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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 4 years

Text

A Certain Type

Warnings: noncon sexual acts, fingering, oral, cheating

This is dark!Steve Rogers (and some side Bucky) and explicit. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: Steve Rogers has an unhealthy interest in his TA.

for @evnscvll‘s 3k challenge, I used the prompts Professor AU + ‘Don’t’ by Bryson Tiller

Note: A quick one shot for y’all ft. Professor Steve and a little sleazy Bucky too.

Hope you enjoy it. Thank you. Love you guys!

Please leave some feedback, like and reblog <3

Reader📚

You smiled at Lauren as you handed her back her paper; the first assignment of the year. On the due date, Professor Rogers had shuffled them all up and handed you half the stack. That had been the same day as your first lesson. It had all been so overwhelming but more than a month and a half into the semester, you were starting to get a foothold.

“Have a good day,” You watched Lauren go, the last of the students to shuffle out into the hall.

You grabbed the three papers left in the file folder and crossed to the podium. Your advisor, Professor Rogers, worked at erasing his slanted writing from the whiteboard. You waited patiently until he set down the eraser and turned to you.

“I have some leftovers.” You clapped the bottom of the folder on the wood. “Absentees.”

“Ah, yes,” He neared the other side of the podium and took the file from you. He flipped through the papers inside. “Only three? I think that’s a new record…” He closed the folder and tucked it under his arm. “I’ll hold onto them until next class.”

“Alright,” You nodded. “So… did you get a chance to look over my lesson on Kant?”

“I did,” He bent to grab his bag. “You know, I can really tell you’re a history major first… but it’s good. I’ll send you my notes tonight.”

“I’m trying to break that,” You went to the seat along the first row where you often sat when it wasn’t your turn to teach. You lifted your bag onto the seat. “Trying to focus less on the dry who’s and what’s and more on ideas.”

“Well, so far, you’re a quick learner,” He offered as you packed up your notebook. “We do need to go over the marking scheme for next week’s assignment. You able to make Saturday?”

“Uh,” You glanced at the icon on your phone screen. You had several unanswered and unread messages. “Actually, I’m… busy. I can stop by during regular office hours.”

“I try to keep that reserved for undergrads,” He inhaled. “But I wouldn’t ask you to cancel.”

“I can rearrange--”

“Boyfriend?” He interrupted. “Finally making time?”

“He’s been out of town,” You said meekly. “How about tomorrow? I can come to campus between your afternoon blocks.”

“Hmmm,” He dragged his fingertips over his trimmed beard. “Meet me at Smoky’s. I usually have a coffee there after my morning class.” He pushed the flap over the top of his bag. “They have great carrot muffins.”

“Works for me,” You lifted your leather bag and tucked your phone up your sleeve. “Sorry.”

“Nah, don’t be,” He waved away your apology and went to the door. He opened it and waited expectantly. “We have lives. Some of us more than others.” He chuckled. “You deserve a Saturday to yourself.”

📚

You giggled as your head spun. Bucky pinned you beneath him as he rolled you over on the rug. What had started out as a none-so-innocent wrestling match had turned into your usual affair. He could never win an argument with you so it often ended with his lips, or his hand, smothering out your words.

Besides, you were eager for him. Almost desperate. Two weeks without him and you almost jumped on him the moment he opened the door. And after such a long week, you needed the stress relief.

His fingers tickled along your thigh and past the top of your stockings as he snaked beneath your skirt. You hadn’t started wearing them until you met him. He liked the short ones, especially on you. He pulled your panties aside and you gasped as his fingertips swirled around your clit. You latched onto his shoulders as his lips explored your throat.

“You’re wearing panties,” He growled.

“It’s cold out…” You breathed.

“You’ve got a coat,” He nipped at your neck and slid his fingers down your folds. “Don’t you?”

You tried to close your legs and his pushed your knee down with his.

“Ah,” He warned. “None of your games.”

“I didn’t come here for a lecture,” You huffed. “I pay tuition for that.”

“We both know why you came here,” He lifted his head and pecked your lips. “How many times did you touch yourself while I was away?”

“That’s none of your business.” You snipped.

“Do you have toys?” His hot breath grazed along your cheek. “Do you think of me?”

“Bucky,” You whined as he poked his fingers inside of you.

He purred as he dropped his head again and his teeth toyed with the tender flesh of your throat. He pulled your sweater up, rolling it with the tank top beneath until it was above your chest. No bra that day. He hummed and took you nipple in his mouth until your arched your back.

“Well…” He rolled your hard nipple between his thumb and index. “You’ve learned something.”

“Should I just come naked?” You asked.

“Preferably,” He chuckled as he ventured along your stomach, a trail of kisses and bites.

“Ugh,” You groaned as he brushed over your hips bones, his fingers still buried in you.

He nosed along your pelvis and you tensed in expectation. He paused and raised his head. You looked down at him as his fingers stilled and he hovered close enough for his breath to tickle your cunt.

“What are you waiting for?” You snarled.

He smirked and closed the distance. His eyes never left yours as his tongue swirled around your clit and he sealed his lips around it. You gulped and let out a pathetic moan. His other hand gripped your hip and he hummed as your eyes rolled back and your legs hugged him closer.

“Ah, I missed you,” You stretched your arms out as you tilted into him. “Mmm, Bucky.”

He seemed pleased by your words as his fingers sped up and his tongue danced more firmly around your bud. You began to quiver as he set your nerves on fire. The knot inside of you tightened and the wire drew taut until you couldn’t bear it anymore. At once, you orgasmed, your hand flying down to grasp Bucky’s head as he lapped up your pleasure.

Panting, your body went limp and you laid sprawled out with his head between your legs, twitching as he drew out the ecstasy with his tongue. Slowly, he pulled away and slipped his fingers from inside you, rubbing them over your sensitive clit. He sat up and kneaded your thigh.

“Missed you too, baby,” He flicked open his fly with one hand. “God, I can’t wait any longer.”

Steve 📚

Steve hadn’t been to Bucky’s in a while. They usually met downtown for a beer or ended up at his place. As it was, it didn’t seem like they had much time for each other anymore. Well, Steve wasn’t surprised. His oldest friend was juggling a lot; his job, his fiancee, and apparently some new side piece.

He sat up as Bucky offered him a bottle of crisp beer. The top wisped as he accepted it and Steve felt its chill against his lips before he took his first sip. He sat back and bent his leg to rest over his other knee, rolling his ankle as he stared at the bare floorboards.

“What happened to the carpet?” He asked in realisation.

“It’s getting cleaned,” Bucky sat across from him and snickered. “You know, made a bit of a mess.”

“Anna?” Steve raised a brow.

“Nah,” Bucky shrugged. “She cancelled her flight. Apparently they had some emergency at the lab.”

“Hmm,” Steve rested the bottle atop the arm of the couch. “This other girl?”

“What am I supposed to do? I fly all the way to Germany for about twenty minutes of Anna’s attention. The last time…” He shook his head. “I just don’t know how to… end it. Don’t even know that I want to. I just want it to be over. Two years is a long time.”

Steve nodded. He wasn’t sure what to say. What advice could he offer? His last relationship hadn’t lasted long and had been so far back, he barely remembered more than her name. After a slew of bad dates and disappointing flings, he decided to focus on his work. Well, even that was becoming difficult.

“And when Anna comes back?”

“Well, you know, this girl, she’s still in college, she’s got a lot going on. It is what it is.” He said. “You know, she’d find another guy in an instant and forget about me.”

“College?” Steve blinked. He hadn’t known that. “A bit young.”

His cheeks burned. He wasn’t sure if he was reprimanding his friend or himself. The fact that Bucky was dipping into the campus pool reminded Steve of his own guilt. Sure, he hadn’t done anything, it was all professional, but his thoughts… His thoughts were what troubled him.

“You never… thought of it?” Bucky asked. “You spend so much time around these girls and you never even--”

“It’s against the rules,” Steve cleared his throat. “I’m there to teach. I do my job.”

“And when’s the last time you got laid?”

“Shut up,” Steve took a swig. “The carpet?”

“She’s funny. She likes to… play around first.” Bucky took a mouthful beer and his eyes turned dreamy. “It wasn’t me who ruined the carpet.”

“Mmm,” Steve jiggled his leg anxiously. The vision that flashed in his mind had him sipping again. It wasn’t Bucky and some faceless girl on the floor, it was him and the sweet TA. He cleared his throat and looked through the dark brown glass. “Just about done. You got another?”

“Maybe she has a friend?” Bucky offered as he stood.

He neared as Steve drained the last of his beer and handed over the empty bottle.

“Thirsty?” Bucky took it and disappeared, returning with a fresh one.

“Long week.” Steve rubbed his cheek as he leaned forward to take the second bottle. “Another ahead.”

“Well, I could ask her.” Bucky grabbed his own beer and stayed standing. “The young ones, these days, they don’t want anything serious.”

“But I do,” Steve grumbled. “Thanks but… no thanks.”

“Your loss,” Bucky said. “You know, she’s real wild. I took her to a baseball game. She hates the game but… what she did in the bathroom… wow.”

Steve gave a weak smile and chuckled dryly. He glanced around. The carpet wasn’t the only thing that had disappeared. That framed picture of Bucky and Anna was gone too and the mantle only held the antique gun mounted on mahogany.

“Too bad it’s off season now,” Bucky droned on as he lazily paced and drank his beer.

“Yeah,” Steve leaned back and felt something hard beside the cushion.

He shifted but it poked him again. He reached down into the crevice as Bucky took the baseball he’d had signed years ago and began to toss it up and down as he complained about the last season.

Steve pulled out the long cylinder and blinked at how familiar it was. He swallowed and tucked it into his jean pocket quickly as Bucky threw the ball in his direction. He barely caught it without spilling his beer and chucked it back with venom.

“The fuck, Bucky?”

“Good to see you still got it,” Bucky laughed. “Pizza?”

“Sure,” Steve huffed. “No pepperoni.”

“Boring,” Bucky said as he pulled out his phone.

Steve took a deep breath as Bucky set down his beer and lifted his phone to his ear. He stepped into the short hallway and greeted the other end, carefully placing an order for a large and a side of wings.

As he did. Steve pulled out the pen and turned it between his fingers. The daisy pendant that dangled from the end, the initials etched into the rose gold, the little scratch along the tip. It was definitely hers. His stomach sank and he quickly hid it as Bucky’s voice died.

He’d have to be sure. He’d give it back to her the next day and see.

Reader📚

You were heartened by Steve’s interest as you finished up your last slide. The lesson had gone well and the class was interested in what could otherwise be a dry topic. You took questions but found many of them were simple enough. The students seemed to understand well enough and you reminded them to submit their next assignment by Wednesday night.

Several students stopped to ask you about your office hours before the room finally emptied. Steve approached as you slid your papers into your notebook and closed it. He reached over the podium and set down the metal pen. The one your mother had gifted you when you were accepted to your masters program.

“You forgot this,” He let it roll down to the lip and catch there.

“Oh my god, I’ve been looking for this,” You grabbed it and spun it in your fingers. “Thanks so much! I’d hate for anyone else to just claim it.”

“No problem,” His blue eyes were, for once, humourless.

“Where was it?”

His brows shot up and his lips parted. He looked over his shoulder then back to you.

“U-under the desk,” He pointed to your usual seat. “Caught my eye during one of my other classes.”

“Well,” You fiddled with it and gathered up your notebook. “It needs a refill anyway.”

You grabbed your bag and shoved your things inside. You were glad he’d found it, you had been convinced you’d left it at Bucky’s and he had been evasive since Saturday. Work, as usual. Well, what did you expect? He was older and unlike college boys, he couldn’t just skip.

“I liked it,” Steve hovered around you, a hand in his pocket. “I see you took my advice.”

“Oh, the lesson,” You looked up at him as you lifted your bag. “Yeah, well, it would’ve been a disaster without you.”

“Yeah?” He smirked. “So, you got another class now?”

“Thesis work,” You said. “Library.”

“Fun,” He remarked. “You know… if you don’t… if you need a quiet place, you can use my office. I have some stuff to take care of before my next block so…”

“Oh, I don’t… know, I wouldn’t want to…”

“It’s pretty big anyway. Even if I was there, I probably wouldn’t even notice you.” He said. “And there’s a bluetooth speaker in there. A gift I never really use but you’re free to.”

“I, um…” You considered the library and the stuffy, dry air. The noise of hidden food wrappers and buzzing whispers. “You sure you wouldn’t mind?”

“Go on,” He grabbed his bag and checked his watch. “I don’t mind.”

“Twist my arm,” You accepted.

“I’ll have to unlock it for you,” He went to the door.

“Uh, sure,” You followed him into the hall and waited as he locked up the classroom.

Silently, you walked beside him. You realised you didn’t have much to say about anything besides philosophy. You pulled out your phone. A message from Bucky. Finally. After days of radio silence.

“Sorry, baby, going out of town.” You hissed and blackened the screen.

“What’s up?” Steve asked as you followed him out into the late autumn chill.

“Nothing,” You shrugged.

“That boyfriend again?” He asked.

“It’s whatever,” You grumbled. “Really.”

“I don’t know, it seems like every time I see you, he’s up to no good.”

“Well, he’s… busy.”

“And? You are too.”

“Yeah, but...I mean…” You were quiet as you walked along the campus path. “I don’t know. I shouldn’t--”

“I don’t mind. A little bit of impersonal gossip is… fun. And your secret’s safe with me.”

You glanced over at him and then around at the students all around.

“He’s older,” You admitted. “So… he’s always busy.”

“Older? Like what? A year or two?”

“A bit more than that,” You said nervously. “More…”

You were quiet again. He led you up the steps of the philosophy building and as he always did, opened the door.

“...Your age.” You finished.

He blinked and tailed you inside, gesturing you up the stairs. You often did prep in his office so you didn’t need much guidance as he followed you up.

“Oh, old-old,” He scoffed. “I get it.”

You laughed, despite yourself and he came up beside you as you reached the third floor.

“You’re supposed to say ‘No, Professor Rogers, you’re not old’,” He chided as he rounded the corner and stopped in front of his office door. “Or something like that.”

“Sorry, I--”

As he reached into his pocket for his keys, a chiming tune filled the hallway. He pulled out his phone instead and apologized as he put it to his ear.

“Hey,” He cradled it with his shoulder as he fished for his keys. “What’s up, Buck?”

He shoved the key into the slot and the audible friction of metal in metal was like a knife to your heart. ‘Buck’? You frowned as he pushed open the door and waved you inside. He stayed at the threshold as he continued his call.

“Germany? I thought you said-- Ahh, okay, yeah,” He leaned on the doorframe. “Anna will be happy to see ya. Oh yeah, been a while.” He tilted his head. “We’ll reschedule. No problem. Yep. Have a good one.”

You waited anxiously as he hung up and stepped inside. He tucked his phone away and checked his watch again.

“Sorry, old friend. He’s going to see his fiancee and well--” He stopped himself. “Anyways, desk is there, speaker is…” He went to the shelf and pulled forward a rather expensive gadget. “Here. Maybe you’ll have better luck figuring it out.”

“Uh, thanks,” You nodded, almost dumbfounded as your mind began to whir. “I appreciate it. I won’t be more than an hour or two.”

“Don’t worry about it.” He said. “Take all the time you need.”

“Thanks, again.”

“Not at all,” He went to the door and turned back. “See ya tomorrow.”

“Sure,” You smiled.

He closed the door behind him as he went. You dropped your bag and fumbled for your phone. You tore it out of your pocket and swiped up. You searched through your contacts and hit call. It had to be a coincidence. Right?

“Hey,” Bucky answered from the other end, a din of activity around him. “I’m just about to fly out.”

“You’re engaged?” You hissed.

“What-- I-- How did you--”

“You are!” You snarled. “Oh my god, I can’t believe you! So have you been busy with work or with her?”

“Baby, it’s--”

“Don’t call me baby,” You retorted. “In fact, don’t call me. Ever.”

You hung up. A floorboard creaked and you turned around. Steve stood in the open door.

“Sorry, I… forgot to grab something,” He pointed past you. “I didn’t mean to--”

“I gotta go,” You bent to pick up your bag. “I’m sorry, I--”

You neared but he blocked the door with his body.

“Bucky?”

“Your friend,” You uttered. “I didn’t know. I-- Did you?”

“No,” He answered. “Not until… now.”

“Well, now you do.”

“You don’t have to go because of-- I don’t care,” He said.

“I do. I’m embarrassed.”

“Don’t be. He lied. How could you know?” He touched your arm.

“Isn’t he-- he’s your friend. You should be defending him,” You recoiled.

“And? He can be my friend and still be wrong,” He stepped closer and you back up, his hand lingered along your elbow. “He doesn’t deserve you.”

“Thanks, Professor, but I should--”

“Steve,” He corrected you. “I think we know each other well enough.”

He got closer again and you continued to retreat. He kicked the door closed behind him and you flinched.

“What are you--”

He leaned in and you were surprised by his hand on your chin. You dropped your bag and tried to wriggle away. He kissed you and you pushed against his chest. Your skin was alight as your insides wrenched. He parted, at last, his hand still around your jaw.

“What are you doing?” You breathed.

“You deserve better,” His kissed your again and you bit his lip.

“Professor--”

“Steve,” He insisted and squeezed your chin.

“Let me go,” You grabbed his wrist.

He marched you backwards until you were against his desk. You clutched his wrist tightly but he didn’t budge.

“What? You’ll fuck him but not me?” He sneered.

“It’s not-- you’re my advisor. I--” Your hand slipped down his arm as you panicked. “Please.”

“I’ve tried so hard not to think about it. About you.” He pushed you against the desk, bending you back until you were flat atop it, your legs hanging off. He loomed over you. “Thinking I was too old and yet I just wanted to have you... Right here… in the front of the class. Mmm, and then I find out you’re fucking him and I realise… you want it just as bad.”

“No, no, “Prof-- Steve,” You pleaded as his hand slid down to your neck. “I-- It was only… It was just sex.”

“Did you ever think of me when you were with him? Huh?” His lips were just above yours. “I thought of you. He told me about you but I didn’t even realise… I heard you do all sorts of naughty things.”

His other hand tugged at your blouse and you writhed helplessly.

“He told me you wore these little skirts for him,” He pressed his lips to your cheeks. “That you kept them on as he fucked you.”

“Steve,” You whined. “Stop!”

“Or what? It’d be a waste to toss away almost a semester’s work…” He snarled. “You know what they do to students who cross professional bounds? I have a duty to report such misconduct.”

“No, no, you--”

“Who are they going to believe?” He snapped. “Hmm, especially when it comes out you been fucking a man twice your age on the side.”

“They-- Steve,” You tried to catch his hand as he tugged on your pants. “You’re scaring me.”

“This isn’t exactly how I wanted our first time to be,” His hand snaked around and he pulled your pants down to your thighs in a single wipe. “That was before I knew how you like it.”

He held you down by your throat as he forced your pants past your knees, your panties twisted in the folds. He brought his foot up to push them further and free them from your ankles.

His hand flew back up your leg and he pushed two fingers against your cunt as you squirmed. He pressed deeper and rubbed along your folds as he bent over you again. He kissed you and drew back before you could bite him.

“You’re wet, kitten,” He purred. “We both know what you want.”

He toyed with you, flicking his fingers over your clit and dragging them back down. He repeated the motion several times until you bit your lips and slapped at the desk.

“Look at you,” He pushed his middle fingers inside of you and your back arched. “He didn’t care about you. Not like I do.”

He pressed the heel of his hand to your clit and curled his fingers. He squeezed and you gasped. He pulled his hand down and spread it over your chest, holding you down as he played with you. He sped up and his fingers clutched your blouse as he shook your body. You closed your eyes as you tried to resist the coil winding tightly inside you.

You mewled and he hushed you. You gritted your teeth and slapped your hand over his. He rocked his hand faster and you struggled to catch your breath. Your nails dug into the back of his hand and you pressed your lips together to hold in the sudden rise. You spasmed as you came atop the desk.

He slowed his hand and when he withdrew, you felt empty and cold. You opened your eyes as he brought his hand to his mouth and sucked clean his fingers. He hummed and ran his hands over your thighs.

“Stand up,” He ordered.

You stayed as you were, shaking, and stared at him. You drew your legs together and he pinched you.

“Now,” He growled.

You pushed yourself up and slid off the edge of the desk. He grabbed your open jacket and pulled it down your arms. Then he tore the hem of your blouse up and you were forced to raise your arms as he stripped away the cotton blend. Your bra fell loose as he swiftly unclasped the hooks and it fell away from your arms.

He grasped your shoulders and ran his hands down your front, cupping your chest as he took in every inch of you. He grabbed your arm and spun you to face the desk. He took your hands in his and placed them flat on the top.

“Stay,” He bid. “I won’t tell you twice.”

His hand grazed your ass and he spanked you lightly. You winced and he reluctantly drew away. You trembled as you listened to him behind you. He dropped his jacket over your shoulder on the desk in front of you. Then his zipper whispered in the tense silence and he stepped closer until you felt his warmth against your naked back. He kicked your feet apart with his leather shoe and fumbled around behind you.

You flinched as his hand brushed against you and you felt him prodded along your ass. He leaned against you and guided your hand further over the desk. He dragged his tip along your folds, poking until he found your entrance. You tried to push away from the desk and he leaned on you heavier.

“He can’t make you feel like I can,” He rasped in your ear as he slid into you. “How does that feel, kitten?”

He impaled you entirely and your fingers curled against the wood. You gulped and hung your head.

“Answer me,” He wrapped his arm around your neck and forced your head up. “Be a good girl.”

“G-good,” You stuttered as he thrust into you.

“Yeah,” He breathed against your scalp. “Better than him?”

He rocked steadily against you as you struggled to keep yourself from folding over the desk. He grabbed your hip and sank his nails into the flesh.

“When I ask a question, you answer me,” He warned. “Like the good girl you are.”

“Y-y-yes,” You stammered as your thighs tingled. “B-b-better than… h-him.”

“Much better than I ever imagined,” His hot breath seeped into you as he nuzzled the crown of your head. “Fuck.”

You moaned as his arm wrapped snugger around your neck, his muscles hard through the soft fabric of his shirt. His flesh clapped against yours as he rutted into you. Deeper, faster. You slapped at his arm with one hand as your other remained planted on the desktop. You were on tiptoe as you orgasmed, barely muffling it as you bit down on your lip.

“That’s it,” He purred. “That’s it. Oh, kitten, I don’t think I can handle much more. Can you?”

He sped up again and your knees buckled dangerously. His arm tightened until he was choking you entirely, drawing you flush against him. You grasped at his arm and he pushed you closer to the desk until you were pressed to it. The soles of your boots, the only clothing still left to you, slipped on the floor and you came again as you fought for air.

“Ah, here I go.” He grunted.

He slammed into you as his other arm hugged your waist and he lifted you off your feet with his final thrusts. He spilled into you and slowed. As he still, he sighed and his arms loosened just a little. He turned you and rested against his desk, still inside you.

He drew you into his lap as he slid back and bent his head against your shoulder. His hand fluttered along your cunt, hovering over it as he caught his breath.

“I’ll tell Bucky to leave you alone,” He muttered. “And you will do the same.”

1K notes · View notes

ohnopoe · 3 years

Text

Personal Hero | Marcus Moreno

Ship: Marcus Moreno x Reader Summary: When work is getting you down, you don’t need Marcus Moreno, the superhero, you need Marcus Moreno, your personal hero. Word Count: 2.6k+ Warnings: Some self deprecating thoughts (not many, but I’d rather you be safe than sorry) & food mentions Author’s Note: This is incredibly late, but for @meshlamando! I’m so sorry it took so damn long, I hope it has at least a little comfort in there for you! One day I'll learn the right compromise between hurt & comfort... I don't think I got there today...

The shrill ringing of your mobile cut through your office, sending thoughts flying in every which way at the sudden sound. Irritation bubbled away steadily as you put the damn thing on silent without so much as a glance at the caller ID.

Reports had been thrown in your direction from the moment you had arrived, a never ending list of time restraints and deadlines that seemed to be constantly encroaching on your mental stability, and, quite simply, you didn’t have the time for anything else that could be added to your to do list.

So, the call was quickly pushed from your mind in favour of, was that an accounting report? How had that become your responsibility?

Any thoughts of having your lunch break were dismissed, a luxury you just didn’t have time for as the pile seemed to grow before your very eyes. A fresh cup of coffee, that was all you had time for, and even that gained judgemental glances from your boss as you rushed back from the small kitchenette. But it was a break, of sorts. A few minutes to remind yourself that there actually was something outside of black ink on white paper and luminescent screens that were determined to give you a migraine.

But, as you made your way back to your chair, your phone began to vibrate in your pocket, demanding your attention once more. A quick glance, you could get away with that, surely.

A soft smile seemed to find its home on your lips in an instant as the name Marcus Moreno popped up with a ridiculous picture you’d taken of him some months earlier. But, as your gaze quickly met the disapproving glare of your boss, you knew you couldn’t answer, even if it technically was still your lunch break.

Placing the phone down with a sigh, and more than a smidgen of guilt, you watched as it rang out, fading into a notification. Two missed calls, both from Marcus.

Well, if you hadn’t felt bad moments ago, you certainly did now.

But you didn’t have time to dwell on your failings when yet another manilla folder found its way into your inbox; the sticky note on top demanding it be finished before start of day tomorrow.

The hum of vibrations drew your attention from the email you had been writing, dragging over the surprisingly empty office to where your mobile danced across the corner of your desk, each vibration bringing it ever closer to the edge. A quick glance around to confirm you really were alone, another to check the time, realising just why you were so alone, and you were reaching for the device eagerly.

It didn’t matter that you still had hours of work ahead of you, or that your coworkers were all too happy to go home on time and leave you to deal with their messes alone. It didn’t matter that your stomach had been grumbling for hours now, or that your eyes felt so dry that the tears that threatened to break through at the thought of your situation would actually be a welcome relief. It only mattered that, for some miraculous reason, he was calling again, and this time you could finally answer, finally hear his voice and get a few minutes of reprieve from the insanity of your day.

“Hey, sorry I missed your call earlier, works been crazy,” the words came out in a mess, one falling into another as your exhaustion made itself known quite clearly.

“As long as you’re ok,” it would have been impossible to miss the concern in Marcus’ tone, even through your receiver and weary state of being. A small smile played at the corners of your lips, his words a gentle reminder of just how lucky you were, at least, when it came to your personal life.

“I’ll be just fine,” you offered with a sigh that sounded suspiciously like a yawn.

“You should come home,” Marcus offered with a soft chuckle, his voice warm and enticing, relaxing you far more than it ought to do.

A chuckle of your own escaped at the suggestion, shaking your head to yourself in the emptiness of your office. “Not likely to happen any time soon, I’m afraid. I’ve got at least a few more hours of stuff left to do.”

“As your boss, I’m telling you, come home, it’s after six, you need rest. I’ll order pizza, Missy’s at a friends, we can have a lazy evening on the couch…”

Damn that sounded enticing, but as you spun around in your chair, the sight of your to do list practically mocked you, silently reminding you of the deadlines you had been given.

It didn’t matter that Marcus was now the head of the whole damn Heroics organisation, your department head would never let you get away with leaving things unfinished, and she’d already made it quite clear what she thought of your relationship with the boss.

A heavy sigh, filled with exhaustion and wariness was the only answer you could give. You didn’t want to disappoint him, of course not. This was Marcus Moreno, for goodness sake, the man deserved nothing but the best, but there wasn’t much you could do. This was your job, and, as much as you loved him, as much as you wanted to be all the things he deserved, you simply couldn’t be that all the time.

“I’m sorry,” there was a weight to your words that went beyond simply coming home late.

It seemed, no matter what you did, you were disappointing someone of late. You weren’t working hard enough, you weren’t home enough, you hadn’t brought coffees for the entire department (when had that even become a thing?). No matter where you looked, it felt as though you were competing with something, something you couldn’t see, something you never had a chance of surpassing. People’s expectations.

There was a pause on the line, a silence that only solidified your guilt. Marcus was too nice to call you out on your absence of late, too sweet to remind you that you hadn’t had a date night in weeks now, but his silence reminded you all on its own.

It weighed heavily on you, as if it had been sitting in the shadows, slowly growing in the dark recesses of your mind without your knowledge, growing until it became the insurmountable mass that sat on your shoulders now.

Late nights, no time to relax, no time to recover, it all came together, wearing at you in a silent tundra of exhaustion.

“You have nothing to apologise for.” It was said softly, but there was a determination behind his words, a tone you heard so rarely, but one that you knew nonetheless. It was the same voice he’d use to reprimand a heroic who went too far or didn’t listen, the same tone he used when Missy had been caught sneaking out one night to go explore an abandoned skatepark with friends. There was no debating this, no need for a discussion. This was simply a fact, one Marcus was determined you would accept.

But it wasn’t that easy.

Just because Marcus believed something wholeheartedly, it didn’t make it so for you. He believed in the best of people, always tried to see the positive in things, and was, quite simply, one of the best people you had ever had the pleasure of knowing.

So, when he said something with such conviction, it was hard to disagree, hard to say no to, no matter how you felt.

A half hearted ‘hmm’ was all you could offer in response, neither agreeing nor fighting him on the matter, and resulting in an inaudible sigh from the other side of the line.

The silence that sat between you lingered on, acting like a vast gap that seemed to stretch on and on, only further dragging you into that endless aching. It hurt to be apart, to deny what you both wanted for what had to be done, but it hurt to disappoint him even more.

There was a reluctance in his tone as he spoke up once more, softly, uncertainly. “I should let you get back to it then,” the words came across forlorn, as if the certainty he had felt when dispelling your apology had faded into something sadder, something deeper, and it twinged at your heart.

You nodded in silent response, your tired mind only reminding you he couldn’t see you moments too late. “Yeah, I should try and get back to this,” you agreed, even if it sounded anything but enthusiastic. “I’ll see you when I get home,” you began, glancing over at just how ridiculous the pile still was… god only knew when you might actually get out of there. “Don’t wait up.”

Time was inching onwards, drawn out and slow moving, almost taunting you. You wanted to be getting through your work, wanted to at least feel productive, but no matter how long you pushed your way forwards, it felt like no headway was really being made. An hour had passed since you had spoken to Marcus, but it felt so much longer, especially with only one file being completed since then.

Worst of all, you truly were focused. It wasn’t as if your mind had been distracted, even if it had tried very hard to fill your thoughts with reminders of failures at every turn. You were working, and working hard, your attention only given to the work at hand, and it still didn’t seem to be enough.

You were so focused, in fact, that you didn’t even hear the doors opening, or the sounds of footsteps coming ever closer. You didn’t hear the half amused, half exasperated huff of laughter that came from the man who was making his way towards you, you didn’t even notice when his shadow danced over the paperwork before you, pulling figures away from the light as he stared down at you with an unreadable expression on his features.

No, it wasn’t until a large box landed on your notes, causing you to jump with a yelp, that you even noticed you were no longer alone.

Laughter came easier now, richer, softer, and actually noticed by you as you spun around in shock to take in the sight of one Marcus Moreno, long since changed into his casual attire, standing beside your desk, watching you with that fond smile you’d often catch from across the room.

“How long have you been standing there?” you asked as you attempted to calm your racing heart. It wasn’t the question you wanted to ask, no, but somehow it seemed easier, lighter even.

“I just got here,” he spoke with that same gentleness he always seemed to have when it was just you two.

Guilt played at the edges of your thoughts, trying to tempt you forwards into those haunting thoughts and regrets, reminders that he had to come back to work to see you, to spend time with you, when you’d only just moved in with him about a month beforehand. It shouldn’t have been this hard, you shouldn’t have been forced to be so distant, he deserved better.

But as much as the guilt and anguish tried to take over your mind, it had no real chance, not when that dimple was showing, not when you could breathe in his smell. No, Marcus Moreno was like a warden, keeping the negative thoughts at bay, as if they couldn’t bare to even try to cross him, as if they simply didn’t belong in the same room as him.

He was a hero, everyone knew that, hell, he was the leader of the heroics, but it was this, his very own superpower, far more special than his control over metal, that made him a hero to you. He held a power unlike any other, the power to let you breathe.

Even with exhaustion playing at your mind, even with the insurmountable piles of work still ahead of you, he could calm you with just his presence, and you would never cease to be in awe of that.

“Break time?” he raised his brows in question, pointing towards the box which had both given you such a startle, and been entirely ignored since his arrival.

You hadn’t even bothered to really look at it, so used to things being thrown on your desk throughout the day that seeing whatever offending item could have been added to your pile hadn’t even been a consideration. But now, with the embarrassment beginning to ease, and the delicious smells wafting in your direction, you could finally acknowledge the large pizza box that demanded your attention away from your papers.

“Marcus I-”

“No, you’re taking a break,” he shook his head as he interrupted what was no doubt about to be a slew of sad excuses for why you didn’t have time for this. “You’ve been working your butt off all day, it’s dinner time for goodness sake. We’re going to sit down, have some pizza, talk about something that’s not work related, and then, if you really want to finish whatever you have to do, well, we’ll do that together.”

There it was again, that tone that left no room for argument.

You didn’t want to bring this into your personal life, you wanted to shelter him from the crap your work often brought about, but how could you when he was right there, offering to help you through it?

“This is hardly the kind of work the leader of the Heroics should be bothering with,” you tried to laugh it off, gesturing to the reports and receipts that were littering your table with a wonky smile, but even that faded away as those deep eyes stole your attention as they often did.

It wasn’t sympathy or empathy, wasn’t anger nor irritation, in fact, none of the emotions you expected to see swam in that chocolate gaze. No, it was simply acceptance.

Pulling a chair from the next desk over, he plopped down with none of the finesse your colleagues were used to seeing in the news reports. No, this was a side reserved for you and Missy alone. The side that was clumsy and awkward. The side that had brought you flowers he saw on the side of the road when coming to pick you up for a date, not knowing it was actually a weed. The side that had managed to fall off the couch, not once, but twice during movie night early into your relationship.

This wasn’t Marcus Moreno, leader of the heroics. This was Marcus Moreno, your boyfriend, a term you had grown to increasingly love even with the juvenility of it.

This was your personal hero, the man who turned up at your desk when you had to work late to make sure you ate, took a break, and weren’t overworking yourself.

“Babe, I don’t know what you think I do every day, but I’m more than used to dealing with boring reports,” and somehow his words came far easier than yours, pulling the corners of your lips into something akin to an actual smile.

It was far too easy to smile around him, and he took far too much joy in dragging a smile onto your features as often as possible.

“But, that’s an after dinner problem. As is the fact your boss isn’t the one staying back late to deal with her own issues,” he huffed slightly, before shaking his head as if the action would literally shake the thoughts from his mind. “For now, we eat like- Do you think kings would eat pizza?”

And just like that, being stuck at work for the evening didn’t feel quite so bad. Nothing really could, not when you had that ridiculous man staring at you curiously as he shoved far too much pizza into his mouth at once, pondering a question that would make a toddler proud.

No. This wasn’t bad at all.

#marcus moreno x reader #marcus moreno #we can be heroes #my fic #marcus moreno imagine #we can be heroes imagine #marcus moreno fic #we can be heroes fic

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justasparkwritings · 3 years

Text

March: Too Scared

Pairing: Jung Hoseok x Reader

Genre: Angst, Slice of Life

Rating: PG15

Word Count: 1.6K

Warnings: Swearing

Summary: Hoseok always plans on going on epic adventures with you... and it’s not his fault his fight or flight response happens to lean towards flight, resulting in you being left alone... again and again.

Written for #thebtswritersclub monthly challenge

Your red and blue jumpsuit hangs off your frame, a size down and it would be too small, a size up and there’d be too much fabric, a hazard in this environment. Your helmet, in contrast, fits snuggly over your cranium, safety goggles protecting your eyes from the impending devastating winds. At this moment, you’ve completed the preliminary training and are waiting with your fellow divers for your chance in the tube. Earplugs already in, it takes you a minute to register that he’s trying to talk to you. It’s his hand aggressively tapping your shoulder that brings your eyes to his.

He takes off his helmet, and your stomach drops. Adrenaline left your blood stream as you watched him. His eyes begged of you to take yours off, and you did, if only to hear your disappointment more clearly.

“I don’t want to do this. I’m too scared,” He informed you.

“You wanted to do this!” You snapped.

“I changed my mind!”

“The deposit is paid, we have to,”

“It’s too scary, no,”

“You’re being-

“Don’t say it,”

“So difficult, my god!” You stood up from the bench, moving to the back corner of the waiting area and away from the other two people in your group.

“I’m scared! Aren’t you?” He asked.

“I wasn’t until you started chickening out.” You said.

“I’m just, afraid, okay?”

“Hoseok,” Your voice was a warning, a siren that couldn’t be overwhelmed by the voracious faux winds being created twenty feet from you. “You promised.”

“Come on, baby, please, let’s just, not and say we did?” He begged.

“You can wait in the car. I’m still doing it.” You quickly moved out of his reach and sat back down, placing your earplugs back in, and securing your helmet over your head.

Hoseok, unwilling to sit in the car and not watch you, decided to sit to the side, staring in awe as you “flew” in the indoor skydiving chamber, legs steady against the hurricane like winds, arms spread to steady yourself. You’re a natural.

The adrenaline returned, blocking all anger you were feeling towards Hoseok. In the moment, what mattered is the slight lock of your legs, the angle of your arms, breathing in rushed moments to ensure you don’t faint in the sky. Who would jump out of a plane when you could do this?

It was over too soon, leaving you feeling empty and angry again, this time tears welling in your eyes.

“You were so good!” Hoseok exclaimed.

“Thanks,” You muttered, busying yourself with taking off your gear and pretending to be interested in the photos that were snapped.

“How was it? It looked amazing,”

“It was fine,”

“Just fine?” Hoseok trailed behind you, one step away from flat tiring your heels, breath threatening to tickle the back of your neck.

“Yes, fine,” You refused to look at him the entire drive to your apartment, where Hoseok could’ve sworn he was going to stay the night.

“Why are you so mad at me?” Hoseok asked, this time his breath fanned your face, his arms caged you against the island in your counter. Dominating you, eyes narrowed, voice low, hands steadfast, white knuckling the faux granite.

“Because you suck,”

“That’s a terrible reason,” He said, he didn’t roll his eyes, but stared at you, mouth slightly open in surprise. He hadn’t expected you to be indifferent towards him.

“I’m mad because you always get so close to trying something new and then you just, poof, cancel, leaving me to do it all alone.” You explained.

“You don’t have to go through with things,” Hoseok told you. He backed away, arms crossing over his chest in defense.

“Then why make the fuss if you never plan to go through with it?” You asked.

“I do plan to, I just, get scared.”

“You abandon me,” You accused. “You give me your word and then at the last possible second, back out.”

“I, no,” Hoseok shook his head, gone was the domineering, confident, J-Hope-Mic-Drop version of himself. Here stands Hoseok, scared to ride a horse, screams at balloons being popped, cuddle monster, multitudes of a man.

“Yes, you do,” You repeated.

“I don’t mean to,”

“You do everything in RUN BTS! Everything, you eat it all, try it all, there isn’t anything you won’t do when the cameras on you!” You reprimand him.

“I have to,” He countered. It was true, a contract was a contract.

“Is it that you get to do it with them?” You asked. “Is that the difference?”

“No!”

“Explain to me how you can be so,” You sighed. “You’re so intentional with everything you do, from music to fashion to writing and dancing… but when it comes to us, to me, you just stomp all over me. Namjoon’s the god of destruction but you, you just break my heart again and again.”

“Baby-

“No, Hoseok, no. I’m not your baby,”

“You’re my girlfriend,” His confusion was written in the slope of his brows.

“No, I’m not, because you don’t treat me like your girlfriend. You treat me like a toy, like a friend you get to be naked with, but you don’t treat me like I’m your girlfriend. So, I guess, I’m not.”

“That’s not true,” He tried to argue, to protest, but he can tell, nothing he said that night would make a difference. He hurt you, however unintentional his actions were, he still hurt you.

“That’s how it feels.” You muttered.

“It’s not true,”

“Then why do you just, you leave me. Today it was indoor sky diving, a month ago it was go carts, before that it was swimming with dolphins and taking the pram up to Jesus the Redeemer. You plan these elaborate trips, these excursions and exhibitions and just… leave me to experience it by myself. What’s worse is that you turn around do it with Bangtan! I’m tired of being second best.” You pushed yourself off the counter and begin to walk away from him.

“What do you, what do you want me to do?” Hoseok asked.

“I want you to leave and call me when you can treat me like your girlfriend.”

That was three weeks ago.

It wasn’t that Hoseok hasn’t called, or texted, or sent flowers and chocolate. He has. His “Good morning, I hope you have a beautiful day” texts continue to arrive around 7AM every day, followed by his mid-morning check in… But his efforts, his I love you’s, his song of the days, all go unanswered. You aren’t so cruel as to You just haven’t responded. You’re hurt, aching, disappointed. Hoseok couldn’t see you, and that was a devastating realization for both of you.

For Hoseok, it wasn’t that he didn’t want to do all those things with you, or spend that time exploring. It was just, he didn’t know what it was. What stopped him?

“What are you doing here?” You ask, staring up at Hoseok. He’d knocked on your door, no text or call warning you of his arrival, just showed up. In one hand he held a bag of take out, the other rested against your door frame, leaning.

“We need to talk,” He says. “Can I come in?”

“I, yeah,” You step aside to let him in. He kicks off his shoes, Gucci, before slinking off his jacket and face mask.

“I stopped by your favorite,” Hoseok says, setting the bags on the counter.

“Did you buy enough for us or all of Bangtan?” You question. Grabbing two plates, you stop to look over what he bought.

“I got one of our favorites, then I got two new things for us to try,”

“Why?”

“Because, our relationship is about growth and moving forward together, and I’ve been asking you to do all that without me,” Hoseok stops fidgeting with the take out containers. “That hasn’t been fair to you, and I’m sorry.”

“I don’t, I don’t know what to say,”

“I didn’t realize the position I was putting you in. With Bangtan, we just power through it, do whatever we have to do. I guess, when I was given the chance to back out, I always took it because it was the only time I could,” Hoseok’s gaze finds yours, he’s surprised to see the warmth in your irises. “I’m sorry baby.”

“I’m sorry I didn’t say anything sooner,” You tell him, “I should’ve, and I could’ve said something instead of letting it bubble and boil,”

“And burn,” Hoseok steps towards you, his cautious steps moving him incrementally closer. He’s moving far too slow, and you nearly leap at him pulling him against you. A muffled “Oh!” can be heard as your arms hold him tight, the physical contact needed after what felt like years apart.

“I missed you,” You mumble, cheek pressed against his chest.

“I missed you too,” Hoseok agrees.

“I’m sorry I stopped answering you, that was shitty of me,”

“I accept your apology,” He hums.

“I accept yours too,” You tell him.

Hoseok leans down, placing a kiss on your forehead. “Let’s try not to do that ever again, okay?”

“Deal,” You pull away, eyes staring into his.

“I love you,” Hoseok tells you.

“I love you too,”

“I’ve missed hearing that,” Hoseok says, leaning down to press his lips to yours. Damn if you didn’t miss his lips, on yours, on your neck, nibbling your ear, whispering, praising, licking, kissing… and his hands… touching, caressing, groping, tickling, tracing… He was everything you could dream of.

“Hobi,” You whisper, lips close to his ear as his trail your neck.

“Hm?”

“I’m really hungry,” You inform him. He giggles before leveling his gaze.

“Ready for this food adventure?” He asks.

“Yes, but no backing out!”

“Promise,” Hoseok smiles.

And this time? He keeps his word.

Next: April’s Monthly Challenge

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amydancepants-peralta · 4 years

Note

Hey renee! Can you write a fic about what happens after Jake And Amy come home from Shaws? 👀 Also I love your fics! ♥

Your wish is my command, anon! (also, @b99peraltiago‘s wish is my command, as she sent me through a prompt as well haha!)

This one is NSFW, boys and girls! 😉

bringing the mess of me back together

Jake’s hands feel softer than normal tonight.

It’s an odd thought for Amy to have, especially considering he’d been holding her hands in his less than ten minutes ago at the bar. But they do - they’re softer than she remembers them being, and right now they are travelling at a steady pace along the outside of her upper thigh, and Amy’s never been more thankful that she’d pulled a dress out of her wardrobe earlier this evening.

She chalks it up to one of the thirty-odd vitamins they’d both added to their diet, this unexpected smoothness of his skin. Two weeks into this whole fiasco he’d stood beside her in their bathroom, catching her eyes in the reflection of the mirror as he’d announced that all those pills had given him a marvellously silky coat, and then proceeded to flip his hair like one of those girls in a shampoo commercial. It had been adorable and hilarious (and just a teensy bit sexy), and she remembers kissing him - soft, but quick - the kind of everyday kiss that happens when you know there’s a lifetime of days ahead.

The kisses he was giving her in the back of this cab didn’t even hold a candle to that day. Now, his lips were hot against hers, persistent with passion and filled with the promise of oh, so much more. It’s been so long since they’ve kissed like this, and it hadn’t really occurred to Amy just how much she’s missed it.

Jake pulls away slightly, resting his forehead against hers as he struggles to catch his breath, his eyelids still heavy with desire. Amy knew that look he gave her in the bar, that we need to get out of here before I drag you into that coat closet again look that has always been way up there on her list of favourite looks he can give her, and she should probably feel guilty for stealing this cab from that drunk couple outside Shaw’s, but she really doesn’t.

Moving her hands from his waist, Amy cups Jake’s face in her hand, skimming her left thumb along his cheekbone before pulling him down for another kiss, this one starting out a lot softer but quickly turning into so much more. Their tongues massage each other while their hands begin to roam, that sweet just you wait feeling washing over them. This time it’s Amy that pulls away, fingers circling the buttons on the front of her husband’s shirt, and when he reaches out to tip her chin towards him she catches his eye, both letting out a soft chuckle. They were acting like horny teenagers tonight, and it was such a welcome change of pace.

The passing streetlights wash over Jake’s features as the cab streaks down Bleecker Street - probably too fast for the posted speed limit, but perhaps the driver can feel the tension just as much as they can - and as Amy watches the shadows flicker over her husband’s face, finally she notices the bags under his eyes; the underlying look of defeat that simmers beneath the surface, and the pang of sadness that has snuck it’s way into her heart sharpens ever so slightly. He picks up on the change in her expression - because nobody has ever been able to read her the way that Jake can - and he leans back in, the tip of his nose pushing into her cheek as he presses his lips against hers gently, pulling away and whispering you and me, Ames.

It seems like only a minute has passed, but suddenly they’re in their bedroom and Amy’s jacket is on the floor and it’s strange, because she’s definitely not drunk, but maybe right now she’s just completely drunk on Jake. His hands move quickly along the edge of her dress, rucking up the material until he’s got enough of a grip and he pulls, giving her his beautiful wide grin as the garment falls to the floor. She pulls him in for a kiss while her hands make quick work of the buttons on his shirt, yanking it off before another second is wasted and sliding her hands beneath the material of his undershirt, running her hands along the base of his spine and smiling against his lips when he lets out a soft groan.

Jake pulls away quickly, the collar of his undershirt briefly getting caught on the edge of his nose and he casts it aside with a flick of his wrist, wrapping his arms around Amy’s waist and gripping her tightly. His hands still feel soft, but now they’re also warm and steady and welcome as they ascend along her back, grappling with the clasp of her bra until she feels the pull and stretch of it all coming free. It strangely feels like forever since they’ve been like this, since she’s felt the warmth of her husband’s bare skin against her chest, and she doesn’t hesitate in throwing her arms around his neck, pulling him in so that she can feel him all the more. Her fingers toy with the slight curl of the shorter hair at the base of his head, and she feels the coolness of Jake’s belt buckle bounce against her skin as he wrestles with his jeans, the heavy thud of denim against the floorboards ringing out only a moment later.

His hands grip her butt, digging in slightly as Amy stoops while he lifts, wrapping her legs around Jake’s waist without hesitation, and how had she not noticed how much she has missed this? Somewhere along the way, they’d started to forget moments like these - this lead up to greatness, when the only thing that mattered was how good it felt to be in each other’s arms.

They stand there melted together for the longest time, both completely lost in their kisses as a build up of all the passion they’ve left behind finally begins to erupt inside them. It isn’t until she can feel the familiar material of their bedspread moving against her back that Amy realises that Jake has leant her down towards the mattress, and she unwraps her legs to help them shuffle upwards a little.

There’s a sense of urgency to Jake’s touch, the way hands never seem to be too far away from her body, that turns Amy on all the more, and although she knows that Jake has always desired her it feels like the longest time since she’s actually felt desirable. His lips trail down her neck, nibbling gently at her collarbone and back up to that spot behind her ear, and they both grip each other tighter as she lets out a breathless moan. He ventures lower, circling her nipple with his tongue before sucking it in completely, one hand wriggling free to grip her other breast and oh, how she has missed this.

Her hips buck upwards in response to Jake’s touch, and her pelvis rubs up against his erection - eliciting a moan from her husband’s mouth that echoes around her skin and spurs her on for more, twisting her hips so that she can move back and forth. His teeth sink gently into the bottom of her breast in reprimand, his free hand snaking down towards her underwear and rubbing her gently through the fabric. He sighs at the moisture that he finds there, and Amy moans in response before wrapping her legs back around Jake’s waist, shifting her weight until his back hits the bedspread.

The smile she gives him is devious, pressing her right hand into his chest to keep him in place as her left slides lower, palming his erection as it strains against his boxers before shuffling down his body and pushing her knees into the mattress on either side of him. He lifts slightly as her nimble fingers grip the waistband of his underwear, pulling them down and off with an eagerness that both of them can relate to, a mumbled version of her name hanging in the air as his head pushes back into their pillows.

It had only taken a few nights into their relationship for Amy to figure out that Jake was a Very Big Fan of foreplay. Those first weeks of discovering each other, exploring the other’s bodies and experimenting with different positions and tempos had been the best weeks of her life thus far, continually thanking her lucky stars that she’d fallen for somebody who was so intent on giving her pleasure in so many ways. It ended up becoming a recurring theme in their lives, often coming up when the other least expected it (ie. that night on her couch, three months in), but in the sea of madness that had become their overly scheduled attempts at procreation, moments like these had sadly fallen to the wayside.

But not tonight. Gripping his dick in her hand, Amy rotates her wrist, pumping slowly up and down and biting her lip at the responding moan that falls from her husband’s mouth. Tonight, she wants Jake to feel the same kind of amazing he makes her feel. Wants him to come in her mouth and not consider it a ‘wasted opportunity for a uterine deposit’, but rather a chance for her husband to have an orgasm for no reason other than pleasure.

Pulling her hand away, Amy lowers herself towards Jake’s body, beginning a series of tiny kisses that trail along the top of his pelvis, tonguing the trail of hair that leads to the grand prize before skipping it all together and kissing his inner thigh instead. From above her, Jake lets out a huff of frustration, and she pulls away completely - waiting until she has his full attention before holding his gaze as she opens her mouth and takes him in completely.

It had been so long since she’s instigated this, since she’s taken Jake in her mouth and grazed her teeth in feather-light movements against the edge of his cock in the way that she knows he loves. Relaxing her jaw, she lets him slide deeper in, resisting the urge to react as the head of his erection hits the back of her throat, flattening her tongue against his dick as she slowly slides him back out again. His fingers dig into her scalp just a little harder as he moans above her, moaning a combination of Ames and so long and it’s the obvious desire in his voice that spurs her forward.

She pulls him out of her mouth completely, circling her tongue around the tip before heading to the base and sliding upwards in one slow lick, and Jake lets out another moan, bucking his hips upwards. His eyes have long since squeezed shut, and Amy rubs her free hand along the outside of his thigh soothingly as she takes him back into her mouth, increasing her suction all the more as he writhes beneath her. Her head bobs up and down as she really gets to work, taking the increased intensity of Jake’s sighs as a good indicator that things are going to plan, and when his fingers grip her hair he mumbles, “I’m gonna come, babe, oh god ..”

Moving her free hand to cup his balls, Amy scrapes her nails gently along the sensitive skin she finds there, and it’s all Jake needs to be pushed completely into oblivion and he comes with a shout, his seed filling her mouth as he calls out her name.

His chest is heaving by the time she slides his cock out of her mouth, one hand pressed against the side of his face as he mumbles her name repeatedly while coming down from the high. Sliding against the sheets, Amy dots kisses along the side of her husband’s body before reaching the top, resting her head against his shoulder and looking up at him, watching as he struggles to catch his breath. Finally, he turns to her and smiles, wrapping an arm around her waist and rolling her body on top of his. Tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear, Jake smiles at Amy before dropping a tender kiss to her mouth. “That was awesome, Ames. You are awesome.”

Grinning, Amy leans in for another kiss. “You’re pretty awesome yourself, babe.”

“While that’s true, you’re definitely more awesome-er.”

Without even realising what she’s saying, Amy pulls back to look at her husband and replies, “Well, you’re the awesome-est.”

He laughs, stroking the side of her cheek gently with his thumb, trailing his hand down until he’s following the curve of her lower lip. “Forgoing the basic rules of the English language to compliment me? You must be in love.”

Amy’s responding smile is bright, and she nods. “Completely.” Moving her arm to rest against Jake’s chest, she drops her chin to her wrist and twists her mouth slightly. “I’ve missed this.”

“…. You giving me head?”

She laughs, and Jake’s grip around her waist tightens as he joins in. “No! I mean .. yes, but I more meant this. Just lying here together, talking … we got off track for a bit there.” Pushing herself slightly forward, Amy presses her lips against Jake’s. “I’m really glad we found our way back.”

Moving one hand down to grip her butt, Jake leans in to return the kiss before flipping Amy over, cradling her head with his free hand as she rolls underneath him. “Me too, Ames. And right now, there’s something I really wanna do.”

Jake’s eyes are dark and full of lust as he plants his hands on the mattress either side of Amy, dropping his head to her shoulders and covering each side with a series of kisses. Even after they went into Full Amy mode, war-room scheduling included, Jake had done his best while he could to keep things fun and light and sexy. Surprising her with sweet massages, littering her body with a thousand tiny kisses while they relaxed on their couch, running his hands over Amy’s bare skin with absolute reverence as they worked together to get things going.

Looking back, it’s hard to pinpoint when it all disappeared; hard to figure out when it stopped being sex. When scheduled sex with their shirts on overtook making love. Amy loves schedules - but she loves Jake more, and it terrifies her that for a little while there, the most important detail of love had fallen off of their list of priorities.

Shuffling lower, Jake’s kisses travel down her ribcage heading towards her stomach, and honestly Amy doesn’t mean to, but she stiffens up as soon as she feels the tip of his nose rub against her skin. This was, after all, the part of her body that they’d both imagined to be swollen with a child by now - healthy, glowing proof that as one, they had created a new life. It was hard for her not to consider herself broken … a failure at something so simple that, being one of eight Santiago children, should come to her so easily.

Jake stops in his tracks, resting both hands on her hips as he looks up at Amy, and his eyes look so wide and sincere that Amy can feel her strong reserve crumbling down, brick by brick. Rubbing his thumbs in a soothing pattern, he holds her gaze as he presses his lips against her skin, covering her abdomen over and over until Amy can feel the tension begin to slowly melt away. Rising slightly, Jake moves to hover over Amy, pushing his knee into the bedsheets as he rests his forehead against hers. “None of this is your fault, Amy. Whatever it takes, we’re gonna figure this out. Together.”

Amy’s heart flutters, and she runs one hand through his hair. “I love you, Jake Peralta.” He leans in for a soft kiss, and she smiles when they part. “So much.“

He answers with another kiss, this one heavy with passion and affection, and just when Amy begins to think her heart is going to switch into overdrive he pulls away, dropping one last kiss to the tip of her nose before continuing his earlier path.

The sight of her husband, head dipped low as he trails his tongue down her body, is incredibly arousing, and Amy finds her hips lifting in silent invitation as Jake travels further down. He mouths her clit through the material, suckling softly agains the fabric before curling his fingers around the edge of her panties and tugging downwards - moving only to help Amy bend her legs in succession so that he can toss the fabric away.

He watches her carefully as one hand returns to her centre, massaging her mound in deliberate strokes. Grabbing her left hand with his right he pulls it down until they’ve met his other hand, not letting go until their joined fingers have reached her clit. Taking the cue, Amy begins to rub in slow circles, letting out a soft moan when she feels two of Jake’s fingers enter, stroking her deep inside and setting all of her nerves on fire.

Her legs spread wider as her breath hitches in her chest, and then suddenly she can feel Jake’s warm tongue against her folds and her hand falls away, moving to grip the strands of his hair as his mouth begins to lavish attention onto her bud. It all felt so incredible, so familiar and yet strangely so new, and ohhh, she’s really REALLY missed this.

Jake’s tongue dips and rises, lowering then climbing again and again, and she’d almost swear he’s drawing a love heart with that talented tongue of his but before she can even ask his lips are surrounding her clit completely, sucking just hard enough that Amy’s pelvis lifts off the bed, her fingers digging into his hair as he persists with the movement. His right hand grips the bare skin of her butt as she feels her body begin to clench up, and her thighs are definitely locking her husband in place right now but she hears no protests … she can’t hear anything, really, apart from the sound of her own moans as Jake pushes her over the edge a mere millisecond later.

She’d almost forgotten about this; the rush of blood whooshing through her body, the feeling of everything tightening and then relaxing in such a quick succession that her limbs tremble in the aftershock. Jake knew how to read her body better than anybody she’d ever been with before - something she’d come to realise within the first week of dating, but didn’t dare to tell him until several months in. Even now, as Amy’s heart pounds right out of her chest and coherent thought begins to return to her mind, she can feel his ridiculously soft lips running along the inside of her thigh, lapping away the evidence of her arousal before pushing his weight upwards along her body and reversing the trail of kisses he’d paved on her skin earlier.

His breath is hot on her skin as he grates his teeth against one nipple, swirling his tongue around the tip before releasing, mumbling - “I’ve really missed doing that.”

Amy grins, and she knows it’s the type of grin that in the past Jake has told her looks like the cat who got the cream, and in all honesty he’s not wrong. She feels satiated, the muscles in her body relaxing as she feels Jake’s body slide up against hers, and when he kisses her she responds enthusiastically, thoroughly enjoying the taste of her on his tongue. “I’ve really missed you doing that,” she replies with a wink, and he laughs before pulling her in for another kiss.

She deepens the kiss as she feels Jake’s body cover hers, his erection nudging against her stomach. Separating her legs slightly to allow space for Jake to rest between them, she pulls away to catch her breath, pushing her lower body up towards her husband as she goes. Her entire centre is still throbbing after having the strongest orgasm she’s had in the longest time, but already she’s desperate for more.

Jake’s thumb brushes along her hairline, and his voice is soft when he asks - “Should I put on a condom?” and it’s so sweet of him to ask, knowing that she’s been off her birth control for months now, and perhaps both of them just needed a little bit of time. But there’s still a tiny part of Amy that is holding onto the hope that maybe this time will be the one, and so she shakes her head quickly, craning her neck up towards Jake and pulling him in for another kiss, moaning against his mouth as he enters her slowly.

He pauses for a moment, giving Amy time to adjust before pulling out just as slowly and thrusting back in, settling into a rhythm that is soft and sweet and she really, truly loves this man. She loves him for knowing that this is what she needs right now - that after months of things being so clinical, what both of them needed was just to make love - and if they make a baby from it, well then that’s just a bonus. She loves him for all the times he’s reminded her just how amazing he believes her to be; for telling her that even in the hardest times she was never alone. Amy knew, deep down in her heart, that no matter which way they decided to go with things, that Jake would support her one hundred percent, and that meant more to her than she could possibly say.

Her hips begin to push up off the bed, meeting Jake’s perfectly rhythmic thrusts, and he drops his head to the base of her neck and sinks his teeth in softly as he lets out another moan, mumbling out an Ames as his tongue laps against the indentation his bite left behind. Gripping both of his shoulders with her hands, Amy can feel her fingernails dig into his skin as her legs wrap around Jake’s waist, quietly begging for more, and he really does know her so well because without hesitation his thrusts increase in both speed and intensity, and Amy’s head falls back down the pillow as she lets out a strangled yesss.

She knows that neither of them are going to last long - this feels way too good for it to last, and in all honesty they had all night - and with that in mind Amy pushes her pelvis up towards Jake’s body, letting the persistent movement of his thrusting hips rub her clit in just the right way. It works perfectly, because it’s only a minute or two later that her entire body is shuddering, the overwhelming sensation of pure satisfaction quaking through her body as she calls out Jake’s name. As his fingers dig into her butt Jake speeds up his thrusts, pushing both of their bodies up the mattress as he moves closer to the edge, pulling Amy in for a heart-stopping kiss as he finally comes. He whispers her name when they part, both of their skin slick with sweat from their exertions but neither willing to move just yet.

Eventually he pulls out, hands sliding over Amy’s skin as he moves to lay beside her, and briefly Amy fights the instinct to hold her knees to her chest, finally dismissing all of the pregnancy journals and articles that had recommended her do. Instead, she curls her body towards her husband, resting her head against his chest and listening to his heartbeat as it gradually slows back down to it’s regular rhythm.

The tip of Jake’s middle finger traces up and down Amy’s arm, gliding against her skin as his heaving breath slows, and his voice breaks through the silence while he uses his other hand to pull her closer to him. “I meant what I said earlier, Ames. You and I, we’re a family.” She feels his lips press against her hairline, and she nods in response. “Whether that’s a family of two, or three, heck even a family of nine - I don’t mind. As long as it’s you and me, everything else is gravy.”

Amy nods again, silently waiting for the tears to threaten her calm again, but this time around they simply don’t come. She knows - she knows - that Jake is right. The two of them are where it all ends and begins. And one way or another, they would figure it all out. Her hand slides along his stomach, curling around his waist as she moves up slightly, tucking herself into his shoulder the way she loves to. “You better be counting some pets when you’re getting to that nine, Peralta.”

His chest bounces underneath her arm as he laughs, and there really is no way to describe just how happy Jake makes her. “I’m just saying, babe - we could like, totally dominate the crime fighting world. Have someone from the FBI, the CIA, a detective - you and I both know you’ll be captain by then - and I guess one of them could be a firefighter, if they really wanted. I don’t know about you, but I think that sounds pretty awesome.”

Tipping her head slightly, Amy plants a kiss to the side of Jake’s neck, pausing to breathe him in. “It does sound pretty awesome.”

Amy can’t see his face, but she knows that he’s smiling at her response, and she leans back in for another kiss. It was beginning to feel as though all the stress of the past six months was seeping out of her body, her limbs growing heavier the longer she lay there in her husband’s arms. Jake must be feeling the same, his voice heavy with exhaustion as he mumbles, “I love you, Ames”, and she can feel her face stretch into a beaming smile as she closes her eyes. Whether they end up with a team of crime-fighters, or keep their family at two, she would always have Jake by her side, and that meant everything.

It’s another ten days before Amy decides to take another pregnancy test, and she doesn’t feel nearly as defeated as all the times before when she shows the negative result to Jake with a casual nope. This was just another test - and it was hard, for sure. But together, they’d find a way.

#post-episode prompts #anon #my writing #b99 fanfic #ok I know I've posted a lot in the last few days and I'M SORRY #but there's a lot of prompts in my inbox and I just wanna CREATE #I'll be quiet now 🤐#peraltiago smut #mine #Jake x Amy fic #peraltiago fanfiction

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jenliliscripts · 3 years

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Chapter 218

June’s POV

I prepared extra sets of clothes for us two since we're going to be out walking in the streets. It's better to be ready for anything. I know Jamie's going to come through with my request, but I can’t be complacent. I took the paper bag from the back and handed it to Lia.

"Here," I glanced at her. "Change into my clothes later before we go inside the ice cream parlor. I will too, after you. I just want to be careful. I don't want us to be in every news article tomorrow."

She tugged my arm towards her, then leaned on my shoulder. I instinctively drew closer, letting the side of my head rest on top of hers and began driving. It's a bit challenging to drive in this position, but I didn't want to break loose from her hold. It's just too comfortable, too warm—it's where I want to be.

"Junie…" her soft voice filling the void.

"Hmm?"

"If you could change something in your life, what would it be?"

The question caused me pause and think. The thought never crossed my mind because I was too caught up in my own bubble, stepping into my early 20s without a clear plan in mind, not taking the time to reflect on my past decisions. I used to say I knew what I wanted but they turned out to be empty words. I was chasing after temporary goals that would leave me unsatisfied after I've come to grasp them. I obviously didn't know what I wanted until I admitted that I'm in love with her. Loving her is the most certain thing I have ever felt in my entire life so if I could change anything in my life, I would want to meet her earlier.

"I wish I met you earlier, Lia," I said plainly.

"Why? That's so strange. There are many things you could change, but why that?"

"Ever since you came, life isn’t as dull as it was for me. How about you?"

She placed her other hand on top of our intertwined fingers. "I wish I wasn't afraid to explore the unknown. I wish I would just dive into things head first. Maybe I wouldn't be having a hard time sorting out some matters in my life."

"You know, that's what you told me that night."

Just like that, memories from that fateful night in Vegas flashed before my eyes. I could vividly remember everything that had happened despite my drunken state. Lia isn't really as much of a good drinker like me so she got wasted earlier than I did. I asked her questions that popped into my mind to keep the conversation going and prevent her from leaving. Looking back at it now, I think the real reason why I started latching onto her wasn't just because of wounded ego, but I was also smitten by her from the very beginning and I was quite late at acknowledging that.

Flashback: June 2019 at Las Vegas (June's POV)

She's onto her nth glass of vodka and she couldn't be stopped. I've already reprimanded her for being stubborn. Gosh, I don't want to carry her to her hotel room if she ends up passing out in here.

"Hey, J-june Tay…" she sighed rather audibly, visibly exasperated, probably because she has repeatedly failed to speak in coherent sentences. "June Taylor. Yes. Right that's your name."

"Yes, Miss Kim? You have any problem?"

She shook her head vigorously as she waved her hand. "No, no, no. Though I'm really frustrated with myself."

"For what reason may I ask?"

She pressed her index finger against her chest. "I always run back to my comfort zone when push comes to shove. I'm a competent person, but when shit hits the fan, I hide. I go back to the people and things that give me security."

"Isn't that normal? I think everyone has done that at some point in their life."

She closed her eyes, pouting her lips, showing her disagreement towards my answer. "I hate being a coward. I hate that I have to gather every bit of my strength to stop myself from getting back with my ex. It's tiring. But he feels familiar and he's all I know and I'm afraid he's all I'll ever know."

"He won't be the last, Lia," I told her, causing her eyes to open. She looked at me, bewildered because of my bold claim. "You'll meet more people along the way. Don't be scared of being alone. Actually, I think being alone is the best thing in the world. You get to do everything you want to do—fool around and not feel guilty after doing so."

"Ah! I don’t like being alone! Period!"

"Okay, fine. You don't like it. I respect that."

Squinting her eyes, she moved her face towards me. "You seem like a person who takes a lot of risks and hmm—a thrill seeker? Am I right?"

"I guess you could say that. Why?"

"I want to know—what's the most dangerous thing you've ever done?"

Her voice was noticeably sultry. Whether or not she had intended that, I am piqued by the sudden change in demeanor. I decided to ride along. "Having you here while you're drunk."

She smiled appeared on her lips, a mischievous one, exciting me further. "Why? Is there anything you want to do to me?"

I drew my face closer to her, straight up challenging her. She didn't flinch though, which is impressive if you ask me. My vision is a bit clouded, yet I didn't miss how her eyes sparkled as she fought off my stare. "I can do a lot of things to you right now. I'm just choosing not to."

She reached for my collar and tugged me towards her. Our faces were inches apart, the smell of vodka invading my nostrils as she breathed on my face. "How about we do something crazy? Help me break free from myself, will you?"

"How may I help you with that?"

"Marry me."

End of flashback

And I did marry her. Did I think it through? Nope. I immediately told her we should go to a private chapel and do it. As opposed to her reaction, I was exhilarated the morning after. But that time, my reasons were shallow. I saw Lia like some trophy that I could show my mom because she's so obsessed with marriage. Yeah, it was so immature of me. But now that feelings are involved, I'm genuinely happy by the fact that she is mine—at least on paper for now. It's impossible for her to find someone else while she's married to me. She'd think twice about going back to Tyler more so unless I file for divorce.

I haven't had the chance to ask the reason why marriage was her solution to the problem. Well, how could I ask when she couldn't even remember getting married?

Is it to prove that she can go on without Tyler or is it because she just wanted to do something she wouldn't imagine herself doing—marrying a girl? Maybe she wanted to defy her ideals and did something reckless, you know? There are quite a lot of reasons I could think of yet they remain as thoughts I won't be able to confirm.

"I haven't asked you in detail about what transpired that night," Lia said, momentarily glancing up at me before returning to her original position. "Who came up with the idea?"

"You," I answered, chuckling.

"I did?" Her voice resounded in the car, shock written all over her face.

"Yeah, Lia. It was you," I affirmed as I turned to the right. "You said you wanted to break free from yourself and suggested that marrying me was the way to achieve that."

She face palmed then made a loud squeaking sound, causing me to laugh. "I can't believe it. All along I thought you tricked me into it."

"The last thing I'll ever do is to deceive someone. I've told you before, I only lie when I have to."

"But how can you agree to an absurd idea? You should have stopped me."

"I kinda wanted it too even if it was very impulsive decision…" I confessed, my voice fading into the thin air.

"Wanted what? The marriage?"

"Yeah. And you. I wanted you."

She scoffed, completely in disbelief. "Me? Like you wanted to sleep with me or?"

"If I'm being honest, yeah. I wanted to sleep with you. But I realized something else a few months after. I didn't agree to marry you just because I wanted to get into your pants."

"Then what else?"

Does she really not know? I have never been good at hiding yet she couldn't see through my actions. Is she refusing to see and denying what's obvious?

"Later. We're here."

"Hi, uhm can I get a large cup of vanilla ice cream please and—" I looked over my shoulder. "Lili, do you want any toppings?"

"Nope," she replied, popping the 'p'. She was adorably bobbing her head to the music.

Turning back to the lady, I saw her jaw hanging slightly open. "A-are you June Taylor?"

I winked then pressed my index finger against my lips. "That will be our secret. Can you keep it for me?"

She nodded a few times then cleared her throat. "What else may I get you?"

"A cup of that cookie dough with chocolate sprinkles please."

"Is that girl your girl—" the lady cut herself off, realizing that she's overstepping. "I'm sorry."

A smile spread across my face as the thought came up. "She will be soon. I think I have a good shot at it."

"I'll keep that to myself. Yes, a cup of vanilla ice cream and one cookie dough with chocolate sprinkles coming right up, ma'am."

I served the ice cream then sat across Lia. "Here you go. Plain vanilla ice cream for you."

She grinned, snatching the cup from the tray then took a big scoop. As the ice cream melted in her mouth, she groaned in satisfaction. "Mmm, my favorite. I would never get tired of eating this."

Watching her from my seat, I also began eating my ice cream. Later on, I got a playful idea and just went with it. I stuck my finger into my cup and dabbed some on Lia's face. Her eyes widened, surprised by the rush of coldness that came into contact with her skin. "Hey!"

I pushed my chair back and dashed outside with my cup in hand. She followed me out, screaming at me while she took quick steps to catch up to me. "I'm competitive! I'll get back at you, June!"

My lungs were burning, but I was over the moon. Everything that has happened tonight is so liberating that I'm actually starting to believe we're different people, that this could go on forever. Am I selfish for wanting this so bad? For wanting Lia? And for possibly leaving her with no choice but to stay with me? I'm only holding on to a sliver of hope that she feels the same. However, the way she's acting tonight reinforces my belief that our feelings are mutual.

She disrupted my train of thoughts, jumping at me from behind, engulfing me in her arms. We were on the sidewalk, people walking past us like were nobodies. It felt great. It felt real. I wanted to stay in this moment for as long as I could. I don't want to take her home and deal with reality because I've made up my mind—I'm telling her the truth.

She forced me to turn around and smeared ice cream on my nose. "Now we're even."

I heaved and along with the heavy intakes of breath was the loud beating of my heart. Her other arm was still hooked around my back while I'm looking down at her, my eyes locked at her lips. I'm trying my very best not to kiss her here, but my mind couldn't go against my instincts. I leaned towards her and slowly closed my eyes, only to be stopped by the buzzing of my phone. Lia broke away, quickly retreating and avoided my gaze. I sighed, utterly disappointed by the ruined moment. It's Jamie's so I have no choice but to take the call.

"Yes Jay?"

"You have to go home now, June. Information got leaked. They know you're out. Not with Lia though. They just know you're wandering in the city. It won't be long until they find you."

"Got it. Thank you, Jay."

I terminated the call then turned to Lia. "I have to take you home now. It seems that the media has finally caught up."

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mokkemusic · 5 years

Text

Party Dancecapades! (Another View) Fic

READ ALSO ON FF.NET - HERE

Summary: This is meant to take place during XYZ Episode 12 aka “the dance episode”. We know Misty and Brock got their Mega Stones and learned about Mega Evolution before the end of the first season of Sun & Moon. Who knows though if they came to Kalos to get them? And could it have been around the same time Ash was in Kalos? Anything’s possible right??

Misty stood in the crowd overlooking the spectacular venue. This sure was Kalos all right. The palace itself looked like something from one of her many post cards. The architecture, the ambiance, the romanticism of it all. She was sure the air just smelled like sweet foreign pastries although, it could be because she was standing right next to the assorted treats and drinks they had laid out across a large table and stretched on from one end of the ball room to another; for the hungry party goers.

She grabbed a delicious and colorful pistachio macaron that matched the color of her long elegant ball gown; savoring the moment and the scene upon her before she would get back to the dance floor. This really had to be a dream. She couldn’t believe that she was actually in this region and that she got to be here and feel like a princess for a day. I guess she had both she’d hate to admit it but her sisters and even Gary Oak to thank for that.

“Bonjour Misty, get packin’!”

“Gary?”

Yea it’s me who else? Listen I’m thinking about taking a trip up to Kalos to learn a thing or two about Mega Evolution. There’s a lot more to it then just special effects you know? I think it would be good for you as a gym leader and all seeing as you need to sharpen your skills a bit—”

“—Hey!”

“And bring Brocky Boy along with ya! Might as well keep him up to date.

“I have you on speaker Gary he’s right here…

"I hate that nickname you know.”

"Yea yea meet me at the lab at eight and don’t be late!”

Click

“What? What’s up?”

“I don’t know Brock all those Kaloisian girls…”

“Misty! Who do you think I am? I am going there to explore new possibilities In Pokémon medicine!”

She raised an eyebrow. “Your going there to explore something alright. Behave yourself you got that!”

They may not have all been exceptionally close friends, but ever since Tracey was always going to Cerulean to visit Daisy and Gary needed to also meet up with his grandfathers ambitious assistant to help him with something or to take something back to the oak lab. He would always run into Misty and by extension sometimes Brock who would visit his friends on most occasions and talk to them both about the latest information in Pokémon medicine and all the water Pokémon at the gym. Not to mention the occasional Pokémon battles to keep skills sharp and engage in some “friendly competition”, and not to also be forgotten all the holiday gatherings from Pallet and Cerulean. They’ve all became connected and closer.

So when Gary had told her about the possible discovered mega stones for water Pokémon that could perform Mega Evolution including Gyaradosite, there was no way Misty could pass that opportunity up. Unfortunately, for her though, any mention of a trip to Kalos was not something her world famous “sensational sisters” sisters could pass up on either.

“So like where are you going in such a hurry. Oh! Did Ash come back home? Are you headed over to Pallet town? Cause like then w—”

“No.”

“No?”

“No! And it’s none of your business now move out of the way!”

“Now hold it right there little sister! If we are gonna like have to babysit this gym and have to battle and stuff I think we have like the right to know!”

Misty rubbed her temples in frustration reciting to herself “Breathe Misty. Remember to breathe. They need to still be around to watch the gym.”

“Me Brock and Gary are going to Kalos to stud—”

“—Wait did you say Kalos??”

“—Yes Kalos to—”

“—Without us?!?!”

“Oh no…”

“We’re like sooo going with you!”

“Oh no you don’t! This is the first vacation I had in weeks and we are there to study!”

“Oh please! You like love Kalos and all the fancy shops and cafes just as much as we do so you can’t fool us and besides! We know some people there! Like a Pokémon showcase performer friend, Aria is there and we like haven’t catched up in foreverrrr.”

“But Daisy!! Who am I supposed to get to watch the Gym? And what am I supposed to tell Gary?! He only bought three tickets… at least I think it’s three—”

“—Pfft! Please I’ll ask Tracey to watch over the gym and we can like get tickets ourselves! And besides with us by your side you can get access to so many parties and showcases!”

“But we’re not there to…go to…what kind of parties?”

“Where you can dance and wear fancy ball gowns and make up like a princess…”

“Like a princess…”

All 3 of them nod “uh huh..”

“Arghh!!! Fine! You can come!! But if you embarrass me I swear to mew I’m going to use your faces as a practice range for Gyrados hydro pump!”

“Ok..ok..”

“Would you care to dance?” Brock mock bowed.

“Haha, Why yes I would!” she said as her “mermaid” wig hair tickled her shoulder as she mock bowed in return.

“I got to ask why the wig again?”

“Listen its the only chance I get to not be “Misty the gym leader” I am Miltank milking it for all it’s worth!”

“You do see ladies here with short hair right?”

“I know it just feels more…Kalos.”

“I don’t understand what that means.” he chuckled twirling her around. “But you do look very nice.”

She looked to her left and saw Gary twirl his date gracefully as she spun around. They both had skill. He offered her a dance before which his date didn’t mind. Actually if Misty had to be honest with herself, she really liked this girl and they had spent hours before the party trying on dresses and visiting the café’s and shops in the area, leaving snarky comments and threats to both Gary and Brock in their wake.

Everyone had to have a date for this dance event; even their Pokémon partners.

“Oh no, what Pokémon am I gonna get to dance with Psyduck?!”

“Oh I know! How about my Furret or my Snubbull or really any of my Pokémon cause I have an all female team!” She winked a blue eye.

“Remember guys if something comes up, we can’t stay too long. Professor Sycamore is expecting us as soon as he gets to the Pokémon center here.

“Garebear stop being such a—”

“—Leaf, whatdya I tell you about that!”

The other two tried to hold back their fit of giggles. Yup! Misty definitely liked this girl.

_____________________________________________________________________________________

“Alright, everyone form into circles. It’s time to change partners. Then lets dance!”

Ash was not a dancer. He tried he really tried. He tried to learn Tierrno’s rhythmic battle style, Serena had tried to teach him and he can’t remember the countless of other people who tried to teach him something over the course of his travels about dancing… It wasn’t just that he had two left feet cause in actuality he didn’t. He could have balance and focus, he wasn’t clumsy! Well…ok he wasn’t that clumsy! He tried to debate himself that it was just that he had ZERO sense of rhythm!

He didn’t care though cause he loved it! He just never waited for the music to catch up with the impatience of his feet. He was always ahead of it and he was regretting that now.

Ash could only recall in his mind the one time his dancing was somewhat acceptable and that was a very looong time ago at the Maidens Peak festival at the very beginning of his journey back in Kanto.

“Come on Ash let’s dance!”

“Uh, sure!”

“Woah, ahh…”

It happened so fast that he couldn’t even process what was happening. She grasped his white gloved hand with her own pulling him more into the circular row of rotating suitors. He stumbled over his feet before he looked up. He saw an orange wave of waist length hair, but he couldn’t look at her eyes, they were closed??

She took full lead though (in spite of that) raising his left hand high above his head balanced only by the light tips of her fingers as she took a long bow and in the process making him bow as well.

He just stared. Something about her made him stare for a second, maybe it was the fact that he wanted to say something but nothing ever came out. It couldn’t be though..nah, no way…but…

She stood upright again, let go of his hand and began to leave and her eyes were still closed! She must have really known her way around these kind of things if she could just feel her way around.. she was really graceful. He smiled sheepishly as she passed until he heard someone else speak.

“Dancing’s not hard.”

“Aria!”

“It’s easy just relax!”

“O-Ok.”

_____________________________________________________________________________________

“Psy”

Psyduck’s bill hovered over the edge of the table. So close to that lonely slice of cake.

“…Psssyyyduuuucckkk?!” She growled out.

Busted! He didn’t hear the click of his irritated trainers heels approaching on the soft carpeting. Misty made her way back again to the table of sweet treats after catching the sight of her daring Pokémon out of the corner of her eye.

His cheeks flushed pink embarrassed or maybe terrified of the reprimand he knew was coming squinting his eyes and bracing himself.

He looked up but her hand wasn’t about to wack him. Her eyes were staring at it instead.

“—Duck?”

She spaced out for a moment running a thumb across her fingertips. A prickling ran through them with a strange familiarity. It was odd? She felt like she was in a trance, though that could have been cause she refused to open her eyes when she passed along the circle, but she just couldn’t bring herself to do it. It was too enticing just to feel the music and have her feet carry her where she went. She felt as though she was floating in water and she couldn’t risk having that bubble burst. (She navigated just fine.)

“Alright…”

“Huh.” She looked up towards the staircase. As did everyone else in the room.

“Let us begin today’s main event…”

She let out an audible unbelieving breath.

All other words were lost on her ears when she spotted someone. Or rather two someone’s, she wouldn’t have even entertained the belief otherwise. But a bit far up ahead was a Pikachu coming to stand by a boy with jet black hair in a navy blue suit that looked like .. no this was ridiculous.. still…

She moved closer up but a crowd was forming in front at the announcement. She craned her neck and stood on the tips of her toes just to try to get a better angle. She might have started excusing herself through the crowd but…

“Misty!” Gary’s hand had grasped her shoulder. “Geesh! Didn’t you hear us calling you?”

She raised an eyebrow and looked behind him to see Brock and Leaf had gathered their things. The later looking a bit disappointed

“…The battle begins next.”

_____________________________________________________________________________________

They returned the rented dresses and tusks, changed back into their regular clothes and headed up to the reception desk.

“Excuse me Mademoiselle. Did we need to return these?” Brock asked sliding her the cards they received upon arrival.

“Oh” the female the receptionist giggled. “No you are free to keep those!”

“Ah, then I will keep it as a souvenir from the beautiful woman who handed it to me.” He held it to his heart for effect.

Misty’s hand twitched in preparation to yank his ear and save the poor woman.

“Is the party over?” The receptionist asked confused.

“Not yet.” Gary answered. “But we gotta run. This party is just about wrapping up anyway. Professor Sycamore just updated me. We’re meeting with him; He’s staying at the Pokémon center a little ways back here tonight and since it’s already near sunset we’re gonna have a long trek back and I want to get there before it gets pitch black out.

“Oh well then, I hope you all had a wonderful time!” She smiled sweetly. “Please come back and visit.”

“Ahhhhhhhhhhhh…” Brock stared at her dreamily.

“—Come on Brock!” Misty said forcefully giving his a shove as he was the only one still standing there when everyone else was heading out.

“Wait a minute!” Gary stopped abruptly and held his card up to the light. “Nah, ok we’re good. Let’s go.”

Leaf rolled her eyes and shifted her weight to her right hip and scoffed.

“Figures if it was you—”

“—Well did you get the special card? Hmm?” He smirks.

She stuck her tongue out at him and stalked ahead.

_____________________________________________________________________________________

They all followed out onto the amber golden side street; lit and glowing by the string of street lamps that begun to turn on at this hour.

Misty hung back a bit though a part of her itching to go back inside. Just find out if she was right??

“Hey, you ok?” Leaf looped an arm with hers directing her forward. She didn’t realize she started walking backwards to keep the palace in view just in case she changed her mind…

“Yea..”

“Liar.” She stared into her not buying into it.

“…I know this is gonna sound crazy but I could have sworn I saw… Ash.” She finally said it.

Brock and Gary both stopped several steps ahead, turned their heads and stared at her blinking.

Leaf looked puzzled as well. All was silent for a moment until Gary spoke up.

“Well it’s official someone spiked that punch. I knew everyone there was a little tipsy. It must be a Kalos thing. You know how many cheek kisses I got tonight?” He winced as soon as his brain caught up to his mouth.

“How many cheek kisses did you get tonight? Hmm?” Leaf crossed her arms. Not amused.

“Um.. it’s not important…” he waved a hand and quickly dismissed getting flustered at her scrutiny. He turned back to Misty for the quick excuse.

“How much punch did you drink?”

“None.” she deadpanned folding her arms.

“Misty ..” Brock started carefully “You know that’s a little hard to believe right?”

“I know. I know! It’s just I saw a Pikachu—”

“—A lot of trainers have Pikachu’s.”

“He was with a boy with black hair!—”

“—Lot of trainers have black hair.”

She threw her hands up in the air exasperated.

“Well he has been in Kalos right?! I mean he—”

“—So are thousands of other trainers…”

After this back and forth for a while trying to convince her that was sorta…impossible. Garry got the biggest smirk.

“You know what I think it is?” They all turned back to him. “I think that it’s just you wanted Ashy-Boy to be the one you were dancing with tonight. So naturally your mind would come to that unbelievable conclusion.”

That was it. He knew exactly what button to press to stop this conversation dead in its tracks. He chalked it up to a win in his book of comeback arguments he’s been ever slightly more defeated in winning ever since inviting Leaf along.

Her cheeks to the bridge of her nose flushed a pink hue. She opened her mouth, closed it, then quickly opened it again.

“Fine! You know what?! Let’s just forget this!”

She gritted her teeth and stomped ahead now leading the group back to the Pokémon center.

Maybe one day the next time she saw him back in Pallet she would just subtly bring up if he was ever at that location… at that particular time… on that particular day in Kalos? It started to sound even more un-convincing. Maybe they were right, Kalos was a big region. It was too big of a coincidence as well.

__________________________________________________________________________________

Seriously what were the chances that could even happen?! A coincidence like that?!

Ours wasn’t coincidence.

“Huh?”

“I don’t believe it could be just a coincidence that I met you out of all people.”

“What do you mean—”

“Ash?”

“Huh?”

“You ok? You kind of zoned out there for a minute.”

Authors note: Collaboration with @pok3n who made me actually turn into a fic instead of just a head cannon. She also attributed some of her own dialogue and ideas that were frekin fantastic like the opening flashback scenes and a lot of other things. I honestly wouldn’t post anything if it wasn’t for her. But we talked though it and decided.. yea ok it might work lol (your amazing!)

Special credit to @pkmncoordinators The addition of “Leaf” was inspired by TAC. Her mannerisms, personality, the teasing nickname she calls Gary “garebare” as well as I think all of her Pokémon being female is all a credit to that masterpiece and its author. It’s basically my personal established Leaf cannon. Also made me a conflict/leafgreen shipper not gonna lie lol.

I know this is just a one shot but I will say this I wanted to explain my reasoning in more detail on the way I wrote this. Cause it’s something I never did before but also it was just gonna end up being a 10 page authors note and I don’t think anyone wants to read that. But if any of you do read this and are kinda confused as to something or just have a question about it my ask box and messages are open! (They always are) odds are I have the answers :)!

I will possibly expand upon the Kalos Mega Evolution Research Trip as a separate story in the future. This was just that specific memorable scene. Also I might expand on the Gary & Leaf backstory which was how they reacquainted with each other possibly in the anime. I recently posted a little head cannon about that I might explore more.

And Lastly… This honestly my favorite thing I have done! I would make it a full fledged comic if I had any drawing capability whatsoever cause it’s essentially one scene with dividers. But since I don’t oh well.. I’m just happy I could make it into a fic. I didn’t do anything this complicated before so initially it was just gonna be a very vague head cannon and I didn’t think it was gonna work. But it did and I’m just so so proud of this! :,)

#pokeshipping #misty waterflower #ash ketchum

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emperorsfoot · 4 years

Link

New chapter of my shamefully self-indulgent Entrapdak Arranged Marriage AU.

This chapter features Imp’s adorable antics, a broken ceiling, Hordak and Entrapta meet for the first time, and Catra is very frustrated.

...

“Entrapta! Entrapta! Grr!” Catra threw her arms up in exasperation, fur of her tail frizzing out, fangs barred with a snarl to vent her frustration.

Their ship had already started its descent to the planet’s surface and Entrapta wasn’t even dressed.

That wasn’t accurate.

Entrapta was dressed. As a mechanic. A menial worker.

Not the sovereign ruler of an industrial titan like Dryl that she was.

She could not meet her future spouse –never mind that- she could not meet the Emperor of the Known Universe and his brother, looking like the person they had their servants call to service the palace ventilation systems.

The ship gave a violent lurch as they hit a pocket of turbulence in Horde World’s atmosphere and Catra was thrown off balance. She landed on her feet –she always landed on her feet- but the trunk containing Entrapta’s wardrobe was thrown across the cabin, spilling the Princess’ gowns all over. Catra heaved another snarl. She longed for a simpler life, a war-orphan, or an underappreciated soldier. Anything had to be better than a lady-in-waiting to a tech Princess who thought measuring the pH balance of the atmosphere and how it affected the ship’s hull was more important that making sure she was ready to meet the Emperor of the Known Universe, or her future spouse.

“Hey, don’t worry so much.” Scorpia, another Princess and Entrapta’s friend, bent down to help Catra pick up the strewn clothing. “Entrapta’s a little quirky, but she agreed to do this because she knows it’s important. She’ll be ready in time.”

Catra sighed. In defeat, not relief. Scorpia was nice, but she did not seem to grasp the importance of first impressions. Entrapta was actually really amazing –once a person got to know her- but she made a terrible first impression.

Then it was Scorpia’s turn to sigh. Clasping her pincers together –still holding one of Entrapta’s dresses- and staring out through one of the view ports at the dusty and barren landscape of Horde World. “Isn’t it romantic.” She gushed. “Two people, crossing the stars to meet. Strangers coming together for the good of a nation. At first, just for duty. But then! A tender glance! A gentle touch! Gazes locking… and sparks fly… It’s true love!”

Catra just stared at her. Dead-eyed. Unimpressed and unmoved.

“It could happen!” Scorpia insisted.

“It’ll never happen if we can’t get Entrapta ready by the time ship lan-“ Catra was cut off as the ship gave another lurch as the pilot decelerated for their final approach to the Imperial landing site. Catra only hissed, showing more teeth.

“I’ll help with Entrapta.” Scorpia nodded, realizing maybe Catra’s concerns were more legitimate and pressing than she originally thought.

But the moment the ship did actually landed, Entrapta disappeared to explore the alien palace that was the heart of the Horde Empire and Catra had no idea where she went.

…

Hec-Tor bared his teeth at the scale, displeased by the result. He managed to go a full year and a day without any weight loss from his condition and in the span of only twenty-four hours had somehow managed to lose two-hundred grams of body mass.

He stepped off the scale, waited for the number to clear, then tried again. Double checking the result. When the number showed the same. He triple checked. When all three attempts yielded the same result, he was forced to record the data in his health tracker app. He was losing weight again.

That hadn’t happened since Keldor disappeared. Hec-Tor twisted the ring he still wore on the third finger of his left hand. Keldor’s ring. In another few days, he would have to take it off and replace it with a different ring. Entrapta’s ring. Slipping the band off his finger, he looked at the inscription. ‘By the Power…’ Keldor never really explained what it meant beyond ‘it’s just an Eternian thing’. Slipping the ring back on his finger, Hec-Tor stealed himself to face the day.

Today was going to be a bad day.

His intended’s ship landed some time in the early hours of the morning. Hec-Tor was glad he was not made to greet her first thing upon her arrival. He would not have been in the best of sorts to make an acceptable first impression. He was rather confident that he would not make any kind of good first impression at all. But then, he thought the same thing before his marriage to Keldor and in the end, first impressions turned out not to matter all that much.

Hec-Tor was younger back then. He was sullen and quiet and had adhered to protocol as best as one could while also looking at their feet and not making eye-contact. While Keldor was unlike anyone Hec-Tor had ever met up to that point. Instead of reciprocating the ceremonial bow with one of his own, the Eternian Prince had laughed –just a short, half stifled laugh behind his hand, but still a laugh- and asked Hec-Tor if he did more than posture and pose. Horde Prime frowned in displeasure, and Keldor’s father, King Miro, gave his son a strongly worded reprimand. But it succeeded in reminding Hec-Tor that the marriage had been arranged for Keldor just as much as it had been for him. They were both of them being forced into this and that was one thing they had in common.

Remembering that, Hec-Tor reminded himself that this was arranged for his current intended just as much as it was for him. While a small platoon of servants combed and gelled his hair, dabbed at his cheeks with foundation and concealer, lined his eyes with kohl, painted gloss on his lips, fitted decorative plugs in his ports, and just generally groomed him to look his best, Hec-Tor read over the dossier on his intended.

Princess Entrapta. While she kept the title of ‘Princess’ in reality, she was the Queen of her territory. She was the sovereign and sole ruler of Dryl, which was not its own planet, but a small mountain nation located on Etheria.

Hec-Tor paused at that. Recognizing the name. Etheria was a planet that shared a solar system with Eternia –Keldor’s home planet. Entrapta and Keldor were practically neighbors! However, unlike Eternia, which was unified under one monarch, Etheria was a confederacy of multiple independent states.

Dryl was small in terms of land coverage. But it was an industrial titan that specialized in weapons manufacture. Weapons that combined highly advanced technology with complicated magic. Weapons that could be powered by their wielder’s ‘fighting spirit’ rather than limited battery packs that needed to be recharged. Armors and shieldings that were just as resilient and strong as phitanium, but easier to shape, more efficient to manufacture, and –best of all- cheaper since they wouldn’t have to pay Queen Elmora’s premiums. Heck! Dryl even made bots that could be sent into battle in place of living soldiers.

That explained why Horde Prime wanted her in the family.

With Entrapta married to the Emperor’s own brother, her loyalty would be to the Empire –which her children might have a chance to inherit one day. That would ensure that Dryl would not be selling their weapons to the Empire’s enemies.

Scrolling through the file, Hec-Tor realized that the vast majority of the information was on Dryl and its arms industry. There was very little information on Princess Entrapta herself. Hell! The file didn’t even include a picture of her.

Hec-Tor sighed. Of course, the file wouldn’t contain much information on her. Horde Prime did not arrange this marriage to make his brother happy. He didn’t care about Princess Entrapta the person. All Horde Prime cared about were the weapons and power she could bring to the Empire. Who cared if Hec-Tor was miserable for the rest of his life? Not every arranged marriage could be as lucky as his first one to Keldor. Not everyone could fall in love with their intended.

His chair was turned around and Hec-Tor examined his reflection. They did everything but put contacts in his eyes to give him pupils. He sighed. This was far more opulent than his brother made him dress up for his first engagement. Horde Prime must really, really want those weapons.

With a sigh, Hec-Tor stood from the seat. He needed a break from all the primping and preening. Maybe get some real work done. There were a few items from yesterday that he never managed to get around to. At the time he thought there would be time to deal with them today. That was before his brother took the liberty of changing his entire agenda for the rest of the week –and his life. At the very least, he needed to address the blight on Antares. Horde Prime probably wouldn’t let him dispatch soldiers to either Krytis or Denebria until after the wedding, the Emperor would want to keep the military close until then.

But if he could just get to his office and do something productive.

Anything productive.

Even if it was just hitting ‘read’ on a non-critical memo.

He stalked down the corridors of the residential wing to his office, wearing nothing more than a dressing gown, with a head full of so much product he looked sculpted out of paste.

A door to his left burst open and Imp dashed out, in a similar state of half-dressed but very well make-uped. He saw his father standing in the corridor and skirted around to hide behind the older man’s legs. Just in time for a trio of servants to follow –tripping- out of the same room after the little… imp.

Imp hissed at them.

Only one seemed brave enough to approach, addressing Hec-Tor. “Your Highness, we are trying to make the Prince ready to meet your intended and he is not cooperating. Could you… speak to him, please?”

Hec-Tor looked down at the child clinging to his calves. Imp glared up at him. He did not like playing dress-up any more than Hec-Tor did.

“If I have to suffer through this, so do you.” He informed his son.

The boy gave a screech of disagreement, abandoned his father as an ally, and climbed up a wall instead. Imp shot his father a scathing look of betrayal before wiping half the makeup and cream from his face and smearing it on the expensive wallpaper. Then he disappeared into an air vent.

“Imp!” Hec-Tor shouted after him. Forget ‘feral’ that child could be outright wild sometimes. He got it from Keldor. He was also always a little wild.

Forget doing something productive. Now all Hec-Tor cared about was finding his son in the complicated and labyrinthine ventilation systems of the Imperial palace.

He turned suddenly anxious eyes and misplaced anger on the trio that had been grooming Imp or the introductions. “Find him!”

They ran to comply.

Hec-Tor headed in the opposite direction, long ears piqued. Listening for any movement in the walls that could indicate his errant son. Imp was spry and fast. Of all the members of the Kur family that Hec-Tor had known –both living and dead- Imp was by far the most healthy. His physical defects were extra limbs in the form of wings –that actually functioned!- and a pointed tail. He was also a little under sized for his age, but that just made it easier for him to pull stunts like this!

But the worst part was that Hec-Tor knew, if Keldor were here, he would be egging their child on. Encouraging Imp to make trouble and be an agent of chaos. Keldor would think it was funny. Keldor would be proud.

Damn. Hec-Tor made himself sad.

Before their wedding, during a heavily chaperoned stroll through the grounds of the castle in Eternos, Keldor not only convinced Hec-Tor to ditch their escorts and sneak out, but actually succeeded in doing it! Climbing up a tree close to the castle wall and pushing Hec-Tor over it before the Imperial Prince even knew what was happening. Keldor then took Hec-Tor on a tour of the back-allies of Eternos, a side of the city he was sure no Prince was meant to see.

Imp definitely got this rebelliousness from his other father. It certainly didn’t come from Hec-Tor!

He came to an intersection in the corridors and froze, closing his eyes, listening hard for any scuffling or scurrying sounds that could be Imp trying to evade him. Just barely picking up a faint sound, Hec-Tor made a turn a followed the sound out of the private residential wing and into the business section. If anyone dared give him an odd look for stalking the halls in what was essentially a bathrobe, he snarled at them.

The moment Hec-Tor found an access panel large enough for him, Imp was going to be in so much trouble!

A louder scuffling in the walls.

Imp must be closer!

Hec-Tor leaned against the wall. His ear just a hair’s breadth away from touching the wall –he was still mindful of all the cosmetic work he’d sat through already and did not want to sit through it again.

He followed the scuffling sound. Listening to the metal of the vents shift with the weight of a body. Funny, Imp was never heavy enough to make the vent paneling shift and bow before. But then, Imp was a growing boy.

He followed the movement in the walls he was almost in the public areas of the palace now. A place he did not want to be walking around in a bathrobe and little else. But he wanted to find his son more.

Then he heard Imp give a startled and confused little chirp. And his journey moving in the walls came to a halt. Now the scuffling in the wall was located in only one spot and it was fast and frantic.

“Imp?” Hec-Tor called, hoping the boy could hear him through the drywall and vent plating. “Are you stuck?”

Imp couldn’t answer, of course. While he might be the most physically healthy member of the Kur family, he was also born mute. His vocal cords not forming right during gestation in the vitrine. The only sounds he could make were guttural chirps and squawks. With a wall between them cutting off any visual communication, there was no way for Imp to make his situation and his needs known. Hec-Tor just had to guess and hope he took the appropriate action.

He grabbed the first person he saw, not caring if they were palace staff, or a visiting dignitary (or extended staff) there for his wedding. “You! Get me the head of palace maintenance! Immediately!”

Not sure what else to do, it was all the hapless passerby could do to nod an affirmative and run away the moment Hec-Tor let go of them.

Another squak of dismay drifted through the wall and Hec-Tor once again pressed his ear to the wall. This time he did smear his makeup, but he didn’t care. Some things were more important. “Imp? What is going on in there? Are you injured?”

The only answer he got was a string of confused chittering and trills.

“Imp!?”

People were casting uncertain glances at him now. What if mental instability was another of the Prince’s defects? He was literally yelling at a wall.

“Oh. Well, hello little guy?” Then another voice drifted through the wall. One Hec-Tor had never heard before. Pitchy and nasal.

Was this the head of maintenance come to extricate Imp from the wall for him? It had better be! He did not like the idea of a complete stranger being in a dark enclosed space along with his son whom could not communicate in words.

“Who’s in there?” He demanded.

“Is that your friend out there?” Asked the voice. “Are you stuck?”

Hec-Tor dragged his talons down the decorative wallpaper. He wanted to see what was going on in there. Who was in there with Imp? What were they doing?

“Hang on.” Said the other in the wall. “The thing with old castles and palaces like this is that all the ventilation was built in a closed system so that it’s harder to get inside for regular maintenance and service. See how the plating it warped here? Probably happened over the last hundred years by particles that made it past the first battery of filters. I heard the winds on Horde World can carry rocks as big as a fist a hundred kilometers in the air. I know something that big shouldn’t be able to make it through filters, but when the wind can throw it that high, they can also throw it clean through carbon fiber mesh. Something like that bouncing around these vents, no wonder you got your tail stuck in a warped section.”

Was- was the speaker giving Imp –a five year old child- a lecture on engineering? While they were both stuck in a wall!? Who was this person?

“Almost got ya… there!” There was a metallic popping sound.

Then Imp gave a grateful and relieved little trill.

Hec-Tor sighed. His son was okay. Still in the vents. But unharmed.

“I think I saw an outlet over there.” Presumably, the owner of the voice was pointing, but Hec-Tor could not see it. “C’mon. I’ll show you and make sure you don’t get stuck again.”

The shuffling and scuffling began again. This time moving up. To the ceiling. Hec-Tor looked up, trying to follow the sounds with his eyes.

Then a crack appeared on the ceiling.

Oh! Oh, no! No, no, no! Didn’t the voice in the wall just say this palace was old! If they were a fully grown adult being, they should not be putting their full weight on the ceiling panels. They were meant to be decorative and cover the unsightly support beams and insulation. They were not meant to hold weight!

“Oh.” Apparently, the voice realized this too late. “I might have miscalculated the addition of your weight.”

That was the last thing they said before the whole ceiling came caving down.

A cascade of broken panels and insulation that should have been replaced decades ago came crashing down in the center of the room. Among the debris, a ball of lavender hair came tumbling out. It rolled a few meters away from the main pile.

The hair slithered. Disentangling itself frown around the body of an alien female. Copper skin and fuchsia-red eyes. Wearing dark purple overalls like a menial worker. Maybe she was the head of maintenance. And held in her gloved arms was Imp. He was fine. Cradled and shielded from the debris by her body and hair.

“Well, you’re out.” She announced. Then glanced back at the mess in the middle of the room. “Though, I have a feeling I might be in trouble…”

“Give me my son!” Hec-Tor all but snarled at her.

“Oh. Sure.” She opened her arms and Imp fluttered his wings, flying into his father’s waiting arms. Then the woman paused, as if actually noticing him. “Why are you wearing a bath robe? Oh! Did I drop in on a bathroom!? I’m so sorry! I just wanted to observe the adaptations your architects have made to compensate for the harshness of Horde World. This building is an engineering marvel and I find it fascinating!”

“Who are you?” Demanded the Prince.

“Oh. Uh,” she twiddled her hair.

Under any other circumstances he would have found the fact that her hair moved like limbs quite interesting. But at the moment, he was unimpressed.

“This is a little awkward.” She confessed. “You see, I’m not actually from Horde World. I just came for the wedding. Oh! Maybe I’ll see you there. I should say ‘hi’ at the reception!”

That did not answer his question.

But then, another voice shouted across the room.

“Entrapta!”

A magicat and a scorpioness came running up to here.

Entrapta? Did they just call her ‘Entrapta’? As in Princess Entrapta? His intended. The person he was arranged to marry. This dirt-covered, vent-lurking, inelegant, creature could not possibly be the one his brother meant for him to marry!

“We are so, so sorry!” Said the scorpioness. She lifted ‘Princess Entrapta’ up into her arms.

“Where have you been!” Snarled the magicat. “Not only are we behind schedule, you’re an absolute mess! You can’t meet a Prince of the Horde Empire looking like this!”

Hec-Tor just stood there, staring at them. Did none of them know who he was?

“Let’s get you cleaned up.” The scorpioness said in a much gentler tone. “Maybe the Prince won’t mind. Maybe he likes quirky partners.”

He most certainly did not!

Well, okay. Keldor was pretty quirky. And Hec-Tor loved him. A lot. But Keldor was special! Just going off this first impression, Hec-Tor was not going to like this purple, prehensile haired, vent germline one bit!

This marriage was going to be a disaster.

#entrapdak #entrapta/hordak #hordak #entrapta #spop #au #arranged marriage AU #imp #catra #scorpia #Hordak walking around a palace in his bathrobe #Imp being Imp #first meetings #meet cute

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donttellpeterparker · 4 years

Text

Your Arch Nemesis Part 1

Summary: Peter Parker, you hated him with a passion. Though over the years that seemed to dwindle into something else..

No..

You couldn't like your arch nemesis, right?

Requested: Yes, thank you! (if anon would like to be tagged please lemme know)

Word Count: 1.9k+

Warning(s)?: Peter!Reader enemies, Fluff, Angst, soFTNESS so ummm that's it??

request (x) masterlist (x)

--------------------------------------------------------

Your Arch Nemesis

The day of a decathlon meet always had you nervous. Yes, you were confident in your capabilities but you knew you would however be beaten, yet again. It happened every year for the past three years, the school that always managed to defeat yours was Midtown high. A Science school of course, everyone who went there was practically a genius. Yours was just any old public school with a variety of pupils.

Growing up you had always loved solving problems, math problems in particular. You were fairly good at science but started getting confused once the black hole theory entered. You were in all AP subjects yet still felt out of place, like you didn't quite belong. There was always many people smarter than you, you knew there would be. The only strength you considered to have was maths.

''How much further? We've been on this bus for hours'' One of your fellow decathlon members whined, you think her name was Wendy but wasn't quite sure. You were quite the loner and tried not to mingle with others when possible. You were the walking definition of 'nerd'.

''It's been 28 minutes, Penny'' Penny, you really had to pay more attention to those around you. However, you heard a loud excessive groan from ahead, assuming it to be Penny and soon the thought of interacting with these people immediately flew from your brain.

''Let's do some brain teasers! Keep our minds warm'' Almost everyone piped up, eager to do something until we reached Washington.

''Okay, What's the atomic number for Fluoride?'' The Captain, Hannah called out with a smile.

''9, are you going to give us real questions?'' Of course Hannah only threw a teaser to make sure we were awake and alert. She just laughed and soon began reading out more, harder and harder with each question. Of course it was weird, you being on a science decathlon team when obviously you wanted to be on the math one. Unfortunately, that one was full and this was a close second.

''Y/N? Are you going to answer?'' The whole bus had turned to face you expectantly. You hated attention. Gulping nervously, you shook your head honestly, not even knowing the questions. God, right now is not a good time to start having a panic attack.

''Keep focused everyone!'' You knew that was directed at yourself but appreciated that she didn't point you out in front of everyone.

''Okay, how about...''

~*~*~*~*

The building was huge and already filled with heaps of other school students. The bus pulled up and your teacher strode to the front, going over the rules and times for the next two days. The motel you'd be staying at was shared with the other schools. After the teacher went over everything she led you all inside, over to one of the tables set up to get name tags, room keys and schedules.

''Please stay with your assigned buddy at all times! I am not losing another kid on a field trip...'' You were pretty sure she meant the last part for herself but still managed to hear.

''Hey Peter! Look at this, isn't it so cool?!'' Your head spun around to the source of the sound. You saw two familiar faces not too far from you, staring at one of the sculptures near the water fountain.

''Yeah Ned, totally cool...'' The other voice belonged to no one other than Peter Parker. Your rival, your arch nemesis, your crush...

It was silly to have a crush on a boy who went to a completely different school, you only got to see him four times a year and yet that was enough.

''Do you think they're here yet?'' Peter whispered to Ned, hoping to not be overheard by others. Ned squinted his eyes and glanced around them.

''You mean if she is here'' Peter scowled at his best friend and adjusted his backpack on his back.

''I really don't get the rivalry between you too, does it really matter who wins?'' Peter looked at Ned with wide eyes, not believing the words leaving his mouth.

''Yes!'' Peter practically screamed incredulously. Ned shook his head and did one final take of the crowd, he spots you and shakes Peter's arm.

''There'' Peter turned around to were Ned was facing and stopped short once he saw you. The last time was only 4 months ago yet you had looked different. Your hair was longer, framing your face nicely in his opinion. Your clothes weren't as baggy anymore, looking like you had grown too.

Peter starred too long. Ned had to fake cough to get his attention.

''Sworn enemy huh?'' Ned just nudged Peter before going to check in. Peter sighed to himself and glanced at you one last time, this time managing to catch your eye. His eyes widen fast as his heart rate picks up a little. He soon faces away and follows Peter, ignoring your gaze still on him.

~*~*~*~*

A few hours had passed, everyone had settled into their room, unpacking a few things before immediately leaving their rooms to explore despite the rules. You had decided to stay in, catch up on some reading to ease your nerves for tomorrow. Your study notes and science books were all on the desk ready to go after you ate some dinner later.

''A bunch of us are heading down to the pool, wanna join?'' Your roommate Sydney had asked, you looked up and shook your head with a soft smile, adjusting your seating position on your bed. She smiled back and closed the door, hearing her and a few others laugh and giggle as they made their way to the pool.

After half an hour you decided to put your book down. Grabbing your hoodie from your bag you slipped it on, popping outside your room with the key and your phone. Some how you had managed to turn around so quickly, knocking into someone who was walking past your room.

''I am so sorry!'' You apologized to the poor person you had just unintentionally made fall back. You didn't even get the chance to notice who it was before reaching out your hand to help them up.

''You have a mean push'' You recognized the sarcastic voice but still didn't twig.

''I didn't push y-'' You finally glanced up and notice Peter Parker standing in front of you, his eyes glancing down. Your cheeks immediately flamed up at the attention he was giving causing you to advert your gaze.

''Hey, Peter'' It was always awkward talking with him outside of an event, when you were in the zone trying to beat him it was easy, he was your rival then. But out here? What was he? You knew what he was supposed to be but yet you didn't hate him, no where near as much as he probably hated you.

''Hey'' Short and sweet, keeping this conversation going would be disastrous for the both of you.

''Hey'' Didn't you already say that? You mentally shook your head and wanted to crawl back into your room, hide from him and everyone till tomorrow.

''You can let go now'' You glanced up at him in confusion, not knowing what he was referring to. All he did was look at you then down, you followed his gaze and noticed your hand was still in his from helping him up. You retracted your hand so quickly, blushing madly in the process. Your heart had already being beating so fast yet this seemed to make it beat triple the speed.

''Oh, sorry'' You were starting to apologize too much to him. After all, he was your arch nemesis. Arch nemesis, if he was that then why were you so comfortable holding his hand? So what if you had a teeny weeny, almost minuscule crush on him, he hated you and you hated him, simple.

Without another word he moved pass you without sparing a glance. You smiled to yourself, stealing feeling the warmth that was left by from his hand. Great, now you needed to study extra hard to even focus during tomorrow's event.

~*~*~*~*

An entire two hours and there was no sign of Peter. He had never missed a decathlon event ever. Your eyes had skimmed over the Midtown high team and there was nothing, no Peter anywhere. It wasn't like you were worried or anything.. just simply curious.

However even without Peter you had still managed to lose. The whole team felt guttered by losing yet again to Midtown but didn't dwell too much on it seeing it was an often occurrence.

The whole team decided to go over the Washington Monument straight afterwards seeing as it came free with the packages we were given.

''Alright everyone! Please stick together, we only have an hour before our bus turns up'' An hour to do the entire building was no where near enough time but you were going to try. Even if you had to leave the group...

''Peter, are you okay?'' You ignored the hush conversation Ned was having over his phone near the security gate. Though on hearing Peter's name... you tried to listen carefully.

''Don't worry, it's safe, it's in my backpack'' You were getting confused but just decided to line up behind Ned to go through the scanner without looking obvious

''Please empty your pockets into here'' The guard said behind her desk, grabbing a tray for you stick your things in.

''You missed the decathlon, I covered for you'' So Peter did miss it but why? You knew it was none of your business but you were curious, definitely not worried.

''We're at the Washington Monument, wait hold on a second my stupid bag... here'' Without thinking, Ned passed his phone over to you as the lady Guard began to reprimand him for taking so long.

Surprised didn't even cover how you were feeling right now. The sound of Peter's voice yelling through the phone however snapped you out of it. You placed the phone to your ear.

''Hello?''

''Y/N? Why do you have Ned's phone?'' Peter asked, sounding a little out of breath. You shrugged your shoulders but soon realized he couldn't see.

''Ned gave it to me, he's going through security'' Peter sighed to himself, worry getting the best of him. He tried to ignore Karen, his A.I which kept bugging him about your name.

''Is this Y/N? You should tell her how you feel'' Karen had said, only to Peter so he was the only one who heard.

''Not right now, god, Y/N please put Ned back on the phone, it's important'' Unfortunately Ned had just walked through security, the lady now turning towards you with the same scowl she had with him.

''Sorry he just went through, I have to put the phone down, sorry'' You ignored Peter's pleas as the phone got disconnected through the x-ray machine. Once you walked through, Ned collected his things and his phone from your tray.

''Peter sounded hurried, is he okay?'' You found yourself asking Ned with slight concern. He looked at you and shook his head with a boyish smile.

''It's Peter, he's just late and doesn't like to be'' Ned smoothly lied, hoping you wouldn't notice. You detected the lie but decided not to think more into it, it had nothing to do with you. With a smile, you went to rejoin your school team and begin the tour, unknown to the events that were about play out...

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

A/N: Here's part one! Part two soon?? Lemme know if you want Part two!

#peter parker #pater parker imagine #spider-man #spider-man homecoming #tom holland #tom holland imagine #peter parker x reader #spider-man imagine #donttellpeterparker

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cake-writes · 5 years

Text

In Your Atmosphere (Part Three)

Pairings: Steve x Reader & platonic Bucky x Reader (mostly)

Warnings: PTSD / Post Traumatic Stress Disorder, Anxiety Disorder, Panic Attacks, Mental Health Issues, Survivor Guilt, Eventual Smut 18+

Summary: The first time you met Steve Rogers, he kissed the hell out of you. It wasn’t the first time he met you.

Part Two / Master List

—

As the sun disappeared under the horizon, the compound became busier, almost bustling with activity as more and more people returned from their missions. Not that you noticed. After your brutal training session with Steve, you'd left him behind to finish his training and took another long, hot shower and then a nap, having been thoroughly and completely wiped out by the exercise. At first, you’d changed back into your casual clothes with the intention of exploring more of the compound, but once you went to rest your eyes for a minute you were out like a light.

The sounds of a heated argument followed by the slamming of a door were what woke you from your slumber. You couldn’t hear a lick of what had been said, but you ventured out into the hallway to investigate, yawning loudly. Your muscles were already singing from overuse – not even the hot shower had helped – and you’d feel it even worse tomorrow for sure.

The long hallway was dimly-lit, giving you the impression that it was much later than it actually was; a quick check of your phone indicated that it was a little after eight o’clock at night.

During your tour earlier in the day, you'd learned that this entire side of the building was residential, including the three floors above and the two below yours. It was evident that other people lived on your floor, the third floor, but you hadn’t yet figured out who your neighbours were. Your bedroom was in the corner, furthest from the stairs, and as you made your way toward them, you assumed that you probably wouldn't be finding out tonight. The other doors were closed, and it was far too quiet for your liking.

Your stomach growled and you gave up on your investigation to make your way to the kitchen. Considering everyone who lived here were all basically roommates, there were bound to be arguments. You knew from experience that it was hard to live with other people sometimes, and the Avengers were people, too.

The kitchen was deserted, and the dishwasher was running. It looked like everyone may have already eaten dinner. How did that even work, anyway? Did they share meals at the kitchen table, or did they eat separately? Who bought the groceries? Were they for communal use? At the very least you hoped that the answer to the last question was ‘yes,’ because you were starving.

Not wanting to accidentally steal someone else’s food, you took a mandarin orange from the fruit bowl on the table, in hopes that it would stave off your hunger while you tried to figure out what else you could eat without imposing. You took a seat at the counter and peeled the fruit as you scrolled through your Insta feed, liking a couple of Wanda’s posts. She was really excited about an upcoming high-end makeup release based on the female Avengers, herself included. She even had her own eyeshadow palette which you made a mental note to buy.

Just as you started to research the other palettes, a female voice piped up from the other side of the kitchen island. “Hey, you’re up.”

You jumped, slamming your knee on the counter in the process.

“God damn it, Nat,” you hissed, rubbing your bruising knee. “I hate it when you do that shit.”

She just grinned at you and took a seat at the counter beside you, peering at your phone. “Oh yeah, those are coming out next week. You’d better buy mine.”

“You know I will,” you told her, popping a piece of fruit into your mouth. Not that you knew how to use it properly, the makeup, but you liked to try anyway.

Natasha took a piece of your orange for herself without asking, but that was only because you’d shared plenty of meals before, namely when the two of you went drinking. It didn’t bother you in the least. “How are you doing?”

“I’m fine.” You knew what she was asking, about how you were coping with what had happened earlier. At her skeptical look, you rolled your eyes. “We did some burpees and talked it out.”

Natasha snorted.

You frowned at her. “What? Exercise calms me down. You know that.”

You purposely didn’t mention the fact that you and Steve had trained together for over an hour, or that the sexual tension between the two of you had been so thick you could’ve cut it with a knife. It was unfortunate that your face heated at the memory, because Natasha didn’t fail to notice if the sly look on her face was any indication. “Is that what it does, now?”

“Yes,” you said exasperatedly, shoving the rest of the orange into your mouth.

She laughed again. “Burpees. Christ. You’re perfect for each other.”

You finished chewing and swallowed the fruit. “Can you not?"

She shot you another teasing look, but as per your request she changed the subject. “Have you had dinner?”

“No, I was going to ask. Is everything shared, or…?”

“Yeah,” she affirmed. “Pretty much. If you buy something for yourself, though, just write your name on it before you put it in the fridge. Otherwise someone will get into it.”

As if on cue, Sergeant James Buchanan Barnes, the Winter Soldier, walked in for a post-workout snack – at least that’s what you assumed from the gym towel slung over his shoulders. There were two large refrigerators in the room, one by the entryway and one near you, behind the kitchen island. He went for the former, from which he pulled out a random blue container and cracked the lid to peer inside.

“Like I said,” Natasha said, eyeing him warily, “Someone.”

You tried and failed to stifle a laugh. From what you understood, Sergeant Barnes had been through hell and back, so you couldn't really blame him. He was probably still adjusting to not being a human science experiment. That was probably a little more important than remembering to check a container for names.

“I only take Nat’s food,” he commented dryly, not even bothering to look over at the two of you as he popped the container into the microwave. “She likes to eat healthy. So do I. Your body’s a temple ‘n all that.”

You raised an eyebrow and glanced over at her for confirmation. She just shrugged. Well, you couldn't really blame him for that, either.

After the microwave started up, he leaned on the counter and finally spared a glance at you. Then he greeted you casually, “Oh, hey, Tang. Been awhile.”

Your brows furrowed in confusion. “What?”

That was when his eyes widened for a split second, and you could almost see the gears turning in his head as he realized what he’d said - not that you had any idea what that was, exactly.

“Sorry,” he covered quickly, “You, uh, look like someone I used to know.” As if that was a good enough explanation, he came over and held out his right hand, the flesh one, for a handshake. “Call me Bucky.”

“Nice to meet you,” you said politely, shaking his hand as you offered him your name.

Then he brought your hand to his lips, and pressed a kiss to the back of it with a crooked smile. “Good to meet you, too, gorgeous.”

Maybe it was because your brain was already fried from the day’s earlier events, but you just gaped at him. That made twice in one day you’d been hit on, and by two Avengers, no less. Bucky was plenty handsome, of course: he had that sort of ‘bad boy’ appeal, with a bit of scruff on his face and a head of unruly brown hair. It suited him, but you couldn’t help but wonder how often it got in the way during fights. You liked to have yours pulled back out of the way, or cut short, depending on the mission.

The microwave beeped, then, signalling that his food was ready, and he released your hand to go retrieve it.

“I think you broke her,” Nat remarked.

“Nat,” you huffed, “You need to stop.”

You definitely weren’t used to this kind of attention. While in the past you’d been on missions where your role was that of a seductress, you’d never actually had that sort of appeal in your regular life. Today was a freak occurrence.

Bucky just laughed and, with his container and a fork in hand, he made his exit. He called over his shoulder on his way out, “See you around, sweetheart.”

---

What was meant to be a quick meal turned into a spontaneous girls’ night, with wine and cheese and stupid, terrible spy movies. That had always been a favourite for you and Natasha, because they were so hilariously inaccurate and the two of you loved to rip them apart. This one in particular was worse than most, but then again, you’d already polished off a bottle of wine each and were well into a third.

It felt so, so good to catch up with her. You hadn’t had a chance to over the last few months, considering how busy she’d been with the Avengers and how hard you’d been working to dig into SHIELD’s corruption. Every now and then, you did a welfare check on her to ensure that she was still alive, and of course she was. You had no doubt that she checked up on you every now and again, too.

Your peals of laughter spilled out of the living room as Natasha did a particularly awful impression of the female lead, who seemed to have no common sense whatsoever.

Sadly, your fun was rudely interrupted.

“It’s three in the morning, ladies. I can hear you all the way…”

Steve’s reprimand trailed off as he caught sight of you, and it was like his irritation seemed to just melt away. You were sitting cross-legged on the sofa, looking pretty as a picture with a blanket thrown over your lap, face flushed from the alcohol. He’d been able to hear all the excitement from his room upstairs, but he didn’t really put two and two together until he saw you. It wasn’t that he didn’t recognize your voice; it just caught him off-guard. It had been a long, long time since he'd seen you smile, and even longer since he'd heard you laugh.

You glanced over at Natasha, brows raised. “Uh oh,” you managed to say in between giggles, “We’re in trouble, now.”

“Busted,” she agreed with a grin, before she let out a sigh. “I guess it is getting late, though. Got an early mission.”

As Natasha got to her feet, Steve eyed the coffee table and spotted three bottles of wine, two of which were empty and the third, nearly so. Beside them were two wine glasses, a small platter of cheese, crackers, and grapes, as well as a half-eaten block of chocolate. Judging by the haphazard way the chocolate bar had been opened, with the foil ripped and crumpled in such a strange way, he guessed that it was yours.

“Aw, but the movie isn’t over,” you protested, reaching over to break off a piece of chocolate.

He was right.

“Sorry,” she told you apologetically, taking one last cube of cheese for the road. “Night, guys.”

With one final pout, you said, “Bye, Nat.”

Steve didn’t miss the sly look Natasha shot him as she left the room, and his jaw tensed. He wasn’t going to live down the day's earlier events for a while.

“There’s still plenty of cheese left,” you called out to him, not wanting it to go to waste. “And wine, if you like that sort of thing.”

“What are you watching?” he asked you, slowly coming to stand beside the sofa.

“It’s called Hitler’s Mistress.” At Steve’s unimpressed look, you added, “His girlfriend is an American spy, except she’s really bad at it. Like, in real life he probably would have figured it out in the first two minutes of meeting her, bad.”

“That sounds…” he paused, wrinkling his nose as he tried to think of a nice way to word it, “not that great.”

“Oh, it’s hilarious,” you told him matter-of-factly. “It was supposed to be a love story, but it’s terrible. Watch with me?”

Considering his history, he didn’t particularly want to watch a movie about Hitler, but you really seemed to be enjoying it and he was awake, now. So, taking your word for it, he settled into the nearby armchair. “Sure.”

You were a bit disappointed that he didn’t next to you on the sofa like Natasha had, but that was fine. It was probably better that you didn’t sit together, considering, well, everything.

What you didn't know was that Steve had purposely not sat there for exactly that reason. He wanted to respect your boundaries, for one, and for two, he honestly didn’t trust himself around you, not after the stunt he'd pulled. In the end, though, he was glad that he stayed. The movie was absolutely terrible, and he got a kick out of it just as much as you did. Hitler was portrayed in a negative light, which was great, and it was even better that his ‘girlfriend,’ the spy, was so bad at her job and he still couldn’t figure it out. While Steve appreciated that, what he liked more was spending time with you.

Unfortunately, you were sauced. You put on pretty good front so as not to appear drunk, but tonight it wasn’t intentional; it had just become second nature to you now due to your job. And, quite the opposite, not once did Steve touch the alcohol. You got the impression that he preferred beer or spirits.

As the full extent of your inebriation started to set in, you found yourself staring less at the movie and more at him. God, he was flawless and so, so sexy even when he wasn’t trying to be. He was literally just sitting there, but all you wanted to do was get up, go over, and mount him like a stallion. Every now and then, Steve leaned over to take a piece of cheese or a grape - a simple movement, really - and when he licked his fingers, it lit a fire within you that just wouldn’t quit.

It didn’t take long for you to polish off the rest of the wine. There wasn’t much of it left, anyway, and you didn’t want it to go down the drain. At least, that’s what you told yourself. The real reason was because your nerves were shot.

That was a mistake.

The credits started to roll sooner than you would have liked. It was about four o’clock, now, per the clock on your phone. Even though you knew how late it was, there was just something about him that made you want to stay with him, spend time with him… maybe even sleep with him. No, that was definitely just the alcohol. With a heavy sigh, you unsteadily got to your feet and stretched, doing your best to ignore the growing heat between your legs, the lingering soreness in your muscles, and the fact that you’d had far too much to drink.

“You alright?”

When you turned your head to look at Steve, you swayed a little. “Peachy keen.”

You weren’t. You’d drank quite a bit, and he knew it, judging by the amused expression on his face as he pulled himself up out of the armchair. God, with even that simple action you could see his muscles flex and strain under his shirt. He wasn’t even doing it on purpose, which made it about ten times worse.

“Here." He held out his hand to you. “I’ll help you up to your room.”

How chivalrous. You wanted to swoon.

“But the mess—?”

Steve shook his head. “I’ll take care of it, doll. Come on.”

Your face heated at the casual address, and even more so when you took his hand, your skin tingling at the warmth of his touch. Still, you felt guilty letting him clean up after you, but you were in no state to try and collect the leftover plates and glasses without dropping them. Your words slurred just a little as you apologized, “I'm sorry for the trouble. It’s been awhile since I’ve seen Nat, and…”

“Don’t worry about it,” he reassured you as he eased you down the hallway. “Everyone needs to let loose once in a while.”

“Do you?” you asked him.

He pondered that question for a moment, before he answered, “Not as much as I should.”

“Well, that’s no good,” you said with a frown. “Have a drink with me next time.”

Next time. The phrase warmed his heart, but he got the feeling that it was just the alcohol talking. “Next time?”

You didn’t notice what you said until he mentioned it, and then you found yourself flustered, drunkenly babbling, “I shouldn’t have assumed– I mean, I’m a mess so I totally understand if you don’t want to—”

Steve said your name and stopped walking, giving your hand a gentle tug to stop you, too. "Hey," he said as you spun around to face him, swaying slightly. “I’m kidding. That sounds great.”

The halls, unlike the living room, were still dimly lit, and with the television switched off, it was quiet - almost unnervingly so. The only thing you could hear was the sound of your racing heartbeat in your ears as you looked up into his kind blue eyes, feeling absolutely minuscule in front of him. He was so tall, a fact you’d never fully realized until now. You loved it.

Despite your inebriated state, you didn’t miss the way Steve’s eyes flickered down to your lips.

You needed to say something, anything, to break this tension, otherwise you’d do something you would absolutely regret in the morning. You’d always prided yourself in your professionalism: you weren’t the type to sleep with a coworker, and you didn’t plan to start today despite how incredibly tempting the prospect was.

That thought sobered you up a little.

“Do you—” you began, throat dry, “Do you have a mission in the morning, too?”

Your sudden question brought him back to reality. “Oh, yeah. With Romanoff.”

You grimaced and gently released his hand, not wanting to take up any more of his time. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to keep you up so late.”

“I think I’m old enough to make my own decisions,” he teased, “being 96 and all.”

Right. Of course. You knew his backstory, but having him come right out and tell you something like that came as a bit of a shock. Here you were, in your mid-twenties, being attracted to someone who'd been born nearly a full century prior. How stupid of you to assume that you'd be able to relate to him, someone who had grown up during the Great Depression. There was literally nothing in common between the two of you, no foundation upon which to even build a friendship, let alone a relationship. You felt like a moron.

Well, you certainly swooned, but it wasn’t because of his chivalry.

“Whoa, hey.” Steve caught you easily as you fell, with one arm around your lower back. “Do you want to sit down?”

Your fingers embedded themselves loosely in his shirt as a flush of shame crawled up your neck. God, you were an idiot. Even now, you loved how strong his chest felt under your fingertips, the way he held you so securely, his warmth—

Your eyes fluttered shut, then, and your head lulled back as your consciousness began to fade. You could vaguely feel him pull you closer, and when he said your nickname again, you thought that his voice sounded so far away. It barely registered when he hooked his other arm under your knees to lift you up; instead, for a brief moment, it felt like you were floating.

That was the last thing you remembered.

---

Tags: @jennmurawski13, @patzammit

Part Four

#steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x you #steve x reader #steve x you #captain america x reader #captain america x you #captain america #avengers #marvel cinematic universe #mcu #marvel #in your atmosphere

105 notes · View notes

zap-writing · 5 years

Text

The sun sets on another day - TRSNS fanfic

@redstone-sun‘s fic fucked me up so I did what I know and wrote about it to cope asdfghjhgf

the basic summary of this fic: Mumbo has a Bad Day(TM) and we stan Good Guy Iskall

AO3 Link

On days like these, Mumbo felt his guilt like concrete weights tied tight around his throat.

The actual impulses and desires to obey that sanguine call no longer affected him as often as they used to―perhaps out of sheer necessity rather than true recovery, but the fine details didn’t matter. Not to Mumbo at least. The intrusive thoughts and feelings, however, were another story.

Sometimes he wished he could just press a button and fix all of his problems like one would a faulty machine, force him through some kind of psychological reboot. His prescribed process was tedious enough as it was; exposure therapy was a snail’s race by nature, and the transitions were mind-numbingly gradual. From mentions of redstone, to discussions of redstone, to looking at redstone, to touching redstone, to holding redstone, to――

And so on and so forth.

Days turned to weeks, weeks turned to months, and the process was anything but linear and orderly. For a long while it felt like every step he took forward, something would send him three steps and a stumble back. One moment he was setting up semi-complex circuits from memory in his obsidian home, the next Grian would make an off-hand comment about a test contraption one of the hermits built nearly killing him and Mumbo would find himself involuntarily wishing it had.

Those moments scared him. He knew that it wasn’t really him thinking then, that it was just some heinous, corrupted part of him, some deep innate brand of the Red Sun festering behind his eyes. But it wasn’t any less terrifying to catch himself tempted by the crimson voice in the back of his mind that told him he didn’t belong in the overworld, that he needed to continue wiring in the quartz covered plains or he’d never be satisfied, to beg and steal and lie and cheat if it meant getting back to the Sun’s dimension, that if anyone got in his way he had to kill kill kill kill kilL KILL KILL KILL KILL K―

. . .

Those nights, Mumbo felt pain beyond anything he’d known before, from the crescent welts of his fingernails dug deep into the meat of his forearms, to the once-foreign hopelessness that left him wondering why anyone thought he was worth saving anymore.

--------------------------------------------

On days like these, Mumbo found himself convinced that he’d never be released from his blood-stained binds.

It hurt more than he cared to admit, having redstone so intrinsically ruined for him. Sure, he had brute-forced his way into standing it enough to look over blueprints with Iskall and play with it like a child when he was alone, but it was never the same. Nothing compared to the satisfaction of improving on an existing design, nor the pride and excitement of inventing something entirely new.

Inventions. Redstone was such a progressive material, a resource far beyond any of the hermits’ understanding. It was able to do just about anything if only someone could crack the code to get there. Most of them already knew of the wonders it could provide--plenty of the hermits used redstone-based bionics, or at the very least a form of enhancement.

Iskall was no stranger to them, obviously. Perhaps Mumbo shouldn’t have been surprised, then, when the man came to him amidst his wallowing with a stack of crudely arranged notes in hand. He was somehow more chipper and cheeky than usual if the bright smile on his face was anything to go by. There was a proud sort of flourish as he handed the papers to Mumbo, who sat with wariness and confusion. That apprehension, however, was quickly replaced with curiosity.

Blueprints and notes regarding the conception of redstone-powered contraptions and devices would typically be a quick read for Mumbo, but even having been friends with Iskall and Grian for quite some time, there was no way to scan through the chicken-scratch handwriting and less-than discernible doodles in a short amount of time.

Mumbo’s initial attempt at cracking the code that was Iskall’s notes was interrupted not ten seconds in when two loaves of bread, an apple, and a bottle of water was set down in front of him, making him flinch slightly. He stared at the selection for a moment, mouth suddenly dry, before nodding his thanks and reaching for the apple. It was in that instant that Mumbo realized he didn’t remember the last time he had something to eat and swallowed down his embarrassment.

The two men soon fell into silence as Mumbo worked through the notes bit by bit, often pausing to right papers that had somehow folded or flipped upside down in Iskall’s attempt to organize them. Though it took a while, a careful read through informed Mumbo of Iskall’s plans to research a possibility of mechanically repairing his vocal cords.

There was a prominent section on the usage of prismarine crystals and diamond powder to color match the box with his eye prosthetic, and another that explored the possibility of controllable pitch and volume settings.

(In a better scenario, Mumbo would have been terrified at the possibilities that would come with giving Iskall such power, and even now he wondered who the first prank victim would be.)

All of it was quite clearly in the early stages of development, but Mumbo could help but brighten up at the thought of Iskall being able to talk again. It wasn’t something he liked to think about for long or often, but he missed Iskall’s voice. Before the incident, his friend’s laughs and sly comments were one of the things that helped the days go by, and Mumbo knew he wasn’t the only one who thought so. The man deserved his voice and more for what he’d gone through.

But information on Iskall’s voice-box plans came to an unexpected stop halfway through the stack of notes. Suddenly Mumbo was reading through two different handwriting styles about mechanical joints and synthetic muscle fiber and artificial nerve endings and――

He stopped reading. This section contained far too many things he knew too little about.

Head spinning from unfamiliar jargon, he looked up at Iskall in question.

“F...f-for Gri..ian,” came the harsh rumble from Iskall, startling Mumbo in the process. Both of the men stared at each other for a moment, each sheepish in their own right, before Iskall pulled out a relatively new-looking book and began writing.

[Doc let me take a look at his arm a bit ago and helped me out with the technical stuff. I’m hoping that we can replicate a pair for Grian. Took much more work comin up with this blueprint than it did for my voicebox plan lol ]

Mumbo went from bemused to ecstatic as he read Iskall’s explanation, feeling surprisingly hopeful for the first time in a long time. The sheer thought of his friends getting back what he took from them made his heart swell with guilty joy.

The technician’s part of his brain fired off a million different inquiries about how they could get these plans to work, but his heart ached knowing this was a project he wouldn’t have much part in if any. He didn’t specialize in bionics for one, but even if he felt like dabbling in the expertise for the benefit of his friends, Mumbo didn’t want to get too involved out of fear of relapse.

Especially not after today. He just wasn’t ready.

“These plans are incredible, Iskall.” Mumbo whispered in awe, flipping through both sections of the packet thrice over. A part of him yearned to add notes and suggestions of his own along the margins of the already messy prints, but he swallowed down the eagerness and handed the papers back to Iskall with a shaky hand. Far too fast for him to subdue, bubbling apprehension rose into his chest again as a presence beneath his ribcage scolded him for not ripping the notes to shreds when he had the chance and Mumbo turned away from Iskall in shame. He didn’t even notice himself staring off into the corner of his room until the scratching of a feather pen against paper got his attention again.

[I was hoping you would say that. Wouldn't be Architech patent-worthy without your approval :) ]

Mumbo gave a half-hearted as smile his dear friend stored the notes away in a light blue shulker box he hadn’t seen get brought out. As Iskall packed the box up, a red hot silence burned within the room and Mumbo flushed at the uneasiness of it all, hating the fact that he couldn’t enjoy the company of the people he loved anymore. It made him feel like an ass when he was so unresponsive and caught up in self-pity, but at the same time it felt like acting as if nothing ever happened would be a slap in the face to everyone he wronged. He was halfway through a mental reprimand when Iskall huffed through his nose and came to sit beside him at his birch wood table.

A beat or two passed in silence before a steady hand reached out to fix the uneven part in Mumbo’s hair, smooth out the collar of his dress shirt, and pat him gently on the side of his face. The warmth of Iskall’s hand damn nearly drove Mumbo to tears. With cloudy eyes, he watched as Iskall tilted his head, expression a melancholy mix of fondness and sorrow.

[It’s bad today, huh?]

With a sharp intake of breath and clenched teeth, Mumbo glanced away from Iskall. He’d rather pretend he was fine than admit to the Red Sun’s influence holding strong sway over him today. But before he could come up with something to say, Iskall was already shoving his book back into Mumbo’s hands.

[Don’t try to lie to me, I can see it in your face. And in the stubble on your chin.]

“I…“ Mumbo started, cotton-mouthed and ashamed, closing his eyes to prevent the tears from glossing over his vision.

Sweet scarlet whispers pricked at the back of his head and swirled behind his eyelids, reminding him the Red Sun never sets the Red Sun never sets the Red Sun never sets, and he tensed his jaw to try and drown out the words with a high-pitched strain. The world around him grew warm and tight and dark, and despite his best efforts, the voices seemed to just get louder.

All at once, Mumbo realized that Iskall was pushing at his shoulders and letting out determined, wordless noises as he tried to bring the man from his panic. Mumbo brought down his hands from where he found them pressed firmly against his ears, noticing that his face felt warm and wet. He silently wiped at his cheeks with his sleeve, defeated.

“...Yeah. It is.”

“I-I...It’ss oh-k-kay.” Iskall offered gently, releasing his hold from his friend’s shoulders and sliding them down to his arms as he scanned Mumbo for any more signs of distress. As soon as his hands were free, he reached for his book again.

[It’s a nice day out today. Let’s go for a walk. I’ll shoot Grian a message to meet us in the shopping district.]

Before Mumbo could begin to read, Iskall plucked the book from his hand and began writing frantically, leaving Mumbo to wipe at the heavy tears that pooled over the edge of his eyelids once again.

[Let’s not tell him about my plans yet. I don’t want to get him excited for something that could take months or more to even start on. Promise to keep it a secret for now?]

Mumbo couldn’t help but flash him a warm smile. This man has done so much for both him and Grian even in wake of his own obstacles and responsibilities. There was nothing in this world or the next that Mumbo could offer as retribution.

“Sure thing. You have my word.”

Iskall huffed a laugh, grabbing and immediately shaking Mumbo’s hand with unnecessary earnest.

[Jolly good cheers mate! Let’s get you ready for our stroll, shall we lad? Pip pip!]

With a good-natured roll of his eyes, Mumbo stood from where he’d been sat since early that morning, bones audibly popping from inactivity, and made towards his room to change into a clean white button-up and dress pants, leaving his coat on the bed. It took him a moment to brave the mirror in the corner of his room, but once he could stand to look at his reflection, he made an honest attempt to make himself presentable. After smoothing out the folds and wrinkles in his shirt, Mumbo pulled at his mustache a few times in an attempt to style it, lamenting that he didn’t have the time to shave the shadow from his jaw.

There was a soft, gentle hum from Iskall that got Mumbo’s attention as he exited his room, and he walked closer to read what his friend was saying.

[Handsome.]

Bashful, Mumbo blushed and shut the book. Compliments always made him somewhat embarrassed before, but it hit him much harder nowadays, especially when he felt bad about not being able to clean up as much as he preferred. Despite his self-consciousness, Mumbo was grateful for Iskall’s encouragement and offered a small smile in thanks.

As he and Iskall locked up his house and began the journey towards the shopping district, Mumbo watched him message Grian and shake with silent laughter―probably at something stupid Grian responded with, knowing them, but he was too engrossed in thought to catch what was said―and noticed that for the first time in a while that he couldn’t hear the honeyed song of the Red Sun, nor could he feel its pull deep within his bones.

Truly, Iskall and Grian were gifts from the universe he didn’t deserve. It was a bloody wonder that they still stood by him after all they went through. Despite everything, his friends still cared for him. Still loved him. There was nothing he could do to repay them for that. And nothing could compare to the outpour of adoration he felt for them in return.

--------------------------------------------

On days like these, with his best friends at his sides, Mumbo felt free.

#the red sun never sets #trsns #mumbo jumbo #mumbo #iskall85 #iskall #grian #grian and mumbo and iskall #architech trio #hermitcraft #I am likely to and probably will be looking for errors so Blease let me know if u see any

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draconivn · 4 years

Text

C.002 | Daughter of the Takeda

Disclaimer: I don’t own Samurai Love Ballad: PARTY or its characters. Please note that this will not follow all of Saizo’s route, and the MC is an OC of mine.

Summary: You wanted to do more than just be in the kitchen like any woman would’ve known how to do. You want to explore. You want to become so much more. But when you live in a world of war, what you decide to do in your past ends up following you to your future, even though the battlefield is no place for a woman. Will you find love or will you only find blood? Saizo x OC MC

Masterpost: LINK

CHAPTER 2: The Forest Maiden

Trigger Warning: Blood, Death, Gore

The makeshift home I had made for myself in the woods with Rai was my bed for the night and I left my necklace with her around her neck, a note slipped into the small locket. The cabin was a little far for the night, so this was my main option so I could at least be found closer to the enemy army. We were just on the land border that separated the Oda from the Takeda.

At daybreak, the clouds hung low in the sky as I sought the fruits of the trees for my breakfast before enemy soldiers I had 'befriended' came looking for me. Rai ducked away before there was any chance of them seeing her. I knew the reason why, and there was a possibility that the Takeda would spot them on the way: the remains of the scouts, scattered and blood splayed everywhere as they had been dug up from their hiding spots. There would be no one to withhold the Takeda from advancing, and these soldiers came to warn me once again that the place was going to be a battlefield.

"Why?" I had to ruin my sense of speaking to make it work.

Being a child of the forest meant speaking in the human language was to be new and they had spent much time 'teaching' me how to speak. They had even called me the ‘Forest Maiden’, and tried to name me, but I would shake my head as if I didn’t like the name. I offered them some of the food that I had foraged while they spoke to me, hoping that none knew of the other berries that were buried lower in the pile were not made for consumption. I ate at the same time to ease the worry that I could’ve done something wrong to the food, so there was next to no suspicion hanging around.

I let them explain as much as they would think a wolf-raised child would be able to understand, but it was long enough to let the food work its magic. When I finally agreed to leave, they all stood and readied themselves to leave. One by one, they sputtered out blood and fell to the ground as I ran to them in fake worry, the rain starting to pour down.

Bit by bit, I was initiating my plan and I knew I couldn’t leave this alone.

Poisonous food was only enough to take three soldiers down, but it wasn’t going to be enough to help the Takeda army.

I acted horrified and scared that my 'friends' were not responding and I cried out, knowing that the two others who lingered as watchdogs would come running any moment now. To them, I was trembling in fear as they held me and comforted me, but it wasn’t something they could take sitting down and decided to bring them back to the camp as best as possible, with my crying self in tow.

Just like that, I was a lone child of the neighbouring country taken into enemy camp in tears with the rain forcing my hair and muddy clothes to cling to my body.

Food poisoning had only seemed like the quickest way to decimate numbers just as they were preparing to march after their morning meals. The soldiers that had first fallen to food poisoning were curled up in the infirmary tent just before breakfast so there was a possibility that some food didn’t do well in their bodies like mine, since I had eaten with them. It was slow-acting poison in a way, but with the time to march being very soon - though I wasn’t sure if it was going to work - I knew that I had to find another opportunity to get them. The rain had died down for the time being, but it wasn’t going to be long before the armies marched towards death.

Poison in the water supply had to be discreetly poured in without me doing anything too obvious, but given that I had come at such a convenient time, I came over with curiosity in my eyes and somehow had managed to convince the soldier on food duty to let me help serve breakfast. Of course, I played the clumsy card once I had managed to complete my little task and was ushered quickly to a tent once a unit leader caught me helping, stating that I shouldn’t even be there.

He was one of the few that didn’t like me, based on previous run-ins, so it wasn’t a surprise that he was kicking me out of the area so soon.

At the Takeda camp, a great white wolf leapt from the trees and came rushing through to search for Shingen. The soldiers that were preparing to march were in alarm, grabbing their spears and ready to draw their swords, but she evaded each one as she headed towards the tent that she had been told to go into. It was enough to draw a commotion, with Shingen and Sasuke emerging from the tent in the middle of a war council.

“Stand down.”

Sasuke looked at Shingen’s command. “Milord?”

Upon seeing that the cautious warriors stepped back, the wolf kept her head up as she made her way over to the red-haired man. Once in front of him, she sat and lowered her head to allow off the necklace so it could slip off into his hand and opened it. The note inside wrote, ‘Blood, I will not shed, but their hunger will take them closer to death’.

It was a winning war playing right into our hands as troops toppled over from unsuspected food poisoning just as they were preparing to march. They could hardly make it out to the battleground in the state that they were, clutching their stomachs and groaning in pain.

When the Takeda army stormed the camp, a soldier who hadn’t fallen victim to my poison had rushed in to keep me safe. He offered me a mamorigatana so I could defend myself 'just in case'. He was in a hurry, making sure I was okay and that I understood, but before he could run back out, he was struck down.

I looked up and saw Sasuke standing there, and his expression was a mix of worry and disappointment. He was ready to just grab me and tie me his waist, but I quickly scrambled under the back end of the tent using the mamorigatana. I couldn’t let Sasuke catch me, and the many soldiers that fought despite the poison coursing through their bodies was enough coverage to at least get me deeper into the camp. Some had called for me to run away, their blood spilling onto my clothes and skin.

I bolted like I knew how.

The layout of the camp had etched itself into my mind from the previous night, and I ran until strong hands caught me, making me look up.

It was the army's commander and the clan leader. He was just as affectionate with me as many of the others once they had told him about my being there, holding me like a daughter he wanted to protect.

I could see Lord Shingen approaching with many others.

My father’s eyes pleaded with me, to get out of there and stay away from danger. In his eyes, I was in the worst spot to be hiding from war.

"Lovely morning out here, Nagamasa. I thought we would be rearing for a fight, but it seems like we have dead bodies all over the place." The poison had only been the delay in all of this to allow them to deliver the final blows, and while it was my greatest achievement, I knew it wasn't my father's proudest to see me doing this.

"Takeda Shingen!" the man growled. "Just because you've taken down my men, doesn't mean you will get me!" Azai Nagamasa, the man who became Oda Nobunaga's brother through the marriage of his wife Oichi, an alliance that was forged on the threat of losing his livelihood. The brother-in-law of the Demon King, who aimed for Divine Rule and would destroy all in his path.

"Take a good look around you, Nagamasa. You're completely surrounded. Soon, your head will be next." Lord Shingen glanced at me and smiled, making me hide my face in Nagamasa's armoured chest. "It seems we'd have to indulge ourselves a little with a newfound spoil of this war and take her in as my own daughter."

"If you touch one hair on this child, I swear-"

“Lord Nagamasa!” a voice called out, gasping for air and drawing everyone’s attention. It was the unit leader who had reprimanded me earlier. He was pointing a shaky finger at me, while his other hand was holding at his bleeding wound. “G-Get away from that child, M-Milord! Sh-She was the one who p-poisoned us!”

I kept my act up, trying to hide from the unit leader’s accusing hand and shook my head, even as the man collapsed, reluctantly allowing death to guide him away from the battle.

Nagamasa was always soft-hearted for the ones whom he cared about. He always thought alliances and friendships would never allow anyone to go against him, to make him crouch and look at me with worried eyes. In a moment like this, surrounded by his enemy, he couldn’t believe that a little girl was a traitor. The soldiers spoke about it often, wondering if he got on Oda’s bad side, would being his brother-in-law be enough to save him? “I-Is this true, forest maiden?”

That stupid name. They really were as stupid as they looked.

My head was lowered, and I knew I had to make a decision. All this poisoning… all the help I wanted to achieve for my father and the rest of the Takeda army… It wasn’t over until the battle was over. If I did this, then there would be no turning back. I would know what it would’ve been like to spill actual blood. The fear on my face wasn’t of the fact that I was being accused for something I knew I definitely did. It was the fear of my father never accepting that I was going to kill a human. “Papa and I won’t be able to go home until you die...”

“Z-Zaria! Stop this!” My father’s call of my name had reaffirmed all suspicion.

My hand moved on its own, and I knew Nagamasa’s eyes were following as it did.

I felt the resistance, the choke as I imagined him as another one of my prey in the woods towering over me to try and eat me, but I was going to make a meal out of him. My blood ran cold, as I pushed my blade in between the part where armour met armour, and blood started to come up from his lips. I knew from the way that he reacted and not collapsed to the ground completely, groaning as I turned the blade.

"Sh-Shingen, you bastard!" He gave me an angry push back, forcing himself to his feet and reached to draw his sword to try and strike me down.

Lord Shingen was quick to step between us, knocking the sword out of his hand.

It took a moment for Nagamasa to realize what happened in the moment that he pushed me away, his head stuttering its movements to look down. The sword was no longer lodged in his chest, laying on the ground as blood began to pour out before Nagamasa joined his fallen comrades.

Just like that, the battle had been won.

But the war was not over.

#fanfic: daughter of the takeda #minju fanfics ;#fanfic: slbp #I had to rewrite this chapter several times to make this work wheezes #This was pretty long pardon me

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the-canary · 5 years

Text

Modern Times - B.B (11)

Summary: 1938. Working for the summer in booming Los Angeles, Bucky Barnes has his eyes on a certain dame. (1940′s Reader/Bucky Barnes)

A/N: This chapter we are exploring a little of the San Pedro Port, also known as the Port of Los Angeles! Thank you sooo much to @polaroid-idiocity and @ramblerumble for their love and support of this series. Just a few more chapters left!

Feedback is always appreciated.

I hope your mother taught you better than to come up to a young lady’s room without an invitation, much less without her knowing.

Even a week letter, the woman --who he is guessing is your ma-- and her words had stung both Bucky’s ego and his pride. He knew that if his mother ever found out, she would drag him and he would never see the light of day again and while he had had his fair share of failed escapades here and there, he had never been caught doing something so simple and been reprimanded in such a way.

I do not know who you are or what you are doing with my daughter, but whatever it maybe stop this moment. I will not have some nameless vagabond sully her, not when she has so much ahead of her. Do you understand, young man?

She hadn’t even asked for his name during her little tirade and even though she was was wearing some of the shabbiest clothes she had -- there was just something about her that commanded his attention. It wasn’t like when his own ma was mad at him, there was something bitter and dark about how she looked and spoke to Bucky in that moment. Though, deep down, he knew that she was right.

James had no right in getting tangled around you when there was no chance after the summer was over -- he would be heading back to New York and working his ass back in the docks while you were teaching rich girls how to dance, at least that was better than his current situation.

Hell, maybe you even caught a rich guy’s attention and they swept off your feet where all the movies stars lived, though he knew that had never been your own plan maybe that’s what your ma hoping was for.

James Barnes had no right being so doll dizzy over you, but at the thought of you with someone else sent a shiver down his spin and punch the wall next to him. But, he had made your ma a promise and he was a man of his word.

So, he stayed back in San Pedro as his time in sunny Los Angeles slowly ran out, as much as it hurt him.

It takes you a whole week to feel better and it’s only then that you realize that either James never came back or you were passed out when he had come back, only for him to meet up with your mother. Though she never spoke a word of it when you were ill, but you knew her too well. Mother wasn’t the type to point out your own mistakes, she would wait and make your wallow in your own guilty until you confessed -- it made the punishment and groveling that much sweeter. It was the same thing she was doing with Gladys -- your mother was always willing to play the long term sort of game like she had all the time in world.

But, you were stubborn and it wasn’t until two weeks without a word from James that you finally head back home and catch here cooking in the kitchen. Your younger brothers were playing outside and your grandparents are nowhere to be found for the time being.

“Oh, you made it in time for dinner,” she remarks with a happy tone as she goes back to the tiny stove, while you take a seat near the wall. While, you might have never been her favorite, there were only things you really understood about your mother and how she was moving about showed that she wanted to avoid what you might want to talk about.

“Mama,” you start out and she freezes, “What did you tell him?”

“I have no idea--”

“The boy that came through my window when I was sick,” you start explain as she walks over to you, “You musta ‘ve meet him. He hasn’t come to see me again, what did ya tell ‘im?”

She stands a bit straighter than before and clenches her hands her hands once then twice. The light of the widow shines a bit brighter and for once more your mother seems so much older than she is meant to look. There is a calmness and annoyance that goes through her face that you had never seen before. She lets out a deep breath before speaking.

“You are meant for so much more,” she starts off before you cut in and tell her that isn’t the answer you are looking for. Her breathe stalls for a second as she closer to you and grips your shoulders “It might take some time, but you just wait and see.”

“Momma,” you whisper out, unsure of what is going on anymore, “Please stop.”

“Do you love him?”

“What...I--”

“Do you love him?” she screeches and digs her nails deeper into your blouse and into your skin, as you look her with widening eyes. Your mother, even with everything she had gone through and lost, had never looked this distressed before and the look of utter desperation on her face drove your answer.

“No,” you sob out as she loosens her grip, “He’ll be gone by the summer. Just a fling, nothing else.”

“Good,” she states with a sweeter smile as she lets go completely.

You stare at her for a good moment. She resettles her skirt once more before going back to watching over what she was doing, but before she can ask if you are going to stay and eat -- you’re already out the door.

“One day, she’ll understand,” she murmurs to herself before going back to her daily routine like if nothing had changed. She was used to waiting by now anyways.

“Mickey, I need a ride!”

“Where to, sweetheart?”

“San Pedro!”

It takes the two of you half an hour to get to the port from the heart of downtown and thought Mickey didn’t want to leave you on your own, he had to head back though you had promised you would head back on the trolley as soon as you found James. The problem was that you didn’t know where to being to look for the man -- you knew James worked at one of the docks but you didn’t know what exact company it was that he worked for either.

After awhile, you got tired and annoyed of asking about and simply ended up at the beach for a good while, staring at the waves and eating a light dessert you had bought. You tried your hardest not to think of what your mother had said and her reasoning -- it was just to scary at the moment.

It soon hit a quarter past three and you were ready to head back to your little bordering room. You were walking between the tracks and the sand, just a couple of steps away from the station when you hear it -- your name being called by a familiar voice.

And while you try to ignore your own heart stopping at the moment.

“Darlin’” you pause at the new nickname, which allows James to catch up and grasp your hand, “Where ya lookin’ for me?”

You don’t say anything as you turn to look at him -- bright blue eyes, excited smile and dirty as hell in his white shirt and suspenders. You aren’t quite so sure how he found you or what he had been doing in your time apart, but at the sight of him standing in front you a bright and warm feeling filled your very core. His smile flatters just a little at your silence, as he rubs your knuckles lightly.

“I--” he waits as you try to find the words, but you can’t. So you decide to show him instead, as you grab his dirty cheek and bring him in.

He grabs your waist and pulls you in closer. You let out a happy sigh as he deepens the kiss and as you end up spending the rest of the night dancing at the longshoremen’s bar -- you both deny the fact that you might be in love.

#Bucky Barnes #james buchanan barnes #james barnes #bucky barnes x reader #james bucky barnes x reader #40's bucky barnes x reader #1940's bucky barnes #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes au #bucky barnes angst #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes fan fic #series: modern times #fabiola trying to write

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theonewiththefanfics · 6 years

Text

So This Is Love (one-shot)

Synopsys: After a life filled with pain and suffering Bucky is finally able to define what love is.

Pairing: Bucky x Reader

Genre: a toiny bit of angst/ floof

Warnings: like one swear word

Word count: 2110

If somebody would have asked Bucky Barnes what he thought about love, he wouldn’t know what to necessarily respond. In the forties, he would say it’s finding a nice girl to settle down with. It would be the feeling of coming back home after a hard day at work and being encased in the warmth of it, as a hot dinner was set on the table by his lovely wife with their few adorable children loudly chattering about their adventures. After he fell from the train he was made into someone’s puppet, Bucky’s free will wiped away just like his mind. So as the Winter Soldier he didn’t know what love was. His world was cold and dark, the only comfort- his worn out matters and scratchy sheets in a damp cell somewhere underground, hidden deeply in a Hydra base. Sometimes he thought love was getting a simple slice of bread after days of not eating. Sometimes it was the small nod his handlers gave after a successful mission, making Bucky’s heart beat in a normal rhythm once again, his brain realising there would be no torture or punishments this time.

But this Bucky, the one who roamed the streets of twenty-first century New York as a free man, was not either of those people. He was a mix of both and completely lost. After the whole showdown in Washington, the man went into hiding, slowly trying to rebuild a life on the shambles of what his memories held. He settled down in Romania for a while. Thought it would be out of the way and an inconspicuous enough place for him to reassess what to do next. Bucky even knew the language, a surprise to the ex-assassin himself when an old lady asked for directions and he could easily respond. That’s when Bucky thought love was his little run down apartment, where only he and a stray cat sometimes occupied it. The feline would curl up into the brown-haired man’s side on colder nights, softly purring as if singing a lullaby to chase his nightmares away. He thought love was the sweet smiles the vendors at the local market gave him, as the man did his weekly grocery shopping, having acquired a special taste for plums. Yet luck seemed to never be on his side. Vienna. The Avengers. The Sokovia Accords. Zemo. All that and more once again destroyed his perception of love and home, plunging the veteran in a never-ending war. This time at least he wasn’t completely alone. He had Steve and the rest of their ragtag group. The soldier’s heart thudded a bit faster every time Sam made a snarky remark and their blond friend had to reprimand the pair. Or his lips quirked up as Scott excitedly shook the Captain’s hand, wide eyes full of wonder when meeting his hero. Bucky thought that that could be love- everybody’s carefree attitude around him as they made him join into conversations. When he went to Wakanda a new kind of warmth surrounded the broken man. People were nice. They took care of him. Kids no longer ran away because of fear, rather from the joy of playing tag with the White Wolf. He got those horrible words out of his head. Slowly but surely Bucky grew and developed as a person. Every splintered piece found its place and finally, he was able to become a functioning human being, he could blend into normal society without the staple of a monster. That’s when he thought he knew what love was- the acceptance of people who knew all of the dirty deeds he'd done, yet gave him another chance. However, life seemed to like throwing curveballs. Only this time it was for the whole universe. Thanos and his mad plan. As the ships descended down upon the African country, Bucky marvelled at their technology despite having a piece of it attached to his own body. Love was protecting your people and humanity. Even though another battle stood before him, a giant’s boot about to squish an ant, the dark-haired man straightened his back and gripped the rifle harder. If he had to lay down his life to protect the weak he’d do without a second to spare because no matter what others had done upon him, Bucky would keep everybody else safe. He’d keep those kids who woke him up as the sun rose, safe. Shuri, the young genius who never pitied him and every single person who showed the smallest act of kindness. Not as a repayment, but because they were his friends. And he loved them. But even through their most valiant efforts, it never seemed to be enough. The whole world turned to dust and Bucky with it, taking him into the Soul Stone. There he was calm. He wasn’t alone, far from it, yet somehow Bucky felt nothing but peace. Obviously, he tried to help as many distressed people as possible. Sometimes he was met with harsh words instead of graciousness, but the man didn’t take it to heart. Accepting the fact of not being alive was a hard thing. But for the ex-soldier, it was a simple thing to do. It was only when Peter Parker, the kid who wore the Spiderman suit came up to him, shivering and afraid, searching for comfort in a familiar face, when Bucky found a role as a protector once more, vowing to do whatever it took to bring Peter back to his family. Bucky didn’t think he’d actually be able to go through with the promise, yet five years later or a mere few minutes for the people who died during Infinity War, he was back in the jungles of Wakanda, their team once again facing Thanos. Only this time, he was determined to fight. And win. Love for his peers and this world motivated the ex-Winter Soldier. The reignited passion of exploring the universe and what was beyond kept him going. Until he met Y/N. It had been the final battle, or what he hoped would be the last one when Bucky had gotten ambushed. Beasts, all twice his size, charged towards the man, taking him down with, their razor sharp nails and teeth trying to tear open every part of him. He was ready to give up, despair and fear clouding his mind, but then a bright light shone above and loud screeching pierced his ears. Bucky covered them with both palms, yet it did nothing to minimise the sound of pain coming from the aliens. Then they went silent and slumped to the ground. The soldier pulled in ragged breaths, quickly snatching the rifle from where it had fallen by his side and standing up. “Are you alright?” asked a soft voice to his left. A woman with concerned Y/E/C eyes and wild Y/H/C hair sticking in every direction had addressed him. She was dressed in a navy blue tactical suit, a bright red diagonal stripe crossing her right shoulder and ending at her left hip where he saw pale cerulean sparks dance along her fingertips. Chipped black nail polish adorned her nails and it cracked more with every second her powers surrounded the hand. “Yes,” he nodded, “thank you.” The reply he received was a mischievous smile before she winked and rushed off towards where Thor and Loki were battling side by side. “What’s your name, handsome?” she had hollered over the battlefield, burning up ten aliens as she did so. And despite himself, Bucky felt a smile creep up on his features. “I’m Bucky. Though what would be more important is to know the name of my saviour.” “Can you two get back to fighting?” Sam’s voice rang out through the comm system. James glanced up and saw the Falcon fly overhead, a clear look of annoyance settling on his face. “We’re in the thick of it, so stop flirtin’ and do some work.” “Are you jealous, Sammy?” a bell-like laughter echoed through the air. “You know you’re my favourite. No matter how much I might adore your gorgeous looking friend.” Bucky’s smile widened, despite the feel of his rifle going off, killing twenty monsters in the span of two seconds. “You think I’m gorgeous, doll?” She looked over her shoulder, hair whipping with the motion as her lips tugged up showing two rows of brilliant white teeth. “Did you think I saved you because of my good nature?” “I would hope so, otherwise me asking you out would be really awkward,” he replied through a snort. For a second the only sounds surrounding everybody were yells of command, grunts and roars, but then the woman replied. “Tell you what- we both survive this bullshit and I’ll go to dinner with you. If not… well, I think that has a self-explanatory ending.” And a warm fuzzy feeling slithered through Bucky’s body. It entered his veins and encased every blood cell, pumping that mind-bending new sensation into every muscle, so much so, he thought it would be too much for his body to contain and it would ooze out of every pore. As he punched and kicked his way towards victory, Bucky always kept one eye on the mysterious stranger who had so unexpectedly entered his life and brought his heart back from the dead. The dark pit it had fallen in was now a barely there hole, covered by a layer of freshly grown grass and flowers. It was like he could smell the happiness that had started to bloom in his bloodstream. It was a while and it was longer than Bucky wished, but the fight did end, with them being the victorious side. His saviour stood right next to Thor, a palm harshly pressing against her abdomen, red spilling onto the ground, but that playful grin stretched her cheeks apart even through the pain. He saw her grasp the Thunder God’s bicep and slide down onto the dusty ground, the larger man holding tightly under her armpits. “Why must you always try and best us?” The girl laughed through a hiss, Bucky crouching down next to her, worry written all over his face. “We were fighting in a battle to the death. Quite literally. Where would be the fun in it, if I didn’t try and prove how superior I am to all of you.” “You know, I might even think you did this on purpose,” Bucky’s metal palm cradled her head as he helped the girl lay down. “I can take a simple no.” “I would never, Bucky,” she pressed her free hand against where her heart beat in mock hurt. “I do have some class you know. If I don’t like a guy’s advances, I know how to throw a mean punch.” The soldier, Thor and the woman herself all laughed as Loki sat down on his knees and removed the palm from her abdomen that kept the blood from spilling out. A green mist covered her body like a translucent veil and an audible groan of pleasure and relief escaped the woman. “Try and not die next time, love. I’d really hate to be the only one who has to deal with my brother and his antics,” the Trickster’s deep voice was full of exasperation and care as he extended an arm and helped the girl up. “Don’t worry, Loki. I have quite the date to get ready for.” The dazzling smile she gave Bucky took his breath away. “I’m Y/N,” she extended a somewhat clean hand, for the soldier to grasp, but even if it had been covered in grime, he would have brought the surprisingly soft knuckles up to his lips anyways. “My saviour.” And as broken as he might still be, as much as his mind was still in shambles, Bucky Barnes could now definitely say love was the woman he had just woken up next to. It was her soft skin gently pressing against his, the barely audible snores escaping her throat and nose, but above all- it was that beaming grin that split her face apart as she leaned in and pressed a kiss to his mouth welcoming a new day in the best way possible. “What is going on in that head of yours, Sarge?” Her voice cracked from not being used the whole night, nails delicately scratching his scalp, the motion sending a shiver down from his spine to the tips of his toes. “Love,” came his simple reply and she smirked. “And have you reached a conclusion?” “I have,” he mussed, pressing their foreheads together before quietly exhaling, replying with the utmost truth his heart held. “I love you."

Tags (crossed out wouldn’t take): @nerissa98 @happyseagrill @asguardiansoftheavengers @crazybutconfidentaf @thunderous-flower @who-cares-rn @projectxhappiness @callmebucky-doll @coal000 @killuaenthusiast @courtneychicken @sophiealiice @raquelbc2003 @watch-out-for-thorns @potentially-kinetic @thatonegirljessy99 @proxinge @bbkenna @buckysclub @ulired @fangirlofeverythingbasically @mrsalh32611 @horrorx570ximagines @the-nargles-made-me-do-it @pooslie @itsisabelanotisabella @httpmcrvel @purplebananatragedy@lumelgy @palaiasaurus64 @supernaturalbaesduh @breezy1415 @pizzarollpatrol @crazy--me @thatawkwardlittlefangirl @sea040561 @staryeyedgirl @deathbyarabbit @s-c-a-r-e-d-po-t-t-e-r @reblogger-not-a-blogger @m-a-t-91 @dalilx @i-need-a-hero-i-need-a-loki @maladaptive-ninja-returns @averyrogers83 @in-the-end-im-still-trash @gallifreyansass @dewy-biitch @avxgers

A/N: just thought to write something sweet. Thank you all for the loveley messages :) I’m doing so much better. There are still times that are not as good, but I’m getting there :) I’m thinking about getting back into writing for Cassian Andor, so watch out for that as well :)

P.S. please, tell me what you thought :)

P.S.S. if you wanna be tagged or have any requests, please message me

P.S.S.S. please don’t repost without credit :)

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noplanlife · 5 years

Text

Consideration

Summary: You finally get to meet the kingdom’s other princes. Your first impression of them is not great.

This is the ninth chapter of a multichapter fic! Please find the rest here!

The morning’s dew had long since dried from the castle’s sprawling front lawns by the time Osomatsu finally deigns to join you outside. You’d been entertaining yourself with some idle, polite talk with the king and queen up until then, though you’d found yourself missing the prince throughout the conversation. Deep down, you know you’d missed him because you enjoy his company, but it still remains easier to chalk up such feelings to any awkwardness around your future parents-in-law. The both of them are remarkably friendly, and want you to forgo many of the formalities you insist on inserting into your interactions with them. It’s a tough habit to break though, especially when you’re talking to the rare few people above your own station. So, when Osomatsu finally does arrive, you absolutely take notice of the palpable sense of relief that washes over you as he slings one his arms across your shoulders.

“Good of you to join us,” you greet him, without any bite. Realizing that your words carry none of the tartness he’s become accustomed to over the duration of your stay, Osomatsu’s features alight with glee. He leans forward to nuzzle his nose against the rise of your cheek, and you only purse your lips and look away from him in embarrassment rather than make any effort to encourage him to desist in his affections. Both of his parents look positively exuberant thanks to your relative receptiveness to their son. Trying to resist the urge to squirm while also pointedly avoiding eye-contact with the king and queen, you continue, “I thought you’d want to be here earlier, considering the occasion.”

When you glance up at Osomatsu out of the corner of your eye, it is to see that he’s keeping an eye on his parents. You don’t realize why until both of them look away to whisper something to one another (likely about the two of you). As soon as the both of them are absorbed entirely in their conversation, you feel Osomatsu’s hand begin moving away from its respectable position at your shoulder and rapidly south. Your eyes go wide as you feel Osomatsu’s fingers drag slowly across the dip of your waist to splay across your hip. Two fingers start tracing the seam that follows the tantalizing trail across the rise of your hip and down your pelvis when you finally gather enough of your wits to try swatting him away.

Your unmannered intended has managed to keep the exact same, placid expression throughout his inappropriate exploration. You are just about to elbow him when he finally answers you, “I’ve seen those guys every day of my life up until they got booted out in order not to scare you off.” Osomatsu pulls away from you, his expression pained, as he nearly shouts, “The last time I knew what it felt like to have time to myself was the two minutes between when I was born and Karamatsu was!”

You survey Osomatsu’s face, disbelief plainly coloring your own features. Complain as he may now, Osomatsu’s constant talk of his brothers throughout your visit, as well as his emotional show to you not long ago, were proof enough he’d missed his siblings desperately. You decide only to roll your eyes, and give Osomatsu a conciliatory pat on the chest, before pulling away from him entirely. Osomatsu makes a sound of complaint, but you manage to shush him with a finger pointed towards the gates. The four of you standing before the castle all look forward, and see the gates swing open to admit the large carriage you’d all been expecting.

You don’t have to wait long for the carriage, thankfully. Still, Osomatsu tries to make the most of his last few moments of being the sole focus of your attentions by trying to drape himself across you in the most obstructive way possible. Knowing him as you do, you have reason to believe he’s doing this to stake his claim as your betrothed. His brothers were very competitive where prospective romance partners were concerned, or so you’d been informed.

Having Osomatsu tell you about his brothers’ competitive natures was one thing. Seeing it in action was another.

Not a second after the carriage comes to a gradual stop before your group does the door fly open, tear itself from its hinges, and careen down the dirt path a good ways while kicking up a veritable dust storm in its wake. Immediately following the door, a figure, bound and gagged, comes toppling out of the carriage and rolling across the earth in a squirming heap of muffled shouting. Your hands fly up to cover your mouth in shock, and you immediately try to step forward to help the poor soul, but Osomatsu holds you firm and tells you,

“He’s a criminal. He doesn’t deserve any help.”

The bound figure on the ground immediately turns towards the sound of Osomatsu’s voice. You and your betrothed stare down at the young man on the ground who is dressed in muddied finery you think was probably white before whatever treatment he’d received put him in his current predicament. His large eyes narrow into slits, and you’ve never seen such malice directed at one person in your entire life. The object of loathing--Osomatsu--only waggles his fingers down at his brother.

“You brought it on yourself, Totty. That’s what you get for thinking you could get married before the eldest! Remember your place at the bottom of the heap!”

This was Todomatsu, then. You only now notice the streaks of dulled pink dye running through the youngest sextuplet’s disheveled hair. The youngest prince drags his cheek across the ground so that he can dislodge the cloth placed over his mouth, and, once free to speak, shouts up at Osomatsu,

“At least I wasn’t so hopeless our parents had to beg someone to come marry me! I was so close-!!! I’d just gotten them all comfortable enough to invite me to a ball over at Sutabaa Kingdom and then you sent those demons to bring me back to this hell! And you--you’re the worst demon of them all!”

You glance up out of the corner of your eye to see Osomatsu smiling gleefully down at his tormented sibling. With a sigh, you reach up and plant your hand over Osomatsu’s face to push him back, and cease any argument before it can start. While your intended whines at your treatment, you turn your attentions towards the youngest sibling, and start to offer,

“Here, let me help you-”

Unfortunately for Todomatsu, you don’t get the chance. Your first step is cut short when all of the other brothers pile out of their vehicle at the same time. There is a cacophony of angry shouting, followed by some violent shaking from the carriage, and then, with a mighty pop, four bodies come toppling down to the ground in an ungraceful heap.

“I told you to let me go first-!” the green prince, Choromatsu, squawks from the bottom of the pile.

“Why do you get to go first!? You’re not the oldest!” the blue prince, Karamatsu, whines as he pulls his face out of the dirt. A booted foot collides with the back of his head and knocks him back into the dust. The owner of said boot--the purple prince, Ichimatsu--is lying on his back, staring up blankly at the sky as he grouses,

“I wanted to stay in the carriage…”

The yellow prince, Jyushimatsu, gets up from his place on top of Choromatsu so that he can flop heavily on top of Ichimatsu. While Ichimatsu wheezes, Jyushimatsu cheerfully reminds him, “No way! We need to be friendly and meet our big brother’s girlfriend!”

“Betrothed,” Choromatsu corrects his younger sibling as he pushes himself into a sitting position. Jyushimatsu, taking note that Choromatsu has recovered from hitting the ground, leaves his place atop Ichimatsu to tackle Choromatsu flat onto his back. You watch the two of them flail around for a little bit until Queen Matsuyo finally gets tired of all the racket and attempts to get her unruly offspring back in line.

“Get up, you useless princes! You’re making a bad impression!”

The sharpness in the queen’s voice seems to reach Osomatsu first. Upon hearing his mother’s reprimands, he joins in, dragging Ichimatsu and Choromatsu apart by the back of their collars as he shouts, “Hey! Hey! Mom said to be quiet! You’re making us all look bad in front of my wife!”

You’d have likely been more flustered by Osomatsu calling you his wife if it were in fact, true, and also not used in the context of lecturing his younger brothers. A romantic confession might have been nice. Though, such quixotic thoughts quickly abandon you in the face of hard facts and the recollection of how many times Osomatsu has tried to grope you since you moved in.

As all of the sextuplets form a line--save for Todomatsu, who is still trying to get out his restraints--you turn to the lot of them and dip down into a sweeping curtsy. Now that you think about it, this might be the first time you’ve bothered to curtsy since arriving here. Osomatsu’s mere proximity must have been leeching the decorum right out of you.

“I’m pleased to finally make your acquaintance. Osomatsu has told me so much about you.”

For whatever reason, this seemingly harmless sentence makes every one of Osomatsu’s brothers groan in dismay. You blink back at them in surprise as Choromatsu bemoans,

“She definitely has the wrong idea about all of us, then. He must have made all of us look bad.”

You shake your head.

“Oh, no, Osomatsu spoke of all of you very fond-”

In the blink of an eye, Osomatsu is back at your side and slapping a hand across your mouth. You shoot him an affronted look as he laughs nervously and reassures his brothers,

“Yup, I made sure she knew what shitty princes you guys all are! I gotta make myself look like the best prospect, you know?”

He says this with a wink, which you realize is directed at you, and not at his siblings. For whatever reason, he must not want them to know how much he missed them. Perhaps it was something to do with sibling rivalry, or him trying to adhere to ridiculous ideas of masculinity. You aren’t sure which, but you decide to let the issue slide for the time being. Reaching up, you gently pull Osomatsu’s hand away from your face so that you can regard the other brothers without anything getting in the way of you speaking to them. They’re all looking at you with obvious curiosity, and perhaps their gazes linger a little too long in places they most certainly shouldn’t, but you decide introductions are more important than accusing them of impropriety.

“Anyhow,” you start, “I’m truly happy to finally be able to meet all of you. I hope you’ll let me prove myself and let me join your family.”

You give all of them a shy nod and another curtsy, which you would have finished properly had Osomatsu not let out a fawning cry of your name and dragged you into a crushing hug. He only stops smothering your cheeks in kisses every few seconds to peer out over the top of your head at his brothers to crow, “See!? She’s part of our family! Cus she’s gonna marry me! Isn’t she cute!? Isn’t she great!? Look how jealous all of you are!”

Before Osomatsu can try and force even more of his affections on you, you cover your reddening face in your hands and squirm in his grip. When his hold on you relaxes, you think it because Osomatsu finally recognized how embarrassed he was making you, so he decided to be merciful and let you go. It’s only when you peer out between your fingers that you notice Osomatsu, on the ground, being assaulted by his siblings. Karamatsu and Choromatsu have a hold on a leg each, while Jyushimatsu sits on Osomatsu’s chest. Ichimatsu, cackling a low and ominous laugh, stands over Osomatsu and announces,

“One fart for each slight. And I’m counting at least ten.”

As Osomatsu starts screaming, you feel a hand gently land on your shoulder to turn you away from whatever horrors were about to take place. You come face to face with Todomatsu, who is now free of his bonds and not very intent on helping his brothers torture Osomatsu. The hand not on your shoulder takes one of yours and raises your knuckles to his lips.

“Don’t worry, princess. Unlike those guys, I’m the perfect prince. So reconsider marrying my shitty oldest brother and marry me instead, okay~?”

Both the king and queen wrench their youngest son away from you and start lecturing him about getting in the way of their future grandchildren.

#osomatsu san #osomatsu #osomatsu x reader #garbage fic for garbage boys #does osomatsu want to marry you because you're super cute or because he can rub the fact you're super cute in his brothers' faces?#the answer is: both

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whattoreadinsteadofdrinking · 5 years

Text

fuck the patriarchy

The title is self explanatory, but I’m going to explain anyways

I feel like I am deep in a forest of rage and the path that brought me here, to the middle of this angry angry forest, where the trees are screaming with frustration and I am simply adding my sympathetic screech to their general cacophony, is the patriarchy.

My thesis statement here is, that toxic masculinity make it so that men in general are allowed to be, if not bad, then very mediocre, with no consequence and no expectation to change. And it is agonizing to be a woman in a world of mediocre men. Agonizing. It is painful to watch my female friends settle for men who contribute nothing to their household, nothing to their relationship, and they are happy because “he doesn’t cheat and he doesn’t hit me” (in more or less words.) I had a conversation with two of my female coworkers today and this was what they were saying about their husbands. I cannot. I cannnnnnoooooooooooooooooootttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttt

I wrote above that men are allowed to be “very mediocre.” That seems like a weird word choice because isn’t mediocrity by its very nature, not something that can be described with a qualitative adjective/adverb?? Something that is mediocre just....is. It shouldn’t be able to be VERY average, right? Well you’re wrong. I mean VERY mediocre. I mean that toxic masculinity has normalized male-on-female violence and oppression to the point that a man can have the actual personality of tapioca pudding and little-to-no emotional intimacy, and still find a wife. A wife who will do the vast majority of all household chores and be expected to rear his offspring and do so for free, or if she works, make less than him. Literally men do not even have to be attractive to get women because society has conditioned us to expect women to be beautiful, and to value us based on patriarchal racist fat-phobic beauty standards, and has conditioned women to value men based on....what?? Their ability to earn money?? I don’t know. But I do know it’s not physical attractiveness-- or rather, if it is, the expectation for being physically attractive as a male is much more attainable. That’s part of what I mean by “very mediocre.” The bar is SO LOW, y’all.

My two friends today talked and talked about their lazy husbands who literally do nothing at home despite them both working full times and doing 90% of the child rearing, and their husbands are not conventionally attractive but like everyone has their own standard for that so who am I to say, and so I asked “what made you know that he was the one you wanted to marry??” and they both said “Oh he was really a family man. I could tell right away. He always talked about how he wanted a family.” I just sat there aghast because both these men have 1) cheated on their wives 2) not contributed to the family emotionally and 3) one of them, who is expecting their first child, told his wife he was not excited to have a baby once they finally got pregnant after trying for years. When she told me that I didn’t even know what to say and I tried to comfort her. She wasn’t worried. She didn’t want my comfort. She replied, “Oh, he’s just being a guy.” And that reply is what I mean. That’s what I mean by “Very mediocre.” That is the most mediocre thing I can think of and it hurts to see that she thinks this is fine. I don’t think that guys are that way in general-- but I think toxic masculinity has made it so that when they are this way, we expect it, we excuse it, and by doing that we really condone it.

My coworkers then went on to pity me openly for being single and to make fun of me for having so many dating stories. I wanted to say, the reason I have so many dating stories is because I am still looking for a man who I can be with and have some sense of equality. what I did not say to them is, “I’d be embarassed as FUCK to be seen with the men you have chosen and I would never allow myself to stay with someone who contributed so little to our relationship.” But I didn’t say that because I felt sad for them. They think I’m lonely and sad being on my own. I’m not. It does not occur to them that I love having my own life, with friends and dogs and an apartment decorated how I love it and time to pursue my interests and time to date men who truly interest me until they no longer do or I no longer interest them. That life seems sad to them. I wanted to say, “I’m free, and I know my worth, and I wish I could show you yours and that it’s so much more than being an unpaid Babysitter to grown men who are like another child in your household” but you can’t say that. So I didn’t.

“I wanted to say something but I didn’t” is another way of saying “I wanted to say something but I felt like I couldn’t,” which is how I feel when it comes to stuff like this. One of my friends basically just always tries to hook me up with his friends on dates. Sometimes he tries to set me up with our mutual male friends, while they are in the same room. I’ve said a lot of times that this makes me uncomfortable and asked him to stop doing it and he hasn’t. Last night at Bible study he tried to tell me he knew that this summer when I go to Spain I’m going to come back with a husband. I said I wasn’t interested in marriage and he just kept going on. This is literally days after reprimanding me for turning down our mutual friend for a date.

Said mutual friend, let’s call him Joe, asked me out almost a year ago now. We had gone to dinner in a big friend group and someone had asked me about online dating, and I had shared openly that I was not interested in dating right then. Then the next day, at Bible study with the same group of friends, I shared (in what I felt was a safe, confidential setting) that I was not dating because I was in a season of really working on my relationship with myself and with God. Joe heard me say those things, then waited til we left the building and called me aside “to talk real quick.” He proceeded to ask me out. I laughed out loud and said “you must not have heard me.” But then I demurred because I didn’t-- surprise surprise!!-- feel like I could say anything about how wildly inappropriate it was for him to ask me out after I had just shared what I had shared.

He said he heard what I said and respected it (FALSE) but that he felt he “had to ask me out anyway or else he’d miss a great opportunity.” OPPORTUNITY FOR WHAT? An opportunity to show that you respect none of the words coming out of my mouth or the boundaries I’m setting? An opportunity to make me feel like I can’t share openly in my faith-based community without having it be seen as a challenge to change my mind about romantic relationships? I said no and explained why again (this is the third time he had heard my explanation now.) He said we could get coffee as friends instead and I said that is fine, but it would be just friends, like if I got coffee with a woman from the group (I am not bisexual so implying that it would be totally platonic.) Even after saying the phrase “totally platonic” he said “great. We can meet at Starbucks. It will be good to get a drink and talk and just explore if there could be something between us.” HE STILL DID NOT UNDERSTAND. I could not believe it. It’s worth mentioning at this point that it was 20 degrees outside with an even lower windchill and I was freezing my ass off trying to explain in words this man could understand that while I was uninterested in dating in general, I was specifically uninterested in dating him, when he had just shown me he would never listen to me or take my words seriously the first, second, or third times. You think I’m going to put myself in situations alone with you when you won’t hear me say “no” on something as innocent as a coffee date?? Hell nah bro. I said no coffee date even as friends and now it’s been a year, and his friend in the group is reprimanding me for not going out with him and telling me to give him a chance. No. No. No

So now I feel really uncomfortable at Bible study which is a big deal because that’s supposed to be a safe space. That’s supposed to be a place, and a people, that help me connect with God. And it is-- but it’s harder now. I know what I have to do-- I have to make this guy, who won’t leave me alone about dating and keeps trying to hook me up with his friend, really uncomfortable. I have to say in a clear firm voice in front of everyone that I don’t want these comments being made anymore. And I know already that everyone is going to think I’ am being a bitch. Just for saying my feelings. Just for speaking up. I’m the one who will end up looking like the bad guy even though this will be the 5th time I’ve asked him to stop doing this and he has never respected it. OH, and Joe?? A year later, almost to the day of my rejecting him initially, he asked our friend group to one of those Painting with a Twist nights. I said no and he asked why so I said the truth which is 1) I don’t want to pay money to have someone tell me what to paint and 2) I don’t drink, so the whole thing is a waste of 30 bucks for me. He said he understood and then immediately followed up by saying we could hang out some other time-- maybe go salsa dancing together. I just can’t. What do I have to do to be understood??

In conclusion, here’s this short story, which is beautiful and sad and poignant and tells all of how I am feeling, so much better than I just did. Men are being cheated out of the ability to function in a way that is healthy and leads to mutually edifying relationships-- and that is tragic. It’s tragic for them and for us. It makes me sad. Maybe my anger forest is really just so sad and being angry is safer. Sadness slows you down but anger keeps you warm. I don’t know where to go from here but I’ll tend to these feelings and see what happens. I’ll feel the feelings til I don’t anymore, or til I still do but they are manageable. In the meantime, read this.

“Cat Person” by Kristen Roupenian

https://www.newyorker.com/magazine/2017/12/11/cat-person

#long post #feminism #fuck the patriarchy #rage #sad

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