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fanfictilltheend · 1 year

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You should see me in a crown - Chapter 3 (Y/N Grimes/Negan Smith)

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Chapter 1 // Chapter 4

Masterlist

A/n: Hi, this is my second story ever and I wrote it like 5 years ago but was too scared to post it lol so if you could give any feedback that would be much appreciated! I have more chapters to this so if you want ‘em ya gotta let me know! Y/N is like 20 in this and Negan is whatever age he is in season 7 so if that’s too much of an age gap please turn back!

Warnings: 18+ smut dn interact if not 18+ afab!you, daddy kink, kissing, age difference, abusive!Rick Grimes, protective Negan,

Summary: Negan and Y/N ride to The Sanctuary.

After grabbing a shirt and a few other things to take with me, Negan invites me into the passenger’s seat of the truck and he gets behind the wheel as the other men sit in the back, separated from us. This is truly the fucking craziest thing I’ve ever done — including trying to kill Negan the other day. But I don’t care. I’m sick of putting everyone else first. Negan pushes a CD into the player on the dashboard and AC/DC’s “Highway to Hell” starts playing.

“You’re so cliché,” I tell him with a smirk.

I haven’t thought about music in so long...

“ Excuse me?” Negan snorts, clearly amused, putting down Lucille next to him securely and hitting the gas. “Me? Cliché? I’m one-hundred-percent genuine, original, motherfucking badass! And don’t you fucking forget it, kid.”

“Yeah, leather jackets and heavy metal. Really groundbreaking,” I smirk as the wind starts blowing through the flyaway hairs around my face that didn’t quite make it into my ponytail.

“You are such a little shit,” he growls fondly, jostling my shoulder playfully and my heart flutters, as he keeps one hand on the wheel. I wanna touch him too. It’s like we can’t keep our hands off each other. “Like you’re the soul of originality anyway, huh? Mrs. Daddy-issues, falling for the big bad boy in the leather fucking jacket.”

“Got me there, bad boy,” I shrug, grinning. I lean over and kiss him on the cheek and rub my fingers through his hair, messing it up a little. It’s almost insane how comfortable I feel around him now. His stubble scratches against my lips. It was kind of an impulsive move, but he seems to have liked it. His ears go a little red. I count making him flush anywhere as a personal victory. He looks at me like I’m too sweet as I pull away, a little embarrassed, and he rolls his eyes.

“And I’ll have you know,” he tells me, poking me in the ribs for emphasis, smiling with his eyes, getting back to business. “That my silhouette is fucking iconic, okay? That’s how you know you’re fucking original, right? If you can tell who someone is just from behind? Like with movie characters and shit! You see me from the back, holding my baby Lucille, and there ain’t nobody for goddamn miles around who doesn’t know who the fuck I am and what I can do. But most importantly,” he says, his voice getting deeper, his big hand suddenly squeezing down around my thigh and I gasp in surprise. “Is that there is nobody out there as goddamn, motherfucking bad as me .”

The way he says that makes me giggle, but also tremble a little. It doesn’t help when he starts to rub up and down the inside of my leg. I inhale, trying to calm myself down. It feels so good.

“Yeah, okay...” I nod, trying to keep my cool, but it’s really hard and I think he knows it as I try not to squirm. “Except I don’t even havta see Lucille,” I snicker, thinking about it, trying not to moan as his big hand moves farther up my thigh. God, I am desperate! “I can just tell by how far back you lean. How do you even do that shit anyway? Like you’re not exactly young and spry anymore, old man. And that’s some true acrobat shit,” I am full-out laughing now until Negan starts to rub over my cunt through my pants. Then I get quiet real fast and he smiles big in a kinda dark way I think is so hot. Fuck, I’m really wet now and my breathing starts to get a lot heavier. I’m such a sucker. The hairs on my neck stand up on end. And then his hand moves over just the right place and I let out a little moan involuntarily. I cover my mouth in surprise.

He chuckles like he owns me, his voice low, in complete amusement. And I’m totally fucked because he so does.

“Something funny, sweetheart?” he asks innocently, his hand disappearing under my jeans, rough fingers trailing over my underwear. And I am squirming for him to do more. God, it feels good how he’s moving against me, and my pussy clenches in excitement as I move against him, but it’s not quite enough! My heart beats so fast. I try not to rut into his big hand greedily. “Always so fucking wet for me, huh, honey?” he asks softly in my ear. I fucking tremble . “Christ, baby girl,” he smirks, seeing how worked up I’m getting. I look over and see the large bulge in his jeans and want to point out that he seems pretty affected too, but the pleasure — it’s too much.

“Please, Daddy,” I whine, surprising myself, my cheeks flush pink as I try to arch my hips into his hand. “ Please.”

God, I’m so fucking needy!

But instead of laughing, Negan just groans quietly in response, staring at me hungrily and for a second I’m sure he’s gonna pull over and fuck me right there on the side of the road, hard, and my heart races. But then he takes his hand away, with a huge amount of self-restraint, sighing, and I groan in frustration. He smiles wide at the control he has over me in the situation.

“Nah. I don’t think so,” He shrugs, smirking infuriatingly. “You get to cum when I fucking say you can. You ought to know that by now, darlin’. And we’ve got somewhere to be. But God, you are such a fucking good little slutty tease for me,” he grins, slapping my thigh. “And fuck if I don’t I love it!” He reaches up to his parted lips and sucks on his glistening fingers that were rubbing against me a second ago. My eyes go wide, heat curling low in my belly. Ugh, I just wanna ride him! Even his fucking fingers. Whatever he’ll fucking give me honestly.

“Still fucking feel like making fun of me though?” he asks like a threat, his voice getting very low as he puts his hand back on my thigh, his words breaking me away from my thoughts.

I shake my head demurely.

“N-no, Daddy,” I say even though I don’t really want to.

“Good girl,” he nods, looking very satisfied. And I bask in the praise. But then he takes his hand away! Again!

And then I can’t help firing off my big mouth. And besides, maybe if I piss him off enough he’ll put it back since being good clearly didn’t get me any further...

“Hey, you know when you lean back like that, if I stood right behind you, do you think I could see your vertebrae disconnect?” I ask, trying not to laugh. “I mean really how do you do it?”

Negan rolls his eyes and slugs my arm half-heartedly, rubbing it before he takes his hand away, his tongue on his lips. But he’s smiling interestedly now, like he’s impressed with my persistence.

“Hardy goddamn har. You are so fucking funny, kid, I’m rolling all over the goddamn floor. And here I was thinking you’d learnt your fucking lesson,” his voice lowers threateningly and I shiver. “Evidently not . But the lean? That’s a trade secret, baby.” His eyes light back up as he tells me. He licks his lips. “But you know,” he says. “Now that I think about it, I bet you can also tell it’s me from behind from how much time you spend staring at my ass .”

My face goes bright red.

“Shut up!” I stammer, punching him back in the shoulder, hard. “Oh my god!” Am I really that obvious!?

Negan snickers.

“Hey, it’s no problem. I know it’s a nice ass and all —hell, my wives fucking kiss it all the time —but, Jesus, talk about thirsty… ”

He’s snickering even more now at the mortified expression on my face. He’s so hot it’s hard to be pissed at how smug he is though.

“ Someone needs to get laid…” he snorts like he can read my thoughts.

Well, whose fault is that!?

My face is bright pink, but I’m smiling too. I can’t help it. I still can’t believe this is happening. He isn’t wrong...

“Maybe you should do something about that,” I challenge, putting my hand on his warm denim-clad thigh. He’s not the only one who can play at this game. I mean, he’s still hard. I slide my hand closer to the large bulge and he sighs deeply in a way I’d like to hear again. “Maybe you need to, uh,” I channel every romance novel I’ve ever read. “Discipline me…” I suggest with a casual shrug. His eyes look amused, excited, and wanting. “You know, like teach me a lesson?” I try to clarify.

He laughs.

“Oh, baby, you know I—“

He’s about to say something sassy and sexy and promising I’m sure —I can tell by his face and the way he’s looking at me and the way my pussy throbs—but then his eyes wander and he notices my shoulder as we go over a bump in the road.

“Hey, are you fucking dumb? Put your fucking seat belt on!” he barks suddenly.

“What!?” I stammer incredulously, snorting, literally so shocked that of all the things he could have said to interrupt me touching him, this is what he comes up with.

“You heard me!” he repeats like a pissed-off parent. Is he actually serious? “You are not fucking dying like that. Not on my watch. You’re way too smart and badass for that shit and you’ve got a whole fucking life ahead of you and I have big fucking plans for your cute little sorry ass.”

“What kinda plans?” I ask, getting on all fours and sticking my head out the window to egg him on. Is he trying to tease me? If he wants me to tease him, I will. The wind blows my hair everywhere as I look out onto the forest road, giving him a nice view of my ass.

“I’m serious, Y/N!” Negan snaps, grabbing my ass that’s kinda sticking out towards him in the breeze and I blush. But he doesn’t even take the bait and try to play with me! He just yanks me back in and my ass slams back down into the seat. Boy, he’s strong. I sorta thought he’d spank me or something more fun. “You could get your motherfucking arms and head chopped off!” He shouts.

“Okay, fine, Dad !” I relent, shaking my head, sitting back down in a huff, crossing my arms over my chest. “Jesus, you did say my ass was cute and all…” I mumble a little sheepishly at the pissed-off look on his face in an attempt to explain myself. His face softens. “I was just tryna tease you...” But he was actually worried about me, the big sap! I hope those plans involve a lot of sex. But, like, I don’t think a single person has told me to put on a seatbelt since the apocalypse started. I guess it’s kinda nice that he cares. Jesus, who is this guy? My dad? The fucking safety patrol? A sex god? My personal temptation from Hell? And to think I would have killed him only a few fucking days ago! I reach for the buckle above my shoulder, but when I pull it down, it gets stuck halfway. I pull it again and the same thing happens.

“Jesus, kid, let me fucking do it why don’t you,” he growls, rolling his eyes, and reaches over and slams the metal down into the buckle, but I can see his eyes soften ever so slightly at the expression on my face.

“It’s broken!” I pout but cut myself off when I see he’s easily fixed the problem.

“Broken, my ass. There. Honestly, what the fuck would you do without me, baby?” he smirks, adjusting the strap a little so I’m more comfortable. He looks like he’s enjoying feeling important and authoritative over me. Probably part of his goddamn savior complex he so perfectly laid out for me the other day...

“Alright, alright, I’m good,” I insist, my face a little red from embarrassment at not being able to fucking buckle my own self. “‘S not my fault you’re so fucking strong!” But I like the attention of him doting on me too much and I think he knows it. “Hey, Negan, though?” I ask suddenly, pulling on his shoulder, thinking of our impending arrival. “Hey, are your wives gonna be pissed at me?”

“Pissed? For not wearing a seatbelt? Fuck if I know!” he shrugs, rolling his hazel brown eyes, reaching up to adjust a mirror. “I try not to drive ‘em around too much honestly. Unless we end up fucking in the back. Or if they give me a handy while I’m driving,” he turns to me and winks. “Hell, if they blow me while we’re on the road, they sure as shit aren’t wearing theirs,” he grins devilishly.

“No. Fucking hell. Gross!” I roll my eyes. He smirks. “I mean about me being at the Sanctuary. Being with you. They won’t be pissed off about that?”

“Oh, I highly fucking doubt it,” he tells me with another shrug, rolling his eyes again. “They don’t much care who I fuck as long as they get to keep living the lavish-ass lifestyles they do.” He looks out at the road and not at me like maybe that pisses him off a little. But the look is gone as soon as it came. “Why? You know I’m the boss around there, baby,” he smirks, turning back to me, cocky and confident as ever. “You don’t have shit to worry about on that end.”

“Oh...uh, no reason,” I say quickly, my cheeks turning pink again. “It’s just, —I dunno —if I was your wife, I guess I wouldn’t wanna share you is all,” I shrug.

Sound more pathetic, I dare you!! I think to myself as soon as the words have left my mouth. I shouldn’t have said that out loud, but when I look up he’s actually smiling at me. And it’s not a smirk. It’s a real smile. He looks genuinely pleased.

“Aw, you are such a fucking sweetheart, aren’t you?” he tells me, as he reaches out and pinches my cheek. I yelp and smack his hand away. And then he’s laughing, but I think he actually looks a little touched. “You are a fucking sassy little shit with one helluva fire in your belly, but sweet and soft as shit nonetheless,” he says fondly, looking me over. “It’s a fucking wonder you’ve survived this long...” he says over exaggeratedly, shaking his head and rolling his eyes, but he’s smiling big all the same. “Not too many people like that last in this shitshow…” he says after a moment a little more seriously, looking at me like he really sees me.

“Guess you’re lucky you found me,” I grin.

“Guess I fucking am,” he agrees as he ruffles my hair and leans in and plants a playful kiss on my neck that turns into a bite and then a small, purple hickey as the wind from outside blows softly through my hair.

“So what the fuck kinda music do you like to listen to anyways ?” He muses. “And if you say that Justin Bieber shit I’ll throw you outta the goddamn car right here and now!”

a/n: FOR THE RECORD I don't hate Justin Bieber I just think that since the apocalypse happened in like 2010 he was a big thing then and that's the kind of thing Negan would say since he was a high school teacher he would have known his popularity, but all the beliebers can feel free to excoriate me in the comments if they so please. PLEASE leave comments or kudos if you want more I have a few more chapters. Do you like how things are progressing? Do you hate it? Let me know!!

Chapter 4

Masterlist

#my fic #negan #negan smith #negan/you #negan/reader #the walking dead #twd #negan smith x reader #negan smith x you #negan x you #smut #walking dead fanfiction #negan smut #negan fanfiction

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tun01562 · 7 months

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Family Values Scipt

By: Laila Akili

10/22/23

Cast:

Mom (Yvonne Doubois)- black French-American, early 40s

Harleen Doubois- black French-American, mid teens

Setting & Time: In the kitchen of the the Doubois home

HARLEEN walks into the house coming in with multiple shopping/grocery bags on their arms looking overwhelmingly flustered and slightly annoyed as they make their way to the kitchen. In the kitchen MOM is cooking lunch.

HARLEEN: (somewhat out of breath, dropping the bags to the floor) Jésus Christ. Il fait chaud comme l'enfer! [Jesus Christ! It’s hot as hell!]

MOM: (not looking up from the meal they are preparing) Don’t say hell, Leeny.

HARLEEN: Ma, hell isn’t a bad word, it’s just a place. (finally catching her breath, as they reach for some of the food MOM is making)

MOM: Aht, aht. (smacking her daughter’s hand away)

HARLEEN: Ow! (moving their hand as they reach for a bag on the kitchen island)

MOM: (slightly stern) Harleen. Stop reaching for stuff that isn’t yours.

HARLEEN: I’ve been out all day running errands in this heat and carried all this stuff by myself. You coulda helped a girl out.

MOM: (with uppity sarcasm) You’re young and spry. I had so much faith in you bringing in those bags, that I decided to stay in here and cook lunch for my magnificent daughter. (smiling) Also you the one that chose to wear a sweatshirt and pants.

HARLEEN: (rebutting with sarcasm) Ha…funny. C’est Octobre, I thought it’d be cold [It’s October], but should’ve known better. Gotta love that global warming! (looking at the bag, while stealing food from the cutting board) Who’s it for anyway?

MOM: The stuff wrapped in the bag is for a client, Leeny.

HARLEEN: Mais, qui pensait? [But, who though?]

MOM: C’est pour Bradley et Oslo. [It’s for Bradley and Oslo.]

HARLEEN: (questionably) I thought Bradley’s husband was named Cillian?

MOM: (making a face) Well, that’s his ex husband’s name.

(HARLEEN’s eyes widen)

MOM: Long story short, I saw an old coworker at the market while I was looking for some saffron and some pots and baking sheets. So of course we started chatting. It was Ms. Amy; long red hair, big ol’ glasses, really tall, always wearing them big hoops… Any who. I was like, “I was just going to check in on you, how ya doing? What’s happening at the firm?” And they were like, “Nothing crazy, except for the whole Bradley thing.” And of course me being me, I asked what it was. Then she told me Bradley ain’t with Cillian no more. So I’m standing there puzzled… So he got remarried and didn’t tell anyone? I was like what happened to his husband and kids?

HARLEEN: (in shock) Oh…well…that’s…disappointing.

MOM: I mean who would do such a thing, those poor children…

HARLEEN: (serious) Uh, your mom. Your own mother would do ‘such a thing’. Hell, even your own husband would do such a thing, and your father.

MOM: Tu sais quoi [You know what] Harleen, just scrap it alright.

HARLEEN: Bradley and Cillian’s kids will be fine, they’re smart kids. I mean, I turned out fine despite everything. You were always there, working hard, for every year of my life. Dad, Nana, Pops, they didn’t do nothing besides send us that nasty ass jello from Spain. I mean, where were they three years ago when you got sick, huh?! (MOM stops cooking and looks up) They were just traveling the world getting tickets and passes for their next adventure. Please… Those people are menaces, and they don’t deserve you! “Oh, Bonnie, nous sommes vraiment désolés de ne pas avoir pu être là lorsque tu as subi une opération chirurgicale majeure, nous avons juste dû aller voir le Louvre et prendre de la gelée, et voir La Joconde.” [Oh, Bonnie, we are so sorry we couldn’t be there when you had major surgery, we just had to go see Le Louvre and get some jello, and see La Joconde.] They can go to hell! We lived there for years, they coulda seen the damn painting then. And what’s up with old people wanting jello?! (calming down, slight pause) It’s easy to eat I guess…

MOM: (looks intensely, then bursts into laughter) Ahahahaha.“C'est quoi ces vieux et la gelée? [What’s with old people and jello?]” (laughter) Leeny, you really funny! Maybe them sending jello is a sign of love for ol’ folk. I mean, I’d give my grandkids a pound of fancy ass Spanish jello.

HARLEEN: Ma!

MOM: Lenny, I think…I…I know that things were hard when everything happened. But I will say Dad pulled through in the end, sorta kinda. (pause, slightly talking under their breath) Menaces to society is never singular, always plural, should’ve known better. (speaking back at their daughter) Weirdly enough, I was happy that it happened, helped me realize what and who was truly important. Et cette personne, c'est toi, Harleen. [And that person is you, Harleen.] You were always there, you helped me see life differently and I wouldn’t have started my business without your motivation. Now everything is exactly how it should be…Je t’aime Leeny.

(HARLEEN making their way around the kitchen island standing in front of MOM)

HARLEEN: He shoulda been… all of them shoulda been there from the beginning. Ils ne te méritent pas. [They don’t deserve you.] (a pause, giving a warm hug) Je t’aime Ma.

END

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2022-med-cruise · 2 years

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Today, Thursday the 16th, finds us docked in Sibenik, Croatia - not far from Split and Dubrovnik, both of which we will visit next week. So far we’ve had a morning at leisure as our tour doesn’t kick off til 1PM.

Had a nice relaxing breakfast (some of those early morning trips had us guzzling coffee and a donut so we could catch a bus), a bit of a layabout on our veranda which today for a change overlooks the hillside city. A lot of time, the port facilities are a lot less than scenic - containers galore and/or huge piles of coal/sand/whatever!

Since we needed to grab some lunch prior to setting off on our excursion we stopped by the pool grill where Margie had a great salad and I scarfed down a good, old-fashioned, foot-long hot dog - yum!

Our torture for today - more on this later - was a visit to Krka National Park and the falls on the River Krka. For once it was only a short 20 minute bus trip to the park and the drive there was lovely. The park is located in a valley surrounded by forested hills and the panoramic views when approaching the entrance were breath-taking.

Once in the park we began our walking tour to see the many falls and rivulets which comprise the River Krka. Our guide told us it was about a 30 minute tour to cover the majority of the viewpoints. What she forgot to mention was that the wooden walkway was extremely uneven (one gentleman slipped and fell - luckily he only scraped his nose) and there wasn’t a railing in sight except for a few spots. This made for a bit of a tense trek as we were spending as much time looking down to prevent tripping as we were taking pix.

The views that I got were lovely and we worth the trouble, but these tour companies need to be aware that 70-80 year olds ain’t quite as spry as 40 year olds! The final kicker, as we got almost to the end of the trip, was the sight of 200 steps going straight up the side of the hill. And that was the only way out of the park! And of course most of the way up the hill had no railings - no ADA rules in Croatia!

Both of us made it - not sure how - but were completely pooped by the end. We stumbled our way to the bus and now that we are back at the ship and underway to Venice we are going for a quickie dinner and a well-deserved sleep!

See you all in Venice!

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hibiscusangel15 · 3 years

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Rumors

Day 22 Prompt: there’s been talk about us

Summary: Rumors chased after Ichigo and Rukia their entire lives. People liked to gossip about their appearances. About their statuses. It was always the trivial matters that rubbed others the wrong way.

And then came the rumors about the nature of their relationship. For Day 22 of @ichirukimonth 2021.

Rating: Gen/K

*Also crossposted to AO3 and FFN!

If you like my fic, please consider buying me a coffee!

We fear that which we cannot see.

“Hey, have you heard?”

“That Kurosaki kid—”

“Yes, that Kuchiki girl—”

“No way! A delinquent joining our class?”

“Of course that untalented recruit is a noble. It’s the Kuchiki influence. I thought so, too!”

Rumors chased after Ichigo and Rukia their entire lives. People liked to gossip about their appearances. About their statuses. It was always the trivial matters that rubbed others the wrong way.

And then came the rumors about the nature of their relationship. A bit surprising, to be sure, but not altogether unexpected, given how petty gossip hounds could be. Just another bored rumor passed along the mill that would eventually be forgotten and replaced with something new.

They both denied it as firmly as they could. It never satiated others’ nosy appetites for long.

All those rumors fell away when she was whisked back to Soul Society. They were the last thing on his mind when he and the others fought to rescue her. He’d forgotten about them completely until she and the other Shinigami showed up during the next semester, unannounced, and the rumors started up again.

It didn’t help that she was living with him now, either.

“What’s the deal with you and Rukia-chan anyway?” Isshin asked while helping his son with the dishes. The girls were having fun getting to know each other upstairs, so he figured he’d step in.

Ichigo threw him a peeved side-glance. “What do you mean? She already told you she has no money or relatives here to help her.”

“So you volunteered to take her in without a second thought, huh?”

“You expect me to let her fend for herself?” The defensive edge in his voice made Isshin pause.

He smiled as he took a dish from the rack to dry. “No, of course not. You’ve always been the type to stick your neck out for someone in need. Why do you think your mom and I named you Ichigo?”

Ichigo said nothing, just continued washing dishes. If one good thing could be said about his punk of a son, it was the fact that he never flaunted his inner strength.

“You’ve never really had many friends growing up. For the longest time, the only friend you had was Tatsuki-chan and then Chad. Everyone else was too scared to try and talk to you. So I’m glad you’re putting yourself out there this year and making a bunch of new friends, Ichigo.”

His son’s face softened.

“That being said, you never answered my question, my son.” Isshin’s eyes sparkled with a single-minded pursuit. “Could it be you don’t trust me enough to tell me the truth? Or is it that you're too shy?”

That all-too-familiar scowl returned to Ichigo’s face. “What the hell’re you talking about, Dad?”

“There you go, dodging the question again! I’m talking about Rukia-chan! Is she, y’know, your girlfriend?”

“My...girlfriend?” A dish slipped from Ichigo's grasp and shattered into pieces.

“Aw crap!” he swore, stooping to the floor. “Sorry, Dad!”

Before he could reach for the largest piece, Isshin gently pushed his son's hands away. “Let me handle this, Ichigo. I don’t want you hurting yourself. Go get the trash can.”

“Dad, it’s no trouble. I can get it.”

Isshin paused. “To be honest with you, son, my joints ain’t as spry as they used to be. I probably can’t get up right now even if I wanted to.”

“Oh, what? You’re such an old man,” Ichigo said as he pushed himself up.

At that moment, Isshin slipped a small pill into his mouth. Urahara’s gigai tech might have been impressive when he was first gifted the thing, but damn was it getting more and more unresponsive as he got older.

After Ichigo cleared the shards away, Isshin let his son finish washing the dishes. It was the easiest way to trap him there, at any rate.

“Anyway,” he began again, “what is Rukia-chan to you?”

His son hesitated, brown eyes darting around as if he could pull some bullshit excuse from the murky dishwater.

He covered it up with yet another scowl. “We’re just friends. Sorry to disappoint you and Yuzu.”

“Aw, c’mon, Ichigo! Your sister and I are just curious!”

“You guys are way too keen about my nonexistent love life. Why don’t you two get lives of your own?”

“You kids might not understand this since you’re so young, but when you become a parent, your life revolves around your kids! That means your life is my life, too!” Isshin clenched his fist. “So c’mon, Ichigo! Tell me everything! Don’t be shy!”

“I’m not being shy. Quit bugging me.”

“Oh?” Isshin’s eyes gleamed. “Only a truly shy man would be so cold! Come now, my son! Confess your deepest, darkest secrets to your father!”

As soon as he tried to embrace his son, all turned black as his face rammed right into Ichigo’s elbow.

* * *

The girls upstairs heard a loud crash and Ichigo’s infuriated cursing.

Karin frowned at the floor. “There they go again. God, it’s so exhausting living with them. Sorry, you’re just going to have to deal with them for the time being.”

Rukia slapped on an innocent smile. “Oh, I don’t mind! I think a lively household is kind of fun!”

Another crash thundered through the house as the two men continued brawling away. Karin sighed. “Fun, huh?”

“I just hope they remember to clean up after themselves! I’d hate to clean the kitchen again when I already did it last weekend!” Yuzu said.

Rukia had heard their muffled fighting before when she hid in Ichigo’s closet. To actually bear witness to the Kurosaki family’s antics was another matter entirely. Compared to the piercing silence of the Kuchiki household, this was a much more comforting change of pace.

“Now don’t take this the wrong way, Rukia-chan.” Yuzu fidgeted on her bed . “But…um….”

Karin tilted her head back with a loud sigh. “She wants to know if you and our stupid brother are dating.”

“Karin!” Yuzu shouted, scandalized.

“It’s what you wanted to ask her since she arrived, right?”

“Dating?” Rukia repeated. “No, we’re just friends!”

“Just friends, huh?” Karin muttered.

“Yes, of course.”

“So you say.”

“Karin!”

“I’m just saying it’d be way more interesting if all this was some elaborate ruse for Ichigo to introduce his girlfriend to the family is all.” She flopped back onto her bed, letting her legs swing freely over the edge.

“That certainly would be more interesting, I suppose,” Rukia conceded. “Unfortunately, that’s not true. No offense to your brother, but he’s too honest to think of doing something like that.”

The three paused when Ichigo’s booming sneeze echoed up to them from downstairs.

Karin smirked. “Friend, girlfriend. It’s all the same to me, I guess.” She pointed a finger at Rukia. “You and I might get along swimmingly once you drop that nice-girl act and be yourself, though.”

Rukia blinked. And here she thought her human girl schtick would work here, too.

The smile that crossed her lips was softer, more natural this time. “You and your brother have the same instincts, I see.”

“I’d say I’m better at reading people than he is. He’s a big dope.” Karin waved dismissively.

Yuzu’s warm smile grew. “Whether you’re just friends with Ichi-nii or something more, I’m still glad to have you in our home, Rukia-chan! It’s nice to have more girls in the house for once!”

Rukia dipped her head. “I’m grateful that you’re letting me stay here without questioning my motives. I hope I won’t be a burden to any of you.”

“If you can keep my brother and my dad in line, you’d be more of a help than a hindrance,” Karin said. “Anyway, Yuzu tends to snore and fuss in her sleep, so I hope you can deal with that, too.”

Yuzu flushed and threw a pillow at her sister’s bed. “Karin! I don’t snore!”

Siblings showed the oddest resemblances to one another from time to time. Karin's teasing grin was so much like her brother's that it made Rukia smile in return. Ichigo then barged into the room and plunked himself on the edge of her bed to hang out with them. They all talked about their day and mocked each other in that special way only siblings could. It was warm and exasperatedly caring.

All those silly rumors that once passed around Karakura High about her and Ichigo dating would definitely escalate if anyone saw her living with him. It didn’t matter to her either way.

For once, she'd found a place where she didn’t have to worry about being judged. Rukia could dare to be happy. She dared to relax and laugh along with them. The Kurosaki family treated her like she belonged, and that was enough.

* * *

“Wait, they live together? Are you sure?”

“Of course! Kojima-san went to their house the other day to bring Kurosaki all the homework he missed, and he told me that Kuchiki-san was the one who answered the door! And she took it from him on his behalf! Like she was his girlfriend or something!”

“No way someone as pretty as her would be shacking up with a guy like that, right?”

“I don’t know. You remember how she climbed in through the third-story window and kicked him in the face and smacked him around? If anything, I feel sorry for Kurosaki.”

Now those rumors couldn’t be helped either. Rukia needed somewhere to stay, and like a little pest, she wormed her way into Ichigo's home and his everyday life. And with his month-long Vizard training going on, he wasn’t exactly around to put a stop to them.

The rumors really started to get out of hand once Ichigo, his friends, and all those weird kids who joined in the middle of the semester disappeared at the same time. No one knew where they went, or if they were even alive.

Some theorized that they had all dropped out to form a street gang. Others proposed the idea that Kurosaki and Kuchiki-san had eloped and invited all their friends to the wedding. All of which were extremely ridiculous, but who was to prove them wrong? Certainly not the subjects of the rumors themselves.

Oddly enough, both Asano and Kojima were the first to dismiss any rumors they heard. They seemed less enthusiastic about it, like their friend’s love life was no longer a fun puzzle to work out. They hung a lot more around Arisawa, who was equally morose and exhausted with it all.

Of course, this only fueled the wild rumors further. Perhaps they were bummed out that they weren’t included in whatever escapades Kurosaki and his other friends got involved with.

Then Kurosaki returned. Without any of those weird friends of his. Without that odd Kuchiki girl by his side.

Kurosaki Ichigo became a recluse, even among those he once called friends.

Perhaps they’d broken up. Maybe she had to move away.

The mystique of their relationship died down pretty quickly after that.

It was not until May of their final year of high school did rumors about Kuchiki Rukia returning circulate around the school. Someone claimed to have seen her hanging around Karakura again. With how eagerly Kurosaki cancelled the rest of his sports team contracts to leave school earlier, it seemed more and more plausible.

Inoue Orihime’s own confirmation that the Kuchiki girl was indeed back only fueled the flames. Apparently, Kuchiki Rukia and all the new kids had to move far away all of a sudden. No, they weren’t all a weird family. No, she would not return to Karakura High.

As for the rumor covering Kuchiki Rukia and Kurosaki Ichigo’s relationship status, Inoue, Arisawa, and Kojima were all tight-lipped on the matter. Despite their best efforts, Asano Keigo was not all that great at keeping secrets, and it only took a bit of pressure for him to crack.

“No, they’re not dating! Can you believe that?” he’d screech at anyone who would listen. “I swear, I’ve tried so hard to hook them up, but nothing I do works! Tell me, what’s a guy gotta do to help his dumbass friend score, huh?”

* * *

Rukia was in the middle of writing up a report when Ichigo decided to show up for an impromptu visit. Admittedly, it was nice catching up with him, but it did wreck her entire work schedule for the day.

Well, perhaps wreck wasn’t the right word for it. She didn’t mind his company. She just normally finished up faster than this.

The odd look her brother threw her when she requested that they be left alone put her off. It did not help that she had flushed when Renji raised a tattooed eyebrow at her before he left, nor the fact that the servants hushed their giggles when Ichigo looked over his shoulder at them.

“Hey, is something going on around here?” he asked after catching the latest servant stifling a smile as she passed. “The servants have been whispering to each other all day.”

That’s because you decided to barge in so blatantly like you live here, you fool, she wanted to say.

Rukia shrugged affectedly. “People like to talk.”

About us, to be precise.

Ichigo scoffed. “People are always talking about me like I’m some kind of freak because of my hair. I’ve never cared all that much about gossip. It’s all bullshit anyway.”

She set her brush down on the inkstone. “I see. You too, huh?”

“Too?” he repeated, finally looking over at her.

“You heard Nii-sama explain why I was adopted into the Kuchiki clan, correct?” She took his silence as a yes. “The Kuchiki name is a prestigious one, but that notoriety does not come without its costs. The moment I was adopted, I was immediately placed in Squad Thirteen despite never having graduated from the Shinigami Academy. I was deemed a product of nepotism, and the other squad members hated me for it.”

Rukia shut her eyes. The memory of Kaien’s warmth flickered in the back of her mind. That would be a story for another day.

“It may seem ridiculous to you, how such a thing could hurt me.” Her smile did not reach her eyes.

He shook his head. “It’s not ridiculous, Rukia. What’s ridiculous is all the stuff people assumed about you. They don’t even know you.”

“No,” she said. “But even worthless rumors can start to take their toll once enough of them build up.”

“Oh yeah? Well, I’m gonna change that.”

Her smile fell. “How so?”

“We’re friends,” Ichigo said without any hesitation whatsoever. “So anyone who talks shit about you gets the business end of my sword.”

“A little extreme, don’t you think?”

Ichigo snorted but said nothing else.

To alleviate the tension brewing around him, she teased, “And what rumors about yourself have you heard lately? I’ve heard quite a lot. I’ve even been asked to confirm a few, on occasion.”

“Yeah? Like what?”

Rukia turned the various rumors over in her mind, struggling to find the best way to spin it. A joke perhaps? Could he laugh off something like this?

No, Ichigo would probably get embarrassed and storm off to find the cretin who started these unsavory rumors in the first place. She would assume such talk was unbefitting of those who served in the Thirteen Court Guard Squads, but apparently she was mistaken.

“Nothing much. Petty gossip.” She continued writing her report as if such matters didn’t concern her at all. “About you and I, mostly. What we are to each other.”

Ichigo scowled. “Not this again.”

“Unfortunately, yes.”

“It’s like people don’t have anything else to do with their lives. Stop trying to live vicariously through us already.”

Rukia paused. “Live vicariously?”

“Yeah, it’s like when people try to experience stuff through—”

“No, I know what it means. But what did you mean by that?”

The moment he met her eyes, she understood. There was a frantic, helpless gleam to them, but even so, he did not dare look away.

It was not a challenge, but more a question. It was a plea. His confession.

“Oh. I see.”

“Look, I wasn’t trying to…. I mean, it’s not…. This wasn’t the way that I wanted to….”

Ichigo put his head in his hands and took a deep breath. When he finally sat up straight again, he looked her right in the eye. “Rukia, do you want to go out with me?”

“Oh?” She leaned her head in a hand, the corner of her mouth tugging up. “Are you sure you want to prove those rumormongers right?”

He scowled. “This isn't about them! I told you, I don’t give a shit about what other people think. It wasn’t the rumors that made me like you.”

“What a bold thing to admit.” She covered her mouth in mock surprise.

“Ugh, shut up! It’s hard enough to say as it is.”

Rukia began to laugh. “You’re so strange, Ichigo. I like that about you, though.”

He tried and failed to hide how red his face had become. “Don’t make fun of me.”

“I’m not.” Her smile became more genuine then as she reached her hand out to his. “I am happy you asked. Although, I hope you know that it is uncouth of you to drop in on a woman unannounced. According to what I read about courting in the World of the Living, it is also customary to have a chaperone along with us on our dates.”

“Yeah, that’s been outdated for centuries now. What the hell kind of books are you even reading?” he scoffed.

“How rude! And here I was, excited to ask Nii-sama to accompany us for our first date!”

“What? Don’t bring Byakuya into this!”

Their silly bickering echoed all throughout the courtyard. Even still, they did not let go of the other's hand.

* * *

"Hey, have you heard?"

"That Substitute Shinigami and Lieutenant Kuchiki are dating?"

"Why is this news? Weren't they already a couple?"

"Ah, I see! So I was right all along."

Years and years of speculation, only to have the confession be far more mundane than they hoped.

The funny thing about rumors was, once they were confirmed, they lost their appeal extremely quickly.

Another rumor soon came to take its place.

"Kurosaki Ichigo is a noble? No way!"

"Sure, he looks a lot like Lieutenant Shiba, but isn't he just a human?"

"You sure he didn't just marry into the Kuchiki family?"

And so it goes. And so the rumors circled back once again.

If you can say that your heart doesn't change

Then that is strength.

No, nothing can change my world.

The only time a petty rumor is actually one hundred percent true lol. But I mean, it's not hard to disprove with the way they're always looking at each other.

I suppose this fic can kind of fit in the same AU as Home and Clearing Away the Rain. Maybe consider it a prequel of sorts, if you like!

Thanks for reading! Until next time!

#IRMonth2021 #Day 22: there's been talk about us #Ichiruki #OTP: Black Sun and White Moon #Kurosaki Ichigo #Kuchiki Rukia #Kurosaki Isshin #Kurosaki Karin #Kurosaki Yuzu #Bleach #my fanfiction

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angelatmidnight1 · 3 years

Note

fuse as a lee PLEASE!! it’s too cute 😆😆

Let Sleeping Dogs Lie

After a particularly bombastic match, Fuse treats himself to a cold beer, a grilled steak, and a well-deserved nap. Walter enjoys a good R and R session after a little mayhem, and today is no different. However, instead of enjoying that nap, a rather mischievous Legend crosses his path, and his name is Octavio Silva. It’s too tempting not to prank Walter as he slumbers, and the poor man is down for the count. Rampart joins him in the mischief and, much to his surprise, they discover that the explosives enthusiast is ticklish. Now, it’s time for the real fun to begin!

“Ahhh, that’s the stuff…”

Walter murmured aloud after he’d downed the rest of his beer. It’d been a long and trying day in the Apex Games; his squad never seemed to catch a break, and many of the fights just barely went in his favor. If it hadn’t been for the extra grenades in his pockets or picking the right time to drop his Mother Lode, the championship would’ve gone to someone else. But, alas, he and his squad managed to pull through and claim the crown for themselves. It was an exciting game, no doubt about it, and those were the kind of games ole Fusey couldn’t get enough of. They reminded him of being back on Salvo, back in the Bonecage, where he put many a bloke to sleep with his fists. He was in the prime of his life then and, like a fine wine, he only got better with age. Of course, he couldn’t spend all of his time raising hell, and there was nothing better than a cold beer and a grilled steak after a hard day. He was even lucky enough to have the entire common room to himself, since the rest of the Legends were all scattered throughout the dropship. After putting the empty bottle down on the table, the explosives enthusiast stretched out onto the couch. He decided to take off his metal arm to get more comfortable and put it next to the discarded bottle. Then, the tiredness finally catching up to him, Walter closed his eyes and dozed off shortly after.

What Fuse didn’t know was that Octavio was actually within the vicinity, wandering throughout the halls without anything to do. Normally, he would be hanging with Ajay or pulling off some sick stunts in his Gauntlet. Ajay, however, was busy working in the med bay and didn’t have time to deal with her hyperactive friend. And his Gauntlet, much to his dismay, was closed down for maintenance along with the entirety of King’s Canyon. The speedster never liked rules and tried to sneak in anyway, but he was caught and received a stern warning from the Games’ admins. Octane muttered some Spanish curses under his breath as he wandered into the common room. Maybe, he thought, he could put those thermites that he swiped on his way out to good use. He noticed Fuse on the couch and speeded over to him, grinning. If he was going to do anything with grenades, he’d definitely want the explosives enthusiast’s on his side. Since he was approaching from behind, he didn’t notice that the old man was sound asleep.

“Hey, amigo! I saw your last game, you were awesome!” he complimented. He climbed over the couch and plopped beside him. “You gotta show me how you pulled off that stick with the arc star. A collateral like that would look sick on my feed.”

When Walter didn’t respond, he arched a brow and turned to him. The explosives enthusiast was slightly slouched over, fast asleep, with his good arm draped over his stomach. Octavio blinked and leaned in to poke his shoulder, but he didn’t stir. The gears in his head turned and he grinned widely behind his mask. If he wasn’t able to pull some stunts or hang out with Ajay, he decided that he’d do something just as fun: pull a prank.

It took about ten minutes, but Octavio managed to dig up a can of shaving cream and a feather for a classic prank. He gave the room a quick once over to make sure no one was around to either distract him or wake the older man up. When he was certain that the coast was clear, he popped open the can and tipped over to Fuse. He slowly grabbed his hand and pried it off of his stomach so he could turn it over with the palm facing up. Every now and then he paused, looking for any signs that he might be waking up, but he didn’t give any. Lucky for Octavio, it seemed like Walter was a heavy sleeper. Octavio put a handful of shaving cream in the man’s palm and chuckled excitedly. Sure, this was a popular prank, but it was still funny.

Oh man, mis amigos are gonna love this.

Octane put the can down and put the feather between his index finger and thumb. He stepped closer to Fuse and took a breath, quickly fluttering it against his right cheek. At first, he didn’t give a reaction. But after a second try, Walter scrunched his nose and turned his head away. The speedster repeated the motion, flicking the feather back and forth, but the older man would just scrunch up his face and squirm away. There were a couple of times where it looked like Fuse was going to use his hand to brush his face, but he kept putting it down at the last minute, earning a groan from Octavio.

“Come on, just a lil bit higher…” he murmured, deciding to switch to his left cheek and increase his efforts. Footfalls sounded off behind the daredevil, but he didn’t notice, so the curious individual was able to walk up right beside him.

“Oi, what’cha doin’?” Came Rampart’s loud voice, which startled Octavio. His head snapped towards hers and he brought a finger to his lips.

“Shh! I’m trying to prank dormilón (sleepyhead) over here,” he whispered, gesturing to the shaving cream with the feather. “So don’t wake him up.”

Ramya’s eyebrows rose and she sat down at the opposite side of Walter. “Gramps is down for the count, huh? Guess he ain’t all that spry after all.” she snickered. She craned her head over to see the shaving cream in his hand and smirked. “Ooo, that’s a classic prank right there. Want some help? Bet I could dig up some markers.”

Octavio shook his head and waved her off with his free hand. “Nah, I’m good. Just need him to itch his face.” He explained, poking the feather into Fuse’s left cheek at random intervals. Walter stirred and grumbled, making the speedster retract his hand. It looked like he was going to wake up but, thankfully, he calmed back down and returned to sleep. Rampart rolled her eyes, leaning over Fuse to take the feather from Octavio.

“You’re doin’ it wrong. Watch.” The modder instructed, wiggling the feather against Fuse’s nose. Walter grumbled again and turned his face away, but Ramya was persistent. She propped herself up on her knees and crawled closer to him. She leaned forward, flicking the plume against his nose again. She balanced herself with her hand against his side, unconsciously gripping it when he fidgeted. Walter twitched and exhaled sharply through his nose. He leaned away from the invasive touch, this time curling against the arm of the couch, and sighed deeply. Ramya blinked and glanced over at Octavio. The speedster met her gaze and inched closer to Fuse, cocking his head to the side.

“Is he…?” Octane curiously poked at Walter’s ribcage, earning a grunt and a quiet, yet undeniable chuckle. The speedster’s eyes lit up with mischief and he grinned at his accomplice. “Mira, looks like tough guy’s ticklish.”

Ramya matched his grin and she walked two fingers along his side. Fuse squirmed and pushed himself further into the couch’s arm. He chuckled and murmured something indecipherable, a faint smirk appearing on his lips. “I think you’re onto somethin’, mate.” The modder answered, crossing over his stomach to repeat the same motion on his other side. “Never thought I’d meet a ticklish Salvonian. Now I’ve seen it all.”

Octane and Rampart’s poking and prodding stirred ole Fusey out of his nap, albeit slowly. What started off as quiet grunts and chuckles evolved into prominent giggles as the duo increased their efforts. By the time Walter was somewhat conscious, his nerves buzzed with the ticklish sensations, and he jolted awake.

“AH! Whahat---oh, it’s just you lot.” Walter breathed a sigh of relief, unaware of the situation that he’d found himself in. He was still groggy from being disturbed from his nap. “You pups need somethin’? Or can this old dog go back to--”

He paused, feeling something foamy in his hand. He glanced at his palm and his eyebrows furrowed. “The hell? What’s this doing in my hand?”

Walter shook the stuff off of him. He noticed the feather in Ramya’s hand and smirked, putting two and two together. “Oh, thought you could prank ole Fusey, did ya?”

“He did,” Rampart nodded to Octavio, earning a glare from the speedster. “But he’s a bloody amateur. Guess it’s for the best though, otherwise we wouldn’t know how ticklish you are.”

Fuse gave her a bewildered look. “What?” he spat, yelping when Octane jabbed him in the side. “Hey, knock it off!”

Octavio chuckled. “Didn’t peg you as the ticklish type, amigo. That must suck for you.” He teased, aiming another poke at his stomach. Walter batted him away with his good hand and scoffed.

“I reckon everyone’s ticklish to some extent, mate. What of it?” The explosives enthusiast responded, only to have the realization hit him seconds later. He was sandwiched between two of the most mischievous Legends in the Apex Games, and he’d taken off the only thing keeping him from being the target of their mischief: his metal arm. Granted, the metallic limb wasn’t that far away from where he was, but one of the pups had agility on his side. Walter’s had worse odds though, so he lurched forward to grab it.

Like clockwork, the two younger Legends jumped into action. Octane grabbed Walter’s arm and pulled him backwards, causing him to yelp. Ramya was quick to get up and push the table holding the metal arm further away from where they were. Somehow, Fuse managed to free himself of the speedster's hold and stand up.

“Yeah nah, you lot can have the bloody couch. I’m going to enjohohohy myhyhy--ah! Stohohop!”

While Walter was distracted, Rampart snuck up behind him and poked at his sides. The explosives enthusiast sputtered and snickered, turning to fend her off next. This gave Octavio the opportunity to seize his arm and pull him back on the couch. Fuse yelled again and tried to push him back, but it was difficult to do with one arm. The ticklish pokes were only making it that much harder. So, although Walter outmatched both of the Legends in terms of physical strength, Octane was able to get him down and hold his arm above his head.

“Hurry, chica! Get his legs and I’ll keep his arm down.” The speedster called over his shoulder, adding to the tickle attack by scratching along Walter's stomach. Fuse arched his back and fell into a deeper pool of laughter.

“Nohohoho! Blohohohoody hehehell, gehehehet ohohohff mehehehe!” Walter protested, struggling to propel himself upwards by digging his heels into the couch. Ramya grinned and straddled the man’s waist, effectively pinning him down.

“Aw, ya ain’t afraid of a little tickling, are ya mate?” The modder teased, digging her wiggling fingers into his sides. Fuse laughed even louder and twisted his torso side to side.

“I ahahahain’t afrahahahahid of ahahahnytHIHIHIHNG!” He fired back, his laughter jumping in pitch when Octavio poked into the sides of his stomach. The speedster was positioned above his head, holding his arm down with his knee, and grinning widely. He opted for using his thumbs to drill into the spot, snickering when he bucked his hips and swore.

“Oh yeah? Then tell us where you’re most ticklish.” He challenged, smirking when Fuse’s head snapped up to him.

“WHAHAHAHAT?”

Octavio laughed. “You heard me! Tell us where your worst spot is, and we’ll leave you alone.” He repeated, using all of his nails to torment Fuse’s stomach.

“Maybe.” Ramya chimed in, finding his hip bones and giving them some quick squeezes. The old man yelled and swore again as he tried to buck her off of him. He didn’t want to accidentally send her flying across the room, but he hadn’t been tickled since his younger days, and he’d forgotten just how ticklish he really was. Granted, most people he came across didn’t want to tickle a man who had a metal arm and wielded explosives, but these two pups weren’t deterred at all.

Walter’s laughter was only getting louder the more they tickled him. Octavio had gotten bored of sticking to one spot and started poking at his ribcage. He arched his back and cackled; his ribs were a very ticklish spot, coming just shy of being his worst one. For a moment, he considered telling the pups where that spot was, if it meant they’d stop pestering him. But, the thought was gone almost as soon as it came up. If Ole Fusey was anything, he was certainly stubborn.

“NOHOHOHOHO!” He yelled, bucking his hips again when the speedster increased his efforts. “COHOHOHME OHOHN! YOHOHOHU’VE HAHAHAD YOHOHOHUR FUHUHUN!”

Ramya scoffed and reached behind her to squeeze his knee. He responded by yelping and drumming his leg against the couch cushions. “I thought you said you weren’t scared,” she simpered, her nails dancing along the top of his knee and underneath it. “It must be a really bad spot if ya ain’t gonna tell us. Which isn’t the best idea, cause we’ll find out eventually.”

Fuse tugged as hard as he could at his pinned arm, trying to wench it free, but the speedster held strong. He laughed harder the higher up Octavio tickled, throwing his body around. Octane was trying to gage which ribs were the most sensitive; he raked his nails against the bones at a rapid pace and scribbled at the spaces between them. So far, they all seemed equal in sensitivity, but the speedster wasn’t ready to give up just yet.

“OKAHAHAY! OKAHAHAY WAHAHAIT!” Fuse screeched when the speedster lingered on his two centermost ribs. The younger Legends perked up, slowing the tickling down just enough to keep the poor man giggling.

“Yeah? Got something to say?” Octavio asked, rhythmically tapping against the fleshy part beneath his ribcage. Walter gasped and lost himself in heavy giggles before he was able to put some words together.

“Lehehehet’s….lehehehet’s mahahahke ahahaha deahahahal…” he tittered. Maybe while he bargained with them, he could keep them distracted long enough to pull his arm free. “Lehehehet mehehe up, let me get back to me nap. And I’ll tehehll ya whahat you wanna knohow after.”

Rampart arched a skeptic brow and gently skittered her fingertips over his stomach. Fuse flinched and sucked in his stomach, prompting the modder to apply a little more pressure. “How do we know ya won’t cut tail and run the second we let you go?”

“I wohohohn’t! Yohohur mahahate wohohould cahahatch up to mehehe! Cohohme ohohn…” Walter snickered when Ramya switched from the gentle touches to deliberate scratching. “Leheheht mehehe gohoho!”

Rampart looked up at Octavio while she circled one nail around the man’s navel. “I dunno...whaddaya think, mate? Should we let him go?”

Octane withdrew his hands and pretended to ponder the request. He was having fun; no, he was having a blast, and he wasn’t ready to stop any time soon! Fuse was one of the last people he’d ever thought to be ticklish, and he didn’t think this opportunity would present itself again. He gave the old man a brief moment to breathe before he dropped his hands back onto his ribcage. He prodded at the fleshy part beneath the ribcage and worked his way up the bones, earning a scream and loud fit of laughter. “Psh, no way! This is the least bored I’ve been all day.” He piped, laughing when Walter tried to roll away from him again.

“AHAHAHAHAHAHA! NOHOHOHO YOHUHUHU BLOHOHOHOODY DROHOHONGOHOHO!” Fuse screamed and writhed when Octavio kneaded back into his centermost ribs. Ramya giggled and reached underneath his shirt, scribbling her fingertips against his bare sides and tummy. This prompted another scream and an even louder burst of laughter. “STAHAHAHAP TIHIHIHCKLING MEHEHE!”

“Nah, sorry mate. He’s my partner in crime, can’t let him down.” The modder quipped, gently pinching both sides of his abdomen. Walter almost threw her off of his waist and shook with raucous laughter.

“BAHAHAHAHA! I’LL KIHIHILL YAHAHA BOHOHOHTH! I SWEHEHEHEHAR!”

The younger Legends were laughing almost as hard as he was and they picked up the tickling pace. “Ooo, I’m so scared.” Ramya snickered, circling her nails back around the man’s navel. Walter snorted and furiously kicked a pillow, sending it flying across the room. Octane momentarily stopped tickling him and threw his head back with laughter.

“Sí, you sound terrifying right now.” He added, smirking. He tickled up higher still, reaching his uppermost ribs, and scritched at them at a rapid pace.

Now, Walter wasn’t someone who was easily frightened, but the panic set in once the speedster attacked those ribs. He violently thrashed around with his laughter bordering on hysterics. If Octavio tickled any higher, he knew he wouldn’t last long.

“AHAHAHAHAHAH STHAHAHAHP! EHENOHOUGH ALREHEHEADY!” Fuse demanded through heavy fits of laughter. He arched his back when he alternated between the two ribs, rocking from one side to the other to try and avoid the tickles. His stubbornness was hanging by a thread now; maybe it would've been better for him to just come clean? Little did Walter know, neither Octane or Rampart were going to be as easily swayed now.

“Nope! You had your chance. And it looks like I found a good spot here.” The speedster answered with a grin, moving back down his rib cage to tickle each rib individually. Walter threw his head back and kicked another pillow off of the couch, his laughter taking on a desperate note. “Probably your worst one, right?”

Fuse frantically nodded. “YEHEHEHEHEHEHES! IHIHIHIHIHT IHIHIHIS! SOHOHO STOHOHOP!” He shouted, practically splitting his sides when he gently pinched the centermost ribs. His laughter took on different pitches depending on where Octavio tickled; poking beneath the rib cage made him giggle uncontrollably, tickling along the ribs themselves made him scream and roar with laughter. Rampart looked up at the two of them; she noticed that the higher up he tickled, the more the explosives enthusiast struggled. She grinned, reaching up to join Octane in tormenting his ribs by poking at his lowermost ones.

“You get his armpits yet? I think you’d wanna be thorough.” She offered, her grin widening when Fuse glared at her...or at least tried to. There was no way she could take him seriously with how hard he was laughing.

Octane glanced at her and chuckled. “No, don’t think I have. Are your armpits ticklish too, amigo?” He asked, slowly poking back up the man’s rib cage. He felt Walter stiffen and he beamed behind his mask.

“N-Nohohohoho! Thehehey’re nohohohot!” He lied; the unfamiliar feeling of panic eating at his nerves increased the closer his nails got to his armpits. Did ole Fusey’s voice crack when he told this lie? No, it didn’t! And he’d deny it for as long as it could...but that would just be another lie.

“No? Bummer.” Octavio bit back a smirk and sighed, leaving his hands resting on the top of the rib cage, just underneath where his armpits started. Ramya halted her tickling too and gave the speedster a questioning look. If he hadn’t been wearing the mask, she’d be able to see that mischief in his eyes was still going strong. Even Fuse, who was grateful for the break, was a tiny bit skeptical. He glanced at his hands and then at the kid’s face, breathing heavily. Was he really going to let him go, just like that?

Well, the short answer was no.

“Guess I’ll just have to forget about it and go see i--SIKE!”

Without warning, Octane buried his hands in Fuse’s armpits and wiggled his fingers around. The explosives enthusiast screamed and immediately dissolved into hysterical laughter. He didn’t even have a chance to fight it; the ticklish sensations came swift and sudden, and left him writhing on the couch. This time, he accidentally threw the modder off of him, and he could only pray that she wasn’t injured. Besides a yip of surprise and a few words of profanity, Ramya was perfectly fine.

“AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA STAHAHAHAHAHAHAP! BLOHOHOHOOHDY STAHAHAHAHA--” Walter’s demands were lost in his laughter as he dug his heels into the couch again. Since his arm was the only thing pinned down, he bucked himself forward to try and sit up. It didn’t work the first time, and it spurred Octavio to tickle him faster, drawing out more protests and wild laughter. He tried again, and again, and one more time after that, but the tickling had weakened him, and he didn’t pull his arm free before Ramya collected herself.

“Heh, well that looks like that was a lie, huh?” Rampart noted. Since she didn’t want to get thrown off again, she decided to sit next to the couch and poke at his ribs. Walter snorted again and laughed even harder, his legs flailing all over the place. “All the more reason to tickle you. Right mate?”

Octavio happily nodded and fluttered his nails along the length of Walter’s armpits. “Yup! You brought this on yourself, señor.” He grinned, going on a search for an even more ticklish spot along the armpits.

Meanwhile, Fuse was dying laughing. He did all he could to try and propel himself forward to escape, but Octavio’s knee kept his arm in place. The last thing he wanted to do was plead, but he was running out of options, and he only had so much oxygen. “OKAHAHAY! ALRIHIHIHGHT! I’M SOHOHOHRRY!” He yelped, thrashing violently when the speedster lingered on the lowermost areas of the armpits, just a hair away from the ribs. Whenever he stroked there, he twitched and absolutely howled with laughter. “PLEHEHEHEASE STAHAHAHAP!”

Ramya was the first to take notice; Walter didn’t seem like the type of guy to beg, so she assumed that they didn’t have a lot of time to keep on tickling him. She gently scratched at the ultra sensitive ribs that Octavio found: the uppermost and center most ones on each side of the rib cage. He desperately shook his head, attempting to dodge their hands, but they easily kept up with him. Thankfully, after a few more bouts of heavy laughter and intense struggling, Fuse finally pulled hard enough to get his arm free.

He immediately hopped to his feet and hurried towards his metal arm. The younger Legends blinked, surprised that he actually managed to get away, but it didn’t last long. They chased after him, laughing, and caught up with him before he could get a hold of his limb. Walter whirled around, extending his good arm out to defend himself, but it was too late. Both Octane and Rampart launched themselves towards the explosives enthusiast at the same time, each one burying a hand into an armpit. Fuse flinched and barked out some more protests mixed in with laughter, but ultimately, he ended up back on the floor in stitches.

“AHA! I GIHIHIHIHVE! I GIHIHIHIHVE! ENOHOHOHOUGH!” Walter yelled. He planted his hand on the floor and tried to use it as leverage to push himself up, but crashed back down when both Legends increased the tickling pace. At this point, poor Fusey was too tired to really try and get them to stop, so he could only shout another ‘plehehehehease’ before his laughter fell silent.

Rampart gradually halted the tickling and gently elbowed Octane. “Alright, alright. Let 's stop. Think grandpa is all tuckered out.” She chuckled, scooting back to give the man some room to recover. Octane pouted, but stopped shortly after Ramya did.

“Fine. Hey, no hard feelings, right amigo? I was super bored till you came along.” He added, heading over to where his metal arm was. He picked it up and handed it to Walter, who had to take a few extra minutes to catch his breath before he was able to grab it. He attached it back to his limb and exhaled. Fuse was still tired, but for a completely different reason now.

“...Glad I could be of service,” Walter quipped sarcastically. Octavio extended a hand to him to help him to his feet, and the older man accepted it gratefully. However, much to the speedster’s confusion, he didn’t release it right away. The speedster’s brows furrowed and he tried to tug his hand back to him, but when he looked into the man’s face, he saw a similar look of mischief in his eye. It made a shiver run down his spine. “But you do realize that disturbing me from my nap isn’t something I’m going to let slide, ay?”

Octane paled and only increased his efforts to yank his arm back to him. Thankfully, Rampart was still nearby, and she saved the day by giving the explosives expert another poke to the side. Walter yelped and jumped away from the touch, allowing both her and Octavio to scramble away. Fuse watched them go but, instead of chasing after them, he returned to his seat on the couch. He chuckled to himself; for now, he was going to return to his well deserved nap. But, when he woke up, ole Fusey was going to start some trouble...in more ways than one.

I was pretty nervous to post this since it's a little bit shorter than my usual fics, but the length of this one just felt 'right' when I finished writing and reread it. This is also my first time writing for Fuse and I'm still working on getting his character down, especially since this was kinda an impulse write :P. Anyways, I hope you liked the story.

#fuse apex legends #fuse #rampart apex legends #rampart #octane #octane apex legends #walter fitzroy #ramya parekh #octavio silva #ticklish!fuse #ticklish!fusey #ticklish!walterfitzroy #ticklish!walter #ticklish!fitzroy #apex legends tickle fic #apex legends

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rockinrpmemes · 3 years

Text

“Bad Santa” meme!

Change the names/genders/etc. to fit your muses! WARNING: [These are NOT for the over-sensitive and easily offended.]

“You’re gonna put that Santa hat on so fast that you’re gonna get fucking hat-burn.” "I loved a woman who wasn’t clean." "I said, ‘Next,’ goddamn it! This is not the DMV!" "Um, Santa?" "No, I’m an accountant. I wear this fucking thing as a fashion statement, alright?" "In case you didn’t notice I’m a mother-fucking dwarf, "Unless you got a forklift handy, maybe you should lend a hand hmm?" "I’m 3-foot-fucking-tall you asshole! It’s a matter of physics.” “Draw me a sketch of how I get him to the car, huh?" "Two-year-olds flip me better shit than you." "Well, wish in one hand, shit in the other; see which one fills up first." "I’ve boned a lot of fat chicks in my time, sure. But, as far back as I can remember, I’ve never ‘fornicated’ anybody." "He’s not going to say ‘fuck-stick’ in front of the children, is he?" "No! It was just a joke. An adult joke. For us, adults. It’s a joke. Just a joke." "I ain’t out there serial fornicating, trying to float my liver, drinking myself silly, cuz I can’t stand what a piece of shit I am." "I’m on my fucking lunch break, OK!?" "The manager’s going to hear about this!" ”You think you can make my fucking life any worse? Go ahead, take a shot!” "I’m an eating, drinking, shitting, fucking Santy Claus." "I’ve always had a thing for Santa Claus. In case you didn’t notice. It’s like some deep-seeded childhood thing." "My dad was Jewish, so we didn’t have Christmas. So it was like this forbidden thing." "Little boy, don’t interfere. I am doing this for all of us!" "Leave Santa alone!" ”Things are fucked up at the North Pole. Mrs. Claus caught me fucking her sister, now I’m out on my ass.” "She lives in God’s house; with Jesus and Mary and the ghost and the long eared donkey and the talking walnut." ”Grandma, are you spry?” "Do you and Mrs. Santa have kids?" ”Sweet Jews for Jesus!” "I tell YOU how it’s gonna be. This is pricks fix!" "Uh-uh. Screw you and your kinky ass." “I don’t want an elephant anymore. I want a gorilla named Davy for beating up the skateboard kids who pull on my underwear." ”The world ain’t fair. You’ve gotta take what you need when you can get it.” “You have to stop being a pussy and kick these kids in the balls or something." "Good night, Santa. Good night, Mrs. Santa’s sister." "You steal from the store, you steal from me." ”You know what I see when I look at you? America’s got a sad future ahead of it.” "Happy Kwanza." "Want me to fix you some sandwiches?" "I don’t want any fucking sandwiches. What is it with you and fixin’ fucking sandwiches?" "I beat the shit out of some kids today. But it was for a purpose.” “It made me feel good about myself.” “It was like I did something constructive with my life or something, I dunno, like I accomplished something." "You need many years of therapy. Many, many fuckin’ years of therapy." "You people are monsters." "There’s no joy in this for me." "I’m not talking about you taking me out, that part I get. “Do you really need all that shit? For Christ’s sake it’s Christmas." "It is Christmas but this is what we do, we get the shit. Christmas time, we get the shit." ”All three of you are in so much shit, it’s almost unbelievable.” "It’s Christmas and the kid’s gettin’ his fuckin’ present." "Doctors say I’ll soon be 100%, even with 8 bullets dug outta me, because they didn’t hit any vital organs, except my liver. Which is fucked anyway, ha ha ha." "Don’t take no shit from nobody. Least of all yourself."

#my meme #Bad Santa #Christmas #Movies and Series #Comedy #How Dare You Have Fun Here!

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tilltheendwilliwrite · 4 years

Text

Not Another Mummy!

Chapter One

First Chapter will be on Tumblr only until more can be written. Story originated thanks to this thread. One hundred percent @magellan-88 ‘s fault.

Pairing: Stucky | Word Count: 2001

Warnings: Language, mild angst, takes place after CA:TWS

Rick O'Connell was a mummy hunter.

It hadn't always been his job, but he fell into it rather naturally. Well, Evie fell into it by way of raising Imhotep from the dead, damn near dying as the sacrifice to return his dead lover Anck-su-namun to the living, and then banishing him to the underworld.

Twice.

As he was the (often) put upon hothead Yank to her more stoic (stiff upper lip, Chaps) British ways, her colleagues rolled their eyes at her but always out of Rick's line of sight. Still, there was no one better when it came to weird, ancient woo-woo crap.

So when a telegram came from a woman named Pegs, Evie had dropped everything to run to her side.

It didn't matter they were crossing warzones or dragging their seventeen-year-old son with them to occupied France, Evie was going.

That was how Rick O'Connell met Steve Rogers, the Captain America, and his best friend, Bucky Barnes, and learned there was such a thing as kindred spirits.

Because Steven Grant Rogers was a punk with balls the size of Texas and no sense of self-preservation, and while Rick would never comment on the size of Evie's metaphorical brass bangers, the first time Bucky Barnes groaned with all the dramatics of a putout housewife and screamed, "Steven Grant Rogers! What the hell are you doing? Get down from there; you shit little punk!" Rick knew he'd finally met someone with his own Evie.

For Barnes, Rogers was a bit like watching Evie, Alex, and Jonathan all rolled into one, but he at least had Peggy and the Howling Commandos as backup. Rick only had himself - and occasionally Ardeth Bay - to keep his troop of walking disasters from falling into pits, and waking the undead.

In France, the Howlies helped them clear out the spookables in the castle where Pegs had found the books she knew Evie would want to preserve, and the O'Connells and Howling Commandos had parted ways.

Over the next few years, they occasionally crossed paths, and Rick developed a lasting friendship with Bucky Barnes built on saving their idiots and loving them with their whole hearts.

So when the news came that Barnes had died, Rick took it hard. He tried to find Steve, but the war was too hot, and any commiseration of grief would have to wait.

Still, he drowned himself in liquor for a week straight, and Evie, lovely, wonderful Evie, his very own Steve Rogers, poured him repeatedly into bed, where if Rick cried out his grief against her, she never told a soul.

Then, with the news about Steve, Rick was both saddened and a little at peace. At least they were together. They could spend their afterlife as they had their life. Together. Best friends and, if Rick wasn't mistaken, something a little closer to what he had with Evie than either man shared publicly.

Rick didn't mind. He'd seen them together. Love like that, what did gender matter?

Decades later, when the news splashed across the screen that Steve Rogers was alive, Rick again cried for Bucky Barnes. Seventy years apart. How cruel was this world?

Things had changed by then, some for the better, some worse, but when Steve Rogers once again took up his shield and defeated the enemy falling out of the sky, Rick knew the world hadn't lost both heroes. Steve was still there, still fighting, still a symbol of hope to a nation desperately in need of it.

When the giant of a man showed up at Rick's door, after the Battle for New York, Rick was one hundred and ten years old. The look of surprise on Steve's face made Rick chuckle, even as he welcomed him inside and shuffled back to his recliner.

They didn't talk about Bucky, though they did chat about Peggy, and Steve asked after Evie, gone now almost thirty years. A long time to be without his soulmate. They'd lost Jonathon before Evie, surprisingly to something as benign as a heart attack, not the loan sharks Rick always figured would do him in. Alex was eighty-six, but that hadn't stopped him from continuing the family business, hunting down artifacts and saving them and humanity when such was required.

Steve smiled softly before saying, "Thank you. People always know what I do or what I've done. They see me as a hero, but you and Evelyn, Alex and Jonathon? You saved the world a couple of times yourselves, but no one knows."

Rick shrugged. "I didn't do it for the world."

Two years later, though Steve didn't visit much, he kept in touch via email or text, which both surprised and touched Rick. He'd moved back to the States after Evie's death, mostly because he couldn't stand to be where she wasn't and had made a life there with Alex hovering.

Then one night, Steve showed up on his doorstep in the pouring rain, still healing from the bruises and broken ribs.

"He's alive."

Rick didn't need to ask who. Just led Steve into the house where the man fell to his knees beside Rick's chair and cried against his thigh like his soul had broken.

Or maybe it was like the broken bits were slowly forging back together, a beautiful work of Kintsugi, his fractured soul now filling with golden lines of hope.

When Steve left, it was with determination and purpose Rick hadn't seen on him since the forties. It was like he became a man possessed, determined to find what he'd lost, and Rick wished him every bit of luck. If Rick had the chance to get Evie back, there would be no stopping him.

Two more years passed, Rick aged a little more, and finally, a knock came at his door. He was one hundred and fourteen when he saw Bucky again. One hundred and fourteen, when he opened the door to a man haunted by trauma Rick couldn't even fathom.

Still, he opened the door to a grinning Steve, but it was the scowling Barnes he looked at.

"Jesus fuck you got old," Barnes muttered.

"Bucky!" Steve gasped.

Rick laughed so hard he made himself wheeze and waved them in. They joined him in his living room, where he sat, unable to stop smiling. "Good to see you haven't lost your sense of humour."

"Lost some good chunks of memory, but some nice people helped stuff them back in."

The harsh, cold blue eyes weren't the ones he remembered, but Rick could see him in there. He knew the stories, had heard all the reports. Longest living POW. Assassin. Killed JFK. Some said, war hero. Others cried, villain.

Rick knew it was likely a little of both in Barnes' mind.

But Steve still looked at Bucky like he hung the moon, and Bucky occasionally linked his pinky finger through Steve's when he thought Rick wouldn't notice.

"It's nice to see you boys back together." He jerked his chin at Steve. "That one mopes around something fierce."

"We're figuring it out," Steve said, enough force in the sentence to make it clear he was tired of Bucky running. It had taken two years to get the man to stop. "We've worked things out with Stark. Tony's a hothead, he's angry, but he gets Bucky wasn't in control as the soldier."

Rick watched Barnes' flinch. "No, but it was still your hands, right, Buck?"

Blue eyes darted to his and then away. "How the hell are you still alive?"

"Jeez, Buck!" Steve growled.

Rick chuckled, enjoying the role reversal. "Clean living."

They both snorted.

"Clean my ass. I've never seen anyone out drink Dum Dum before. What gives, O'Connell?" Barnes muttered.

Rick glanced at Steve. There was a pink flush to the man's cheeks, a clear indication this was something they'd talked about, but Steve had never asked. Rick had always wondered if it was out of self-preservation. Maybe he thought asking would jinx whatever link Steve had left to his past.

"Alex?" he called out. "Could you come in here?"

"You sure, Dad?"

Steve and Bucky both stiffened and exchanged a look, likely surprised they hadn't known Alex was there.

"I thought you said Alex was still in London?" Steve frowned.

"I lied," Rick smirked. "Yeah, boy. Get your arse in here."

He trotted down the hall and into the living room. "Highya, fellas!"

Bucky and Steve stared, gaping from Alex to Rick and back.

"Shit," Bucky hissed. "They got you too? How come no one knows?"

Alex leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, grin wide, his face as smooth and unwrinkled as it had been at twenty-five, the year he stopped ageing. The bright, burnished blond of his mop of unruly curls, something he'd inherited from Evie and only recently allowed to grow out, fell over his forehead and into his eyes.

"He's not a super-soldier," Rick explained before either man could have kittens. "Seems there was a side effect to the Bracelet of Anubis no one knew about."

Alex spread his arms and gave a cheeky grin. "Looks like I'm immortal."

Rick slapped a hand to his face. "Unageing is not immortal. You can still die, dumbass!"

"That explains him, but what about you?" Steve asked.

"Something to do with the temple." Rick shrugged. "I went through the door with him. Some of the power rubbed off. I age, just… slower."

"Hence the reason you look a spry eighty?" Barnes mumbled.

Rick chuckled, reached up, and pulled the prosthetics from his face. "More like a spry fifty."

"Jesus!" Steve's eyes went wide. "I never even guessed!"

"Alex is good with the face paint. We've had to be. And that's another reason we moved back here. People were starting to remark on the uncanny resemblance of my grandson to my son."

Steve and Bucky exchanged a look.

"What?" Rick murmured. "Surely, this isn't too much after witches, aliens, and giant green Hulks?"

"No. No, it's not that," Steve said, quick to reassure them. "It's just…"

"Punk had a second reason for coming today. The Avengers found some woo-woo shit. He wanted you to take a look at it. Stark's fancy AI can tell us lots, but she ain't you."

Rick leaned forward, his back cracking, thankful to be straightened. "I'm no Evie, but squirt over there took after her for smarts. She was always the brain. I was just the muscle."

"Come on, Dad." Alex sauntered in and nudged him. "You learned loads from Mum. Plus, that Warrior for God thing comes in handy on occasion."

"Warrior for God?" Bucky asked.

Rick worked the cuff off his right arm, showing them the tattoo hidden beneath it. "Sorry, fellas. Didn't tell you everything that happened with the Scorpion King."

"Yeah. Like how we used the Book of the Dead to bring Mum back to life," Alex grinned.

"I'm sorry. You did what now?" Steve asked.

Rick laughed and shook his head. "All in good time. Alex, get the whiskey. Let's see what you've got."

Steve rose and returned to the door where he'd left a backpack, while Alex grabbed four glasses and a bottle and dumped an unhealthy amount into each one. The bag clanked when Steve set it on the floor between his feet, and Rick arched a brow.

"This is what we found." He placed the golden box on the coffee table.

Rick gave a low whistle. "Jonathon would have liked the look of that."

"It's really brilliant, isn't it?" Alex mumbled as he crouched to take a closer look. "Look at the way the rubies are inlaid. It's like someone wanted it to appear as if it were dripping blood." He spun it slowly, taking in the images and raised glyphs. "Shite, Dad! Do you know what this is?"

Rick didn't get a chance to answer no as Alex was already running out of the room.

"So, is he as reckless as Evie?" Bucky asked, the first semblance of a smirk since his arrival twitching the man's lips.

"Worse. He's got a nose for treasure like Jonathon and my stubbornness," Rick chuckled. "Then, there's his mouth."

"Which he definitely got from you," Steve chuckled.

Rick didn't dispute it.

Alex returned and dropped a book as thick as Steve's arm on the table, causing it to jump, the chest to skitter across it, and only the reflexes of two super-soldiers to keep everything from going sideways.

"Alex! Calm your enthusiasm!" Rick barked.

"No! No, calming!" The manic gleam in his eyes never boded well for any expedition. "Look!"

He wrenched the book open, sending dust and the scent of musty pages spinning, but it opened on an illustrated page of a female warrior standing over the bodies of the slain.

"Ah, no," Rick groaned. "Not another mummy!"

#the mummy #the avengers #crossover #coming soonish

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earlysunsetsoverambrose · 4 years

Text

Operation Sweet Surprise (2/3)

Lester Sinclair x f!Reader (Romantic or Platonic)

Warnings: Cursing

Inside the store, you began hunting down the items you needed with Lester in tow. He offered to hold the basket for you so you could focus on making sure you got exactly what you were after.

“Okay, Lester. We need: milk, pie crust, vanilla extract, cinnamon, brown sugar, baking powder, and eight apples. So, if you see anything and I don’t just toss it in the basket!” you told him as your eyes started scanning the shelves.

“Yes, ma’am!” Lester said with a playful salute.

One by one, you found each ingredient, checking them off your mental list as you went. Throughout your expedition, you couldn’t help but notice other shoppers keeping their distance from you two. Of course, you knew exactly why they were acting this way. The smell of roadkill lingering on Lester’s raggedy exterior offended their delicate senses. The way some made a show of holding their breath or how their side eyes were more like dead on stares was not lost on you. It certainly wasn’t lost on Lester. With every murmur and scoff, he would offer an apologetic smile and a wave, but you could see his head sink lower and lower each time. This sort of thing didn’t always bother him, but sometimes it was hard to ignore. People always assumed he was oblivious to how his presence affected them, but he was more than aware. Frankly, he wished they would quit reminding him. Though every part of you wanted to snap at each shopper that passed you by, you elected to focus on lifting Lester’s spirits to distract him,

“Alright, all that’s left is to pick out some apples! C’mon and help me out!” you said with the biggest smile you could muster. You’d rather be glaring daggers, but you knew the other shoppers were hardly worth it. You took Lester’s hand and pulled him toward the small produce section “Which kind of apples do you think Bo would like best?”

“Not sure…” Lester said looking back and forth, checking to make sure no one was staring again, “Maybe I oughta wait in the truck. Don’t wanna bother no one else from their shopping.”

“No, don’t go! I need you!” you begged, “Besides, who cares what they think?”

“Well, I’m used to it. Just don’t want ‘em thinkin’ bad of ya, is all.” He said shyly

“Oh, please, don’t worry about that. I like spending time with you, Lester. I don’t give a shit about any of them. Who needs them?” You said, waving off his concern with a laugh “Now, help me pick out some apples.” The smile reached Lester’s eyes this time as he helped you pick out the best apples out of the bunch.

Once you had your apples picked, something caught your glance over Lester’s shoulder. It was an elderly woman, reaching for a box of cereal that was clearly too high on the shelf for her to get. Lester followed your eyes and immediately handed the basket over to you. He quickly made his way over to the lady. You followed close behind, catching the interaction,

“I can get that for ya, if ya like.” Lester offered sweetly with his signature grin. The woman staggered back, affronted at his proximity. She put a hand over her nose and mouth, her sour expression still apparent. Though she scowled at him, Lester kept smiling back at her. When she remained silent, he pointed to the box he thought she wanted, “This one? Good choice! Ya know, I hear this one’s good for the heart. Supposed to keep ya young and spry.” She didn’t reply, tapping her foot impatiently. He pulled the box down from the shelf and held it out to her, “There ya go. Need help with anythin’ else?”

“No.” she said shortly, as she ripped the box from his hands and turned away.

“Alright…have a nice day, I guess.” Lester said, frustration showing through, “Just tryin’ to help ya.”

“Excuse me!” You piped in, “My friend just helped you, and I think you’re being incredibly rude to him.”

“Y/N, it’s alright-”

“No, it isn’t. You helped her and she treated you like garbage.” You said angrily. You were tired of watching people walk all over him. He might’ve been good enough to let it go, but you weren’t, “Who raised you? Didn’t anyone teach you anything about kindness?”

“How dare you speak to me like that? You should learn to respect your elders, young lady.” the old woman finally responded, “In my day, helping older folks was expected. Our generation didn’t need a pat on the back every time we did the bare minimum. What do you want? A reward?”

“Well, I grew up at least saying a ‘thank you’ when someone helped me. I don’t think that’s asking a lot. Just want you to treat my friend with a bit of decency.” You snapped, your knuckles turning white as you tightened your grip on your basket.

“Decency? I’ve shown plenty of decency by not demanding you both be thrown out of the store. I don’t usually tolerate uncivilized spoiled brats, like you two.” The woman stuck up her nose and pinched it, “You reek of squalor, so it seems to me you were the ones who are lacking an upbringing.”

“Uncivilized? Lady, you’re the one who doesn’t have any god damn manners! If anyone’s acting uncivilized here, it’s you!” you hissed venomously, taking a step toward the woman. Lester stopped you in your tracks, allowing the woman to turn and shamble away cursing you under her breath, both offended and threatened by you.

“Hey, hey, don’t pay any attention to her. She ain’t worth it.” Lester said, patting your shoulder.

“She shouldn’t be allowed to treat you like that.” You said still a bit heated.

“It’s like ya said, ‘Who needs ‘em?’” Lester said surprisingly relaxed about the whole situation, “But let’s get goin’ ‘fore she gets us kicked out like she said.”

You started toward the register and got in line. There were quite a few people ahead of you as everyone was out getting their groceries for the week, no doubt. Lester took the basket back as you waited together. You were about to ask him about cleaning animal bones to lighten the mood before he chimed in first,

“Thanks, Y/N.”

“For what?” you asked with a tilt of your head.

“Stickin’ up for me ‘n all. It sure was somethin’.” He said with a hint of a blush dusting his cheeks, “I know I don’t smell too great, so bein’ with me ain’t always fun. But ya never treat me any worse for it, and it means a lot.”

“Aw, Lester, you don’t have to thank me for that. I enjoy spending time with you, it’s hardly a chore.” You said as you rubbed his shoulder reassuringly.

“Still…I know I yammer on and I don’t know when to shut up. Most people can’t stand me, it ain’t a secret. Didn’t make too many friends growin’ up ‘cuz of it and it didn’t get any easier once I started workin’…” Lester explained, “I tried to keep the smell off, but it’s harder than it looks, ya know. And after a while, I figured if people don’t want anythin’ to do with me anyway, I might as well just leave it be.”

“Lester…” you said sympathetically, trying not to knock the basket out of his hands and wrap him up in a hug and protect him from the world.

“’Sides, I love my job. I really do. And if I smell, I can make like that’s the reason people don’t like me.” He added with a half-hearted laugh to take the edge off the truth of it all “Anyway, just wanted to thank ya for bein’ nice to me.”

Before you could respond, it was your turn to check out. Lester instantly starting chatting away with the cashier, going on about knives and the small items for sale at the register. You smiled to yourself, watching him. Even if others continued to put him down, Lester always got right back to it. You had no idea how he kept going sometimes. You attention was drawn away from him as the total came up on the screen.

“Shit.” You cursed quietly to yourself. You counted your money back, hoping maybe you had more than you thought, to no avail. You were five dollars short. You looked over your items trying decide what you could part with. All of them were necessary to the recipe so you not only could you not decide, you were embarrassed that you had underestimated how much you’d need to spend.

“What’s wrong, Y/N?” Lester whispered as he leaned in, also looking at the groceries, “Missin’ somethin’?”

“I don’t have enough…” you trailed off, trying to work through a solution in the next two minutes, trying not to keep others waiting whilst also not drawing attention to your crisis

“Apples?” Lester suggested, “I’ll run on back and get some more, if ya need!”

“Money…I don’t have enough for everything.” You said, unable to stop your voice from shaking from the sudden tears that brimmed in your eyes. Lester snapped to attention at the tremble in your voice.

“Aw, please don’t cry! How much do ya need?” he asked as he scrambled to comfort you. He rubbed awkward circles into your back, moving you back and forth with his clumsy motions. Even in distress, you found his gesture to be sweet.

“Five dollars.” You confessed as your face went hot with anxiety.

“That ain’t so bad! I got it!” Lester said happily, reaching into his pocket and fishing out a crumpled bill. He might have said it like wasn’t a big deal, but you knew money was always tight for the Sinclairs. While Lester did make the most steady income out of all of them, he didn’t have a whole lot of money to throw around, “See, don’t need to panic!”

“You don’t have to do this! You work hard for your money, I can ditch something, I think. Don’t waste it on me.” You said in a panic. You’d already asked so much of him already; you couldn’t let him do this too.

“Well, I do work hard. So, I suppose that means I can spend my money how I want.” Lester said cheekily. He gathered up your money with his and handed it over, “And I wanna give it to ya. ‘Sides, I oughta pitch somethin’ in. It’s for my brothers after all.”

“Thank you, Lester…I really owe you.” you said as your apprehension drained from your posture and voice. You almost cried from his generosity, rather than humiliation.

“Ain’t nothin’ to worry ‘bout.” Lester said sweetly, nudging your shoulder to help you shake off the sadness that had almost overtaken you. He carried your groceries toward the door and back to the truck, “C’mon we gotta lotta bakin’ to do!”

You were a bit distracted on the ride back. Lester was chattering on about skulls again, but your mind wandered back to what he said while you waited in line. You wouldn’t say you’d done anything extraordinary for him. All you did was talk to him and treat him like any human should be treated. Still, that was more than he’d ever received from anyone. You couldn’t help but stare at him. Beside you was a man who has always been treated like he wasn’t worth the time. No one cared about what he had to say or how he felt, and they told him so to his face. Despite all that, he still turned out to be incredibly generous, kind, helpful, and by far the most warmhearted person you knew.

And it wasn’t because the insults and the neglect went over his head. You knew he felt the sting of it all. It was because he kept moving along. You had no idea how he was able to let it all roll off his back, but you simply attributed it to Lester being remarkable. Sure, he got disappointed when others didn’t want to talk to him, but he never got too hung up on it for long. He was always able to find joy in other parts of his life. Not only that, he was capable of sharing that joy with others; at least, he was always willing. Lester had a heart of gold and it left a bitter taste knowing that if life had been fairer – or society more kind – he’d might have become something truly special. Not that you didn’t like him just as he was; you thought he was wonderful. It was just such a shame that he had so many wonderful things to offer and you were the only one who could see that. All because his chances were spoiled before he ever really got to living.

“Do you ever get mad, Lester?” you asked, accidentally cutting him off from his rant about knives.

“Sure, I do. Sometimes.” Lester said with a goofy grin still pulling as his face. His smile turned into curiosity and a bit of confusion as he thought over your question a second time, “Wait, mad ‘bout what?”

“I don’t know. Do you ever wish things were different?”

“Different how?”

“Like, do you ever think about what it might’ve been like if you were born somewhere else or into a different life entirely? Like all the what ifs and maybes? Just for fun?” you added

“Hmmm…” Lester thought out loud, “Nope.”

“Really? Never?” you asked in disbelief.

“Naw, I like what I got.” He said smiling once again, never more content, “And ‘sides, I got you now. Wouldn’t know ya if I was born someplace else. Don’t wanna go riskin’ that, do I?” you felt your heart skip a beat and blood rush to your cheeks.

“And they say Bo’s the one with all the charm.” You mumbled to yourself, catching a glimpse of Lester, oblivious and carefree as ever. He really had no clue how incredible he was.

#lester sinclair #lester sinclair x reader #bo sinclair #vincent sinclair #house of wax #house of wax 2005 #slasher x reader #slasher imagine #my writing #operation sweet surprise #tw: cursing #female reader

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galadrieljones · 4 years

Text

As You Were (Chapter 7)

Fandom: The Last of Us | Pairing: Joel x OC | Content: Fix-it | Rating: Mature

Masterpost

When Joel and Ellie take a wrong turn on their journey from Pittsburgh to Wyoming, they find themselves lost in what feels at first like a time warp: a beautiful place with a dark and dangerous secret. While there, they meet Cici and Noah, a mother and son fighting tirelessly for survival, and who have recently endured a terrible tragedy on their family farm. Amidst their joint desire to find hope for the future, the two groups decide to set out west together, changing the course of the story (as we know it), and the very course of their lives.

This is an AU, starting after the events of the Summer chapter in the first game, and extending into the timeline of the second game. Joel lives.

Chapter 7: Interlude I (Storm)

“Just admit you love it,” said Ellie. “Don’t be a bitch.”

She and Noah were in the back house as the rain pounded down on the roof. Neko Case was playing. In the past two weeks since arriving in Jackson, they had rigged up the stereo but not the space heaters. It was still the dog days of summer. Noah would just light a fire in the stove at night, because it was faster. And if it got too cold, they could just go to the main house and crash on the living room floor anyway.

“I will not deny that this is good shit,” said Noah. They were talking about the music, on the stereo. “You can count on me.”

“I love this music,” said Ellie. Every dial tone, every truck stop, every heartbreak, I love you more. “It’s pure.” She flopped back onto the bed and closed her eyes. “It sounds like water. I wonder if Joel knows about Neko.”

“Probably,” said Noah. He was on the floor, sawing two-by-fours. He wanted to make an end table. It had been a while since he’d done any sort of carpentry. “He knows a lot of weird shit about music.”

“Does Cici know Neko?”

“Maybe? Though we didn’t have any of this back at the house.”

Ellie stared up at the ceiling. They had stuck a bunch of glow-in-the-dark stars up there, loot from the Wal-mart back in Nebraska. Elsewhere on the walls there were posters and drawings by Ellie and maps that Noah had collected from their various stops, all along the I-80.

“Do you think this place will last?” said Ellie. “Jackson. Do you think it’s legit?”

“I hope so,” said Noah.

There was a knock on the door then. Ellie sat up straight, had switched her knife open just to look at it. “Who is it?” she said.

“It’s Dina. From the bonfire?”

Dina was a surprise. Ellie swung her feet around, over the side of the bed, electrocuted, and failed to speak.

“Hang on,” said Noah. He got up, set the saw on the kitchen table, which was stacked mostly with books. He opened the door, and there was Dina, standing like a picture, hands shoved in her pockets in her green hoodie.

“Hey,” she said. “You’re Noah, right?”

“Yes, ma’am,” he said. “And you’re Dina.”

“Is Ellie here?”

“Yup. Come on in.”

Dina stepped inside, shook off the rain. Meanwhile, Ellie was just standing there with her knife still out, like she was going to stab someone. “Hey,” she said.

“You okay?” said Dina.

“What?” said Ellie. She looked down at the blade, blushing awkwardly, then she put it away into her pocket. “Oh, yeah. I’m fine. What’s going on?”

“I just came because Maria got a call on the radio,” said Dina. Her hair was tied back tightly off her face. “Joel and Tommy are stuck at one of the lookouts over in town, because of the storm. They’re fine, but they’ll probably be gone till morning. She wanted me to let you know.”

“Why didn’t she just come herself?” said Ellie.

“Oh,” said Dina. “Well, I was there. I offered.”

“I should go tell my mom,” said Noah.

“Why don’t you just call her?” said Ellie. “On the walkie.”

“I could,” said Noah. He put on his sneakers. His hair was getting longer. Kind of floppy behind his ears. “But with it storming like this, she’s probably already worried.”

“Yeah,” said Ellie. “Nevermind. You’re right.”

“I’ll be back,” he said.

“See ya,” said Dina.

Once he was gone, Ellie and Dina stood in the room, just looking at each other. The thunder went off in the distance, bellowing somewhere over the mountain, low and mean. But it was just a storm, thought Ellie. Just a storm.

“So, how’s it going?” said Dina, eventually. She had her hands behind her back.

“Pretty good,” said Ellie. “How’s it going with you?”

“Not bad. Do you remember me, or…?”

“Of course,” said Ellie. She went over to the makeshift kitchen. There were some cokes in the cooler that she and Noah had salvaged a few days before. “You want one?”

“Hell yeah,” said Dina.

They opened their cokes and drank them sitting in bean bag chairs, listening to the music and the rain for a while. The soda was sort of flat, but they didn’t care. It tasted delicious. “This music is good,” said Dina. “It’s pretty, kind of country. What is it?”

“It’s this lady, named Neko Case,” said Ellie. She was wearing an old shirt, blue, with a surfer on the front and the words Cowabunga, dude. “I just discovered her actually. She’s really awesome. I think this album came out like, a week or so before the shit hit the fan in 2013?”

“Seriously?” said Dina.

“Yeah,” said Ellie. “Me and Noah have actually been scavenging all the best albums from that year, from like music stores and stuff. We’re trying to get as complete of a collection as possible.”

“That’s so neat,” said Dina. She held her coke with both hands, looking down at her thumbs. “You’re like really cool historians.”

“Sort of,” said Ellie. “But that’s being generous.”

They sipped.

“So, tell me something,” said Dina after a little while. Her voice changed, like she had gained confidence all of a sudden. “What’s the deal with you guys. Is Noah your real brother who you magically found after ten years of separation, or is that just a rumor?”

“It’s a rumor,” said Ellie. “Noah is just…we’re not related.”

“Well you guys seem like siblings.”

“We’ve been through a lot,” said Ellie. “Maybe that’s what people are sensing.”

“There’s definitely a bond there.”

“I don’t have any real siblings, that I know of at least,” said Ellie. “Do you?”

“Not anymore,” said Dina. Her eyes were very brown, like little mud puddles. Dina was an open book.

Noah came in the door then, loudly, and soaking wet. He was like a giant dog sometimes, stomping through the house. “Jesus Christ,” he said. “It is fucking pouring.”

“Yeah, we know,” said Dina.

“I’m gonna head out,” said Noah. He started rummaging through the bureau by the door, tugged a gray hoodie over his head, and then he yanked the drawstrings until the hood closed almost totally around his face so you could only see his nose. He looked like a too-tall alien. It was funny.

“Head out where?” said Ellie.

“To Jesse’s,” he said, loosening the hood. “You guys wanna come?”

“What about Cici?” said Ellie.

“She’s already on her way,” said Noah. “She was getting ready to leave when I went over there.”

Dina was looking down into her can again, as if it were full of secrets.

Ellie said, “Dina, you wanna go?”

The rain kicked up outside. It seemed like it wouldn’t let up for hours. Dina drank the last of her coke and set the empty can down on the floor. She stood quickly and smoothed out the wrinkles in her shirt. “Sure,” she said. “Let’s do it.”

“Sweet,” said Noah.

***

“So you just went on up there, to La Crosse, with the boy,” said Tommy, feet crossed up on the coffee table. They were getting old and half-high from the cigarettes. “No questions asked.”

“No questions asked,” said Joel, finishing his cigarette. “It wasn’t like back in Boston.”

“What changed?”

“Noah kind of—he reminded me, of me. He needed to convince himself of something, maybe it was just to do with figuring out what was happening to his town, maybe it was a test. I don’t know. But he’s a good kid, and I didn’t want him going down the wrong path.”

“And Cici, what was her deal, back then?”

Joel leaned back in the chair, sinking. It was in tatters and the bottom was practically falling out. He said, “To be quite honest, she was a complete mystery to me. Still is."

"Ain't they all."

"Noah's much more forthcoming," said Joel. "Maybe too forthcoming, I don't know. Maybe it's a good thing, because he gets Ellie talking, even when she don't want to. Cici and me, we got along fine in the beginning, but it was like anything in a situation like that. It took us a while to become friends.”

Tommy started laughing. “Guess it must be hard for you, big brother. Meeting your match like that.”

Joel just ashed his cigarette on the table as the storm raged outside.

“Well, I am glad you came back,” said Tommy, quiet. “To Jackson. When you all came through the first time, I really didn't know. I didn't know if we'd see you again. But we really needed you guys. And it’s good to—well, it’s just good to be together again, ain’t it?”

Joel took a drag, looking down at his knuckles. “This is a nice place you’ve built here, little brother. I'm sorry if it ever seemed like I doubted you. You and Maria have done good work.”

“Thanks,” said Tommy, placing his boots back on the ground. “Now, tell me what the hell happened next. Who the hell were these Circle of the Holy Signal motherfuckers? And what the hell did Cici say happened back at the farm—with the Amish girl?”

Joel smiled to himself as if recalling a joke out of the blue. “Brace yourself,” he said.

***

At Jesse’s, Cici sat alone on the covered back porch, looking up into the storm. She had a glass of whiskey, locally distilled in a barrel on the other side of the compound. Jackson made her think of home, filling her with unwanted memories, and a mild anxiety. Jesse’s parents had a dog named Cinderella. She was a black Schipperke mix, little and spry. She came along and licked Cici's hand where she sat, looking up at her expectantly, all wet from the rain.

“You want to be inside, don’t you?” said Cici. She smiled and patted the dog behind the ears. The little dog had brought her back down to earth, out of the raging sky. “Me, too. Let’s ditch this weather.”

Back in the house, the kids were in the living room, drinking soda and exchanging stories of the past. Noah and Ellie had arrived. They were sitting on the couch and waved when she came in. He had his arm slung around Ellie. She shared little of her life with the group, as usual, thought Cici, but she was always responsive and encouraging of others to share their lives with her. Dina was telling a story about New Mexico. Jesse watched her closely while leaning against the fireplace. There was music on the stereo, Fleetwood Mac.

Robin, Jesse’s mother, came along with a plate of chicken wings. “You want some?” she said.

“I'm good,” said Cici.

Robin took the plate out to the living room instead, set it on the coffee table where it would be devoured. Robin was a really nice woman and an excellent cook. She had always made Cici feel welcome. She pioneered most of the potlucks in town, and Jesse and Noah were becoming friends. That night, she had her hair down. She wore a hooded sweatshirt. She was a few years older than Cici, but that was inconsequential. “Where’s Joel?” she said.

“Him and Tommy got stuck at the lookout,” said Cici, sipping her whiskey. “Maria said they radio'd in. They’ll be back in the morning.”

"You worried?"

Cici shrugged. "I'm trying not to be. Maria said everything was all clear. It's just the storm."

Robin seemed to understand this. “Jonathan is working in his greenhouse,” she said. “Guess it’s just the the women and children tonight.”

“What’s he up to?”

“They want to expand the soy crop,” said Robin. “They need to build more space. With summer running out on us, there’s a crunch.”

Cici had helped out some, with the farming. Though she was not as familiar with greenhouses. “Are storms common in the mountains, in late summer?”

“Yes,” she said. “What about in the midwest?”

“Very much,” said Cici. “The changing of the seasons bring chaos everywhere.”

“I hear that.” Robin’s laugh was deep. It was reassuring. “Jesse likes this group,” she said, looking at the kids in the living room, sniping at one another and eating chicken. “He fits in with them. I like them, too. They’re rascals, all of them.”

“It’s good,” said Cici, “to see Noah, like this. With other teenagers. Just hanging out. For a long time, I was worried he would never have the chance."

“What about Joel?” said Robin. “How is he with Joel?”

Cici was staring at Noah. He had gotten taller, again. Just in that past year. She thought he might keep on growing forever, like one of those Giant Redwoods she had read about in childhood, the ones that lived way out in California. “He’s actually good,” she said. “He's always liked Joel. Joel was there for Noah, early on."

“That’s good.” Robin leaned past Cici to pick up a bottle of beer from the counter. She popped off the top and said, “Cheers. I’m glad you came tonight.”

“Me, too,” said Cici. They drank.

“Are you guys going to the softball game tomorrow?” said Robin.

“As long as the rain stays away, probably. Ellie mentioned something about making tee-shirts. She's pretty enthusiastic.”

Robin thought it was unironically a good idea. "I can help," she said.

Then the lights flickered, again, and then again. The rain was still heavy on the roof, and a hush fell over the room. Everybody looked around as if waiting for something to happen. Jesse paused the music and straightened up off the mantle. Noah was up, looking out the window. Ellie and Dina were looking at each other, as if making calculations in one another’s eyes about what to do next.

“It’s just the storm,” said Robin, as the tension died down. Jesse turned the music back on, and the talking resumed. “They are used to the worst case scenario. But you remember, don’t you, Cici? A time when a storm was just a storm.”

Cici watched Noah and Ellie. She couldn’t hear what they were saying, but it looked like he’d made some sort of stupid joke, and she was rumpling his hair, and they were laughing on the couch beneath the faint, white glow of the Christmas lights. They reminded her of puppies. When she was eighteen and pregnant, sitting on a river bank in Viroqua, WI, what had she imagined her life would become? Joel had said the same thing once, in a manner of speaking. When I was eighteen, I had a GED and two jobs, he’d said. Three, if you counted Sarah. She tried not thinking about him when he wasn't there.

There was a knock on the door then. It was Maria. At first, Cici was worried. But that was just the storm talking. Maria had a bottle of wine and a bowl of potato chips. Her hair was down, and she looked tired but pretty.

“Took you long enough,” said Robin.

“No rest for the wicked,” said Maria.

When Maria came into the kitchen, all the kids shouted HEY MARIA as raucously as possible, and everybody laughed and asked for her to hand over the chips. Maria was a stern woman but even she could not resist them.

***

Outside, later on, Ellie and Noah were sitting out on the porch. Noah was scratching Cinderella the dog behind the ears while Ellie sat with her knees pulled up to her chest, staring hard into the dark as if parsing its atoms, which screamed.

“So," said Noah. “What's going on with Dina?"

Dina was still inside the house with Jesse. They had gravitated toward one another as the night drew on.

“Nothing,” said Ellie, sighing. “I don’t know. Does it seem like something's going on?"

“She's nice,” he said. “You could tell me."

“I hardly know her,” said Ellie.

“That doesn’t always matter.”

“She likes Jesse anyway,” said Ellie. “I’m just some girl. I don’t fit.”

“Fit where?” said Noah.

Ellie laughed at this and shoved him in the shoulder. “Shut up.”

“I’m serious,” said Noah. “Where are you trying to fit?”

“I don’t know, Noah.”

“Is this a Riley thing?” he said.

“Please,” she said.

“Fine,” he said. Ellie was not an open book. “Well, I’ll still be your friend.”

“Oh, ha ha,” said Ellie, shoving him again, harder this time. He almost tipped in his chair, but that was on purpose. “Like you could unfriend me. You need me.”

He thought back to Moline, when they had found that arcade. It had been raining that night, too. He remembered the blood, gathering and running down the drain pipes, as if that's what they were meant for. “Let’s go inside before this storm gets the best of us,” he said.

***

On the Stereo:

"Calling Cards" by Neko Case "Magpie to the Morning" by Neko Case "Storms" by Fleetwood Mac

#the last of us #tlou #the last of us 2 #tlou2 #ellie tlou #joel tlou #dina tlou #jesse tlou #as you were #flash FORWARD

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bucketofcowboys · 4 years

Text

Anyways so here's a fic I made about my RDR OC Kathren Whiteman. (I probably won’t elaborate too much on her after this fic because honestly RDR OC culture scares me)

Also Arthur’s age in this is 12 because I headcannon he joined the gang around then. (thank you @wynkenblynken for that headcannon <3)

Words: 3,386

Warnings: No real warnings. Just some OC and kid Arthur content.

The local saloon was much like any other you could find in any old town in the west. Loose wooden doors that would swing open freely at the slightest push and old oak floorboards that would give an awful groan whenever a heavy boot would press down on it. It even had round wooden tables that were chipped at the sides and covered in scratches and booze stains on the top. At this time of day the saloon was pretty empty. Most of the people inside were eating a freshly bought meal from the bartender and few actually had drinks in their hands. The hot noon sun beat down on the dusty roads outside and rays of sun that cast down through the front windows of the saloon gave a lazy heat.

The splintered wooden door at the front of the saloon gently swung open and a woman walked through. Not wanting to linger in the doorway for too long, she headed straight for the bar. The copper spurs she wore on the heel of her dust stained boots rang with each step she took. She inspected the seats by the bar and made sure to sit on the one that had the least amount of splinters.

The bartender was an older gentleman. Crows feet fell upon the crease of his eyes and the laugh lines around his mouth framed his curled mustache. His hair was short, dark, and was pomaded into a fashionable slicked back look. His eyes were a silvery gray and they had a kind quality to them. When the bartender noticed the woman he turned his attention to her. At first he was a bit taken aback by her appearance. It definitely wasn't...traditional. She wore a cowboy's clothing and her hair wasn't pinned up. Instead it hung loosely and was short enough to barely touch her shoulders. The man got over his momentary shock in a moment, putting on a sweet and slightly awkward smile as he looked up at the odd woman.

"Can I help you ma'am?" He asked. His crows feet deepened as he smiled.

"Yeah. I'm fixin' for somethin' to eat." She offered a small crooked smile up at the bartender. Her hands rested on the bar and relaxed across them as if she was aching to feel the coolness of its surface. The man nodded and his eyes stared up at the ceiling for a moment as if he was recollecting something.

"Today we have...beef and fish stew and uhh..." he paused for a moment, "Oh! And oatmeal. All for three dollars."

"Beef stew sounds good." She retracted from her position on the bar so she would reach into the small leather coin purse that hung from the side of her belt. Another odd thing about the woman. She had holsters. One on each side of her hips and both holding old dirty revolvers. Heavily used ones at that. The man's silvery eyes immediately left the holsters when suddenly the woman slid a few worn dollars his way. His faked out smile soon returned as he took the money.

"I'll have that right out for you."

"Thank you kindly." He then turned to grab the hot stew she ordered.

As she waited for him to prepare her meal her eyes left the man and instead were attracted to the window. The sunlight that came through the glass stained the floor with a white glow. Where the rays were visable coming in it made it easy to see the dust that flew carelessly through the air. She found herself a bit distracted as she watched the swirling particles as they lazily floated through the light. So distracted that, when she felt a sharp tug on her belt it took her a few seconds to process what had happened. When her eyes shot down to where she felt the tug she was greeted by a child, seeming to he around ten or twelve, pulling on her coin bag until the strings untied from her leather belt.

As soon as she processed what had happened and went to grab at the little thief it was already too late. He had the purse held tight in his hands and was bolting away towards the door of the saloon. She quickly shot up from her chair and slipped in the process. Luckily the woman caught herself and fixed her footing before she could fall on the hard ground. As soon as she was back in balance she began to run after the boy who she saw sprinting out the door out of the corner of her eye.

"Hey!" She called after the boy. She ran down the steps that lead to the saloon door and out onto the dusty street. Passersby turned their head to watch the scene as she chased the young boy. "Come back here!" Her call seemed desperate. Everything she had was in that coin purse. She wasn't giving up on this chase. The boy tried to make an easy escape, squeezing between two men walking in the street in an attempt to slow his chaser down. When she came up upon the men she pushed past them, mumbling a rushed sorry before continuing the chase.

It took a few minutes and a couple of angry townspeople before finally she had chased him into an alleyway between the local store and the gunshop. The alleyway was narrow and only had one opening, and that was the opening where the woman was standing. The perpetrator kept running down the alleyway anyways, thinking wishfully that maybe he could find some sort of escape at the end. But all he found were the shadows that the two tall buildings cast into the small space. The woman's chest was heaving heavily now as she breathed and made a slow walk down the alleyway to trap the boy. She had chased people before, but they weren't usually spry young boys. She would much prefer chasing down run down middle aged men. At least they would be just as tired as she was at this point.

"You're a...fast runner....kid." She mumbled out between heavy breaths. The boy had pushed himself deep into the shadowy back corner of the alleyway. He clutched her coin purse close to his chest, as if loosening his grip at all would cause it to disappear entirely. He said nothing though, the only noise coming from him being his small labored breaths.

The woman had a good look at him now. Her previous assumption about him was right, he did seem to be about ten or twelve and he was skinny. Way too skinny than he should be. His skin was tanned and his cheeks and forehead were covered with blotchy red burns that looked hot to the touch. His unruly hair was a dark shade of blonde and it stuck to his forehead in dark patches as he sweated under the sweltering sun. His eyes were green and blue, like a river dipping between a luscious green valley. Though his eyes had such vivid colors they seemed dulled by the loneliness that hid behind them. She recognized those eyes. They were so familiar to her.

The boy expected the woman to hurt him. Take her coin purse back before kicking his head in and leaving him bloodied and bruised for what he did. He was sure he deserved it. Usually he would just snatch a dollar or two from the back pocket of some drunk fool at the tavern, but this time he was too desperate and too ballsy and decided to go for the coin purse. He wasn't proud of what he had done, he doesn't like stealing, but it was what he needed to do to survive. He sat in the corner of the alleyway, shrinking himself up in a foolish attempt to hide himself from the woman. He was scared. His breathing became more and more rapid the closer she came and tears pricked at the edge of his eyes as he sucked in the painfully dry air around him. He expected rage, violence, pain. But none of it came.

Instead the woman kneeled down onto one knee about two feet away from the boy and she looked down at him with a soft look in her deep brown eyes. A look of sympathy. A look of knowing.

"What's your name?" Her voice was soft as she spoke to him and her gaze was steady. It was almost as if she was trying to tame a wild animal. Build its trust. The boy was confused by her soft approach, and he stayed silent for a few moments to process everything. The woman stayed patient until his small weak voice finally broke from his throat.

"Arthur." His voice was raspy as if the desert air had weathered it down. The woman gave a slow nod and offered a kind smile.

"Arthur. Like king Arthur?" She mused, but when the boy answered her question only with a look of confusion she quickly left the subject. "I'm Kathren." Again, he didn't respond. She took the opportunity to take a step towards him. But as soon as she did he flinched back. She quickly took a step back again when she saw that flinch. "Well, Arthur, you have my money and I would really like to have it back." She said slowly.

Arthur quickly took the coin bag and threw it at the ground between them. He thought that maybe if he just listened to everything she said for him to do she'd leave him alone. Kathren's eyes flickered away from Arthur for a moment to focus on the coin bag. She then took a few cautious steps forwards before she grabbed the coin purse. She took a few seconds to fasten it back on the side of her belt, this time with a much tighter knot, and then focused her attention back on the boy.

"Where are your parents?" She asked him. He averted his eyes from her to look down at the dirt ground. A dull, aching stare. No answer left his lips, but that reaction was enough for her to realize what he meant. A deep frown made its way onto her features and the sympathy behind her eyes only grew. She took a slow step forward until there was only a foot between them, he pushed himself hard against the brick walls of the alleyway when she did. "I ain't gonna hurt you kid, calm down." She paused for a moment before speaking again, "Let me buy you a meal. You look skinny as hell and I ain't one to let a kid go starving." Along with her offer she offered her hand to him to help him up from the alleyway floor.

He stared at her hand for a few moments as he contemplated if he should accept her offer or not. He was starving, and there was no way he could lie about that. He hadn't eaten in days and the excruciating pain in his stomach made his decision easy. He took her hand and she pulled him up to his feet. Once he was up Kathren nodded towards the exit of the alleyway before beginning to head towards the main road that was still brightly lit by the smoldering sun. It was a great contrast from the cool shadows of the book she and Arthur found themselves in.

Arthur hesitated before he began to follow Kathren. His brain was telling him that this wasn't a good idea. That maybe she was just leading him to a quiet place to snuff him out. But at this point his hunger was dictating his actions. He ached to have some form of food and if she was willing to offer it he was going to follow like a moth drawn to a flame. He followed her from a small distance, about three feet between them. He looked around nervously at the people that were congregating in the main streets of the town. They all seemed to be looking their way with puzzled expressions clear on their faces. Arthur was just as confused as them if he was being perfectly honest. He didn't understand why this Kathren lady was being so kind to him.

Kathren and Arthur were soon walking up the steps that lead into the saloon they had just left. Kathren pushed open the front door that freely flung open wide. As she walked in she checked behind her to see if Arthur was still following her. She had a bit of a look of surprise when she realized he was still trailing behind her. They walked up to the bar and the bartender perked up when he noticed the woman was back from her chase, not noticing the boy that had trailed after her.

"I hope you got your money back. That little thief has been terrorizing the fine men that utilize my tavern and he's been scaring off customers. The little bastard..." he said to her before realizing that there was a second, much shorter figure with her. His mustache twitched as he leaned over the bar to get a better look and when he was greeted by none other than the thief he spoke of. He offered a nervous smile to the boy.

"Can I get the stew I paid for and uh..." she paused to reach into her coin purse once more and brought out three more dollars, "An oatmeal for the kid?" She slid the money towards the bartender and he stared up at her with an unreadable look before he finally took the cash.

"I uh--alright." His bushy eyebrows were furrowed, but he did his job and turned to make their meals.

Kathren turned back to look at Arthur. He was giving her a wide eyed look. Unsure of her motives but still satisfied with the fact that she wasn't lying to him about the food. She offered him a friendly smile.

"Come on." She nodded her head towards one of the smaller tables in the saloon that had two chairs facing each other. They both sat down at the table and soon enough they both had full bowls of their respective dishes hot and steaming in front of them. When Arthur began to eat Kathren could only compare the ferociousness of how he gobbled up the oatmeal to a cougar she saw ripping a jack rabbit to shreds a while back. He didn't even pause to take a breath as he shoved spoonfuls of oatmeal into his gullet on for a moment she swears she saw his face tint a slight purple.

"Christ kid, slow down." She grunted, causing the kid to look up from his bowl and at her. His cheeks were filled up with food and he looked a sight. "You're gonna give yourself a bad stomach ache and you'll be hacking up everythin' you just stuffed your mouth with." She scolded him, and he actually listened to her. He sat up in his seat and took a moment to chew the rest of the food in his mouth and made sure to take the next few bites slow. She watched him for a few moments before she started on her own food. After a few moments of silent eating finally the kid spoke one again for the first time since they left the alleyway.

"Thank you..." his voice was soft and his eyes were glued on his oatmeal. He quickly shoved another spoonful into his mouth. Kathren glanced up at him and chuckled.

"Like I said, I ain't one to leave a kid to starve." Arthur finally glanced up and caught her eyes. They were a deep soulful brown that were strangely comforting. Comforting in a way Arthur quite liked.

"...why?" Kathren had to pause for a moment to process his question, as if contemplating something.

"I suppose...cause I was like you once. Starvin' on the street, alone without my parents, stealin' whatever I could get my hands on..." She trailed off and looked off into the distance for a moment before her eyes flickered back to the boy, "That ain't no way of life, now is it?" He shook his head in agreement.

"Your parents are dead too?" Kathren gave a nod. "Did you like em'?" Kathren perked up at the question, having to think for a moment before she spoke again.

"I liked my Mama. She was brave and beautiful and kind...everything I wanna be." She reached her hand into the space between her button up and her neck. She pulled out a small copper coin pendant that was around her neck and she pulled it forwards to show Arthur. "This was hers. I always kept it cause' it reminded me of her. My pa on the other hand..." she tucked the pendant back under her shirt, "He was an awful man. I didn't like him much. What about you?" Arthur seemed a little surprised when the question was put back onto him.

"Well...I guess we're kind of the same? I quite liked my ma. My father...he was okay I guess. I didn't hate him but..." he trailed off before his eyes met Kathrens, "He wasn't a good man." The look in his eyes spoke numbers on how he felt about that. He didn't seem like he liked that fact but at the same time that same knowing look was there. Kathren let out a laugh. A laugh that seemed so heartfelt that it honestly surprised Arthur.

"I guess me and your pa got somethin' in common." Arthur's brows furrowed at that.

"What do you mean you've got something in common?"

"We both're bad."

"You don't seem that bad. I mean...you helped me."

"I can be kind and still be bad." She chuckled but the boy was frowning. A few moments of silence fell between them. Kathren took a few more slurps of her stew and soon enough her bowl was as empty as Arthur's. The boy was now pensively looking out the window as he waited for her to finish. She was the one who broke the silence again.

"Y'know...I could help you. I have a camp a little ways outside of town. We can give you food, water, a home." Arthur seemed to perk up as she spoke and her lips twitched up into a smile when she noticed his interest, "I camp with some real nice people too. A bit rowdy, but they're kind souls. I think Hosea'd probably like you..." she whispered that last part. Arthur seemed to be leaning over the table now.

"All of that for free?" He asked and she shook her head, his face immediately fell.

"No, not for free. But you don't pay with money." Arthur looked confused, "Just loyalty."

"Loyalty?"

"Mhm." She hummed back as if it was obvious what she meant. When she saw the lost look in his eyes she realized maybe she was assuming too much of the boy. "You're fast, small, and willin' to steal from others. You'd be the perfect bait for a good couple of robberies." She explained to him. Now he was starting to get it. "We give you the essentials, you steal us money." Arthur had an intense look on his face as he thought for a moment, weighing his options.

"Okay." He finally said.

"Okay?"

"Okay. I'll do it." That same kind smile from before fell onto Kathren's lips when he finally agreed. Like she had won a prize. The way she saw it she just saved a life and got them some good bait for robbing. She knew it would take Dutch and Hosea some convincing to take the kid in but they could be influenced.

"Well, Arthur..." she stood from her seat and offered the boy a hand to shake, "Congratulations, you are now the newest member of the Van Der Linde gang." Arthur stared at her hand for a few moments before finally he reached out his own and took hers in a firm, or at least as firm as a twelve year old boy could manage, handshake.

This was definitely the start of something great. Kathren could feel it in her gut.

#rdr #rdr2 #rdr oc #oc #arthur morgan #fanfic #rdr fanfic #red dead redemption #red dead redemption 2 #red dead redemption two #kathren whiteman

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placesyoucallhome · 4 years

Note

❥ (Ruhka) | ツ (Cor) | ✺ (Canum) | ✞ (Salt)

❥ - How often/easily does your muse get heartbroken?

“Can’t get broken if yeh don’ give it away.” Q’ruhka shook his head, but still seemed to want to hide his expression behind a dark, opaque bottle, “I ain’t got any pieces left t’ give, especially t’ those that ain’t wanting to give a piece their own.”

(( He’s a liar. He breaks his heart all the time. If he’s attached to someone, he’s attached. But because he’s not likely to make first moves, a lot of it will pass him by. ))

ツ - Can your muse speak any other language other than their main one?

“Like most of the higher standing in Ishgard I know at least some old Ishgardian. The church does love it’s traditional Ishgardian sermons, and I couldn’t get myself out of all of them.” Corbeau huffed and shook his head, “Plenty I wish I could learn however, Hingan or Xaelic, though I think Amiette would pick it up far faster, there’s not much she can’t learn in a moon if she’s wont to, I’m not quite as spry as I used to be.”

✺ - Something your muse finds pretty

Canum blinked, and pulled an awkward face, looking at his mess of a desk covered in papers, half finished machinery and various crystals. “Er, I don’t- it’s not something on the forefront of my mind, practicality and effectiveness is usually more important.” He mumbled, unsure, but it hardly felt like an answer, and everything must have an answer. He picked up one of the dull crystals instead, and a clear cerulean blue filtered in with a steady glow. “I suppose crystals? Ones with bright clear colors anyways. And useful things besides. Does that suffice?”

✞ - Does your muse have any kind of religion?

“Hmpf, even Sharlayan observes the twelve, Thaliak most of all, our patron god if you will.” Salt scoffed and tapped her nails agitatedly again the book in her hand, “I... suppose I’m still practicing, though not particularly strictly. But it was habit to pay respects when researching or studying, and especially before tests when we were younger. It’s a small comfort now, but when so many comforts are fading away, I’ll hold onto those I can.”

#entry-1258 #Q'ruhka #Corbeau Corvidaine #Canum Wicks #Salt Myzarian #Everyone's chatty today!#But I have no energy to do screenshots for everyone #I need more coffee

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badmcuposts · 5 years

Text

A New Favorite Thing

No warnings

Good ole irondad and spiderson as suggested by @dantedeletes

Set like, a week or two after Civil War this is very very very early in their relationship.

Tony wants to learn how this slightly annoying snot-nosed kid from queens manufactured webbing that a genius billionaire can’t replicate for the life of him. In the end, he learns the slightly-annoying-snot-nosed-kid-from-queens is actually a miniature version of himself, and decides to keep him.

All Tony wanted was to find out how the kid designed that stupid webbing.

He had spent five-no-six days holed up in the lab over this, and nothing. Pep was getting concerned, rightfully so, that he hadn’t just asked Peter to show him. But how was he supposed to do that? ‘Oh hey buddy can you teach me how to do the thing i have multiple phds in because you’re smarter than me at 12?’ The whole thing was god awful embarrassing.

Which would be exactly the reason as to why Tony was about to burn the whole tower down if she pulled something like this again. Inviting the kid herself like she owned the place. Well, she did, but that wasn’t the point of it all. He didn’t even know what to do with an annoying little kid!

It wasn’t that Tony didn’t trust Peter in his lab. He had seen the kid’s grades. It was more or less worrying about what he was supposed to do in the highly unlikely event that the kid wasn’t as trustworthy as he seemed. If they got in there and Peter couldn’t hold his own, he would be at a total loss to keep control in the lab. There were so many questions, so many worries in case something went wrong.

Was he even old enough for the energy drinks? What else was in the minifridge up in the lab? Bagels? Did he like bagels? What if Peter got scared up in the workshop? Would he fit into Tony’s spare safety goggles? What if he didn’t like the way the workshop was organized? What if Peter didn’t want to be around Tony after this and got himself hurt?

And this would be why Tony really hadn’t contacted Peter, huh? His own insecurity about how he was supposed to continue on with his relationship with a something-year-old child after no doubt traumatizing the poor thing in a battle and then embarrassing him via benching halfway through.

He’d read the countless articles in old newspapers, seen the police files involving the kid. The Parker boy was a ticking time bomb, no doubt about it. If Tony didn’t keep him in line and make sure not to hurt him any more, those special abilities might turn into weapons of mass destruction. And he really didn’t want to start planning for the kid to go to the dark side.

But, it was time to man up and face the music. Or, rather, the child standing three feet away with the most worn duffle bag to ever grace the eyes of someone with the Stark name. Tony gently smiled, raising his hand for a polite shake that Peter took with innocent eagerness and aptitude. God, this kid is definitely gonna break something up there.

“Peter, nice of you to join me. I’d love to talk a bit about that webbing we discussed before.”

Peter’s smile faltered a little, but returned within the second.

“Yeah, Miss Potts said to bring my stuff. Though, if you wanna do me a favor, let’s not break any of it. Technically, I’m borrowing it from the school labs.”

“You don’t have your own equipment?”

Tony was honestly shocked. Where had Peter been making all of this? He couldn’t have been using public school half-ass production level equipment this whole time, could he?

“No, sir. I just make the web fluid during chemistry when the teacher turns around.”

Well, that answers that question. How smart was this kid? A few years of straight As indicated intelligence but, at this rate, shouldn’t he have skipped a few grades?

“Well then, looks like it’s time to get down to business, isn’t it?”

Peter’s breathing managed to begin to replicate the tune of “I’ll Make a Man Out Of You”. This kid...

“Yessir.”

And as they reached the elevator, Friday automatically carrying the pair of nerds to floor 79, Tony finally said it.

“Stop calling me sir, you make me feel older every time you speak than most people do when they remind me that my father was young and spry in the smack dab middle of World War Two.”

“Only if you start referring to this stuff as “web fluid”, Mr. Stark. It’s very important to repect scientific nomenclature in the form given by the original scientist.” “How much of that was a the answer to a science class pretest?” “The whole thing.”

Fair enough, you little-

The elevator came to a halt (smoothly, of course. It’s stark tech) at the workshop. Luckily for Tony, he had plenty of extra space so Peter would feel comfortable. He pointed to a desk a few feet from his own and briefly stated “Set your gear up over there, tell me what chemicals you need.”

Peter, however, didn’t seem to willing to let his host take the lead.

“Oh no, sir, I brought my own stuff. Midtown is loaded with spare bottles. They won’t notice.”

Two could play at that game, couldn’t they? Well, there was always one way to find out.

“Yeah, and you’re gonna leave them in the bag and put them back tomorrow morning.”

“Tomorrow’s saturday.”

“Monday, whatever. My cabinet has a billion variations of every science-related doohickey known to man and it could use some more use. No point wasting all the money that school probably spends with the intent of it being used in class, huh? And what did I say about calling me sir?”

“Sorry, sir.”

The kid was smirking. What did Tony do to deserve such cruel treatment from the universe?

Peter tossed his bag onto the desk with enough force to make any non-enhanced teenager look like they were about to throw a tantrum. But, Peter merely glanced at his hands, sighed, and checked that none of the gear had gotten damaged.

Right, super kid. Not a normal intern. Not an intern at all, technically. Unless...

Nope. Later, Tones.

Tony quickly assisted in the set-up, hoping he could rush this and memorize the formula as quickly as inhumanly possible. And that’s when he noticed, Peter’s notes were in the back of his chemistry notebook. How in pointbreak’s name had nobody figured this kid out yet?

Pushing his lack of faith in humanity and all of its company, Tony unlocked the cabinet of infinite chemicals.

“Alright can you grab me some... uhhhhh.... Salicylic Acid, Touline, Methanol, Carbon Tetrachloride, H-Heptane, Potassium Carbonate, Ethyl Acetate, Hexate, BHA, Sodium Tetraborate, and why not just jump the gun and grab the Cactivator Activated Silica Gel now instead of waiting until later?”

Jesus christ this might as well be a liquid bomb with how little he trusts a child with any of these products. Especially silica gel. Don’t kids get high off of that stuff? No, no, Tony, be a good mentor-figure-thing. Now was the time to let the kid have a little room to make mistakes. Let him blow up the lab now instead of later. Sounds responsible.

“Gotcha, Wiz Kid.”

“First off, if I was a sim, my childhood aspiration would be Rambunctious Scamp.”

Tony deadpanned at Peter for another three minutes and twelve seconds before finally responding.

“I literally have no idea what you are talking about, ever.”

Well, ain’t that the truth. However, if Tony was being honest with himself, a little back and forth did wonders to calm his nerves. Maybe the kid wasn’t all too frightening. More like a kitten in the freezing rain.

“What’s next?”

Peter grabbed the worn notebook and examined the page closely.

“Uhhhh, now we add activator degas for 30 minutes, I think. Or is it 45? Wait a sec, I’ll find it somewhere in my notes.”

“You don’t have it memorized?”

“Well, usually I don’t have an audience.”

“Touché.”

Time continued on like that for the next half hour. Back and forth, quip after quip, each remark from the thir-fif-twe-si-fourteen year old “August 10th, 2001, the day the world wishes had never happened. No, it’s a joke Mr. Stark. More of a gen z kind of thing.” reminding Tony of himself. Perhaps, in another world, he could have been as amazing as Peter Parker was proving to be.

He even introduced Peter to the bots, who immediately decided they had a new brother to play with and went hog wild trying to play ball with the kid who was far more interested in marveling at their hotwiring. To Tony, their designs were juvenile and messy. However, to the teenaged dumpster diver next to him, they were beautiful.

And once time slowed, they finally went back to work.

“Now we need to heat it, slowly! Don’t hurt my baby, Mr. Stark!”

“Your baby?”

“You literally just called a little robot your baby but I’m the weird one, ok.”

“Dum-E has artificial feelings, your super glue wouldn’t care if you magically turned to ash.”

Ok, too far. But the kid took it as a joke, no doubt. He snorted the whole way through his laugh. Snorted.

“How slowly is this supposed to be anyway?”

“For the next 24 hours.”

“24 HOURS? What are we supposed to do until then?”

“I dunno. I can swing over tomorrow and we can finish it up then.”

“Yeah, yeah, sounds good.”

Tony helped Peter load his equipment back up, hoping the kid wouldn’t get caught stealing school property.

“Heck, maybe make it a tradition. Lab days until one of us explodes from too much science.”

And Tony smiled. The brightest, most genuine smile he had ever given in his lifetime.

“You got it, kiddo.”

Yeah, Lab days.

He could get behind that.

It might just be his new favorite thing.

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dekudynamight · 5 years

Text

Title: Team Cap vs Steve Rogers

Rating: T

Word count: 1k

Summary: Bucky takes a stroll with Old Steve. Steve has no idea what his best friend has in store for him, but it turns out to be one heck of a doozy.

A/N: This is crack. Pure absurd, ridiculous crack. It’s what I’d have liked to have seen in an end credit scene 🤷🏻‍♀️probably don’t read if you loved the Endgame ending as it is, though as I said before... this is pure crack so don’t take it too seriously 😂

Walking away from the bench with his hands in his pockets, Bucky wore a small, fond smile as Steve walked beside him. Now aged beyond what Bucky could have ever imagined, Steve’s steps were a bit slower than they used to be, but he still carried a distinct strength within as he had even before the serum.

“I’m sorry about this,” Steve told Bucky, meeting his gaze. “If there had been any other way...”

“Yeah,” Bucky nodded understandingly. “I get it. It’s all right.”

“I saved you,” Steve grinned. “In 1948. You’re as old as I am back in that reality. Married with kids, grandkids too. Still a pain in my ass.”

Bucky grinned back. “Guess some things never change.”

“No, they don’t.”

“I’m glad you got to be happy, pal,” Bucky sighed. “It’s all I’ve ever wanted for you.”

“I know. Still feel guilty, though. Wish you would have taken my offer to come with me.”

Bucky shrugged, giving a small shake of his head. “Guess I just... don’t really wanna look to the past anymore. I’ve spent enough time doing that. Just wanna move forward and make the most of what I have.”

Steve reached out and laid a weathered hand on Bucky’s shoulder. “I’ve missed you, Buck.”

Bucky’s steps came to a halt. He smiled and nodded. “Me too. And I’m sorry if what I’m about to do hurts, but Banner told me it wouldn’t.”

Steve furrowed his brows. “Wh-“

Bucky hopped off the quantum platform, which Steve had unknowingly followed him to during their stroll, and began punching keys on the control panel. “You really did take all the stupid with you, huh?”

Before Steve could reply, the machine roared to life and before Bucky’s eyes, time was pushed through Steve, instantly de-aging him back to his 38 year old self. Once it was done, Bucky hit a few more keys and killed the machine and watched as Steve gasped and looked down at his newly youthful hands in shock.

“Holy shit,” Steve exclaimed, looking up at Bucky with wide eyes. “What did you do?”

Bucky simply smirked and began putting his hair up into a messy knot. “I’m gonna kick your ass so hard.”

Steve’s eyes widened even more. “What - “

“Come here, punk,” Bucky said, advancing menacingly upon his no-linger frail best friend. “You’re dead.”

Steve began taking steps backwards. “Bucky, no -“

Bucky raised his eyebrows with a grin. “Bucky, yes.”

Steve then turned around and sprinted off. “You said you understood!”

“Yeah, I sure do understand!” Bucky yelled, chasing after him. “I understand that you’re a fuckin’ jackass and that I’m gonna beat that goddamn America’s ass into a whole new timeline!”

Steve was sweating and running at top speed. “But Peggy -“

Bucky made a face and, with a hilariously mocking tone, mimicked, “BuT PeGgY. What about me, huh? What about Sam? Wanda? The whole fuckin’ team you just left to scrape by after Stark and Romanoff died? Are you insane, Rogers?”

It was at this point that Sam, happily admiring his new shield some yards away, looked up and saw Bucky chasing the inexplicably newly young Steve. “Uh...”

“Come here, Sam,” Bucky called after him. “Help me kick his ass!”

Sam gestured to the shield. “But he just -“

“Yeah, and he spent his entire life in a weird timeline without telling you a fucking thing first! Then he just waltzed back here and dropped the shield on you and turned around to waltz back off!”

Sam paused, not having had the time yet to fully process all of those things. “Well when you put it that way...”

Steve groaned, now being chased by two angry best friends. “Come on guys! I just wanted -“

He was cut off by a flash of red power in front of him, making him skid to a halt. Wanda dropped down to the ground a few feet in front of him and smiled somewhat frighteningly. “Oh, good. Are we kicking his ass?”

“Damn straight we are!” Bucky yelled just as Steve let out a girlish yelp and took off.

“I was gone for five seconds!” Steve cried, grinding to a halt again thanks to Wanda uprooting a tree and throwing it in front of him. He then turned around and faced the three of them, somewhat trapped now. “Five seconds, guys!”

“Yeah, yeah,” came a familiar male voice behind Steve. He turned just in time to find Clint standing there, having come quite literally out of nowhere. “Excuses, excuses.” He then kicked Steve in the balls and sent him falling to the ground with a shout of pain. “That was from Nat.”

Lying on the ground and clutching himself in agony, Steve forced his eyes open and looked up to find all four of them standing over him and grinning like maniacs. “.... Why?”

“Look,” Bucky shrugged, “all you need to know is now you get to live another lifetime, with us. Where you should have stayed in the first place.”

“I still very much appreciate the shield, though,” Sam said, holding it proudly. “And I ain’t giving it back now that you’re all young and spry again.”

Steve blinked. “You guys are gonna make life a living hell for me, aren’t you?”

Wanda shrugged. “Maybe.”

“Nat would have,” Clint noted.

Bucky offered a hand to help Steve up. “Eventually I’ll get over it and forgive you. But yeah, until then, I’m gonna keep kicking your ass whenever I feel like it.”

Steve warily took Bucky’s hand and pulled himself up with a groan. “Great. That’s great.”

Bucky grinned and patted Steve on the back. “Good to have you back, pal.”

Steve gave a half smile, half grimace, and then seized up as an electric jolt suddenly raced through his body and sent him careening back down to the ground.

Clint lowered his arm, fitted with one of Nat’s widow’s bites. “That was also from Nat.”

Wanda glanced at Clint. “I think she’d do it again.”

“You’re right.” Cue more writhing and high-pitched groaning from Steve, and Bucky was trying not to laugh, but... well...

“Sure we’re not being too hard on him?” Sam asked.

Bucky waved him off. “Nah. He can do this all day.”

Steve managed to flip Bucky off from the ground, and Bucky snorted a laugh. Yeah... this was gonna be one hell of a welcome home party.

Gonna tag a few pals: @take-me-tom-hiddleston @captainrogerrsbeard @st-eve-barnes @its-a-pretty-interesting-wall @musette22 @stuck-y-together @nade2308 @lisamott9 @ravensonata and I know I’m forgetting some (if I missed someone its bc I either forgot or can’t remember your stance on the ending and don’t wanna piss you off 😂)

#drabble #endgame spoilers #crack #marvel crack #endgame #steve rogers #bucky barnes #stucky #clint barton #wanda maximoff #sam wilson #team cap #crackfic #mine #avengers #avengers fanfiction #steve rogers fanfiction #bucky barnes fanfiction

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the-old-dip-and-stir · 5 years

Text

a-z nsfw headcanons: arthur morgan

(i’ve had this in drafts for idk how long, but i saw other people posting theirs, so here we are.)

A = Aftercare (What they’re like after sex)

super cuddly. the man is a teddy bear. tons of kisses. so many sweet caresses. will definitely pamper his s/o if he can. pls pamper him too, he deserves it. it’ll be the biggest and best surprise cuz he never expects it.

B = Body part (Their favourite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

arthur’s (and his partner’s) is his hands. hands that have done tough work, killed, robbed, all kinds of things but at the end of the day they can be used for loving. he used to hate them but his partner showed him that his hands could do good things too. he likes everything about his partner, but his favorite part is their mouth. oh what wonderful things they can do to him with that mouth.

C = Cum (Anything to do with cum basically… I’m a disgusting person)

in that lifestyle, pregnancy is the last thing he needs (for vagina bearers), so he typically likes to paint his partner with his cum. spilling on to their hand, stomach, thigh, chest, face, and into their mouth. anal however, he will cum inside, but like i said, he likes to paint. so he may spill into and on to his partner’s ass. if he’s been holding back on sex or any kind of pleasure, expect the biggest load of your life. otherwise, he cums a relatively normal amount.

D = Dirty Secret (Pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

he has a collection of naughty pictures of his partner, and a secret list of things he wants to to them.

E = Experience (How experienced are they? Do they know what they’re doing?)

well it’s not his first rodeo, but he also hasn’t been with very many people. he has enough experience to show someone a good time and neither go unsatisfied. he’s got a basic understanding of pleasuring someone, so you’re not gonna be blown out of the water in the first minute or so. give him some time to explore and trust me, you’ll have a good time.

F = Favourite Position (This goes without saying. Will probably include a visual)

he usually likes having his partner face him to see their reactions and so he has access to their mouth. so missionary, cowgirl, or sex up against a wall or tree. mirror sex is also fun for him.

G = Goofy (Are they more serious in the moment, or are they humorous, etc)

arthur is mostly serious during sex since he likes to make sure his partner is comfortable, but he’s very capable and liable to tease. mr. morgan can be cheeky when he wants. definitely a giggler when sated

H = Hair (How well groomed are they, does the carpet match the drapes, etc.)

arthur is pretty hairy guy BUT he does try to keep the area maintained. if not for his partner, for his own personal tastes. it gets on his nerves when it gets wild.

I = Intimacy (How are they during the moment, romantic aspect…)

huge softie. biggest romantic. especially when having sex with his partner for the first time. it’s a vulnerable moment for both him and who he’s with. if you tell him that you love him or praise him, he might cry. it’s just more emotions on top of a lot of emotions. he’s nOT READY.

J = Jack Off (Masturbation headcanon)

he usually doesn’t unless he’s really in the mood and his s/o isn’t available. that’s where those naughty pictures come in handy (hA). if not then, sometimes he’ll put on a show for his s/o. he likes seeing them get worked up over him pleasuring himself.

K = Kink (One or more of their kinks)

some light bondage, for sure. boah is good at tying knots. definitely a praise kink. might be down for a little roleplay. maybe a little homestead robbery turning into a fuckfest. maybe a hostage situation. he’s got a list of things he’s thought about doing, all categorized in yeses, maybes, and might be too muches.

L = Location (Favourite places to do the do)

he likes having privacy, tbfh. sex in camp is difficult to do, especially when he knows he’s gonna get shit for it in the morning. so he may rent a room in a nearby town or just go on a long trip with his partner and have sex out in the wild.

M = Motivation (What turns them on, gets them going)

honestly, anything his partner does can get him going, but their mouth does things to him. licking their lips, biting their lower lip, smirking, the way their lips look wrapped around the rim of a beer bottle. he has a bit of a fixation.

N = NO (Something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

s&m. he doesn’t mind a bit of pain; maybe a smack on the ass, his s/o’s nails scratching at his back, love bites, but never wants to actually hit his partner. spanking would probably be as far as he would go. he tried smacking his s/o in the face one time during a rough sex night since they asked, he wasn’t a fan of it. he held back but the print that formed on their face still rubbed him the wrong way. so he doesn’t mind being rough with ya but he doesn’t want to push it so far that he actually hurts you, even if you like it.

O = Oral (Preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc)

he likes both really, but is more inclined to give. if receiving, he will always give back, no if’s, ands, or buts. when giving he won’t expect anything in return. he’s doing it because he wants you to feel good. he’s fairly good at oral once he knows what you like, but if it’s the first time, he may fumble around until he gets it right, so patience!

P = Pace (Are they fast and rough? Slow and sensual? etc.)

it depends really, but his tried and true is a nice combination of the two. but a majority of the time it’s sensual and slow, he definitely puts the love into lovemaking. fast and rough is for those desperate, heated times. when all he wants to to do is just fuck cuz he’s horny (shocker, being in love makes him a horny bastard).

Q = Quickie (Their opinions on quickies rather than proper sex, how often, etc.)

he doesn’t hate quickies, sometimes that’s all he has time for in the mornings before someone comes barging in and asking for something. it happens often, especially when in camp.

R = Risk (Are they game to experiment, do they take risks, etc.)

he’s willing to try things. i mean, the man has a list. risk is ingrained into just about everything he does, so some risky sex isn’t off the table. of course, everything has to be consensual. he doesn’t want his s/o to be scared or uncomfortable with what their doing.

S = Stamina (How many rounds can they go for, how long do they last…)

let’s be real, arthur is pushing 40, so while his stamina may be pretty decent, he can’t go a lot of rounds. given how much he works and runs around, he can last a good bit, but don’t expect him to cum more than maybe twice. he’s not young and spry, he’s getting a little older now. cumming multiple times ain’t gonna be easy for him.

T = Toy (Do they own toys? Do they use them? On a partner or themselves?)

while sex toys did exist during the late 19th century, arthur wouldn’t really have easy access to them. most sex toys at the time were purely for “medical” use at the time anyhow. butt plugs that cure constipation? yeah, okay. a modern day arthur though would love using toys, and definitely wouldn’t be against his partner using them on him. it wouldn’t anything fancy, maybe a nice dildo, a vibrator, and probably a butt plug. he likes making his partner feel good, not to mention he’s a goddamn tease.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

oh he loves drawing it out if he can. he’ll even do little things throughout the day to drive his s/o crazy. he loves it even more when they do it back. it’s a fun game and ends in a very fun time as well. so much edging and dirty talk, WOOWEE.

V = Volume (How loud they are, what sounds they make)

he’s usually very quiet, he had to learn how to be when he masturbated in camp. so it’s mostly sighs. in a private setting, he’s willing to let loose a little, but even then he’s still not very loud. it’s a lot of grunts, groans, and cursing.

W = Wild Card (Get a random headcanon for the character of your choice)

he’s really into all the sounds made from sex. he loves the sounds that come from his partner, whether he’s pleasuring them or their pleasuring themselves. the hip smacking, the wet noises, the moans. he LOVES that shit. he could get off to just that (in fact, he already has.)

X = X-Ray (Let’s see what’s going on in those pants, picture or words)

arthur has more girth than length. length wise, he’s slightly above average. girth wise, he’ll feel like he can split you in half if not properly prepared. he’s at least over 5 inches (12.7 cm) in length (keep in mind that average is about 5.16 inches [13.12 cm]). as for girth; well my hands are kinda small, they’re probably 6 inches in length, and that’s from the heel of my palm to the tip of my middle finger. so my fingers would only touch when my nails are grown out a bit. so baby is THICC. also given the time period, he’ll most likely be uncut.

Y = Yearning (How high is their sex drive?)

he’s the type to be horny for someone he’s in love with, but it’s actually a pretty normal and healthy libido. he may have trouble getting it up on occasion though. drinking and depression will do that. his affection drive, however, is really high, bb likes to cuddle and hold ya hand.

Z = ZZZ (… how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

he won’t lie about being wore out after a round. he’s may not be old, but he’s definitely not as young as he used to be. arthur doesn’t get knocked out immediately, he’s mostly in a happy, sleepy state. he stays up for long as he can until he struggles to keep his eyes open. he also likes getting some kisses in after the fact so expect falling asleep while kissing.

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