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blahkugo · 3 years

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Rouge

Satori Tendō x Reader (Haikyuu!!)

Word Count: 2.5k

TW: Mafia AU, Dark themes, Blood play (an excessive amount of blood mentions in general), Knife play, Asphyxiation, Angst (?), mentions of death (no main characters), Just two psychopaths going at it tbh.

A/N: I’m so excited to be writing for @the-smut-pile’s newest collab, hosted by @present-mel, @pleasantanathema, and @linestrider. Please make sure to check out the rest of the masterlist here!

Every night, the smell of bleach stings your nostrils and prayers left unsaid weigh heavy on your tongue. ‘It comes with the job,’ they had warned you, had urged a ‘pretty little thing like you,’ not to take a position you couldn’t stomach. You didn't listen, of course.

Because death isn’t a stranger in your life, nor an old acquaintance you catch up with once every few years. It’s a friend that phones daily, a lover you scurry into bed with—the chill down your spine when you walk home alone in eerie silence.

As a doctor you saw it everyday, with every patient that prayed for pity when the pain became all too much. Cries of the sick plagued your every waking moment; who were you to deny them release? Their suffering ended the moment you injected the drugs.

But you’ve never seen death like this before.

“Daydreaming again, angel?” Tendō swipes a disinfectant across the cold metal counter, rubbing until pools of pomegranate red match his long, messy hair. Despite the dreariness of the task, an impish smile remains plastered across his face, the glint in his eyes unscathed by the scene you’d both just witnessed.

“It’s still Doctor to you.” Try as you might, your voice comes out shaky, your heart pounding so hard you’re worried it may actually jump out. That feeling never quite leaves you.

He straightens his gloves and out comes his signature laugh—that high, maniacal, chuckle that stops just short of a song. You’d rip out your car radio if it meant getting rid of it.

“You haven’t been one for a long time.”

The truth makes you shudder, but he’s right, of course. Once your license had been stripped away and you were on the run, your career had officially ended. An ‘Angel of Mercy,’ all the news stations had called you, yapping on for days when you were that week’s most wanted woman.

You don’t have the right to be called a medical professional and yet, you stand your ground. If it means getting him to quit with the dreadful pet name, you’ll say just about anything.

“Your boss calls me Doctor.”

“Because my boss can’t remember your name.” He meets your eyes, lips quirking upward at the little huff that escapes you, your furrowed brows spilling bits of frustration you so desperately attempt to keep bottled. The air hangs heavy with the shrieks of anger you wish you could unleash, all the words you don’t dare say aloud in fear of looking weaker than he already believes you are.

Instead of challenging you further, Tendō simply turns away, chucking the wipes in a bin and humming a tune far too cheery for a man who just ended a life.

When night comes, you dream of the older man who begged to see his children one last time and the laugh that sounds like a song.

—

The next day isn’t any better, because it never is. Ushijima’s moles bring in three more bodies for questioning; bodies, because you’ve been instructed to refer to them as nothing but. And they’re young this time, heavily tattooed kids that can’t be much older than nineteen—children that look so much like the thralls of young men you’ve learned to call friends, you have to avert your eyes when they send panicked glances your way.

You wonder if Tendō ever makes these comparisons.

“I’ll only ask once,” the gruff, even voice echoes within the small space. “Who’s your supplier?” Your boss is cold and calculated. He never wavers, never says more than he needs to. He’s everything you’d thought the leader of a crime organization would be and more.

Tendō hovers next to him, gnarled fingers twitching eagerly at the knife splayed between them. It’s his weapon of choice, because—as he mentioned your first day on the job—he can ‘take his time with them’.

The captives crack immediately, pleading helplessly for their lives as they vow they know nothing. They probably don’t, appearing to be nothing more than lowly thugs in a long hierarchy of vile men. It doesn’t stop what comes next.

As expected, Ushijima remains silent except for the soft sigh that leaves him. Tendō sighs as well, though it seems more pleased—euphoric, even—than bored. He presses a slender finger into the tip of his knife, watches as a bit of blood runs down his lean arm, paints a strip of his tattoos red, and drips onto the metal table.

“Are they ours now?” Ours. The word brings bile to your throat. Ushijima makes his way to the door, bluntly calling over his shoulder,

“Do what you must.”

You push up your glasses, Tendō grins, and the screaming begins.

—

Blood-stained lab coats are a staple of your wardrobe. No matter how hard you scrub, fingers raw and aching, the faded pinks never seem to give. You quit months ago, resorted to throwing the worst ones away instead of putting yourself through that hell.

This coat’s going straight to the bin.

Through every horrid interrogation, you’ve forced yourself to watch. You’ve never looked away, never dared allow him to smell the fear off of you. You hand him the tools, write the information on the clipboard, assist with cleanup and disposal, and answer any questions he may have—like the good little medical doctor turned mafia member you should be.

And Tendō smiles the whole way through. Even as dagger meets flesh, as pained cries shatter your eardrums, as your vision is clouded with red, red, red—Tendō smiles, humming a tune that you hear long into the next evening.

But today, when the third young man had looked you dead in the eyes and sobbed, begging you to tell his mother he loves her, you couldn’t help yourself.

Of course, the towering redhead didn’t fail to detect the misstep.

“Bad day?” He questions innocently, resting his elbows on the now spotless titanium table. His muscles ripple as he leans, boasting the thousands of dollars worth of art across his arms. It bothers you that you notice it, even more that he probably catches you gawking. He sees everything, after all. Everything but the blood still splattered across his body.

“Won’t be the last, for us at least.” Brows raise, as though the thought hadn’t occurred to him. If at all possible, the wicked grin on his face widens.

“You’re exactly right.” And like clockwork, he laughs. Your hands grow cold, ice corroding your veins. He swipes his tongue over his lip, leaving a slick shine on his lips. When he rises and steps toward you, you stand your ground, though you so desperately long to run. “Why so serious?”

“They didn’t know anything,” you mumble under your breath, “and you tortured them anyways.” In all your months of working with him, this is the first you’ve complained—and you immediately wish you hadn’t.

Tendō moves even closer, as though entertained by your tiny outburst. Perhaps he’s been waiting for this moment, for you to finally break your silence. When he speaks, his tone is gentler than usual, but still holds every hint of mockery and nonchalance the bastard is known for,

“It’s our job, angel face.” Another step, another tiny breath you’re holding in, worried that the slightest of sighs might shatter your perfected image of faux indifference. He tilts his head to the side, peering down at you, like you’re- a child.

And the glass breaks.

“Enough.” You splay your hands in front of you, halting him in his tracks, just as he invades your space. “Enough of the patronizing looks, and the humming, and the stupid pet name that you know bothers me!” An accusatory finger is jabbed into his chest. “Don’t you feel guilt? Fear? Empathy? You murder people.”

Your chest burns, heaving with rage. Tendō’s half-smile still sits on his face, words of ridicule ready to roll off his tongue any second. But when you look into his eyes, there seems to be something more—an emotion you can’t quite place. Anger? Understanding?

His next sentence is whispered with such sobriety, you’re unsure who it is you’re speaking to anymore,

“People like us don’t deserve those feelings.”

“There is no us!” The claim may come out crazy, hysterical even— a woman covered in warm blood shrieking within a cold, sterile room. For once, you don’t care. “I’m not like you.”

Those words may be what set him off, hand wrapping around your chin and tilting it up so that you’re unable to look away. Fingers that incite panic and enact violence, fingers you’ve feared since your first day here, clutching you ever-so casually. “Exactly. You’re not like me.”

He doesn’t wait for your rebuttal, gripping harder at your face. “I’ve made my peace with who I am, but you,” his breath fans your cheeks, “you only pretend you don’t enjoy it.”

Then, Tendō’s kissing you. And to your utter surprise, you’re kissing him back. Heat rises within you, the hairs at your neck curling as your lips meet with a ferocity. His palms graze your lab coat—no doubt staining his skin with the blood it’s drenched in—before he’s peeling it off.

When you tug at his messy locks, the butcher smiles and sinks his teeth into your bottom lip. He pulls you closer, hurriedly stripping you of your remaining clothing, until you’re left in just your panties. Hands roam at your supple skin, kneading at your hips, meshing into you wherever he can. All the while, your lips do the same, bleeding into each other until you’re unsure of where you start and he ends.

“No.” The command is stern, perhaps the most you’ve ever been with him. His eyes narrow in disappointment, limbs rapidly untangling from your body. You shove him backwards until his knees hit the edge of the table, nudge him again so that he falls against it, and grab a clean scalpel off the side counter. “No, we do deserve to feel those things.” His grin returns in full force—and he laughs.

This time, you don’t hate it.

“Deep down,” he grunts as you hitch a leg over his thighs and climb onto him, “you know that I’m right.” The scalpel’s pointed tip grazes his black tee, cutting through the material meticulously. You run a palm up his broad chest before pressing a finger to his mouth, smearing nearly dried blood across his jaw in the process.

“You talk too much,” the hushed murmur tumbling from your lips doesn’t sound like you, is foreign and twisted, and too much like him to bode well for either of you. The muscles in his thighs tense beneath you, his hard chest rumbling in a silent glee.

Your fingers brush against his cheekbones and you gasp, losing all perception of who you are. It’s absurd, but the individual you knew before, the persona you so adamantly believed you could uphold, crumbles with a single, soft touch of his skin.

And it’s unfair, really, that someone so beautiful—covered in art, blessed with hair the color of sweet wine and a laugh that sounds like music—could be so utterly fucked up.

When you nick his cheek, observing the drip of blood that trickles down, you wonder if Tendō ever makes these comparisons. And when you lick at it, preening at the groan that leaves him, you wonder if you’re just as fucked up as he is.

All at once, you’re flipped beneath him, back crashing against the cool metal table. He climbs down and drags his pants off, yanks you towards him with one pull of your thighs, and presses against your core. A shiver runs down your spine at the heat, crazes you for something you didn’t think you needed.

“By the way,” Tendō speaks through kisses and nips at your neck, “you are just as fucked up.” Though you hadn’t realized you’d said that aloud, you’re unable to retaliate, only wrap your legs around his middle and moan at a particularly harsh bite. He soothes every spot of broken skin with his tongue, drifting downwards until his lips meet your cotton panties. “How cute.”

“Well, I wasn’t exactly expecting thi– Ah,” your complaint is cut short when he moves them to the side and licks a long stripe up your slit. And he doesn’t stop, lapping and sucking at your soaked cunt, holding you down with one lean arm when you writhe in response to the pressure. “God, fuck.”

“Satori, but I’ll take God too,” he smirks against your mound. It’s then that he inserts a lithe finger, then two, stretching you out until you’re tugging at his long locks, goosebumps raised as the warmth of his mouth intertwines with the cold beneath your back.

You’re panting, unconcerned with time or it’s passing, only his fingers, his tongue circling your puffy bud, and your steady ascension to the edge. Just as your legs tense, breath caught mid-mewl of his name, he stops. You lean up on your elbows, rut against him, searching for more—friction, movement, anything—but he doesn’t let up.

“Fuck- why?” Your cry is loud, whiny even, but you don’t particularly care when euphoria’s been ripped away from you so suddenly.

“Tell me I’m right,” he teases, eyes peering straight through yours. You whine again, a mix between a pained groan and ‘are you fucking serious?’ before he flicks at your bud once more. “Say it.”

And you do. Because, as strongly as you've denied it, you’re every bit as perverse as he is, every bit as infatuated by the idea of power, of playing God—of holding a life between your fingertips and choosing death.

The second the words are out of your mouth, he thrusts deep into you. Your fingers scramble for purchase, nails dragging against the table, then his back, as skin slaps against skin.

There’s nothing gentle about Satori, all lean, hard muscle and jagged edges, but the pain is just as blissful as the pleasure. His fingertips rub at your clit, other hand moving to wrap around your throat and squeeze tightly.

“Satori, I- I need more,” you choke out, lightheaded. And he complies, shifting you to your side and throwing one of your legs over his shoulder. Your cries melt into his, sweat soaking your skin, your hair, the table, as he pounds into you over and over again.

“That’s it baby– fuck, let go for me.” He presses the long-forgotten scalpel against your throat—and your vision goes white. Electricity sparks through your spine, your tongue lolls out, and you swear you feel tears run down your cheeks.

He doesn’t stop, working you through the orgasm as your legs bind his waist. A few more thrusts and he’s following you, holding your hips against him so tightly, he’ll probably leave deep purple bruises.

He finally stills, chest falling against yours and heaving, allowing you both to catch your breath. Flashing a set of pearly canines, his wild grin and the glint in his eyes reappear. For the first time since you’ve known him, Tendō is completely silent.

And then he laughs, lawless and untamed, the howl of a hyena that sounds like a song—and you laugh too.

#tendou satori #tendou x reader #satori tendou x reader #haikyuu smut #satori tendo x reader #hq!!#tw blood #tw knife play #tw death #tw dark themes #tw dark content #tw asphyxiation #tw blood play

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plush-rabbit · 4 years

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Oh My Baby, I Love You

Warnings: NSFW

Word Count: 4.6K

A/N: Did I take liberties with the things from the series like Kiri and Suneater?? Yes. Yes I did.

Toyomitsu Taishiro loves his work. He loves walking around and have people, more often than not kids, run up to him and ask for a picture, happy to see him and bouncing in their step when they gaze upon him. He enjoys the things that his work has brought. The good and the bad. The bright, smiling faces of the people he has saved and the angry, distorted faces of people who would commit such atrocities. He protects with everything he has, smiles wide and eyes determined.

He’s rarely seen without his fat. Only using it in dire situations and once lost, always quick to eat and round in the belly that makes him appear soft and loveable but at the same time strong and willing to protect even if it truly does mean to use all he’s got.

He has two kids he’s mentoring, Kirishima Eijiro, with a brilliant quirk who has the spirit of a hero, and Amajiki Tamaki, a boy who puts himself down before anyone else can but who is already as strong as a pro. He protected Kirishima, who allowed him to be able to take the shield down, who still didn’t recognize him since all his fat was used as an attack. He thinks that was the moment it clicked. When he went to check on the boy in the hospital, a tray of untouched food in one and a bag of treats in hand, he felt proud when the young child told him to sit and share, was listening with every fiber in his being as the child recounted the story of the night and how the hospital staff was kind. There was an odd sense in him that wanted to hug the child when he winced and pulled on a healing injury, who wanted to pet his hair and coo words of courage into his ear but he knew that it wouldn’t be seen as how he would have meant it. It would have been laughed off, perhaps, or maybe he would have delighted him in his role as a mentor, to allow him to pretend that he truly did have a child who was out protecting the city with the same fierce excitement that Kirishima has.

On the trek back home, a bag of greasy food in one hand and mouth stuffed with french fries, he took notice of all the families he saw. He saw little children crying and sniffling as their parents kissed their scraped knees, smiling through the tears and nodding that they felt better. He saw children being carried on their parent’s shoulders, a tight grip on their ankles as the child screamed through fear and excitement. He saw with his two light golden eyes, families that stayed close together and smiled as they walked hand in hand, swinging their children through the air, hands intertwined as they watched the child play on the swingset in the park.

Food could no longer fill the void. This void was not his stomach, no it was worse than that. It hurt to think about it for too long, aching every time he saw a child, felt itself squeeze when he saw your sleeping form and placed a hand over your stomach hoping to feel a difference- hoping to feel a kick.

He desperately wanted a child. Wanted a family with you. To come home and see you and a little bundle of wheat colored hair sleeping on your chest. Wanted you to swell with his love as the eldest ran up to him, ran up to his father, and showed him a picture they drew of him while he was away.

He thinks you want one as well. You’ve never voiced it but you let him please you without protection, without a quiet mumble to pull out and let you taste him on your tongue. No, instead you allow him to go deep in you, to feel your gummy walls clench around his member and wrap your legs around him when he pumps you full of his seed.

You gave him enough trust to have his way with you, to envelop you and fill you until you had begun to leak, covering it close with your hand but still having it drip and seep between your fingers.

He never tells you, a part of him is fearful that it would be too much and you would find it disgusting and another part knowing that what he already leaves in you is too much. But every time he’s in the shower, with a tight grip around his already twitching cock, he’s never satisfied, he’s never filled you until he was content, until he was empty. He always pulls himself away, never wanting to hurt you and with enough self control to realize that perhaps you don’t want the life he wants. So instead he goes into the shower and bites down on his hand as he watches his cum flow down the drain. A thought always crossed his mind as knees trembled and breath slowly became steady: perhaps that’s why you weren’t getting pregnant- because he never did the full job.

He stands in front of the door, key in hand and he chuckles bitterly, shaking his head and clicks open the door, his face brightening instantly as he smells your cooking. Eyes look around for a glimpse of you, thoughts that perhaps he doesn’t need a family to be happy, he already has you and you’re more than enough. But when he sees you in a frilly apron colored pink with a dark red heart in the middle of your chest those thoughts are quickly flushed away. You’d be the cutest little housewife. He could do his job, you can be at home with the children and at night he could fill you up all over again. He can feel his cock jerk at the thought of it.

He knocks on the table and you startle. You look at him with wide eyes, posture stiff until you realize it’s just him. “I didn’t expect you back so soon,” your voice is calming and you smile at him before returning to stirring the meat on the skillet. “How is Kirishima doing? I was thinking I could bake something for him and you could take it over next time you go.” You’re so caring, so sweet to care about a child that you had never met before.

“He’s doing great! I’m sure he’ll be out by tomorrow or even tonight if he’s lucky.” He’s cheery when he talks about the students he’s mentoring. “How was your day?” Large hands wrap themselves around your waist and he places a kissing the space where your jaw meets your neck.

You lean towards him, feeling his body against your back and humming. “That’s good to hear,” you muse. “My day was fine, I just went shopping today and had lunch with some friends.” You crane your head and kiss his chin, smiling when he presses his face closer to yours. “Dinner should be ready in a few,” you mumble against his skin, placing one last kiss on him.

He hums and with reluctant hands slipping off your waist, he goes to the bathroom to wash up. He splashes water on his face and looks at himself in the reflection, swiping a hand down and drops of water splash into the sink. The cold water on his skin does nothing to cool down his warming body. Hands inch down to wear his cock is straining against him, pressing into the cabinets. He lets out a shaky sigh and pulls himself away, shaking his head.

“Get it together,” he says to himself, grabbing a towel and wiping his face with it. “I can get through dinner with them and then we can go to bed.” His face burns at the thought of the bedroom, already picturing himself between your thighs. He hears his name called, muffled through the closed door and he nods, licking his lips and smoothing back his hair.

You’re setting down the plates, drinks already set and hair pulled back and you look up at him as he enters the dining room. “I tried a new recipe today,” you push a strand of hair behind your ear, “I hope it tastes good,” you give him a sheepish smile that makes him want to scoop you in his arms.

So he does. “I’m sure it will,” he mumbles against your neck, face nuzzling into you and hands pressed against your back.

“Someone missed me,” you chuckle, petting his hair and humming when he presses another kiss to you.

“Missed you like crazy.” He makes no intention to let go, pressing you closer against him and breathing you in,hands that slide down to the small of your back.

“Tai,” you whisper softly, fingers entangled in his hair, “our food is gonna get cold.”

He peels away from you and throws his head back as he walks to his plate. “I’m getting my fill later,” he says nonchalantly, grabbing a forkful of the dish you made.

“You always get your fill,” you tease, slipping into the seat across from him.

He’s silent, eyebrows furrowed as he bites into his food, letting out a satisfactory hum. “Ish really good!” He exclaims, hand covering his mouth as he talks.

You smile widely at him, proud at the meal you cooked. Idle chatter began to fill the room, back and forth where he would comment on your day, little hums and nods to show he was still listening. You shook your head, stifling a smile as you recounted lunch with your friends, waving it off as an inside joke. You cleared your throat and turned your interest to him.“So what else did you do today? Were you with Kirishima all day?” You take a sip of your drink and look at him expectantly.

“Oh no, not all day,” Taishiro says in between bites, “I took the long way home after I stopped by to get some food.”

“What did you get?”

“Just a burger and fries.” He pats his stomach and grins at you. “Gotta build up all that weight again.”

“If I had known that you wanted to fill up quickly, I would’ve made more than two servings.” You smile apologetically at him and lean back into your chair. “Sorry dear, guess I forgot.”

“Oh, don’t worry about it,” he waves a hand towards you, taking the last bite out of his dinner. “I can always carbo load tomorrow.” He glances up at you and kicks your leg gently underneath the table. “If you want you can help me load up?” He feels his chest swell when you smile at him. “I always love your cooking.”

You scoff and roll your eyes, a playful smile on your lips. “Flattery will get you everywhere, you know that Taishiro.” He feels a chill run up his spine when you say his name and he leans forward to you. “How’s the other kid? Amajiki?”

“He’s doing great, you know? With his resolve and great power, he’s sure to be a top hero in no time!” He’s also so excited when he talks about them, standing straighter with a bigger grin on his face that shines so bright that it reminds you of the sun.

“You’re always so passionate about those kids,” you smile, taking the last sip from your drink, “I’m sure when we have our kids, they’ll be great too.” You start to put your utensils on the plate, wiping your mouth with a napkin.

Taishiro’s face falls and eyes go wide. He has a blank expression and he’s staring at you with his mouth slightly agape. “What?” He asks softy, barely above a whisper.

Your shoulders jump and your eyes go wide, the fork in your hand drops onto the porcelain plate and makes a high pitched chinking sound. You snap your neck up at him that it hurts, your mouth pressed into a thin line and heat rising onto your face. “I, um,” you trail off, “I have to go do the dishes!” You jump from your seat and reach across to grab his finished plate and scurry off to the sink.

He stares at your empty seat, his mind empty of all thoughts save for the sentence you had just said before you fled. You wanted kids too. Or at least it sounded as if you also wanted a family too. And then he didn’t respond to you. Oh no. He didn’t respond. The chair scrapes across the wooden floor and he walks swiftly in the kitchen where the water pressure is on high and your hands are covered in soap suds.

“Um, can we talk?” He sounds nervous even to himself. His voice is strained and he feels uncomfortable staring at your back as you keep your head down.

“Sorry can’t hear you!” You raise your voice comically. “Water is too high!”

He snatches a dish towel off of the oven handle and presses his stomach against your back. The room is silent without the sound of rushing water. He can feel his heart beat against his chest and he wonders if you can hear it too. “I-”

“I’m sorry!” Your head is bowed down and he can see from the space between your hair that your ears are deep shade of red. “I was just talking out loud. I mean it’s silly. We’re not even married-”

“We can get married.” He interjects quickly and takes a small step back when you turn around. He brings his hand in between the both of you and hands you the dish towel.

You take it with shaky fingers and twist it around your hand. “That’s,” you pause, “that’s not a funny joke Taishiro,” your eyebrows knit and you can’t make eye contact with him, keeping your gaze focused on the towel knotted in your hands.

“‘S not a joke.” He clasps his hands over yours, fingers dipping into the towel and your own fingers flinch and coil tighter with the faux touch. “I really love you,” he licks his lips and bends down to look into your eyes. “I can get a ring soon and actually propose but this-” he gestures with a finger to you and him- “I want to be with you.”

You nod slowly and chew on your bottom lip. He can see unshed tears brim. He releases his hands from your and brings his hands to cup your face, thumbs rubbing small circles into your soft skin. “Hey, hey. What’s wrong?”

There’s a slight shudder in your chest and you take in a breath. Your cup on his hands and turn your face, lips tickle his palm as you begin to speak. “I want kids, are-”

“Kids would be great. I want kids,” he has the desperate urge to hold you tight and never let go, “Kids now would be great.” When you turn to him sharply with eyes wide, he retracts. “Kids whenever you want would be great.”

“Taishiro,” you whisper and step into him, wrapping your arms around him as the decorative dish towel flutters onto the floor, “are you sure?”

“I cum in you for a reason don’t I?” He jokes.

He laughs when he hears your offended gasp. “Taishi!” You playfully slap his arm and pull away, wiping your eyes with the back of your hand. “I thought that was just a kink!”

The mood in the air is lighter, more playful, as he laughs and grabs your hands and presses your face into his chest, his laughter causing deep vibrations. “It is a kink! I swear!” He feels your knee thwack his. “I also want a family!” He pulls away from you and holds your face in his hands, hands reaching behind to undo your ponytail. Your hair falls into a fluff and thick fingers brush away at strands. “I want it all with you,” he smiles softly and presses his forehead against yours with closed eyes.

“Yeah, I want it all with you too,” you whisper. “Wait,” you straighten, eyes narrowed at him. “You came in for the kink or the family?”

He snorts and rolls his eyes. His hands intertwine with yours as he leads you to the bedroom. “You let me cum in you.” He retorts.

“Yeah, cause it’s hot, if I had known you wanted to breed me I would’ve let you done it a lot sooner.”

He looks back at you with a raised eyebrow. “You wanted to be bred?”

You huff and cross your arms, sitting on the bed with one leg crossed over the other. He can see bright red bloom down your neck. “Can we just-” you clear your throat and uncross your legs, fingers around the bottom edge of your shirt.

You look away from him and bite on your bottom lip. He steps forward and sits on his knees, hands placed firmly on your knees. “You need to tell me what you want, sweetheart.” His voice is lowered and he looks at you with all seriousness, eyes clouded and hazed over.

The corner of your mouth twitches. “Taishiro,” you coo, two fingers coming to lift his chin, “please, I want you to breed me. I want to start a family with you.”

There’s a deep silence for a moment, one where you are more exposed than you’ve ever felt before, one where it’s just you two alone, no external factors that could ever ruin this moment. It’s a moment that weighs so heavily, like a comforting blanket and then it’s ripped away as quick as it was brought.

His mouth is on yours, hands that collide with each other as they travel lower and rise, mouths breaking apart for a quick gulp of air. Exposed skin that bumps with the chilled air, hands that warm the chill away, fingertips that ghost over bellies and rising chests. You forget where you start and end, only feeling his mouth against yours, your fingers knotted into his hair and you can feel him grin against you, your own grin coming into shine.

Your back meets the bed, giggling as you pull away, your lips chasing his, eyes clouded with lust. He snickers and starts to pepper kisses down to your neck, hands slide their way up to your breasts, nipples pinched in between soft fingers, rolling the hardening buds around, soft gasps escape from your mouth and you can feel heat begin to bubble in your lower belly.

His mouth leaves wet marks as he travels down, bright red love bites are left in his wake. Hands slide down your body; he grabs your hips with fingertips digging into your hips and you can feel hot breath against your heat, moistening the inner parts of your thighs. His lips trial up your thighs, lingering kisses that stick against your thigh, a tongue that swipes against your burning skin and with his lips that cover your slick ones, mouth wrapping around your clit, tongue pressing flat against it, moving the sensitive bud around, the hands twisted around his hair tightens and pulls him closer against your wanting heat. He mumbles softly into your skin, telling you to be patient. His lips release from your aching bud, his tongue rims around your entrance, pushing forward and tasting your sweet nectar, his tongue pushing and brushing against your gooey walls, your arousal staining his face as he breathes in your scent.

You cry out, muffling your moans with the back of your hand, his hair ruffled and sticking up. There’s a slight hump in your hips when his fingers intrude upon your walls, your slick coating them as they pump in, rubbing along your walls, pressing down on your walls, little whimpers of pleasure sounding out.

“You know,” his voice has taken a slightly darker tone, “I won’t let you come so easily this time.” He looks at you, eyes half lidded and voice heavily laced with lust.

“Don’t-Don’t be such a tease Taishiro,” you say through gritted teeth.

He moves his mouth closer to you, his chuckling sends waves of vibrations deep into your core. The fingertips against your skin, dip into your skin, nails dragging and creating little red marks sink into your plush skin.

He moves his mouth away from your throbbing heat, his chin glistens with arousal, his cock is standing at full length, bouncing as he crawls forward and captures you in a kiss, moaning when your tongue swipes across his bottom lip, tongue brushing against his, your kisses sloppy and lazy compared to his harsh ones that press deep into your skin, chest that ghosts over your own.

He hisses and eyes shut tight when your hand wraps around his member. Fingers that spread wide before closing in on the gaps, your thumb brushing against the slit, pre-cum coats your thumb and you drag the self-made lubricant across his cock, your hand squeezing around him, pumping slowly as he hides his face into your shoulder, mouth wide open, moistening your skin.

It’s known to the world that with his quirk, he is able to expand. His body expands to what he eats- that includes his entire body. A cock that stretches you wide and makes you feel as if you’re being torn apart, filled until the tip bulges in your stomach, lewd sounds coming from you while he fills you with his seed. As his body regains fat, every part will expand proportionally, widen and grow until it’s limit. And as he tries to regain his absorption, he’s currently bigger than average, making your hands seem small against him.

“Taishiro,” you coo, your face flushed and mouth watering, “please,” you whisper and thrust your hips, moaning when his cock head brushes against your clit.

“Say what you want me to do, buttercup,” he bites your neck and soothes it with his tongue when you hiss. “I want to hear ya say it.” He presses kisses under your chin, your free hand claws up on the bedsheets and shakily rising to grip his bicep.

“I-” you clear your throat and take in a deep breath, looking deep into his light golden eyes- “want you to breed me Taishiro. I want you to fill me with your cum.” In your hand, you feel your get covered in his leaking arousal.

He presses a kiss on your lips, your bottom lip turning a bright red and he places his hand over yours, leading his cock to brush against your sopping entrance. There’s a harmonious groan that comes out of both of you as he enters you, his cock pushing through your gooey walls, expanding inside of you, your walls molding around to fit his shape.

“You’re still so tight around me,” he chuckles breathlessly, “ah, I’m gonna fill you up, you know.” His grin is wide and wavers ever so slightly to moan as you thrust your hips upwards, face scrunching in a mixture of pleasure and pain for you.

Your hands go and grasp his face, watching him intently with lips slightly parted and face a sinful shade of red. “Yes, Tai-Taishiro, breed me,” your face scrunches in pleasure and hands fall from his face, he grasps a hand and brings it back to his face, turning his head and pressing a quick kiss the open palm of your hand, “I want a family with you, I want it all with you,” you whine, closing your eyes and arching your back when he hits deep inside of you, walls pulsing around him and coating him in your slick.

“You're going to be so beautiful,” he can feel his eyes get glassy, shining with tears of joy, “I’m going to take such good care of all of you.” His head dips down and he lets out a strangled groan, breathing roughly.

Already so close to reaching his high, he starts to ramble, his lips pulled into a shaky smile, “I’m already so close, heh,” he grins at you sheepishly, “you do this to me. Just by saying you want a family with me,” he buries his face into your neck and lets out a whine, '' I'm so lucky,” he breathes out.

“Taishiro,” you wrap your legs around him, heels digging into his soft flesh and pushing him closer to you, “I can feel myself about to cum,” you mewl, the tight build up in your stomach becoming too much with pressure.

“You’re going to be such a good parent. Y-You and me both. You’re going to be so gorgeous, so fucking st-stunning. Fuck,” he lets out a good, choked cry, eyes brimming with tears. “Your breasts are going to be full of milk, swollen and leaking, just like your pretty, little cunt,” his hips shudder against yours, cock beginning to leak with his cum.

Your gummy walls encass his hard member, wet, slick noises come out of you with every pump, muffled whimpers into each other's skin as you hiss with thrust, your arousal leaking out and dripping down your thighs.

You cry against him, face scrunching as your own high approaches. You move a hand down to your hidden pearl, gasping when you begin to massage it, little shock of pleasure adding to the tension building in your lower belly. “I’m gonna be your little housewife,” you whimper, “I’ll be so good,” you swear, there’s a rough drag against your forearm as you pleasure yourself, fingers trying to keep the steady pace you set for yourself.

White stains your lips and the bedsheets underneath, his leg jittering as he continues to pump himself in you, cum has begun to overflow and through glossy eyes, he thinks he can make out your swelling belly filled with his cum. “You’ll be such a good mother,” he leans his forehead against yours and closes his eyes, a tear slipping out and staining his face, “I get to come home to you and-” a hand comes down to rub your belly, the extra weight causing cum to spill out of you- “we get to be a family.” Ecstasy courses through his body, cock twitching as cum sputters out.

With those words leaving his mouth, the tight coil snaps and your legs press against him tightly before falling to a limp, the hand lost between your sweating body falls to the side. Your mouth is open into a low moan, face pinched into an “O” shape with your head thrown back. Your high leaves you feeling as if you’re on pins and needles, whole body shaking and the slow pumping of Taishiro leaves you quivering. Your hand comes to cover your blushing face, a dazed smile spreading onto your face.

He pulls out of you with a wet squelching hand and a blind hand searches to cover up your leaking entrance, the cum seeping out in between your fingers, letting out a whine and kicking your heels in the bed sheets.

“It should stick.” The bed groans under his weight as he collapses, chest sinking heavily. “Gave it my all,” he smiles, shaky hands pulling your body close to him.

“‘S a lot more than usual,” you mumble against his skin, you feel fingers brush away the hair that sticks to your face, running fingers down your hair. “Were you holding out on me this whole time?” You ask teasingly, lips quirking into a half-hearted smile.

“Promise not to do it again,” he whispers, legs tangling into yours and arms loosening as you shift in his grasp. “I love you,” he breathes, craning his neck back to watch your already droopy eyelids and deep breathing rising from your chest.

“Love you too,” you mumble with eyes closed while a heavy hand searches for the covers.

He mumbles against your skin and with aching legs, he covers the two of you, complaining about laundry tomorrow, you give him a weak laugh and pull him close with beckoning fingers.

801 notes · View notes

pinknerdpanda · 3 years

Text

The Diner

Word Count: 3,623 (decidedly NOT a drabble...it got out of control and I won’t apologize.) Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader Warnings: Angst, Theft, Fluff Beta’d By: @princessmisery666 - thank you my love

A/N: This was requested (kind of?) by my amazing and wonderful Name Twin @amanda-teaches. I hope you like this babe! (And I promise I’m working on the other still) I know these are called “Merry Manda’s Christmas Drabbles” and literally NONE of them are Drabbles...but I’m lazy and haven’t changed it in the 4 years I’ve been doing these. So...Sorry? (I’m not, actually. I’m not even sorry a little bit.)

The bitter chill of winter air cut through the leather of Bucky’s jacket as he stepped out of the car. He’d briefly considered taking his bike for the evening but had thought better of it. Though now, he was grateful he’d spared himself that torture. Shivering, he wondered if getting out on this frigid night was even worth it at all.

“Fuckin’ hate the cold,” he muttered, the words crystallizing in the air as he shoved the keys into his pocket and began making his way to the door.

After Steve went back in time to return the stones - and himself - to their proper place, Bucky felt lost. He’d known Steve’s intentions - even supported them. Didn’t mean it didn’t hurt like hell.

He and Sam had gotten along better than Bucky would have guessed at the jump. They’d actually grown code enough, Bucky might even go as far as to call Sam a friend. Sure, they still had their moments of friction, but overall they worked well together. Sam was a damn hard worker and made him laugh, despite the obvious pain Bucky saw in his eyes. He missed Steve too. Whether they admitted it or not to themselves - certainly not out loud - they needed each other.

But sometimes Bucky just needed some time to himself.

That was how he’d wound up here the first time six months ago. It had been Steve’s birthday and even though Sam had invited him along to go see his old friend, he’d declined. He hadn’t been ready for the reminder of what kind of life he’d missed out on. So instead, he’d chosen to go for a drive with no real destination in mind. Not long into the trip however, he’d gotten hungry and stopped at the first place he saw.

The diner was small; cramped and slightly dingy, with scuffed linoleum floors and cracked booth seats. The menus felt sticky and none of the dishes matched, but the coffee was perfect. Hot, dark and slightly burnt; just how he liked it.

If anyone had recognized him that first day, they didn’t say anything. He was used to his fair share of open stares and the odd murmuring of worried voices wherever he went. But not here. Here, he was just Bucky - cup of coffee, no cream.

Bucky fell in love with the place immediately and it soon became his little home away from home. A place of refuge he could escape to when things got too heavy or his thoughts got too loud. Or, like tonight, when he just really, really wanted some of that amazingly shitty diner coffee.

The cold air that enveloped Bucky sloughed off as the diner door shut behind him, quickly replaced by the warm scent of coffee and whatever Mel was frying in the kitchen. He’d been there less than a second and he could already feel himself begin to relax.

A quick scan of the space showed no signs of anything out of the ordinary. Well - not really. A few weeks back, someone had decorated the counter top with a small, fiber-optic Christmas tree and a Santa figure that looked nearly as old as the place itself. Meager as it may be, it made the place feel festive.

The old jukebox in the corner - usually churning out songs by Chuck Berry, Elvis and The Temptations - hummed holiday tunes and voices that made him remember Christmases long since past. Before the war, before HYDRA, before the snap...when he was just a charming blue eyed kid from Brooklyn, looking out for his sisters and his annoyingly stubborn best friend. Bing Crosby's soothing timbre always brought back fond memories of his ma's cooking and the squeals of delight from the girls when they woke Christmas morning.

His moment of reverie was broken, however, by the sound of another familiar voice.

“Hey Bucky. Merry Christmas!” Y/n smiled and Bucky briefly thought of the prospect of making new Christmas memories to settle alongside those from so long ago.

Y/n followed him with a steaming pot of coffee as he took his seat at his usual booth. She filled the cup to the very brim before leaning against the back of the seat opposite of him.

“Merry Christmas, y/n.” Bucky wrapped both hands around the chipped porcelain mug. “I figured you’d have the night off, bein’ the holidays and all.”

In all the months he’d been coming here, he’d only ever seen her face bright and full of joy. She was sweet and kind and always made a point to have a chat with him about anything and nothing when she had a moment to spare. If he was being honest, part of the pull he felt toward this place was because there was a good chance he’d get to bask in her glow, if only for an hour or two.

But now, the smile on her face drew tight and the light in her eyes dimmed. In an instant, Bucky was filled with a pang of regret. Before he could find the words to apologize, her features melted back into place. He wondered if the cheeriness she tended to exude was simply a mask that he’d failed to recognize.

“Girl’s gotta make a buck somehow, right? Just the coffee tonight?”

Bucky paused, the cup halfway to his lips as he thought about it.

“Actually, I think I’m craving pie.”

Y/n nodded approvingly. “Well lucky for you, we have lots to choose from. Pick your poison.”

Savoring the delicious burn of the first sip of liquid gold, Bucky smacked his lips and tipped his head to one side. “How about you surprise me? Bring two slices of your favorite?”

“Coming right up!”

Bucky watched as y/n made her way behind the counter, setting the pot back on the warmer and moving to the fridge where they kept their pies. Propping a fist on one hip, y/n pursed her lips as she surveyed the options before her.

Bing's voice filled the comfortable silence as he crooned "White Christmas".

“Heya, Buck!” Mel’s voice drew his attention and he turned to find the greying head of the diner’s owner peeking out of the kitchen window. "Merry Christmas!"

“Merry Christmas yourself, Mel. Surprised you’re even open tonight.”

“Everybody’s gotta eat, even on Christmas Eve.” Mel grinned. “Besides, who else is gonna let your ugly mug drink all their coffee for a buck and a half?”

Bucky scoffed and shook his head. “You oughta be grateful I even come in and pay for this sludge, Mel. I could just stay home and drink my own damn coffee.”

“And yet here you are,” Mel quipped back, his gaze flicking to y/n as she approached Bucky’s table with two slices of pie. Mel winked at Bucky before disappearing into the kitchen.

Bucky’s face flushed at the not so subtle implication. And yet, here I am, Bucky thought as y/n set the plate in front of him.

“Chocolate cream pie, huh?” Bucky quirked an eyebrow at her. “I woulda pegged you for a cherry kinda gal.”

“Guess you woulda been wrong then, Sarge.” Y/n shrugged, a smug smile on her lips. “Enjoy!”

Y/n turned to head back to the counter, but Bucky caught her wrist gently. As she turned around, a spark of something between fear and confusion flashed across her face.

“Now where are you going?” Bucky let go of her wrist and motioned at the seat across from him as he continued. “Thought we were gonna have some pie?”

Confusion won over as she narrowed her eyes at him. “You’re gonna have some pie. I gotta get back to work.”

Bucky gestured around the nearly empty diner, his eyes wide with feigned innocence. Only one other table was occupied - a young couple, too giggly and twitterpated to notice anything other than each other. “I dunno. Looks to me like there’s not much work to be done at the moment. And besides, you really think I could eat all this by myself?”

Y/n planted her fist on her hip again and rolled her eyes. “Something tells me you definitely could.”

Gasping in mock offense, Bucky pressed his hand to his heart. “Even the notion! And on Christmas Eve, no less…”

Scoffing, y/n held up her hands in surrender. “Alright, fine. Let me go get a cup of coffee and I’ll join you. But only because it’s Christmas.” Y/n shook her head warily as she walked back behind the counter.

He didn't even try to fight the pleased smile from his lips as he tapped the side of the mug with a vibranium finger. “Maybe just bring the pot?” Bucky called before draining the last of his cup.

A dull thunk against the warped tabletop nearly startled him and he looked up to find y/n already settled across from him, the coffee pot between them.

“Already ahead of you, Bucky.”

Bucky grinned and nudged a napkin wrapped fork in her direction as y/n poured a cup of coffee for herself and refilled his.

“So…” he began, unfurling his fork and immediately scooping up a large bite of pie and jamming it into his mouth.

Y/n’s eyebrow quirked and she paused, fork poised midair as she responded - “So?” - before copying his action, albeit with a slightly smaller bite.

“That’s some damn fine pie.” Bucky licked his lips and hummed in delight as he took another bite. “So, what’s the story?”

Y/n set her fork down and wiped her napkin over her mouth. Bracing her elbows on the table and wrapping her hands around her coffee, she tipped her head to one side.

“What’s what story?”

Bucky at least had the manners to swallow before taking a drink and leveling a measured gaze at her.

“Earlier, your face dropped when I mentioned you working tonight. What’s that about?”

Perhaps at some point in Bucky’s long, long life he’d have danced around the question. But lately he found himself growing more and more blunt. Why not just cut right to the chase without all the benign pleasantries?

Y/n blinked and cleared her throat. “I...uh...I don’t know what you mean.” She smiled at him, though her lips seemed forcibly stretched around her teeth.

Leaning forward, Bucky shook a gunmetal grey finger at her. “Nope. Not gonna cut it. Something’s bothering you, and I wanna help. If you’ll let me.” He sat back, running a hand through his recently shortened locks. “God knows you’ve listened to enough of my bullshit to last a lifetime.”

Tentative fingers wrapped around her fork as she began swirling the tines through the whipped cream of her mostly-uneaten pie. Bucky watched as she distracted herself with the sugary concoction.

“It’s,” she cleared her throat, gaze still trailing the swirls made with her fork. “It’s my brother. He got himself in trouble with some pretty brutal bookies. He came around last week asking for cash; I guess he’s in pretty deep. I gave him the little bit of savings I had, but I guess it wasn’t enough.”

Bucky’s body went rigid and he felt the anger building in his veins. He was thankful her gaze was still downcast, because he imagined the look in his eyes was pretty dark.

Y/n swallowed, setting her fork down with a soft ‘clink’ against the plate. “I came home from work a few days ago and he’d come in and stolen anything he thought he could get some money out of. I dunno; guess he pawned it or something.”

Small whirs and barely audible clicks of metal on metal filled the silence between them as Bucky’s fist clenched nearly as tight as his jaw. He knew she probably didn’t hear it, but to his heightened senses, it sounded like a blaring siren. Schooling his features and relaxing as best he could, he took an extra moment to level the tone of his voice.

“Your brother robbed you to pay off some bookies?”

Y/n eyes shot up, meeting his and widening suddenly as realization struck her. “Shit, I didn’t...please don’t…” She sucked in a shaky breath.

Bucky placed a hand over hers, surprising himself for a second before shaking his head. “Hey, hey. It’s ok.”

Hanging her head, she sighed. “Sometimes I forget who you are. You’re just Bucky, to me. I shouldn’t have said anything. I didn’t mean to put you in any kind of awkward situation being an Avenger and all…”

Her rambling died as Bucky’s hand tightened around hers reassuringly.

“I think knowing I’m ‘just Bucky’ here is one of my favorite things about coming here,” he offered her a lopsided grin as she met his gaze through watery lashes. “I’m just worried about you. You didn’t do anything wrong, darlin’.”

Releasing his hand, she sunk back into the faded pleather booth and wrapped her cardigan around herself.

“I know. I’m fine. Really.” She picked at an invisible thread on her sleeve. “I mean I can do without a TV or a computer, but he took all the presents I bought for the kids down at the rec center. I’d been saving all year to be able to do something nice for them.”

Bucky’s face flushed with renewed anger. How in the hell did someone so kind and generous and wonderful as y/n wind up with such an asshole for a brother?

“Excuse me, miss?”

Y/n looked as caught off guard as Bucky felt when the young couple from the other table called for her. They seemed hesitant to even disrupt the obviously tense situation.

“I’m so sorry to bother you, but we’re gonna miss our train if we don’t leave soon.”

“Oh no, no, no. You’re no bother.” Y/n sniffed and pasted on a smile as she slid out of the booth and met them at the counter. “I’m sorry I didn’t check on you sooner.”

Their conversation faded into the background as Bucky’s head buzzed with all the ways he wanted to make y/n’s brother pay for hurting her so badly. A voice in the back of his head - one that sounded entirely too much like Steve’s star-spangled-ass for his liking - told him to calm down. It was obvious y/n loved her brother, and anything Bucky’s scrambled mind could come up with to deal with him would definitely end up hurting her more.

So, rather than plotting revenge, Bucky pulled out his phone instead. He began clicking away furiously and got so lost in his mission, he missed the sound of y/n’s footsteps as she neared. The feeling of a warm hand against his shoulder made him jump, the device thumping to the table, narrowly missing his now-cooled cup of coffee.

“At ease, Sarge. It’s just me.” Y/n chuckled and patted his shoulder. “I didn’t think it was even possible to scare you.”

Bucky’s face twisted in smug defiance. “It’s not. I was just distracted, that’s all.” He snorted in derision.

“Uh-huh.” Y/n’s lips pursed, clearly trying to fight a smile. Bucky wished she wouldn’t; he’d give just about anything to see her face light up again. “Well, I’ve gotta go clear their table and start getting things shut down for the night. I just wanted to thank you for listening to me and for always being so...well...you.”

The sound of Bucky’s heartbeat roared in his ears as she leaned down and pressed a chaste kiss against his cheek.

“Merry Christmas, Bucky.”

----

A loud, almost violent-sounding banging on the front door woke Bucky up with a jerk. He scowled, eyes squinted against the faint golden rays of morning sun peeking through his curtains. The clock on his nightstand seemed to mock him with bright, bold, red numbers declaring the time to be 6:48 am.

The banging started again, somehow more violently. Muttering curses under his breath - mostly aimed at Sam for deciding to spend the holiday with his family down south, thereby leaving him to deal with whoever was currently trying to break down the front door - Bucky stumbled out of bed.

Another rapid series of knocks came to an abrupt stop as Bucky swung the door open. The venomous glare melted from his face as soon as his eyes met y/n’s.

“Y/n? What are you…”

His confused mumbling was cut off as y/n pushed inside and began pacing the length of the living room. She looked upset; angry even. Which Bucky could understand, at some level, as he, too, was none too pleased with being conscious at this god-forsaken hour. He watched her silent pacing with a sleepy sort of curiosity, expecting her to either start yelling or crying at any second. When a minute or so passed and she’d done neither, he tried again.

“Y/n? What’s wrong?”

The pacing stopped suddenly as she whirled to face him. The fire burning in her eyes was slightly off putting and not something he was used to seeing from her.

“What’s wrong?!” She stalked towards him. “What’s wrong is that I was woken this morning by a burly man named Carl - who smelled of cheese and tequila and told me he had a load of packages waiting for me in his truck. I was seconds away from calling the cops when he told me that it had all been paid for by someone named J. Barnes.”

Bucky’s head fell forward, a funny heat creeping up his face. A particular plank of flooring had suddenly become incredibly interesting.

Y/n scoffed. “I was confused at first, because I don’t know any J. Barnes, right? Except I do, don’t I James.”

The sound of his given name fell from her lips in a sort of disdainful disbelief that made Bucky’s head snap up.

“Y/n listen…”

“How did you even know where I lived? Are you some type of creepy stalker customer? I never asked for...I didn’t…” y/n huffed, crossing her arms over her chest. “I didn’t tell you that story so I could be seen as some charity case!”

Bucky held his hands up and took a slow step towards her. When she didn’t step back, he continued to approach her cautiously.

“First off, I know you didn’t. I didn’t mean for it to come across that way. I was only trying to help.” He now stood only a foot away, and made no move to come closer as he continued. “I’m not a stalker, either. I only had EDITH look you up and send the address straight to the delivery company. I specifically told her not to give it to me.”

“Who the hell is Edith?”

Bucky sighed, “It’s not a who, it’s a what. It’s Stark’s AI. The narcissistic bastard called it EDITH - ‘Even Dead, I’m The Hero’.” Bucky rolled his eyes, though he couldn’t help the twinge of pain at the thought of Tony. One of Bucky’s biggest regrets was not being able to make peace with the man before he sacrificed himself against Thanos.

Y/n frowned, opening and closing her mouth a few times. Bucky took a chance and stepped forward, placing his hands gently on her elbows.

“I’m sorry, I swear I was just trying to help. When you said your brother stole all the gifts you’d bought for the kids at the rec center, it made me think of my sisters. There were a few Christmases when my ma couldn’t afford presents and it broke my heart for them. I was just a kid back then and I couldn’t do anything to help, but now I have the means and I just...I just want to help.”

Without warning, Bucky found himself engulfed in y/n’s arms. Her face was warm against his bare chest and he blushed, just now realizing he hadn’t bothered to put a shirt on. He pushed aside his own discomfort and wrapped his arms around her, squeezing tighter when he felt her body begin to convulse with silent sobs.

They stayed that way for...well, Bucky wasn’t sure. It could have been a minute; it could have been an hour. But eventually, her tears subsided and she pulled back, wiping her face and not meeting his gaze.

“Thank you, Bucky” Her voice was so quiet when she spoke, Bucky wondered if he’d only been able to hear it because of his enhanced hearing. “But I can’t accept it. It’s too much, I can’t ask you…”

“You didn’t. I wanted to. For you and for those kids. Every kid deserves a present at Christmas.”

Y/n shook her head, eyes still glossy, though her lips curved in a sweet smile.

“You’re too precious for this world, you know that Sarge?” She sucked in a deep breath. “Ok, fine, but on one condition.”

Bucky frowned. “Condition?”

“Yes. You have to help me deliver them.” Y/n crossed her arms again, a challenging glint in her gaze. “But you should probably put a shirt on first.”

Bucky cringed. “Yeah, sorry about that.”

“Don’t be.” Y/n’s eyes widened as though she hadn’t meant to speak the words out loud.

Bucky fought the urge to make a smug remark and chose instead to ignore it and save her from any further embarrassment. Though he did catalogue that to contemplate later.

“Alright. Let me get changed and then we can get going.”

Bucky smiled and started toward his room, but stopped to face y/n again.

“Oh and y/n?”

Y/n looked at him and Bucky pretended not to notice the way her eyes trailed over his bare torso before she met his eyes.

“Hm?”

“Merry Christmas.”

Like what you see? Want more? My SPN Masterlist is here, and MCU is here. Thanks for reading! :)

A/N 2: I am using my new and improved taglist. If you want to be added, Send me an ask with the list you’d like to be on. Weirdos are for everything, Heroes is MCU and Hunters is for SPN.

Weirdos:

@hannahindie @amanda-teaches @ellen-reincarnated1967 @feelmyroarrrr @masksandtruths @princessmisery666 @jamielea81 @foxyjwls007 @becs-bunker @super100012 @shy-violet-soul @emoryhemsworth @impandagrl @donnaintx

Heroes:

@arrowsandmixtapes @bethbabybaby

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader #Bucky Barnes Fluff #merry manda's christmas drabbles #merry manda #merry manda 2020 #panda writes #panda writes MCU

85 notes · View notes

druidx · 3 years

Text

Family Treasures

Fandom: Thunderbirds Are Go (2015) Context: A friend linked me a TAG fic with the most perfect description of Lasagna I have ever read. I then got carried away and read nearly every fic she recommended to me... and then I figured I should watch the 2015 version of Thunderbirds (having only seen fragments of the original ‘60s show as a kid)... and then this happened. I’ve also been leaning heavily into the subtext thing still, so constructive criticism, with subtext in mind, is welcome on this piece. Words: 1700 CW: Injury mention, worried people, minor maudlin thoughts Tagged: @viawrites-andacts @strosmkai-rum @scribeofred Read on AO3

Kayo paces. Her sleek leather boots sink into the plush carpet of Tracy Island's lounge. She has been grounded by injury, left to recover while the Tracy boys are out there doing what they do best. She trusts them; knows they know what they're doing, knows they can handle themselves... But it doesn't help. Her fingers itch to activate the comms, but she doesn't. The boys don't need her micromanaging, and she trusts John to forward anything if he thinks she can assist... But still, the ache remains.

Those leather boots softly tap as she reaches the parquet flooring, and Kayo finds herself standing in front of Jeff's desk. It's a big, sturdy, mahogany thing. Impish sunlight glints off the polished surface, winking and laughing. It makes her think of Virgil. The sun drifts behind a cloud, and the laughter vanishes. She turns away.

Her steps lead her to the portrait of Thunderbird One, and the nicknacks beside it. Her eyes slide over the portrait – seen a hundred times before – to an antique barometer on the shelves. And there is Scott: Quicksilver in a glass; carefully controlled vim and daring. She pictures him in freefall, madcap laughter stolen by the rushing wind. The thought of his pack failing at fifty thousand feet is enough to have her leaning against the wall, head reeling like she's nosediving, seconds before the impact that has left her arm in a sling, and Thunderbird Shadow a pile of scrap.

Kayo huffs out her indignation at her weak and maudlin thoughts, wrenching back from the wall. She pinwheels away, her boots marking out time on the parquet as she passes in front of the vast window. Outside the sun glimmers off the swimming pool. Bright. Cheery. Such a laughable contrast to the storm inside. She wishes it were raining, dark skies and tempestuous winds. The bowl of forget-me-not blue is almost mocking in its temptation. She closes her eyes, breathing deeply, and brings herself back to ground level.

Kayo finds herself in the far corner of the lounge, at a kitschy '60s coffee table tucked into the fold of the room. On its surface sits a porcelain pug, which reminds her of Sherbet – and, by extension, his owner. It appears delicate – a dainty conversation piece; but her foot knows it is sturdier than one might think. Her eye catches on a woollen beanie, abandoned next to the pug – and she scowls; Lady Penelope has Parker to keep her from serious trouble. Kayo's brothers are up there without their usual safety net.

She turns back, pacing towards the piano. She plays only a little; her mother insisted, to start with. But after a year of tantrums and sword fights, Mama Kyrano gave up. But the island is empty – even Grandma Tracy is on the mainland – and the house is too quiet.

Kayo sits down at the piano and raises the lid, leaning absently to the side as a small, spring-loaded, plastic frog sails over her shoulder – the latest victim in the ongoing prank war. Her fingers wander over the ivories, and she settles into picking out Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star in the upper third. As the sweet notes fill the air, Alan comes to mind – bright, lively, graceful; effortless as the rising music. Kayo lifts her head as if she might somehow see to the edge of space; see Thunderbird Three shimmering with star-stuff as if picked out in the silver, gossamer notes she plays. She dismisses the fanciful thought with a twitch of the lips, finishing the refrain.

As her hand falls still, she looks across the room, gaze drawn back to Jeff's desk. She remembers the moment he asked her to become his head of security – when Papa Kyrano retired. She'd not long returned from her last field stint with Mossad when he'd called her to the desk. His lips had asked her to help him protect the world; his eyes had asked her to protect his boys.

Kayo sighs, the guilt of disappointing the indomitable Jeff Tracy laying heavily over her shoulders. She closes the lid and turns on the stool, intending to resume viewing life through the plate-glass barrier, when her foot nudges the plastic amphibian, abandoned on the floor. She picks the thing up, lips quirking at the cartoonish features – the bugging eyes and wide, red grin – and is inexplicably reminded of Gordon. Kayo places it on the piano, where it wobbles, brilliant green out of place on the ebony-silk surface. Three birds, two star-men, but only one squid-boy. She purses her lips and tries to tell herself the unease this thought causes is about lack of process redundancy. Perhaps she should expand her skillset in an aquatic direction...

She stands with purpose and walks over to the nook in which sits Goron's transport chute. But as Kayo reaches over to activate the chute, a flicker of something catches her eye. Her free hand is already fumbling for her stun-gun when the interloper reveals itself: a long-legged tropical spider has found its way into the aquarium. It flails and panics, and she wonders if it might drown. But even as she watches, it's already hoisting out of the water and building a complicated nest in the corner of the tank. Kayo watches it work, watches its ingenious use of resources in an unfamiliar environ, watches it engineer a refuge... and thinks of Doctor Hackenbacker. Distracted from her previous thought, Kayo turns away from the chute access, making a note to tell Gordon about the spider. She doesn't think it's a threat to the fish, and the lid is a four-handed affair. Besides, knowing Gordon, he'll want to coddle the thing before he releases it.

Instead, Kayo climbs to the mezzanine. Somewhere in the aether, a stack of security reports grows ever larger, but she is unable to read them, to even consider distracting herself with them at a time like this. Worry still fills the well of her stomach, bilious and vile. There are too many close calls, too many near misses. Too many times she's snatched one of her brothers from certain doom. She's so useless here. Idly, she picks up a blown-glass paperweight. Does John ever feel like this? she wonders as she stares into its nebulaeic swirls. Drifting high above them, like a flame-haired malāk – a messenger of God – with his brothers so far from his grasp, does John ever feel powerless? She wonders how he does it: how he can stay so removed from the action, remaining so calm. She wonders how he manages the silent panic that maybe this is the mission someone does not come back from.

The glass has chilled her hand, chasing phantom skeins of cold and fatigue through her body. Kayo carefully replaces the paperweight and makes her way back down the stairs. She settles into the sofa lining the conversation pit, a hand falling to her side as she allows her body to sink into the plush stuffing. Something rough touches the side of her hand, and Kayo fishes out a blackened cookie from where someone – Gordon or Alan, most likely – has stuffed it between the sofa cushions. Kayo screws up her nose, making a noise of revulsion. It's been at least a week since Grandma Tracy tried baking again. Mouth still in a down-curve of disgust, she leans to put the cookie on the table but finds herself pausing as the light sluices across its dark, oleaginous, undulating surface. It reminds her of the Iceland mission and the pictures of cooling magma Doctor Hackenbacker proudly showed off – and his lecture on igneous rocks. Created by fire, he'd said, melded and reforged into something tougher. Used the world over – even here on the island – as foundations. Unshakable and resistant to all the world could throw. It makes her think of the island's second foundation, of all Grandma Tracy has been through, and yet still stands firm and loving despite it.

She wishes any of her extended family were here, now. Like that spider, Kayo feels out of her depth, could do with someone strong, cheery, soothing; a solidity under her feet. But they are not.

Kayo is a woman who knows when her limits have been met. The island is empty, there's no one around to witness the break caused by cracks of worry, pain and fatigue. Her lip wobbles, vision growing hazy with tears. She gives a small sob, then another, allowing herself the luxury of a little cry.

"Kayo?" She sniffs, swatting at her eyes, and looks up to see Alan's hologram looking down at her, eyes pinched with worry, tone edging towards frantic. "Kayo, is everything okay? John-" "John," comes the even tone of the auburn-haired man who appears next, "should be more careful about what side remarks he makes while on comms to his worry-wart little brother." He rolls his eyes. "Sorry to disturb you, Kayo. But your telemetry did do something unusual a few moments ago-" "Kayo? Alan pinged me. What's your status?" Scott cuts in, as if they are in the sky and all is normal. Before Kayo can say anything, Lady Penelope appears, the picture of decorum and class as usual. "I'm sure it was nothing. Isn't that right, darling? Just a little wobble, eh?" her Ladyship says. "'Wobble'?" asks Gordon, from where he and Brains cluster behind the pilot of Thunderbird Two. "What the hell does- Hey!" Kayo's lips twitch in amusement, as Gordon rubs his head from where Virgil has given him a brotherly love-tap. "It means: keep your nose out, squid-boy," Virgil tells him. "Is everything okay, Kayo dear?" says Grandma Tracy. "John asked me to- Oh," she adds, looking at the packed comm channel. "Well, it looks like you all beat me to the pinch." She smiles and rubs the back of her neck. Kayo looks over her family with a swift, critical eye. Apart from Gordon's head, they all appear healthy and uninjured. Relief floods through her, loosening tense muscles. Her wry amusement turns into a full-blown smile. "I'm alright," she says. "Like Penny said, it was just a little wobble. Everything is F.A.B."

#writing #tanusha 'kayo' kyrano #thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds fandom #constructive critism welcome #wandering words

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mega-bastard · 3 years

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i was kidnapped by shiratorizawa ?!?!?!?!

this was painful to write, but like a masochist I did it anyway. this is my part of the the first Whorehouse Collab, located here. Finally getting back into writing fanfics since like 2015, this was oddly therapeutic.

I wrote this under the influence of magic grass after binging several wattpad fics, enjoy at your own risk-- by which I mean laugh alongside me LMAO

The ending is sososo rushed, in true wattpad fashion <3 this was 1.3K words of nonsense

When I woke up today, I didn’t think I’d end up in such a bind— bindings to be more specific. I’m just your average little miss no one, another everyday student easily lost in the in the crowd. Wearing glasses and being like super shy does that to u, yknow?

Now, blindfolded and tied up, I can’t help but wonder just how someone so unnoticeable had gotten snatched up so suddenly— perhaps that was had why you were taken (insert Liam neeson voice: I will find you, and I will kill you hehe >:3). Now, with the full throb in my head beginning to subside— I started to recount what had bringed me into such s predicament

~ rewind to earlier in the day ~

I’d only just waked up when I received a text from my best friend mina (bnha wink wonk) gushing about or schools volleyball match— to say she was crazy in love aoba Joshuas volleyball team would be selling it crazily underwhelmed. Especially their captain, oikawa tooru ! Most of our school did, but I was really observant of the people around me— he gives me weird vibes, like he puts on an act or something. But still, I keep that thoght to myself so no one comes for me. Seriously, he’s got fans like a Kpop star (a/n haha stan bts for clear skin uwu)

Either way, her dragging me to a volleyball game is nothing new— and as she’s blowing my messages up like the world is ending I know what to expect this coming afternoon. What a pain, I had planned on watching naruto when I got home today :(

There was no telling Mina no, so when we enviably met to walk to school I was well aware I’d be attending the volleyball match today. Boring, but I’d manage— I don’t care much for sports but sweaty and muscley men are finer than fine, I’d at least have spank bank material hehe (a/n not to whore on main buuuuuut ;3).

The day flew by and suddenly I found my self seated on the stands, waiting for the game to begin. Mina was chatting away, so when the urge to go to the bathroom came I simply got up and left— I wouldn’t get a word in edgewise, everyone always runs at the mouth and I can never get a word in as a result.

Not paying attention on my way to the bathroom, I suddenly shivered— feeling watched. I looked up from staring at the floor and was brought face to face with...the Shiratorizawa Volleyball Team ?!?! At the head was the tank of a captain, japans number one ace Ushijima Wakayoshi (a/n a whole snack yumyum) was indomitable and a scary man to be faced with. Ushijima was still as fierce as ever; I say that because we’d gone to middle school together— we never spoke or anything like that but we’d been in the same classes. He scrutinized my small form with impassive olive eyes, I felt rooted in place at such a state.

I shook myself from my little reverie and quickly scurried off, heart beating a mile a minute. “ just find the bathroom and head back to Mina “ I murmured to myself, finally finding the bathroom after rounding a corner. The feeling of being watched finally lifting.

After using the bathroom and began to head back, I could hear someone...singing something? I began to head towards it out of curiosity, peeking around a corner to see a tall red haired guy and a grey haired guy— they were wearing the same uniform so they must also be a part of the team as well! Lost in my thoughts, I was only briefly able to dick away before the red haired guy turned around to where I was peeking.

Ok seriously, let’s head back ‘ I thought before scurrying back to Mina— who grilled me on my absence before becoming entranced in the starting game. I stayed on my phone for the most part, reading one direction fanfic— with the phone screen down waaay low (a/n who else has done this before ???). Id peek every now and again to watch, at one point catching the eye of the tall red head— a chill ran down my spin at his impish smile that I looked away immediately.

He was...cute. In a scary way.

A sudden hush flew across the crowd and I looked up in time to see oikawas serve hit clean across the net, received by some guy with brown hair before being set by some twat with shitty hair (a/n shirabus a twat, their I said it >:/) before the ball was spiked back with a force unmatched.

That was Match point. Shiratorizawa wins.

The air is oppressive, oikawas fan girls— mina included, are wailing. That’s my cue to exit, bidding a mina goodbye I began my way down the hail, the rush of the court fading into background.

Then suddenly, rushing feet and the crack of something hard against my skull.

Darkness consumed me.

~ back to the present ~

Now back to the hear and now, I hear murmerings-- voices I don’t recognize. I try to listen, try to focus in on their voices but I can’t as the throbbing in my skull takes my focus away. A whimper escapes me, and a silence sweeps across wherever I am like a breeze-- it’s scary.

“haha, is she awake?” it’s the sing=songy voice from before-- the red head probably then? I know I needed to say something, anything, but I was still to disoriented. The sound of shoes nearing me immeadiatly set me off, beginning to wiggle and move before I was held still vision suddenly assaulted with brightness as my blindfold is redmoved.

Standing before, me in all their glory, is the Shiratorizawa volleyball team??

It looks like I’m being held in...an empty dorm room? I’m trying to gather my bearings and cannot figure what to possibly ay before being yanked up harshly from a laying position. It’s the red head holding me up, wicked smile and everything as he crouches in front of me before opening his mouth.

“ You belong to us now, got it~” his voice is too cheery given the words he’s just said to me (a/n tendou owns my heart and soul <3333 ), and only now does my voice find me. “ B-but w-why m-m-me ? You c-can’t j-just do t-that, please just let me g-g-g-g-g-g-go !” by the time I finish blubbering, theres tears streaming down my cheeks like rushing rivers. Through my lashes, I look pitifully around at everyone-- landing on an umcomfortble looking kid with a bowl cut, but he looks away as soon as i stare up at him.

no, no ,no nononono no ones going to help me. the tears fall puddle on the floor, only growing in speed when ushijima speaks. “ You’ll be transfering here, become our manager, and be staying in this dorm room-- it’s already been settled” (a/n idk I’d be p happy to be shiratorizawa’s manager uwu) his voice is deep and leaves no room for any back talk, but my stomach drops at his next sentence “Semi, put it on her’ my head whips up, starring doe eyed at the grey haired guy from before as he approaches with...IS THAT A COLLAR AND LEASH??? (a/n insert debby ryan face)

my face heats up, embarrassed and ashamed at the idea of being collared like an animal. I try to wiggle away, annoying Semi, “Tendou hold her still damnit!” at that Tendou-- the red head, grips my face with one hand to keep me still, gripping it hard enough that hes smushing my cheeks (a/n tendou, t e n d o u, loml, how I cherish thee) . He mutters a quiet cute, so faint I think I’m hearing things, before the tightening of the collar breaks me from that train of thought. With that done, I’m released, falling to my hands and knees staring up at the entire team now gathered before me.

A tug on the leash tugs me forward without much effort, and the tears spring up once more at the humiliation.

“This is gonna be fun~”

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

ok so I hoped you guys loved it <3 I’ll try my best to get out weekly updates, next chap I’m thinking I either focus on how ushijima and reader-chan actually do know eachother, shirabu and semi fiighting of reader-chans attention, or maybe tendou and reader-chan getting into trouble while draggin goshiki into it! SOund off in the comments and let me know what you think ?? anyway love you guys sm <33333

#SHBNIOKSM?S #I feel ill after this #but in the best way <3 #I feel so wrong writing them this way LOL #Is ok #crackfic #kidnapped by haikyuu #miki mouse whorehouse collab #shiratorizawa x reader

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emmidqueso · 3 years

Text

Do You Know Your Neighbors?

It was only midday, but the sun’s inescapable heat and glaring rays had already made the diner unbearable. It usually got hot around one or two, but today was supposed to be one of the hottest of the year. The Cook had a bandana tied around his forehead in a pathetic attempt to keep the sweat out of his eyes, but the waitresses had no choice but to wipe their foreheads with a spare napkin when they got the chance.

Well, it’s not like they didn’t have a lot of chances. At this time of year, most of the locals were out on vacation at the beach or a week-long tropical cruise. Sylvia was jealous of those who could go – her boss rarely let them take sick days, let alone vacations. Even when the tables were empty for hours, the bell on the door didn’t chime, and Cook stepped away from the grill because he had nothing to do. It was weird yet normal for the only cars in the lot to be Cook’s old Mustang that still shone like it was new and Sylvia’s beat up Ford. They’d listen to the second hand of the clock tick, the sound echoing against the linoleum, just to pass the time.

She didn’t know if the constant tick, tick, tick was better or worse than silence.

Jolene smiled weakly at her, noticing Sylvia’s blank stare and thinking she needed something (really, Sylvia had just been zoned out, feeling like she’d been in a trance from the hypnotic sound of the clock). “Sorry you gotta be here, hun. It’s just as dead as usual.”

“It’s fine,” Sylvia murmured. “It’s not your fault Boss thinks he’s God or something and needs to keep us in prison.”

Jolene chuckled at that – in the way someone laughs at you when they don’t find the joke all that funny. “God or summ’,” she repeated to herself, turning away to wipe some imagined dust off the counter.

Sylvia found herself watching as Jolene moved around the stools and bar. The latter was a curvy woman, probably what some would’ve called a ‘southern belle’ in her youth. Two kids and a husband who worked long hours wore her down, though, and her job was her only escape from that monotony. She often looked older than she was with the dark circles that colored under her eyes and the wrinkles forming around her lips. Despite that, she was almost certainly the peppiest member of the staff and subsequently got the best tips.

The bell chiming pulled her from her thoughts, and both waitresses turned toward the door, eyes flashing with curiosity and eyebrows raising in surprise.

A man stood next to the first booth, hands tucked into the back pockets of his jeans. He looked boyish, but he towered over Sylvia by at least a foot, thin and willowy. His blonde hair fell into his eyes, and it looked frizzy enough to indicate he probably had kept brushing it away and then given up. Once he noticed Sylvia’s eyes on him, he gave her a crooked grin and a little wave before tucking his hand back in his pocket.

“Can I help you?” Sylvia asked, putting on a bright smile and grabbing a menu from the counter. “We ain’t had many customers today, so we’ll have to brew a fresh pot of coffee if you’d like a cup.”

The man gave another toothy grin that stretched a bit too wide. “Aw, no ma’am, that’s alright. I’ll just take a water, please.”

“Comin’ right up. You can sit anywhere you’d like to, hun. We’re dead as can be.” Something about his smile had been off putting, sending a chill down her arms, but she kept up the cheery demeanor. Just ‘cause you don’t like him grinning like that don’t mean you slip up, Sylvie, she thought to herself.

“Thank you very much,” he answered, sweeping around to perch in the booth closest to the door.

Jolene had come back out from the kitchen where she’d been with Cook to see who Sylvia was speaking to. “Good mornin’ to you. What’s a young fella like you doing out here in the middle of nowhere?” Always the charmer, she could use that to snoop into everybody’s business when they came in – quite a talent, really. It made her a good gossip, which had both its perks and drawbacks for those she spoke to.

“Just passing through, ma’am.”

“Oh, no need for that. Just call me Jo.” She laid down a set of silverware and a handful of napkins, glancing up as Sylvia came back with a glass of ice water. “Got business in town?”

The man looked out the window, a not-quite-a-smile flashing across his lips. “You could say that.”

Jolene didn’t seem to notice his face. “Well, hun, a man like you’s gotta need a hearty meal, right? We’ve got a nice bacon cheeseburger meal, but if you’re looking for breakfast, I’m sure Cook wouldn’t mind grilling up some eggs for ya. What’s your name, hunny?”

“Randall Harrison, ma’am. That cheeseburger sounds real nice.” He ran a hand through his hair, most of it staying back but a few strands falling back into his face.

“You got it, hun. Jus’ yell if you need anything else.”

Sylvia followed Jolene back to the kitchen, the latter giving the ticket to Cook. “Don’t you think he’s a little young to be havin’ business? It’s a small town anyways, nobody wants to go there. Especially not this time of year.”

Jolene gave a chortle and nudged the younger woman with her shoulder. “Now don’t go all detective-y on the poor man.”

“It’s just a little weird to me,” she defended.

Jolene arched a brow at her. “Weird for somebody to wanna grab a bite in this heat?”

“I’m just saying—“

“For the love of all things holy, don’t go bugging ‘im.”

Sylvia stared at Jolene for a moment, waiting to see if she’d cave at all. When she didn’t, Sylvia finally answered, “Fine, I’ll leave it be.”

The pair looked over at Randall, who was now doodling on a napkin with a pen — who knows where he got the red ballpoint. His brow was furrowed in concentration as he glared down at his work.

“Go keep him company,” Jolene commanded. “He came out here lookin’ for a meal, not to be lonely.”

“Yes’m,” Sylvia grumbled in resignation, walking back to the booth.

Randall looked up as she approached. “What time is it?”

“Oh, it’s—“ a look toward the clock, the second hand still tick, tick, ticking— “11:36, hun. Somethin’ you’re waiting for?”

“Just a few more minutes, then.” He caught Sylvia’s eyes and grinned, but this time, the boyishness had disappeared from his face. The warmth of his smile didn’t reach his eyes, feeling forced and icy cold. A blink, and the look was gone, and he was back to doodling.

She swallowed, mouth suddenly dry. “What kind of business do you got in town?”

“Why’s it matter?” he asked her.

She shrugged, trying to be nonchalant. “Curiosity, I s’pose?”

He didn’t bother to look back up at her as he scribbled faster. “The important kind.”

“What does that mean?”

A deathly moment of silence ensued as he stared at her. It was a chilling kind of stare, the sort that makes somebody feel more like a mouse in an owl’s claws than a person. There was a knowing gleam to his eye, and though she was certain he couldn’t have heard the conversation from here, Sylvia felt that he knew what she’d said back in the kitchen. “You’re a bright girl, Sylvia,” Randall responded at last. “You’re suspicious of me, right? But your ditzy coworker there isn’t. Your cook probably isn’t, either. You wanna know why?”

Sylvia threw a look over her shoulder and searched for Jolene, wondering why the man’s food wasn’t out here already. Having someone out here, maybe he wouldn’t be saying such strange things. No dice, though — she couldn’t even hear her coworkers speaking to each other.

“Do you want to know why?” he asked again, more insistent.

“Yes?” she stuttered, hesitating before meeting his gaze once more.

He smirked. “Check what time it is again.”

“11:36.” Wait, still?

“Something about that doesn’t feel natural, does it?”

She jerked up from the seat, an invisible weight settling on her chest. “No, the clock is just… It’s just broken.”

“It always ticks. How else do you pass the time but to listen? This is the first time it’s been silent, isn’t it, Sylvia? Is the silence nice?” Randall taunted.

The waitress shook her head. “No, it has to be broken. That’s all.” I don’t care how weird it is, the clock is just broken. That’s how things go, they break. It’s not its fault for bad timing. It’s just a coincidence.

He stood up to face her, his height so much more than hers, making her feel scared and small and insignificant. “What more proof do you need? Do you want the sun to go dark? Locusts to swarm the windows? Do you want me to turn the water in the faucets to blood? Would you rather that I don red horns and fiery robes to prove to you who I am?”

A look at her hands showed her how badly she was shaking, tears welling up behind her eyes and knees shuddering against each other. “You’re insane. Demons don’t really exist, you’re just a person.”

Randall leaned in, an icy cool hand roughly grabbing her chin to yank her gaze to meet his. “You poor thing, telling yourself lies to make yourself feel better.”

“If you’re really a demon, why are you here?”

“To deliver justice.” His eyes seemed to flash red, and though Sylvia didn’t believe him, she didn’t think that she imagined the shift in color. “Do you know how awful the people in that small little town next door are? Liars, thieves, whores, murderers. The whole bunch of them. Men taking advantage of women for fun, teens getting high on the strong stuff, people in power begging for cash they don’t need, spouses with double lives. Why that town attracts those folks, I can’t say, but it does. A little haven where no one looks twice and everyone pretends they know nothing. I think it’s time that the lot finds out what karma waits for them, don’t you think?”

She was frozen in her slip ons, but Sylvia managed to gasp, “You’re lying to me. I know my neighbors, and none of them are what you’re saying.”

“Then you don’t really know them, girl. You’re one of the few innocents, but even Jolene and Cook aren’t. Have you ever met Jolene’s husband? She killed him last year in a rage before burying his body in the backyard. Have you wondered how Cook has such a nice house on the salary this place has? His brother is a drug lord, and in return for recommending his brother to any drug addict he comes across, he gets a good cut of it. Even your boss is an asshole - working you to death and further, all so he can take the profits and pay you barely enough to survive.” He finally released her chin, pushing her into a chair and just watching as she landed on its seat. “You’re blind to it all, but it’s time you figured it out.”

Sylvia watched as the man stalked back to where Jolene and Cook were, as she found herself glued to the chair and unable to even call out their names. Through the order window, she could finally see them, frozen in place by the stove mid conversation. Jolene’s mouth was open in what looked like a laugh, and Cook had a spatula still grasped in his palm as he went to flip a burger.

Randall reached them and reached a hand towards each, the air suddenly static around him. Two fingers touched both Cook’s and Jolene’s foreheads, and it was like the light and life was sucked from them. Both went limp but still stood, their eyes losing their shine and falling shut. Their skin dulled and hair lost its volume as Randall drew his hands away.

Finally, Sylvia was able to find her words, air rushing down her throat as if her chest was a vacuum. “What the fuck?” she yelled.

He quickly returned to her, standing solemnly over her. “I’m sparing you, Sylvia. You’ll find a good amount of cash in your accounts, and no one will ask questions. You go find somewhere else to be and a better job. Forget about this place and this day, and you’ll be just fine. Don’t do anything wrong, and you’ll never see me again.”

“Did you just kill them?!”

“I’m not going to kill you, so does it matter?”

“You killed them!”

Randall glared at her before turning towards the door. “Take my advice, Sylvia. You’re a smart girl. Do better.”

Her body shook so hard that the chair legs were clacking against the linoleum floor. “You just fucking killed my friends in front of me!”

With a sigh, he turned back around and touched two fingers to Sylvia’s forehead. The air was crackling again with static but subtler. “This isn’t your death. I keep my promises. You just need to relax and think straight.”

Her vision began to swim, then go dark. She swayed sideways before falling to the floor with a crack. Pain lanced through her head, a small cry leaking from her throat. She refused to succumb to the darkness, though, and kept her eyes trained on Randall’s figure moving towards the door.

What she didn’t expect, just as the darkness consumed her — horns seemed to sprout from his head and curl around his ears, bat-like wings sprung from his shoulder blades, and fire outlined each step as he lifted his foot from the floor.

He isn’t a demon, is he — he’s the Devil himself.

The door slammed behind him, and finally the clock began to tick, tick, tick again.

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theawkwardterrier · 3 years

Text

When in the Depth of Winter

Summary: Peggy notices how the cold troubles Steve and tries to fix it.

The first part of my Steggy Secret Santa outtakes posting. This one was rejected because it refused to stay as light as I wanted, so take that as you will.

Read on AO3

Something happens to Steve as the temperature begins to drop below freezing. Peggy doesn’t think that anyone else has noticed - when asked if he seems different to her, Angie declares, “Nah, swell - and gorgeous! - as always,” and Bucky points out that just because the current war is a cold one, doesn’t mean that Steve feels he’s through with his responsibilities - but it’s terribly obvious to her. Or perhaps it’s only that no one else is around to see him walk through the house in his warmest socks or take an extra quilt from the linen closet to add to their bed. No one else thinks to notice how odd it is for him to bundle in gloves and a scarf and a hat, even though his core temperature stays consistently high regardless. She seems to be the only one who sees him turn from cheery window displays and tuck himself even quieter and farther inside at the parties they’re invited to.

She asks him about it, of course she does. They’ve been married for a year and had been seeing each other nearly daily for months before then, ever since he’d been recovered from the Valkyrie. There’s no one she trusts as much as she does Steve and she doesn’t think it flattery but mere fact that she holds similar esteem to him. Still, he only frowns and shrugs in response to her questions, says he’s feeling the same as usual, kissing her gently on the temple or crown or mouth and thanking her for worrying about him. And she doesn’t think he’s intentionally lying; sometimes, however, your feelings are buried so deeply that you don’t even recognize them. That doesn’t mean that they aren’t there. That doesn’t mean that there isn’t anything to be done.

Somehow, as if knowing that Peggy has other things to think about and can’t stay in the office until all hours or pop in for emergency sessions on weekends (or perhaps because she isn’t the only one whose family has her focus just now), her agents are closing cases at a top clip and the criminal underworld seems to have settled into some sort of hibernation.

And so Peggy is able to stop at the delicatessen on a Friday and still be home by suppertime.

“It’s the absolute perfect evening,” she says as soon as she comes through the door. “Come for a walk with me.” There’s an excitement to the declaration rather than any martial strictness; after an assessing look at her - this isn’t precisely normal for the two of them - he stands and dons his coat to join her outside.

They live away from the main street and most of their neighbors are already tucked away inside their homes. When they do encounter someone, they exchange nods, but for the most part there is only the soft sound of their boots atop the leftover snow, their exhalations of breath which fog in the air.

Through the larger front windows they can see families eating and couples reading side by side, silhouettes of Christmas trees, and once, a couple sharing a kiss in a dim sitting room. One or the other of them will point out some particularly pretty decorations. It is not late but the winter darkness is so complete that when they step through a streetlight the reality of the brightness is nearly a surprise, a brief dawning which reminds them of how lovely the velvet night can be too.

Pressed close as they are, she feels him shiver as a breeze blows past them. Leaning up, she touches her chilled cheek to his warmer one, both their eyes closed. And without speaking, they turn around and start for home.

Their fireplace has never been used before now, but they light it tonight, sit in front of its bathing warmth to eat the chicken soup that she had brought home, reheated piping hot. They don’t speak much but it is enough, unhurried and peaceful. She can feel him watching her, trying to figure through her intentions, but in the end he seems simply to accept it, leaning back and allowing himself to be thawed.

“What do you think of ice skating?” she asks him as they finish washing the breakfast dishes one Saturday morning.

He gives her an odd glance. “Walking but on ice and with knives strapped to your feet?” he tries.

“Well, I’m sure there’s nothing we have to do today which can’t keep until tomorrow, and I’ve bought you a pair of skates which should fit.”

Steve is her husband, and before that he was her friend, and he is above all her partner. She doesn’t often use with him the tone of voice she does for stubborn politicians or agency heads who disagree with her, the one which is simultaneously so firm as not to brook complaint and a bit blithe, as though whatever is being discussed has already been decided in Peggy’s favor and aren’t they silly for having forgotten. By the way his eyebrows furrow even deeper, she knows he recognizes it and he even opens his mouth to say so, but in the end he instead goes to get his coat.

Their house is a ten minute walk from the skating pond - not even that if you’re Steve - but they’re usually too busy to even contemplate availing themselves of it. It’s already midmorning by the time they arrive and the day is perfect, sunny but frigid, so no one has to worry about softening ice. They are far enough into the season, however, that the novelty has worn off and only a few other groups are taking advantage.

Steve has, through mutual effort, become a passable dancer beyond back and forth swaying and turning in circles (not that the style doesn’t have its own charms). That skill doesn’t seem to translate to the ice, however, and he spends their first turns around the pond clutching her hands with the trembling ankles of a newborn deer taking its first steps. But he picks it up more quickly than she had expected, his serum-induced athleticism activating as he continues to practice, and soon his hand in hers has nothing to do with balance or security anymore.

They get competitive, they can’t help it, laughing as they race, taking care to swerve around the others with whom they are sharing the ice. Steve tries a couple of jumps - daring and occasionally reckless as he might be, he’s smart enough not to attempt flips just yet - and even when he falls, he just laughs and shakes himself off as he stands again.

It doesn’t escape Peggy’s eyes as they switch back over into their street shoes that Steve has stuffed his gloves into his pocket, that he drapes his coat over his arm deference to the sweat they’ve worked up. But she doesn’t mention anything, merely takes his hand once again for the walk home.

They go to watch Angie playing Martha Cratchit in A Christmas Carol the next week, and treat her to supper and hot apple cider afterward. (Steve crinkles his nose but keeps taking baffled sips from his mug, as if a preference for it might sneak up on him if he only keeps trying.) The week after that, it snows again and they spend Sunday in Prospect Park with Bucky so Peggy can experience the site of their youthful sledding exploits.

“Well, we didn’t exactly have a sled then,” Steve points out as they climb Lookout Hill. “But there’s plenty you can do with a garbage can lid or the old instrument trays that the hospital was getting rid of.” It’s the sort of statement which would have Peggy’s mother making faces like she had just sniffed sour milk, but Peggy herself actually smiles at the picture of her husband small enough to curl himself up for a trip down the hill and brash enough to try it.

“Can’t believe you’re forgetting my masterpiece,” Bucky jokes. “Weeks of collecting scrap wood and old nails, borrowing my dad’s hammer to put it all together, and you don’t even mention it.”

Steve shakes his head. “My mother was certain I’d get tetanus just from being near that thing when she saw what you’d made.”

“I think my ears are still ringing from her shouting - and don’t think I’ve forgotten that it was mostly at me.”

“You were the one stupid enough to build it!”

“You’re the one who was stupid enough to ride it.” With a grin, Bucky adds, “I didn’t think anyone could shout louder than my ma, so I guess I learned a lesson in more than woodworking that day.”

“Now I’m even more disappointed that I was never given a chance to meet her,” Peggy says as they reach the top before Bucky can play any further with the word woodworking. He had been discovered in Russia by a SHIELD spy and extracted a year before they found Steve; he is quiet about the professional help he has been getting to manage the pain of the things that happened to him during the war and after, but it’s clearly making a difference: his terrible sense of humor is returning in fuller force even than she knew it could. Steve’s hip nudges against hers, and she knows that it is not by accident. She looks up at him and catches his smile.

After a morning of racing down the hill until the crowds arrive, after they’d handed over their sleds to a group of kids without their own and, picking up food on the way, gone back to Bucky’s apartment to eat and talk and laugh together, Peggy and Steve take the train back home. His cheeks are still somewhat rosy when she looks at him, and the remnants of laughter still dance about his mouth. Halfway there, a pair of seats opens up and they sit side by side, leaning into each other a bit, watching absently through the steamed window as the city passes them by.

“I can tell what you’re doing, you know,” Steve says as they climb the porch stairs, returning from helping out at the Red Cross rummage sale. Steve has plenty of volunteer projects he’s associated with around the neighborhood - the soup kitchen, the community center - but she had been the one to suggest this; she remembers how welcome that bright symbol had been on the battlefield, in the same way as Steve’s shield.

“Unlocking the door?” she asks as she plucks her keys from her bag.

He is so near to her that she can feel his heat and practically his narrowed eyes as well as he says, “Not—Well, sure, but what I meant was that I know that you don’t just suddenly find winter outings appealing.”

She lets them through the door, unbuttoning her coat with her other hand. “Perhaps I’m only just becoming comfortable enough with you to share my love for them.” Until he comes out with what he is thinking, she isn’t going to simply believe the jig to be up.

“Peggy,” he says, and to anyone else listening it would just be her name, but she hears the real sharpness to the word. She turns to him, coat still draped around her shoulders. He’s shut the door with his foot and they haven’t had a chance to switch on the lights; his face is shadowed, difficult to make out in the muted light of the late afternoon.

“When you asked,” he says, and then makes himself take in more air. “When you asked if something was wrong, I didn’t know that there was. But it’s just that—” He ducks his head, then lifts it again, making himself look toward her. “I keep thinking of all those winters of never being quite warm enough, never having a good coat or shoes to keep out the damp, the way I knew that I was getting sick by the way my breath would catch when I laughed or when there was a certain taste in the back of my throat. I can’t forget the smell of trench foot from guys who’d been walking in wet boots for days, or the times I had to be the one to keep digging the graves because the ground was so frozen no one else could get through it. There are nights I close my eyes and see Buck falling, that jacket of his all dark against the snow, even though he survived, he’s back now and safe. And sometimes, when the wind is really bad, I feel like I remember—” He cuts himself off, shaking his head, though his shoulders shake as well, broad as they are.

They have talked about their time apart, as they call it, but he has always wanted to keep the focus on her end, on the things she had done and the way she had felt and all that had happened to her, pushing off talk of his end of things with reminders that there wasn’t anything to tell about what was essentially a prolonged sleep. They both know that he shouldn’t be able to recall any of it - he swears he was knocked out by the impact of the crash and he only woke up again long after he had been removed from the shell of the Valkyrie and completely warmed - but even the thought that he might remember a moment of his time frozen beneath the ice stabs at her.

“I could see that this time of year was difficult for you,” she says, and she doesn’t look away from him even as she folds herself inward. Typically her bulling forward has worked in her favor; the idea that it might have backfired and hurt the person she least wants to is intolerable. “I thought we might try to cloud some of the associations for you, to give you some new memories for the season. But perhaps it was a bit too much to overcome.”

He ducks his head and steps toward her; he is very near in the darkened front hall. “You weren’t wrong to try. The thing is that you did give me good new memories: helping people get through the worst of the cold, spending time with our friends, all those new moments with you. Those memories have to fit inside my head along with the old ones; you just made sure that sometimes when it’s cold what I’ll remember instead is kissing you with snowflakes on your eyelashes. I’m just never sure which is going to be the one my brain’ll bring up.”

“I know as well as you do that it’s impossible to erase the other memories,” she says. “But it’s terribly important to me to make sure that you have an entire lifetime’s worth of happy ones too.”

“You’ve given me a million wonderful ones, even when you weren’t trying,” he says staunchly. Captain America isn’t just a persona or a symbol, it’s who he is, the bolsterer, strong and entirely reliable, she’s always known that. But it is so clearly Steve Rogers who, after a pausing moment, asks, low and a bit worried, “But what about—I don’t want you to feel guilty if sometimes the good memories aren’t always enough. It’s only that the bad ones are still in there too.”

She closes her eyes; how particularly privileged she feels for him to allow himself to say such a thing when he spends so much time considering himself last, trying to make sure no one thinks of having to extend a hand on his behalf.

“Well,” she says, stepping forward and tucking herself beneath his coat with him, wrapping arms around his back to hold him tightly to herself. “In those moments, we just stand together and wait for spring.”

#Steggy fic #Steggy #Steve Rogers #Peggy Carter #alternate universe - Steve was found in the ice #bad psychology

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seasonofthewicth · 4 years

Text

A Groovy Kind of Love - Chapter 3

masterlist

AN: This took me so long because I wasn’t sure whether to split this chapter in half, I ended up doing it so I think it flows a bit better and hasn’t become a monster of a chapter. Things are starting to get a little juicy!!

-----

The next two weeks flew by in a blur as Aelin settled in to her new normal. She had spent days debating how to arrange the furniture in her bedroom, enlisting Fenrys and Aedion multiple times to move her bed from one side of the room to the other and back again until she was satisfied with its placement.

She had managed to put her personality into the boring room, its brick walls spiced up by colourful wall hangings and the wooden beams of the ceiling offset by drapes of dangling plants across her shelves. She felt at home in the loft.

Her moving into the communal areas had been more of a struggle. Rowan and Lorcan protested her attempts to cover the sofa with her hand-made quilts but they had relented once Fenrys and Aedion had expressed their support.

“We don’t want it to be too much of a guys’ apartment,” Aedion had admitted.

When Lorcan had protested that it was a guys’ apartment with a not-so-subtle smirk at her she had lobbed one of her throws at his head. He had caught it and his smirk spread to a full blown grin, but he tucked it onto the arm of the couch, nonetheless. She supposed it was actually a progression of their relationship that she knew he was teasing. The past two weeks had shown her that most of his snarky comments were joking, whether or not their delivery seemed as such.

She had learned many new things about all of the guys in the loft since moving in. She had thought she had known all there was to know about her cousin, and they had always got along, but she was delighted to find that they had quickly become as close as brother and sister. His eager personality paired him well with Aelin’s outgoing nature.

The only issue was the frequency that she had ended up sharing her breakfast with one of his visitors, always dressed in one of his shirts or their own dress from the night before. She didn’t judge the girls, she just didn’t need to think about her cousin in that way, although it had surprised her that he hadn’t made any comments to Aelin about Lysandra since their flirtations the day she moved in. In fact, she had expected him to ask for her friends number the next day; but the request never came.

She had watched the two of them on the first night she and Lysandra had visited the bar Rowan worked at. It had quickly become the spot she spent most of her evenings at, the rest of the loft joining too, on the nights Rowan was working.

The bar reminded her of Rowan; dark walls with old-fashioned lamps placed around the room to brighten up the space. The wooden panels around the bar were rustic and worn-looking without being shabby, and it had an easy mix of regular patrons and drop-in drinkers that felt homely and comfortable. Rowan’s attire of plaid shirts fit in as well and while they rotated in their colour they were a guaranteed feature, along with the rag he slung over his shoulder that made him look like such a typical bartender she hid her snigger in her drink.

It was during those nights at the bar that she had gotten to know Rowan the most. The bar was never particularly busy so he could spend most of his shifts talking to her, fixing her sweet cocktails without her even having to ask.

“What else would Aelin Galathynius drink?” He had teased her the first time she and Lysandra had paid the bar a visit. He had even tucked a pink umbrella into each of their glasses.

They had made easy small talk while he worked and she found it fascinating to watch him work, the way his hands would flow across the bar, steady and strong while he poured. He had an easy way of interacting with customers, polite but charming that helped to earn him the tips she spotted him receiving.

She herself had contributed to a large number of those tips, seeing as he hadn’t let her or Lysandra pay for a single drink any of the times they had visited. Aedion, Fenrys and Lorcan didn’t pay either, but none of them seemed inclined to tip, probably a result of having the routine down for years.

She sighed, longing to spend a chilled night in the bar now, but the summer was over and her first day back teaching high school history was upon her. She adjusted her blouse where it hung from her shoulders and slipped on her pumps.

She headed to the kitchen to fix her coffee and was met with Fenrys and Aedion in the kitchen.

“Morning,” Fenrys greeted her around his mouthful of cereal.

“Good morning,” She greeted in return. “You excited for today?”

“You know it,” He pointed his spoon at her, “Being the most liked teacher in the school really is fun.”

“Right,” She laughed as Aedion rolled his eyes.

“Fortunately, I have to get to my job where I’m also the most liked employee.” Aedion drawled sarcastically. He was the only male employee at a marketing company and he probably would have enjoyed it if any of the women there would have given him a second thought. Instead, to his dismay, he had ended up the little brother of the office.

“I’ll head down with you,” She said collecting her things and waving a goodbye to Fenrys as they headed out.

Once at her car she bid Aedion goodbye and started her drive to the school. From the new loft her school was now an hour drive, it had only been fifteen minutes from Arobynn’s place, but that was beside the point. She could put up with a longer commute if it meant not having to see that monster of a man ever again.

She arrived at the school and pulled into her allocated parking space, grabbing her things she headed into the morning teachers briefing. She smiled at the few teachers she knew as she took her seat, she didn’t have many friends at the school, most of the teachers had at least twenty years on her which made finding common ground tough, not impossible, but she wasn’t desperate to see them outside of the school.

“Morning everyone, welcome back.” The principal started and read the list of notices for the beginning of the school year. She zoned out, these notices were the same every year and she didn’t have any first year classes this semester, so she knew all of the kids she’d have and nearly all of them were great.

“Now, unfortunately I’ve saved the worst until last.” The principal’s voice cut in, interrupting her planning. “The district has let us know we need to make some budget cuts, and we’ll likely be looking to cut some staff in the larger departments.”

Her stomach sank. Shit. That didn’t bode well. History was one of the biggest departments and had one of the largest budgets for the number of trips the students went on to complement their studies. She also hadn’t been at the school for long either, only a couple of years since she qualified, so she’d likely be one of the ones to be cut.

“We recognise that this isn’t great timing but unfortunately the decision has come from the high-ups.” The principal’s apology mellowed her slightly, but she couldn’t fight the element of panic that was creeping in.

Once the principal had finished she left the meeting and traipsed to her classroom. She couldn’t fight the dread in her stomach, it was surely only a matter of time before the principal sent for her to break the bad news. She couldn’t believe the timing, at the start of the school year, just as she was beginning to feel settled in the loft it was all getting shaken up.

-----

The bar wasn’t busy, it never was on late Tuesday afternoons, but there were still a scattering of customers Rowan needed to serve in between chatting with Fenrys who was perched on a stool at the bar. Aedion and Lorcan would likely come through the doors soon, settling in their own stools until Rowan closed up.

It had become their place to hang out once Rowan had got the job there a couple of years ago. It was comfortable and Rowan’s boss didn’t mind him giving his friends a few drinks on the house, Rowan knew he was a valuable employee, he took it seriously, even if it was just bar work to some. It was also nice to spend some time together out of the loft, and he liked that Aelin had joined a few times since moving in, she slotted well into the dynamic.

He was wiping some spilled beer off the top when Fenrys’ question reached him.

“Have you decided who you’re bringing as your date for the weekend?”

His date? The weekend?

“What’s this weekend?”

Fenrys rolled his eyes, used to Rowan’s lack of organisation.

“Essar’s wedding remember, we RSVP’d months ago.” Fenrys’ tone was teasing.

“Right, that. I remember now.” This was something he must have buried deep inside his mind. He knew what Essar’s wedding would mean. All of their college friends would be reunited, himself, Aedion and Fenrys had all received an invitation which meant Lyria would have had one herself. Ah, the question of his date. “I hadn’t thought about it to be honest.”

The door swung open and Aedion slid through, loosening his tie, followed by Lorcan out of his uniform but still in a Rifthold City Police Department t-shirt. As they took their seats he filled their glasses.

“What’s the topic of conversation for tonight gentlemen.” Aedion’s voice was cheery.

“Essar’s wedding, or more specifically our dates.” Fenrys’ eyes sparkled.

“Don’t get too ahead of yourself, boyo,” Lorcan said to Fenrys, “If there’s an open bar one of you is taking me.”

“Since when!” Fenrys exclaimed.

“Since now,” Lorcan laughed.

“I can,” Rowan offered, but didn’t go any further when he caught Aedion and Fenrys share a look.

“No, my friend,” Fenrys grinned at him, leaning over the bar, “You will take a date. A female date. Someone who will show Lyria you’re over her.”

“Who? I’m not dating anyone and there isn’t long to start dating someone new.” Five days was not enough to find a date he could take as a plus one for a wedding. That was at least a second date activity.

“There’s plenty of time, and if not,” He didn’t like the grin building on Fenrys’ face, “You could always take a fake date.”

“No,” He shook his head, absolutely not. He wasn’t that pathetic. “Absolutely not. What are we? Fifteen?”

“You don’t have to be young to be desperate.” He was going to kill Fenrys.

“You could go alone and show Lyria that if you wanted.” Aedion knew his words would hit Rowan in the right place. “Or you could take a fake date.”

“Who would I even ask?”

Even Lorcan grinned, seemingly caught up on the joke Fenrys and Aedion were teasing him with. Rowan knew his resistance was somehow waning.

“How about Aelin’s friend Lysandra?” Fenrys’ suggestion came far too quickly.

“Stop it,” Rowan scolded him, he couldn’t be serious. He barely knew Lysandra, they had only met twice, and hadn’t ever spoken one on one. But she was an attractive woman, and Lyria would notice. Stop. He wasn’t seriously considering this.

“Maybe I’ll invite Lysandra then. You could always ask Aelin.” Aedion said, enjoying himself far too much.

“Aelin?” He repeated, Aedion had to be joking. He and Aelin were friends now. That would be weird.

Aedion’s response was interrupted by the arrival of Aelin herself, Rowan hissed at them to change the subject as Aelin slammed her bag down and plopped into her seat. Her golden hair was mussed, her ponytail pulling to one side and her cardigan hung off one of her shoulders. It was the most dishevelled he had seen her; she was normally far more put together.

“Pink wine, stat. Please.” Her manners seemed to be tacked on at the end as an afterthought.

“Everything okay?” He asked her, turning to the side to fetch her drink.

She let out a delirious laugh, “I lost my job today.”

The atmosphere at the bar changed immediately, Aedion hopped off his stool to slide onto the one next to her and put his arm around her shoulders.

“Gods, are you okay? What happened?” His voice was full of concern.

“Nothing bad, I wasn’t fired or anything, but it’s budget cuts,” Her voice was thick, clearly more affected than she attempted to seem. He placed her glass in front of her.

“That’s rough, I’m sorry. Drinks on me though.” She offered him a tight smile. The others murmured their own commiserations.

“Thanks.”

“Ace I’m so sorry, is there anything we can do?” Aedion asked gently.

“No,” She leaned into his arm and raised her glass, “Just drink with me, distract me. What were you guys talking about before I arrived?” This brought a smile to Fenrys’ face again as he leaned forward.

“We were discussing our plans for the weekend. The wedding of a friend from college is coming up.” Aelin nodded along as he spoke, taking a large gulp of her wine. “Essar’s family is minted so we all get plus ones, meaning,” He seemed to pause, building his own tension. “Rowan needs a date to show Lyria he’s over her. And seeing as it’s Rowan he might need some help with that.”

He was going to kill Fenrys.

“I’m just going to suck it up. There’s not time to find a date.” He dismissed the idea, this ended now.

“Rowan,” She smiled at him, “Of course you can find a date by the weekend.”

She was being so nice, but all it was doing was adding fuel to the fire for Aedion and Fenrys.

“Thanks, Aelin, but—”

“Ace,” Aedion interrupted him, “Poor Rowan here, is useless at finding himself dates even without time pressure, so I suggested an easy solution to his problem.”

He was going to kill Aedion too.

“He takes you.” Aelin’s eyes snapped to him, her mouth dropping open. “A fake girlfriend, it’s perfect really.” At Aedion’s explanation something changed in her expression that he couldn’t decipher.

He stumbled to put her at ease, “You honestly don’t have to, it’s a stupid idea.” He ran a hand through his hair shakily. This was embarrassing.

“How bad will it be? Seeing Lyria?” She asked, tapping her fingers on the side of her wine glass. Surely she wasn’t seriously considering this.

He looked to the ceiling, hoping to draw some strength from somewhere. “Honestly, it could be pretty bad,” he admitted. There was no point in lying when nearly all of the cards were on the table. “But I would be fine, there’s no pressure.”

She took another sip of her wine, swilling it around her cheeks before carefully swallowing.

“Who doesn’t love a wedding?” She asked, sending him a sly smile. “I’ll show Lyria what she’s missing.”

“You’re sure about this?” He still wasn’t convinced this was a good idea. He ignored the grins he knew were likely already on his friends’ faces.

“Why not?” She shrugged at him. “I’m not buying my own drinks though.”

“Deal,” He returned her smile. He really wasn’t sure this was a good idea. Alcohol and playing Aelin’s boyfriend were definitely a dangerous combination.

-----

tags:

@jesstargaryenqueen

@maybekindasortaace

@slytheringalathynius

@http-itsrebecca

@morganofthewildfire

@in-love-with-caramel-macchiato

@fictional-horan

@tottenhamboys20

@dressedindustandshadows

as always if I’ve missed anyone please let me know!

#a groovy kind of love #agkol #rowaelin #rowaelin fic #rowaelin fanfic #aelin ashryver galathynius #rowan whitethorn #aelin x rowan #aedion ashryver #lorcan salvaterre #fenrys moonbeam #lysandra #throne of glass #throne of glass fanfic #new girl au #aelin galythinius #also i read this over multiple times so if anything isn't right deal with it

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nagia-pronounced-neijia · 3 years

Text

scream (until you’re satisfied)

It's a quiet night for once: peaceful, even. The sun sits low on the horizon, casting gloam over the usual summer mist; insects buzz in the trees, loud and soft and loud again. Ligiea smiles out her open kitchen window at the little copse that has taken over the edge of the complex parking lot, then slides her thumb over her phone for the last time before she starts on her dishes.

On the windowsill, a bluetooth speaker -- designed to look like an antique radio; it had delighted Nate for about four seconds before he realized he couldn't actually tune it -- begins to croon a soft jazz cover of an early 90's grunge song. She smiles, humming along, and gets to work rinsing tzatziki and chili sauce from her plates.

Something rustles in the copse. She doesn't hear it; she sees birds suddenly burst from the green, wings beating, out of the corner of her eye. She sets the pan she'd fried her flatbread in back down in the sink, watching with instincts sharpened by too much shit having tried to kill her.

She hasn't made it back to the dishes when the scream cuts through the night. It lasts so long and comes so deep from within someone's throat that she hears it gurgle for a beat before it pitches back up. When the voice finally gives out, there's only enough time for a sharp intake of breath before it starts again.

Ligeia ignores the chills that roll down her spine, the hot-cold rush of adrenaline through her veins. She picks up her holster and pepper spray, the Agency-issue Volt, and tucks her badge into her pocket. Detective Attano steps out the door, pacing in the direction of the scream.

First fun fact of the night: the scream didn't come from the damn woods. That would have made sense.

Second fun fact of the night: Bobby's standing at the entrance to the laundromat. This makes Ligeia instantly suspicious, and he apparently knows it. The red ambulance lights flash onto his face and then off again, lighting him up before they leave him in shadow, and it makes what he clearly wishes were a fetching smile look demented.

"Miss me, angel?"

Ligeia bites down on her first reply, because she can't think of their college years -- or make a crack about her annual fucking chlamydia infection when she'd dated him -- without wanting to hit something. She smiles like she doesn't want to punch her ex and says, instead, "What do I do with myself when I'm not watching your career circle the drain?"

That one hits the mark. He flinches and takes a reflexive step back, like she'd slapped him. And then he pours on the greasy smile, but there's an angry edge, a tightness, to his smile. "I see dinner didn't go down so well all alone."

She's not allowed to say, 'shut up and get out of my way,' but she can say, "This is a crime scene, Bobby. Just because the caution tape's not up doesn't mean you get to lurk." She makes a shooing motion with her fingers.

He's not dumb enough not to move, but she hears his feet on the concrete as he tries to peer through the windows into the darkened building.

Third fun fact: when the ambulance is sitting in the parking lot with its lights on, and the paramedics are sitting uselessly in the open back of the bus, there's no good news. Ligeia nods at Jeri and Ryan, and mouths three letters.

Ryan just nods dejectedly. Beside him, Jeri winces, shrugs, and mouths them back: DOA.

Ligeia doesn't let herself sigh, much though she wants to, and jerks the door open. She ignores the words "Spin Cycle 365" printed in white on the glass, focused as she is on finding the lightswitch. It takes a few useless, obnoxious moments of groping in the dark before her fingers touch plastic. She flips three switches in a row and the lights return with a click and a buzz.

She sees exactly how Jeri and Ryan had come to the conclusion of 'DOA.' It's rather hard not to, given that the poor girl had fallen onto the floor, eyes wide and staring, mouth still open in a scream. But there's no sound coming out of her throat anymore. No breath in those apparently very powerful lungs. Pale white marks dot the very corners of her mouth and jaw.

Ligeia kneels down next to the girl, considering, and pulls a pair of latex gloves from her blazer pocket. She skips looking for any kind of trauma -- there would be blood, probably -- and instead picks up the girl's hands. The victim's fingers are cool and soft, still flaccid rather than in rigor mortis, and it is the worst kind of intimacy.

She can't imagine how Verda does this every day. Maybe she just likes people and all their intricacies too much.

Not a single defensive wound. Not even a sign she'd thrown her arms out to catch herself as she fell. That's a reflex; she must have been unconscious or dead before she started to fall.

There's no new sound, but she feels something like a shift in the barometric pressure of the room. Adam and Morgan both have a quality to them, an intensity that seems to suck up all the air and interest, even when nobody's looking at them.

Ligeia straightens. "Looks like a heart attack, but I'll know more after Verda or the Agency pathologists take a look," she says. She doesn't need to look back to know they're watching. "Will we let Doctor Turner and Verda take the lead on this, or is the Agency going to take custody of her just in case?"

The words come out professional. Not cheery, certainly, but smooth, practiced. Like her heart isn't beating hard inside her chest, like she's not thinking about Murphy. Like there's something going on in her head other than an endless litany of a prayer she keeps hoping she'll get to stop praying: no more deaths, please, not in my town.

"This is a known phenomenon to the Agency," her mother's voice says. The tone is endlessly gentle. "We'll take custody."

It takes her a few more moments to look away from the girl and the blue puddle of laundry soap. It smells like fake tropical flowers and banana; it's probably called something like 'Bahama Breeze.'

Ligeia drives back to the warehouse, stopping only for fuel and a cup of petrol station coffee. It's thick and tarry as the stuff she puts in her car, smells about as astringent, but it wakes her up. Unit Bravo beat her back by at least fifteen minutes. That doesn't surprise her, given her slow car and pit stop.

What does surprise her is that Adam is waiting for her by the entry. He had been standing stiffly by the wall, like particularly handsome statuary, and as she passes him, he unbends.

"So what was I looking at in there?"

"A fae victim," is Adam's reply. He stops moving when she does.

Ligeia starts putting together 'fae,' 'screaming,' 'laundry,' and 'death,' and what she comes up with makes her groan. "You're kidding, right?" But this is Adam, and he wouldn't joke about this. Not even Farah would.

"They aren't what the folktales make of them," is his reply, steady and a little snide, like usual. He sounds a little softer when he adds, "So few of us are."

They've had the talk about his disapproval of humans romanticizing vampires. She even understood it, to an extent. She felt the same way about the slew of torture porn and serial killer movies that came out in the early 2000's. She still feels that way about the Purge movies and the way they glamorize surviving violence, the way they assume everyone's first thought is murder.

Point is, Ligeia sees where he's coming from. She doesn't push. She stays right where she is, just a little too close to him to be professional.

"I guess I should go inside and find out what they're really like," she says.

Adam holds the door for her. She turns her head just enough to look over her shoulder at him as she goes through. She offers him a smile and watches his jaw relax by a fraction.

Nate smiles up at her from where he's found an armchair -- she could swear he's always making himself smaller, and he's so big that the back of her neck thanks him, but she hates it, too. There's a haunted edge to the way half his jaw has tensed, and when the smile slips, she can see that his focus on her has wisped away. He's the same Nate as always, but he's somewhere else right now. Somewhen else.

Morgan's the one who says the word. She breathes it out around grey smoke, her tone heavy and dark not only from the cigarette but from her own closely guarded feelings. "Banshees," she says, and near her, Farah actually sighs.

#wayhaven #adam x detective #nate x detective #fucking around with irish myth #detective ligeia attano #fragment #do i know where this is going? no #mark my words this is not the final draft #i blame bunny

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creampuffqueen · 4 years

Text

Team Bonding

Word Count: 2,328

Requested by the lovely @ruby-tucker, a fic where Nova and Oscar are friends and go to the mall and eat Dairy Queen together. You ask, I deliver.

I’m not super happy with the ending of this, but I like the rest, so I think that’s good I guess. Hope y’all enjoy!

~~~~

“Nova Artino!” Nova’s wristband buzzed as Oscar’s voice sounded from it, urgent and harrying.

“What do you want? I’m working.” Nova said back. She was busy at her worktable, taking things apart and combining them back together. She hadn’t stopped working for two days.

“I’m coming to get you. I have a surprise.”

“I can’t.” She said. “I’m getting close with this-”

“Chill out, Nova. I’m taking you on a team bonding experience.” Oscar chuckled. Oh no.

“Team bonding?” Nova yelped. “Where? And why?”

“I’m coming to get you, and you’ll find out.” He laughed. “You don’t even have to dress up. You can wear sweatpants and a hoodie, I don’t care.”

He hung up, and Nova groaned. She was reluctant to leave her project, but after taking a moment to actually look at herself-

She needed a shower. And some fresh clothes. Adrian was right, she did have a tendency to forget about herself when she was working.

Nova didn’t wash her hair, since she didn’t know how close Oscar was, and didn’t want to go wherever he was taking her and the team with wet hair. Instead she tied her dark locks into a high ponytail and donned a fresh hoodie and leggings.

Ding. The doorbell rang through the small apartment, and Nova went to answer it.

“Hello, Miss Artino.” Oscar made a dramatic bowing gesture on her doorstep, cane in hand. “Will you do me the pleasure of joining me in my quest for Dairy Queen?”

“Your quest for what now?” Nova snorted. She stepped out, wincing at the sunlight.

“Oh my stars. Guys, she’s never had Dairy Queen!” Oscar shouted over down the stairs. Nova rolled her eyes at him, but let Oscar lead her back down to the street.

Everyone was there. Adrian, Ruby, Danna, and even Narcissa. While the redhead wasn’t really a Renegade, she was essentially part of the team. Nova liked her, she was the kind of person who one could sit in silence with and feel comfortable.

“How have we all let Oscar drag us out here?” She asked. “It’s like, what, nine in the morning?”

“Babe, it’s literally one o’clock.” Adrian chuckled.

“Oh. Yeah.” Nova sighed. She’d completely lost track of time again.

“Anyway,” Oscar continued, “We’re all going to the mall, and we’re going to have lots of fun. And after we have lots of fun, we are going to eat ice cream until we can’t walk anymore.”

“I can’t believe you dragged me away from my work for this.”

“It’ll be fun.” Oscar assured her. “Trust me.”

So Nova let him drag her along behind him as he walked, her wrist in one hand and his cane in the other. Ruby walked close by, laughing at his dumb jokes.

“Nova, have you ever been to the mall before?” Danna asked as they arrived in the massive parking lot.

“No. I lived in an abandoned subway tunnel for over half my life. I wasn’t allowed to go to the mall.”

“So I hate to be that person,” Oscar said with a wince, “But can you try to lighten up? Just a bit? A little? Like, a tablespoon lighter?”

Nova snorted. “Absolutely not.” Oscar made a pouty face, and Nova nudged his shoulder. “Kidding.”

“Great! Let’s go inside.” Oscar let go of Nova so he could take Ruby’s hand, leaving Nova with Adrian, Danna, and Narcissa.

Her boyfriend offered his hand, which Nova gladly took. As they approached the building, her blue eyes widened.

“Woah.”

She followed the others inside, looking around incredulously. The inside seemed even bigger, if that was possible. Stores were packed close together, little booths in the massive walkways between them. Advertisements were everywhere, faces of the Renegades on seemingly every surface.

“Adrian, is it weird to see your dads’ faces on literally everything?” She asked.

“I mean, yeah. Kinda.” He shrugged. “You get used to it, though.” They followed Oscar and Ruby through the thickening crowds, almost having to run to catch up.

“This place is insane.” Nova gasped. “I don’t even know what to say.”

“I am pretty good at rendering girls speechless.” Oscar smirked. Both Nova and Ruby rolled their eyes, Nova even going as far as to punch him softly.

“Can we please stop in the Barnes & Noble?” Naricssa begged.

“Why not.” Oscar agreed. “We’ve got all day.”

They followed the redhead into the nearby bookstore, and Nova watched as she grabbed what seemed like one of every book in the store. She skimmed some of the titles, but nothing interested her.

She did stop, however, when she found the magazines.

“Guys, look at this.” They all glanced over to what she was pointing at.

A picture of their team was on the cover of a magazine. Nova remembered when they’d done this, only because Simon and Hugh had practically begged them. Most of the pictures had turned out bad, but apparently not all, since they were currently the advertising for a magazine she’d never heard of.

“Wow. I look like shit.” Danna snorted. “Why did you guys let me out of the house that day?”

“No, you look pretty.” Narcissa said earnestly.

“Well, I know who looks pretty good in this.” Oscar grinned. He puffed out his chest, and Nova waited for the self-centered comment, but instead,

“Ruby. You look smoking, babe.” Ruby laughed and blushed, giving her boyfriend a gentle kiss on the cheek.

“I’m gonna buy it.” Nova said with a devilish grin.

“Nooooooo.” Everyone groaned. Nova just flounced off to the register, magazine in hand.

She bought it, and ten minutes later completely regretted her decision. Why had she wasted her money on a stupid magazine she wasn’t even going to read when there was a literal carousel in the mall.

“Nova, have you ever ridden a carousel before?” Oscar asked.

“Yeah, they had one in the park for a Christmas festival one year.” She replied. “This one is way bigger.”

“C’mon,” He laughed, “This one is great.”

“I don’t have any money.” She sighed. “I spent it on the magazine.”

Her friend handed her a dollar, and Nova made to give it back, but he pushed her hand away. “It’s a dollar, Nova.”

So she let him push her towards the register, and she let him nearly shove her hand at the cashier to take the money and give her the carousel token. And after, she let Oscar drag her to the gate.

“Isn’t this kinda childish.” Nova asked, squirming uncomfortably. The only people on the thing were kids, or parents with young children. Not a teenager in sight.

“What does it matter?” Oscar laughed. He squeezed Ruby’s hand. “If they judge us, so what?”

The animal seats were moving up and down as cheery music blared, and Adrian took her hand. “What animal do you want?” He asked her with a smile.

Nova had to let it pass a few times before she decided. “I want the giraffe.”

“To make up for her height.” Oscar called over his shoulder.

“Rude!” Nova said back, though there were no bite to her words. Instead, she started laughing.

The carousel stopped a minute later, and the kids clambered off. Leaving the team, plus the large amount of new children that had gathered behind them to go on.

Nova put her token in the gate, and it swung open. She followed Oscar as he and Ruby ran, hand in hand, to their chosen animals. She got to the giraffe and pulled herself up, finding herself next to Naricssa on the elephant next to her. Danna had a wolf, and Adrian had gone with the typical pony.

When the ride started, Nova was nearly thrown off as it lurched forward. She clung to the metal giraffe with a yelp, wishing there was some sort of seatbelt. Especially as it started moving up and down.

Ahead of and beside her, she could hear her friends whooping and cheering. Even quiet Narcissa laughed happily, throwing her hands in the air.

Nova, on the other hand, held onto the moving animal for dear life. It was only after taking a moment to realize that she was hardly two feet off the ground that she felt comfortable enough to lessen her death grip.

The spinning motion was exhilarating, and she found herself getting into it. Why were these things supposed to be just for kids? Nova let out a loud cheer as the giraffe rose and fell in tune with the music.

It was all over far too soon, and Nova and her team tumbled off the ride with wobbly legs all around. Oscar was laughing nearly hysterically as he clung to his cane.

Nova leaned against the gate, the other hand clutching her belly from her laughter. “That was amazing.” She managed to get out.

“I knew you’d like it.” Oscar said with a grin.

They managed to leave the area with only one minor issue, when Ruby toppled into Adrian, sending them both sprawling to the tile floor in a tangle of limbs and laughter.

Nova helped Ruby up, and Danna took care of Adrian, and they all got to a table to sit.

“I don’t know about you guys,” Oscar started, “But I’m gonna need some ice cream.”

“If I eat ice cream I will puke all over you.” Danna groaned.

“Good thing I’m not making you eat it. Nova, come with?”

Nova tried to protest, but a moment later she was being dragged away by Oscar, Ruby, and Adrian.

They pulled her towards another store, which Nova concluded must be the “Dairy Queen” Oscar was talking about. Why? Because it said ‘Dairy Queen’ in giant, bold letters in front of the store.

“You haven’t lived until you’ve tasted a Dairy Queen Blizzard.” Oscar said. Nova turned to the others, but both Ruby and Adrian nodded enthusiastically.

“Fine. What flavors do they have?”

“Every flavor. All the flavors.” Oscar gestured to the large menu as they approached the counter. “Whatever flavor you desire.”

“Do they have just regular vanilla?” Looking at all the choices, Nova felt a bit overwhelmed.

“I mean yeah, but you can go get vanilla anywhere. Only Dairy Queen has… let me see.. Heath Caramel Brownie.” Oscar chuckled, and pulled Nova along with him.

“I’m gonna get you a cookie dough Blizzard.” He said after another moment’s thought. “You’ll like it.”

“Why are you making all my choices for me?”

“Because this is a team building exercise, remember? We’re building trust.” Oscar put his hand on her shoulder. “Do you really think I would get you something to eat that was bad?”

They made it to the counter, and Oscar ordered the ice cream for him and Nova. Ruby and Adrian got their own, and they moved to the line waiting for their food.

“How come you didn’t bother Ruby about getting something plain?” Nova complained. “A chocolate dipped cone-”

“Because I’m his girlfriend, and he knows not to mess with me.” Ruby laughed.

Oscar and Adrian joined her, and Nova glared at all three of them. “You are all awful people. How dare you.”

“Order for Oscar.” The worker called. And even with his cane, Oscar beat Nova to the counter. The worker tipped the two cups of ice cream upside down, and Nova’s eyes nearly bulged out of her head. What the-

However, the ice cream was so thick that it stayed, and the worker handed Oscar the cups and two spoons. He turned back to Nova and handed her hers, and she gave him a sidelong glance as she took a bite.

“Oh.”

“It’s good, isn’t it?” Oscar nudged her. “Say it.”

“It’s pretty good. You were right.” Nova sighed.

“Ooh! She said it! Adrian, your girlfriend just said I was right! Imagine that!” He laughed at Nova’s glare, and the two of them walked back to the table where Danna and Narcissa were.

Narcissa already had her nose in a book, and Danna was leaning back with her feet on the table. They sat down, and Nova took another bite of ice cream.

Oscar was practically shoveling his in his mouth, but Nova decided to take her time. She chewed thoughtfully on a piece of cookie dough, and smiled at Adrian and Ruby when they returned.

They all descended into light conversation, Danna stealing the magazine from Nova and continuing to chuckle over their picture. Nova took a large bite of ice cream, and-

Oh sweet rot.

Her entire brain was exploding. She nearly dropped her spoon as she reached to clutch her forehead, eyes welling up at the sudden pain.

“Oh, shit, brainfreeze?” Oscar asked. Nova couldn’t answer.

After a few grueling, painful moments, the fire in her head ceased, and Nova leaned back, groaning.

“What was that?”

“Brainfreeze.” Adrian said sympathetically. “Happens sometimes.”

“It felt like my head was being split open by a mideavel torture device, how can you be so calm?” She yelped.

“Have you never had a brainfreeze before?” Osca asked curiously.

“No.”

“It sucks, but it’s not, like, deadly. I think. I’m pretty sure.” He licked the back of his red spoon. “Just happens sometimes.”

She was reluctant to take another bite, but after a few licks and nothing happened, Nova finally finished her ice cream.

And just like that, Oscar’s ‘team bonding experience’ came to an end. Ruby left first, finishing her chocolate-dipped cone and giving Oscar a quick goodbye kiss. Adrian was next, and Danna and Narcissa left together, Danna helping her girlfriend carry all her books home.

Which left Nova with Oscar.

“I’ll walk you home.” He offered. “I mean, I’m no Adrian Everhart, but-”

“Okay, you dork.”

He grinned, and stood up. “Alright then. But before we leave, was this fun?”

“Yeah.” Nova admitted.

“Are you glad I dragged you away from your very important work?”

“Yeah.”

“Good.”

They didn’t say much else, instead walking back to Nova’s apartment in comfortable, companionable silence.

~~~~

Fanfic/Headcanon Requests!

#renegades #archenemies #supernova #marissa meyer #nodrian #osby #danissa #nova artino #adrian everhart #oscar silva #ruby tucker #danna bell #narcissa cronin #team bonding #fluff

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andysbubba · 4 years

Text

𝕪𝕠𝕦 𝕒𝕟𝕕 𝕚 - 𝕥𝕨𝕠

ɪɴ ᴡʜᴇʀᴇ ꜱᴛᴇᴠᴇ ʀᴏɢᴇʀꜱ ɪꜱ ᴀ ᴄᴏʟʟᴇɢᴇ ꜱᴛᴜᴅᴇɴᴛ. ᴀ ʙʀᴏᴋᴇ ʙᴜᴛ ᴀ ʜᴏᴛ ᴄᴏʟʟᴇɢᴇ ꜱᴛᴜᴅᴇɴᴛ. ᴀɴᴅ ᴀʀɪᴀɴᴀ ꜱᴍɪᴛʜ ɪꜱ ʀɪᴄʜ ᴀɴᴅ ᴀ ʟᴏɴᴇʟʏ ᴛʜɪʀᴛʏ-ꜰᴏᴜʀ ʏᴇᴀʀ ᴏʟᴅ.

one | three

“What kind of party is it?”

“It’s a birthday party. He’s turning twenty-one,”

Ari looks at Natasha in disbelief. “Are you serious? I should’ve brought him a gift or something.”

“Just relax, won’t you? He doesn’t care about those kind of things,” Natasha rolled her eyes.

Ari sighs, “Fine. He’s in college?”

“Yeah,” She nods. “Just have fun there alright? You already know my family’s pretty chill.”

“Baby cousin!” Natasha’s voice had a cheery tone as she called out for someone.

“Tasha!” The man’s face lit up as he hears Nat’s voice. He speeds up and engulfed Natasha in a hug.

“Happy birthday, Clinty!” Natasha ruffled his hair as he pulled away.

He glares at her, “Don’t call me that,” He turns to Ari and instantly turned back to Natasha. “You brought your boss?”

Ari laughed. “Just call me Ari. Happy birthday, by the way. I didn’t bring anything since I only found out it was your birthday five minutes ago.”

He grins, “No worries, just enjoy yourself. It’s nothing much, but the cream puffs are heavenly.”

“If you say so, I’ll try them out later.” She grins. “Nat told me you’re in college?”

“Yeah, I go to Columbia. Your company does architecture and those design kind of things right?”

Ari shrugs, “Pretty much,”

Clint awkwardly grins, "I think I have some design friends coming over later.”

Ari immediately lights up, “Really? I’d love to see what the design kids look like these days.”

Clint turns around as he heard his name being called and waved at the person before turning back to Ari.

“Go on, birthday boy. You seem pretty busy,” Ari laughs.

Clint chuckles, “Enjoy yourself. I’ll see you around, bosswoman,” He winks before jogging off towards the person waving at him.

Nat disappeared sometime as Ari was speaking to Clint. Ari wasn’t surprised considering the people here were mostly Nat’s family.

She walked into the house, eyes looking around for the dessert table Clint was mentioning earlier. She eventually poured herself a cup of apple juice and stayed in the corner, looking around the whole place.

Pretty much everyone at the party was gathered in the house since it was getting dark. It was a pretty small party. There was probably less than thirty people there. Compared to the parties Ari’s been to, this was pretty private and small.

She found Nat about half an hour into the party but that woman went to the bathroom so Ari lost her again. At least Ari was friends with Nat’s brother, Nathan. So she had some company while Nat was missing.

Ari turned as she heard her name being called and saw Clint waving her over.

Ari looks at Nathan and sheepishly excused herself before walking over to Clint.

“What’s up, birthday boy?”

“Boys, this is Ariana Smith. CEO of Skulpt Co.” Clint rests his arm around Ari’s shoulders. “Ari, this is James and Steve.” He points to two of his friends.

“These the architecture kids you were telling me about?” She questioned.

“Yeah,” James grins. “And please, call me Bucky.” Ari decides that he was definitely a college charmer.

Ari took a good look at the other face besides Bucky before she came to a realisation.

Holy shit. He looks gorgeous in person. And bigger. Ari still stood around his shoulder, though. That blonde hair. Jesus Christ. She wanted to run her hands through that soft blonde locks. Those blue eyes were-

Ari caught herself before she fawned over him further. She offered Steve a tiny smile before looking at Bucky. “Well, you boys are a tad bit too good looking to be architecture kids,” She laughs lightly.

Holy fuck. That laugh was fucking angelic. Seeing her at this party was the last thing he expected. He was pretty disappointed she didn’t recognise him. Or did she? Either way, that small smile was probably her being kind.

She looks like that kind of person who smiles at everyone who walks past her.

Even if she did recognise him, she probably doesn’t want to be seen with a college kid. She was a CEO after all.

And fuck. He knew she was rich. She wouldn’t be on the site if she wasn’t... right? But seriously, a CEO? And in addition she’s the CEO of one of the (most) major Architecture and Design companies in the world?

Steve was amazed and impressed.

And Bucky kept giving him a look.

“Are you guys continuing with architecture or something a little different?” That voice was music to his ears, no matter how cliche that sounds.

Bucky answered first, “I’m looking at exterior architecture but I’m still thinking about it.” He points over at Steve, “This indecisive prick though likes pretty much everything.”

Ari chuckles a little and looks over at Steve, “I get your struggle. I ended up picking both interior and exterior architecture.”

His heart was beating. Fast. Is his heart condition coming back or what?

Steve scratches the back of his neck, “I’m not talented enough to do both.” He grins sheepishly.

She smiles, “You won’t know till you try.”

Natasha jumps behind her cousin and her friend, leaning her body weight on their shoulders.

Ari groans, “Fuck off, you heavy ditcher.” She pushes her friend away and laughed.

“Tasha, this is Bucky and Steve.” Clint turns to his friends, “Boys, this is my cousin, Natasha.”

Natasha’s eyes widened as she got a proper look at the guy with the last name. She turned to Ari with a questioning look on her face.

Ari simply shrugs in return. “Both of them are taking architecture.” She tells her friend before turning to the college boys, “Nat here, is one of my partners and the head of interior design and architecture at Skulpt.”

“Hi,” James charmingly grinned at Natasha.

Ariana kindly smiled at the man. “I’m gonna try the cream puffs Clint’s been telling me to try. Do you guys want anything?”

“I’ll tag along.” The blonde man steps out of the circle and joined Ariana.

“Didn’t expect to see you here,” Ari starts, voice as soothing as it had been since the moment he met her.

Steve looks at her in surprise, “Oh, so you did recognise me.”

Ari laughs a little, “How could I not, Steve? I didn’t think you’d want your friends to know you’re going out with an older woman.”

Steve scratches the back of his neck and grinned toothily, “I mean, Bucky kinda helped me out with the whole sugar thing.”

Ari laughs, “Well, that’s a waste.” She touches his arm, “Besides, there’s always next time,” She winks at him before going ahead and taking two cream puffs from the dessert table.

Ari practically moans as she puts one in her mouth. “Holy shit. That’s fucking amazing.”

Steve laughs, “It’s that good?”

“Fucking amazing, Steve.” Her eyes glanced down at her watch and her eyes went wide. “Shit, it’s already ten.”

Ari had a whole stack of papers waiting to be read at home. And if she was planning on getting at least 5 hours of sleep, she should’ve started an hour ago.

“You’re leaving?”

“Yeah soon, I just texted my driver. I’ve got work waiting for me at home. Do you want me to send you back?”

“Nah, I’ll get home with Bucky.”

“Really? I can wait till you guys are ready to leave.” She asks to verify, her heart slightly hoping he would agree.

Steve stops her, “No, it’s fi-”

“Steve!”

He turns around and sees Bucky walking towards him.

“Yeah, what’s up, man?”

“You ready to leave? We have that early lecture tomorrow morning.”

Ari laughs, “C’mon. The car’s gonna be here in about 5.”

Steve stutters as he tries to deny her offer. He wanted to, but he really didn’t want to burden Ari, or annoy her before they even had lunch together.

“Steve, it’s really no trouble.” She persuades with a grin.

Ari got out of the passenger seat with both guys falling out of the back door.

“Have a good night, Bucky. I’ll see you around,” Ari waves at Bucky as he heads into the apartment building.

Steve stayed behind, hands in his pockets. A tint of a smile on his face. “Goodnight.”

Ari leaned back against the car door. “So fast? I was gonna ask you where you wanna go tomorrow.”

“Well,” He trails off, “I thought you’d want to rush home and finish your work.”

Ari laughed, “You’re much more attractive than that stack of papers I have at home,”

Steve laughs and ran his fingers through his hair. “I’m glad. Are you okay with Italian?”

Ari smiles brightly and nods, “I’ll text you later.” She slides her hands into the pockets of her jacket, and stood up straight, “Goodnight, Steve.”

Ari turns around and reaches out for the car door.

“Wait!”

Ari looked back at him, slightly surprised, “Yeah?”

Steve smiled sheepishly, stepping forward and opening the door for her.

Ari laughs, “Thank you,” She ducks into the car.

Steve had a huge, giant smile on his face as he closed the door. “No problem. Have a good night,”

#sugar baby steve rogers #steve rogers #steve rogers fic #steven grant rogers #steven grant rogers fic #soft steve rogers #fluff steve rogers #baby steve rogers #marvel #captain america #steve rogers smut #chris evans #chris evans fic #chris evans character fic

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saintheartwing · 4 years

Text

Undertales of Friendship: Beware the Man Who Speaks in Hands

Frisk was not having very good dreams.

Over and over, he would find himself descending down, down into the dark recesses of the "True" Laboratory beneath the normal place where Alphys had worked in the underground. The walls a dark green, a chill running through the air, a faint fog all around his feet as he nervously stepped past patient chair after patient chair. Over and over again he'd approach the sinks in the back of the room, turning them on to get the key one of them had inside them, hoping to flood the sinks and for the key to either float up, or the pipes beneath to burst open to get what he wanted. Yet that always gave way to the sight of that...THING coming out of the third sink.

A cute little round, cheery face, twisting and bulging and morphing into a monstrosity with a horrific laugh, large black eyes with pinprick white pupils gazing back. A tongue lagging out of one of many mouths, eternally crying and bleeding-black eyes on a whispy, curved tail like a scythe. This...this odd, strange, faintly melted specter of many faces looking back at him, three in a row all rising up from the sinks, mouths opening and closing and all speaking at once, and saying the same phrase again and again.

"LOREM IPSUM DOCET.

LOREM IPSUM DOCET.

LOREM IPSUM DOCET."

Frisk knew what it meant. Sorrow itself teaches. And he knew what these things were. Pieces of what had once been the Royal Scientist of the Underground, WingDinG Aster, aka Gaster, as he preferred to be called. More bestial and darker traits had risen up in this little "Mini-Me" of Gaster, and they were really only interested in one thing.

"Come join the fun."

"It's a real get together!"

"Become one of us! One of us!"

"You'll be with us soon." The Memoryheads intoned, as more heads sprang up around Frisk, knocking him back as they bulged and popped, Frisk shivering as the Memoryhead closest to him intoned in a dark voice.

"Sorrow itself teaches."

"Teaches what?" Frisk asked. And again the Memoryheads would get closer...closer. "Look, I-I don't want to join in the fun!" He insisted. How many times had he done this before, only to be ignored as they leapt on him and-

But now it was different. Now they merged together, popping and squishing into one, growing larger and larger as an enormous black maw opened slowly and a voice faintly echoey in tone rang out.

"I only want what's mine. And you have a part of it."

"Wh-what's that?" Frisk asked, a gigantic head now staring down at him, white pupils gazing deeper and deeper into him as Frisk found himself sinking, going further into the endless black that was engulfing him-

And then he awoke, Fluttershy the Pegasus gently dabbing a cloth over his head as he sat up on her couch, glancing about her little cottage. "Wh-what happened?"

"Oh, Frisk, sweetie, you fainted in the middle of feeding the chickens outside. Is it too hot for you? I don't know why you always wear a long-sleeve shirt." Fluttershy sighed a little, waving a hoof in the air. "I mean, blue does bring out your eyes, but you must get very hot."

"No, it...it isn't that." Frisk muttered, holding a hand to his head as he cringed. "I keep having these bad dreams and I haven't slept well lately."

"...dreams?" Fluttershy murmured. "Hmm. You know, I think I know someone who could help with bad dreams." She offered with a gentle smile, clasping her hooves together and beaming.

And indeed, a quick letter from Spike was sent out, and Princess Luna of Equestria was soon back in Ponyville, happily meeting with Frisk as the tired, ragged-faced, scarcely-able-to-keep-his-eyes-open child moaned, rubbing his head as he laid on the couch in Fluttershy's home. Fluttershy handed him some golden flower tea, another very popular dish brought up from the Underground thanks to the kindhearted Toriel, and Luna thoughtfully looked him over, dark blue eyes gazing intently at him as Sans, who was also there to look after the kid, gave the kid a hot dog. Or rather, a hot cat.

"Ugghhh. I'm sorry, Sans. I don't feel like eating it."

"geez. ain't even hungry enough to have one of my specialties? now I KNOW somethin' ain't right with you." Sans said, shaking his bony head back and forth. "maybe a joke'll cheer you up. what do you call a guy who gets run over? tired."

Fluttershy, Luna and Frisk all slooooowly turned their heads to directly look at each other, then at Sans, saying absolutely nothing. "..."

"...wow, something IS wrong with you. not even a chuckle." Sans commented with a surprised look on his face.

"I can see his soul's aura. It is plagued with bad dreams. Something has a grip on him." She reasoned aloud. "Frisk, I ask of you. Tell me EVERYTHING thou dost remember of thy dreams. It's most imperative."

"I'm dreaming of these...amalgamates. Melted-together things, pieces of a person that used to be. They're called Memoryheads because they're...well, they're like living heads that are the embodiment of a memory of a man." Frisk said, his tone sounding just as exhausted as the child looked. "A man named Dr. Gaster. He used to be the Monster Kingdom's Royal Scientist...and he was Sans and Papyrus's big brother."

"Whatever happened to him?" Fluttershy softly inquired.

"He fell into his machine, into the time/space continuum and now's in pieces."

"what Frisk here means is that he's at a PIECE conference." Sans remarked wryly.

Many, many, MANY miles away, something stirred. A very furious growl turned into a roar as a cracked face snarled out high and loud enough to crack every glass window in Canterlot. Which it DID.

"I CAN'T BELIEVE THAT BONEHEAD SAID THAT!"

"OW. OW. Sans, that joke was so bad it's physically hurting me, OWWW." Frisk moaned out, Luna whacking her head against the nearby wall over and over again, Fluttershy covering her face with one hoof as Sans nonchalantly shrugged.

"maybe you're right. guess I should leave and make sure you get some-"

"DON'T YOU DARE-"

"PIECE and quiet."

"OHHHHH." Frisk groaned, writhing on the couch as Sans exited the house, laughing uproariously as another pained groan echoed out from miles away in Canterlot.

"Ugggghhhhh. How detestible. He should put more backbone into his pu-" Princess Luna began to say before cringing. "Oh sonofa-"

"HA!" Sans laughed.

Unbeknownst to them, it wasn't Frisk who was in the most danger. No, that dubious honor went to Papyrus, who was hard at work in his new job as a guard for Princess Celestia in her palace at Canterlot. Well, "work" is a strong word. Because currently, he was, along with the other guards, enjoying a nice game of charades with her. Celestia was pantomining a clown to demonstrate the circus, though the guards couldn't quite pick up on that, least of all Papyrus. Then again, perhaps the other guards DID realize it, they just couldn't speak over Pap's VERY loud voice.

"OH! OH, YOU ARE A FLOWER! NO, NO WAIT, YOU ARE A PATIENT FROM AN INSANE ASYLUM! NO, NO WAIT! A MAGICIAN! YES, I AM CERTAIN YOU ARE A MAGICIAN! IS THE WORD MAGIC?"

Celestia chuckled a little, Papyrus happily bouncing up and down in the throne room as she cheerily smiled back, some of the other guards jabbing each other in the side, snickering a bit at his childish exeuberance. It was really quite adorable.

But then the room began to get dark and cold, a chill settling in as Celestia realized that she could see her breath right in front of her. She gasped, quickly looking around the room as the expanse all about her began to convert into utter shadows, and she narrowed her eyes. Was this Discord playing a prank? It couldn't be Sombra, he wasn't around anymore! What was going on?

"...PaPyRuS..." A voice whispered, its voice haunting and echoing as Papyrus stiffened in shock, Celestia looking over in his direction before inky blackness began to swell around him, Papyrus struggling to get free of the darkness that was engulfing him. He let out a gasp, trying to push the other guards away so they wouldn't get sucked in, Celestia racing towards him.

"NO! PRINCESS, STAY BACK! I DO NOT WISH YOU HARMED!" Papyrus insisted, the blackness carefully pinning his arms to his sides as a form rose out of the black, its face skeletal, one black crack running up its right eye, another running down towards its mouth on the left as it gazed over Papyrus, bony hand clasping Papyrus's cheek. "DO...DO I KNOW YOU?"

"You don't remember, Papyrus?" It spoke. "I remember everything about you. Everything."

Papyrus's mouth gaped open slightly, Celestia taking a step forward, eyes intently narrowed as her horn glowed. "You release him NOW. I will not allow you to harm an innocent."

"I only want what's mine." The being said. "I need...to make USE of you." It told Papyrus.

And with that, the inky blackness exploded outward like a bomb, Celestia reeling back along with the guards as she gasped, glancing around...

Papyrus was gone.

AN HOUR LATER...

Sans was calmly sitting on a bench in the park, leaning back and doing nothing. Just the way he liked things. Calmly sighing, he looked up at the sky, and the clouds idly passing by as he saw Papyrus approaching off in the distance, dressed in his normal attire and eagerly sitting down next to him. "WHAT ARE YOU LOOKING AT?" Papyrus asked Sans.

"well, i like to watch shapes in the clouds. that one looks like a flying dragon, see?" Sans said, pointing with a bony finger up at a draconic-shaped puffy cloud that looked like it was belching out 'flames', Papyrus nodding in agreement.

"OH, YES, IT DOES INDEED."

"and that lil' one over there looks like a mother duck, and the other ones after it are lil' ducklings."

"LIKE THAT CUTE LITTLE BIRD THAT LOVES TO CARRY PEOPLE OVER RIVERS?" Papyrus inquired.

"yeah. we gotta treasure that bird." Sans agreed with a calm, respectful nod.

"MAY I TRY ONE?"

"of course, paps." Sans said with a wink, Papyrus rubbing his long chin before pointing upward with a red-gloved hand.

"OOH! THAT ONE LOOKS LIKE A WOUNDED DERPY WITH SMOKE COMING OFF OF HER WINGS-"

KRAKKA-THROOOOOM! Derpy Hooves crashed hard into the market, a cry of "MY CABBAGES" echoing out through the air as a loud "Sorry' echoed out soon after, Derpy limping by them, angrily holding up an exploded mailbag, complete with the shredded remains of what had been a suspicious package and cake frosting and cabbages all over her body, Sans raising a nonexistent eyebrow as he looked her over.

"what happened?"

"It's a SICK world we live in with SICK PONIES!" Derpy shrieked, grumbling darkly as Papyrus shook his head back and forth.

"WHAT A SHAME. THIS IS WHY YOU SHOULD NEVER SEND MAIL THROUGH THE POSTAL SYSTEM."

"yeah. i'm guessing that was a Boom Boom Cake of Pinkie Pie's."

"HOW CAN YOU TELL?"

"cuz she's got a real explosive personality."

Silence for a long, long time before Papyrus wryly remarked "...I HATE TO TELL YOU THIS, BROTHER, BUT YOUR JOKE JUST...BOMBED."

Sans stiffened a little, slowly turning his head, as if truly seeing Papyrus for the first time, his mouth agape in surprise as Papyrus put a hand on his shoulder...with incredible weight behind it. "you're not paps."

"NO...I'm not." The being that was not Papyrus said. "You know who I am, Sans. And you know why I'm here. You understand why."

"gaster, come on, he's just a child-" Sans began to say, Gaster's stolen form shaking its head back and forth solemnly.

"I'm not going to harm him anymore than I've harmed Papyrus. Or that I'll harm you. I only want what's mine." Gaster explained."Now come. It's time for all of us to be one big family, Sans. The way it should be." He intoned kindly, as Sans felt a large embrace engulf him, the shadows swallowing his form as he fell deeper, deeper, deeper into the abyssal black around him...

And then, within a few moments, there was only what appeared to be Sans on the bench as he made his way back towards Fluttershy's cottage. "now then...third time is the charm."

...

...Frisk was still on the couch, fast asleep as Luna held a hoof to his head, focusing intently, her lips slightly pursed. Fluttershy stood nearby, biting her lip as the light softly filtered in through the window, bathing over Frisk in soft golden light as Luna cringed.

"This is serious. An immense block is inside his mind. Whatever's inside him has placed a mental barrier that I cannot easily break through. I will need additional help, Fluttershy." Luna sighed at last, removing her hoof from Frisk's forehead before steepling her hooves, lying back in the chair she was sitting on. "He will have to be taken to Zecora."

"taken to ol' stripeybutt, huh?" Sans's voice rang out as they turned, seeing he was stepping out of the closet, Fluttershy gasping as she slightly jumped up in the air. "what? c'mon, Fluttershy. nothing wrong with a couple skeletons in your closet. everybody has 'em."

"I take it you could simply...shortcut your way to Zecora?" Princess Luna mused aloud as he looked Sans over, the skeleton giving a cute little wink, showing off a faintly royal blue glowing eye as Frisk was softly hovered through the air and over towards him. "However are you able to do that?"

"ahhh, blue magic runs in the family, really." Sans the Skeleton remarked with a shrug. "both my brothers got different mastery over it. But Paps's spirit's tied to the trait of Bravery, so his magic comes off more orange. Me, I'm patient, so mine's light blue." He remarked with a shrug, unzipping his blue jacket as the sleeping Frisk was caaaarefully lowered down, down, and soon, was perfectly positoned right in front of Sans's form. With a little smile, Sans zipped his jacket back up, Frisk now warmly tucked away in the jacket almost like a mother kangaroo with her baby joey, as Sans patted the sleeping child on the head. "theeeere we go. all snug as a bug in a rug."

"You've been waiting to do that to him for a while, haven't you?" Fluttershy asked with a smile. "I can tell."

Sans gave her a big grin. "oh, you've no idea." He said, reopening the closet. "i'll see you two later. got a lot to do." he remarked before popping into the closet again, Fluttershy smiling before suddenly stiffening up. Something hadn't been right. What had he said? "My magic's light blue".

...but Frisk had been surrounded in a royal blue light.

"Princess Luna, I think something terrible has just happened." She realized aloud, wheeling around and looking into Luna's eyes. "We need to find Ms. Toriel immediately."

Meanwhile, Frisk was still tucked away inside the jacket as Gaster-Sans calmly walked down the forest path, heading to the abandoned Castle of the Two Sisters, the old castle of Princess Luna and Celestia. The castle was long overgrown, its steeples crumbling and cracked with trees around it drooping and saddened, everything about it giving off the air of dejection and abandonment as Gaster's borrowed form approached the front of the castle and pushed the doors open. Little Frisk was still fast asleep, Gaster's stolen form looking quietly down at Frisk, biting into a lack of bony lip.

He felt guilt. Frisk had been nothing but kind and loving to monsters like him. He'd freed his kind, he'd given his brothers something to live for again. Such a dear child.

"I..." He hesitated, gently stroking Frisk's brown-haired head. He just looked so cute, all tucked away tight and warm and safe in his jacketed body. "...he's just a child..." He murmured.

But he wanted to be whole again so dearly. To just be himself. Before he'd only been able to hold onto the material world in little bits and pieces, barely able to manifest for more than five minutes. But now with Sans and Papyrus sampled...

And soon it would be three with Frisk. Out of everyone in the Underground, four had the strongest physical connection to him. He'd been scattered in pieces across the Underground, and had barely managed to scrape enough of himself together for this wild, desperate plan. He needed four souls, and the pieces of himself within them: Sans, Papyrus, Frisk and Alphys. With Papyrus, his physical form would become more stable. With Sans, his mind would get more stable. With Alphys, he could get back his Soul. And with Frisk would come his heart, his compassion. He needed that. He needed to feel again. To just love someone.

"You're only feeling remnants of a man who once was." He murmured to himself, gently taking Frisk's sleeping form out of his jacket and laying him on a table as his visage began to shift, growing taller and darker. "You don't truly feel guilty. All you feel is a shell. Intellectually, you know you should feel disgusted. But you don't truly feel it. With the child claimed, you will. With the child claimed, you will feel again. Be almost utterly whole again. It's everything you want, isn't it?"

He now stood tall, a large skeleton in a dark cloaked robe with a silver undershirt, his form lean and faintly thin. A black crack ran up his eye, another running down to his mouth from the other eye, his skeletal hands having large holes in the center as he gently laid one on Frisk's head. "Believe me." He spoke softly to Frisk. "I'm truly grateful. With this, I'll be whole again. And you'll never be alone." He offered, shadows beginning to rise around Frisk as his SOUL was exposed...

Gaster flinching as he reeled back, cringing as he clutched at his chest, feeling his remnant of a Soul, his pale imitation flinching. Damn. The soft light of Sans and Papyrus within him were objecting. They were almost utterly overpowering him. Perhaps he couldn't claim the child yet. He'd need more raw power. Perhaps Alphys would do. Her Soul was rather weak-willed in comparison, and would provide the boost needed.

Ah, well. For now he could at least do one thing with the child. Carefully lifting the child up, he placed him between the folds of his coat as he buttoned it up more, the little one nicely tucked away inside him as he softly enjoyed the gentle movements of Frisk turning ever-so-slightly in a peaceful slumber. Sighing, Gaster sat down against a nearby wall, and softly drifted off to sleep himself to join the child in dreamland...

TO BE CONTINUED...

#Undertale #undertales #My Little Pony #My Litte Pony Friendship is Magic #crossover #fanfiction #fanfic #adventure #wd gaster #gaster #Frisk #Sans

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dansiere · 4 years

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FIVE SONGS

list five songs associated with your muse and its meaning to them as a character, or to you as the writer. this can be applied in-character or out-of-character. it can go as deep as looking at the song’s real-world origins or meaning along with the themes it carries to the muses’ story, values, or experiences, or as simple as if your muse would listen to this kind of music, or even if you just listen to these pieces for inspiration.

TAGGED BY: @handspoken, who kinda hates me? Just kidding I love you okay. TAGGING: @rosiqe, @citialiin, @absolutia, @huntershowl, @blossomingbeelzebug, @foxcharmed, @noirtux, @hiskniight, @ndeavor, @kissafist, @ahsterism (muse of your choice!), @carvedbones, @enshijou & @ettards. -- steal it, honestly. It is a great meme.

01. Both Sides Now - Joni Mitchell Moons and Junes and ferries wheels, the dizzy dancing way that you feel as every fairy tale comes real. I've looked at love that way.

I have probably talked about this song so often already but BOY where do I start? I was watching “Love Actually” & Both Sides Now started playing; it’s the scene where Karen (Emma Thompson) almost breaks down & cries while realizing that her relationship is a farce, that she has been foolish & blind & delusional. It continues with her doing her absolute best to calm herself down, to not collapse but function instead; she pretends she is fine, fearing that she might ruin her family’s Christmas party otherwise. It’s a raw, emotional scene unfolding itself while Joni sings about how she came to realize that everything has two sides; the very thing we dream off, aka we imagine / how we wish things are & the harsh reality. No song could ever express Pearl’s delusion with life & love [but also realizing one’s naivity] better than this one; the aspect of pretending that she is fine in order to not ruin her family’s lives with her agony fits excruciatingly well too. -- in fact, the stanza “I have looked at love from both sides now, from give and take & still somehow it’s love’s illusions that I recall. I really don’t know love at all” has been my blog description for months & I won’t change it any time soon. Additionally, this song is about growth & personal change sung with a certain candidness that words can’t really describe -- this song single-handedly inspired me to create this blog, ngl.

02. Dernière Danse - Indila Oh my sweet torment, no point in fighting, you start again. I'm just a worthless being, without [her] I'm troubled. I wander around alone on the subway, a last dance: To forget my great misery. I want to get away, everything to start again.

Number two on my list is a bit of an oddity; it is the song that inspired me to change my URL & bottom header quote. I have always related this song to Pearl basically because it SOUNDS cheerful, has a more upbeat melody & seems positive enough on the outside; however, upon looking at the lyrics & understanding what the artist actually sings about you may or may not get chills. It’s literally a song about losing oneself, misery & the horrid feeling of loneliness after loss all wrapped up in some funky & cheery melody. It seems rather SURREAL at first & upon translating the lyrics you might believe Google is messing with you but... no. The cheery intro fools you, just how Pearl fools everyone in believing that she is a-okay. -- the song grows more & more serious / dramatic with the melody / beat becoming “heavier” over time. While still rather peppy, you can tell that something is wrong the second the background choir kicks in. -- needless to say, I consider the lyrics to be a reference to Pearl’s extreme directionlessness, her lack of purpose, severe lethargy & how she lost herself in her misery.

03. Dark Paradise - Lana Del Rey And there's no remedy for memory your face Is like a melody, it won't leave my head. Your soul is hunting me and telling me That everything is fine, but I wish I was dead.

At first, I wanted to use this meme as an excuse to gush on & on about It’s Over, isn't it? but then I remembered that Dark Paradise is a thing. Lana Del Rey simply had to be on here due to her habit of utterly & completely romanticizing tragic romance & death to an almost unhealthy degree. Pearl is guilty of the same issue. -- glorifying things you should absolutely not glorify. Dark Paradise deals with the loss of true love & the trauma that follows; not being able to move on, not being able to let go, blind devotion, stuck in the same grief, the same melancholy, the same subtle craving for death (through drowning). It’s haunting really, but these are topics that not only fit Pearl aesthetically but also motif wise. The largest part of her season 1 - 3 arc dealt with her grief over losing Rose & her inability to overcome her trauma in that regard. Dark Paradise strikes that nerve & expresses that despair rather accurately.

04. Blinding - Florence and the Machine And I could hear the thunder and see the lightning crack All around the world was waking, I never could go back Cause all the walls of dreaming, they were torn wide open And finally it seemed that the spell was broken.

I wanted to add a song that might describe Pearl’s mentality more; something from Sleeping At Last, Aurora or Sia maybe, but given how I have been gushing about Florence & the Machine lately, I felt like I had to include them because of their extreme Pearl-esque aesthetic alone. Blinding is massive. It shakes you to the core & drags you along, whenever you want it or not. Its heavy percussion & lyrics, the REALIZATION hit you like a truck; I have always associated this song with the moment Pearl realizes who she is. May it be before the war or after "Now We Are Only Falling Apart". It has a revolutionary feeling to it: she wakes up from her Homeworld induced trance & breaks her conditioning, she wakes up from her lethargy & takes a stand for herself. It works either way, really.

05. The Fantasy - 30 Seconds to Mars Do you live, do you die, do you bleed for the fantasy? In your mind, through your eyes, do you see? It's the fantasy Maybe, tonight we can forget about it all: it could be, just, like heaven. I am a machine: no longer living, just a shell of what I dreamed.

I needed a renegade song; something fast & aggressive; this one had the perfect vibe. The Fantasy it is loud, emotional, gritty & chaotic; it’s fast-paced, it’s desperate. It opposes all Past Pearl is supposed to stand for. It builds up, it swells, grows more & more apoplectic over time. -- “Dying for the fantasy” is another big motif on this blog; in fact, her dream / fantasy controls most of her early life to the point where it becomes an obsession. -- this song embodies the very compulsive drive she had, once. Reaching for a Golden Future that eventually turns out to be “just a shell of what she dreamt”; the fairytale that almost cost her her life in the end.

06. Honourable Mentions songs I need to list somewhere or I will burst.

Running Up that Hill - Kate Bush, Eight & Three - Sleeping At Last, Falling Infinite & Strangelove - Black Math, Everything I wanted - Billie Eilish, Send in the Clowns - Barbra Streisand, Bird Set Free - Sia, God is a Woman (cover) & Infections of a Different Kind - Aurora, Love is a Battlefield - Pat Benata, Beautiful Lie - 30 Seconds to Mars, Love Lockdown (Cover) & Pork Soda - Glass Animals, One Match & Romeo - Until the Ribbon Breaks, Over the Love & Hardest of Hearts - Florence & the Machine, Beautiful Crime - Tamer, Truth Is a Beautiful Thing - London Grammar, Diary of Jane - Breaking Benjamin, Do I Wanna Know? - Arctic Monkeys, Far too Young to Die - Panic!At the Disco, Cut the Cord - Shinedown, The War - SYML & Reborn - Talos.

#[[ This took me years istg #I kept changing the songs around like a madwoman because I wanted to pinpoint a specific part of my portrayal?#Does that make sense?#I tried to pick songs I haven't rambled about yet. If I had the time I would fill twenty more meme templates of this kind ngl #hence why I attached the Honourable Mentions section. I just had to. Probably forgot half of my playlist BUT WELL ]]#vii. 𝗷𝘂𝘀𝘁 𝗮 𝗽𝗶𝗲𝗰𝗲 𝗼𝗳 𝗮 𝗴𝗿𝗲𝗮𝘁𝗲𝗿 𝘄𝗵𝗼𝗹𝗲.

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snortyport · 4 years

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Trapped - JJK Chapter 5

Summary- A long walk through the woods has everyone on edge. Those sounds you keep hearing, are they animals or something more sinister? Will everyone make it to safety?

Rating- PG

Word Count- 2664

Pairing- Jungkook x reader

Warning- swearing, minor character death

A/N- Thank you to everyone reading this! I love you all!!

Previous | Masterlist | Next

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The walk to the cabin is long and exhausting. Jeannie started complaining after 10 minutes of walking and demanded a piggyback ride. She’s been taking turns on someone’s back since.

You’ve had to stop a bunch of times for Jamie to have a rest. He’s been getting dizzy after getting a little worked up from the walk. Each break has taken him about five minutes to get his head to stop spinning. It’s driving you crazy having to stop so many times but you’d rather he be ok then push him too hard and something worse happen to him.

Everyone is grumpy and snapping at each other over the littlest things. Kyle went against his usual chill personality and yelled at Graham for walking too close to him. Hayley yipped at Jeannie for pulling her hair while taking her turn giving a piggyback, which made Jeannie cry and avoid her. Jamie snapped at Tanner for “treating him like a baby” because he keeps fussing over him.

Everyone is tired and hungry and ready to be done with the day. Yourself included.

As much as the kids are driving you crazy with their bickering, there’s one thing that’s been bothering you more. You’ve been walking for hours now and no car has driven by. You’re sure someone would have had to come by. A nightshift nurse going home, or a part time worker done for the day. Someone should have driven by you by now.

You’re really getting nervous. If someone hasn’t come by yet, will anyone? The phones aren’t working and no ones driving home. How are you supposed to get help?

Maybe Old Man Busby has a phone I can use. ��You hope with everything in you that another adult will come by so everything isn’t on your shoulders anymore. Every little thing that’s adding up is raising your shoulders higher towards your ears with tension. You’re going to need a massage and two, no three, bottles of wine once you get back home.

You’re not sure how much more you can take. You’re just one woman. One woman whose never had to deal with someone cheating on a test, let alone a bus crash and two dead people.

“Come on, guys! It’s not too much farther,” you say with as much fake cheeriness you can muster. Every single on of them groans as they stand back up from their break.

“How much longer?” Lilly asks, a hard edge to her tone.

“Well if it wasn’t for Jamie needing a break every five seconds we’d probably be there already,” Will angrily mutters, just loud enough for Jamie to hear.

Jamie hangs his head in embarrassment and starts walking slower to get to the back of the group. “I’m sorry, everyone. I don’t mean to be so slow.”

“Don’t listen to Will. It’s not your fault, Jamie,” Hayley says softly. “Will is just being a baby and throwing a tantrum like he always does.” The younger kids snicker and giggle behind their hands.

“No need to be a bitch,” Will says, making the younger kids gasp at his language, looking at Hayley.

“Watch your language, Will,” you scold him. He stares at you incredulously.

“What about her name calling?”

“Well, stop acting like a baby and she won’t have to call you names,” you tell him. And you’ll admit, telling him off makes you feel good. You’re definitely over the whole I-need-to-be-nice-because-I’m-his-teacher. Today has been too long and difficult and he’s getting on your last nerve with all his sarcastic quips and negativity.

Hayley looks over her shoulder and smirks triumphantly at Will, which makes him huff and cross his arms. Jamie and Tanner look at each other, and then turn away trying not to laugh. Ok maybe the rest of them aren’t getting on your last nerve. You bite your lower lip to cover your smile.

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You continue to walk, the sun starting to sink lower into the sky. The bugs have been chewing you up for a good thirty minutes. You’re itchy, and hungry, and cranky. Your feet hurt and your legs burn from all the walking. Maybe I should start working out.

You have it easy though. Jamie pushed himself to hard and almost passed out which caused the trip to be delayed for twenty minutes until he was lucid again.

Hayley’s ankle has gotten worse and has slowed down your walking speed. Noah offered her his arm to help her, which did mean you could speed up a little bit. She blushed and accepted and the two of them have been talking quietly since. Will has been silent since Noah offered but he keeps looking over his shoulder to glare at them. It might be making you a little happy to see Will so angry at Noah and Hayley hitting it off. Watching them has made the tedious walk just a little more enjoyable.

But at least you are almost there. The road to the cabin should be around the next curve. Your feet are screaming at the thought of getting to sit down.

“C-can we stop,” Jamie asks, one hand clutching his forehead. “I’m-I’m starting to f-feel dizzy again.”

“Of course,” you say with a fake smile on your face. As much as it’s nice to have a break, you’re almost there and you don’t want to stop, you just want to get there. But you’re not going to force him to keep going and have another almost fainting incident.

Will groans loudly but walks off the road to lean against a tree. He sinks to the ground and stretches his legs out and rotates his ankles. Kyle sets Jeannie down and he and the rest of Will’s lackeys follow and sit beside him in a circle.

Noah helps Hayley to the ground and then sits in front of her. He asks her if he can see her foot to see how bad it is. She places her foot in his lap. He proceeds to take her shoe off and move her foot in different positions, which makes her hiss through her teeth. He starts massaging her foot, her pained expression turning into one of pleasure. Noah’s cheeks burn a brilliant red. Will does his best to ignore them but you catch the angry glances he makes their way.

“Just let me know when you’re feeling good again, Jamie,” you tell him, sinking to the ground, as he walks with Tanner and Jeannie to a different tree.

“I will,” he mumbles. Lilly sits down right by the road. She designated herself to be the lookout for in case someone drives by.

Another break, another chance to sit with your thoughts. At least when you’re walking you can focus on walking and how each step is getting you closer to a comfy seat and hopefully a phone. Sitting and resting has your thoughts wandering to places you don’t want to be thinking.

Like why has no one driven past yet? Most people’s work would be over by now and they should have driven past to go home. Someone should have come. Not to mention, why didn’t anyone from the school send someone down this bus route when you didn’t get to there. Why hasn’t someone come looking for you?

Also, if your phones don’t work, will the house phone? And what even is going on with the phones? Why aren’t they working?

“Did you hear that?” Noah suddenly says, straightening his back and looking past the trees.

“Hear what?” Kyle asks, looking into the forest as well.

“I thought I heard a branch snap,” he answers. He drops Hayley’s foot and stands up.

“And what? You think someone’s stalking us?” Will asks sarcastically.

“Not someone, something,” he continues sweeping the area with his eyes looking for any sign of movement.

“I don’t see anything,” you say, also standing up and looking around. You notice Hayley slipping her shoe back on her foot quickly.

“I think we should get going,” Noah says, holding his hand out to help Hayley up. She accepts his offer and he pulls her to standing. The younger kids get up and crowd around you with different levels of scared written on their faces.

“Why? There’s nothing there,” Graham says nonchalantly, although he does stand up too.

“Just because you can’t see something, doesn’t mean it isn’t there,” he says, turning to you, “Miss YLN?”

“Jamie, how’re you feeling?” you ask him, laying your hand on his forehead.

“I’m ready to go,” he says quickly. You think he’s a little scared, and you don’t blame him, you’re a little scared that something might be out there watching you.

“Seriously? We’ve barely been sitting,” Will says. He’s still sitting on the ground not looking any bit worried.

“I’d rather we be safe than sorry,” you say rounding the younger kids up and walking behind them back to the road. “Let’s go, guys.” Noah and Hayley following close behind you. Lilly gets up as you pass her and trails behind Noah and Hayley.

Graham, Kyle, and Adam walk after you. Will sighs heavily but eventually stands up and follows, muttering angry words with every step.

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You continue walking. Everyone is trying to walk faster, except for Will who is still adamant that there’s nothing there. You keep looking over your shoulder, you’re positive you’re going to see something. Your paranoia getting worse the lower the sun sets. Is it just an animal or are you in a horror movie and some machete wielding madman is after you? Would that be too cliché?

Your heart is beating so fast and for once since you started walking it’s not from the exercise. Well at least not from just the walking. That last hill really took your breath away.

You let out a relieved sigh as you round a curve and Old Man Busby’s cabin road comes into view on the right.

“Just a little further, guys!” you say happily.

Noah, who had been leading you down the road, stops suddenly and cocks his head to the left. Everyone stops behind him and looks into the forest. Unfortunately, you can’t see past the first two rows of trees. The forest is too dense and dark to see too far into.

“What is it?” Hayley leans against him and whispers.

“I’m not sure. Maybe a cougar, or maybe a wolf pack. I’ve heard more than one branch snapping, but I haven’t been able to tell if it’s one animal or more,” Noah says, he starts walking again and everyone trails behind him. Jeannie holds onto your and Kyle’s hand as she walks between you.

“And we’re just supposed to believe you? How do we even know wolves are in this forest?” Will asks.

“Why would I lie?”

“Maybe there’s a pussy you’re trying to impress, hm?” Will sneers. “One I’ve already been in? Loser like you trying to get my sloppy seconds?” Graham and Adam snigger to themselves as they walk beside him.

“Shut the fuck up, Will,” Hayley says quietly, anger radiating off her body.

“Will, that’s enough,” you say sternly, turning to look at him, Lilly’s annoyed face coming into view first before you shift your gaze to Will’s smirking one.

“Oh please. I’m just saying the truth,” he says. Kyle looks at you and rolls his eyes.

“No need to be an ass though,” he mumbles.

“What was that, bro?” Will calls out, an edge to his voice.

“Nothing, buddy ole pal,” Kyle turns and gives him an over the top smile.

“Everyone shut up!” Noah says loudly, stopping in his tracks again. Everyone, even Will, shuts their mouths and looks from side to side.

Your heart starts beating faster, adrenaline shooting through your veins. Your skin feels prickly and you have the biggest urge to just run, to get out of there. But you can’t. You need to be here for everyone.

“Whatever is out there is surveying us. Trying to find the weakest member to pick off,” Noah says quietly, putting his arm around Hayley’s shoulders. Jeannie grips your hand tightly and lets out a whimper.

“Like to eat?” she whispers.

“Let’s keep going,” Noah says. “Let’s go faster though. We’re almost at the ro--,” a loud snap to your left cuts him off.

Everyone freezes.

It was so close to the edge of the trees.

The sound of growling hits your ears next. You’re so scared that you feel like you’re trapped in a corner with no where to go. You don’t hear Noah yelling to run. You don’t hear the terrified screams of the other kids. All that you’re focused on are the yellow eyes that emerge from the trees as the first wolf takes chase.

If it wasn’t for Kyle pulling on your hand you would have just stood there becoming wolf bait.

You snap out of your terror, almost tripping over your feet. Kyle is pulling you along by the hand as you race down the road, Jeannie wrapped around his torso. Your already tired legs burn as you push them harder than you ever have before. The sound of paws hitting the road and low snarls are the only thing keeping you going.

Noah and Hayley hit the cabin’s dirt road first and they take off it, quickly getting swallowed by the trees. Jamie and Tanner are right behind them with Lilly closely following. Please don’t let Jamie get dizzy right now. I can’t lose another one.

You dash onto the other road, the cabin coming into view about 500 metres away. You hear Graham, Will, and Adam’s feet hit the dirt road seconds after you.

Your lungs feel like they’re on fire, but you keep pushing. You feel like a wolf is going to rip you to shreds at any moment. You can hear their teeth gnashing together as they nip and bite at the air.

You can hear Tanner yelling at Jamie to hurry up and that’s when you notice that you’re almost running on top of them. Jamie stumbles and trips, landing hard on his knees and arms.

Your heart stops.

You try to stop but with your momentum you don’t have time and you run right by them. You rip your hand from Kyle’s and spin around. That’s when you see just how close the wolves are. There are six wolves running towards you. They’re huge, their backs easily up to your hips. Their sharp teeth sending shivers down your spine as they gleam and glisten with saliva in the dying light.

“Go! We got them!” Graham yells at you. Kyle grabs your hand again and pulls you after him. You put your trust in the older boys and you take off running again. If you don’t, you’d be wolf chow and then what good would you be to the kids?

Noah and Hayley get to the door, swinging it open and running inside, Lilly running in right after. Thank fucking god it’s unlocked. They peek their heads out, shouting at you to hurry.

You’re so close.

You push your legs harder. Your breath barely coming out. A stitch in your side so painful you want to cry.

A shrill scream rips through the air just as your feet hit the wood floors of the cabin, right behind Kyle and Jeannie. Graham, with a small body in his arms, then Adam, then Will follow after you seconds later. Will throws his body against the door to shut it. You stare at them as the screams continue to ring out.

Why are they only carrying one? What happened?

Nine pairs of eyes stare at you. Lilly covers her ears to block out the screaming. Tears pour down Hayley’s face.

As suddenly as the screams started, they stop just as fast, getting cut off like someone paused a song.

The deafening silence settles around you, its thick fingers wrapping around your throat, suffocating you in its oppressive embrace.

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Thanks so much for reading! I hope you enjoyed this chapter, I had fun writing it. I’m super excited for the next couple chapter as JK will be making his appearance soon!

Tagged: @sugalarity

#bts #bts imagine #bts jungkook #bts jk #jungkook #jk #apocolyptic

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