of the Isles gather round the biggest and oldest pine tree in a peaceful little grove in the heart of the Inkwell Woods and decorate it with colourful lights, the dazzling tinsel and set the Christmas Star atop of it. Not only that, but they also place on handmade Christmas ornaments made based on the acts of good deeds and happiest memories the residents had made over the years. It was a charming Christmas tradition on all of Inkwell that had passed down from generations and years ago.

They call it “Ornament Day”.

And for Audrey and her husband, Josh, this wasn’t just their first Christmas on the Inkwell Isles but also their very first Ornament Day.

Over at certain cottage, an overly enthusiastic Elder Kettle swung the window open from his bedroom as he joyfully hollered: “IT’S ORNAMENT DAY!!”

This caught Cuphead and Mugman’s attention as they were in the middle of playing marbles, instantly stopping what they were doing in glee.

“Ornament Day?!” The brothers echoed.

Meanwhile, over at The Flytrap, the frog brothers, Ribby and Croaks were overjoyed as they were on stage and cheered out to their guests: “It’s Ornament Day, folks!”

Over at the Honeycomb Herald, Rumor Honeybottoms was just as overjoyed as she sighed, “Ornament Day… how I love it.”

All through town, the newspaper trucks zoomed by as the papermen tossed out the bundled piles of the latest issues of the Inkwell Blotter titled, “ORNAMENT DAY IS HERE!”

Over at the theatre, Audrey had just finished helped Sally Stageplay decorating the place for the holidays and for a special showcase that Sally and her work staff hold every year.

“Thank you so much for the help, Audrey dear.” Sally said as she and Audrey met up with her husband, who was holding out her coat. “It means so much to mean that we get the theatre into its most festive shape for the yearly Christmas Spectacular this year.”

“I’m always happy to help, Sally. You know that.” Audrey smiled. “So, what else were you going to tell me after that?”

“I thought you would like to know about a very special tradition we all hold every year on our dear Isles.” Sally explained as her husband helped her into her coat. “You know about Ol’ Noel?”

“Oh! You mean the oldest pine tree over at that grove in the woods?” Audrey asked. “Yeah, the boys showed her to Josh and me during our nature walk yesterday.”

It was true. It had snowed and Audrey had always loved it when there’s snow at Christmastime. Cuphead and Mugman had asked her and Josh to come for a hike in the woods with them through the snow and they led them into the grove where the tree that everyone affectionately named “Ol’ Noel”.

She was rested in the centre of a charming little grove that reminded Audrey of the one from the scene where Anna, Kristoff and Sven first met Olaf from Frozen, surrounded by frozen, glistening willow trees and a frozen lake suited for iceskating. It was so breathtakingly beautiful.

“Well, every year, everyone gathers over at Ol’ Noel’s to make her just as dazzling but we also present her special ornaments that the good people have made in memory of our past good deeds and all the special moments we have together.” Sally explained. “It takes place before Christmas Eve. We call it ‘Ornament Day’.”

“That sounds like a cute tradition.” Audrey commented with a smile.

“Indeed, and for us, it is just as valued as Christmas itself.”

And what is a good old Christmas special than a festive and catchy Christmas song that can warm every heart?

Sally: 🎶 Bells ring!

Her husband: 🎶 Heart sing!

They both take Audrey by the hands and lead her out of the theatre, leading her through town to show her the festivities of the people getting ready for the occasion as they sang themselves.

Townspeople: 🎶Come see what love brings!

Over at the bakery, Saltbaker is happily decorated some shortbread cookies after he got them out of the oven.

Saltbaker: 🎶 Pictures tell a story of two hearts full of love They’re sharing a memory of caring and tender rejoicing

After he had finished adding the finishing touches, he walked over to the window to show off the cookies to Audrey, Sally and her husband, offering some.

Meanwhile, over at the tailors, a grandfatherly human toon is happily making some Christmas stockings quickly, piling them up (cartoon logic).

Tailor: 🎶 It’s the season of love that comes at Christmastime!

Audrey turns to see the residents happily showing her their Christmas ornaments. Even some pets and inanimate objects that suddenly sprung to live (again, cartoon logic) were holding some ornaments.

Eddy Elephant: 🎶 We live it

Grandma Ellie Elephant: 🎶 Love it

Little Toon Rabbit Girl: 🎶 Beg it to come

Townspeople: 🎶 And want it to stay

Sally: 🎶 To have the season each day

Everyone: 🎶 It’s the season of love

Over at the jeweller’s, an elderly toon dog named Mr. Rover was asking the local jeweller clerk to help spruce up his old Christmas ornament.

Mr. Rover: 🎶 Lulu’s lost her lustre Will you help make her shine?

The jeweller was happy to help as he added in a gemstone onto the ornament. Just as Mr. Rover paid him, the jeweller generously and secretly placed the coin inside his back pocket.

Jeweller: 🎶 A jewel in this spot… And your coin in your pocket for Christmas

Audrey watches on as everyone is helping one another about. Even the Root Pack were on their best behaviour as they helped hurl some carts of goods into a loading truck.

Everyone: 🎶 It’s the kind acts of love That makes a Christmas shine We’re lighter, brighter Wiser by far

Out in town, Saltbaker and the tailor were passing the cookies and stallings to everyone, especially the children.

Tailor: 🎶 Because we follow that star

Saltbaker: 🎶 Because we find who we are

Audrey: 🎶 In the season of love

Later on, by sunset, everyone on the Isles gathered over at the grove in the Inkwell Woods and began t decorate Ol’ Noel, getting into the spirit of Christmas. Even Josh and Monica the fairy have arrived with Audrey.

Everyone: 🎶 Bells are rung Carols sung It’s begun Our glad Christmastime!

As everyone was preparing to get out the ornaments, Josh carefully reaches into a small box Mugman was hold up, pulling out a Christmas ornament he had made. With Monica and the Cups’ help of course.

As Josh happily gives it to her, Audrey was touched to see it was a light rosy pink glass bauble with figurines of Josh and herself in their wedding outfits inside. With Monica’s magic, the figures were actually dancing inside the bauble just like Prince Derek and Princess Odette from The Swan Princess.

Josh: 🎶 But when I give a gift from my heart

Audrey: 🎶 Then Christmas has finally arrived!

Waving her magic wand, Monica casted a spell to weave the Christmas lights and tinsel around the tree, leaving the everyone else to see to placing the ornaments on it.

Everyone: 🎶 There’s a magic that takes the fear out of living When you have it, there’s peace in your heart That’s what it does There’s a magic that’s found when you’re giving

As everyone placed the ornaments on each branch, they actually lit up and magical sparkles flow around them. It was not cartoon logic, but pure magic. The spirit of Christmas. Even Audrey and Josh were awed when their ornament did the exact same thing the moment they hung it.

🎶 There’s a magic that takes the fear out of living When you have it, there’s peace in your heart That’s what it does There’s a magic that’s found when you’re giving

Ms. Chalice was in her ghost form as she carried the Christmas Star and placed it atop of the tree. She returns to the ground and turned back to normal, revealing she is wearing an elegant light teal winter coat with white (fake of course) fur trimming, white earmuffs, orange gloves and orange winter boots.

Chalice, pulls Cuphead and Mugman into a hug as they, Audrey, Josh, Monica and Elder Kettle admired the beauty of the decorative tree.

🎶 And it’s here In the season of love

Working her magic, Monica casted a spell to turn on Ol’ Noel’s lights as making all of the willow trees in the grove light up in brilliant hues of blue and lilac, much to the awe of the residents as they cheered.

“Ohhhh! This is new!” Cuphead beamed.

“It’s beautiful!” Mugman sniffled happily.

“You can say that again, fellas.” Chalice chimed in.

“Works every time.” Monica said with a wink.

Admiring the beautiful lights, Audrey and Josh hugged each other.

“I think this will be the best Christmas ever.” Audrey commented.

“But it’s even better when I’m with the woman I love and married.” Josh smiled as he gently stroked her cheek, making her blush.

“Aww, you!” Audrey teased.

Just then, a mistletoe tied with a ribbon suddenly appears above them courtesy of Monica’s magic. Surprised at first, the couple looked at each other and smiled. And, just like from The Swan Princess, they kissed each other with Josh gently placing his hand at the back of Audrey’s head while she set her hand over his shoulder.

As they pulled away, gazed lovingly into each other’s eyes.

“Merry Christmas, Audie.” Josh sighed.

“Merry Christmas, Josh.” Audrey replied lovingly.

As she, her husband and all of the amazing friends they had made during their adventures on the Inkwell Isles, Audrey knew that this was truly going to be her most interesting and best Christmas for years to come.

************************************************************************

May you have a very merry and magical Christmas, Happy New Year and may your dreams shine. ✨

❄️🎄🎁

#Cuphead game #The Cuphead Show #Cuphead #Mugman #Ms. Chalice #Elder Kettle #Renew the Cuphead Show #A gift for a friend #OC #friends’ ocs #cuphead fanfiction #Merry Christmas

6 notes · View notes

female-fogbank · 10 months

Text

@a-little-squirrely-sunshine, thank you for the prompt 'on the scorch' Pikeuna. It was a fun write and I hope you enjoy: 'Sex on The Scorch' and also be read on AO3 here

Sex on The Scorch

“This is amazing,” Chris said as he stood on the hull of the Enterprise in the middle of space with no space suit on. The view was absolutely breathtaking as he was reminded of why he loved Space.

“I know, it was so magnificent the day that La’an and I did it. We watched as a solar ship sailed right above us,” Una said. She smiled softly at the memory of that day. It was why she wanted to bring him up here like this. It was a special place and the crew needed just a little more time to get things ready for Chris' surprise birthday party.

“The forcefield held?" Chris asked teasingly, they both knew it did as they were standing in the proof of her ingenuity.

“It did, this forcefield is an improved version of that one," Una said smugly, she swished the skirt of her maxi dress for fun. It was different being up here with Chris especially as they were dressed in their civilian clothing. They slowed as they reached the scorch, the oldest piece of Enterprise's hull.

“Wow, look at it, I can’t believe it’s still here,” Chris said in reverence as he knelt down and touched the metal plate. His fingers gently glided over all the names of personnel past and present. Memories of them all, the ones who stayed, the ones who moved onto other posts, the bittersweet of the ones who died. They all left a small piece of themselves in the ship and his memories.

“Oldest piece of the enterprise besides you,” Una teased as she sat down on the hull next to him.

“You’re hysterical but you know Pelia is the oldest crewmember on the ship,” Chris reminded her.

“Not mentally speaking,” she replied with tongue in cheek.

“This is truly special, thank you,” he told her before he cupped the side of her face and kissed her.

“Well, I wanted us to do something special for your birthday,” Una told him.

“This is amazing, truly.” Chris said, “You know, there is something I’ve always wanted to do up here,” he said innocently, Una lifted an eyebrow as she knew he'd already signed the scorch years ago.

“Hmm, what’s that?” Una asked, she watched as Chris gaze turned from innocent to a playful yet predatory look in his eyes.

“Make love on the hull of the enterprise under the stars,” he told her.

“You want to- here?” Una asked for clarification.

“Why not? We’re surrounded by the stars, no one can see us.” he said, he wriggled his eyebrows in a suggestive manner. Una looked around them as the idea had merit. She was grateful to be wearing a maxi dress as it allowed for some flexibility in the matter. She smiled as she quickly shimmied out of her knickers.

“Not that I am aware- We doing it?” he asked excitedly as he watched her slip her knickers into the pocket of her dress.

“If we’re quick,” Una replied, Chris didn’t need any further encouragement as he unzipped his pants and pulled them down. His erection sprang free, like a good ol' boy scout he was always ready for action.

Una giggled as he eagerly motioned for her. She grabbed onto his shoulders, his hands snaked under dress as she lowered down. His glorious muscles flexed, his eyes heated with desire as he held onto her hips. Una felt the head of his cock probe against her slick pussy. The naughty excitement and danger of being caught paired with the dark needy look in Chris’ eyes turned her on.

Una tossed her hair over her shoulder, she reached between them and guided his cock to her entrance, eased down slightly. Pike groaned and tightened his grip, he lowered her onto him nice and easy. Una revelled in the delicious stretch as she filled herself completely with him.

“Fuck, so good,” Chris murmured, he wrapped his arms around her and held her close. He buried his face in her beautiful breasts as Una started to slowly ride him. Stroking him with her body, she cupped his face with her hands and pulled his head back. they locked eyes, she could see he was fully focussed on her.

“Don’t forget the view,” Una teased before she whimpered, the pleasure building between them.

“Trust me, I haven't,” Chris promised as he only had eyes for her. Una was utterly gorgeous as she rode him with the stars sparkling in the background. This moment would fuel his thoughts for months, as he memorised it all. Una picked up her pace, she was moving faster now, and he tried to slow her down as he wanted it to last longer.

“No, fast,” she pleaded, not just because she was chasing her own pleasure.

“I know, the surprise party but they can wait,” Chris told her, Una gasped in surprise.

“Who told you?” she demanded, she didn’t slow her pace, her ability to multitask was breathtaking as it was annoying. Chris could barely think as he tried to stave off his own orgasm.

“It doesn’t - ah fuck- matter. I’ll pretend to be surprised,” He promised before he pulled her down on top of him and kissed her frantically, fighting for his tenuous control. He wiggled a hand between them and zeroed in on her clit and furiously strummed it.

Una broke the kiss for air, Chris loved the deliciously ragged moans of her pleasure. Within seconds, he felt the first waves of her release. Una cried out his name but didn’t stop fucking him. She rode out her orgasm, Chris thrust his hips up to meet hers and as her movements fragmented, he kept pounding into her in sure thrusts.

The orgasm Chris had miraculously held at bay rushed through him like a huge wave. “Oh fuck,” he rasped. His hand fisted in her hair. He hungrily kissed her as he came hard gasping into her mouth as he filled her with his warm release.

They clung to each other, breathless in the aftermath. Una quivered in his arms as Chris anchored her hips to his, not ready to let her go even as he softened within her.

“Best Birthday ever,” Chris declared before he brushed a soft kiss to her shoulder.

#star trek strange new worlds #pike x una #pikeuna #captain pike #christopher pike #una chin riley #number one #smut #star trek snw #star trek: snw #star trek: strange new worlds #sexy enterprise bingo

5 notes · View notes

tenpointsav · 1 year

Text

make a deal with god...

description: in the aftermath of the battle, Robin has a lot on her mind. a/n: spoilers for ST season four, mentions of death, just sadness... I had had this idea in my head for a while and wanted to get it all out.

The steady beep and hum of the machines filled the air as Robin tried her best to focus on the crossword puzzle in front of her. Disinfectant gave the air that distinct hospital smell and it tickled her nose. She tried her best not to sneeze. It would wake up the small group of visitors, especially the two that were using her as a makeshift pillow.

She looked out of the corner of her eye at Lucas, who seemed more like a kid than ever as he dozed fitfully on her shoulder. Next was the girl she met at the mall, the one they call El, leaning on her legs from a spot on the cold tile floor. Robin had insisted that she take the couch, after all it was her best friend in the bed, but Hopper's daughter was too sweet to refuse. El was also too tired to fight anymore.

Max's red hair was a stark contrast to the pristine white of the pillows beneath her, golden eyelashes laying softly on her pale cheeks. The sight reminded Robin of the Sleeping Beauty movie she used to watch with her mom as a little girl. Except this time, the happy ending seemed far out of their reach.

It had been three weeks since the event, the earthquake as the town was calling it. Robin's parents had long since left, leaving the perfect place for any of them to crash. She had to beg Steve to stay with her as she tried to keep her worrying about him to a minimum. He came up with a million excuses, but eventually caved. It was weird, especially the first time she saw him after he woke up, in his boxers drinking coffee in her parents' small kitchen. Despite looking like the same 'ol Steve Harrington, he wasn't the same. There was no determination left in his voice, no fight in his eyes.

As if summoned by her thoughts alone, Steve appeared in the doorway of the hospital room. He held a coffee cup, the slowly fading marks on his neck and arms standing out in the dim fluorescence. His eyebrows raised slightly, head tilted towards her as he stepped inside.

"I'm fine," Robin whispered, gesturing vaguely at their surroundings.

"You need to sleep too, Rob," Steve replies softly, walking to stand over her and Sinclair.

"I said I'm fine, besides I've been doing a crossword puzzle."

Robin held it up the best she could with a sleeping teenager on her arm. Steve took the book from her hand and she bit her lip as his amber eyes flickered over the page.

"Robin, you just wrote our names in all the boxes."

She shrugged, grabbing the puzzle from his hands and tossing it beside her.

"Yeah, well, I kinda suck at crosswords."

Lucas mumbled softly at her movement, sitting up and rubbing the sleep from his eyes. His gaze immediately went to Max as Steve gently grabbed his shoulder.

"C'mon Sinclair, let's take a walk. Get some fresh air."

The younger boy nodded and stood slowly, drowsiness evident in the slightly staggering steps he took behind Steve. One final look over his shoulder as the hospital door closed, Robin giving them a small wave as they disappeared from view.

Even though it's only been seconds, Robin already couldn't stand the silence. El dozed fitfully at her feet and she couldn't find it in her to turn on the television and possibly wake her. So Robin did what she does best.

"Hey Max," Robin whispered, propping her arm up on the bed and resting her head in her hand. "They say you can hear us and that we should talk to you, so here's an update, I guess."

She took a deep breath, eyes flickering up to the heart monitor for any change, any sign that she's making contact. Nothing. She continued anyway.

"To start, El and Mike are here. They have been for a while. They are pretty cute together. I can see why you said they make you wanna barf though, because oh my god…"

Her eyes went wide as she peered down at El, remembering that maybe she could hear her too before changing the subject.

"Anyway, Will says hi. He doesn't come up much because the hospital freaks him out. All the machines and the cold. Something weird is going on with him, but what else is new, right?"

Robin huffed out a laugh, brushing her bangs out of her face. She felt ridiculous but all of this is bottled inside of her, like a cork ready to pop. It needs to get out before she explodes, little pieces of Buckley scattering across the hospital floor.

"Lucas is here every day. I really wish you could wake up for him," she said, a lump forming in her throat. "He really misses you. We all really miss you."

The tears welled up, blurring the pattern on Max's hospital gown.

"And Steve," Robin chokes out. "He's not the same, Max. Not since you…left."

She wipes her face, trying to quell the flow but it doesn't work. More tears come, incessant like a leaking faucet Robin can't find the tap to. It's annoying but she can't stop.

"He doesn't smile or laugh. There's no spark, no King Steve left," she huffed out. "Not that that's a bad thing, but I kinda miss watching him crash and burn trying to pick up chicks. He feels like it's his fault, no matter how much I tell him it's not. And he carries so much guilt, it's smothering him. I don't want to lose him too, I can't."

Robin sniffled, nose turning red from crying as she pulled at the thread hanging from one of the blankets.

"I guess they probably told you about Eddie," she said as her face crumpled. "He didn't make it either."

Her shoulders started to shake slightly as she took a gasping breath, remembering how they found Dustin, holding Eddie like a life preserver. Anything to keep him from going off the deep end. More tears flowed as the image of Eddie's mischievous grin faded into how she last saw him.

"But Dustin," Robin said with a sniff as she cleared her throat. "Dustin said it was so badass, like the most metal thing anyone has ever done. I mean, the dude took on, like, hundreds of those freaky bat things. We would be dead if it weren't for him."

It broke her heart that she didn't get more time to know him. It seemed like they had a lot more in common than she thought, but now she'll never know. They never found his body. Steve said he wasn't looking, but Robin knew. She saw the dirt and grime on his clothes, the busted knuckles and knees.

Reaching up, Robin brushed a little piece of hair from Max's face. It's more personal than she knows Maxine would have liked but Robin can't help it.

"You'd be dead too, I guess, if it weren't for Eddie," she murmured before grabbing Max's cool hand. "Just…come back, Max. I know you're in there, somewhere. That Vecna creep can't have taken all of you."

The sound of someone clearing their throat snapped Robin from her one-sided conversation. Steve stood in the doorway, rubbing his hand on the back of his neck.

"How much did you hear?"

He shrugged as he walked forward, sliding into the chair beside Robin.

"Only like, the saddest parts."

Robin snorted and rolled her eyes, wiping the last few tears from her cheeks. She could feel her best friend's eyes on her as she studied Max's face. His warm palm closed around hers and squeezed, reassuring and soft. Her watery blue eyes flickered up to his face before he pulled her in, laying her head on his shoulder. It was the closest they had been in a while. The last time they did this was in the middle of the mall bathroom. Sometimes Robin wished she could go back there. Even if it sucked, it was easier than this.

"Rob, you're not gonna lose me," Steve's husky voice vibrated his chest as she sighed.

"Sometimes it seems like it," Robin replied, raising her head. "Your kids need you, Harrington."

"How about you?" Steve asked, genuinely. He knew he hadn't been the easiest to live with lately, but Robin was patient without fail. "You still need me?"

"Obviously," she snorted, giving him a small tear-soaked grin. "Gotta have someone get the stuff off the really high shelves for me."

"Oh that's all I'm good for?"

Robin pretended to think, tapping her chin.

"I mean, you've saved the world like four times, but the shelf thing? Your skills can never be replaced."

He shoved her shoulder as she snickered, the first hint of a smile showing on his lips. Steve squinted his eyes at her as Robin held her hands up in defense. They settled back into the couch, watching the soft rise and fall of Max's chest and listening to El's tiny snores.

"Steve," Robin murmured. "I'm gonna say something and I just need you to shut up and accept it."

She didn't have to look up to know what Steve's face looked like, eyebrows furrowed and eyes expressing all the confusion he could muster.

"Your skills might be able to be replaced," Robin whispered, gripping his hand tightly. "But you, you can't be."

His body tensed up beside her before relaxing, squeezing her hand again before letting go.

"Hey, Buckley?"

"Yeah?"

"I'm still glad I got stuck working that shitty job with you."

Robin sniffled, leaning her head on his shoulder. She never had a brother of her own but that gap has easily been filled.

"Me too, dingus."

#robin buckley #steve harrington #stranger things #stranger things 4 #stranger things fanfiction #lucas sinclair #max mayfield #stranger things imagine

6 notes · View notes

dani-the-mark · 2 years

Text

A Slept-On Review: WWE Smackdown 08/19/2022

Ronda Rousey Promo

Ronda is here to once again ask, as nicely as she can for her reinstatement. She wants her rematch but feels desperate for any match. Unfortunately for her, Adam Pearce is having none of it (which I do appreciate) and has her escorted out of the building by police (which I appreciated much less).

Toxic Attraction vs Natalya and Sonya Deville

I like the Toxic Attraction's vibe from their entrance on. They remind me of Shotzi and Nox except the gimmick is consistent between members. We have Bayley and crew in the crowd, and quite frankly I expected more shenanigans from them. Overall, with the exception of a minor botch early on from Sonya, this was a good showcase of what the newcomers could do. Toxic Attraction gets the win. Poor Nattie gets one show in her home country and can't even get a win there.

Roman Reigns and Sami Zayn Backstage Segment

Sami finally gets his time to talk to Roman directly, as we find out the Usos stuck at the border. I like the idea that either the Usos are threatened and stopping Sami from Roman for their own reasons OR Roman is gaslighting him trying to send him to his death as many times as he can for the Bloodline's sake.

Maximum Male Model’s Promo

MMM appear in the ring for their weekly "look at us we're not" segment, but is overruled by Hit Row. Admittedly I have not watched NXT in a very long time so I did not know that Hit Row actually rapped/made music so I thought for a moment they were trying to be the Acclaimed. Thank you to some wonderful folks on here for letting me know that's not the case. However…I still didn't like it. It was not a good rap. Actually correction - the rap was fine and had some funny little moments. The rapping was bad. I did not enjoy that.

Ricochet vs. Madcap Moss vs. Sheamus vs. Happy Corbin vs. Sami Zayn

The pop for Sami was beautiful. Montreal goes absolutely nuts for their own. Honestly, I hope he enjoyed that because he deserved it. With five people, it was inevitable that there'd be so much going on it was hard to remember or even follow at the time. I was however able to pick up the El Generico reference on commentary, which was very VERY nice.

Sheamus kills most of the participants for the bulk of the match and Ricochet continues to sell like no one's business. Sami is ushered out with some sort of arm injury while the rest of the participants are tossing each other around.

After multiple quick pin attempts, Sami's back! The high is unfortunately short-lived as Shamus continues his domination and picks up the win

Liv Morgan vs Shotzi

Shotzi starts off with a cheeky test of strength attempt on Liv's injured arm, which I found very funny. Otherwise, this was a pretty simple match, but more than expected for these women having a limited story with each other recently.

Roman Reigns and Drew McIntyre Promo

The ole chants melt my heart. We're removed from the match, but Montreal loves and will protect Sami's place in the Bloodline with everything they have.

Otherwise, Drew was attempting to really get in Roman's head. There is such hateful energy between these two that I hope when they get to Clash at the Castle, they are actually able to rip into each other.

Focusing back on the segment, Drew is able to get the upper hand in a relatively short skirmish. Drew gets his typical wind-up, but Sami takes the claymore for Roman. I do not mind if this is just who Sami is now, at least for a little while. He gets into Roman's good graces by being his very charismatic, pale meat shield.

#wwe #wwe smackdown #wwenetwork #wwe results #wwenews #wwe review

2 notes · View notes

lowtaxsa · 1 year

Text

How to Be as Annoying as Humanly Possible

Welcome, dear internet denizens, to the online world - a magical place where sarcasm and mean-spiritedness are as essential as air and water are to our feeble human bodies! I, Lowtax, the Czar of Snark, will guide you on this journey to being the most irritating internet troll the world has ever seen. Buckle up, buttercup, because it's going to be a bumpy, passive-aggressive ride.

Overuse Emojis and Acronyms Like Your Life Depends on It 😂😂😂

Nothing screams "I'm a bumbling Internet Neanderthal" quite like using emojis and acronyms ad nauseam. Hey, who needs the rich tapestry of the English language when you can just use "LOL," "OMG," and "WTF" to express every emotion? Toss in a few emojis to truly drive home your emotional incontinence. 🥳🥳🥳

Adopt a Condescending Tone and ALWAYS Assume You're the Smartest Person in the Room

You know that expression, "When you assume, you make an ass out of you and me"? Well, screw that. In the world of online communication, you're a goddamn genius, and you should make sure everyone else knows it. Be sure to correct people on their grammar, question their intelligence, and generally make it crystal clear that you're doing them a favor by even deigning to speak to them.

Get Real Personal, Real Fast

Nothing unnerves your online adversaries quite like taking a deep dive into their personal lives. Go ahead, stalk their social media profiles, find their embarrassing posts from 2009, and kindly remind them of their awful haircut. Tanya, my delightful partner in crime, has a pro-tip for you: use Google Earth to find their house and then comment on their landscaping choices. "Nice azaleas, but your lawn could use some work" should do the trick.

All Caps, All the Time

Who needs nuance when you can just YELL EVERYTHING AT PEOPLE ALL THE TIME? Using all caps is a fantastic way to convey that you are both incredibly passionate and incredibly obnoxious. It's the digital equivalent of shouting through a megaphone in a library.

Use Memes to Make Your Point (Because Why Not?)

Why express your own thoughts when you can rely on a stale meme to do it for you? The beauty of memes is that they can be as condescending, annoying, or downright offensive as you want them to be. Plus, you'll look super cool and hip, which is obviously your primary concern as a dedicated internet troll. 😎

Never, Ever Admit You're Wrong

Admitting fault is for chumps. In the cutthroat world of online communication, you're never wrong. Even if the other person brings out indisputable evidence proving you incorrect, just double down and shift the goalposts. Remember, you're here to be as irritating as possible, not to learn or grow as a person.

Flood Their Inbox

A classic trolling technique: overwhelm your target with messages until they submit to your superior intellect (or just get fed up and block you). Send them walls of text, one-liners, or a relentless barrage of emojis. If you've got the stamina, you can even engage in some good ol' fashioned copy-pasting. The key is to be as obnoxiously persistent as a telemarketer on speed.

Play Dumb

Oh, this one is a gem, courtesy of my beloved sidekick, Tanya. Feign ignorance like it's your job. Pretend you don't understand basic concepts, ask inane questions, and make your opponent explain everything to you like you're a child. The more exasperated they get, the more satisfaction you'll derive from their misery. It's a win-win situation.

Be as Offensive as Possible (But Don't Forget to Hide Behind "Humor")

Ah, the pièce de résistance of any aspiring troll's arsenal: offensiveness. Be as tasteless, crude, and politically incorrect as you can muster. But remember, always cloak your vile comments in a thin veil of "humor" so you can feign innocence when people get upset. "It's just a joke, man! Can't you take a joke?" is the perfect response to any criticism of your tactless, garbage behavior.

Burn Bridges Like a Pro

So, you've annoyed the living daylights out of everyone you've encountered online? Congratulations! Now, it's time to burn those bridges like a professional arsonist. Sever ties with everyone you've tormented, because who needs friends when you have an ego the size of a cargo airship? Make your dramatic exit by posting a scathing manifesto, and then sit back and revel in your glorious solitude.

And that, my fellow keyboard warriors, is how you become the most obnoxious, infuriating internet troll the digital realm has ever seen. Remember to follow these simple steps, and soon you'll be the bane of every online community you grace with your presence. Happy trolling, my sardonic pupils, and may the snark be with you.

#lowtax speaks #tanya von degurechaff #big blog

1 note · View note

whirlybirbs · 3 years

Text

( another gif by @unearthlydust from this beautiful set ! )

✪ — VACANT MIRRORS ; B.B. | 3/?

summary: you find out about bucky’s past, he finds out about yours.

pairing: bucky barnes / f!reader

tags: set before & during tfatws, friends to lovers, therapy positive, trauma healing techniques, ptsd mentions, the normalization of anxiety disorders, and a good ol’ slow burn

word count: 6.4k, va va voom

a/n: oh look out here comes the plot, charactization, and growth between to pals who are maybe starting to feel a little something begin to take shape. but ignore that, there’s danger afoot. no spoilers for tfatws here!

( PREVIOUS | AO3 | MASTERLIST | NEXT )

“You know I have to ask these questions. It’s part of the check-in.”

“Yeah,” you fire back, flat enough to warrant Dr. Hart’s scowl to grow. You can’t see it over the phone, but you know the way her words whip around you means she’s upset, “I know.”

“If you’re not following the action plan set out by the judge,” she begins, leaning forward as her tone drops into a scalding hot sort of seriousness on the other end, “You will go to prison. You know this. So, do you want to spend ten years of your life behind bars? Are you trying to get yourself locked up? Come on.”

You can’t look up from your computer’s screen. Or maybe you can, but right now, there’s a dangerous mixture of anger and guilt and frustration boiling under your skin.

“I’m trying.”

“Trying isn’t good enough for the GRC,” Dr. Hart snaps, “You know this. They’re giving you a chance — they know you’re talented. You have the ability here to go straight, to earn a living, to finally make up for those years of blackhat work.”

“Everything I did,” you fire back, ripping your eyes up to meet Dr. Hart’s, “Was for others. I didn’t get a fucking penny.”

“You’re not Robin Hood,” she shakes her head as her tone softens, “We all make mistakes. But, everything has a consequence. You know this. And this conversation isn’t even considering the other charges.”

“You know the extortion case would never hold up in court.”

Dr. Hart sighs raggedly. “And I don’t intend on ever seeing it play out in court, because you’re going to follow the conditions of your pardon.”

“The GRC is a bunch of fascists—”

“Enough,” she snaps, “If you want to go and appeal your case with the judge, be my guest, but I can almost guarantee you’ll be perp-walked out of that Federal courtroom in cuffs.”

She’s right.

Dr. Hart is right.

Your knee is bouncing, up and down and up and down. You’re wound up around yourself, arms crossed tight, brows knotted. With a shaky exhale, you just nod. You breathe, and you remind yourself that she’s right. She’s right, she’s right, she’s right. It’s not worth it. Dipping yourself back into that world, the layer of the web beneath the surface, isn’t worth it.

The GRC is your way out.

Just be a good little girl and do as you're told.

“So, I’m going to ask you again,” Dr. Hart begins, pen clicking alive on the other end of the phone call, “...Have you engaged in any illegal activities online in the last seven days?”

◦ ◦ ◦ ◦

Inessa Sidrova’s photo stares up at him from its place on the speckled marble counter, stacked neatly next to his notebook where her name is scrawled in chicken scratch — between two other names: Zemo and Henrikson.

His laptop, technically on loan from the FBI, sits beside both.

(When Barnes had agreed in that closed doors meeting to the conditions of his pardon, a certain FBI agent by the name of Jimmy Woo had been rather insistent that Barnes needed a personal computer in order to carry out his portion of the conditions insofar as tracking down the remaining HYDRA pawns in the States. Woo had also insisted, to the agreement of Dr. Raynor, that a personal computer would help better acclimate Barnes to the new world he’d been dropped into.

Woo was even nice enough to take an hour of his own time to show Bucky enough to get started — but was whisked away for some investigation out in New Jersey.)

Bucky rubs the cold vibranium of his left palm into his eye, then exhales long and slow.

He’s done all he can. And still, no leads on the woman.

Rounding the kitchen island, he digs his cell from his pocket. He goes back to staring at that text — the one he’d laughed out loud at the moment it lit up his phone — and he can feel that ol’ bite of anxiousness creep into his arms. His fingertips tingle.

On the television, a laugh track plays over a clip of The Three Stooges. Blue eyes flick upward, and he partially wishes a ladder would put him out of his own self-induced misery.

Outside, the antics of a Saturday night in Brooklyn roll on.

In the last few days he’s parsed through his thoughts enough to realize it’s not telling you that scares him — no, it’s telling you the truth. The whole truth. All of it. After all, the good comes with a lot of bad; the sort of bad you chain in a chest and sink in the ocean. And Bucky finds that, even still, the good is questionable at best. The good is… small. Microscopic. Completely and totally tainted by the fuckin’ decades of brainwashed, war dog bullshit.

He groans and drops his head back against the wall.

He tries, for the next twenty minutes, to formulate some sort of reply to your text message. But, half the battle is figuring out what to say, and the other half is actually typing it out. This whole flip phone purchase was really starting to sting like regret — and as much as Bucky loved technology back before the war, and all the magical possibilities it held, he can’t help but feel like an ornery old man now.

It’s the change. Steve was right. Too much change.

He can’t find the space button and he can’t figure out how to delete the random 3 he’d accidentally punched in — so, with a grumpy huff of disapproval, Bucky simply dials your number.

You pick up on the third ring.

“Don’t you know it’s Saturday?” your voice is a welcomed sound, “The History Channel is running a bunch of old war documentaries you might enjoy, grandpa.”

Bucky snorts, fiddling with the hem of his hoodie. “What makes you think I’d wanna watch that shit?”

“Everyone knows that old men like two things,” your voice is light, half-distracted from the sounds of it, “World War Two, or grilling. And honestly, you don’t strike me as the grilling type.”

“I like a good burger.”

“Yeah?” you snort, and Bucky can hear you shift your phone from one ear to the other, “Is that why you called? To hint at being hungry?”

“No,” he exhales, looking out the window, “No, I was trying to reply to your text but I can’t find the fuckin’ space button. Calling is easier.”

“Oh my god—”

“Shut up,” he barks with a laugh, sitting up, “Don’t even start — are you hungry?”

“Almost always, why?”

“Got any plans tonight?”

“... You do know who you’re asking, right?”

Bucky grins, a little boyish and a little tired. “Good point. Loser.”

“Oh, shut up. You’re the one calling me to hangout,” you snort, leaning to prop your feet up on your desk and lean back. Your chair wheels backwards, far enough for you to get a good look down the street. It’s a nice night, cool enough, and it seems like the whole borough is awake, “But, I’m only hanging out if you tell me what the fuck is up with court mandated therapy. I can’t wait another three days.”

Your anxiety has been pricked the last few days over it.

“... Do I get to pick the place?”

You roll your eyes. “Fine.”

“Great,” he exhales tightly, “I hope you’re in the mood for sushi.”

◦ ◦ ◦ ◦

Izzy’s is busy, but there’s privacy in the bustle.

Bucky had buzzed your apartment’s ringer and you’d flown down the stairs, looking… alive. The sort of alive that was new — like a fresh bud beginning to bloom in spring. It had made him grin, and he’d watched you push a tress of hair behind your ear as you decided it was warm enough for no jacket tonight. The light of the crosswalk sign lit you up like a star.

He was sweating.

Dr. Raynor was right — that was it, of course it was — that it was getting too warm for his usual outfit. So, he’d settled on the next best thing: a sweatshirt that was big enough and black enough that he could bury himself in it. His hands are tucked neatly into the pockets.

No gloves tonight.

He feels naked.

He shoulders the door and holds it open with the toe of his boot as you duck towards the back of the restaurant. There’s a booth in the back by a large bamboo plant — you weave through the place with a new found confidence. There’s anxiousness in your shoulders but it melts when you look back at Bucky. Like a watchful guard dog, he nods.

You settle into the booth, toss your jacket in the corner, and smirk.

“I get out sometimes,” Bucky remarks before you can even say anything. He shifts in the booth and reaches up to scratch his cheek with his right hand, “Not often, but I do.”

“I didn’t say anything...”

“You were going to,” he nearly smirks back, his brows raised as he adjusts the chopsticks on the table, “I know that look.”

You snort, nudging his boot under the table. That works a huffed little laugh out the man across from you. Almost immediately you can sense anxiousness rolling off him — it’s the tightness in his mouth that gives him away, the way he’s fussing with the soy sauce dish and trying to get it to line up perfectly with the marbling on the table. Worry flashes in your eyes.

“Bucky.”

He raises his head.

“You alright?” you ask quietly.

“You have to promise not to flip out.”

Your brows knot tightly — but before you can even question what the fuck he means, he’s casually dropping his other hand onto the table.

And you almost don’t notice at first. Your brain fills the gaps in, figuring it’s his glove. But, then you blink and his hand catches the light and you realize it’s not leather. It’s glittering obsidian, garnished with gold, and it’s moving. Flexing. Seams bending and warping and there’s a gentle hum coming from the appendages and you squint because he’s tapping his fingers on the table and there’s a metallic tik-tik-tik that meets your ears.

Then, your eyes jump to his face.

He looks pained.

You’re confused.

And then you’re not.

“You’re —”

You slap a hand over your own mouth. You have to promise not to flip out. Your eyes are eighty miles wide and your jaw is falling open and you’re leaning forward, whispering in a rushed tone because what the fuck.

“You’re that Bucky?!”

Oh, you feel stupid.

The hostess appears, suddenly. You snap backwards in the booth, Bucky tucks his hand away, and you both muster forced smiles to the waitress. She’s young. Pretty. Her name-tag says Sarah.

She asks about drinks.

Bucky gets a beer.

Slowly, you knock your knuckles against the table and drop your head into your hand. The look on your face is exhausted. “Do you guys have Mai Tais?”

The answer is yes. And you’re glad. Because you’re going to fucking need it.

The two of you are quiet until the drinks come — avoiding one anothers gazes for completely different reasons. Bucky is sheepish, a bit mortified, like he always is when people recognize him. It’s why he shaved his fuckin’ head. It worked well enough but… the arm was usually a dead giveaway.

Meanwhile, you’re wondering if you could shave your own head and disappear. Because there’s no easy way to explain the weird elation swirling in your chest right now.

Bucky’s first to speak. His beer is in his good hand. He inhales quickly, eyes darting to you as he leans forward and whispers incredulously. He speaks quickly and his words are pointed with an edge of curiosity.

“...What do you mean ‘that Bucky’?”

“Y’know, I knew there was a reason you acted like you needed a senior citizen discount. And you know exactly what I mean,” you rush out all while waving your Mai Tai and jabbing the side with the umbrella towards him, “Listen, this is a lot to take in, Mr. Avenger.”

“I am not an Avenger—”

“You helped reverse the Snap. You’re the Winter Soldier. That makes you an Avenger—”

Bucky’s shaking his head, eye screwed shut tightly because the sudden equation to his past self being considered a hero is like being socked in the mouth. He stutters over his words and shakes his head more vigorously, like he’s trying not to hear what you’re saying.

“I am not the Winter Soldier. Not anymore. And it’s not like I’m not on the fuckin’ roster, doll—”

You hold a finger up, stopping him there, and take a long sip of your sunset colored drink. You swallow. You exhale. Bucky swigs his beer.

“One, don’t call me doll,” you say curtly, then raise a second finger. You lean in and squint, “Two… Christ, the haircut really makes a big difference, doesn’t it?”

“That’s what everyone keeps saying,” he sighs raggedly, dismissing your scrutiny.

You puff your cheeks out and exhale. Leaning back in the booth, you try not to feel so fucking insane.

“...I can never have you over now.”

Bucky’s brows narrow quickly and his eyes snap to yours. “What?”

“I can’t have you over,” you explain slower with your eyes rooted to the soy sauce in the corner, “Because I don’t think I could ever handle you seeing my signed and framed Captain America poster from his USO tour in 1943.”

Bucky’s face is deadpan. “You’re kidding.”

“I really wish I was,” you gripe, “It’s an original.”

“...You’re a Cap girl,” he says suddenly, leaning back with this look in his eye. It’s less of a question. You can’t pin it down. It looks like he's damn near traumatized.

Bucky thinks — honestly — that this is the cherry on top. Every girl back then was a Cap girl, too. It figures, now, in this new century where he’s making new friends that… as per usual, Steve gets the cake. That fuckin’ pint sized bastard.

He’ll have to tell him about this.

You yank your eyes up to Bucky’s face. His mortification is shifting to surprise to amusement. You’re fast to sit up, mouth opening to fire a retort — but Bucky’s suddenly really enjoying the look of pure horror on your face at the insinuation. He’s smirking. Plain as day. He swigs his beer.

“No, no—” you raise a finger, “No, stop it. Don’t make it fuckin’ weird, Bucky, it’s not like I have his name tattoo’d on my ass. And I knew a girl in college who did.”

His brows rise sharply and you’re finding you’re regretting everything that’s coming out of your mouth.

“Stop looking at me like that,” you guffaw, gesturing for him to show you his hand again, “I wanna see.”

Bucky sighs and plucks his hand from his hoodie pocket.

With a sort of tenderness Bucky wasn’t prepared to handle, you take his metallic hand into your own. There’s an immediate twinge — one that’s procured by flashes of violence from years of being a walking weapon. He breathes, and he reminds himself that this arm is not the same that tethered him to HYDRA all those years ago.

This arm is his, it is not him.

The sensation is different. He isn’t used to anyone touching him like this; he’s used to the feeling of flesh on the other end of a punch, or a throat caught in his palm. Not the gentle pass of your fingers, delicate and purposeful, over his knuckles.

You turn over his hand, eyes alight with curiosity — and Bucky, desperate to stamp out the hotness growing in his gut, moves quickly to flick your nose.

“Ow—”

“Don’t stare,” he says coyly, “It’s rude.”

The waitress is back. His hand is tucked away, and you wrestle the stupid expression off your face long enough to order a plate of assorted maki rolls and some fried tofu. Bucky orders what seems like his usual — shrimp tempura and spicy tuna rolls.

The waitress, Sarah, disappears with a smile.

You’re grinning.

“So… Does this make me the sidekick?” you whisper playfully.

“Shut up,” Bucky laughs, his lips almost darting into a smile.

You cock your head, pushing your chopsticks across the table with a horribly coy look on your face. It’s comical. “...I think this makes me the sidekick.”

“It — stop it — it does not make you the sidekick,” Bucky says slowly as he sips his beer and pins you in the booth across from him, “I’m not a hero. You’d have better luck asking Cap on that one.”

You grow silent. There’s a question hanging on your tongue. You’re wrestling with yourself — Bucky can see that much. He frowns.

“Spit it out, Goose.”

You blink. “Was that a Top Gun reference?”

“You wanted to be the sidekick.”

You wave it off, blinking into your Mai Tai. Your voice is quiet. Even as you speak, there’s a hesitancy akin to walking on eggshells. “What happened to Cap? Is he… alive? He’s gone off the grid. It’s, like, this massive conspiracy theory online.”

“He’s upstate.”

You blink.

“That’s ominous.”

Bucky shrugs. “Someday I’ll take you. It’s… nice.”

You go quiet. You freeze, drink halfway to your mouth. Bucky can’t help but smirk at that. His laugh is more of a scoff than anything.

“Relax, Miss America.”

“Shut up — do you mean that?”

“What, that I think you’re in love with Captain America?”

“No, you bastard, that you’ll take me. To meet him.”

Bucky’s words are easy. They roll off his tongue without a second thought. He feels… okay. Like this part is okay. Not as bad as he thought it could be. His anxiousness isn’t as heavy now. He feels like he isn’t losing you. But then again, he hasn’t gotten to the bad part yet.

“He’s my best friend,” Bucky explains plainly, “And so are you.”

The admission is warm. As easy as breathing. Two months in the making.

“Your only friend,” you say quietly, offering the joke as a cover for the softening tone that dances over your words. It’s affection, you realize, as you mimic his shrug, “But, go on.”

“Thanks for the reminder,” Bucky chirps, “But, yea, I mean it. He’d like you.”

You raise your chin, wiggling a bit in the booth. It’s pride — and as much as Bucky likes the look of it, he can’t handle the ridiculousness that comes along with it. But, it’s sort of comforting. He knows this playfulness, this easiness, it’s all because he’s him. You trust him. In.a way, it strikes Bucky with guilt. There are wall of his still built up high. Maybe they’re slowly coming down, but… he’s like a stray dog, slow to trust.

“Safe to say,” you breathe, “I have a few questions.”

“I figured as much.”

You sip your drink and swallow. You raise a hand. “But — I wanna know the boundaries. I don’t want to… I don’t want to pry about shit I have no business knowing, alright? It’s your life and even if we are friends, I don’t need to know everything.”

The relief is almost immediate. He thumbs the label of his beer.

“Ask anything. But I can’t promise I’ll be able to give you the answers.”

“And I’ll leave it at that,” you say sternly, propping your elbow up on the table and offering your pinky finger, “Until you want to talk about it. Promise.”

He crooks his pinky in yours, squeezing gently. You smile.

Sarah comes back with the food, and then Bucky offers his usual half-exhausted, half-amused smirk.

“You get three questions now. Then, we shut up and eat.”

You fold your hands neatly over themselves, eyeing your food as you try your best to sort out what questions come up with the most urgency. There’s… a lot. I mean, everyone knew about the Avengers — and everyone had their opinions. The Sokovia Accords, Lagos, the Blip… and SHIELD. Years of bullshit culminating around those who were considered the heroes. The kickback usually ended up on everyday citizens like you. After the initial amazement, the reality of it all set in.

But, to Bucky’s point, he wasn’t really an Avenger.

Nowadays, there really wasn’t a team at all. No up-state compound, no leader, no Stark and no Rogers.

You’re sure the GRC will try — that the military will try. Morale and hope and blah, blah, blah.

You narrow your eyes. “How old are you?”

It’s quick. “One hundred and six.”

“How’d they keep you alive that long?”

There’s a wince that flashes across his face like he’s been stabbed with a white hot poker in the ribs. You see a twitch of irritation bubble across his lips. Not with you. No, it’s that this question is still hard for him to answer. Bucky exhales sharply.

“Next question.”

You feel a pang of guilt flare in your chest. You move along.

“Who kept you alive that long?”

“The Russians. HYDRA, if you wanna get specific.”

You exhale and settle on the fact you now have more questions than answers. But, you nod and snatch up your chopsticks. Enough of the twenty questions game.

In all honesty, it’s not like Bucky’s existence was common knowledge. The Winter Soldier was known mostly, sure, to those who had floated in the same circles as him when he was nothing but a rabid cur on a choke chain. He can’t help but be a bit thankful for the minor erasure of his new self — sure, in the eyes of the U.S. government he was a high-level threat to be reintegrated as soon as possible and surveyed at all times. But, to the average New Yorker, he was just another person. Everyone was so used to seeing the heroes in their costumes with their bigger than life personas and…

Bucky was just Bucky.

Even he didn’t really know who that was. He was starting to.

His pardon had come with some flak from some of the more political news outlets but… somehow, the details of the Winter Soldier’s exact crimes were being kept silent. Probably to avoid panic. And, even then, the connection between the newly alive James Buchanan Barnes and The Winter Soldier hadn’t been made yet in the public eye. He was glad.

The haircut definitely helped.

It’s like he was a walking classified redaction.

Bucky has a sushi roll in his mouth when he finally speaks. “For such a Captain American fan, I’m surprised you didn’t recognize me.”

“Oh, you’re really not gonna let that go, huh?” you say as you chew, covering your mouth. You swallow and waggle your chopsticks at him, “Listen, it’s been a while since I’ve… y’know, had my Avengers phase. That was years ago. It was at its peak when I worked for SHIELD. And besides, you’re kinda new to the whole superhero scene.”

Bucky frowns. “You worked for SHIELD...?”

“For a year,” you say tightly, “Back before the collapse.”

“Only a year?”

“It was for my graduate program,” you wave it off, “I won out on the most competitive internship NYU had to offer. I was working within their cybersecurity division. I will say I spent more time trying to sort of email phishing scams than anything else, though. I’m sure they saw my record and wanted to keep me away from the juicy stuff.”

Bucky squints.

You offer a sheepish shrug.

“I got into trouble when I was younger,” you sip your drink and sigh, “I always liked computers. I used to spend all my time on forum sites just… reading and talking to people and figuring out how these sites actually worked, so learning how to write my own code was just the next step. When I was fifteen, I learned how to tap phones. At sixteen, I was hijacking my neighbor’s internet conenctions and remotely controlling his laptop.”

“Sounds like a good time.”

“Yea, well, he was a sitting Senator who was having an affair with the nanny,” you mutter, “And I was stupid enough to try and blackmail him for cash. I wish I could say I learned my lesson.”

Bucky exhales long and hard at that, like he knows where that snap of misguided judgement goes. It’s not like he’s passing judgement onto you, but… like he knows the feeling. And you manage to not feel so small, then — telling him this is easy. It’s not your favorite part of your life by any means, but Bucky is listening. Really listening.

He fiddles with the paper wrapper of the chopsticks.

“So, less a Goose and more a Kevin Poulsen type, huh?”

You snort. “For an old man, I’m surprised you know who that is. But, I wasn’t hacking into the Pentagon at seventeen. I was too busy doing community service.”

“HYDRA had their eyes on him in the 90s,” Bucky mumbles through a bite of spicy tuna, the memory popping into his mind and flying out before he can stop it, “I remember… I thought his username was stupid.”

“Oh, you didn’t like Dark Dante?”

“Like I said,” Bucky chortles, “Stupid.”

“You wouldn’t have liked mine, then,” you smirk lightly, “It’s worse.”

Bucky raises his brows, somehow doubting that entirely. “Really?”

“...I was hackrabb1t for a long time. Y’know, with a ‘one’ for the ‘i’,” you cringe, “People kept thinking I was a furry.”

There’s a pause. Bucky’s face is set in an unreadable emotion. It’s confusion mixed with amusement mixed with… something else. When he speaks, he clears his throat and tilts his head.

“It’s clever. But,” a pause, “What is a furry? I’ve been seeing that word all over PlentyOfFish.”

Your jaw flies open. You raise your hands as your head reels around. Bucky has a look on his face like he knows, he knows he shouldn’t have asked and he definitely shouldn’t have given you enough context to know where he’s seen that phrase before, because now you’re looking at him like he has seventeen heads and they’re all on fire.

“Y’know what, nevermind—”

“—Oh, no, no, there’s way too much to unpack here,” you lean forward, “You’re on PlentyOfFish?”

“ChristianMingle wasn’t really my speed — stop laughing.”

“Shut up — stop it, stop — this is too much,” you say with a high voice, “If you get catfished, I’m not helping you track the person down…”

“—What the hell is a catfish?” he nearly cries, raising both hands in a desperate shrug, “I don’t even know what any of these words mean.”

“Oh, you sweet, naive, innocent, man—”

“No, no, no, no,” he chirps, raising a finger with a deadly look of seriousness on his face, “No, I am not naive or sweet or any of the above. I’ll take ‘cute’, sure, but none a’ those.”

“Is that what the furries call you on PlentyOfFish? Cute?”

He drops his head back against the booth and stares at the ceiling.

“Our friendship was a mistake, rabbit.”

You choke out a laugh. “Shut up, you walking claw machine.”

You’re both laughing now — quieter but sustained and everytime you think you’ve calmed down enough to sip your Mai Tai, you just have to look at the distraught, scruffy man across from you to break into another fit of muffled laughter. Finally, after what feels like forever, you both manage to calm down enough to finish the plates in front of you.

There’s a warmth that’s settled in Bucky’s chest — it’s eaten away at the usual jitter in his legs, the anxious twitch of his fingers. It’s a different emotion. Acceptance, maybe. Comfort. Affection.

Then, while you’re piling the last bit of sushi rice into your mouth when your phone, set on the side of the table, begins to go off. It hums erratically, dancing in a circle, and all you do is stare at the name flashing across the screen. You’re smiling, hugging her. It’s from Jaimie’s wedding — out in some big, wide open orchard with the sun setting behind you. The picture there is old; you were both different people then.

Before… everything.

MOM Morristown, NJ

You scowl and stare.

Bucky blinks.

“You gonna get that?”

Quickly, you snap out of it. You reach and silence the buzzing with two quick taps. Quietly, you offer up a somber sigh.

“I never do.”

Bucky frowns again, this time with a worried look that digs deep into his eyebrows. You ignore it on purpose, pushing your plate away and leaning back in the booth. He knows what you’re doing — you’re avoiding his gaze, and therefore his own questions.

“Rabbit.”

“Oh, is that my new nickname, then?”

“It fits,” he chirps before crossing his arms, strategically hiding his metallic hand, “What’s up?”

You grow quiet — then it spills out.

“I can’t talk to her.”

“Why?”

You chew your lip. You bite your tongue and you hold back on the finer points of your anger — ones dredged up by the still present sting of your check-in with Dr. Hart this afternoon.

Here it comes.

“As a part of my pardon, I was ordered no-contact with my family,” you exhale, controlling the level of your voice, reciting the court papers you’d read over and over and over, “It was deemed that further contact would impact my progress towards reformed behavior and judgment.”

Bucky’s eyes are wide. His jaw is tight.

“What the fuck do you mean ‘pardon’?”

It’s your turn to cross your arms now, to ignore the sting of his look. It’s the kind that screams disappointment more than anything. You hate that you’re getting it from Bucky of all people.

“Like I said, I didn’t learn my lesson when I was a kid,” you shirk, “Last year I was arrested on a number of counts — I’d been evading the FBI, CIA, all of them, for years. I was doing it all for people like me. The ones who got left behind.”

Bucky’s tone is flat. It’s serious. His next sentence is less of a question, more of an order. The cadence is rhythmic and it reminds you of your brother the night he found out about the first time you’d been arrested; you decide, then, that Jaimie and Bucky would have gotten along.

“What did you do?”

“Whatever I could,” you wave your hands, “Identity theft, falsified documents, insurance fraud. Anything. There were people, like me, that in a blink, lost everything. Accidents, deaths, evictions and no one did anything for us. The insurance agencies wouldn’t cover damages related to The Snap. Life insurance policies, social security… It all got snatched up by people at the top while the system collapsed around us. I had to pay for my brother’s funeral out of pocket. And there were hundreds of thousands of people just like me, just trying to get by. And everything failed us.”

Bucky is stuck in silence. It’s like mud, dragging him to the bottom of a pond — the sort that’s dredged with misery. In an instant, his veins are on fire with an anger he hadn’t felt in a while. It manifests itself in the tightening of his jaw. He rubs his face and props his elbows up on the table.

“Why won’t they let you see your family?”

You fiddle with your napkin.

“My brother… His wife was on maternity leave when she disappeared in the Blip,” you mutter, “She came back to no job, a dead husband, and no home. Their apartment complex had been abandoned. She’s trying her best to make ends meet. She lives with my Mom in our old home. Neither of them can find work. They… The court thought that I’d be influenced to do something if I was around them.”

“What, like help?”

“They see me as a criminal,” you manage, “But I’m useful, so they’re keeping me around.”

Silence falls between the two of you once more — and the sad look on your face makes Bucky’s chest tight. He can see anxiety beginning to spill over; you’re wringing the napkin, fiddling with the edges. Suddenly, Bucky realizes you’re feeling exactly how he was an hour or so ago.

Your voice is soft. “I’m sorry. I was going to tell you.”

“Looks like we’re two birds of a feather,” he says, knocking the toe of your sneaker with his boot, “Listen, we all do stupid shit. I’ve got a lot worse weighing me down. I get it.”

You look up, sadness glistening in your expression like sun off a lake. It’s harsh. He wants to look away.

He doesn’t.

“... So, that means you’re good with computers?”

◦ ◦ ◦ ◦

That’s how you find yourself in Bucky’s Brooklyn apartment at almost midnight, wandering behind him in the long halls and watching curiously as he digs his key from his pocket and shoulders the door open.

It’s a small apartment. One bed, one bath, a kitchenette and that’s really it.

For its size, it’s hardly lived in.

You suppose it makes sense — Bucky didn’t have a lot of personal belongings, and with the hints he’d dropped about his life before The Blip, you were beginning to understand that he may have never really had that much to begin with.

There’s a blanket on the floor by the television and a single couch pillow. It’s tucked in the corner, behind a small sofa. There’s a chair in the living room, one from an old dining set. At the kitchen counter, there’s a stack of papers and a single laptop. Even though all the kitchen’s wares are older models, the bones of the apartment are good. Bare, but good.

You stop in the doorway to the bedroom and stare at the untouched bed. The sheets are tucked tightly in the corners — there’s something militaristic about it. Across the hall is the bathroom. It’s small. You can see a few amenities scattered across the sink’s top.

Being in here feels something like an open wound.

It was lonely. Quiet. Cold.

“We need to make a trip to HomeGoods,” you mumble as Bucky flicks on the lights, “I get the whole minimalist thing, but sheesh.”

“I don’t have a lot,” he says, kicking off his boots by the door and shrugging off his jacket, “And I don’t need a lot either.”

You watch as his shoulders sag a bit, like he can finally let down his guard just a little in his own space. It’s endearing. You perch yourself up on the kitchen counter as your eyes follow him; he moves to fling open a cabinet and grabs a mug. Then, he hesitates.

“You want tea?” he asks over his shoulder.

“Tea?”

“Dr. Raynor said,” Bucky reaches for a container of tea bags from the top shelf. His henley lifts enough to flash a bit of skin along his lower back and you swear you see a scar, “It would help with my anxiety.”

You swing your legs a little. “Then sure.”

“You can use my Captain America mug,” he chirps, laughing a little to himself, “Seeing as you’re such a big fan…”

“God, I regret even saying anything to you,” you spit as you hop down and lean around him to get a look at the mug, “Did you seriously buy that?”

“It was a gift.”

“Bullshit.”

Bucky snorts as you shake your head and wander backwards, eyeing the rest of his apartment with a bit of astonishment. It’s really nothing impressive — but, you suppose it makes sense. Whatever meager disbursement that the government was willing to give Bucky for his efforts in fixing the Snap was better than nothing.

Your gaze hangs on the blanket in the corner.

He watches you; and he notes the sore sadness that dissolves your posture at the sight of the nest in the corner. A bit of shame colors his cheeks as he heats up the water. When Bucky speaks, it’s slow.

“The bed was too soft. I couldn’t sleep on it,” he shifts from foot to foot and focuses on taking the tea bags out and methodically wrapping the strings around the handles, “Dr. Raynor said that’s a typical thing for soldiers to experience when they come home from war.”

You’re quiet for a while after that, only speaking when he rounds the counter with your tea. He offers it up with a tilt of the head.

“You never got to come home, though, right?”

“No,” comes the short reply as you both watch the lights outside the window, “No, I didn’t. Not until now.”

You nudge his arm with yours. You lean a bit. Bucky leans back.

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be,” he manages after a sigh and sip of the tea, “I can’t just feel sorry for myself anymore. I’m trying to fix the wrongs I did — and that’s why I need your help.”

You quirk a brow. He reaches around you and grabs the stack of papers on the counter. With a steady grip, Bucky presents the photo of a woman who looks strikingly familiar. You can’t place her face, but there’s something about her that feels like a slap across the cheek. She’s young here, in a faded photo with tattered edges. Beside her is a man who is laughing. The photo is candid, and they’re both beautiful. They’re both wearing a uniform — but you can’t place the era or location.

You turn to Bucky for answers.

“Back in the 70s, at the height of the Cold War, HYDRA was working in tandem with the Russians to spy on American forces,” he offers easily, staring out the window, “The American HYDRA cell hadn’t yet been planted. This man, Andrei Kuznetzov, was a spy. He was feeding the Americans information on the Russian nuclear program. His wife, the one in the photo, was ordered to kill him. She refused.”

Bucky’s fingers twitch.

His words are soaked through with pain.

“I,” he continues, “killed him.”

You hold your breath. Then you spare him a mournful look.

“Inessa Sidrova went on to help form the same HYDRA cell that ended up taking over SHIELD here in America,” Bucky mumbles, “She’s dangerous. There’s others like her, ones who I helped create, all over the world. But, she’s my top priority. I just haven’t had much luck tracking her down.”

“That’s why you need my help.”

“I’m 106 years old,” Bucky deadpans, “The microfiches at the library were getting a little tedious.”

“But,” you chirp with a sly smirk, “You figured out how to set up a PlentyOfFish account?”

He shoulders you again as you sip your tea and laugh.

“Shoulda never said anything,” Bucky grumbles, “Dr. Raynor thought it was a good idea. Y’know, to get back out in the world.”

“I can promise you,” you say with a stern shake of the head, “The metal arm will get you plenty of chicks and dudes in due time.”

“Good to know,” Bucky replies as his words lilt with a playful sort of questioning that you purposefully ignore. You’re not feeding his ego today. Maybe tomorrow, after you take a crack at figuring out where this woman is.

It’s going to be a long night.

#vacant mirrors #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes x you #winter soldier imagine #tfatws imagine #bucky barnes #marvel imagine #bucky x reader

1K notes · View notes

a-small-batch-of-dragons · 2 years

Text

Longing

Prompt: it is almost 1 am, I just finished turning in some late assignments I was processing on, I am in dire need of some good ol intruloceit the classic remus and deceit are absolutely smitten with logan, the way his face lights up when he talks about stuff he likes, his soft and beautiful smiles he insists on hiding away logan is also very gay but believes he's too boring and dull for them and they're dating so he doesn't wanna risk it, he'd rather have them as friends than not at all I'm not that good at summaries so if you're interested you can do whatever you want with this, if not that's alright too either way, I hope you have a wonderful day - anon

Read on Ao3

Warnings: none

Pairings: intruloceit

Word Count: 2502

Janus just looks up from his book as Remus stomps into the room, throwing himself on the floor and groaning. “Bad day, then?”

Remus just groans louder.

“As much as I appreciate being serenaded by the sound of approximately seven tugboats all screaming at each other,” he sighs, setting the book aside and steepling his fingers, “I wouldn’t appreciate you switching to English.”

Remus rolls over, throwing an arm over his face and peering up at Janus from underneath the fabric of his sleeve. “He’s so pretty!”

Ah. Janus lets out a noise of sympathy and scrubs a hand over his face. “So…it did go well?”

“Like, yes? But also no?” Remus sits up and takes his sleeve between his teeth for a few seconds. “I—argh.”

Janus looks around and spots Remus’s chewy necklace and tosses it to him. Remus catches it and sticks it in his mouth.

“Why is he so good at things?”

“That’s his job, I’m afraid.”

“But he’s so good,” Remus mutters, angrily swatting the pillow on the floor next to him, “he’s—he’s—he planned out everything and even when I tried to mess things up he understood it and he managed to get Thomas to ignore me completely and ugh.”

“And here I thought I’d never see the day when you enjoyed being ignored.”

Janus quickly ducks out of the way as Remus chucks a pillow at him.

“Rude.”

“Hey, listen, he just—he’s just really good at things, okay?” Remus pouts, flopping back onto the floor and slumping like he’s about half his age. “He—his voice gets all soft and caring when he’s talking to Thomas and then boom it’s all harsh and sure of himself again when he’s talking to me and it’s so awful.”

“I’m the one who’s supposed to be lying,” Janus teases, poking Remus in the side.

“But it is! How am I supposed to focus on making all of my wonderful machines when I’m being distracted by Logan?”

“I do believe that’s rather the point.”

Remus grumbles, sinking further into his crossed arms. “I wish he wasn’t so good at it.”

Janus smirks, leaning forward onto his hand. “And why is that?”

“Because then it’s harder for me to not like him!”

“You like the fact that he’s making it harder for you to do your job?” Janus puts a hand to his chest in a mock gasp. “Why Remus, have you had a change of heart?”

“Nothing’s changed about my heart, and you know it.”

At the note of true exasperation beginning to lace Remus’s words, Janus relents, sighing and scrubbing a hand over his face again. “I know, Remus, what did he do this time?”

“He showed up and he looked so excited about the schedule and he was being sassy to Thomas and he looked so happy when Thomas said he was going to do it and he was so gentle when Thomas was having a hard time and—“

“And breathe,” Janus reminds, raising an eyebrow at Remus’s impressive lung capacity, “don’t keel over.”

“—and he yelled at me!” Remus bounces up and down like a child with a lollipop. “He finally did it! He stood up for himself!”

Janus’s eyes widen and he sits forward. “He did?”

“Yes! He was trying to talk to me and I was ignoring him—“

“Ooh, how well did that go for you?”

“Well, it helped that Thomas was also having a bit of a spiral, but oh my god, Janus, it was so hard, you know how he gets—“

“With his voice and his eyes and his everything?”

“Yes, and I was trying so hard to make him push and then he did!” Remus sighs happily and flops onto his back. “He did it, he stood up for himself, I’m so proud!”

Janus can’t help the proud smile that comes over his face too. “Now you know a bit about what I felt like when he stood up for himself after the wedding.”

They both sober a little at the reminder.

“Is he…” Remus swallows. “Is he going to be okay?”

Janus sighs. “I don’t know. I don’t think any of us will be until Thomas can actually process what’s going on.”

Remus snorts. “Yeah, and when’s that going to happen?”

“When we can all talk.”

“And when’s that—“

“I don’t know.”

“Well, does that mean we can talk to Logan?”

Janus gives him a look. “Depends, do you think you can control yourself enough around him long enough to have a conversation?”

Remus bolts upright, staring hard at him. “Oh, like you can talk! The last time you saw him you covered your face like a little bitch.”

“I thought he was going to be mad at me! You got a taste of angry Logan today—“

“Not in the way I wanted to.”

“—shut up, I don’t want Logan to yell at me! Pissed off Logan is scary!”

“Ooh, never let it be said that the big bad snake isn’t scared of anything.”

“Oh, like you can talk,” Janus retorts, “you rushed back in here after introducing yourself to Thomas and you were a mess.”

“Yeah, because I had the full might of Therapist Guardian staring right at me for like, forty-five minutes!” Remus shudders. “I felt such an odd mixture of pride and mortal terror.”

Janus raises an eyebrow. “Yes, I’m sure those were the only two things you felt.”

Remus’s mouth tugs up in a wry grin. “I mean, if you’re asking—“

“I most certainly am not,” Janus says quickly holding up a hand.

“Spoilsport.”

“But I know what you mean.” Janus suppresses a shiver of his own. “I felt that the first time I introduced myself to Thomas. He just—the way he looked at me…”

“It’s the way he looks at everything,” Remus mumbles, “isn’t it, though? Like—like he’s breaking it down, piece by piece, so he can put it back together and understand it?”

“Have you noticed he sticks his tongue out a little when he’s thinking really hard?”

“And then when he finally figures something out he just—“

“Lights up?”

Remus sighs and for a moment, Janus could mistake him for Roman sighing over Thomas’s latest pursuit. Then something sadder colors the edges of the smile.

“…why doesn’t he let himself do it more?”

“You know the answer to that,” he says quietly, looking down and absentmindedly fiddling with the edge of one of his gloves. “He doesn’t think it’s his job. He thinks his only worth is when he’s producing things that will be of use.”

“But his happiness is of use,” Remus pouts, “it makes me happy.”

“And how well do you think he would take that, hmm? Do you think he’d start forcing himself to be happy?”

“No,” Remus retorts, chewing on his necklace again, “because you can’t make Logan do anything he doesn’t want to and he wouldn’t do something like that.”

Janus looks at Remus for a second. “You admire that in him, don’t you?”

“…maybe.”

They sit in silence for a moment.

“…I saw him in the library the other day,” Janus says after a moment, “he was reading this book about aviation and I asked what it was for.”

“And?” Remus shuffles around like a child waiting for a bedtime story. “What did he say?”

A small smile comes to the corners of his mouth. “He said he was working with Roman on this idea for a video and he was researching how pterosaur’s wings worked.”

Remus’s eyes widen. “That’s so cool!”

“And he—he explained it to me,” Janus says in a rush, “his eyes and his face, they lit up and he just talked and oh, I could’ve stayed there for hours.”

“Why didn’t you?”

“Roman came to find him and he left.”

Remus grumbles. “Fucking Roman. Why’d he have to come ruin it?”

Janus finds himself silently agreeing.

“And it’s not like he’s any better about it, he’s the one that makes Logan think he has to hide all the time.”

“Remus…”

“Sorry, sorry, I know, I’m not—ugh,” Remus snarls, wrapping his arms around a pillow and squeezing tight, “I just—he spends so much time with Logan.”

“He does.”

“And sometimes he says stuff that makes me want to—“

“Hey,” Janus says, quickly reaching out and tugging on the necklace as Remus’s hands curl into claws, “use this stim instead.”

Remus jams the necklace into his mouth and gnaws on it.

“I see him in the kitchen with Patton,” Janus says by way of distracting him a little more, “and he—god, Remus, he looks so at ease. Like he’s not worried about all the things I know he’s worried about, like he’s—he’s happy.”

Remus looks up at him. Janus sighs.

“He still hides his smiles.”

“I know.”

“Why does he do that?”

“You know why he does it.”

They sit in silence again.

“…Janny, what are we going to do?”

“Ignore the feelings until they wither away and die.”

“That’s how we’ve been doing it so far and it hasn’t been working, like, at all.”

“I’ll say.”

Janus manages to keep some of his composure as Roman suddenly appears behind them. Remus, on the other hand, makes no such effort and screeches as loudly as he can.

Roman snaps his fingers next to his ear. “Ow.”

“You fucking prick,” Remus snarls, leaping up to tackle Roman to the ground, “don’t do that!”

“Whoa, whoa,” Roman says, quickly wrapping his arms around Remus and squeezing to ground him, “hey, hey, Re, take a second.”

Remus wriggles in his hold for a second before slumping and shoving his face into Roman’s neck. Roman rubs his back and presses a kiss to his temple.

“Sorry for startling you,” he murmurs, before looking up at Janus. “Both of you. I didn’t mean to.”

Janus gives him a look. “Eavesdropping is rude, you know.”

“Yeah, I know, as if you’ve never done it,” Roman says, raising an eyebrow.

“…touché.”

“I really didn’t mean to,” Roman continues, nudging Remus to check if he’s alright to sit up, “but you two pine so loudly.”

“We what?” Remus bolts up in his arms. “What? Who’s pining, we’re not—"

Roman gives him a look.

"...maybe."

Roman sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. “And let me guess, you’re not planning on talking to Logan about this at all, are you?”

Janus watches him warily. Roman’s gaze softens a little and he jerks his chin towards Janus.

“What is Logan lying about right now?”

Janus frowns, tilting his head to listen. “He’s not, not right now.”

“He may not be actively lying about anything right now,” Roman corrects, “but what is he lying about?”

Janus squeezes his eyes shut. “No, I can’t hear anything.”

Roman offers him a hand, palm up. Janus stares at it, then back at him.

“…what’s your angle?”

“Often 90, never 180.”

“What?”

“I’m often right and never straight.” Remus snorts. “Thank you.”

Janus just looks at him. Roman sighs.

“I have to listen to all three of you idiots pining after each other and I’m sick of it. Plus you deserve to be happy.”

“Wait, what?” Remus looks between the two of them. “All three of us?”

Roman just offers his hand, insistently.

Janus takes a deep breath and takes it.

He follows the thread Roman pulls for him, following it up through the floors, down through the halls, and through a door to find Logan, sitting at his desk, working away. The thread winds through the surface thoughts, down past the research, and into the deeper parts where Roman’s powers find something.

He sees Janus smiling in satisfaction as things come together. He sees Remus’s manic glee at immersing everyone so deeply in his world. He sees Janus’s soft care in making sure everyone is actually alright. He sees how Remus pinpoints exactly what’s wrong with who and working it through until the issue is smoothed over.

He looks down at his tie. At his glasses that slip down his nose and the notebook clutched in a painfully dull hand.

He looks back up at capes, sashes, morning stars and canes. At smiles they save only for each other and the way they seem to fit into each other’s empty spaces.

He ignores the throb in his chest as he steps away, plastering a smile on his face that he hopes will buy him enough time to flee.

Janus gasps, his eyes opening as he clutches his chest with a free hand.

“Jan-Jan?” Remus is next to him in a second. “Jan, what happened? What did Roro do?”

“He showed me what Logan is lying about,” Janus gasps, “oh, Remus, he—he’s so sad.”

“He’s pining,” Roman says, lazily waving his hand in the direction of Logan’s room, “so please, put me out of all of your miseries and talk to him.”

Janus just stares at him blankly. “H-how?”

Roman blinks. “Like this.”

And before anyone can say anything, he grabs them both and sinks them directly into Logan’s room.

Logan, wonderful Logan, startles terribly and before he can so much as open his mouth, Roman starts talking.

“You’ve all been pining after each other for too long. Logan, you are not too dull or boring for them to love you, Janus, Logan wants to appreciate you as much as you appreciate him, Remus, Logan would like nothing more than to watch and work with you. Now all of you thank me by talking to each other and not coming downstairs until you’ve gotten all of this out of your systems.”

And he’s gone.

Janus opens his mouth to say something, anything, and he feels Remus tense on his side about to do the same, but then, oh, then Logan looks up at them with poorly disguised hope in his eyes and the denials die on the tip of his tongue.

“Never let it be said,” he says instead, reaching out to finally, finally cup Logan’s face in his hand, “that Roman doesn’t know how to be direct when he wants to.”

They do indeed thank him by not coming down until they’ve worked everything out of their systems.

“Ew, Remus, TMI.”

General Taglist: @frxgprince @potereregina @reddstardust @gattonero17 @iamhereforthegayshit @thefingergunsgirl @awkwardandanxiousfander @creative-lampd-liberties @djpurple3 @winterswrandomness @sanders-sides-uncorrect-quotes @iminyourfandom @bullet-tothefeels @full-of-roman-angst-trash @ask-elsalvador @ramdomthingsfrommymind @demoniccheese83 @pattonsandershugs @el-does-photography @princeanxious @firefinch-ember @fandomssaremysoul @im-an-anxious-wreck @crazy-multifandomfangirl @punk-academian-witch @enby-ralsei @unicornssunflowersandstuff @wildhorsewolf @thetruthaboutthesun @stubbornness-and-spite @princedarkandstormv @your-local-fookin-deadmeme @angels-and-dreams @averykedavra @a-ghostlight-for-roman @treasurechestininterweb @cricketanne @queerly-fluid-fan @compactdiscdraws @cecil-but-gayer @i-am-overly-complicated @annytheseal @alias290 @tranquil-space-ninja @arxticandy @mychemically-imbalanced-romance @whyiask @crows-ace @emilythezeldafan @frida0043 @ieatspinalcords @snowyfires @cyanide-violence @oonagh2 @xxpanic-at-the-everywherexx @rabbitsartcorner @percy-07734 @triflingassailantofmyemotions @virgil-sanders-the-gay-emo @cerulean-watermelon @puffed-up-bees @meltheromanstan @joyrose-fandomer @insanitori @mavenmush @justablah65

If you want to be added/taken off the taglist, let me know!

#dragonbabbles #fic #sanders sides #remus sanders #sympathetic remus #deceit sanders #janus sanders #sympathetic deceit #roman sanders

65 notes · View notes

sabinanotfound · 3 years

Text

Let’s Fall in Love for the Night

- Wilbur Soot x fem!reader

- warnings: just a mention of being tired and mention of kids

- summary: snippets of your and Wilbur’s relationship

- a/n: written for lovely @basilly’s and @losingvienna 's 1k/600 writing challenge! go check it out!

- (flashbacks in italic)

Wilbur played his guitar, fingers softly pulling the strings as he hummed along. You sat next to him, a blanked draped over your legs. You sleepily watched your boyfriend, your eyes looking like the exact definition of heart-eyes. You loved him more than anything. He turned to look at you, his previously concentrated features softening, and a smile finding its way onto his lips.

“whatcha lookin’ at, love?” he asked, pretending as if he didn’t already know.

“that wall is very interesting-“ your sentence was cut off by Wilbur tackling you on the couch. He propped himself on his elbows, trapping you under him.

“how about now?” he asked, his smile growing wider. Gosh, he loved you so much.

“I think I’m looking at a handsome young man.” You said playfully, pecking his lips. He laughed and pulled you into another kiss.

“Do you think she’ll say yes?” Tommy smiled to himself. How couldn’t Wilbur see that if he asked, you’d come to the end of the world with him?

“She’ll definitely say no.” Tommy answered his friend’s question in a sarcastic tone.

“Tommy! I’m being serious here!” Tommy could picture Wilbur’s expression. His voice softened.

“Of course she will. She loves you, mate.”

The clock showed 3 am. You tossed and turned in your bed, but just as in the past few hours, couldn’t fall asleep. You were getting exhausted at this point, but with a buzz of your phone you gave up on trying to fall asleep an reached for it. The notification was a message from Wilbur.

‘hey. are you asleep?’

‘nope. why?’ you texted back, and his reply came almost instantly.

‘i’ll pick you up in twenty five ;)’ you grinned to yourself, wondering what he had in mind.

Half an hour later, you were in his car, one of his hands on your mid-thigh and the other on the steering wheel, driving somewhere.

“So… what do you have in mind?” you asked, fiddling with his hand that was on your thigh. He smiled mysteriously.

“You’ll see, my love.” You leaned back in your seat, smiling.

Wilbur drove for about 20 minutes, neither of you breaking the sleepy, comfortable silence. Finally Wilbur stopped the car a little bit out of town. There was a small area, more specifically a flower field. The moonlight was bright, letting you see the beauty in front of you.

“Do you like it?” Wilbur spoke behind you. There was a blanket in his hands.

“So, how about stargazing?”

Wilbur tried to tame his wildly beating heart. He checked his appearance one last time before seeing you come towards his car. You were wearing a white sundress, as Wilbur told you to wear something suitable for the beach. He nervously gulped. You looked like a goddess. He exited his car and went up to you, leading you to the vehicle and opening the door for you, not before giving a few compliments.

The ride to the beach wasn’t long. Wilbur parked his car and opened the door for you. the place looked similar... and then you remembered. Here, on this beach, Wilbur had opened up about his feelings and had asked you to become his girlfriend. You remembered how nervous he was, and it made you smile.

Wilbur led you to the exact spot where you’d sat so many years ago.

“Decided to remember the good ole times?” you joked as if you were 80 years old. Wilbur laughed.

“Maybe.” a few minutes passed by, with you chatting and laughing at funny memories.

“y/n... do you remember how I asked you to be my girlfriend here?” you smiled.

“It’s hard to forget.” Wilbur seemed to collect his thoughts for a while before pulling out a ring.

“Today, I decided to do it again. But this time I’ll ask if you want to marry me.” he said and your cheeks flushed. You couldn’t imagine a better proposal.

“And I will say yes!” you weren’t able to contain your excitement and happiness. You kissed him, once again reminding him how lucky he was.

Wilbur’s head was in your lap, your fingers playing with his hair. On TV was a random Disney movie you’d picked out for that movie night. You and Wilbur were having quite a lot of fun singing along with all the songs. Just as another song was ending you noticed Wilbur wasn’t singing. You looked down at him, he seemed to be deep in his thoughts. You gently poked his cheek.

“What are you thinking ‘bout, baby?” he sighed, turning his head to you.

“The future.” You slightly furrowed your brows in confusion.

“The future?”

“Yep. I- you know, I’d love to have a future with you.” He blushed, and your heart swelled.

“I’d future with you too. Imagine, if we have little y/ns and Wilburs running around.” You said laughing. Wilbur looked at you. You were so sincere, if he could, he’d marry you on the spot. He gently cupped your face and kissed you. You smiled into the kiss. You both wanted to grow old together.

“And you, y/n y/l/n, do you take Wilbur Soot as your husband?”

“Yes. I do.” You said, your eyes watering. Wilbur was looking at you, and at that moment nothing mattered other than your love for each other.

“you may now kiss.” You and Wilbur both leaned in at the same time, but maybe that wasn’t the best idea, because your noses harshly bumped into each other. You both started laughing, all while holding your aching noses.

- “What time should I pick you up, love?” Wilbur’s voice rand through the phone, his British accent never failing to make you blush.

“Hmm... like in 20 minutes or so, if that’s okay?” you were very tired after work and couldn’t wait to see Wilbur. You’d missed him.

~20 minutes later~

You opened the car door, tossing your bag inside before getting in.

“Hello,” Wilbur said, giving you a peck on the cheek. “How was your day?” he asked, starting the car.

"It was good, but I'm so tired... I feel like I could sleep for a decade," you said with a chuckle. "But anyways, how was yours?"

You made small talk, but the conversation soon died down due to both of you being tired. You were home in 15 minutes, thanks to the traffic not being very bad.

"y/n, love? We're home." Wilbur said, taking the key out of ignition. When you didn't respond, he turned to look at you. A smile spread across his face at the sight of you peacefully sleeping, your cheek leaned against the window.

He got out of the car and got both of yours' bags, trying to be as quiet as possible. He then carefully opened your door and picked you up bridal style, while you still sleeping. He carried you to your shared apartment where he gently laid you on the couch. Just as he was about to go and change, you loosely held his wrist.

"Please stay." you whispered, still half awake. Wilbur smiled before laying next to you on the couch and wrapping his arms around you. You nuzzled into his chest.

"I love you." your voice came out slightly muffled. Wilbur affectionately stroked your hair.

"I love you too." and with that you drifted off to a peaceful sleep.

"He's so- so tiny!" Wilbur exclaimed, carefully rocking your newborn in his arms.

"Will, he's a baby. He's supposed to be tiny." you chuckled, looking at your two favourite people in the world.

"He's so cute. Look at his eyes, his nose, his chee-" he stopped mid-sentence. You worriedly looked at him, but your gaze softened and became one of amusement once you saw the reason.

Tommy, as you and Wilbur decided to name him, had grasped one of Wilbur's fingers with his small hand. Wilbur looked like he could explode any time.

"y/n, can we have another one?"

masterlist

taglist: @nachocatowo

421 notes · View notes

shokami · 3 years

Text

I HATE ALL MEN...

pairing ; megumi fushiguro x reader

word count ; 2.8k

genre ; fluff to angst. established relationship!

warning(s) ; major character death (not descriptive). mentions of blood, injuries. minor spoilers to ep nineteen.

i hate all men, but when he loves me… i feel like i’m floating...

doubling over in laughter, you held your side as you let out several gasps of air. listening to the ridiculous spout of words between itadori and kugisaki, never failed to make you crack a wheeze or two.

your bubbly sounds echoing around the room quickly caught your boyfriend’s attention. those laughs were always capable of making him stop dead in his tracks, all so he could take a mental picture of that moment. your laughter slowly died down as you turned to look over your shoulder, finding fushiguro watching from afar. he looked at you with nothing but fondness in his gaze, a soft smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

fushiguro swore that you were the sunshine in human form. that genuine smile, and intoxicating laugh— was exactly what he would expect the sun to appear as. those were also the very things that had made him fall for you so long ago. he never spoke about it, but he was glad that being surrounded by curses, and the constant negativity invading your life, never dulled your happiness. he didn’t know what he would do without such a beaming sunshine.

“you know, i heard that staring isn’t polite.”

basking in your presence, and appearance caused megumi’s mind to momentarily drift off into an abyss of his own thoughts. so much so, that he hadn’t even noticed that you had approached him from across the training room.

“earth to megumi— hello?” you snapped your fingers in front of his face, rolling your eyes at the distant minded boy as his eyes suddenly snapped to yours “hi, yeah. there you are!”

“sorry, i was distracted.” fushiguro said simply, that same soft smile from earlier returning to his face.

to those who didn’t see him the way you did, or even to those who weren’t a part of your immediate friend group— no one saw fushiguro smile. ever. if you had to compare his daily facial expressions to someone, you’d probably say he reminded you of nanami. always straight faced, serious, and ready to get to the point. but his smile was never foreign to you.

despite the assumption to anyone else, a smile or laughter, or sense of joy from megumi was not a rare sight. in fact, it happened more and more than usual. his tormented soul began to lighten up, and feel free once more. some say it was because of you, but that wasn’t a credit you deserved to claim. not when itadori existed, and gave him the friends he deserved.

you were but a mere bonus in his life.

megumi was no stranger in displaying the fact that he fell for you based on your smile, and humor. he would tell you until he was blue in the face, but what he didn’t know was that the sight of that once rare grin is also what had you swooning in a matter of minutes.

leaning up towards his face, you pressed a gentle kiss to his cheek that quickly became the rosy color of the flowers outside in the garden. he was always so easily flustered, “distracted by what, hm?”

between you and megumi, neither one of you craved public displays of affection. you preferred keeping any acts of shared love just to yourselves, behind closed doors only accompanied by the soft glow of the moon.

that however, never stopped the occasional peck on the cheek, or subtle hand holding.

“what am i ever distracted by?”

“training? cursed techniques? shadow puppets?”

fushiguro snorted, “shadow puppets?”

several more giggles left your throat, sounding just the same as earlier, “yeah! you know, demon dogs… flying owl things—“

“divine dogs, and nue.” he interrupted.

“shadow puppets!”

“... shikigami.” megumi looked at you, quickly shaking his head at your antics and refusal to use his cursed techniques proper titles. “no, to all of those... i was distracted by you.”

you gasped loudly, drawing the attention of yuuji and nobara still standing across the room, “by me?! me oh my! not THE fushiguro megumi being distracted by little ‘ol me!”

yuuji and nobara bursted into a fit of laughter, enjoying the scrowl that crossed megumi’s face. though you loved him indefinitely, there was nothing more you enjoyed doing than bringing him embarrassment from your flare for dramatics.

“you’re worse than gojo, you know that?”

“worse than gojo how?” you jetted your bottom lip out, creating a fake pout.

“annoying. a nuisance. unnecessarily loud,” for what felt like the first time in your relationship, megumi took no care in sharing a moment of affection with you in the public eye as he leaned in to steal a kiss. “and a brat… but i suppose that’s why i love you.”

three words was all it took. three words and suddenly the world froze. you couldn’t see anything beyond megumi, you couldn’t hear your friends gasps’ in the background, and you struggled to exhale the breath stuck in your chest. love?

neither one of you knew love before each other, just like neither one of you dared to drop that damned four letter word until now… love terrified you. how could it not in this life? how could love not make you want to run in the opposite direction, fearing that the moment you loved— something would rip away that serenity.

“you… you love me?”

“i love you, y/n.”

another long pause.

your mind was racing, your heart beat felt like it would pulsate out of your chest at any given moment. why did the temperature skyrocket so suddenly? please don’t faint, you told yourself over and over.

surely, at this rate megumi thought he screwed everything up. did you not love him back? was the feeling not mutual? after months of being with one another, growing close, learning each other inside and out… did he read it all wrong?

“y/n, i’m sorr—“

“i love you too.”

that was the moment everything in this dark and gloomy world suddenly made sense. if you had nobody to love, what was the point of living?

megumi fushiguro may have seen you as the sun, and his never ending happiness… but he didn’t know that he was your reason for becoming that light. he would never understand the joy he brought to your dull world.

when he calls me pretty, i feel like somebody.

why is it always raining? you wondered.

to be fair, you didn’t hate the rain. you enjoyed it at times, and found peace in the sounds that came along with it; but it became a hassle when you’d have to travel across the jujutsu high campus. you cursed them for making the dorms such a distance from classes.

mentally preparing for the journey to your room, you tucked your books away into your bag to shield them from the downpour.

the onslaught of rain grew as you stepped out from the awning that protected you. an earthy smell wafted through your nostrils, filling your senses. the wetness against your skin was freezing, making goosebumps rise with each prick of the harsh rains. seconds ago you dreaded stepping out into the horrific weather, but now you stood perfectly still with your face tilted towards the sky enjoying the refreshingness.

all you could hear was the raging thunder up above, and it made you feel free. no sounds of other students could be heard, no screaming noises from the bustling city of tokyo, no ugly walling from cursed spirits. just the thunder, just your breathing, just the droplets of rain falling against the concrete and rooftops around you.

it was a beautiful moment.

which is why you dropped your bag, spread your arms as far as they could reach, and spun in the violent rainfall. the world slowed down for those few seconds.

“are you crazy?!”

your eyes snapped open as you turned to watch fushiguro rush towards you, an umbrella in hand.

“you’re going to get struck by lightning one of these days,” he picked up your bag and tossed it over his shoulder, before holding the umbrella over both of your bodies. “what the hell are you doing out here?”

smiling up at fushiguro, you stepped out from the umbrella once again with a laugh, “i’m enjoying the rain! enjoy it with me!”

you snatched the umbrella, quickly closing it and tossing it to the ground. letting all of your worries and fears fade away, you yearned to have one moment with megumi that wasn’t ripped away by the darkness of your world… one normal moment.

one normal moment where you were just kids playing in the freezing rain.

expecting him to look annoyed at your antics like usual, you were pleasantly surprised to find him matching your smile and looking at you with nothing but bliss.

“you’re so annoying.”

“and you love me,” you grinned.

“... and i love you.”

fushiguro stepped towards you, encasing his arms around your waist as he picked you up and spun you around in a circle. laughter filled the air, and you felt nothing but joy.

time froze as the two of you basked in your youth, enjoying only the company of one another and the rainstorm. it felt like an eternity before your feet met the ground once more. your hair and clothes were soaked, strands of your own hair felt plastered to your face as you giggled. megumi pushed those strands aside, and replaced them with smothering kisses.

“you look different when your hair is wet,” you told him as you pushed it all out of his eyes.

“and you look just as pretty as ever.”

ever since your relationship with megumi began, he’s slowly come further out of that shell that he placed himself in. seeing him be able to enjoy himself like this… it brought a new type of happiness.

kissing his nose quickly, you looked up at the sky as the rain finally lightened up, “you know, if i didn’t know any better i’d say i’m wearing off on you.”

“is that so?” megumi asked, picking up your bag again along with the umbrella.

“mhm! you’ve let loose more,” you huddled close to him underneath the safety of the umbrella for warmth, “finally taking back your youth.”

megumi chuckled, holding you close. “i guess i have my beautiful sun to thank for that, don’t i?”

even when we fade eventually to nothing...

everything was blurry. there was an ache spreading throughout your body, and it felt as if someone was landing a blow to your rib cage over and over again. there was barely any fight left in you, but you would continue to push forward until someone got to you. surely one of the teachers would find you soon, right? of course they would! gojo must’ve been on his way.

that’s what you thought.

it’s what you desperately wanted to believe, but as the time passed you began to think their fight had just begun. you knew what was happening back at the school, you were there when that special grade stepped out and attacked you and inumaki.

the problem was, everyone knew you weren’t strong enough to fight in that battle. inumaki knew. before you knew it, megumi’s divine dog was shoving you away as inumaki commanded you to run in the opposite direction. damn him.

you wanted to curse him for sending you away with the shikigami, but deep down you knew he was right. there were still lower level curses running around, and they needed to be dealt with… but you didn’t foresee coming face to face with mahito as he made his get away from jujutsu high.

“your friends left you all alone? what a shame.” he spoke with a bubbly laugh, watching the blood trickle down from your hairline.

you wanted to speak, you wanted to charge at him and rip him to shreds for everything he’s done. yet, all you could do was cry out in agony as you fell to your knees. every part of your body felt like it would combust into flames at any given second, you weren’t sure if it was from the pain or the sickening warmth of your blood soaking through your clothes. your eyes became heavier, struggling to focus on the laughing maniac in front of you.

the shikigami shielded you from mahito, a deep growl emitting from its body as it took a stance to protect you. the divine creature had one job, and it was to protect you when he was not with megumi; but you couldn’t stand by and watch another one of his shikigami be destroyed. not for your sake.

“return to megumi.” you reach out, your fingertips barely ghosting over it’s fur.

with a sad whine, the divine dog gave you one last look before disappearing from the air. he was safe, and that is all that mattered. he could protect megumi now, and be far away from the monster you faced.

“that demon dog could’ve been your only chance of survival, y/n!” mahito laughed again, causing you to grimace at the sound.

“divine. dog. you scum,” you made no move to try and stand, nor defend yourself. the wounds in your chest, and side were fatal and crippling. there was nothing left for you to do, other than to accept your fate.

as a jujutsu sorcerer, you are taught to live without regret. to live without fear of death. to accept it, when your time comes… but you were terrified.

what kind of cruel life was this?

this was why you did not want to love fushiguro… because every sweet thing, has a bitter end.

you couldn’t remember when your eyes had closed, or when all of the pain in your body seemed to go numb. all you knew is that when you awoke, mahito was gone. you were face to face with gojo as he carried you away from the scene.

your teacher noticed your eyes drifting open almost immediately. for the first time, you saw him look concerned. he wasn’t smiling, or laughing like usual— he looked like he was in as much pain as you felt.

“gojo…” you coughed, blood quickly filled your lungs and nearly made you collapse at the loss of breath.

“save your energy, yn.”

your eyes slowly shut once more, the willpower to survive was fleeting, “tell him… tell him i love him?”

in a whisper that you barely caught, gojo tried his best to scold you for your shitty goodbye, “you’re not going to die, you’re staying here.”

“protect him, satoru… protect them all.”

they say that when you die, you experience a flashback of your entire life in seconds. that was the worst lie you had ever heard. aside from finally escaping the pain, all you saw was a blinding flash of white and the memory of the very last kiss you ever shared with megumi…

… you will always be my favorite form of loving.

weeks after your funeral, megumi visited your grave every single day. each day, a new flower was brought from the garden of jujutsu high. the garden where he grew the nerve to ask you to be his girlfriend, the garden where you kissed for the very first time, said your first i love you, and danced in the rain as if your youth depended on it.

an array of flowers built up around your grave, and you all swore that before you knew it? megumi and nobara would have their own garden to tend to around you.

you hoped they would, and that it would bring them joy… just as you once had.

staring down at where you laid in the ground, megumi placed down the head of a single lotus flower on the front of your tombstone.

ETERNAL SUN Y/N L/N.

friend. family. student. lover.

cherished by many, adored by all.

in life, or in death, you would always be the eternal sunlight to megumi fushiguro. no matter the consequences to your spirit, you vowed to never leave his side and to always protect him and your friends.

a loyal guardian from the other side. their guide.

your spirit smiled, glancing from megumi’s tear streaked face to the sight of the moon as you placed a hand on his shoulder. being a part of the supernatural world now, fushiguro could sense your presence.

“the moon is beautiful, isn’t it?” megumi mumbled to your grave, the rain pouring down around the umbrella you once shared together.

you whispered to the wind, “i can die happy…”

authors note ; this was so fun to write. this is the first thing i’ve written that’s over 1k words and posted. if megumi is ooc, mind your business </3 i’m trying to learn him as a character xoxo

reblogs are appreciated!!

342 notes · View notes