#I like how black blobs look super far away
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The Devil Wears Lace
chapter 1 : July 2, 2022
pairing: simon “ghost” riley x reader
summary: you obviously weren’t expecting someone to kidnap you after your shift at the bar that night. even moreso, you weren’t expecting them to want to kill you. but the thing you weren’t expecting the most was the masked man who saved you.
warnings: 18+ for eventual smut, kidnapping, violence, talk of unaliving the reader, dark themes throughout this whole series, leg injury, talk of being tied up and drugged, i think that’s everything but let me know if i missed something!
a/n: this chapter is basically the prologue, so it’s super short but gives necessary background info (:
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July 2, 2022
I don’t remember much. In fact, I don’t remember anything clearly after being taken.
What had happened was, I was walking to my car after my shift at the bar ended. I happened to be parked on the side, in the alley. There, three men were waiting for me. Waiting to take me.
I put up a fight, really and truly, I did. I think I even gave them a run for their money considering they were all quite large compared to me. I punched, and scratched, and bit what I could. But they overpowered me, and one of them hit me on the head with something. Who knows what? Doesn’t matter.
Since then, I’d been fading in and out of consciousness. The first time was on the ride there. I’d been shoved in the back of a van with several boxes, wedged in between them like some kind of cargo. The driver hit a turn way too sharp and slung one of them onto its side, the contents emptying onto me. One of the things in there was a small safe with sharp edges. It slammed into my ankle, breaking the skin and cutting deep. I instantly woke up, screaming, red hot pain searing through my entire leg, and they pulled over somewhere. One of them crawled into the back with me, and I tried to resist him but I was tied up with my arms behind my back. I even kicked at him, but there was only so much I could do with one good foot.
“Shut the fuck up!” he growled, taking a syringe out of his pocket and forcefully twisting me so he could shove it into my arm.
The next time, I was in a warehouse. Everything was dark and blurry, shapes fading together. I felt… wrong. Woozy, like I’d been drinking. Then I momentarily remembered the syringe and realized that thought wasn’t too far off. There was probably something in my system to keep me docile. That only lasted for a second before I was out again. Then again I just barely faded into a conversation two men I’d not yet seen were having in front of me.
“We’ve got to wait until the 4th or it won’t work,” one raised his voice at the other, tensions high.
“I say we kill the bitch now. She’ll be worth just as much dead as she will be alive.”
“You don’t know that!”
Everything went black again. I couldn’t even manage to panic about the fact that I was probably going to die. What day did I get snatched? I thought it was the 30th of June. How long had I been there?
I don’t remember waking up again at all, until a loud sound rocked the building. My eyes cracked open, vision still shaky, to see men rushing in. A fight ensued between them and my many captors. I watched as intently as I could manage as they took each one of them down, police arresting them all.
A man rushed my way. I couldn’t see him clearly until he was right in front of me, tall and large and… masked.
Strange.
I tried to scoot away from him, scared he was going to hurt me in my drugged up state, and he spoke softly as not to frighten me further.
“It’s okay, I’m here to take you somewhere safe.” I stayed wary, eyes focusing in on him. I had to focus in on him. If I didn’t, he just looked like a blob. “They’ve got you fucked up good,” he commented, then asked, “Will you let me cut off these ropes?”
I nodded and he leaned down, slicing through the binds on my ankles, careful of the wound that was looking worse for wear from being ignored. “Can you stand?” He asked, and when I didn’t respond, he tutted. “Let’s try.” He picked me up from under my arms, placing me on my feet.
Fuck if that wasn’t the worst pain I’d ever felt. I cried out as pressure was placed, falling into him in the least graceful way possible. His arms secured themselves around me, placing me gently back on the ground.
“That’s okay, you don’t have to stand,” he hummed, kneeling behind me to cut the ropes off of my hands. I relaxed my entire body, relieved to have mobility back. “Put this on,” he commanded, slipping his jacket off and handing it to me. I furrowed my brows, looking down to see my clothes were in tatters, ripped to shreds just about. The low cut T shirt with my work’s logo on it was completely open and the matching skirt was half off. My bra and panties were on full display, light hitting the lace perfectly. I gasped, grabbing the warm fabric from him and trying to put it on. I was too weak, though, so he had to do it for me. He zipped it up, and once he was satisfied with my modesty, he hauled me into his arms, carrying me out of the building. I started to slip out of consciousness again, my mind still foggy from whatever was in my veins. The last thing I remembered seeing was him, walking away.
#simon riley smut#simon riley x reader#simon ghost riley#ghost x reader#simon ghost x reader#simon ghost riley x reader#cod smut#ghost smut#ghost x reader smut#simon riley x reader smut#simon riley#ghost x reader series
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I honestly can't get over the fact that people care more about Elemental than Soul,Soul is a far better movie,it features a black protagonist and many diverse characters, amazing animation that doesn't hurt my eyes, emotionally powerful and memorable scenes.I could go on but I'm not happy that some fans are saying how Elemental is a better movie than Soul or heck, even Turning Red.sorry but I can't stand Elemental for so many reasons i can't say other than the animation is not that good, especially the art style with the fire and water people and that I found the protagonists super annoying both Ember and Wade.
Well you're probably not going to be happy to hear this anon, but I hated Soul. Probably not as much with Elemental, but even for Elemental I'm more indifferent with it's existence
Soul on the other hand makes me actually upset. Partly because I originally did not want to watch another movie where a Black character is turned into an inhuman being for majority of the movie
When I expressed this, everyone convinced me that's not what happened, he is only a blue blob for a short bit, and you do get to see his human body for most the film from what I was told. So I watched it, believing all this like a dummy
And they were right in a sense. We don't see him as a blob for most of the movie. Because he was turned into a cat for most of the movie. An ugly ass looking cat. "Oh but you see his body for most of the movie," yeah we sure do as it's being stolen and taken away by some white person's soul like this is Get Out. "They aren't White, they are just a soul" yeah if the characters bring up it sounds like a white lady and everyone draws them White, safe to say we all saw this as a White person. Only we were supposed to feel sorry for the little white soul because the black character is too mean and angry with his body being taken away for some reason
And people got upset with me because I did not appreciate being deceived like this. Some were just typical Disney adults. Others apparently really didn't understand what the issue was, and tried to make me like this movie. I just don't
As for the story's message, it's fine I guess. It just doesn't stick out to me. The movie already showed itself to be an ironically soulless project
They try to advertise this movie as something for Black people. It's literally called Soul for a reason. But nah. It didn't really play onto those themes. Like what does Soul have to do with Black people? Why do Black people feel the need to outdo everyone and make something for themselves? Why is the main character's mom treated as the bad guy for wanting her son to fulfill his passion but also remain financially stable?
Does the character from Soul show how he is related to Blackness more than the water guy? Yeah. But barely so. It again doesn't help he didn't remain human for most of the movie
Also the movie just ugly
Anyways if you're looking for Black-coded blue blob characters, Osmosis Jones is literally your best bet
#anon#thx for the ask#pixar soul#elementals#osmosis jones#i know you came here wanting to diss on one disney movie because you like the pixar film anon#but i cant lie#i didn't enjoy it#makes me see red#I'll diss on elementals more if that makes it better
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Scrapbook: Chapter 4
Title: Less Than One Minute Old
Rating: Explicit, 18+, Minors - DNI
Pairing: Mike x Black!OFC (Dimples)
Fandom: Hellraiser: Hellworld
Word Count: 2.6K
Summary: A collection of moments with Mike and Daisy (Dimples).
Chapter Summary: The pregnancy and delivery of Mikey and Dimples' daughter.
Warnings: pregnant sex, creampie, fainting (again)
A/N: As a person who has never birthed children, I had to research this stuff. And it cemented my wish to never give birth. Unbeta’d, we die like people who tried their best.
Dividers by me
Support/Reblog banner by me
Cover Art by me
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“So, you see right here? That little spot? That is your baby,” The doctor pushes a few buttons, taking a few measurements, “And if we move just slightly, you see that pulsating?”
“What is that?” Mike was genuinely confused about what he was looking at, but also genuinely interested in absorbing as much information as he could about his teeny-weeny offspring.
“That is your baby’s heartbeat. It seems you are just about 7 weeks along, which is in line with your missed period. Your baby right now is about the size of a blueberry.”
“Isn’t there a fruit for every week? I feel like I read that and then I got super hungry so I stopped reading,” Dimples is in full-swing swooning over the tiny life growing inside her, but food is her main focus most of the time.
“Fruits and vegetables. Your baby will go from where it is now at the blueberry stage to about the size of a sweet potato at your next appointment, then to about the size of a pumpkin when you’re at full gestation. But, let’s take it slow and enjoy your little blueberry for now, Mom and Dad. We’ll get you a printout of your sonogram and you can go ahead and get dressed now.” The doctor pats Dimples’ arm and shakes Mike’s hand before exiting the room.
Helping her off of the exam table, Mike can’t help but let his hand linger on Dimples’ tummy. She rubs his hand and looks up at his face. Unshed tears line his eyes and her heart swells as she touches a hand to his cheek.
“It’s all just hitting me now that you are carrying a life inside you. You’re carrying my baby, and I’ve never been more in love with you, Dimples.” Mike sniffs, a tear escaping when he blinks and she wipes it away.
“My sweet husband. Just keep that thought in your head when I’m cursing you out in the delivery room, ok?” Dimples laughs and pulls him down for a kiss.
She dresses and they go to the checkout window in the front lobby. The nurse behind the window holds their sonogram and Mikey takes it, admiring the little blob in the picture.
“Aw, you’ve got that ‘First-Time Dad’ look in your eye. I know it when I see it,” The nurse says, head tilted and smiling at him, “Just remember to take care of Mom and you’ll do well. We’ll see you in a few months at your 20-week appointment.”
“He’s doing an amazing job so far,” Dimples links their hands together, lacing their fingers, “We’ll see you soon.” She smiles up at Mike who is still looking at the sonogram, pushing on his shoulder to get him to move out of the office.
He gets the hint and starts to walk out, walking in front of her so he can hold the door open. She can feel heat rise to her cheeks, loving how her husband is doting on her. He helps her into the car and buckles her seatbelt. He walks around the front of the car, getting into the driver’s seat. Pulling out slowly into traffic, he looks over to Dimples who is now looking at the sonogram with a slight glow about her.
Throughout the first trimester, Dimples allows Mike to treat her like a porcelain figurine. The second trimester is a bit different. As soon as 13 weeks hit, Dimples puts her foot down.
“Ok, Mikey. We need to talk. I love how you treat me as though I am so precious and so delicate and so sweet. I love you for that, but baby, I need my goofy husband back. I need you to honk my boob as you walk by. I need you to let me make my own lunches when I want to. And please, for the love of all things good and sacred, I need you to tell me you wanna fuck me. Tell me I’m desirable and not just your baby’s apartment, ya know? I’m finally over my morning sickness and I just wanna ride you or be on my hands and knees in front of you. Just something before I go insane.” Dimples feels winded after her soliloquy and flops down on the nearest surface, looking back up at Mike.
“I guess I have been a little nervous to bring up sex. You were just so sick all the time. I just kinda didn’t want to bother you with that. But, I mean, if you’re really in the mood to fool around and see what we can get into then I am so game, Dimples.” He has been moving over to where she is sitting and stops in front of her.
When she reaches up to unbuckle his belt, his first instinct is to stop her but he allows her to take what she needs. The moment her hand wraps around him, his knees almost buckle. It’s been months and the soft flesh of her palm is like Heaven. When her tongue darts out on the underside of his dick, he groans.
“Fuck, Dimples, that feels so good,” He says, putting one hand behind her head to guide her back and forth. When she moans at the encouragement, it rolls through his erection. “Not gonna last much longer if you keep this up, baby.”
Dimples pulls back, a line of saliva connecting them still before she uses it to pump him a few more times. She stands with the help of Mikey, guiding him to the bedroom by holding his dick. Undressing quickly, she gets on all fours on the bed and he doesn’t waste time getting behind her and lining himself up.
The moment he pushes in, she hisses at the intrusion. It’s been long enough that he makes her feel fuller than ever. Allowing her to get used to his girth, he thrust shallowly for a bit until he can’t take it anymore and begins to put in some serious work. He reaches down between her legs and rolls her clit between his fingers until her walls flutter around him. Pulling out, he lays down next to her and helps her straddle him.
“Fuck,” Mike rasps when she slides down his length, his hands going to her hips, “You look so perfect right now, Dimples.”
“I feel perfect, Mikey,” She sighs, taking one of his hands and putting it on her belly while she laces her fingers with the other hand, “Fuck, right there…I’m gonna, gonna…” Her words die on her lips as another orgasm rumbles through her.
“Mmmm, that’s my sweet girl,” He grunts, pulling out and then maneuvering Dimples to her back, “You just relax and I’ll take care of everything, baby.” Placing her thighs around his hips, he enters her again swiftly. Leaning down to kiss her, his hands massage her slightly weightier breasts to elicit his favorite sound out of his wife. “Fuck, those sweet little moans are gonna do me in soon, Dimples.”
“Just a little longer, please Mikey? I can feel it, I’m so close.” She locks her legs around him and puts a hand between them to stimulate her nub but Mike stops her and uses his hand. Within moments, her breathing speeds up and she is quivering around him enough to make him follow her soon after.
He rests in the crook of her neck, panting out breaths that tickle her skin. Her giggles accidentally push him out and he whimpers before moving to lie next to her. Pulling her close, he kisses her neck and traces small patterns across her abdomen.
“So, you were really horny for me, huh?” Mike blurts, a quiet chuckle shaking the both of them.
“OMG Mikey shut up! You’re not allowed to make me laugh this hard when you’re cum is still leaking out of me. It feels weird.” She laughs so hard that she hiccups for the next few minutes.
They both agree that they deeply underestimated pregnant sex.
At Dimples’ 20-week checkup, they find out they are having a little girl. Dimples is excited, but Mikey? He is over the moon. He immediately starts referring to the baby as “Honey”, buying any and everything in the color pink for the baby. Something about knowing the sex of the baby pushed him into panic mode.
He suddenly worried about her starting to date, moving out to go to college, and getting married. He was spiraling fast, and the baby hadn’t even arrived.
When Dimples reminds him that she wasn’t due for another 20 weeks, he seemed to calm down. But when it comes down to it, she kinda loved that he was ready to prepare for everything. It was so cute to watch a Girl Dad in his element.
His element just happened to be apprehension. He also had a very specific fear show up when he felt the baby kick for the first time at about 21 weeks. He had begun having dreams that the baby would be hurt if he continued having sex with her.
Needless to say, Dimples yelled at him for not understanding anatomy. She also had to point out that his penis would not be able to even reach halfway to where the baby is. When he replied by asking if she thought his dick was small, she threw her hands up in defeat.
The next three months are spent convincing Mike that he had a huge dick (which wasn’t untrue) and also that he wouldn’t hurt the baby during sex but even then he would only have sex when she said the baby was sleeping.
Once he saw the baby’s little footprint go across Dimples’ belly, he swore off sex until the baby was born. Luckily, she was due in another month so she could handle the wait. For now, at least.
At their baby shower, Mikey and Dimples were overloaded with gifts. Clothing, blankets, tiny hangers for the baby’s closet, toys, diapers, more diapers, so many diapers they were starting to worry. Auntie Erika had taken over planning everything. There were games, pink drinks, and delicious pink cupcakes that she made.
She even found a cute little tiara for Dimples to wear since the theme of the shower was royalty. Little pink rattles and baby bottles filled with pink candies were given as favors to all the guests. Mike even enjoyed talking with Walter and Sy about what to expect in the coming months.
What no one would expect was Dimples going into labor while they were discussing when everyone thought the baby would come. What started as a strong cramp in her lower abdomen turned into a rush of pressure releasing as her water broke. Out of the corner of his eye, Mike saw the wet spot on the rug and rushed over to see what was spilled. As he got closer, he noticed his wife holding her stomach and turning around to look at him.
“Dimples?” He reached out to her, putting a hand over hers, “Did your…”
“...water just break? Oh yeah, this baby is coming right now.” She tried to remain calm as she saw Mike start to sway.
“She’s not due for another month!” Mike squeaked out.
“You want me to tell her that and hope she changes her mind or can we go to the hospital?”
As luck would have it, Sy was able to keep Mike from losing his shit while Walter helped Dimples stay upright. Erika helped to usher everyone out of the party before promising she would meet everyone at the hospital.
Sy and Mike managed to grab the overnight bag, the baby bag, the stroller, the car seat, and some extra clothing and blankets. Walter drove Dimples to the hospital and managed to hold her hand while she did breathing exercises. As much as Mikey looked and sounded like his father, they were miles apart when it came to the ability to keep their cool.
When Mikey made it to the hospital, he and Walter swapped spots. Even though Mikey was terrified to see his wife hooked up to the heart monitor and blood pressure machine, he didn’t let it show too much. Instead, he opted to focus on keeping her comfortable. From feeding her ice chips to letting her curse him out to bringing in Erika to help save the day, Mike did his best to try and keep Dimples happy.
Until the doctor came into the room with the needle for the Epidural. Mike’s brain decided that was too much to handle. As his eyes rolled back in his head, he slumped to the floor and Erika had a coughing fit after laughing so hard at his expense. Walter and Sy exchanged glances as Mike was checked over by a nurse.
When the coast is clear and the doctor and the nurses are out of the room, Sy slaps Mike awake and gives him a good talking to as Walter laughs, shaking his head.
After six hours of labor, Aisha “Honey” Marshall was born at 5 lb 5 oz and 18 inches long. Mike cut the umbilical cord. He was so proud that he didn’t faint at the sight of seeing his daughter covered in all that goo. All he saw was a beautiful and wiggly little girl with strong lungs and he fell in love harder than he has ever fallen.
When she was laid across her mother’s chest, there wasn’t a dry eye in the entire room. Mike sniffled, Dimples sobbed, Erika bawled, and even Walter and Sy cleared their throats a bit before turning away to wipe at their eyes. To be fair, Walter never thought he would be a grandfather and Sy was just named godfather to Honey.
When Mike goes out to the waiting room to let everyone know the baby was born, he was full of smiles and blurry vision as he hugged his family. He was surprised when his Mom hugged him and kissed his face, she hasn’t looked at him like that since he was a kid. He held on a little tighter with that hug before accepting hugs from everyone else.
He brings his Mom and Aunt Danette to meet Honey first. His little cousin Cherie complains until Nettie sneaks her in to see the new baby. Pretty soon, the entire family is standing together as a nurse takes their photo with the tiny bundle of joy.
Grandpa Gus is now a great-grandfather and he couldn’t be happier. Mike makes sure to snap a few pictures of him holding his great-granddaughter. While the truth remains that Gus wasn’t exactly the best father, he makes up for it by being a better grandparent and great-grandparent.
When Mike and Dimples are finally alone with their daughter, they have a chance to just look at her. Without each other, they couldn’t have done this. Granted, Mike has fainted twice in the past eight or so months but he would faint a million times to be able to see this little girl’s face. While Dimples gets to rest after feeding Honey, Mike sits up during most of the night just watching her. Her little hand wraps around his finger and he can’t believe the amount of love that flows through him.
Before he finally gets to sleep that night, he takes a selfie with both of his sleeping girls in the background and sets it as his phone’s wallpaper.
Chapter 5
A/N: The song for this chapter is Isn’t She Lovely by Stevie Wonder. Also, “Aisha” is Stevie Wonder’s daughter’s name and I needed a birthname for Honey even though I won’t use it as much lol.
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12: Miracle
A/N: just picture this when you get to the gift shop part okay 😂
While I was at the beach with Noah earlier today, I felt like I was in euphoria. That was not the case now after we had taken a nap and decided on starting the task of deep cleaning my condo. It was overwhelming and extremely embarrassing having filled up a trash bag with empty containers. When we had to open another bag to get the rest of the trash, I was in tears, slumped in the middle of my kitchen floor.
Noah notices and puts down whatever it was that he was holding and squats down next to me, rubbing my back. "Hey, what's going on?"
"This is just so...humiliating, Noah," I cry, throwing the bag in my hands down aggressively.
He wraps both arms around me and sits properly, scooping me into his lap. "Shh," he soothes, "it's okay. It's just a bit of mess, nothing a little cleanup can't fix."
"My life is a giant mess," I huffed, rolling my head against his chest in attempt to hide my face from his view.
He squeezes me tighter, "Messes are temporary, Olivia. We'll get this place in tip-top shape, promise." When I don't say anything, he picks my head off his chest so he could look me in the eyes. "Would you like to take a break and do something else?"
I shrugged, "I guess."
-
I couldn't contain my excitement as Noah and I made our way into the aquarium after standing in line for what seemed like an eternity to get our tickets. I haven't gone to the aquarium before, so this was a whole new experience for me, and so far it was enticing. The lobby was dim and crammed with people at first, but as we made our way through, the floor opened up, lined with a glass barricade. I pressed myself against it and leaned over the railing to get the best view that I could.
Below us was the penguin exhibit; there sat a decent sized rock with tons of nooks and crannies for the birds to settle in. Some were perched at the very top of it, squawking away at one another as they fought over the food the caretakers had just thrown out for them. Some were relaxing in the lower levels of the rock, basking in the artificial light. Others were zooming around in the water below that ran right underneath us, which was the most enjoyable part for me. It was incredible how fast these little guys could swim.
Noah takes hold of my hand, grabbing my attention, "C'mon, there's so much more to see," he says with a smirk on his lips.
I nodded while I beamed at him, letting him lead me to the next area. There was a shallow tank where several people were kneeling down and sticking their hands in. I looked at Noah in curiosity, who just smiled down at me and cocked his head in its direction, prompting me forward. I kneeled down in front of it like most others, gasping once I saw the stingrays swimming about. I stuck my hand inside the warm water, their little bodies skimming underneath my fingertips. They were silky smooth, but also slimy to the touch, and I couldn't help the cheek-splitting smile I had on my face.
As we continued deeper into the building, there were tons of different tanks with their own habitats depending on what kinds of marine life lived within them. There were tanks that had only a few things of seagrass with seahorses hiding in them, others with a plethora of fish, their vibrant colors an astounding contrast to the coral behind them. Noah would take the time to point out different colors for me, which was adorable and made the excitement of being here even greater.
We made our way into a room that was darker than all the rest, tanks illuminated by fluorescent lights. This room was dedicated to jellyfish, and this was the most incredible thing I've seen so far. One section seemed as if I was staring at an x-ray, the water black but the blobs floating freely were a translucent blue. You could easily make out their anatomy, which was super fascinating to the both of us. One section held slow-moving jellies with extremely long tentacles, their bodies glowing in pink. Another held jellies that moved along at a much faster pace, puffing out like a parachute and retracting to propel forward.
We eventually found ourselves at the very bottom-center of the aquarium where the viewing tank sat, which actually scaled nearly the entire height of the building. As we ascended the ramp that spiraled along it, you could see all different types of life ranging from the size of a golf ball, to the king of the ocean. Well, this tank wasn't fit for a Great White, but there was a decent sized shark or two swimming along the reef that I wasn't sure the species.
He makes us take a seat on one of the multiple alcoves that were placed sporadically alongside the tank, pulling out his phone. He drapes an arm over my shoulders and pulls me close to him, extending the phone in front of us. "Smile," he says cheerfully.
I settle myself into him some, placing a hand on his chest and flashed a big smile as he snapped the picture. He then presses a kiss to the top of my head and takes another picture—I'm sure my grin doubled in size. "Wanna grab something to eat?" I ask once he puts his phone away.
"Yes," he groans, "I never thought you'd ask."
I laugh and push him playfully, promptly standing up and tugging him with me to head to the cafeteria.
There wasn't a whole heck of a lot to choose from here, but we both settled on a slice of pizza and some fries. We ate in silence—mostly because Noah practically scarfed his food down and didn't have time to talk—as I thought about all the things I got to witness today. I never thought how amazing the world would be now that I could see color; I feel like I'm walking in a dream. A dream where the creator pulls me from the grey that I had been living in, guiding me through this new spectrum of life, only to get better and better with each passing moment. The best part about it? I haven't felt the craving of alcohol today—not one bit.
"What are you thinking about?" Noah asks, resting his chin on his fist with a playful smirk on his lips.
"The fact that it's a miracle I haven't thought about having a drink today," I answer truthfully. "This place is incredible, Noah. Thank you for bringing me here."
I watched his face soften, a pleased grin tugging at his lips. "Don't thank me, I'm just glad you're enjoying your time," he says as he takes one of my fries off my plate and takes a bite. "What was your favorite part?"
I push my plate towards him, knowing I wasn't going to finish them. "It's a tie between the jellyfish and the stingrays. The jellies were so beautiful, but getting to touch the rays was something else. They're so cute, like little ocean raviolis!"
He shoots me a questioning look before he laughs. "Ocean raviolis? That's...interesting."
I narrow my eyes at him, taking one of my fries and tossing it at him. "Oh, shut it. Think about it for a sec. They're shaped the same and their bellies protrude like they're stuffed with something." He shakes his head at me like I'm crazy, chuckling.
"Anyway, what was your favorite part?"
"Seeing that smile of yours all day. I think it's more beautiful than all the exhibits here," he says while looking directly into my eyes.
I feel my face flush as I bury it into my hands sheepishly—there was no way that was true. "You're so full of it," I mumble through my hands.
He takes hold of one of my hands, pulling it away from my face, forcing me to look at him. "I mean it, Liv," he says gently, running his thumb over my knuckles. "I've been here before so it's nothing new, but seeing the way your face lit up was something special."
"Well, thank you," I mutter shyly. "Let's go to the gift shop," I say in hopes of changing the subject as I was terrible at taking compliments.
"Okay," he smiles at me and stands, picking up our trash. "Gotta see if there's any ocean ravioli stuffies to take home with ya."
I laugh and follow him as we made our way to the gift shop.
We wandered in the shop for a little while, picking up random trinkets here and there to deem if they were worth bringing home with us or not. I found a bottle opener that was the body of a Great White, the jaws the opener itself which I thought was pretty cool, but I decided against it and grabbed a shark tooth necklace instead. I figured it would be best for me to not bring home anything that would encourage me to open a bottle, as silly as that may seem.
I round the corner, reaching the area where they had all the stuffed animals. Smiling wide, I made my way over and grabbed the first thing that I saw, squishing it to my chest. At 26 years old, I was shameless about my adoration for stuffies—I would collect them all if I had the room for them. I continued to gather them in my arms and stared into each of their beady eyes and smiling faces, wondering which one I should bring home. I began to turn to Noah in hopes of an opinion, only to burst out into laughter when my eyes landed on him.
He stood there with a cheesy grin, wearing a ridiculous jellyfish hat with tentacles dangling around his face and shoulders. "What?" he asks, humor tainting his words. "Is there something wrong?"
I shake my head at him, "No, nothing at all. You're just a dork." I watch his mouth drop, feigning hurt. "A cute dork, though."
He props a fist on his hip, "I prefer dweeb, thank you very much."
I roll my eyes and chuckle, averting my attention back to the collection of animals in my arms. "Help me pick one out, or I will buy the whole store out."
He looks above my head and reaches out to grab something, completely disregarding what I was holding. "This," he says, bringing it down into my view.
We left the aquarium hand in hand, having a stingray in my possession and him proudly wearing that goofy hat.
-
"Well," I sighed once Noah and I walked back into my condo and put down our new possessions. "I guess we should finish cleaning this up, huh?"
He rubs my back and gives me a reassuring upturn of his lips, nodding. "Only if you're up for it, Liv. It doesn't need to be done all in one day."
"Yeah, you're right," I agree, giving the area a look over. "I'll leave it for tomorrow. I can bring the trash to work."
"Okay," he whispers as he smiles at me sweetly, placing his hands on my hips and closes the gap between us.
I instinctively lock my hands behind his neck and grin up at him while he sways us softly, waltzing to nothing. His eyes were dark, yet so gentle, crinkling in the corners while he mirrors my grin. He brings his face close to me, pressing his lips against mine. I kiss back, his tongue darting out and caressing my lip for access to mine. Our tongues collide, hesitantly dancing around one another due to the unfamiliarity of each other. I pull away from him after a moment, breathing heavy as my heart swells at the unexpected intimacy.
"What was that for?" I ask quietly, a smirk forming on my face.
A chuckle vibrates through his throat as he rests his forehead against mine, shimmering brown eyes gazing into my blues again. "Am I not allowed to kiss you?"
I feel my face flush and giggle, "No, I didn't say that."
"Good," he pecks my lips quickly. "I was just admiring you, is all. I'm proud of you for not having a drink today."
I scoff, "It hasn't even been a full day. That's hardly anything to be proud of."
He shakes his head, "Nonsense. One day at a time, Liv. It's still something."
I shrug, pulling out of his grasp to take my vibrating phone out of my pocket, noting it was a call from Vic. I answer it immediately, only to be thrown off when it wasn't her voice that came through the receiver.
"Who is this and why do you have Victoria's phone?" I ask accusingly.
"You're Liv, right? She has you listed as an ICE," the male voice replies.
My stomach churns, panic setting in. "What happened to her?!" Noah shoots me a concerned look while he assesses my phone call.
"I don't want to alarm you, but your friend or sister or whoever has been in an accident," he keeps his voice calm. "We've called an ambulance and they're on their way."
I could feel my chest tighten, the air suddenly not making it to my lungs. "Where is she?" I choked out.
"At the bar where she works, she was making her way across the street when someone came flying around the corner—" I couldn't bear to hear the rest of his sentence, hanging up and dropping my phone.
"Oh, God," I whimpered, fisting my hair with both hands as I turn to Noah. "We gotta get to the bar, now. Vic's been in an accident."
So much for not wanting a drink today.
|Chapter 13|
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clown fetish
Wakko: guys
Dot: yo where tf are you rn?
Wakko: im trying to get this thing in this rain and i cant see a thing
Yakko: you have no idea how happy i am to know what it is
Wakko: thanks pep talk
Dot: so spill
Wakko: ok so i was walking and all these random shit just started flying at me
Dot: w h o w?????
Yakko: holyshit
Wakko: they were little tiny things but im telling ya they hurt like fuck
Dot: what happened???
Wakko: I mean, the rain was making them fly around randomly cause of all that mist
Dot: so you stepped on one??
Wakko: yeah but then the rain stopped for a moment and this huge fucking bird came outta nowhere with a knife in his beak
Dot: oh my god
Yakko: wait wait hold up. did you say it had a knife in its beak?!
Wakko: yeah
Dot: is it still there???
Wakko: nah I just kicked it off a bridge and let it plummet into the river. I guess that didn’t happen in real life huh..
Yakko: well what did it look like?
Wakko: not very good. I couldnt really focus cause of all the mud getting on my face so i just saw it as a big black blob
Dot: omg im dying of curiosity rn
Wakko: it had some sort of weird headdress though
Yakko: oh my fucking god its real
Dot: i mean obviously, it’s real but do we even need confirmation?
Wakko: yes, actually
Dot: damn it
Yakko: well anyway i’m glad it didn’t come back to eat you or anything, i hate being scared
Wakko: same here
Dot: yeah and that bird looked like a weird ass clown
Yakko: uhh, who else has a clown fetish
Wakko: i actually have a fear of clowns.
Yakko: yeah thats true
Dot: yeah ur scared of clown cats too
Wakko: you can never go wrong with an animal themed joke.
Dot: shut up i dont want your negativity
Wakko: ugh fine
Yakko: wait how did you even see it from a bridge tho?? that sounds super far away
Wakko: i could hear it from the ground when it flew by. I could swear that the wings fluttered behind it
Dot: yeah i don’t think thats possible
Wakko: i dunno i just thought about it and now it seems kind of plausible, so...
Yakko: ok whatever. just don’t let it get under your skin too much okay? its kinda annoying that you’re always thinking about it
Wakko: fine, whatever.
forgive me if i wrote this :(
#animaniacs#yakko wakko and dot#animaniacs 1993#animaniacs 2020#animaniacs reboot#dot warner#wakko warner#yakko warner#chaotic thoughts#dreamily#fanfic
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Father figure but its the entrance exam or Danny (student) getting his hero's lisence
Danny felt like he was going to throw up.
The nervous energy he'd been sporting all day had gone away for a while during the practical, but now that he was standing in a crowd full of students from other schools, all waiting for the same results, he couldn't stop the anxiety from bubbling up.
He looked up into the stands. There were a few heroes scattered here and there, but his eyes landed on the one that he wanted. He wasn't hard to find, considering his whole outfit looked like a big, black blob from a distance. Looking over at Aizawa calmed his nerves just enough to face the board that was filled with everybody's results.
Danny searched and searched and searched and-there.
Fenton, Daniel. Status: Passed.
Danny felt giddy with relief, and all of the nervous energy he had a moment before seemed to dissipate. He had made it. Sure, it was just a provisional license, but it was one step closer to his dream.
He stood there, stuck in shock, until a familiar red head barreled into him from the side, cheering loudly in his ear.
"We did it!" Kirishima screamed. He was all but hanging off of Danny, who was quick to match Kirishima's triumphant grin. Kaminari joined them on Danny's other side, and the three boys were hopping up and down excitedly. He was laughing from excitement and bewilderment of not only having a license but also at the fact that he had friends he could celebrate with.
Almost the entire rest of the class joined them. Bakugou and Todoroki decided to opt out, but the cheers of the other eighteen members of Class 1-A from U.A. could be heard throughout the entire stadium.
--------
Shouta couldn't help but roll his eyes fondly as he walked his students from the bus to the dorm. They were all hopping around excitedly. Their hard work had definitely paid off. Though it was disappointing to see Bakugou and Todoroki let their own selfishness get in their way, he knew it was a valuable learning opportunity for them both.
(That wasn't going to stop him from giving them an extra load of homework on hero etiquette, however.)
And even though he seemed much more subdued than he had been earlier, Danny hadn't stopped grinning. He looked far more relaxed than he had been in months. Honestly, the kid deserved it.
Shouta stopped outside and took a seat on the bench. He would be lying if he said he wasn't tired. He was proud of all of his students, but twenty rambunctious superpowered teens were a lot even on the best of days.
From inside there were cheers and celebrations, and Shouta could smell Sato's cooking even from outside. The dorms for once were stress free, and absolutely full of life.
Shouta doesn't know how much time has passed. He's been dozing in and out, stargazing when he's awake enough. Though he forces himself out of this trance when the door to the dorms opens. The party is still going strong, but the sound gets muffled once more when the door is softly closed.
Shouta doesn't turn around to see who it is. He doesn't have to.
Danny, without much fanfare, sits next to Shouta on the bench. Shouta spares a glance, and can see the fading tension in his shoulders. He lets out a sigh, as if he'd been holding his breath this whole time.
"You good?" He asks, turning back to the sky. Danny lets out a huff of laughter.
"Yeah, just...They're a lot sometimes. It's overwhelming. When I need time to myself I sometimes come out here and stargaze."
"Your sister mentioned you were super into space," he said conversationally. It was apparently the correct thing to say if his student's immediate excited vibrating was anything to go off of.
"When I was younger I thought I was going to be an astronaut!" He said excitedly. "There's just so many cool things about space, and rockets, and-" Danny cut himself off. "Sorry," he said after a moment. He was much quieter than he had been a moment ago. "I didn't mean to ramble, or intrude."
"You're not intruding," Shouta replied. "And I don't mind the rambling. If it's something that makes you happy I'm glad you're sharing it with me."
He didn't need to turn his head to know that Danny was probably on the verge of tears. He's like Midoriya, sometimes. As soon as he's overwhelmed with emotion, his eyes shine with unshed tears. Though Danny is a bit more reserved when it comes to actually crying.
Danny brought his lugs up onto the bench and wrapped his arms around them, tucking his chin between his knees. "Thanks," he mumbled.
And although he didn't start talking again, the silence that fell between them wasn't uncomfortable. But Shouta would be lying if he wasn't curious about Danny's obsession with space.
"If you were so set on being an astronaut then why did you change your mind? It sounds like you're really passionate about space."
Beside him Danny just shrugs. "Jazz taught me about space when I was little. And I started studying so I could be an astronaut and go on cool missions. But they don't accept quirkless people as astronauts." Danny said it with an air of causality, as if stating a common fact. Shouta had to remind himself that the life of a quirkless person was in fact Danny's normal. it was having powers that was new and terrifying. "I also liked heroes, though. It was always my plan, to be one or the other. And if I couldn't do that then I'd get as close as possible."
That tracked in Shouta's mind. His grades in math, science, and hero ethics have always been the highest in the class. Then again, growing up around scientists probably helped, too.
"Well, they're dumb for turning away brilliant minds like yours on the basis of a quirk," Shouta said. "Seriously, kid. If I have to hear about Ectoplasm's convoluted plan to steal you from my class one more time..."
He was teasing, leaving the hollow threat in the air. Danny laughed and rolled his eyes, before releasing one of his legs. He rested his elbow on the other, his head in his hand. With his free hand he took his hero license out. It had a picture of him in his school uniform, beaming confidently at the camera. His hero name, Phantom, was typed out in big, bold letters at the bottom.
"Thank you," Danny said. Shouta looked down at him, eyebrow raised. "Thank you for supporting me. And helping me get through everything. I...If you..." He was trying to say something important, Shouta knew. He sat and patiently waited, and he hoped his patience didn't come off as him trying to silently pressure the kid. "Before U.A. everything sucked. Home, school, and just...everything. I thought all teachers sucked no matter what. But even after finding out about my secret, you're still cool. So. You know. Thanks."
There was a lot to unpack. Like how, Shouta probably knew the kid had a fear of rejection. Maybe that's why he waited so long to tell Shouta about his powers. Or maybe it's because he thought Shouta would treat him like all of his other shit teachers. Shouta wouldn't consider himself nice, not by any stretch of the word. He was a bitter man with a jaded view of hero society as a whole. He was blunt and sarcastic and all he wanted to do was sleep.
But he would be a bold faced liar if he didn't admit to being proud of his students. His kids. Danny. He would be a bold faced liar if he didn't feel the warmth spreading in his chest at the fact that his student was comfortable enough to be vulnerable like this in front of him. he would cherish the trust long past his graduation in two years.
So if he scooted a little closer, and slung his arm around Danny's shoulders, nobody could really blame him.
And if he let Danny ramble on about every constellation they saw that night, well, that would be his secret.
#danny phantom#danny fenton#mha#bnha#my hero academia#boku no hero academia#eraserhead#dadzawa#shouta aizawa#father figure
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Okay, but with Grayson complaining about being lonely and wanting a girlfriend I CANT HELP but to think about how horny he probably is on top of that. Like- its been on my mind for days, so can you PLEASE write something about gray meeting a bitch, like through friend or something, and realizing he likes her and then having these dirty thoughts about her, and like he doesn't want to but he just cant help it... I will die and love you forever, you're writing is my absouloute favortie.
Ur so sweet babe haha thank you😊 hope this is along the lines of what you wanted.
Getting his dick wet has never been a problem for Grayson Dolan; not since receiving his first sloppy, inexperienced blowjob when he was on tour at the tender age of 16. There’s been a steady flow of girls in and out of his life ever since, fulfilling both his needs sexually and the fleeting desire for noncommittal intimacy. And that’s how he likes it for the longest time. Easy and no-strings-attached.
But he’s older now, and even though quarantine hadn’t stopped him from hitting up his favorite one or two booty calls every now and then, he feels empty in a way that’s becoming all-too familiar. It’s not a new feeling, but every time he leaves their homes (because that’s his number one rule — hookups stay out of his bed), there’s a longing that wasn’t satisfied and that’s becoming more and more apparent to him.
So he stops fucking around — literally. He believes in the power of the mind and manifestation almost to a fault, and considers that maybe he’s letting casual hookups interfere with what he really wants: companionship.
It seems like a breeze at first. Grayson swears he feels lighter, clearer in the head, more focused on what he wants out of his life. He puts his mind to being the best version of himself and hoping that it’s enough to attract the same kind of person that he can put all of his love and effort into in return.
As months roll on, however, he realizes that sometimes the universe just doesn’t listen right away. And for the first time in his life, Grayson discovers the monotony and reality of what it’s like for the ‘regular’ guys out there, whose only sexual pleasure comes from their own hand and the porn category of choice for the night. He was used to that as a filler, for sure, but not as his one and only outlet.
Plain and simple, he’s horny. All the time. Which makes him grumpy, and irritable, and frustrated with both himself and everything around him. So when Ethan tells him in passing that his girlfriend is flying in from New York with her friend to visit, it just makes him grunt. The fact that his brother is in such a happy and healthy relationship himself is a point of contention for Grayson in his head. He’s thrilled for Ethan, but he can’t help but dwell on the creeping jealousy in his chest. Here he is, starved for both intimacy and sex now, and Ethan will get served both of those the following night in excess while Grayson lies in his bed alone.
The next night, they’re all having dinner at the kitchen table — all four of them, including her. The friend. The friend that Ethan had mentioned would be coming but that Grayson had so brusquely ignored. The friend that had his eyebrows raised the second she walked shyly through his front door, drawn in immediately by her beauty.
The friend he can’t keep his eyes off of now as she goes to town on the roasted sweet potatoes and black bean burgers he had made himself. She’s quiet but witty and has a cute laugh that makes his heart flutter a little in a way he hasn’t experienced in a long time.
He feels a nudge against his ribs, and startles when he jerks to the side to see Ethan staring at him pointedly with a knowing little smile on his lips.
“You’ve got ketchup on your shirt, bro,” he says, nodding to the blob of red on Grayson’s white shirt that had dropped from the forkful of sweet potatoes, which had only made it halfway to his mouth as he listened to her talk.
“Shit,” he mumbles embarrassedly, flushing a color near the tomato-red that’s now stained his shirt. Of course, the first time he’s feeling real feelings around a beautiful girl, he has to revert to awkward, clumsy Grayson rather smooth, relaxed Grayson.
He starts to scrub up the mess with his napkin, but she reaches out from her seat across the table from him and grabs his wrist in her petite hand. “Oop, wait! Dab, don’t swipe, or you’ll make it worse. I know how to get that out as long as it’s not smeared around into the fabric.”
Grayson swallows, his arm flaring with goosebumps at her gentle but insistent touch, but tries to keep his cool. She’s grinning at him amusedly, then sits back in her seat when Grayson follows her instructions.
“I thought ketchup was one of those things that you’re just kinda fucked if you get it on your clothes, Ethan says, filling the silence left by his brother.
She shakes her head. “Nope. Peroxide will get it right out, especially if you wash it after. Do you have any?”
Ethan cocks a brow and looks at Grayson, hoping he’ll use the opportunity to speak to her. Thankfully, he does, even if it is lacking a little bit of gracefulness. “Huh, peroxide? Oh... uh, yeah, I — yeah, in my bathroom.”
“I’ll help you when we’re all done, if you want,” she offers before taking a modest bite of her burger.
Grayson nods, and can’t help but watch the way she sucks a bit of barbecue sauce off her thumb once she swallows. His heart picks up and he has to shift in his seat a little when she winks at him, his pants tightening under the table. Damn it. He’s been trying to avoid that reaction and those thoughts, determined to do this right.
He fixes a smile to his lips, and hopes his face isn’t giving him away. “Yeah, that’d be great.”
Everyone helps clean up the table and dishes, and Grayson leads her into his room while they leave the other two to have some alone time. He prays that he made his bed that morning and that there’s no dirty underwear on the floor or used tissues on the nightstand.
Luckily, the floor is relatively clear, and the bed is made, if haphazardly so. She follows him into the en-suite bathroom and watches him dig under the cabinet in the first aid bucket he has down there.
She’s wearing jean shorts and a loose-knit sweater, and when Grayson starts to stand back up he takes a moment to appreciate the tone in the muscles of her legs and the flashes of skin he can see through her top, hoping he isn’t being too obvious.
She takes the brown bottle from him and tugs on the hem of his shirt. “It’ll be easier if you take this off.”
Grayson nods, and can’t help the laugh that escapes him when she turns her back to him. “What are you doing?”
“Giving you your modesty! I don’t know you, for all I know you might be super insecure.”
“At the risk of sounding like a total douche, I promise I’m not,” he answers, reaching behind his neck to tug the collar up and over his head. “Here you go.”
She turns back around, and Grayson doesn’t miss the way her eyes travel over his sculpted torso. He can’t help but smirk a little, thrilled at the cute blush that tinges her cheeks when she meets his eyes and realizes she’s been caught.
He hasn’t had a woman look at him like that in months, however, and he’s grateful when she tells him, “This will need to go in the laundry tonight if you want to make sure the stain comes out, so you’ll need another shirt anyways.”
It gives him an out to duck into his closet, taking a moment to collect himself before grabbing the first T-shirt his hand touches and slipping it over his head.
“Cold water first,” she informs, smiling at him through the mirror when he re-emerges as she leans over the sink with the water running. She shuts off the water and squeeze out the excess, then takes the peroxide and pours some onto the stain.
“Woah,” Grayson says, eyebrows raised in surprise at the fizzing bubbles visibly picking up the bright red from the fibers of his shirt. “Where did you learn this trick?”
“I work in the toddler room at a daycare. We keep this stuff on sight and scene to avoid 20 outfit changes a day on a few two year-olds. I’m sure you can imagine the amount of ketchup and blood stains a toddler procures on the daily.”
Grayson chuckles. He feels himself growing more fond of her by the second. “You like kids?”
“I love them,” she replies with a grin. “Working in childcare is pretty rough, but it’s been a great college job. Lots of experience for my degree. And, you know, good practice for the future one day.”
If he hadn’t been sold by now, that does it. Beautiful, smart, and good with kids?
He takes a moment to assess himself and his thoughts. He doesn’t think he’s letting his dick lead him right now, even if he does want her that way. He’s just as attracted to her mind as he is the curves of her body and the features of her pretty face, and finds himself wanting to talk to her for hours on end.
He doesn’t realize there’s a heated silence, both of them standing there staring at each other, until she clears her throat and holds up his shirt. Grayson glances down at it to see just a faint brown rim around what use to be a bright red mark. “All done.”
“Thank you,” he says, taking it from her and tossing it in his laundry basket. “Come on, hopefully we don’t walk into something we can’t unsee.”
“You make a pretty good meat shield,” she says jokingly, following close behind him. “All big and broad. I can just hide behind you and keep my eyes unscarred.”
Grayson laughs loudly, his ego swelling, and he has to resist the urge to take her hand in his. That would be too much. Right?
Thankfully, the couple is just cuddling innocently on the loveseat when they enter the living room.
“Movie?” Ethan asks when the two of them settle on the couch, a respectful and calculated distance between them — not too close and not too far.
“Sure.”
They’re all in a fun and lighthearted mood tonight, so they settle on Moana. Grayson wants nothing more than to throw his arm around the beautiful girl next to him, who sings along playfully to the songs she knows, her enthusiastic movements shuffling her closer to him. He doesn’t know if it’s intentional, but he doesn’t really care; her presence in both body and spirit feels good to him.
Ethan’s girlfriend only makes it about halfway through the movie before she’s passed out, tired from the long flight earlier that day. He looks down at her fondly and chuckles when he sees her nuzzled sound asleep against his chest.
“I’m gonna take her to bed,” he announces quietly before standing with her in his arms. “Goodnight, guys.”
They both murmur back “goodnight” and watch Ethan disappear down the hall. The movie plays on for a couple of minutes, before she’s turning to him and making small talk. Which turns into broader conversation about bigger things. Which leads to them settling so close that their knees touch. She finds an excuse to pick an invisible fleck of something off his hand, which turns into their fingers playing with each other’s teasingly.
Which turns to Grayson checking his watch in a quiet but not unpleasant lull, and muttering, “Oh, shit,” in surprise.
She checks her phone lying on the couch cushion behind her. The time shines back at her 1:27 AM.
“Damn, when did it get so late?” she wonders aloud, looking at him amusedly.
Grayson shakes his head. “Time flies,” he says. Whether it’s the late hour, or him getting his mojo back, or just the fact that he’s so naturally comfortable with her, he suddenly feels bold enough to reach out and tuck a piece of hair behind her ear. “Are you tired?”
She blushes and bites her lip, allowing him to keep his warm palm pressed to her neck while his thumb strokes the ridge of her jaw gently.
“Not really,” she answers, scooting that much closer to him. “Not ready to go to my bed, anyways.”
She’s referring to the guest room she’s already settled her things into. Grayson smiles. Rules be damned, he thinks, until he realizes in the next moment that there’s no way this amazing girl is going to be just a hookup. There’s no rule to be broken.
“Why don’t you come to mine, then?”
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i almost shifted last night eeeee
BEFORE YOU READ THIS: you dont need to do exactly what i did to shift! you dont need to reprogram your mind, or manifest, or listen to subliminals. you dont even need to visualize as your final push to your DR. You have all the power you need to shift, all you need is yourself and your imagination! Everyone is different in their shifting journey, this is just stuff that helped me out :)))
most of my shifting journal things are super disorganized so heres something a bit more easy on the eyes :)
how did i get here?:
I tried doing a reprogramming-your-mind 4 day thing I saw on tiktok. Basically, I do some quick guided meditations and convince my brain that im shifting! I picked the date to be may 8th, the day I almost shifted! I also did a bunch of manifesting (i used the 369 method). I began manifesting a week before, so at May 2nd.
SPILL THE TEA SIS WHAT TF HAPPENED:
SO I started the night with listening to these forced subliminals about 3 times each:
https://youtu.be/yUOAk5kipfg
https://youtu.be/j9h3x_nkZ6Y
AFTER i started listening to this luminal + epsilon subliminal as i said some affirmations (i began the night wanting to do the julia method but i was like, "nah im too lazy, affirmations would work")
https://youtu.be/9zzXUNLbeiw
THEN yknow how when you close your eyes you see a bunch of light blobs against the black of your eyelids? (i hope i described that well) after a while of me saying affirmations they started moving, somewhat in a circle, turning into a blue-ish color, and forming more into spheres then circles. Kinda looked like a loading screen.
Anyway i got SUPER HYPED and i was like "holy shit holy shit holy shit" but I didnt do anything about it, so it eventually faded away :(
BUT THATS NOT ALL
IT HAPPENED
AGAIN
After that happened, I decided to read a bit before going to bed and trying again. I put on my subliminals and the blue-blob-friends appeared again! Instead of a loading screen, they seemed to float in a path that started far away and then disappeared near the side of my head
I got excited again and started to try to visualize, thinking that would be my final push into my DR. but the problem was i think i was TOO excited and I couldn't visualize. I kept focusing on the end product instead of trying to focus on the details. so it eventually faded away, again.
whatcha gonna do now?
IMMA TRY AGAIN FUCKERS!! im closer than ever!! All i need to do is focus, maybe work more on the visualization part.
anyway, thanks for reading my excited ramble, ill see you later! (hopefully as a shifter)
1111 2222 3333
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Any kidfic recs where they have a lil kid but not a teenager? 🥰 Love ya!
Definitely! Kidfics tend to be very hit or miss for me since child development can be very hard to get right but the ones that I do like, i tend to positively love and frequently reread
You didn’t specify a ship so I went with Stevetony, Winteriron, and Stuckony, but I’ve separated them by ship so you can easily pick and choose which ones you want to read:
Stevetony
Of Strippers and Snow Shovels by @betheflame
Tony has some questions about what Peter's dad does for a living after Peter draws an ... interesting picture about why his dad is his hero.
Practically Perfect in Every Way by @betheflame and @hogwartstoalexandria
Tony Stark is a lot of things - billionaire, former playboy, professional philanthropist - but a few years back he added two more titles: widower and single father. As Peter keeps growing, Tony can't seem to keep a nanny. Thankfully, his employee James Barnes has a solution.
Art therapist Steve Rogers is really tired of living grant cycle to grant cycle, but is wary when he gets an opportunity from his best friend's boss to be his child's live-in caregiver. He hates Bucky's boss. But then he meets the kid and then he gets to know Tony and then...
And then they all live happily ever after.
Rockabye by @bladeofthenebula27
Cute alphas didn’t appear out of nowhere to help ruined omegas. That was a widely accepted fact.
Tony Stark had always known his life wouldn’t be easy as a genius omega in an alpha’s world. But not even he predicted getting knocked up and forced to move to a small town in the middle of nowhere.
Some things can’t be hidden by @s-horne
“What?” Peter sat up in the booth, suddenly alert. “Dad, what is it?” He followed Tony’s eyes right to a man in the doorway of the restaurant. A big, blond and young man that even Peter could admit was attractive.
“Is that him?” Peter asked. “He’s young.”
“He’s 32,” Tony argued, though he was still pale and didn’t shift his gaze.
“Have you actually seen proof of age? Because he looks young, Dad. Like not that much older than my age. Have you checked his ID? There are some good fakes out there, just warning you.”
“Will you be quiet?” Tony hissed, lifting his hand and waving to the man. “He is perfectly legal, thank you very much.”
Peter watched as the guy lit up as soon as he noticed Tony, awkwardly dodging the lunchtime crowds as he tried to make his way over to their table.
“Hi,” he said when he reached them, a beaming smile on his face. He made a motion to kiss Tony before his eyes flickered to Peter and he changed his course, pressing his lips to Tony’s cheek instead and stepping away quickly.
Adventures in Babysitting by @s-horne
Bucky babysits Peter for the first time on his own. There are cuddly toys, tears, cupcakes, and bedtime stories.
It Takes a Village (or a team of superheroes) by aven_garde
Three months after the Chitauri attack, Tony received a phone call that changed his life. (Or, the one in which a group of remarkable people come together and balance battling villains and raising a child).
In Trouble Deep by @festiveferret and @sirsapling
"Whoever did this has a reason, and Stark needs to be with someone who can protect him. He won’t exactly be able to protect himself like this.” Fury looked at the baby consideringly. “No, it’s you, Steve. Besides, he likes you. Suck it up, soldier, you’re stuck with him.”
Tony, Please by @festiveferret
Steve is doing just fine nursing a painful crush on his most captivating client. That is, until his babysitter has an emergency and drops Steve's six-year-old daughter off at his work. Somehow, everything goes off the rails.
like-like by nanasekei
Morgan doesn’t really know Captain America.
And honorable mention cause even though it’s just a pregnancy fic right now, I’m holding out hope for a sequel with a baby:
Baby’s Breath by @s-horne
Wow. Tony’s mind went blank when his eyes moved involuntarily and focused in on where Nurse Rogers was pointing something out on the computer screen. It was nothing, really. It was a blob roughly the size of a jelly bean. The picture wasn’t even clear. It was black and white and so ridiculously grainy that Tony couldn’t see clearly.
Oh. Actually, the reason he couldn’t see clearly was because of the tears in his eyes.
“Wow,” he said, voice breaking on the short words. “That’s…”
“Your baby. Right here.”
Tony fell silent again, just taking it all in. That was his baby. His child. A whole little person living inside of him, ready to grow and stretch and make his body do all kinds of weird things. Nine months of his baby inside of him and then eighteen years of them living in Tony’s house.
Somehow, it already didn’t seem like long enough. Seeing it on a screen wasn’t enough either. Tony wanted to reach out, to trace the tiny image with his fingers and try and feel what little extra he couldn’t inside of him.
After a long moment, he licked his lips. Shit. He was having a baby.
“Steve would love this,” he breathed out.
Winteriron
High Noon in Sandbridge (part of the Nights in Sandbridge series and does rely on some of the other works in the series, so make sure you read those first if you haven’t already) by @tisfan and @27dragons
Life is pretty good for Bucky and Tony these days. The restaurant is doing well, and they’re happy with their little family. Then Bucky’s sister meets an untimely end and Bucky and Tony are suddenly guardians to a niece they’ve only met a handful of times. Their attempts to make a home for the bereaved child are complicated by Tony's mother, Bucky’s ex-lover, and the man who claims to be Billie’s father. But whatever her parentage, Billie is a Barnes through and through -- stubborn and hot-tempered and not remotely interested in making a life in the one place that her mother had sworn never to return. Will she ever learn to call Dockside and Sandbridge home?
Place in Your Heart by potrix
They try to hide it, Bucky can see the effort they all put into making him more comfortable, but Bucky isn’t stupid, he knows they’d rather have him somewhere else, somewhere far away from their home, the place where they’re supposed to feel happy and safe.
The Long Way Round by potrix
“Maybe we shouldn’t see each other anymore,” Tony blurts out in a rush. “It’s—I think it’s for the best. If we stop.”
It takes a moment for the meaning of the words to register, but when it does, Bucky turns cold, stomach sinking. “Are—are you breakin’ up with me? Tony—”
“You didn’t do anything wrong,” Tony hurries to reassure, reading Bucky’s mind. “You were perfect, Bucky, I swear you were. Are. This. It’s not. It’s really not you,” he says with a small, humourless chuckle, “it’s me.”
Bucky looks at the tense line of Tony’s shoulders, at the sad set of his mouth, the defeat in his eyes, and he knows it’s the truth. Or, at least, what Tony believes to be true.
Or; sometimes, people mean well, but that doesn't always mean they know best. Bucky and Tony, unfortunately, have to learn that the hard way.
Letters to a Soldier by CityofAngels
When Peter Stark, son of the famous tattoo artist Tony Stark, signed up for a program to write letters to a soldier, he didn't know what Bucky Barnes would change in his and his father's life...
Boys Will Be Boys by NotEvenCloseToStraight
When Peter and Harley can't stop fighting at school, Dad!Tony and Dad!Bucky meet up to try and figure out a way to keep the peace between their kiddos, but end up falling for each other instead.
Stuckony
‘Til the End of the Line by Avengers_Whore
“Steeeeeve!”
“There’s the lil devil now,” Bucky murmured fondly. “Lemme see ‘im.”
Steve laughed and nodded his head, walking out of the kitchen and heading towards the bedroom. He opened the door and sighed when their omega was nowhere in sight on the bed. He made his way towards their closet and opened the door, pointing his phone at the brunet curled up in all of the clothes.
Fennel Root & Super Soldiers by @betheflame
Peter hasn't stopped crying for weeks and Tony is nearly at his whit's end. Thankfully, Steve and Bucky have a plan.
Forging Bonds by Huntress79
Just when Tony thought that his relationship with Steve and Bucky is safe and stable, he learns of a son he apparently has. How will “his” soldiers react to the sudden addition to the household?
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Yeah it really has been a minute. Thanks for answering my ask. If'n it aint too much trouble could you do Damien, Calculester, Liam, and Milo with a human SO. If you've got something for Oz that'd also be great.
I haven't played monster camp yet, so I won't be doing Milo here. ( I have the game, I just want to unlock the secret endings before trying out the second one)
Damien LaVey
Having a human S/O means one thing, he must protect them at all times. He knows that even other monsters can take a massive beating even with their supernatural quirks, but a human? He won't let a single creature lay their filthy fingers on his S/O. Needless to say he is quite over protective with them, and he still is a big softie when near their S/O.
He wants his S/O to be interested on his hobbies,but he would prefer if they stayed away from the ones that paint him as a stereotypical demon, like his love of fire and violence... And fiery violence
Liam de Lioncourt
It physically pains him to be with a human, this is a all time cliche! A vampire with a human S/O? How bold and creative! But alas, love speaks louder than his need to be cool, but that won't stop him from trying to spice things up. He will teach his S/O all he knows, and when I say "all he knows" I mean that, from mathematics to culture of the middle ages. He wants his S/O to be cultured, so he can have intellectually interesting conversations with them.
He still is quite worried about them getting hurt, but far from him wanting to protect them without them asking him first. But still, he won't hesitate to talk smack of those that are enemies of his one and only.
Calculester
This situation is perfect for him! He gets to learn about being human from a human! Calculester is quite clingy, staying with his S/O whenever he can, because he had never felt love for someone before, but now that he knows how it feels, he wants more.
He asks his S/O a bunch of questions all the time, ranging from "do you like the colour blue?" To "what is the meaning of your life?". He deeply loves his S/O, and wants expand his database about them every day.
Oz
Oz is super shy with his S/O, specially since they are human. He wants to be a cool looking and powerful monster to gain their admiration, but all he is capable of is having black blobs spawn from his skin. He definitely asks if they love him all the time, to help soothe his fear of losing them.
Oz would definitely be the kind of boyfriend that cooks a ton of sweets to his S/O, so that lucky human can expect a ton of sugary treats coming their way! Specially on the weekends, when he makes his famous black matter cookies! Not the actual ones, since the S/O would die if they tried to eat even one of them, but his recipe using black coloured food dye is pretty good too.
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I am Dungeon anon, djdjdjf. I hope submit is OK to use. But I didn't want be creative in attempting to fit everything in one post or in several posts. That might have the misfortune of being eating by the blob that lives inside all post boxes.
So here's the vague I'd I've had for a while now. Ok, not this one, this one only sprung to life by with that other anons writing story ask.
I have lots of IZ OC's only 3 are flushed, however, and only 1 is Irken and would work in accidentally finding Dr.Zam.
So, my Irken OC used to be a Elite Invader top in his smeet class, not as a whole, but among his smeet siblings. Since, I'm not sure of Zams age, but given my own Irkens timeline and what I gathered of Zams timeline. Either mine is a smeet group before, two groups above or actually during Zams time. (Still haven't decided if smeets are born in categorized classes. Like Invader smeets to one smeetary and science needs to another.) So, unsure if their actually smeet siblings, if the same age, again.
Anyway, during my Irkens invader life he was pretty vicious, even partook in the irken gladiator arena for sport between Invading worlds. On one mission he even turned off the air support on a whole planet and felt smug that he'd outsmarted n hid in fake skin never to be discovered, as he watched them all suffocate. He was true green Irken Nationalist - you know - more power to my people above all else, kinda Irken. Belief in Irken ideals that they were superior to organic lifeforms and all other races were inferior to the Irken Empire, that by enslaving n killing other interior lifeforms the Irken empire was in fact helping them. (Yeah brainwashed zombie.)
Anyway, karma is cruel n teaches us many things, like your whole way of life has been a lie and your no more important to the empire you pleadged to give your life to then other species you enslave n murder.
He was sent on his fifth invading planet right after being honoured and gifted a new ship for his last invade. When he was captured by the planet and headed over to their leading scientist. Dubbed 'insanity' A creature so devoid of apathy n emotions he experiments on his own people without blinking, just for shits n giggles.
He tore my irken apart. Broke him down mentally and physically. But it wasn't the torture or experiments that got my irken. It was the fact The Empire had been sending their leading invaders to their planet for years without a single success. Never to hear from a single one, or ever giving warning to future invaders of its danger. Because they meant nothing, once a toy was broken it was thrown away like garbage.
In the end my Invader wouldn't break. Wouldn't spill The Empires secrets. So he was given a virus in his PAK that would create a back door into The Control system n decimate the mem frame, wrack it from the iniade out, why giving the locations to every Irken whose PAK was still connected to Irk. N even has fellow irkens eye implanted in with a camera to watch the show.
But, what the alien scientist didn't know was. My irken may not of broke for him. He broke at very idea of returning to Irk and what The Massive and control brains would do to him if they learner he'd been defeated n let go. That he was a defected irken now, because he felt wrong. Complete mental breakdown ended up running from Irken space and has never looked back since. Especially, after finding out what was done to his PAK. He may hate what The Empire stands for, but he still believes in his people n what they could accomplish as free beings.
Dxhtrxtxxu, sorry, I figured that needed to be said to understand why everything happened.
My irken has killed a fellow smeet Invader Irken who accidentally ended sucked throw a black whole to his neck of the woods n he aligns himself in The Empires eyes just by knowing n speaking to other aliens aligned with The Resistance n The Resisty. Not mention defected, a traitor, still alive and so in. Lots of racked up reasons to be an enemy now.
I figure my aquatic Bounty Hunter working for The Sub branch The Resisty. Ends up way in over their head n leading several Irken towards my Irken. Or they are together my bounty hunter n irken possibly inspecting a new planet for the plant life (my irken is now a space green witch. They deal in the healing art of plants n such. They are very sick - ill explain that only if asked.) n their scanners on their ships don't pick up an training party of irken. Ooor they were already on the planet when the party shows up.
My Irken knows he's got a better chance of being kept alive n either escaping himself or being rescued tyab an inferior alien with ties to The Resisty who more then likely be killed right away.. Not mention he doesn't have the best self esteem anymore n if he dies it's no big deal. But the bounty hunter is his friend, their more then a friend, their the glue that holds my irken together.
So they cause a distraction or fight through all they fear to allow the bounty hunter to get away. N the irkens are more invested in traitors irken then some backwater planet alien.
In order to be kept alive longest my irken tells them in exchange for life imprisonment he'll tell The Empire all they want to know about their Enemies.. of course he's not involved with the Resisty.. knows nothing.. but he know how to be an Invader. He knows how lie n bullshit n work the system at the same time. (He knows they'll kill him after they get what they want. But he has a backup for that too.) He knows even the highest ranking irken can't make this decision alone.. so they gave no choice but to return him to Irken space to contact Irk.. because let's say the Massive doesn't exist anymore.. thank you florpis n Zim.
However, when get to Irk or radio in when close he lays down n the new tallest say simply to strip him of pak n download the info. He smiles n says he's been implanted with a virus any attempt to mess with his pak will infect every online system n destroy them. (He's bluffing.. as far as he knows. But they Don't know that.) Everyone's freaking out now n what to do with him. He's worth so much more alive than dead but he's also a danger.. so the tallest is like. The dungeons.. put him in the dungeons. Their old n there's no tech down there.. no way to infect the rest if irks whole gride system hundred if feet below the surface of irk.. untill they can figure out how to either exstrack the info without him or until they can get it out if him willing as before n just leave him down there to rot after.
At some point either my irken gets out n starts snooping around for a back exist or he just so happens to be stuck in same room as zams prison box.
Also, I figured out a way to keep Zam alive for so long without food or water or nutrient.. Irkens n their PAKs can go into a hibernation like the Wolly Bear Caterpillars.. Who freeze in winter, zero body functions, meaning they are essential dead n not using any resources.. He could be down there for eons without actual death.
I figure the smallest PAK function would be scan the area for other PAKs.. So Zam can one day escape. N his PAK senses my Irkens PAK n - that's as far as I have thought.
Just know Zam is going have to deal with my Irkens PTSD n emotional moments.. Being back in a dungeon all over.. being on irk around other irkens.. woo so many triggers. There might be even moments Zam will halve to talk my irken down from attempted murder as zones n blacks out from bounty of animalistic fear. (But, l figured he's not all stupid n excited puppy scientist. He's got lots of sides to him, especially, if he's going to be able to take care of Zim. So, he should do fine with this.)
I think I covered everything. Sorry about mistakes, I'm super nervous, hard writing this on a phone n I didn't write everything down. If there are more questions about the story or my Irken or any concerns in general, please ask. Oh, utccitcut n my OC Irkens name is Kravis or Krais as an Elite Invader it was SIVARK or SIARK (Still unsure about the missing irken letters in their language.)
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This sounds interesting so far(i have a different idea for the whole zam au thing, but I'll allow anyone to make up scenarios with my oc, its sounds cool)
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What Is And What Should Never Be Pt 4
Summary: After what was supposed to be a week-long mission (but stretched on for over a month), during which she found out more about their "little stranger", the reader is more than happy to welcome Bucky home.
Also, I suck at summaries.
Pairings: Bucky Barnes x fem! enhanced! Super-soldier Reader
(Reader can see pieces of the future in visions as well as speak every language)
Warnings: Language, pregnancy, smut, fluff
PART 1
PART 2
PART 3
Series masterlist
--------------------------‐----------
“They should be calling me back soon.”
It’s not the ideal way of communicating with your husband while you’re waiting impatiently for an ultrasound in your OB-GYN’s office, but texting is all she has, so it’ll have to do. A week long mission has stretched into four and a half weeks, and although they can’t share phone calls (anyone could be listening in), texting has received the all-clear. She’s grateful that, for the sake of this doctor’s appointment, it’s nighttime in his part of the world, so he’s tucked safely away and can at least somewhat experience this with her.
“I’m gonna give these guys hell for making me miss the chance to spy on our girl.” She chuckles at the message on her screen before typing back her own.
“What are you going to do if it turns out we’re having a boy?” Since the day she told him she was pregnant, Bucky’s been convinced this baby is a girl, but they don’t know for sure. Despite trying her best to concentrate on anything her visions can tell her, she’s come up blank. For all they know, the “little miss” they’ve been talking to for the past few months is really a little mister.
“Teach him how to treat a lady instead of teaching her how to throw a punch.” She snickers. It’s a good response. Still-
“You do realize she’s the child of two super soldiers. She could have the worst right hook in the world, and the other person would still walk away with a black eye.”
“Barnes?” That jerks her attention away from her phone. The nurse is standing just outside the waiting area, eyes searching the room. On instinct, she glances around her, making sure no one has reacted to her last name. She’s not the most recognizable of the Avengers, but still, she’d rather not have the world know she visited the obstetrician today. If anyone has put two and two together, they’re doing a good job of hiding it so, readjusting her shirt in an attempt to hide her bump, she stands and follows the nurse out of the room.
For what feels like the millionth time, she gives her full name and date of birth. The nurse’s eyes widen in recognition, but other than that, she keeps it professional.
“Just wait in here, hon. Someone will be right with you, okay?”
“Thank you.”
The ultrasound room is small, barely more than a broom closet, but at least she’s away from prying eyes. So, she hops up on the table in preparation and takes advantage of the time alone to read the latest message.
“It’s still a valuable life skill. If she takes after her Mom, she’ll be a looker. I want her to be able to make people think twice before they forget their manners around her.” The message brings a smile to her face, but also makes tears prick at her vision.
“I wish you were here.” As quickly as she types the sentence, she erases it. He’s simply not able to be here, and that’s all there is to it. No need to make him feel bad about something he’s already beating himself up over.
The door opens, this time revealing the same ultrasound tech she met at her first appointment. There’s another round of name and date of birth, then settling onto her stool next to the machine, the tech asks,
“Did you want to know the gender if we’re able to tell today?” When they discussed it, she spent a solid fifteen minutes convincing Bucky that yes, this is a thing they can tell just from those black and white pictures, no she’s not pulling a prank on him, they can find out if they’re having a boy or a girl before the baby’s born. Ultimately they decided-
“Yes.”
It’s only the second time she’s been in this position, so everything is still relatively new. A warning about the gel being cold, the pressure of the ultrasound wand against her, and then the screen coming to life. This time around, the baby actually looks more like a baby instead of a blob, and as she watches, she sees a hand go up.
“You’re feeling movements at this point, right?” She nods. “Good.”
Starting at the head that still looks far too large, they work their way down the body, different images being captured over every organ. Then-
“Are you ready to find out if you’ve got a little boy or a little girl in there?”
She pulls up her phone and rapidly types, “About to find out he or she.” then answers.
“Yes.”
There’s a momentary pause, then-
“Congratulations. Looks like you have a little girl.” This time there’s no stopping it. The tears spill over.
“Sorry.” She swipes at her cheeks. The tech offers her a sympathetic smile and offers her a few tissues, which she readily accepts.
The scan goes on for a few more minutes, picture after picture being filed away. Finally, the wand is removed and the tech informs her,
“I’ll have to confirm with the doctor, but everything looks good. Did you want some pictures to take with you?”
“Yes, thank you. That would be great.”
The machine spits out a few images which are torn off and handed to her.
“I’ll give you some privacy to get cleaned up. Someone will be with you shortly to take you to an exam room, okay?”
“Thanks.”
The tech stands and starts towards the door. Hesitating just outside it, she turns.
“By the way, I couldn’t help but recognize the name on the file.” Oh. Here it goes. “I just wanted to say we really appreciate all you’ve done. The other Avengers too. My little girl loves to pretend that she’s the Soothsayer and runs around telling me, “Mom, I had a vision.” “
She laughs, a mental picture forming in her mind of a smaller version of the woman in front of her wearing a Halloween costume version of the Soothsayer uniform.
“That’s good to hear. I’ll pass the word along to the team.”
The tech disappears down the hall and she cleans herself up. Holding up the clearest ultrasound image, she snaps a picture and attaching it, texts, “It’s a girl.”
__________________________________________________________________________________
He’s been staring at his phone for the better part of the last four hours but still, Bucky can’t bear to look away. The picture isn’t the best, a little blurry around the edges, but it still has his full attention. That, and the text attached: “It’s a girl.”
“That thing’s gonna die on you if you don’t put it away soon.” He chuckles in response to Sam’s words.
“We’re only half an hour out. Somehow, I think I’ll make it.”
“What’re you staring at anyway?” He hesitates for a moment. Sam knows their big secret, as does Wanda, but so far no one else has caught on. Is it okay for him to share this? His gut tells him that it is, so he holds up his phone, careful to tip the screen so that only Sam can see it.
“Oh.” Immediate recognition blooms on his partner’s face. “That a recent one?”
“Yesterday.”
Not looking away, Sam continues.
“You know, I sorta thought you were joking before, trying to throw me off what’s really going on, but I guess it’s true.” His eyes narrow, and it’s obvious when he reads the text on the bottom. “A girl?”
Bucky couldn’t hold back his smile if he tried.
“A girl.” He would’ve been okay if his hunch turned out to be wrong, but now that he knows for sure that they have a daughter on the way, he’s excited. Excited… and terrified.
“Damn.” Sam chuckles. “It’s too bad you got rid of the long seventies hair. She could’ve put flowers in it when you play tea party with her.” He snickers. If this baby, his daughter, does indeed want him to have a tea party with her in a few years’ time, he’ll do it, and do it gladly. Hell, he’ll even wear a feather boa and funny hat if that’s what she wants. The world may think that his job is to be an Avenger, but he knows that his real job is at home, taking care of his two girls.
Eventually the never-ending flight home does indeed end and, after bidding Sam and the rest of their squad goodbye, he climbs into his car and starts the engine. He thinks about shooting her a text letting her know he’s on his way, but the clock on the dash reads four a.m., and he decides it’s best to let her sleep. She’ll more than likely wake up when he crawls into bed next to her anyway since she’s such a light sleeper.
As the miles pass, his weariness from the mission fades with them, quickly replaced with anticipation. During the war, when his buddies would hang onto the hope of receiving a letter from their sweethearts or wives and once the letter did arrive, keep it close to them, often inside their jacket pressed close against their hearts, he didn’t get it. Sure, there were people at home he missed, and even a few girls he’d had dates with who sent the occasional note, but these guys were so attached to that scrap of paper and the words scrawled across it that they’d read so often, they could recite them at the drop of a hat, and that it just didn’t make sense to him. Well, now it does. Instead of letters, he has texts and voicemails, a few pictures taken over the years of them together (or the occasional snapshot he’s sneaked when she wasn’t paying attention because really, it would be a crime not to capture how perfect she looked right then for all eternity), and most recently, the image of his unborn daughter. Whatever he’s had to do that day, whatever is weighing him down, he knows that it’s all for them, and that makes the load seem bearable.
Finally, he pulls into his driveway. Killing the engine, he climbs out, leaving his duffle bag full of dirty (and smelly) clothes to be dealt with tomorrow. Right now, he’s on a mission; infiltrate the house quietly, shower covertly, and then crawl into bed with his two girls.
Parts one and two of his plan go easily enough. He removes his shoes at the door to decrease the chances that she’ll hear his footsteps and takes the stairs agonizingly slowly. The guest bathroom is missing a few key items (like razors; god, he needs a shave), but it has soap and shampoo, so he’s able to shower. The one key element he forgot about is that he doesn’t have any clothes located in this part of the house but, as he tiptoes into their bedroom, he realizes he’s in luck. The closet door is open and- he stifles a chuckle- a pair of his pajamas is laid out on his side of the bed. Looks like she had a vision that he’d be coming home tonight. At least she didn’t wait up.
After tugging on the bottoms (he disregards the shirt; somehow, they always end up migrating towards the center of the bed, and with her so close to him, he’ll be more than warm enough), he pulls back the covers and eases into bed. Sure enough, she immediately snuggles closer, pressing her back against his chest. He’s not sure if she’s awake until-
“Welcome home, stranger.” Her voice is rough with sleep, but he can still hear the smile in it.
“Thanks, Doll. It’s good to be back.” He readjusts his flesh arm to wrap around her waist, his hand instinctively falling to caress the swell of her middle (much larger now than it was four weeks ago), and he’s just about to close his eyes in hopes of getting a few winks when he feels it.
At first, he thinks he’s imagining things it’s so soft, but then it happens again. A nudge against his palm, harder this time. It takes a moment for him to realize what’s happening, and when he does, he can’t help the shaky breath he exhales against her neck.
“You okay?” He means to reassure her that he’s fine, but instead what comes out is-
“She’s moving.” As if in response, he receives another kick.
“Yeah. She’s saying hello to her dad.” He knew that she was feeling the baby move thanks to a text sent two weeks back, but this is the first time he’s been able to feel it himself. And it’s… unbelievable.
“Does it hurt you at all, sweetheart? Is it uncomfortable?” She chuckles softly.
“No, it doesn’t hurt. The only time it’s uncomfortable is if she gets my kidneys, or if I’m trying to sleep.” Which is what she should be doing now.
Without thinking, he sits up and, leaning over so that his cheek is pressed against the bump, he murmurs,
“Hey, little miss. This is your Dad. I can’t wait to meet you.” Her hand comes down to cart through his still-damp hair. “Tomorrow, we’ll talk again and you can kick me some more, but right now you need to calm down so your Mom can get some rest. She’s got a big job, looking after me and growing you all at the same time. So why don’t you settle back in and go to sleep, and me and Mom will try to do that too?” He receives one more kick for his efforts and then… stillness.
“I’m never going to hear the end of this am I? How she already listens to you?”
He chuckles and eases back down on the bed, pulling her against him once more.
“Never.”
___________________________________________________________________________________
“… Mom told me to run, and then took off. Didn’t know if she was crazy or an enemy agent or what, so I ran after her.” The words are barely above a whisper, so quiet that she wonders if she’s still dreaming. However, a stirring in her middle settles the matter. She’s awake. This is real.
“I know. Looking back on it, I probably didn’t make the best first impression, but cut me some slack. It’s not every day the woman you just walked into thirty seconds ago tells you there’s an ambush waiting for you on the next street up. And you should be glad I chased her down. Otherwise, you wouldn’t be here.” Is he-
“Not that I’d recommend going up to strange men and saving their lives, Little Miss. It’s a good way for someone to get hurt. Probably not you if Banner’s right about the serum being passed down from parent to child, but still. Not a smart idea.” Yes, it’s exactly what she thought. He’s talking to the baby. “Of course, if anyone so much as looks at you the wrong way, I’ll kick their ass. Or Mom will. One of us. The other one will stage the scene so it looks like an accident. And, that’s probably something I shouldn’t be telling you on the off chance you’re hearing any of this.”
“She has ears now.” Her voice is hoarse from disuse, and she grimaces at the sound of it. “Week eighteen’s when they start to work. She can hear us.”
Blue eyes peer up at her, startled, before melting into the familiar, soft expression he usually wears around her. “Hey, Doll. Did I wake you up?”
Shaking her head, she reaches out, covering his metal hand still resting on her middle, with her own. “No. She did.” As if in reply, there’s a bump against their palms, and a smile spreads across his face.
“Yeah. I felt her kicking when I woke up, so I thought I’d try to calm her down for you. Looks like it did just the opposite.”
“No, you succeeded.” With a yawn, she stretches. “Usually she’s ready to rumble at six a.m. This is an improvement.”
A mock frown crosses Bucky’s face. “Now listen here, Little Miss. There’s a limited amount of driving your mom crazy that can happen in a twenty-four hour period, and since I’ve known her longer, I’ve got seniority. You’re gonna have to dial it back by an hour, thirty minutes at least in the mornings. It’s not a smart idea to piss off your landlady.” Apparently, their little one doesn’t agree. His eyes go wide at the sudden, strong movement. “What-”
“She rolled over.” And, that brilliant, genuinely happy smile is back
“That’s…” He searches for the right word. “...amazing.” It is, but if she focuses on it, she’ll start tearing up, and now’s not the time for a hormone-fueled crying jag.
“She’s usually active in the morning. Settles down after breakfast.”
He chuckles. “Is that your way of saying you’d like me to get you something to eat?” Oh, that sounds good. She has some fresh fruit in the refrigerator, but there’s also mint chocolate chip ice cream in the freezer, and then there’s ramen noodles, which she kind of wants to eat raw for some reason… but no.
“I’ve got it.” She starts to sit up, but doesn’t get very far before he’s easing her back down.
“No you don’t. I’m home now, so I can get back to my real job.” Pecking her forehead, he stands. “Taking care of my girls.”
“Get back here.” It comes out more petulant than she meant it to, which is probably why he pauses just outside the doorway and turns back around to look at her. He didn’t bother with a shirt last night, did he? And those sweatpants… she shakes her head to clear it. “You need your rest.”
He raises an eyebrow. “I think that’s my line, Doll.”
How many days worth of scruff is that, she wonders. The last time he’d let it grow out that long was when they were on that mission in Siberia. It was cold as fuck, and even with their enhancements making them more resilient to the weather, when they finally got back to their hotel room that night, they were nearly frozen solid. The heat wasn’t doing a great job, and so the only logical way to stay warm was to completely undress and lie as close as humanly possible in bed under all the blankets they could get their hands on. Of course, naked cuddling usually leads to naked making out, which lead to what is now a very vivid memory of exactly how that stubble felt between her thighs-
“Which one of us is growing a human right now?” The question snaps her out of her lecherous daydreams. The hormones. That has to be what’s causing this sudden boost in libido.
Clearing her throat, she shoots back, “Which one of us just spent a month getting shot at?” A month. It’s been a whole month since the last time they did anything in this bed other than sleep. She’s fully capable of getting off by herself, but her fingers are a poor replacement for-
“Forget it, solnyshka. You’re not gonna win this one. You’re staying in bed. That’s final.” She’d have something to say about him telling her what to do, but that commanding voice… it’s probably best that she stay in bed. At this point, she’s not sure her legs would hold her up.
“Fine.” It comes out shaky, but it doesn’t appear that he notices.
“Anything in particular you want?” Yeah, she can think of a few things. “Are you still having food aversions-” Oh. He’s talking about food. “-or has that cleared up?”
Grabbing hold of her last shred of sanity, she gasps out, “Anything’s fine.”
He smirks. “Great. Sauerkraut and pickled pig’s feet it is.”
She’s not sure if she manages a laugh, too busy staring as he walks away. Dammit. She needs to take a few deep breaths, get a hold of herself. With a frustrated groan, she pushes back the covers and climbs out of bed. She needs to splash some cold water on her face. Oh, and pee. She’s constantly peeing.
The vision hits her just as she’s dabbing her face with a hand towel. He’s leaning over the stove, cooking… are those pancakes? It’s domestic and sweet and infuriatingly, it riles her up even more. Muttering curses in several languages under her breath, she returns to bed and pulls the covers over her head. Maybe if she concentrates on her slight annoyance that he’s cooking shirtless, which is a damn good way to get yourself burned (of course, they heal fast, so it’s not a huge concern), it’ll help her ignore the ache between her thighs.
Fifteen minutes later when she hears his footsteps on the stairs, she feels like she’s about to spontaneously combust. With a huff, she sits up and attempts to appear normal. As soon as the door opens, she knows it’s a lost cause.
“Here you go. Pancakes, bacon, and tea.” Setting the tray on the nightstand, he climbs back in bed next to her.
“Thanks.” It’s nothing out of the ordinary, him leaning towards her, cradling the back of her head with one hand as he kisses her. It’s not unusual for her to wrap her arms around him, nearly pulling him on top of her as she probes his lips with her tongue, begging for entrance. It’s not even odd for the kiss to go from innocent to filthy, his teeth teasing her bottom lip, making her gasp and tug at his hair. What is odd is that, with a chuckle, he pulls away.
“You’d better eat before it goes cold.”
Smirking, she hooks the chain holding his dog tags (and his wedding ring, still hidden safely from his mission) around her finger and gives a tug. “You know, there’s this amazing new device called a microwave…”
His lips curl up into a knowing smirk. “Oh, so that’s what you’re after, huh?” She feels heat rise to her cheeks as she nods. Luckily, she doesn’t have long to feel embarrassed before his lips are on hers once more.
She can’t contain her gasp as he pushes aside her panties, fingers trailing over her heat. “Sweetheart, you’re drenched.” A moan escapes her as the tip of one cool, metal finger enters her. “Why didn’t you tell me you needed this earlier? I’d be more than happy to help you out.” His palm grinds against her clit as, slowly, he begins to thrust his fingers into her.
Her hand clamps down on his wrist. “Fuck! Bucky-”
He shushes her, lips trailing wet kisses across her jaw. “Just relax. We’ve got all the time in the world.”
That’s all well and good, but as he eases a second finger into her, the thin, cotton tshirt that’s covering her upper half feels far too restraining. “Please-” She gasps out. “-don’t tease.”
“I’m not.” A peck to her nose. “I’m not teasing you.”
“Yes you-” A shudder passes through her as his fingers nudge against her g-spot. “-you are.”
A sigh fans over her exposed collar bone. “I don’t want to hurt you, Doll.”
Gathering all her willpower, she tugs his head down to her level. “James Buchanan Barnes, I am not made of glass. If you don’t get inside of me right now-” A particularly well-aimed thrust of his fingers makes her gasp.
“Alright.” She suppresses a whimper at the sudden emptiness. “How do you want it?”
Her gut screams to tell him, “Anything! Just get on with it!” but a lazy movement in her middle jogs her memory. She can’t comfortably be on her back at this point, and it’s been a month, so she wants to see him…
“I could ride you.” His eyes turn a shade darker at her words, pupils blown with lust.
“Well, I’m not gonna say no to that.”
She’s briefly apprehensive as, after kicking off his bottoms, he eases the t-shirt from her body. She looks a lot different than the last time they did this. What if he doesn’t like-
“Fuck.” His bottom lip slips between his teeth. “Yeah, you’re definitely on top so I can look at you.” And just like that, any residual fear melts away and she can’t push the final offending garment from her body fast enough.
Once he’s resting propped up against the headboard, she takes him in her hand, making him hiss, and slowly, carefully, settles on top of him.
“Oh, fuck.” She’s not sure which one of them moans, too overwhelmed by the sensation of once again, having him inside of her. Finally. Getting used to the feeling, she circles her hips.
“Shit.” At any other time, she’d make a joke about how desperate he sounds, but right now… grasping his shoulders for leverage, she gives an experimental rock against him… she’s beyond teasing.
In the beginning, she sets an easy pace, but with one of his hands grasping her hips, the other one trailing over her middle towards her breasts to tease at the swollen flesh, it doesn’t take long until she’s completely lost, moving against him like her life depends on it.
“That’s it. Take what you need.” She’s not sure if it’s the words or his thump passing over one sensitive nipple that drives her over the edge, but before she can so much as utter a warning, her orgasm crashes over her.
When she opens her eyes, she realizes that he’s staring at her, awestruck. “That’s the first time you’ve been able to cum without-” Oh. She didn’t realize, but neither of them have so much as brushed a thumb against her clit. Her surprise must show on her face, because he grins. “Oh, we’re definitely gonna have fun with this.”
After that, she loses count of how many times she hits her peak, too lost in the feeling of their bodies moving together. One of the advantages of the serum is that they both have incredible endurance, but this is different. It’s something primal, a need she didn’t realize she had being met. Finally, after coming down once again, she wilts against him, resting her head on his shoulder.
“Tired, solnyshka?” She nods, not lifting her head. His chest rumbles with a quiet chuckle, one she doesn’t have time to understand before she’s being lifted off of his cock and placed gently on her side. A whine escapes her at the momentary loss of contact. “Don’t worry, Doll. I’m not going anywhere.” His body curled around her, he eases back into her, making her hum contentedly.
After doing all the work so far, she can’t help but think to herself that it’s nice to just lay back and let him take her, his hips snapping against hers as his cock nudges against her g-spot.
“Do you think you’ve got one more for me, Doll?” His voice is gruff with effort. He’s close, she can tell.
No sooner has she murmured a quiet “yes” than his hand is between her thighs, fingers toying with the bundle of nerves. Her walls contract, and with a strangled cry, he follows her over the edge.
It takes a few minutes for her to come back to herself, for the murmured words of approval and “I love you”s to have any meaning, but eventually she does recover and, offering him a lazy smile, she whispers, “Welcome home, Barnes.”
#bucky barnes#marvel#the avengers#the winter soldier#captain america#bucky x female reader#bucky x y/n#smut#fluff#bucky x reader#bucky fic
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corinth rains
New and improved Heaven may well be the Happiest Place (not) on Earth. But Dean, it turns out, is still Dean.
(also on AO3)
chapter two
Heaven is warm, bucolic, and perfect. And it gives Dean the damned heebie-jeebies.
He recalls a memorable night spent with Pamela - well, as memorable as it could be after a fifth of Macallan. Sam had said ‘So get this...’ and then fucked off to the local library, leaving Pam and Dean at the hotel bar. They’d drunk til the lights got fuzzy, and Pam had leaned back against the barstool, arching one dark eyebrow.
She’d had Dean supine across the foot of the squeaky queen, sitting astride him and working some kind of magic. She’d settled his hands on her slim waist, tugged at his hair, bitten his lips; he’d had nary a moment to want something before she gave it - the craving coming on the heels of the having.
Heaven is much the same - perceptive and generous - and it leaves Dean feeling just as he had that night with Pam. Vulnerable, flayed open. Seen.
He assumes it’s heaven’s off-brand kind of ESP that’s landed him here, seated at a teakwood dining table in a house over yonder.
There are soft sounds from the kitchen - cabinets opening, a gurgling coffee maker, a substratum of tuneless humming. Dean hunches over his plate and shovels another forkful of pie into his mouth. It’s sweet and rich, tart and crumbly, and he barely tastes it at all.
“You alright?”
Dean looks up to find Mary seated across from him. She’s a little younger than when he last saw her, but otherwise she’s just as he remembers - her yellow hair falling in waves over her shoulders, her eyes a soft Carolina blue.
She stares at him, calm and unconcerned, the bow of her lips turned up in a tiny smile.
Dean shakes his head and gives a little shrug. “Yeah, ‘course,” he says, gruffer than intended.
She notices, he’s sure, but she only tips her head in a nod. “Okay.”
A quietude stretches between them, peaceful but gravid. Mary tilts her head, face serene and mildly expectant, and she inches a pale hand forward on the table. His fingers clench around the little dessert fork, and he takes another bite.
She’s waiting, he realizes, for him to speak, to get there. Though where ‘there’ is, Dean’s got no damn idea.
“You know,” he says, to fill the silence, “Sammy asked me if I remembered anything,” he swallows, throat dry, and looks down at his plate, “‘bout bein’ a kid.”
Mary’s eyebrows pop up, and she smiles a little wider. “You remembered me,” she offers.
Dean’s eyes alight on hers, and his lips purse. There’s something something fragile in her face, a budding hope that he doesn’t want to crush. You made me sandwiches, he wants to say. You told me bedtime stories.
His stomach clenches. You burned alive, gutted on the ceiling.
Dean looks away, brow furrowed. “‘Course I did,” he grunts out, throat tight.
She gives him a look that goes right through him - compassionate, or maybe pitying. Her mouth turns down like she can hear his thoughts, and he bites his cheek, shamefaced.
“What else do you remember?” she asks, and her voice is mild and curious, lacking the censure Dean expected.
Dean reins in his surprise and dips his head, summoning a wry smile. “Well,” he says and points his fork at the plate of pie crumbs.
She rolls her eyes and nods, smiling once again. “Yes, obviously pie. What else.”
He stares at her for a moment, feeling wrong-footed and a little short-changed, then peers through the open French doors toward the mountainside. He scans his memories, steering clear of the ugly ones that present themselves first, looking for something - anything - to keep her smiling.
...Weedy grass and buzzing bees.
“Our backyard,” he murmurs, and feels his lips quirk up.
Mary’s smile grows soft, warm like the spring air. “Mm,” she hums. “Always overgrown. Your dad never wanted to mow it.”
Dean withholds a wince at the mention of John, and a muscle twitches in his jaw. “I liked it how it was.”
Mary’s eyes dart up to his, and her soft laugh lines deepen. “Yeah, you did.”
Dean’s eyes trace over her face, searching for something, though he’s not sure what. She’s still the girl who made a deal with a yellow-eyed demon. Still the woman who left, and left, and left again. She’s no more perfect now than she ever was, but...
She has laugh lines, and yellow hair, and Carolina blue eyes. And she’s looking at Dean like she’s missed him forever. Damn, if he hasn’t missed her, too.
Something loosens in his chest, and his fists unclench. He smiles, wan but sincere, and leans back in his seat, crossing his ankles under the table. “Coulda done without the bees though.”
She huffs a little laugh and shakes her head. “You loved the bees,” she counters.
Dean raises a doubtful eyebrow. “Did I?”
“Mhm,” she hums, nodding sagely. “You’d chase ‘em around, flapping your arms like little wings.”
Dean squints, searching his scattered memory. He remembers the yard, the foliage, the window into the kitchen. He remembers thunder and lightning and torrential downpour. He doesn’t remember himself.
“Huh,” he says, and folds his arms over his chest.
He stares across the table at Mary. She’s silent but smiling, her eyes far away. It’s a familiar look, one he’s seen on nearly everyone he knows in Heaven. Like they’re lost in a beautiful memory - a moment in their past lives that they didn’t regret.
Dean doesn’t think about his human life. He’d lived it, after all. That was enough.
“You drew me a map once.”
Dean eyes flick up from where they’d settled on his dirty plate, and his brow furrows. “A map?”
She nods, still staring glassy-eyed into the middle distance. “You followed one little bee all day long,” she murmurs. “Counted all the flowers she landed on. Then you,” she swallows, and her eyes go shiny, “you raced inside and scribbled it all out on the back of a—” a startled huff of laughter, “—a takeout menu.”
Dean watches her, the way her eyes flick back and forth, like she’s watching the scene unfold before her. There’s an ache near the center of his chest like a bruise. “I don’t remember that,” he says, voiced pitched low.
Her head tilts up, absent eyes meeting his as she pulls herself from reverie. “You were... three? Maybe four?” She looks down and brings a hand to settle over her heart. “It was beautiful,” she whispers, and tilts her head. “Wish I still had it.”
Dean nods at her, though she’s still looking away, and he feels a hot coil of guilt in his stomach. Mary had adored him, he knows that much, and she’d lost him as surely as he’d lost her. He remembers the expectant way he’d looked at her in the bunker, wanting something she couldn’t remember how to give. Something he barely even remembers himself.
There’s movement behind Mary’s head, and Dean’s eyes snap to it.
Something is... growing on the wall.
Dean’s fists clench up, and he watches with hawk eyes as the thing manifests, forming itself into a vaguely rectangular shape. He feels his lips purse tight and his spine straighten like a rod.
Mary senses his sudden tension and looks up, following his eyes over her shoulder.
“Oh my god,” she whispers in awe.
She unfolds herself from her chair and stands up slowly, as if in a dream. She walks the four paces to the wood-paneled wall, reaching out a cautious hand. Her fingers close around the frame of the thing, and she gives a soft sigh.
Dean stares at her back where the knobs of her spine meet her neck, her shoulder blades distorting the periwinkle plaid of her blouse. She turns around, her eyes fixed on her prize, thumbs smoothing over the simple wood frame.
She comes around the table, sliding into the chair at Dean’s side, and when she finally looks up at him, her eyes are bright and red-rimmed. She takes Dean’s hand in hers, her skin smooth and cool, and slips the little framed drawing into his palm.
He peers down at it and gives a startled bark of laughter.
The drawing is entirely ridiculous - an indecipherable riot of squiggly pen lines and waxy crayon color. There’s a messy bed of green near the bottom, which Dean assumes is grass, and it’s speckled with tiny blobs of vibrant pink and deep red - flowers, Dean thinks. Near the center of the page is a single white daisy with a bright yellow bumblebee hovering over it. A swirling purple line trails behind its black-striped body, making loop-de-loops around every flower. The sky is a strip of electric blue at the top, just above an empty field of white - the landscape drawn as children often do, with the heavens separated from the earth.
His fingers hover over a grease-stained corner, illegible text bleeding through. “Jeez,” he breathes out. “Clearly I missed my calling.”
He hears the broad smile in Mary’s voice. “Coulda been the next Da Vinci,” she says, nudging his shoulder.
Dean huffs and raises an eyebrow. “More like Picasso.”
She laughs at that, as he knew she would, and it sounds like Corinthian bells, chiming in harmony on the breeze.
Dean smiles to himself, eyes roving over his apparent masterpiece before alighting on a strange scribble in the corner.
“What’s this?” he murmurs, pointing a finger at the tiny black and blue squiggle.
“Hm?” Mary leans closer to him, and Dean’s nose twitches with the scent of tart apples clinging to her hair. She looks at the little scribble, frowning for a moment, before her eyebrows pop up. “Oh, wow,” she sighs out, leaning closer. “I forgot about that.”
She reaches out a hand to grasp the side of the frame opposite Dean’s, the small weight of the silly little drawing shared between them. She’s got that look again, like there’s an old Super 8 projection playing in her head. Dean wonders what’s on the reel.
She chews her lip for a moment, then tips her head toward Dean. “You remember what I used to tell you before bed?” she asks, peering up at his face.
Dean frowns. “Brush your teeth or they’ll turn green?”
She gives him a look. “That was Dad.”
Dean tips his head back in a nod. “Right. Uh...” Dean trails off for a moment, unsure. Nearly all of his childhood memories are of Mary, but they’re weathered and vague, filtered through the consciousness of a toddler. He barely remembers the words she said, only the lilting strains of her voice as she calmed him, soothed him, protected him—
An image flits across his mind, and he sucks in a breath: a tiny figurine that sat on the mantel, with fluffy little wings and a crown of white roses.
Dean blinks and shakes his head. “Angels are watching over me,” he intones.
He sees Mary nod in his peripheral vision, and her finger taps on the little scribble near his thumb.
“It’s—” Dean starts and frowns, askance, “...an angel?” he guesses.
“Mhm,” she hums, giving another slow nod. Her finger slides across the two tiny black scrawls, vaguely triangular and joined at the middle. “Wings,” she says, then taps the blue oval just above, “halo.” He sees her smile out of the corner of his eye. “You drew it all the time.”
Dean stares at the squiggle, a frown etching across his forehead. The figurine he remembers was nearly solid white, the only deviations its pink skin and dark eyes. There’s not a speck of white in the little scribble, no cherubic cloud-seeder to be found. Just messy black shapes and a faded blue circle. Black wings, blue halo.
Black wings. Blue halo.
Black wings.
... Blue—
The painting slips from his fingers as Mary takes it back in her hands. She holds it gently, reverently, as she stands and walks around the table. Dean shakes his head to clear it, and watches as she replaces the little picture on the center of the wall. It looks, at once, as if it has always hung there, and like he’d drawn it but a moment ago.
A shiver climbs up the back of Dean's neck. He shrugs it off.
“How’s Dad?” he asks lowly, and regrets it immediately.
Mary turns around, her eyes a little wide, eyebrows climbing toward her hairline. Dean isn’t sure why he asked. He backtraces his train of thought, only to find he hadn’t had one at all; seems he’s done his usual shtick of putting his foot in his mouth the very moment he opens it.
Mary seems to sense his imminent retraction, and she settles her face into a genial smile. “He’s good,” she says mildly and comes back to her seat across from Dean. “Wasn’t sure he’d like it here, at first. But,” she settles into the worn wooden chair, “I think he does.”
Dean represses a scoff at that. “Why wouldn’t he?” he says and picks up his fork, eyes downcast. “He’s got you.” He slides the crumbs around on his plate, shoulders hunching forward. “All he ever wanted.”
Mary is silent for a long moment, and Dean doesn’t look up - he can picture her face well enough. His fork scrapes against white porcelain, the sun a bright glare on the stainless steel tines.
Mary sighs, barely audible. “You ever gonna talk to him?”
Her voice is soft and ambivalent, as if she’s already accepted his answer. It gets Dean’s back up, and he peers up at her through flinty eyes.
She’s staring at him, face guileless and open. There’s a spark of curiosity in her eyes, flavored with a sort of tempered sadness. But there’s no reproof, no expectation, and Dean gets the strange feeling that there isn’t a right answer. Or a wrong one.
Dean’s jaw goes a little slack, and for a moment, he thinks he might simply say, No.
Mary tips her head to the side, eyes going soft as her lips turn up, and the moment passes.
“‘Course, I will,” Dean grumbles, casting his eyes back to his empty plate. He shrugs. “Not avoiding him, just...” he trails off and shakes his head. Best leave it there.
Mary takes a slow breath, and Dean sees the vague shape of her leaning forward in her seat.
“Well,” she starts, lacing her fingers on the tabletop. “I won’t speak for him—”
Dean snorts. “But.”
Mary sighs, amused and resigned. “But... I know he’s got a lot to say. He just...” she pauses for a moment, then shrugs her shoulders. “He doesn’t really know how to say it. He knows he—” she cuts herself off with a quick shake of her head. “Well,” her hands raise in a brief shrug. “It’s his truth to tell.”
Dean nods absently, shifting uncomfortably in his seat. He’s known since ‘they live over yonder’ that a reckoning would come for him and his dad. Dean just isn’t quite sure if he’s ready for whatever truth John might tell - or if he’s even inclined to listen to it.
Dean clenches his jaw and drops his fork onto the plate. It clatters loud in the calm of the spring afternoon, and Dean barely restrains a flinch.
Mary leans further forward, hand sliding halfway across the table.
“Dean—”
“Think Sammy’s gonna join the Arch,” Dean says overloud, settling his elbows on the tabletop.
Mary pauses at the abrupt change of subject, but deftly lets it slide. Her eyes flutter a bit, and she pulls her hand back. “Yeah?” she asks, giving a slightly awkward smile.
Dean feels a twinge of guilt in his throat and swallows it down. “Mm,” he nods. “Eileen’s gonna join. And lord knows wherever she goes—”
“Sam goes,” Mary finishes, her smile seeming to widen and soften at once. “He loves her,” she murmurs.
Dean’s stomach clenches taut, even as a smile comes unbidden. He remembers Sam peering over his shoulder as they’d stood on the bridge, his mouth slack and eyes liquid. Dean had known without looking who stood behind him. Sam had gone to her on shaky legs that crumbled beneath him as he reached her. Dean’s vision had gone blurry, and he’d turned away from them, eyes squinting out at the sunlit mountain.
“Yeah,” Dean says, voice a little thick. He clears his throat and nods. “And I get it, ya know. He—” he interrupts himself on a wincing inhale. “He lost her before.” A dry swallow. “Twice.”
Mary makes a little noise in her throat. “Three times,” she whispers.
Dean frowns, confused, and glances up at Mary. Her eyes are shiny, mouth screwed up in a tiny sad smile.
Oh. “She... she went before him?”
Mary’s eyebrows scrunch together, and she sniffs. “She stayed with us. Til he came.”
Dean’s brows rise at that. Offering comfort in a time of need isn’t really his parents’ bag - at least, not that Dean can remember.
Then again, he can’t think of anyone who knows grief better.
“Huh,” he grunts in lieu of a response, and glances up.
Mary is still staring at him, but the melancholy has given way to a sharp sort of consideration. Her eyes dart over his face, slightly squinted, and she looks so much like Sam that Dean turns to stare out at the sun.
Here in Heaven, Sam and Mary are quite alike: happy, whole, and ready for a new life - a new fight.
Dean is just... tired.
“You know,” Mary begins, and Dean’s eyes flick to her hands, still resting on the table. “He’s not going anywhere,” she says, and Dean’s eye twitches in a wince. “You know that, right?”
Dean nods and swallows, looking down at his own hands. “Yeah, I know.” And he does know.
“Even if he joins the Arch,” she continues as if he hadn’t spoken. Her voice is ardent but still gentle, and she leans forward. “He’s not going anywhere. He—” she huffs and tips her head side to side. “He might get a little banged up, maybe, but—”
He knows. “I know.”
“—he...” Mary trails off on a sigh, stretching her arm across the table. Her fingers brush his, and he holds himself still. “No one’s gonna take him away, Dean.” She runs her thumb over the knuckles of his fist. “It’s work,” she acknowledges. “Dirty work, even, but... it’s not life or death,” she murmurs with a tiny smile. “Not here.”
Dean knows this. He knows all of this, but... But that doesn’t stop him from... It’s not the same as...
It doesn’t make him—
“I know,” he intones, giving her a tight smile.
Her eyebrows make a sympathetic shape, and she pulls her hand back. Dean’s shoulders relax, just slightly.
“You know, your dad thought you would join,” she says with a little smile.
Dean huffs out a chuckle, bitter and resigned. “‘Course he did,” he grunts, pressing his thumbs together.
“Dean,” Mary sighs, tone somewhere between chiding and apologetic.
Dean’s lips turn down, and he shakes his head. “Sorry,” he mutters, mostly sincerely.
“It wasn’t an expectation,” Mary says, then gives a little shrug. “He just... I think he figured all the—” she shakes her head, as if searching for the words, “-the soul-searching would...” she sighs. “I dunno... Make your teeth itch,” she finishes with a wry smile.
Dean gives her one back, though he feels a headache coming on. His teeth do itch. Everything itches. Everything chafes.
“Well,” he starts and swallows again. His throat’s gone bone dry. “Still searching, I guess,” he says, and he supposes it might be true, but- “Not sure what for, though.”
Mary reaches her hand out again, and Dean goes tense for a moment. His eyes flit to hers, and he finds them crinkled at the corners. She’s smiling at him as she’d smiled at his little drawing, as she’d smiled when she sat him down, as she’d smiled while he ate his pie. She’s smiling at him now, as she had when he was a boy, as she always has.
Her skin looks like clouds, her eyes like the sky. She laces her fingers with Dean’s, and the tension across his back fades away.
“I think,” Mom murmurs, “you’ll know it when you find it.”
chapter one | chapter three
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#corinth rains#destiel#deancas#fanfiction#post-canon#slow burn#dean-centric#tw: depression#chapter wc: ~3.4k
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Takari Week, Day 1 - Confession
Takeru has spent weeks trying to confess to Hikari but somehow he can never actually get it out. Hikari has a different interpretation on how they’ve been spending their time. Done as part of @takariweek 2020
Today was the day. Today everything would change for better or for worse. Today marked the first sentence of a new chapter of his life. Today was the day he was going to confess to Hikari.
Unlike all those other sentences he had to re-write.
This was not the first day this month Takeru had planned to confess. However, he was a romantic at heart, and no matter how much resolve he had beforehand somehow the moment never felt right. He would always be able to tell their grandkids about how they met, but he wanted to be proud or the story of how he first asked her out. And none of the opportunities so far fit his taste.
It was either that or he was afraid.
Even if his confession was successful, it would still mean a fundamental change would occur in his and Hikari’s relationship. And Takeru had a mixed relationship with change. Change meant the loss of his father and brother. Change meant the introduction of a strange world filled with monsters. Even the first time Patamon had changed into a new form had led to one of the most traumatic events in his life.
But change also led him to meet Patamon in the first place, something he wouldn’t trade for all the riches in the world. Change meant moving to the same school as Hikari, and meeting Miyako, Iori, Daisuke and Ken. Change meant that one day society might accept Digimon as a whole.
And whether he liked it or not, change was coming.
It was still surreal to him; his brother and Taichi had always seemed so close. They had never been part of the same cliques, and they spent almost as much time fighting as hanging out. But their friendship always eclipsed everything else, social standings, heated disputes, none of it mattered; they were best friends, through and through.
Then college happened. Now the legendary duo’s primary means of communication was via their siblings. Hikari would learn some new fact of her brother’s life, tell Takeru during the course of casual conversation, and Takeru would update his brother of the going-ons later that week.
It wasn’t just them. Even Mimi, who had an incessant talent for attaching herself onto someone and refusing to let them go, seemed much further from the rest of the chosen then she’d even been while she lived in America.
Takeru knew their bond was strong, that what the eight of them had done could not be forgotten or replaced. But even if distance could not destroy the bridge holding them together, it could certainly increase the hassle of travelling back and forth.
The last thing Takeru wanted was for that distance to appear between himself and Hikari. This was their final year in highschool, if he didn’t at least try now he might not ever get the opportunity again. He needed to try, despite the inherent risks.
Besides, Hikari had rejected Daisuke dozens of times, and they were still friends, right?
Gathering his courage, Takeru had asked Hikari if they could have a day to themselves, ‘just the two of them’. He’d suggested Wednesday, when neither club duties nor pressing assignments devoured too significant portions of their time.
Ever the romantic, he had it all planned out: First, karaoke. A good, private way to judge the mood, and get Hikari to let her hair down. Next, they had tickets to a movie, the new Disney flick that Hikari had been dying to see but never gotten around to (and without someone pressing, likely would not until it became available on dvd.) Finally, a romantic stroll on the boardwalk at sunset.
The boardwalk overlooking the bay.
The bay where they fought Ordienmon.
The bay where they’d been forced to kill one of their friends.
It was only after beginning his long-rehearsed spiel that Takeru had this epiphany, and, fearful that his date may have been quicker on the uptake than himself, he scrambled for a plan B.
Salvation came in the form of a nearby cat café, he knew as soon as he suggested it that Hikari would lose herself in the felines, paying more attention to the four-legged critters than she did to him, but it was worth it to avert potential catastrophe.
Fate still deigned to mock him however, from the instant he sat down a maine-coon attached to him, refusing to move from his side, or to let the memories of past failures escape.
All cats attached to Hikari, she merely shared them with the other customers as she saw fit. There was no doubt she enjoyed herself, but the moment had been well and truly ruined.
Takeru had managed to obtain an opportunity of redemption. ‘Same time next week’ had been the agreement, and he had near instantly resumed planning. Whatever he came up this time had to top what he’d just done, or else he might have to explain away his mistake.
But even the most perfect plan does not survive contact with the enemy, and the enemy presented itself as an ill-timed phone call from his father. One of his coworker’s households had apparently been graced by the appearance of a small white blob with a voracious appetite, and Hiroaki was wondering if his son could stop by after school and help calm the panicking mother, perhaps also giving tips for digital care.
Hikari would not allow him to say no, and insisted on tagging along. But the TV station itself held a lot of painful memories for the girl, every year she returned with an offering of flowers and incense for Wizardmon’s grave.
It was far from a total waste since an idol Hikari had been following was also present. Somehow the idol had overheard their arrival, and considered themselves interested in the pro-digimon cause. In fact, the idol had been downright helpful, asking questions of him and Hikari that the coworker was likely to embarrassed or too naïve to think of. Hiroaki ended up taking them all out for dinner, and they chatted for hours, finally assuaging the fear of a parent whose daughter now had a dog-head as a life partner.
By that point, he had to take Hikari home, with no real opportunity to confess, even if Wizardmon wasn’t on her mind.
The third attempt was a no go from the beginning, Hikari had been sent into a rare, foul state. All she wanted to do was eat ice-cream and rant, so they went to a dairy-bar overlooking the beach.
He’d let her vent when she wanted to vent, and when she was done he did what he did best: deflecting the conversation to some odd antics of Daisuke or his brother, anything to get her happy and cheerful again. Even after her mood had recovered, steering the conversation towards a confession felt like he might be taking advantage of her, or putting her on the spot somehow.
Cheering her up was reward enough, even as he paid for the forty-flavor super-jumbo, bottomless Sunday that they’d managed to make a liar out of.
(He’d eaten perhaps an eighth of it, there was no doubt in his mind that Hikari could have eaten the whole thing; but she at least wanted the plausible deniability to claim that he’d consumed half the calories.)
The fourth attempt was similarly doomed, he’d been too sick for school that day, and while Hikari had dropped by, he was too delirious to form a real confession, or for her to take any confession seriously.
The feel of her hand stroking his hear as she tended to him had been so heavenly though. He couldn’t regret the experience.
By this point Takeru was convinced their Wednesday gatherings were cursed. There was little reason Hikari would even see them as special. And while he always enjoyed spending time with her, especially just the two of them, he was worried that regularity may dampen the splendor he’d initially been going for.
This week he requested to move their weekly hang out session to Saturday. It would allow more time for them to be out at night, and thus more time for him to enact his perfect confession. Hikari’s father was away on business, and her mother had already agreed to be rather lax on her daughter’s curfew.
His mother had not, but she would not punish him if he told her he was out on his first date, nor would she punish him after getting rejected, yet another reason he needed to actually spit it out today.
And it seemed all the stars were aligning, on top of her father being out of town: a photography exhibition at a local gallery was going for half price, and her favorite indie group were headlining a public concert at the beach until sundown. Finally, there was a forecast for a clear, bright moon, and a local botanical garden was advertising a moonlit stroll through their flowers.
Hikari had agreed on one condition: they could wade through the shallows, but not do any real swimming at the beach. It had seemed odd to Takeru at first, but the beach had been more about the free concert than seeing her in her swimsuit.
***
When Takeru arrived at the Yagami apartment he was stunned by the vision of beauty that graced him. Hikari was wearing a strapless dress, black with accents of pink and white, that he’d never seen her in before. Based on how high her head was coming up his body, she had to be wearing quite daring heels as well.
And her makeup had been done with so much precision and effort he had to wonder if perhaps Mimi had come back to town to help her.
“T-Takeru?” she asked, and he realized he must have been staring.
“I’m sorry, have you seen Hikari? Brown hair, about yea tall,” he held his hand about three feet off the floor, “may have a family of ducklings following her around.”
“That was one time.” She scolded.
Takeru stood on his tip toes and moved one hand to sit above his eyes, like a visor. “Hikari? Is that you? Are you trapped behind this radiant goddess in front of me?”
A tell-tale pink infiltrated her cheeks as she turned around. “It’s too much isn’t it? I could still maybe change and-”
His hand shot out and grabbed her arm before she could escape. “You look perfect.” He said sincerely, pulling her in for a hug. “Besides, people at the exhibit will be expecting beauty and art. They just may not be expecting the source.”
“You’re just saying that.” She deflected.
He wasn’t.
Takeru was not the same connoisseur of photography Hikari was. When push comes to shove, he wasn’t sure anyone was the same connoisseur of photography Hikari was. That said, he enjoyed exhibits well enough. He liked to look at the pictures, and soak them in. Try and memorize every detail to regurgitate later.
Or occasionally, he would find a particular picture, and write a story in his head. How had they gotten here, to this moment, what did picture mean to the squirrel which was the focus? What was he doing immediately before? How did this moment change his life?
Such joys eluded him today, instead his focus was solely on the brunette accompanying him. The pictures only mattered in how they changed the expression on her face as she examined them.
After exiting the gallery, there was still about an hour before the band started playing at the beach, they stopped for a bite to eat, and Takeru did his best to fake his way though her questions on the exhibition.
What was his favorite photo? He named one on the left wall of the one she stared at for ten minutes, that had framed her head the whole time. Why? He made up some impromptu story he’d concocted about the scenery involved. It won him a laugh from her as he turned the questions around.
When they got to the beach, Hikari replaced her heels with flat sandals she kept in her purse. Takeru noted that he at least recognized the heels this time, unlike her dress, but he’d still never seen her wear them before.
Despite her insistence they not swim, (something Takeru now realized had to do with the amount of time she’d spent on her makeup,) hikari had instantly dragged him towards the water, to wade in the shallows. They didn’t go much more than ankle deep, anymore and they risked getting hikari’s dress and his shorts wet, but it had been romantic nonetheless.
When the main act began to play, they collected their shoes and moved towards the stage, communications dampening as the speakers drowned out all sounds but the band on stage.
Takeru didn’t need words, the sight of Hikari, framed by the sunset, losing herself in the moment was more than enough for him.
It was twilight when the band’s ‘second encore’ had concluded and the crowd began to peter out. There was a small ice-cream sack on the beach, and Hikari rarely turned down an opportunity for more of the frozen delight.
They talked about the concert, the waves on the beach, of everything and nothing all at once, until the residual light from the sun faded and the moon came in full force. In the city like this, there was always a glow of artificial light, but it did not diminish Tsukuyomi’s splendor.
Meandering towards the botanical gardens, continuing their chatter about daily life. Just outside Hikari stopped him, finding a bench to switch back from flats to heels, insisting it was more ‘proper’. Takeru didn’t let her get away unscathed, suggesting that if she wanted to feel taller, stilts would be more appropriate. She responded by playfully warning him that he may ‘wake up one day, two feet shorter’.
Neither comment had nearly as much effect as when the woman at the counter remarked on ‘What a beautiful date this would make’ and how she ‘wished her boyfriend had been so romantic at that age.’
Hikari’s face could be mistaken for a tomato, and Takeru adopted an uncharacteristic stutter as he paid their admission and ushered Hikari outside.
The woman’s words had a chilling effect, the natural conversation had all but dried up, replaced with subtle pleasantries and tepid remarks about the moonlit flowers. Before long Hikari had her camera out, taking pictures of the various plant life, abandoning most conversation all together.
Was this it, had such a small, well-meaning action already cursed him? Everything was going so well. Was he a modern Sysphus? Doomed to forever push himself up the hill of a relationship with Hikari only to fall down at the pinnacle and start all over?
“Takeru?” Hikari asked, snapping him out of his monologue, “Are you okay?”
“Fine.” Takeru replied “Just thinking.”
She grabbed his arm, pulling him towards a nearby bench. “Come on, let’s take a break, these shoes are killing me.”
“The price of fashion.” Takeru said sagely.
After they reached the bench, and Hikari had relieved herself of her footwear, they paused, focusing on some hydrangeas flow in the wind, accented by moon light. A weight appeared on Takeru’s shoulder, where Hikari began to rest her head.
“Right now.” She said “This moment just feels so…perfect.”
Takeru took a deep breath. He had the most wonderful girl on his arm, after spending nearly eight hours with her. “Yeah, perfect.”
A perfect moment.
It was unlikely a better opportunity would present itself.
“Hikari.” He said suddenly, just as she chimed in with his name. “Sorry,” they said in unison.
Her head pulled off his arm, quite disappointingly in his opinion, as she turned to face him.
“Ladies first.” Takeru said “I insist.” She gave him a soft look, knowing that he wouldn’t let her win this one.
“Okay.” She started “This last month, has just been so wonderful, so amazing. I know I’m not the most experienced with this, and I know we haven’t really put a name on it, but it’s still been like something out of a novel. I guess I should expect that from you.”
She had begun to look down, rummaging through her purse, as takeru tried to sort out exactly what she was talking about. Had it already been a month since they started these ‘friend-dates?’
Hikari continued obliviously, “It’s not much, especially since you seem to do all the planning, but I thought you’d like it.” She pulled out a tightly-wrapped box. “Happy one-month anniversary.”
Ani-what?
Dates rolled back in his head as he began to piece things together; the dress, the makeup, the heels, those were all for him? Had she always been considering these less friend-dates and more dates-dates?
And he, in a move of pure coincidence, had moved this week’s date to Saturday, one month to the day of that first date, and even asked her mother for permission to stay out late.
Takeru did the only thing he could think of in the moment.
He laughed.
“Tak-Takeru?” she asked, and he could already sense fear and hesitation begin to well up within her as she saw her (boyfriend?) laugh at her anniversary gift. He grabbed her and pulled her into a hug to dissuade any doubts.
“Happy anniversary,” he said when his hysterics died down. “One month, I’ve been trying to confess for a month, and you hit me with that.”
“Wait, confess?” Hiakri said, begging a laugh of his own that quickly spread to Takeru. “All this time and you didn’t even think we were dating? You completely stopped flirting with everyone else. Did you really think I didn’t…”
“We’re quite the pair, aren’t we?” Takeru teased in response.
“Yeah,” Hikari agreed. “Well, if you finally managed to confess after all that, maybe I can do something I’ve been too scared to do for the last month.”
Takeru looked down at her, “What would that be?” he asked leaning in close.
“This.” She pressed her lips against his.
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GOBLINS ➝ BECHLOE.
TAGGING ➝ Chloe Beale, Beca Mitchell.
LOCATION ➝ Beca, Chloe and Amy’s apartment.
TIME FRAME ➝ 2/10, afternoon.
WARNINGS ➝ None.
NOTES ➝ Beca comes home to find Chloe and five new babies.
CHLOE BEALE
Although they’d smiled politely and thanked the woman who had come into the clinic mid-morning with a box of newborn, abandoned kittens, everybody had actually been kind of mad about it. For all she knew, their mom had simply gone to find food, and would return to find her kittens gone, but they were here now, and there was nothing they could do to reverse her actions—if the cat had returned, she would be long gone by now, and her babies wouldn’t smell like her anymore. This, of course, meant that they now had five helpless kittens to provide twenty-four hour care for, and without considering the shoebox she lived in, Chloe had jumped at the chance to volunteer.
After checking them all over, they all seemed to be in generally good health, and were each given tiny paper collars in different identifying colors—red, blue, green, yellow and purple—before being bundled into a new, bigger box with fresh blankets, and Chloe had been dismissed early to get them home and settled. Considering they couldn’t yet open their eyes properly, it wasn’t like they needed toys or food bowls or anything; the clinic provided her with plenty of kitten milk and syringes to feed them, then the rest was pretty much up to Chloe.
Navigating the city with a box of kittens proved to be a task, as did opening doors, but once they were safely out of the cold and closed away in the apartment, Chloe cleared a space by her side of the pull-out bed to settle their box, then set a timer for every two hours on her phone for scheduled feeds.
By late afternoon, changed out of her scrubs and into a standard winter comfort outfit of leggings and a sweater, Chloe sat cross-legged on the bed, pouting at the soft whines to ring from the box beside her as she scrolled through kitten care tips on her laptop. “I know, you’ll get more milk soon,” she cooed toward the box, leaning over to admire the tiny black and white blobs sprawled out in their makeshift bed.
BECA MITCHELL
Another day, another frustrating shift at the office. While Beca wasn't a fan of physical activity in general, she was low-key grateful for her studio commute as the musical decompression time on the subway plus the several block power walk to and from her subway stops helped blow off some steam. So she wasn't in the worst mood by the time she got home, all things considered.
Especially because her apartment had heat. And food. And…
"Chloe?" Beca cast a confused wave at her roommate as she set her laptop bag down gently by the foot of the bed. Then she carefully removed her headphones from around her neck and shrugged off her blazer. "What's up, you okay? Are you sick or--"
The tiniest mewl interrupted Beca and her brow furrowed as she followed the sound toward the other side of the bed. "Uh, what…" Taking a few steps over, her hand flew to her mouth and barely muffled her gasp at the sight of the tiny creatures in the box. "Dude, oh my god!"
CHLOE BEALE
In hindsight, maybe Chloe should’ve texted her roommates to at least give them a heads up about the kittens, but she’d been kind of preoccupied all day, so the thought had just slipped her mind. It wasn’t until she heard the door opening that it registered to her, and Chloe bit back a grimace as she took in Beca’s reaction. She couldn’t tell if it was a good one or not.
“Before you say anything,” she began quickly, pushing her laptop aside to instead swing her legs over the side of the bed, body now facing the box. “They were abandoned. Some lady brought them to us this morning, and they don’t have their mom, so now someone has to take care of them until they’re big enough to take care of themselves.” Chloe pulled her lips inward. “Don’t make too much noise, okay? They’re really tiny, you might scare them.”
BECA MITCHELL
Beca may have perfected her hard-ass exterior over the years, but while she held firmly to her belief that most people suck… she'd always had a soft spot for animals. Some of them even melted that badass persona right into mush. She couldn't help it.
"Oh my god, okay." Beca kept her voice low and toed off her boots before lowering herself to sit on Chloe's side of the bed beside her. "Poor babies! They're so freakin' small, holy shit. I've never seen a cat that small." And there were five of them!
All of this information processed a little too slowly as Beca tried shaking off the shock and she cut Chloe a glance, blinking. "Wait. Does that mean we're taking care of them until they're big enough?"
CHLOE BEALE
Pleased that Beca at least didn’t seem angry, Chloe’s expression softened, and she glanced between the box of kittens and her best friend seated now beside her. “I know, they’re newborn,” Chloe explained, keeping her volume low so as not to wake the ones that were still sleeping. Technically, they all should be sleeping between feeds, but already some of them were a little more lively than the others. “We don’t know when exactly they were born, but it can’t be more than a couple days. You see how they can’t really open their eyes yet?”
Peering into the box, Chloe pulled in her lips again. “Umm, yes,” she nodded. “I mean, I’m taking care of them. It would be awes if you could help, but you don’t have to. They do need to be fed a lot, though… Every two to three hours, in fact.” Chloe paused, nose wrinkling as she shot Beca an apologetic look. “And that’s every two to three hours, including during the night.”
BECA MITCHELL
Beca nodded without hesitating. “Shut up, nerdface. I’m not gonna let you do this shit by yourself--it sounds like a lot of work. And I’m here already. I’d be a dick if I let you do this all by yourself.” Not that Chloe needed to ask. Seriously, Beca never thought twice about helping Chloe, that’s how it had always been. She caught her lower lip between her teeth for a bit, seemingly losing her restraint. (At least she didn’t let out the squeal. She had a cool image to maintain.) “So can I hold one??”
CHLOE BEALE
Chloe knew Beca was a softie for animals—who wasn’t?—but she still felt a certain sense of relief in response to her reaction. It was much better than she’d expected, considering they were going to have a lot of sleepless nights ahead of them. But Beca was her best friend, and Chloe knew that she’d always have her back, so it really shouldn’t have surprised her.
Her lips relaxed into a warm smile. “You can, but you have to be extra careful, okay? In fact…” she paused, picking up her phone to check the time. “They’re due another feed really soon, maybe you could feed one or two of them?” Pushing herself up from the bed, Chloe bounced toward the small kitchen, then directly to the fridge to grab the kitten milk. “There are a couple syringes by the box, grab those and we can fill them. Feeding them is so cute, Bec. They make the sweetest little suckling noises.”
BECA MITCHELL
“Oh, um--sure!” Her reply tinged with a sudden injection of anxiety. “They’re so freakin’ small,” she noted as she peered into the box once again. “What if I accidentally crush it or something?” Beca wrinkled her nose, knowing the concern was likely a dumb one--she had pretty small hands, after all. While Chloe set up the milk, Beca hurried to change into her pajama pants and a soft t-shirt, wanting to get comfy before handling the baby kittens.
CHLOE BEALE
Chloe chuckled quietly as she got to work on carefully heating a saucepan of water. “You won’t. They’re also less fragile than they look… But I mean, don’t, like, squeeze them or anything,” she frowned, focus on preparing everything she needed. While Beca changed, Chloe set a fresh container of milk into the pan, keeping the heat low, before shuffling back toward the bed to plop back down into her previous position.
Grabbing the small notebook she’d been recording their feeds (and other habits) in throughout the afternoon so far, Chloe pulled it into her lap, opening it up to scan over her earlier notes. “I’m guessing you’ve never fed a kitten before?” she questioned, lifting her gaze toward Beca. A shot of excitement ran through her at the idea of getting to teach her something, even if it was just how to syringe feed, so Chloe wasn’t going to waste any time, and leaned down to carefully scoop up the first meowing kitten.
“This one’s name is Green for now,” she said in a soft voice, pulling her hand close to her chest and glancing down toward the black and white blob with a small, contented smile on her lips. “They’re all named after the colors on their collars,” Chloe hummed, reaching out with her finger to delicately stroke over the kitten’s tiny head. “Do you want to hold him? His milk isn’t ready yet, but I bet he still loves cuddles.”
BECA MITCHELL
Beca had to bite back her smile as she watched Chloe go into vet mode, writing her notes and analyzing the situation. “Nope. Can’t say I have, Dr. B. Good thing I’ve got you to teach me.” Pride shined in Beca’s eyes as she watched her best friend handle the kitten with such gentle care. Chloe would be an incredible vet, and it was super awesome she found something she had so much passion for and could make a career out of it.
“Green,” Beca repeated, a slight smirk twisting on her lips. “Like the Green Goblin. Dope.” Her spine snapped straighter when Chloe asked if she wanted to hold him, and she couldn’t resist shooting Chloe a sheepish smile as she made grabby hands toward the baby. “I’ll be real careful. Promise.” She carefully helped transfer the kitten into her hands, gasping as she brought him against her chest. (Mindful of her sore nippes, as always lately. Thanks, Stacie.)
“Hey there, little dude!” Beca whispered, carefully stroking the soft fur on his back before dropping a kiss to his head. “I’m Auntie Beca.” Well, so much for not getting attached.
CHLOE BEALE
It was perhaps kind of pathetic, the way Chloe’s entire body would tingle with pride whenever Beca called her that particular name. To be more relatable to their clients, everybody just used each other’s first names at the clinic, so she only really got the doctor title at home, but it always made her feel incredibly warm.
“Yes, exactly like the Green Goblin,” Chloe grinned, the reference going entirely over her head. “There’s also a Red Goblin, a Yellow Goblin, a Blue Goblin and a Purple Goblin.” Her gaze was down on the kitten, but glancing over to see Beca so eager and excited made Chloe’s heart flutter in the strangest way. She couldn’t resist cracking a bright smile in response. “I trust you, Bec.”
Cautiously handing him over, Chloe watched the way Beca interacted with the kitten, and did all she could to bite back her grin. “Auntie Beca,” she giggled quietly, reaching out to run the pad of her finger over Green’s head again. “He’s so cute, right? He’s definitely one of the more lively ones already. He has one brother, Blue,” she explained as she rose from the bed to go check on the milk. “Then the rest are girls. Do any of the others look like they’re awake?”
BECA MITCHELL
"He's so freaking small," Beca marveled, continuing to card her fingers in what she hoped was a soothing rhythm through his fur. While Chloe tended to the milk, Beca peered back into the tiny kitten box. "Um… it's hard to tell since their eyes are all still closed but it looks like purple's squirming around a little." Beca refocused her attention on the green collared baby in her hands, hitching her voice up an octave in an uncharacteristically gooey sort of way. "You hungry, buddy? Dr. B's fixing you up some grub right now."
CHLOE BEALE
Careful not to let the milk get too warm, Chloe pulled the container from the pan, testing a small drop on the back of her hand like regular baby milk. “Oh, really? That’s good, Purple has been the least lively so far,” she commented, turning off the heat and bringing the milk back over to the bed with her. Although she really wanted to say something about Beca’s adorable baby voice, she held it back, and instead just grinned as she reached for two of the syringes.
“You can feed Green while I feed Purple?” she suggested, carefully measuring out the correct amount of milk into the first one, then set it down on the bed beside Beca. She did the same with the second, before reaching into the box to scoop up Purple, the obvious runt of the litter. “Hi, baby,” she cooed, bringing the smallest kitten up to her face to take a look. “I don’t think your brothers and sisters let you get much milk from your mama, huh?” Chloe pouted, setting the kitten down in her lap on her back legs with her hand securely holding her upright.
“Okay, so this is how you feed them,” Chloe began, grabbing the closest filled syringe and guiding it toward the kitten’s mouth. “Nice and gentle,” she just above whispered, finger pushing delicately on the plunger. “You just do one little drop at a time, otherwise they might not be able to swallow it properly.” Chloe watched the kitten for a moment, then glanced toward Beca. “You try.”
BECA MITCHELL
“Just you wait,” Beca said, eyeing the tiniest of the litter. The ‘runt’ or whatever. “Purple’s gonna be the toughest cat there’s ever been. Small and scrappy as fuck. Nobody’s gonna dare mess with her.” Was Beca projecting? Nope. Not even a little bit.
She paid close attention to Chloe’s kitten feeding process, only getting somewhat distracted by how adorable she--it was, her whole… vet thing. She’d always been a good teacher (especially when it came to choreography), but helping Beca learn how to care for newborn kittens was pretty damn cute.
“Here we go, Goblin. Milk time.” Gentle as ever, she repositioned the kitten and held up the syringe, pressing out one drop for him. She brightened when the tiniest pink tongue poked out to lap it right up. Beca giggled. “Delicious, huh? Here ya go, have another drop.” Beca remained hyper focused on the kitten, feeding him one drop at a time. She figured Chloe would stop her when he had enough.
CHLOE BEALE
“Small and scrappy,” Chloe echoed, brows rising playfully. Beca was totally describing herself. “She’s gonna have to be scrappy when they start sharing a milk bowl, I think Red is going to be super greedy. She’s already the biggest, and she really, really loves her milk,” Chloe chuckled quietly, glancing toward the open page in her notebook.
Although focused on feeding Purple, she couldn’t help but let her gaze drift toward Beca, at first watching to make sure she knew what she was doing, but then lingering, because there was something almost irresistibly adorable about Beca Mitchell syringe feeding a tiny kitten.
Not that Chloe would ever think of her best friend as irresistible in any other instance, of course.
“This is cute now,” she hummed, gaze moving toward Purple again. “But how do you think you’ll feel about it when we have to wake up every two hours during the night?” Chloe paused then, sending Beca an apologetic look. “I really can figure something else out. Maybe Amy will switch beds with me until they’re a little bigger and don’t have to have regular night feeds?”
BECA MITCHELL
“Well Purple’s gonna have to show Red who’s boss. I believe in her.” Beca cast Chloe a quick smirk before refocusing her attention on her little Green Goblin, who was basically the most adorable creature Beca had ever seen.
“I’ll make it work,” Beca said with a shrug. Though honestly, if literally anyone else in the world asked Beca to deal with waking up every two hours for at least a few weeks, she’d laugh in their face. Chloe… played by a different set of rules. (She always had.) “I mean, how many chances will I get to raise baby kittens like this? It’s pretty awesome.” She pulled a grimace at the suggestion, shaking her head. “Oh god, please no. Waking up every two hours is cake compared to sharing a bed with Amy. She’ll dutch oven me to death.”
CHLOE BEALE
The apologetic expression melted into something more appreciative, with Chloe shooting Beca a small, genuine smile. “Thanks, Bec,” she nodded, turning her focus back to the feeding kitten again. “I’m just worried you’ll be tired at work. I’m gonna bring them to work with me and come home between classes,” Chloe explained, tip of her pointer brushing soothingly over Purple’s head. “I can also weigh them and stuff at work, and I bet some of the others will help out there, too. It was weird that nobody seemed to want to take them, though.” Her nose wrinkled, though she shook off the thought; Chloe had always been the first to jump at the chance to help, after all.
Glancing toward Beca, Chloe motioned to her chest, gaze instinctively dropping for the briefest of moments, though she quickly picked it back up again. “Still sore?”
BECA MITCHELL
“I’ll figure it out,” Beca muttered. “I can always hook myself up to a coffee IV at work, it’s fine.” She cast Chloe a tight-lipped smile before glancing back down to the kitten lapping at the milk droplet. “He seems like he’s worth it. They all do.” She peered over the side of the bed into the box of the three remaining kittens, all who seemed to be asleep at the moment.
She blinked at Chloe’s question, following her gaze and puffing out a chuckle. Her cheeks warmed and she rolled her eyes. “Yeah, it’s been a rough week. Tattoos are healed up by now but this sucks so far.” Beca sighed. “They’ll get better I guess. Eventually.”
CHLOE BEALE
“True,” Chloe shrugged, cracking a grin. “Sounds very healthy.” In spite of everything, she wasn’t trying to talk Beca out of it. In fact, she was very grateful for the help; it felt like a strangely nice bonding activity of some kind, taking care of the kittens together. While she watched Beca and Green from the corner of her eye, Chloe’s gaze drifted toward the box, sad smile tugging at her lips. “They do. I just feel bad for their mom. Their real mom,” she corrected, lifting the kitten up to talk in a baby voice, “I guess we’re your foster moms now, huh?”
Being careful not to let her gaze slip again, Chloe only nodded to Beca’s response. “Mm, when I got my navel piercing it bled for a whole week.” She paused, a look of horror creasing onto her face. “Wait, they’re not… bleeding, right?”
BECA MITCHELL
“I mean, captaining the Bellas for three years was pretty much like herding cats most of the time anyway. This shouldn’t be much different.” Beca’s heart cracked with empathy when Chloe mentioned the kittens’ mother, but then thumped harder at Chloe uttering the phrase foster moms. Like--both of them, doing this together.
She wrinkled her nose with sympathy and shook her head. “No, no bleeding. They’re just, like--super fucking sensitive? Especially in the shower. Yikes.” Beca winced. “I guess they’re not as sore as a few days ago, so that’s good.”
CHLOE BEALE
Chloe giggled at the mental image, head nodding along in agreement. “I guess. Kittens are crazy, though. Like, even more than the Bellas. Especially when they get a little bigger and want to run around all night.” She really had gotten them into something here, but there was something exciting about it too, sharing this big task, and Chloe couldn’t quite put her finger on exactly what.
Her eyes immediately shot back toward the kitten, because Beca totally didn’t mean that kind of sensitive, but Chloe’s mind began to race somewhere it definitely shouldn’t. “Mm,” she hummed nonchalantly, keeping herself busy with shaking the syringe a little bit to keep Purple awake. “Then they’ll be better in no time. Be thankful you’re not a cat, if you were then the kittens would be suc—” She caught herself, trailing off and pulling the syringe carefully away, before settling the kitten down on its belly. “Gonna let your brother and sisters have some now, pretty girl?”
BECA MITCHELL
“I dunno, dude… drunk Bellas might be on that level.” She chuckled, a few specific college memories flashing in front of her eyes. (Literally flashing, in Stacie’s case.) Green Goblin yawned and licked his lips once more. Beca snickered. “Speaking of--are you milk drunk, buddy? You look like you’re ready for a nap.”
Beca’s eyes popped wide and she blinked at Chloe, amusement twisting up the corners of her mouth as she scrunched up her nose yet again. “You’re such a weirdo,” she reminded Chloe for what must’ve been the ten thousandth time throughout their friendship. “Yeah, let’s switch it up. I’ll take Red.”
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If you have enough for either or both of them yet, mind sharing those werewolf-inspired ideas publicly? (You don’t have to! I just loved them and I’m pretty sure other people will too :D)
(well technically kinda no? Because I have a different one-shot planned to be my first in that AU BUT I couldn’t resist the idea of Zack meeting the Gang so I started writing that ahead of time so here have a thing. :D. To anyone wondering, this is a new AU inspired by @dogsanddigimon here that I really enjoyed and my brain ran away with)
“Hello…! Hello!”
Zack groaned, dragging himself out of the darkness and the vague remnants of dream with a huff and a squint of his eyes. The light stung at him, but he was more distracted trying to focus on the giant golden blob inches away from his face, filling his vision. Somewhere to the side, someone cheered, “Hooray! You’re okay!”
“Ugh…” He squinted some more at the gold mass, trying to will it into focus, “…Heaven?”
“Not quite,” hummed the feminine voice from the side just as his vision finally cleared.
His heart stopped and Zack tried to remember how to breathe, and also where his sword was because oh Gaia oh Gaia that was one huge canine-. The monster … dog? Wolf? Were wolves a thing anymore he thought they were extinct? Huffed in his face, its big black nose snuffling at his neck and chest —please don’t rip out his throat please Zack was a good person, he promised— before it sneezed at the air and pulled away. It bounded away —and its steps literally shook the floor— to flop on and play wrestle with … an even bigger canine. A monster canine. A super monster canine.
Seriously the gold one had been this size of a very small car but that one was the size of a freaking truck.
“It’s okay,” said the voice again and Zack dared to shift his head around to look. Underneath the gibbering in his brain that he was somewhere unknown with two —check that, three— giant monster dogs nearby, Zack had to admit that she was the prettiest girl he’d ever seen. Wavy brown hair all done up in a pretty ponytail, a light blue sundress and the greenest eyes he’d ever seen. She smiled at him from where she was sitting on the wooden floor not too far away, idly petting the third giant canine with a hand, “It’s okay,” she repeated, “they won’t bite.”
Zack swallowed past his dry throat, “So I’m … not about to be eaten?” The dark brown canine the girl was petting gave a low yip that might have been laughter for all he knew, and across the way the gold canine and his godzilla of a playmate stopped roughhousing to pant and thump their tails in his direction.
The girl giggled behind her free hand and shook her head, “Nu-uh. They don’t like the taste of human. Besides, they’re my friends.”
Zack glanced from her to the giant definitely-monsters-not-pet-breeds and nodded slowly, “Right… big … big friends.”
This time she smothered her laugh in the brown fur of her “friend”, which was a pity because the part of Zack that wasn’t still quaking in fear thought her laugh was very pretty. The girl stood up and came closer —the three giant canines all fixed their gazes on him and he could feel the death threats—, leaned down to inspect him, “Are you okay? You fell,” she straightened and pointed to a large hole in the roof of wherever he was, “from the sky. Scared us pretty good.”
Zack dared to sit up, rolling his sore shoulders as he tried to remember what had happened, “Uh … sorry about that. I … oh.” He remembered now. He’d been on an easy mission, a stupidly easy job clearing out vermin nests inside the plate, but then there had been this rogue machine —thanks a lot weapon’s department— that had come out of nowhere and he’d gotten knocked right off a walkway under repairs and fallen. Straight down to the slums, apparently, and how he had survived that fall was kind of beyond him, even with his enhancements. Even so. Zack ran a hand through his hair, “Angeal is gonna kill me.”
There was a sound of distant thunder, only it was really close and Zack stiffened, afraid to move anything but his eyes as he swung to look at the truck-sized canine now half sitting up to stare at him. Eerie green eyes with slit pupils —wasn’t that supposed to be a cat trait?— locked with his and it occurred belatedly to Zack that he’d read somewhere that meeting a canine’s eyes was a dominance challenge so he really shouldn’t do that. But he couldn’t look away. The girl gently put a hand on his arm, not sounding the least bit alarmed as she said, “He’s just joking, Seph, no one is actually going to try to kill you, right?” That last part was addressed to him and Zack managed to make a tiny squeak of agreement, finally tearing his gaze away from the monster dog.
The girl smiled and patted his arm before removing her hand, “Sorry about that, he takes things pretty literally sometimes.”
“He can understand me?”
“Why wouldn’t he?” The girl retorted with an easy shrug, then she took a few steps away and spun around to face him, her hands folded behind her back, “I’m Aerith by the way. These are Tifa,” a gesture at the dark brown one roughly the size of a comfortably sized but still small car sprawled out by an old pew —this was a church?—, “Cloud,” here she pointed at the gold one, the smallest of the bunch —by which Zack meant the size of a beetle car rather than a convertible or a truck like the other two--, who yipped in seeming greeting, “and that’s Sephiroth. I just call him Seph.” That name, obviously, went to the truck-sized mountain of bright silver fur and slitted green eyes.
Zack tried hard to focus on the pretty girl —Aerith— rather than the canines that could all eat his head in one bite, but it was hard, “Uh. Zack. My name is Zack.”
#SE asks#dogsanddigimon#Secret Engima Rambles#new au!#Moon Shines (Where the Weapon and the World Divide) verse#werewolf au#mwahahahaha
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