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demonsandmischief · 3 years

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You Saved My Life

Marvel - Captain America Imagine

Steve Rogers x Female Reader, 1.7k Words

-You Saved My Life-

Imagine you save Captain America's life while he is trying to save yours.

A/N: I dunno when this would take place in the Marvel world. I guess you could say it's my own AU. It's a long one but I like it. I hope you do too.

----

There are a lot of things life prepares you for, but the end of the world is not one of them.

You were covering your best friend's shift at a cafe that she owned. You had a full time job as a teacher, but the school was on a holiday, and you were always willing to help your friend. Normally, she'd have managers do the day to day runnings, but there was a scheduling conflict that lined up perfectly with your free day.

You did love the little place. It was small and home-y, nestled between some larger buildings of the city.

It was after the lunch rush when it happened. You were wiping down menus when a large blast that felt like an earthquake rattled the whole shop. The glass door shattered with the impact.

That's when the screaming started. It was loud and chaotic, as throngs of people ran away from whatever had just exploded.

The customers that were in the cafe rushed out in a panic. They could see something out of the large windows that you couldn't from behind the counter.

You moved closer, hesitantly, not sure what to expect, and you were definitely not prepared.

There were large, robotic creatures wreaking havoc in every direction. You could hear their banshee like screeches that echoed in your ears, but it couldn't be louder than the intense blood rushing as your adrenaline began to flow.

Your protective, teacher instincts kicked in when you saw the young group of kids huddled in the alleyway. They were almost out of view, but you noticed. You always noticed the children. They attracted your energy naturally.

You took notice of the daycare bus still running. It looked like the driver had just abandoned them. Intense anger only fueled the instincts.

You saw the way one of the creatures eyed the group and you scrambled to grab something to defend them.

You didn't have much. You decided on a chair, thankful for your nimble frame that was able to get outside unnoticed.

The kids caught sight of you immediately, but you held a shaky finger to your lips, telling them to be quiet.

You swung the chair with all your might, hitting the thing with a sickening crunch. It faltered for a moment, stumbling forward. You were left with pieces of broken wood, the splintered edges digging into your skin.

"Get inside," you yelled to the group, watching them scramble. At least the robot thing was focused on you, and you prayed that each little boy and each little girl made it home tonight.

You knew you were the only person standing between the cafe and the monster, and you wouldn't go with them to safety for risk of this thing following you into the shop.

Your heart thudded painfully in your chest as your eyes searched for any kind of defense. Instead, you found more creatures and no help.

This thing was ugly up close. It was metallic like a robot, but had blood red eyes, eyes that were staring right at you.

It opened it's mouth to screech into the sky, a snake like tongue curling out. It was cut off by a flash of color in the haze of dirt and debris, but you recognized it immediately. Captain America's shield.

The man himself appeared, standing tall and proud, but you could tell he was winded. You had never been so relieved, as you relaxed a bit, just wanting to melt into the ground with exhaustion.

Steve yanked out his shield, giving it an expert throw, destroying the other visible creatures.

His blue eyes stood out beneath his cowl.

"Ma'am," he nodded. "Are you hurt?" he asked.

"No," you whispered with a shake of your head, wiping your sweaty, bloody hands on your jeans. "But there's kids in there "

He nodded, repeating the information into his com device.

"We'll get them to safety, and you, too. This is no place you want to be. Every civilian has taken shelter in the metro underground. Do you know how to get there from here?"

"Yes, but it's like two blocks," you said. There was no way you could get the kids there without being noticed.

"I'll go with you then, but we need to move quickly. Let's go." He left no room for argument, so you entered the cafe to gather the huddled group.

Their fear struck you, wide eyes and silent sobs. There were probably twenty of them, all different ages. The youngest was probably about six.

"Captain America is going to get you guys somewhere safe," you told them, as reassuring as possible, even though you didn't feel that way.

You led the group as the captain guarded the back. The pace was quick, and eerily quiet. You imagined the tall man had warned the other Avengers to keep the area as clear as possible. You had caught a brief glimmer of Iron Man's metallic suit in the sky.

You had just ushered the kids down the stalled escalator and into safety when you heard a grunt of pain.

You turned to find six more of the robotic creatures surrounding Cap. You could tell he was wearing down as one of them pulled his arms back, rendering him powerless and unable to grab his shield. He kicked the things with all his might, but there were too many of them.

You didn't know what to do. You were exhausted and there was no way you could help. You couldn't even take out one by yourself with a chair.

It wasn't until one of the creatures pulled out a long dagger looking thing, already dripping with someone else's blood that you moved.

Your instincts didn't let you hesitate as you ran to tackle the thing, the knife in turn digging painfully in your upper shoulder, dangerously close to your neck.

You felt the cry leave your dry, cracked lips as you crumbled to the ground, squeezing your eyes shut.

You heard the creature snarl at you before you felt a jolt of hot pain in your ribs. It felt like a boot, but who knows.

Your vision doubled as you saw the metallic shield take out the group once more. You sagged in the rubble as the adrenaline left your body. It felt like buckets of blood were running from your shoulder down the curve of your breast, mixing with the pain in your ribs. You were certain death couldn't be much worse then this.

Steve couldn't believe you saved his life. He was foolish to let his guard down, but you were a distraction. You protected those kids with a fearlessness that reminded him of himself.

He heard over coms that Tony had found the source for these creatures and the fight was coming to a close. He wished he could have been there for his team, but the people came first, especially those kids.

He pressed a hand to your shoulder, cursing when he saw how much blood you were losing. He searched aimlessly for something to stop the blood.

"Your six, Captain," you manage to mutter throught the pain, not failing to notice the final of the robotic things sneaking up on the distracted man.

He kicked a stray car door effortlessly, squashing the creature against the brick building.

"We're going to get you help. You're going to be okay."

That was the last thing you heard before you passed out.

----

There was a pesky beeping that was disturbing your rest. You assumed it was your alarm, until the pain hit you full force, and you remembered the events that took place. Were you dead?

Your eyes opened, and you groaned at the harsh light, blinking rapidly to adjust. Your mouth felt like it was full of sand.

The sterile smell and blinding white walls immediately told you it was a hospital, but what stood out was the dozing man still dirty from battle. His blue suit stood out against the white.

His eyes opened when you stirred, and you noticed the blue eyes that you were beginning to like. His blonde hair was matted from the cowl, and he looked terribly uncomfortable in the small chair.

"How are you feeling?" he asked gently, his deep voice much softer than the commanding tone he used as captain.

You struggled to sit up. The pain in your shoulder not allowed you to use your hand as leverage, and your ribs didn't like the jostle.

"Don't do that," he said, lightly using his hand to keep you from moving. He pushed the button on the side that allowed the bed to lift without you having to change position.

He helped you drink some water before you were finally able to respond.

"How long have I been out?" you ask.

"Just a few hours," Steve responded. "You saved my life, and those kids, too." He shook his head in disbelief.

You felt your face grow hot at his words, not knowing how to respond. "I'm sure you are exhausted. You didn't have to stay."

"I had to make sure you were okay," he admitted. "I'm Steve."

"Y/N." You tried to smile at his cute pleasantries, but winced at the persistent throbbing in your shoulder. "Is it bad?"

"I'm sure a tough girl like you can handle it. The doctor should be in here in a minute to tell you details," he answered.

The doctor told you that your ribs were broken and your stab wound was deep but no longer life threatening after they stopped the blood. It was going to take a while to recover.

You dozed off, and it must have been a long time because when you awoke the second time, the room was covered in flowers. A stack of cards sat on your table, and you rose the bed again to reach for them.

A swell of happy emotions built up inside of you as you read the sweet words of the kids you saved. It was so relieving to know they were okay.

"You're a hero," Steve said from the door, this time in jeans and a blue jacket. He was handsome.

You wiped the fallen tears off of your cheek. "I'm nothing but a teacher."

"You're a hero to me," he smiled slightly, and a warm feeling bloomed in your chest.

----

Here's Pt. 2

#captain america imagine #captain america #steve rogers fluff #captain america x reader #captain America x you #iron man #avengers imagine #steve rogers #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x you #chris evans #marvel imagine #marvel one shot #marvel

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thefanficmonster · 3 years

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What's It To You?

Corpse Husband x Reader (Female)

Warnings: Swearing

Genre: Angst, Fluff

Summary: To some people, relationship labels aren’t important. To some they aren’t important only in theory. Well, Y/N finds out she falls in the later category, leading to a falling out with her boyfriend Corpse.

Requested by Anon. You’ll know who you are when you read the fic 😉 Thank you for the ‘angsty argument’ request. I hope I captured what you had in mind and I hope you enjoy the read. Love, Vy 🥰

The time is nearing 7PM and Corpse has barely eaten anything. I always keep track of his meals and time spent in front of a computer screen, making sure he doesn’t spend too much time exhausting his eyes or starving himself. He never notices he’s hungry until he takes a bite of something and his appetite grows in matter of seconds. The real battle is to get him to take that first bite.

I get up from the couch, walking into the kitchen. I open the fridge, scanning its contents for any ideas that might pop into my head for dinner. When nothing comes to mind, I resort to my last option - asking him. There’s only a slight chance he’ll be of any help. He’ll most likely say he’s not hungry or that he’ll make himself something late. He never does. I’ve gotten used to him being a man-child when it comes to eating. In the eleven months that we’ve been dating, I’ve force fed him more times than he has eaten on his own terms.

I go upstairs, stopping outside the door to his recording room to see if he’s talking to someone so I don’t walk in and interrupt. When no noises come from the inside I knock.

“Come in.“

Upon opening the door, I’m met with Corpse nonchalantly sitting in his desk chair, leaning as back as he can without tipping over. Arms folded behind his head, legs stretched out in front of him. The whole nine yards, suggesting that he not streaming.

“Hey.“ He greets me as he turns his chair a bit in an attempt to face me

“Hey, what’d you like for dinner?“ He opens his mouth to reply the millisecond after I have spoken my question. I already know what that reply will be so I hurry to prevent it, “And no, ‘later’ and ‘I’m not hungry’ aren’t on the menu.“

He sighs, shaking his head as though he’s disappointed that I caught onto his game. The smile that slowly makes its way to his lips, however, suggests that he appreciates my concern. “Grilled cheese sandwiches? I mean, if you feel like it.”

I smile, relieved that the usual convincing portion of our interaction on this specific matter has been avoided. “Ok. Be down in fifteen then.” I give him a nod before heading back out into the hallway.

Before I am able to close the door, I hear someone else’s voice come from behind me. “Hey Corpse, was that on your end?”

Oh shit, he wasn’t muted

“Yeah man, sorry. Accidentally unmuted myself.“ Corpse sounds unbothered by this, but I am a little uneasy now.

Corpse and I have agreed to keep our relationship by a ‘won’t ask, won’t tell’ rule - if someone asks him if he’s in a relationship, he won’t lie and say no, but we haven’t gone public nor do we plan on doing so without someone asking us about it head-on. Well, not us. Him. His friends don’t know me and neither do his fans. I’m not in the same industry. I don’t stream nor film YouTube videos. The most I do for that platform is help Corpse with some editing when he needs to have a rest. So, if anyone were to reveal our relationship, it’d be him.

“Oooh, who was that?“ A girl’s voice asks teasingly. “Corpse, what are you not telling us?“

By this point, I’m out in the hall but I left my ears in the room. I know I’m not in the right here - eavesdropping is most definitely not nice, but I can’t help myself.

I hear him chuckle, “Nah, it’s just my friend Y/N.”

My heart drops so suddenly for a reason beyond my understanding. I feel like a kid feels when it’s told Santa isn’t real - I can’t believe what I heard.

I hurry to get back downstairs as soon as possible and also as quietly as I can. It’s tough, running with a pit in your stomach and a knot of I’m pretty sure is tears in your throat. When I’m finally in the kitchen, the aforementioned tears are blurring my vision. I try to blink them away but accidentally send one of them trickling down my cheek.

I’m aware this might be an overreaction and if I stopped to think I could probably find ways to justify what Corpse said. But I’m genuinely hurt, and I hate that I am.

I’ve never cared about what others know about me or think of me. Same goes for my relationships. I don’t put labels on things nor on my connection to people. I am surprised and disturbed by how much the label ‘friends’ bothers me. We’ve been dating for almost a year now, you’d think calling me his girlfriend would be second nature. Guess not.

I swallow the hurt and surprise, deciding to keep myself busy with the preparations for the dinner I was planning to make. However, keeping my hands full and giving my eyes a place to look doesn’t stop my thoughts from eating away at me.

* * *

Twenty minutes later the sound of a door opening echoes from upstairs, followed by the sound of footsteps going through the hallway and then down the stairs.

“It smells so good in here.“ He comments, his eyebrows raising when he takes in the freshly made sandwiches on the kitchen island. “You’re the best, Y/N.“

“Hmm, aren’t you lucky you have a friend who knows their way around the kitchen, huh?“ I reply sharply, not even sparing him a glance.

In the twenty minutes I was left alone with my wilding thoughts I declared that I wouldn’t beat around bush when he comes downstairs. That I would address the issue and tell him exactly how I feel about it. What I didn’t plan was being so harsh. I actually barely contain a wince when I realize how sharp of an edge my words had.

I feel ten times more guilty when I see the regret that flashes on his face, “You heard that.” He grips the edges of the table, leaning down and letting out a sigh, “I’m sorry, I panicked.”

The anger in me evaporates, leaving room for the hurt to keep spreading and take over me. I was never really angry with him, I’m just upset by the fact that his immediate reaction wasn’t to refer to me as his girlfriend.

“Why would you panic? What’s it to you if they know?“ My voice is barely above a whisper now, the tears I’m fighting back are clogging my throat, not allowing me to sound as clearly as I’d like.

“What’s it to you? I thought you didn’t care.“ He argues back, his gaze travelling from the tabletop to my eyes. I see the guilt in all his features and his body language.

“I thought so too.“ I shake my head, “But hearing you call me a ‘friend’...’just a friend’ stings. I don’t even know why, but it does. It feels almost like you are embarrassed of me. If that’s the case you can just tell me, you know?“

In a blink of an eye he’s crouched down in front of me, one hand holding both of mine while the other cups my cheek. “It’s not. It has never been and it will never be the case. You are one amazing person, Y/N. You deserve the world, not to be stuck with me. I’m just...” He trails off, his eyes not able to focus on mine any longer, “I’m scared of how people knowing about us will affect our relationship.”

My blood starts boiling again. I know I need to get away from him before I reach the point of saying something that’ll hurt him, so I untangle my hands from his grasp, pulling away from him. “Weak excuse, Corpse. You know it will change nothing except make me feel more included in your life. I will no longer feel like I’m a house rat no one knows about.” I stand up, unable to look at him, and start heading for the staircase.

“Y/N, please! ”I stop dead in my tracks when he calls out my name, his footsteps following behind me. “Don’t be...-”

I turn around, cutting him off in the process, “I need to be alone right now.” I tilt my head in the direction of the dining table, “Sit down and eat dinner. We’ll talk...later.”

* * *

Now that it’s been almost twelve hours with no contact between us I realize that my reaction was justified only to a certain extent. I understand his concerns and I could’ve expressed mine a little more calmly and in a lot less accusatory manner. But what happened happened and all I can do now is go over to him and apologize, establish a proper communication to resolve the issue that I so stupidly blew out of proportion.

My phone died sometime during the night and has been sitting on the charger but still turned off for a while. I go over to it and press-hold the start button. While it’s powering up I start changing my from my pajamas into my regular clothes, noticing a small stain on my shirt in the process. As I’m examining the stain, my phone starts going crazy with notifications, causing me to jump and drop my shirt.

“Fucking hell.” I mumble, disconnecting my phone from the charger and looking at the huge list of notifications on my lock screen. They are all alerts of new followers, likes and tags, non from people I know. Non except one.

@ corpse_husband tagged you in a post

Wait what?

I tap the notification which leads me to a picture Corpse posted two hours ago. It’s a picture of me taken in the living room without my knowledge. I’m an oversized sweater and yoga pants, my hair in a messy braid and my attention caught by the book in my hands. My glasses have slipped a bit down my nose, suggesting that I’m too concentrated on the contents of the pages in front of me that I haven’t noticed.

We started off as friends but it didn’t take long for her to become my best friend. And then she stole my heart. I know you’ll read this eventually, Y/N. So...hi. Love you.

PS - the sandwiches were bomb 🖤

I’m more than caught off guard. Like a surprise hug from behind, warmth spreading all throughout my body.

Without a second of hesitation I put my phone down and run to the bedroom door. However, I don’t make it very far considering I nearly run straight into Corpse’s chest as I exit the room. He catches me before I knock him straight to the ground, thankfully.

“Aren’t you a rocket this morning. Where are you headed?“ He chuckles, holding onto my upper arms.

One look at his smile, a single word out of his mouth and I’m melting. I walk straight into him, wrapping my arms around his torso, hiding my face in his chest. He comfortably rests his chin on the top of my head, not asking any further questions until I finally answer.

“Right here. I was heading for you.“ I whisper before I pull away enough to be able to look him in the eyes. “I wanted to tell you how sorry I am. I was being childish and overdramatic and I’m sorry about all I said. I was really upset.“

“It’s ok, baby. I’m sorry for making you upset in the first place. I understand now how much it means to you.“ He caresses my cheekbone with the back of his hand. “I...um...tried to make things right by...“

I push up on my toes, pressing my lips against his, putting an end to his timid stuttering. “I saw it.” I mumble in the kiss.

“Did you like it?“

“I loved it.“

“Did you read the comments?“

My heart skips a beat when I hear that dreaded term. Just the thought of reading through the comments terrifies me. I tell myself that some strangers’ words aren’t gonna have an impact on me, but I know they will. Especially since these ‘strangers’ mean so much to Corpse.

I shake my head. He pulls away, taking my hand and leading me towards the living room. “You have to. You’re gonna love them.”

I reluctantly follow him, plopping down on the couch next to him as he pulls out his phone and scrolls through the comment section of the picture he posted. He was right. All these people have said such things about me and about our relationship. Some verified names are also there, sharing their support much like the fans.

“See, this is why I was nervous. I’ll have to do duels for your attention now.“ He glances at me, leaning in and kissing my temple as he sometimes does so impulsively.

“You don’t do duels when you are already sitting at the throne. Right next to me.“ I once again capture his lips with mine, tempted to never pull away, but also tempted to keep reading the comments.

Damn, he might be right about the duels.

He takes his phone from me setting it aside as he slowly lifts me and settles me in his lap, never letting our lips detach.

Nevermind. Fuck the duels

@susceptible-but-siriusexual @simonsbluee @save-the-sky @hacker-ghost @itsminniekat @bi-andready-tocry @imtiredaffff @jazzkaurtheglorious @hereforbeebo @fandomgirl17 @chrysanthykios @maehemscorpyus @loraleiix @letsloveimagines @annshit @i-cant-choose-a-username-help @enigmaticmaze

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inkribbon796 · 3 years

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My Favorite Human Ch. 2: I Want YOU in This Custody Fight

Summary: It’s not a date if you argue about the kids in front of the restaurant staff.

Chapters: 1, 2, 3

Chase tried to dress nice when he came to this building. It was one of the fancier restaurants under Dark’s control. He didn’t have a whole lot of nice suits but he did have a white button-up and a black vest. But that was as far as he got.

Dark never seemed to mind either way. After all this was strictly business. They’d talk about the twins, and then Chase would leave. The Entity would offer for Chase to order something from the menu, “on me”, and the marksman would always turn him down, even before he first glanced at the menu.

After he’d seen the menu he was determined to never order anything from this place because it was way too much for anything.

But the view . . . the view was amazing. The restaurant was situated by the river and so at night it looked amazing. Dark was always in a private business room, to make sure their conversations couldn’t be easily overheard by errant patrons.

As Chase walked up, sans superhero outfit or mask because he didn’t want his meetings with Dark getting on the news at all, a waiter led him right to Dark.

When Chase walked in he had his usual crisis, his feet stopping and a weight settling in his heart. Dark had his back to him as he looked out into the city.

Chase got his feet to work and he took his usual seat.

Dark sighed when Chase sat down, “I heard what happened.”

“Mori and Tempus think he’s better now, least he’s not runnin’[1] around naked in the woods anymore,” Chase reported. “I think Mem got most ‘a[2] it out ‘a[2] his system.”

Dark clicked his tongue. “I don’t know what’s gotten into him, at least the others don’t have to be watched so some random hiker wouldn’t get attacked.”

That got a chuckle out of Chase, settling a bit in his chair. “Really? I find that hard ta[3] believe.”

“Arthur was a bit of a handful but at least he could be contained to his books. He didn’t actively seek to become chaos itself.” Dark’s fingers drummed casually on his desk.

“Prolly[4] could have cut him off beforehand if I hadn’t been on patrol this mornin’[5],” Chase’s eyes tracked over as a waiter came in to bring some wine for Dark and a water for Chase, he was braced for a random attack. It was mostly out of habit — because of Clubs — but still trained all the same.

Dark’s aura circled around the rim of his wine glass. “Yes, Illinois commented the same.”

The Entity’s aura hummed as he thought, he twisted the base of glass with two fingers. “I was thinking that perhaps the problem is not that they need constant supervision, it’s merely that they’re bored and they do the first thing that comes to mind.”

“Not sure how I can help with that ta[3] be honest,” Chase admitted.

Dark paused to take an especially long sip of his wine. “It has occurred to me that perhaps if they spend a bit long thinking about the ideas they have that maybe they would make wiser decisions. They are very young spawnlings, and there is a certain impulse that such young demons only have when they have never been threatened and feel safe in a territory.”

“Really?” Chase smiled. “Yeh[6] were impulsive back in the day? Would’a[7] loved ta[3] see that.”

Looking away, Dark took another sip, “No, I made Egoton into what it is today so I would not have to waste my time finding a new territory every couple of decades.”

The smile didn’t fade from Chase’s face quite yet. “So yeh[6] got any plans fer[8] the twins, err, boys.”

At that mistake, the smile did drop and Chase was glaring out the window for a full second or two. “Yeh[6] got any plans fer[8] the boys?”

“A couple,” Dark mercifully ignored the slip up. “My first option was to just stick them with Illinois, he’s more than mentally equipped to corral chaotic spawnlings. But with the wedding coming up, I figured . . .”

Dark trailed off, waving his hand dismissively, “Best not to leave the responsibility with Illinois.”

Chase felt the urge to say something, but he didn’t even know what that something was, so he kept quiet. He preoccupied himself with wiping down the condensate from his glass.

“Tempus is fine on her own, but if I leave her to them, she’d only mildly protest at whatever they do and then record them, and Wil only seems to enable their destructive behavior,” Dark continued.

“Hmph, that’s Bubbles fer[8] yeh[6],” Chase dismissed coldly. “I think he might e’en be givin’ ‘em ideas.”[9]

“Oh, of that I have no doubt,” Dark agreed, “Tempus too, a couple of their more harebrained stunts have actually been her idea, despite Memento’s insistence that he’s the brains of their operation.”

That got a chuckle out of Chase.

“But that still leaves me with a problem, namely that apart from Illinois or myself there seems to be only one other person who can reason with them, or at least enough that they don’t get themselves into legal trouble. Their minor antics are fine, especially if they can confine it to the Manor, but running around the parks or beaches is getting them into trouble, and getting them noticed by demon hunters.”

“Yikes, didn’t know it was that bad yet,” Chase sat up a little straighter.

“It’s nothing that can’t be handled, but I was thinking, and Kay and Illinois posed the idea themselves, that you could help,” Dark proposed, his expression neutral and guarded. “Since you seem to be the only other person they listen to.”

Chase was quiet, the room was so quiet that he could dimly hear chatter from the other room. He wasn’t exactly sure where this conversation was going. “I’m tryin’ ta watch ‘em, but I still got patrols ta keep up with. I’ve got ta deal with random bullshite that the Duke or Anti cause in the city. I’m still part ‘a the Coalition.”[10]

“The heroes have more than enough people to deal with them,” Dark dismissed.

“Dark, I’ll keep doin’ e’erythin’ I can fer the boys, but I’m tryin’ ta stay on good behavior,”[11] Chase reminded him. “It’s bad enough they’re barely lettin’ me see my other kids, I don’t know what they’d do if I wasn’t bein’ a hero. It’s the only thin’ I got goin’ fer me.”[12]

Dark meant to be reassuring, that Chase was a natural parental figure underneath his poor mental health and self-incriminating bad choices. That they’d made a mistake when Chase was denied his children. But such words required a certain amount of emotional vulnerability from Dark, and the Entity could never allow himself to be vulnerable, even when it was desperately needed.

So the words that came out of his mouth were, “I could make sure there were no problems.”

Chase froze, staring at Dark in alarm. Normally his head and heart were at war. Between wanting to treat Dark like a dearly loved friend, and his head who reminded Chase that Dark was a dangerous, demonic mob boss. Someone who destroyed lives that didn’t suit him.

At this moment there was no discourse.

“What does that mean?” Chase’s tone was terse.

“I don’t see why anyone should have a problem with you seeing any of your children, Anti has not used you as a host in months. He has not targeted you in even longer. The correct people merely need . . . convincing.”

“No!” Chase snapped, surging up so he was away from the table. “Don’t! Just stop right there. Yer not gonna threaten or “convince” anyone. Stacy’s fine. She’s doin’ fine with ‘em. If yeh could get yer fookin’ claws outta Paddy that’d be e’en better.”[13]

“Your eldest has his own goals and if he wants to achieve it through my Network, I see no reason to stop him,” Dark dismissed. “He is an expert marksman who’s time and skill were being squandered on running around with other delinquents pretending to be gangsters. Crime and trouble would have found him if I hadn’t swept in and taken him.”

Chase made some ugly snort that carried his disbelief and offense.

“The four of them are already embroiled in the Network, it would certainly make things simpler,” Dark suggested, immediately doubling down on his point.

“Simpler?” Chase scoffed. “Fer who? I’m not gonna fookin’ sit on my arse until they do somethin’, it’s not like I’ve got anythin’ useful fer yer little crime organization.”[14]

Dark gave Chase a look.

Chase just stared at the Entity in alarm, “No.”

“You denying the very nature of your magic and soul doesn’t make it any less true,” Dark commented, metaphorically shoving his foot right into his mouth.

“No,” Chase repeated a little more firmly. “Fook[15] off.”

“The heroes have had a top marksman for years and yet you are sidelined constantly,” Dark commented. “Even if you’re not killing in my Network your skills would be more useful. You don’t even have to be in the room to do the job.”

“So that’s what this is?” Chase spat. “I’m just some asset fer yeh ta buy?”[16]

In the absence of anything that wasn’t an emotionally charged response, Dark fell silent.

Chase threw his hands up, so angry that there was a very furious grin where teeth ground together, “No. We’ll keep the system we got, it’s workin’[17] just fine.”

The marksman was boiling with rage and it didn’t help that Dark wasn’t confirming or denying it.

“Enjoy yer[18] overpriced steak, Dark, I’m goin’[19] home,” Chase decided, alright turning.

Dark stayed quiet, and when Chase looked back at him he let out a groan of annoyance and stormed off and out of the building.

The Entity didn’t stop him, he was too busy tending to his blue soul who was trying to follow Chase but was stopped because Dark was staying in his seat.

“He’s angry,” Damien commented in their shared headspace, his fragmented soul full of nothing but emotion and none of the social cues that kept those emotions from being acted on. “What did I do?”

“He’s a human, it’s all they do,” Dark’s red soul commented dryly. She was already wanting to leave, fretting about the mountain of work they needed to do.

“We can give him things,” Damien suggested hopefully, looking to Dark for approval.

Why? Dark asked. Is he the man we’ve been sleeping with for decades? Because I seem to remember someone a little more pink and mad. Or am I wrong?

Dark’s blue soul curled in on himself and stopped pulling the Entity to follow after Chase. He was more subdued than he’d been in a while.

It let Dark finally leave and head back to the warehouses to get some work done. And if Damien urged Dark to give little macabre trinkets to the triplets, he only hesitated for a little bit.

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

Post A/N: Man, if Dark and Anti were half as good at communicating as they were at killing people, all their problems would be solved!

Accessibility Translations:

1. running

2. of

3. to

4. Probably

5. morning

6. You

7. Would have

8. for

9. I think he might even be giving them ideas.

10. I’m trying to watch them, but I’ve still got patrols to keep up with. I’ve got to deal with random bullshit that the Duke or Anti cause in the city. I’m still part of the Coalition.

11. Dark, I’ll keep doing everything I can for the boys, but I’m trying to stay on good behavior

12. It’s bad enough they’re barely letting me see my other kids, I don’t know what they’d do if I wasn’t being a hero. It’s the only thing I got going for me

13. Don’t! Just stop right there. You’re not going to threaten or “convince” anyone. Stacy’s fine. She’s doing fine with them. If you could get your fucking claws out of Paddy that’d be even better.

14. For who? I’m not going to fucking sit on my ass until they do something, it’s not like I’ve got anything useful for your little crime organization.

15. Fuck

16. I’m just some asset for you to buy?

17. working

18. your

19. going

#Masks and Maladies #Superhero AU #footnotes #chase brody #darkiplier #wkm damien #wkm celine #DarkAverage #background darkstache #angst #these boys can't communicate #Dark admitting his feelings?#not on his watch #date night gone wrong #date night turns into fight night

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random-mha-thoughts · 4 years

Text

Gamer’s Boy (Bakugou x Reader)

Pairing: Bakugou x Reader

Someone messaged me on my Wattpad: “So I've been playing a lot of Pokémon on my 3DS here lately and I got to thinking about how Bakugou would react to playing it So maybe reader-chan introduces Sparky to Pokémon and tries to teach him how to play. Knowing Bakugou, he gets really frustrated with too many wild Pokémon attacking him in the tall grass or when a Pokémon outright ignores his orders. It's just an idea and you can adjust it as you need or want. I really enjoy reading your writing so I know it'll be awesome! Thank you”

Genre: Fluff

Word count: 893

Tags: @yuki-osaki @liviitehe @iamsoftsodonttoucheume-blog @bunnythepipsqueak

a/n: Guys I’ve been awake for almost 20 hours only on 3 hours of sleep, I’m ready to pass out so this is gonna be a short one. Also just a note, the last Pokemon game I've ever played is Pearl. Yes I'm a boomer, I'll take all the comments go on.

"You're always on that stupid thing, why don't you ever study?" Bakugou grumbles, eyeing my spastic thumbs.

Bakugou sounds a lot like a parent: he does the cooking, barks at me to go to sleep at 9 pm sharp, and nags at me constantly. Part of me thinks he might be an old man or something.

"I'll get off in a few minutes, let me just level up a little more." I barely look up at him, focusing on a pokemon that just appeared out of the tall grass.

My boyfriend roll his eyes and groans. "You said that five times already, hurry up!" The top of his pen taps impatiently on his notebook. "If you don't put it away now, I'm taking it from you."

"You sound like my dad," I mumble under my breath, do a quick save, and close it.

"No wonder you need my help, you can't focus." He flicks my forehead.

"But it's fun! It's not my fault they purposely made it addictive." I reluctantly open my notes.

"What's so fun about it? It's just stupid little monsters fighting each other, but you and Phone Charger play it nonstop."

I gasp as if he's sent me a personal insult. "They aren't stupid! They're my babies! My loyally trained babies who beat up everyone else's babies."

"Oh please, just do your work, dumbass." Bakugou forcefully pushes my head down to focus.

"Maybe if you play it, you won't call it stupid." Sticking my tongue out proves just how childish I am, if it isn't already obvious.

"Yeah, okay." He places his large hand down on my notebook. "If you get in the top half of the class with your exam grades, I'll play your dumb game with you."

If I had ears and a tail, they'd be perked up right now. "Really? It's a deal! Don't go back on your word!"

"I won't, dumbass, now focus already!" He thinks I don't catch the amused lifting of his lips.

"I don't know how you did it, but you did." Bakugou has a blank face on as he peers over my shoulder at my exam sheet.

I couldn't stop smiling from the moment I received the paper. Catching him off guard, I throw my arms around his neck. "It's only because of you, Sparky. Thank you!"

His warm arms hug around my waist. "If you weren't you, I'd destroy you for calling me that." He pulls away and pokes the center of my forehead. "It wasn't just me, you actually used your brain for once dumbass."

Immediately, I place a kiss on his smirking lips, only to chuckle at his slowly blushing ears. "I'm not just happy about the grade. I hope you remember what you promised."

I know he's resisting the urge to groan. "Yes, I promised. Let's go."

"WHAT THE HELL! WHY DOES THIS KEEP HAPPENING?!"

"Babe, that's the whole point-"

"IT'S ANNOYING ME!" If anyone walked into this room right now, they would see the massive vein poking out of his forehead.

"Don't break my DS!" I snatch it out of his hands when I notice his hands tightening around my handheld device. "You're supposed to find pokemon in the grass, how else are you gonna level up enough to beat the gym leaders?"

"I'm just trying to get to the next town, why do they have to come up when I'm just going through?!" He pulls at his hair angrily and positions his head on my shoulder.

"Okay, yeah, that's annoying sometimes, but who can get mad at a little extra training?" My fingers move over the buttons reflexively. I've done this so many times it's become second nature, I would understand how frustrating it must be to play when you're starting out.

"Why do they listen you when you tell them to do stuff?" he grumbles.

"They must know who's playing," I tense him. "They know you don't like them either."

"Why wouldn't they listen to you anyway?! I caught one in that ball thing, that should've told them I'm the master!"

"They have personalities you know. Some of them are just unruly or jokesters." The wild pokemon faints with a final attack. "Besides, you wouldn't like it if you were stuck in a cramped ball all day until you're needed."

Bakugou groans. "It took a couple of those stupid things to catch them. They're rebellious little beasts."

I open the menu to the pokemon I have in my bag. "Look, I named this electric type Denki because he still doesn't listen to me."

"Hmph. Why don't you name one after me?"

I turn my head only to meet with a pouting Bakubaby. "Because I haven't found one that's cute and fluffy enough yet."

"Can't wait to see it. He won't be as cute as me though." His arms envelop me from behind and he pecks my cheek. "I dunno how you do this all day babe, I'd get so fed up."

"Obviously."

"Shut up. I'm not used it like you are."

"I think you should call it my second quirk," I smile brightly at him.

He chuckles at me, his chest rumbling against my back. "No babe, I think that's your talent. I'm proud of you, I guess."

"I'm gonna be the ultimate pokemon parent! I wanna be the very best-!"

"DON'T EVEN START THAT!"

#Bakugou x reader #bakugou fluff #my hero academia #boku no hero academia #bakugou katsuki #bakugou imagine #bakugou scenario #gender neutral reader #request #mha bakugou #bnha bakugou #mha x reader #bnha x reader #mha fanfiction #bnha fanfiction

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katehuntington · 4 years

Text

Title: In Bad Waters - part nine Word count: ±3300 words Episode summary: Still in possession of the Winchesters’ belongings, Zoë meets up with the hunters on her next case. When it turns out to be a little more complicated than anticipated, she accepts their help in order to make an important deadline. Part nine summary: After splitting up, each hunter has their own part to play in order to solve the case. But when Sam has a vision, things go south real quick. Episode warnings: Dark! NSFW, 18+ only! Descriptions of domestic violence/child abuse. Drug use/addiction. Angst, gore, violence, character death. Description of blood, injury and medical procedures/resuscitation. Swearing, alcoholism. Supernatural creatures/entities, mentions of demon possession. Descriptions of torture and murder, drowning. Illegal/criminal practices. Mentions of nightmares and flashbacks. Author’s note: Beta’d by @winchest09 and @deanwanddamons. Thanks, girls! Gif isn’t mine. If you are the creator or know who made it, please tell me so I can credit you.

Supernatural: The Sullivan Series Masterlist

S1E02 “In Bad Waters” Masterlist

Bored out of her skull, Zoë flips the page of her newspaper for the third time, pretending to read it. She found a good spot on the terrace of a Pizza Hut restaurant. Traffic drives by on Highway 412 constantly, but from her table she has a clear view of a house on Magnolia Drive. Taylor Dawlson, Laura’s former teacher, lives in the suburban home.

It’s 14:30 and Zoë has been guarding the Dawlson residence for over an hour now, but nothing has happened so far. She hasn’t had a call from the boys yet either, so she presumes everything is quiet at the Shire place, and Dean is probably talking to doctor Hughes.

Taylor Dawlson is home, busy maintaining the household while keeping her daughter entertained. The husband, whose name is Jeff, is working the lawn at the moment, a sprinkler system watering the pink magnolias by the white wooden fence. On the table in front of her, next to the slice of pepperoni pizza, Zoë installed her Macbook, which shows some information about the Dawlson family, just so that she knows who she’s dealing with. Taylor is a teacher at the Woodrow Wilson Elementary School, Jeff is into sportswear and merchandise. They’ve been married for seven years and have a three year old daughter named Lesley. No criminal records on the parents, nothing out of the ordinary. Just a happy family, living in a normal neighborhood, right next to a church. One thing doesn’t show up on her screen, though, and it’s something the huntress knows for a fact; the mother happened to be in one of her flashbacks.

She lets out a bored sigh and takes another bite of her pizza, but then feels her phone vibrating in her pocket. Quickly, she takes out her Nokia and checks the screen; it’s Sam. “What’s up?” She yawns. “Your stake out is that exciting, huh?” Sam responds sarcastically.

Sam is comfortable in the driver’s seat of the Chevrolet Impala, which he parked across the street of the Shire residence, located on Reynolds Park Road. He has the window rolled down and rests his elbow on the door as he holds his phone to his ear. The streets are almost empty in this neighborhood just outside the downtown area of Paragould. A beautiful house by the lake seems like a fairytale to live in, and yet this place was the setting for violence and abuse for many years.

“It’s like watching a documentary on snails,” she comments, after which she bites off a piece of pizza. Sam can hear her chewing food and furrows his brow. “Are you eating again?” “Dude, you sound like my dietician,” Zoë responds with her mouth full. Sam chuckles and realizes how stern he must have sounded. “Burgers again?” “No, I like a bit of variation in my cuisine,” she claims, putting up a snooty voice. “I’m having Italian right now.” “Let me guess: pizza?” Zoë laughs. “Pizza Hut to be precise.”

“How do you do it?” Sam wonders, still chuckling. “Do what?” “Eat so much, without… well, you know--” he starts carefully, instantly regretting it. He’s on thin ice. Zoë can’t help but grin, deciding to mess with him. “- getting big? Are you fucking kidding me, Sam? Someone who had a long term relationship should know this; clothes, weight and age are the forbidden subjects.” Quickly, Sam sets things straight. “I’m sorry, I just think it’s extraordinary.” “What? The weirdness of women or the fact that I eat so much?” she jokes.

Sam chuckles, now that he can detect the trace of mockery in her voice. “Seriously, though. How can you consume so much food and still look - you know - like you do?” “Because I kick ass,” she answers, sassy. Her response might have come out rapidly, for a brief moment there, Zoë analyzed that sentence. Was Sam’s remark a compliment or a flirt? She’s not sure what to think of it, but presumes the flirtation wasn’t intentional, considering he’s clearly still struggling to deal with his ex-girlfriend’s death. And come on, she has given him a pretty hard time; she’s been anything but charming.

Zoë changes the subject before an awkward silence follows. “How’s it going over there?” Sam glances through his windshield at the two individuals up at the house. “Nothing out of the ordinary. Mrs. Shire seems to mourn by cleaning up the entire house and her son is sitting by the lake, just staring out over the water,” Sam describes. “The guy was an asshole, but he was still their family,” she realizes, after which a beep sounds in her ear; she has a different call coming in. “Gonna put you on hold for a sec, Sam,” she notifies the hunter, and pushes the green button on her phone. “Sullivan.”

“Doc ain’t talking.” Dean walks down the stairs of the Arkansas Methodist Medical Center. He unbuttons his blazer and loosens his tie. Zoë narrows her eyes, even though the recipient on the other end of the line can’t see it. “What do you mean, he isn’t talking?” “He got all nervous when I started asking questions. There’s no way I can get a word out of his mouth. But he does know something, alright,” Dean explains.

“Did you try everything?” she checks, questioning Dean’s interrogation skills. “Well, I didn’t torture him, if that’s what you’re asking. I didn’t tell him the truth either,” he admits. Zoë realizes it’s a good thing he didn’t reveal his true identity. If Dean starts talking about killer ghosts and the guy freaks out, they might have a serious problem, considering that they are identified as FBI. A call to their chief at the Bureau will ultimately result in a blown cover, which will not make solving any future case any easier.

“You have the death report, right?” she threatens with a tone. “Who the fuck do you think I am? Of course I have the death report,” Dean ensures cockily, as he takes out the report from his inside pocket. “Stole it from his file case. Piece of cake.” Zoë doesn’t bother to compliment him for his deed. “Anything interesting in there?” “Not really,” Dean presses his phone between his ear and shoulder and leafs through the pages, which contain a lot of medical talk that he doesn’t understand one bit. “It says that Laura Shire was brought in by her father around 11 PM, yada yada. Cause of death…” Dean pauses as he reads the line again and halts. “Didn’t you say that both dear daddy and Van Dyke broke their neck?” he recalls, looking up from the file. “Yeah.” “Laura broke hers too. Robert Shire claimed she fell down the stairs.” Zoë scoffs. “Well that’s complete utter bullshit.”

“One other thing,” he points out as he continues his way down the street. “Shire wasn’t just a colleague, he was his boss. Guess who the second signature on Laura’s death report belongs to.” “Shire himself?” she assumes, stunned. “The one and only.” “But he’s a family member of the victim, he should have been excluded from the examination!” Zoë exclaims in disbelief. “That’s why he got Hughes to do the autopsy. All they needed was his signature as Chief of Staff.” The huntress gets the point now and rolls her eyes skyward. “Which makes the report valid.” “So, what now?” Dean questions, his current mission having been completed. “Hughes played a part in this cover up, so he might be her next candidate,” Zoë ponders, glancing at the Dawlson residence, where it’s still quiet. “There is no way you can keep an eye on him in that hospital, is there?” “We don’t need to. Laura only attacks when her victim is alone, right?” Dean mentions.

Zoë thinks about that for a second, her mind going over the first two murders. She didn’t notice it before, but he’s right. There were people in the house when Shire and Van Dyke were killed, but never in the same room. “Now that you mention it. As long as the doc stays amongst people, he’ll be safe. When does he get off?” “Already checked that; not until 6 PM,” Dean informs. “Good, so we don’t have to worry about him until six,” she concludes, trying to think of a plan. “Everything nice and quiet over there?” Dean wonders. “I’m wasting my time. I’m not sure if Laura would target her anyhow.” Dean walks into the parking lot of the Kentucky Fried Chicken only blocks away from the hospital. “And Sam?” “Do I look like a fucking mailman to you? Why don’t you ask him yourself?” she returns annoyed.

He enters the KFC and takes a look at the menu, even though he always goes for the classic. When Dean ignores her remark, the silence however ignites a reaction from the huntress nonetheless. “You two had a fight or somethin’?” “Sort of,” he admits with a mutter. “Ah, brotherly love. What did you fight about?” Zoë asks nosy. “That’s none of your business,” Dean returns defensive, stunned by her boldness. “Damn, you’re not curious at all, are you?” “I’m not curious. I just want to know everything.” She shrugs, her correction sassy. “C’mon, spill it.”

Dean sighs somewhat agitated. He doesn’t owe her an explanation, but he figures that once she knows, she might stop poking him. He keeps it as short as possible, though. “It was about Dad. Sam and I have different ideas on how to find him.”

Surprisingly, there’s no smart counter that follows up his words. Instead, Zoë swallows back a mean remark and decides not to respond for their own good. They are finally having a conversation without yelling at each other, and although the fighting doesn’t bother her since she has no interest in becoming friends with the older Winchester, she’d rather keep it civil. Like it or not, she can use their help, so now would not be the best time to counter the hunter.

Dean breaks the deadly silence. “Still there?” Zoë clears her throat. “Yeah, sorry. Got distracted.” “Want some chicken?” he jokes, as if he could teleport it to her place. She laughs, guessing where he is. “Where are you? KFC?” “Ahuh,” he confirms, and turns to the guy behind the counter. “One bucket of chicken wings, please.” “Is that all?” Zoë comments. “You’re right,” he agrees, looking back at the restaurant worker. “Could you add a Crispy Colonel Sandwich and a coke?”

He pays for his second lunch of the day and tells the employee to keep the change. “Did you eat?” Dean asks Zoë, as he walks out to the terrace and settles down in the sun. She smiles at her phone. Apparently they have found common grounds. “Yeah, pizza,” she mentions. “Which reminds me, I still have Sam on hold. If you wanna crash some place, feel free to break into my motel room.” “Alrighty, you didn’t boobytrap it, did ya?” he checks first. “Unless you’re a demon or a ghost you’re free to waltz in,” Zoë replies, referring to the demon trapping pentagram under the doormat and the salt lines in the windowsills. “Room number?” “Seventeen. Don’t break anything.”

With those words, she disconnected her call with Dean and returns to Sam. “I’m back,” she lets him know. But there’s not a sound on the other line. He didn’t hang up on her, she can still hear static. “Sam? You there?” Then she hears Sam’s voice, but it’s not comforting. A painful moan sounds from the other side of the line. “Sam, answer me! What’s going on?” Zoë calls out, sensing something is wrong. Sam groans. “I’m here.”

He has the palm of his hand pressed against his forehead, eyes shut firmly. He doesn’t know what just happened to him, but a stabbing pain in his head almost knocks him out cold. The images that flashed before his eyes a moment ago remain on display, but he cannot place any of them. Visions in his sleep are one thing, but he has never experienced them during the day before. “What’s happening?” He hears Zoë’s voice and presses his Blackberry against his ear. “I - I think I just had a vision.” Zoë’s eyes grow large. It has started. “What did you see?” Sam looks up, stunned. By the sound of her words, she experienced this too. “You had one of those while awake?” “That’s not important right now. What did you see?” she repeats firmly. Sam thinks back, trying to recover the recollections behind closed eyes. “I saw a house, white woodwork,” he remembers. “A woman inside is terrified, screaming, and I heard a child’s voice, saying ‘You didn’t stop it’.”

Zoë’s eyes drift from her laptop screen to the house across the street; the Dawlson home has white woodwork. Her eyes widen as she realizes what might be going on. “It’s Laura. What else did you see, Sam?!” she pressures while getting up so abruptly, that her chair tumbles over. “A guy mowing the lawn, sprinklers... and a church, right next to the house,” he recalls, concentrating on possible clues.

Zoë’s runs down the terrace, leaving her Macbook behind on the table. As fast as she can she crosses the street and is barely missed by a car, but she doesn’t have eyes for it. Her eyes are fixated on the front door and she knows; Laura is here. “Get to Magnolia Drive, now!” she orders Sam, putting away her phone right after. Adrenaline rushes through her body as she grabs the doorknob, but the door seems to be jammed. She pulls as hard as she can, but there’s no movement whatsoever.

“Hey! What do you think you are doing?” Jeff Dawlson exclaims at the intruder. He left his lawnmower on the grass and now approaches her with large steps. “Your wife’s in danger! We need to get inside the house,” she tells the man straight forward. The facial expression of the tall man changes from mad to worried, his gaze shifting to his home. “Who are you?” “Jeff, I don’t have time to explain! We need to get in the house!” Zoë cries out, losing her cool.

She puts her shoulder into it and tries to lift the door from his hinges, but it won’t budge. Frustrated, she looks around for another way in. Jeff hastens to the back door, but returns soon after, panicking. “I can’t get the back door to open! My daughter is in there too!” The huntress curses, ramming into the door again. Laura is doing this, she’s shutting them out so that she can work over her victim without being interrupted. It’s amazing how fast this little ten year old developed into the monster she is now. This isn’t a ghost problem anymore, this is a poltergeist. Without hesitation, Zoë draws her gun from behind her waistband and aims for the kitchen window. She pulls the trigger, but instead of breaking the glass, the shell flings back as if it just hit bullet proof glass.

“Taylor!” Jeff calls his wife's name, desperately. But they don’t hear a sound, not even a horrific scream and Zoë wonders if that is a good sign. Not willing to give up, she creates some distance between her and the door and drives her shoulder into the wood again and again, until she feels sore to the bone. “Goddamnit! Let us in!” she yells, furiously.

In the meantime, Jeff got his hands on a shovel and starts hitting the windows, but none of them break. While he keeps calling out for his wife and daughter, Zoë hears the roar of a V8 engine coming around the corner. With screeching tires Sam stops the car and jumps out, rushing for the trunk. Without pausing her efforts to get in, Zoë calls out. “You better have a bright idea, Sam!” With two loaded shotguns in his hands he runs up the lawn, but stops in his tracks when he glances at the window. “Zoë?”

She looks over her shoulder and sees the staggered expression on his face, triggering her to back up glances at the second story. In front of the window stands a young girl, but the sight is anything but endearing. This time she isn’t the sad little innocent kid, she looks terrifying. Here eyes seem to have sunken deep into their sockets, blood and bruises cover her pale body. Her head is tilted to the right in an unnatural way, twisted at the base. The image distorts, then she disappears.

The next moment, they hear the sound of shattering glass. The hunters’ attention is drawn to the kitchen window; Jeff managed to break it. Hastily Zoë rushes for the door, knowing it’s unlocked now and enters the house. Sam is right behind her and hands her the shotgun in the hallway, just in case. She looks at the gun for a moment. “This isn’t gonna help.” “Loaded with rock salt,” Sam elaborates. Her eyes dart to the rifle again, this time appreciating the weapon. She heard of many ways to fight ghosts, but this is a new technique. It must be a Winchester invention, seems like those lumberjacks aren’t that stupid afterall. “You get their daughter,” she orders. They split up and when Sam glances into the living room, he sees Jeff's and Taylor’s little girl. She doesn’t seem to realize what is going on, apparently she didn’t hear a thing. The child is playing with her dolls, as her mother told her to.

While Sam picks up Lesley and takes her outside, Zoë rushes to the second floor. Quickly she climbs the stairs, her shotgun ready to fire. Alert, she scans the corridor; all clear. Knowing Laura might still be inside, she takes a deep breath and busts the door to what she assumes to be one of the bedrooms. What the huntress sees inside makes her stomach turn, even though she has seen her fair share of blood and violence.

What she feared the most has happened. Laura made her teacher die an even more horrible death than her own. Taylor has collapsed against the wall, her eyes stare at the ground, as if she was unpleasantly surprised by her attacker. But she doesn’t move, she doesn’t flinch; she’s dead. Her arms and neck seem to be broken, a bad head injury that cracked her skull giving Zoë a glimpse of her brain. Blood prints of her head and hands are smeared over the pink wall paper of her daughter’s room. Crimson stains the carpet, the teddy bears on Lesley’s bed, the covers, even the ceiling. “Damnit, Laura,” Zoë says, breathlessly.

Footsteps echo from the staircase behind her. She looks back and sees Jeff, running onto the corridor. “You don’t wanna see this,” she warns, trying to keep him from the doorway. But as she would have done, he steps inside anyway. As soon as his eye catches the sight of his wife in the state that she is, he freezes. Unable to say anything, unable to move like a deer in headlights, he looks down at her dead body as tears well up in his eyes. Zoë watches him, but she can’t get a word out of her mouth. After she swallows apprehensively, she averts her eyes away from the heart wrenching scene.

“Taylor…” Jeff whispers as tears run down his face. The cry that follows gives Zoë chills. “Taylor!” In a blink of an eye this family’s life has changed forever. The woman Jeff loves dearly, the mother of his child, just got ripped away from them, murdered, and there is nothing he can do to reverse that. Zoë knows the feeling, she knows it way too well. He falls down on his knees in her blood, but he doesn’t hit the floor. He hits rock bottom.

Thank you for reading. I appreciate every single one of you, but if you do want to give me some extra love, you are free to like or reblog my work, shoot me a message or buy me coffee (Link to Kofi in bio at the top of the page).

Read chapter ten here

#Supernatural: the Sullivan Series #Supernatural series #Dean Winchester series #Sam Winchester series #Dean Winchester x OFC #Sam Winchester x OFC #Dean angst #Sam angst #Dean Winchester #Sam Winchester #Zoë Sullivan #SPN #Supernatural #STSS #1x02 In Bad Waters #Kate Huntington

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mushyjellybeans · 4 years

Text

Bucky’s Good IKEA

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x reader Summary: You help Bucky with his new shelving unit, he buys dinner as a thank you. Word Count: 1,330 Warnings: FLUFF, little bit of language, reader makes an inappropriate innuendo, Mushy Bucky and just a ton of FLUFF. A/N: I’m supposed to be writing the second part of UNREQUITED, but I ended up with this instead as I needed a break from the angst. I don’t know what this even is, but I wanted to mend everyone’s broken heart from my last fic I posted, I’M SO SORRY ABOUT THAT! Feedback is welcome as always.

Taglists are open Requests are open Gif not mine

Masterlist

Sitting comfortably on your bed in your sweater, leggings and fuzzy socks with your back against the headboard watching a series you found on Netflix you cherished the quiet moment like these since they were rare like most good things.

It was just you and Bucky at the compound today, you didn’t really know where anyone else was.

You crossed your ankles over each other and sighed, relishing the peace and quiet until you heard a loud frustrated shout coming from the room opposite yours.

What the hell is he doing you wonder, eyebrows furrowing as you try to listen intently.

“Goddamn it!” You heard Bucky yell and throw something out of temperament.

You left your series playing, and quietly opened your door, his grunts and groans were much clear now, you could hear him muttering a lot of curse words.

You contemplated knocking. He could be busy and didn’t want to disturb his happy time. It was only when you heard pieces of wood clang together did your curiosity pick up.

What was he doing?

You knocked his door and waited a couple of minutes, you didn’t hear his feet shuffling behind the door, but he kept muttering to himself, either he didn’t hear you or he did hear you and didn’t want to be disturbed.

“FUCK SAKES!” he yelled loudly, causing your eyes to involuntarily widen at his outburst, hoping it wasn’t because you knocked on his door.

You knocked again but instead of waiting you barged in his room. Bucky was crouched on the floor, his hair tied back in a bun, with one knee up to his chest pondering some instruction booklet in his hand and pieces of discarded wood were scattered around the floor.

“Whoa Barnes, you been playin’ with your metal balls again in here?” You chuckled.

Bucky’s head-shot towards you with an unreadable expression etched on his face, you would laugh if he wasn’t holding some kind of metal tool in his hand.

“My WHAT? I have a metal arm doll, no metal b-"

"Your grenades Sergeant, it looks like a bomb went off in here.” You mused, cutting him off to spare your innocent ears the gross details. Noting a small smirk creeping on his face at your little innuendo.

“Nah. I just bought this shelving unit from IKEA and the instructions make no sense.” He huffed out.

You hummed, falling to your knees beside him. He was right, the instructions made no sense. But you had the brains and he had the strength, maybe the two of you could figure this out.

After God knows how long, the shelving unit was finally built and so far it was still standing. You helped Bucky shift it into place on the wall beside his bed and wiped your hands on your sweater, hands on your hips admiring the work you just did.

“Well, a good job done.” You said proudly. Shocked it was actually still pieced together and not collapsing even after moving the delicate shelf.

“Thank you Y/N. Don’t know what I woulda done without ya doll.” His Brooklyn accent shining through. You blushed furiously at the pet name. He never before had called you that, he has said it all the time to Wanda and Nat but you figured it was just because you weren’t as close to him as the others.

“You’re welcome, Buck. I better get back to my Netflix or they’ll be asking if I’m still there.” You chuckled nervously. Your eyes flickering around his room, it was also the first time you’ve stepped foot in there too.

“Uhm, Y/N wait."

You nodded your head for him to continue.

"You’ve been a great help to me today and I just wondered… uh… I just wondered if I could maybe take you out to get something to eat or even a coffee? As a thank you.” He asked hopefully, giving you one of his signature smiles.

You were going to refuse, seeing as you weren’t close to him but he asked so nicely that you couldn’t find it in your heart to say no.

“Uhh yeah sure. That would be nice. I need to get changed though obviously.” You gestured to your outfit with a blush on your cheeks.

“No problem. I’ll knock your door in about 30 minutes?"

You nodded agreeing and left a nervous Bucky behind to take the quickest shower of your life and find an appropriate outfit to wear.

You and Bucky walked side by side down the sidewalk, his arm occasionally bumping into yours in silence.

He looked so good in his outfit tonight, opting to wear a blue button-down shirt, blue jeans and a regular pair of shoes.

The night was clear, but the ice-cold air was nippy to your skin. You were thankful for taking Bucky’s advice and slipped a coat over your plaid shirt.

"Where do you wanna eat, doll?” Bucky asked casually, his breath visible due to the ice-cold air.

“I don’t really have a preference.” You shrugged your shoulders slightly. A small smile feasted upon his lips, his eyes glistened from the streetlights.

“I know a place.” He led the way, a few blocks from the tower.

The diner he picked was just so cute and really warm. You chose a booth near the window sitting opposite each other as you took a good look at the menu.

“The food here sounds so good.” You licked your lips, eyes stopping on the burger and fries meal-deal and handing the menu to Bucky, who already seemed to know what he was going to order.

“Trust me, it is.” Bucky said, putting the menu down in front of him and grabbing the waitress’s attention.

After giving the kind woman your orders, you shifted back into your seat and entwining your hands in front of you to rest on the table. The silence was comfortable, but you also wanted to take the opportunity to get to know him a little bit better.

“So, that shelf was a real piece of work, huh?” You asked with a small chuckle, licking your unusually dry lips.

“Yes!” He laughed. “But you saved my life, so thank you."

"Nah, it was nothing. You would have helped me, right?"

"Of course."

The waitress came over with your orders, setting them down in front of you, with a quick thanks you got stuck right in.

You were in the middle of taking a bite of your fry when Bucky asked a question that caught you off guard, "Do you have a boyfriend?”

You almost choked to death, you put your fry down and took a long sip of your soda gulping audibly.

“Uh… no.” You laughed awkwardly, unsure of where this conversation was going. “What about you, Buck?” You asked curiously.

He was fighting a blush, the blush won.

“My last date was over 70 years ago.” He lowered his head shamefully.

“Aww. Well, that was probably with me in my last life.” You joked, easing the tension. He chuckled, shaking his head slightly.

“How come you’re single?” He asked out of curiosity, pressing the subject further.

“Guys don’t like me, I guess.” Bucky’s eyes rested heavily upon his forehead as he refused to believe that.

Since he came to the tower with Steve, he wanted to get to know you. But his senses told him you were shy, and he rarely saw you interact with the team when you were at the compound.

“That’s not true at all, doll.” He said seriously, folding his arms on the table and chewing the last bite of his food. “I like you, I just didn’t know if you were scared of me because you would never talk to me.” He smiled sadly.

You subtly pinched your forearm.

“Well, I thought you didn’t like me because you were always hanging around with Nat or Wanda and I never wanted to intrude."

Bucky chuckled and shook his head. "Then I guess we’re both idiots, huh?”

Permanent Taglist: @morsmordrethings @stuckonjbbarnes @sebbbystaaan @veganfangirl5 @infj-slytherclaw @iheartsebastianstan @lovvliies @livylou3333

And tagging some from the awesome fam that are so nice to me: @honeyvbarnes @chloerinebarnes @ficsxreaderr @zeilenkrieg @stateoflovinged

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cheezritsu · 4 years

Text

Atsumu Miya || Unravelling

[Uhn•rav•uhl] verb, informal. to take apart; undo; destroy

Warnings: implied sex, mentions of sex, quick depiction of self harming behaviors (not explicit.) Inspired by SZA’s Supermodel

It must be considered deviant and demonic how the constant the thud thud THUD! Rings out with an even pace in the hallway of Tokyo’s finest apartment complexes. If it weren’t for the fact that calling the police would no doubt result in a press field day none of the residents of Park Mansion Akasaka wanted, someone would have filed a noise complaint. It’s a shame they did not—perhaps there might be a certain clout that comes with exposing MSBY setter Miya Atsumu’s intimate life, but it would also have saved time, money, and tears in the long run.

But, the residents of the 9th floor could not see into the future. They were instead, attempting to mind their business and not be bothered by Miya trying to make back beats by fucking someone into a mattress.

That little comparison was Osamu’s first scathing critique, until he froze completely. The disgust melted into horror as he turned his head to his companion.

“Hey-,” he starts, but as he catches the expression, the words dry up.

Yes, it would have been nicer—no, merciful—if the residents of the 9th floor had called the police when this happened, if only to spare you from witnessing it yourself.

Your hands get so clammy, the plastic bag in your hand nearly slips out. You catch yourself before the beer bottles can shatter on the marble floor that costs more than your entire block. It’s an easy clean up, but it would probably be very sticky, and disastrous, you think. Almost as disastrous as—

It starts up again, rhythmic and constant like an orchestrated performance. You and Osamu are mere steps outside the apartment, and you can hear the manic, frayed screams coming from the walls. It sounds like they’re in pain; just the way Atsumu likes it.

“Y/N,” Osamu tries once again to get your attention. The pity in his voice is unmistakable, and you hate that of all the emotions the usually stoic twin shows you, this is the one he’s chosen. Pity. Sympathy.

“Guess that’s why he didn’t pick up the phone,” you remark casually, refusing to look Osamu in the eye. “I’ll just leave it by his door with a note.”

Osamu says your name, this time with a firm edge that demands attention. You don’t give it to him. You’re too busy trying not to actively throw the takeout and beer you bought out of your measly paycheck to help your friend (attachment, entanglement, dick appointment, are all better words than friend) feel better after a crushing defeat at the hands of the Saitama Spears. (Crushing, like his hands must be around her neck for the moans to sound so strangled.) No matter, you say to yourself, hands shaking as you send him a text. Something cute and sweet with a properly sickening amount of heart emojis, like any good (not quite) girlfriend would do. Whatever it takes.

Ignoring how the click of your heels mesh with the steady thrum of Atsumu’s two thousand yen headboard against his 100 million yen walls, you march back the exact way you came; down the white, sterile hallway and passed the doors that housed the rest of the 9th floor, who would, unknowingly, pay for the mistake of not asking the shameless Atsumu Miya to please, please keep his fucking at a tolerable volume. Fame and infamy come with perks, one supposes, but they also come with karma.

You’re not thinking of revenge, though. You’re wondering how you’ll make it to the elevator without completely coming apart at the seams. Something in you unravels, much like it might if Atsumu were playing you like the fool you were; perfectly manicured setter hands curling, scratching, plucking at all the right places. No, this unravelling is much slower, much more painful, as if the single thread that creates your existence is being snipped in half. When you push the call button for the elevator, you think the thread is severed completely, because you have to lean your head on the cold steel to steady yourself.

Osamu’s approaching footsteps really only register in the very depths of your mind. The heavy breathing doesn’t really sound like yours—how could it be anyways, when you were miles away from your body, floating in the ether like a ghost; forgotten, discarded, alone. Untethered.

You lift your head up only to bang it against the wall. The soft thud is reminiscent of the moment that just transpired, and you—subconsciously, like you were possessed—start bashing your forehead to the same piledriver waltz Atsumu had played.

“Y/N!” Pity. Bang! Worry. Bang! Sympathy. Bang! Could you crush your skull this way? The mystery woman’s screams tangle in your brain like an earworm, the salacious sounds on repeat. Bang!

When Osamu’s hand lands on your shoulders, it feels like he’s tethered your soul back into your body. You wrench yourself out of his grip.

“Don’t!-” you begin to scream, but you catch the look he gives you. His grey-brown eyes are wet with concern, darting between the growing red spot on your forehead to the watery snarl on your lips. You take a shuddering breath to keep the hysteria from bubbling into your tone. “Don’t touch me. I’m fine.”

Osamu doesn’t even raise an eyebrow in pretence. His mask of neutrality and sarcasm is completely gone, replaced with anger. “You were banging your head into the wall like a patient in a psych ward.”

“That’s unnecessarily stereotypical, Osamu. I thought you were better than that.”

Crossed arms. He’s seconds away from blowing his lid. “Yer not funny.”

You wonder what would happen if Osamu blanked on you in here. Would these good-for-nothing neighbors actually call the police then? What a headline: Miya twins apprehended in two separate noise complaints. Kita would probably stop sending Osamu rice out of embarrassment.

You don’t want to fight Osamu anyways. It’s not his fault that the bearer of his face is fucking another girl as you speak.

The elevator dings, and you step inside. It’s fortunately empty. Osamu stands right next to you, hovering like an overprotective parent. The chrome doors of the elevator slide shut and you’re face to face with your own reflection: hollow, sunken eyes the most expensive concealer can’t fix; posture hunched from years of slaving over work and school; nails short and busted from part time jobs that barely pay the bills. Nails that have been raked down the chiseled, marble back of a man who didn’t belong to you, and never did.

Her nails were probably nicer. Probably manicured. Maybe he paid for it. You can’t even see your nails anymore, because your head is in your hands, shielding your ugly cries from Osamu, who bears the face of the man who doesn’t love you.

“I should have just taken the fucking hint,” you sniffle, wiping the running eyeliner from the corner of your eye. “Shoulda left him alone.”

Osamu just hums. You wished it was anyone else but him. Osamu isn’t bad at a lot of things, but comfort was one of them. He just stares vacantly at the doors, a grimace replacing his usual thin lipped look, but other than that he appears unbothered.

And then, like he’s reading condolences off a list, he says: “I’m sorry.”

The words in their sincerity sound foreign on his tongue. With one big sniff you pull the thread keeping you together tightly, gathering yourself. “What’re you apologising for? You didn’t do anything wrong.”

“Sorry my brother is a complete piece of shit.”

“Well, we both knew that, didn’t we.”

Osamu can’t place what he dislikes about that phrase, but the elevator interrupts his thought process. The doors open to reveal one of the security guards eying you two up and down. His eyes narrow for a moment on Osamu’s face, and then dip down to yours.

“There a problem here, Miya-san?”

On any other day he might have pulled a fast one on this guard, but you promptly walk out of the elevator, leaving Osamu to follow your lead wordlessly. The world outside the Park Mansion Akasaka is still turning, still bustling with people catching trains home from work, their patent leather shoes from office jobs clicking on the sidewalk to a rhythm you can’t match. The thud of the salarymen’s briefcases hitting their legs echo like the headboard off Atsumu’s walls. It’s everywhere, everywhere, and your insides churn sickeningly.

You stop, one hand leaning against the glass. Osamu catches up, hands halting just before they reach your back. “Stop running away from me, name,” he says softly, exasperated. “I’m trying to help.”

“How long.”

Osamu blinks. “What?”

You’re nearly doubled over with nausea, your free hand pressed flat against your chest to keep your lungs compressing. “How long has he been with her?”

“I don’t know.”

“I swear to god, if you’re lying to me-“

“(Name) I would never do that to you.”

The promise doesn’t reassure you. Osamu runs a hand through his hair. “Look, I know this is a lot to take in right now. And I’m not going to say anything—“

“Like what?” You look at him over your shoulder, eyes squinted in malice. “Like I told you so?”

Your insolence is wearing out Osamu’s sliver of empathy. You’re unbearable like this, you know that, and Osamu is less tolerable than most. “Your words, not mine.”

“Your brother is cheating on me.”

“You’re not together.”

“There it is!” You let your head fall back in rumbling, humorless laughter. “I was waiting for that.”

“I don’t want to be a dick right now.”

“Too late, ‘Samu.” You haul yourself up, buttoning the front of your coat. “Go home, work on your winter menu. I’ll be fine.”

The statement is met with rightful skepticism, but when you start to walk away, Osamu doesn’t follow. You can’t decide whether or not this hurts, because the all encompassing pain finally registers to the rest of your body. You try to numb yourself, dissociating as every step towards home becomes a blur. Akasaka’s beautiful lights and towers fade into lesser Tokyo’s decrepit neighborhoods, with sketchy alleys and dimly lit streets. Your apartment complex is a shoebox to Atsumu’s tower residence, and it feels just as claustrophobic when you step into your crowded, tiny apartment.

It’s nicer than what your friends can afford, but that doesn’t make it any better. Your couch is also your bed, and your desk faces the window even though you can’t properly study this way. The kitchen is perpetually clean because you can’t cook anything in it. You’re sure the fridge is empty, but it’s fine, because you simply peel off your clothing and curl into a ball on your bed.

It’s not even late. You have work and assignments to do, but as you check the time on your phone, you’re immediately taken to your camera roll, where a picture from several days ago stares back at you mockingly.

It’s from his bathroom, the one that has a television screen by the bathtub, the one with hotel lighting that makes you look glowy and ethereal no matter what. You’re half dressed, in the middle of putting on your morning skincare when Atsumu comes up behind you, arms around your waist. Your face is obscured, but you remember how happy and loved you felt to have his lips pressed against your temple, the heat of his body in your side. How surrounded and safe and warm you felt.

But moments are as fleeting and fragile as glass. The illusion has been shattered, and you’re left in a cocoon of blankets nowhere near as satisfactory as his body heat, in a dark and dingy apartment you will probably stay in for the rest of your life.

Just as you’re about to set your alarm for the morning, a notification pops up. The sparkles around his name indicate that Atsumu has finally, finally texted you back.

✨T’sumu✨: sorry I missed you babe I was not in a good place

✨T’sumu✨: you got work tmrrw? You always know how to cheer me up

It’s as if your heart has been snatched out of your rib cage; your chest hollows and collapses as a sob hiccups in your throat. Something wet slides across your temple. It’s not Atsumu’s lips, not even close. You wipe the tears with the back of your hand, and throw your phone across the room.

It shatters.

#atsumu miya #miya atsumu #this makes him seem shitty and hes not #This was hoing to be a very long and spiralling fic where the reader slowly descends into hysteria over being cast aside #i wanted to illustrate how compleltly devastating and upending this is #and i love the word unravelling #haikyuu!!#hq!!#atsumu miya x reader #miya atsumu x reader #reader x miya atsumu #reader x atsumu miya

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aceofstars16 · 5 years

Text

Trapped in the Past (Chapter 5)

Fifth Chapter of my Timetrapped AU inspired by @artsycrapfromsai

When Mabel and Dipper fight over a time machine, they find themselves sent back thirty years in the past. Now it’s up to the younger versions of their great uncles to get them home.

Chapter 5 - Scam Artists

Mabel helps Stan with a small con job and Dipper runs into something unexpected...

1 - 2 - 3 - 4 - 6 - 7

AO3

Mabel watched as the landscape passed by, her face pressed up against the cool window. She glanced at the floor, where she had placed the time machine, and barely managed to hold back a sigh. Every time she looked at it, she felt a knot of unease and sorrow grow in her stomach. Was she really doing the right thing? Or was there even a right thing to do in her circumstance? If only she had a way to make sure Dipper was okay, or to figure out where he was, or…something…

“You okay kiddo?”

Stan’s voice interrupted her thoughts and she looked over at him. He glanced at her for a moment before looking back at the road, but in that second, she saw concern on his face. If only she could tell him…

“Yeah it’s…fine…” Pulling her sweater up to her ears, Mabel tried to believe it. To remind herself this was the only option - the only real solution she had.

“Thinking about your brother, huh?” There was a heaviness to Stan’s voice that made her pull the sweater down so she could see and hear clearly again.

“How did you…?” She sighed and looked at the time machine, touching it with her foot. “Yeah, I just hope he’s okay…”

“I’m sure he’s fine…he’s a smart kid, yeah?” Something in the way Stan spoke made her wonder if he was really talking about Dipper or his brother. Ford. She still wanted to know more about him, but her thoughts were divided between that and her own worries.

“Sometimes…though he’s not the most social person. I usually helped him with that…”

“Oh…”

Looking at Stan, Mabel felt a question rising up in her mind, and since she couldn’t really think of anything else to talk about, she took a shot at it. “Were you and uh…Ford, close?”

If Mabel hadn’t been looking at him, she might not have noticed the tiny wince on his face, but she did. And she immediately regretted it. Opening her mouth, she was about to take it back, but Stan’s voice stopped her.

“Yeah…he was my best friend you know? I…it’s a twin thing I guess.”

“Wait, he’s your twin?!?” Shock coursed through Mabel. How in the world did she not only know that Stan didn’t have another brother, but that said brother was his twin?

“Eh, yeah. Had some fun times pretending to be each other. We even mastered each other’s voices. Heh, we messed with a lot of people back in the day.” A lightness overcame Stan as he spoke, a genuine smile growing on his face. Which disappeared as soon as Mabel asked her next question.

“What happened?”

A shadow passed over Stan’s face and he sighed. “I…oh look at that.” Stan pointed at a cliff outcropping that was being highlighted by the sun. It was pretty but not something Mabel thought he would normally point out. Man, what had happened between him and his brother?

“It looks like a big mouth.” Mabel tried focusing on the outcropping, but it was hard to do when she really just wanted to talk about Ford more. Or figure out if there was something else she should be doing instead of going to Gravity Falls. Both questions were weighing her down, and it wasn’t fun in the slightest.

Silence grew between them, and despite knowing Stan wouldn’t want to talk she had to know. Or at least try to find out… “Was it a fight?”

Stan’s grip tightened on the steering wheel but he didn’t say anything. Maybe he was pretending he hadn’t heard her – he had done that in the past. Or future if she wanted to be technical.

“Dipper and I fight sometimes.” She didn’t really know what else to say, or if there was anything she could say to get Stan to tell her what had happened. But just mentioning fights brought up guilt over the Waddles incident. “…we…we fought before we got separated.” And maybe none of this would’ve happened if I had just let him have his day with Wendy. She didn’t voice the last bit, but she thought it. The thought had crossed her mind a lot the past few days…

A sigh. “Sorry about that, kiddo…I…I’m sure it’ll all work out.” Though the words were comforting, they sounded more depressed then encouraging, as if he wasn’t even thinking about her and Dipper. Okay, so a fight was probably the reason behind him not wanting to talk about Ford. But it must have been a big one. She couldn’t imagine any fight would ever make her not want to talk about Dipper. Sure, sometimes he could be stupid after a fight, but that only lasted a little while. And they usually laughed about it later. So what kind of fight could break up twins?

“You getting hungry?”

Stan’s voice shook her out of her thoughts – though they still lingered at the back of her mind – and she looked out the window. There were signs lining the roadside, advertising a few different restaurants. Now that she thought about it, she was pretty hungry. But she wasn’t stupid. She had seen how little cash Stan had, and how he had sped away from a gas station without paying.

“I’m good.”

He quirked an eyebrow at her, a frown on his face. “Sure you are…”

They stopped at a small food chain that Mabel had never heard of, so it must only be a chain in Utah or something.

As Stan pulled in, Mabel glanced worriedly at him. “Really, I’m okay…”

“I’ve heard your stomach grumble three times since I mentioned food, kiddo, now come on.” He opened his door and Mabel hesitantly followed suit. But as she walked around the car, she saw him frowning at the few coins in his hand.

Upon hearing her shoes crunching on the gravel of the parking lot, he looked up and shoved the money in his pocket again. “Say…how’s your acting?”

Oh this was the Stan she knew. And while Dipper didn’t approve of Stan’s schemes, Mabel found them fun and usually somewhat harmless. Besides, maybe doing something familiar would help ease her mind about this whole mess. “I’ve been in every play my school has put on.”

As she spoke, she grinned and he matched it.

“Great, now, here’s the plan…”

“Oh this one is much cleaner than the last one!” Mabel practically shouted as she hopped around, looking at each of the pictures hung up on the wall of the restaurant. Normally she didn’t pay too much attention to them, but it fit into the plan and they actually were interesting. People cooking burgers, cartoon characters sharing burgers. Kind of silly but hey, there was nothing wrong with that.

“You’re right, these floors look recently swept. That will give them some extra points.” Stan said, bending down to examine the colorful tile.

“Um…can I help you?”

An employee was looking at them from behind the counter, confusion written all over his face.

“You sure can! I’m a scout for the Best Burgers contest, and we’re here to judge this fine establishment!” The words rolled easily off of Stan’s tongue, a grin punctuating the end of his sentence.

“Uh…Burgers 4 U is a chain…” The employee – Steve – said, looking at Stan, confusion still lining his face.

“We are judging all burger joints, chain or not. Every place has a different manager and staff, right? So it’s only fair to judge them all!” As he spoke, Stan tossed his hands up in the air and looked around, still grinning.

“And yours is one of the best ones we’ve been to so far!” Mabel piped in, pointing to the cartoon painting. “This looks original!”

“Umm…” Steve looked at Mabel and at Stan. “Why did you bring your daughter with you to judge restaurants?”

Stan stared for a moment, as did Mabel. Saying he was her uncle wasn’t hard at all since he was her great uncle but there was something a little strange about having someone assume he was her dad. Though it kind of made sense in a way. They did look related after all.

“Gotta have the kid’s perspective too, right? ‘Sides, her mom couldn’t watch her this weekend and she loves burgers.” Mabel was surprised how quickly he came up with a cover, but this was Stan, quick covers seemed to come easy for him. Though it did sound a little more strained than some of his other lies, but Steve just shrugged, so it was still a win.

“Okay, so uh…you want to order or…?”

“First things first! There is a small entry fee.” As he spoke, Steve frowned, but Stan rushed on. “Only to expand the prize money of course. The winning restaurant gets it all, and just between you and me.” Stan lowered his voice and bent closer to Steve as if to make sure they were the only ones who could hear the next words despite there being no other costumers in the building. “Your establishment is already better than most of the places we’ve been to this week.”

“Umm…okay…uh…” Steve looked around, biting his lip. “My boss isn’t here right this second, maybe we could wait till he gets back-“

“Making the customer wait on the manager. Sweetie why don’t you write that one down.”

Mabel froze, because she didn’t actually have anything to write notes down on. But after a second, she stuck a hand in her skirt pocket. Act like you have everything you need, even if you don’t. That was one of the lessons she remembered from her play rehearsals.

“Wait, wait, um…how about I get you your food first? He should be back by then.” Steve tried for a smile, and Mabel felt a little bad for scamming him. She was pretty sure he was just trying to do his job and not pass up something his boss would be interested in. But her and Stan needed food, and he would be okay…right?

“Sure thing, I’ll have a number three with extra fries and, Mabel sweetie, what do you want?”

The question caught Mabel off guard for a second, mainly because she hadn’t even looked at the menu yet. But she narrowed her eyes and tried quickly skimming over the kid’s meal options. “I’ll have the Jr. Deluxe kid’s meal!”

Steve nodded as he turned his attention to the screen in front of him and pressed a few buttons – some of which seemed to stick because he hit them a few times. “Alright, that will be-“

“Hmm, charging the judges for their meals, make a note of that.” Stan stage whispered to Mabel, effectively cutting Steve off from saying the price.

“Umm…” Steve glanced at the screen, then at Stan and Mabel. “You can have as seat; I’ll get this out soon.”

Stan nodded. “That’s what I like to hear. Got some points going for you.” He winked then grabbed the cups Steve had pulled out for their sodas and confidently strode towards the drink dispenser.

A few minutes later, Mabel was sipping some sort of off brand soda while munching on fries and a somewhat bland burger with tasteless toppings that didn’t add much flavor. But she was so hungry she didn’t even care. Food was food. And as she glanced up at Stan - who was tearing into his burger - she was pretty sure he felt the same way.

As she took the last bite of her burger, Mabel saw Stan looking at the counter, a thoughtful frown on his face. “Alright kiddo, let’s see if we can get that ‘entry’ money…and maybe a milkshake if you want it.” As he spoke, he reached out and ruffled her hair before picking up the tray and making his way to the trash.

Mabel quickly got up and followed him, trying to push aside the guilt as she glanced at Steve. It wasn’t that much money and they really did need it. Especially because she didn’t know if Stan would be able to get away with not paying for gas again. At least not without getting into trouble.

Making his way back to the counter, Stan grinned at Steve. “Your boss back yet?”

Steve glanced around nervously. “Not yet…”

Stan made a tsk sound. “Well, I can just pay and we can be on our way. After all, I can’t enter you without the money.”

It was a bluff. Mabel was pretty sure Stan didn’t have enough money to pay for the food they had just eaten. And if Steve took the offer…Mabel prepared herself to run.

“I…well…How much is it to enter?”

“Twenty dollars.” Stan came up with the amount so fast, Mabel couldn’t help but wonder when he had come up with that number. It didn’t seem like a lot to her but she vaguely remembered Dipper talking about how money had been worth more a few decades ago…maybe that had something to do with it?

Despite the amount sounding very low to Mabel, Steve looked worried. “I’m not sure if I can…”

“Well, I guess we’ll just scratch this one off of the list and be on our way…”

“Wait! I…let me just…” Steve opened up the cash register and started counting out a few bills, worry furrowing his brow. As he looked up, he hesitantly handed it to Stan.

Stan took it and counted it carefully. “That should do it! And your odds of winning are looking pretty good.” He winked and grinned, then turned to look at Mabel. “Ready to go, pumpkin?” A questioning look grew on his face, and somehow she could tell it wasn’t because he actually wanted to leave. Milkshake. She remembered what he had said, but despite loving sweet things, Mabel could see the uncertainty on Steve’s face and she just smile and nodded.

“Yup, ready!”

Stan frowned at her, but let her lead him out of the restaurant. After all, she was pretty full and…leaving while they were ahead was the safer route. Plus, skipping out on scamming someone was something Dipper would approve of. Not that he was here but…she didn’t want any little thing to get between them. Not a pig, or a milkshake, or anything else. So, she led Stan to the car and hopped into the passenger’s side without a word.

She could feel Stan looking at her, but she focused on a loose stitch on her sweater.

Then the car rumbled to life and they were on their way again.

Stan leaned back in his seat, trying to get comfortable, but deep down he didn’t know if he would actually sleep at all.

Looking at the backseat, he saw Mabel curled up, his bag under her head as a makeshift pillow. As he watched, she shivered and without really thinking, he took off his jacket and draped it over her. It was the least he could do since he couldn’t afford a hotel. Or at least, not if they wanted to keep some of the money they had managed to scam out of that kid at the burger place. Getting a hotel room would take most of, if not all of the twenty bucks and Stan was pretty sure he would need to fill up a few more times before they made it to Oregon. So, sleeping in the car was the only reasonable option. After all, he didn’t want to be flippant with the money Mabel had helped him get.

The thought brought a small smile to his face. Mabel had been great. He was surprised how well she had played along. Almost like it was a game. Part of him felt bad for dragging her down to his level, but she hadn’t seemed to mind too much. Apart from the milkshake. She seemed to have more of a conscious about scamming people than he did. Though once upon a time he might’ve been a little more hesitant about it too. But now it was the only way he could survive so…he did what he had to do.

Letting out a breath, he caught sight of the tape measure that was still sitting in the front seat. He hesitantly picked it up and turned it over in his hand, frowning as he saw some circuit boards and other things that he didn’t think tape measures normally came equipped with. Maybe it was a toy or something…but his gut told him otherwise. He looked at Mabel again and couldn’t help but wonder what she wasn’t telling him. But he couldn’t force her to tell him. He would just have to be patient, or hope that her great uncle would be able to help her. And her brother.

As soon as the thought crossed his mind, Stan felt a small stab of worry and pain. He didn’t know what had happened between her and her brother. But he sure hoped it would work out better than him and Ford…But then again, Ford had asked him to come so…maybe there was still some hope for them too. Though he tried to tell himself not to get his hopes up. There was no telling why Ford had called on him so suddenly, it might not have anything to do with their broken relationship…

Placing the measuring tape back on the passenger’s seat, Stan pulled the postcard out from the armrest and flipped it over to look at the writing. Please Come was the most prominent part of it, and everything looked normal for Ford. Then again, Stan didn’t really know what was normal for his brother anymore. But as he looked closer, he couldn’t help but notice a few ink splatters on the corner, and a few lines that looked a little shaky. Anxiety grew in his stomach and all he wanted to do was turn on the car and drive all night till he got to Gravity Falls. And for a second, the idea took hold and he stuck the key into the ignition, only to stop as he realized how hard it was to move his arm even that short distance. His body was exhausted. After all, he really hadn’t slept much last night.

With a groan he pulled the key out and leaned back again. A few hours and he would be good to go. Though as he tried to find a more comfortable position, he couldn’t help but wonder how well he would actually sleep. Anxiety didn’t really aid in falling asleep. But he had to try. Because he needed rest to drive safely. And he needed to drive safe, for Mabel’s sake. Plus, he wouldn’t really be able to help Ford if he got into a wreck either. Just a quick nap. That’s all he needed. Give me that, just two hours or so. He pleaded with his brain as he closed his eyes and tried not to think about all of the worries and uncertainties crowding his mind. It seemed an impossible task, but eventually his exhaustion won and sleep overtook him.

The ceiling was so clean, at least compared to what Dipper was used to - though there were still some stains here and there. Not nearly as many as there were in 2012 though. He tried seeing if any looked like an animal or something but that was really more Mabel’s forte. It was better than thinking about his current situation, though it wasn’t doing a very good job as his mind kept coming back to Mabel, and Ford, and what the heck he was supposed to do. What he wanted to do was go back to the attic and see if he could find some answers. But he wasn’t quite sure where Ford was and he didn’t really want to risk any more backlash even if Ford had given him food and actually seemed interested in his findings. Crap. Had that been smart? Would that create inconsistencies in the future? Well, he couldn’t really take it back now. It wasn’t like he could wipe Ford’s memory or anything. Hopefully it would be okay… Maybe Ford wouldn’t even think about it too much, he did seem kind of…odd. Off his kilter or something. Even more so that Dipper would’ve expected.

Closing his eyes, Dipper wondered if he could actually fall asleep. It would be more like a nap than anything. After all, he wasn’t really that tired, but there was only so much he could do while pretending to be asleep.

Or maybe…trying to tune out his thoughts, Dipper listened closely. The only thing he could hear was the wind outside and the heater working furiously to keep the room warm. No stairs creaking, no muttering, nothing to indicate that Ford was nearby. If he was quiet, maybe he could sneak up to the attic.

Sitting up slowly, Dipper looked around, but didn’t see any sign of Ford either, and it was still quiet too. Pushing the blankets aside, he slowly made his way out of the parlor, keeping an eye out for Ford as he went. So far so good.

One step, then another. Stepping over a spot on the ground that was known for creaking, at least in the future - just in case. Ducking behind a wall because he thought he heard something. Continuing onward a moment later when everything seemed clear. Almost there.

“Well, well, well! Whacha up to kiddo?”

Dipper jumped straight up at the sudden sound before fumbling to turn around.

Ford was staring at him, a huge grin lighting his face. That was…odd…

“Uh…I was just uh…getting some water…” Dipper came up with the excuse on the spot. If Ford was even more out of it than before, he really didn’t want to risk upsetting him.

“Don’t let me stop you, I’m just on my way to the lab, hahaha!” Ford’s grin didn’t falter once while talking, and as he spoke, Dipper noticed something even stranger. He blinked with one eye, then the other…and it almost looked like one eye was bloodshot.

Turning on his heels in a very jaunty way, Ford started making his way towards the gift shop. But as Dipper watched, he felt a growing sense of unease in his gut. Something did not seem right. Sure, Dipper didn’t really know Ford, but…what he had just witnessed did not line up with how Ford had been acting the last few days. Had he finally cracked under some sort of pressure? Or had he just lost it completely?

Whatever it was, Dipper couldn’t help but feel that Ford wasn’t really in shape to be working in the lab, especially after the warning he had given Dipper a few hours ago.

“Wait!” Trying not to pay attention to the fear growing in his chest, Dipper raced after Ford, reaching him just as he opened the bookcase.

“Oh look who’s back. I thought you were getting a drink of water Pine Tree.”

“Pine Tree…?”

“Go on, I have lots of important equations to fix!”

Dipper stared at Ford, watching as he blinked again, one eye at a time, just like before. A chill ran down his back.

“Are you…are you sure you are up to it?” It was the first thing that Dipper could think of, and as soon as he said it, he winced. That sounded very rude.

But Ford’s only response was a laugh, a very loud, long, laugh. “I’ve never been better! Just got work to do!”

Not reprimand, no yelling at him to leave. And laughter. Dipper hadn’t heard Ford laugh more than a chuckle…Maybe he had been off of his game before and now he was actually back to normal but…it didn’t feel right at all.

“Could you help me find a water cup?” Dipper didn’t know what he was doing, but every inch of his body was telling him to do something, to make sure Ford really was okay. Because this was Gravity Falls, and anything was possible in Gravity Falls. There was no telling what kind of things could mess with people here.

“Ha, good one. You can find it yourself, kid. Now, I’m off to work!”

Fear pulsed through Dipper, but he couldn’t shake the unsettling feeling that he could not let Ford get to the lab. And before he knew what he was doing, he bolted forward, barring Ford’s way into the secret hallway.

“Hey, what are you doing Pine Tree?”

For the first time since this encounter started, Ford actually growled. He seemed very annoyed, which was more normal for him…Maybe he was just-

A flash of light caught Ford’s eyes and Dipper froze. Because they did not look right, they looked like…cat’s eyes… Wait, wasn’t there something in the journal about…?

“Out of my way!” Ford shoved Dipper into the wall, pushing his way to the elevator.

Dipper didn’t know what was going on, his brain was blanking on the exact details of the creature he had read about in the journal. But there was one thing he did know. The machine in the basement was dangerous, and if some creature was trying to get to it…he had to stop them. And if Ford really was just crazy well…he’d deal with the consequences of that.

Scrambling to his knees, Dipper dove forward, grabbing Ford’s legs and making him stumble.

“Hey, what the…?”

“I don’t know what you are or if you are just losing it but I’m not letting you into that room!”

“Get OFF ME!”

Ford kicked Dipper, hard, slamming him into the ground.

Pain radiated through Dipper’s body and for a moment he couldn’t breathe. Fear engulfed every inch of his body as he tried to get air into his lungs. The elevator doors rolled open. Ford grinned at him.

No! Dipper scrambled forward, his vision going blurry as he rolled into the small enclosure. Opening his mouth, he tried desperately to breathe again, and his lungs finally complied.

“Not a smart move, kiddo.”

Gasping for a moment, Dipper forced himself to look up at Ford, only to press himself up against the wall at the murderous look in his eyes.

Terror gripped every inch of his mind and body. What was he doing? He couldn’t stand up to an adult, he was just a kid. Ford was much bigger than him and he didn’t have anything he could use to defend himself besides his hands.

“Tell you what, I’ll give you one more chance, Pine Tree. Stay on this elevator and pretend this never happened. But if not well…”

He should take the deal. His brain screamed at him to just stay still, to do nothing. But…

“…you might make a good pawn for Sixer…or your sister.”

Anger cut through the fear. Mabel. He brought Mabel into this. There was no way Dipper was letting this thing hurt Mabel in anyway. Especially if it knew where she was…

The doors swung open and Ford strolled out. Taking a deep breath, Dipper lunged at his back.

They both fumbled to the ground.

“THAT’S IT!”

Ford kicked Dipper again, sending him flying, but unlike last time, Dipper still had his breath. He jumped again, trying to pull Ford away from the machinery, doing anything he could to stop him. Kicking, biting, tripping, anything.

“ENOUGH!” Ford kicked Dipper away again, murder glistening in his eyes.

Everything hurt. Dipper didn’t know the last time he had ever felt this much pain. He could barely look up, let alone keep trying to hinder Ford.

But this time Ford wasn’t stalking towards the machines, he was coming towards Dipper.

Crap…was this it? Would…whatever thing controlling Ford actually kill him? Just to get to the machine?

All of the adrenaline that had been fueling Dipper was dying. Fear came back full force as tears started forming in his eyes. He didn’t want to die. Not here, not without making it up to Mabel, not at the hands of his hero. But what else could he do?

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a wrench on the floor. It was a few feet away, but he fumbled forward. Maybe if he could get a good hit in, he could do…something…?

A lunge for the tool, a growl from Ford as he tried to reach it first. Feeling the weight in his hand as he wrapped his fingers around the metal tool and swung, right at Ford’s head.

The clang echoed around the room as Ford fumbled and fell to the ground.

Breathe coming in gasps, tears fell from Dipper’s eyes as everything sunk in. As his body almost shut down from sheer shock and exhaustion.

“Wh…wha…?”

Ford’s voice sent a spike of fear through Dipper’s body, but he could only look at Ford as he felt his head, then looked up at Dipper. Blood was dripping from his right eye, which was shut tight. Confusion flicked on Ford’s face for a moment, but then he touched his eye and as he pulled it back his expression was one of utter terror.

“Oh no…”

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fandom-imagines-stories · 5 years

Text

The Enemy of my Enemy…

James Bond x Reader (Sean Connery)

Words: 3621

Summary: You want your father dead. A British spy needs him for information. After the years of abuse and killing the innocent that your father has put you through, you’re not exactly willing to negotiate and you’re certainly not about to fall for the spy’s charms. Plans change when one of your father’s schemes traps the two of you in a room rigged to blow.

Notes: Bond… James Bond (Don’t forget to leave reviews and let me know if you’d like to see more classic movie imagines!)

You’d grown accustomed to the feeling of a gun in your hands. More still, you were used to the sound of it’s shot and the sharp scent of blood that followed. But you could never stop yourself from wincing as the life left your victim’s eyes. It was something you’d never be used to, which you supposed was a good thing. It meant you hadn’t turned into your father. The man before you slumped over, dropping the key to the locked room behind him. Just one more kill. And then you’re free. You promised yourself the same thing every time you took another life. Just one more.

You quickly unlocked the door and slipped inside that dark room. You held your breath, the absolute silence setting your nerves on edge. It wasn’t until you turned the light on that you realized that you weren’t alone. He seemed almost as surprised as you were, but his shock was quickly replaced with a smirk.

“If you’re looking for Anton, he’s not here.” He stepped cautiously away from the desk, keeping his hands in the air while he stared down the barrel of your pistol. His eyes fell to the family photo on Anton’s desk. One of you and him on an island off the coast of Jamaica.“But you already know that.” You slammed the frame down, taking a step towards him.

“Empty your pockets.” You ordered. He complied, showing you his own weapon, a pistol similar to yours, and the document that he’d taken from the desk. The very thing that you were after. You held out your hand. “I’ll be taking that.”

“Why are you looking for Marcus Vansco?” The man questioned, a knowing and smug look on his face.

“I could ask you the same question.” You cocked the pistol, returning his smirk. “Who are you?”

“The name’s James Bond.” You clenched your jaw, gripping the pistol tighter.

“I’ve heard plenty about you, Mr. Bond. What does the British Secret Intelligence Service want with him?” You growled. Any interference from the agencies would spell trouble for your plot against the criminal mastermind.

“He has information of a much grander operation than his petty money laundering and smuggling.” You jabbed the pistol into his chest and ripped the parchment from his hands.

“Petty?” You snapped. “Do you know how many people have died because of him? How many lives were ruined?” Johnathan... His smirk never faltered.

“You would know, wouldn’t you, Miss Vansco?” Before you could react, he grabbed your weapon and twisted your arm behind your back. “Get in a fight with daddy, did we?” He snarked. You struggled, but he just continued to twist your arm. You had to bite your lip to keep from crying out.

“My name isn’t Vansco. It’s Y/L/N.” You slammed your head back into his face, breaking free of his grip. He swung at you, shock briefly gracing his features. You dropped down to the floor, sweeping his legs from underneath him sending him crashing into the coffee table behind him. “You don’t really think I would keep my father’s name, do you?”

“I suppose not.” He reasoned, grabbing your ankle and yanking you down. He climbed over you and reached for the paper in your hand. You wrapped your legs around his waist and flipped him onto his back. He didn’t even wince. “Usually I prefer to have dinner first, but I can’t say I don’t enjoy the view.” Without warning, he rolled, slamming you into the side of the desk, knocking the breath out of you.

Despite the dizziness, you observed the statue behind Bond and smiled.

“I admire your efforts, Mr. Bond.” You reached underneath the desk and felt the wood until you felt a small, metal button. “But I’m afraid this is a family matter.” You pressed the button and watched the dart enter the spies neck. His eyes widened before he collapsed, the alarm system beginning to blare overhead. You scurried across the floor and grinned victoriously at the phone records in your hand. The most recent call was to a location in Italy.

You grabbed your pistol and aimed it at the unconscious spy. You summoned every instinct that you had developed being your father’s assassin, but the gun felt heavier than it ever had. You couldn’t do it. And you didn’t have time to reevaluate leaving a British spy alive and on your tail. And so you ran, leaving the debonair Mr. Bond to be found by your brother’s security guards. If you were lucky, they’d kill him for you.

James was not used to losing. As the train rattled, so did his injuries sustained from his battle with Vansco’s daughter. Even without those records, he was able to track Vansco by following his son, Anton. The heir to the criminal dynasty sat only a few tables away in the dining car and James carefully observed all that approached. So when his eye-catching younger sister passed James to meet her brother, she was hard to miss.

With your sights set on your brother, you failed to notice your previous opponent hiding behind his menu. All that mattered was getting through the Anton.

“Y/N... how pleasant to see you.” He greeted with a tight smile. “We’ve all been looking for you for a very long time, dear sister. Ever since poor Jonathan.” It took all of your control not to stab his fork into the back of his hand. He was still your brother, even after everything he’d done for the tyrant that you once called father.

“Jonathan died because of our father. Because I dared to try and make myself happy without him. And he’ll do the same to you.” You wished you could make him see, to make him understand that love does not come from fear. A loving touch is not the same as the sting from the back of his hand.

“I have everything I could ever want.” Anton laughed. “I have wealth and power and a family that stays together no matter what.” He grabbed your wrist tightly. “Come home, Y/N.” You shook your head sadly.

“We never had a home, Anton.” A single tear fell for him, but there was nothing more you could do. You tried to step away, but his grip on your wrist remained.

“I can’t let you leave.” He snapped, but you could almost see the slightest trace of regret in his eyes. “Father wants to talk to you.”

“And I want him dead.” You yanked your arm away only to have Anton’s companions draw their weapons on you.

“I wouldn’t do that.” A voice behind you said. Bond appeared beside you, his gun pointed at your brother’s head. He spoke to you with a smirk. “Did you miss me, dear?”

“What are you doing here?” You spat.

“Following your tracks.” He kept his eyes on Anton. His smug look infuriated you. “And saving you.” You gritted your teeth.

“Who said I needed saving?” You grabbed hold of the man closest to you’s arm, pulling him forward as his collegue shot his weapon. You ducked and the bullet entered the man’s chest. James took on the man who’d fired and had him on the floor along with his colleague in seconds. Anton chuckled.

“Don’t the two of you make a nice couple?” He snarked. He nodded and you both felt a sharp pain in the back of your necks. “Oh well.” You stumbled towards him as the drugs took over.

“Anton don’t-” You passed out before you finished. But as you fell, you could have sworn that Mr. Bond caught you before you hit the ground, even as he himself fell unconscious.

Betrayed and nursing a splitting headache, you barely had enough energy to open your eyes. Not that there was much to see. The room was relatively empty except for the table in the center and your antagonizing room mate, who was just beginning to wake up as well. There was one large sliding door at the front of the room, but no means to open it. But it wasn’t being trapped that scared you. It was the small box in the middle of the table and the quiet ticking that it omitted.

“Bastard.” You hissed, knowing that your father was somewhere, watching you. “Going to kill me too, now?” You screamed looking around the room until you found the camera in the corner. “Come out and face me, you coward!”

“You always were a little spit-fire, weren’t you, Y/N.” Your father’s voice boomed. “And now you’ve dragged Mr. Bond into this mess.”

“I’ve been meaning to talk to you, Vansco.” James announced calmly. “About those missiles you’ve smuggled.”

“So that’s why you’re here?” You exclaimed. “To take information back to your little agency.”

“I’m here to prevent a war, Miss Y/L/N.” James responded before turning his attention back to your father. “Perhaps we could talk face to face.” A deep chuckled echoed through the room.

“ I was hoping you’d say that, Mr. Bond.” One of the panels in the wall opened, revealing a man with a gun. And it was pointed at you. He fired before either of you had time to react and the shot tore through your side. The panel closed and you stumbled back, wincing in pain. Vansco continued. “Left unattended, my daughter will surely bleed out in a matter a few, painful hours. I’m giving you a choice, Mr. Bond. Stay and save the girl who tried to kill you on multiple occasions, or leave, earning the information you seek and your freedom.

“Oh, and no matter what your decision is, Mr. Bond, that device on the table will explode in exactly three hours. The choice is yours. Stay and die with my treacherous daughter, or complete what you came here to do.”

The door slid open and you tried to rush forward, but the panel opened once again, this time the weapon aimed for your head. There’d be no escaping for you. James looked from you to the door and back again, watching the blood seep through your blazer.

“Go.” You muttered. “At least only one of us will die.” You tried to keep standing, but the blood loss was starting to make you dizzy. Every instinct was telling him to go through that door, but something else, something against all his better judgments, told him to stay. As he walked towards you, the door closed.

“Pity...” Vansco scolded. “I was so looking forward to meeting you in person. Goodbye, Mr. Bond.” James tore off a piece of his rather expensive shirt and pressed it to your wound, helping you sit down on the floor.

“What are you doing?” You coughed. “You could’ve gotten out of here.”

“Something tells me that you might be more useful than your father.” He whispered. “Keep your voice down and pretend to be angry with me.”

“I am angry with you.” You fired back. The corner of your lips lifted into a semi-amused smile. You winced as he applied more pressure to your side.

“Sorry.” He looked up at you with those dark eyes of his and you understood how he got his reputation. He was devilishly charming. Being on a cold floor with a bullet in your torso probably wasn’t the most romantic of circumstances, however. “Why’d you turn against him in the first place? What could make you want to kill your father after years of doing his bidding?”

“Those years of doing his ‘bidding’ were nothing more than a young girl being told that everything she did was for her family. Every person she killed, she killed in the name of Vansco. And for years, I believed everything they told me.” You took off your blazer to give him better access to the wound and revealed the other scars your father was responsible for. “I believed that every cigar burning into my skin, every bruise, were marks of things I’d done wrong. I thought I deserved them. That they were results of my failings toward the family.”

You weren’t sure why you were telling him all of this. All of the things that you’d held inside you for the past three years. Maybe it was because it didn’t matter. You were both going to die now. Despite his foolishness, you couldn’t help but be grateful that you weren’t alone.

“He’s a monstrus man.” James uttered. You laughed bitterly.

“That’s not the worst of it.” You could feel all of the emotions rushing back. The grief, the anger, the pain. You eyes teared up. The blood loss was making you delirious. “He killed my fiance.” You didn’t have the strength to keep up the walls you’d built in your lifetime. You could finally let it go. “His name was Jonathan and he was perfect. A baker from Cardiff. Nothing special, but he was mine.” You took a deep breath. James never said anything, nor was there any judgement in his gaze. He just listened. “My father didn’t like me having something of my own. Something that could make me happy outside of his little world. So he burnt the bakery to the ground with Jonathan inside.”

“I’m sorry.” His voice was sincere, without the slightest trace of sarcasm. You wiped your eyes and sat up as tall as you could.

“That’s why I’ve been hunting him down for the past three years.” You looked around, your eyes falling upon the bomb on the table. “It’s only fitting that it leads me to my grave. Poetic.” He placed a hand on your cheek and you let him.

“You’re not going to die.” He promised. “I might be able to get us out of here.” He handed you the cloth and told you to keep pressing on the wound while he searched the ceiling for something to grab onto. There was a crack that he could latch his fingers too, swinging his body back and forth, until he finally kicked the panel where the shooter had appeared.

Nothing happened. He kicked again, and still nothing. It wasn’t until he kicked the third time that the panel fell back, revealing a small compartment leading to a hallway within the walls. He dropped back down to the floor and held out his hand to you.

“Follow me.” He helped you stand and the idea of being free again gave you just enough adrenaline to keep going. You both knew that your father would be after you as soon as he saw that you had escaped, so you moved quickly down the passage until a pair of guards attacked you. Even with your injury, with you and James paired together, they didn’t stand a chance.

You took their guns and continued. After only a few meetings, you were shaping up to be a pretty good team. Room after room, hallway after hallway, there still didn't seem to be an exit.

“Very clever, Mr. Bond.” The voice of your father returned, only this time it wasn’t over a speaker. You turned around quickly, making your head spin.

“Son of a bitch!” You screamed, aiming your weapon at the man you hated more than anything in the world. He only smiled.

“I wouldn’t do that.” Two guards dragged Anton out of a room with a gun at his head. “Your brother has done right by this family. It would be a shame to kill him for your mistakes.”

“He drugged me and brought me here.” You sneered. “See if I care.” Marcus shrugged and nodded to his men. He cocked the pistol and Anton looked up at you. Just one more kill. But this was a life you couldn’t have on your hands. “Wait!” You lowered your weapon. “Let him go.”

“You see, Y/N,” Marcus paced towards you, “Nothing ties us together like family.” The back of his hand left a sting on your cheek as he struck you. James clenched his jaw.

“Vansco, I believe we still have something to discuss.” He hoped to draw the attention away from you, but it didn’t work.

“I’m afraid you missed your chance for that.” He motioned to his guards and brought both you and James to your knees before him. “Now you must die with my deceitful daughter.” He latched his hand onto your wound and squeezed. As hard as you tried to stop it, you couldn’t keep from screaming out in pain. James struggled against the guard holding him, but there wasn’t much he could do while Marcus kept the guns on you.

“I’m sorry I got you into this, James.” You whispered. Your father smiled.

“You’ve grown fond of our little English spy, haven’t you?” He chuckled. “And now you’ve brought him to his death. Just. Like. Jonathan.” As your final act of defiance, you spit on his expensive shoes and looked at him with all the hatred you could muster.

“Pig.” You snapped. His face contorted with rage and he took his guard’s gun, wanting to deliver the final shot himself. You closed your eyes as the shot rang through the hallway, along with James’ voice.

“No!” He exclaimed. But you didn’t feel anything. As you opened your eyes, you saw the blood seep from your father’s chest. Two more shots followed, both finding their mark in the heads of the guards. You and James turned around in shock, finding Anton holding the smoking gun.

“Bastard.” Anton muttered, his hand falling to his side. You leapt up and your brother enveloped you in his arms. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” You heard a groan of pain from the ground and broke apart. Marcus was crawling, trying to get away. James stepped on his leg.

“I believe this is what you came for.” James stated. You took your brother’s gun and stood over the man you once called father.

“This isn’t for Anton or James or even Johnathan.” You hissed, placing the gun on the back of his head. “This is for me.” You fired and silence fell over the world. You stood, wiping the blood off of your face and turned to face the two slightly shocked men. “James, you said you needed information on a missile shipment. Anton?”

“The missiles are being sent out tonight.” He stuttered.

“Is there a way to stop them?” James asked. Anton shook his head.

“There’s a passphrase that only Marcus knew.” He sighed. James leaned against the wall, defeated. You smirked.

“Can you show us the control room?” You asked, looking at Anton. He nodded. “Boys... follow me.”

Once you found the control room, Anton logged into the messaging system.

“The only way to stop them is to send them a signal with the passphrase.” The screen held a blank line, awaiting its orders.

“Type in ‘the enemy of my enemy is my friend.’” You suggested. They both looked at you with confusion. “It’s a phrase he would say to me often.” Anton shrugged and entered it. The screen soon read: Copy that. Shipment suspended until further notice.

“That’ll give my friends plenty of time to round up Vansco’s workers and put an end to this operation.” James rejoiced. He gave Anton a pat on the shoulder. “Sorry, old chap, but I’m afraid they’ll take you too.” Anton nodded.

“I deserve whatever is coming to me.” In all of the commotion, the two didn’t notice how you wavered on your feet until you finally collapsed, the last thing you saw being James’ concerned eyes and once again, his arms were there to catch you.

You’d woken up in handcuffs before, but never to a bedpost. The pain in your side was considerably decreased, but your head spun, trying to figure out where you were. It was then that you realized that you weren’t wearing the same clothes you had when you shot your father.

“Don’t worry, I had nothing to do with that.” A smug voice came from the bathroom of what appeared to be a hotel room. “Nor was I responsible for those cuffs. I’m afraid my friends at MI6 are behind that.” James walked out in a robe with a smirk on his face. “Good morning.”

“They’re charging Anton, aren’t they?” You sighed. James nodded.

“I have been able to advocate for you, however.” He sat down on the edge of the bed. “I suggested that you might make a very good ally for tracking down the rest of Vansco’s empire. And with Anton’s cooperation, you both might be allowed a little leniency.” You laughed.

“You want me to be an agent in tracking down my father’s henchmen?” As the thought slowly sunk in, you realized it might not actually be a bad idea. But there was still that pinching metal on your wrists. “Then what’s with the handcuffs.”

“They thought I would be in danger if you woke up in a bad mood.” He chuckled. His finger started to trace up your leg, but you kicked it away.

“Not so fast, Mr. Bond. I haven’t agreed to anything, let alone any of your romantic advancements.”

“Then what do you say?” he inquired.

“I suppose it might be refreshing to work for the other side for once.” You shrugged. Keeping his eyes on yours, he leaned over and kissed your hand.

“It will be a pleasure to work with you.” He unlocked the handcuff and the two of you just looked at each other. James may be a flirt, but he wanted Vansco’s men gone just as much as you. You didn’t protest when his lips finally found yours. After all, the enemy of your enemy... is your friend.

#james bond x reader #1960s #sean connery #james bond sean connery #classic movies #spy movies #007 #007 imagines

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aurora-the-kunoichi · 5 years

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Here is part two of Cat and Mouse with my OC Aurora and dark Leo inspired by @fear-the-antiverse

Cat and Mouse

Part two of Two

Aurora (My OC) and Leo (inspired by Fear the Antiverse’s Leo)

Warning: Rough Smut (God I love writing smut)

Aurora gritted her teeth holding off another attack, sparks flying as the two blades ground together from the immense friction. They had been at this dance for nearly an hour, skill matched between the two ninjas. Aurora could already start to feel the fatigue settle in her limbs. It was taking everything within her power to keep him at bay digging her heals into the ground, so he couldn’t push her back any further. The last thing she needed was him to get her up against the wall again claiming his victory. Curse the mutagen that gave him the stamina of a god, but thankfully the steady heave of his chest indicated he was starting to tire as well. It was now or never.

Gathering the last of her remaining strength Aurora pushed him back disconnecting their weapons. Placing the borrowed blade between her teeth Aurora’s fingers quickly engaged the firm sides of his leathery plastron gripping it tightly. With the momentum of her body she pulled backwards catching the large terrapin off guard and hoisted his enormous weight up an over her as she rolled backwards. He obviously wasn’t expecting such a move because he grunted out his disapproval with a string of expletives when his hard shell connected with the cool brick floor. Continuing her roll backwards her nimble legs pressed into his hips keeping the two in close proximity as they rolled. Landing on top of the turtle Aurora straddled his substantial waist. Pulling the weapon from her clenched teeth Aurora pressed the business end of the well-maintained blade to the soft flesh of his neck.

Both out of breath she glared down at the turtle, he didn’t look the least bit bothered by the sharp edge of the weapon digging precariously into his carotid artery. Why would he be? They had known each other for almost two years now, enemies with benefits, if you could call it that. Skills nearly matched they would take the other down but could never deal the final blow. Somehow, they had developed some sort of fucked up feelings for one and other and after the battle was done and at a standstill their uncontrolled hormones would take over. Shoving and slamming the other about locked in the animistic need to mate. She wasn’t proud of it, but Jesus Christ could that beautiful muscled mutant take her to new heights of bliss. There was nothing soft about him or gentle, just hard and unforgiving in his rutting and she fucking loved every minute of it. So, as she loomed over him weapon ready to bleed him dry he knew she couldn’t do it. Fuck, he could probably already feel the heat of her core already throbbing in anticipation of his rough entry.

Even though he was fully aware she wouldn’t kill him his hands moved cautiously to her hips holding her firmly in place over his ridged erection which was already settled between her folds. The heat from her core against his straining cock was making him crazy with need. Grinding his hips up into her spread legs he growled giving them just enough friction to remind them what was next on the menu.

“Do it.” He teased licking his lips knowing full well his little ninja wouldn’t. “Fucking kill me and end this.”

“Fuck you, you arrogant prick. Maybe I will this time, maybe I’ll slit your throat and end our little game once and for all.”

Leo let out a rumble of laughter shifting her hips over his hardness again gaining an unintended moan from her. “Then who would fill your pretty little cunt?”

It was Aurora’s turn to laugh pressing the blade further into his flesh drawing a little blood from the effort. Leaning down to his ear slit her tongue snaked out licking a warm wet strip up his cheek. “From what I’ve told me I have three other brothers to choose from. I’m sure they all have nice fat cocks ready and willing for me.” That hit a nerve; his body tensed below her his green finger tips digging into her hips painfully. She hissed at the throbbing sensation but continued to rile up the turtle beneath her. “Maybe they’ll be a better fuck then their leader? I’ve heard the red brute is more ruthless then you are. Maybe he has a bigger cock to fill my little cunt with?” her voice was low and dripping with contention. She was playing with fire, but it resulted in the desired reaction. His breathing had quickened and a low growl, almost inaudible emanated from deep within his chest. God, she loved turning the tables on the cocky mutant.

This time she ground her hips down over him making him squirm at the delicious pressure distracting him momentarily from his rising anger. Leaning back up her breath caught in her throat, his pupils were dilated, and his lips pulled back in a snarl. He was primed and ready and the anticipation was killing her. The ache in her core was slowly driving her insane.

Then he exploded under her, “You’re mine!” Leo lurched up uncaring that his katana slid across his throat cutting through his green pebbled flesh. So, the cut wasn’t too deep Aurora abandoned the katana letting it clatter to the ground. Leo’s strong hands ripped from her hips wrapping around her waist and rolled them both. With the wind knocked from her lungs by the sheer strength of his action Aurora lay firmly beneath Leo pinned under his weight.

Leo’s toothy smile was so deceiving, she knew, she could see the rage swirling in his brilliant blue orbs. If it wasn’t for his swollen needy cock between his legs hell bend on sheathing itself deep within her warm body she would be dead by now. He sought her hands still set on evading him and pinned them above her head rendering her immobile. With his other hand it dipped below the waist band of her pants finding his warm eager prize beneath. He growled at how ready she was for him easily slipping two fingers into her moist entrance.

“This is mine.” He hummed into the crook of her neck curling his fingers up to find the special spot on the roof of her canal. He smiled confidently when Aurora gasped at the sudden surge of pleasure arching her back up to press her breasts into his plastron. “You’re mine and no ones elses. Especially my brothers!” Again, he stroked the sensitive bundle of nerves eliciting another heady moan from his captive driving her to her first orgasm of the night. “I won’t hesitate to kill anyone who takes what’s mine.”

Between her raged breathing and straining muscles her purple irises met his blue, “You don’t own me mutant, you only rent.”

His thick digit found her swollen bud at the hood of her sex and pressed into it skillfully while hitting the patch of nerves again pressing harder this time. He watched her mesmerizing eyes roll into the back of her head arching into him once again coming undone around his hand.

Her body exploded beneath him, the first of many orgasms she knew Leo had planned on doling out, she cursed his talented fingers as her clenched into tight fists above her head. Just a few unhurried passes of his thick fingers and she was like putty in his hands. Her whole body shook at the surge of her potent release gasping for air from it.

“Rent?” He laughed pulling his drenched fingers from her core. “You and I both know your body only wants mine. You can’t deny your body what it so desperately wants. My cock will be the only one filling you up little ninja.”

“Don’t be so sure about that.” She hissed when his hand jerked her shirt up revealing her black bra to his heated gaze.

“These are mine.” His warm hand reached up cupping each breast before latching his hot mouth over each mound heating the fabric with his mouth.

She could feel the moister from his mouth seep into the lace of her undergarment making her brown peaks bunch into pebbled buttons. God damn him and his big hot mouth. She barely noticed when his hand disappeared but when the black fabric fell away from her body exposing her breasts to the cool air she knew his kunai was responsible. Before she could protest its demise, his teeth returned to the peaks with a vengeance. Rolling each taught pebble between his two rows of white teeth Leo gave just enough pressure to make her cry out in the mix of pain and pleasure.

“Fuck!” she growled yanking at her hands in his grip.

“Soon little one, be patient for your fucking.” He mumbled between his clenched teeth darting his tongue over the tips hidden within his mouth. Releasing the sore nub his lips encased the torture flesh sucking once again running his smooth tongue over the crest before letting it go with a wet pop. The pressure inside his pants was beginning to become unbearable, Leo wanted his release more than anything, but the buildup was just as gratifying, so it was time to move to the next step.

Taking a chance, the large mutant released his prey’s hands and quickly lifted her hips pulling her pants and underwear free from her lower extremities with one fluid motion. Reaching behind his shell Leo pulled a small length of rope and found her wrists again before she could attempt another escape. Though he doubted she was willing to go anywhere at this point. From the red flush of her skin and the thick scent of her arousal, she wasn’t going anywhere but right into his arms.

True to her word when he wrapped her legs around his waist and hoisted her up she began to fight again. Moving with determination he slammed her back against the wall making the back of her skull collide with the damp brick. Taking advantage of her temporary disorientation Leo lifted her bound hands and tied them securely to the pipe she had used earlier to kick him in the chest.

With her head still throbbing from the assholes brute force Aurora suddenly became very aware of her new predicament. Trailing her gaze up to her bound wrists she found them tied rather well to a metal pipe protruding from the ceiling. With the bottom half of her naked and tied to the ceiling she could feel her heart begin to race. Her legs still locked around his waist her eyes traveled back to his handsome arrogant face. His now two free hands moved to her shirt that was still bunched up over her breasts and pulled the fabric up and over her face subsequently blindfolding her. She felt the tall terrapin pull away making her feet connect with the ground,thankfully still being able to stand.

Blind and helpless for the most part she had to use her other senses to figure out where the deadly ninja was. Her breath hitched feeling his hot breath spread over her neck as his hand tilted her head back giving him access to her throat. He was still very much in front of her his presence eerily close. With his smooth broad tongue he left a wet trail from her collar bone to her pulse point ending on the still tender bite mark he left earlier. Then she left his lips hovering over her ear and his warm palm press into the small of her back. “I think it’s time for the crescendo to this little game.” He whispered softly into her ear. “It’s been a while since I’ve been inside you, but I think a taste of the goods first before I fill your cunt with my aching cock. I want to know if you taste just as sweet as last time.” Shifting his hands to her hips she could feel his body lower closer to the ground. She could hear her heart beating wildly in her chest and then it stopped when his hand moved from her hip to her inner thigh pulling it up to rest her foot on his shoulder. Unable to see, she could still feel him, sensing the warmth of his skin just mere inches from her core. The anticipation was killing her and but she didn’t have to wait long. There he was his talented tongue sliding through her wet folds delving into her with such force it knocked her footing loose. His hands steadied her, both grabbing her hips holding her to him so he could devour her whole.

Aurora cried out from the intrusion swaying from her restraint with his eagerness. Trembling in his firm gasp she focused on his nimble tongue pressing, searching and tasting the most intimate part of her. A part she had given to him so many times before and had no plan on stopping anytime soon.

God he was excellent with that brilliant tongue of his. She wanted her hands free; she wanted to touch his green skin to leave bloody marks to show her appreciation of his wonderful skill. As if on cue a dull pull deep in her abdomen began to ignite in a dazzling fire. Her breathing increased while soft moans escaped her lips as he continued his rough assault of her pussy. Her whole body started to shake as her peak spiraled to the surface. Climbing and growing to leave her utterly engulfed in the sensation. Leo could sense it too; she could feel his smug smirk pressed to her labia while he worked harder to bring her to her orgasm.

Like a bolt of lightning it hit hard, making her whole body tense in its overwhelming power. His name sung from her lips as she came violently in his willing mouth flooding his tongue with her essence.

Leo could sense her impending release and worked his tongue deeper into her cunt. He eagerly awaited the sweetness he craved that came only from her beautiful core. The steady shaking of her legs began her end and he rumbled his satisfaction as it filled his tongue. For added stimulation his thick finger pushed into her quivering cunt and found the sensitive bundle gaining a strangled cry from her intensifying the feeling coursing through her.

His erection strained against the fabric of his pants leaking his translucent liquid anticipation. Pulling his finger from her dripping pussy Leo pushed off his pants stepping free of them. His three fingered hand worked his pulsing cock as he pushed her shaky leg from his shoulder. Standing to his full height Leo loomed over Aurora eager for his own end. She was still coming down from her high and he didn’t plan on letting her come back to her senses.

Wasting no time Leo relinquished his hold on his throbbing flesh and reached around to her back side pulling her legs up and around his waist. Thankfully she was aware enough to lock her feet behind him and with one powerful drive he entered her hilting quickly. Giving his captive no reprieve Leo worked immediately to a ruthless pace slamming into her willing core working desperately to his own peak.

Aurora screamed at the rough intrusion his large cock stretching her to her limits. “Fucking prick!” she growled throwing her head back reveling in the mixture of pain and pleasure. The large brute took what he wanted without allowing her to acclimate to his massive girth but she didn’t care. His dominating force enhanced the earth shattering sex and left her addicted to his shelled hard green body.

His rhythm strong and steady Leo brutally pounded into her grunting out his enthusiasm with every sadistic snap of his hips. Again her body reacted to his animistic stimulation burning wildly threatening to consume her completely. His fingers dug into the soft flesh of her hips that would no doubt leave marks tomorrow to remind her of her dangerous tryst with the leader in blue. Caught off guard his mouth suddenly slanted over hers taking it in a passionate kiss, something he didn’t do when he fucked her. The unforeseen gesture pushed Aurora over the edge she had been teetering on for a few moments when his warm tongue invaded her mouth. It took everything within her not to pass out from the surge that engulfed her taking her beyond her sensory limit. With each dominant thrust the bulbous tip of his cock slammed in to her cervix extenuating the bliss that racked her over stimulated body. She thought she might just die from the overload. Not a bad way to go.

Leo concentrated on her body as it fit over him perfectly pulling him quickly to his end. Each time they fought he couldn’t help his body from reacting. His traitorous body craved this mischievous woman to no end and it pissed him off. Humans meant nothing to him, especially woman. But there was something about this one, his little kunoichi. Fully embedded inside her intoxicating body writhing from his efforts he felt a sudden urge that he usually never had. Her swollen lips parted, panting his name he couldn’t deny that urge any longer. Moving forward Leo claimed her mouth in an uncharacteristic kiss. With the combined sensation he moaned into her mouth when she came undone around him, her body clamping viciously around his slick ridged flesh thrusting in and out of her.

Finally giving in Leo’s body erupted with his overwhelming orgasm. Pushing his pulsating flesh into her as far as he could go, Leo pumped ropes of hot white cum into her womb. All the while holding her painfully taught against his hips emptying everything he had into her willing cunt. She was definitely his, no matter what she though.

Their heavy breathing resonated in the empty halls as they came down from their natural high. Already Aurora could feel the rolling warmth of Leo’s seed as it seeped out around his softening member. Even that simple feeling kept her body tingling a little longer. Letting out a disappointed grunt when his wet flesh left hers Aurora sagged against her restraints spent from their forbidden rendezvous.

When Aurora’s body was cut loose his strong arms caught her helping her to her trembling knees and her hands freed with a quick slice of his sharp knife. Still shaking Aurora pulled her shirt down and found herself alone in the poorly lit tunnel. Like a shadow in the night Leonardo was gone leaving his warm essence slipping from her body.

“Until next time.” She whispered staggering to her feet, she needed a hot shower.

Part One

#TMNT #tmnt leonardo #tmnt fanfiction #TMNT TMNT fanfiction #tmnt fandom #tmnt fic #oneshot

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bloojayoolie · 5 years

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Being Alone, Children, and Click: JOJO BIT BY HIS FINDER'S DOG WHILE HE WAITED FOR HIS HARN ESS TO BE PUT ON FOR A WALK, A GENTLE, SOFT, SHY, SOCIAL BO Y WONDERS IF HE WILL EVER FIND HIS FOREVER FAMILY. ID 70231, 4 YRS . , 53 LBS., NEUTERED AND DREAMING OF SAFETY & LO VE, BROOKL YN ACC TO BE KILLED – 8/13/2019 Both dogs were so excited about their walks. And JOJO, who was found lost in the streets and was newly taken in by his finder, was so happy he finally found a home where he would be loved, and where walks with his owner and his owner’s other dog would be a regular feature of his day to day life. Wiggling and tap dancing in happiness, he could hardly contain his enthusiasm as his owner tried to put harnesses on both dogs as they jostled about. But his brother either got possessive of his dad or he just became anxious about the newcomer and too excited to the point he escalated, but the end result was that he bit poor Jojo, and Jojo in his pain and confusion, retaliated and gave him a nip in return. And folks, this is what happens when dogs are not put in a “down” and “place” in their own part of the room till their parent harnesses up one and THEN the other. Baby talk, high pitched, "wanna go for a walk everyone?" results in a situation of jostling dogs NEVER ends well. All of us with multiple dogs can attest to it, and most of us have at one time or another, accidentally let our guards down. So this is not Jojo’s fault, and just when he thought his future was looking so rosy, he is now on a list to die, a blameless victim who was not even the aggressor in that scenario. It’s heartbreaking to look into his sweet, frightened, confused face, curled up in a fetal position in his small kennel, devastated and alone. He got a Blue rating on his medical, and did good on his assessment too – shy but also soft and social. Message our page or email us at [email protected] for assistance fostering or adopting this poor kid so he can finally find a forever family to love him. He must go to a home with no kids under the age of 13 due to his shyness. Jojo, ID# 70231, 4 Yrs. old, 53.4 lbs., Neutered Male Brooklyn ACC, Large Mixed Breed, Gray / White I came to the shelter as an Agency, 7/24/2019 Shelter Assessment Rating: New Hope Rescue Only Medical Behavior Rating: 2. BLUE AT RISK MEMO: Jojo has history of biting another dog and has shown fearful behaviors in the care center. Jojo would be best suited for placement with a new hope partner that can provide the necessary behavior modification. Medically, Jojo seems healthy. OWNER SURRENDER NOTES – BASIC INFORMATION: JOJO is an approximately 4 year old mixed breed dog who was surrendered to the shelter as a stray. Jojo’s finder stated that Jojo seems fearful of men. Jojo got into a fight with the other dog in the home when the owner was putting harnesses on them for walks. The bites resulted in punctures. The owner stated that the other dog, not Jojo, was the first to bite. SHELTER ASSESSMENT SUMMARY – DATE OF ASSESSMENT: 8/1/2019 Sociability Loose in room (15-20 seconds): Moderately social Call over: Approaches readily Sociability comments: Body soft Handling Soft handling: Accepts contact Exuberant handling: Tolerates contact Handling comments: Body soft initially, becomes a bit tense when legs are touched, looks away, stands still Arousal Jog: Follows (loose) Arousal comments: None Knock: Approaches (exuberant) Knock Comments: Runs and jumps up Toy: No response Toy comments: None ENERGY LEVEL: We have no history on Jojo's energy level so we cannot be certain of his behavior in a home environment. IN SHELTER OBSERVATIONS: Jojo calmly comes to the front of his kennel when you approach. He can be leashed easily and walks fine on leash. While outside, he mostly keeps to self and shows little to no interest in any treats or toys the handler offers. When another dog enters the yard, he becomes anxious and focuses on the dog, whining, barking, and jumping up on the gate to get to them. He resists leaving the yard on his own but will quickly follow another dog out of the yard. Jojo has been observed to lunge towards and hard bark at other dogs leaving the room when they pass his kennel. BEHAVIOR DETERMINATION:: New Hope Only Behavior Asilomar: TM - Treatable-Manageable Recommendations:: No children (under 13),Place with a New Hope partner Recommendations comments: No children: The previous owners report that Jojo is fearful of men. At the care center, Jojo is not completely comfortable with all handling. For these reasons, we recommend an adult-only home. Place with a New Hope partner: Due to the noted concerns from the previous home, in addition to his bite history, We recommend placement with a New Hope partner who can provide any necessary behavior modification (force-free, positive reinforcement-based) and re-evaluate behavior in a stable home environment before placement into a permanent home. Potential challenges: : Fearful/potential for defensive aggression, Anxiety, On-leash reactivity/barrier frustration, Bite history (dog) Potential challenges comments:: Bite history: Jojo got into a fight with the other dog in the home when the owner was putting harnesses on them for their walks. The bites resulted in punctures. The other dog was the first to bite. Please see handout on Bite History. Fearful/potential for defensive aggression: The previous owners report that Jojo is fearful of men. However, we have no more specific information regarding this. If this behavior is seen in the home, please see handout on Fearful/potential for defensive aggression. Anxiety: Jojo has displayed signs of anxiety at the care center. While with handlers, he paces in the room, whining and panting. We don't know if this behavior is shelter-specific or not. Please see handout on Anxiety if this behavior is seen in the home. On-leash reactivity/barrier frustration: At the care center, Jojo barks at and pulls towards other dogs while on leash. Please see handout on On-leash reactivity/barrier frustration. MEDICAL NOTES 7/25/2019 Hx: Got into fight with housemate this evening. Full intake not performed but a quick exam was done in order to expedite treatment. S: Alert, walks well on leash O: BAR -Dried blood on head, shoulders and front legs -Puncture wound visible on cranial aspect of left shoulder A: Bite wound, overall condition is stable P: 1. Carprofen 100 mg PO SID x5 days 2. Clavamox 375 mg PO BID x10 days 3. Full intake tomorrow 1088 7/25/2019 DVM Intake Exam Estimated age: 4 yr Microchip noted on Intake?yes History :brought in by police, got into fight with other dog in home 70246 Subjective:DOH hold Observed Behavior -fearful but allowed handling, takes treats readily Evidence of Cruelty seen -none Evidence of Trauma seen -yes bite wounds on pinna, and right antebrachium Objective BARH mm pink P = WNL R = WNL BCS 5/9 EENT: Eyes mucoid discharge OU, ears dried blood in canals and on flaps, wounds on tips, no nasal or ocular discharge noted dried saliva and blood covers entire head and neck Oral Exam: clean adult dentition PLN: No enlargements noted H/L: NSR, NMA, CRT < 2, Lungs clear, eupnic ABD: Non painful, no masses palpated U/G: neutered MSI: Ambulatory x 4, skin free of parasites, dried saliva on front limbs, superficial wounds on right medial antebrachium CNS: Mentation appropriate - no signs of neurologic abnormalities Rectal: not performed Assessment bite wounds, superficial Prognosis:excellent Plan: washed face and feet with warm water continue with current treatment of carprofen and Clavamox DOH hold SURGERY: already neutered 7/30/2019 SO Recheck bite wounds. skin -- skin has small crusting along wounds. no discharge. no erythema A bite wounds -- healing well P continue to monitor in shelter 8/6/2019 Hx: Bite wounds to shoulder and ear tips - treated for 10 days S: Alert and responsive in kennel O: No wounds noted - no bleeding, swelling or erythema A: Bite wounds healed P: No further tx needed 1088 *** TO FOSTER OR ADOPT *** JOJO IS RESCUE ONLY. You must fill out applications with New Hope Rescues to foster or adopt him. He cannot be reserved online at the ACC ARL, nor can he be direct adopted at the shelter. PLEASE HURRY AND MESSAGE OUR PAGE FOR ASSISTANCE! HOW TO RESERVE A “TO BE KILLED” DOG ONLINE (only for those who can get to the shelter IN PERSON to complete the adoption process, and only for the dogs on the list NOT marked New Hope Rescue Only). Follow our Step by Step directions below! *PLEASE NOTE – YOU MUST USE A PC OR TABLET – PHONE RESERVES WILL NOT WORK! ** STEP 1: CLICK ON THIS RESERVE LINK: https://newhope.shelterbuddy.com/Animal/List Step 2: Go to the red menu button on the top right corner, click register and fill in your info. Step 3: Go to your email and verify account \ Step 4: Go back to the website, click the menu button and view available dogs Step 5: Scroll to the animal you are interested and click reserve STEP 6 ( MOST IMPORTANT STEP ): GO TO THE MENU AGAIN AND VIEW YOUR CART. THE ANIMAL SHOULD NOW BE IN YOUR CART! Step 7: Fill in your credit card info and complete transaction HOW TO FOSTER OR ADOPT IF YOU *CANNOT* GET TO THE SHELTER IN PERSON, OR IF THE DOG IS NEW HOPE RESCUE ONLY! You must live within 3 – 4 hours of NY, NJ, PA, CT, RI, DE, MD, MA, NH, VT, ME or Norther VA. Please PM our page for assistance. You will need to fill out applications with a New Hope Rescue Partner to foster or adopt a dog on the To Be Killed list, including those labelled Rescue Only. Hurry please, time is short, and the Rescues need time to process the applications. Shelter contact information Phone number (212) 788-4000 Email [email protected] Shelter Addresses: Brooklyn Shelter: 2336 Linden Boulevard Brooklyn, NY 11208 Manhattan Shelter: 326 East 110 St. New York, NY 10029 Staten Island Shelter: 3139 Veterans Road West Staten Island, NY 10309 *** NEW NYC ACC RATING SYSTEM *** Level 1 Dogs with Level 1 determinations are suitable for the majority of homes. These dogs are not displaying concerning behaviors in shelter, and the owner surrender profile (where available) is positive. Level 2 Dogs with Level 2 determinations will be suitable for adopters with some previous dog experience. They will have displayed behavior in the shelter (or have owner reported behavior) that requires some training, or is simply not suitable for an adopter with minimal experience. Level 3 Dogs with Level 3 determinations will need to go to homes with experienced adopters, and the ACC strongly suggest that the adopter have prior experience with the challenges described and/or an understanding of the challenge and how to manage it safely in a home environment.

#funny #lol #humor #memes #meme #memehumor #dank memes #funny pics #rolf #lmao #Being Alone #Children

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settle-down-frohike · 6 years

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Acutus

My Valentines contribution. Written a bit tipsy and hastily on my phone, un-beta’d, natch. Posted via mobile.

Spoilers: everything up to s10 (I think, depending on your interpretation)

Rating: NC-17

Trigger warnings: mentions of depression

Tagging @today-in-fic

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Perhaps Valentines Day wasn’t the best time to start venturing out as an official couple again on their therapist- prescribed ‘date night’.

Dinner went as well as could be expected, and she might have had one too many glasses of house red to ease her nerves and abate the tension. The restaurants are crowded with other couples—some laughing, some quiet, others clearly going through the motions, checking their watches. The close proximity and bustling noise make Mulder nervous, isolation has made him hypersensitive and fidgety. But he’s trying for her, for them. Not even the deepest of depressions could smother his New England breeding. He’s pulled out her chair, led her expertly in a gentle foxtrot to Sinatra, been attentive and complimentary, and anyone who didn’t know him as well as she does would never have noticed his lack of appetite, or his incessant swallowing as if a dinner roll were caught in his throat. The food is delicious and they are still companionably quiet at their table, which is a relief, but the environment with its scraped linens and roses and music, combined with the scent of rich sauces and overbearing perfume is the equivalent of a romantic pressure cooker. Before dessert menus can be suggested by the over-solicitous waiter, Scully takes pity on him and slides her hand over his.

“Let’s go home,” she suggests calmly.

He interprets her subtle meaning perfectly, but is caught off guard nonetheless. Her eyes are steady and sure enough for the both of them, though, even though her mind is all but screaming that this is too soon. But it’s Valentines Day, damnit. And she’s had a little too much wine, she’s feeling frisky and pliant, and he looks good enough to eat. Even when his eyes are clouded, the melancholy in his features suits him, even his bone structure lends to a forlorn sort of beauty. She wants him. She wants his hands and his body and being in his presence lately just isn’t enough.

He kisses her knuckles as they pull into the drive, and she feels a trill of hopeful anticipation flutter around her rib cage. Sometimes she forgets that despite their recent distance, he is still the man who knows and loves her best. He’s still in there, and he’s fighting his way back.

The kitchen floor is slippery and cool to her stockinged feet, a contrast to the flush in her cheeks. She is pouring them each a glass of the bottle they bought from that winery how many years ago, and he is behind her nuzzling and nipping, sending gooseflesh over her skin and heat to her groin. She giggles uncharacteristically and uses her bottom to push him off, encouraged by the feeling of his thriving erection. He is undeterred, though, and presses her belly into the counter, retrieving the glasses from her hands, whispering “later” into her ear, and she mentally chides herself for putting him in the position to be the smart one, to remember that combining alcohol with antidepressants is not only contraindicated, it could be an impediment to his responsiveness to her. But something about his pragmatism seems off. Abruptly she pushes his hands away and turns to face him, noting with dismay that his expression is one of practiced enthusiasm. Her temper flares but is quickly extinguished.

“Hey,” Her hands are on his face and stroking behind his ears, the way she knows renders him totally helpless. “we don’t have to do this if you aren’t ready.”

The best thing about their rehabilitated relationship is that they are consciously avoiding evasive tactics. They cut to the chase because lying to each other would only be an exercise in futility. Briefly he looks offended, but just as quickly his face turns sorrowful, knowing full well she’s seen straight through his carefully orchestrated seduction. He pulls her close and kisses her forehead in apology. “I’m sorry. It’s not that I don’t want this,” he says to her hairline, “I just....its like....wanting chocolate cake...even though my taste buds don’t work anymore.” She can feel him close his eyes above her. “I remember what it was like...to feel things. But right now it’s, it’s like I feel everything, and nothing all at the same time.”

Her hand travels to the nape of his neck and she lifts her face to kiss that button chin she’s secretly obsessed with.

“It’s ok, “ and she smiles, genuinely smiles up at him, so utterly thankful for his honestly that her earlier plans now seem trivial. “It will get better.”

He’s searching her eyes for any trace of pity, and finds none. And something about that sends his libido surging. He kisses her, eyes open, so he can gauge her reaction, and she lets him, complicit. Standing at such close proximity, she can feel his heart thud, causing the buttons of his dress shirt to shiver. Large palms grip her buttocks and hoist her round his waist with little effort. Thicker in his later season, the effort that he has put in to fight his demons has paid off.

The next few moments occur in flashes, the trip around him and up the stairwell, her laughing in earnest and his hot breath at her neck. He drops her carelessly onto the bed and leers, unabashed, then gathers her skirt around her waist. Ever mindful of her expensive taste, he chooses not to rip her silk blouse away and instead carefully frees each button, pulling the cups of her bra down and away, flesh spilling forth. She knows that her acceptance has done wonders for his ego and by proxy his desire, and part of her wants to pick this moment apart, figure out who this new animal is. The hedonist in her does not care. Her nylons were discarded at some point, she does not remember when, and now his palm is at her mons, warm and reassuring.

“What do you want?” She can hear her voice, but cannot place where it originates.

“I want to feel....” his eyes are on her groin but unfocused. His thumb grazes her clitoris, “you. I want to feel you.” And he’s suddenly ripping at his belt, zipper, freeing himself.

He places her hands at her inner thighs, presses, opens her. She is a willing oblation. He teases her first, entranced by the way his shaft now glistens and slides through her folds, then enters her with an audible grunt. This acute focus he has right now on their sex, his reveling in the sensation, it’s arousing to the point it’s making her delirious. His eyes are glazed over, onyx black and focused solely on where his body is entering hers. His pace is purposeful, deep and perfectly rhythmic, like good blues. He’s loud tonight. He’s vocalizing his pleasure, almost constant moans making its way past unmoving lips, deep from his chest and increasing in pitch and desperation. He’s positively entranced and it thrills her, god it thrills her to watch him get off on her this way. He’s wholeheartedly objectifying her, they both know it. He can’t stop himself. And she’s loving it. She is so swollen and aroused, tender and leaking as an overripe peach. The ridge of his glans presses on the front of her wall with purpose and the sensation feels like a spinal block, warmth and heaviness flooding her from the waist down. Her own climax is close, just a few swipes and her body would start to milk his. But something about the way he’s gazing down makes her not want to obstruct the view. So she pulls back, spreads herself wider and revels in victory when his expression turns pained and desperate.

Mulder has always been a giving lover, an intuitive one and he knows what she’s needing. But tonight is about him, and she finds herself being the one to try and hold out. He’s not making it easy. As much as he’s studying her, she cannot avert her eyes from the sinewy flex of his obliques as he pumps into her. There’s a new-penny shine of sweat concentrated at the apex of his clavicle she would love to lick clean. He grunts again, curses her name and that does it. She writhes and arches, possessed, as her orgasm seizes her. Waves of pleasure arc their way through her body, causing her internal muscles to contract, then quake in its release. He watches, triumphant and slack jawed. She is left quaking, with goose flesh and chattering teeth. When he allows himself to come, it chokes him silent. He collapses atop her, the distended veins in his throat and fluttering of his eyelids being the only hint at its intensity. His orgasm explodes and then seems to reabsorb, an endothermic process, and she can swear his body temperature rises 10 degrees. He’s a specimen of physics, her lover, and that in itself is intoxicating. She she luxuriates in the feel of his pubis as it pulses and contracts, spilling into her. He comes and comes, and she wonders how long it must have been for him. His breath is rainforest warm and wet at her throat.

Finally sated, he’s tender but spent and weak as a kitten. At times like this, she feels so exquisitely close to him. It is as if any separation were a ruse, a disguise, and this physical joining were their true form, hidden away in secret and brought to life by a certain kind of moon, like one of his beloved cryptids. His muttered gratitude is hoarse but genuine, and she knows he’s expecting a “you’re welcome” of some sort, but her endorphin-soaked brain has one phrase on loop and it’s all she can think to counter with.

-“I love you.”-

fin

#happy vday #myfic #txf fic

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underheart-magica2000 · 6 years

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UnderHeart - Warning: Turtles Bite Too

Chapter 20!?1?!!! What! Can you Loves believe it!?! We are all the way on chapter 20! This is insane! \^o^/

Well we all the drill by now, but just because i guess its tradition now, the story is below, under the cut. (Hope you enjoy and super big thanks for reading this! :)

“Come on, come on, come on!” MK bounces, chocolate eyes alight with overflowing excitement. “We don’t want to miss it!” He cries, swishing his tail around behind us like a very mad broom.

“I’m hurrying,” I say with a little huff, hoisting the sunshine yellow umbrella a little higher into the air so the rain will stop hitting MK on the top of his spikes. “And what are we trying to see anyway?”

MK’s eyes sparkle and his face twists into a huge smile that shows off all his little sharp teeth, “Why, I’m going to show you the most amazing monster in the whole Underground!”

I raise an eyebrow at that statement, because I highly doubt anyone could be cooler then Sans, or tougher then Undyne, or kinder then Toriel, or as good a cook as Papyrus, but I still nod at MK’s statement. Obviously whoever this monster was they meant a lot to him, so I will wait to make my own judgments.

Before to long we finally make it out of the Waterfall part of Waterfall, MK runs ahead as I try to get the umbrella back in it’s holder, abandoning me to the cold wet caves all by myself. I hurry after him as fast as I can, and I do finally catch up, but only because MK’s staring into space dreamily in the middle of the cave.

He snaps out of it pretty quick and then proceeds to gush on and on about some monster I haven’t even meet, and about how cool he is and how dangerous and amazing his job as the The Captain of the Royal Gaurd is, and if only I had run a little faster I could have seen him. I nod along, but overall just try to get him back on track, which is us getting out of this cold wet cave.

“I cannot believe how unlucky you are!” MK says with a bounce as we start heading across a bridge made of rock that hangs over a cliff I can’t see the bottom of. “If you had just-,”

“MK,” I breathe heavily with a sigh, “I get it, I’m sorry I missed it, can we adventure now?”

MK smiles sheepishly and nods in agreement, spinning around quickly so I won’t see his reddening scales. “Let’s just-,” he slips on wet rocks as he tries to hurry across the bridge. “Annabell!” He yells as he slides over the edge, his sharp shark like teeth the only thing keeping him from falling into the pit below.

“Hold on I’m-,”

“And wha’ are you two youngens up to?” An amused and powerful voice asks from the the side of the cave we just left.

“My friend is in trouble!” I explain quickly, not sparing the new monster a glance as I tug on MK’s sweater, trying and failing to pull him up. “Can you help me-,”

“Now why in the name of the Stars would I ever help you?” The voice asks, with the same lighthearted tone. “I bet it’s your fault he’s down there in the first place,” he goes on, “right human?” And this time the voice is directly behind me. I freeze up, scared out of my mind, but I keep my grip on MK and pull again. I won’t let him die just because I’m a weak human.

“Annabell’s my friend!” MK protests, unlatching from the ledge to yell. He slides another five inches down the side of the bridge before he grabs another outcropping of rock with his teeth.

“Please you have to-,” I’m pushed roughly out of the way, and almost go tumbling over the edge of the bridge myself. In my place stands a turtle, a turtle with light yellow skin and a grey shell, covered with pictures of war, in the very middle is the same Delta Rune as my cloak. He walks on two legs despite being a giant turtle and has a large hammer strapped to his belt.

“Here we go youngen,” he says, easily hoisting MK over the edge by the back of his yellow sweater and dropping him on his butt, safe and sound on top of the bridge. “No more careless ‘ventures for you, k?” He orders pointing a rather dismissive finger at the armless monster. “Now run ‘long. I have business with this here human, and it isn’t pleasant for youn’ eyes to be witnessin’.”

MK jumps to his feet quicker then the turtle monster can turn around, “She’s my friend!” He yells, hoping over to where I am and definitely standing in front of me, with a glare in his eyes. “You have to understand Gerson!” He cries as the turtle monster with a mustache, Gerson, sighs deeply. “She tried to save me! No evil human would do that!”

Gerson ponders that for a second and it’s all the time MK needs, he bends down and grabs my cloak in his teeth pulling me up and then dragging me off the bridge. “Hey! Get back here ye two!” Gerson yells after us as we race through the maze of slippery caves and glowing mushrooms.

“We just have to make it to Hotland!” MK yells over Gerson’s constant stream of monster bad words, “he doesn’t like the heat and won’t follow us!”

“How much longer?” I ask as I notice that we’re starting to lose ground and my lungs are burning.

“Not far!” He pants rounding a corner with wide eyes, “THERE!”

In front of us stretches a faint neon sign, which reads “HOTLAND”. It seems we did make it. I won’t die here, I’ll keep my promise to Waylon, I’ll find him!

Suddenly everything stops, I trip over the air and land face first on the hard stone ground. MK slides to a stop in front of me, his eyes wide in horror, looking back I understand why, a Fight screen as appeared in front of me, along with my floating white soul.

Gerson huffs in his place 20 feet from me, his own fight screen floating before him, though his soul is nowhere to be seen. He squints funnily at my white soul and eyes the spot where my [ATTACK] button should be with a strange expression on his face.

“Finally caught ya human,” he huffs hand hovering over his [ATTACK] button, “Now we can finish tis the right way.”

I swallow thickly as MK yells from behind me for Gerson to stop. His own Fight Screen and white soul appearing before him as he slides into place next to me, a determined look in his chocolate eyes. I want to tell him to leave, to run away and leave me, because there is no way we can beat this monster, the leader of the Royal Guard. But I know MK won’t leave no matter what I say, so I take a deep breath and prepare myself to defend MK.

“Look,” Gerson sighs shaking his head in annoyance, but never removing his hand from its position above the [FIGHT] button. “I know you’re jus’ tryin’ to protect your friend. But listen here youngen that’s a human, and it’s going to kill you. So before it does I’m going to kill it.”

MK doesn’t say anything for a long moment, then he takes a deep breath and head buts the [ACT] button, pulling up another menu which leaves me breathless at its contents. Every single option is [DEFEND].

He head buts the screen again and moves in front of me, puffing out his shoulders and standing on the tips of his toes so he’s taller and more imposing. “I used to look up to you!” MK yells across the field, “You’re the strongest monster in the whole Underground and they say you’re the reason the King came back alive from the final battle!” He yells, as Gerson flinches at the memory. “But you’re just a bully! Annabell is my friend and you’re not going to hurt her! Human or not she saved me!!”

Gerson stares at us, wide eyed and mouth agape, confusion etched into his very soul. But pain also clouds his startled eyes, pain and fear. The Fight screens vanish along with our souls.

“Thank you for not-,” I start to say, only to blink in confusion when I stare at an empty cave, Gerson is gone.

………………………..

Next - >

< - Previous

#underheart #undertale #ivory canon timeline #undertaleAU #ivory soul #ivory timeline #fanfic #annabell #MK #chapter 20 #more umbrellas #My writing #gerson #fighting(almost)#waterfall #Gerson is the new Undyne #MK is the bestest of best friends #titled this chapter warning 'fish will bite' and confused myself...

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artandteaandstuff-blog · 7 years

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Strange Places - Part 7

Summary: Emma Swan is only just getting to grips with the whole fairy-tale thing, let alone the villains. She’s already defeated the Evil Queen. But the Evil Queen’s mother is a new story entirely. Not to mention Captain Hook. She will do whatever she has to do to take him out. Until one day she wakes up in an entirely different bed, only to find out she’s married to him. | Captain Swan.

Author’s Notes: THANK YOU @irishswanff FOR YOUR BETA-ING.

Tagging a few people who are/ were reading! If you want to be taken off this list or added to it, please let me know! Also I’ve lost track of who asked to me tagged so if I missed you, shout at me!!

@pottlock @killian_whump @silmarilswan @katromine @like-waves-on-the-beach@the-selfish-heart @galadriel26 @elaine-spades@blackwidownat2814@spartanguard @lifeismadeup-ofmoments@superchocovian @linda8084@georgianablythe16 @revanmeetra87 @swanslieutenant @swanandapirate @dreadpirateemma @ofshipsandswans @killiancygnus

FF.NET

Too Much, Too Far

Hook cornered Emma in the kitchen after he dropped Lizzie off at school.

She was only just out the shower, hair loose and freshly dried, clothes soft against her skin. Other-Emma had a different fashion sense than her. She was more into soft jumpers and dresses, whereas Emma prefered a good pair of jeans and a tank top. She managed to get a good night’s sleep the night before, so she had woken early and bright-eyed.

Hook, on the other hand, didn’t look like he was faring so well. His face was pale with sleepless nights, his eyes bloodshot and tender. If Emma didn’t know him any better, she’d say he was heartbroken. That was the feeling she got from him every time he fixed her with those wounded puppy-dog eyes she was so unused to seeing.

“I have something to tell you, love,” he said.

She turned, in the midst of drying a plate, and raised her eyebrows in response.

“Now, bear with me…”

She didn’t like the sound of that. She turned to face him, folding her arms, battle stance at the ready. Was he going to tell her to stop with the questions? He hadn’t objected to them last night, but she could tell he was at breaking point, especially when she started quizzing him on their sex-life... and his villainy. They were touchy subjects. She made note to use them as button pushers later, when the occasion arose.

“What?” she asked. When she realised how hostile her voice sounded, she added, softer, “What’s up?”

“We’ve been invited out to dinner,” he said, grimly, watching her with those bright blue eyes. She looked away from his gaze, finding that it burned into her too much.

“Okay?”

“With your mother and father.”

“That’s it?” She almost laughed.

She noted the relief on his face. She thought it would be much worse, especially with the way he was acting. But her parents, she could handle. In fact, she could probably use them to her advantage. She smiled, unable to stop herself, and he caught it before she dropped her expression into something more neutral. He must have mistook it, for his own face broke out into a smile, and for a moment it was so blinding she couldn’t look away. She had never seen him smile like that, not once, not even when he flirted so shamelessly with her.

“I need to go and sort out the laundry,” he said, still smiling. He made his way to the door but turned just shy of it. “And Emma?”

“Yeah?”

“Glad to see a bit of the old you.”

The twist of guilt in her gut surprised her.

So, it was settled. Lizzie, Neal and Archie were to stay with Belle, who took on her babysitting duties with enthusiasm. She turned up at the door a, little earlier than expected, to pick Lizzie up. Emma couldn’t notice how much happier she seemed. Nothing like the shy, closed-off Belle she had known back in the other Storybrooke.

“You’re alright having three of them sleep over?” Emma heard Killian ask.

“It will be my pleasure.”

Emma had yet to come down the stairs. She was perched at the top of the landing, listening to their conversation, and glimpsing Belle from around the corner. She hadn’t worked up the courage to go down the stairs yet, and she wasn’t quite finished getting ready but she wanted to hear what tales Hook spun when she wasn’t around. Was it just her he was fooling, or was it the whole town?

“Brilliant. Thanks again, love.”

“No problem,” she said, holding her hand out for Lizzie to take. “Have you said goodbye to mummy?” she asked her.

Lizzie nodded. “Yeah, I went upstairs to say goodbye. She’s getting ready.”

“I’ll give her your love,” Killian said to Belle.

“Please do.”

He gave his daughter one last wave before she disappeared down the path with Belle. When Emma heard the door close, she scrambled back into the bedroom, heart pounding in her chest.

She needed to finish getting ready. It wouldn’t do to be distracted. She caught sight of the jewelry she laid out on the bed for herself, and crossed the room to pick it up. Usually she wasn’t the jewelry type, but today she wanted to make an impression on Killian. It was all part of her game plan.

She laid out a glimmering necklace, a few bracelets, and earrings. They were all silver, sparkling in the light when she picked them up. She fastened her earrings first, pushing back her freshly curled hair. She’d been wearing her hair less curly recently, because she hardly had time to shower with all the monsters running about, let alone spend hours in front of the mirror. But she found she missed it, as she pinched a curl between her fingertips. It was reminiscent of a bail bonds Emma; someone who did whatever she had to to get answers.

That was who she needed to be tonight.

Perhaps that was why she’d decided on a tight black dress she found in the back of the wardrobe. This body was older than her normal one, but she still managed to pull it off. If she and Hook were really married, he wouldn’t be able to take his eyes off her, and that would make everything run much more smoothly. She paired it with black kitten heels.

She was just about to go downstairs when a breeze wafted from the open window, straight to her bare legs. She felt the goosebumps rise and the cold run through her. Stockings would help that. Now, where would they be?

She started with the drawers, pulling them open, and peering inside. She thoroughly looked through panties, socks and bras, but she wasn’t able to find the stockings. She decided to try her luck on the lingerie drawer she’d found one of the first few nights she’d been here. She felt around, and found not stockings, but the red lacy panties and bra she’d come across before. As she pulled them out of the drawer, another thought struck her.

It would be bad…

But if it worked, it would be oh so useful…

Her lips curled into a slow smile. Yes, those would come very useful later tonight, but not until after the meal. He’d have a few drinks, and so would she, to get her confidence up.

Captain Hook really didn’t know what he was in for.

“Wow, Emma,” Hook said as she walked down the stairs, smiling at him in greeting. “You look beautiful, but we’re just going to Granny’s.”

She stepped off the bottom step. “Is it bad that I wanted to dress up?”

“You won’t find me complaining.” She noticed Captain Hook flashed in Killian Jones’ eyes.

When she held her hand out for him he looked at it, surprised, but she nodded. He took it. His hand felt strange in hers, and the feeling of his touch made her want to snatch it out of his immediately, but she pushed the thought away and smiled at him. She was going to have to be on her best behaviour if her plan was going to work.

For now.

By the time they got to Granny’s, Mary Margaret and David were already there, sat in a booth. They smiled at them as they made their way in. David stood up immediately and took Emma’s coat, murmuring a, “You look beautiful.”

“Thanks Dav- uh, dad.” She cringed at herself.

She sat next to Mary Margaret, who she deemed safe territory. Mary Margaret smiled at her with glowing eyes, and handed her a menu.

“How are you feeling?” she asked, with a smile.

“A lot better, thanks mom.”

“Killian told us you were making more of an effort. I’m really glad to hear that, Emma. You’ll be back to your old self in no time.”

“I think you might be right.”

They order drinks. Hook decided on rum, no surprises there, and Emma ordered a big glass of red wine. She gulped down half of it as soon as the waitress set it on the table in front of her. She ignored everyone’s worried eyes on her, as she set it back on the table with a louder clink than necessary.

“Right, what are we ordering?”

Everyone ordered burgers. When the waitress came, Hook ordered onion rings for Emma instead of fries, and fixed her with a smile. She had to force herself to smile back, alarm bells ringing in her head. He knew her too well. They’d been married for years.

He knew her too well.

They were in the middle of waiting for the food when Emma decided to bring up the questions.

“Hook and I have found a way to beat the amnesia,” she said, gulping more wine. With everyone’s eyes on her, attentive and listening, she continued. “We’re playing 20 questions. Aren’t we?”

“That we are,” he said, taking a steady sip of his rum. His eyes were guarded as he watched her.

“So I might ask Hook some questions during dinner- and I might ask you some too, is that okay?”

“Of course Emma,” Mary Margaret said, reaching across to take her hand. She squeezed warmly. “We are willing to do anything to help you. Please ask us anything you think might help.”

“I will,” she said, suppressing her smile.

She decided to bide her time. She listened to Mary Margaret talk about Neal, and how he refused to do his homework, because -according to him- he was a prince and princes didn’t have to do homework. David rolled his eyes as he listened to his wife tell the story, interrupting to add that algebra is much less work than sword fighting or horse training, or all the other things a prince has to do to rule the Kingdom. Mary Margaret mentioned that she had to get through three thick volumes a week when she was learning how to be a princess. It taught her discipline and helped her realise the true sacrifices princesses have to make.

Emma tried not to seem bored by the conversation when, truthfully, it was a little out of her depth. She couldn’t imagine Mary Margaret as a princess, or David as a prince, and she didn’t want to. It all seemed so far away from her, and though she knew it was true, she couldn’t connect herself to the reality of it.

“I’m sure Neal will grow out of it,” said Hook. “He’s a smart lad. If it’s a sword fighting lesson he wants, perhaps I could teach him a few tricks.”

“Yeah, like how to play dirty, pirate,” David said, but the tone was playful. She was surprised to see the men exchange wide smiles, and it put her on edge. Who’d have thought they’d end up becoming such good friends? It sent a shudder right through her.

Only when the food arrived, did Emma put her plan into action. She waited until everyone had cut into their burgers before she got out, “So, what do you guys think of our marriage?”

David swallowed a mouthful. “What do you mean?”

“Do you think it’s happy?”

Mary Margaret and David exchanged looks, before she too swallowed her own mouthful. “Haven’t you asked Kill-”

“Yes, but I’m asking you. I don’t think Ho- Killian would lie.” She directed a forced smile at Hook, who had become very still. “But I want your side of it. Please understand, I’m trying to piece all of this together. I can’t do that if you won’t help me.”

“Of course you’re happy, Emma,” Mary Margaret said. “I’ve never known a couple so in love, or so trusting as you two.”

Emma somehow found that hard to believe, but she nodded along nevertheless, and took a bite out of her burger. Despite how ever many years seemed to have passed, it still tasted exactly the same as she remembered. Same recipe or… magic?

She decided to ask simpler questions, rather than reel out the big one she planned to ask. She asked them how often they come around to the house.

“Every week, of course!” said David. “Though, not in the mornings anymore. Not since we walked in on you making -uh - pancakes.”

According to David, Neal slept over at her house a lot. According to Mary Margaret, he loved his Auntie Emma, who managed to make him smile more than anyone else. Emma found that hard to believe too. She couldn’t even keep hold of her own kid, how would she be able to charm others?

She wanted to know how she suddenly came to trust them so much, and when she started to call them ‘mom and dad’, but she didn’t want to offend them, so she kept her mouth shut about that. It was only when they were halfway through dessert - strawberry and lemon cheesecakes - that Emma decided to bring out the harder questions.

“So dad,” she said, with a butter-wouldn’t-melt smile, “How come you let me marry Captain Hook?”

His smile faltered, but only for a second. “What do you mean?”

“Were you happy with that?”

His eyes flickered over to Hook and back to Emma, his smile growing wider. “Of course I was. I love Killian. I couldn’t have picked a better match for you myself- of course, not that we pick matches here, not since the Enchanted Forest.”

Her smile remained plastered to her face. That was not the answer she was hoping for. She didn’t want to have to do it, but she was going to have to up her game. They had forced her hand.

“So you really don’t mind?”

“Don’t mind what?”

“That I married a pirate?”

Hook gave a small cough. She looked over to him. His eyes were unreadable. “I think we all know I’m not that man any more.”

“Do we?” The stare she fixed him with was unblinking. She turned back to her parents. “I mean, do you really believe he just woke up one day and changed? You’re heroes. And he is- was- a villain.”

“What sort of heroes would we be if we didn’t believe people could change?” Mary Margaret asked, gently. “Your father and I, we’ve done things we’re not proud of-”

“But I doubt you’ve killed countless innocent people,” she said. She finished off her glass of wine. She needed her courage for her next words. “Come on, dad. How do you really feel that that hand- the hand that so gently brushes hair off my face-”

“Emma, don’t do this,” Killian said. She didn’t even look at him.

“-Or that hand, that have so softly touched-”

“Emma!”

“-have also ran a sword through innocents, hell, for the fun of it. How does it make you feel that your little girl married a man who ripped wives from husbands?”

“Emma, please,” Hook’s voice was pained, but she wasn’t falling for it.

“-who ripped fathers from their children?”

“Emma!” Mary Margaret shouted.

She finally looked into her parents’ faces. They were red, but that wasn’t what got her. They were looking into her face like they didn’t know her at all. They shook their heads, but she didn’t let it get to her. She couldn’t.

She threw down her napkin and rose from her seat. Without uttering another word, she turned and left Granny’s, out into the cold. No-one called after her, even though she half expected them to. She gulped down cold air, sighing as a breeze hit her warm skin. She needed the air to think, to clear her head.

She wondered if they were talking about her, shaking their heads, muttering how she's not the Emma that they know and love. Good, she thought savagely. Maybe then they’d realise that she’s not the real Emma, and send her back to the real Storybrooke, instead of keeping her at this God awful hell of a place.

She heard footsteps behind her. And of course when she turned, Hook was right there, closing the distance between them in a matter of strides. His eyes were dark, and his expression was still unreadable. She turned away from him, and out into the street, folding her arms. He came to stand beside her. He didn’t speak for a while. The only sound was the crickets’ soft chirping, and the faint sound of music coming from the diner. Finally, he spoke.

“What do you want me to do, Emma?”

She turned away from him, away from his gaze which was so uncharacteristically patient, and kept her own gaze fixed on the street. He sighed.

“Come on,” he said. “Let’s go home.”

The journey was silent. Emma didn’t utter a word to him, and he didn’t utter a word to her. She wondered why he didn’t try and make conversation with her, or ask her what that was all about, and then she would tell him that the only way she would stop would be if he promised to help her get back to the real Storybrooke. But he didn’t speak.

They went their separate ways when they returned to the house. Killian went straight into the kitchen, and she heard the sound of a bottle hitting the side, and liquid being poured in a glass before she continued on up the stairs.

She had intended to kick off her heels, to get into her pajamas and go to sleep, but the red garments on the bed caught her eye and she remembered the next part of her plan. She smiled as she picked up the lacy red bra.

Let’s see what kind of man you really are, Captain.

It took all of her courage. Three times she made it out into the hall, and ran back into the bedroom. She sat on the bed, talking herself into it. She needed to do this tonight, if she was going to do it at all. Lizzie wasn’t here, which made it the perfect opportunity.

She stood back up. She’d swapped her black heels for some red ones, to match the lacy undergarments she wore. She caught sight of herself in the mirror. The red stood out against her creamy skin, and it did wonders for the golden tones in her hair. She placed her hands on her hips and smiled at her reflection.

She was Emma Swan. She wasn’t scared of anything. And she definitely wasn’t scared of Captain Hook.

She made her way down the stairs, slowly, in her heels. He was no longer in the kitchen, but in the living room. He was sat on the sofa, his back to her as he looked into the fire, like something out of a storybook. His hand was clasped around a glass of rum. She watched as he brought it up and took a long, slow sip.

She leaned against the door frame, placing one hand on her hip, the other against the door.

“Well, hello there Captain.”

He jumped out of his seat and turned around. His eyes almost bulged out of his head as he took her in. “Bloody hell, Emma?”

“What do you think?”

She watched as he stood up, glass left forgotten as he approached her, eyes still wide.

“What do I think?”

She almost rolled her eyes. Almost. But instead, she sauntered forward, swaying her hips, borrowing some of that confidence she seemed to possess during one night stands. The idea was to seduce, not be vulnerable.

“What are you doing?” he asked.

“What do you think I’m doing?”

She came to a stop in front of him and touched the collar of his shirt. He didn’t move away from her, but he didn’t take her in his arms like she thought he would. He stared at her, expression torn, eyebrows knit together. She dragged her hand from the collar down his chest, skimming over the buttons.

“Emma…” he warned.

But she continued her path, right down to the bottom of his shirt. It was a move that always worked, especially when she slowed the trail of her hand.

“Don’t you want this?” she asked, blinking innocently up at him.

He caught her hand. “Emma,” he warned again, though there was something in his voice. It was deeper. There was an edge to it. She smiled.

“C’mon.” She leaned in and whispered, “What do you say?”

The pause was long. She didn’t like being so close to him- it put her on edge. His face was so close to hers, she could see each individual tiny hair on his chin. She could smell the sweetness of the rum coming off his tongue, and something else, perhaps a sea salt shower gel. She hadn’t been nearly this close to him since they were on the beanstalk and he’d bandaged her hand.

“No,” he finally said.

“No?” Her tone was laced with surprise. “What do you mean “no”?”

“I won’t take advantage of you, not when you’re like this.” He moved a hand up to stroke hair from her face, but she flinched away from his touch. “You won’t even let me touch you like this, Emma. How am I supposed to make love to you?”

No, that’s not the answer she wanted. She hadn’t intended to sleep with him, but get him to try it on with her, so she could prove what she’d already known; he was a villain, and always would be. There was a quick jolt of shame, but she pushed it away and inched forward to him.

“Oh c’mon.”

She leaned in for a kiss, but he caught her by her shoulders. His jaw was set, his eyes stern. “No.”

She caught him by his collar and pulled him towards her with all the force she could muster, crashing her lips to his. They both stumbled before regaining their balance. His lips were soft- softer than she had imagined- but when she tried to move her mouth with his, there was no response. He gently but firmly pushed her away, and though she resisted, he was too strong for her.

“Emma, please don’t do this.” The look he gave her was earnest. “I know you do not want to do this.”

“Look, you’re an attractive man. A girl has needs.”

She moved to kiss him again but he placed a finger on her lips. She looked up at him and for a second he seemed to be amused, his eyebrow quirking up.

“I knew you’d come around eventually love,” he said, and his tone was teasing. “But I really don’t think this is the best idea.”

“Why not?” she demanded.

“I’ve told you why not. I- can’t. That’s not who I am. Not any more.”

She scoffed. “Yeah right.”

Then all at once his face moved from gentle, kind and patient to dark in a matter of seconds. It wasn’t anger exactly, but pain, and it cast a shadow over every one of his features. He took a step back from her.

“That’s why you’re doing this,” he said, with quiet realisation. “You’re trying to see what kind of man I am. I thought that perhaps- perhaps you were remembering, perhaps a part of you missed-” He shook his head. “But you’re playing me. That’s what the questions are about, aren’t they? You’ve not been forthright with me. You’re not trying to remember. You’re manipulating me.”

He looked at her, waiting for her to deny it, but she couldn’t. For some reason, she couldn’t lie to him.

“What do you expect me to do?” she finally asked. “Huh? You won’t help me. What am I supposed to do?”

“I expect you to come to me.”

“I did come to you. And, in case you’ve forgotten, you refused to help me.”

His face changed from stony back to gentle. He took a step towards her, voice soft as he said, “Emma, I am trying to help you. I promise. We all are. I just want you to rememb-”

“I haven’t forgotten anything!” she shouted. She hadn’t intended to lose her temper, but she knew if he said the words ‘remember’ one more time, she was going to lose it. And suddenly, it was like she couldn’t stop, and words were pouring out of her. “All you care about is getting the “old Emma” back, like I have amnesia. Well guess what? I don’t. And you won’t even entertain the possibility that what I’m saying might be true. You’ve convinced yourself that I’m wrong without even listening to my side of the story. You- and the rest of my family- are all hearing what you want to hear.”

“Emma-”

“How would you feel if one day you were arresting Captain Hook for shooting someone, another living human being who has done nothing wrong. He looked me in the eyes and he told me that he didn’t care who he hurt, as long as he got his revenge. Then suddenly, later that day, I’m married to him? The villain, Captain Hook?”

He clenched his jaw. “I told you, I’m not that man anymore.”

“Then I don’t know who you are, because you clearly don’t care enough about me to help me. And I feel sorry for this Emma who you claim is your wife.”

“How do you think I feel?” he shouted.

She scoffed and folded her arms.

“My wife woke up one day and suddenly she’s not my wife anymore. She refuses to look at me because she finds me repulsive. She is frightened of me.” He takes a step towards her. “I cannot hold her. I cannot even talk to her, because she is under the impression that I am a villain.”

“You shot Belle!”

“I am not that man any more,” he bellows in her face. “I know who I was. I know what I did. Do not think for one second that I’ve forgotten.”

“I don’t understand.”

“What’s so hard to comprehend, Emma?” He stalks towards her now, and she steps backwards with him. “Yes, I was a villain, but I confronted my past, and I learned from it. I changed for the better, and that was all because of you.” He takes a breath, and she thinks he’s done but then he says, “You changed too.”

Changed? She flinched.

“I didn’t- don’t need to change.”

“Well that’s where you’re wrong,” he said, softly now. “You were closed off. You put yourself before others. Your walls were so high, you couldn’t even see over them yourself, let alone break them down.” He paused, studying her face. “Perhaps you are right. Perhaps you are not my Emma. My Emma is open. She’s caring, selfless, but most importantly, she is open to love.”

Emma wraps her arms around herself, suddenly cold, suddenly very aware that she is hardly wearing a thing. Goosebumps rise on her arms.

“Well there’s one thing I don’t buy,” she says, without looking at him.

“What’s that?”

“I could never and would never love you.”

The tension in the air was thicker than it had ever been. She expected him to shout at her, to tell her to get out, to revert to his usual ways, but when she looked up at him, he was not even looking at her. His hand clenched into a fist at his side.

“Fine,” he said, so quietly, she wasn’t sure she heard him right.

“What?”

“I said fine. I’ll help you. Starting tomorrow, we will work out a plan, and we’ll get you back to wherever you bloody came from.”

He strode past her and out into the hallway. She heard his footsteps thunder up the stairs. The guest bedroom door slammed shut. Emma stood there for some time, arms wrapped around herself.

She had gotten what she wanted. So why was it that she felt like she hadn’t won at all?

#captain swan #cs ff #cs au

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iamthechocobabe · 7 years

Text

We All Have Battle Scars

I am on ze role! Wis mah fake Franch accant, I vill post anozer chaptah.

I’m working on three hours of sleep.

Once again, if you want to read the AU this was based on, check out @nifwrites Ignis soulmate AU We Intertwined

IMPORTANT A/N: Please be aware that while this is based on the same mythology that Nif wrote, IT IS NOT THE SAME UNIVERSE. There were some changes to the mythology and characters that were created by Nif and @cupnoodle-queen and @blindbae are not in this story.

We All Have Battle Scars

~Chapter 1~

Word Count: 2,006

SFW

~Chapter 1~

Alaea played a game whenever she came across a mirror-she would put her hand over the scar on her lower left cheek and neck and would pretend the scar wasn't there and that she was normal.

Her hand wasn't big enough to cover the whole scar as her burn scar ran past her neck and into her chest, but she usually tried to ignore the rest of the scar and just focus on her face. When you couldn't focus on the scar, you could focus on Alaea's almond shaped golden-brown eyes, her slightly pudgy but cute nose and full lips that was naturally curved to a smile.

But no one ever seemed to want to look past her scar. Even the workers at the Chocobo Outpost treated Alaea differently sometimes.

The scar was bright red with bubbles of skin that hadn't been as burned throughout the scar. Wiz once compared it to a type of spider web because the bubbles connected to other bubbles through small patches of skin.

For awhile, Alaea refused to let her scar bother her and tried to live her life as normal as possible, even going so far as to cut her long golden brown hair to her chin so that there was no way she could hide her face. But the older she got, the more kids taunted her until she finally grew her hair out to be long and wavy with a length that reached her elbows. When she didn't have her hair up in a messy bun for working on the ranch, her hair was loose and usually hiding the left side of her face.

And there were times she hated that face.

"It ain't going away, Chocobee," Wiz called to Alaea.

"I know, daddy," Alaea called back and wiped some dirt off her shoulder. Her work clothes were getting dirty; mud was beginning to cake the red and black checkered button down shirt that Alaea wore over the bright purple tank top with the Wiz's Chocobo Post logo in the center. The black jeans she wore had a hole in the right knee and the white in her white and black sneakers was now an ugly brown color.

"Chocobee, can you quit primping and take this customer's order? I need to sign our feeding shipment,"

"Only if you quit calling me 'Chocobee'," Alaea called and started to head over to the small table that had a young couple and what looked like their son, who looked to be about ten or eleven.

"Ali, you know that ain't happening,"

Alaea smirked at her dad and focused on the people at the table. "What can I get you?"

"Yes, what does your name tag say?" the woman asked, referring to the name stitched into the left side of her work shirt. "A-lah-eh-a?"

"A-lay-a," Alaea sounded out the name, like she had done so many other times before. "It's okay, I know it's tricky,"

"Right, right," the woman gazed at Alaea for a second but looked away when their eyes met.

"Do you need some time to look at the menu?" Alaea asked.

"Actually, if it's possible, we were wondering..." the woman trailed off and shifted in her seat, clearly uncomfortable by something. Alaea had a suspicion as to what it was.

"Yes?"

"We know it's a lot to ask, but we would...we would feel more comfortable if...um..." the woman stuttered again and was looking at anything but Alaea until finally the husband, who hadn't once looked up from the newspaper he had bought, decided to chip in.

"We don't want you to serve us,"

This wasn't the first time something like this had happened and Alaea knew it wouldn't be the last, but it still hurt to hear it. "Excuse me?"

"You look like a daemon tried to chew on your face and didn't like the way you tasted and spat you out," the little boy, their son, piped up.

"Billy!" the woman chastised her son and glanced nervously at Alaea. "It's nothing personal, dearie, it's just...we don't want anything to get into our food, you see?"

Alaea paused, trying not to feel offended but being unable to do so. "I see...well, I can assure you, my scar doesn't peel and won't 'fall' into the food, but I'll go ask one of the other hands to help you," Alaea turned around and walked away without giving the family a chance to say anything.

It wasn't long until Wiz came into the house and sighed at the sight of his daughter sitting and stewing in anger and bitterness on the couch in the living room. "People these days," he said.

"Tell me about it," Alaea said, the bitterness practically dripping from her voice.

"Don't let what they said hurt you, Ali," Wiz sat down on the couch next to her and put his arm around her. "They're just jealous that you get to hang out with the Chocobos all day,"

"Har har," Alaea said, but leaned on her father's shoulder anyway. "You'd think with bounty hunters being more frequent that people would be more used to seeing scars,"

"It's these posh people from the Crown City-we're getting more of them ever since the Empire invaded Insomnia,"

Alaea couldn't help but shiver. "You think Impirials will come here?" Alaea asked softly, not wanting to think about her precious family home and her father's life's work being torn apart by a bunch of magiteks.

Wiz laid his head on the back of the couch and pulled his wool cap down so it covered his eyes. "I don't know, Ali. Maybe-that's why I'm trying to raise money for some bounty hunter guards, but...it's been difficult,"

"Maybe I could become a bounty hunter," Alaea mused. "Take care of that Behemoth that's shitting around the Chocobos,"

Wiz looked at his daughter with a smirk and held out his hand. "Swear jar,"

Alaea grumbled and pulled five gil out of her pocket and put it into her dad's hand.

Wiz pocketed the change and continued. "Darling, you screamed bloody murder when a rat slithered across your foot the other day-I don't think you can handle fighting daemons, let alone a Behemoth,"

"Dad, seriously; everyone who's gone after that daemon has either come back with the shit beaten out of them or not come back at all. Aren't you the one who always said 'if you want something done right, you have to do it yourself?'"

"That's talking about ordering Chocobo feed, Ali; we're talking about taking up a daemon that's about the size of a small house," Wiz held out his hand again. "Swear jar,"

"I can take daemons," Ali insisted while putting another five gil in her dad's open palm. Deep down, Alaea knew she couldn't really handle daemons, though. Ever since she was a baby, she'd been deathly afraid of mice and other small critters that weren't Chocobos.

Alaea had never had the guts to fight a daemon before, but the fact that the ranch was starting to lose business was getting to Alaea. She had to wonder if she could defeat the daemon, or at least maybe trick it into leaving the valley.

Wiz looked at his daughter and raised an eyebrow.

"Well, I can still take you on, anyway," Alaea pinched her dad in the side and sat up. "At least then I can tell people I got malled by a daemon. Much more epic than a cooking accident,"

"Not everybody's gonna focus on your scar, chocobee,"

Alaea glanced at the mirror on the counter that overlooked the kitchen and scoffed. "Could have fooled me,"

"Your soulmate won't focus on it, I bet,"

Alaea couldn't help but put her hand on the back of her neck where her soulmate mark was. Her dad had one in the shape of an eye on his right foot while her mother had one on her left foot and when Wiz had met Gayle, that was how he knew she was 'the one'.

Alaea's mark was centered on the back of her neck, just below her hairline and had the shape of an ulwaat berry, which kind of looked like a strawberry. She knew because her parents were soulmates that her soulmate would have the same mark just with the stem curving to the right instead of to the left.

But though she would never tell her dad, Alaea didn't believe the soulmate thing was legitimate-it had been clear that people didn't just straight up fall in love just because of a soulmate mark they owned; Alaea knew this by looking at her own parents failed marriage.

"Knowing my luck, dad, he'd have all kinds of scars with a lazy eye and a limp-or worse..." Alaea shuddered. "Blonde,"

"Not all blondes are horrific she-devils," Wiz mumbled.

The one you married was, was what Alaea wanted to say but she bit her tongue and stayed silent for the sake of her father's sanity.

"Anyway, now, that wouldn't be the worst thing-looks aren't everything, you know," Wiz looked at his daughter-he knew she was skeptical about the soulmate marking and was justifiably so.

"Knowing your luck, chocobee," Wiz said while pinching Alaea's shoulder. "He'll be so devishly handsome that you'll feel inadequate to him,"

Alaea looked at her dad, one of her eyebrows raised.

Wiz realized his error and nodded. "Right, that would be worse,"

Prompto Argentum touched the back of his neck gently as the group drove onto Lastallum. Once again, his mind was drawn to what his soulmate would look like-he had considered asking Cid if Cindy had a soulmate marking, but when Cid was approached, he gave Prompto a look that said 'if you say one word about my daughter, I will skin you alive and hang you up by your entrails,'

And Prompto would say 'well, that escalated quickly'

But what bugged Prompto the most about his soulmate was the memory of meeting his own soulmate when he was very young.

It was almost like a dream, but he remembered the back of a neck that had the same soulmate mark as Prompto's, just mirrored. When Prompto discovered his own soulmate mark at a young age, the memory stuck with him, but when he told his parents, they said it was probably just a dream.

Prompto wasn't sure if it was a dream or not, but he hoped it wasn't.

Because then that meant they were still out there, somewhere.

Gladiolus, who sat in the backseat with Prompto, noticed Prompto tracing the outline of his soulmate marking, knowing that the mark looked like an ulwaat berry with the stem curved to the right. "Touching it is not gonna make them magically appear," he snickered.

"Shut up," Prompto grumbled-his soulmate mark always felt private to Prompto, like it was something only he should know. But it was hard to keep something like a soulmate mark private, especially with three close friends.

"I never could get the purpose in a soulmate mark," Noctis said from the front seat. "What if they have absolutely nothing in common? What if one of them is a thief?"

"But what if one of them is their destined one?" Prompto pointed out and Noctis snorted. Noctis was about to say something when Prompto gasped. "OH. EM. GEE," Right ahead, at the curve of the road, was a sign that said 'Wiz's Chocobo Outpost'. "Noct, we HAVE to go! Please, please, pleeeeaaaaasssee!"

"We have to meet Iris in Lastallum," Gladio grumbled.

Noctis laughed softly. "Few days wouldn't hurt," he said and Ignis began to turn off the road and head towards the ranch. "I was gonna ask you a question though, Prompt,"

"What?"

"What if your soulmate is ugly?"

Prompto scoffed a little at the comment, irritated once again at how people were so obsessed with the looks of their soulmates. Prompto used to hear stories all the time in school, how if someone's soulmate didn't meet their expectations, they would reject them. It always pissed Prompto off.

"Um, wow, Noctis, conceited much? Do you think I'm that shallow?"

#ffxv #prompto argentum #prompto soulmate #soulmate au #we all have battle scars #we intertwined #LET THE HATRED COMMENCE #yes #i am making it a thing

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