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chaos-chloe · 3 months

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MIND GAMES

PLANTONIC! SETH X OC

“You want to play mind games on your older brother?” Who can say no to that question……

On January 28, 2022, Adeline arrived at The Dome at America's Center in St. Louis, Missouri as an undercover security guard making sure everything was going as planned. Only Seth and Triple H knew she was here but nowhere in sight, till they heard a knock on his temporary office door.

“Sierra”

“Hotel”

“Inda”

“Echo”

“Lima”

“Delta”

“Shield”

I’m backstage pumping myself up by bouncing back and forth on my feet, as I am watching Seth march the way we used to many many years ago. Feeling nostalgia and power at the same time seeing my brother's face drop when he hears that music.

Oh, the worst is yet to come “Tribal Chief.”

As Seth is rolling over the barricade laughing, my brother is trying not to show any emotion. Now, Seth just needs to give me my que to come out. Seth asks for the microphone that Ms. Sammatha is holding hopefully nicely, she hands it over no problem while stepping back towards the ropes.

“Now I know that I shouldn't be doing this buuttt, it needs to happen. Roman, I think you are missing a special someone from your bloodline, aren’t ya?” The crowd goes absolutely feral while Roman is trying completely stone faced.

“And I said Hello Satan, ah.”

I strut around that corner with fans going more feral than when my dear cousin The Rock came back earlier. I smile and soak in all the fans that missed me, I see one poster in the crowd stating “I MISS HECATE” I point and smile at it, while shaking my head up and down confirming it was me. I am dressed in an updated version of my old shield gear, making a statement that I was on Seth's side. High waisted black cargo pants being held up with a black utility belt, with a slightly cropped black long sleeve shirt with a vest on, with mid-calf black and gray combat boots and a black mask making me look like a ninja. Going for a slightly old Seth look since he was the high-flying ninja back then. I continue my way down to the ring on beat with my music, slapping a few hands of fans. When I hit those steel stairs, I knew in a way I was gonna interfere with this match, even if it meant I took a hit for Seth. Seth sat on the second rope letting me get into the ring, marching my way up to Roman; taking down the mask and questioning his way of running WWE.

“o le a la le manatu o tina i lenei mea?” I inquired about him while walking away to Seths’ corner of the ring. The crowd “ooh” and “ahh” watching Roman and I interact with each other for over 8 years. (“so, what does mom think about this?”)

“Trust me, Mom isn't happy with you at all, especially with the FULL bloodline dear brother!” I yelled over the crowd to Roman. Front row definitely heard that and laughed.

“Now you beat his ass in any way shape or form, just don't let him win. I got your back, so keep an eye out for me.” while patting Seth's shoulder ducking under the ropes, jumping from the apron to the floor. I put my elbows on the apron crossing my arms doing a signature move from a coworker Hook looking bored and unamused.

“As in for pinfall for the Universal Championship. Introducing the challenger, being accompanied by Hecate Reigns, from Buffalo, Iowa; weighing in at 217 pounds SETH FREAKIN’ ROLLINS.”

“Now introducing the from Pensacola, Florida, weighing in at 265 pounds, he is the undisputed WWE Universal Champion, ROMAN REIGNS” as roman walked up to Seth all cocky with the title raised up in his right hand.

“You ain't shit without your family, oh wait your goons!” I snapped at my older brother that I don't want to claim.

The bell rings and they size each other up. ”Oh my god, let's get it going boys.” just being annoying but Seth laughs at me. Seth taunts Roman and Roman charges but Seth ducks and goes behind. Roman escapes. They go at it and Seth nails right hands to the face. Roman launches Seth into the corner and unloads with big forearms. Seth quickly turns it right back around and beats Roman down, then stomps away. Seth goes on and hits a Sling blade.

Seth sends Roman over the top rope and into the barrier. “Come on Roman, you’re letting him toss you around like a little ragdoll. Jeez, it's like you need your goons by your side.” I sighed in fake disappointment to taunt him.

Seth runs the ropes and nails a suicide dive, sending Roman back into the barrier. Seth returns to the ring, plays to the crowd for a pop, and nails another big suicide dive.

“WOOO let's go Seth!” “Show him again!” “Come on, no wasting time!” I screamed encouragement at Seth.

Seth keeps control and rolls Roman back in. Seth laughs at me while waiting on the apron for Roman to get up. Seth springboards in with the flying knee but Roman

knocks him out of the air with a big right hand. “Now how's that for your boy toy, huh?!?” Roman tries to rile me up but I shake my head in disappointment. “OH, NOW YOU ARE WANTING TO PUT SOME WORK IN, HUH?!” I yelled back.

Why is it so easy to get in your head, Roman? Aren’t you supposed to be “The Head of the Table?

Roman with a Drive-By now. I winced hard at that cause I knew that had to hurt. Roman runs around and leaps off the steel ring steps but Seth boots him in the gut in mid-air. Seth then catches Roman; I run over and help Seth with a big Shield Bomb through the announce table feeling complete nostalgia. Seth and I crouched down laughing and looking feral with power. Fans are going wild while Seth brings Roman back into the ring. Seth nails a top rope Frog Splash but Roman kicks out just in time. I start banging both my hands on the apron to get them going again.

Seth wastes sometime after climbing back up in the corner. He goes for the corkscrew “ROLL OUT!” Giving Seth a fair warning, since it looks like Roman is going to duck out of it. Roman goes for a Spear but Seth kicks him. I breathe a quick sigh of relief, that his ribs aren't broken yet. Seth keeps fighting and hits Roman in the back of the neck. Seth follows up with a Buckle Bomb and then hits the Stomp for a huge pop. Roman kicks out just in time and Seth can't believe it, he is looking over at me, while my hands are on my face gob smacked. Fans are also in shock.

“Come on, stop being shocked for a minute, be The Architect again. Get in the mind set, it's time for more mind games." I start sprouting my thoughts off my head so Seth's gears can start turning again. Seth starts scouting toward the corner I'm in to pick himself back up using the ropes.

“Come on Big Dog. Come on Big Dog.” Seth starts taunting Roman to recover and get up again, I laugh along with Seth.

Seth goes for a Stomp but Roman turns him inside out with a big clothesline. “Jesus, I told him to think like the architect, not Hunter’s dog.” I whispered to myself.

They're both down trying to recover but Roman snaps a bit and scurries over while down, mounts Seth and unloads with strikes as the referee warns him. “Yes, Roman take it out on the referee because he is doing his job correctly.” I shake my head in disbelief “You straight, ref?” I ask and he nods back at me. Roman powers Seth up and slams him with a big powerbomb in the middle of the ring for a 2 count. Roman looks angry that Seth still has energy in this brawl.

“You just gonna shit on everything that we did, huh? That's fun to you, huh? You're gonna laugh at me, huh?” Roman questions angrily but Seth just replies with a laughing “Yeah” He stops and unloads with forearms, Seth blocks a shot and pulls Roman into an armbar in the middle of the ring. “There you go, you're thinking now Seth!” I exclaimed at him while banging on the apron near him. Then, Roman powers up and slams Seth with a big powerbomb. Roman is holding on the ropes gathering himself while I'm screaming for Seth to get up, yet Roman is just muttering nonsense to himself.

“Really, can't you say that with your chest!?” “Mama and Rocky were right about you going crazy.” I start rambling, Roman shakes his head at me.

Roman picks up Seth by the back of his vest to send him into the ring post. Seths’ body falls to the floor, i go over to check up on him and assess him but Roman follows quickly and launches him into the barrier, sending him over into the timekeeper's area. Then Roman tries to shoo me away from the madness he sends Seth into (the steel ring steps) and keeps control. Seth does whisper to me that he is okay.

Roman brings it back in and stands tall so the crowd can acknowledge him but most boo along with me, as my thumbs are down. Roman levels Seth with a Superman Punch but he still kicks out at 2.

Yes, he aint winning with us here…. “Come on Seth, come here and catch ya breath.” I try to encourage Seth. Seth rolls outside for a breather by me. I see roman stalking his way over here, i think quickly for Seth. “Imma take this one but be behind me so you can break my fall.” he nods for a minute but realizes what's gonna happen a minute too late. Roman runs towards Seth but I push him down, Roman delivers the spear to me instead. Landing on Seth, the crowd gasps but starts booing at Roman, while I'm rolling on the left side of Seth near the broken announce table holding my ribs. It feels like the majority of my ribs are broken and it's getting hard to breathe. “Thank you for listening to me this once.” I groaned over to Seth.

Roman stands up realizing what just happened, not apologizing but staring at me with a blank shocked face; there is no remorse whatsoever. Roman brings it back into the ring and gets the crowd riled up with mostly boos, I’m sitting on the floor with my back being supported with the barricade. Roman calls for the Spear and runs but Seth turns it into a Pedigree. I cheer as loud as my lungs would let me, but Seth is slow to make the cover; so Roman kicks out right before the 3 counts. I groaned in pain and annoyance.

Fans chant "this is awesome!" Now I started cheering with them and banging my feet on the ground. Seth readies in the corner and gets the "Burn it down!" chants going as he stomps. Roman side-steps the Stomp and they trade shots in the middle of the ring. Seth with elbows and kicks to the head as he unloads. Roman powers out and rocks Seth. They run the ropes and Roman hits a big Spear. Seth starts laughing while down on his back. Roman is up to his knees first. Seth offers his fist for a Shield-style fist bump.

“Come on Bro, I’ll always cover for you. I’ll always love you.” Seth is still offering him the fist bump in pain but laughing slightly. I get up and get in the ring near Seth and offer Roman the same fist bump. My hand on the left side of Seth's hand.

Roman paces now as Seth and I keep laughing and ranting about The Shield, still down on the mat right beside each other.

“Come on, it's all for the love brother, Come on please.” I beg along with Seth.

Roman snaps a bit and grabs Seth, then drops him hard into the Guillotine submission, I jump back on the apron. Roman tightens the hold as Seth tries to break free and get to the ropes. I started cheering for Seth to reach the ropes, hoping he would follow the sound of my voice. Roman tightens the hold even more but Seth fades and his arm drops before he can touch the bottom rope. Referee Charles Robinson checks the arm, but Seth grabs the bottom rope, with my assistance pushing the rope towards his arm, without the referee knowing. I hear some claps behind me, knowing the fans are on Seth’s and I’s side. Sadly, Roman keeps the hold locked as the referee counts to 5, he doesn’t let go and the referee calls the match while Seth is holding the rope.

“Jesus Uce, you are that sour!” “Now everyone knows that you still haven’t beaten Seth Rollins.” I exclaimed toxically.

After the bell, the referee yells at Roman to break the hold but Roman rants about Seth deserving this and forcing him to do this. Roman finally breaks the hold and gets back to his feet. Seth is still down, and the fans and I are not happy. Fans chant "Roman sucks!" Now the so-called ‘The Tribal Chief’ looks out at the crowd. Seth is still down; I’m whispering in his ear encouragement to get up and out of the ring. Roman slowly exits the ring and walks over to a steel chair.

I get up into the ring by Seth to console and help him in any way possible, not keeping an eye on Roman. I help Seth to his feet while he is holding on the ropes, I'm hovering around his right arm to keep his balance. We start to hear “Boos” from the crowd, I'm thinking it's just Roman being “The Tribal Chief”. Seth and I are backing up and my eye catches him in the corner with a chair. As he is about to hit, I run back and take the chair shot to my back. I black out due to the chair hitting a certain nerve. All I remember is darkness and the raging “Boos” from the crowd.

I DO NOT OWN WWE OR ANY OF THE ROSTER/WRESTLERS. I don't own the banners/breakaway points, nor the music lyrics incorp into the fanfic.

I own ADELINE/HECATE, that's it. please repost/like just don't copy my work please and thank you!!

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ladylooch · 3 months

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David meeting Sophie for the first time.

A continuation of this blurb

Mack rolls the edge of her wine glass along her bottom lip while taking in the scene across from her. At the kitchen island, David and Sophie are sitting together working on friendship bracelets. Sophie has Devils bracelets for when she goes to Lio’s games, but pointed out she has nothing for the Rangers game tomorrow. David, as he has been all night, turned on the charm and immediately offered to help bead together the bracelets for Sophie.

All night he has been catering to the youngest Hischier- asking her about school, clearing her empty dinner plate, filling her glass of water whenever he filled his, offering to hold the warm dish while she scooped out some potatoes at dinner. Mack can see how Sophie, so young and innocent, is effected by his charm. Mack is not as enchanted. Every move and chuckle and sweet gesture towards her little sister irks Mack to no end. Everything this man does has that effect on her.

After the last sip of her wine, Mack stands, going over to observe the beads on the counter.

“You could wear this one.” David offers up to her immediately. It has red and blue beads, along with 14 and Carlson with a red heart after it. Mack’s face scrunches at it, then she tosses her long brunette hair over her shoulder before heading further into the kitchen.

“I’ll pass.” She fakes a smile, only for Sophie. “They look great tho, Soph.”

“I can make you one for Connor? You can wear it tomorrow.” Sophie asks.

“Mack? Are you sure you don’t want to come tomorrow night?” Lucie calls from the living room where she is putting in her request for tickets after putting Stella down.

“What?” Sophie whips her head to the side. “You’re not coming? No, Mackie, please! You have to come!”

“I’ve been to enough hockey games.”

“That was Devils hockey though. Not Ranger hockey.” David shrugs simply as he works a bead onto the stretchy, clear elastic. “This good, Soph?”

“Um…” Sophie trails off, leaning in closer to David. Mack watches as her little sister obviously inhales some of David’s cologne. Her eyes flutter to David’s face where she blushes, seeing him looking at her, awaiting a response. “Mhm, yeah. It’s great.” She says. Mack makes a face, eyes drifting over to Lucie who is watching too. Lucie looks amused, pursing her lips and shaking her head at Mack like “look at Sophie crushing on him.”

“This will look great on you with that sweatshirt. They have great things at the pro shop now.”

“You think?” She asks, holding it up t her neck along with the few bracelets she has finished so far.

“Yes, very beautiful.” David murmurs.

“Thank you!” Sophie exclaims, blushing at the compliment. Mack doesn’t think him saying Sophie is beautiful is right. David is WAY older than her little sister; it is so inappropriate.

“David, can we talk?” Mack asks him. David startles at the pointed tone, then turns to look at her face. Oh shit, crosses across his expression. He did something, but he has no idea what.

“Uh, Mack?” Lucie questions, on alert.

“Let’s go in the hall.” Mack suggests to him as he stands to follow her. The door doesn’t even get fully shut before Mack is whipping around at him. “Stop hitting on my sister. She is barely fucking legal to you, OLD man.”

“What? I’m not hitting on her?” David genuinely laughs as he puts his hands in his pockets.

“Yes, you are and Sophie is falling for it.”

“Mackncheese, I am not hitting on your sister. I’m being nice.”

“You call that nice in bumfuck Iowa? Cause here we call that being a fucking creep.” David is taken aback, standing up straighter as Lucie steps into the hallway.

“Wow, seriously?”

“Yeah seriously!” Mack yells back.

“Mack, calm down.” Lucie hisses.

“Am I being a fucking creep?” David asks Lucie, looking very hurt.

“What? No.” Lucie shake her head, looking back at Mack like ‘what the hell?’.

“Really? Because all grown men clear plates for people and refill glasses and make childish friendship bracelets with beautiful girls at 8pm tonight like he has nothing else to do.” Mack glares at David, arms crossed over her chest as he looks back at her. He shrugs his shoulders lightly.

“I guess I was just raised different in bumfuck Iowa. You know, to be polite.” Unease pierces through Mack’s anger. Did she misjudge the situation? Silence settles in the hallway before David clears his throat. “Well, thanks for the invite, Luc but I’m gonna head out for the night.”

“Okay.” Lucie says quietly, stepping aside so David can go back in to gather his things.

It is clear that the remaining people in the apartment heard Mack yelling at David in the hallway. All are quiet and reserved. Mack steps back in, feeling like she is standing in a spotlight, but holding her tongue to not say anymore. David grabs his plate of half eaten chocolate chip cookie, tossing it into the trash with his napkin. He dumps the water out from his cup, then puts it in the dishwasher before closing the door.

“It was nice meeting you, Sophie. Best of luck with the rest of the school year. And have fun at the game. We will try to get a win for ya.” David waves, not daring to go over to shake her hand.

“It was nice to meet you. Do you want a bracelet?” She asks hopefully.

“Um, no. Thank you though.” David smiles gently, then goes to Con, giving him a hug.

“Thanks for coming.”

“Yeah.” He hugs Lucie last. “Let me know if you still need me to watch Stell on Wednesday. Heard Lio tell you he was gonna be out of town, but I’m around. I know how much you two love your date nights.”

“Yeah, that would be great. I’ll call you Tuesday.”

“Sounds good.”

The last person he has to walk by is the one who is the reason for his early departure.

“See ya around, Mack.”

She opens her mouth to say something, but can’t think of what she should right now. Instead, her eyes look out at her family members who all have different levels of disappointment on their faces. The door softly closes behind David and the whole room exhales heavily.

“Nice. That was mature.” Lucie finally says to Mack, rolling her eyes and walking over to help Sophie finish her bracelets.

“What? David was the one-“

“No, you were. You’re the problem here, Mack.” Connor says, not even bothering to sugar coat what the rest of them are saying. Mack bites her lip as she looks at Connor. He crosses the room and gives her a hug that she limply accepts. “He’s good people. Give him a chance.”

Mack grabs herself another big glass of wine, then sits down at the counter to help both her sisters finish bracelets. As she threads the beads through, she can’t help but think about David down in his apartment right now. She definitely overreacted. But something… she can’t name overcame her! It forced it’s way into her chest and throat until it was spewing angrily out of her mouth. Her brain rewinds the image of David’s hurt face- his low eyes, squiggly eye brows and slumped posture. He was hurt. Mack hurt his character with her words and insinuation. Why does she keep doing that to him? She looks at Sophie, then at Lucie, before she speaks.

“I’ll go to the game tomorrow.” Both Hischier girls look up at her, then grin.

“Oh! It will be so fun! We can go grab dinner at that new rooftop off 9th and get espresso martinis and then show up totally on time for the game.” Lucie winks, “And they have these amazing-”

“Is Stella coming with us?” Sophie cuts their older sister off, cocking her head to the side.

“Ah…” She contemplates, looking at the ceiling. Nothing about what Lucie rattled off is kid friendly. “Yeah.” She finishes sheepishly.

“So, we can go grab pizza and then be there bright and early for warmies, so Stella can see Connor?”

“Yep, that sounds more like it.” Lucie laughs, wincing slightly. “Stupid Lio being out of town. We hate him.” Lucie jokingly growls.

Mack smiles, then goes back to sliding more beads on the bracelet she is working on. She finishes it up, then looks at the whole thing including the Carlson, 14 and the heart.

Maybe she will wear this one tomorrow for her apology tour at Madison Square Garden.

#Mackdavid au #their banter will get more fun again soon #but there are definitely some oversteps on Mack's part #she has all the feels!!!

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omegalomania · 6 months

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OMGGG I'm such an urban fantasy fan pls pls continue like I'm loving it

WHY I AM SO GLAD YOU ASKED. also i learned recently that my inbox is uhhhhh broken in the sense that its Just Not There on my dashboard so if you sent me asks in the past couple months i literally did not see them because the last tumblr dashboard update like, removed the little letter icon. from my dash. and idk how to bring it back lol

ANYWAY this whole au was born from me thinking a very lot about the whole aspect of so much (for) stardust and tourdust's staging where it relied on a) tangibility and b) magic imagery. like the album cover and the staging are all focused on real, actual things that one could conceivably touch (the album cover is an oil painting with glittery clay letters, the stage's props are all actual, interactable props, etc). and whats more, there's the additional "magical" element at work here: the magic 8 ball, pete's magic trick midway thru the show, the whole love from the other side mv, and so on. and because my brain is Like This, pretty soon id spun up a whole storyline out of wholecloth and now im going to make it everyone's problem i guess

ive elected to call it the magic stardust au for perhaps obvious reasons.

the magic stardust au takes place in a world that's a little bit like our own in some ways, and drastically different in others. its our world but shuffled a few degrees to the left, so to speak. for example, the state of iowa still exists - but there's a literal city in it called heaven. there's an alligator prince in this world, and he happens to be literal, as in literally an alligator who also happens to be a prince. magic is a thing here, and its so thoroughly common that no one bats an eye. it's all deeply ingrained into the fabric of reality. magic is twined through each and every soul. it's in the air, in the molecules, in the architecture, in the landscape. ancient, enchanted forests stand shoulder to shoulder with floating cities and underwater palaces and dense metropolises. magic is really just stardust in a sense, and that's just what everything else is too, so is it any wonder that stardust can act upon itself in strange and unique ways? that's all that magic is: stardust.

it always comes back to stardust.

so what happens when magic starts disappearing?

well, people don't notice at first. people don't notice because this thing, this force that's seeping in through little fissures in reality and leaching away all the strangeness in the world - it's clever about its work. it's cunning. it gets people alone and then it drowns them in itself, mercury-slick and flowing, and when it recedes...that's the scary part. not only are people losing their magic, they're also losing the memory of ever having magic in the first place. it's siphoning away the collective memory of magic. it's draining the world of all its charm and vigor and since no one can remember what it's taken once it's gone, it seems like no one can possibly stop it. no one even realizes that it's happening.

i've opted to call this force the annihilation.

(as you can probably tell, i like grabbing onto things from the #lore of the band's mythos rather than the personal stories of any of the members when it comes to devising aus. i love adapting lyrics, concepts, music video elements, and so on into stories, and grounding things into the concept surrounding the particular album or era i'm focusing on on as much as possible.)

anyhow, that's where our guys come in. or rather, that's where their stories all intersect. at the start, none of them have a whole lot of reason to interact with each other a bunch. all four of them live in the city of heaven, iowa, which as mentioned, happens to be ruled by our friend the alligator prince. stardust as an album is very preoccupied with the state of the world, voices a lot of general uncertainty and discomfort with the way things are run, and me being the way i am and having a baseline distrust of monarchy, i think the alligator prince is perhaps pretty honestly not the best at his job. his enforcers - well i'm not sure they'd strictly count as cops in this universe. but for simplicity's sake lets just call them cops and be content that they're probably not the best. corrupt, prone to favoritism, bad at their jobs. etc. this is important because it plays into how all of our guys end up getting to know one another.

hence, i introduce our four main players (featuring concept sketches i started throwing down once i realized this storytelling worm had burrowed into my head):

andy, as i've gotten into a little bit, is a rogue vigilante. he doesn't like the alligator prince. he's not keen on authority in general. he does what he does precisely because he's intent on giving people an alternative to the princes people. he's highly principled and completely unafraid to intervene with the prince's business if it means he's helping the people out. he lives alone on the outskirts of heaven, operates independently, and keeps his identity completely secret. he has a fearsome reputation in heaven but he's very well known. he's a little bit batman in that way - like, the guy's intimidating by default, but if you're in a pinch and you see him, you know he's going to help you out. and he's a hell of a lot better than a cop.

andy's magic, like everyone's in this universe, comes in two flavors: active and passive. his active magic takes the form of white lightning bolts, crackling bright energy that can shock, stun, and incapacitate in all sorts of ways. his passive magic comes from shadow, which is where his trademark hammer and massive, owl-like wings come from; they're actually solidifed shadow, and he can summon and dispel them at a thought.

(i can get into the specifics of how magic types differ if anyone wants to know details, but all you really need to know here is that everyone's got passive magic, which is their baseline, almost unconscious kind of magic, and active magic, which is the kind of magic that you have to work at. the annihilation steals both.)

joe is a freelancer. what this means is that he kind of ends up doing a lot of odd jobs based on whats being asked of him. this comes from a similar place from andy's motives - joe wants to give people an alternative to working with the prince's people. it's a job that requires wearing a lot of different hats, so to speak, so joe is a bit of a jack of all trades in that sense. joe of all trades? he's most frequently hired as a private investigator (again, an alternative to this universe's law enforcement), but he's also been called in as a bodyguard, a, uh "diplomat," and so on. he has a baseline familiarity with andy by virtue of having grown up in heaven and everyone knows about heaven's scary urban legend superhero.

joe's active magic takes the form of glowing blue knives, which he can use for aaaaall sorts of things. you can bet he uses them for every possible mundane use imaginable most of all though lmao. his passive magic is a procynoid form which, in plain language, means he can turn into a raccoon whenever he wants. because that idea from the love from the other side mv is too good to not use. said raccoon form can vary between a very ordinary-sized raccoon fella and a hulking, human-sized one. all comes down to how he feels.

pete is the sole proprietor and operator of pink seashell press, an independent news outlet. once again, this is in the interests of allowing people access to news that doesn't get filtered through the prince's people. it's a lot of hard and thankless work - pete is the only guy working this thing, so he's basically the whole staff. he's doing all the investigative reporting, writing, publishing, and distributing - but he believes in getting news out to people because it's important to get news from someone who isn't in the prince's pocket. he and joe are probably most familiar with each other since their work has a fair degree of overlap and comes from a very similar place. he's probably a big fan of andy lmao

pete's active magic takes the form of glowing green roses, which twine in thorny barbs and soft blooms alike. he can utilize them as both defensive/offensive and aesthetic/mundane purposes, which is nice! his passive magic isn't pictured in the below sketch because i hadn't yet nailed that down as an aspect of his character at the time of drawing, but it entails some partial skeletal physiology. he's got a skeletal arm and mostly skeletal abdomen. doesn't affect how he uses magic, but it grants him some invulnerability to stuff that might target internal organs that he, in part, doesn't strictly speaking have.

patrick is the odd one out here because unlike the others, he didn't grow up in or around heaven. he tends to be a bit of a wanderer, and heaven is just the place he happens to be passing through at the time. he keeps himself going with busking and gigs in small venues like cafés and bookshops as a local musician, and is incredibly cagey about his past. he's also very keen to avoid being noticed by the prince's people or authority in general. he's got the least familiarity with andy, joe, or pete, and is mostly interested in keeping his head down and making a self-sustaining little existence for himself.

this in huge part because of patrick's passive magic, which is a compelling voice. (inspired in part by the field of dreams quote that pete used to tease the upcoming stardust era, not long after the initial chicago tribune fob8 ad dropped: "but until i heard the voice, i'd never done a crazy thing in my whole life.") patrick doesn't actually have to sing for this to take effect. it can come from speaking too forcefully, making an idle suggestion, and a lot of different things. hence why patrick tends to get on people's bad side - he tries incredibly hard to keep this aspect from affecting his life, but once people pick up on this aspect of his voice, things fall apart fast. patrick's spent most of his life moving from place to place because of this. and yeah, he has no idea how much or how little he's influencing anyone at any given time. it's a complete nightmare.

his active magic is a tad more benign. it takes the shape of orange flames, which are fairly malleable and that patrick can reshape into instruments and such with a little effort.

eventually, of course, patrick does indeed get on the wrong side of heaven's authorities because of the same thing that always gets him in his trouble: that darn voice of his. this happens the same time that one of andy's jobs goes horribly wrong and he gets injured and caught. pete crosses the line one too many times, and joe just happens to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. the bottom line is that at this point, all four of the guys end up in heaven's jail at the same time, and that's where their stories all properly intersect.

that's when the annihilation comes for them.

it leaks in through the cracks in the walls and around the grout in the windows and it starts gathering itself up - this horrible, awful force that they can all feel and just looking at it feels wrong. it's an inky swell of star-freckled black void, like a slice of the cosmos staring at them through the bars of their shared cell. it seethes hungrily for them.

the cops run, of course. they leave their charges stuck behind bars, at the mercy of this terrifying thing that - though they don't know it - wants nothing more than to sap their magic away.

the annihilation manages to get its claws into each of them, but only briefly because fortunately, the four of them work together to take matters into their own hands. they manage to bust themselves out of the cell and get the hell out of dodge, but not before the annihilation stains each one of them with its grasping, hungry force, forever altering their appearance. the annihilation leaves a silvery, ashy blotch where it bled onto each of them:

andy gets a massive splash of it on his chest that leaks up onto his throat. joe got splashed on the right side of his body, mostly on his right ear, neck, and adjacent shoulder. pete also got hit on the left, but it mostly consumed his left eye and left leg. patrick got stained on his left hand from the wrist down.

here's a quick and dirty doodle i did to kind of depict this. it didn't come out the way i wanted to and it's not set in stone yet, but it's the general notion.

the fact that these four guys got attacked by the annihilation but crucially managed to escape it before it completely consumed them has permitted each of them an incredibly unique trait: they can understand what it wants. it didn't succeed in draining their magic, so it didn't take their memories of magic either. the annihilation made a tremendous misstep in not isolating these guys when it targeted them, because in working together, they were able to escape it.

so they are in the unique position to realize what's happening, where no one else can.

whatever this thing is, it's old. and it's powerful.

and it's very, very hungry.

and that's the cliffnotes of how these four guys have to band together to save the world before all the magic is drained away for good.

#askin hours #anon #magic stardust #ONCE AGAIN IM VERY SORRY ABT THE BROKEN ASK BOX #if u sent me an ask in the past few months i only recently saw it and im not ignoring you i prommy #youre probably better off dming me for quick contact or if you hmu i can give u my discord

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thedancemostofall · 2 years

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How to Write

Anne Waldman

Perhaps I’m kidding myself about the life I lead

Sometimes I feel I’m dying like a lot of things I see around me

Then I turn on the TV and understand that everything must still be moving

Music, for example, and I rush outside around the corner to a concert

It’s so easy

Everything accessible from where I happen to live at the moment

Things like rock concerts not too many trees on 2nd Avenue

Once, on the Sixth Avenue bus I got a sudden sensation I had been alive before

That I was a man at some other time Traveling

You would think this strange if you were a woman

If I were a man right now I’d be getting out of the draft but I think I’d want to be a poet too

Which simply means alive, awake and digging everything

Even that which makes me sick and want to die

I don’t really, you know

I just don’t want to be conscious sometimes because when you’re conscious in the ordinary way you have to think about yourself a lot

Dull thoughts like what am I doing?

Uptown in a large crowd I want to sit down and cry because everything is simple and complicated all at once

Everyone has this feeling

Even people downtown

It is very basic to the way we are which is why I can say “we”

A lot of drugs can change you if you want because you too are made of what drugs are made of

In fact you are just a bundle of drugs when you come right down to it

I don’t want to go into it but you’ll see what I mean when you catch on

That’s not meant to sound snotty I’m open to whatever comes along

This is the feeling I get before I take a plane

Then everything’s the same afterward anyway

All into one space and here I am again alive still, same worries on my mind

The thing is don’t worry! You are doing what you have to what you can

You hear from your friends They let you know what’s happening in California, Iowa Vermont and other places about the globe

They take you out of your little room just like the newspapers or the news or the man you live with

and put you in a much larger room one in which you are in constant motion around the clock

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xmystophalesx · 2 years

Text

Best New Heavy Metal Releases Week of October 7th, 2022

This post will be a little abbreviated as I am officially in the realm of stupid tired. I was up at 3:30am on Sunday to get ready for work and set up my playlist for the day. After work, I drove for almost 2 hours to get to Iowa City to make the Saidan show. Tired, but sooooooo worth it. Saidan played a killer set. Hopefully, they set up a full tour instead of just a couple of one off dates, so more of you guys get a chance to see them. Definitely the highlight of the weekend, but there were other highlights in the new release category. Look at that seamless segue…lol

Korrosive-Toxic Apokalypse (Thrash)**

I enjoyed this band’s last album quite a bit, and it wasn’t all that long ago. “Kaustic Hordes” was released just a little over a year ago. As much as I enjoyed that one, this is a large step up, comparatively speaking. This is in the Havok and Warbringer style of dirty and aggressive Thrash Metal and where their last album was just a notch below those aforementioned bands, this one puts them squarely in their company. Riffs for days and breakdown sections worthy enough to be on an Exodus album. Add to this, vocals that sound like a verbal ass kicking and you have a killer Thrash Metal album. This band is now officially now on the “must see live” list.

Queensryche-Digital Noise Alliance (Heavy/Hard Rock)**

I only recently got back into this band after urging from a friend who’s musical taste I respect (Thanks Cryptos). I had written them off after the late 90s and all the drama surrounding them and Geoff Tate. Not to mention some incredibly subpar albums. I am now certainly glad I gave them another shot as I have come to really enjoy their output going all the way back to “Dedicated to Chaos” in 2011. I think I am pretty confident in saying this album could very well be the best of everything I have heard since coming back to the fold. This album just showcases a band that is incredibly confident in their songwriting. Even the cover of Billy Idol’s “Rebel Yell” is a complete banger. If you haven’t heard Queensryche in a while, give them a listen, you may very well be pleasantly surprised.

Atruta-Da Varot Apramietnaj (Melodic Black)**

Debut album from this Melodic Black Metal band out of Belarus and what a debut it is. I came across this one early and it was one that kept drawing me back in and I went back to it as the week went on multiple times. I gave it the genre of Melodic Black Metal but honestly I think this band leans so heavily into the area of melody that this could be considered Black n’ Roll just without the frenetic pace that genre usually has. You could even go with straight Heavy Metal but with Black Metal influences. As you can tell, this one gave me some trouble in the genre designation, which I only care about to inform the reader what to expect. Whatever the case may be, this album continues getting better with each successive listen. Even if you are not really a fan of Black Metal, give this one a shot, It could change your mind.

Ensanguinate-Eldritch Anatomy (Death)**

Classic Death Metal is the order of the day from this debut album from Ensanguinate out of Slovenia. Adding a small dose of Thrash Metal to the mix also doesn’t hurt matters any. Once again, I am shocked at how superb the songwriting and the production are on debut albums. The production on this album is absolutely flawless, especially for a Death Metal album. It really feels like the album is giving you a full-blown workout with just how heavy it is.

Steel Arctus-Master of War (Heavy/Traditional)**

When it comes to the best metal scenes in the world compared to the size of the country, I don’t believe anyone can hold a candle to Greece. I mean, hell, there was even a documentary done about this exact subject. Star of the show here is shared between the vocals and the guitar work. Tasos Lazaris sounds like he hits every note with ease and his range is as good as you will find this side of Bruce Dickinson. Nash G shreds just as effortlessly with leads that are not just impressive technically, but also memorable, which is not always a straightforward thing to accomplish. Definitely a band to keep a very close eye on.

That is it for this week. Go see some live music and support these bands! Music is life! Until next week, and as always,

BANG THY HEAD!!!

All worthy of a listen if you like the genre

*= standout in that genre

**=best of the week regardless of genre

Best of the Week

Korrosive-Toxic Apokalypse (Thrash)**

Borealis-Illusions (Symphonic Power)**

Queensryche-Digital Noise Alliance (Heavy/Hard Rock)**

Atruta-Da Varot Apramietnaj (Melodic Black)**

Steel Arctus-Master of War (Heavy/Traditional)**

Riot City-Electric Elite (Heavy/Speed)**

Ensanguinate-Eldritch Anatomy (Death)**

Standouts in their genre

Lamb of God-Omens (Metalcore/Thrash)*

The Loom of Time-Grand False Karass (Extreme Progressive)*

Lifetaker-Der Letzte Raum (Grindcore/Death)*

Mosh Pit Justice-Crush the Demons Inside (Thrash)*

Faust-Cisza po Tobie (Melodic Death/Folk)*

The Antichrist Imperium-Volume III-Satan in His Original Glory (Progressive Black/Death)*

Blodhemn-Sverger Hemn (Black)*

Ellefson-Soto-Vacation in the Underworld (Heavy)*

Get the Shot-Merciless Destruction (Thrash/Hardcore)*

Psychophobia-Mask Theory (Melodic Death)*

Brotthogg-Epicinium (Melodic Black/Death/Progressive)*

Goatwhore-Angels Hung From the Arches of Heaven (Death/Thrash)*

The Killerhertz-Starburst (Heavy/Hard Rock)*

Micarlla II-The Martyrs (Atmospheric Black/Sumphonic)*

Rexor-For Glory and Freedom (Heavy)*

Parius-The Signal Heard Throughout Space (Progressive)*

Statement-Dreams From the Darkest Side (Heavy)*

Worth a listen if you enjoy the genre

Trishula-We All Fall Down (Hard Rock)

Mercythrone-Trinitatis (Black)

Woewarden-In the Art of my Caged Existence (Atmospheric Black)

Pavianass-Fuck the Rest (Thrash)

B.O.W.-A Dump of Twisted Destinies (Hard Rock)

Pinchbeck-Coalescence of Time (Heavy/Progressive/Hard Rock)

Blackened Temple-Blackened Temple (Black/Death)

Blodsvart-Ara Des Zorns (Black)

Blind Illusion-Wrath of the Gods (Thrash)

Captain Black Beard-Neon Sunrise (Hard Rock)

Mastic Scum-Icon (Brutal Death)

My Funeral-Funeral Manifesto (Thrash)

Gohrgone-Fulgur Imperii (Black/Death)

De Profundis-The Corruption of Virtue (Death)

Leaderless-Shattered Worlds (Melodic Death)

Memories of a Lost Soul-Redefining Nothingness (Melodic Death)

Acedia-Fracture (Black)

Iron Blade-Stormrider (Heavy/Speed)

Pick of week could of easily been the Steel Arctus album as well but in the end I let the CEO of The Metal Bulldog make the choice. Her choice was Korrosive-Toxic Apocalypse and who is going to argue with that face?

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jillianallen14 · 3 years

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Spirk fanfic rec

Some amazing Spirk fanfic to bless your dash because I’m falling in love with this shit all over again (this is like the 10th time this has happened lol):

Entering Orbit: Jim escapes to Iowa to avoid the media frenzy following the Narada incident, but a late-night miscommunication results in Spock turning up on his front porch; rated m; 30,957 words

Papers in the Roadside: Non-Starfleet AU. Jim owns a small bar in Chicago, keeps on picking up strays and taking care of everyone no matter how hard it makes his own life. Spock is a journalist writing feature articles for the Chicago Tribune; he depicts the world with uncanny skill, but hides more than one personal drama and is possibly under surveillance from the Vulcan royal family. They meet by accident just before their lives start to spin out of control; rated e; 49,637 words

Take Refuge in What You Know: AU - Kirk has moved into a apartment/house and wants to get to know his neighbors. He meets his neighbor Spock, a loner who suffers from extreme agoraphobia. Kirk thinks he's beautiful enigma; rated e; 120,334 words

Listen, this is not only my favorite Star Trek fic of all time, it’s also one of my favorite fanfics in general. It’s right up there with Text Talk and The Shoebox Project from the HP fandom, which if you’ve read, you know are incredible and frankly life-changing. And this fanfic changed my life. The description the author gives doesn’t do the beauty of this fic justice. I suffer from agoraphobia and Spock’s depiction as an agoraphobic man was probably the most well-researched, sympathetic, empathetic, caring, realistic portrayal of what it’s like to be agoraphobic that I’ve ever witnessed in fiction. It made me cry like a child because I had never felt so seen and understood. This writer is incredible, and this fic is incredible. I can’t recommend it enough. It’s an AU, which I’m usually pretty wary about, but it barely even feels like an AU. It just feels like Jim and Spock. The author’s understanding of both of their characters’ is perfect, like just a spot-on portrayal of who they are. This fic genuinely helped me accept who I am and helped me understand that I am capable of & deserving of love. If you don’t read any other Star Trek fics (and you def should read more Star Trek fics because they’re amazing), then let this one be the one you read. I dare you not to read it three times in a row like I did.

Observations: First Officer Spock comments on life aboard the Enterprise and his service under Captain James T. Kirk; rated m; 500,000+ words.

So the author of this fic actually did a thing where they made this fic into two books (similar to what The Shoebox Project authors did many years ago in the HP fandom). They don’t get any money from people buying the books; the cost is just to go towards producing the books. This fic is the equivalent of two LARGE novels. We’re talking 600 pages & up. It’s a huge fic. Now, that being said, I read it in one day. ONE DAY. It’s that good. This is another one of my all-time favorite fics, though not quite as dear to my heart as the one I listed above. It’s focused on AOS, and tbh, I forget that what happens in this book isn’t actually canon. Like it’s so well-told, it just feels like it’s now part of the timeless story of Kirk & Spock. The “professional” Star Trek writers would never be brave enough to do what this author does with Kirk and Spock, though. This fic will make you angry, will make you laugh, will make you cry. It has such a good grasp on every single character. It also shows the love between the crew of the Enterprise, which is always a treat, and it’s beautifully done in this fic. It has a sorta-enemies-to-lovers arc between Spirk and an enemies-to-close-friends arc between Spock and McCoy that is beautifully done and fleshed out. This fic is definitely a journey to go through, and I can’t recommend it enough. It’s extremely slow burn, and you will want to slap both Kirk and Spock (and McCoy) upside the head at certain points lol.

Of Coffee Beans and Green Tea Leaves: The progression of a relationship, through Coffee Beans and Green Tea Leaves. Basically, it’s an AU where Kirk works at a coffee shop to pay his way through school, and Spock visits often. rated t; 16,429 words

Love, love, love, this fic. It’s cute, it’s in character. They have kind of a rocky start together, so it’s got a little bit of that Elizabeth Bennet and Mr. Darcy i-hated-you-but-now-i-love-you-marry-me vibes to it. I’m a sucker for that, if you haven’t figured that out by now lol. It’s really good, and a really enjoyable read. And it’s not too long, if you’re in the mood for something on the shorter end of things.

Please Don’t Touch the Vulcans: The "yes" is out of Jim's mouth before he can think about it. Jim is chipper about having time off for the holidays. He asks everyone if they want to spend time together but sadly, everyone ditches Jim over the holidays because they have plans. McCoy visits his daughter, Nyota visits her family, and everyone splits. Not knowing Spock has feelings for him, Jim doesn't even bother asking if he wants to spend time together figuring he has something to do. Something cute, romantic with the boys spending time with one another and confessions; rated m; 17,690 words

Super cute and has lots of Sarek, which idk about y’all, but I’m always a fan of. Sarek and Jim kind of get to know each other a bit, and it’s cute. Sarek knows about they’re in love before Spock & Kirk know lol. If I remember correctly, there’s also some appearances from everyone’s favorite: Old!Spock! You also get a little bit of jealous and protective Young!Spock. So you’re in for a real treat with this one.

The Ren shat’var Trilogy: A split-second decision changes Jim's life forever, as he enters into a bond with Spock in the face of certain torture. Enemies to the Federation emerge from unlikely places, and the command team must contend with unexpected threats, as well as challenges within their own intense relationship. In this three-part series, the Enterprise races across the galaxy to confront the unknown, and Jim and Spock discover the true significance of their unprecedented connection; rated e; 184,411 words

Textual Attraction: Valentine’s Day does not bring up pleasant memories for Cadet Kirk. But the serendipitous switch-up of his cell phone with a particular Vulcan professor’s will make his day far more interesting –and romantic. Perhaps some new memories can be made! 15,900 words

SO GOOD. Just SO good

Spaceman: Academy AU. Five times Spock realizes he's attracted to a barista at the academy spaceport, and one time he decides to do something about it. rated t; 3728 words

Short, sweet, funny. You’ll love it.

Subtext: Texting your Vulcan first officer in the middle of the night is never a good idea. Especially when you have an obsessive crush on said Vulcan.The holidays are approaching and Jim is left entirely Spockless aboard the Enterprise when his First takes shore leave on New Vulcan. After some midnight pining, Jim sends a text he instantly regrets. That is, until Spock responds and willingly continues their textual communications to an inevitable conclusion; rated t; 13,032 words

Cute, sweet, funny. It’s a texting fic. I think you’ve probably figured out I love those. This one makes me laugh so fucking hard. Like actually laugh-out-loud-omg-did-i-just-snort kind of funny. Spock is great in this one

All Spock Wants For Christmas: While Jim is away on a delegation mission, he panics about what to give Spock for Christmas. With help from Bones and Uhura, and in between some spam texting with Spock, Jim realizes he already has the perfect gift. And all it needs is wrapping paper and a bow; rated t; 11,966 words

And here we have another cute, sweet, funny texting fic. Sue me lol

The Morning After: Jim convinces Spock to take shore leave with him on Risa, hoping the time together will help re-solidify their bond of friendship after some recent tension. Meanwhile, Spock convinces himself he's on Risa for one reason and one reason only, to prevent his wayward captain from getting into trouble. After a passionately illogical night of Romulan Ale and chocolate infused liquor, everything changes when Jim wakes with something other than a hangover filling his head. Something he's sure neither he nor Spock can handle. Because if Jim knows anything for sure, it's that his messed up thoughts belong nowhere near Spock's clean, ordered mind; rated m; 50,381 words

HAHA. This fic fucking cracks me up. You’ve got drunk boys pining over each other & not realizing it. You’ve got accidental marriage. You’ve got bed sharing. It’s great, it’s cute, it’s funny.

Take This Sinking Boat (And Point It Home): In which Spock pines, Jim isn’t stupid (except he kind of is), and Christopher Pike has had enough of this bullshit; 6698 words

Pike is great in this one, and it’s super, super funny.

Extracurricular Activities: Spock returns to the Academy from a tour of duty to find an intriguing cadet captures his attention; rated e; 15,433 words

Veritas: Basically, Kirk and Spock are on trial because the Federation thinks they are emotionally compromised by each other, which is putting the lives of their crew in danger. They have to convince a court they’re not actually in love with each other. They think the claims are bullshit. They think it will be easy to prove that they aren’t in love or emotionally compromised, damn it. It isn’t; rated m; 186,80 words

This one is so, so good. A real gem off of Fanfic.net. I remember it was actually one of the first Spirk fanfics I ever read, and it blew me away. The progression of their relationship is really well-done and interesting. It has star-crossed lovers vibes and has some really emotionally intense moments in it, especially for Spock.

A Habitual Affection: Living in 1930s New York with the Vulcan you're secretly in love with is no simple thing. But Jim never liked anything simple. And then, the big snowstorm hit...; rated t; 7998 words

A beautiful TOS fic about one of the gayest episodes of Star Trek. Love this one.

Atlas: Between what was and what will be stands James Tiberius Kirk, in all his fractured patchwork glory. Because saving the Federation was only the beginning; rated t; 135,529 words

A beaut. Really great characterization, and the progression of Jim and Spock’s relationship is really well-done.

#spirk #spock #kirk #james t kirk #spock/kirk #kirk/spock #star trek #star trek tos #star trek aos #space husbands #spirk fanfic recs #spirk fanfic

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deannaroxannewrites · 3 years

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Tropetember Day 7 - Mutual Pining / Requited/Unrequited Love / Angst with a happy ending

My boys

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x GN!Reader

Fandom: Criminal Minds

Rating: Teen and up

TW: Angst (all of the angst), Angst with a happy ending, Witness Protection

AN: Day 7 of @tropetember. Another Hotch story that could be expanded into a small series. Enjoy the angst (and fluff because I CANNOT HELP MYSELF)

You've been looking to spending a quiet day with your boys, until a phone call turns your world upside down.

Find this story on Ao3 here.

Word Count: 1.6k

You were in the middle of pottering around the kitchen putting your groceries away when the phone rang.

Glancing at it, you realise it’s Aaron. Why would he be ringing you right now? Jack’s soccer game wouldn’t have been finished for very long and they usually got a treat before coming to visit you.

You answer with a smile, you were looking forward to spending the day with your boys.

“Hi sweetie, what can I do for you?” You ask.

Aaron says your name and his voice shakes. You instantly stop what you’re doing. Something is wrong. Something really bad is happening. You can tell.

“Scratch.” He takes a shuddering breath. “Scratch was at Jack’s game.”

You gasp and panic floods through you.

“Is he ok? Are you both ok? He didn’t get to either of you did he?”

"No, he didn't."

There's a pause and you feel your heart start to calm. At least they're OK, although you can't figure out what's happening. Unfortunately, your relief at them both being unharmed is immediately destroyed.

"Jack and I are being put into witness protection."

You hear the glass you were holding smash as it connects with the marble floor of the kitchen. It's funny, you feel like a spectator in your own body. The only other thing you're aware of is that you feel like you can't breathe.

Aaron calls your name a few times but you're hyper fixated on one thing he says. 'Jack and I.' Not we. Why hadn't he said we?

"Can I not come too?" Your voice is small. Lost. "If this madman is following Jack, he'll know who I am, Aaron."

You hear him exhale.

"I know. I tried to get the Marshals to offer you the choice of coming with us." You imagine he's scrubbing his hand down his face in frustration. "They said that, since Scratch's focus is the team, and I will no longer be around or know what's happening, you will no longer be at risk." He lets out a scoff.

Tears silently trace down your face. Your world was ending but, no matter how much you wanted to beg and scream and demand they stay, this was already a done deal. Jack's safety was the most important thing in the world and you wouldn't dare risk it for your selfish desires.

"OK." You take a moment to breathe and clear your throat. "Can you do something for me?"

"Of course."

"Tell Jack I love him? Give him a big hug and kiss and tell him that I'll see him when this is over?"

That breaks him, and he quietly sobs out your name.

"You're going to be OK. Both of you. And I'll be here waiting." You take a shaky breath. "Is there anything I can do?"

"I'm putting everything into your name. I don't mind if you move into the apartment or if you rent it out and put everything in storage. Just try to hold onto the keepsakes and Jack's stuff."

"I've got it. Don't worry. It's in good hands."

"The very best." He gives a shaky laugh. "I love you so much. I'm so sorry."

"It's not your fault Aaron. God, I love you so much."

You both go quiet, knowing you don't have long until the Marshals disconnect his number.

"I can't ask you to wait for me." He tells you. It makes a sob break through your restraint. "That would be selfish of me. Just know that I love you. And, once this is over, we'll see you again."

"I know, it's OK. I love you."

"I…."

The line goes dead and, like the glass spread across the floor, you break.

---------

The weeks following are hazy in your memory. You imagine it's not totally dissimilar to a bereavement. After all, you'd discussed seeing each other again, but you both knew that there was a chance it may not happen. Scratch had been evading law enforcement for months with ease. He was watching Jack and no-one even knew. It didn't bode well.

Time continued to pass. Eventually, from around the 6th month mark, people started offering to set you up with friends/relatives/colleagues. You weren't getting any younger they kept saying. You can't miss out on the rest of your life.

It was something you were well aware of. You were only a couple of years younger than Aaron so you were moving past your prime, particularly if you wanted to have kids of your own. You couldn't do it though. It just felt wrong when Aaron was out there alone somewhere with a new name and identity. How could you move on? Instead, you focussed on work, even getting a promotion for your efforts.

You didn't move into the apartment, you couldn't bring yourself to. You and Aaron had been discussing moving, and potentially purchasing a proper house with a garden Jack play soccer in in the future, mere days before everything happened. It was just another thing that didn't feel right. Instead, you moved the important things out to Dave's basement. He had the space and it would be much safer than a storage locker. It also helped sooth his guilt over the fact that none of the team were supposed to have much contact with you to try and keep you off Scratch's hotlist.

Since you didn't need the income from the apartment, you instead approached a charity who worked with women and families escaping domestic violence. You'd offered them the apartment at a reduced rate for short term lets that rolled month by month, with potential to go up to a year. The plan was to give people time to get back on their feet and regain their independence in a safe and secure environment.

You'd had two small families in so far. Both had moved on after securing jobs with good salaries and new full time accommodation. They were both keeping you updated about how they and their kids were doing, and you were happy that you were able to help them even just a little. It was empty at the moment and you were busy organising some basic maintenance and were going to repaint some of the rooms to freshen it up.

You'd just been on the phone with Derek, who'd offered to do the small repair jobs you needed doing, when someone knocked at the door.

Glancing at the clock and seeing it was nearly 9pm, you paused and texted Derek as a safety precaution. It was probably nothing, but better safe than sorry.

The knock sounded again, a little more urgent this time, and you hustled to the door to open it.

When you realised who was on the other side, your knees gave way.

There in front of you, looking almost exactly the same as when he left, was Aaron with Jack peeking out from behind him.

Realising what was happening, he reached out to steady you and you threw yourself into his arms, sobbing as if your life depended on it.

He held you just tightly, rocking from side to side until you pulled back. You lower yourself into a crouch and hold your arms out to Jack, who collides with you with enough force to knock you on your behind.

You both laugh as you land on the floor, a light, carefree combination of sounds that tinkles around the room as you press kisses all over his face. Aaron bobs down to join the hug before helping you both to your feet and guiding you all to your sofa.

"I'm so glad you're both back" you tell them. Jack is snuggled into your lap and you're snuggled into Aaron. Declarations of love pass easily and frequently between the three of you and it fills you with warmth.

You spend the evening catching up with them. Apparently Scratch had been caught at the end of last week but it had taken this long for word to get through to the Marshals and for them to organise transferring them home.

Jack tells you over dinner (pizza, Jack picked) about his school and all the things he's learnt since the last time he saw you. Aaron tells you about his cover job as a law clerk in the backwater town of Nowhere, Iowa. In return, you tell them about how you got promoted at work and what you've done with the apartment in their absence. Aaron's eyes shine with pride as you explain the cause and you know it's one that's close to his heart.

Before you know it, it's almost midnight and Aaron is suggesting they go back to the hotel that they've been set up in for the next few days. You won't allow that though. They'll be lucky if they're allowed to leave your sight ever again.

You all brush your teeth together in the bathroom while joking around before getting sorted and all clambering into your bed together.

Wrapped in Aaron's arms, with Jack tucked up against your side, you finally feel whole for the first time since that dreaded phone call.

"My boys," you gently sigh. "I love you both".

Aaron presses a soft kiss to your forehead, and you let the sound of their breathing calm you as you fall into the deepest nights sleep you've had in forever.

Even better, they're still there when you wake up.

#Tropetember #fanfiction #Criminal Minds #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x y/n #aaron hotchner x you #angst #angst with a happy ending #witness protection #jack hotchner

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omg-im-such-a-masochist · 3 years

Text

MAYBE IT’S CALLED FATE

Prompt: Request, by the ever so lovely @auawdo Thank you so much for your request, pumpkin! I hope you’ll like it

Word Count: Long

Pairings: Seth Rollins x Reader

Warnings: Angst, smut(implied), cursing

Tag: @marlananicole , @theworldofotps , @new-zealand-chic , @yungbludjazz360

Notes: This has gained Seth a bigger space in my heart 🥰 Y’all know the drill loves,sorry for misspellings,english isn’t my first language (bla bla bla),check out my other stories if you’d like to(it would make your girl here very happy 😊) You can check them out on my Masterlist. Okay,now let’s get to the fun part, shall we? Hope you’ll enjoy 😉

PRESENT DAY

Staring out the big windows that display the snowy weather of Davenport, Iowa. I retraced the journey that lead me here...

FLASHBACK - 8 YEARS AGO

“Y/N? Where are you, babe?”

From the bedroom I heard the loud thump of his duffel bag being tossed on the floor

“Oh, there you are! I’ve been looking for y- Are you ok?” He urgently asks, running to me

“Seth, I need to talk to you”

“Uh Oh, those words are an omen for bad news” He whispered

“Please, seat down” I ask and he oblige

“I have to do this quickly, like a band-aid” I murmur to myself

“What will you have to do it quickly, Y/N?”

“I can’t stay here”

“What do you mean? You don’t want to live in Iowa anymore? That’s ok, we can move to Florida if-“

“No, Seth... I mean, I don’t think we should be together anymore” I whispered with tears in my eyes

“You wanna break up? But why? Have I done something wrong? Because if I did I’m sure we can work it out a-“

“No...”

“You don’t love me anymore?” Seth asked with hurtful eyes

“I do, I do but-“

“I love you too, Y/N. So, end of story!” He huffed

“Seth, I wish there could be an easier way-“

“Why are you doing this? What changed your mind? Did you fell in love with someone else? What is it, Y/N?” Seth screamed

“I don’t think it’s fair ok? Babysitting while I’m injured is not fair to you, having to stay here waiting for you to come home is not fair to me, holding you back from enjoying yourself with other women is not fair to you and wondering if you have been sleeping with other women night after night is not fair to me. So let’s stop it before we hurt each other”

“What? First of all, I don’t babysit you, I TAKE CARE of you because I love you! Second of all I NEVER cheated on you and you know that. I FaceTime you every night until I fall asleep, just so we don’t feel lonely, because I know how hard this can be! I’ve been on your shoes...And for the record, you’re the one who’s hurting me with this breakup bullshit thing”

Seth tugs on his hair from frustration, pacing around the room

“I’m sorry, but is for the best Seth” I caress his beard, memorizing every feature of his face

“These are the painkillers, the stress and the injury speaking not you...It’s not you, right baby?” He asked in despair

“I’ll always love you Seth, you’re an incredible man and someday you’ll find a very lucky girl who deserves you”

“No, I want you! You deserve me” He grabs my suitcase, trying to pull it out of my hand “You’re not leaving, I won’t allow it. You’re not going anywhere” Seth tugs on the suitcase.

“Seth, please don’t do this” I beg

“No” He sobs “Please don’t do this to me, please don’t leave me, Y/N. I need you, I love you, I can’t live without you” Seth grabbed my face softly in his hands “Please tell me that you’re kidding me, that this is a prank...Please Y/N this can’t be true. Tell me you still love me, that we’ll be together! I can’t-“ Seth began to cry uncontrollably

“Shhhh...I’m sorry, baby. You’ll be fine. I promise you, you’ll be ok” I try to comfort him

I laid with him on his bed one last time, enjoying his bearded cheek on my chest one last time. Running my fingers through his hair gently, reassuring him that it will all be fine. When his sobs were replaced by a soft snoring, I stand up from the bed, covering Seth’s body with a blanket. Pecking his lips for the last time, I grabbed my suitcase, slowly closing the bedroom door and leaving behind what it used to be my home.

FLASHBACK - 7 YEARS LATER

The last thing I wished was see him again, the last thing I wanted was to end up in SmackDown with him and of course that God was in his jokester mood today and decided to deliver me this little joke called fate.

“Y/N? I can’t believe it!” Roman ran to me, giving me a bear hug and successfully spinning me around the arena’s hallway.

“Oh Lord, calm down you Samoan beast! Jesus” I laughed loudly

“I didn’t knew you were back! Why didn’t you told me?”

“I didn’t wanted to draw to much attention” I trailed off

“Because of Seth?” Roman asked and I just gave him a sad smile as an answer

“You can’t hide forever, Y/N. You know that, right?”

“I know... I just need a few days”

“Or not” Roman said, pointing with his chin at someone behind me

I felt his presence before I could see him

“Y/N?”

I turn around to meet his gaze, it had a mixture between surprise, pain and...love?

“Hello, Seth”

“Oh my God, it’s been so long” He reaches his arms for a hug but ended up changing his mind “What are you doing here?”

“I needed a job, so” I laughed lightly

“I thought I would never see you again”

“Looks like destiny has other plans” I mumbled

......................................................................

For the next two weeks I bump into Seth everywhere I go: arena, hotel, gym, convenience store, liquor store, diner, bar, even at a club’s bathroom line! The chemistry between us was still there, awake. Even after all those years my body called for him like some sort of drug. And I would be lying if I said that I didn’t wanted him back, not just for the sex but for everything else.

I’m at the local Starbucks when I meet him again (it’s the fourth time today), I had to put an end to this so I decided to talk to him about everything that happened in the past.

“Sure, we can talk about it” He shyly answered

We chose a hidden bench at the local park to sit down

“Thank you, for agreeing with this”

“It’s fine, Y/N” Seth weakly smiles

“Well, first of all, I would like to apologize to you. For everything I did back then...I wasn’t thinking straight and I don’t know what took ahold of me to have made such a dumb decision”

“And it took you 7 years to realize that?” He asked, sounding hurt and mad at the same time

I shook my head “No, to be honest with you, I regretted my decision when as soon as I got home”

“Why didn’t you called me then?”

“Because I thought you would be angry at me, wouldn’t want to see me or talk to me. The mere thought of you rejecting me was unbearable” I whispered

“And how do you think I felt?” Seth spat “Do you think it was fun for me to wake up and find out you were gone? I called you Y/N, I texted you, I called your brother, your sister, even your mother! I sent you emails, I went to your house, I tried everything I could to get you to talk to me. Just so at least I could get some type of closure, but you never gave me that opportunity. You shut me off, pretended I never existed, erased me from your life and now you expect me to do what? To welcome you back in my arms? To say that I missed you and that I was waiting for you all those years? Is that what you want? For me to stop my life completely just so you can enter it again and ruin it again once you decide you‘ve had enough of me?”

The only thing I could do was to remain silent, I knew Seth and I knew that sooner or later he would end up lashing out and saying everything he always wanted to say for those past 7 years, so I just sat there and took it like a big girl even with the tears rolling down my eyes. Afterall, I was the one who brought that to myself.

“I can’t do that, I gave you too much power the first time and I will not give you the same power again! When you left I hit rock bottom Y/N, my life was partying, booze and pussy. I almost lost my job because of that! Do you know how many nights I spent awake thinking of you? Crying over you? Trying to understand what had I done wrong for you to leave me like that? Do you know how many women I fucked thinking about you? Wishing they were you? Wishing to wake up in the morning and find you laying there by my side? Wishing that it was all a nightmare? Now you come here, 7 years after the shit storm and say that you’re sorry and that the thought of me rejecting you was unbearable so you just left? You know what, Y/N? Fuck you! Fuck you and your shitty apology, I don’t need this bullshit! I’m better without you, now I can fuck whoever I want, whenever I want. Without having to worry about their incapacity of having a relationship because of their stupid and childish commitment issues” He stood up and left

And now, by the irony of fate, I’m the one who gets abandoned now.

......................................................................

I got his message that day in the park, he doesn’t want to talk to me, so I do exactly that. I leave him alone. I never met him at random places anymore after that day.

It has been a month since I came back and any hope I had of settling things with Seth went down the drain.

I’m finishing zipping up my duffel bag when someone knocked on the locker room door

“Yeah? It’s open” I screamed

“Hey, can I talk to you for a second?”

My heart stopped when I heard Seth’s voice

“Hi, umm sure. What’s up?” I ask

Seth closed the door behind him

“Can we sit down?” He points to the small leather couch

I nodded, sitting down by his side

“I wanted to apologize to you” He started “The things I said to you that day at the park were unnecessary, I should’ve dealt with it in a better way”

“It’s ok, Seth. We both know I deserved” I weakly smile at him

“No, you didn’t! Even though I was confused and hurt, I didn’t had the right to do that to you. I truly am sorry”

“It’s ok, buddy. Apology accepted” I patted his knee and he holds my hand there

“I’m going to ask you something, but I need you to be completely honest with me, ok?”

“Of course”

“Do you still love me?” He asked and my whole world stopped

I looked down to my feet and honestly answered “I never stopped loving you, Rollins. No matter how hard I tried”

His only response to me was a cheerful grin.

1 YEAR LATER - PRESENT DAY

“What are you doing staring out the window, baby? It’s fucking freezing! Come back to bed” Seth’s arms circle around my waist, trying to pull me back to bed

“I’m enjoying the snowy morning view” I chuckled

“Meh” He scoff “I have something more interesting for you to enjoy if you come back to bed with me” Seth smirked

“What possibly could be nicer than this view”

“Hmmm, I don’t know...maybe something thick and warm that slides in and out of you, maybe?” He bites my neck and I can’t help the little moan that escaped my lips

“That sounds fun” I grab him through his boxers, teasing him

Seth moans “Oh you’re gonna regret that”

He picked me up in his arms right before tossing me back onto his bed....

Please if you’re comfortable with it let me know your thoughts on this? Feedbacks are always appreciated 🥰😘

#seth rollins smut #seth rollins fanfiction #seth rollins x reader #seth rollins one shot #seth rollins imagines #seth rollins #wwe x reader #wwe smut #wwe one shot #wwe imagine #wwe fanfiction #masochist writes

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lilydalexf · 3 years

Photo

Old School X is a project interviewing X-Files fanfic authors who were posting fic during the original run of the show. New interviews are posted every Tuesday.

Interview with MustangSally

MustangSally has 33 stories at Gossamer. Even if you haven’t read it, you’ve probably heard of at least one of them, Iolokus, since it’s an X-Files fanfic classic. All her fics hit big and are well worth your time. I’ve recced some of my favorites here before, including And Dance by the Light of the Moon, All the Children are Insane, and Iolokus. Big thanks to MustangSally for doing this interview.

What's the story behind your pen name?

I could tell you but then I would have to kill you.

Does it surprise you that people are still interested in reading your X-Files fanfics and others that were posted during the original run of the show (1993-2002)?

Yes and no. Yes, because life has moved on since the early nineties and the characters and the fans are in vastly different places now. Our current tech would make the premise of the X-Files impossible. No, because of the longevity of some of the Star Trek TOS work (there’s an archive of hard copy fanzines at the University of Iowa). Top-drawer authors started out in TOS fandom.

I’m just greatly saddened that my physical body is showing wear and tear while the fic doesn’t. Fic gets to stay smooth-skinned and muscular, captured at the peak of perfection.

What do you think of when you think about your X-Files fandom experience? What did you take away from it?

At the risk of sounding atrociously trite, I think of the friends I made. I met some very remarkable women that I’ve been able to stay friends with online for over twenty-five years. We may have moved to Facebook and post entirely too much about our pets and which of our body parts has sagged this week, but we’re friends. It’s a furiously funny, feminist, and well-educated group of women with jobs in the highest levels of academia, finance, communications, and media. I’m amused by the fact that if I have a question about how a virus replicates, I can ask a PhD I’ve been drunk with in Las Vegas.

Back in the day, I had a job that sent me traveling around major cities in the US and UK. I could post on a message board and within ten minutes there were people I could go out for dinner and drinks with. We already knew we had something we could talk about for at least a couple of hours. Additionally, most of these people were women so there was an added level of security. Social media didn't really exist during the show's original run. How were you most involved with the X-Files online (atxc, message board, email mailing list, etc.)?

Well, it was mostly atxc and the Yahoo! groups mailing lists that spiraled out into Geocities sites and, eventually, LiveJournal. The amusing thing is that getting in on the ground floor of social media and the Internet has helped me get jobs! When I look at a new piece of software, I think, ‘this is hella easier than uploading to Geocities.’ We had to walk uphill both ways, in the snow, on dial-up, fighting off dinosaurs with our AOL CDs while writing HTML code. What did you take away from your experience with X-Files fic or with the fandom in general?

DO NOT FEED THE TROLLS.

The past four years in politics have basically been the ugliest online kerfuffle the world has ever seen. I survived the Shipper Wars of ’96 and I thought those were brutal, but that was NOTHING. The only way to win an argument online is to not have the argument at all. Arguing with a troll is like mudwrestling a pig: You both get filthy and only the pig is happy.

Also, READ THE FUCKING TERMS OF SERVICE.

What was it that got you hooked on the X-Files as a show?

I had the most terrible straight-girl crush on Scully. I wanted to be her best friend, I wanted to BE her. I wanted to order Chinese food and paint each other’s nails and talk about bones. Scully and Princess Leia and I could all just hang out poolside with hot and cold running waiters and poolboys, drink margaritas, and bitch about how unfair it all was – if the stupid men would just get OUT OF THE WAY AND LET US DO OUR JOBS, the world would be so much better. What got you involved with X-Files fanfic?

This question is really about Iolokus, isn’t it? You can’t fool me. [Lilydale note: I can neither confirm nor deny the motivation for this question, but I cannot complain about the answer.]

Simply put, I was enraged. The moment it was revealed that Scully’s ova had been used in experimentation, I lost my feminist mind. It was the most obscene defilement imaginable. Scully wasn’t nearly as angry as I was. What I thought needed to happen was for Scully to become a fiery force of vengeance against the MEN who had done this to her. Clearly, I was not going to get that level of satisfaction from the show, as I was imagining Kali-like carnage on a global scale. I emailed RivkaT (whom I did not know well at that point) with a proposition that we work together. Strangely enough, we didn’t meet face to face until we were well into the project, but we did talk on the phone quite a bit. The rules were simple – everyone had to be punished in truly horrific ways, and at some point, we had to see if we could write a car chase (only because that seemed impossible). Then it basically turned into a very twisted game of chicken to see who could be the most outrageous in terms of killing people off or writing really horrific things that fit within the structure of the narrative. I did, in the end, write the car chase, but RivkaT one-upped me by throwing in a helicopter (a FOX News helicopter, at that).

Really, RivkaT? A helicopter? What is your relationship like now to X-Files fandom? I am terribly proud of what I wrote, pleased that it brought pain and pleasure in equal amount to people, and, again, thrilled by the people I became friends with. I admit that I stopped watching the show when Scully announced her pregnancy. I could only see a long jump over a shark tank for the rest of the series. I haven’t watched the new episodes, either. It is complete in my mind and doesn’t need to be continued. I wouldn’t say no to having a reunion with some of my fic friends, although we’re still chatting online like everyone does. Were you involved with any fandoms after the X-Files? If so, what was it like compared to X-Files?

Rivka and I wrote in the Buffy fandom for a few years, but then we moved on to real adult jobs that left absolutely no time for me to write. I’m in education, and I regularly sweat blood for fear that someone is going to find my old fic. The Buffy people were fun; there was a certain *shininess* to them that I really enjoyed. The X-men authors were just batshit and delightful, and some amazing stuff came out of Marvel fandom, particularly in the Thor/Loki and Steve/Bucky subgenres. I’ve learned to appreciate a good coffee shop AU and one famous Erik/Charles fic where all the main characters are crabs. Seriously, crabs—it’s hysterical. [Lilydale note: Other Crabs Cannot Be Trusted by groovyphilia currently has almost 2,500 kudos at AO3.]

Every few years, I’ll have a student try to explain to me what fandom is and I just smirk. Do you ever still watch The X-Files or think about Mulder and Scully? No. Not really. Do you ever still read X-Files fic? Fic in another fandom? I fell into an X-Men hole a few years back and had a great old time wallowing in the Cherik muck, and there was a flirtation with BBC Sherlock as well. Strangely enough, I became interested in A/B/O fics only because of what they were saying about the role of women in our society. The limitations on the male omegas seem absurd and then you realize those are the same limitations put on women all. the. time.

Is there a place online (tumblr, twitter, AO3, etc.) where people can find you and/or your stories now?

RivkaT very nicely formatted everything and put it up on AO3. What is your favorite of your own fics, X-Files and/or otherwise?

I will always be stupidly proud of how shocked and horrified people were by Iolokus. The truth of the matter is that Iolokus has Greek drama at its core. Scully is Medea, and the entire story is lousy with “blood on the threshing floor” and Dionysian rites. The everyday is subverted into horror, and wives and daughters will tear men limb from limb like the Maenads. Since I was ultimately disappointed with what Chris Carter did with the entire show, that approach seemed appropriate.

At a certain level, all fic is corrective fic. Like critic Anne Jamison said, “Irritated fans produce fanfic like irritated oysters produce pearls.” And because fic has fallen so much into women’s sphere, a pure form of correction is not just the death of the author but the MURDER, a new creation springing up from the spilled blood like Cadmus sowing dragon’s teeth.

Okay, that’s a bit much. Maybe I should just take myself back to the isle of Goth Amazons or something. Do you still write fic now? Or other creative work?

I had to write a self-evaluation and a reflection on pedagogy today. If that’s not fiction, I don’t know what the fuck is.

All my creativity is caught up in trying to pretend to be a normal middle-aged white woman so no one knows I am really a lizard.

Is there anything else you'd like to share with fans of X-Files fic?

Keep writing, keep reading, keep fighting the commercialization of narratives. As things grow more and more commodified, all our dreams and desires reduced to tchotchkes made in China, it’s a revolutionary act to separate your work from the marketplace. Be bold, take chances, turn the trope on its ear and kick it in the ass. Take everything the creators have done to make a work palatable to the unwashed masses and set it on fire.

Be subversive.

Be mean.

Have a great fucking time.

(Posted by Lilydale on March 2, 2021)

#old school x #xfiles fanfic #xf fanfic #xf fanfic author interviews #mustangsally

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vivisextion · 3 years

Text

I first saw Slipknot at age 14.

No one knows how I managed it. I'm not sure I even remember. These days, you have to be 16 or 18 to get into Standing areas. I do know I had to buy tickets on the phone, back in the old days (2005, that is). A singular ticket, too - none of my friends, not even the classmate who had gone with me to see Linkin Park the year before, was that into Slipknot.

But I HAD to see them. This was the Subliminal Verses tour cycle, and Vol. 3 was my first and favourite Slipknot album, even to this day. It's the reliable old warm blanket for my soul whenever I need it. It's on right now, as I write this.

My memory isn't that good, but luckily I unearthed a livejournal (livejournal!) diary entry about the event I made the next day.

August 16, 2005. I went right after school. I went to a very conservative Anglican secondary school, too. I tried not to get caught in the bathroom, as I coloured my nails black with permanent marker (I know, don't laugh) and changed into my standard metalhead baby outfit - Slipknot band shirt, black cargo shorts, and my pride and joy: steel-toe boots I somehow managed to cajole my parents into letting me own.

I caught the bus to the open-air war memorial park where the gig was going to be. I got there at 4pm, 4 hours early. A couple other maggots were already hanging around. I found myself surrounded by tombstones, and I read them all. It was the middle of the Hungry Ghost Festival, too - a very fitting time for Slipknot to pay a visit to this godforsaken hellhole of a small town I lived in. (Especially given the paranormal circumstances surrounding the making of Vol. 3.)

While I wandered around the venue (no security or sound guys were around at all), I spotted two white vans pull up to the stage, in the middle of a clearing. It was them! I spotted Joey and missed him by a hair's breadth. I was quickly ushered behind the stone archway entrance by security then.

(Funnily enough, while walking around, I got mistaken for Joey more than once. I am the same height as him, had the same long black hair, same pale skin, and was wearing almost exactly what he had been. One person claimed from behind, I was a dead ringer, apart from when I turned around, and they realised I was Chinese.)

It was soundcheck time. A sound guy testing the mics would say random things, like "testing one two three two one.... fudge fudge, I like fudge...." The band even did Purity, so us earlybirds were given a rare treat, and we screamed along from the entrance, and drummed our fists on the sides of nearby porta-potties. I hope no one was in there at the time. Whenever we got a glance of any of them, we'd scream and cheer. Finally they left again, but were soon to return.

This was the first time I'd been a part of the metal community. I was barely allowed internet in those days. But here, random strangers were friendly, striking up conversations like they'd been friends for years. Two big guys, called Trevor and Ted, looked out for me the entire gig after, keeping other big dudes from crushing me too much (I'm 5'3, remember). Other people commented on me being so baby, because I was only 14, and said they would take care of me.

When we were finally let in, right after the usher cut the rope, I ran in, screamed "WOOOHOOO!" along with a few friends I'd made. I only briefly stopped to receive this RoadRunner Records compilation CD from a roadie, then resumed running like a madman screaming and dashing into the VIP cage.

I was right up against the barricade - the first time I would ever be at a gig. People from assorted magazines and press took photos of us, and I think I got my photo taken about 10 times at least.

(This is how I got in trouble with my parents the next day. My photo had ended up in a local paper - you can see examples of that here. They had no idea what I'd been to see the night before, and were horrified when they saw what Slipknot looked like.)

We saw Sid filming us from the stage with a camcorder and screamed at him. We saw Jim and screamed at him too, and he flashed the victory sign back at us. I remember Metallica playing at the time, another one of my favourite bands.

The concert was a brutal religious experience I will never forget. People with their arms outstretched, crying and screaming out loud, moving like the devil possessed them.

The new friends around me made sure I was alright after every song! There were huge guys fainting behind us who had to get carried out, but I endured, a tiny 14 year old child. We got a family speech as per tradition, of course. "Are you guys out there all looking out for each other? We're all one big family, and we gotta look out for each other." What Corey said held true - strangers hugged, shook hands, talked, and made friends. I was heartened by how close-knit the maggot community was. It really did feel like a family, and it's felt like that ever since.

Of course, I did my first Jump The Fuck Up. It is possibly the most euphoria I've ever experienced all at one go. (Later, in 2020, I was extremely disappointed that I didn't get to do it again in London.)

They did the death masks for Vermilion, and I remember Chris helping Sid fix his mask and shirt when they'd changed back. Sid hung out near Clown's drums for most of the time too, and hugged him from behind and just latched on at one point. It was pretty adorable.

Fun fact: The version of Eyeless you hear on the 9.0 Live album is from Singapore, as is Eeyore. There are very few photos and videos from the crowd of this gig, because in 2005, very few people had camera phones. The crowd at the Slipknot gig in 2020 was a sea of arms with phones, filming the gig rather than experiencing it. Yes, I'm going to be that cranky old geezer who complains about the good old days.

Joey as usual, was fucking amazing and never failed. However, due to the fact that I was right up front, only his tiny head was visible behind his vast drum set, I couldn't see him the entire gig.

Amazingly, the government told Slipknot they were not allowed to do obscene gestures, curse, vomit (possibly due to the decomposing crow pre-show ritual), simulate humping on objects, throw faeces, or jump off stage (looking at you, Sid). I don't think our totalitarian government knew who they were dealing with, because watch what happens next.

Near the end of the gig, Corey tells the crowd “your government has given us a laundry list of things we aren’t allowed to do, your government has told us we are not allowed to swear”. Crowd goes “BOOOOOOOOO” and Corey goes “BUT WE DON’T GIVE A FUCK!!” And they launch into Surfacing, the last song. Everyone riots. Best night of my life.

You can find the setlist from that gig here. It had everything I wanted and more.

This story later got immortalised when Kerrang asked maggots for gig stories, for an article which came out in 2020. I had forgotten entirely, until people began messaging me to tell me, and one friend sent me a scan of it!

On the way out, I managed to get a shirt. I remember calling my best friend at the time, and got everyone at the merch booth to go "IF YOU'RE 555 THEN I'M 666" for her. This shirt has since been lost to the landfill, because my Christian mother took it upon herself to dispose of it the first opportunity she got. Needless to say, our relationship is not very good.

After that, I even managed to get that Roadrunner compilation album they were giving out signed. The band was staying at the Carlton. Unfortunately, Joey wasn't there, neither was Clown, and Mick was swarmed by guitar nerds so, 6/9 it is. It is a great regret of mine that I'll never have anything signed by him, nor will I ever get to see him perform ever again.

The next day, I went to school, my head swimming. Yes, I went to see Slipknot ON A SCHOOL NIGHT. I was a giant bruise, from my ribs and my chest, to my hips and knees, from being slammed into the barricade like a screen door in a hurricane. Most of all, my sore, headbanged-out neck could barely hold my head up. Classmates thought I had been in a fight. I was torn between battle-scarred exhaustion and hyperactive ranting about the most amazing gig of my short life (it still is, to this day). When teachers spoke to me, I wanted to reply, "Fuck trigonometry! I've just seen SLIPKNOT. Do you not understand that my world is different? Do you not understand that *I* am now different?"

My country was a small, conservative town that Slipknot had graced with their unholy presence. Corey Taylor once said that where he grew up in Iowa had a way of making a 16 year old boy feel like a 36 year old man (or something to that effect). I felt that in my weary bones as a teenager, being from a place just like that. Years later, Watain would run into worse trouble, and wouldn't even be allowed to perform. The Christian stranglehold is stronger than ever. It was a good thing that back then Slipknot had the element of surprise, striking serpent-fast and choking this society by the neck for a too-brief time, before they departed.

After that, my desire to play the drums only grew like a weed. Joey Jordison had, has, and will always inspire me as a drummer, and seeing the beast live (or what little I could spy behind the massive riser) had only spurred me on. I had always been a noisemaker, be it driving my parents mad with chopsticks on pots and pans, or driving my teachers mad with pencils on my desk. But of course, my parents wouldn't have any of it. I'd have to wait a good 14 more years before I'd be able to afford lessons and later, a kit of my own. Better late than never, right?

There will never be enough words to describe the impact Joey has had on my life. And it isn't just Slipknot, either. I could write another essay on his time with the Murderdolls and its influence on my own gender-non-conforming ways. Suffice to say, my wardrobe doesn't look too dissimilar to his during the early Dead in Hollywood days.

I told my boss I could not come into work today. I was grieving. I said that my music teacher died, as I didn't think she'd understand the magnitude of my loss. In a way, it's true. And I am not the only one Joey has nudged on the path to being a musician, that much is certain. To the rest of us, I wish strength and love for you in this difficult time. The best way to honour Joey, who truly loved music, both the creation and appreciation of it, is to pass that gift on. Teach it to someone. He is the reason I picked up the sticks in the first place, and one day, they'll be handed on, the heavy metal baton for the next generation.

And finally: remember that the ones we have lost are never truly gone.

Vinnie

P.S. See if you can spot me in the crowd photos in this post!

#Joey Jordison #Slipknot #Murderdolls

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sherrybaby14 · 4 years

Text

Blue Spiders

A/N: This is chapter one in a series! I think it is going to be 3 parts, but if more is requested I do have an outline where I could take it to 10. (Updates on Thursdays)

Pairing: AU Psychiatrist Steve Rogers x Female Reader

Words: 3700

Summary: An interview with a charming doctor leads to more

Warnings: This chapter, mentions of violence and murder, alcohol. I HAVE NOT WARNED FOR EVERYTHING POSSIBLE. PLEASE READ AT YOUR OWN RISK.

Smoothing out your blazer and squaring your shoulders you rose your fist and knocked on the door.

It swung open, taking your breath away at the swiftness of the response. Your jaw dropped for a moment, but you shook the nerves away, always the professional. He was more gorgeous in person with blond hair and blue eyes. The All-American man.

“Dr. Rogers?” You asked.

“So I’ve been called.” He stepped to the side. “Please come in.”

Your eyes went up at the expanse of his office. It had a balcony going around the entire space, floor to ceiling in books. The main floor was open with a huge mahogany desk behind bright windows. There was a sitting area with two chairs, a couch, and a coffee table. On the wall hung a giant painting.

“Is that a Jackson Pollock?” You were surprised to see such a chaotic artist hung in a therapist’s office.

“I know it’s not the traditional calming image you would expect a doctor to hang, but I find it opens people up on the subconscious and allows my patients to see the beauty in madness.” His voice made the hairs on your body rise, so calm and collected.

“Are most of your patients mad?” You looked over your shoulder to see icy blue eyes taking in your face.

“We’re not here to discuss my patients Miss, that is private information.” He wagged a finger in your face before moving toward the sitting area. “I was very clear when I agreed to the interview.”

“Of course, Dr. Rogers.” You followed and sat down opposite him. “I am sure my editor went over the basics with you, but this is for a feature we do monthly on interesting people in the area. There is nothing to worry about, it is not investigative journalism, only a puff piece for our readers looking for human interest stories.”

“Yes, I am still uncertain why I was selected.” The man adjusted his tie that was tucked into a vest. He wore those clothes well. “I fear I am not that interesting.”

“You were instrumental in the capture of the Canary Killer.” You were shocked by his modesty. “The FBI has praised your work and referred to you as an essential asset even though you are not an agent. That alone makes you very fascinating.”

“The Canary Killer.” Dr. Rogers rolled his eyes. “I am not a fan of those nicknames. They devalue the lives of the victims, and criminals are not my expertise.”

“Do you mind?” You reached into your bag and pulled out a tape recorder. “I did not expect to start this soon.”

“Please.” He crossed his legs and his lips turned into a small smirk. “And tell me, why would your readers care about a murderer in Iowa? I am sure they are locally based.”

“Yes. We are out of Washington D.C., readership largely in Maryland and Virginia. The surrounding areas, but a killer like this facinates anyone regardless of region.” As his smile dropped you worried you were coming off too forward. “And, the focus of the piece is on you, not the killings. We want to know your background, your story. I am sure it is more exciting than you give yourself credit for.”

“Your dialect is strange.” He uncrossed his legs and leaned forward. “I can’t quite place where you are from.”

“I moved around a lot as a child.” You looked away from his deep stare. “Is linguistics one of your hobbies? Would you like to expand on that?”

“It is fascinating. Almost as if you have no accent at all. Very unheard of. Tell me, are you trying to disguise your voice?” His teeth ran over his lip, sending a tremble down your spine.

“Doctor, I appreciate the question, but I don’t think I could afford your hourly rate.” You weren’t used to your subjects asking you many questions. “How about you? Where were you born? What drew you to therapy?”

“Right.” His smirk returned. “I was born abroad. My parents passed when I was twelve, I became responsible for my younger sister and believe it or not we snuck in illegally.”

The doctor’s comment on your accent threw you off, especially when he himself was born abroad but had no trace of one. He continued on with his life story and you barely had to ask a question. Everything about the man was fascinating.

“After my years in general surgery I discovered that most of my patients were more concerned with the mental effects and less with the recovery. I enjoyed helping them with any resulting depression or anxiety and realized my love for the blade was second to my love of the mind.” Dr. Rogers glanced toward the window. “People are fascinating and I want to help in any way I can.”

“That is very noble of you.” The jitters you had about his attractiveness were now dwarfed compared to the intensity of his wisdom and compassion. “I know we are running low on time. Is there any personal anecdote you want to include? Wife or kids? Dog?”

His smile brightened the room as he let out a laugh.

“Unfortunately my dedication to my work has left no time for any personal life.” He rose from his seat. “Though since this is a human interest piece, I would say my main hobbies are music and cooking.”

“Wow. Even your hobbies are impressive.” You followed his lead, grabbing your recorder and hitting stop. “You don’t have any unproductive time. Never lose yourself in a television show? Read a pulp novel?”

“I do not enjoy fiction much.” He shrugged. “What is the point when the real world is so interesting?”

“I never thought about it that way.” You smiled. “Thank you for your time. As a courtesy I will send over the article before it is published, not for your approval of course, but your awareness.”

“I am sure it will be as dull as me talking about myself has been.” He held a hand toward the door.

“That is a way to put it, especially since hearing you talk about yourself was the opposite of dull.” You couldn’t find the right words to say, but that did not stop you from speaking. “You see the world through a unique lens and have had very unique experiences. Almost as if, as a species, we are lucky to have you.”

You felt like you should cringe or apologize, but something about the man made you speak your mind.

“And you must be very good at your job, because I felt comfortable saying that to you and I am not even a patient.” You stopped at the door to his office.

The two of you faced each other, his hand went for the knob, but he paused.

“You are not my patient.” Dr. Roger’s eyes glanced over your face, then stopped at your own. The two of you stared at each other and you did not look away as a chill went down your spine, the intensity of the man.

He was about to speak again when a boom landed on the door. You jumped and put your hand to your heart, your adrenaline flaring.

“I’m sorry Dr. Rogers.” The door swung open and a familiar face walked in. “But I need to see you right away.”

The new guest’s voice trailed off as he spotted you. His face scrunched and a look of disgust came over.

“What are you doing here?” Blue eyes glared into your soul.

A smirk crossed your face as you folded your arms.

“Hello Agent Barnes, always a pleasure.” You should have figured he was a patient. “I am writing a human interest piece on Dr. Rogers.”

“You talked to her?” James looked to the doctor. “About me?”

“I didn’t mean to create more problems for you to discuss.” You bit back the urge to fire a crack about his narcissism. “Thank you again Doctor. I will send you the piece in the next week or so.”

You held out your hand and watched as the blonde man shook it with hesitation.

That deep intense stare was gone. Your heart deflated as you left the office, trying to hold your head high and shoulders square. It felt like he was going to ask you out on a date for a moment, one you would have gladly expected.

The cringe you were fighting came forward as you left the swanky office building. Agent Barnes interference or not it was a stupid fantasy. This man was too good for you.

Steve considered his ability to read people top notch. Even though he was the one speaking he spent the past hour studying the journalist and to say she was intriguing was an understatement.

In fact, he was interested enough he was on the verge of asking the woman to dinner.

Bucky’s apparent hatred toward the woman was not expected and Steve found himself mentally recapping the interview to see if he missed something.

Before he could assess the situation she stormed off. Her quip about Bucky being a patient was ruder than he found acceptable.

“You gave an interview to Miranda Balfour?” Bucky gripped his long dark hair as he walked into the office. “What were you thinking?”

“What?” Steve shut the door. “That was not her name.”

“Of course she gave you a fake name.” Bucky scoffed. “I hope you are prepared to have your reputation trashed. Did you think to, google whatever name she gave you?”

“I did and she checked out.” Steve's intrigue for the woman was turning to anger. “Now who are you claiming she is?”

“She is Miranda Balfour. She runs a murder blog, always posting sensational stories. She gave extensive coverage to the Canary Killer.” Bucky ran his hands over his face. “Nothing better than a gossip rag. I’m surprised you haven’t noticed her. She’s always lurking around any local crime scene. Trying to get pictures and interviews like she is a legitimate source. It is disgraceful.”

Steve could feel his body temperature start to rise. He thought about walking over to his desk and sweeping everything off, then taking an axe to the thing. He imagined the wood slowly turning into the face of Miranda Balfour as she took a whack to the head, splintering as easy as a tree stump.

“Well if I have been duped, it is nobody’s fault but my own.” Steve shut the door to his office. “What brings you by so urgently Buck?”

“The New England Butcher.” Bucky shook his head. “I stayed up late last night, going over every murder in the area that even remotely fit his MO.”

“There is one issue off the bat.” Steve took a seat in the chair, knowing Bucky preferred to pace while he spoke. “Lack of sleep.”

“Six murders in three years. Each gruesome in their own way. The randomness of the kills, the victims. It is like we were only able to string them together because he wanted us to.” Bucky stopped. “And that is what caught my attention. What about the ones he doesn’t want us to?”

Bucky sat down and dropped a file on the table. Steve was annoyed at the waste of paper when an email would have sufficed, but he indulged Bucky and picked up the file.

The first photo was of a dismembered man found in a ditch. Steve knew the date off the top of his head, July 2nd 2013. Blake Corenzo. He was a pig of a man.

“That is a murder from 2013. Blake Corenzo. He was stabbed and chopped post mortem.” James glared as Steve looked up, waiting for his punchline. “I think he was the Butcher’s first victim.”

Steve bit back a laugh with expertise.

“The brutality matches. But what was missing?” Steve was curious if the Agent was going to connect the dots.

“Nothing.” He sighed and pressed his hand to his forehead. “Or something we missed. But I have seven more bodies I believe are connected. We know that as killers go on they get lazier, think they are unwatchable, but the Butcher, he is different. We are not going to catch him on a technicality or sloppiness. He is too good.”

Steve did enjoy the flattery.

“We have to find his first kill. It always starts with someone they know. Always.” Bucky had a desperation to his voice.

“So you believe that this Blake Corenzo knew the Butcher?” Steve watched Bucky struggle to connect the dots, not realizing he was the fish on the hook in this game he was not even aware he was playing. “Have you told Anthony Stark?”

“Yes.” The air deflated out of Bucky as he fell back into the couch. “He told me mandatory session with you before I am cleared to return to work.”

“If I check my e-mail will there be one from him? Is that what it will say?” Steve appreciated the protectiveness Tony had for Bucky. In a way it was as if Stark saw Barnes’ brain as a fragile asset. One he was constantly concerned was about to break.

“It will say I can’t go back until you clear me.” Bucky tried to hide the humiliation.

A man in his 30s being controlled by his boss and therapist as if he were a child. Steve recognized something in Bucky, an equality almost. Because Tony Stark’s concern were not without merit. James Buchanan Barnes did have a brain that could operate like no other and if anyone were to catch the Butcher Steve was certain it was the Agent in front of him.

“You are obsessing again.” Steve crossed his legs. “It is not healthy. You are getting too involved. The Butcher hasn’t struck in three months and twice already this year. It’s likely he will not attack for some time. You are trying to create leads.”

“You sound like Tony.” Bucky scoffed and looked away. “When I sleep, I see their faces.”

“Whose faces?” Steve leaned in, unsure what Bucky was going to say next.

“The ones, the ones I didn’t save.” Tears glossed over Bucky’s eyes. “Not the ones who have already died. The ones who will if I don’t stop him. Their faces are blurry but they’re pleading with me.”

“People die every day. You cannot carry that guilt. It will destroy you.” Steve reached for his rx pad.

“I can’t help the people who die every day, but I can help these people. If I can stop the Butcher.” Bucky’s jaw tightened.

“You keep saying ‘I’ when it is a team effort. You are not a superhero. You cannot do this alone.” Steve wrote out a medication.

“I have to since none of you will listen to me. Not Tony, not you.” Bucky rolled his eyes. “Even Natasha told me to give it a rest.”

“Maybe that says something.” Steve handed Bucky the prescription. “That will stop the dreams. Take one before bed and get some sleep.”

“And then what?” Bucky looked up, lips parted.

“And then come and see me in the morning. Once you are rested we will have a conversation about Blake Corenzo and I will talk to Mr. Stark.” Steve watched as relief flooded Bucky’s face.

“Thanks.” He looked at the prescription before shoving it in his pocket and letting out a yawn. “And sorry, for what I said earlier about Miranda. She won’t be able to tarnish your reputation.”

“I am aware. The most salacious detail I gave her is already public knowledge.” Steve rose. “I only regret my own error in judgment. Now get some sleep.”

Bucky nodded as they walked to the door. Steve kept his calm as he let the FBI Agent out.

Then he walked back to the table and picked up the file. He set out the photos of the four crime scenes Bucky wanted to tie to the Butcher.

“Very clever Agent Barnes.” All of them were done by Steve. In a way seeing the photos was like revisiting an old friend.

Corenzo was far from Steve’s first kill though. He had watched the man use a racial slur and a racist imitation at a dry cleaner. Another rude person the world did not need.

Steve flashed back to Miranda’s comment about the human race being lucky to have him. She was right of course, on more levels than she realized. He was purging the world of the disgusting people who did not belong.

After Agent Barnes’ proclamation Miranda Balfour’s name had landed on that list.

Steve was a patient man. He sometimes marked his victims for years before they met their demise.

When he got home, to what his visitor’s refered to as architectural magic, he went straight for the kitchen. It was on the level of any executive chef’s dream.

He would cook tonight. Channel his anger over the reporter, but not before adding her name to his list.

He went to the recipe drawer. It looked more like a filing cabinet, filled with Rolodexes of index cards with carefully printed ingredients and instructions. He had order them online since the entire world had gone digital.

On the rare occasion he had a guest they poked at his old fashioned nature. He remembered the first time he had Bucky over for dinner.

“You live in such a modern house, and appear a very modern man, but that recipe system reminds me of my grandmother.” Bucky laughed as he sipped his wine.

“And I bet your grandmother’s cooking was far superior to your own.” Steve raised as eyebrow as Bucky frowned.

The memory vanished as Steve pulled out the Rolodex he wanted. This one did not have recipes, it was for its original purpose, filled with business card collected over the years.

He grabbed one at random. Donna Chung. He closed his eyes and remembered her behavior, the way she was screaming at her child in the grocery store. The child could have been no more than three and was crying over not being able to drop a quarter in a donation box.

“You get nothing from that. Here I’ll buy you a candy bar instead.”

Steve followed her home that night. Googled the address and the next day walked into her real estate office. He picked up a business card and dropped her in his Rolodex. That was almost eighteen months ago.

She was not a candidate for a butcher murder. Besides, the day left Steve uninspired. But still he set her card to the side.

He picked up an empty one and wrote the name Miranda Balfour, along with the phony one she had given him and the contact e-mail. Then he closed up the Rolodex and put it back in its place.

Steve poured a glass of wine and walked over to his computer. He fired up the laptop.

Grabbing a remote he turned on the fireplace and some music as he sat on his overly plush blue sofa. Calm colors was what his interior designer recommended. He was grateful for that advice. She was someone who brought beauty to the world.

As soon as Steve typed Miranda Balfour into the search her blog popped up first thing. The title was “Miranda’s Macabre Museum”.

Steve rolled his eyes as he went to the first post. It was from two days ago.

Murder

Victim: Lawrence Engle

Death: Stab wounds

Date: April 12th, 1985

Location: Mobile, Alabama

What followed was a summary of the facts. Steve was expecting more of a tattle-tale type scenario. But he did not see anything salacious. If anything it was very matter-of-fact with little insight.

At the end there were links to photos with appropriate warnings and links to sources.

Then there was a section titled editorial.

“Here we go.” Steve readied to read the sordid opinion.

The motive in this murder was money. While the law, for the most part, disregards the motive as important to the trial my long time readers know I disagree. Until we change as a society and value human life over finances we will be doomed to see unnecessary killings as this continue to happen. That does not mean the killer should be pardoned for his crime because society as a whole is at fault. On the contrary. He is part of the problem and should be punished.

Sentence: Death by lethal injection.

“Interesting.” Steve found his mind going back to his initial opinion of Miranda or whatever her name was.

He noticed a search option on her blog and typed in his name. Several posts on Canary victims came up, but he found he was only mentioned in the source articles or the summary.

He did the same for Agent Barnes and saw the results light up. He scrolled the posts for the highlighted name and came across a murder from three years ago.

Editorial: The lead Agent on this case has shown textbook narcissism. His attempt to relate to the killer to solve the crime failed here, because the murder was not about him, but he found a way to make it so. The last victim’s death would have been preventable if Agent Barnes listened to anyone but himself.

“That explains Bucky’s dislike.” Steve shut the laptop and pinched his eyes shut.

When he googled the first name, multiple stories came up that were as she said human interest pieces. Did she lie just to get the interview? Pose as the other woman?

Lie. What difference did it make? She was a liar and had earned a spot in his Rolodex.

This one felt personal though. In a way Steve did not enjoy. She made him feel...comfortable. Or made him feel something. The way her eyes were so inquisitive and she seemed to hang on every work with genuine interest. When in fact he was intentionally trying to bore her.

That would not stand. This woman would not sit in the Rolodex for years. Her time would be shorter. Steve stood up from the couch and went back to the kitchen. He picked up Donna Chung’s card and returned it with the other, instead setting the card he’d just drafted on the counter.

He would start tomorrow.

A/N: Thank you so much for reading! I really appreciate every like/comment/reblog! I haven’t done a series in a long time so I am excited! And if you didn’t figure it out this is....

Hannibal AU :).

#Steve rogers x reader #au steve rogers #steve rogers x you #fanfic #fanfiction #marvel fanfic #marvel fanfiction

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goldenslumbersfanfiction · 3 years

Note

i’m not sure if you want to keep going back to the little green verse but would you consider doing a one shot of dani, jamie, and luna visiting karen? i absolutely adore their dynamic in that verse and always go back to that fic :)

Read it here on AO3

It’s the summer after Luna turns five years old, and your mother invites you to Iowa. She had moved to a new house in an over 55 community at the beginning of the year, and she just finished redecorating. She has a guest room and a pull out couch, and she tells you that she’d love to have you visit.

You delay as much as you can, because even though your relationship with her had honestly become something unrecognizable in it’s goodness over the last several years, you have not been back to Iowa since you returned to sell your house and all your things as quickly as you could. You delay until you can’t anymore, until Karen gets Luna on the phone one day and is chatting away with her and your daughter comes running into your room to tell you that grandma invited you all to visit, and that she has a swimming pool, and Luna will not shut up about it for weeks, and now you’re a bad mother if you hold her hostage from the promised fun it.

So you book your tickets, and you push down that feeling of unease about it, because Luna keeps zooming around your living room with her arms stretched wide like an airplane, and you'll probably have a good time. It’s only five days, but it’ll still be the longest stretch of time you’ll have spent with your mother in years, and Jamie will be there beside you the whole time, and she’s always been steady for you. And, you always did love to swim.

Jamie has strangely won Karen’s affection over time, and you only really know this because your mother had stopped making those high pitched humming noises like she’s judging you for your relationship when you would give updates on her over the phone, and more and more over the last five years whenever she calls and Jamie answers, she keeps her on the line for a while before asking for you.

But even though you have Jamie’s hand in yours now, or maybe precisely because you have Jamie’s hand in yours, it’s strange to be back.

Your mom picks you up from the airport, and on the car ride to her house Luna will not stop asking you questions about everything she’s seeing outside the window in the back with Jamie, and it’s so lovely, to hear the low hum of Jamie’s laugh mingled with yours when Luna shouts when she’s horses in a field that you pass and tries to count them as best as she can (accidentally skipping eleven, which you correct) before the car zooms away.

You pass your high school that still looks exactly the same, you drive along the road where you failed your drivers test on the first try, you pass the church you used to go to when you were little before your mom decided it wasn’t for you guys anymore, and there isn’t a single ounce of nostalgia in you for any of this. If anything, there’s just a vague resentment, a small creeping under your skin like the very atoms of you recognize that you do not belong.

But Jamie is here with you, and your little girl is rattling off colors she sees and is telling your mother about how she met the pilot of the airplane, and honestly, you don’t care that you don’t belong here, because you belong with them, and that’s what matters.

Your mother’s house is wonderful.

You don’t realize, until you’re unpacked and the stress of travel has left your system, until you see how much more relaxed in this place your mother is, that maybe you and her really did understand each other more than you ever even knew.

You never really thought about her being unhappy in a space she forced herself to be in, in a life she thought she should have wanted, until she flicks the radio on and you see her walking around her kitchen and cutting up some apple slices for Luna, who she’s lifted up to sit on the counter beside her.

You never thought of it this way, that maybe your mother was just stuck, too. Maybe when you left, she only tried to drag you back as much as she could because she never considered what unhappiness actually felt like, couldn’t understand how you were able to identify it and refuse it, never considered she was living with it laced in everything she did all this time.

You don’t see it at all, here. You just see her tapping hand along to a tune, her jewelry clinking against the granite countertop, and you think of the joy and the freedom you felt when you finally settled into your first apartment with Jamie. How you finally felt like four walls with a lock and a key were created to keep you safe, not keep you trapped.

You never considered this about your mother, but now, as she sings along in her terrible voice to the radio, and puts the cutting board into the sink, you think that everyone deserves to feel like they are the beating heart of a home.

It’s not that you aren’t having a good time, because you are. You are enjoying yourself, and you aren’t trying to convince yourself of that, it’s actually the truth. You are happy, you are so in love with Jamie, and Luna has never swam so much in her life. Your mother has been great, and you haven’t argued over a single thing since you arrived, haven’t even felt any hostile energy from her. Only openness. Only love.

She’s in the pool with Luna right now, and you’re sitting on a towel you have stretched out on the edge of the water, your feet dipping in just a bit, and you were surprised how readily and enthusiastically your mother said yes earlier when Luna asked if she could go in the pool with her.

You’re kind of in a trance, as you watch this simple scene before you. Your daughter, swimming with all of the effort and coordination of a little girl with one year of YMCA swim lessons under her belt, kicking her feet absolutely everywhere, her eyes bugged out and foggy behind her little goggles that look like fish. Your mother, laughing and encouraging, telling her she’s doing such a great job, as she keeps walking farther back in the pool to test just how much more Luna can swim to her on her own, her arms outstretched and open for her. Luna, eventually grabbing hold of her as she flails and splashes in the water.

Luna screams over to you, pure elation and pride in her voice as she’s held on your mothers hip in the water, her goggles now hanging around her neck, and asks if you saw how far she swam, and you tell her you did, you saw it all, that she’s such a good swimmer, and your mother is pushing wet strands of hair from her face, is holding her close.

“Come in the pool, mommy!”

“Yeah, come in the pool, mommy.”

You turn your head when you hear Jamie’s voice, and she’s gotten her bathing suit on and she’s smiling at you so big, she tosses her sunglasses onto your lap, but she pauses a bit.

“You alright?”

You hadn’t considered you weren’t actually, but you suppose you are, because you’re having a good time, so you smile and nod, and it seems to be good enough for Jamie, because she grins and then without warning, runs and cannonballs into the water and it splashes you and Luna is cheering and swimming over to her. Jamie lifts her up high and throws her back into the water, and it’s so fun, and it’s so good, and so pure, and there is so much simple love here, right now. You can see it all in front of you, so why do you feel like you are apart from it?

You thought you were alright, you wanted to be, but until Jamie asked you, you hadn't considered that you aren’t. And you see your mother swimming under water and grabbing at Luna’s feet. You see the pile of pool toys she took Luna to buy at Toys R Us yesterday, you see her putting Luna on her shoulders, and teaching her how to float on her back in the water, and suddenly, you can not get a full breath into your lungs.

You feel like there is static crawling up your neck, and you feel lightheaded, and you’re standing up and going back into the house because maybe if it’s quieter, maybe if you get out of the sun, maybe if you just have a glass of ice water or lock yourself in your room, the darkness and stillness will calm you down.

But the more you take in shaking breaths, the farther you feel from sanity, the farther you feel from stability, and you close the door to the guest room behind you and prop your back up against the hard, cold wood, and you will yourself to calm down. You close your stinging eyes, breathe, in and out, and you try to get your body under control, but all you can hear is buzzing in your ears and you gasping for breath because it’s never enough air, you can’t get nearly enough inside of you, all you can feel is pressure building under your skin, and when you exhale, you are sobbing.

You clasp your hand over your mouth, close your eyes, because you feel so loud, you feel too much, like you are screaming, like you are an earthquake, but you can still hear your mother, and Luna and her delightful laugh just outside, so you must just be invisible.

There’s a gentle knock on the door, a shake of the handle, and you hear Jamie say it’s her, so you unlock it and step away as she opens it. She comes inside, a towel pulled around her shoulders, her hair still a bit drippy, her brows pulled together as she shuts the door behind her.

You hear her say, “Hey, hey, it’s okay,” over your shaking sobs and desperate breaths, and her hand is wiping away tears from your cheeks you hadn’t even known were falling. “What’s going on? What happened?”

You cross your arms, like if you just hold your muscles tight enough, everything will stop feeling like it’s caving in on you, and you don’t know what’s going on, you don’t know, you don’t know…

“I don't know. I was just...I was just sitting there and I…I don’t know why I’m like this, god, why am I like this?” You still can’t stop crying, you still feel like you can not breathe.

“Okay, come here.” Jamie pulls you in so tight, and you wrap your arms around her back and hold on to her, because she is the only thing that is real, she is the only thing that is solid and steady and her skin is cool from the water and salty with your tears and she’s telling you to breathe in time with her while she holds you, so you try as best as you can. You focus on her, on the press of her against you, on the chlorine scent on her skin, on her hands on your back keeping you tethered while the rest of your reality swirls and thrashes around in your skull.

It takes a few minutes, but you get a few deep breaths in and your head feels less like it’s a hurricane of static electricity, more heavy and cloudy and tired, but Jamie is still holding you.

She pulls back slightly, wipes the tears from your cheeks again, even though you haven’t really stopped crying. “You alright?”

You nod, even though you aren’t really, but you feel like you’re through the worst of it.

“You want to tell me what happened?”

You don’t reply right away, you’re still sort of in a daze, but you step back from her and go to sit on the edge of your bed, and you shrug, because you still really aren’t sure what happened, all you know is...

“She’s just...she’s so good with her, you know?” Fresh tears tumble down your face and you wipe them away. Jamie just nods. You let out another sob, a wet, sad thing, and your voice is so small when you ask, “Why didn’t I get that?”

“Oh, love.” She’s beside you now, her towel safely under her as she sits down on the comforter, and she pulls you in again, and when you sink into her this time it’s less about a swirling storm around you, it’s more about leaning on her because you feel heavy and worn down and Jamie has always been a safe place to land. Jamie has always kept you afloat.

You cry into the crook of her neck, and her hands are gentle against your back. She whispers things into your hair that you don’t quite catch, but you don’t really think it matters so much, the exact words that she’s saying. You feel it all the same. It’s soothing, and it calms you, and you aren’t crying anymore, but you still feel wrung.

“Look, I know it’s...corny, or whatever. But...people change. Christ, if you met me even two years before you did, I’d have been the last person you’d volunteer to raise a kid with, let alone hitch your life to, I can promise you that.”

A burst of laughter escapes you, and you press a kiss into the patch of skin closest to your lips, because Jamie has always been this for you, and every time you think you can’t love her more for it, she gives you another reason to.

“And I’m not saying that takes away the bad things, you know? Not saying you shouldn’t demand peace from it. But...the woman she is now wouldn’t do that to you, if she could make those choices again. Problem with time, really, what’s done is done. For better or worse.”

You nod. And Jamie tells you that you should talk to Karen about it, if you want to. Not on this trip maybe, but at some point.

You think you won’t, you think that’s a bad idea, that she would be reactive and make you second guess everything. That all may be true, but after you take a nap, after you spend the rest of the day in the pool, and go grocery shopping with her, after you cook dinner together and she passes you a bowl of popcorn when you all settle down to watch a movie together, you think it might not be such a bad idea. And you aren’t really worried she will stop speaking to you anymore. You aren't worried she will be cruel to you in the way that she was when you were a teenager. You think, maybe, she might actually try to help you get the answers you don’t have. You think if you ever did tell her, she might feel upset by it all, but not from defensiveness, but because you are in pain, and she didn’t know.

It’s not a conversation for now, and that’s okay. You learn that even though you are still, always, healing, that you can still enjoy her, that you can still love her fully, that you can sit beside her and watch the VHS tape of Matilda that Luna snuck into her suitcase that you found when you unpacked her clothes, and it can still all be good.

You and Jamie have taken the guest room, and Luna has been sleeping on the pullout couch. She’s still so small that she doesn’t even really need to use the pullout, could just sleep right on the couch cushions, but she has a lot of fun setting up the bed every night, so you don’t mind. Jamie lets her think that she’s so strong that she pulls it out all on her own, but really Jamie’s got her hand along the side of it helping her along, and the way Jamie’s muscles strain and pop when she does this as you watch from off to the side definitely doesn’t hurt.

You help get the blankets and pillows set up for her, and usually she’s out pretty quickly. It’s the same tonight. A full day of fun in the pool and dinner in town means she’ll be sleeping soundly through the night.

But it’s around midnight when you hear her start crying. You are still up, Jamie slipping into sleep beside you, and you still have the TV on a low hum in the background, but you hear her, you always can.

Before you can even make your way out of bed, though, she’s knocking on your door, and you open it to find her, holding her stuffed whale and her blanket, tears streaming down her face, her little lip trembling, and absolutely distraught.

You get on your knees so you’re level with her, and you pull her in and she fits right there in you. Between hiccuping sobs, you manage to get that she had a nightmare, and she’s scared, and she wants to sleep with you tonight. Jamie is awake now and sitting up in bed behind you now, pulling down the covers so Luna can settle in between you.

You keep the TV on, because you know when Luna is like this it doesn’t help her to plunge her back into complete darkness, even if you are beside her.

She woke your mother up, though. You can tell because the crack under your door brightens when the hall light turns on and you can see her footsteps shuffling past your door, and you don’t expect her to knock, thought maybe she was just taking the awoken opportunity to use the bathroom, but a few minutes later, she does.

The door creaks open, and she sticks her head in, and asks if everything is okay in a whisper. You nod, tell her she can go back to sleep, but she pushes the door open just a little bit further, and you see she’s carrying a small mug in her hand.

“Wasn’t sure if you did this with her, but...always worked for you.”

You sit up and take the warm cup into your hands, it’s light and soothing aroma sending you back into a collection of memories of your mother you had completely forgotten about.

“What’s this?” Jamie’s voice grumbles beside you.

“Whenever Dani had a nightmare or couldn’t sleep, this always helped. Warm milk with some honey.”

“I forgot about this.”

“You were always such a nervous kid. Had me going through an extra gallon of milk a week just to get you to sleep through the night.”

“Yeah, I...thank you.”

She nods, her hand brushing your shoulder and she presses a light kiss to your head, wishes you goodnight, and then she’s gone, closing the door softly behind her and switching off the hall light.

Luna drinks the milk, and you can feel her nerves smoothing over, the heavy limbed lull of sleep creeping back into her little body.

She settles in between you and Jamie, and you turn off the TV, and she asks you if you can tickle her back, and that always helps to soothe her. You run your hand along the sun-warmed skin under her favorite Princess Jasmine nightgown and you feel her breath even and deep under your palm as she drifts into a peaceful sleep, safe and snug between the two of you.

Jamie’s hand reaches for yours after you pull Luna’s nightgown back down over her body, and she holds it close to her. Your eyes are adjusted to the dark just enough to see her sleepy expression, to see how beautiful she looks when she’s looking at you in moments like this. These soft, quiet, in-between moments that you love so much.

You fall asleep like this, with your arm draped over Luna, with your hand safely threaded through Jamie’s and pressed against her chest, the three of you the beating heart of your own little home.

#prompts #asks #another one that became 3k+ words #did someone say childhood trauma?#did someone say moms in the gray area?#I feel like whoever asked me for this wanted cute n fluffy #but instead u got a panic attack #whoops #little green #karen clayton #dani clayton #jamie thobm #thobm #thobm fanfic #luna #damie fanfic #damie

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a-bang-for-your-bucky · 3 years

Text

Welcome Home (part two)

(not my gif)

Summary: After not speaking to her brothers for over a year, Peyton Rhodes’ life is turned upside down when her boyfriend of four years cheats on her. She uproots her life with WWE and returns home to Atlanta. She finds herself among great friends and she is finding herself again after being lost for so long.

Pairings: Cody Rhodes x OFC (Sister), Brandi Rhodes x OFC (sister), Dustin Rhodes x OFC (Sister), past Seth Rollins x OFC, future Kenny Omega x OFC (maybe?), MJFx OFC( maybe?)

WARNINGS: SO MUCH FLUFFING FLUFF, explicit language, mentioned cheating (ONE EXPLICIT DESCRIPTION),

A/N: I tried to post this yesterday, but tumblr was not having it. Here is part two. Enjoy<3

Seth mentioned that WWE was traveling through Atlanta and wanted to know if he could stop by my place. I had gotten an apartment close to Brandi and Cody’s place not long after leaving. I said sure, but I was going to have someone here with me. I invited Kenny over and told him Seth wanted to talk and that I wanted, no needed, him to be there with me.

A knock at my door pulled me from my thoughts. Gathering myself together, I answered the door.

“Hey Princess.” Kenny Omega greeted me. I didn’t reply, I only embraced him. “You gonna invite me in?” he chuckled, hugging me tightly. I nodded against his broad chest. We released each other and moved into the apartment.

“Hey Ken.” I finally greeted him as the door closed. He smiled lightly. He knew I was still hurting.

“How are you?” He asked, sitting down on my couch. I shrugged, taking place next to him.

“Honestly, I feel worthless. Ken, I can’t explain it. I don't understand how he can still have this affect on me.” I said, no real emotion in my voice.

“Peyton Rhodes, you are not worthless.” Kenny rebutted, shocked at my words. “You are wrestling royalty. You are talented. And honest to God, you have Kenny Omega,” He paused to point to himself, “wrapped around your pretty little finger.” He explained, grabbing my hands. “Pey, you are my best friend. You are amazing and I hate to see you think otherwise. I could kick Seth’s ass all the way back to Iowa for making you feel this way.” I laughed, scooting closer to him.

“Kenny, thank you for coming. I couldn't do this without you.” I said, laying my head on his shoulder. He placed a light kiss to my hair.

We sat in comfortable silence for a while. Suddenly, a knock at the door, broke the silence. “I’ll get it.” Kenny said, getting up and walking to the door. Kenny looked through the peak hole on the door. Seeing the person on the other side filled him with rage, but he composed himself. Kenny opened the door. “Good evening, Seth.”

“What are you doing here, Omega? This has nothing to do with you.” Seth growled. I had started to make my way to the door, prepared to split up an all-out brawl. I placed a hand on Kenny’s shoulder.

“Ken,” I said, he shifted over, so that Seth came into my sight. “Seth, I told you I was going to have someone with me.”

“Yeah, but I figured it would be Brandi, hell, maybe even Cody.” I laughed at the mention of my brother’s name and shook my head.

“Cody wants to kick your ass.” Was all I said and Kenny interjected, “For the record, so do I.”

Kenny and I moved over to let Seth into the room because the last thing I needed was for a nosey neighbor hearing what was about to go down. The three of us moved into my dining room and sat at the table. I sat as far away from Seth as possible and Kenny moved his seat so we were shoulder to shoulder.

“So, Seth. Explain yourself.” I offered him the room to talk.

“I know what I did was awful and I will never forgive myself. But Pey, please believe me when I say she means nothing to me and I am so, so sorry.” he apologized.

“She doesn’t mean anything? Then why are you engaged, Seth? I saw the fucking pictures, with the giant rock on her hand.” I scoffed, wondering why I did this in the first place.

“She found the ring I bought for you, put it on, and took those pictures. We are not engaged.” he tried to defend himself, but something didn't feel right. I knew Mandy.

“That doesn’t change the fact that I walked in on you balls fucking deep in her in OUR locker room. Actions speak a fuck ton louder than words. I got the message. I wasted four fucking years on you. FOUR. I got pushed out of the title scene for you. I was basically demoted to a fucking escort.” I snarled, slamming my hands on the table.

Seth jumped and looked at me with sad eyes. He knew I was right, I almost ruined my career for him. "And I know Mandy. She may sleep with other people's boyfriends, but she wouldn't put on some random ring and announce she's engaged." Tears streamed down my face, and Kenny noticed, wiping them away. Seth’s sad eyes changed to jealous.

“So what, are you guys together, now?” He asked, his voice laced with envy. Kenny whipped his head to face him.

“If we were, which we aren’t, it wouldn’t be any of your fucking business. It’s called being a good friend.” Kenny seethed, gripping the edges of his chair. "You have no idea how much you hurt her."

I could tell this wasn’t going to end well. “Thank you for telling me your side of the story. But this doesn’t change anything. I think it’s time for you to go.” I sighed, and moved to get up from the table. Seth rushed to my side.

“That’s it? After everything, I only get 10 minutes to say my piece?” Seth questioned, offended. He went to touch me and I shrugged away.

I shook my head. I was done. I heard more than I needed. “I spent the last 4 months coming to terms with what happened. And I’m finally happy. I found myself again, after being lost for so long,” I paused, trying to compose myself. “I learned to love myself again. I fell in love with wrestling again, and I’m not letting anyone take that away from me.” I explained, moving away from him, giving Kenny the chance to move between us.

He pointed to the door, “I’ll walk you out.”

Seth accepted defeat and walked with Kenny, muttering a simple, “Bye Pey,” as he followed Kenny. Kenny opened the door, gesturing for Seth to walk out of it, but he stopped in the doorway. He turned around to face the other man.

“I can see you care for her, hell, you might even love her. Don’t fuck it up, Omega.” Seth advised. Kenny crossed his arms and scoffed.

“I don’t need advice from the guy who cheated on her. I know how fucking amazing she is. Goodbye, Rollins.” Kenny began shutting the door before he was even out of the way. He flipped the lock and walked back to me.

“Don’t cry anymore over him.” Was all Kenny said, wiping stray tears away from my face, before pulling me into a hug. That was the last night I ever cried over Seth Rollins.

We ended up ordering pizza and watching movies that night. Kenny had passed out half way through ‘The Greatest Showman’ mumbling about how he hates musicals. His head was in my lap, and I was running my fingers through those beautiful blonde curls. He had been my rock these last four months. I don’t know what I’d do without him.

At that moment, I realized that I was falling for him and that scared the shit out of me. Kenny made it so easy though. I did my best to push those thoughts down and finish the movie, but they were never far away.

The next morning, I woke up, surprisingly in my bed, when I remember passing out on the couch with Kenny. I got out of the bed and padded to the living room. “Ken?” I called out, not seeing him on the couch.

“Kitchen.” He replied instantly. I walked to the kitchen, finding Kenny, brewing coffee. “Morning, Princess.” He said, handing me a cup. I took the cup happily, needing the caffeine. “How did you sleep?” He asked, sipping his own coffee.

“I swore I fell asleep on the couch, with you passed out in my lap.” I teased him, moving back into the living room to sit. Kenny followed close behind.

“Yeah, sorry about that. But I woke up and you looked uncomfortable, so I moved you.” He explained, rubbing the back of his neck with his free hand.

I smiled, getting myself comfy on the couch. "So Omega, what are your plans for the day?" I asked before blowing on my hot beverage.

Kenny looked at me with a huge grin on his face. Since AEW started, Kenny rarely had a day off to himself. "I'm glad you asked, princess. You have me for the whole day."

I squealed, almost spilling my coffee. "Lazy day with take out and movies? Or do you want to get presentable and go out?" I asked him.

"Let's get dressed. I want to spend a day out with my best girl." Kenny replied, setting his cup on the table, standing up and extending a hand for me to take.

"What about Kayfabe? I'm a heel now, won’t that mess with that baby face image of yours?" Kenny shook his head.

"Peyton. Fuck Kayfabe. Let's go out. Please." He smiled sweetly, batting those long eyelashes. And who could resist those grey-blue eyes.

I sighed, “Fine, we can go out and face the world.” I turned and sauntered back to my room to get dressed. I picked a maroon cami, jeans, and converses. I threw my chocolate brown hair into a messy bun, brushed my teeth, and joined Kenny in the living room again. He had gotten dressed in a pair of jeans and a plain black tee. Fuck, he looked good.

He lifted his head at the sound of my footsteps. He raised an eyebrow at my outfit. I shrugged it off. “Ready to go, Omega?” I asked, grabbing my leather jacket off the rack by my door. He hopped up, and out the door we went.

Kenny insisted that he drive, even though he was not used to Atlanta traffic. “So I have a surprise.” Kenny started, I hummed in response. “I got tickets to the aquarium. It was going to be a birthday surprise, but since we are here now, they traded days.”

“Ken! Are you serious? I haven’t been there in forever.” I bubbled, smiling so big, it hurt. “You are seriously the best friend I could ever ask for.” I had mentioned the aquarium a month ago, when we were talking about things we wanted to do but never really had the time for. I couldn’t believe he actually listened.

“You are more than welcome, Pey. I knew it would make you happy. Plus, I don’t think I’ve ever been to one.” Kenny confessed, casting a glance my way before his eyes returned to the road. Kenny really was all work and no play.

“Well, I am honored to pop that cherry for you, Omega.” I giggle, placing a hand over my heart. I could see Kenny roll his eyes before smiling. The rest of the drive to the aquarium was full of laughs and singing.

“I’m sorry, but how do people listen to this?” Kenny groaned as Brantley Gilbert flowed through the speakers.

I scoffed, feigning offense. “Brantley Gilbert is a Georgia native, show some respect. If you can’t deal with his music then we can’t be friends.” I shrugged, turning to face the window, before exploding in laughter. I couldn’t help but feel so free with him, and I hoped he felt the same way.

Arriving at the Georgia Aquarium, we quickly parked and made our way inside. We started with the tropical diver exhibit. The fish were beautiful, but nothing compared to the adult man standing next to me, looking like a small child.

He stepped closer to me, bending down to whisper in my ear. “It took less than 5 minutes to be noticed.” I cut my eyes to my right, where a few people were taking pictures. I smiled and shook my head.

“Just keep smiling and let’s have fun.” I whispered back, reaching a head out to him to follow me through to the next tank. Kenny’s words were floating in the back of my head the whole time ‘Fuck kayfabe’.

The rest of the day went by in a blur. I had never seen Kenny look so care-free. By the time we got back to my apartment that night, the wrestling world was buzzing. Kenny and I had gotten settled and were watching ‘The Mandalorian’ when Cody sent me a text with a link.

Not sure what’s going on.

You should see this. *link*

If you need me, let me know.

I clicked the link and it opened to a headline.

PEYTON RHODES MOVES ON WITH KENNY OMEGA.

From one main eventer to another, Peyton Rhodes has her eyes set on the best in the business.

Beneath the headline, it showed a picture of us with Kenny’s arm around my waist as we looked at the shark exhibit. I was pointing out sharks, and Kenny’s eyes were trained on me. I showed Kenny and he just laughed. “Let them talk, princess.” He casually threw his arm around my shoulders, pulling me into him and focused back on the show. I placed my phone on the cushion beside me, curled up closer to him, and shut out the world.

#Kenny Omega #kenny omega fic #kenny omega imagine #kenny omega smut #kenny omega fluff #cody rhodes #cody rhodes imagine #brandi rhodes #brandi rhodes imagine #matt jackson #Nick Jackson #Adam Page #friends to lovers #slow burn #kat writes

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barbasbodaciousbeard · 3 years

Text

Here We Are as in Olden Days

Summary: When Rafael Barba returned to New York, he’d spent three years putting in the work to come home to the only real relationship he’d ever known. When he learned there was a little girl sleeping upstairs, he immediately knew she was his. When Rebecca gave him the option to do Christmas with his little family, he couldn’t refuse, even if it was as Mr. Barba.

Pairings: Rafael Barba x OC

First Part - Second Part

A/N: Here’s a Christmas conclusion. I know who I am. There will probably be stand alones later.

Have yourself a merry little Christmas. Let your heart be light. From now on, our troubles will be out of sight.

“Mommy, who’s this?” a little girl with a mass of dark curls and wide green eyes asked as he came into the living room. Who he could only assume were Al and Rodney watched him from the kitchen, and he shifted nervously as Catalina inspected him.

“This is mommy’s friend, Mr. Barba,” Rebecca smiled softly, a gentle hand on his arm. They’d talked for hours the night before, Rafael only slipping out the door as the sun rose on Christmas Eve. And he’d told her every thing. Not like he had before, no. This time, he told her how he felt as he left. The way his heart clenched every time he thought of her, but he knew he had to be the man she deserved. He even told her the insecurities and triggers and coping mechanisms he’d learned in therapy before detailing the Householder case and his subsequent trial. He thought he’d be coming home to just her though. Then, he cried, reverently looking at each photo in the compilations she handed him. Her name was Catalina, yes for his abuelita. They make the same faces when they’re angry, mouths set in a firm line as they looked to the ceiling. He saw the proof.

Al didn’t think she should give him a chance so easily, but Rafael was grateful she’d given him the option to attend Christmas Eve as Mr. Barba instead of dad and escorting the pair to midnight mass. Mami was in Florida, or she’d have given him hell for the way he changed in and out of chinos and button downs and sweaters and blazers, desperate to make a good impression on everyone present. That blazer? Too snug now, he couldn’t play with Catalina if she asked. The sweater? Not festive enough to put together gifts from Santa when they got back from mass. Instead, he came in a dark red fair isles sweater Rebecca had gotten him when they were together, slacks and a button down still present. He was torn on a blazer, wearing it only because he’d gotten so used to being in a three piece suit when he was in New York. Adjusting to the casual attire he’d gotten so fond of in Iowa felt wrong when he was here.

“Hi, Mr. Barba,” she said giving him a shy wave. “I’m Cat.”

“It’s nice to meet you Cat,” he smiled, kneeling. “Your mami is putting your present under the tree, but I got treats.”

He pulled out a bag of soft chocolate covered salted caramels. When Rebecca told him they had the same taste in sweets, he’d hurried to the shop as he ran the last minute errands to ensure he could spoil her at least a little. There had also been flowers for Rebecca. He knew she cared, but what flowers meant I really love you, expect nothing in return, and am sorry for everything? The florist had happily taught him. Colors were first. What did he was to say? Apparently white meant unity and pureness of new love, but he was assured that if they paired white with pink that meant apology and poetic romance, they shouldn’t come on too strong. They stayed away from roses, feeling they were too romantic this early on, but went with lilies, humility and devotion, and tulips, new beginnings and peace. Was Rafael Barba certain anything the older woman told him was true? No. But he bought a card, writing her a letter of explanation and gratitude within. It was foreign for him. Rebecca loved handwritten letters and their sentimentality, but he hated the way his shaky hand always gave away his nerves so he didn’t write them. He did for her this time, though, and he signed it Always yours, Rafael in shaky, loopy letters at the bottom.

“Can I have one?” she whispered, delighting in the secrecy. He caught Rebecca’s eye, winking as he gave one to Catalina. Nervous he’d have chosen wrong and she could choke, he sat with his legs splayed in front of him to watch her.

“Don’t tell mami. We don’t want to spoil your dinner.”

“Mama said not to take candy from strangers.”

“Then ask mami. That’s very smart of you, mija.”

“Mommy!” she called over her shoulder. “Can Mr. Barba give me candy?”

“He can, angel.”

“Mommy! What does mija mean?”

“Sweetheart. Mr. Barba learned Spanish at home. Like Jose’s family does.”

“Mommy said I can take candy from you,” she whispered. “I didn’t tell her we’re gonna eat it now.”

“Very sneaky,” he chuckled as she took it. As kids are prone to do, she sucked on the soft caramel, soon covered in sticky sugar and melted chocolate. He gave her one more before he tucked the bag away, and Rebecca was suddenly struck by how different he was being. She’d seen him near kids before, but when they got sticky and grimy, he’d keep away. They threatened the composed, clean version of himself he projected. Now he didn’t flinch as sticky hands fisted his blazer, certain to leave prints if he didn’t work on it now. Instead, he picked up Catalina and sat her on the counter in the kitchen. He didn’t think to help her wash her own hands, instead using a damp cloth to carefully wipe her hands and mouth. When she ran back to the living room as though nothing happened, he dabbed at the sugary stain, shrugging at Rebecca when it didn’t come out.

“I like this stress free version of you,” she said softly, pressing a chaste kiss to his cheek. He hadn’t expected it, smiling

“I want to leave that part of me in the past. I worked hard to become what you deserve. I’m not sure I’m there yet.”

“You seem more relaxed. I’d say our troubles will be out of sight. It’s a fresh start, Rafael.”

“You mean that, Becs?”

“I do. I’m willing to forget it all. We’ll get you into her life.”

“If we don’t get together again, I understand. Or if I’m always Mr. Barba.”

“I know. But I want both of those things with time.”

Here we are as in olden days, happy golden days of yore. Faithful friends who are dear to us gather near to us once more

He smiled as Catalina bounded across the living room. The red of her Christmas dress matched his sweater and Rebecca’s shoes. The thick satin belt was in a bow, and he helped her bundle into her scarf, coat, and hat. It was nice to bundle her up; it made him feel like he was getting to do some of the raising already. Rebecca looked elegant, as always, in green plaid slacks, belted to nip in her waist with a cream sweater. He stared at her as Catalina stood by his side while he put on his own coat, scarf, and gloves. Her hand found his, and his eyes went wide as he looked up Rebecca. He grinned as the little girl took Rebecca’s hand in her other and pulled him towards the door. Rebecca could’ve cried as they walked to the church, feeling like things were going to be okay for the first time in a while.

After a block, Catalina had feigned exhaustion until Rafael picked her up and settled her on his hip. It was the little girl’s favorite move. She preferred being carried to walking, but this was a sign she had already accepted Rafael as part of their family unit. It was usually only Rebecca, Al, Rodney, and the secretary at the school who gave her candies who were allowed to hold her, and she certainly never laid her head on the shoulder of the secretary. That meant he’d been even more accepted than just as the bringer of salted caramel.

Rebecca helped Catalina out of the hat, coat, and scarf as she stood on the pew. As she did, Rafael stood beside her and laid each article over his arm. He took hers as well before un-bundling himself and sitting with Catalina in between them. Rebecca didn’t miss the protective arm he slung over the back of the pew as he listened to Catalina chatter happily about everyone around them. Both adults could both feel eyes on him, Catalina oblivious. This was their regular church before he left, and the little old ladies refused to understand he hadn’t known he was leaving her pregnant. Several of them also disagreed the day he was found not guilty. Now they could see him smiling down at the little girl they’d all grown so protective of. And she’d let him hold her? Each had tried and failed, Catalina wiggling from their arms to hide behind her mother’s legs.

“Everything okay?” he asked softly as Catalina drew in the notebook Rebecca had brought her.

“They’re all staring. We aren’t their business.”

“The abuelitas will gossip, Becs. We’ll get through that easy.”

“I just know they’re making assumptions about you.”

“Maybe. But you know what? You and Cat are happy, so they can say whatever they’d like. All I care about is you two. ”

“Mrs. Garcia is probably mad you got to hold her.”

“Is that not normal?”

“No. Welcome to the elite club. With you, we’re at five.”

“Really?” He had that genuine smile again, the one that crinkled his eyes. Before, he’d only ever let her see it in the privacy of their apartments or the backseat of cars. She was happy to see it here, sat beside their daughter at the midnight service she came to each year, their matching green eyes looking over at her.

“Yeah. We both are really glad you’re here, Mr. Barba.”

“I’m glad to be here. Te extrañe, hermosa.”

“I missed you too,” she said softly, and he didn’t miss the tinge of melancholy in her voice as her hand smoothed Catalina’s hair. His hand slid off the pew to rest on her shoulder, giving a reassuring squeeze she knew meant I’m right here. She didn’t want to wallow in what he missed, so she chose to refocus. “You know what you get to do tonight?”

“What?”

“We never did S-A-N-T-A before.”

“Yeah? I get to?”

“You get to help me build everything.”

He squeezed her shoulder before the organ music began. As they prayed, stood, knelt, and sang, he felt like he was where he was supposed to be. Catalina leaned on Rebecca, who was used to telling Catalina to stand and straightening her dress. As she leaned on Rafael, he’d wrap an arm around her, watching her as he sang hymns he’d long ago memorized. He’d missed so much that he wanted to absorb every second of being around her, still fearing he’d ruin the life he was getting the opportunity to ease into. It felt domestic and homey and like something he could look forward to each day, but he was still trying to accept holidays and church services may be all he got, despite the fact every signal was telling him the opposite.

“Mr. Barba, you sing pretty,” Catalina whispered, and he smiled softly, looking down at her as he sang to her now. Catalina wrapped around his arm, and he adjusted his hold on the hymnal to let her hang on him. Rebecca had seen him with children before, and he’d always continued to try and seem polished and mature. She liked this version of Rafael, wearing his suit with a festive sweater and mussed hair. He didn’t care as little hands grasped at the fabric. The polished ADA was gone, and he was so delightfully human, messy in a way he hadn’t been before. The steeled edges had been dulled, and seeing him fuss over Catalina highlighted that. She was sure they’d tell Catalina if this continued into the first months of the new year.

“He’s back?” Mrs. Garcia asked after mass, catching Rebecca on the sidewalk as Rafael chatted with someone he recognized. She was pretty sure it was a detective, and she could hear Carisi, you let me tell people on my own being said in his scariest voice, hushed so as not to disturb the sleeping girl. Rafael had been happy to let her rest against his front, a hand spread protectively over her back to keep her upright. She snapped the picture she’d been trying to take, thankful Al was willing to give him enough of a chance to have taken pictures of Rebecca, Rafael, and Catalina as they all cooked dinner together.

“Yeah, he is,” she said fondly, not missing the face the older woman made.

“Let’s hope she doesn’t get sick.” This was one of the moments Rebecca knew hurt and motherhood had steeled her resolve. She fixed the older woman with a glare, shaking her head.

“He did what he felt was right, Mrs. Garcia. You didn’t even read what happened, just the headline. He’s a good man, and I’d appreciate you getting your nose out of our business.”

Rafael lifted his brow as she came back to his side, heart soaring as her arm slid around his waist. Carisi had left, and he had a feeling his secret would be safe. Would anyone believe him anyway? They walked back to her apartment in contented silence, her arm keeping around him. Al and Rodney had gone home, so he’d get to sleep on the fold out couch and be there when Catalina woke. With Rebecca’s guidance, he got Catalina tucked in, a proud smile on his face as he took his clothes into the bathroom to change. He met her at the couch, sweatpants slung low on his hips and the Harvard sweatshirt his mother had gotten him when his disintegrated after twenty years.

“So, mami,” he grinned. “What first?”

“We’re building a train table, but instead of trains, it’ll have her stackers and puzzles and art stuff under it in baskets.”

“Perfect.” He kissed her temple before stretching and standing. She led him to the back closet, tugging out the flat pack with the table and all of its parts. Together, they unpacked it, and Rebecca was pleasantly surprised as he worked on the table. Anytime there had been manual labor to be done, he’d hired someone. Now, she watched as he carefully used the supplied allen wrench to put the table together as she sorted Catalina’s old toys into their new homes. His hair had all fallen over his forehead, tongue poking out from between his teeth as he tightened each screw. When he’d finished, she slid the baskets beneath it, grinning.

“Looks good, papi.” He snorted at the term, once only used when her voice was thick with lust. Now she said it affectionately, tucking herself under his arm as they sat on the floor in front of the table he’d built their child.

“A brilliant idea, mami. Gives her space.”

“And a way to make a mess on something other than my carpet.”

“Even smarter.”

She stretched up, pressing a sweet, gentle kiss to his lips. His heart fluttered like it had since day one.

Through the years, we all will be together if the fates allow, so hang a shining star upon the highest bough. Have yourself a merry little Christmas now.

As sun filtered in through the window, Rafael woke up in Rebecca’s bed. He stretched, memories of needy kisses and whispers of I’m sure, Rafael flooding back to him as he smiled softly against her shoulder. Rebecca pressed against him as she woke, and he hummed softly. She twisted until she was facing him, smiling up at him gently as her eyes opened. It was like every morning before he’d ruined things, and he felt Christmas spirit like he had never felt before. Gently, he pressed a kiss to her forehead as he wrapped his arms around her and rolled onto his back, her above him.

“Morning,” she yawned, head on his chest as she relaxed against him.

“Morning, hermosa. Feliz Navidad.”

“Merry Christmas.”

“How long do we have until we aren’t alone?”

“Probably not long.”

“I’ll make breakfast? You hop in the shower?”

“You don’t know what I have to cook.”

“I looked last night. I’d have cooked you breakfast any way. French toast or pancakes?”

“French toast,” she grinned, kissing him again. “But we eat in bed? We can’t sneak Santa if she goes down the stairs.”

“You got it.” Rafael stretched as he stood, and Rebecca watched him move around the room to get dressed. The ease with which he moved assuaged any worries he would end up freaking out in the morning. The morning after he’d said I love you, he’d been all frenetic energy. The new calm, collected Rafael was still at ease as he ran a hand through his hair and made his way downstairs. Rebecca took a shower, stealing the sweater he’d worn the night before from the duffel bag he’d left in the bathroom and getting into a pair of leggings. When she walked into Catalina’s room, she was dressed and sitting on the edge of the bed.

“Did Santa find us?” she whispered with wide eyes.

“He did. Mr. Barba is bringing us breakfast in mama’s bed. Then we’ll go see what Santa brought and open presents.” Catalina nodded seriously, letting her mother carry her into the bigger bed and stretching out beside her. Rafael was there soon, three plates and two mugs of coffee on a tray he’d dug up from the recesses of her kitchen.

“Señor Barba probablemente no debería besar a mamá todavía, eh?” he teased lightly after kissing the top of Catalina’s head.

“Not yet,” she said softly, and he gave her a reassuring smile as their daughter dug into her food happily.

“Entiendo mi amor.” She squeezed his hand, sipping her coffee.

“Say thank you,” Rebecca smiled.

“Thank you, Mr. Barba,” the little girl grinned.

“Thank you, Rafael,” she smiled.

“I’m glad to cook for you two,” he said breezily. “I imagine we have years of Christmas mornings to come.”

“Me too.” When the empty plates were stacked on the tray and Catalina was buzzed on sugar hanging on Rafael, they made their way downstairs. Catalina clung to Rafael and Rebecca’s hands, determined to walk down the stairs on her own. She stuck her tongue between her teeth with her brow furrowed, the same look Rafael had made as he built the table that was waiting for her.

“Mama! Mr. Barba! Santa got me a table like at daycare!”

“It’s very cool,” Rebecca grinned, phone out as she took pictures. Rafael knelt beside her.

“And look at that, mija! Your toys are all put away. Santa es sabio.”

“Sabio?” she asked, head tilted.

“Wise. Smart.”

“He is! We don’t need to put toys away! Sabio Santa!” He sat by Rebecca on the couch as she played, accepting the offered cup of coffee gladly. A break to caffeinate was exactly what they’d need.

“Sabio papi,” she smiled softly. “To the first of many Christmases, papi.”

“To the first of many Christmases, mami.”

#rafael barba #rafael barba x oc #rafael Barba x reader #law and order special victims unit #law and order svu #writing

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navegandoaciegas · 4 years

Text

Sunshine Girl

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Warnings: fluff, soft!Bucky, mentions of injury (no graphic descriptions), 3.6k words

Summary: You are the sun and he’s simply basking in your light. And he’s so selfish, he thinks as he holds the velvet box with the diamond ring inside of it, he’s so damn selfish he wants to keep the light all to himself for the rest of his life.

Two years ago you were supposed to enjoy a solo road trip after years of Avenging, but Bucky invited himself along. Now you’re forced back to New York, and your boyfriend is ready to surprise you once again.

A/N: Bucky’s POV. Sequel to I love my baby to death, but I suppose you could read it on its own. As always forgive any mistakes, English is my third language.

Had to repost this cause it didn’t show up in the tags, hopefully this time it will

“I swear Buck, if I see one more damn corn plant I’m losing it. I am this close” you say pinching your thumb and pointer finger real close “to a mental breakdown. I’m never eating corn again, mark my words. No corn flakes, no corn on the cobble, no nothing. I’m done.”

“We’re in Iowa, in the middle of the corn belt, I don’t know what you were expecting.” he replies, slightly amused by your little outburst and sour mood.

“Well, clearly not ending up on the set of Children of the corn.” you groan, getting back to sulking in the passenger’s seat, seething at the fields that are only a scapegoat to the real problem.

You’d been merrily skiing in Montana when his skis got somehow tangled with yours and he tumbled down on you, dragging you down the slope. Hadn’t you injured yourself, rolling in the snow like it only ever happens in cartoons would have been pretty comical.

��What?” you screech, almost jumping off the stretcher and grimacing in pain when your left foot hits the metal poles at the side. “No. It’s just pain, I’m sure it will go away, right? I mean I was an Avenger, I’ve suffered worse than a fall.”

“I’m sorry, miss, but knee surgery will be necessary, the MRI here shows you’ve torn your ACL and from the looks of it, your left knee was already damaged badly, numerous times at that, probably a result of your time on the field.”

“I can’t, I can’t just get surgery, we’re miles away from home and I-”

You’re almost sobbing and Bucky feels like shit because he’s the reason for all this and all he can do now is pat your back reassuringly.

“Given the extent of the damage, I’m afraid there’s no other option.”

“How long is the recovery time?” he asks, voice unsure.

“Well, it’s my knowledge she’s not an enhanced individual, so like any average human it will take anywhere from 6 to 9 months to recover fully. In the meantime, no more hikes or sports.”

Bucky inhales a sharp breath. Six to nine months. No more hikes. Surely you’ll have to go back to New York.

God, you are so going to break up with him.

Turns out you didn’t dump him in Montana, you didn’t abandon him in one of those auto stops along Interstate 90 in South Dakota, and you don’t seem to want to break up with him amidst the green fields of Iowa, but still, he knows he will drive through Illinois, Indiana, Ohio and Pennsylvania anxiously waiting for the other shoe to drop.

It almost seems like a cruel twist of fate, driving the same route you did as friends two years ago, along Interstate 80 headed East instead of West, only this time he’s not hoping to be more than the annoying old man who invited himself on your trip; he’s your boyfriend now, but maybe not for long.

“You know, you really are dramatic.” you say in a teasing tone, “I’m not going to break up with you, stop thinking about that, it was an accident, ‘s not like you beat me.”

“I know, I’m just sorry because you’re in pain and it’s my fault and now we have to get back home but I know you wanted to stay more and I did too and if I didn’t-” he’s rambling, and your place your hand on his thigh and squeeze reassuringly, offering him one of those sweet smiles he dies for.

“Buck, it’s okay” you interrupt his word vomit “like I said a million times before, it was an accident, it’s going to be fine I promise. I’m sorry if I made you think otherwise with my mood, I swear I’m just pissed at all this damn corn. We’re never going to a maze again, by the way.” That gets a laugh out of him, and he loves you even more because you’re always there to lift his spirits. “I’m dreading these next months, the surgery, physiotherapy and all, but I know you’re there for me, yes?”

He nods, teary eyed, and you continue, “And I can’t lie, it’s been a while, I’m kind of excited to see everyone again, I mean except for Sam of course,” you say, as if he didn’t “live rent free in your head”, like Sam himself put it, “Jesus that man, how many of our trips has he invited himself on? I’ve lost count. ‘Member when we found him waiting for us in Phoenix? Fuckin’ weirdo.”

You both chuckle at the memory of Sam in your motel room, waiting on your bed with crossed arms like a disappointed parent, pissed off because you hadn’t called in a week and he was worried sick that something may have happened to you, a deadly sniper, and him, the Winter fuckin’ Soldier. Truth is, Bucky was so excited about your new relationship that he rarely let you leave the bed when you were in your room, and when you did you were in no condition to Facetime anyone, with your smudged mascara and swollen lips.

“I’ve heard Clint will come visit us with Laura and the kids. Nathaniel must be so big now.” you add, your eyes glazed over as you think of the little boy who was named after your Natasha.

“God, Morgan is probably all grown up.” he muses, a tinge of sadness in his voice. You squeeze his thigh again. “And the spider kid too, he’s a grown man now.”

“That he is.” you chuckle, “But to me he’ll always be the boy in the red spanx who knocked us on our asses in Berlin.”

He smiles and shakes his head at the memory, and you both fall in a comfortable silence. Now that he’s not consumed by fear anymore, Bucky kind of agrees with you that all this green is, in fact, nauseating.

“You know what, no more popcorn either.”

“Deal.”

A year and something ago

Arizona

“Can you believe there’s a city in New Mexico called Truth or Consequences? We should totally go and visit just for the hell of it, sounds like the type of place Steve Rogers should have been born into.” you state with all the seriousness in the world, and he snorts because after all this time you still haven’t found it in yourself to stop mocking Steve’s righteousness.

You’re walking ahead of him and he’s so distracted by your tiny denim shorts that he, the master of stealth, almost trips over a boulder. You’re always pretty but tonight, illuminated by the orange sky of Arizona, you look like a dream. And you’re so happy, snapping photos at everything you see, that even if Bucky hates the desert and the heat makes him uncomfortable, he won’t tell you, because the look on your face makes it all worth it.

“Baby, look at this big boy here, he’s like 20 feet tall. Oh my god, he’s so cute and beefy, just like you.” you gush at one of the giant cactuses of Saguaro National Park.

He raises his eyebrows skeptically.

All he sees are green spiky motherfuckers that he’s accidentally hurt himself with more times that he’d like to admit in all those damn ‘hikes’ you like so much, but to you cactuses are the most beautiful sight in the word. He genuinely does not see the appeal, but he understands now how you feel when he talks about all his ‘nerd shit’, as you call it.

“I’m cuter.” he says frowning.

“Of course you are.”

For some reason you don’t sound convincing at all.

It’s only spring but here in Tucson the temperature is 85 degrees today and he’s sweating buckets underneath the long sleeved t-shirt he’s wearing to conceal his vibranium arm. He’s long past the time when he was forced to hide from authorities or the general public’s judgement, but still he doesn’t want to be recognized and attract attention. He doesn’t do well with crowds, and he doesn’t understand how you can be so calm and collected when people stare at you and ask for photographs while you’re minding your own business.

As soon as you get back to the motel you’re staying at he takes off his soaked shirt, not caring that the air conditioning is probably going to end his old ass.

“What the hell happened to you?” you ask, scowling as you analyze the skin around his prosthetic.

He shrugs. “It happens sometimes.”

“Why?”

“No idea.”

“Don’t you fuckin’ lie to me James.”

You only call him that when he’s in big trouble. He sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose: why do you have to be so damn stubborn all the damn time? “It’s nothing sweetheart, just sometimes the skin becomes flared when it’s too hot.”

“Nothing?” you shrill, throwing your hands around animatedly, “Nothing? Bucky your whole shoulder is super red and irritated, don’t act like it’s normal. We’ve been in the sun for hours, for days really, why didn’t you tell me anything? I would have driven us back here immediately. Does it hurt?”

“That’s why I didn’t tell you, I didn’t want to ruin your fun, you liked it so much there. And no, it only itches a little.”

Your eyes soften and you move to cup his face in your hands, looking at him with so much love that he feels himself melt away into a puddle, “Baby you don’t need to do that, you know I care more about you than anything else.”

“Even more than the cactuses?”

“Well, now you’re asking too much of me.”

He snorts and playfully hits your arm, then he falls back on the bed and drags you down with him. You stay cuddled like that for a while before you pull back to look into his eyes.

“I appreciate you doing this for me Buck, but you don’t ever need to sacrifice your own comfort for me, okay?”

“I know, I’m sorry. But you looked so happy.”

“Don’t be, and I’m always happy with you, I promise.”

“I’m always happy too.”

“We’re such saps. Gross. Anyways, guess where we’re going next?” you ask him cheerfully, scratching his scalp the way that makes him purr like a cat.

“The plan was New Mexico, Texas and Louisiana, right?” he frowns. You’d made plans together ages ago and you were so excited about visiting Texas of all places for God knows what reason. He’s predicted already that he won’t stand the suffocating, humid heat of that whole area. At least Arizona was dry as hell.

You on the other hand, everyday he’s become more aware of how much of a lizard you are, seeking the sun and walking around in the scorching heat not even breaking a sweat.

“Guess again baby boy, we’re going straight to Oregon. I mean, it's not Alaska but it’s not as hot as the desert here, right?

“Wait, what? Why?”

“Because I don’t want you to overheat?” you state like it’s obvious, rolling your eyes, “We’ll do New Mexico and the rest next fall, and now Oregon and Washington because it’s a little cooler there. So what do you say?” You ask with a hopeful look in your eyes.

“Princess I appreciate you doing this for me, but I promise I’ll be fine. You don’t have to change plans for me, this is your road trip.”

“No you won’t Buck, you’re not doing good and I don’t ever want to see you suffer, you understand? By the time we get to Texas it will be summer and you won’t stand it, it’s better if we visit when it’s colder.”

He smiles softly. He knows he’d do the same for you. “Then Oregon it is.”

You get up from the bed and head to the bathroom to shower, “Oh, and baby?” you call out, peeking your head from behind the door, “This is your road trip too, never forget that.”

Oregon

“Why does Thor get to have places named after him and we don’t? We were Avengers too.”

“But are we norse gods?”

“I mean, not yet, but I definitely deserve some nature’s wonder, or at least a star, to be named after me.”

“I’ll call WMO and get them to name a hurricane after you, princess. It seems more fitting.”

“Asshole.”

You’d been camping somewhere in Oregon’s wilderness when he came up with the idea of visiting all of the State’s so called seven wonders, starting from Thor’s Well on the Coast and ending in Mount Hood near Portland. You took a thousand photos of each attraction and sent a video of the water seemingly draining inside the famous well to the God himself, who enthusiastically expressed his appreciation.

Bucky’s cherished every minute of it, from the hot springs of Crater Lake to the chillier temperatures at night that force you to snuggle closer to him to warm up.

You’re in Portland now, and you’re thoroughly enjoying it, but what’s new about that? You’re always so full of life, so genuinely excited about everything the world has to offer that he’d be worried if you weren’t having the time of your life as you usually are.

He likes the city too, which is saying a lot.

“Blueberries are the superior berry and that’s the hill I’m willing to die on.”

You’ve been eating your way through Portland for weeks, and you’ve been discussing pies for a solid thirty minutes now. It’s raining outside and you’re cooped up in a small pie shop, eating more than an average human can and receiving weird looks from the waitress as you tell her to ‘keep ‘em coming’.

“I’m sorry but you’re wrong princess,” he states with a stuffed mouth just for the sake of aggravating you to no end, “blackberries are just so much better.”

It works as you grimace in disgust, both at his statement and his manners.

He’s found out you are weirdly opinionated when it comes to pies: pecan pies are an abomination, pumpkin doesn’t belong in dessert, lemon pie and key lime pie are only acceptable if someone’s grandma is kindly offering them to you, rhubarb pie without strawberries is a threat to mankind and cherry and blueberry pies are the absolute best. Apple pie is too bland to even take the time to discuss it, although the taste is likeable enough.

He on the other hand likes anything pie and anything sweet. And anything that gets a rise out of you.

“Please Buck, this isn’t even a blackberry pie, it’s some sort of inbred experiment that turned out kinda right.”

He shushes you, barely holding back a laugh when he sees the waiter side eyeing you as you disrespect one of Oregon’s most famous dishes, “First of all, it’s called marionberry and it’s a type of blackberry. And second, keep it down unless you want us to be kicked out, you’re offending a whole state.”

“Sorry.” you shrug, “But blueberry tartness level is where I draw the line, anything more than that is unacceptable.”

“That’s ‘cause you’re still a child and haven’t developed adult taste buds yet baby.” He does love his senior citizen card a bit too much.

This earns him a kick under the table and a scowl. “Stop it, grandpa.” you groan.

He grins and digs in your slice of marionberry pie. You resume to people watching.

God, he loves Oregon. And he loves you.

He really is a sap.

Wyoming

Washington was nice enough. You’ve taken him bar crawling most nights, and all of them have ended with him giving you a piggyback ride, per your request, back to the hotel room you were staying at.

It takes 13 hours to drive from Seattle to Yellowstone and you’ve driven all the way. You refused to disclose the destination of the trip and he’s fallen asleep the last 3 hours in the car. He’d mentioned he wanted to see the geysers somewhere in Pennsylvania two years ago and you remembered and took him.

Bucky couldn’t be happier.

He’s still describing the constellations above you when you fall asleep, and he’s so absorbed by the sky that he doesn’t notice until your head falls on his shoulder and he hears your soft snores.

He picks you up bridal style and takes you back to the fancy tent he bought on a whim in Ohio after you both slept in the SUV and woke up with major back and neck pain. He smiles as he removes your makeup with a wipe and does your skincare just the way you taught him, and admires your relaxed state.

He grazes your pretty face with his vibranium fingers, something so unimaginable to him before he met you, as he never thought his arm could bring anything other than pain.

Back when he was a semi stable 100 year old man thrust in another fight yet again, he hadn’t realized the extent of his feelings for you, believing he was only attracted to your beauty and youth. He hadn’t seen the way your smile lights up a whole room, nor the way you listen, truly listen, to anyone who may have anything to tell you, without ever judging them. He hadn’t witness your kindness and patience, let alone experienced them on his own skin. He hadn’t been lucky enough to watch you feed bird seed to the ducks of every pond of the country, or try to rescue a cat from a rooftop and almost falling off to save it.

Then Sam told him you were leaving and he felt like the word was collapsing on him. He’d found the sunlight and he never wanted to be without it.

Now he’s seen it all, all the little things that make you who you are, including your flaws, and he loves you not regardless of them, nor in spite of them, but because even your worst imperfections make you… you.

Bucky doesn’t know if meeting you was a way for the universe to fix all the wrongs that have been done to him, a sort of payback for all the shit he’s been put through, but in case it is, then he’s got no objections. And maybe he doesn’t deserve someone as good as you, but he’s a selfish man, and now that his sunshine girl is with him he never wants to plunge back into the the darkness ever again.

He tucks you both under the sleeping bag and snuggles next to you.

“Buck?” you mumble in a haze, tugging at his t-shirt, “Love you.”

It’s almost imperceptible, but his supersoldier hearing allows him to pick it up. He kisses the crown of your hair as he caresses your back.

“I love you too sweetheart.”

He wants to spend the rest of his time on Earth proving you how much.

New York

6 months later

The doctor wasn’t lying when she warned you that recovery would take 6 to 9 months.

You said the aftermath of the operation hurt like a bitch and that physiotherapy hurt even more. Today’s your last session and Bucky is glad about it for many reasons, like how you’re not in pain anymore for starters, and maybe because of how annoyingly fun, smart and hot your therapist is. Not like he’d ever admit it to you.

“Jesus,” you groan, “he turned me inside out like a sock, I can’t feel my legs anymore.”

“Sounds fun.” he deadpans.

“Someone’s jealous of the doctor?” you ask with a mischievous smirk.

“‘M not. He’s not all that.” he mumbles, blushing like a school boy.

You snort and drawl a ‘sure’. He sends you his best death glare.

“Whatever. I hope you don’t mind if we take a stop before going home.” he announces, helping you into the car. His palms feel clammy and he’s sweating despite the chilly winds of New York’s fall.

“Sure, where are we going?”

“Actually, that’s kind of a surprise, you’ll see.”

You beam at his words; he knows you love surprises and he hopes you’re going to like this one.

----

You look radiant as you lie on the blanket he’s spread on the grass, surrounded by colorful foliage. You’re sipping some of your favorite wine and nibbling on crackers as you admire a flock of birds migrating south in the sky.

You are the sun and he’s simply basking in your light. And he’s so selfish, he thinks as he holds the velvet box with the diamond ring inside of it, he’s so damn selfish we wants to keep the light all to himself for the rest of his life.

He’s prepared a long, passionate speech to tell you how much he loves you, of all the ways you’ve changed his life for the better and of all the reasons why he’d be a good husband.

But when you look at him with those bright eyes and beaming smile, he can barely remember his own name. He drops on one knee and holds the box out with shaky hands.

“Marry me, please.”

----

Thank you for reading! If you liked it, please reblog and comment, don’t be shy, feedback is always appreciated 🥺🤲

#bucky x reader #bucky barnes #bucky x you #bucky fanfic #james barnes x reader #james barnes x you #james barnes x y/n

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