#i mentioned having insect bites and today someone asked me “hey are your insect bites better?” and i almost fucking sobbed

[quillsink]

i have…friends….people who…care about me….what is this sorcery.

#okay major rant in the tags so ignore me lol #okay. why the FUCK do people like me. what in the goddamn hell is going on #i want to go back to october!!! all the guys hated me and i was friends with like two people!! #what is happening…. #people fucking TALK to me?? i have like fucking thirty friends at school what is goingON?? #THIS DOES NOT FOLLOW THE RULES THIS DOES NOT FIR WITH THE SIMULATIONS??. #ground rule hashtag one #people if they can help it do not interact with me #for over two minutes after first meeting me #there are people who WILLINGLY ask HOW I AM #who APPROACH ME after ALREADY MEETING ME #there are people who KNOW i’m gay trans and nd and still??? want to?? be my friend?? #dude one kid i’m friends with fucking made a drawing of me her and our mutual friend and i nearly cried #i mentioned having insect bites and today someone asked me “hey are your insect bites better?” and i almost fucking sobbed #yesterday i was like leaning against a wall and talking to like three girls and i’m like WHAT people t a l k to me. #i am friends with half of my class. what in thr goddamn fuck #i was panicking like an hour before an exam #and the minute before it started one girl walked up to me and said “hey man you’re gonna do great okay you got this” #and i’m like HUH??? YOU CARE??? #i have a friend group who when i talk LISTENS TO ME?? #people ask how i am?? on a daily basis?? #what in the goddamn fuck. this is so weird. #aryan talks

[spencesglasses]

sweet creature (spencer reid x f! reader) pt 3

a/n: no spence in this part, sorry to disappoint you simps. but uhh, y/n and jj rights! but as besties <3

tw! there are mentions of sexual assault and a minor character death! please be aware before reading!!

part one | part four

“St. Augustine, Florida,” Penelope starts, showcasing the most recent case. “Two bodies were found early this evening in a remote wooded area just west of the city. Neither have been identified yet.”

“This woman’s complexion…” Tara said, looking at the pictures of a woman with various injuries on her face.

Y/N looked at the board beside Penelope. “… she was exsanguinated.” she hissed.

“Correct, my dearest, which is a really fun word to say, but I didn’t know its terrible meaning until I started working here.”

“Odd that the only female had her blood removed,” Rossi said across the round table.

“Well, the male victim might have been collateral damage or a witness that needed to be silenced.” JJ added.

“I mean, it is the kind of message that would be sent to each other. The Curiel Syndicate recently set up shop in Florida,”

“Except it looks like these two were meant without anyone the wiser. How is that a message?” Asked Rossi.

“Well, cartels have also been known to use murder as a form of voodoo.” Derek pointed out. “In 1989, a University of Texas student was murdered by a satanic gang while on spring break.”

Y/N leaned further into the table, reviewing the photos they were given. “My guess is that this has nothing to do with drugs. Maybe someone with a blood fetish-”

“Vampirism?” JJ asked.

Y/N hums in response, glancing at her for a brief moment.

“It’s late and we need to hit the ground running. Wheels up in 30.” Hotch said as he closed the file he held, gathering any necessary belongings for the case.

Without another word, the team mirrored his actions and followed him out. This was one of the first few cases she has worked on with the team without Spencer. She didn’t mind it, of course. The team welcomed her with open arms and treated her as if she had always been there, which she appreciated. She had gotten used to everything that came with the job, and grew closer to the team, but she wouldn’t be lying if she said that some things she sees still make her skin crawl.

-

Y/N looked out the window of the jet, admiring the contrast of the dark, star filled sky beneath the white clouds. She was seated with JJ, Hotch, and Morgan at the small table, the rest of the team claiming their spot to the seats to their right.

“The coroner attributed the lacerations on the bodies to animal bites.” Morgan said. “Apparently there are a lot of raccoons in that area.”

Y/N felt JJ nudge her slightly and brought her attention back to the file on her lap, flipping through the photos. “The media’s going on about satanic mutilation.”  

“It’s happened before. The West Memphis three case showed how animal activity on a corpse can be mistaken for a ritualized torture.” Hotch noted.

“After the first bite, the insect infestation expands and distorts the open wounds,” Said Rossi.

Y/N heard Garcia groan over the laptop speaker, seeing her face scrunch up in disgust on the screen. “Ok, here’s my finger, here’s the mute button. Are you guys done talking about the critter damage?”

JJ and Y/N shared a look, and she smiled. “You can put your finger down, Pen, we’re done,”

“Thank you, and Y/N’s right; local news and radio outlets are going wild with this being a blood-worshipping cult murder.” she continues typing. “Hey, new information. Both of those bodies have just been identified, Cheyenne Pravato, 23 and George Henning, 71.”

The team leaned forward to inspect the photos of the recent victims popping up on the screen.

“Any connection?” asked Hotch.

“My level-one search says no, my level 2 through 20 await. Cheyenne was a waitress that is currently unemployed. Henning was a retired steelworker from Pennsylvania, lived in Florida a few years. They both went missing 3 days ago.”

“3 days?” Tara questioned. “Coroner estimated the time of death as less than 24 hours from the time of discovery?”

“Preliminary indicators show no sign of torture or sexual assault,” JJ said.  

Y/N’s eyebrows knit together in thought, trying to piece together the information. “What was he doing with them?”

The team brought their attention to Hotch, and he said, “Dave, you find out what you can about Cheyenne from friends and family. Morgan, you do the same thing for Henning. JJ, I need you to rein in the media. And, Lewis, Y/L, you two go to the M.E.. Hysteria’s growing and we need to contain it.”

-

“Still waiting on the full tox screen for the male victim,” said the medical examiner.

“We think they may have been held for up to two days.” Tara said. “Were they fed?”

“Stomach contents were empty, but nutrition and hydration levels were normal. My guess is they were both fed through an I.V.” he said, lifting the fabric that covered the body. “I did find one curiosity,”

He uncovered the victim's calf, showing a mark on the skin with red rings around it. Y/N furrowed her brows, her eyes scanning the injured spot. “It looks like an animal bite?”

“Not under magnification. It’s actually a surgically precise triangle,”

She saw Tara’s face harden in the corner of her eye; she turned to her and they shared a questioning look. They heard the telephone ring from across the room, and the medical examiner was quick to answer it. Tara lifted the fabric once more, bending down to look closer at the injury.

“You’re positive of that?” Y/N heard him ask over the phone. The medical examiner hung up the phone, turning on his heel to face the two women. “The tox screen and DNA tests on George Henning just came back. You ready for this? Most of the blood in his body isn’t his…”

Y/N tilted her head. “Then whose…”

“It’s Cheyenne’s…”

Her whole body tensed at his words, and Tara’s jaw dropped in shock.

-

Y/N tapped her pencil against the table as she read over the tox screening. “The blood drained from Cheyenne was put into George Henning?” Morgan questioned, gesturing to the document in her hand.

She slid the paper across the table for him to read. “It is strange, a triangle was cut into his calf muscle too,”

“And there’s still something in the toxicology screen that the M.E. can’t identify.” Hotch said.

“Yeah, we’re hoping to find something more in the next few hours,”

Morgan slid back the report to her. She heard footsteps coming closer to the room they occupied and turned to see JJ walking in.  She greeted her with a small wave and smile, to which she returned. JJ leaned against Y/N’s chair, resting her hand on the back of it. “So, it took a little arm-wrestling,” she starts. “But the media finally saw the wisdom in toning down the whole demon worship angle,”

“Don’t take a victory lap just yet,” Rossi said, Y/N handing her the tox report.

“You’re kidding,” JJ huffed.

Tara picked up the photos from the M.E., flipping them over for JJ to see. “Y/L and I are just trying to work out this whole calf muscle business,”

“Triangles are big in illuminati symbolism.” Rossi recounted.

Morgan let out a sharp exhale. “This is just bending back toward cult behavior.”

“What did you find out about George Henning?” Hotch asked him.

“According to the neighbors, the guy was a shut-in. No friends, a lot of health problems — hypertension, parkinson’s,”

“Cheyenne was the opposite,” Rossi interjected. “Vegan, into new age lifestyles. Never met a harmonic convergence she didn't want to converge on.”

“Well, I mean, I get it with him; he was a recluse, but how did nobody notice her missing for 3 days?”

“Her friends said that Cheyenne was flighty. It was not unusual for her to take off without notice for a week or two.”

“Transfusions and sustained I.V. feeding takes skill, planning and access to materials, and as crude as it was, the replacing of old blood with new is dialysis.” Hotch said.  “ What if the triangle isn’t a symbol, but a tissue sample? Could this be medical experimentation?”

“Yeah, I mean, you’ve got a youthful, healthy host in Cheyenne and a sick test subject in Henning,”

“If the new missing girl’s his next victim, the unsub could be getting ready to try again,” JJ said, clutching the back of Y/N’s chair.

Y/N gave her a look of confusion. “New missing girl?”

“A missing persons report came in earlier today, Andrea Gambrell,” JJ explained. “Her car was found abandoned at a cemetery near Jacksonville. Cheyenne and Andrea waitressed at the same restaurant.”

“If Andrea mirrors Cheyenne, then who mirrors George?” Y/N asked.

“I guess that’s what we have to figure out.”

-

Y/N stood with JJ and Hotch looking over photos they’ve gathered throughout the case, trying to come up with a conclusion. She tapped her foot anxiously against the tile beneath her feet, her brows furrowing as she looked closely at the photos. The sound of Hotch’s phone ringing startled her, making her jump. She let out a deep breath and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. JJ took notice of a very flustered looking Y/N and placed a hand on her shoulder gently. “You okay there?”

She gave her a half-hearted smile, moving past her to stand next to Hotch. “‘m fine.”

“What do you have, Garcia?” he asked.

He asked her to search for doctors or any medical professionals in the area, anyone that could pop up as a red flag, and of course, Garcia was quick to find just what they needed. “Nothing on my crimson flag doctor search, but I did learn about something with a super cool name,” she said through the speaker. “The mad scientist club,”

JJ took a step, now standing beside Y/N. “And what is that?’ she asked.

“They’re a student group from the Florida College of Medicine in Jacksonville. Before the disbanded, they used to get together and talk about experimental ways to cure disease.”

“Do you have any names of the people in the club?” Y/N questioned.

“Uh, kinda, sorta, not really. They were totally informal. Here’s the part that made me sit up straight. They used to meet at a local cemetery,”

JJ scoffed. “Let me guess, the same cemetery where Andrea Gambrell disappeared.”

“Yeah! The very one!”

“Alright,” Hotch started. “Keep working on the names and see if you can find out what the club disbanded.”

“Okay,” Garcia said before hanging up.

Before the three of them could say another word, Y/N's own phone started ringing. She reached into her back pocket and held the phone up to her ear. “Agent Y/L,”

“Yes, agent, I’ve got the full tox screen of George Henning,” he said, Y/N bringing her phone from her ear so she could put it on speaker. “There were massive levels of massive levodopa in his system.”

“The parkinson's drug?”

“Correct,”

Y/N bit the inside of her cheek. “But the blood was replaced with Cheyenne’s. Does that mean the levodopa was introduced into his system after the transfusion?”

“Yes, ma’am. We got the results of the other DNA samples and the surprises keep coming. Found traces of mesoglea and testudinata keratin,”

“That is…” she urges him to continue.

“Jellyfish and turtle. George Henning had animal DNA in his system.” He said.

Y/N scrunched her nose, looking up to see JJ with her mouth slightly agape and Hotch with a deep frown. Y/N quickly says ‘thank you’ before hanging up. But before she could turn her phone off, a quiet ding! went off notifying her about a new message.

“Guys,” she alerted. “Another body was found.”

“You two check that out, see what you can find. I’ll brief the team on the tox screening.”

-

Y/N and JJ walked in silence, their shoulders bumping as they made their way to the site where the latest victim was found.  “Okay so, a homeless man found him,” Y/N breaks the silence, lifting the police tape for her and JJ to go under. The officer close by handed them both gloves to search the area and a bag of belongings found on the victim. “We I.D.’d him as Harold McDermott, longtime local resident.”

“He didn’t even bother hiding the body this time.” JJ said. “The unsub might be unraveling,”

“He must’ve been the new George Henning.” Y/N muttered, crouching down and her eyes scanning the injuries the man ensued. “I don’t even want to think about what might be swimming around in his bloodstream.”

JJ crouched down to her level. “No obvious tissue removal, bruising on his face and chest.” she looked at Y/N, then to the bag in her hand. “What’s in there?”

Y/N eyebrows rose, following JJ’s gaze to the items in the clear bag. She stood up, opened the bag and it was a wallet. With a medical card. Ah, of course we’d find something like this in here, she thought. “It’s a medical I.D. card” she said, pulling it out for JJ to see. “Our victim suffered from epilepsy and cortico-basal degeneration…”

They tore their eyes away from the card, glancing up to each other. “We better deliver the profile.”

-

It’s been a few hours since they’ve delivered the profile to local authorities, and since then, they’ve gotten more information to help them solve the case. The M.E. had found more animal DNA in George Hennings body: sea urchin and some other type of tropical parrot neither of them could identify.

Penelope was able to locate one of the former members of the Mad Scientist Club, Diane Haller, and she was able to go in to talk to Tara; finding out that there was a man that could be a potential lead. Robert, or Richard, Diane couldn’t remember his name, but the club called him the magic man. He only went to the gathering a few times, according to Diane, and while he was there he would go on about how they were in a ‘magical place’. He attended the Florida College of Medicine in Jacksonville while the club was still active, his interest being in neuroscience.

A local doctor went missing, Laura Braga. She was a neurologist, which they believed was a connection to the unsub. Dr. Braga was heading back to her office to get files she’d forgotten when she discovered that the unsub broke into her office trying to get extra levodopa.  

“Garcia compiled a list of every medical student in the North Florida area with the first name of Richard or Robert, and I got to tell you guys, it’s a long list.” Tara said as she stood to the side of a board filled with photo evidence and a map of the area.

“So which one is our magic man?” JJ asked.

Y/N sat in the chair next to her, facing the board. She spun her chair around to face the other way and noticed a peculiar look on Rossi’s face. “What is it, Rossi?”

“They identified the bird DNA in Henning as coming from a scarlet macaw,”

“Mmhm. And?”

“That got me thinking about Turritopsis Dohrni,”

“Turri… what?’ Tara questioned him.

“It’s called the immortal jellyfish,” he explains. “Endlessly recycles its own cells through a process called transdifferentiation, a kind of lineage reprogramming.”

“Oh, my goodness. Dr. Spencer Reid, master of disguise.” JJ joked.

Y/N quirked an eyebrow, the corners of her mouth rising slightly. “If I didn’t know any better, I would’ve assumed that you were the resident genius, Rossi,”

He let out a soft chuckle. “No disguise. I called the kid last night.”

“Ahh,” Y/N and JJ said in unison.

“But think about it, jellyfish, turtle, sea urchin, and now a scarlet macaw. What do they all have in common?”

“A long lifespan.” Tara answered.

“Exactly, longer than a human’s.”

“So that means the unsub may not be focused on a specific disease but longevity,” Said JJ.

“Oh, God. Guys,” Tara gasped. “I think I know why the magic man thought this place was so magical,” She uses the file in her hand to point at the map. “We are right around the corner from the legendary Fountain of Youth.”

-

A local zoo reported a macaw stolen, the owner suspecting it to be a former employee, Robert Boles, who they’d believed to be the unsub. He went to medical school and flunked out in the middle of his first year. They found key information linking him to the case when Penelope found that he currently worked at the same hospital as Dr. Braga. The team rushed to the location where Boles did his experiments on his victims.

“All right, so, in high school Robert Boles got a summer job at a gift shop near the Fountain of Youth archaeological park.” JJ explained. “He got fired for breaking in after hours.”

Y/N and JJ sat in the back seat of the car, leaving Morgan and Hotch in the front. “That’s probably where his obsession with eternal youth started.”

-

They trudged through the hallways of the abandoned building with their guns pointed forward, ready to shoot if needed. “And I won’t let you get in the way!” they heard a man shout from one of the rooms.

The team followed the sound of the voice and turns the corner to see two men standing over a young woman. The younger man they’d identified as Robert Boles, and the young woman being Andrea Gambrell, Y/N assumed.

“Robert Boles, drop the weapon.” Hotch said sternly.

He whipped his head around to them.

“It’s over, man. You’re not getting out.” Morgan steps closer to him.

“Put the knife down, slowly.” JJ said.

Y/N watches as Boles lifts his arms in surrender, opening his hand to drop the knife. Morgan hurried to cuff him, while JJ rushed to untie Andrea strapped to the hospital bed.

“My wife needs help!” The other man, Ben Kebler, tells Hotch urgently.

“Where is she?”

“In the next room!” Mr. Kebler rushed out.

“Show me.” Hotch said, following him, and Y/N followed along. “Call an ambulance,” he tells her.

-

“Medics are on their way,” Y/N said softly, entering the room Hotch and JJ were in and she stood between them.

She looked down to see Eileen Kebler in the hospital bed, her husband leaning over her her. And her heart breaks. Eileen was dying.

“How is she?” Ben Kebler asked, eyes brimming with tears.

The three of them stayed silent, Y/N unable to comprehend what's happening, let alone come up with words to say in that moment. Hotch peers down at him, and Ben knows. He frantically shakes his head, hand shaking as he grabs his wife's hand. “What have I done?!”

“I’m cold,” Eileen mutters.

His face scrunched up. “Eileen, stay with me!” he pleads.

“I am always with you…” she whispers. “Always…”

And she was gone. Sobs echoed throughout the empty building, and Y/N could feel her heart bursting out of her chest. Her eyes watered with tears, then suddenly she felt a hand interlock with hers. It was JJ’s. She squeezes her hand gently, JJ rubbing soothing circles along her knuckles. She let out a soft exhale and used her free hand to wipe away any tears, trying to regain her composure. This part of the job was something she could never get used to. Something the rest of the team couldn’t get used to, no matter how long they’ve worked there.

-

It was safe to say that Y/N was not a night owl. The team were on their way home and she laid on the couch in the jet with a small pillow and blanket that could barely cover her. She smiled to herself as the memory of her finding Spencer snuggled with a far too small blanket the morning after their first movie night. She still cringes at the fact that she accidentally fell asleep barely into the first few movies, but smiles when she remembers what she woke up to. Y/N thought it was sweet that he stayed there with her, and finding Spencer curled up in a messy bundle of blankets made her heart grow twice its size. She took a mental note to call Spencer when they land, and she finally lets her eyes flutter shut, finally being able to rest.

-

tag list: @eevee0722 @ceeellewrites

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid #criminal minds #spencer reid x you #spencer reid fanfic #criminal minds imagines #matthew gray gubler #matthew gray gubler x reader

[magicrowiswritingstuff]

Part 1: “Dead Trickster” - Gabriel x female!reader

Part 1 (you’re here!) | Part 2 | Part 3 | …

Summary: Takes place during Season 2 Episode 15. The Reader is sure that the trickster couldn’t have been defeated so easily. Even though nobody believes you, you decide to keep an eye out just in case.

Warning: violence/fighting, slight suggestive themes

Category: general rating

Words: about 4.000

Note: I wrote this because it always bugged me that Sam, Dean and Bobby just walked away after “killing” the trickster without a second thought. I instantly suspected that this couldn’t be the end of the trickster and what happened? I was right and he became my favorite character. So, this is more self-inserted than usually … I just wanted to tell Sam and Dean how stupid they were for just leaving that school instantly without checking. Also, I wanted to call out Gabe because come on … how could anyone believe he was really dead back then?

  _________________________________  

Part 1 “Dead Trickster” – Gabriel x fem!reader

This hunt had to be one of the strangest you were ever on. Okay, a ghostly suicide wasn’t uncommon, you had solved plenty of similar cases. But a crocodile in the sewers and an alien abduction? Something strange was happening in this town and to the Winchesters. You were grateful for Bobby showing up and putting the boys back into their places. They had been acting up ever since you set foot into this city. Bobby had explained that it was because of the influence of a trickster, however you wondered why you weren’t really affected by it. Not that it mattered anymore. The three of you had your suspicions on who it might be and now you only needed to prove it before acting further. That was why you were walking to the school alone right now with three coffees balanced in your arms. Sam and Dean were already in the school, probably accompanied by the janitor who you suspected to be the trickster. You opened the door to the stairway with your foot and looked up, trying to find the boys. Sam had texted you that they were somewhere there. Then you heard Dean explaining something about which offices needed to be checked today. You turned away from the staircase leading up to be met with the janitors face only inches away from yours. Yelping you almost let go of the paper cup in your left hand but you managed to grasp it again. Thank God, for your hunter reflexes.

“Hey there, sugar. Been wondering where they left you” the golden-eyed man said with a grin on his lips. You let your eyes drift to Sam and Dean, standing on the last couple of stairs behind the supposed trickster. They reassured you with an almost unnoticeable nod and you directed your gaze back to the janitor immediately. You put on a small smile and tried to appear innocent. “I was just getting some coffee.” With a light laugh you turned to Dean and Sam, handing the first coffee to Dean who accepted it without question. When you reached out to Sam you said: “With sugar just like you want it.” But Sam shook his head. “Thank you, but I don’t feel like drinking something sweet right now.” You looked at Sam with a pout, focusing really hard on not grinning: “You couldn’t have said that before I went out to buy them?” “Sorry” Sam said abashed. Rolling your eyes, you turned your attention back to the janitor who eyed you expectantly. You rose one eyebrow at him in question before holding the excess coffee out for him to grab. “Want some? I don’t want to waste the money I spend for it” you asked with a shy smile. But when he didn’t react you added: “It’s not poisoned, just has a shit ton of sugar in it.” The janitor looked at the paper cup before directing his gaze back to you. “Yeah, thank you.” He grabbed it, though you noticed that he touched your hand a few seconds more than necessary. Forcing back your confused expression your focused on appearing friendly. When his touch left your skin you immediately pulled your hand back, maybe a little too fast and noticeable but you couldn’t help it. Something about this man was strange. He took one sip, his eyes still fixated on you with a mischievous glint, but the moment the dark liquid touched his lips his expression changed. With his eyebrows furrowed in a disgusted manner he looked down at the cup. “What is it?” you asked confused and took one sip of your own coffee. Then with playful shock you gasped. “Oh! Sorry, I must have gave you the wrong cup. Yikes, Sam you drink too much sugar” you said with an equally disgusted face, matching the one of the janitor. “I’m sorry, not much of a black coffee fan I suppose?” you apologized. The janitor shook his head. “Not really.” He handed you the cup back. “Again, I’m sorry” you repeated. “Don’t worry, at least there was no poison in it, was it” the man joked. You laughed and then turned around to face the door. “I’m going to get rid of these. Don’t wait for me, I’ll catch up.” And with these words you left the staircase just as you heard Sam say that he had forgotten something in the truck. You smiled to yourself as you let the coffee which the janitor had tried fall into the trash. Taking a sip from the sweet one you sighed as you looked at the cloudy sky. You had achieved what you needed.

 _______________

 Later that day you left the school for good with Sam and Dean following you. “Just because he reads Weekly World News doesn’t mean he’s our guy” Sam said as he passed you on the stairs. “You read it too” he added, looking at Dean who was walking on your right. The older brother rolled his eyes. “I’m telling you, it’s him.” You let out a sigh as you jumped down the last two stairs, trying to keep pace with the two larger guys. “Look” Sam continued. “I just think we need some hard proof. That’s all.” “Bobby mentioned the metabolism of tricksters” you pointed out while jogging beside them. “Right” Dean nodded as he came to a halt in front of Sam. “He said that these suckers have a metabolism like an insect. All right, a real sweet tooth.” You stopped as well, standing in the middle with your eyes facing the façade of the school. You tried really hard to not look at the reflecting windows, to not search for the brown-haired man. You shouldn’t stand out too much. “I didn’t find any candy bars or sugar. Not even equal” Sam pointed out. “Well, he didn’t like the black coffee I handed him” you threw in, shrugging your shoulders passively. Sam glanced at you from his side. “That’s not enough prove. There are many regular people who don’t like black coffee” Sam invalidated your argument. “Touché” you only said. “Yeah, then you must have missed something” Dean said, directed at Sam. The younger brother turned his attention back on Dean. “I don’t miss things” Sam snarled. “Oh, right” Dean uttered, leaning back slightly. “Because you’re Mr. Perfect.” Sam narrowed his eyes and scowled at his older brother. You took one step back, not wanting to end up in the middle of the argument. Letting your eyes wander around you found yourself inspecting the façade of the school again. You saw someone move in front of a window and as your eyes met honey colored orbs you turned away immediately. Luckily Sam had just spoken up again so your eyes drifted automatically back to him. “Are you still pissed at me because of what the trickster did?” he asked in an angry tone. Dean huffed, looking to the side before meeting his brothers heated gaze. “Oh, come on man. You been a tight ass long before the trickster showed up.” Sam seemed as if he was at a loss for words. “Too much, Dean” you hissed and narrowed your eyes at him. The older brother only huffed once. “Don’t stick your nose into others people business, (Y/N)” he snapped at you. You took one step back, pursing your lips. Now you were the one at a loss for words but Sam stepped in. “Look, just stay here. Keep an eye on the janitor. (Y/N) and I will go to his place, see if we can find any actual evidence before you go barging in and staking the man.” You nodded in agreement, however Dean only mimicked Sam with a sour face, not saying anything. “Just wait till we get back, okay?” Sam added, still on edge. “Dean” you said in a warning tone, crossing your arms before your chest. “Okay?” Sam followed up and was met with a sharp “Okay” back from his older brother. Sam took off, not waiting another second. “Take care” you whispered with your mouth facing away from the many school windows. Dean looked down on you with his expression set in stone but you could make out the tiniest glint in his eyes which signaled that he had understood. Nodding one last time you ran to catch up to Sam. You hoped the plan would work.

 _______________

 It was already dark when you watched Dean enter the school on his own. Biting your lip, you turned to look at Bobby and Sam, each of them armed with a stake. You looked down on your own weapon for a second before directing your gaze back to the entrance of the school. “When should we follow him?” you asked in a hushed tone. “I think we waited long enough, don’t want your brother alone with the trickster for too long” Bobby answered, the last part directed at Sam and stood up from behind the bushes. You and Sam followed as quickly as possible.

Inside of the building the three of you searched the staircase when you heard something from one floor above you. “Guys, this way” you whispered. You climbed the stairs and came to a halt in front of another door. Pressing your ear against it you listened for Dean’s or the janitor’s voice. Through the sound of music -was that Barry White?- you could make out the faint voices of two men. It had to be Dean and the trickster. You looked up at Sam and Bobby and nodded. “They’re in there.” You looked at the sign next to the door and noticed that it was the school theater room. “There has to be another entrance into the theater room” you said in a hushed tone. Bobby nodded: “I’m going to search for the other one so we can corner him in the room. You two stay here, I’ll text you, Sam, when I found it.” Bobby left you and Sam alone. And since you had to wait for a while you decided to eavesdrop a little. You couldn’t really understand much through the music though. “Come on!” you could make out. “Those people got what was coming to them.” That must be the trickster talking. You narrowed your eyes, focusing on understanding anything else. “But you and Sam and (Y/N), I like you. I do.” You backed away from the door a little to see Sam also pressing his ear against the door. Raising one eyebrow you mouthed “Weird” before turning back onto eavesdropping. You must have missed something because the next thing you heard was from Dean. “Yeah, I don’t think I can let you do that.” “I don’t wanna hurt you” the trickster responded. “And you know that I can.” Though it didn’t sound really that threatening you could feel a cold shiver run down your back. Shuddering you clung to the stake. You noticed Sam move beside you, looking at his phone. He turned it to you so you could read that Bobby had found the other entrance and asked when to strike. You grabbed Sam’s phone after asking for it silently. You typed in “Now” but didn’t press send just yet. Turning to the door once more you could hear both of men laugh. You must have missed something again. “One of my personal favorites” the trickster declared. “Yeah” Dean agreed. “But I can’t let you go.” “Too bad.” Still, the trickster’s voice hadn’t lost his cheerful pitch but you still felt uneasy after hearing those words. “Sam and (Y/N) were right.” You let your finger hover over the send button. “You shouldn’t have come alone.” You flinched a little. The trickster’s voice sounded uncharacteristically serious. You pressed send the moment you heard Dean say: “Well, I agree with you there.”

 You gave Sam his phone back and pressed the door to the theater room open to reveal something you hadn’t thought you would see in there. A huge red bed with two women on it only dressed in lingerie. Confused you blinked a few times before breaking away from the strange view. Your eyes wandered to Dean and then to the trickster who turned around to meet your gaze. You heard another door open and close and you knew that Bobby must have entered as well. But you didn’t look as your eyes were still glued to the golden ones of the trickster. Another shiver ran down your back. Something was up. Narrowing your eyes at him you tried to get at the bottom of your suspicion. The trickster, still dressed in his janitor clothes, returned your glance before turning around in his seat to face Dean once more. “That fight you three had outside, that was a trick?” He didn’t really sound surprised more fascinated by it than anything else. “Not bad.” You finally broke your gaze away from the trickster and realized that Sam had already stalked towards the man and his brother. You wanted to follow him when you heard the trickster speak up again: “But you wanna see a real trick?” He pointed to you and Sam without looking. You heard the chainsaw behind you before your mind could catch up what he meant by that.

Your eyes widen in shook as you turned around and saw a masked man with a chainsaw in his hands. You managed to take exactly one step back when you felt Sam push you into the rows of seats and away from the chainsaw which would have cut you in half otherwise. The focus of the masked man shifted onto Sam who threw himself on the floor, only barely dogging the man’s swing. Shaking your head, you stood up from the seat you had landed in even though your back hurt from the not so graceful landing. You saw Bobby run to help Sam while Dean struggled against the two women. The trickster only laughed at the sight of your friends getting hurt. Baring your teeth, you slowly made your way over the rows of seats, sneaking towards the trickster as he continued to laugh and giggle. Your heart hammered against your chest as you reached the last row, standing right behind the trickster. Holding up the stake above your head you were about to bring it down when you hesitated. Something wasn’t right here. You shook your head and gripped the stake tightly in your hands again just when he spun around with a grin. Your eyes widen in shock as you froze, giving the trickster just the time he needed to leap over his seat and pin you down on the one behind you. Taken by surprise you let out a yelp as your eyes darted around without orientation before focusing onto the trickster’s smirking face and twinkling golden eyes. “Ah-ah-ah” the trickster said, holding your arms above your head as your back was pressed painfully against the chair as he stood above you. “Don’t want you to get hurt, now do we?” He tore your arms forward again and snatched the stake from your grip before you could even move one finger. “Thanks, sugar” he said with a wink. You opened your mouth to say something with your eyes narrowed to small slits when you were suddenly standing in front of the theater doors again. Blinking confused you just stood there for a few seconds, holding yourself upright with the wall while wondering what the hell just happened. The trickster must have teleported you away. The only coherent thought you could form was “He can do that?” before the sounds of the fight tore you away from your confused daze and back into reality. Without wasting another second, even if you were defenseless now, you stormed back in. On top of the stairs you stopped and looked around. The trickster had sat down on his seat again, twirling your stake around while eating a candy bar. You began to run towards him, not thinking about sneaking up on him this time. Just as he turned his face to his right, theatrically cringing at Dean getting punched in the face by one of the women you jumped forward and tackled him to the ground. He let out a surprised “Uff” as he landed half on the ground and half on the seats with you on top of him. For a split second he seemed confused before his eyes met yours and a smirk spread over his lips. “(Y/N)” he said in a cheerful tone which caught you off guard. And before you knew it you were the one on the floor. Groaning you held the throbbing sides of your skull, trying to steady your spinning vision when you felt two hands pinning your arms on the ground beside your head. Opening your eyes, you saw the trickster above you, his body pinning yours to the ground. “I’m surprised you dared to come back here without a weapon, sweet little innocent (Y/N)” he said still grinning. You snarled at him, your eyes narrowing to small slits again. “Well, guess I’m not that shy and innocent after all.”

You brought your knee up as fast as possible, hitting the trickster in the groin. He immediately cringed in pain, his body contracting as a sharp yelp escaped his lips. You took advantage of that small window of opportunity and freed one of your arms, blindly searching for the stake that was lying somewhere on the ground with you. Just when you touched it with the tips of your fingers you were suddenly pulled up and pressed into one of the seats again, the stake still untouched on the floor. Clenching your teeth, you looked up to meet the trickster’s eyes again. “Was that your plan? Knocking me out with a kick to the dick? You have to do better than that to get the upper hand in bed, sugar” he said, now again smirking down at you. A shocked gasp left your lips as you pressed yourself further into the seat and away from the trickster. You were unable to from words as your eyes darted around, trying to find a way to win this battle. Your eyes landed on Dean who looked at you for a split second before he was grabbed by one of the women and flung through the room. He crashed into one of the seats before sliding to the ground. The trickster had followed your eyes, slightly letting go of you in the process of turning around. “Ha! Nice toss, ladies” he praised. Now only one of his arms was pinning you down by the shoulder as he laid his focus on Dean. “Dean” he began, letting go of you completely. “Dean, Dean, Dean.” You locked eyes with Sam who pointed to the stake on the ground to your feet. Biting your lip, you wiggled away from the trickster when he was distracted by Dean who was still on the ground in front of you. The older Winchester slowly rose up, looking you in the eyes while you grabbed the stake from the floor. You nodded. “I did not wanna have to do this” the trickster said, arms outstretched as he stared down at Dean. But before he could do anything you kicked him in the groin once more, taking him by surprise. He howled in pain before spinning around to face you.

“Good enough?” you asked with a sly grin and threw the stake to Dean who caught it with ease. The trickster turned around once more but was not fast enough to stop Dean from plunging the stake into his chest. You jumped over the last row of seats to stand beside the older brother as he said: “Me neither.” The sound of the chainsaw howled once more but when you looked, the masked man disappeared into thin air as well as the two women. You stood behind Dean when you turned to face the trickster again. His face seemed shocked and confused. Then Dean pulled the stake out of the trickster’s chest who fell backwards and slumped down into his seat. Grabbing onto Dean’s jacket you narrowed your eyes. Was that it? The trickster was dead? A little voice in your mind whispered that something still seemed suspicious. But before you could voice your thoughts you got interrupted by Dean asking if everyone was alright. You let go of the older Winchester and took one step back. Answering with a quiet “Yeah”. Sam did so too but added “I guess” not very convincing. Dean whipped away the blood from his lips as his eyes wandered to the dead trickster. “Well, I gotta say he had style” he said before groaning and walking pass you to the door. You however couldn’t keep your suspicion to yourself any longer as the adrenaline left your body. “You think he’s really dead?” you asked, still standing before the supposed dead trickster. Dean stopped dead in his tracks and turned around to face you. “You don’t suppose he had another trick up his sleeve?” you asked further, locking eyes with the older Winchester. “Stop worrying. I killed him” Dean reassured you and pointed to the bloody stake as if to underline his argument. You cringed at that, turning your focus back onto the dead trickster. No, this couldn’t have been so easy. “Wasn’t he able to cast illusions that were touchable?” you pressed. You were sure that this couldn’t be the end. As if you four were able to trick a probably century old trickster so easily. He didn’t really put up much of a fight, letting illusions do his work, teleporting you away or only pinning you down but never really hurting or fighting you in the process. This was simply too easy. “He’s dead, (Y/N)” Dean said bluntly and turned away from you, walking to the door. Sam nodded in agreement before he and Bobby followed close after. “If you say so��” You weren’t as experienced on the field as your hunter companions but you had researched a lot and you knew when your gut was right. And it was screaming at you that this win was to easy. Either way, you decided to trust them. Or at least kind of. When they had left the theater room you stayed behind, eyeing the dead trickster.

“Maybe I’m making a fool out of myself right now and you really are dead” you started and crossed your arms before your chest. You felt that cold shiver on your back again. No, something really wasn’t right here. “But I suppose it wouldn’t really matter if that was true, right?” You looked around suspiciously, trying to make out anything unusual. “I know this can’t be it. I know you aren’t dead. Trickster’s are hard to kill and you can never be too sure about it” your eyes traveled back to the unmoving trickster. You twisted your mouth. You were sure you were right about this. “I’ll keep an eye out for you.” And with that you turned around and fled the scene, catching up to Sam, Dean and Bobby.

       To be continued: Part 2 is here!

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#supernatural #supernatural gabriel #supernatural gabriel x reader #gabriel x reader #x reader #x reader image #supernatural image #supernatural dean #supernatural sam #dean winchester #Sam Winchester #female reader

[luxexhomines]

I love this blog! Can you do kokichi, tenko, kiibo, and kaede with an s/o who has to deal with catcalling everytime they go outside?

Thank you, lovely anon ♡ And thanks for requesting! My first time writing for four characters in imagines, heh ^^ It took me a while, so I might consider changing my rules. I’m considering just asking all requesters to specify bullet points or formal, but then I’d probably end up turning down a lot of people bc they didn’t read my rules, so…probably not. Maybe I’ll just say that it’ll be up to my discretion. If anyone has any suggestions or input, feel free to let me know!

Short announcement! I got a bunch of requests today, which is most likely due to qosic reblogging my tiny little description and while I feel a little guilty because it’s almost like I just used them, I am super thankful for their support!!! If you haven’t checked out qosic before, definitely take a look, because their art is. the definition of art, to put it plainly. They have this impressionistic style sometimes & sometimes more focused & both are so emotive and gorgeous!! Their new fanbook, Thrills, Chills & Kills is out right now for preorders, and preorders end tomorrow! I ordered a copy myself; it’s only $20 for 65+ pages!!

I’m not sure if I properly portrayed catcalling & hopefully, the reactions are all in-character. Kokichi’s is the longest because I wrote his first and for the rest, I figured I shouldn’t drag them on too long. Longer isn’t always better, after all ;;; 

Warning for minor swearing! Under the cut for the length. 

Kokichi, Tenko, Kiibo, & Kaede x S/O Who is Constantly Catcalled

Kokichi Ouma

Man, you were just out on a date with your boyfriend. Why’d this have to happen?

Kokichi was currently engaged in a competition of the knife game against one of the many guys that had catcalled you earlier, singing, “Oh, I have all my fingers. The knife goes chop chop chop–if I miss the spaces in between my fingers will come off,” and more. Yes, he had all the lyrics memorized, and yes it was real knives the two were stabbing between their fingers. You get the idea.

The two of you had just been strolling along the street and chatting when a guy on the street wolf-whistled as you passed, and when you ignored him like you do to all catcallers, he followed you two and grabbed your shoulder roughly.

“Hey, you wanna ditch this shortie and come have some fun with me?”

Kokichi was used to you being catcalled. But this man touched you with his filthy hands. He steps in between you and the man swiftly, chopping his hand off of your shoulder and giving him a horrifying smile, his purple eyes narrowing as he holds out a hand.

“You have to beat ‘this shortie’ in a game if you want her.”

The guy bellows with laughter.

“You hear that, beautiful? He thinks all you’re worth is a simple game. Okay, if that’s all it takes,” he grins wolfishly.

You sighed and put a hand to your forehead, exasperated and yet somewhat amused. That man had no idea what he was in for–a simple game, he called it? It was obvious he would never beat Kokichi. And the fact that Kokichi was doing it right here out in the streets made it clear that he was trying to make an example of this poor man.

“Okay, let’s do the knife game,” Kokichi clapped his hands together. Now his opponent was looking a little nervous, shifting his weight around slightly.

“The knife game? You mean with pencils, right? Sure–”

“No. I meant with real knives,” Kokichi laughs. “What do you think, we’re middle schoolers?”

The man shows an expression of resentment and anger.

“Well, where are you going to get those knives from, smartass?”

Kokichi simply digs into his uniform and pulls out two knives. Okay, you didn’t know he was carrying that around with him, but you weren’t exactly surprised. It was Kokichi the two of you were talking about, after all. The guy is completely taken aback, but now that he’s agreed, he doesn’t back off and instead offers a sweaty smile, perhaps wondering what exactly he’s gotten himself into.

Somehow, they manage to borrow a small table and two chairs and set up right on the street to one side, and pedestrians walk by, looking at them curiously, and Kokichi hands one knife to the man.

They begin playing, of which the choice of game is making you anxious since Kokichi could actually get hurt, but at the same time, you know Kokichi is sly and agile enough that he won’t cut himself except on purpose. The game goes on for a while, and you can see the man getting more and more worked up. The sweat is practically dripping off his beaky nose as he leans over his hand with the knife.

Then you see his eyes dart out from his hand, toward Kokichi’s figure, and sensing something terribly wrong, you run toward Kokichi and wrap yourself around him as the man’s knife comes straight toward the two of you. You close your eyes, but you don’t feel anything, and when you open them, you see Kokichi has his arm out from under your tight embrace, parrying the man. He’s giving the man a monstrous smile. One that was just more terrifying than the one that came before. And in a low voice that, despite how quiet it is, emphasizes every syllable of his words, he says,

“I was going to forgive you after this game. But then you had to go and do this. What would you have done if you had hurt s/o, huh?” The man stutters, but is unable to formulate a response–neither does Kokichi let him form one. “Looks like you’re really playing to get hurt.”

Kokichi’s eyes have a dangerous tint, and they shine darkly as he gently pushes you off of him and stalks toward the man. In less than a moment, his knife is pressed against the man’s throat, and you put a hand to your mouth. Kokichi would never kill someone. But this display isn’t looking good to anyone that would walk by. And then you notice that there are no passerby, strangely enough.

“I-I’m sorry,” the man whimpers. “Please let me go, that was an accident.”

Kokichi’s attitude takes a complete turnaround, and he puts both knives away–when’d he get the second one, anyway? He smiles innocently, putting his hand out for a handshake.

“Okay, I guess I’ll forgive you. Good game!”

The man eyes the proffered hand with the most fear you’ve ever seen someone look at a handshake with. But he slowly reaches out and shakes it, letting go less than a second later, and he walks away at an abnormally high speed.

You turn toward Kokichi, suspicion evident in your eyes.

“What did you do to him?”

He laughs.

“Nothing! What makes you think I’d do anything to him?”

You cross your arms in front of you. You weren’t budging.

“You definitely did something to him. Why else would you shake his hand like that?”

Kokichi only smiles playfully.

“Oh, are you jealous? Want to shake my hand?”

And he holds out his other hand, his purple hair bouncing slightly as he thrusts his hand forward. You’re wary, but you hum with a smile and grasp his hand.

“I don’t particularly care about shaking it, but I am rather partial to holding it,” you reply, taking it.

Even after some pestering, Kokichi won’t reveal what he’s done, so you just leave it at that, knowing that he wouldn’t do something too terrible. …Right?

The two of you walk hand in hand all the way home, idly chatting and swinging your arms in high-spirits. Upon reaching home, he pecks your nose lightly with a kiss, offering a whimsical smile.

“Those insects don’t stand a chance against me.”

Chuckling, you put a sweet kiss on his lips, mumbling against them.

“You know it.”

Tenko Chabashira

You had suggested going out for a walk with Tenko so you could stretch your legs and get some exercise–not to mention, spend some quality time with your girlfriend. But not long after you entered the park, a degenerate male called out to you and whooped.

“Hey, beautiful!”

You groaned inwardly, suddenly realizing what an awful idea it was to bring Tenko out with you to a place where a lot of men might be around. Tenko abruptly stopped with your hand still clutched in hers, and turned, throwing a glare at him.

“Don’t even throw as much as a glance at s/o, you degenerate male. Your filthy eyes don’t deserve such a pure and gorgeous sight. I don’t want you dirtying my s/o.”

The man was clearly incensed as he stood, assuming an offensive stance.

“What did you say? I’m just being appreciative.”

She lets go of your hand and gestures for you to move back further behind her.

“Don’t go too far, s/o,” she calls before bringing her attention back to the man before her, who doesn’t exactly look like a pushover.

Yes, you were worried, but you didn’t think you could stop Tenko. She was similarly incited by his words–and, well, his existence as a male, and you had faith in her. Sometimes you liked to spar with her, even if it almost always ended up in your defeat.

She engages him in a fight and soon enough is half-pummeling him into the ground. He doesn’t look so good as he struggles to stand and run away.

“You’re crazy!” he cries out. When Tenko moves to chase after him, you wrap your arms around her midriff from behind swiftly. You don’t even know how you caught her.

“Don’t, Tenko. He’s not worth it.”

You feel some of the tension sink from her shoulders, and she assumes a resting position as you slowly let go of her. You see her biting her lower lip in aggravation and lean in to place a kiss on her cheek in an attempt to calm her down.

“Thank you, Tenko,” you smile. “You’re always protecting me so chivalrously.”

Instead, your touch had the opposite effect, and her cheeks are colored with red.

“I-I didn’t do anything special,” she stutters, pushing her index fingers together anxiously. “It’s only natural to protect someone as beautiful and wonderful as you from corrupt men like him!”

You give her a quick hug. She’s made of muscle, yes, but every bit as soft and cuddly, too.

“Thanks anyway, Tenko. Not everyone would have the strength or bravery to help me like that,” you respond, a lopsided smile flitting across your features.

She concedes defeat, and hand in hand, the two of you journey through the park undisturbed. There was no one within a mile that hadn’t taken note of Tenko’s fighting prowess and her mercilessness toward behavior like catcalling you. It was nice to be able to just enjoy yourself while out and about for once without worrying about strangers catcalling you or potentially stalking you home, and you squeezed Tenko’s hand with affection, sometimes leaning your head against her shoulder as you walked.

Kiibo

The two of you are out shopping in the mall and–yes–looking for clothes for Kiibo. You had just walked out of the store, arm-in-arm with Kiibo and several bags hanging from your wrist, over the moon about getting to see Kiibo wear the new purchases and getting to spoil him for once. It was surprisingly difficult to spoil robots, after all–you couldn’t exactly buy Kiibo food or drink, after all, and sometimes he wouldn’t have any use for certain material objects or see the use in them.

Then you heard a voice call after you.

“Hey, where you going with that hunk of metal, gorgeous?”

You usually ignored the catcalling and had a general agreement with Kiibo to not pay any attention to it, especially on your dates out. But you were incensed by the hunk of metal comment. You stopped in your step and swiveled around, giving the man a death stare as you felt Kiibo looking on in surprise.

“None of your business. And he’s my handsome hunk of metal, so bugger off,” you say before turning to leave. But Kiibo’s still facing the man, and you look back at him, putting a hand to his shoulder. “Kiibo?”

He’s looking at the man pointedly and then looks back at you.

“Shall I go teach him a lesson?” he asks. Which is pretty out of character for him, considering that he was made with the strength of an old man. You give him a confused look.

“What do you mean, teach him a lesson?”

Kiibo grins.

“Oh, exactly what it sounds like.”

You only feel more bewildered, but now Kiibo has walked off, and you’re left there watching as he engages the man in conversation. Nothing like beating the man up, of course. You don’t exactly see how Kiibo is teaching the man a lesson, but the other party seems more aggravated the longer the conversation carries on and then suddenly storms off angrily. You did have to admit that it made for a pretty good show, and you laughed as you watched a triumphant Kiibo return to your side.

“What did you do to him, Kiibo? He looked furious.”

Kiibo holds up a finger as he explains.

“I was lecturing to him about the history of sexism, objectifying women and robots and how his catcalling is contributing to a toxic culture in society,” Kiibo clarifies. “He was being quite irrational, and eventually, he got frustrated and ran away with his tail between his legs.”

You chuckle, thoroughly entertained and pleased, and press a kiss to his cheek firmly.

“Thanks, Kiibo. Trust you to counteract unreasonable people without engaging in violence or underhanded methods,” you say.

He flushes all kinds of red, averting his gaze in embarrassment.

“Of course! A-And it was for you, so…” he trails off as you kiss him a second time, this time on his lips, which are not soft, but surprisingly pleasantly warm.

Kaede Akamatsu

The two of you are crammed like sardines in a crowded subway and are chatting amiably when someone calls out to you.

“Hey, sexy!”

You groan audibly, but otherwise, don’t respond. Kaede, however, actively makes an effort to move and face the offender, crossing her arms and looking highly unamused.

“Hey, creepy. Why don’t you creep off?” she snaps.

Kaede’s not tolerant of this kind of behavior in the least, although if the comment was directed at her instead of you she might just settle for giving the culprit a hard look and physically moving away from the person. However, in such a tight space, there’s no way the two of you can actually swim through all the people.

The man stares at her.

“I wasn’t talking to you,” he tries to explain.

Kaede rolls her eyes and wraps an arm around your waist, pulling you in closer.

“I know, dumbass. This is my partner,” she retorts in a prickly manner. You feel the need to diffuse the situation, but simultaneously know that Kaede is more than capable of handling herself and bite back your words, only putting your arm around her back in response and throwing the man a diffident look.

You see the man grit his teeth, but there’s nothing he can do in such a crowded space. Or so you thought.

“You two bitches! I don’t even care about you two. I just called out to you because you looked easy,” he taunted. Clearly, his ego had taken a blow.

Kaede looks ready to go and take his head off as you feel her grip on your tighten, but she keeps control of herself.

“Okay, then,” she says in an even voice. “What makes you think even a prostitute would give trash like you the time of day?”

If the man wasn’t angry before, he sure is now.

“You’re playing with fire, missy! I can get any woman or man. I’m a very wealthy and influential man,” he says, adjusting his suit’s tie pretentiously.

Kaede scoffs derisively.

“Mhm, you can get almost anyone with your money. But you can’t get this one,” she glances at you, “or this one, for that matter,” she says as she points at herself.

The subway doors open, and the two of you step out as the man stares after you two in shock, frozen in his fury.

You put your shoulder against Kaede’s as the two of you settle into two seats in a new subway, this time more empty and without that man.

“Better?” she asks softly.

You nod, smiling.

“Much better. Although, it was kind of nice to see you bashing him like that. Sometimes I forget you have that side to you,” you say, kissing her neck gently.

You feel her shake slightly with laughter, and you give her a couple more soft kisses in response.

“Hey, that tickles!” she protests, but her love for you is evident as she kisses your hair affectionately.

#danganronpa #danganronpa imagines #dr imagines #ndrv3 imagines #drv3 imagines #kokichi ouma #kaede akamatsu #kiibo #k1-b0 #tenko chabashira #imagines #drv3 #writing #luxexhomines #drabbles #lux writes #ndrv3 #i feel that i could have done better #but that's okay bc i'm going to take all this experience for growth! #so i can write better and better for you all!

[tasharii]

Your Colors: Chapter 15

A/N: Alright so this chapter came out a little late cause I'm working with a new beta reader. Hopefully I'll keep working with her, if I can write ahead of schedule....  Please take note of the warnings. There is a mention of past rape and abuse in this chapter, and it will come up again in future chapters. If that triggers you, than please skip it. I'll put *** before and after any scenes that mentions it in a more graphic fashion. It will likely not get any more graphic then what's mentioned in this chapter, and will be spoken about in past tense in future chapters, unless I find a flashback to be necessary for the story. As a survivor myself, I promise to try and handle this as realistically as possible based on my experiences, and people who have shared their own with me. Thank you for reading and commenting! I hope you enjoy the chapter <3

Summary:  Art was the one good thing between college, work, and the grey minutes in-between. Sometimes, it felt like she wasn’t alive at all. Just drifting. When she joined her new art class, she never expected to start experiencing everything in an entirely new light. All thanks to him. Or: Where Bucky Barnes gets more than he bargained from his new drawing partner.

Pairing: Reader x Bucky Barnes

Word Count: 8K

Rating: Mature

Warnings: Language, mentions of past rape and abuse

Masterlist

Chapter 1  Chapter 2  Chapter 3 Chapter 4  Chapter 5  Chapter 6 Chapter 7  Chapter 8  Chapter 9  Chapter 10 Chapter 11  Chapter 12  Chapter 13  Chapter 14  Chapter 15

****

December 23

From downstairs, Y/N could hear her mom calling her name. Every syllable echoed up the narrow stairwell like the cry of an infernal crow. It was late Sunday morning. And she figured that she couldn’t hide much longer. Golden sunlight flowed in from the main window across from the foot of the bed. It was deceivably sunny out with clear skies and little wind to speak up. They’d arrived at her grandparents’ house the night before. It had taken her forever to settle down and fall asleep. Even after she shut her eyes, she’d found herself tossing and turning most of the night.

Slumped on her bed, Y/N stared down at the envelope in her hands. It was off-white and battered. Her name smudged on the front like a thumb had run over it before the ink dried. Slowly, she stood up off the bed and tucked it back into her art bag under the window. Everything was still packed up among her bags, and she had no intentions of changing that any time soon. Irritation made her empty hands clench when her mom’s voice broke through the quiet of the make-shift attic like a whip.

First a quiet knock on the door, then she heard it creak open, “Are you up yet?” Her mom leaned against the doorframe in a long eggshell blue sweater dress over black tights, “Your aunt and uncle will be here for breakfast soon.” She eyed Y/N’s clothes with an arched brow, “Are you really going to wear that?”

Exasperated, Y/N glared back at her mom. As she crossed the room back to the bed, her footsteps were muffled by a plush, old carpet overtop the cold wooden floor. Taking up a brush from her bathroom bag, she started running it through her tangled hair, “What’s wrong with it?” She glanced down at herself. Jeans and a thick black sweater. Comfortable and warm. Her grandfather hated wasting money on heat. Everyone’s toes had to chance frostbite in the house. If the pipes weren’t freezing, then the heat stayed low. No one touched the thermostat other than him.

“Why don’t you wear that Christmas sweater your grandma got you last year?” She persuaded, lips pursed into a fine line. Her fingers tapped impatiently on her arm as she watched Y/N toss the brush back down. Annoyance prickled underneath her skin at the feeling of her mother’s heavy gaze crawling across her skin like the feelers of an insect.

In the tense silence, soft humming floated up from downstairs. Along with the smell of frying bacon. Grandma must be in the kitchen then. The doorbell rang from the living room. Again. And then again. The dinging was piercing even from far up above it all.

Sheepish, Y/N shook her head and took out her travel sketchbook, avoiding her mother’s eyes. It was unlikely that she’d have time for it. But the moment they stopped paying her attention, she’d sneak to a quiet corner and draw. Out of sight, and out of mind.

“I didn’t bring it.” She admitted, much to her mother’s dismay. It wasn’t just that she didn’t bring it, she’d conveniently lost the monstrosity of wool a while ago. Pencil case in hand, she sat it beside her sketchbook, and zipped her bag back up.

Far from pleased, her mother huffed and stepped back into the hall, “Please just be down in a bit. Your cousins are looking forward to seeing you.” She stopped, already halfway turned to leave, and took a single step back. There was an awkward pause where she cleared her throat, then asked softly, “Are you feeling alright?” Concern flickered to life in her features, making her eyebrows draw low and the crinkles in her eyes deepen.

No, she wasn’t, but she didn’t really know what to say. Y/N tried to be as honest as she could with her mother, but she didn’t want to worry her. Especially when there was little that her mom could do. It only made things more complicated because it’d been her mom that had given her that letter. The one that brought all her old fears and nightmares to the forefront of her thoughts.

“I’m alright.” She offered, and when her mom gave her a knowing look, she managed a watery smile, “I will be.” Fingers twisting the sleeves of her sweater against her palms, she barely held that weak tilt of her lips. Luckily, it was enough to make her back off. Eyes softening, her mom smiled. A pretty expression even with the laugh lines and crow’s feet on the edges of her eyes.

“Good, let me know if you need anything. At all.” She declared, giving one last pointed look, before finally leaving. The rhythmic beat of her footsteps faded away as she made her way down the steep attic stairs.

The moment the door clicked shut, Y/N’s shoulders drooped, and she let out a long sigh. It felt like she was weary to the bone. Like pitch black sand filled up all the empty places inside of her and pulled her down. Slowly, she sank onto the bed next to her suitcase and took out her phone from her back pocket.

From downstairs, she could hear her parents greeting her aunt and uncle. Everyone laughed at something her little cousins cheered. Ignoring them, she flipped through her contacts and hovered over Bucky’s name.

They’d talked a little since she left Saturday. She let him know she’d made it safe, and he’d sent her a good morning earlier. After a second of hesitation, she passed his name and scrolled down to Peter. Taking in a quick breath, she hit call. He should be up by now. Right then, she just needed to talk to someone. Someone who knew.

“Hey! What’s up? Make it to No-Where Ohio yet?” Peter’s laughter was a spark of light in her heart. It danced warm and sweet inside her and made her brighten.

A surprised, weak laugh left her, and she curled up with her elbows on her knees, “Ya, got in last night.”

There was a moment of silence, and she could imagine the slight frown on Peter’s lips as he heard the tremor of pain in her words. After a second, he gently asked, “Are you alright?” The heater kicked on and stirred up some dust bunnies across the floor. No one ever used the attic for anything but storage, and overflow guests. So, dust bunnies ruled up here.

It felt different than when her mom asked. More comforting because he knew her better. There was a promise that he could help make it ok. Because he understood her. With another shaky laugh, she took in a harsh breath, “Not really.” She let her head rest on her free hand, covering her eyes. Today would be a bad day for makeup, but she’d already put on mascara.

“What happened? Family giving you a hard time?” Peter guessed, trying to keep his voice light and playful. The warmth in it made her feel just a bit better.

Huffing, she shook her head, “I wish. No, they’ll be doing that once I go downstairs.” She rubbed her eyes. They felt raw and she hadn’t even cried yet. Finally, she bit back the anxious nausea building up inside her far enough to admit, “Jason sent me a letter.”

Instantly, Peter’s tone rose three octaves at least, “He what? What did it say? Did you see him?”

Swallowing around the desert in her throat, she grimaced, “No. No he—” Y/N stared up at the bare oak ceiling, counting the rafters to keep herself calm, “He dropped it off with mom. She gave it to me yesterday.” Teeth clenched together to keep the shaking down, she forced in another breath, “I haven’t read it yet.”

Peter waited a second, to see if she’d say anything else, then gently prodded, “Why not?”

Frustrated, Y/N glared at her bag under the window. To the pocket she’d put the damned letter in. It was speckled innocently with sunlight and her words tasted like bitter copper on her tongue, “I don’t know if I even care to see what he has to say.” That was a lie. Or a half-lie. She did care, but she didn’t want to care. Half of her wanted to read it, but the other half was scared to even give her ex’s words a chance to sway her emotions. Cause of course he would try to say something to hurt her, or make her feel guilty, or sympathetic towards his situation.

“Guess that makes sense.” Peter hedged, and she heard Aunt May calling something in the background. After a second, he called back, voice muffled, “Be there in a minute!”

Guilt made her bite her bottom lip hard, and she tried to make her tone lighter, “If you’re busy, it’s ok.”

Instantly, he retorted, phone speaker crackling at the conviction in his voice, “No! It’s alright, she just wanted me to know breakfast was ready.” He let out a sigh and asked, “What are you going to do?”

“I don’t know.” Y/N let her eyes fall close as she tried to focus her thoughts, focus on the conversation and not all the buzzing ‘what ifs’. She curled her toes on the bedframe, the metal cold on her bare feet, “He told mom that the letter was an apology. That he just wanted to make peace or something.”

Peter snorted indignantly, “Bastard doesn’t deserve it.”

Reluctantly, the corner of her mouth twitched up, “He isn’t getting it.” She promised, “I’m glad he’s better, but that doesn’t mean I have to forgive him.”

“Do you really think he’s better?” He asked, skepticism thick on his tongue. Y/N shrugged and winced when she heard her grandmother call up to her this time.

“No—” She hesitated and stood up off the bed, “I mean… I don’t know. I haven’t seen him in over a year. Maybe he’s better, but it doesn’t change anything.” Part of her said that for him, to ease his concerns, but she needed to remind herself of it too. To remember that nothing had changed, and he still wasn’t coming back into her life. Even if he sent 100 apology letters.

“It doesn’t.” Peter agreed firmly, “Look, if he tries to bother you, you know I’m here. I’ll borrow some gadgets from Mr. Stark’s lab and pay him a visit if I have to.” He sounded so angry and vehement that she couldn’t help but giggle.

Bundle of socks in hand, she held her cell between her shoulder and ear, so she could put them on. Balancing on one foot, she hopped to keep standing and hastily slid on the striped sock, “I’d kill to see that.” Y/N mused, “You’ll have to let me tag along.”

Peter agreed whole-heartedly. There was a lull in the conversation and she got on her other sock. Then started to dig around for her makeup bag. Before she could change the subject, he asked, tone dropped to gentle concern again, “Does Bucky know?”

During her flight, she’d sent a few messages to the couple of important people who needed to hear that her and Bucky were officially dating. Peter and Darcy were both ecstatic for her. Biting her lip, she picked up one of her favorite necklaces and slipped it over her head, “Well it hasn’t really come up yet.”

Adjusting her hair, she stood in front of an old ornamental vanity mirror and scrutinized her reflection. Her eyes were tired, and she seemed paler than normal. Blatant signs to how well she’d slept the night before. Mascara smudged under her eyes, making the bags worse. Taking out a makeup wipe, she leaned close until her nose nearly brushed the glass and started to fix it.

“Don’t you think he’ll notice something’s up if Jason doesn’t let this go? Or that you’re upset?” Peter asked, and she felt a spark of spite bloom like poison in her chest. Leaking between her ribs and into her tongue.

“He doesn’t have to.” Y/N grit her teeth, attempting to keep the bite out of her tone. This anger wasn’t her friend’s fault. It was situational, and she didn’t want to take it out on him, “This has nothing to do with him. Jason can shove his apology up his ass and leave me out of it. And Buck’ll know when it matters. When I want him to. Not just cause I’m stupid and upset over nothing.” She didn’t want to worry him. Burden him with it.

Cause it was nothing. Just a letter. Really there was no reason for her to be this upset over it. Jason hadn’t shown up in front of her. He hadn’t approached her or talked to her. It was nothing.

Peter stated her name deliberately slow, and kindly corrected her, “You’re not stupid.”

“I’ve got to go.” She cut in briskly, letting out a breath, and it was true. If she waited much longer, her mom would drag her down by her ear, “Thank you. Really. I’ll let you know if anything else comes up.”

“Please just think about telling him.” Peter added hastily, “I think you’d feel better.”

“I’ll think about it.” Y/N offered, but she didn’t mean it. She just wanted her friend to not worry so much.

After she hung up the phone, she adjusted her hourglass necklace on her chest and tried to find a smile. If she didn’t, the day would be even longer.

Unfortunately, her reflection disappointed her with a frown.

December 24th

“Will you draw me?”

Y/N glanced up from her spot on the enormous and plush armchair in her grandparent’s den. After lunch, she’d managed to sneak away to there, leaving the majority of her family strewn between the kitchen and living room. The house was spacious and huge, but it was slowly starting to feel small. Between her grandparents, parents, and two sets of aunts and uncles and their kids, there was little to no oxygen left to spare. Everyone had meandered in over the course of the morning and afternoon, preparations for their big Christmas Eve dinner were well underway.

Four of her cousins played together, running in and out of the house. Their unending energy made her even more grateful that she was an only child. She didn’t have the patience for this, especially in the mood she was in. Sarah, who was a year older than her, had graciously taken over the role of babysitter, and had managed to entertain the other three. One was Sarah’s own younger brother, Johnny, and the other two were twin girls, Jewel and Emma.

It was Emma, age 10, who peered over the worn armrest of Y/N’s chair at her sketchbook. She’d been drawing a robin, visible through the frosted window on a thicket of branches. Jewel popped up by her sister, and smiled, “Me too!” Little hands rested on the armrest, and they stood on their tiptoes, leaning into her space. Jewel’s cheek pressed against her shoulder, so she could get a better look.

This wasn’t the first time that anyone had asked her to draw them once they realized she was an artist. Probably wouldn’t be the last. The only thing missing was the-

“Did you really draw that?” Johnny asked, age 13, when he came up to her other side. The robin flew away when his shadow passed over the window. He was already going through a growth spurt and leaned down to blink at the paper.

Snorting, she drawled, “Course I did.” Then Y/N looked at the twins and raised her eyebrows, “Think you can sit still long enough?” She really had nothing better to do. It would at least make her parents happy to see her interacting with them. Especially her mother, who was starting to get chronically worried over her. With how quiet and withdrawn she’d been over the last couple days.

Sarah strolled through the open entryway, two pairs of gloves in hand, “Hey! I thought you wanted to go build a snowman?” She waved the twins’ gloves at them, but the little girls were no longer interested.

“Y/N’s gonna draw us!” Jewel squealed, clapping her hands together and making her sparkly pink nail polish glitter in the wintry blue afternoon light.

Emma nodded enthusiastically, curly brown hair bouncing, “Can you make us fairies??”

Bored and annoyed at the sudden change of activity, Johnny scoffed. Then he rolled his eyes and stalked towards the door, “Well I’m goin’ outside.” He took his beanie out of his coat pocket and tugged it over his shaggy blond head.

Y/N blinked up at Sarah’s pretty smile. Her cousin was classically beautiful with a petite body, and pixie-like features. If she were being honest, she’d always been a bit jealous of her. They weren’t very close, but she could see the amusement radiating from her cousin. Delicately, Sarah shrugged, getting ready to leave. Apparently, her turn of babysitting was over.

But Y/N called, a bit panicked, “I could draw you outside! While you built your snowman.” She closed her sketchbook and untucked her legs from underneath her, sitting up.

The twins cheered, scurrying over to Sarah and snatching their gloves. A matching set of pink and purple. They brushed past her and went to go get their coats. It’d be a bit of a pain to draw them outside, but at least she wouldn’t be stuck with their wild energy alone.

Her fingertips were numb and the pencil in her hand might be frozen there. Despite the golden afternoon sun, the air was frigid. Like the heat couldn’t pierce through the layer of ice hanging in the atmosphere. Snow covered the yard and clung to the fence separating her grandparents’ corner lot from the road and their nearby neighbors. The single towering oak in the yard seemed to be nearly laying on the house, branches heavy with ice.

Y/N quietly sat on the front steps of the house, unable to feel anything other than the biting of the wind on her ears and nose. Across the yard, near the road where more people could appreciate their work, her cousins put the finishing touches on the snowman. A carrot swiped from the kitchen, expertly chosen pebbles from the driveway, and a reluctantly relinquished scarf from her grandmother’s closet.

Drawing finished, she balanced her sketchpad on her knees as she attempted to take a photo. Every swipe of her numb fingers was clumsy, and she bit her bottom lip, trying to focus. Wind swept through the yard, carrying with it the sound of a barking dog two houses over and Jewel squealed when Johnny pegged her with a well-aimed snowball.

Somehow, she’d gotten them all in it, surrounding the snowman. Jewel and Emma got delicate fairy wings and pointed ears as requested. Then she gave Sarah an elaborate crown of ice and snow. Johnny had wanted to look like a Viking, so she gave him a ridiculously inaccurate horned helmet and a fur cape. All done in pencil. She’d have to see if her grandmother had any hairspray that she could use to set it later and keep it from smudging.

Once she had a decent picture, Y/N sent it straight to Bucky. They hadn’t spoken much that day. He was busy with Becca and was supposed to go visit his father at some point.

Y/N: Think I should use this as my final?

Phone on top of her sketchbook, she cupped her fingers near her mouth. A full-on war had broken out in front of her. Emma and Johnny were ganging up on Sarah and Jewel. Every time a pair of eyes narrowed in on her, she held up her sketchbook as a shield and they didn’t dare.

It didn’t take him long to reply, and she smiled, blowing air in her cupped hands. The fact that he replied quickly always made her smile. Made her feel cherished.

Bucky: Don’t you ever do anything other than draw? You’re supposed to be on vacation!

Giggling to herself, she curled her cold toes up tighter in her boots, checking to make sure she still had feeling in them. Pretty soon, she’d have to give up and go inside. Maybe get something hot to drink to remind her body what it meant to be warm.

Y/N: Never! I’m afraid if I stop I’ll lose whatever skill I have…

As she waited for him to respond, she carefully ripped the drawing from her sketchbook. Then signed it at the bottom and waved to her cousins, “It’s done!” It took them a second to notice her. Johnny had fallen into a pile of snow, the twins ganging up on him to keep him down. He shoved snow down Jewel’s jacket and she screamed. They let him go, and Jewel started dancing around to try and get the snow out.

Upon finally processing what Y/N had said, the twins cheered and scurried over. Vengeance forgotten. Emma reached her first and took the drawing from her, and Jewel barreled into her sister, eager to see. Girlish giggles of delight filled the crisp air, luring Sarah and Johnny over towards the front steps. Closing her sketchbook. Y/N smiled at the little girls’ over-the-top reactions.

Johnny plucked the drawing from the twins’, making them whine, and laughed, “Sweet! This is so cool!” Sarah glanced over his shoulder and hummed in agreement.

Ready to head inside, Y/N’s phone chimed in the middle of her putting away her pencils. Excited, she balanced the pouch on her knees. Reading the message, she snorted.

Bucky: Maybe you should make a deal with the devil to keep your power.

The reply came a bit too easy.  

Y/N: I lost my soul long ago.

Bucky: What’d you spend it on? Hope it was worth it.

Y/N: I was promised true love, but I haven’t gotten it yet. I might’ve been cheated.

When she glanced up, she found Sarah watching her with a small cat-like grin, “Who ya talkin’ to?” Sarah’s long blonde hair was pulled back from her face in a braid, snow clung to the ends like small diamonds. She came over and sat beside Y/N on the stairs, handing the drawing to her. Instinctively, she tucked it away into her sketchbook for safe keeping, realizing that everyone was waiting for her answer.

A blush made her chilled cheeks painfully hot and she pressed her lips together to contain her goofy grin, “My boyfriend.” It felt good to say it. To declare it to someone and butterflies tickled pleasantly inside her.

Emma and Jewel let out equally painful squeals and spoke over each other, “Do you gotta picture?”

“I wanna see!”

The stone stairs on the porch was fairly big, and she leaned to the side so the twins could go up behind her. They sat behind her and Sarah, feet resting next to her hip as they leaned against her back, looking at her phone. Johnny stood on the bottom step, perched against the railing with a vague expression of interest.

Blinking in surprise, Y/N nodded slowly, waving a hand to shush them. It took her a minute to scroll through her saved photos, only for her to realize that her and Bucky had yet to take pictures together. As much time as they spent, she hadn’t really thought about it. Now that it was on her mind, though, she vowed to make him sit and take a selfie with her. That way she could use it as her phone’s background.

Luckily, he had a habit of sending her goofy pictures whenever possible. Finding one of her favorites, she held it up for her little audience to see. Bucky was slumped over on a counter, with a cup of coffee in front of him. He looked disheveled and tired, but his eyes were beautifully vibrant and blue in the morning light. He’d sent that picture from Rosalie’s early one morning, with the caption ‘End my misery’. White apron and black long sleeve shirt stretched over his broad chest. It had nearly made her choke on her ricocheting heart when she’d woken up to it.

It was Sarah who spoke up first, snatching the phone from her hands to get a better look, “Woah, he’s gorgeous!” Her eyes were wide, and Y/N could almost see the question on her face. It was one she often asked herself whenever she was reminded of how utterly handsome Bucky was. Too polite to ask, her cousin just stared at her phone screen, and finished wistfully “I’m so jealous right now. Is he a model?”

Snorting a laugh, Y/N watched as Sarah passed the phone to the twins who were swooning, “No, but he probably could be.” She could see the question right on the tip of her cousin’s tongue. So, she continued, “Honestly, I have no idea what he sees in me. We met in my art class.”

Propping her chin on her hand, Sarah shrugged, “I think I can see it. You’re pretty, and he’s,” She gestured to the phone screen that Jewel handed back to Y/N, “I think you look good together. Bet you mix well.”

Pride made a genuine smile light up Y/N’s face, “We do. I think our personalities work together. Like complimenting colors.” She looked down at the picture one more time before forcing herself to lock the screen and tuck the phone into her coat pocket, along with her frosty hands.

“Is he an artist too?” When she nodded, Sarah groaned, “You’ve got all the luck.”

Her phone buzzed, and she glanced back down at it, smiling at the text.

Bucky: Maybe I can help you find it. I’m not scared of no devil.

Y/N: My soul or true love?

Bucky: Why not both?

Later that night

*** Hands grabbed her. Touched her. Suffocated her. Fingers traced possessively up her leg, slipping towards the tender skin of her inner thigh. An oily residue coated every spot they touched, leaving her tainted and grimy.  Another hand trailed across her stomach and gripped her hipbone so viciously that it hurt. Everything hurt. She was shaking. Muscles coiled so tight that she started trembling. Every inch of her started shaking, until even her teeth were chattering. Her hands hovered up near her chest, frozen with numb fingertips as she tried to move. With every second, she willed herself to stop what was happening.

And Y/N wanted this to stop. Wanted them to stop. But when she opened her mouth to say so, no words came out. Her lips parted as she tried to find her voice, or even take a breath. But she couldn’t.

All her words balled up in her throat like a dam and pooled there in a bottomless ocean of fear and shame. Just swirled beneath the surface. And her lungs constricted tighter and tighter until every ounce of oxygen burned up inside her. She couldn’t breathe.

Couldn’t he see she was shaking? Didn’t he care? He was supposed to care.

A hand snuck towards the apex of her thigh and she thought she might be sick.

Stop. Stop. Stop.

But he never did. And she already knew he wouldn’t. ***

When Y/N woke from a nightmare, it was never a big production.

Her eyes snapped open and she stared into the darkness. Every uneven beat of her heart hammered between her ears and she twisted the blankets in her icy fingers. But couldn’t move. Anxious heat prickled her skin and sweat made everything sticky. The blankets were tangled around her legs and her hair fell across her face like a rat’s nest. After a second, she made herself take a deep breath in and quietly let it out.

As she slowly tried to remember where she was, she listened for him. For breathing. A voice. Any whisper of the sheets shifting, or blankets rustling. It felt like he was right behind her. In the bed.

Soon, he’d be reaching for her. Somehow, she’d just managed to roll out of his constricting embrace for a blissful second. But any minute he would realize what she had done and be grabbing her. To draw her back.

But that was ridiculous.

And yet Y/N felt it. Suspended in the very second before something sunk its claws into her. Petrified like a rabbit in a fox den with nowhere to go.

Little by little, she reached for her phone. Where it lay plugged in on the nightstand. She fought the fear and paranoia. Buried it. Every little noise released by the old house had the hairs on the back of her neck standing on end.

Tears stung her eyes and she unlocked her phone to check the time.

2AM Great start to Christmas day. Pumped full of adrenaline and unwanted memories.

Too early to justify getting up for the day, but she was too shaken to even attempt sleep. Too afraid she’d just fall right back into the jaws of that nightmare. Her fingers wouldn’t stop quaking, so she gripped the phone tighter. Light burned her eyes, and she blinked, tears escaping as she tried to adjust. Even as awareness woke her up, she had to fight the urge to check over her shoulder. To make sure no one else was in the attic with her.

Right above her head, hail pattered along the roof. Hard. The room was cold, and she curled up tighter to try and conserve any of the heat trapped under the blankets with her. Soft sheets brushed her skin, but even that was too much sensation for her overwhelmed system.

Sniffing back tears, she flipped idly through social media. Desperately tried to forget her nightmare. Tried to put it back in its box and destroy the key this time.

When Y/N checked her messages, she paused over Bucky’s. Rereading some of their previous messages and smiling a little at the bickering. All over whether she should bring him a souvenir or not. Not like there were many good shopping areas around here, but she thought it would be nice to bring him something from her trip.

She let out a shaky breath and hesitated for only a second before typing him a simple message. It took a couple tries. A few aborted attempts to decide what she wanted to say.

Y/N: Hey

If he was awake, maybe talking would help calm her down. If not, she could just tell him tomorrow that she couldn’t sleep. Not a lie. And it wasn’t like he had to know the exact reasons why.

She was still scrolling through Tumblr when her phone vibrated in her hands. It startled her, and she tensed up. Body going rigid and heart leaping up until it hovered against the back of her tongue. Only to realize what it was, and she let out a slow breath. Then opened the message.

Bucky: Hey, why you up so late?

Y/N: Can’t sleep, you?

Bucky: Me either

For a minute or so, she stretched out on her back and debated what to say. Cool air brushed her face and she scrunched up her nose before pulling the blanket over her head. Before she could reply, though, her screen lit up. It hummed and buzzed, and her eyes widened. Seeing that he was calling, her heart stuttered. She hesitated for only a second, before giving in and answering. Her voice was rough and thick from tears when she spoke up.

“Hey!” Y/N tried to make herself appear normal. Like she hadn’t woke up crying. But it came off wrong, so she followed it up with a question, “Everything ok?”

“As good as 2 in the morning can be.” Bucky snorted. He sounded deeper over the phone, and hearing his voice soothed her. Like a cooling balm to her soul. Then he tacked on, “Merry Christmas by the way.”

Every word he spoke had the edges of her terror subsiding but then the tears started to come in earnest. Like the fear had been the only thing keeping them at bay. As the fear drifted off, the pathetic sadness and aching wound in her chest started throbbing harder. Louder. She swallowed around the burning lump in her throat and forced a shaky laugh, "Guess it is past midnight." She mused, and then added, "Merry Christmas sweetheart." The endearment felt right and good to say. It warmed the cold corners of her heart. Maybe if she kept laughing, kept trying to smile for him, the claws of despair wouldn’t be able to drag her too deep.

Bucky paused for a second, shifting the phone and asked quietly, "Are you alright?" It was the tender concern in his question that made her heart swell until all the emotions roaring inside her were too much for her to handle. It was all too much.

Embarrassed, she curled up onto her side and wrapped herself around an extra pillow. She thought she’d kept the tremor from her voice. Not well enough. Eyes closed, she covered her mouth to stifle the whine building in her throat. Then took a slow breath in and out and admitted, "Just had a really, really bad dream." She stumbled over the middle and was surprised he could understand her through the rasping and shaking.

Quiet again, Bucky hummed in understanding, but didn’t speak right away. It seemed like he was trying to pick his words carefully. In the dreadful minute before his reply, she tried to sort through her thoughts and figure out what she wanted to say. Worried about what he might say. Finally, Bucky simply asked, "Wanna talk about it?"

And Y/N wasn’t sure if she did. It was a lot. A tangled web of information. If she tried to explain the nightmare, she’d have to explain the memory that accompanied it, and the person. And the history and she just didn’t know how.

Her silence stretched as she thought about it and finally sighed, "I don’t know if I can." Rubbing at her eyes and nose, she shoved her hair back off her damp face. A few tears escaped, and she swiped them away, trying to deny that they were ever there in the first place.

"You don’t have to." Bucky swiftly backtracked, a bit panicked, "I just want to help. If I can." Every word stumbled out of his mouth, rapid and awkward. She picked at a loose thread on the pillow she wrapped herself around. Aside from the crashing of the hail along the roof, the house was quiet. Dead quiet and still.

It occurred to her then that this was all awkward. Because he had never comforted her before. It had always been her comforting him. Except that one time on Halloween and over dumb things like her grades, he’d never had to. Sometimes he had eased her concerns over their relationship, but that was stress he caused her by himself.

They had never done this before and she hated herself for not feeling comfortable talking to him about it. She wanted to but what if he couldn’t help? What if he hurt her with the information? It wasn’t that she thought he’d use it against her, but it would hurt if he simply didn’t understand. One wrong word over this topic could wound her. This was a vulnerable spot.

"It was more of a memory than a dream." She hedged and vaguely attempted to elaborate, "I dated this guy and he hurt me. Pretty bad. For about 3 years or so." Her lip trembled, and she bit it to still it.

The other end of the line was pin drop quiet for so long that she squinted at the blinding screen to see if the call had dropped. Then Bucky asked, "He’s still around?"

Scoffing, Y/N shook her head, "God no. I haven't heard from him in over a year." It was out before she remembered the letter. And she squeezed her eyes shut tighter, resisting the urge to look at where it lay hidden away across the dark room.

It wasn’t really a lie. But she didn’t know how to explain the letter. Didn’t even know how to explain the entire mess that led to Jason being out of her life.

"Good, I was getting ready to jump on a plane and come kick some ass." He joked, and it made her smile, even if it was watery. The tears were finally drying themselves up, and the acute ache in her chest drifted down to a dull throbbing.

"He’s back in Queens." She clarified, stretching out her legs in the bed, "But that won’t be necessary."

"He deserves it." Bucky insisted, "If you're having nightmares about it a year later, he deserves it and more."

The conviction made her stomach flip with the fluttering beat of wings, "How do you deal with the nightmares?" Changing the subject was one of her many defense mechanisms. It was something she’d always done to keep the attention off herself. To give the old reopened wound inside her a chance to clot the blood and stop the bleeding out of her strength.

Wordlessly, she hoped he didn’t ask how she knew about them, and was relieved when he answered, "Sometimes I go for a run if they're really bad." He snorted, "Most of the time I just don’t sleep."

Surprised, Y/N laughed at that, "Oh very healthy. Great use of therapy."

He chuckled, and his laugh was a lullaby for her heart, "Not all the time. Sometimes I watch TV and just crash on the couch at dawn." There was a beat of quiet then he asked, "Do you have nightmares often?"

"No." She sighed, shifting the phone to her other hand so she could flex her stiff fingers, "I used to have them all the time. Even a few months ago. But it's gotten easier. I think I'll just start calling you every time." She teased and the smile on her face felt sincere, even lighter.

"I wouldn’t mind." Bucky’s easy response made her smile even more.

"I'll keep that in mind." Staring up at the barely illuminated ceiling, she asked, "How was dinner with your dad?"

Bucky groaned in annoyance, "Worst year in a while." He huffed, "We were going to go over in the morning for gifts, but Becca doesn’t want anything to do with him now. Probably won’t for a while." It had to be pretty bad if even his sister didn’t want to see him. From what Y/N understood, Becca was the defender of keeping a relationship with their father.

Hesitantly she asked, "What happened?"

He snorted bitterly, the phone shuffling and he sounded a little more echoey, "He got stinking drunk. And I had to try and put him to bed. But then—" Bucky cut himself off and cleared his throat, "Well he just didn’t want to go. Made it hard for everyone."

It felt like he wasn’t telling her something. She mulled over brushing it off, but then decided to ask, "Did he do something?"

Bucky didn’t reply right away, and as the silence drifted on, she worried he wouldn’t. So, she tacked on, "A truth for a truth. Tell me a thought and I'll owe you one."

Bucky chuckled quietly, "Like showing our scars?" It sounded like he shut a cabinet, and then the microwave beeped. Must have been making a snack.

"Kinda."

He hummed and then gave in, "Alright... I'm thinking that my dad is an ungrateful bastard and if I had it my way, I'd only see him to make sure he’s still breathing." The statement ended in a soft growl, and then he continued, "I'm thinking Becca deserves better. That if mom saw what he'd become after she died, she’d be heartbroken." He trailed off, words cracking towards the end and then gave a little, weak laugh, "Think that means you owe me three."

"I do." Y/N mused, mind whirling with the information, "I'm thinking... we have a lot to still learn about each other. That... that I haven't opened up about myself much at all. And that I'm scared to." The confession was tiny and weak. Like she had almost been unable to finish it.

"Scared?" He asked gently, a bit surprised.

"Ya, its dumb but I am."

"It’s not dumb.” He protested, and then asked, “Why?"

"I guess cause if I let you in, you could hurt me." Nervously, she sat up and tugged her knees up, so she could rest her arms on them, chin on her forearm.

"Doesn’t that go both ways?"

"Ya but you haven't let me in much." Her sentence was muffled against her arm, the blankets bunched up over her knees. A shiver traced down her spine like a caress of a finger as the cool air nipped at her exposed skin.

Bucky scoffed, "More than anyone. Ever. Except Steve but he was there for most of it." He let out a breath, "Baby doll, if you don’t want to talk about it, I won’t ever make you. But you don’t have to be scared. I'd never hurt you on purpose."

"I know." Y/N swallowed the lump in her throat, "I know that." She internally cursed herself for feeling like crying again, "I'd rather tell you the entire thing in person."

"That's fair." He agreed.        

In the moment that followed, she felt just a little better. Like they’d reached a new understanding. Then she asked, "What are you thinking about?"

"I miss you." He replied easily, "And I think I like calling you doll."

She smiled, sniffing the tears back down, "Then we’ll keep that one. Cause I like it too." Uncoiling herself, she fell back onto the mattress, staring up at the dark ceiling. The hail had stopped, and through the window to her left, she could see it had started snowing instead. The snow glittered in the light of the streetlamp outside. Like tiny falling stars.

Reluctantly, she relaxed further into the mattress, slowly starting to feel sleepy. Her eyes fell shut and she tugged the blankets further up towards her chin.

"You?" Bucky’s voice was far away and quiet. Soothing. Like a dream all on its own.

"Mn?"

"Thinking about?"

The question made her brain focus. At least she tried to focus, and she hummed quietly in thought, answering without much consideration, "That I wish you were here."

"Ya?"

"Mmhm, I want you to hold me." She blushed at her confession, but was too tired to try and backtrack, "I think I could fall asleep easier if you were."

"I'd like that." Bucky admitted, and her stomach fluttered, "I'd keep you safe."

His voice started drifting in and out of focus and it took her mind a second longer to come up with a response, "Fight off all my fears?"

"Of course." He chuckled, "Get some sleep babydoll. I'll see you soon."

Unable to even form a protest, she whispered, "Night."

Blearily, she pushed her phone away and was asleep before he hung up.

December 27th

The plane shook around her as it stabled out. Tremors subsiding, a ding filled the air, letting everyone know it was ok to roam around. Relieved, she let out a breath; looking out the window and taking in the pink morning light. Golden crested clouds swept along beneath her view and she shifted to lean her temple against the window and watch the sky.

After a few minutes, she pulled out her phone from her purse at her feet, a new one her grandmother had gotten her for Christmas. It was pretty, and better than the raggedy one she’d had before. When she’d woken up Christmas morning, Y/N had still felt the residual exhaustion from her nightmare. But once everyone arrived, and festivities began, it had melted away. Lost the razor edges of terror and became something easier to ignore. Just a dark cloud in the back of her mind.

An older woman sat one seat over from her, an empty one between them, and blew her nose loudly into a tissue. It made Y/N jerk in surprise and remember why she needed headphones. Shuffling through her purse, she found her travel pair and started untangling them. Her family had been disappointed to hear that she was heading back earlier than her parents but understood when she mentioned the trip her and Bucky were taking.

No one would stop teasing her after she’d mentioned it.

Poking up from the bottom of her purse, the white envelope stared challengingly at her through all the random junk filling her bag. She still hadn’t read it. Every day that she’d been gone swung by too fast and made it so easy for her to ignore the damn thing. It’d been 5 days since her mother handed it to her.

Headphones in place, she hesitated before taking out the letter. The envelope had pencil smudges from being roughly handled, shoved in and out of her different bags. She needed to read it. And it would be better to read it now before Bucky picked her up from the airport when she landed.

Better to get it over with and stop being a big baby about it all.

As she finished ripping it open, Y/N ignored the tremor in her fingers. Really, this was just getting ridiculous. She adjusted her phone, finding a song to block out all the background noise of the flight. A baby had just started crying three rows in front of her.

Inside, she found three pages of notebook paper. Covered in his small chicken scratch. It took her a second to adjust to reading his handwriting. It always was a mess, and she could tell he had tried, and failed, to be neat.

Y/N,

I really wanted to talk to you, and since I don’t have your number, I thought I'd write you a letter. You'd prefer this anyway. You’ve always been a romantic. First, I need to say that I’m sorry, for everything that happened between us. It got so out of hand at the end and I never meant for you to get hurt. Second, that I miss you. Everything about you and I understand why you did what you did. I forgive you.

Over the course of an hour, she read through it once, and then twice. By the third time she had to pull up her hood and hunker down into a ball to try and hide the tears. They stung and made her throat swell up until no air had any hope of getting in. Embarrassed and angry that he had managed to make her cry, she bit her lip hard to fight it. In front of a plane full of strangers, it was the last thing she wanted to do.

Too many emotions had her flushing hot and then plunging into cold at her fingertips. Cold and numb as a panic attack crept up on the edges of her vision. Silently, she turned in her seat to face the window more. Hoping the older woman reading beside her couldn’t see her cry. Carefully she folded the letter back up and put it back in the envelope. Then put that back in her purse.

There was a soft buzzing filling her ears. It wasn’t coming from her music.

Phone in hand, she flipped through several different artists and tried to focus on the song playing. Rather than her swirling thoughts.

Jason wanted to see her. Wanted to make things up to her.

Just the thought of seeing him made her stomach revolt. No, she just wouldn’t reply. She’d ignore it. Ignore all of it until it went away. Until he got the picture and left her alone.

He didn’t have her number or address. He couldn’t find her.

As Y/N wiped at her eyes, she made herself think about Bucky instead. She would be seeing him in a short while and couldn’t wait. Taking in a shaky breath, she counted to ten and let it out. Focused on the plane. On the music, and the worn seat underneath her. Made her eyes track the fluffy clouds within reach from the window, and took in another breath, smelling the metallic tang of the recycled air in the plane. The mint from the candies the woman beside her kept popping into her mouth every so often.

Seeing Bucky wouldn’t fix everything, but he’d make her feel better. Just his presence would calm her. Even if he had no idea why she was upset, he would help. Just being around him and laughing with him would be enough. Y/N missed him.

All she wanted to do was feel him wrap his arm around her. Feel him kiss away the hurt with every touch, and just be with him.

The letter didn’t change any of that. It didn’t change anything. She wouldn’t let it.

Tags: @boy-leave  @wtfholland  @snjms02. @diariesofthebeautyobsessed @metalarmlover

#Bucky Barnes #james bucky barnes #marvel #Marvel AU #marvel fanfiction #bucky barnes x reader #reader insert #artist au #artist Bucky #slow burn #Fluff and angst #fluff and feels #Angst with a happy ending #tashariiwriting

[magmasliveblogs]

1.12

aaaaaaaaaaand im back with the 14th chapter! irl stuff is semi dealt with so i have time for the three updates! to recap: last chapter was an interlude, where we discovered erin was summoned as part of some ritual to summon heroes. only one group was actually summoned to the ritual site, with the rest being summoned across the world. to recap the last actual chapter, erin saved pisces from execution by withdrawing her testimony of him being a [necromancer] 

Erin woke up. Generally this was an ordeal. Today however, it was fairly easy. Because the real ordeal would come later.

Such as right after breakfast. Erin stared glumly at the three shriveled blue fruits on her plate. She bit the first experimentally and chewed. And chewed. And chewed.

“Rubbery.”

It was incredibly difficult to chew the fruits. The skin on these ones were so tough to bite into, it did remind Erin of eating rubber. Not that she’d ever done that since she was a baby.

Plus, they’d lost their delicious juices and tasted—well, flat. There was no sweetness left in them, and they were quite, quite unappetizing when you put all these qualities together. But Erin ate them, mainly because she had nothing left to eat.

“I’m in trouble. Yup, yup.”

It wasn’t that she was out of blue fruits. There were plenty—well, some—still ready to be harvested from the orchard. But they, like all food, were in limited supply. Besides, the issue wasn’t that. It was her guests.

“Who’d want to eat blue fruits all day? Raise your hand if that sounds like fun.”

Erin didn’t raise her hand. Granted, they were tasty and made a good fruit drink, but when you got down to it, they were still just fruits.

“And I want food. Real food. Not fruit. I want bread! I want pasta! I want pizza and soda and salad and ice cream—actually forget the ice cream. I need meat. Or fish that doesn’t bite back! I want sushi, cheeseburgers and fries, toast, waffles…cereal…”

Erin pressed her hands to her rumbling stomach and tried not to cry.

“Even instant ramen would be nice. Is that too much to ask?”

It was. She knew that. But just thinking about the food made her tear up a bit. She could handle Goblins. She could deal with rude Necromancers and fight off evil rock-crabs. She could even handle giant fish that tried to nibble on her when she took a bath. But she wanted food.

“Plus, I need to feed my guests.”

Erin nodded. The math was simple. No food = no guests = no money = starvation. But the little flaw in the equation was that in order to get the food, she’d need to spend the money. And she had no way of doing that.

“Unless I go to the city.” 

finally! we are going to the city! its been so long since she initially noticed it! 

Now, that was a thought. She wasn’t sure if that was a good thought, but it was the only option she had available. The city. Erin went to the window. Relc had shown her where it was…

“There.”

Erin stared at the small buildings in the distance. It looked far. But then, everything looked far around here. And the city would have things. Like food. And clothing. And toothbrushes. Still, Erin didn’t want to go.

“It’s far. But I have to go. Maybe? Yes…no. No? Yes. I need food. And I need to feed my guests. It’s my duty as an innkeeper.”

She paused and thought about that last statement. Erin collapsed into a chair and cradled her head in her hands.

“Am I an innkeeper? Is that what this world is doing to me?”

Maybe. It was probably the [Innkeeper] class.

“Soon I’ll grow a huge beer belly and start hauling around kegs of ale. That’s what innkeepers do, right?”

She didn’t actually know. It wasn’t as if she’d ever paid that much attention to medieval history, at least the parts that were actually history.

“They never mentioned innkeepers in the legend of King Arthur. Or did they?”

There was no Google to help her so Erin abandoned that train of thought. Really, she was distracting herself. The problem she was facing was simple.

“To go to the city or not, that is the question. Actually, there’s no question. I need to go to the city. I need to go…shopping.”

Shopping. It would be a lot more appealing if she wasn’t trying to buy things to survive. But it had to be done. She knew it.

Still. Erin really, really didn’t like that idea. She liked people, she really did. But she had a negative reaction to A: leaving her safe inn, and B: travelling to a far off city probably full of giant lizards and insects that walked on two feet.

erin. its the difference between being uncomfortable and being dead. i know that being alive is much better than being dead 

Glumly, she stared at the three sticky blue fruit cores on her plate. She walked outside and threw them as far as she could. The juices left her hands feeling unpleasantly sticky, but there wasn’t much she could do about it.

“Guess I’ve gotta go to the stream. Who knew washing your hands was so much work?”

Erin grumbled as she wiped her hand on her jeans. Then she paused. And looked down.

Her jeans were blue. The blue fruit juice was blue. But against all odds, the blue stain still showed up quite visibly on her clothing. Or rather, the blue fruit stains. And they weren’t just on her pants.

Erin’s shirt was a nice, commercial t-shirt with a lovely company logo on the front and back. Really, she wasn’t that attached to it, but it was perfect to wear when she was just staying at home. It wasn’t her choice of clothing.

…Which was good, because Erin would have cried if she’d inflicted the same damage on a t-shirt she really liked. She gazed down at the blue stains covering her shirt. She poked at the rips and cuts on the sleeves and the burn marks on one side. She lifted the shirt, sniffed once, and gagged.

For the first time Erin felt at her hair. She raised a hand and smelled her breath. She thought about the last time she’d brushed her teeth, taken a bath, or even used soap. Then she tried to shut down her mind.

“Well, that settles that. I’m off to the city.”

good that we are finally going, but i do find it kinda funny that its her hygiene thats the last straw 

Erin walked through the grass. She wished there was a nice road to follow, but for some reason no one bothered to pave a road through the empty wilderness. Come to that, she wondered again why anyone would build an inn in the middle of nowhere.

Maybe there used to be more people in the area. Or maybe there was just an idiot who thought he was breaking into an untapped market. Either way, Erin was grateful for the inn.

“But why does it have to be so far away from anything?”

Erin walked down the slope. At least there was that. The inn was located on an incline. Not a steep hill, but a really long slope that gradually went down the more she walked. It was nice, until Erin looked back and realized she’d be climbing up all that way again soon.

“Wow. That’s a big hill.”

She stared for a while and kept walking. Relc and Klbkch had called the journey to the city a walk of about twenty minutes.

“They lied to me.”

Or maybe they just walked really fast. Erin could actually see the city Klbkch had called Liscor in the distance. It was still small, but given how close it seemed now compared to before and multiplying her velocity by her legs and given energy divided by her willingness to keep walking…

“Thirty minutes. No; probably an hour. Yeah, that sounds about right.”

Erin sighed. But exercise was good for her, right? It built character. Or something.

perhaps the guards have movement/speed related skills? or are they just taller/have longer strides 

“So, what do I need?”

She took a quick inventory check. Her coins were securely packed into the bottom of one pocket. They were heavy. She had her clothes on, which was important, and she looked like…well, like a homeless person. But she had money. So what should she buy with it?

“Um. Clothing. Right. And soap. And a toothbrush, if they have toothbrushes. And toothpaste…which they probably don’t have. But something. And I need food obviously, soap, towels, laundry deter—more soap, and a comb.”

Erin walked a few more feet.

“And a sword. I need a sword. And a shield? And armor? And uh, anti-Goblin spray? Oh, and books! Tons of books. Maps, history books…can I read any of that? Well, Relc and Klbkch speak English. So that’s weird too. And I need bandages, a sewing needle, someone to teach me how to sew…”

Erin felt at her pocket. The coins jingled. She wished there were more to jingle.

“And I need to rob a bank.”

Okay. Erin retraced her thoughts.

“What’s essential?”

She counted off on her fingers.

“Clothing. Food. Toothbrush. Soap. And a lamp.”

She snapped her fingers.

“Right. A lamp! And a sword.”

She felt at her pocket.

“…Just the lamp.”

you are not rich erin, you cant afford a sword and all that stuff.  

Flat grass, flat grass, all I see is flat grass.”

Erin sang as she walked. She wasn’t sure if there was a tune, but at least the singing kept her company.

“Horses eat grass, but I’ll pass, so I’ll go to the city fast. Or I’ll die of starvation! And once I’m there I’ll eat ten pears and—hey, is that a Goblin?”

Erin turned her head suddenly and the small head ducked down. She squinted. Yes, that was definitely a Goblin. It was hiding up on a small hill to her left, but she knew it was still there. Watching her.

Well. She was being followed. Erin wasn’t sure what to make of that. She looked around and two more heads disappeared as their owners dove for cover. They didn’t look like they were trying to ambush her, just follow her.

“Hm.”

Erin bent down and searched the grass. Eventually she found what she was looking for. She waited until one of the Goblins decided she’d forgotten about them and poked his head up again. Then she turned and shouted.

“Shoo!”

Erin hurled the rock. It missed the Goblin’s head. And the hill. But the green midget took the hint and disappeared in an instant. Erin sighed to herself.

“Great. They’re like cockroaches. Evil, giant, green cockroaches. With teeth. And sharp knives. And red eyes.”

She wondered what she should do. Then she thought about what she could actually do.

Erin kept walking.

The city kept getting larger the further she walked. She felt at some point it should stop getting bigger, but soon the buildings loomed in her vision. They were no skyscrapers, but they were taller than she felt medieval buildings should be. But the city was still far away. So she walked.

And she was being watched. Multiple pairs of eyes stared at the young woman as she walked through the grass. They watched her for signs of weakness, for things that could be exploited. She was watched. Occasionally she turned around and threw a stone.

goblins! goblins are watching! 

When Erin got to the city gates she stared up for a while.

“That’s a big wall.”

It was a big understatement. The wall was high. And that was high even by wall standards. It was nearly forty feet tall, which Erin had no way of knowing was perfectly normal for a wall. She had no way of knowing it was forty feet tall either. She just thought it was big.

But what was unusual about this particular wall, and what Erin did notice was the way the gate was constructed. It was no iron grating of a portcullis with handy holes to shoot and poke at enemies, but two solid metal doors. Erin wondered why, as the gates looked solid and hard to budge. They were, and for a reason. But she didn’t find out that reason until much later.

hmm, large plains, solid doors, everything is built on hills. does this area flood often? 

Erin approached the gate. There wasn’t really anyone else going through at the moment, so she felt very alone and small as she walked up to them. She stopped when she saw the guard.

He was big. He was armored. He was also a Drake, and he had yellow scales rather than green ones. Pale yellow, so Erin was reminded of popcorn. He also had a curved sword, and so it was with trepidation that she approached.

“…Hi.”

The Drake flicked his eyes down towards Erin and then resumed looking off into the distance. He was holding a spear at his side and a metal buckler on his left arm. Since he wasn’t using either to bash her to death, Erin considered this to be a good first start.

“Um. Nice weather, isn’t it?”

Again, the guard glanced at her. Again, he didn’t respond.

“…Right. It’s just that I’m new here. And I’m Human. Nice to meet you. My name is Erin. I uh, know another guy who works with you. Relc? And Klb…Klb…the insect guy? So yeah. They know me. I’m no threat. And uh, I saw some Goblins running around a while back. They’re not here right now, but I felt you should know.”

The Drake sighed audibly. And loudly.

just, ugh. i would normally skip this interaction because i dont like awkward scenes like this, but its very short 

“Go on in, Human. Anyone can enter the city.”

“Right. Thanks. Uh, have a nice day!”

Erin smiled. He didn’t smile back.

“I’ll just be going. Now.”

She walked past the guard. As she walked through the iron gates she heard him mutter under his breath.

“Humans.”

see? 

Erin’s smile froze a bit on her face but she kept walking as if she’d heard nothing. Everyone was grumpy when they had to stand and deal with obnoxious tourists. And besides, he was just a guard. She walked through the imposing gates into the city. And then she had to stop.

Because she had entered Liscor. A city of the fiery Drakes, built with the help of the industrious Antinium. Home to the prideful Gnolls and the occasional Beastkin, not to be confused with one another. Visited by many races, home to countless more. And now entering—

One human.

oo gnolls! that means dog/hyena people, yes? also beast kin! this probably mean other animal people. 

also, this is the end of the chapter! will erin experience a good bit of racism? is there a reason humans arent that common in the area? are these plains flood plains? 

see you on the next post! ive got to eat so after that i shall post the next two chapters 

#chrono

[nomettesbizzareadventure]

accumulated wars and flights (6/?)

They leave early in the morning, early enough that the ocean breeze overpowers the timid rays of the rising sun and leaves Kakyoin feeling cold and exposed in his light summer clothes. Rohan doesn’t seem bothered- not by the morning, not by the cold, not by Kakyoin’s skepticism. He’s looking bright and better than bright, illuminated by some kind of invincible enthusiasm for everything strange in the world. Kakyoin could find it charming, if he weren’t carrying fox traps in his pack. Rohan, unfortunately, is amazing with his spellwork, and Kakyoin’s pretty sure that if he so much as brushes accidentally against one of them he’ll instantly revert to his fox-form.

“Look at it,” Rohan, looking back over Morioh. The sky is lavender shading into black, the last of the stars still retreating into the darkness of the west. The wind drives itself against Kakyoin in squalls and gusts, the smell of the ocean mingled with the scent of the fields and the forest. In Morioh, a single small plume of black smoke is rising from a chimney as some enterprising early riser begins breakfast.

“Look at the composition,” Rohan says. “Beauty is so fortuitous when we find it by accident, but that’s when we’ve got to savor it most.”

“You like it here,” Kakyoin says, surprised.

“Of course I do,” Rohan says haughtily. “I chose to live here, didn’t I?”

“Yes…” Kakyoin says, and trails off. “But you don’t exactly come out of your house often.” He doesn’t mention that Rohan acts like humanity was invented specifically for the purpose of distracting him from more important things, like art. If anyone can get offended at the obvious, it’s Rohan.

“So what?” Rohan says, already heading up the road. “It’s distracting outside.” He frowns at Kakyoin, who has jogged up to keep pace with him. “Don’t you go and start any rumors about me secretly liking people or anything like that, you hear me? The last thing I need is people trying to get too familiar.”

“I won’t tell anyone,” Kakyoin promises, not bothering to hide his smile. Rohan glowers at him a bit, clearly gauging his sincerity, then continues up the road. They continue in silence for a bit, then take the road north out of Morioh, towards the woods.

“What are your goals for today?” Kakyoin asks, picking through his words carefully.

“Have you ever seen a fox?”

“Yes…” Kakyoin says, biting down the sudden, suicidal urge to laugh.

“No, a real fox. One with multiple tails.”

“Yes,” Kakyoin says, thinking of the first time he saw his human form reflected in the pond of a forest. He’d flinched away from the sight, startled by the way his reflection looked back at him, alien as any hunter.

“Wasn’t it beautiful?” Rohan demands. Kakyoin shrugs, drawing a narrow-eyed glare from Rohan. Another memory overtakes him: Dio in full splendor, the piercing radiant moon caught behind his tails, the city cowering before him like a beast lying belly-up. The rhythm of his steps stutters, and he nearly trips. Rohan is looking at him, and Kakyoin can feel the itch of his magic like something crawling between his shoulder blades, but whatever Rohan sees, he doesn’t feel the need to remark on it. There’s a thin line between his eyebrows, like he’s concentrating on a painting. Kakyoin slaps his hand over Rohan’s eyes, blocking his view.

“Hey!” Rohan protests. He’s not actually strong enough to dislodge Kakyoin’s hand from his face, so they stumble along like that for a few steps before Kakyoin takes mercy on him and lets go.

“What was that for?” Rohan demands.

“I told you to quit using your magic on me,” Kakyoin says.  

“I was only looking!” Rohan says. “I didn’t even change anything!”

“Quit looking,” Kakyoin tells him.

“Quit being visible, then,” Rohan retorts. “A man with bright red hair has no business getting huffy when people stare.”

They argue all the way to the river. There’s a boat waiting for them, and a man waiting in it. The sailor is tall and slim, with dark hair cut like a helmet to his head and a peculiar fluidity to his movements. He greets Rohan by name and waves the two of them onto the boat. Kakyoin’s grateful to see that he won’t have to entrust his clothes to Rohan’s sailing abilities, but he’s a little discomfited to see that the destination has already been decided, the ferryman already paid. Kakyoin’s familiar with the Rohan who sits in his room and paints for hours, but he doesn’t know this Rohan at all.

“Do you know much about sailing?” Rohan asks him, and Kakyoin shakes his head.

“I once crossed the Western Sea,” he says absently, “but that was long ago, and I did very little to help with the boat.”

“That’s a long journey,” Rohan says, and looks up at Kakyoin with the happy face of a child expecting a treat. He’s always wanting to hear about Kakyoin’s past, about where Kakyoin got this scar or that skill, like he’s just dying to crack Kakyoin open and eat his heart. It’s annoying. Kakyoin toils day and night in service of Rohan’s whims; can’t he have a single thing to keep to himself? His suffering is no one’s business.

“It was,” he says, and nothing more. Rohan looks sad for a moment, and then his chin firms up.  

“I’ll get it out of you someday,” he says, and goes off to bother the boatman. Kakyoin is left with nothing to do but sit and try not to feel the way the boat bobs up and down. He’s on the verge of falling asleep when he scents something on the wind, and it makes him sit up straight.

Fox. He can’t catch too much information from the wind in this form, but the moment is unmistakable, if brief. He sits up in the boat, unease heavy in his stomach, and scans the far shore, but nothing shows itself. There’s only the up-down of the boat and the quiet motion of the reeds, though he watches for the rest of the long trip. If anything is following them, he can’t see it.

The early morning burns away to noon, and then that’s gone too, and it’s early afternoon when they finally disembark. Kakyoin is restless and unsettled from all the hours on the boat. Of all the things humanity has invented, small boats that bob up and down with the current are not among his favorites. His head aches from hours spent squinting at the shore, and he’d like to lie down under a tree and sleep until the terrible sunshine has subsided, but it doesn’t look like he’ll get a chance. Rohan, who was napping peacefully while Kakyoin kept watch, bounds onto the shore with a frankly disgusting amount of energy and hurries up the path. Kakyoin is sorely tempted to just leave him to the foxes. Instead, he finishes unloading their things by himself and thanks the boatman for his services.

“Godspeed,” he’s told. “I’ll be back for you in a few days, if there’s anything to collect.”

Wonderful. So, they’re almost certainly in real danger. Kakyoin sighs, thanks the ferryman, and walks slowly back up the path after Rohan.

It’s a long way up the steep riverbank, and the path meanders from left to right. With every switchback Rohan is further away, the figure of his white clothes obscured by the plants that grow along the riverbank, and then he’s out of sight entirely. Kakyoin climbs slowly, weighed down by their supplies, but eventually he reaches the top of the embankment and finds himself looking down at a field of wildflowers. He can just see the darkness of Rohan’s hair in the distance, bobbing among the flowers and grass, his white-wrapped silhouette framed against the pale sky, and Kakyoin can feel magic everywhere, enough to make his teeth ache.

“Rohan,” he says, but Rohan is already gone. Kakyoin races up the path, his heart thundering, and is lost immediately. The plants stand tall here, taller than his head, and all he can smell is flowers. His skin is crawling, but he continues forward, fighting through all the instincts that tell him to run because something is here and it’s not hiding, it’s waiting-

“Rohan,” Kakyoin calls, knowing that he’s giving his position away and not caring. “Rohan, come back! Rohan!” There’s a shudder, and then the flowers around him begin to twist and move, and Kakyoin snarls and leaps back. Foxfire scatters all around him, illuminating him in green, and the flowers shrink away. There’s a buzzing sound in the air, but Kakyoin can’t see any insects. The flowers are all wilting, now, and then there’s no flowers at all, only flat ground, and the distant shape of Rohan, lying flat on the ground. Kakyoin runs so fast he’s not sure if his feet do much more than brush the ground, and then he’s lying at Rohan’s side and looking at the blood soaking into Rohan’s headdress.

It’s only when he’s already got Rohan in his arms that it occurs to him that if Rohan dies, Kakyoin will be free. No more debt. No more Morioh, no early mornings, no stupid errands. No Rohan. Kakyoin’s looks down at the unconscious man in his lap and tries to think. It takes a serious head wound to knock someone out, and there’s no doctors nearby. Probably. Kakyoin has no idea where they are. Rohan could die right here, right in this meadow with only one stupid tree, and then Kakyoin would be free, and Rohan’s body would be so much meat.

On the road to Dio, they found many corpses along the way, killed for fun and left to rot. The first time, Polnareff thought the man was sleeping, but Kakyoin knew better. Foxes scavenge, and there’s a smell to a dead body that says food. The thought makes him nauseous, and the nausea makes him furious. He doesn’t want to care about Rohan. He doesn’t want to be here- in this meadow, in this form, in this situation, with Rohan’s blood warm on his fingertips. His magic whispers to him, telling him that this is no choice at all, that to be human is to have obligations and loves and to know grief.  You loved Jotaro, his memory whispers to him. He saved you, and in return you followed him into hell, loyal as a dog. The thought makes him snarl, though there’s no one to see. He lifts Rohan and carries him to the only shade he can find, the space under a wide ficus tree that stands in the middle of the meadow.

He pulls some water from the pack,  then dabs it gently along Rohan’s forehead. Rohan doesn’t stir when Kakyoin removes his headband and checks his skull for fractures, half-terrified that he’s going to find an indent. The task so absorbs him that he doesn’t notice the other fox until it’s barely an arm’s length away. The sight freezes his breath in his throat, his whole body paralyzed with shock.

“Dio,” he chokes out, though it’s not, not at all. The creature in front of him is slim and bright, with fur in the hot white color of the sun and five tails that trail behind it. It lifts a single delicate paw and places it on Rohan’s forehead.

“Cousin, you are burdened with obligations to the unworthy. If you want, I can free you,” it says, fixing pale ocean-colored eyes on Kakyoin. Kakyoin doesn’t know what to say, and then he does.

“No,” he says quietly. “Not like this.”

“Whatever you feel, it isn’t real,” the fox says. “It’s an accident of our magic that traps us in these bonds, but we can have more. We can be more. Don’t you dream of something bigger than what you have?” The words send something reeling in Kakyoin, and he flinches back, a low animal growl in his throat. Dio said almost exactly the same thing to him once, word for word.

“I don’t aspire to live by stepping over the bodies of the innocent,” he says.

“But he trapped you, didn’t he?”

“He saved me,” Kakyoin says, bitter.  “I was being chased. He thought I was… a one-tail, thoughtless.”

“Hmm,” the other fox says, and then it changes. In human form, the other fox is young, younger than Kakyoin, perhaps younger than Josuke. It wears a long robe in pink and blue, the chest open in the shape of a heart.

“Humans are so careless,” it says. “Why is your human here? To catch me as well?”

“Rohan? No. He’s only here to make sketches. He’s an artist.”

“But powerful like a priest,” the other fox says, frowning. He smells like the kind of flowers that only bloom in the morning, and there’s a white star on his left shoulder. He reaches for Rohan, but Kakyoin parries his hand, his eyes still fixed on the star.  

“Are you…” he starts to say, and then trails off, because there’s no way this child could be a Joestar.

“If I want humans to talk to me, they call me Giorno,” it says, because foxes don’t have names between themselves. “There was a priest who came to my woods, and he called me Giorno Brando, as if I could be bothered to care about a sorcerer who stole every piece of power he had.” There’s unexpected passion in the words. “And you called me Dio.”

“You look like him,” Kakyoin says. “You act like him too, like you expect the whole world to sit down and listen because you want to talk.” Kakyoin doesn’t mean to say the last, but he’s too bitter to pretend at friendliness with Dio’s son. Giorno hasn’t stated his relation, but he doesn’t need to. It sits on him like a crown.

“We can’t help what we inherit. But even so, I’m not him. Here- let me fix your human, if you’re so set on being bound.”

“I’m not,” Kakyoin says sourly. “What did you even do to him?”

“I just put him to sleep,” Giorno says. “It’s not my fault he was running and face-planted into a rock.” He extends a hand, and this time Kakyoin lets him press the palm of his hand to Rohan’s skin.  Rohan stirs, once. The color comes back into his face, and his shallow breathing evens out.

“Who was chasing you?” Giorno asks abruptly. “Your human rescued you from someone. Who was it?”

“I didn’t get a good look at him,” Kakyoin says, remembering his desperate flight. He’d woken to the feel of fangs in his side and run, his side burning with poison. The only time he’d caught a glimpse of him was at the end, when his stamina had been almost at its end, and all he’d seen was a glimpse of purple robes and dark skin. He relays this description to Giorno, whose lips draw back in a wordless snarl at the words.

“Pucci. Steer clear of him. He’s some kind of fanatic- a former follower of my father.” There’s an unexpected spite in the words.

“Tired of the past?” Kakyoin says. He doesn’t want to like Giorno, but he can sympathize with the rage in his voice. Giorno looks startled at the response, and then he laughs. It’s an animal’s laugh, high and sharp and abrupt.

“I like you. I’ll allow you your trespass, just this one time. But this is my place. Tell your human to stay out of it.” Between one moment and the next he’s a fox again, his golden-white fur gleaming hotly under the sun.

“He’s not my human,” Kakyoin says. Giorno’s eyes are cool and empty as the fog rising over the sea, and then his tail twitches, just once, as if he’s amused.

“Kakyoin Noriaki,” Giorno says, though Kakyoin never told him a name. “Once your name was spoken in the courts of the mighty.  If a day comes when you grow tired of your debts, you know where to find me.” He lowers his head and pads away, flowers growing where his feet strike the earth, and then he’s gone.

It’s silent in the meadow, as if even the wind were holding its breath. Kakyoin has the sense of narrowly having escaped calamity, as if for one moment he had teetered on the edge of an entirely different world before returning to this one. Giorno is not his father, and yet- Dio made Kakyoin feel the same way. At the time, he’d been pleased to be chosen, to be special. Now he knows better. He’s had enough of prophets. Kakyoin shakes the lingering afterimages of divinity from his head and starts to make camp.

There’s a fire going and a tent up when Rohan finally stirs. Kakyoin’s an old hand at setting up camps after the whole long campaign against Dio, and he likes the busywork of it, likes seeing a space transform from wilderness into something like a home. There’s so many little parts to humanity! Cooked food, soft beds, tents, utensils, drinking cups, blankets, bandages… a million little luxuries that the people of the woods live without. Animals will sleep anywhere, but humans change the world around them. They carry civilization around with them in their pockets, ready to unfold at any time. Kakyoin can see why Giorno resents the intrusion, and yet…

On the bedroll, Rohan makes a muffled noise and turns his head to the side. His eyelashes flicker. His breathing changes, and then he pulls himself upwards into a sitting position and stares back over the fields. He rises unsteadily to his feet, his legs still trembling, and begins to walk away.

“Hey!” Kakyoin says, and chases after him. This time, Rohan is too slow to make any headway, and Kakyoin catches up to him after a few steps.

“There was- there was a fox!” Rohan exclaims.

“It’s gone now,” Kakyoin tells him. “You were asleep for a while.”

“But-,” Rohan protests.

“No,” Kakyoin tells him, and carries him back to camp. Rohan doesn’t resist as much as Kakyoin thought he might. In fact, he wraps an arm around Kakyoin’s shoulders, and sits a while in contemplative silence when he’s placed on his bedroll. It’s progressed from raw daytime to the early afternoon, and the sun slanting through the leaves has faded from scorching to tolerable. Rohan’s mouth moves, though Kakyoin’s not sure what he’s saying, and then he looks up sharply, his eyes locked on Kakyoin.  

“Dio Brando,” he says. “The one who raised the spirits of the forest and the sea against the cities in an attempt to crown himself Emperor.  How do you know him, Kakyoin?”

Part 1| Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Ao3 

A big thank you to @relares for wonderful beta work!

Note: I have stopped posting updates for this story on my tumblr. Future updates can be found at this location.

#kakhan #Noriaki Kakyoin #Rohan Kishibe #giorno giovanna #bruno is making a cameo appearance as a sailor here #anyway giorno is extremely spooky and also have some backstory #the fox spirit and the artisan

[multi-fandom-imagines8]

Geeks & Heroes

Part two

Part one

Marvel Masterlist

My birthday writing challenge

Request: Hello :) I was wondering if you can do a Peter Parker x Mexican! Reader. The Reader goes to the same high school as Peter and the Reader has a small group of friends. the reader and their friends are a bunch of dorks who love Harry Potter and baking. However, the reader and their friends also like the idea of superheroes mainly because they live in an area where crime has been at its peak. What if the reader and their friends are heroes of that certain area, but they help anonymously…

Summary: Peter has a crush on you and tries to impress you in funny ways. You get together and don’t know he’s spider man. You and your friends also help anonymously. One day, Peter sees you and tells you the truth.

A/N: I'm sorry it took me so long to post this. I wrote it at the beginning of June, but since I'm on vacation and don't want to go on hiatus, I update two fics per week.

Word Count: 1369

“Michelle, Ned, guess what just happened?” Peter excitingly asked.

“did you finally ask y/n out?” Michelle guessed.

“no, but I'm gonna study with her today. I'm freaking out, I don't know what to wear, what do bring her, how to act or what to say” he started panicking.

“calm down, Peter. She's not gonna bite. If she invited you over, then it means she likes you too” Ned assured him.

“no, it doesn't. It could mean that she thinks of you as a friend. Be careful of the friend-zone. You have to impress her” Michelle informed him.

“how do I do that?” he asked.

“Now that you know what she likes and all that, why don't you look them up and show her that you're interested in these stuff and start a small conversation after you're done with studying” she suggested.

- - -

“¡Hola! Hey! Spanish or English” he greeted as soon as you opened the door.

“whatever you're comfortable with. I can speak both” you chuckled “come on in”.

“nice house” he looked around.

“thanks, I guess” “do you want to bake or learn for Spanish?” you gave him a choice.

“we just had school. I'd say baking, if that's okay with you” he was very shy.

“you're too polite. Relax Parker” you shook your head and headed to the kitchen.

“so what do you want to bake?” you asked.

“actually can we cook?” he asked.

“of course, do you have anything in mind?” you questioned.

“I love Mexican food, and you happen to be Mexican, can you teach me how to make chicken enchiladas with roasted tomatillo chile salsa? Please!” he asked politely.

“you don't have to be that polite Parker. I know that you're a polite and a good person. So you can chill now”.

You explained to him how to do it and prepared the ingredients and he started to slice the onion and other required vegetables.

“you need help with that?” you noticed how he started tearing.

“no no, I got this... So what do you do in your free time other than baking?” he asked.

“I do a lot of things, but I love to read and help people, so I usually volunteer to do charity work, what about you?”.

“I don't do many things actually. I learn after school and do my homework. Sometimes I hang out with my friend Ned and I recently started an internship at Stark's industry” he informed you.

“Stark Industry? The one owned by Mr. Tony Stark? Iron man?” you wanted to make sure he's talking about the same man.

“yes, that's him. You know him?” he asked.

“never met him in person, but yeah he's famous. He's a superhero. Everyone knows him and the avengers” you informed him.

“did you hear about the new recruit?” he asked.

“you mean Spider-man or ant-man? There are so many insect men now a days” you joked.

“Yeah, spider-man. What do you think about him?” he asked.

“I don't know. I was on team cap, so...” you stated.

“But Mr. Stark was right. He said that captain America is wrong but he thinks he's doing the right thing, which makes him dangerous” he told you.

“You talked to Mr. Stark about the fight?” you were confused, 'cause why would iron man tell Peter about such a thing.

“well, no, not directly. I heard him talking to someone” he lied.

“so, who's your favorite avenger?” he added.

“he's not an avenger really. I like Loki, I know I'm not supposed to, but he's cool. Thor is cool too, I like him” you made it known.

“I like them too. We have a lot in common. We both like baking, I'm learning Spanish and you can speak Spanish, we both like Thor and Loki, not to mention Harry Potter” he joyfully expressed.

“how did you know I like Harry Potter?” you asked.

“you told me, don't you remember” he blushed.

“No, I didn't Peter. Today was the first time you talked to me. I don't tend to forget that easily” you chuckled.

“I- erm- might've asked one of your friends about what you like” he admitted.

“they would've told me, if someone asked about me”.

“Uh, yeah. I asked my friend Michelle to ask one of your friends so it wouldn't be obvious that I like you. That's probably why they didn't mention it... shit! Did I say that out loud?” he realized what he just confessed.

“you totally did. Come here” you pulled him closer and planted a kiss on his lips. His eyes were wide open, not believing what just happened, but as soon as he realized he closed his eyes and kissed you back.

“does that mean you like me too?” he wanted to be sure.

“no. I just give random people kisses” you joked.

“oh” he thought you were serious for a second.

“I'm joking, I'm joking. Yes, I like you” you laughed.

- - -

it's been a couple of months since you and Peter have been dating. It worked perfectly, 'cause when you had free time, you spent it together and when he had to go to the “internship” you were helping to fight crimes in your neighborhood. You didn't want to tell Peter about it, 'cause you thought he'd be worried.

One day, he finished earlier and you were supposed to meet at your house later. You have informed him earlier that you'd be at home all day. When he came by your house, your mom said that you were at your friends' house. He went there but your friend's mom said that you usually hang out at the park. He went there and didn't you. He called you for the fifth time and you finally answered “hey mi amor. Sorry I was asleep” you lied.

“where are you?” he asked,

“at home, where else would I be? Are you still coming at 8 o'clock?” you reminded him.

“sure thing, see you then” he was slightly worried that you might be cheating on him since you lied to him, but he was about to ask you that evening. Suddenly, Ned called him and told him, there's a robbery at some place near. He quickly suited up and went there.

 And to his surprise you were there, by the corner. You helped the police catch the bad guys without them noticing. That's how you've always done it. You stayed out of the lights and did things anonymously with the help of your friend.

- - -

“so how was the internship today?” you asked.

“it was good. How was your day?” he questioned.

“it was very productive. I was able to help some people” you informed him.

“hey y/n? Do you have something you want to tell me?” he questioned.

“no, why?” you asked.

“'cause I have something to tell you... I-um- I'm spider-man” you let out a sarcastic laugh “good one, mi amor” you kissed his cheek.

“I'm serious. And I know what your voluntarily work is” he informed you.

“you do?”.

“yeah. You help the police catch bad guys, anonymously, right?”

“how did you know? Did y/b/f/n tell you?” you thought your friend told him.

“No. Ned called me and said there was a robbery there and as I went there, I saw you with her” he explained.

“why didn't you tell me before?” you asked.

“why didn't you?” he re-asked.

“I didn't want to make you worry about me. Besides, I don't like to brag about it” you justified.

“fair enough. I didn't tell you, because I thought superheroes aren't supposed to tell anyone about their secret identity” he said.

“I'm not gonna rat you out, chill” you smiled.

“so voluntarily work, huh?”.

“shut up. I guess now we have one more thing in common”.

@markusstraya @purpstraw  @berruneko09 @5aftermidnight @jeansongg @deluxedepression

#avengers #the avengers #avengers imagine #avengers one shot #peter parker #peter parker x reader #peter parker x you #peter parker imagine #peter parker oneshot #spiderman #spider-man: homecoming #spider man #spider man x reader #spider man imagine #spider man one shot #tom holland #gif imagine #mcu #marvel #marvel imagine #marvel one shot #one shot #imagine #multi fandom imagines #fanfiction #peter parker fanfiction #gif #avengers fandom #spiderman x reader #spiderman oneshot

[writingwitchly]

A toad story

Hey, could I have an imagine where the reader is in the train to Hogwarts for the first time and she becomes friends with harry, Ron and Hermione. And after they know her better, they say that she must be in Gryffindor, but the sorting hat says she is slytherin and the reader becomes Draco's girlfriend after all. Thank you, sorry for mistakes❤️💛💚💙💜 ~ @thebigsweet 

Pairing: Draco Malfoy x reader Word count: 2,7k Warning: a giant spider (for Ron, mostly) / fluff? / sliiight talk about war (but not even mentioned actually) A/N: Thank you for this request! I’m sorry that it took quite long, but the whole part about meeting Harry, Ron, and Hermione was quite hard, because they still didn’t really know what the Houses were about back in first year (and they didn’t have many peaceful trip in the Hogwarts Express later). Anyway, I quite like the result, hope you will too!

“Has anyone seen a toad?”

For the second time in an hour, you shook your head in answer to this question, observing the person that had asked it. It was not the shy, clumsy boy, the one that looked so desperate when he came by earlier, but a rather bossy-looking girl, with bushy hair and enormous buck teeth.

Disappointed that she had no better result than her companion during his previous visit, she turned around to pat him on the back. “Don’t worry, Neville, it can’t be too far.”

The next second, they were off toward the end of the train.

The conversations around you resumed as your gaze drifted back to the window and the landscapes passing by. The view was much better than from the small window of your room.

A moment of melancholy got over you. What were your parents doing in this moment?

It had surely been a bit of a shock for them to learn that you were a witch, and none of you could believe it. But when Professor Sprout -- an original, short but energetic woman -- had shown up to your door, offering you help to buy your school supplies, you were all forced to admit the truth.

The rest of the vacations went by so fast, between aprehension and excitation, that this morning, when you said goodbye in front of the Hogwart Express, your mother couldn’t hold back some tears.

After a few minutes of reflection, you raised to go to the bathroom, situated at the front of the train.

As you made your way through the corridor, some agitation in front of the door of a compartment attracted your attention. Intrigued, you melted in the group of students that were peering inside, and risked a glance too. With a gasp, you spotted a huge spider, of the size of a melon, facing a frightened, trembling green mass.

Without any doubt, it was Neville’s toad.

“It’s Lee Jordan’s tarantula!” whispered a short girl with auburn hair to her, apparently, Indian friend.

“I told you it was stupid, Marcus,” whined a dark-haired girl at your left. Her spoiled expression was almost as unpleasant as the face of the boy she was talking to, a tall and pale fourteen or fifteen-years-old. “You shouldn’t have grown it in our compartment. Now how am I going to get my Witch Weekly?”

“Oh, shut up Pansy,” croaked a blond boy at her right, his silvery eyes not daring to leave the giant insect. His tone was imperious, but the girl did not pay him much attention.

Tired of Pansy’s continuous whimpering, you decided to focus on the two animals instead. They were perched on the suspended luggage rack, on top of a big black trunk and several odd-looking backpacks.

There was something that didn’t convince you about the spider. It looked somehow familiar, because you had studied tarantulas in your last year Biology classes, and you could have believed it was an African Red Rump, the most venomous of all. By judging its actual size, it could have killed an elephant in a minute. But something was missing.

Suddenly, in a flash, you noticed what was so strange about it.

Slowly, and hoping that your assumption was right, you moved toward the door and, with a shaky hand, opened it under the incredulous gaze of the little crowd.

Murmurs of shock erupted, but the only words you could distinguish came from the blond boy, “Stop! Are you crazy? It’s going to kill you!”

You directed him a hopeful smile before stepping in the compartment. A loud sound echoed behind you, which, you had no doubt on that, meant that Pansy had slammed the door.

With a triumphant grin on your face and the little green toad cupped in your hands, you strode in the corridor, looking for Neville.

You found him and the bushy-haired girl at the door of a compartment. As the latter seemed to be in a deep conversation with whoever was inside, you decided to notify the boy first.

His joy to see you holding his pet was so strong that the cry he let escaped made the buck toothed girl swing round to see what was happening.

“You found it!” she said, a look of impression on her features, “Where was it?”

With a feeling of pride swelling your chest, you started retelling your adventure. When you mentioned the giant spider, you heard a loud gasp coming from one of the people the bossy girl was talking to. Edging a bit forward, you noticed a tall, ginger-haired boy, with a dark spot on the point of his nose. Shock was all over his freckles-spread face.

“You were alone in a closed space with a giant spider?”

His startled expression clearly stated how crazy he thought you were.

“It couldn’t bite me,” you explain, “It has had its fangs removed. It’s an often used way to make tarantulas a safe pet.”

Another gasp.

“All I had to do inside there was poking the toad with my wand. It jumped to the floor while the spider hid behind the luggage,” And, as you noticed their incredulous look, you added, “That’s both animals’ common behavior in case of danger.”

You couldn’t help but flush a little when the boy with glasses, who was sitting opposite from the redhead, blew a whistle of admiration.

“You could probably be sorted into Ravenclaw,” said the girl, as Neville stared at you, dumbfounded. “But I’d be surprised if you weren’t chosen for Gryffindor. I’m Hermione Granger, nice to meet you.”

She held her hand out and you shook it, happy to start this strange school year making new friends.

“Yeah, you’re surely brave enough to end up in Gryffindor. I’m Ron Weasley, and this is Harry. Harry Potter.”

Ron made a pause, as expecting you to react to something.

“Well, it’s nice to meet you all,” you answered, not sure if you should act surprised to meet the boy named Harry. His friends obviously thought so. “I’m Y/N L/N.”

You waved them goodbye and hurried down the corridor again, remembering that you had to take a trip to the bathroom.

“L/N, Y/N,” called professor McGonagall.

As a heavy silence invaded the Great Hall, you directed your shaky legs toward the stool, and forced your sweating hands to grab the hat. You placed it as firmly as you could on your head, considering the fact that it was twice as big as it.

“Mmmm… Many qualities,” whispered a voice in your ears as soon as the darkness had invaded your eyes, “Some flaws, of course, but many qualities. Let’s see which prevails…”

The interior of the hat smelt like moist and mold.

“A good memory, friendly personality, firm mind…”

Unable to think coherently about anything, you let the voice continue its reasoning, grabbing your robes to stop your arms from shaking.

“I see, you’ve been told that you belong to the House of the braves, but is it what I really consider the best? Y/N, I hope that you’ll like your House.

“SLYTHERIN!”

Snow is falling from the white winter sky, making the courtyard of the Entrance Hall look like the inside of a huge, glowing snowball under the shy rays of the sun.

You’ve been looking forward to this Hogsmeade weekend since the start of the school year, but not because of what you’d do in the village. Actually, you aren’t even going.

The most thrilling part of it all is staying at Hogwarts. Alone. With Draco.

“Go with Blaise, Pansy, I’ll join you there,” you hear him say from the Entrance Hall, “I still need to review something about Defense Against the Dark Arts with Y/N.”

Your blond friend has had a hard time to convince his usual crew to leave him behind, especially because his number one fan can’t stand the fact that he’ll be with you.

At the mention of your name, the girl shoots you a nasty look, heavy with loath. You shrug, used to this kind of consideration. It started back in first year: She held you responsible of the fact that the African Red Rump hid in her backpack when you rescued Neville’s toad.

After several years, nothing has improved: Your blood situation doesn’t help at all, as you’re a Muggle born, but she is probably more bothered by the attention that Draco has been paying to you.

Anyway, the hatred is reciprocal.

“Bye-bye, Petty Pansy,” you say in a half-innocent, half-mischievous voice, “Have a great morning.”

She sticks her tongue at you and then turns tail to follow the rest of the group, now a good hundred of meters away.

Draco climbs up the stone steps toward you with an annoyed look on his face, the one that he wears when he is about to reprimand someone.

“You two drive me crazy,” he breathes, as if tired.

While you walk in silence toward the exit that leads to the grounds, you study his face. The dark shadows under his eyes and his extreme pallor have been worrying you.

He’s been acting odd since the end of the holidays, disappearing suddenly and reappearing hours later. You’ve heard him getting out of the dormitory a few times, at night. He hangs out with Crabbe and Goyle a lot more than before. A lot more than with you. 

“Draco,” you say carefully, as the light of the day welcomes you again, this time in the grounds, “You told me that today you would explain me what has been keeping you busy.”

A bitter smile curls his lips.

“I’ve never said this, Y/N.”

“Of course you did!” you snap, “Two days ago, in Potions, you said that-”

“‘I have something to tell you’,” he finishes, “But it’s different from what you want to know, I’m afraid.”

You roll your eyes, unhappy of his lack of confidence.

“I don’t want to tell you what I am doing,” he says gloomily “Because-”

“‘It would put me in danger’” you cut across him this time, repeating what you’ve heard at least a hundred times since September, “I know.”

Then, after a pause, you add, “I just hope you’re not idiotic enough to do something too risky, that’s all.”

The sour smile on his face turns into a genuine one.

Oh no, he’s going to tease me.

“Says the person who got closed in a compartment with a gigantic spider,” he laughs.

Again, you roll your eyes, a look of amusement on your face though.

“It happened six years ago, you repetitive prat,” you answer, “And I still need to remember you two things: First, it was your beloved Pansy who closed the door-”

He pushes you, playfully, claiming that he doesn’t want to be remembered of his ‘beloved Pansy’ if she’s not around.

“Second,” you let out between laughs, “I knew that it was perfectly safe to get in there, because the fangs had been rem-”

“And what if it was a magical creature, you nitwit? I was afraid for you because it could have spit fire or whatever!”

“Well, turned out it wasn’t one!” you shout back. “You were such a coward.”

He pushes you again, but this time a lot harder, and you lose your balance. You grab his arms to steady yourself, but the only result you get is to make the both of you fall on the ground, his body on top of yours.

You feel the icy snow on your back, and a burning sensation flushes your cheeks, which must happen because of the cold.

Or because I’m under him.

This simple thought makes you shiver.

“What are you thinking about?” he asks with an irritating smirk, noticing your glowing cheeks.

“I can’t breathe,” you say, avoiding his question. But as you try to roll to your side, he pins your shoulders down.

“If you can talk, you can breathe. Now, resist a few seconds more because I have something to tell you.”

His sudden seriousness troubles you.

A swirling feeling in your stomach, that has been tickling you a lot lately when you’re around Draco, intensifies the blush on your face.

“I’ll be brief so you don’t die of suffocation, which would be very annoying. I’ve been thinking a lot lately -- yes, I do think, don’t you mock me -- about the things I want to do. You know, stuff like…”

“Yeah?” you encourage him, ready to jump on the occasion and tease him.

“Well, like marrying,” your smile disappears, “having a family,” your gaze scans his face, looking for any hint of humor, but there is none, “living happy… Oh, don’t look at me this way, you know that I am able to like people, even to- to fall in love.”

Next thing you know, Draco’s body is not over you anymore. A bit shook by what he was saying, you raise as well.

“What I mean,” he continues, “Is that, because of the actual situation, all the things that are happening outside, I will maybe not be able to do all these things. We never know what can happen, right?”

He looks for your approbation, which is stuck in your mind between your amazement and your incredulity.

Where is he going with this speech?

“The point is,” he says as if you had asked the question, “That I want to do some of these things before it’s too late. Not the bit about having a family, nor marrying, but at least- ask someone out- someone I care- someone I fell in love with.”

Somehow, deep inside, you seem to know what he means, and you supposition is proven right when his hand cups your chin to drag you forward.

In less than it would take a niffler to steal a coin, you find your lips against Draco’s pale ones, enjoying their sweetness with your eyes closed.

The kiss is just like you’ve imagined it -- because, now you can be honest, you’ve dreamed about it for years: shy, insecure, and… heartwarming.

His other hand softly grabbing your waist, your arms brushing his neck, your noses touching…

The only sound that accompanies you, apart from the accelerated beating of your heart, is the smooth movement of the lake’s water under the cold wind.

It’s so good to feel his warm body pressed to yours again that you almost don’t feel the back of your robes sticking to your skin, wet because of the snow you were lying on.

When the lack of air forces you apart, it costs you a few seconds to bring your racing heart back to its regular pace.

“Does this mean- that you’re asking me out?” you breathe, not seeing any other plausible reason.

“Would you say yes if I did?” Is the answer you get.

If I’d say yes! I’ve been waiting for you to ask me out since when I sat in front of you during our Sorting Ceremony.

“I thought I was lucky to be your friend,” you respond instead, “because I am a Muggle-born. I would have never believed that you’d pay me much attention, you know.”

“Well, obviously Pansy thought the same,” he rolls his eyes. His parents have taught him to despise Muggle-born. However, there is something wrong about this conception, and it clicked in his head when you demonstrated how braver, smarter, funnier than many purebloods you are. When you were sorted into Slytherin, he felt the same excitement as you did springing in his chest. “But this is not what we’re talking about. Would you say yes if I asked you out?”

“Why don’t you figure it out by yourself, Malfoy?” you say, feeling a bit more sure now that your senses are getting back to normality.

“Fine then. Y/N, would you like to go out with me?”

Wow. It sounds better when he says it than when you dream of it.

“Yes, Draco, I’d love to.”

#draco malfoy #draco x reader #draco #draco malfoy one shot #draco malfoy fanfic #hp fanfic #hp requests #hp fanfiction #hp #draco fanfic #draco fic #draco malfoy imagine #draco malfoy fic #wizarding world wait for me #***writingr

[yokailovesugar]

Unexpected Part 18

This is an Ulquihime fanfic I wrote. This is Part 18

Enjoy!

More chapters will be on the way for this story.

Disclaimer: I do not own Bleach or it’s amazing characters that all belongs to Kubo Tite.

*I also do not own the Japanese historical figures that appear in this fanfic or actual Kyoto Sightseeing places* I don’t any of the artists, songs mentioned in this fanfic,

Ulquiorra Cifer and Orihime Inoue and other Bleach Characters © Kubo Tite

More Bleach Characters will be appearing as this story continues.

PART 18

LOCATION: Uzumasa eigamura (Toei Kyoto Studio Park)Kyoto, Japan

Orihime is using crutches.

[ORIHIME]

We have made it Ulquiorra-kun!

Ulquiorra glares at Orihime.

[ORIHIME]

I mean Ulquiorra, gomen bad habit!

[GRIMMJOW]

Ahh, quit being a sourpuss Cuatro. I should be the one pissed since you been keeping the Princess locked up in your room.

[ORIHIME]

I wasn’t locked up! And it was OUR room.

[GRIMMJOW]

What naughty things did you do to our flower Vice Commander?

Grimmjow puts his arm around Ulquiorra and Orihime.

[ULQUIORRA]

Need I remind you I outrank you, so remove that arm before you lose it.

Grimmjow’s blue eyes glare at Ulquiorra.

[GRIMMJOW]

I’m game if you are?

[ORIHIME]

NO FIGHTING!

[TIER]

Inoue is right this not the time nor the place for your shenanigans.

[GRIMMJOW]

WOAH WOAH! I AIN’T TAKING HEAT FOR THIS! IT WAS ALL HIS FAULT!

[MAN IN THE FOX MASK]

Everyone, it’s time to change.

[ULQUIORRA]

I thought this was a trip for two? In times like these, I wish I had my powers. I get rid of the blue-haired insect. Ulquiorra thinks to himself.

[ORIHIME]

I’ll see you later.

[ULQUIORRA]

Onna, where do you think you are going?

[ORIHIME]

Aren’t we changing into our costumes?

[ULQUIORRA]

………………………………………………………

[ORIHIME]

You promised and it’s Tanabata day.

Orihime smile turns into a frown.

[ULQUIORRA]

Understood.

Orihime smiles and hugs Ulquiorra

[ULQUIORRA]

Onna, you are going to fall!

Orihime giggles taking something out of Ulquiorra’s pocket and sticking it into hers.

[ORIHIME]

See you later Vice Commander.

Orihime walks off with her crutches.

[GRIMMJOW]

Hey, let’s get ready for Halloweenie!

Ulquiorra frowns.

[ULQUIORRA]

It’s Halloween and Today is July 7th it is Tanabata. Halloween is in October but Tokyo is the only place in Japan that celebrates that holiday but if you want to look like a fool in Kyoto be my guest.

[GRIMMJOW]

Damn no treats then and I was going to be an Espada for ole time sakes.

Ulquiorra frowns.

[GRIMMJOW]

Hey, How many months till Halloween though? Gotta plan my costume heh heh.

Ulquiorra walks off not answering Grimmjow.

[GRIMMJOW]

So Tokyo is where the Halloween party’s at hmm… OWW!

Grimmjow looks up and sees the man with the fox mask has hit him with a fan.

[GRIMMJOW]

Boss?

[MAN WITH MASK]

Grimmjow, we don’t have all day change into your costume or I’ll let Tier deal with you.

Tier cracks her knuckles.

[GRIMMJOW]

Damn, she reminds me more and more of the Commander it’s freaky. Grimmjow thinks to himself.

[GRIMMJOW]

Yes Sir.

Grimmjow leaves to change into his costume.

LOCATION: In a Dressing room.

Ulquiorra is tying his Shinsengumi forehead protector with the character of honor on it.

[ULQUIORRA]

I thought I never wear this uniform again.

Ulquiorra stares at his reflection in the mirror dressed in the Shinsengumi uniform he once wore.

Ulquiorra’s phone ringer goes off in his jean pocket.

[RINGTONE]

Baby Dracula.

[ULQUIORRA]

That’s not my ringtone.

Ulquiorra digs his phone out of his jean pocket.

Ulquiorra sees the caller ID on his phone screen is himself.

[ULQUIORRA]

Why am I calling myself?

Ulquiorra’s green eyes narrow.

[ULQUIORRA]

She switched our phones.

Ulquiorra frowns.

Ulquiorra thumb slides the answer button.

[ULQUIORRA]

Onna.

{ORIHIME]

Ulquiorra, how did you know it was me?

[ULQUIORRA]

Onna, why did you switch our phones and why didn’t you change that ringtone like I asked?

[ORIHIME]

I like that ringtone and anyway, that’s not important come outside. We’re all waiting.

[ULQUIORRA]

Fine.

Ulquiorra sighs and hangs up the phone.

Ulquiorra comes out dressed in his Shinsengumi uniform.

Grimmjow and Tier and the masked man are wearing Shinsengumi uniforms as well.

[GRIMMJOW]

Takes you back doesn’t it Hijikata ha ha.

[ULQUIORRA]

Yes,  a time I wish to forget.

[ORIHIME]

Oh, don’t be like that Ulquiorra.

Orihime grabs Ulquiorra’s arms.

Ulquiorra sees Orihime is dressed in the Shinsengumi uniform.

Ulquiorra’s green eyes widen.

[ORIHIME]

Surprised? I love when you make that face ha ha ha.

Orihime laughs.

Ulquiorra frowns.

[ORIHIME]

See, we look like a couple dressed the same just like we did in the Espada.

Ulquiorra clicks his tongue.

[ULQUIORRA]

They were uniforms, Onna. Everyone was assigned a uniform. There was nothing romantic about it.

[ORIHIME]

Why do you have to crush my fantasies?

[ULQUIORRA]

Because it’s not reality. Why would lies comfort you?

[ORIHIME]

…………………………………………………………………..

[GRIMMJOW]

Hey Princess, you look good in those clothes.

[ORIHIME]

At least someone thinks I do.

Orihime holds tighter to her crutches.

Ulquiorra bites his lip.

[GRIMMJOW]

Yeah, had you been the Inoue of our group the Shinsengumi had been happy!

Orihime blushes.

Ulquiorra’s green eyes glare at Grimmjow.

[GRIMMJOW]

Who are you kidding Vice Commander? Had she been there you wouldn’t have been a Womanizing manwhore now would ya?

Grimmjow smiles at Ulquiorra.

Ulquiorra swings his sword at  Grimmjow. 

Grimmjow catches his Ulquiorra’s blade with his own sword.

[GRIMMJOW]

What? I hurt your Pretty boy pride Hijikata.

[ULQUIORRA]

One.. more… word Harada and I swear  I’ll make you remember the old times.

[BOY]

MOM, Look They are having a sword fight.

[BOY’S MOTHER]

Yes, very realistic.

A crowd gathers around.

People taking pictures with their smartphones.

[GRIMMJOW]

Hey, let’s give them a show.

Ulquiorra puts his sword away.

[GRIMMJOW]

What are you doing?

[ULQUIORRA]

Come, Onna.

Suddenly carriage Horse takes off and runs straight into the street where a child is running into.

[ORIHIME]

Soten Kisshun!

The Horse Carriage goes backward and the child with a broken body is unharmed and back with their parents.

Suddenly there is a turbulent wind.

Screaming is heard.

[VOICE 1]

Aww, so this is the power of the Hand of God?

[VOICE 2 ]

Mmmmm these souls were tasty ha ha ha ha ha.

Once the mist clears people are on the ground drained of their very life force.

Two men who look like Arrancar are revealed once the mist dissipates.

  One man has large fangs and the other wearing glasses surround Orihime.

[ULQUIORRA]

So, they’re behind the mysterious homicides in Japan, Kurosaki was investigating. Ulquiorra thinks to himself.

[ORIHIME]

Ulquiorra, check for survivors.

Orihime takes a defensive pose.

[MAN WITH FANGS}

I, think Princess you should be worrying about yourself instead ha ha ha ha ha.

Orihime glares at the man.

The man with glasses sneaks up behind Orihime and holds the point of his sword up against Orihime’s throat.

Ulquiorra’s green eyes widen.

[MAN IN THE MASK]

So your the ones causing panic across Japan?

[MAN WITH GLASSES]

And you are Mask Man?

Tier gets in front of the masked man wearing the fox mask.

[TIER]

Why have you come here?

Grimmjow looks at the people on the ground who are now drained of their life force.

[GRIMMJOW]

Holy shit it’s like a graveyard here these people totally sucked dry.

[MAN WITH THE GLASSES]

My Master needs the hand of God, I don’t have time to play with you.

[ORIHIME]

ULQUIORRA GET EVERYONE OUT OF HERE!

[ULQUIORRA]

I refuse.

[ORIHIME]

Please save everyone, don’t worry about me!

[ULQUIORRA]

We just reunited and you expect us to separate again?

Orihime brown eyes are full of tears.

[MAN WITH GLASSES]

So, your Hijikata’s woman!

[ULQUIORRA]

Who are you?

Ulquiorra points his sword at the man with glasses.

[MAN]

Ahh, I’m hurt Hijikata you forgot me?

[ULQUIORRA]

I don’t remember insignificant trash like yourself now release Orihime!

The man with glasses glares pushing the sword harder against Orihime’s throat.

Orihime stands strong despite the sharpness of the blade.

Ulquiorra starts to move toward them.

[MAN WITH GLASSES]

If you don’t want her hurt I suggest you stay where you are.

[MAN IN THE MASK]

I’m afraid you didn’t answer our question, Sir who are you?

[MAN]

Does the name Chosu ring a bell?

[GRIMMJOW]

Chosu?!, Why the hell you bastards Arrancar ?!

[MAN]

Harada, I see you still don’t have brains.

[GRIMMJOW]

Yeah, but at least when I was Arrancar I didn’t look like shit like you!

[MAN]

We’re here on orders so our time here is limited.

[ULQUIORRA]

Whose orders?

[MAN]

The only man who your Commander humiliated.

Ulquiorra’s green eyes widen.

[MAN]

Are time is up here. 

A pit of black shields the men holding Orihime.

[GRIMMJOW]

LET'S TAKE HIM OUT, CUATRO!

Ulquiorra pulls out his sword and runs straight for the men holding Orihime.

Ulquiorra leaps into the air and brings his sword down on the men.

Grimmjow pulls out his sword and runs swiftly aiming for the man with fangs.

Grimmjow hits the shield with his sword the shield repels his blade.

[GRIMMJOW]

FUCK! WHAT IS THIS THING?!

Grimmjow standing on top of the dark shield hits the shield again with his sword.

The black shield deflects Ulquiorra’s blade when he hits it.

Ulquiorra hits the shield again but only damages his sword.

Ulquiorra’s green eyes narrow.

[GRIMMJOW]

TIER ANY BRIGHT IDEAS?!

A vortex of darkness starts pulling Orihime toward it.

Grimmjow jumps down from the shield.

The Dark shield force throws Ulquiorra off of it.

[ORIHIME]

ULQUIORRAHHHH!

Orihime's hand reaches out for Ulquiorra.

Ulquiorra runs quickly to reach Orihime.

Ulquiorra reaches out for her.

Both their hands reach out for each other.

The vortex of darkness force pulls Orihime and two men inside the black hole.

[ORIHIME]

ULQUIORRAHHHHHHHHHHHH!

[MAN WITH GLASSES]

It’s time to return to the past, Princess.

[MAN IN THE MASK]

The past?

Orihime disappears with the men into the vortex of darkness.

Ulquiorra is hand is left still reaching out.

Ulquiorra drops to his knees and slams his fist into the ground.

[ULQUIORRA]

If I only had my powers this could have been prevented!

The Masked Man rest his hand on Ulquiorra shoulder.

[MASKED MAN]

Don’t worry, We’ll get her back.

[ULQUIORRA, GRIMMJOW & TIER]

Boss?

[MASKED MAN]

I’ve got a plan but you all have got to trust me?

They all nod.

The Masked Man removes his fox mask.

Ulquiorra’s green eyes widen.

[GRIMMJOW]

HOLY SHIT, YOU’RE VICE COMMANDER YAMANAMI KEISUKE!

[KEISUKE]

Though in this world Harada I go by Urahara Keisuke.

[TIER]

Sir, was it wise to reveal your identity?

[KEISUKE]

Desperate time call for Desperate measures, Tier.

Keisuke puts on his striped hat.

[KEISUKE]

The curtain has been drawn now it’s time for us to take the stage again.

[GRIMMJOW]

Stage?

[KEISUKE]

The Past.

Keisuke snaps open his folding fan.

End of Part 18

To Be Continued in Part 19

#ulquihime #ulquihimefanfic #ulquiorra cifer and orihime inoue #ulquiorra schiffer and orihime inoue #ulquiorra and orihime #ulquihimeshinsengumi

[queen-of-deans-booty]

Born Under a Bad Sign- Part 6

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Word Count: 1,809

Warnings: Typical Supernatural violence, angst, language, minor character death, blood, you know the usual

Author’s Note: I do not own anything from Supernatural. All credit goes to their respective owners. If you’re a junkie for this sort of thing, then a tag list is the right thing for you! If you want to be a Queen, I’ll add you to that list too! Any and all comments on these are appreciated.

Feedback is the glue that holds my writing together.

Tags at the bottom

“Feel like talking now?” Dean asked.

“Sam's still my meat puppet. I'll make him bite off his tongue.” Meg threatened, glaring at Dean.

“No, you won’t be in him long enough. Hit it, Bobby.” Dean, standing up straight. Bobby immediately started to read from a book, the exorcism for a demon.

“See, whatever bitch-boy master plan you demons are cooking up? You're not getting Sam. You understand me? 'Cause I'm gonna kill every one of you first.” Dean said, talking over Bobby. Sam started to struggle, the effect of the exorcism taking place but it wasn’t as you would hope. It was like Meg was resisting the chant.

Suddenly, Sam stopped struggling and laughed manically, mocking the three hunters in the room. Bobby stopped talking in surprise. This wasn’t supposed to happen.

“You really think that's what this is about? The master plan? I don't give a rat's ass about the master plan, ask Y/N here. If I wanted her dead, she would be and I wouldn’t be in Sam right now.” Bobby glared at Sam and continued the chant but Meg cut him off again.

“Oops. Doesn't seem to be working. See, I learned a few new tricks,” Sam said with a sadistic grin, chanting some words in Latin. The fire behind Sam in the fireplace flared and the room started to shake as he continued chanting.

“This isn't going like I pictured! What's going on, Bobby?” Dean asked, going to you and grabbing your hand. You looked over and saw the mark on Sam’s arm. Of course, this is what Meg did before she got into Sam.

“Dean, Bobby, there is a binding link burned onto Sam’s arm! She can’t escape unless it’s off. I can’t believe I didn’t put it together earlier.” You said, looking at Dean.

“What the hell do we do?” Dean asked.

“I don’t know!” Bobby said. Shit, if Bobby didn’t know what to do, then you wouldn’t know but you had to think.

“Burn it off!” You said right before Sam threw his head back and screamed, the shaking of the walls and the ceiling began to crack, breaking the seal of the protective circle. As Sam lowered his head, his eyes were pitch black.

“There. That's better.” Sam said with a smirk, ripping free from his restraints. Sam jerked his head to the left, sending Bobby flying into the wall.

“No!!” You said but before you could go to Bobby, the same thing happened to Dean and he flew right into the wall quite heavily. “Dean!”

Sam raised his hand and you flew to the wall with a thud, Sam walking right over to Dean.

“You know the word people use to describe the worst possible thing? They say it’s like hell but they don’t really know the meaning of it.” Sam said, kneeling in front of Dean.

“Don’t touch him!” You yelled.

“This one is for you, Y/N. You’re going to watch me beat the shit out of your boyfriend.” Sam said, with a smirk, grabbing Dean’s collar and clocking him in the jaw hard. You screamed out, feeling that bubble rise up fairly quickly.

Sam kept hitting Dean, making sure blood was coming out of his nose and mouth.

“You know, hell is just a word but it’s actually a prison made of bone and flesh and blood and fear,” Sam said, hitting Dean again. You couldn’t get off the wall and you were crying, hating what was happening to Dean. “And you sent me back there. How is that fair?”

“That’s where you belong, bitch.” Dean said, spitting his blood on the floor.

“By the way, Johnny-boy says hi. He’s having real fun, carving up your mother.” Sam said, turning his head to look at you. You were crying and you just needed a few more power to let loose on this one.

“Go back to hell, bitch.” You said, glaring at him. Sam turned back to Dean with a grin and punched him again. You gasped and looked over at Bobby to see him already up and moving around quietly.

“All that I had to hold onto, was that I would climb out one day, and that I was going to torture you. Nice and slow. Like pulling the wings off an insect. But whatever I do to you, it's nothing compared to what you do to yourself, is it? I can see it in your eyes, Dean. You're worthless. You couldn't save your Dad, and deep down, you know that you can't save your brother. They'd have been better off without you.”

Bobby came rearing up behind Sam and he grabbed his arm, pressing a hot poker into the mark on his arm. Sam screamed in pain as black smoke poured out of him out to the chimney, leaving his body for good. Sam fell to the ground as did you.

You grunted as you fell to the ground and you rushed over to Dean, not caring about yourself. You pulled him up and you looked at Bobby with a slight smile. Sam groaned and came to, sitting up, grabbing his arm in pain.

“Sam!” You said.

“Did I miss anything?” Sam said, still groggy from anything that happened to him. Dean glared at Sam and reared his fist back, hitting the real Sam in the jaw before groaning as he clutched his bad arm, leaning on your body.

Sam groaned, holding his cheek in confusion.

Tension was piled high in this room with Sam behind Bobby’s desk with an icepack on his arm, Dean on the other side of the desk, holding an icepack on his face, you were sitting on the edge of the desk, making sure the wound on Dean’s arm was not worse than it already is.

“So, I think I’ve discovered a new “ability”, I guess you could say, about myself.” You said, fixing the gauze on Dean’s arm.

“What is it?” Dean asked.

“Well, back at Steve’s house, when I handed my lock pick over to Sam and my hand touched his, I got a vision of Sam hurting Jo and a few hours later, that is what happened. That is why I was able to warn Jo first. I’ve never had this happen to me before so I don’t know what it meant but I don’t know what to do.” You said, looking at Dean.

“Wait, I hurt Jo?” Sam asked. Oh yeah, you forgot to mention that part.

“Yeah, I would call and apologize to her soon. Don’t worry, she doesn’t have any wounds on her besides maybe a rope burn on her wrists.” You said, sighing.

“We’ll figure this out.” Dean said, putting a hand on your thigh.

“It also happened when we found Sam in the first place but when I touched him, I saw what he had already done so I don’t know if I’m seeing visions or premonitions.”

“Hey, I’m right here, you know.” Sam said. You looked over at him and gave him a small smile.

“Yeah, you are. You’re you and that’s all that matters right now.” You said with a smile.

“By the way, you really look like crap, Dean.” Sam said cautiously.

“Yeah, right back at you.” Dean said. Bobby suddenly walked into the room slowly, very concerned about one thing.

“What is it, Bobby?” You asked.

“You three ever heard of a hunter named Steve Wandell?” You gulped and looked at Dean for help but he acted casual.

“Why do you ask?”

“I just heard from a friend that Wandell's dead. He was murdered in his own house. You wouldn't know anything about that?” Bobby asked. You told Sam about this and he looked down, already blaming himself.

“No sir, we’ve never heard of the guy.” Dean said, acting like everything was okay.

“Good. Keep it that way. Wandell's buddies are looking for someone or something to string up, and they're not going to slow down to listen to reason. You understand what I'm saying?” Bobby asked.

“Yeah, we better hit the road. If, uh, you can remember where you parked the car.” Dean said, looking at his brother.

“Before you leave, take these,” Bobby said, handing you, Dean and Sam a necklace with a small metal charm on the end of it.

“What are they?” You asked, inspecting it.

“Charms. They'll fend off possession. That demon's still out there. This'll stop it from getting back up in you.” Bobby said.

“That sounds vaguely dirty, but uh, thanks.” Dean said. You slapped his arm playfully and got up, smiling at Bobby.

“You're welcome. Please be careful now.”

“You too.” Sam said, smiling at Bobby but Bobby didn’t return it.

“You guys go find the car, I’ll catch up with you in a minute.” You said, looking at the brothers. They nodded and left the house, leaving you and Bobby alone.

“You okay?” Bobby asked.

“I just wanted to say, thank you. Not only for this hunt today but for everything you’ve ever done for me from the moment I was born.” You said, fingering the charm in your hands.

“I would do it all over again if I had the chance.”

“You do have the chance; you have it now. I’m not getting any younger and neither are you. Yes, I’m still sad that you weren’t there as I would have liked you to be but you’re here now and that’s all that matters. I want us to be father and daughter. I want to make up for lost time.” You said, looking into his eyes.

“I would love that more than you know.” Bobby said with a smile. You leaned up and kissed his cheek, smiling when you pulled away.

“If you don’t mind, I’m still going to call you Bobby for right now. I have to work up to ‘dad’. You understand, right?” You asked shyly.

“Of course.” He said with a smile. You nodded and held up the charm awkwardly, backing up.

“Thanks for this.” You nodded and turned around, walking outside to see the Impala waiting. You got in the backseat and smiled to yourself, putting the necklace on.

“You okay, sweetheart?” Dean asked, not talking about your wounds.

“Yeah, I’m okay.” You said with a smile. Dean took off down the road and you looked back to see Bobby watching. You looked back at the brothers, sliding in between them. “You know what we should do?”

“What’s that?” Sam asked.

“Get tattoos of this symbol. Necklaces are easy to pull off and break but tattoos stay on forever. Plus, I think the two of you would look hot with a tattoo.” You said with a grin, leaning back.

“That means you have to get one too.” Dean said, looking at you through the rearview mirror.

“Yeah, I know.” You said with a wink.

The Queens:

@maddieburcham1​​​ @ginamsmith​​​ @mogaruke​​​ @whit85-blog​​​ @inlovewithbja​​​ @spn67-sister​​​ @kdfrqqg​​​ @jarpadandjensenaremyheroes​​​ @roxyspearing​​​ @supercalifragilistic26 @mishamigose​​​ @cobrakai1967​​​  @essie1876​​​ @wishedworld​​​ @crispychrissy​​​ @laqueus-ludovicus​​​ @nostalgic-uncertainty​​​ @jerk-bitch-and-an-angel​​​ @potterhead1265​​​ @starswirlblitz​​​ @untitled39887​​​ @ta-n-ja​​​ @deans-fallen-angel-boy @scarletluvscas @notnaturalanahi​​​ @tahbehonest​​​ @stay-in--place​​​​ @dreaminofdean @posiemax​​​​ @donnaintx​​​​ @mikey1822​​​​ @alexandriajanae4​​​​ @li-ssu​​​​ @just-another-winchester​​​​ @obsessivecompulsivespn​​​​ @emoryhemsworth​​​ ​ @newtospnfandom​​​​ @mizzezm​​​​ @goldenolaf25​​​​

The Dean Beans:

@akshi8278​ @mega-mrs-dean-winchester​​  @winchesterandpie​​ @spn-dean-and-sam-winchester​​ @carribear31​​ @tacklesackles​​ @oreosatmidnight​​ @not-naturalfangirl​​ @missselinakitty​​ @iam-a-cutiepie​​  @kristendansmith​​ @milo-winchester-4ever​​ @jensenackesl​​ @codyshany316​​ @pheonyxstorm​​ @helllonearth​​ @juniorhuntersam​​ @pouterpufftrain​​ @ruprecht0420​​ @shut-ur-face-and-get-in-the-car @carriemichelle2012​​ @aubreystilinski​​

Series Rewrite Junkies:

@helllonearth​ @amyisabellal​ @deanwnchstr​ @caseykitten6​ @quixoticcat​ @supernaturalblogging​ @notmoose45​ @crowleysminion​ @mina22​ @tahbehonest​ @hadleymcallister2177 @destielsangels​ @spnhybrid @oreosatmidnight​​ @valerieshubin​​ @seninjakitey​​ @flyonlittlewinchester​​  @aubreystilinski​​

#Supernatural series rewrite #born under a bad sign #dean winchester #dean winchester angst #dean winchester x reader #spn series rewrite

[lilhemmo]

gunpowder & silk pt. 2

Summary: Riley runs a tailoring shop. Mr. Barnes runs the mob.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x OC Rated: T+ Word Count: 2,426 Prompt: i’m the tailor who always makes/hems your nice clothes but i don’t know that you’re a mobster so why are the police barging in here Part: 2/? A/N: we’ve introduced a new character!!!! hope you guys are enjoying this!! if you want this to keep going, leave me a note in my ask box, and if you have another prompt, feel free to send me some, and give the masterlist a little love xx

Mr. Barnes is a regular client. He comes in every Thursday, purchasing a suit made of the most expensive fabric that Riley owns and overpaying for it every time. Every time, Riley resists.

One time, he shrugs, “Got to keep this dying art alive somehow.”

He smells of strong cologne and something acidic that Riley can never put a name to, but nevertheless it’s intoxicating. He’s polite, which is far from what his two body guards made him sound like originally. It’s always the same two, Romanoff and Rogers. Eventually they relaxed in her shop, feeling the fabrics and buying her baked treats.

On this Thursday, four months after Mr. Barnes’s first visit, Riley has decided to bring Toulousse with her. The cat is curled up in a windowsill, soaking up the sun, when the familiar knock arrives at the door.

“Every time I tell you,” Riley chuckles, “you don’t have to knock.”

“Expecting someone?”

Immediately Riley’s head snaps upward. In front of her, stroking the spine of her cat, is a burly man she never expected to see.

“M-Mr. Odinson,” she stutters out his name, ducking her head in acknowledgment of him. “W-What can I do for you today?”

He releases the cat’s fur and takes a step forward, touching suits as he goes. “I’ve heard about your new client, Miss Jordan, and I’ve taken an interest in him.”

Riley’s lips quirk in confusion, “Who?”

“You know who I’m speaking of,” Mr. Odinson snaps at her, the vein in his neck stark against his tan skin. “But in case you are just that stupid, girl, I am talking of Mr. Barnes.” His fingernails dig into a certain swatch of fabric that Riley was saving for Mr. Barnes himself. It was expensive, but she knew he would love it. She was waiting to show him at their tailoring meeting this morning.

“I must speak quickly, because I know that he will be here soon,” Mr. Odinson says, tilting his head toward her, the  brim of his hat covering his forehead and casting a shadow over his dark blue eyes. “I just wanted you to be alert that I am taking an interest in your business with him. I suggest you rethink your entrepreneurship endeavors.”

Riley finds herself mustering up enough courage to plant her feet and make her eyes steely towards the man in front of her, “You know what, Thor?” The man looks oddly disheveled in front of her. “This is ridiculous. If you’re jealous because I told you to take your business elsewhere, you can go ahead and get out of my shop.”

“You’ll regret this, Miss Jordan,” Thor speaks as he slips his finger against the fabric and tears the slightest of holes in it. Riley refuses to show him any sort of emotion, so she merely points her finger at the door, “Out.”

Not even a second after the door bell chimes and Thor Odinson has walked out the door does Riley Jordan slide down her desk and sit with her back against the wood. Her fingers sift through her hair and anxiety crawls up her spine like insects.

Toulouse, as if sensing her discomfort, meows from where he’s at in the windowsill. She chuckles, swiping under her nose. The door chimes again, and a familiar, warm voice calls, “Miss Riley?”

She sucks in a deep breath and stands to her feet, straightening her skirt. “Hey Rogers,” she greets him, willing the redness in her cheeks to subside. The blonde ticks his head to the side as if questioning her silently, “Is everything okay, ma’am?”

“Yeah, yeah,” she waves him off, nodding. “How are you?”

“I’m doing alright,” he answers, disbelieving. He smiles anyway, stepping to meet her at the counter, “I’d be doing better if I could have one of your lemon bars.”

Riley chuckles, “Of course, Steve. Here. It’s on the house.”

“I couldn’t,” Rogers holds his hand up in protesting. Riley shakes her head, “Your boss overpays me for the fabric and my work. The least I can do is give his friends a lemon bar.”

Steve nods in understanding, “Yes ma’am.”

“Okay, okay, stop schmoozing the lovely lady, Steven,” Mr. Barnes’ voice echoes through the room. He reaches out and Riley shakes his hand, “Good morning, Mr. Barnes.”

He grins in response, “Good morning, Miss Riley. I see we have a visitor?”

Immediately Riley’s heart freezes. Did he see Thor walking out of her shop? There should have been enough time between the two events that neither saw the other, but she could never be sure.

“Is this the lovely Toulouse that you’ve been telling me about?” he speaks again, and when Riley opens her eyes and really sees, she watches Mr. Barnes run his fingertips affectionately down the cat’s back. Toulouse arches upward, leaning into the touch.

Riley, her heart in her throat, responds with a simple, “Yeah.”

“He’s beautiful,” Mr. Barnes responds, smiling. He looks back to the shop owner, taking in her disturbed appearance. Instead of commenting on it, he redirects her. “What marvelous creation do you have in mind for today?”

“W-Well, um, I,” Riley fumbles around, remembering that Thor tore a hole in the fabric she’d been waiting to show him. “I honestly am not sure. We’ll improvise.”

Mr. Barnes turns his head in questioning, “Flustered is a new look on you, Miss Riley.”

Riley nods, pulling a navy blue fabric from her roll, “Yeah, I normally am more prepared than this, Mr. Barnes. I apologize.”

The front door bell rings and Elise walks in, her curly hair tamed by a headband. Riley nods to her, watching as her friend makes her way to the counter. “Good morning everyone,” she greets, patting Toulouse’s head as she wanders by.

“Rogers,” she greets, tipping an imaginary hat.

Steve’s cheeks turn pink, Riley notices, as he responds with his own head nod. She makes a mental note to ask Mr. Barnes about it when they’re alone in the dressing room, but ignores it for now. Elise snatches a brownie, still warm, and smiles, “So, you know that big, blonde ex you had?”

Riley’s heart stops.

“He stopped by my house this morning, looking for you,” Elise continues, chewing her food obnoxiously. “Of course I told him some things I can’t repeat in front of our customers, and then told him I had to be at work.”

Riley waves her hand, “He’s creepy. Don’t worry about him. Call the cops next time. Mr. Barnes?” She gestures for the man to walk back to the fitting room. As usual, she kicks off her shoes and pulls her tape measure from her pocket.

“Have you been sneaking lemon bars to poor Stevie?” Mr. Barnes asks, pulling his jacket off of his shoulders. Riley’s cheeks turn pink, giving her secret away. Barnes clicks his tongue against his teeth, “You’re fattening up my boy, Miss Riley. Don’t know if I can tolerate it.”

Riley rolls her eyes, the easy familiarity of talking to Barnes settling her nerves. “Don’t go talking to me that way, sir,” she mentions, pulling the navy fabric against his body. “I’m the one who makes your nice clothes. Soon and you’ll have me wanting to make you look like a fool.”

“And here I thought you were this nice, sweet little woman,” Barnes’ voice is taunting, making Riley’s heart jump. She chuckles, pinning the fabric to hem around his wrists.

“I have a little fire in me, being from Queens and all,” she speaks in return with pins in her teeth. “Your boy Steve is from Brooklyn, right?”

Barnes nods, “The both of us are, actually. I just...left for a little while. Needed to reconnect with myself and all.”

“I can respect that,” Riley tells him, making sure the bottom of his coat doesn’t drift too far from his hips, just the way he likes it. “Is that when you got that?” Riley gestures her head toward his left arm.

Mr. Barnes is frozen in place, his eyes wide.

“I-um, well,” he stutters, his tongue caught in between his lips.

Riley smirks, “Flustered is a new look on you, Mr. Barnes.”

His cheeks darken and she giggles at him, going about her business. She bites her lip, “I-I apologize for not having the fabric I wanted. I had an, um, interaction with a previous customer before you came to the shop.” She fingers the navy fabric with the hole in it, “I’m sure I can find another swatch of it sometime in the future. Maybe I could sell this for scraps.”

“Did someone bother you, Riley?”

Him using her first name without Miss tagged in front of it is a little alarming, but endearing nonetheless. Riley refuses to let the emotion of her earlier event with Thor Odinson cloud her judgment. She clears her throat, “N-No. Everything is fine. Thank you for asking.”

Barnes’ hand reaches out to clasp around her wrist, forcing her to look him in the eyes, “No, really, is everything okay?”

“It’s just my ex, is all,” she shrugs, chewing on her lower lip emphatically. Riley sighs, shaking her head, “We met in a bar and I started making him suits for free and then we broke up and I told him to take his business to some other shop and he bothers me from time to time.”

Riley looks up at him, smiling half-heartedly, “It’s nothing I can’t handle Mr. Barnes, really.”

“Bucky,” he echoes with sentiment.

Riley raises an eyebrow, tilting her head at him. He chuckles, and she watches as his cheeks turn pink. “My name is actually James, but I let a few people call me Bucky. I’d like for you to be one of those people, if you want to be.”

“Bucky,” she repeats as if testing the way it comes off of her tongue. She likes it, she decides, and as she smiles, he returns the gesture. “I like that. Bucky. Bucky Barnes.”

Bucky realizes that he still has a tender hold on her forearm and he forces himself to release her as his eyes go wide. “If you need me to, I can spare Romanoff a couple days out of the week to guard your store, free of charge.”

“You’ve got to stop spoiling me, Mr. Barnes,” she chuckles, but looks up at him once she realizes her error. “Um, sorry, Bucky. It’s going to take some adjusting. But, anyways, you make Steve pay for a lemon bar, you overpay me for my work, and now you’re offering me free security? I couldn’t possibly accept.”

Bucky nods, “I understand, but I just need to make sure that my favorite tailor is safe so I can keep coming back for more.”

“Ah, I see,” she nods as she rolls her tape measure back up, “this is purely a selfish gesture, then. You need me around so you need to keep me alive.”

Riley pushes the tip of her first finger between the muscles of his pectorals, “You beast, you.”

Bucky has never felt the electric fire that is alight in his body before. Every time she touches him, every time she gets close, it ignites again and he is left feeling odd. For some reason, this time it is his lips that have this fizzy feeling. He rubs his thumb across his lower lip and shakes his head, “You caught me, Miss Riley.”

“Just Riley,” she tells him, digging her finger deeper into his skin, “If you’re just Bucky, then I’m just Riley.”

“Just Riley,” Bucky echoes. “I like it.”

He drapes his previous jacket over his arm and walks with her to the front where he notices the fabric again, “I can buy you another bolt of it if you like.”

“It’s a very rare fabric, made from a specific type of silk,” she tells him, her gaze forlorn as she tucks Toulousse under her arm and pets his head. “I can only order it when it comes in stock. I figured you’d like it, so I’ve been on the look out for it recently. Then my ex did, well- that.”

“This elusive ex?” Bucky questions, shelling out a few hundreds in cash over the register, “What is his name, if you don’t mind my prying?”

Riley sighs, knowing that this would happen eventually, “His name is Thor. Thor Odinson.”

Bucky’s eyes widen and she holds up her arms in the air, “Yes, I know. He’s a terrible person, don’t judge me for my poor decision making skills.”

“Odinson is a complete tool,” Bucky responds, folding his wallet and placing it back into his pants pocket. “I’m glad you’re not with him. He has a way with women that you shouldn’t be a part of.”

“If his way with women means dating more than one at the same time, then that’s exactly why I broke it off,” Riley snorts with sarcasm, “I found him in bed with a brunette and a redhead and I knew I wasn’t about to be a part of that, so I left him. He didn’t take the hint for a while, but eventually I threatened a restraining order and he left me alone. Kind of.”

“Obviously not,” Bucky nods to the torn fabric, “if he shows up again, give me a call, okay?”

Riley shakes her head, laughing as she puts Toulousse back down on the floor, “How do you know Odinson?”

Bucky rolls his eyes, “We’re poker buddies. He’s a cheat. In more ways than one.”

“I believe it, hands down,” she laughs with him. “He’s rotten to the core. Cares about no one but himself.”

“I’m serious about giving me a call, Miss Ri--Riley.” Bucky chuckles at himself, reaching across and taking her hand in his, “If he bothers you again, just let me know.”

Riley nods, squeezing his hand, “Thank you, Bucky. I’ll keep that in mind.”

He pulls up her hand and kisses the tops of her knuckles gently, bowing slightly before he releases her. “I’ll be on my way, then,” he grins, his full lips pulling upward in a devilish way. Riley nods, “I”ll let you know when this suit comes in, but it shouldn’t be before your regular appointment.”

“I’ll be waiting,” he answers her, pulling his coat on. She smiles, knowing that he’s parading around wearing her work. It makes her heart swell with pride.

“Always good to see you, Mr. Barnes,” Riley tips an imaginary hat.

His lips quirk up in a smirk, “The best part of my day, Miss Riley.”

omg he’s gorgeous i love this mobster!au it’s bringing me life

let me know if you liked it!!!!

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#bucky barnes #bucky barnes fanfic #mob!bucky #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes one shot #marvel #marvel fanfic #marvel fanfiction #marvel imagine #my writing #gunpowder and silk

[amollion]

Newcomers Pt 8.2

Pt 8.2

Bento Pime was a dark, wet and horrible place, the constant smoke from their generators meant there was permanent smog in the air and dark clouds blocked out the sun and stars. Occasionally they would part and the natives could look up at the sky, but shunned it as natural UV rays were damaging to them. A consequence of generations of living under synthetic lights.

But they had their strengths and that was in war, they were bred for it, moulded by it longed for it. It was the reason why the Alliance accepted them into the fold so that they may direct their focus towards the Alliances enemies for there were many. The Benemar had defeated all of them say for the Gal who seemed to be an unending swarm. Then one can imagine their shame when a seemingly inferior race to them not only defeated their armies but besieged their home world. A shame they had never forgotten and they were now about to be reminded of it.

The Human fleet broke into realspace just outside the farthest planet and began their work of destroying their outposts they had set up, defence satellites, observations posts, garrisons and training grounds. Nearly all fell before they realised what was happening, their was a defence fleet was present but they reacted to slowly to answer the oncoming invasion so fell back to Bento Prime itself. Whereas Terra was often called a Death World this was a Fortress World with enough orbital gun platforms and defence stations as well as the defence fleet to repel any attack. They had been building this defence network since the last time the Humans were here, this time they were intent on keeping the Humans off Benemar soil.

Admiral Winston sat on his chair drinking his tea calmly waiting for his ships to get into position, he had placed his fleet outside weapons range while they readied themselves and the Benemar did the same. He smiled cheerfully to himself, during transit to this system he had received an interesting message from Terra's President. It was sent to all Generals and Admirals with an interesting development, he was under orders not to tell anyone till it was the right time and he was looking forward to it.

“All ships are in position Admiral shall we order the attack?” reported his coms officer.

“No”

“No?” protested his deck officer.

“Have all ships placed on standby and await orders”

“Um...aye sir.

“What does he mean wait?!” Hesky shouted and froze when he noticed Depit stirring in his sleep.

“I don't know” Hopkins whispered then suddenly let out an mute scream in pain looking down at his ankle “Dammit Sergeant Stabby!!” he whispered a bit louder.

“Actually it's Lieutenant Stabby now”

“What? How did he get a promotion?” Hopkins asked.

“He stabbed the doctor back on the Alliance fleet”

“Good I hate that guy”

“I think everyone did” Hesky agreed

“Did? As in past tense?”

“Yeah well after he stabbed someone he ran into the doctor and...” Hesky made an cut quick cut throat gesture.

“Oh right, our body juices are deadly to him”

“Oh yes, I pissed on him once...he was not happy well after it melted one his arms was cut off” Hesky laughed.

“We shouldn’t really laugh” Hopkins said trying to suppress his own laughter.

“Why he was an arse” Hesky quickly got to his feet “Can you watch my little one I need to drain the sea monster”

“Why don't you say toilet like everybody else?”

Hesky walked in and found Jenkins already at one of the urinals, he still had his beer in hand as he didn't trust anyone not to steal it while he was gone, worse things had been done to those drinks that get left unattended. Hesky left his alone for only a moment and after drinking it again found himself with a boner for 3 days....its the reason he is now a father.

“Jenkins”

“Hesky” they greeted each other.

Hesky took the urinal next to him and began relieving himself, the silence was awkward so he decided to break it, He looked over his gaze still low. “I didn't know you were Jewish”

Jenkins slowly turned his head to look at him his eyes wide and face that of confusion.

“And why are you looking?”

“Just making conversation”

“How is that a conversation starter?”

“How is it not?”

Jenkins went to argue but no words left his mouth before he finally said “Touché”

Then someone else entered.

“Hello boys” Karen greeted entering a stall

“Hey Karen” they both replied without turning.

Jenkins then noticed something, Hesky had suddenly stopped, he looked at him confused “Have you stopped mid piss?”

“I can't go when she is around”

“Why?”

“...she scares me” he said straining.

“So much that instead of pissing yourself you stop pissing yourself, perfectly logical. Well to be honest Cathy scares me”

“Try being married to her”

“See you later boys” Karen said exiting and Hesky suddenly unleashed with a moan. He then turned to Jenkins.

“You've been pissing a long time”

“I never needed to go, I just come in here to be alone for a bit”

“Oh...I'll leave you to it then”

Some hours later the order to attack had still not come through, the Admiral refused to tell anyone why or order the attack and Captain Clerk was getting annoyed and impatient. Could this be some sort of strategy like back on Terra? It was true that a number of fleets did not join them here and were redirected but still. Suddenly the bridge door opened and he turned to see Karen coming in with a large plate.

“I made chocolate chip cookies!!!” he announced and everyone rushed to get one.

“Umm....Karen?” Captain Clerk said biting into one “These aren't chocolate are they”

“No...THEY'RE RAISINS MWHAHAHAH” she shouted dropping the plate and running out of the door “....Goodbye friends” she added before the doors closed.

“I hate that woman so much” said one of the officers.

“So do I” Sharn agreed making others look at her.

“Didn't you two just get engaged?”

“......yes which gives me more reason than all of you”

“What are they waiting for?!” shouted High Chief Deeter

“They cannot break our defences maybe they are awaiting reinforcements?” High Chief Seewol suggested.

“No, if we do we will loose our advantage of the stations, they cannot attack us” High Chief Pepeel countered. He was the newest member of the Trinity of High Chiefs after Veetop was assumed dead “We should appeal to the Alliance High command for reinforcements”

“Those cowards will not get involved and besides our communications are being jammed we cannot call for aid from any of our other forces” Deeter said angrily.

“So we sit, and wait” Seewol stated.

“There is little else we can do”

“Should we not prepare out ground forces to intercept their armies?” Pepeel suggested.

“You think they will break our defences?” Seewol shot at him.

“No but preparation would put the warriors minds are ease”

Deeter considered this “Very well, but make sure our other assets are secure”

These assets that he spoke of were the millions of slaves that the Benemar had, although slavery was illegal under Alliance law the law itself does not mention forbidding the Benemar from having them. These were the descendants of the races they had conquered, who were enemies to the Alliance and were all that was left of their kind. They did not know what was happening as they were all suddenly rounded up and placed in cages underground, their masters were being unusually harsh like they were hurrying. Each cage held dozens of slaves with little room to move.

“We did not even finish our work today” said a Geter who were a tripod race and looked similar to insect but were fact reptiles.

“I'm not complaining” said another.

“There is something wrong though, they are worried” said a Fedeq a mole like race, he was the oldest.

“They should be” said a strange voice from the shadows.

They all looked around to find this voice and inside the cage a strange creature appeared that looked nothing like them, it's armour seemed to let it faze in and out of sight at will and it approached unarmed.

“Who? What are you?” Geter asked, he was shocked by the sudden appearance of this thing even though he was far greater in size.

“Does anyone here now of the time Bento Prime came under siege?” the figure asked.

“Yes” said Fedeq “I remember it, my kind live long enough to remember such things, the Newcomers came and burned this world but did not free us”

“That is a story old man” Geter shouted “You only tell it so the little ones can fall asleep”

“Then explain this Newcomer” he pointed at the figure.

The figure took of her helmet and everyone stared “We are the Newcomers or you may call us Humans, our fleet is about the attack this world and will not stop until all of it lies in ruins. We are also here to give you your freedom”

Just then a number of other Newcomers appeared holding crates filled with weapons.

“If you want it that is”

The Human fleet had shifted it's position, the Benemar thought that the time had come but still the Humans did not come, they had only change their potion so as not to collide with one of Bento's moons. Admiral Winston though finally got confirmation on what he was waiting for and now came the time to tell the fleet. He was put on a fleet wide com channel so he may address everyone.

“This is Admiral Winston, what I am about to tell you will change everything, the Alliance high command were the ones who told the Benemar where our homeworld was and thus have betrayed us. As of this moment the high command should be receiving our resignation from the Alliance and expelling all officials from our boarders. But that is not all, the enemy of the Alliance we have been fighting we have been doing under false pretence”

He stopped as his scanner officer told him more ships were breaking warp right next to them, the fleet wide com was still active so those near windows quickly ran to see what was happening.

“Their timing is perfect, let me introduce our new allies, the Gal”

#humans are space orcs #humans are weird #newcomers