#i want to take his mouth wheat away so badly

[radiant-flutterbun]

Eye Spy

Black cats.

Something about black cats enamored Eyespot.

It wasn’t a surprise to her parents when they became her Charge.

When she was old enough she began to wonder further and further from home, collecting all of the black cats she could find. It didn’t matter if they were feral or tame. She would bring them home.

The young guardian made her way through the Sunbeam Ruins, looking for any black cats she could find. Everytime she found one she felt an itch deep in her brain, like a memory trying to resurface. 

***

Muerto was playing with Ren, the black cat he named after his dear friend of the same name. He tossed a handmade mouse toy crafted by Niossa and it rolled into the wheat field nearby. Ren chased after it and Muerto chuckled.

“Ren, you act like a dog sometimes. I can’t believe I have a cat that plays fetch.”

He waited a moment for Ren to return, proudly clutching the mouse in her jaws. But the wheat field did not stir.

“Ren?”

He got to his feet and approached the field. Heart thumping, he pulled back the wheat which grew above his head. He was small for a coatl.

Ren was purring and rubbing herself against the paws of another dragon. A young gray guardian was barely hidden by the wheat. She giggled as the cat played with the blue silks draped over her body.

Muerto hissed and the guardian’s many aqua colored eyes turned toward him.

“Stay away from my cat!” He spat at her, his feathers poofing up.

The guardian tilted her head. “Oh. I’m sorry. We were only playing.”

“Yeah well, It’s time for Ren and I to go home so. Come on Ren!”

The guardian picked up the cat before she could move.

“No. This cat is mine now.”

“Uh no she’s not! Put her down!”

“It’s my Charge, understand? I can’t help it. Don’t worry, I’ll take good care of her.”

“Fuck that! Give her back!” Muerto unsheathed his brandy new scythe. It was a gift from his talonok friend, Kuaka. He aimed it at the young guardian. And then time stopped.

The birds were silent. The wheat was frozen mid breeze. The guardian watched him, her multiple eyes narrowed in a glare. Ren was in the midst of a meow.

“Now, now, Muerto. I can’t let you harm my Sight.”

An umber colored spiral with ram shaped horns appeared beside Muerto. She was draped in red and green starsilk, and covered in gold jewelry. 

Muerto, finding that he could move, slashed his scythe at the spiral. It cut through her like she were a hologram. Dumbfounded, Muerto paused.

“Who the fuck are you?”

“What nasty language coming from a child. Makes me wish Eyespot swore,” The spiral sighed, and twitched her tail, her jewelry clanking as she did. “My name is Shira, I’m the head of the Order of Shapeshifters. AKA the Elders, AKA one of the oldest fuckers around. Besides your parents, and the angels.”

Muerto bristled. “How do you know who I am?”

“Oh that’s easy. Everyone knows who you are.”

“What the fuck does that mean?”

“It means,” Shira circled Muerto “That you’re important, and multidimensional beings like to talk.”

Muerto opened his mouth to speak but Shira cut him off.

“But this isn’t about you. Yes I know you, and my people like to gossip about your people. But that’s not what this is about. This is about her,” She turned toward the guardian. “See, she’s a shapeshifter like me. Not like your sister, or that purple one. We’re draconic shapeshifters.”

“Shut up. I don’t care,” Muerto growled. “Tell your friend to give my cat back.”

“Yeah that’s the problem isn’t it? I kinda can’t do that. You must understand, Eyespot is my Sight. I need her. I need her to remember.”

“What does that have to do with Ren?”

“It’s kind of a long story, and I don’t have all day. But if it’ll help you understand, I fucked up with Eyespot once, and I cannot afford to fuck up again. She’s destined to replace me. And I want to retire so badly. It’s not everyday a Sight is born, and I cannot afford to wait for another. If I retire without Eyespot knowing who she is, some idiot like Huttonia or Cetan will take my place and let’s just say there’s going to be a lot of problems throughout the multiverse if that happens.”

Shira clapped her hands and the wheat field started to shrivel and die. Eyespot and Ren lay as a pile of bones. The sky was blackened with smoke. In the distance the Lightweaver could be seen battling a giant spider. Shira clapped her hands again and the world returned to normal, but was still frozen.

“Eyespot has always been a troubling one. But she’s better than anyone else. Better than me. I tried to teach her a few life lessons but was admittedly a bit too harsh on her. Who would have guessed murdering her shitty boyfriend and making her powerless would make her hate me to the degree that she asked for well. This.” She gestured toward the dragon. “She asked for a second chance. And I will let her have it. Until she remembers.”

Muerto was still shaken by the vision, but he managed to calm himself enough to speak up.

“That doesn’t explain Ren. But I don’t care. Give her back.”

“No. Because everytime Eyespot collects a new cat she remembers a little more. Do you understand now, Muerto?”

“No. I don’t. There’s plenty of other black cats. I want mine back.”

“Sorry, but Eyespot has already decided that the cat is hers. And I’m afraid my interference will make things worse like I did before. I’m going with the hands off approach this time.”

“Give her back.”

“She’ll take good care of the cat. I can promise you that. And you can have the cat back as soon as Eyespot remembers.”

“Give her back!” Muerto picked up the scythe again, this time his black flames licked at the blade. He swung at the spiral again when her icy eyes stared into his own.

He dropped the scythe and the flames disappeared. He fell to his knees. That pain. He remembered that pain. He looked down and gasped.

A metal rod was sticking out of his chest, his heart pierced through. Blood pooled onto his feathers. He gasped for breath and fell over.

The birds continued their songs, and the wind breezed on. The pain disappeared, and when he looked down again, there was no metal and no blood. Only a silver scar that could barely be seen under the fluffy gray feathers.

The spiral was nowhere to be seen, and the guardian was gone too.

Muerto began to cry.

“Ren…”

He lost her again.

“Hey Muerto! I found something you might like- hey what’s wrong?” Niossa bounced toward him, holding a squirrel skull in her paws.

Muerto choked back a sob as tears dripped down his face.

“She took Ren.”

“Who?”

“I-I don’t know.” He took her paw in his, his body still shaking from the previous vision.

“Well which way did they-”

Muerto shook his head. “Don’t. I’ll explain later. I just…” He hugged her and sobbed into her shoulder.

She hugged him back. “Ok. Ok. Hugs now, talk later.” 

Meanwhile Eyespot traveled with Ren. She took a moment to examine her new cat.

“I think I like the name Axel for you.”

#tcotg #unaffiliated #firefly writing #short chapter #multigaze

[keirametzbrassknuckles]

Would love to hear about Drumming Song or Salt, if you want to!

Salt is actually not a Witcher fic (surprising, I know, who even am I?). It's my take on a selkie and fisherman fic that is not about selkies at all featuring John Bridgens and Henry Peglar from The Terror. It's actually a reworking of a very old Les Mis fic I wrote in middle school and going through and picking the wheat from all of the chaff I wrote at 13 is kind of fun. Baby me kind of went off in places NGL.

Drumming Song came about because I decided that Eskel would make a great drummer. It slowly spiraled out of control from a cute fic of Geralt getting hot and bothered watching Eskel play to an absolute heartbreaker of a fic involving complicated sibling relationships, drug abuse, abandonment issues, the inherent trauma of growing up as an outsider in a small town, and being unable to break the cycles of abuse forced on you by circumstance. Y'know... all that fun stuff.

I've been trying to beat it into shape for a while but I can't really get it to say what I want it to yet. Dropping the beginning under the cut though because it's dear to me:

It's very soft but CW for mentions of child abuse anyway

The interior of the little roadside farm stand is dark and hot as hell, smelling of dirt and hay and vegetables slowly rotting in their crates. A fly hums over some tomatoes. In the corner a fan makes a halfhearted effort to move the blistering air around. 

It’s Geralt and Eskel’s turn to mind the shop while Gweld, Tristan and Aubry help Vesemir with the day chores. They’re Vesemir’s farmhands much more than his sons and while the old man is kind he’s never gentle and works them accordingly. It’s better, though, than what he left; here he never goes hungry, never goes cold and he gets to shower every day. Best of all though, he met Eskel. Eskel is kind, and beautiful and Geralt loves him with the kind of star-struck twelve-year-old puppy love that is worth its weight in gold. Eskel, for all intents and purposes a sage and ancient fourteen, is the sun his planet orbits around, the steady, reliable center of his universe. If all Geralt ever knows is this one sun-struck summer, this buzzing heat, Eskel and the dirt streaked across one chestnut-tanned cheek, he thinks he’d die the happiest boy in the world.

They have the stereo on, huddled around it pressed closer than the warmth warrants, sharing a carton of fresh blueberries, unwashed and slightly gritty.  Geralt is sweating so badly his shirt is sticking to his back but every now and then his and Eskel’s hands collide or their shoulders brush and Geralt feels like he’s swallowing the sun; some brightness in his chest lighting up like a firefly in the darkness.

“Listen!” Eskel says, eyes lighting up as the drum solo begins, as though this is the first time he’s heard it, as though they haven’t listened to it so many times it’s practically worn a hole in the tape “and then it goes…” 

Geralt isn’t listening to the song, too busy watching the way Eskel mimics the drum line with two outstretched fingers in the air; the roll, the six one-two punches, the thunderclap of the cymbal. His fingers are long and beautiful, scabbed knuckles and all, tips of them stained purple with berry juice that Geralt wants to lick off even though he’s not entirely sure why.

“Something on my face?” Eskel asks. He’s smiling that private smile that he seems to reserve exclusively for Geralt and it makes his cheeks burn. 

“No” he says, looking away quickly “I just…”

A customer wanders in, unknowable beneath her wide-brimmed sunhat, sending them shuffling apart and pretending to look busy. Geralt’s skin is buzzing like he’s just swallowed an entire hive of bees, and his mouth tastes dusty, dry suddenly. He glances at Eskel over his shoulder only to find Eskel looking back at him, dark eyes full of some emotion that Geralt can’t put a name to. 

“Have you ever thought about what we’re gonna do after this?” he asks Eskel that evening as they’re shutting up the chicken coop. 

The sky is turning bruise-colors at the edges, the last rays of the sun striking out gamely over the mountaintops in spears of bright against the dark. Crickets squeal in the long grass and in the patches of shadow at the edges of the forest the fireflies have already begun to make themselves known. Eskel carries the now-empty feed bucket and is drumming his fingers on it in a rhythmic roll that sounds like incoming thunder. 

“Maybe” Eskel says, shrugging, pausing his drumming on the bucket for a moment before rolling into a syncopated tap tap tap rhythm that sounds like rain coming down on the roof of the greenhouse. 

“Do you think we’ll do it together?” 

That gives Eskel pause.

“Maybe” he says again, like a record stuck in a scratch repeating the same words, voice quiet in the dark. 

“Well I’d like that” Geralt says, feeling sure about something for the first time in his life, resolute “We could get a house on the seaside and a drum set for you so you could play….” 

He gets a little tangled up in himself after that, not sure what adulthood is supposed to look like. His experience of most grown ups so far has been acrid smoke and gnawing hunger in his stomach and dark rooms full of too many people who wouldn’t hear him no matter how hard he cried. Eskel, he knows, came from somewhere worse; somewhere that he wakes in the night begging to escape from. Geralt doesn’t want that for them, that re-treading of old patterns or falling into ruts (“it’s about breaking cycles” one of the caseworkers had said to Vesemir once when they’d thought they were alone “these boys are all stuck in it whether they want to be or not. It’s about keeping them out of the shit for as long as you can”); rather, he wants some kind of soft and open brightness that he can feel at the tips of his fingers but can’t manage to name. 

“I’d like that” Eskel says, taking the bucket by the handle properly so he can grab Geralt’s sweaty, grimy hand in his own “I’d really like that”

That night they sleep with the windows open, the dust-hot wind rolling in from the hay fields coating their tongues. As soon as he’s sure Gweld and Aubry are asleep Geralt slips from his own bed and into Eskel’s, shadow quiet. He curls up against Eskel’s side, wrapping one skinny arm across that broad ribcage. Eskel smells of clean soap and fresh laundry, the fabric of his t-shirt soft and worn-in beneath Geralt’s cheek. He has his headphones on and the steady hum of the tape player is a metronomic white noise in the darkness; whir, rewind, whir, rewind as Eskel plays and replays his favorite song.  His hand settles at the small of Geralt’s back, fingers drumming drumming drumming against his spine. 

#my fic

[yilinglaozuhot]

mouth wheat (derogatory)

#the untamed #theuntamededit #cqlsource #fytheuntamed #mdzsedit #cqledit #wei wuxian #my edit #* #flute boy and his mouth wheat #i hate him so much #look at his fucking stupid face #stupid mouth wheat #i want to take his mouth wheat away so badly #and stomp on it

[jazzywrites]

Mute but still family

Sbi fanfic

Warning: angst, mentions of death, selectively mute Techno.

————————————————————————————————————————

Technoblade has always been the quiet guy who had quick comebacks. His little remarks would cause the entire room to burst into a fit of laughter. They came so easily to Techno, like second nature.

Recently though, after Wilbur’s death, Techno had become quieter than normal. He wouldn't respond with his signature comeback. Even when Tommy made a stupid statement, or when he commented on Techno’s over-the-top dress wear. He would just stare, his face blank, no emotion evident on his face.

This caused multiple awkward moments when Tommy was trying to get a reaction out of him. Pushing all of the buttons he knows Techno had. In return, he'd receive a glare from the piglin.

No yelling, no snarls, or even an invite to a fight. Which Tommy enjoyed but would always end up on the ground, the tip of a sword to his throat.

Techno let out a sigh, he was working on another sword, just a backup. A precaution if you will.

He hasn't seen Tommy since the destruction of L’manburg.

Their fight.

The fight Techno wanted to resolve so badly. He wanted to explain his reasonings more in-depth to the boy. Wanted to have his little brother back, but he couldn't. Techno didn't want Tommy to know he misses him. He didn't want him to know he loathes the time without him. He most definitely didn’t want him to know he thinks about their adventures together all the time.

The laughter they had together. It brings a smile to the man’s face. That same smile dissolving as he remembered, Tommy hated him. Feels hostility toward his entire being. Loathes him practically.

The piglin sighed with distress. The voices were quiet too. The one time he wants them to talk they are quiet.

Techno stood up from his hunched position over the anvil. A few cracks came from his back, causing him to groan.

He walked across the bridge connecting his house to Phil’s.

Speaking about Phil, he hasn't been home in a while. He was going to get resources a week ago.

A week?

Techno knew for a fact getting resource didn't take a week. This caused a worrying sensation to itch the back of Techno’s brain.

He knows Phil can take care of himself. He knows Phil is strong. But that didn’t stop him from thinking Phil could be in danger. A danger that Phil couldn’t handle by himself.

Techno straightens his back, he’ll be fine. Phil can handle himself. He didn’t need him for a simple resource run.

He walked down the stairs looking around the snowy land, spotting Ranboo’s cabin in the mountainside. Having the sweet hybrid around was nice, refreshing even. Seeing someone so genuinely nice was something Techno hasn't been around much. Other than Phil.

He debated asking the hybrid if he's seen Phil but decided against it.

He walked to the crow’s wheat farm, all grown to full length, a week's worth of growth. That same worrying pain that began in his brain inched its way into his chest, causing him to start quickly walking to the hybrid house. All thought about Phil’s strength was lost.

He knocked harshly on the iron door. Waiting impatiently for him to open up.

He jumped when it opened up to see the taller hybrid, a confused look on his face.

“Oh hello, Techno. What's wrong?” Ranboo walked out of his house to stand straight and look at the distressed piglin.

Techno, who couldn’t speak, started to sign aggressively.

“Have you seen Phil?” Ranboo, who knew of Techno’s recent muteness, responded.

“No, I haven’t. You think somethings wrong?” Techno nods worryingly, this made Ranboo stand up straighter, he got the same chest pains Techno had felt moments ago.

“Would you like help to find him? I can help,” Ranboo asked desperately. Techno nodded, starting to quickly walk back to his house, Ranboo following right behind him.

Techno grabbed Orphan Obliterator and started his journey to the Nether portal. Ranboo trying to catch up to the piglin.

“Where are we going?” Ranboo asked, slouching his back so he can speak to Techno properly. Techno signed;

“I’m not sure,” and continued to stand in the purple portal. He honestly didn’t know where they were going. Phil didn’t tell him what resources he was getting. The fact that he had no general idea where his father was, was making Techno anxious.

Phil, besides Ranboo, was the only one that hasn’t left him. That hasn’t betrayed his trust. So him not telling him any piece of info wasn’t like him.

Thinking about Phil in danger made Techno’s legs move faster. Made him take shortcuts to...

To...

L’manburg’s portal. Tommy. He needs him. Ironically needs his voice. How he always knows how to make a sad situation light-hearted. He needs that. He yearns for Tommy’s comfort.

He walked down the stairs heading for where he knew Tommy would be. Tommy was chilling on his and Tubbo’s shared bench, looking at the beautiful scenery in front of him.

Techno pushed Ranboo to get his attention, once he got it, he point at Tommy. Ranboo understood what he asked and yelled for the blonde;

“Tommy!”

The blonde looked over, a smile on his face hearing his friend's voice but is soon disappeared seeing his brother. The same brother that betrayed him. That destroyed his home, the place he loved oh so dearly.

“What is he doing here?” The poison in the youngest voice caused pain in Techno’s heart. Pain, which caused him to let out a shaky breath.

“We are looking for Phil. You seen him?” Ranboo asked, even though he’s receiving disrespect, he still responds with such genuine kindness. It makes Techno's pain simmer down, but it was still evident.

“No, haven’t seen the old man. How long has he been gone?” He was looking at Ranboo, not giving Techno the bare minimum as eye contact. Unfortunately, Ranboo couldn’t respond, he didn’t know. So he glanced at the broad pig.

Techno, not speaking, responded with sign language;

“A week.”

The hand movements made Tommy roll his eyes.

“Just speak, bro.”

The sentence hurt Techno. Hurt him more than it should. He knew why Tommy was being sour but it’s been a long time.

He looked down in defeat. Why couldn’t he speak? Why was he like this? He used to speak all the time. It just wouldn’t come out, he couldn’t bring himself to open his mouth. Was it because of Wilbur’s death, or was he just pathetic?

“Tommy, we aren't here for arguing. We just want to know where Phil is, ” Ranboo explained sternly but still kind in his wording. Tommy took and deep breath and nodded.

“Okay, I haven’t seen him, but I’ll keep my eye out.” He gave Ranboo a reassuring smile. He didn't even look in Techno’s direction.

Fine.

If Tommy wanted to be that way, then so be it. He puffed out his chest and gave him a huff. His snout unleashing bits of smoke. He hasn't been in his human form in a while, all he understands why is that he doesn't want to be vulnerable. He's on edge all the time in that form.

He spun around, furious. Stomping away like a pathetic child. He couldn't even express his feelings to Tommy and that's what pisses him off. Tommy doesn't know he loves him still. Tommy doesn't know that he is sorry that he had to do what he did. Tommy didn't know he still cares for him so much.

He heard Ranboo call after him in his fit of self-doubt and anger. Running over, Ranboo’s hand landed on his shoulder to try and get his attention. Techno spun around, breath coming from his snout blowing into the enderman’s face.

“What’s up with you?” Ranboo asked with so much desperate concern. Techno huffed again and started to sign violently;

“Why can’t he just understand that I had to do it. Also, he thinks that I can just speak. I physically can’t. He’s such a fucking brat. We are family! He should act like family! Family doesn’t do what he’s doing!”

Techno’s facial expressions were showing his true emotion. He was the most upset Ranboo has ever seen. He swore he could see tears brimming his crimson eyes.

Ranboo’s heart shattered. Crumbling down to the endless pit that was his stomach. Techno had turned his head to the side to hide the tears that were streaming down his face. Techno wiped them off and stood up straighter puffing out his chest once again.

He strode to Tommy his stomps shaking the ground so much that Ranboo felt it in his feet. Techno taking a deep breath like he was about to speak but began to sign, already knowing that Tommy can read sign language.

Tommy was the one trying so hard to learn. He wanted to be able to speak to techno without using paper. He was so happy the first time Techno understood what he said. Techno was going quickly though. It took Tommy a second to process what his brother was saying;

“You are so unbelievably selfish! You were barely even bothered by Wilbur’s death. I don't know why I can't speak! That is known of your business anyways. We are trying to find OUR father and you just wanted to keep an eye out for him? Not even a little concerned that he might be in danger? We are your family! Family Tommy! I'm sorry for what I did to your home but I had to! To save you from the government! I love you, Tommy. You are family! Family! Family... Family..”

Techno was crying at this point as he aggressively signed ”Family” to Tommy, whose eyes were wide with the same tears that shed when Techno left. The night after l’manburg fell he cried to Tubbo all night and all of the next day.

“Techno... You... I'm sorry, ” Tommy lunged to hug Techno tightly. Techno’s large arms wrapped around the small boy. Techno was imagining that Tommy was a baby again. So small and cute, so much ambition in that small body of his.

“I’m sorry,” Tommy cried in Technos shoulder slowly lowering back down to the ground, only to realize it was Techno getting shorter. Tommy lifted his head to see Techno. Normal Techno.

People would always say they think Techno would have long pink hair due to his piglin gene. It was the opposite, though. He was Wilburs twin, after all. Wilbur’s signature short fluffy brown hair was his too.

He looked like Wilbur, every time he looked in the mirror, unwelcome tears would cascade down his face.

“Family, ” Techno signed with the emotion he wanted to express on his face. Tommy nodded, a smile spreading across his face.

“Family,” Tommy copied Techno’s hands.

Ranboo, still standing behind them, tears being quickly wiped away before hitting his cheeks.

“Need a tissue?”

Ranboo quickly twisted to see Phil, his wings tucked in tightly, and weirdly enough, he looked skinnier than when he last saw him.

“Phil?! Where were you? Techno was worrying me, man.”

Phil laughed, “I’m fine, I just got caught lacking food.”

Ranboo’s eyes widened. He couldn’t figure out why he didn’t ask any more questions. Their moment ended when Phil started to yell at them.

“Hey mate! I’m fine by the way!”

Techno’s face was shocked and confused at the same time.

“Where were you?!” Techno signed aggressively.

“I got stuck getting a fuck tone of cobblestone!”

“Oh!”

Phil laughed and smiled when Techno wrapped his arm around Tommy’s shoulder. He was listening with such genuine happiness as Tommy spoke about the new things happening in his life.

“They love each other,” Ranboo smiles and looks at Phil cheerfully. Phil laughed and nodded at him in agreement.

“Yep, anyways, I’m going to have much food I pass out.”

“Okay, Phil, have fun!”

They wave “bye” at each other as Ranboo makes his way back home.

————————————————————————————————————————

It was weeks after Tommy’s and Techno’s reunion. They were inseparable. They would be out practicing their fighting or just in front of the fireplace. Tommy passed out while Techno kept him warm as he read.

Techno had started speaking with only a few words in a sentence. His growth in his speech, though, was relieving to his father and his brother, his family.

They were all eating at Techno’s dinner table. Everyone was together.

Ranboo, Phil, Tommy, Tubbo, and Niki. Techno studdered for a second but managed to let out. He has the first genuine smile he'd had in a long time.

“M-my family.”

________________________________________

That was cool hoped you guys liked it.

:)

#sleepy boys inc #sleepy bois family #techno mcyt #dream smp techno #technoblade #sbiverse #sbi au #sbi angst #tommy dream smp #tommy mcyt #tommyinnit #tom simons #wilbur dream smp #wilbur mcyt #wilbur soot #wilbur #phil #philza #philza minecraft #philza mcyt #angst #mcyt angst #sbi fanfic #Technoblade fanfic #wilbur fanfic #philza fanfic #tommy fanfic #ranboo #Ranboo live #dream smp

[anchoviesinthenightsky]

Okay here’s something I had thought of from when I had only seen the trailers that’s been in my head I want to share: so for basic clarification, I thought from one of the trailers the boys would’ve been captured in like, those metal bar crates at the climax of the story, like old fashioned movies. Now to elaborate.

Luca and Alberto had been captured after being seen, as Giulia and Massimo were the only ones trying to convince the town they were good (the town believing they had been brainwashed by tricky sea monsters, like old myths) (don’t know about Luca’s parents) With their pictures taken, they are sent via them in train where they managed to escape from their cages, and jumped out of the sidecars into fields, as it had been raining; running for a while til they find and decide to hide in an old barn in their sea monster forms, and now with the adrenaline crashing, just cuddle up together and cry from relief and stress. They ended up in Switzerland, don’t know how to read or write or anyway to get back.

On the run or taken in by some farm family? Who knows, but we can agree Switzerland is gorgeous. Sorry if this is much, I just wanted to share this somewhere. It kinda sounds like a old fable a small town believes that nobody else does anymore cause of science. 🤷🏻‍♂️

AN: Okay, I didn't write everything in this prompt, but I think I got a lot of the points! I hope you like it :)

__: *✧･ﾟ:*___ >><(((・> ______ >><(((・> ____ _: *✧･ﾟ:*__

Alberto’s wrists burned as Luca untied the rope from around them. He inhaled deeply as he shook his hands to get the blood flowing. The train car stank of rotten wheat and newly caught fish.

“Thanks,” Alberto said. It was his fault they were there. His fault for dropping the umbrella in the rain. His fault that Luca had to rescue him when Ercole pointed a harpoon at him. His fault for falling off the bike. His fault Luca turned back instead of run.

The feeling of nets pressing into his scales still felt present, even though it’d been hours.

“I’m so sorry about all of this Luca,” Alberto said. He stared down at his hands. It was too difficult to look at his friend now. “I’ll get us out of this.”

“Alberto,” Luca put a hand on his shoulder, and Alberto flinched away from it. Luca moved it, letting the hand hover near him without touching. “We’ll get out of this together. It’s not just you anymore. I promise.”

Albert’s heart was in his chest, and he felt it ache. He’d been alone for so long.

When he finally looked up, Luca was sitting next to him with his knees pulled up to his chest. His cheekbones were bruised purple and there was a cut on his arm that matched Alberto’s scar. Behind Luca, Alberto noticed daylight spilling through a hole in the train car.

He nudged Luca and pointed to it.

Luca’s mouth pinched. “Do you think we’d fit through it?

“Maybe?” Alberto stood up. His feet were unsteady beneath him.

Alberto took a deep breath. He had no idea when the train would stop, and he didn’t want to be around to find out.

Hewalked over to the gap in the train car panel. The bottom half of the metal panel was completely rusted, and when Alberto kicked it, the rust crumbled away.

“Luca! Come over here, we can make the hole bigger!” Alberto called behind him. He kicked at the panel again and more light spilled through.

____

Alberto hit the ground hard and started to roll down the grassy hill. The sky spun into the ground over and over and over, until he eventually slowed down. He rolled onto his back and stared up at the sky. The clouds covered the sun, and rain poured onto him. Alberto laid, catching his breath, and taking stock. His ribs hurt, in an aching way. There was a dull throbbing in his shoulder, but he didn’t feel any sharp pains, which was a good sign. He took a slow breath, gently expanding his lungs to check how badly hurt his ribs were. As the skin expanding, he felt a sharp sting and he exhaled hard. He tested the idea of sitting up and felt like he might get sick before he even moved. That was probably less good.

“Alberto?”

Albertocould hear mud squelching as Luca crawled over to him. His face, green and bright against the grey sky, came into Alberto’s view.

“Hey Luca.” Alberto said quietly. It hurt to speak.

“You don’t look so good, Beto.” Luca said.

“Mmng,” Alberto breathed out.

“Can you sit up?”

Alberto shook his head the tiniest bit.

Luca bit his lip and looked around the valley. “I don’t think we can out in the open. They’ll see us,”

Alberto watched Luca’s face as he got more and more stressed. His thoughts felt slow. It was like he was dragging them through sand and murking the water while he did so, but what he did think of was how Luca blended into the grass well enough. And that he must stand out, purple among all the green.

“Alberto!”

“hmm?” Alberto focused on Luca.

“There’s a barn not too far from here.” Luca pointed behind him. Alberto didn’t raise his head to see where he was pointing. “I think we should go in there and dry off.”

“Okay,” Alberto said, keeping his voice quiet.

“You need to get up, Beto,” Luca held out a hand.

Alberto took it, wincing at the pain in his chest as he moved. Luca must have noticed because he slowed his movements. “That’s it. Just a bit more.”

And then Alberto was sitting. Everything spun around him as Luca pulled him to his feet.

“Come on, lean on me.” Luca said, looping an arm around Alberto’s waist to keep him standing. “It’s not too far. We’re going to be okay.”

____

The barn stank, and Alberto crinkled his nose as Luca lowered him down to the ground and leaned him against the wall. “There we go.”

Luca squatted down and wiped the last of Alberto’s scales from his face. His fingers were gentle, barely touching Alberto’s skin, as if he worried that any touch could cause him pain.

“Thanks Luca.”

“Of course.” Luca gave him a small smile. “I saw a blanket near the entrance. I’m going to go get that. I’ll be right back.”

“Okay” Alberto leaned back onto the wall. The wooden panels pressed into his back. He still couldn’t take any deep breaths without his chest hurting. He felt anxiety starting to swell with each of his shallow breathes. He had no idea where they were. No idea how to get home, and, after how the town of Portorosso had treated them, his home no longer felt safe. It was too close to all the hurt.

“It’s a little worn through in places, but it’ll do,” Luca said as he returned with the blanket. It was grey and patterned with plaid. The blanket looked like it might have once been warm, but now it was thin. The sides of it were fraying, and holes dotted the fabric.

Luca draped it over Alberto. “There, that’ll help right?”

Alberto’s foot stuck through one of the holes, but it did help.

Luca sat next to Alberto and wrapped his arms around himself. “That’ll help,” he repeated, more to himself than to Alberto.

“Luca,” Alberto said, his voice strained. He lifted a corner of the blanket. “You too.”

Luca shook his head. “It’s for you.”

Alberto kept holding up the blanket, inviting Luca in.

Luca took a deep breath and gingerly scooted under the blanket. Alberto leaned his head on Luca’s shoulder.

Luca sniffed, and Alberto looked to see a tear rolling down Luca’s face.

“We’re never going to be able to go home.” Luca said. He stared straight ahead, looking beyond the walls of the barn, and imaged the mob of people in Portorosso who’d forced them onto the cages.

Alberto placed his hand on Luca’s thigh, hoping it’d comfort him.

“Portorosso wasn’t your home,” Alberto whispered.

“But they’ll go searching for sea monsters now,” Luca replied quickly. “My whole village—they’ll have to move. What if we do manage to get back and no one is even there?”

“We can’t know that.” Alberto shook his head.

“I never should have raced.” Luca said quietly. “I never—”

“Hey,” Alberto cut him off, louder than he meant to. He coughed, and it sent pangs through this chest. “You were just trying to be a good friend.”

“No, I was a horrible friend, I—”

“No,” Alberto shook his head more vigorously, “this is not your fault.”

“But I—”

“Other people did this to us,” Alberto whispered. He looked into Luca’s eyes. They were red from crying and the skin around his eyes had turned teal and scaley. “It’s their fault.”

“But why would they do this?” Luca said. He sniffed again. “I mean, how could they hate us so much?”

“I don’t know,” Alberto replied quietly. “But that doesn’t mean it’s your fault.”

Luca wiped the tears away with the sleeve of his shirt. “I guess.”

“I know.” Alberto scooted down so that he was lying on the ground. “We should sleep. Figure out the rest in the morning.”

“Yeah, we probably should.” Luca laid down next to him.

“Goodnight Luca.” Alberto said, curling into himself and closing his eyes.

He heard Luca shift next to him before he felt Luca’s arm wrap around his back and pull him closer. A tear fell onto his face, and then Luca’s face was near his. Breathing warmth onto his face. “Goodnight, Beto.”

#ask box prompts #my writing #luberto #luberto fanfic #luberto ficlet

[the-turtleduck-pond]

So this takes place during the final Agni Kai... so uh... *throws it and runs*

*peeks back in* and if anyone has a complaint about the ending, blame @unfried-mouth-wheat for saying I should do the angst at an 11.

And as always please read the tags.

Most of Azula’s memories from childhood were of training. Training from sun rise to sunset. Working harder and harder to be the best she could possibly be.

She did have another type of memory that stuck out to her though.

Azula remembered singing. A lullaby being sung softly by her bed whenever she had nightmares as a child or just couldn’t seem to get to sleep. She’d always assumed it was mother, coming to sing when Azula was too tired to fight it.

Now she realized it had never been her mother. In her tired mind as a child she’d made the assumption that it had to be her, so she’d never considered anyone else. The singing had continued well past when her mother disappeared though.

Now she knew why.

Zuko was singing, his voice deeper an rougher than it had ever been as a child, but the song was the same. It held the same tone as it did when she was young too.

She carefully threaded her fingers through blood soaked hair and held him closer to her.

He’d jumped in the way to save her life, not even hesitating.

Now she just had him dying in her lap, singing the same song she’d always associated with safety and love. An unconditional love that she thought her mother had faked.

Zuko didn’t lie though. He was bad at it and never seemed to do anything for him. So he was always an open book, easily read and honest. The care he held for others was always written across his face.

Looking down at him now she could see that open care still there. She could distinctly remember rejecting those emotions when they were younger. He’d backed off, but the singing had never stopped.

Now he was bleeding to death slowly in her arms and he was still trying to soothe her. She glared over at the waterbender, the ice spears she’d aimed for Azula the cause of Zuko’s injuries. She hadn’t noticed the girl approaching again, this time bringing water over hands that started to glow slightly.

She sneered at her, but she let the waterbender get to healing Zuko. It was the least she could do after injuring him so badly.

The problem was that she was quick to notice that the girl looked pale and that there was still blood coming from Zuko’s mouth. The outer wounds were closing, but the ice had speared through his torso and Azula’s teeth started to grit.

He took a breath, still singing and one of his hands lifted to touch her cheek and draw her attention back to him. Azula wanted to scream at the sight of his smile, she wanted to throw a fit and cause all the problems that she physically could because he was dying.

After a moment though he scrambled for something at his side, then took her hand. He hadn’t stopped singing though, which was probably why she didn’t recognize the shape in her hand or the gasp that the other girl let out at first.

Azula’s hand curled around a familiar hilt, slowly looking away from Zuko’s eyes down to the knife that Zuko had gotten when they were young. She gripped it tighter, looking back down at Zuko’s eyes and she understood.

‘Don’t let me suffer.’

Azula looked down and for once she let her expression twist with grief. She leaned over him, the already half fallen topknot falling out and her hair falling like a curtain to block anyone else from seeing what she was about to do.

She pushed the sheathe off the knife, looking down at the words inscribed there, ‘Never go down without a fight.’

But Zuko had fought long enough. She shifted to look at his eyes, the look there managing to give her enough strength in that moment to place the knife against her brother’s neck. She took a moment to take a breathe before she sliced through the skin as deeply as she could in one go and watched as more red spilled over his skin and her hand.

Azula decided in that moment that she really, really hated the color red.

#azula #zuko #atla #angst #tw blood #tw character death #tw major character death #tw murder #is that the right tag for this? #uhhh #tw suicide #I'm not sure which one is more applicable? #tw assisted suicide #? #these tags alone are gonna hurt you guys I KNOW it #fanfic #katara #this is kinda graphic #please be careful

[emerald-amidst-gold]

My DAUGHTER

I did it. My first of Elise and by extension, Nathaniel. I hope I did him justice, but I’ll get the hang of it if not! 

FLUFF for your PLEASURE!

****

Elise sat along the battlements, the cool stone and fresh breeze helping ground her, even as her hands shook from the letter lodged between her fingers. She knew reading any letters from him would elicit these feelings and reactions in her, but she had no choice but to read them. They were business, they were important, and they hurt because of how much veiled anger was housed within indifferent scribbles. 

“It’s been over a year, and I still can’t stop shaking every time I read these letters.”, Elise said to herself, lifting a hand to tuck a lock of her hair behind her ear and then using it to resituate her fur cloak. It was spring, but near the sea it was always a bit cooler, especially in Ferelden. 

“Warden-Commander?”

Elise blinked, startling a bit and almost losing the thin paper in her hands to the wind as she whipped her head back and forth. Who had..? Her silent question was answered as her gaze landed upon Nathaniel, seeming to have just rounded the corner from the quiet look of surprise at seeing her upon his face. He was dressed in the basic Warden scout armor, but had forgone the heavy plating for a comfortability, and donned a light fur cloak much like she did, much like they all did, actually. The look of shock dissipated into a thoughtful expression, but she still sat with her mouth slightly agape and letter clutched to her chest, hands still trembling slightly.

“Oh!”, she squeaked after a little longer at staring at one another, turning her gaze down to her boots, tapping the heels together idly. “Um, hello..”, her voice a murmur, as the continued feeling of her Second’s gaze had her flushing lightly. Hopefully, it would just be taken as the wind irritating her cheeks. That’s all it was, after all!

A quiet chuckle and the drag of boots had Elise relaxing and tensing at the same time. 

“Are you a mouse now? How the mighty have fallen.”, her Second teased, voice louder now that he was closer, her senses telling her that he was only a few feet from where she was seated. Elise lifted her head to give the man before her a small glare, not even caring if he could see her blush now.

“No, I’m not a mouse.”, she denied, pulling the letter from her chest and immediately regretting it as her hands began to shake again. “I’m just..”, she sighed, unable to get the words out and opting to just stare up hopelessly at someone who had thus far stood by her despite every decision, every hiccup. Nathaniel’s expression softened a bit, normally stern lines smoothing out as he slowly came to sit beside her on the stone slabs.

“You’re shaking..”, he pointed out, leaning towards her a bit, but not touching her despite seeming like he wanted to. “Are you cold? The Vigil does get especially windy this time of year.”

Elise shook her head, raising a trembling hand to push her hair from her face. She needed to trim it, or at least style it differently, at this rate. 

“Not really.”, she said, glancing back down at the letter in one hand as she fisted the other in her cloak for a lifeline. “I was...reading a letter.”, the words finally taking shape from her lips. She glanced back up when Nathaniel let out a hum in understanding, his own gaze looking at the worried piece of parchment in her ungloved, pale hand.

“I guess it’s from...you know who, then?”, he asked, knowing far more than Elise had divulged, but that was her own doing since the rumor mill was deep and its wheat spread like wildfire.

Elise sighed. “Yes.”, slumping down a bit on the stone and resting her back against one of the vertical slabs. “It’s almost been a year and I still…”, she trailed off, mouth forming into a hard line that made her lips seem almost nonexistent. She hated this feeling of being lost and adrift. Ever since the Landsmeet she had felt this way, and she had no one to blame but herself. She didn’t regret what she had decided, never, but venomous words had cut deeper than a hurlock’s blade did. 

Elise nearly felt tears prick at the corners of her eyes until a light nudge from a sturdy shoulder had her blinking them away, looking up to see Nathaniel regarding her calmly, but with quiet warmth, almost as if he was worried such heat would have her jumping back in fear of being burnt. But she wanted, desperately wanted, to be burnt, to feel something other than cold anger from inked words upon indifferent filigree. She wanted to be...to be looked at like Nathaniel was looking at her right now, gentle and honest, no anger, no scorn, no betrayal. 

She wanted to be wrapped in this calming fire, and cleansed like Andraste had been cleansed with love and understanding.

“N..Nate..”, Elise stuttered, the sound of the letter tearing from her grip barely reaching her ears as finally, finally, she felt gloved hands, the fingers bare, but the palm covered, gingerly wrap around hers to dislodged them from the object of her distress. 

“Let it go, El.”, Nathaniel whispered her nickname, calm and steady as each of his fingers pried one of her’s open and away from the past. “I know it’s hard, but you can decide when enough’s enough.”, the sound of cloth and leather shifting telling her that her Second had moved closer, but only just. 

The tears forgotten began to make a reappearance as Elise watched deft fingers unlock her fingers like they unlocked chests without fuss, without judgement. She wanted to lock those fingers around her own and never let go, but would she be foolish to do so? Would she drive them away with welling meaning decisions born from a want not to continue killing?!

“I can’t..”, Elise whispered out shakily, beginning to lean towards the warmth Nathaniel was exuding, tears fattening at the corner of her eyes as she squeezed them shut. “I..I can’t..!”, hands upon her own successfully managing to make her drop the letter, the breeze finishing the job by shoving it down the walkway. She nearly burst as a heavy, warm arm came around, cloak and all, to pull her into more heat and stability. 

“You can.”, the affirmation firm, encouraging, and deep as Elise felt a weight atop her head, a cheek resting against it, but she couldn’t be bothered to wax poetic about it as she began to sob. “He has no control over you here, or anywhere. You’re a Grey Warden, and an admirable woman.”, Nathaniel told her, the feel of his cheek being replaced by his nose as it burrowed into a raven’s nest. 

Elise shifted against the stone at that, practically throwing herself into a sturdy chest that was so different, so foreign, but so right, and wrapping her arms around it to greedily suck in all the heat and acceptance it had to offer. Her hair stuck her face as tears rolled down from tightly shut eyes, but she didn’t care. She didn’t care! She just wanted to forget it all, to be burnt so badly that all the memories of honeyed eyes regarding her with pain and betrayal melted away like wax!

“A..Admirable?”, she squeezed out between sobs, nearly wailing as she felt Nathaniel throw caution to the wind and embrace her, albeit it loosely in case she wanted to escape. “I..I..I made a decision and...and..it only caused p..pain!”, the words a choked cry as the tears flowed. Why couldn’t she stop crying?! She didn’t want to cry! She had cried enough in the last two years!

A soft exhale of air had Elise shivering as Nathaniel let out a quiet sigh, one hand tenderly stroking her back in a soothing fashion. Like a cat, she arched into a bit, wanting something, anything to make her understand.

“Maybe, but that’s not your fault, El.”, he whispered, arms tightening around her as she sniffled like a child. “You don’t have control over how someone will respond to what you decide. They’re responsible for their own actions, and you shouldn’t feel guilt over it.”, one arm shifting to card through her long hair, smoothing it out along the middle of her back. 

“You didn’t see the heartbreak in his eyes, Nate!’, Elise spat around tears and sobs, turning her head up from the pillow of blue and silver that meant so much to her to connect gazes with someone who was slowly crossing into the same category once again. And that scared her, but she couldn’t pull away! “He..He loved me, and I..I gutted him as if I had a sword..”

“If he truly loved you, Elise, would he have said things he had? Would he have gutted you just as you gutted him?”, her Second offered, eyes flashing with anger, but not towards her. “Would he have abandoned you to face the Archdemon alone? Would he have married a woman right in front of you, even though it was solely political? Would he have ignored the heartbreak in your eyes?!”

Her eyes went wide at that, tears halting and mouth going agape. She felt her fingers curl into the blue cotton under her hands, feeling the rapid beat of a heart as the body that bore it tried to compose itself. The words had struck deep, but not to inflict harm. They were said to make her wake up, and she had, if only for the moment. 

“...No.”, Elise whispered shakily, taking in a deep breath to try and calm herself more. “No, he wouldn’t have.”, she repeated more resolutely. She was such a mess these days, wasn’t she? 

Sharp eyes gazed down at her with fierceness and resolve, a handsome face stern, but caring around her. In the lull of the moment, Elise couldn’t help but reach up and attempt to smooth out furrowed, raven brows with two fingers, their owner blinking in surprise and tensing a bit. A watery giggle left her lips at that, melancholy momentarily forgotten for lightness.

“S..Sorry.”, Elise apologized, feeling her cheeks heat up a bit as she retracted her hand with a shy smile. Yup, a mess. She was a mess of fluttering emotions. Surprise drained away from Nathaniel’s expression, something like a silent battle going on in his mind as his eyes hardened a bit before he opened his mouth to speak.

“I..didn’t mind it.”, he admitted, hardness softening to fill her with more warmth, just as the arms still around her were. “I could stand to be less intense. We can’t all walk around here being like Justice.”, a smirk playing on his lips as Elise let out another soft giggle. 

“Oh, Justice isn’t that bad!”, she argued, slapping the chest she was reclining against with a larger smile when Nathaniel raised an eyebrow at her. “He’s a spirit! He gets a rain check!”, another laugh leaving her as her bastion against the storm rolled his eyes, smirk growing.

“So if you’re a spirit, you can be as brooding as you want? Good to know.”, he quipped dryly, eyes calm where they were otherwise tumultuous due to cold anger. “I don’t think I’m eager to possess a half rotted corpse, though.”

Elise only laughed again before lifting a bit of her cloak to wipe at her eyes. This was actually making her feel a bit better. For all his blase, Nathaniel had a special brand of humor that always had her sprawled across the table during dinner, stomach hurting and gasping for breath. It was so different from-- She shook her head a bit, scowling a little. No, she wouldn’t compare. That wasn’t fair on either person. Each person was individual, and each responded to experiences, jokes, and statements differently. 

Just like Nate said.. Elise thought, watching with curiosity as said man was currently staring out over the battlements, eyes hooded and face relaxed despite the intimacy they were locked in. And strangely, she felt just as relaxed when otherwise she would have believed herself to combust with a blush and sputtering. Maybe she had changed. Maybe...maybe she could let go..?

Maybe she could hold tight to a hand that let her.

“Um..”, Elise uttered, tapping a few fingers against Nathanie’s chest, succeeding in turning his distant gaze back to her, expression thoughtful, eyebrows slightly raised. She froze a bit at that intensity before finding her voice again. “Thank you..for slapping some sense into me. It’s..not always that pathetic, but sometimes...the letters get to be a bit much..”, she said. She knew it was no excuse to ball, but it was something.

Nathaniel’s expression turned a bit confused before he let out a small sigh, smirk reappearing upon his lips. “I could use the letters as target practice, if you want.”, he joked, but something in his tone had Elise believing he might actually do such a thing. 

She shook her head with a smile, lightness replacing dark. “While that might be fun to watch, I have to have my fun, too.”, she said, wiggling her fingers in front of him. “Namely, fire~”

Nathaniel’s face went deadpan. “The last time you used fire, the drapes in the main hall looked like charred wood.”

“Okay, that was only one time!”, she squawked, pushing herself up a bit to try and glared down into blank eyes, the body before her barely budging. 

“One time’s enough for everyone.”

“At least I didn’t shoot Oghren in the ass during a skirmish!”, she shot back, but knew it fell flat as Nathaniel gave her a look that said, ‘Is that a problem?’ She scoffed with a roll of her eyes. “Don’t give me that look!”

“What look?”, he responded flippantly, face still blank, but Elise could see the cracks as a corner of a lip twitched. She leaned down a bit so that their faces were mere inches apart, putting on her best Warden-Commander expression. 

“You know what look, Nathaniel Howe.”, she said sternly, but nearly cracked when an amused snort left the aforementioned man, a cough following to cover up the sound, but she had caught it.

“With all due respect, Commander, I don’t think I do.”, he played coy, the two of them jostling a bit as his face inched closer to her own, but Elise didn’t falter, even as she felt a soft blush heat up her face. “Care to educate me?”

“And how do you think I’d be able to do that?”, she voiced the question, a sense of heated tension wrapping around her like the warmth of their combined bodies and cloaks. “I don’t have a mirror on hand, unfortunately.”

“You’ll think of something, I’m sure.”, a push, a gentle shove as a soft expression turned softer, sharp eyes flitting downwards before catching themselves and reconnecting with her own. However, Elise felt caught herself doing the same, but hesitated on what her mind wished to act upon. 

Was it really okay? Could she have this? Could she...let the past be the past and stride into the future, hand in hand? All those questions, and no conclusive answers. Dangerous for a mage of the Circle, but she wasn’t that any longer. She was a Warden, a woman, and she wanted to start acting like one.

“Um..”, Elise started, swallowing around a lump in her throat as intense eyes gazed up at her, just now realizing there was a warmth on the small of her back to steady her. “Do you…”, she started to ask, but was abruptly cut off as a loud howl came from her stomach, gnawing hunger severing the thread of intimacy and confusing feelings. 

Elise felt her face flush ten shades darker, the heat almost unbearable, as she scrambled away from Nathaniel, the man wearing a knowing smirk, but a somewhat disappointed look in his eyes which was quickly flushed away with gentleness towards her. 

“Hungry?”, he asked, already starting to stand up from his stone seat and stretching as he did so, body locked up from sitting for too long. 

Elise only stared at her feet, clacking her heels together in embarrassment. Maker, she was such a mess!

“Mm..”, she offered with a tiny nod, face still feeling like a raging inferno and eyes glued to her rapidly tapping feet until a hand, palm side up, came into her line of sight. She blinked, clacking stopping as her thoughts did, turning her gaze upwards to see Nathaniel giving her an uncommonly gentle smile, his features seeming so much younger and sharper. 

He’s...everything I never imagined I would want, but do.. The thought made her tense up in fear, but immediately relaxed when she felt Nathaniel take a hold of one her hands, strong fingers curling around her own delicate ones to give it a light squeeze. 

And she responded back with one of her own eliciting an even softer expression from her dour Warden. It made her heart soar to new, exciting heights without fear, without dread.

“Shall I treat the lady to dinner?”, Nathaniel asked her with a hum, lifting her hand lay a barely perceivable kiss upon it, but she could feel it with acute awareness, the foreign, seemingly forgotten sensation making her toes curl within her boots and face burst into flames. 

“U..Uh-huh!”, Elise squeaked out, nodding rapidly to the point she was making herself dizzy, but she didn’t care. Nathaniel’s smirk grew from around her knuckles, giving her hand a light tug.

“You’ll have to stand first.”, he pointed out before humming as he stood up straight, still holding her hand. “Or..do I have to carry you?” 

Elise spluttered a bit before hopping up, nearly falling into the man before her, but was steadied with a hand upon her shoulder. She immediately drew her cloak up over her nose, attempting to hide her blush from her Second as his thumb idly stroked the back of her hand, his smirk never vanishing despite her actions. An absolute mess! That’s what she was! But..why did she want to be one with him?

“I can walk, I can walk..”, she muttered, voice muffled from the fabric as she began to walk towards the entrance to the Keep, but was immediately pulled back with little effort, tripping over her heels a bit to where she was falling backwards into a firm chest. 

“Ah!”, a cry slipped from her due to surprise, but she went silent as intensity and tender warmth regarded her once more, a pleading question desiring an answer within razor eyes. It made her melt into the body behind her, fumbling with the hand in her own to finally interlock fingers how she had wanted so desperately before, and their counterpart responded with just as much fiery desperation.

“Do you want to let go?”, the question was a whisper, a double edged sword, but Elise felt no danger from it as she squeezed the hand clinging to her own, shaking her head slowly with a tender smile.

“No.”, she said, pulling their joined hands up to hug them close to her chest. “Do you?”, fear making her wary, souring the intimate moment, but sweetness encased her like a sugar coating as a soft kiss, more of a brushing of lips against her forehead, had sighing out in relief, nearly crying anew. 

“No.”, Nathaniel whispered against her hairline, taking in a deep breath through his nose as he drew her closer, squeezing her hand firmly. “Never…”, he shifted his head, leaning down a bit to where their noses were nearly touching. “Never..”, the desire repeated, certain and assured.

Elise let out a shaky sigh, eyes going hooded as their foreheads touched. “Do you..want to try?”, she asked, hoping he would pick up on what she wanted without context. She needed to know, needed to realize she could...could want this and not be slapped for it.

“I do. I’ve wanted to try for a while.”, the response instant, easy, the head against her’s tilting a bit for a better angle, but to what, she wasn’t sure as fear, hope, and joy mixed in her heart and mind, dulling its edge and there was no whetstone to sharpen it anew.

Elise bit into her bottom lip a bit, heat pooling in her body when she saw hazy eyes follow the movement easily. “R..Really?”, she asked, still doubtful, still leery. 

Nathaniel nodded, patient and calm despite the heat in his gaze. “Yes. Really.”, he assured, his free hand coming up to tuck a lock of hair behind her ear, grazing the lobe with his fingers to which she shivered with a sharp, quiet intake of breath. “I won’t push you, though. Despite what I said earlier, I know it isn’t easy to let go of the past. And if that means I wait, then I wait.”, the words a promise wrapped in deepness and velvet. 

Elise could only smile, shaking her head slowly once more. This man could be extremely devoted, couldn’t he? Of course, he could. She knew that from the moment they met, and he further proved that to her with his dedication as a Warden. He did everything without complaint, but wasn’t afraid to question a decision if it made him feel uneasy. He looked out for his companions, even as he appeared to be uninterested in befriending them. He was proud of what his family was before the war, before the Blight, but was willing to accept that the past could never truly be the same, but that he could paint a different picture with his own actions. 

Nathaniel was her Second, her rock to lean on, one of her closest friends despite the shaky beginnings, and her…

...hand to hold when darkness was the only thing waiting in the end and he would never abandon her to it.

“You don’t have to wait.”, Elise blurted out, desperation overriding fear as she turned to face Nathaniel, his eyes slightly wide and eyebrows raised in shock, but she kept her resolve. “I want to..to try. Now. Now, in the present, and in the future, and...and for however long we have.”, she watched as their joined hands began to shake, but from her or him, she wasn’t sure. “I..never thought I’d..I’d be able to..”, tears pooling around her eyes as quiet sobs began to escape her again. No, no! Why did she always have to cry?!

An airy, soft laugh had Elise burrowing into blue and silver once again, a gentle embrace encapsulating her with no hesitation this time and a firmer, more defined kiss against the crown of her head had the tears picking up as relief and joy, two things she thought she’d forgotten about, filled her heart to bursting.

“You’re a mess.”, Nathaniel said around another laugh, but the words held no disdain, no accusation, only affection. “But that’s what I like about you.”, the words chosen carefully, knowing the line was thin, even as it thickened. This was fresh, new and they both knew that. So, Elise could let out a wobbly, but genuine laugh as she peered through a watery veil into grey eyes. 

“What a way with words.”, she teased around sniffles, reaching up to poke at a nose and was rewarded with a blank stare with hidden mirth in its depths. “But that’s what I like about you.”, reciprocation laced with sugar.

“That I’m blunt?”

“That you’re honest.”, she corrected, smiling more at the resounding chuckle.

“You’re something else.”, Nathaniel said with a shake of his head, but it was fond, not chastising.

“You wandered into my dungeon, Howe~ Remember that~”, Elise sang, rocking on her heels and smiling with a lightness she hadn’t felt in months. 

It was so nice to feel...found, unafraid. There would undoubtedly be days where she tripped up, fell in the mud, but there would be a hand waiting to pick her back up, and she would do the same for the man who was once an enemy, but was now one of her most cherished friends.

And a little something more, but again, it was new, fresh, she was ready to try, but not outright dive into the ocean. Not yet, anyways. That would come in time, when letters didn’t make her hands shake and her heart heavy with memories of yelling, snapping, and betrayal. But for now, she would try, and traverse this sandy shore, hand in hand with someone new, but somehow felt like he’d been with her since the beginning of it all.

“And you..”, Nathaniel began, pulling her close with a light growl that made her nearly burst out in giggles. “...let me out, so you have no one to blame for this but yourself, my lady.”, he teased, the title like silk as he brought their hands up to lay another kiss upon her’s. She flushed a bit, but didn’t short circuit like before, only leaning into the body before her more.

“I think I can live with that decision, thank you very much!”, Elise chirped, the two of them locking eyes with electricity and piercing accuracy before the sound of her stomach growling again had her sheepishly turning her own away. “I can’t live without food, though.” Blasted Grey Warden hunger! It always snuck up on her at the worst of times! 

Her Second chuckled, stepping back from her a bit, but not releasing her hand. “The offer for dinner still applies, just so you know.”, he said with a raised eyebrow, lighting tugging on her hand as he began to move towards the door, knowing she would follow. 

“It better be a feast at this rate.”, she grumbled, putting her free hand on her stomach as she followed as if on auto pilot, another growl sounding like an angry mabari. “Three feasts, actually.”

The only response Elise got was a laugh and roll of grey eyes as Nathaniel led her along the battlement, and all she could do was stare down at their interlocked hands, face warm and cheeks nearly aching with a smile as she realized she would not longer have to rely on a piece of paper filled with echoes of the past to fill them.

***

I’m crying. This was so much fucking fun to write. AGHDHKG! *screams like a dinosaur*

#dragon age #my writing #oc: elise amell #nathaniel howe #warden x nathaniel #warden amell #i'm dying because i love them so much ;3; #this is their relationship #i told you it was SICKENING #my daughter has arrived to your daaaaaaaash #fanfiction #my fanfiction

[starfirette]

Chapter Three: Attack On Trost

grand masterlist | previous chapter | more levi | join the taglist: inbox

You reminisce your old passions and dreams when you meet an old friend–but the peace quickly ends.

tags: @kuxredere | @luvelyxp | @fan-g0rl | @levisbrat25 | @a-dream-is-reality��

a/n: Levi makes his grand arrival soon! Thanks to those who commented, liked, and reblogged the last chapters, as well as the Armin x Mother! Reader fic. Yall are so sweet! 

Connie Springer’s entire family is quite alive. 

You learned this unexpectedly when you were working on your assigned duties of the day. Every new graduate was taken to Trost to ‘celebrate’ their new found ‘freedom.’ The new cadets were to do the dirty work for the next three days while assignments were being made. 

In Trost, assigned with five others you didn’t even know the names of, you were on the ground transporting wagons of dry solider feed and blades to the supply center, or, for Garrison soldiers, headquarters. 

You wouldn’t have had any qualms with this job. It was nice to be outside among actual people, breathing fresh air. Trost is a little bubble village along the southern mouth of Wall Sina. Since the breach five years ago, Wall Sina served as the only defense against the titan beyond. Everything beyond it, including your old home, would now be ridden with them. 

You’d half hoped you’d be assigned to the suppliers along the top of wall. Not because you wanted to see Titans, but because you would have wanted to look out to the vast fields that you had once lived amongst. But Shingashina wouldn’t be at all visible to your naked eye, not even from the highest point of the world. The idea that you’d never again see Shingashina did hurt your heart more than you cared to admit. 

But that pain was naught compared to that which you felt when you watched Connie Springer, a younger boy apart of your corps, become embraced by a group of people you could only presume to be his family. A woman had him wrapped in a motherly embrace. 

He looked entirely surprised, and while he acted embarrassed, you could see in his body language that he was over the moon with joy. Who wouldn’t be? 

After over a year of spending time sharing showers in the community sauna with the other cadets that regularly kicked your ass, being with your family is much like being in Heaven. 

Your stomach ached as you turned back to your duties. You lifted bags of wheat and grain to the carts that would soon be taking off for HQ. You realized through the blurred vision of tears and sunshine that you were trembling all the way down to your knees. 

Now more than ever, you wish desperately for Annacka. Even just a letter from her in her swirly script would be enough. You half hope that she’s lingering somewhere, trying to catch a glimpse of you so she could make her grand, surprise visit. Maybe at any moment little Freda would attach herself to your legs, crying your name with that angelic lilt the way she used to.

You wiped your eyes quickly with the back of your jacket sleeve. The scratchy material was clearly made to protect a body, and not to soothe one’s skin.

You and the rest of your squad seemed to notice the surplus of family members gathering about the village center. It is the village center, but you can’t help yourself from getting annoyed. How could they just stand around and watch you all work? They were mostly in the way.

With some annoyance gathering as a scoff in your throat, you hoisted a large sack of dry feed over your shoulder. As you walked to the transport wagon about a yard away, you were suddenly stopped by a person.

You tried to keep yourself from expressing your discomfort as you averted your eyes. You walked around her, but she stepped in front of you again.

You couldn’t avoid her any longer, so you dropped the dry feed from your shoulder into your arms, holding it like an oversized baby.

“You’re Y/n L/n!” The young woman gasped. Her eyes were wide as plates, and they stared at you with such confidence and familiarity that you were a little bit frightened.

“I don’t know you,” you tell her cautiously.

Her ginger lashes fluttered like butterflies as her bow of a mouth shaped into a thin smile. “My name is Fable Rippley. We grew up at the orphan house together.”

The dry feed slipped out of your arms, falling by your feet with a thump.

“My god,” you say. “You’re so tall now!”

Fable Rippley held her freckle arms open for a hug.

Though you recognized her, and were of course happy to see her, you hesitated to accept her hug.

As her arms wrapped around you, you felt how bony and thin she was. You lightly touched her back with your hand, using the bare minimum of a hug to get by.

“I had no idea you—!” She exclaimed, but she quickly pressed her lips flat. “The other girls never responded to my letters. Eventually they were being returned, so...”

"So you figured that I had died,” you assumed for her. 

Her thin mouth smashed into a pale line. “I did,” she admitted, the words sounding as though they were being ground from her throat. “I always felt as though it should have been me rather than the others,” Fable continued on a trail of thought. 

“That’s not your fault,” you note to the tall girl. “It’s a blessing that you were adopted when you were. How old were you then?” 

“I was ten,” she said with a faint lilt of happiness as she recalled the simpler times. “I’m sixteen, now. My birthday’s just passed.” 

“Happy birthday,” you tell her with a half of a smile. “What brings you to Trost?” 

“I am only visiting. My parents have relatives who’ve just had a child. The little boy survived, and so we are all shopping the market to celebrate.” 

“Oh,” you said. You didn’t know how you were supposed to respond to such a  broad statement. ‘Glad the kiddo didn’t die,’ you could say, but she might not appreciate such humor. 

“I’m so, so happy to see you,” Fable suddenly burst out. “I never thought that I could see anyone from my past ever again. And to see you, now, to see that you’ve gotten so much older...it makes me so painfully happy that you could carry on the legacies of our sisters.” 

Fable’s sudden outpour of emotion struck you like a bolt of lightning. 

The blood rushed to your face as you looked up at the taller girl with a feeling of queasy-ness crossed with embarrassment. “I suppose so?” you worded very carefully. 

Fable just chuckled-a light little noise like that of a pixie. 

“We all loved you so much. That’s what I mean. The other little girls bickered for your attention, and somehow, you managed to spend quality time with all of them. All of us. Do you remember the shoe shine box? Oh, it was that special box with the expensive balms to treat leather. And one Yule, every girl got her own pair of real leather Mary-Janes. There was only one shoe shining box to go around. You found a way to split the balms amongst all thirty girls and even yourself! You were a sister to us. Even a mother to the littler girl, what was her name...Freda? Yes, yes, Freda. Oh that child clung to you or to Annacka, and she wouldn’t accept anyone else. Don’t you remember the time when-”

Fable’s voice had risen to a giggle, but she cut herself off shortly when she took a stern frown to her mouth and examined your face. 

“I’m sorry,” she said softly. 

Tears poured down your face like damn waterfalls, and you couldn’t get it to stop. You did remember the shoe shin box. You remembered trying to use it so sparingly between all the children. You remembered panicking when the balm ran out and scrounging together all of your spare change to buy more. 

You even remembered having none left over for yourself. 

And you did remember little Freda. Her shoes were purchased many sizes to big so that she could grow into them. She sat on your lap at the tender age of three, swinging her legs as she didn’t pay attention to your lecture on how to care for leather. 

She wanted to wear them as soon as you were done, and vehemently insisted the shoes would fit miraculously when you informed her they wouldn’t. She had to take such careful little steps around the place so she wouldn’t trip or fall. 

“I shouldn’t have mentioned her at all,” Fable murmured. “Or any of them.”

You wiped your eyes with the mounts of Venus, shaking your head negatively. “Freda didn’t die that day,” you said, your voice sounding dreadfully thick with sorrow. “Freda is very much alive. She lives with Annacka now. Annacka, Freda, and I, we were the only survivors from the orphanage. And also you. Annacka is her mother. I doubt Freda remembers me at all.” 

“How couldn’t she?” Fable asked. “You were such an important part of the house to all of us girls. It’s strange...strange to think that you were only fifteen, then. You gave up your childhood to help raise children. And now you’re a solider!” 

You stifled an informal chuckle. “That’s one way to look at it,” you agreed. 

“You know,” Fable said with a eye crinkling grin, “I remember how badly you wanted to be a doctor.” 

The words made your heart flutter. “You do?” 

“How couldn’t I?” Fable laughed. “You were always talking about the hospital in Calaneth. You wanted to go so badly to be a nurse. Somehow, being a solider suits you more...”

Fable drew you in close for another tight hug. Her boney arms were strong, and her finger tips may have even bruised your back, but her embrace was the most comforting. 

“I should find my family now,” Fable said with a shy gleam in her eyes. “I live in Fairkelt. It’s a little village near Stohess. I’d like to write to you.” 

“Then I will write to you,” you assured her. 

“Amazing! I live in Fairkelt,” she repeated. “But I guess you could just mail the letters to Stohess. The disctrict’s messenger can bring the letters out to our farm. But, you could just label it to Fairkelt if you’d like that more. I really don’t mind. But what do you think would work better? Maybe a letter to Stohess, marked with a note to deliver to Fable Rippley, would be more clear and concise. It couldn’t get lost that way.” 

She titrated on with her childish charm and rant. 

“I’ll write two,” you amused yourself. “Both letters couldn’t get lost, could they?” 

Fable went red in the face as she laughed. “I’m sorry for ranting on. You have duties to attend. I’m so happy we’ve bumped into one another. I’ll look out for your letter.” 

As Fable skipped away, further into the marketplace of Trost, you looked after her, her red hair swinging back and forth like a lick of fire in the air. She was white as a ghost. She must never get any sun, you think as you bend down to retrieve the dry feed you’d dropped earlier. 

Fairkelt, just off of Stohess. The mental image of the map in mind led you to pinpoint Fairkelt somewhere along the forest. Perhaps she lived in a secluded little cottage under the shaded canopy of trees. 

You carried the feed to the heavy carts mounted to four large horses. 

The Garrison solider that supervised your squad chastised you as you set the sack down. “I ought to write you up for idle chatter while on duty.” 

You tucked your chin downward. “Apologies, sir,” you echoed the template you’d been so dutifully taught by Sadies. 

He seemed to considered saying something else; another set of lecturing words, perhaps, but he didn’t. He waved you to continue. 

You and your squad continued the painful march back and forth, over the same dirt and stones of the two 1/2 yards. 

“Why can’t the damn wagons be closer together?” a girl of your squad grumbled. 

“Maybe cos thee Garrison don’t wan’ no pussies in thur ranks,” someone retorted. 

The girl mocked his words in the same thick accent he spoke with. “Wut makes yu think the Garrison gun wan a dumbo like yu?” she fired back, her hands on her hips. 

Well maybe Fable just doesn’t get outside much, you were thinking again of her wispy white skin, as if she were a ghost. 

You’d read a wonderful story, though long ago, about a ghost coming to warn the village of a coming attack. The attack came every century on the same night, and only one boy in the whole village believed the ghost.

Wouldn’t that be exciting? 

To know a ghost? To be that bridge of life for them? 

Oh, but how painful it must be for ghosts, for they can watch forever what they can never have. 

You hoisted another sack of dry feed over your shoulder. Turning on the balls of your feet, you looked at the full wagon that would be making it’s way to the Garrison’s supply center. Your final bag would be it. 

The sun blazed down across you, the heat beating past the thick material of your uniformed jacket. 

You tossed the final sack of dry meal onto the wagon, and your squad cheered at the sight of their chore being completed. 

“So we get to see the center now, right?” one of the girls from your squad politely asked the supervisor. He gave her a stern look over his thin glasses. 

“Yes,” he said, finally. 

You collapsed against the side of the cart as your squad cheered. You could feel the sweat that saturated you underneath your clothes and uniform. 

The leather straps and belts seemed to slide around easier than they had this morning, which made you feel better. The harness usually made you feel bloated. But with all the sweat, you were like butter on a hot griddle. 

You looked down at your own knees. Sweat stains formed at the joints of your white pants. 

You began to shrug out of your jacket when, all too suddenly, a group of cats ran past you. 

It was a strange sight, to be sure, for these cats did not only run-they sprinted. They went bolting as if they were hiding for their lives. You looked after them, counting them each in your head. 

One...two...three...f-

The CRACK of the thunder quaked through the earth you stood upon, jolting even the wagon. There had been a brief, brief flash of light, one that you doubted you’d even seen. 

The entire village came to a standstill. People muttered, asked questions, looked about for signs of storms. But you just looked after that group of alleycats whose tails were upright and haunches were breaking past their fur. 

The sweat dribbled down your neck as you spun around to look up in the air, which itself had a fresh smell of smoke. The sort of smoke that was layered with hot, raw meat. The scent made your eyes water. You looked to the sky. It’s emptiness filled your stomach with violent anxiety and just when you’d began to comprehend what was happening, the screaming started. 

#starfirette writes #levi ackerman x reader #levi ackerman #levi ackerman imagine #levi ackerman fanfic #levi x reader #levi imagine #attack on titan x reader #attack on titan imagine #attack on titan fanfic #fanfic #fanfiction #anime #anime x reader #anime imagine #shingeki no kyoujin x reader #shingeki no kyoujin imagine #shingeki no kyojin #shingeki no kyoujin #levi #levi ackerman smut #rivaille ackerman x reader #rivaille ackerman imagine #levi rivaille x reader #levi rivaille imagine

[idabbleincrazy]

Go Out with a Bang Ch.3

Patreon  Tip Jar

<--Chapter Two

Fandom: Angel (Buffyverse)

Rating: E

Pairing: Spangel

Word Count: 5691

Warnings: Smut, Sire/Childe dynamics, Vampire dynamics, bottom!Spike/top!Angel. Body worship, Hand job, Oral, Cum Eating, Rimming, Anal fingering, Anal, Claiming Bites, Blood drinking, Submissive Spike, d/s undertones, scratching, coming untouched, emoporn, smidge of angst, they’re both a pair of saps

Summary: Angel does things his way and Spike asks for something he never thought he could have.

A/N: marathon sex once again got thrown a bit off-course by the muse, who decided a Claim was necessary for more future drama. i swear i will get bottom!Angel in this fic if it kills me. “Tá tú mianach, William, mo mhaité. Always, forever. Agus tá mé mise, go deo na i gcónaí. (You are mine, William, my mate. Always, forever. And I am yours, forever and always.) mo ghrá (my love) ~ Irish Gaelic translations according to the internet ~

Feedback fuels my creativity! If you like my work, plz reblog/comment!!!

Angel was on the bed, sitting back against the headboard, when Spike finally came out of the bathroom, his still-wet hair a mess of curls, rivulets of water tracing down his sculpted chest as he crossed the room. Angel mirrored the leer Spike cast over at him, his cock already twitching in interest as Spike sauntered over and stood at the foot of the bed. Spike’s leer grew as he caught sight of the items perched on the bedside table, wondered if more than the lube would get used before they left the suite.

“I’ll never get tired of seeing you like this, Spike. Naked and still half-hard as if we haven’t just gone two rounds in less than an hour.” Angel patted the bed. “Now, are you going to come over here, or am I going to have to come over there? Take into consideration whether you want to come again tonight before you decide; it’s not beyond my capabilities to leave you so desperate for it you’d barely be able to look at me without moaning but still well within fighting form, and you know it. Just like you know I don’t need you to come for me to do things my way...your choice.”

Spike’s eyes flashed a molten gold and he let out a low groan as he climbed onto the bed, his smirk turning sultry as he straddled Angel’s legs and slunk up the bed, his gaze not leaving Angel’s until he was sitting astride his hips. Angel grinned approvingly and Spike couldn’t help the shiver that ran down his spine as Angel’s hands made their slow way up his thighs to grip tight at his waist. 

“Have I told you how much I love these bloody big hands on me, luv?” Spike moaned softly and rocked back on his knees. “Fuck, Peaches, show me. Show me how you wanted to fuck me, how you wanted to claim me.” 

“Didn’t say I wanted to fuck you, did I, Spike?” Angel growled and pushed up quickly to roll them over, settling between Spike’s legs as they fell open against the mattress, and bracing himself over the length of his body to thrust his groin over the blonde’s. His voice was husky, gravelly yet honeyed at once. “What I want, William, is to make love to you. All we’ve done these past few months is fuck, I want to give you what I’ve been denying us both. What I’ve wanted to do for over a century.”

Spike let out a choked gasp at Angel’s hushed words. The soul flared in his chest at the prospect and the demon pushed against his ribcage in remembrance of the way Angelus used to reduce him to nothing but whimpers and monosyllabic pleading with his soft touches and slow thrusts. He rolled his hips, a shock of electricity zipping up his spine as his hardening cock slid against Angel’s. 

“Christ, Liam...yeah, fuck, want that, luv.” Spike’s voice was already pathetically close to whining as images flashed in his mind. He fought to focus on the here and now, knowing he needed to get himself under control or it would be over before Angel even kissed him. “Love me, Angel, please.”

“So beautiful, my Will, my lovely boy.”

Angel dipped his down and pressed his lips to Spike’s forehead, trailing a path of soft, fleeting kisses along his hairline. He hummed quietly as he felt Spike relax further into the mattress beneath him, looking down to confirm that Spike’s eyes had indeed closed just as he figured the gesture would cause him to. 

“My gorgeous Childe.” Angel kissed each closed eyelid in turn. “Perfect William.”

Spike fought back a sob as it rose in his throat, blunt teeth sinking into his tongue to keep from saying something he’d berate himself for later. Angel’s lips worked along his left cheekbone, feather-light against his skin.

“My sweet, pale prince. You were always a breathtaking sight, Spike.” Angel turned his head and kissed over his right cheek, determined to cover as much of his skin as possible with words of praise as his lips caressed him. “The moment I saw you, I understood just what our dark princess saw in you. Knew why our Dru sought you out. You complimented her so well, in nearly every way. Her dark, fiery beauty contrasting against your porcelain, angelic complexion.”

Angel felt a soft purr beginning to rumble in Spike’s chest and the corners of his lips tugged up in a pleased smile. He lingered by Spike’s ear, content to draw out the moment.

“The way your temperaments balanced each other out. Drawn to you like a moth, she was, and so was I. God, how I’ve always regretted I hadn’t been the one to find you. Been the first to taste you.” 

“Sire…” Spike tried to turn his head, desperate to capture Angel’s lips with his own, quell his words before he drowned in the desire welling up in him. “Fuck. Luv, oh Christ, luv, please.”

Angel took a small pity on his Childe and pressed a light peck to the skin below his ear before shifting himself up and claiming his lips. Spike’s mouth opened readily for him, eagerly welcoming the sweeping strokes of Angel’s tongue over his own. Angel could still detect mild hints of hops, wheat, and whiskey lingering behind the more heady essence that was pure Spike, a mix of cigarette smoke and lust, combining sinfully with the barest traces of his own blood as he explored his mouth.

He ran his tongue over Spike’s soft palate and along his teeth before probing teasingly over his gums, pressing softly against each nub that hid his fangs. Angel smiled into the kiss as he felt Spike’s fingers winding into his hair, the heel of his palm digging gently into the back of his head to urge him closer. Spike’s other hand wound around his back, fingertips tracing lightly over his tattoo, a small moan starting at the back of his throat. Angel swallowed the soft sound, grinding his hips down against the pliant body beneath him to draw out a breathy gasp.

“Angel, fuck”, Spike panted against his lips, hands still clutching at him as he arched against the solid chest pressing him into the bed, as if he couldn’t get close enough to him. “More, need more.”

Angel nipped lightly at Spike’s bottom lip briefly before tilting the blonde’s chin up to press wet kisses along the bolt of his jaw, tongue and teeth trailing over the sharp line of bone and pale flesh.

“Jesus, I’ll never get enough of this, never get enough of you, Spike. Eternity isn’t long enough to take my fill of you, the way you feel, your scent, your taste. Mine.” Angel pressed his lips fleetingly to the point where his angled jaw melded into the slender line of his throat, hips bucking forward at the vibration of the soft moan Spike let escape. “Always been mine.”

“Ye-yeah, yes, all yours, luv. Your boy, Angel, your Will. My Sire.” 

Spike tilted his head further back against the pillow, bearing his neck for Angel’s ministrations and let his eyes flutter closed, sinking into the feeling of Angel’s broad body pressed against him, at once too much and not enough. He wanted so badly to roll them back over and slam himself down on the stiff cock he felt brushing teasingly over his own, wanted Angel bucking up into him as he rode him into oblivion. 

For so long he’d wanted to hear his Sire talk to him like this again, and now he didn’t know how much longer he could listen without sobbing out. Didn’t deserve it, the words, the love, the lips and teeth pressing cool, stinging blooms along his throat. Done too much bad, lived too long in the dark to be the light Angel proclaimed him to be. He bit his tongue to keep back his protestations, dug his fingers in deeper to prevent his hands from pushing him away.

“Your Liam, sweet William.” Angel nipped his way down the column Spike’s neck, avoiding his still tender siring mark on the curve of his shoulder before sweeping his tongue over and up the center of his throat, blunt teeth clamping down on Spike’s Adam’s Apple with just enough pressure to make him gasp, steely-blue eyes startled open to flash amber as Angel looked up at him. “Your Angel, yours.”

Angel bit back the epithet of Sire he had felt compelled to tack on at the end of that sentence, Spike’s claiming mark tingling on his neck, the shared blood in his veins sparking cool heat through his body, the word pressing at the back of his throat. They belonged to each other now, fully, completely, Darla and Drusilla’s eradicated scars no longer binding either of them to anyone but the other. 

He worked his mouth along the other side of Spike’s throat, hips still working maddeningly slow against his. Angel inhaled deeply as he nosed along the curve of his neck, the delectable scent of Spike’s arousal prominent, even under the herbal notes of his fancy body wash and the slight salt-tang of sweat created by the exertion of Spike’s self-control. He let out a soft growl of lust-driven hunger as he laved his tongue over the dip of his clavicle, lapping up the bead of sweat from the hollow. 

“Gonna taste every bit of you, Spike, want to know that you still taste as delicious as my memory insists.” Spike whimpered and his fingers clenched tighter as Angel shifted his body downward, quick nips of blunt teeth work a trail across his collarbone. “So far, the consensus is that my mind isn’t as sharp as it used to be. So much better than any mere memory, my sweet boy.”

“Christ, luv...you’ll be the death o’me yet.” Spike shivered beneath Angel as he pecked and licked his way down his chest. “Not even started on the good bits and ‘m already bloody ready to shoot off like a fuckin’ geyser, Peaches. Didn’t realize by ‘take your time’, you meant you were gonna cover every soddin’ inch of me with your saliva and teeth marks.”

“Mm, don’t try to pretend you’re not enjoying every second of the attention.” Angel breathed a soft chuckle against Spike’s sternum as he kissed between his pecs. “Consider this making up for all the too-quick fucks these last wasted months. Never should have denied you this, ever. If you really don’t think you can control yourself, again, the handcuffs are modified to be vampire proof.”

“You really do have all the best toys, don’t you, pet? Gonna miss all these perks.”

Another chuckle.

“I’ll let you take those and whatever else you think will fit in the Viper before we leave here for good. Now, be good for me and let me do this, for my sake if not your own? Still not above tying you down, but I rather like having your fingers digging and scratching at me, all needy and desperate. Like you said, Spike. Vampires like a little pain with their pleasure.”

“Oh, God…” Spike arched his back as Angel turned his head to lave his tongue over his nipple, suckling the pebbling bud between his lips and scraping his teeth tortuously over it. “Fuck. Yeah, okay, luv, I’ll be good. Wanna be good for you, Angel.”

“Thank you.” Angel turned to work the other nipple to a rigid peak, watching Spike’s face as he came to a decision. He shifted to hold himself up with one arm, letting his free hand slip between their bodies. “Want me to make it easier, give you a reprieve?”

His hand wrapped around Spike’s leaking cock and Spike shuddered out a broken groan as he stroked him slowly.

“Please, yes, oh luv, please! Lemme come, Liam, so soddin’ close.”

“Then come, Will. Let me see that beautiful face as you spill over for me.”

Spike was wound so tight already, despite his two previous climaxes, that Angel barely had to swipe his thumb over the pre-cum-slick slit, fingers twisting around the swollen head of his cock, and his body locked up, ropes of cum surging out to land on his stomach, lukewarm spurts cool on friction-heated skin, lips flushed and frozen in a silent cry of pleasure. Angel watched with lust-dark eyes as Spike came, demon purring deep in his chest as he saw his William there, open and bare, saw the pure wanton ecstasy in those stormy blue eyes before they slipped closed, dark lashes striking against the pale skin of his cheekbones. He squeezed the still-hard cock lightly, relishing the plaintive moan that fell from those parted lips, his fingers trailing up the long shaft to collect the final drops of cum as Spike’s orgasm tapered out.

“Look at you, three times you’ve come for me, and still aching for more.” 

Spike’s eyes fluttered open in time to see Angel raising his fingers to his lips, a groaning gasp wrenched from his throat as his Sire sucked the digits clean. Angel collected the cum on his tongue and surged back up Spike’s body, lips crushing together bruisingly as he licked into his waiting mouth. Spike eagerly sucked the taste of himself off the thick, probing muscle with a growl. 

“Want us to always taste like each other, lovely Childe.” Angel felt abnormally breathless as he panted against Spike’s lips. “Smell only each other’s scents twisted together.”

Spike hummed in agreement and nipped at Angel’s bottom lip before letting his head fall back against the pillow, his body lax, arms falling to the bed as he gathered his wits. 

“Do love it when you get all possessive on me, pet. Makes me all kinds of tingly.” Spike wriggled teasingly beneath Angel’s bulk, eager to get back to it. “Thanks for that, Angel, ready for the rest of that time-takin’ if you are. Just don’t go startin’ all over, we’ll be here all bloody day ‘n night.”

“We make it through this battle, and we’re going to spend an entire twenty-four hours in the first bed we fall into.”

Angel pressed a final kiss to Spike’s lips and slid back down to continue his exploration of the lithe body beneath him. He nipped and licked his way down Spike’s stomach, tongue swirling around his navel, his eyes flicking up to Spike’s face as he dipped his tongue into it provocatively. Spike’s hands twitched at his sides, aching to dig his fingers into Angel’s ungelled hair and shove his head where he wanted it, raised his arms to shove them beneath the pillow under his head instead. Angel smiled appreciatively at the gesture and moved to suck a mark into his hip. 

“You really do want to behave, don’t you Spike?” Angel lifted his head a bit to admire the bloom of color rising beneath Spike’s skin. He looked up at him, admiring the unusual restraint the blonde was showing; he had fully expected him to lock his legs around his head and squeeze, growling, until Angel had taken him into his mouth. He shifted himself between Spike’s legs, hands coming up to soothe over his thighs, sensing something unsaid in those lust-hazed eyes. “I won’t press the issue now, Will, but whatever’s going on in that head of yours, we will talk about it eventually.”

“Thank you, luv. I will, I promise, just not today, yeah?”

“Not today.”

Angel shoved down his curiosity and dipped his head back down, refocusing his attention on the pliant flesh laid out before him. He flicked his tongue out, flattening the muscle as he licked over coarse honeyed curls. He slowly worked his mouth between Spike’s legs, carefully avoiding his cock as he licked away the last traces of cum. 

“Fuck, always such a tease, Angel. Don’t you ever change.”

“You’re just lucky we’re working within a somewhat limited timeframe.” Angel nipped at the inside of Spike’s thigh, his hands urging his legs further apart as he settled down flat against the mattress. “Seriously - twenty-four hours, you, me, naked. No distractions, no sparing a single thought for anything beyond whatever room we’re in.”

“And you call me insatiable.”

“Well, you do always claim I made you in my image. Like Sire, like Childe, sweet William.”

“Da...please.” Spike whined softly, hips wiggling despite his best efforts. “Touch me.”

Angel hummed and smirked up at Spike with a sly wink before pressing the barest of kisses to the tip of his cock. 

“Hand me the lube. And you don’t need to tuck your hands away, Spike. Told you, I like it when you’re tugging and pulling at me.”

Spike dropped his hands from under his head and retrieved the tube of lubricant from the bedside table. He handed it over to Angel and bent his knees up towards his chest to give him easier access as he popped the cap and squeezed a decent-sized drop of lube onto his fingers.

As he rubbed his fingers together to warm the gel, Angel dipped his head back between Spike’s legs. He briefly suckled a light mark into the thin skin of Spike’s balls, chuckling at the gasping moan he exhaled before leaving off to trail his tongue further down. He slid his free hand under Spike and lifted him slightly, laving his tongue down his perineum and pushing between the firm globes of his ass to lick over the furled ring of muscle. 

“Christ! Been a bloody age since you’ve done that, Da.” Spike’s hand found its way into Angel’s hair, nails scraping softly over his scalp, and he shuddered at the vibrations of Angel’s rumbled groan against the hidden flesh. He fought back the urge to buck down against the soft mouth that worked over him, choosing instead to drive Angel as desperate for it as he was. “Tell me, luv, your boy taste as good as you remember?”

Angel answered with a low, hungry growl and Spike yelped as he scraped blunt teeth over the sensitive skin around the clenched muscle before pulling away, his nose trailing up the inner curve of his thigh. The hand beneath Spike retreated to wrap around his cock, sliding slowly along the long shaft as his slickened fingers replaced his mouth. 

“Just as divine as ever, Will.”

Spike moaned as Angel pressed the pad of one finger against his rim, relaxing into it as he slowly pushed the thick digit past the ring of muscle. Angel eased his finger in past the second knuckle as he took his aching cock into his mouth, tongue flicking over the tip to collect the pearl of pre-cum that beaded there. 

“Gods, luv, Angel, so good.” Spike tightened his fingers, tugging at Angel’s hair as he restrained himself from bucking into the cool mouth that began to bob along his cock, the old obedient William of the past rising close to the surface as Angel worked him open. “Missed this. More than I ever bloody thought I did.”

Angel purred around his cock, thrusting his finger quicker as he felt the tight hole begin to loosen around it, his own cock hard and throbbing against his stomach. Spike’s free hand came to clutch desperately at his shoulder, nails scratching enticingly at his skin as he moaned, his hips pressing down against his probing finger.

“Fuck, please, Da, ‘nother, gimme another. Wanna feel you, Liam.”

Angel glanced up, his mouth still working over the throbbing length, and met with the dark gaze of his Childe, a groan rumbling in his chest at the need he found there. He took Spike’s cock further down his throat, his nose nuzzling into the coarse curls around the base as he eased another finger into his slick hole. Spike whimpered as Angel thrust his fingers deeper, crooking them as the pads found that bundle of nerves. A spurt of pre-cum coated his tongue as he rubbed over his prostate, soon easing up to start scissoring his fingers as Spike’s legs began to tremble. He hollowed his cheeks around his cock and suckled at the tip as he continued the tortuous preparation.

“Angel, luv, please! Too close, Sire...Da, please.”

Angel growled lustily at the sobbed pleas falling from Spike’s lips and released his cock with a lewd pop, his fingers still working within him as he lifted himself back over Spike’s body. He cupped Spike’s face with his free hand, his lips crushing to the blonde’s as he slipped a third finger into him, the slide quickly becoming easier as he thrust slowly. 

“Being such a good boy for me, sweet Will”, Angel rasped against his lips. “Begging so pretty for me, instead of snarling and snapping at me to be done with it. Ready for me, my beautiful one?”

“Christ, yes, Da! Please, Liam...Angel, fuck-oh, sod it all, make love to me?!” 

Angel’s groan hitched in his throat at the plaintive sentiment and he eased his fingers from Spike’s loosened hole, feeling blindly for the lube as he kept his gaze locked with his Childe’s. Out of sheer will, he managed to slick his cock up with one hand, the other braced against the pillow as he lined himself up. He watched Spike’s face closely as he pushed in slowly, forcing his own eyes to stay open as the tight warmth enveloped his aching cock. Spike’s lips fell open on a silent gasp, back arching and eyes flickering from blue to amber and back again as Angel bottomed out.

“Jesus, Spike”, Angel groaned out, his hips stilling as he felt the tight muscle ripple and clench around him. “Always so perfectly tight for me, my boy. Oh, William, no idea how long I’ve wanted to be with you this way.”

“Too long, I know, Da. Christ, I love you, Angel. Love feeling you like this, fillin’ me up so bloody well.” Spike’s hands gripped at Angel’s shoulders now, tugging him close as Angel wrapped a hand around his thigh. He nipped softly at Angel’s lips, kissing him languidly as Angel hesitated. “C’mon, luv. Need you to move now, please, Sire.”

Angel hitched Spike’s thigh up to wrap around his hip, his hand sliding down to grip at his waist as he began a slow pace. Spike moaned softly and clutched him tighter as Angel thrust into him, lifting his other leg to lock his ankles at the small of Angel’s back. Using the position for leverage, he pushed down to meet Angel’s thrusts on every upstroke, the tilted angle of his hips allowing the head of the thick cock stretching him to drag over his prostate. 

“Bloody hell, Angel,” Spike groaned, one hand scratching sharp nails along Angel’s back as the other trailed up to card through his hair, his body moving in rhythm with Angel’s thrusts. “Right there, luv. Fuck, not gonna last, ‘s too much, feels too good.”

“I know, Will. Jesus, I was so stupid, so fucking stupid to keep myself distant from you for so long.” Angel kept his steady pace as he kissed and nipped his way along Spike’s jaw and dipped his head to nuzzle at the curve of his throat. His voice was muffled against the pale skin as he continued, unable to face his Childe as his tone threatened to turn sorrowful. “Oh, God, Spike, I’m so sorry. Please, William-”

“Shh, hush, luv.” Spike gently stroked his fingers through Angel’s hair, letting a soothing purr rumble through his chest. “Must I keep remindin’ ya? No sorrow, Liam. You’re forgiven; I forgive you. Look at me, Da, please.”

Angel slowed his pace minutely as he lifted his head to look down at Spike; Spike smiled up at him, and it was his William he saw there, the time between then and now gone as Spike urged Angel’s lips down to his. Too soon, Spike broke the kiss, his cool lips trailing softly along his jaw to press feather light below his ear. 

“I’m gonna ask you somethin’, but I don’t want you to freak out over it, alright, luv?” 

Angel stilled his hips, wishing he could see Spike’s face as he whispered but knew better than to move his head. He bit back a moan when Spike nosed at the spot behind his ear as he waited for a response. 

“Okay, hmm, anything Will, ask me anything.”

Spike’s hold on him tightened, as though he were afraid that Angel would disappear from his embrace as soon as the words left his lips. Angel could smell a hint of fear threading between the still-strong scent of arousal that wafted off the blonde, so he returned Spike’s gesture of comfort and purred softly in encouragement; whatever his Childe intended to say, it was obviously of great importance to him to hold his tongue as nothing ever did.

“It’s okay, Spike, I won’t freak out. Don’t hide on me now, my glib Childe.” 

“Will-will you...Angel, will you Claim me?”

Angel gasped softly and finally pulled back to look at him with wide eyes, thankful for a heart that didn’t beat and skin that didn’t flush to give him away. 

“Spike...William, are you sure you know what you’re asking me? The Claim is-”

“Not to be taken lightly, I know, Da.” There was a nervous tremor to his voice as he spoke, his eyes pleading and earnest. “Wanted it for a long time, Angel, since before you got your soul, even. I may have loved Dru, but you were the only one I ever wanted to belong to that way.”

“The Sire mark was one thing, but if I do this now, with the battle looming...I don’t know if I should Spike. It will put you at risk, it’ll put the team, our family, at risk.” Angel shifted his weight and cupped Spike’s face, fingers tracing lightly over his cheek. “I want to, Jesus, how I want to, but even if you Claimed me back, I don’t know if I could bear the target it would put on your back. If the Partners send any vampires after us, they’ll know, and they’ll head straight for you.”

“Luv, you think I haven’t considered that? That I haven’t considered how it’ll vulnerate us as much as it will help us keep track of each other?” Spike’s voice was thick with held-back tears, his hand raising to cover Angel’s, squeezing. “Angel, I have faith in you, in us; I don’t wanna leave it up to bleedin’ chance that there’ll be time later to do this. We don’t know if there’s gonna be a tomorrow for any of us, and I’d rather meet my last death knowin’ I finally have all of you, that I gave you all of me. Please, Angel...Da...don’t deny me this, not now, after everything.”

Angel closed his eyes and let his face shift, his fangs extending. He dipped his head down and pressed his forehead to Spike’s, rubbing the ridges of his brow soothingly across the smooth skin. 

“Seems I can’t find it in me to deny you anything, anymore, my beautiful Will.” Again the word Sire weighed on his tongue as he sighed heavily, the mark on his neck tingling. “My Spike. I love you too much.”

“Liam, Angel, I love you, too.” Spike kissed Angel deeply, avoiding his fangs with long-practiced precision. He dug his heels into Angel’s lower back, urging him forward and pulling a groan from Angel’s throat as he clenched around his still-seated cock. “C’mon, Da, make me yours, and yours alone. Claim me, Angel.”

Angel broke the kiss and slid his hands under Spike’s back, clutching the blonde to him as he started to thrust again, his cock hard as ever. He buried his face in the curve of Spike’s shoulder, inhaling deep and letting the scent of him fill his senses, that hint of fear gone as arousal surged.

“Tell me when you’re close again.”

“When it comes to you, luv, I’m always close. Oh, Christ, yeah, faster, Da.”

“Mine, you’re mine. Tell me, Spike, need to hear you say it. Oh God, William, my sweet, infuriating, lovely boy.”

“Yours, Angel. Only yours, always was. It was always you I came back to, sittin’ there at the back o’my mind. Your boy, Da, heart, body, and bloody soul.” Spike keened as Angel pumped his hips faster, bucking down to meet the deep thrusts. “Fuck, ‘m close, Angel, so close. Do it, please, Da!”

Angel pulled away from Spike’s neck and settled him back against the pillows, his pace steady as he bowed his head over Spike’s chest, his lips brushing softly across the skin over his heart. 

“Tá tú mianach, William, mo mhaité. Always, forever. Agus tá mé mise, go deo na i gcónaí.”

Spike sobbed softly at the words, his body shuddering as Angel sank his fangs into his pale flesh and sucked that first mouthful of blood from the wound. The demon in him purred as the soul wept with joy as the Claim took hold, a shock of electric heat surging through him as Angel drank.

“Oh, gods, Angel, yes!” Spike’s hands cupped the back of Angel’s head, holding him to his chest. “Gonna come, luv, can’t hold it.”

Angel thrust his hips harder, his own climax bearing down on him as Spike’s blood filled his veins, the heady taste of it and the rush of the new bond that fused between them crashing over him like waves on sand. Every nerve wound tight, his body seizing on one last harsh thrust as he buried his cock deep within Spike’s clenching hole, ropes of cum spurting lukewarm as he clutched at the pliant body beneath him. He eased his fangs from the wound, rough tongue lapping over the punctures to clean the trickle of blood from the pale skin as it closed. 

Spike came with a loud cry as Angel filled him, white light sparking across his vision as he rode the waves, coming harder than he ever had in all his long years. His fingernails scraped across Angel’s scalp as his muscles clenched, friction-heated cum splashing across their stomachs as his cock twitched between them. 

“Angel! Oh, fuck...Christ, luv. Thank you, Da, thank you.”

Angel gave Spike’s chest one last lick and nosed his way back up to the crook of his shoulder, his orgasm finally petering out. Nosing along his throat and raining soft kisses across his clavicle, Angel murmured a quiet mantra of ‘mine’, his demon feeling a sense of peace Angel hadn’t thought possible to obtain. He could still feel his soul, though, so he let Angelus have his moment, content that the world was not yet in danger of him. 

“All yours, luv. Forever.”

Spike whimpered mournfully as he felt Angel’s softening cock slip out of him, his own cock twitching feebly at the feeling of his dead seed slowly seeping out of him. Shifting back into his human visage, Angel quieted Spike with a loving kiss before rolling off of him, slender fingers reaching to tug him back into his embrace. Angel smiled down at Spike and pressed a kiss to his forehead. 

“I’m just going to go get a washcloth.”

Spike relaxed into the mattress as Angel disappeared into the bathroom, body near-boneless and tingly, his mind fuzzy and sated. 

“I need to draw you like that someday, Spike, all splayed out, hair mussed and curly the way I always liked it”, Angel’s voice was light and teasing as he returned to the bed with a damp cloth. “You always did look way too beautiful when you were completely fucked-out, my sweet William.”

Spike harrumphed sleepily, hissing soon after as Angel wiped the cloth over his sensitive cock. Angel chuckled and made quick work of cleaning up their spend and placed a chaste kiss to the bend of Spike’s knee before straightening back up from the bed. As he went to toss the soiled washcloth in the hamper, Spike found his voice.

“Be a peach and grab my smokes from my jacket, will ya, pet?”

Angel rolled his eyes, glad to see the Claim hadn’t changed Spike’s nature the way he’d heard often happened. He wouldn’t be his William without the snark. Angel disposed of the cloth and sidetracked into the living room to retrieve the pack of cigarettes and lighter from Spike’s duster where he draped it over his chair. He shook one out and lit it up as he rejoined Spike on the bed, taking a drag before handing it over to him and setting the pack on the bedside table. 

“Thanks, luv.”

The pair of them shared the cigarette in easy silence, Angel feeling his demon curl up to rest in its cage, content with the proximity of his mate. Spike stubbed the butt out in the crystal ashtray Angel kept on the table and turned to face him.

“Christ, Peaches, you’ve shagged my soddin’ brains out and it’s still daylight. Must be a new record.”

Angel laughed and looked over at the clock.

“Still got about six hours till we need to leave.” Angel felt his eyelids grow heavy and with a soft sigh, pulled Spike into his arms, draping his slender frame half-across his chest. Spike clucked his tongue in indignation and tried to scramble away but stopped as soon as Angel let out a displeased growl. “Sleep, Will. We’re far from finished here, and you’ll need a bit of rest after the Claiming. Behave, mo ghrá.” 

“Ya know, all that sappy talk’s fine while you’re buggerin’ me blind, but I’ll be damned if I’m gonna put up with it elsewise. Even my poet heart can only take so much of that molasses.”

“Spike, will you just shut up and get some sleep?” Angel tugged him closer, pressing a kiss to his temple. “I thought the Claim was supposed to make you more endearing? So far, you’re just as impossible as ever.”

“And you wouldn’t have me any other way, ducks, admit it.”

“Sleep Spike.”

Chapter Four-->

~~~~

@thewhiterabbit42​ @prose-for-hire​ @highonbandcandy​   

#angel: ts fanfic #buffyverse fanfic #spangel #spike/angel #spike #angel #lemon

[ninnodesu]

The New Matriarch, ch 2.

Tw: - Memories of rape - Brief mentioning of rape!  

Thomas B. Hewitt.

It's…, Sunday? Yeah, it's Sunday. He thinks before rubbing tired eyes to wake them up before squinting to the window that's cracked open. The sun's up, but it doesn't feel as warm as it usually is, even early in the morning. Seems like today's going to be a milder day.

Good. I don't have to overheat and die. He chuckles at his own bad attempt at a joke as he rolls out of bed. His back cracks in a symphony of newly awoken and hard working bones as he stretches, a grunt escaping his lips. He trudges over to his dresser and pulls one of the drawers out, grabbing the first t-shirt he sees. It’s gray and worn out with small holes in the seams under his armpit, but he knows they can’t afford to get new ones.

It will have to do, I guess, he shrugs and pulls it over his head. Realizing he probably should have taken a shower first, but frowns. He knows it’s no point in showering before going to work in cleaning the barn. His mama asked him the week before if he could help clean the barn, she wanted to see if there was anything of value they could maybe sell at a yard sale to try and scrape up some more money.

Even though the scraps of meat rejects he snagged with him home after a hard day's work were enough, his mama was longing for bread and maybe some fruits and vegetables. And those were expensive. So he promised her he would take a look and throw away obvious trash the next day he was off work. Which happened to be every Sunday. Before heading out he pulls his boots on and reaches for the mask hanging on a hook next to his door to buckle it on the back of his head. All the years he's been wearing it has turned his skill in buckling it to perfection and he fastens it while walking through the upstairs hallway, tired floorboards greeting him under his weight.

He stops suddenly at one of the stairs that makes a particularly alarming creak and bucks a bit, “Hm…”, he bounces as carefully as he can to not break the board to test it. Making a mental note that he has to take a look at that specific step at another day. Hoping it’ll not break in the meantime.

With a yawn he enters the kitchen where his mama is preparing breakfast to the best of her abilities with what they've got, some sausages she managed to throw together with whatever scraps he could snag with him from work, and eggs. In his heart he thanks God that they still had chickens.

"Mornin', darlin'", she says as he walks up to her and nuzzles his forehead to her temple. A small hum from him to wish her the same. "You goin' to fix that barn I asked you for today?", stuffing half a sausage in his mouth as he grunts. His own way of saying “yes”. He doesn’t like speaking anymore. Not since he carved on his face, a desperate attempt at trying to remove dead, and sick skin. He only knew pain during the healing period. And he lost a lot of weight at first, both speaking and eating only caused him pain. So he stopped talking. Doing his best to avoid unnecessary pain to his already throbbing face.

Yeah, don't worry, mama. Even if Sundays are the only days he has off work, he's still happy to help. And today seems to be a mild day. Even if the sun's out it goes behind clouds from time to time.

Rather today than next week. He thinks to himself munching away at his breakfast while looking out the window, not focusing on anything particular, leaving his brain a chance to wake up properly. Somewhere in the distance, he hears a loud burp, and then a door closing harshly, probably to try and wake up the last family member who was still snoring on the couch and then the sound of angry stomping wakes him up from his daydream and he lets out a small discrete sigh.

Great., he huffed silently at the sight.

His brother, Charlie, enters the kitchen. He reeks of both tobacco and alcohol,

Already? Come on, man…, Thomas just makes a grimace behind the leather as he follows him with his eyes. Usually, it was when Charlie had alcohol still running in his blood that he barked orders at Thomas, so he was used to Charlie drinking not being the best of signs. He never really did like when he drank, even less so early in the morning. Sure, the slaughterhouse had a worse smell, but that smell he was used to.

Charlie plops himself down at the kitchen table and just violently stabs one of the sausages with a fork.

"Mornin', mama.” His twisted and crooked smile directed towards their mother, before his eyes drilled into Thomas and he returned the stare. A tired but fierce stare off between the brothers. “Remember what mama told you, boy. You're goin' to clean the barn.", Charlie nods at him with a really childish tone at the end and Thomas grunts a reply before looking away, annoyed.

"Leave Tommy alone, Charlie!”, their mama scolds him and lightly smacks his head with her towel. “He's already done promised me that he's gonna. Let the boy finish eatin' his breakfast in peace."

Thomas lowers his head and smirks behind his mask while looking down at his plate. Mama always has his back.

"Yes, mama.", Charlie's voice is low but he gives the big man in front of him an annoyed stare. "Mama's boy…" he mutters under his breath before starting to eat the impaled sausage.

By the time Thomas has finished his breakfast, he hears shuffling from the living room and his uncle stumbles into the kitchen on tired legs. His uncle has never really seemed to pay him much mind, so Thomas does the same as he puts his plate in the sink. All he does is give him a nod on his way over to thank his mother for the breakfast by giving her a small kiss on the cheek through his mask and rub her shoulder before heading out to the barn.

Thank you, mama.

Outside, it's cool - for once - and he can't help but to close his eyes and relax when he feels a breeze caress the part of his face not covered up. He raises a hand and touches his mask, wishing he could feel the breeze on his entire face. But he knows better. Charlie would just harass him if he caught him without it.

Forget it. He shakes that thought away and trudges over to the barn and gives out a loud groan when he sees how much he actually has to do today.

I'll be sore tomorrow at work…

Hours go by. Lunch is over before he even realizes he's eaten it. The clouds have gathered over his head and he's afraid it'll start raining before he's done. On his way in to gather more junk lying around he hears something, a voice.

What th-....  He stops, trying to listen and see if he hears it again. Silence.

Maybe I'm imagining things. He shrugs, but then hears it again. "Please, help me!”, He gazes out towards the wheat field, squinting eyes trying to see something. He still can’t see anyone, though. He’s sure he did hear someone. He turns to look towards the main house to see if it came from there, but nothing. Not his name, no sounds coming from the house that would indicate someone came to hurt his family.

“Hm…”, he takes one step, and then one more away from the barn, toward the general direction he thought the voice came from. His curiosity has peaked.

After a few minutes of silence has passed he’s suddenly startled and his head jerks toward one of the walls where he sees a woman.

What the he-... where did you co-, his inner monologue is interrupted by her hoarse voice. “Please… please help me.”, it’s hard to hear, but knowing how rough his own voice is after so many years of choosing to be silent he’s learned to distinguish words. Seeing her walk towards him makes him back up himself. She’s all beaten up. Hair is more of a mess than his own and she smells of sweat, blood and earth. She’s so much smaller than him in height, not that he’s particularly surprised, honestly. Clothed in something that looks like several  potato sacks badly put together through the years to accommodate her growth. She’s dirty, and it looks like she’s badly hurt. He just watches her at first. “I beg of you. They’re chasing me. I need… I need help.”

You look like you’ve been through Hell... His eyes flicker towards the main house when he notices that she's not looking directly at him, but rather outside. Suddenly, he reacts to footsteps. Close ones and he turns his attention to them, tilting his head and listening to them. Following them.

Deep into concentration he feels small, weak fingers gripping the hem of his rolled up sleeve, tugging at it to get his attention. “Please…”.

He lets out a sigh. You must be truly desperate to reach out for me, lady. His head is directed towards a sound, and around the corner comes a man, and he looks straight at him as he takes a step in front of the strange woman, shielding her, Thomas stares at the man.

“Ah, good. I see you found our sister, there. I’ve been looking for her.”, Something tells Thomas it’s just lies. “I can take care of her now. She’s uh… She’s unwell ”, the last word came out as a whisper, something that shouldn’t be talked about.

Thomas just stands there, crossing his bulky arms over his huge chest, trying his best to look intimidating enough to avoid any violence.

You really think I’m falling for that, huh?, he smirks behind his mask and tilts his head to the side.

A stare off ensues. One huge man looking down at the smaller one. The bull versus the fox. Thomas lets out a big huff that sounds like a mixture between a laugh and a sound an annoyed bull makes.

I’ll humour you, but only because it’s fun to see you try.

“Look, we’re just here to take her back to her room so we can take care of her, okay? That’s all there is.” The stranger takes a step forward, and Thomas manages to hear whispers close by.

There’s more of you, huh?

Thomas looks down at the girl who has curled into a tiny ball behind his legs when he feels his pant leg start to shake slightly where she started gripping it out of fear.

“No.”, it’s dark, and hoarse, but it only helps to convey his statement. “No?”, the man mimics, suddenly realizing that his lie had failed. “Heheh. I see. That bitch told you, didn’t she? Well, this one is ours. We bought her. She is our property.”, Thomas frowns when he sees a sneer appear on the stranger. Then he chuckles darkly.

What the hell are you talking about?

“Tell you what, big man? If you hand her over to us, we can arrange a fee for you.” His leg suddenly gets warm as she hugs closer to him, clings to him, even. Like he’s some kind of life preserve for her. And that’s when his brain switches.

You can relax, I’m not letting them take you, he puts a hand on her head to try and convey his inner monologue and conversation with her. “Leave.”, he hasn’t spoken this much in months. But he wants her to know that she can stay, at least until his mama has had her say in it. “I’m not leaving until I get my property back!”, the stranger practically roars as he lifts the gun he’s been holding behind his thigh.

Thomas’ eyes darken at the sight, he truly doesn’t want to resolve to violence, at least not if his family isn’t involved, there’s no point. And as far as he’s concerned, this woman is not family. “You’re one big beast, you know that?”, a small chuckle emitted from the gun wielding maniac standing in front of the pair.

Then, like a gift from heaven - for once - he sees Charlie as he butts the stranger with the end of his own shotgun. The man falls to the barn floor. It’s not until he hears the thud that Thomas finally relaxes his stance a tiny bit.

Useful, for once.

“Who the fuck is that, Tommy?”, Charlie nods towards the scared girl still behind Thomas’ leg, who's desperately trying to curl into a smaller ball. Thomas’ looks down at her at first and then just… shrugs. He has no idea who she is. All he knows is that she’s the first person ever in his entire life who has been this adamant with getting his help. He puts his hand back on her head again and slowly strokes her messy hair.

It’s okay, now.

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

You.

Your sight darkens slightly and you fall into shadows as something big steps in front of you, and you look up to see him look toward something. You follow his gaze and see him, the one who had shot you and you take a step back behind the giant in an attempt to completely disappear out of sight. Why is he alone? Where’s the rest?!, your brain starts to go into that panicked state and you fall to the floor, your legs can’t keep you up anymore as fear sets in. You can’t see anyone else. There were at least three… Three… and… the dog… “Ah, good. I see you found our sister, there. I’ve been looking for her.” Liar.

“I can take care of her now. She’s uh… She’s unwell”, you jerk your head and eyes towards him when you hear his disgusting voice. You glance up at the huge man when you see his hands raise as he crosses them over his chest. You take a big gulp of air. He’s huge…

Silence.

You jump a bit at the moment the giant huffs. “Look, we’re just here to take her back to her room so we can take care of her, okay? That’s all there is.”, you flinch when you hear a shuffle towards you both.

No, no no no no. Not the box, please. Anything but that fucking box!  You curl up, instinct kicking in as you start to grab at the strange man’s pant leg while shaking. You’re so scared. You look up at him when you feel a pair of eyes gaze at you. And that’s when you finally manage to see his face. Or, whatever there was of it. It’s covered in a mask.

Strange… But his eyes seem kind. Light blue, you can’t see any kind of hate in them. You can’t really see any clear emotion at all, actually.

“No. ”, a shiver runs down your spine when you hear his voice. It’s dark, almost as hoarse as your own. But you feel safer than you’ve felt since you started running. “No?”, the man with the gun mimics, his voice is low, and clings to your ears and nerves as black tar.

You zone out, memories starting to trickle into your brain. Memories that makes you nauseous. Memories of his voice sticking in your ears as he forced himself into you, his tongue tracing venomous trails across every part it could reach. This disgusting voice, this sticky and tar like voice of his. You hate it. You hate it so much. In the middle of remembering all the sticky things his voice told you, you wrap your arms around the big leg in front of you, and bury your face in it, shielding yourself. Right now, the only safe place you can remember in your life is this man.

That’s when you feel a hand on your head. It’s not clamping down to hurt you, or to force your face up to make you recieve some disgusting load. It’s just… there. It’s there like a warmth, a helmet. A way to comfort you, you make you realize he wants to help you.

“Leave. ”, that same dark voice speaks. His whole body vibrates. “I’m not leaving until I get my property back!”

Shut up, shut up, shut the fuck up!, you press your eyes shut. Just hoping it will end. You keep your eyes shut. Not wanting to see his face anymore, not wanting to be here anymore. You just want everything and anything to end. You want to wake up from this nightmare. And that’s when you hear a thud and another voice speak out.

“Who the fuck is that, Tommy?”

Tommy? Wh… Who’s “Tommy”?, your brain is too tired to fully function and put two and two together.

This new voice sounds older, it’s definitely another man. But you can’t place him. It’s new. It isn’t until you feel the same hand on your head again, but this time in a stroking motion, that you get the courage to look up. But you can’t relax yet. You know there’s more people here. Around the house. You’re just not sure where they are. So you decide to try and talk again.

“M...m-...”, you take a shaky breath, and try to gather saliva again, easier this time. “Ther- there’s more…”

“More what?”, The old man spits at you as he crouches down to your eye level and looks at you, he seems angry at you, so you flinch further behind the behemoth, who all he can do is stand there since your grip is tight on his leg. His hand still on your head, intently watching as you attempt to have a conversation with the old man.

“O-... of them…”, you whisper as you nod towards the one lying down on the floor, still breathing.

“Are you trying to tell me that there’s more of those bastards on my property, girl?”, the old man spits.

He’s definitely angry, shit.

All you can manage to do is nod. The old man stands tall and puts his hands on his hips as he clicks his tongue. You stay put, almost too scared to move a muscle, your nerves still on high alert, ready to sprint if you hear any kind of loud noise. But nothing happens, it’s still. “Come. We’ll talk to mama.”, the old voice mumbles out, “After that, you’re helping me bring our sleeping friend to the sheriff’s station.” Before you’re able to fully comprehend what’s happening your protector bends down best to his abilities and slowly pats your arms holding him tight while keeping eye contact with you.

“Wh… what…?”, you’re confused. So, so confused as you look at him. He lightly takes hold of your arms and slowly pry them open to release his leg. “Oh…”, is all you can say as you understand what he wants and you release his leg by your own will, but still not fully grasping what he wants to do, at least not until you feel his strong arms under you.

One hooking under your legs and one resting at your back.

And you’re off the ground. It’s not until he takes one step forward that your brain sends a harsh reminder about the pain in your shoulder and you shriek out.

“FUCK!”, it’s loud enough - or you’re way too close to his ear - that he jumps, his grip almost slipping. The pain is enormous all of a sudden, and that’s when it happens. You pass out. Your brain, and body, finally giving up. You can’t run anymore, and you mentally accept your fate, not caring what it might be and you’re put into a deep slumber.

#The New Matriarch #TNM #thomas hewitt #thomas leatherface hewitt #thomas hewitt fanfictiom #slasher #tcm fanfiction #tcm: the beginning #tcm #charlie hewitt

[caplanbuckybarnes]

Paint It Black (2/7)

Summary:  you were signed to work for Grant. Not to fall in love with his right hand man.

Word Count: 4.6K

Warnings: swearing, bucky being aggressive, asshole steve

Pairing: eventual Bucky x Reader

Previous Chapter

Bucky sighed heavily as he stepped out of the car and walked into the small diner, seating himself at the counter. Moments later, a beautiful broad walked over to him, a gentle smile on your face.

“Hiya,” you smiled, pulling out a pen and notepad from the apron you wore on your hip. “What can I get for you today?” You instantly recognized Bucky as he glanced up from the salt and pepper shakers he’d been observing.

“Just a cup of coffee, please. Black, no sugar.” He ordered without giving the menu you had placed in front of him a second glance.

You nodded mutely and walked over to retrieve a white cup hanging above the draining board near the stove and brought it over to him and turned back around to retrieve the coffee pot sitting on it’s burner. Your hands shook slightly as you poured the coffee into the cup, causing a small amount to spill on the counter. You quickly apologized and turned around to retrieve a napkin, only to turn back around and see that Bucky had already wiped up the mess with the sleeve of his jacket.

“Accidents happen, sweetheart.” He smiled, looping a finger through the handle of the cup and bringing it to his mouth to drink.

“You’re Bucky, right?” you asked, nervously fiddling with the napkin in your hand. “We met last night at Natalia’s bar.”

“You remembered.” he smiled as he drank from the cup, smacking his lips once he placed the cup back on the counter. “I’m actually looking for you, sweetheart.”

“Me?” you blinked. “Why?”

“The boss,” he replied. “He says he enjoys your work. He’d love to have you singing for him. He says he’d pay double whatever Natalia is paying you.”

“I’m just a nobody, though. What would your boss want with me?”

“He wants your voice.” Bucky lied, placing the now empty cup on the counter. “He wants you to sing at a future establishment he’s in the middle of building. He wants you so, so badly. Trust me though, I’d already told him this would be a waste of both of our times.”

“And still, here you are.” you frowned, swaying gently on the spot. You knew you shouldn’t be wasting your time talking to him. You’d already told him no once before. Was the man he worked for dense? Or just really persistent? “Why waste our time?”

“Like I said,” Bucky leaned on his elbows, folding his hands together. “He wants your voice really bad. He said if I had to get violent, then he wouldn’t mind seeing you with a few cuts and bruises on your pretty little face when I drag you back to him.”

You gulped down in fear as you noted the seriousness on his face as he blinked at you. “Would you like any food to go along with your coffee, sir?” you asked, voice slightly shaky.

He glanced down at the menu and looked up at you. “Eggs and bacon on wheat toast, will you? I’ll take it to go.” You hurried away from him as soon as you had finished penning down his order.

“Thank you, sweetheart.” He complimented, throwing you off slightly a few minutes later as you returned with his food.

“You’re welcome.” you nodded as you handed over the bag with his take out box.

“Listen,” he beckoned you closer as you started to move away from him. You’d thought the conversation was over; Bucky didn’t. “You’d be a damned fool to reject his offer now. I could personally give two shits if you worked for him; He’s a piece of work and a lot to handle. And he takes a lot of getting used to. I’ll hang around until your break comes around. Then I’m going to take you out and discuss the matter away from prying eyes and ears.”

“And if I decline the offer?” you scowled.

“Like I said before,” he returned the scowl. “You’ll stand in front of Steve one way or another, I can be sure of that.”

“My break is two hours from now.” you sighed, not seeing a way out of this. You couldn’t see a way to avoid the blond man, nor the dark haired man sitting in front of you with such a stubborn grimace resting on his face. You were doomed to work for him or you knew you’d be looking over your shoulder for the rest of your life.

“Good girl,” he smirked before walking out of the diner, knowing he’d gotten whatever it was that Steve had wanted from her. He knew what he was doing was completely wrong; it wasn’t like him to intimidate others to gain whatever he wanted. But knowing Steve, this would make him proud and not on Bucky’s ass about treating others with respect they didn’t deserve. You’d have to earn Steve and Bucky’s respect. He threw his food on the passenger seat before starting the car and zooming away.

*********

Two hours later, Bucky was pulling up to the diner once more, as promised. He’d almost entered the small joint when Steve had called him for the fourth time in less than twelve minutes. “What, Grant?” Bucky snarled as he placed the phone to his ear. “I’m fucking busy!”

“Did you get lost on your way back to my office?” He scoffed. “Secondly, I don’t appreciate the damned tone, Buck. You’ve got money to sort out for me, remember?”

“Can I call you back?” he asked, moving out of the way as the door had swung open, allowing a small family to leave the diner. “I’m in the middle of something here.”

“What the fuck is more important?” He demanded. Bucky thought he heard a bottle hitting the wall.

“This girl you have me chasing like an animal, you fucking moron!” Bucky whispered as he finally entered the small setting, seating himself at the counter once more. “I’m trying to get here on our side. Now, just leave me be!” He growled into the receiver as you walked up to him, fur coat propped on your shoulders.

“So you are indeed coming with me then?” Bucky smirked, looking you up and down; he couldn’t help it, the faux fur looked stunning on you. He could barely conceal his excitement as he met your eyes once again.

“You didn’t give me a choice in the matter.” you deadpanned as he followed you out of the small diner. “Now, what do you want with me?”

“Right now?” He smiled. “I want to have ice cream with a very gorgeous girl like yourself.”

“Keep dreaming.” you stated, crossing your arms in front of you as a sudden wintry gust bristled around you. “It’s cold out here. And you want to discuss shit in another cold place?”

“Or I can tell Steve to order your execution and I will gladly do that as well.” He monotoned, pushing slightly at his coat and revealing the revolved he holstered on his belt. “All I’d have to do is inform him that you aren’t being cooperative and he’d either let you off easy as trial and error. Or he’d do what I wanted and ask me to place a bullet in your skull.”

“What happened to that polite gentleman I met at Nat’s bar?” You asked, folding your arms against your chest. “What happened to the man that made me laugh so hard I couldn’t breathe for almost two minutes, huh?”

“I was only doing as Steve wanted, darlin’.” He answered, not wanting to reveal that he’d crushed on her. He couldn’t; not when Steve specifically wanted her. It was law; a man couldn’t feel attracted to a woman that Grant was interested in unless they’d wanted a quick and painful murder. “Now, let’s go get some goddamn ice cream.”

You huffed out a reply and before long, Bucky had your arm wrapped around his own in a very intimate position. “What really happens if Steve gets turned down?” You mumbled as the pair of you walked down the road to a small ice cream shop. “Surely, he won’t order my murder? He’s got to be smarter than that. Natasha would have him killed.”

“It’s Natalia,” he corrected. “And sure, she’d be upset about the news. But she knows first hand how Steve can get. They dated for a while back in high school. It’s a shame too. She’d broken his heart. But he loved her so much, he let her off easy. She’s the only one who hasn’t met the end of his gun to this day. Trust me, I’m not the threat here, Y/N. If Steve doesn’t get what he wants, he will tear apart this city looking for you; Danes be the consequences.”

“So, he orders you around like a dog and you do whatever he says?” you asked slowly. “Just like that? No questions asked?”

“No questions asked. “ he repeated. “It’s not my business unless he wants it to be. If you deny his offer today, all I would have to do is strut over to Natalia, place a knife to her cunt and she’ll blabber on and on about your living situations and any family members or friends that you might be hiding with. I promise, this isn’t a threat. But it’d do you good to listen to me unless you want a date with the grim reaper.”

“So who is the real Bucky?” you asked curiously. “I’d like to know; Are you really that sweetheart I spoke to yesterday? Or was that all just you with cruel intentions?”

He sniffed and licked his lips. “Sweetheart, you don’t want to know the real me. You’re better off not knowing that information.”

“I’m going to die soon anyway.” you shrugged, “Tell me a secret of yours.”

He looked at you for a long moment, watching as your finger tapped rapidly on the surface of the table, your foot tapping rapidly on the floor. “I’m your worst nightmare. You couldn’t fathom the amount of bodies I had to bury over my long hours working under Steve Rogers. You couldn’t imagine the pain I had caused to innocent families as I killed their children right in front of their eyes. You couldn’t imagine the poor animals I skinned alive all because I was ordered to do it; You don’t want to know me. You don’t need to know who I really am, darling.”

“Have you ever thought about walking away from all of this?” you wondered out loud, not buying one word that Bucky spoke. “Surely you’ve dreamed of having a family, living a white picket fence lifestyle? What about raising a family, a wife and children?”

“I have,” he admitted, frowning for just a moment before adjusting himself. “But that’s never going to happen. I am forever to be by Steve’s side or so help me.”

“Steve is a terrible human being, Bucky.” you pouted. “Look at what he has you doing and saying. You’re not a monster like him. You’re gentle and you’re sweet. You have a wonderful sense of humor and you make me feel better. At least you did yesterday; What happened to that man I met?”

He chuckled darkly for a moment before shifting in his seat and leaning against the table to whisper to you, “sweetheart, you don’t want to be on Steve’s bad side. Trust me; He’s a terrible human being with a foul temper to boot. I may not have his hunger for killings, nor his anger. But I can tell you, I am very good at persuading people to do my bidding. For example, you; here you sit, when just three hours ago, you were fighting me tooth and nail.”

“You threatened me,” you deadpanned.

“Darlin’, your hand was inches away from the telephone under the counter. Didn’t think I peeped that, did you?” He smirked as your eyes grew wide. “You had the power to call the police and have them come and arrest me. But instead, here you sit, inches from me in some little ice cream parlour because that’s exactly where I want you to be. You’re so close, I can smell the perfume on your undershirt. You have every right to walk back out of here and never talk to me again. But you won’t now, will you?”

“You’re only saying that,” you shook your head. “This is a test, isn’t it? I get up, and you shoot me, not giving a damn that there are other people in here.”

“It’s my life, or yours, sweetheart.” he leaned away from you, casually pulling his jacket, tucking it behind his gun. “You pick and choose what happens in the next twelve seconds.”

“What does he want from me, exactly?” You asked, eyeing the gun with fear.

“He wants all of you. He wants your voice, your body and your soul.”

“There’s no way out of this, is there?” you asked, meeting his giddy eyes. It almost made you vomit by the way his innocence faded away into a deadly machine.

“Not at all unless you want a date with the grim reaper.” Chuckling at some unheard joke, he adjusted his jacket, hiding his gun from site once more. “Deny this whole ordeal, and I can promise you, it won’t be me aiming a gun at your temple. Steve took a liking to you, I’m only the middle man.”

“So either you or the man himself will come after me?” you asked, fiddling with a napkin.

“If you’re lucky, you might just get let off the hook. You’re a nobody to him right now; A nobody with an amazing voice. You’ve no history with him. I’ve more history with you at this point in time. All could be easily forgiven and forgotten.”

“I have to get back to work,” you uttered, wanting nothing more than to stop the shaking of your body. “I can’t be late from a break.”

Standing away from the chair, he nodded before helping you to your feet and walking to the door and holding it open for you to exit, leaving the untouched ice cream on the table. He escorted you to the back door of the diner, walking at a brisk pace to evade the wintry winds blowing around the pair of you.

Before you could walk inside, he pulled your arm. “It won’t be good to refuse his offer, kid. I’ll give you two days, and two days only to figure yourself out. I’ll return back here one in the afternoon two days from now. You better have some form of an answer for me.”

You didn’t waste any time answering back before you bolted into the diner once more.

*******

As Bucky sat in his car, he contemplated on staying inside the damned thing and driving far, far away from his deranged lunatic of a best friend. Did he regret being around Steve for so long? Of course not. Steve wasn’t usually on his bad side when it came to Bucky. Steve cared for him, of course. But Bucky didn’t know if he truly wanted to stay by Steve’s side forever. Sure, he said that to you. But you’re nobody important to him. Why would he ever admit something so dark about himself to you? Steve had been one of Bucky’s dearest and closest friends over the years. Steve had been the one to teach him all about the mobster life. He had taught Bucky how to hold a gun and aim it. He taught Bucky how to deal with the deaths of loved ones.

But no matter how long Steve stayed around, Bucky was frightened of the man he had become over the long years. Steve had gone from such an innocent child to the Devil himself in only a matter of a few years. He had an easily triggered foul temper, especially nowadays since he had been dealing with Stark’s egotistical head. He’d become an abusive alcoholic the minute his brain started reverting back to the memories of his past. Bucky worried for the man during those long nights as he heard Steve shouting at nothing but air in the wind, his drunken tyrants long forgotten the next morning. Bucky knew better than to speak ill of Steve’s alcoholism and abuse.

He knew better than anyone.

Steve was a monster. He was the monster parents told their children about late at night. He was the boogeyman. He was the shadow you’d see from the corner of your eye, only to turn around and see nothing at all. Steve frightened him. But he needed to remain calm and collected in his presence, always; it was vital that Bucky never allowed Steve to find a reason to place a bullet between Bucky’s eyes. Over the long violent filled years, Bucky had been the only stable constant in his life. Bucky had been the sole reason Steve hadn’t gone completely overboard. Bucky was there for moral support, and a shoulder to cry on late at night when Steve couldn’t defeat his drunken demons. Bucky had seen what woman could only dream of with this man.

Bucky had been there for Steve after the deaths of his family. He had stayed by Steve during the break up with Natalia. He had stayed by Steve’s side as he fought tooth and nail to gain a voice and respect in this life. He’d been there for him through every female he fucked, every female who clung to him for attention or the right to say they had slept with the man. But poor Steve, all he’d ever wanted was to fill the gaping black hole that had forged itself in the depths of his heart. All Steve ever really wanted was a family. But why was that so hard for him to accomplish? Surely, any female would gladly bear the offspring of a mafia king like him. Who wouldn’t? But you see, that was the problem. Girls threw themselves at him for a chance to sleep with him. And Steve no longer wanted a lady of the night. No, he wanted a family.

And maybe... just maybe... there was even more to him wanting you then just for your voice. Maybe you’d captured his attention and his heart in a way most girls don’t. You were feisty and sassy, yet kind hearted and willing to do something you weren’t comfortable with just to save those you cared for. At least, that was Bucky’s observation of you while the pair of you talked in that ice cream shop.

You were frightened, yet determined to get to the bottom of Steve’s plan, no matter how bold Bucky had been with you. He knew you’d seen right through his damned tough exterior. He wasn’t as good as Steve at hiding his true intentions. Even if he was good at murdering people without so much as a finger flick. Bucky was a sweetheart, the kind you wouldn’t expect to be associated with the likes of Steve. But Bucky had a dark side; he loved the thrill of killing just as much as his dear friend. Could he have killed you? Without so much as a flinch of his wrist. Did he care that he would have placed innocent people at risk in that ice cream shop? Of course he did, which is why he didn’t pop a bottle into your skull at that moment.

You’d asked too many questions for his liking. But he wasn’t going to kill you unless Steve ordered for it to be. But he wasn’t going to play nice with you either. He’d wanted to test you out first. He’d wanted to have you wait around, see if you’d tell a soul what had transpired during his hunt for you. Even if that would make Steve anxious or angry at his decision. He knew better than to create plans without discussing them with Steve first. But he’d wanted to give you more time to adjust to the reality that will become your life soon enough. Steve wouldn’t give up on you until you either moved out of the country or you were dead in a ditch somewhere. But he’d preferred if you had chosen neither of those options and had opted to stick by his side. It would cause you a lot less trouble in the long run.

Bucky had finally opted to get out of the car and face his demons head on. He knew somehow, he was on borrowed time, now more than ever as he strolled through the house into Steve’s office.

“About time, kid.” Steve greeted with a sincere smile as he glanced up from his position behind the desk. He had been staring down at his desk, pay rolls and cheeks spread out over the surface. “Take a seat, will you?”

“Steve-” Bucky started before quieting down as Steve raised a hand to silence him.

“Take a seat.” He demanded quietly, a smile fading quickly from his face. Bucky sighed and sat in the chair in front of the desk- a position he had found himself in numerous times before. He wondered for a split second what trouble he had caused before Steve raised a single check and displayed it to Bucky.

“What’s this?” he asked, taking the check and examining it.

“We’re two grand down from last month. Care to explain the numbers to me?” Steve asked, leaning over and taking the check from bucky’s hands.

“That can't be right.” He shook his head, blinking at the false number on the cheque. “I counted every dime that was sent to my desk. It came up on point every time. I recounted over five times. Do you now how time consuming that is for me?”

“I don’t enjoy liars, Bucky.” He announced quietly as he fixed the cufflinks on his wrists. “Are you stealing from me, perhaps?”

“I know better than anyone to take something from you.” Bucky deadpanned, not liking the way his friend had sat back in the chair and was now staring at him with a calm demeanor. Bucky knew that look all too well- someone was going to die within the next few minutes. And it might just be him if the way Steve was glowering at him was anything to go by. “The day we went to Natialia’s tavern was the last time I had counted out anything; Everything was precise.”

“So, you stole from me and you’re lying to cover it up?” Steve prompted. “What did you spend the money on, hmm? Y/N, perhaps? Where is she, by the way? Did you pay for her train ticket out of the city, maybe?”

“She’s working at the diner, asshole.” Bucky snapped, feeling sudden rage. “I don’t have a damn dime on me. I gave her two days to decide on what the fuck she wants to do. I will be damned if I let you suck her into this life for no reason.”

“Do me a favor?” He asked, opening up a drawer of his desk and retrieving a gun from it before placing it on the surface of the desk and sliding it over to Bucky. “Take this gun and go down to the vaults. Kill every last one of those fools for me. I’m sure one of them had snuck money into their pocket. Loot anything of value for me.”

“Yes sir,” Bucky breathed, feeling utterly relieved that he wouldn’t be meeting the end of Steve’s anger today. He stood from the chair and caressed the gun before placing the metal object in his pants. He quickly skirted out of the room and strutted through the place before he found himself in the basement. The large faction was divided into two sections; to his left sat the shooting range. To his right, sat his bank vault which housed bars of gold, expensive jewelry, and stacks of money from all over the world due to Steve’s worldly trades of drugs.

He quietly stepped into the vault room, where numerous people were standing about, sorting through funds, jewelry, what have you. He stepped up behind a man and clocked back the trigger, startling the remaining people. A few cried out in surprise, a few backed into corners. “Which one of you stole from Grant?” Bucky demanded. “Which one of you will talk?” He walked up to a frightened woman, cowering against a table where piles of money were laid out. “Tell me, Sharon. Who stole from Grant? Tell me and I’ll spare the rest of you.”

“Screw yourself, Barnes.” She spat.

Bucky chuckled lightly before grabbing the back of her head and slammed it face first into the metal table, causing her bleed from her nose. “You want to answer that properly, Carter?”

“Go fuck your-” her threat was cut off as Bucky aimed the gun against he skull and pulled the trigger, the echoes ringing deafeningly around the room.

“Anyone else want to test the king upstairs?” Bucky mocked, turning around slowly to look at the workers. “Look, I don’t give a rat’s ass which one of you stole from him. But if I die for your sins, I swear to Christ himself, I will be back and make your life a living hell. Do you hear me?” He started walking around the room, knowing he wouldn’t have enough bullets for all the employees. “I have four bullets left. Who will be the lucky four to get a date with the Grim Reaper, huh?”

“It was me,” a man’s voice spoke up from the corner. “Steve doesn’t deserve all this glorious bullshit; he's selfish and greedy, what gives him any right? We worked for this money, not him.”

“Parker,” Bucky laughed out. “Of course it was you.” He aimed the gun and without another breath, emptied the clip into the poor man’s heart. “Why are you all standing around?” He asked as he noticed people were still standing like statues around him before they started scurrying like mice around the room.

Bucky turned out of the room without another glance and walked back up to Steve’s office. He didn’t knock before entering the room, startling the man.

“What the hell, man?”

“The deed is done. Permission to leave, sir?”

“Where is Y/N? What did she say?”

“I’m giving her two days, forty eight hours to decide on what she wants to do. If she chooses the wrong answer, I promised her you’ll be placing a bullet inside of her skull.”

“You know I don’t have the patience to wait for things, Barnes.”

“But you’re going to gain some patience with her.” Bucky stated as he stood firmly by the door, one hand turning the knob. “Forty eight hours and I’ll return with her on my side; With or without her answer.”

“You are not to walk through this house again until you have her walking by your side. You hear me?”

“Loud and clear, Captain.” Bucky sneered before using the door as a shield as Steve had suddenly thrown a bottle of whiskey at him. “I promised the girl two fucking days and two fucking days is what you will wait for. She’s not going to leave the country, asshole Why do you want her so badly?”

“You’re the reason I want her, Bucky.” He answered. “You just had to introduce me to her, didn’t you?”

“Sam told you about her. It’s not my damned fault she prefers my company.”

“Get the fuck out of my office, Buck. Now.” Steve warned, grabbing the silver pistol from his desk where Bucky had chucked it before aiming it at him.

“Gladly.” Bucky snarled before slamming the door closed on his way into the hallway.

NEXT CHAPTER 

#bucky barnes x reader

[baby-grayson]

Kind Stranger|GBD|Part 7

Parts 1-6 warning: fluffy Tags: @styles-dolan​ @evergreendolan​ @someonetogray​ @vintagedolan​ @prettyboydolan​ @dolansficsandpics​ @graysavant​ @baby-turtles​

Kale? Spinach? Mushrooms? Eggplant? Grayson’s eyes surveyed the brightly colored board of food options. He weighed the consequences of choosing to include or omit tomatoes from his lunch order. His concentration on his lunch kept his anxieties at bay. Earlier that day, his palms left a greasy layer of sweat on the steering wheel of his Porsche, with his girlfriend and brother silent in the car. His girlfriend and brother now stood beside him, still silent. Ethan’s arms were crossed as he leaned against the back wall of the restaurant. Kate leaned significantly on her good leg, holding a hand on her hip and looking at the ground. Grayson eyed the pair quickly before returning his focus to selecting his meal. Why won’t they talk to each other? It’s like they already don’t like each other..

Grayson tried to shake thoughts while pondering the benefits of sweet corn. Kate glanced at Grayson, struggling to understand the complexity of the decisions that go into making a veggie wrap. Her eyes flickered up toward Ethan, who’s stare was focused straight ahead on a container of napkins. The similarity in the twins was still striking to her. The tattoos on Ethan’s arms were the only definite indicator of their identities. I should know my own boyfriend from his twin brother… Kate took in a breath and moved her gaze up to the ceiling, questioning whether the silence was comforting or eerie. She released a tension in her jaw she hadn’t realized she had been holding when Grayson looked back at her, scrunched his nose slightly, and smiled wide. Grayson’s smile washed over Kate as a wave of relief.

Ethan’s stomach lurched while his eyebrows raised. His brother’s new relationship was sweet, there was no denying that. Grayson shined when he picked her up that morning: his smile was infectious when he took her hand in his during the car ride over. Grayson spent the morning assuring Ethan that Kate was “Awesome! So funny and sweet”, promising that Ethan’s apprehensions would vanish after spending real time with her. Ethan almost felt bad for asking Grayson so many tough questions about her. Almost.

Grayson looked from Kate, to Ethan, and back to Kate, “How does carrots, humus, spinach, celery, and bell pepper sound?” “Like a stroke of creativity that definitely didn’t take you 20 minutes to think about,” Ethan responded sardonically, earning a breathy chuckle out of Kate. Grayson bit his tongue against a snarky response and looked at Kate, “Ladies first,” he motioned a hand in front of him toward the register. Kate stepped forward, chatting through her order with the girl behind the register. Grayson stepped toward Ethan, with an expectant look in his eye. “What bro?” Ethan unwound his arms at Grayson’s wide-eyed look. Grayson’s eyed darted away from Ethan, toward Kate’s backside, and back to Ethan for a second time. Ethan shrugged softly, not having enough information to give a real analysis, “She seems nice. You know I think ordering whole wheat is a sign of a great life partner.” Ethan couldn’t hold in the laugh that escaped his lips when he met Gray’s annoyed look. “Sorry,” Ethan shrugged again, trying not to ruin Grayson’s honeymoon mood, “She seems fine, I’ve barely talked to her.” “She’s great,” Grayson smiled wide at his brother before letting his eyes wander to Kate’s backside at the register. He noticed her give her credit card to the girl at the register and spoke louder, “I can pay for that baby.” Kate looked back at Grayson and shook her head softly. Her tone was nonchalant, “It’s fine, I got it.”

Ethan made a small hum of approval next to his brother, meeting his gaze. Grayson stepped forward to place his order, Kate stood next to him; avoiding joining the awkward air near Ethan at the back of the room. Grayson’s large, rough, calloused hand instinctively laid over Kate’s dainty hand. Ethan smiled softly at the gesture; his brother was always a romantic. In truth, Ethan was impressed by the simple fact that she paid for her own food. It was the first sign that she wasn’t interested in Grayson for his money or influence. She showed Ethan that, even in the smallest way, she wasn’t looking to be wholly dependent on Grayson.

The scene was interrupted by a small bell followed by a few high-pitched squeals coming from the door to the restaurant. A man in an expensive polo shirt and loafers was accompanied by two teenage girls, who were nearly bouncing at the site of the twins. Kate’s brow furrowed: What would make two girls scream in public? She followed their gaze to the twins and was hit with the realization: Grayson’s life was massively different from her own. The two girls bounced their way to the twins while professing their love and asking for a picture. Kate was impressed by how elegantly Grayson handled the situation. He smiled with genuine happiness and stood with grace, giving his entire attention to what they were squealing at him. When the teenagers and twins broke up from their picture, one of the girls got on the phone, to call who Kate could only assume was a friend. “OMG STACEY YOU WON’T BELIEVE! IT WAS THE TWINS! YES! I KNOW! AND ONE OF THE TWINS’ FRIENDS WAS HERE WITH THEM!!!!!!!!!” The small restaurant sounded like a Justin Bieber concern circa 2008. And yet the sound of Kate’s own heartbeat created a deafening silence in her head. One of the twins’ friends… Kate tried to shiver off the growing knot in her stomach, the words weren’t settling right inside of her. She had never been a particularly insecure girl, being a disabled woman in science demanded self-confidence, but the teeny bopper’s words echoed in her ears. Grayson stood beside her, equally awkward but for a different reason. He could only imagine what Kate was thinking after seeing something like that for the first time: a scene that had come to be normal for him since moving to LA. He wanted so badly to reach out and hold her hand in his. He wanted to brush his thumb over hers and give it a squeeze. He wanted to place a hand on her lower back, kiss her head, and breathe in that citrus scent that he could never get enough of.  But he knew he couldn’t: not with his fans in the room, not with their phones in their hands.

If Ethan noticed the cumbersome emotions of his companions, he didn’t show it. He coolly ordered his lunch, keeping his voice low and posture relaxed. Meanwhile, his twin brother was producing enough sweat to provide water to an African dessert and his brother’s girlfriend was combatting her inner dialogue about independence.

Most of the trio’s problems faded into the air in Grayson’s Porsche. Grayson’s right hand securely coddled Kate’s, while his left casually hung over the steering wheel. Grayson loved sitting next to Kate in his car, her sweet smell filled the car and her cute laugh filled the air. Ethan loved sitting with food in his lap, its savory smell filled his nostrils and promised his stomach of good times to come.

Not soon after, they sat at the Dolans’ kitchen island with food, napkins, and smoothies strewn out in front of them. Grayson was in the middle of his fifth story about elementary school with Ethan. Kate tossed some sweet potato fries in her mouth, smiling gently and laughing at Grayson’s punchlines. Grayson followed one story with another, hoping some at some point his brother and girlfriend would release their tense energy and start to see all the great things he saw in both.

“—and then Cameron hit me over the head, and I ended up with a barbie doll arm up my nose—“, he had barely bit into the lunch he spent nearly a half an hour ordering because he was so busy filling the silence. Kate winced at the mention of a doll arm up six year old Grayson’s nose, “Ooh that’s a bad one.” Ethan shook his head, finishing a sip of his smoothie “That’s nothing. Grayson’s head is practically made of stainless steel. Barbies are kind of a bad omen for him though,” he picked at a pile of chips. “This one time when we were like 12, he was dating this girl from down the street. She went as barbie to a Halloween party and convinced Grayson to dress up as Ken.” Kate nearly choked on her sandwich as she let out a chortle, Grayson’s face turned a hot shade of red from behind his veggie wrap. “That means you’re a dedicated boyfriend,” Kate show him a playful wink between bites of her sandwich. Grayson, who’s face was the color of the bell pepper in his wrap, nodded, “I’ll do anything for my girl.” Ethan’s stomach lurched but he held back the urge to react to the happy couple, “He’ll do stupid things for you if you ask him too,” Kate laughed again, “He’ll do stupid things without you asking too, just to impress you.” Kate snickered, fingering a plate of sweet potato fries. She pointed a fry at Grayson “What’s the dumbest thing you’ve ever done to impress a girl?” Grayson’s cheeks flared, “I uh—well” Ethan gladly cut his twin off to finish, “This one time he tried having sex in a handstand just to prove he could hold himself up for that long.” A loud laugh escaped Kate’s mouth, while Ethan’s accomplished look met with Grayson’s mortified one.

“Should I ask if you could do it?” Kate looked from Grayson to Ethan and back to Grayson. Grayson stammered again before Kate finished, “Maybe you could show me one day.” She proudly flicked the last sweet potato fry in her mouth.

A wide grin grew on Grayson’s face, his cheeks slightly burning. Ethan nearly lodged a chip in his throat. “I knew you were the girl for me,” he reached for her hand across the island. Ethan shook his head softly, “Ryan did say he had a good feeling about this.” “Exactly,” Grayson triumphantly kissed Kate’s cheek as she asked, “Who’s Ryan?” “Ryan is our best friend--,” Grayson started, pulling away from Kate’s cheek. Ethan spoke over his twin, “—he produces our podcast, helps with the videos, pulls us apart when he beat up on each other too hard.” Kate’s eyes found the floor. She looked up at Grayson when Ethan finished, “I thought we weren’t telling people…about us?” Her eyes stared up at Grayson, wide and longing for reassurance. She felt confused, in a deep place. She had already put away her feelings about keeping their relationship private: coming to terms with the fact that Grayson’s life was different. Grayson wanted desperately to cup her face in his hands, seeing her eyes like that ate threw his heart. “Ryan is different, he’s our best friend. We can trust him.” Grayson’s heart quivered when he saw the emptiness grow in Kate’s eyes. Her thoughts raced: What was it about the people in her life that made them untrustworthy? The white walls of the coastal interior of the rental felt less beachy to her and more alienating in that moment. Grayson wrapped an arm around and leaned in to kiss the side of her head. His movements were shaking. He stroked his thumb on the small of her back, trying to put her at ease almost as much as he wanted to put himself at ease. He was normal. She was normal. Their relationship was normal, normal, normal. Grayson wanted so badly to hold her in that moment: to hold her as close as possible to his chest and let her hear his heartbeat, the heart that beat for her. Grayson was never very good with words, but he wished he could find the words to tell her how much she meant to him. He felt like she was sent to him, a strong shot in the dark with everything he always wished for. She was beautiful. She was smart. She was independent. She was driven. She was funny without being cruel. Her laugh sounded like a song. Her little snore when she slept on his chest sounded like a little teddy bear declaring its adorable presence to the world. She had overcome so much; she reminded the entire world of that every time she stood up. She was twice the person that Grayson was and it killed him inside to see her eyes look like that. A pain ran through his chest, he never wanted her to be upset because of him. He cherished her. Even though their relationship was new, his heart held absolutely no hesitancy. He looked at her like he was sure, sure she was meant to stick around, to change his life, to make him a better man: the best man he can be.

A loud creak scraped across the floor. Ethan awkwardly stood up from his seat at the island, feeling as though he was in someone else’s scene. He shifted his eyes from Grayson’s hand on Kate’s back. Ethan quickly gathered the bag and wraps from his lunch to dispose of.  Ethan left the room, leaving the young couple in that position. Grayson’s hand found a home on Kate’s lower back, while she looked up at him, somewhere between bewildered and disheartened.

They snapped out of their trance long enough to clean the rest of the kitchen. Grayson led Kate out, placing gentle kisses on her head and squeezing her small hand. He wanted to memorize the way her hand felt: so small, dainty, and regal in his large, rough, calloused hand. His fingers tingled with jabs of pain when his open wounds moved, but it was worth it to get to feel her smooth, warm skin.

They stood at the front door together. Kate’s hand delicately in Grayson’s, he looked down at her with adoring eyes while she looked up at him. Her eyes had let go of their earlier state, but had yet to return the warm, brown fire Grayson loved so much. “Thanks for coming to spend time with Ethan,” Grayson started, “I think he started warming up to you.” Kate smiled passively, “He’s nice. I’m glad I came today.” She lifted herself on her toes and kissed his cheek gently before lowering down. She turned for the door when Grayson held her hand tighter, “Wait—” he took in a breath. How does he say this? How does he break this? Maybe he shouldn’t say anything at all? Maybe he should say everything? Lay it all out there right? Be completely honest. Honestly is the best policy.

“I’m so happy with you and I love that my brother got to know you better. I’m so glad he got to see you being you.” Grayson gulped softly, Kate turned to face him again, closing the space between them softly. “You’re sweet, so sweet. And you make me happy. Like really fucking happy,” his eyes watered slightly. “I don’t know if I’m supposed to say this, but I was starting to get really lonely before you. And then you came out of nowhere, dropped out of the sky and right into my lap, being here and fixing my problems since the moment I met you. You’re so different, like nothing I’ve ever seen before. I didn’t even know girls like you existed.” Grayson let go of her hand to run both of his hands through his hair before looking down at her again, melting more by the minute. The warmth returned to her brown eyes, as her lips slid into a kind smile. “You’re—I—We—I want to keep you around.” Grayson decided on, nodding subtly as he spoke.

Kate lifted herself up by her toes and placed a sweet kiss on his lips. Grayson cupped her face in his hands and deepened their kiss, drinking her citrus scent and becoming intoxicated on the sweet taste of her tongue. He ran his hands through her soft, luscious hair. He moaned softly, dropping his hands to her waist and pulling her body in closer. Kate wrapped an ankle around his calf, pulling her body up to continue to meet his mouth, tracing her fingers against his shirt and feeling the curves of his body underneath. She didn’t retract when she felt a hard bulge against her waist, in fact she pulled herself even closer to him—eliminating any space between the two of them. Grayson grabbed onto her, feeling a strip of silky skin when the hem of her shirt rose. His lips became frenzied, obsessed with kissing her at maximum capacity for as long as he could. Her nerves caught on fire when his tongue slipped against her bottom lip, begging for an entrance. She opened her mouth slightly, allowing him entrance. Her hot skin started to flame when her mouth was filled with the honey taste of his decadent tongue.

Grayson let one dauntless hand fall from her waist, grabbing lightly onto her ass. She smirked into his kiss, triggering a physical mechanism inside of him. He grabbed tightly onto her ass, his body tormented by not having her in this moment. It was Kate who pulled back first, her face covered in strands of unruly hair, flush cheeks, and swollen lips. She breathed in softly before lightly stepping out of his grasp. She nodded and smiled up at him, attending to be sweet but failing while the heavy air hung in the moment. “I’ll see you soon,” she kissed his cheek quickly and moved swiftly toward the door as Grayson mumbled his own words of goodbye. His body, mind, and spirit felt intoxicated by her. He tried to step but recognized a shaking leg as he made his way to the couch. He ran his hands through his hair and laid down. Yeah, she was the one.

A/N: Thank you for reading! I had mixed feelings about this part while writing it. I hope you enjoyed lovie!

#banana squad #if you know you know #grayson dolan #dolan #dolan twin #ethan #ethan dolan #grayson x OC #grayson dolan romance #fanfiction #fluff #fanfic #youtuber #twin

[kumeko]

A/N: For the Summer Lovin’ zine, where I wanted to do a light, fluffy, summer romance. With bonus Steph and Tim teasing Damian (as is their right) and Cassandra helping out where she could.

…

…

…

…

Endless fields of unripe wheat. A cloudless blue sky stretching as far as the eye can see. The occasional house poking out of an otherwise flat terrain. Damian stared outside the car window and clicked his tongue. No wonder his father had declined to come; there were no shadows here to hide in, only light.

 “What’s the matter?” Stephanie asked, an impish smile on her face as she poked his cheek. “Bored?”

 “Of course not.” He swatted her hand away but that only made her laugh. “We shouldn’t be here.”

 “Why?” From the driver’s seat, Tim glanced at him in the rear-view mirror. If Stephanie’s smile was teasing, his smirk was downright malicious. “Scared you’ll have fun?”

 Damian crossed his arms. He would never for the life of him understand what his father saw in that fake Robin. No, it went deeper than that—what did he see in most of his proteges? Stephanie didn’t take anything seriously, Tim didn’t have the skills, Dick was too fun-loving, and Jason had no control. The only not disappointing one in the bunch was Cassandra, and Damian feared that one day the others would infect her as well. He should have gotten rid of them while he had the chance. “We should be training, Drake,” Damian replied, irritation leaking into his voice.

“An important part of training is taking breaks.” Stephanie poked his cheek again. He was going to break her finger one day. “It’s summer, school’s out, and Bruce and Dick have Gotham covered. We can have a little vacation, the world’s not going to destroy itself without us.”

 “Without you, maybe,” Damian sneered. The effect was ruined as she pulled his cheek.

 “Without us,” she repeated, still sporting that insufferable smile. “If it’s serious, they’ll call us. It’s not like the League doesn’t know where the Kent farmhouse is.”

 Damian wasn’t sure if that was a good thing. Surely the most dangerous man in the planet should have his parents hidden somewhere secure, instead of having their name on file. Villains broke into the JLA all the time as it was; it wouldn’t be that long before someone stumbled upon this badly kept secret.

 “You’re wasting your breath, Steph.” Tim shrugged, his eyes on the road. “He doesn’t know what a break is.”

 From the front passenger seat, Cassandra gave Damian a sympathetic smile. She had been silent till now, more than content to just listen. Which was probably why he preferred her to the others; she wasn’t a blabbermouth like the others. “A break can help your body recover,” she offered.

 At least that was practical advice for once. Damian leaned back in his seat. “I suppose.”

 “You’re such a softie to her and Dick.” Stephanie leaned back into her seat, finally leaving him alone.

 “It’s too bad Dick couldn’t come,” Tim sighed. “He could have muzzled the brat.”

 “Well, while we’re meeting our favourite aliens, he’s got his own alien to meet.” Stephanie waggled her brows before she and Tim burst into a fit of laughter. Leaning forward, she rested a hand on Cass’s shoulders. “Don’t worry, I’ll share mine with you.”

 “Okay?” Looking confused, Cassandra nodded.

 “And Damian’s got Jon,” Tim chimed in, exchanging a look with Steph.

 Wisely, Damian kept his mouth shut. With these two, almost any response he gave would only be ammo.

 -x-

 “Damian!”

 He barely had time to turn around before Jon barreled into him, knocking him over. Landing flat on his back, Damian grunted as his breath rushed out of him. Jon had little restraint in the best of times, and almost none when he was emotional. Frowning at the mop of dark hair on his chest, he rolled his friend off. “Kent.”

 “Kent,” Tim and Steph said at the same time and he didn’t have to see them to know they were wearing identical smiles.

 “Damian!” Pushing himself off the ground, Jon shot him a grumpy look.

 Quietly, Damian muttered, “Fine, Jon.”

 The idiot duo cackled behind him and he wasn’t sure if Jon’s bright smile was worth it. Picking himself off the ground, Damian didn’t bother to dust off his clothes before hauling Jon up. “Where’s my room?” he asked, dragging Jon along as he headed to the main house. “And please tell me those two are sleeping in the barn.”

 “Nah, they’ll be rooming with Conner and Kara, just like you’ll be with me.” Jon wrapped an arm around his back, almost skipping as they headed in. “It’ll be fun!”

 Fun. That wasn’t the word he’d use for it. Perhaps he could at least sabotage their beds after this.

 -x-

 Balancing a dagger between his two fingers, Damian studied the target. It was perhaps one of the simplest targets he’d practiced with, a static bale of hay only 50 yards down. A single red x made of cardboard sat on the bale. There was no challenge in this. Still, some practice was better than none. Raising his hand behind him, Damian whipped his arm forward and tossed the dagger.

 With a solid thwack, the dagger hit the target dead center.

 As expected. Child’s play, really.

 As though to cut into his preening, Jon applauded behind him. “Wow,” he cheered, his voice deadpan. “That was amazing.” Sarcasm dripped from his words as he hovered over the ground, giving Damian the most bored look possible.

 “There’s nothing else here to use,” Damian sniped back, not appreciating the reaction. It figured this was the place the Supers called home, this land of sunlight. The Kents owned few weapons, if one could call them that. A shotgun, several farming tools, and an oddly sharp kitchen knife were their defenses of choice. Miraculously, no supervillains had dared to take over this quaint town, and he could only chalk it up to luck. Probably the same luck that allowed all the Supers to fly without a single neighbour to report them.

 Not finished, Jon leaned forward, shielding his eyes with a hand. Fake squinting, he studied the target. “That’s, what, ten in a row? All in the same spot, somehow?” The scorn disappeared from his tone and Jon gave him a thumbs up. “That’s actually really cool.”

 Cool was again not a word Damian would use but he accepted the compliment. “If I couldn’t do that much, I’d hang up my cape.”

 “Right, right.” Jon landed on the ground next to him, clapping him on the back. “And you’re doing ten more of these?”

 “I need to keep up the practice,” Damian muttered, distracted by the tingling in his back. It had been happening recently, at Jon’s point of contact, and he wondered if it was some uncontrolled Kyptonian strength running through his flesh. “Even if the practice is subpar.”

 “Of course.” There was a mischievous twinkle in Jon’s eyes. “But you’re just going to get the same result. And it’s boring.”

 Rankled, Damian pulled away. “Practice is not—”

 “There’s more fun ways to practice instead.” Jon pounced, tackling him to the ground. “Let’s fight.”

 Well, that was certainly something Damian could get behind. Flipping them over, he smirked. “You’re on.”

 -x-

 “So, Damian, was it?” Ma Kent smiled at him kindly as she exited the kitchen. The smell of cooked chicken wafted through the air, filling the dining room. In her hands was a bright, flowery plastic bowl filled with Brussel sprouts. “I heard a lot about you.”

 Damian stared at her. The dining room was empty save for them—the others hadn’t yet come back from whatever wasteful endeavours they had planned and Jon was feeding Krypto. While he had begrudgingly accepted the fact that he’d have to eat dinner with everyone, there had better not be any expectations of conversation. He had planned to let Jon do all the talking, to cover up his silence, but that wasn’t possible right now. When Ma Kent smiled at him, he reluctantly replied, “I see.”

 “Ahaha, got a way with words, I see.” Chuckling, she set down the bowl. A bowl that did not match any of plates. Actually, now that he was paying attention, none of the big serving bowls matched, all of them hideous plastic monstrosities. Noticing his scornful expression, she rubbed her neck sheepishly. “I know what you’re thinking. I used to use my good china whenever someone came, but after two dinner attacks and one food fight, I’ve learned my lesson. If the powers are out, my plates stay in.”

 “I see.” Not that he had asked for clarifications. Not that he was curious in any way, shape, or form about it.

 “You really do have only one mode.” Laughing, she returned to the kitchen. “Like father, like son. Glad the rest of your lot didn’t turn out like this; don’t think I could have handled that much grumpiness at my table.”

 “I’m not grumpy,” he muttered under his breath.

 “Man, Krypto was hungry tonight!” Jon tumbled in through the window, ecstatic. Catching Damian’s expression, he cocked his head. “What, did I miss anything?”

 Resisting the urge to cross his arms (because he wasn’t grumpy, he was stoic), Damian gave him a surly look. “Nothing.”

 Ma Kent chuckled again. “Nothing, hun. Now make sure to wash those hands.”

-x-

 The stars were bright here. Sprawled on the roof, Damian leaned back and studied the night sky above him. Without Gotham’s pollution, the milky way was visible for once. Stars glittered above him, taking advantage of the moonless night. He had almost forgotten what the night sky could look like, what it had those nights long ago when he lived in the desert, training under his mother’s watchful eye.

 An almost silent presence approached him and Damian discretely reached into his pocket for a dagger. The stranger’s hand touched his, stilling it, and he looked up to find Cassandra Cain. She offered him a smile. “It is silent here,” she murmured, sitting down beside him.

 “I suppose.” Damian glanced at her, then at the fields below. It looked like a dark sea, threatening to swallow them whole. An owl hooted, crickets chirped, and all in all, it was far quieter here than it was in the city. Just when had he gotten used to the never-ending honking? Even the smell here was different. The farm felt clean.

 “It is,” she corrected, hugging her knees. She closed her eyes, listening. “It is…not bad to relax.”

 Not bad, perhaps, but not good either. Not when there were lives at stake in Gotham. Damian wouldn’t call himself a hero, not by any stretch of the word, but Gotham was Batman’s. Gotham was his and he was loathe to let its citizens die when they under his protection. “Isn’t it?”

 “No.” Cassandra closed her eyes. Words were hard for her, action easier—perhaps one of the things he respected so much about her. When she spoke, her words meant something, they were considered and honest. “Relaxing…you can recover. Recharge. See things differently.” Opening her eyes now, she smiled at him, a waxing moon. “See what you are protecting.”

 Damian stared. He was too late; Cassandra had been infected by the others. “I don’t need to see—”

 “Damian!” Before he could finish his sentence, Jon floated down beside him. Dressed in bright blue pjs his mother had to have bought for him, Jon landed on his right. “What’re you doing up here alone?”

 “Alone?” Damian looked at his left once more. Empty. Cassandra was gone. Even if her brain had rotted, her skills remained, and he didn’t know whether to be impressed or irritated at himself. Turning back to Jon, he shrugged. “Reflecting.”

 “Reflecting on what?” Jon raised a brow before asking. “Wait, is this one of those bat-broods Dad was talking about? How you guys all go to a corner at some point or another and just sulk?”

 Speechless, Damian gaped, his jaw hanging loose. Of all the things he expected to hear, that wasn’t one of them. That wasn’t even on his least likely list.

 “I mean, I can’t picture Steph sulking, but maybe she wasn’t Robin long enough to get the broods.” Jon sat down next to him, bumping shoulders. “Or maybe you took all of them?”

 “I’m not sulking,” Damian growled, resisting the urge to hurl Jon off the roof. Not that it would do any good, he’d just fly back and be twice as mocking about it. What was it with the Kents and their presumptions?

 “Then what?” Jon’s eyes lit up and he hit his fist on his empty palm, as though he’d solved a case. “Stargazing?”

 It was as good an explanation as any. Better, actually, than his own, considering he had none. “Sure.”

 “Prepare to be amazed!” Jon pointed up, a wide smile on his face. “A city boy like you, you haven’t seen half of these stars before.”

 “City boy?” Damian scoffed. “You’re not much better.”

 “I’ve been in the country plenty of times,” Jon retorted, his mood still bright. It was like sitting next to the sun. “Besides, I can fly. Dad’s takes me up all the time to see the stars.”

 A very frivolous waste of power. No wonder Bruce worried about this family.

 “Anyways, see that star over there?” Jon leaned closer, wrapping an arm around Damian’s back to bring him closer. “So that’s part of the big dipper.”

 Of all the stars to start with, the big dipper? Really? Damian didn’t know if he should be insulted or not. It wasn’t like he was much of a ‘city boy’ himself; growing up in the desert, his mother made sure he could navigate just as easily at night as he did the day.

 He could say he had the best tutors, that he knew every constellation by heart.

 He could say that Jon was pointing at the wrong dipper, he meant the one slightly below it.

 Damian could say any or all of those things, but for once in his life he kept quiet. Jon was smiling and he didn’t always have to prove he was the smartest person in the room.

 -x-

 “So, any bets?” Steph asked, shielding her eyes as she leaned back and squinted at the sky. Despite the intense July heat, she stood away from the shade. Above them, small specks in the bright sky, were Conner, Kara, and Jon. They raced through the air, sometimes coming low enough to hear their laughter, other times they were barely visible.

 “On what?” Tim asked. Like her, he was staring up at the sky. Unlike her, he was smart enough to stay next to the barn and the meager relief it provided. Perhaps he did have a modicum of intelligence after all.

 Not that Damian would applaud him. Using a handful of pebbles, Damian started flicking them at distant targets, smirking when they hit with a satisfying thwink. Perhaps Jon could hide his training dummies and Tim could hide his weapons, but they couldn’t force him to be idle the entire time he was here. Glancing at Cassandra, who was sitting nonchalantly on the ground next to him, a pleased smile on her face, Damian was perplexed. How could she handle this?

 “The next Super. Like, it’s obvious that Cass is the next Batman, but I dunno about them.” Ignoring Damian’s glare, she finally strolled into the shade. She leaned against the barn door and crossed her arms. “It’s between Conner and Jon.”

 “So Kara’s not interested?” Tim stroked his chin thoughtfully. After humming for a few minutes, he turned to Cassandra and asked, “Who’d you rather work with?”

 Unable to handle the indignancy anymore, Damian barked, “I’m the next Batman.”

 “Sure.” Stephanie rested a hand on her hip, giving him a pitying look. “Whatever makes you feel better.”

 “Go easy on him, it’s not easy to find out that he’ll be Robin forever.” Tim shook his head sadly. “All of that time, all of mommy’s promises that’d he’d get the job, it must be crushing.”

 “What?” he squawked.

 “He couldn’t even accept that Cass is Bruce’s favourite.” Coming over, Stephanie squeezed his shoulder. “And then there’s Dick—you’re maybe third? Maybe?”

 Picking a pebble out of his hand, Cassandra flicked it at the bushes. A bird shot out of it, startled. “Either of them…are fine,” she answered slowly. “Conner, then Jon?”

 Et tu, Brutus? Damian turned to Cassandra as she tossed yet another pebble with pinpoint accuracy. He should have realized earlier that they were all after his job, that there was no one here he could trust.

 “Ah, Conner takes it on for a little before giving it to Jon.” Stephanie nodded sagely. “True, that’s also in the running.” Her hair fell in front of her as a flyby occurred and she quickly pushed back her golden locks. “You know Jon actually hangs out with them?” Wrapping an arm around Damian’s shoulder, she bemoaned, “Why can’t our baby be so friendly?”

 “It would be…weird,” Cassandra pointed out, getting up now. She patted him on the back. “He is…different.”

 “Who is?” Kara landed on the ground, her hair looking like a wild nest. It seemed being Kryptonian didn’t protect them entirely from physics.

 “Damian, but you already knew that.” Stephanie retreated before he could attack her. “What’s up?”

 Kara glared at him before smiling at Stephanie. “A race! We’ll each pick one of you up and see who can fly the fastest. So, Steph or Cass?”

 “Cass!” Stephanie volunteered, leaning against Cassandra. “I’ve had plenty of flights. It’s a sacrifice, but someone has to do it.”

 “Sacrifice.” Tim rolled his eyes. “You just don’t want to mess your hair.”

 “Both things can be true.” She stuck her tongue out.

 By now, Jon and Conner had landed as well, standing next to Damian and Tim respectively. Conner smirked cockily. “We’ve got this in the bag.”

 “Yeah, we did this every day in the Teen Titans.” Tim high-fived Conner. “It’ll be too easy.”

 “Oh, just you wait and see!” Kara stood next to Cassandra, wrapping an arm around her shoulders. “I’ve practiced.”

 “We’ll win!” Jon declared, grabbing Damian’s hand. Leaning closer, he whispered, “And no matter what, you’re my Batman.”

 “Huh?” Damian tried to look at Jon but before he could, he was already in the air and the race had started.

 On that day, Damian discovered that his stomach was both stronger and weaker than he’d expected.  

 -x-

 At nine pm, it was dark. Dark in a different way than Gotham got—for all the narrow alleys and forgotten warehouses, it was never truly devoid of light. Whether it was a flickering streetlamp or the semi-blocked lights of an office, there was light somewhere.

 Here, though, in the middle of nowhere, it was pitch dark. Damian could just make out Jon’s figure sitting next to him. The others, still sitting near the barbeque a short distance away, were impossible to see. The only thing visible were the stars above, as disgustingly bright as ever. Somehow, the sky never turned truly dark, a thing he had forgotten. It had been too long since he’d been in the desert, since he’d left the city behind.

 “I’m glad you came.” Even without looking, he knew Jon was smiling. He was always smiling, always moving, always something, like his face didn’t know how not express his emotions, like his body would combust if he stayed still.

 Damian didn’t bother to reply. Leaning forward on the dock edge, he skimmed his shoe against the still waters, watching the dark ripples warp the galaxy below. The only thing rivalling the stars were the fireflies drifting lazily nearby, yellow spots against the black.

 Unfazed (and Damian didn’t want to think about when that happened, about when Jon stopped getting angry at his silence and just accepted it), Jon rested his hand on Damian’s, threading their fingers together. It was an oddly intimate sensation. Damian didn’t mind it for some reason. “It’s a lot more fun when you’re around. I wish you didn’t have to leave tomorrow.”

 This time, Jon’s stare was expectant. Damian glanced at him, then back at the fireflies. “It wasn’t a complete waste,” he muttered, a half-truth. Perhaps there was something to vacations, but he loathed to admit it.

 Jon laughed, seeing through him. “Knew you’d like it here.”

 Feeling a little prickly, Damian glared at him. “Don’t act like you know—”

 “But I’m right, aren’t I?” When Damian didn’t say anything, Jon leaned closer. “I know you.”

 Before Damian could react, Jon’s lips were on his cheek, a warm pressure that was all too temporarily. His jaw fell slack. His skin burned. For once, his words failed him and he felt like a simpleton.

 “If I knew that’d shut you up, I’d have done it ages ago.” Jon smirked, looking playful.

 “Jon!” Pa Kent yelled. “We’re making smores.”

 “Save me some chocolate!”

 And just like that, Jon leaped to his feet, dashing away, and Damian still didn’t know what to say.

 -x-

 The roof was empty when he sat on it. Cassandra wasn’t there to give advice. Jon wasn’t there, laughing as he strung together stars like they were the pearls, creating tapestries on the sky above. There was just complete and utter silence, just as Damian preferred.

 While his skin had cooled down, his heart hadn’t, and he tried to meditate. Crossing his legs, he emptied his mind. Jon’s lips had been soft. He emptied his mind. His hand was rough. He emptied his mind. Jon—

 And maybe he had been wrong before; it was too late for himself. He’d been infected by all these damnable people around him, to the point he had actually considered asking Tim Drake of all people for advice. Friendship, family, love—

 It was too late. He had all of them and as loathe as he was to let them in, he was even worse about letting them go.

 -x-

 “So.” The confident Jon of yesterday was gone, leaving a more nervous boy in its wake. He was constantly fidgeting, his eyes darting all over like he didn’t know where to look. Judging by the bags under his eyes, he probably hadn’t slept.

 Good. He deserved a little suffering for leaving like that, for forcing Damian to think about his feelings. “So?” he drawled out, relishing in the little flinch Jon gave.

 They were standing in front of the Kent’s house, in the cool morning air. For the first time in two weeks, the sun wasn’t beating down on him and Damian couldn’t wait to return to the air conditioning of the Wayne manor. Already, the others were packing up the car, leaving only him and Jon to say their goodbyes.

 Or, well, whatever it was that Jon was trying to say. Damian tapped his foot on the ground, raising a brow when Jon didn’t say anything.

 “See you later?” Jon managed weakly.

 Sighing, Damian tossed him a bone. “Even a stopped clock is right twice. This vacation wasn’t terrible, I’m not adverse to doing it again. However, we are making this up with double the amount of work when we get back.”

 Jon blinked. “You still want to be partners?”

 Damian nodded. “Yes, I thought you had superhearing?”

 “And the other thing?” Jon asked, stepping closer.

 It took all of Damian’s willpower to not step back, not even when Jon was close enough to touch, to kiss. Feeling a familiar flush on the back of his neck, he coughed and looked away. “That…that was fine too.”

 “Really?” Jon’s voice was filled with an earnest hope and Damian’s stomach flip-flopped.

 “Don’t make me repeat it,” Damian growled, feeling uncharacteristically flustered.

 “Damian!” That was the only warning he got before Jon’s arms were around him once more, his lips pressed against his own. Behind him, he heard a bag drop and of all the people to bear witness to this, it had to be the morons in his family.

 It was hard to pay attention to both them and Jon, to the pure joy that radiated off his—Damian didn’t know what to call Jon anymore. Friend didn’t feel appropriate. Whatever it was, he’d figure it out later, when they were alone and they didn’t have the peanut gallery around. Gingerly, he wrapped an arm around Jon, pulling him closer. When they finally parted to take a breath, he glared at Jon. “Did you have to do it in front of them?”

 “That’s your first response?” Jon grinned, leaning close to kiss him on the nose. Reluctantly letting go, Jon stepped back. “See you in a week.”

 “Like I’m letting you off the hook that easily,” Damian grumbled, pretty sure his entire face was red now. While he took after his mother, his brown skin could only hide so much, and unfortunately his carmates eyes were sharper than most.

 Ignoring the stares, he marched to the car and plunked himself into the front passenger seat. He was not going to deal with Stephanie’s teasing a second time around, not when she had more ammo. At least Drake would have to keep his eyes on the road.

 -x-

 The entire car ride back was filled with Tim and Stephanie singing, “Damian and Jon, sitting in a tree, K-I-S-S-I-N-G.”

 Damian had never been more tempted to kill.

#damijon #damian wayne #Jonathan Kent #robin #batman #superboy #fanfic #dc comics

[frutavel]

I picked up minecraft more seriously now as I'm sure you've noticed, and I think I posted about it here but I was documenting my newest adventure with the intent of writing about Tari and Sama trying to survive in minecraft

Well I'm not sure if I'm going to write it after all, but I still have all my notes and I think it's got some comedic potential so I'm posting them here, from when I first spawned in the world up until I stopped keeping track of things about three weeks later :D

I started mixing in Tari and Sama's POVs at some point, but everything noted here are things that for real happened to me while I was playing!

Under the cut because it's A Lot ^^

- Spawned by mushroom trees

- White horses everywhere

- Gather a little bit of meat and wool

- Find and kill some chickens

- Dig a hole in the ground

- Barricade the hole

- Fear.png

- Noises

- Survive the night intact

- Go out early to look for resources

- Find island

- B E E S

- Gather wood and resources

- Go back to the hole, begin talk of building on the island

- Go to the island

- B E E S v2

- Make beds

- Start building house on a lil hill

- Foundation layer done

- Creeper blows up half the hill

- Repair

- Go out get more food and wood

- Finish house

- Creeper blows up again but this time with more damage

- Trouble with skeletons, almost die

- Repair

- Find a cave

- Worry about building this close to cave, start talk of moving away

- Go explore cave to see what's up

- Gather coal and iron

- Find enderman stuck in cave, release enderman, almost die to enderman

- Spread lanterns and torches around house and cave

- Monsters seem to have given up

- Mood has been lightened

- Explore neighborhood

- Find pumpkins and more food

- Happyness ensues

- Make boat, go exploring by boat

- Tari doesn't come back until next morning bc he almost died while exploring by boat

- Come back w news of a village nearby and more food

- Make a furnace

- Make farm

- Tari stays home watching furnace

- Sama handles farm

- Things going good

- Decide to expand house

- Go hunting for wood

- Find more mushrooms

- Get home late at night very scared but everything is okay

- Mushroom soup babey

- Things seem good

- Go to bed, wake up next morning and go check on farm

- Creeper blows up the farm, half the house and almost kills Samaela

- Panic.png

- "Lead the way Taran-Zhu" he said "Let the healing begin"

- Samaela stays unconscious for a couple days while Tari does repairs

- Realizes they built right on top of cave system

- Samaela wakes up eventually

- Start talk about moving somewhere else again but for real this time

- Begin gathering resources

- Begin making planks for the building

- Take bed, take boat, begin looking for another place to build

- Go to oak tree forest, survey area

- Find big clearing of sand by trees

- Fear farming there won't work, move on

- Find big clearing on top of hill a little aways away

- Worry about exposure, scout nearby woods

- Very dark woods

- Like, really fucking dark

- Dark as shit but no caves nearby

- Spoke too soon, found a cave

- Woods are very dense, worry about getting lost after dark

- Clearing on top of hill seems like best option, unsure as to whether they should go farther

- Decide to hop on boat and keep going

- Find sea turtles, immediately forget sea turtles

- See desert biome, remember village, wonder if maybe building next to village is a good idea

- It's a desert so no

- Also kinda scared of the villagers

- Wonder about other biomes, keep going

- Find little swampy like area with lillypads and weeping willows

- Interest piqued , explore further via river

- Looks like a new biome but vibes are a little weird, keep going

- Row in between very tall mountains

- Starts getting dark, river gets too shallow to continue, make camp for the night, sleep with no issues

- Wake up feeling okay, dig a little bit around the riverbed to make room for boat

- Get on boat and continue exploring

- Row row row the boat gently down the stream

- Find another village, hang around village for a bit, move on

- Little spot accross the river from village seems nice

- There's sheep and cows and pigs, and it's close to the village if they need help

- And it must be safe if the villagers settled here

- Take a closer look around area

- Find cave

- Cave entrance is chock full of coal and iron

- Mine away babey

- Actually make it all the way down the bottom

- Cave is not that big and there are no monsters inside

- Get all surface level minerals

- Bags filled with coal go back to the surface

- It's night

- Panic

- Make quick camp at mouth of cave

- Sleep and wake up fine

- Decide to explore more of area

- Find another cave nearby

- This one looks big

- Bags are full no space for new things

- Tari wants to be closer to sea, Sama is torn

- Sama likes being close to the village

- They decide to build a temporary house near village

- Temporary becomes permanent

- Start laying the foundation and prepare to transfer things from the old house to the new

- Spend a fuckton of time building new house

- Really a fuckton

- Run out of dark oak wood, take boat and go back to oak tree and giant mushroom forest

- Very far away

- Chop until axe breaks, load up boat with wood, go back home

- Build build build buld

- For story purposes Tari says he's going to try and go farther to see if he can find more resources, Sama stays behind to build

- House almost done

- Starts setting glass for glass roof

- Finished the glass go to finish roof

- Runs out of wood again

- Sama goes to oak trees alone

- Woods spooky

- Gets wood

- Go home with no problem

- Tari came home aya!

- Finish house together

- Enjoy a nice evening on the roof

- Wake up next morning bc noises

- Enderman got inside

- Fuck

- Try to coax it out

- It gets angry, Tari gets badly injured but they manage to kill it

- Tari's turn to be in bedrest

- Sama tucks him in the glass room and goes downstairs

- Sees creeper creeping by the window

- War flashbacks

- Sneaks outside, gets it to blow up without damaging the house

- Goes to inspect the damage, sees pillagers in distance, chooses to not engage and pray they'll go away

- Tense day

- Pillagers keep lurking but don't do anything

- Go to bed

- Pillagers still there next morning

- Go fight them

- Success

- Go back hoping no more show up

- Decide to begin farm

- Farmwork has begun successfully

- Put out some lights, make some bone meal for the next morning and go to bed

- Wake up next morning, skeleton got inside

- Is killed easily but at the cost of Samaela's mental health

- She put in so much work on this house and doesn't wanna have to leave again

- Deep breaths

- Go outside to check the situation

- No more monsters around thankfully

- Bone meal helps get started on wheat which is nice

- Harvest wheat

- Put a little staircase in front of door

- It serves no real purpose but makes things feel a little better

- Plus it looks pretty

- Needs more minerals

- Go to cave

- Instant regret

- Skeleton and zombie climb out but catch fire as soon as they go in the light

- Okay

- Go in

- Cave has a little waterfall in it

- Lotsa iron and coal

- Creeper blows itself up

- Go in a littke deeper

- Growling and moaning everywhere but no sign of monsters

- Light up the place and start mining

- Find bottom of cave, nowhere near as deep as previously thought

- Calm.png

- Mine away like there's no tomorrow

- Growling intensifies

- Take a brief peek at mouth of cave and see that it's night

- Forgot to bring bed

- No sense going outside now when monsters are up

- Continue mining and hope for the best

- Water from waterfall sounds soothing

- Growling doesn't stop

- Wonder if they can hear her mining below

- Minerals no longer appearing

- Go back to mouth of cave and wait for sunrise

- Go outside, see creeper

- Fuck it kill

- It blows up and hurts her but she finds coal in the crater so it's not that bad

- Drags herself back home with tons of coal just as it starts raining

- Passes out

- Wakes up in bed

- Tari bounced back way faster that she did

- Damn troll regeneration

- He takes over for now

- Handles things inside while it rains

- Smelts some iron, crafts some lanterns

- They're out of wood again

- Also running low on food

- He leaves Sama with as many torches and lanterns as she'll take and goes off to the oak forest

- Gathers as many mushrooms as he can

- Chops wood until his axe breaks

- Suns starts going down, mad boat dash back home

- Makes it just a little after dark

- Deep breaths

- Time to plank the wood and make mushroom soup

- Things quiet down

- Spider gets in next morning

- Kill it with fire

- Discover that the reason mobs keep getting inside is because they forgot to put glass in one of the windows

- Fix that asap

- Deep breaths

- Wheat garden going well, decide to expand farm

- Get cows

- Get chickens

- Get sheep

- House is finished, wheat is growing, farm is working, Sama is healing

- They both go on a long long trek into the woods to pick flowers

- Go home with a fuckton of flowers

- Get wool from their sheep

- Make dye with flowers

- Make wool carpets for stargazing room and everywhere else

- Fill house with lanterns

- Things are good things are great

- Explore nearby caves with no issue

- Decide to make a basement

- They have time and resources to kill

- Begin digging

- Find iron and coal while digging the basement which is very fun

- Basement almost finished after a couple days

- Trader shows up

- Nothing to trade

- Trader hangs out until night

- Survives the monsters and keeps hanging around

- Finish basement

- Put beds in basement and make an exit that leads outside the house

- Sama hangs some chains around because why not

- Put chests and furnaces on basement

- Things going good

I did some other stuff after the basement, but I stopped takin notes at this point. Hope it was an entertaining read :D

#blabbles #lemme know what you think of my adventure skdhaodhdld #i am not very good at this game #also my house is very ugly because I didn't know how to decor it but i' working on that #it has three stories and the basement tho so is very spacious #i might post screenshots of it if you guys are interested ^^ #minecraft #oc:zantari #oc:samaela

[doctortreklock]

AU-gust 29 - Tattoo Parlor AU

For this. On AO3.

Every time Carlos thought he had a handle on Night Vale, something else would happen that would throw him for a loop.

Like the day he’d come home from lab, carrying his mandatory Big Rico’s take-out, to find a piece of paper about the size of a postcard pinned to his front door with what looked like an obsidian arrowhead. The paper itself was jet black and glossy to match. When he tilted it just right under an ultraviolet light, however, a message appeared in thin, spidery handwriting.

On your 343rd day in Night Vale, you will receive your citizenship card. Please present yourself under the third streetlight from the left on Elysium Lane at 10:14pm precisely.

You will be collected.

It wasn’t the most ominous note he’d gotten since he’d moved to Night Vale, not by a long shot. No, that honor had to go to a torn piece of notebook paper that had been slid under his door one night and had simply had IT IS COMING written on it in blood. So this one was tame by comparison.

Time-keeping was a rather tricky undertaking in Night Vale, what with the City Council cancelling Wednesdays on a whim and that one time all the clocks had run backwards for twelve hours, leading to the question of whether the day had even happened. (Later consensus had agreed that the day in question had, in fact, happened, though the following day had not.)

Luckily, Carlos was a Scientist, and he’d been keeping a careful journal of each day (or equivalent period) since he’d arrived (making sure to keep his illicit pen collection out of sight of the Secret Police). So he sat at his kitchen table and slowly made his way through the pile of wheat-free pizza cubes he’d brought home and tried to count up how many days he’d been in Night Vale.

He came to the conclusion that today had been the 342nd day since he’d arrived, which meant he’d be getting his citizenship card tomorrow. Splendid. He hadn’t been looking forward to finding out what would happen if he missed his appointment.

Carlos cleaned up from dinner and went to bed.

The next day, he went into the lab and did some Science. Then he came home, carefully set three different alarms (in case time stopped working again), and took a nap.

Just before a quarter past ten that night, he was standing under a dim streetlight on Elysium Lane, trying not to fidget too badly.

“You’re on time.”

The low, smooth voice came from just over his shoulder, and Carlos jumped, looking back to see where it had come from.

There was a man there - or a man-shaped being at any rate - with a shock of silver hair that seemed to glow in the muted light.

“Come with me.” He turned and walked out of the faint spotlight.

Carlos cautiously followed. He was never sure what to expect in Night Vale, but following instructions hadn’t led him astray yet. He trailed the man down the street and around the corner. The third building over was a small storefront, and the man entered without a backward glance. Carlos looked around, but didn’t see anyone else. He opened the door and slipped inside.

The man was nowhere to be seen.

Carlos’s eyes flickered from one shadowy corner of the room to the other, but he didn’t see a tall, thin figure with silver hair anywhere. Then he blinked and looked around again, actually registering where he was standing.

It looked like a tattoo parlor. Carlos had never been in one, but he’d seen a couple reality shows before he’d come to Night Vale that had featured terrible tattoos and the parlors that tried to fix them.

In the thin light filtering in the windows from the functioning streetlights outside, Carlos could see a gleaming counter in front of him. There were chairs under the window to his left in what looked like the sort of waiting area he’d expect to see at a barber shop or the doctor’s office. Behind the counter was something that resembled a well-padded dentist’s chair. Carlos eyed it with trepidation.

Abruptly, the lights in the room came on all at once, and Carlos squinted against the sudden brightness. After a moment of rapid blinking while his eyes struggled to adjust, he could look across the room to the doorway where the man had reappeared.

He stood there, watching Carlos with a smile dancing around his mouth. His hair still looked silver, but in the light Carlos could see that it was more of a silver-blond than a silver-grey, lending the man a younger appearance that was somewhere around Carlos’s own age. His white dress shirt was rolled up to his elbows and he was wearing a deep purple tie and a charcoal grey vest that seemed tailored to him.

He was also watching Carlos with dark eyes behind thick-rimmed glasses.

Carlos cleared his throat, distressingly aware of the flush that threatened to surface whenever he looked at the man too closely. “Good evening.”

“Welcome, Carlos the Scientist.” His voice was still low and smooth, but it was also warm and almost...congenial?

“Um. Can you tell me why I’m here? I believe the note said something about my citizenship card?” He struggled to keep from shifting his weight.

“Yes.” The man’s face twisted into a brilliant smile. “If you’ll just come over here please.” He led Carlos around the counter to the dentist’s chair.

Carlos eyed it nervously. He’d never had a high pain tolerance, which had put a quick kibosh on any thoughts he’d had in college of getting a tattoo. So he wasn’t looking forward to it now.

Although he was just assuming the evening was going to end in a tattoo. Maybe it really was a dentist’s chair and this painfully attractive man was going to give him a root canal.

He sat down in it gingerly. This was Night Vale, and he had no illusions about the sort of oddities he could expect from anything in the town that appeared innocuous. When nothing bit him or growled or oozed, he relaxed into the padding.

The man sat down on a stool next to him and looked into Carlos’s eyes from an intimate eighteen inches away. His eyes were purple, Carlos noted. They matched his tie. And his glasses.

“Give me your hand,” the man said.

Carlos reached out but stopped himself just before putting his hand in the man’s waiting grasp. “Will I get it back?” he asked warily. It never hurt to ask.

“It’s Tuesday,” the man agreed. Which wasn’t reassuring, but was enough for now. Carlos nodded and settled his hand into the man’s cradled palms.

He took hold of Carlos’s fingers with one hand and used the other to begin tracing curving shapes up Carlos’s wrist and forearm with his finger.

Carlos was about to ask what he was doing, but stopped. There was a curve of ink that appeared under the man’s rolled sleeve as he moved. Carlos watched, transfixed, hoping to see more. He had never found tattoos attractive on their own before, but he was already beginning to reevaluate their merit.

Slowly, more of the line became visible. A few seconds later, however, Carlos realized that it wasn’t because the sleeve had shifted, but because the tattoo was moving. He gasped.

“Hmm?” The man looked up from Carlos’s arm to see his expression. “Ah.” He kept hold of Carlos’s hand, but used his free hand to poke at the skin just under the edge of his cuff. “Are you going to come out now and say hello?”

If he were anywhere else in the world, Carlos would say he was going mad. He was in Night Vale, however, so it seemed perfectly reasonable to see a curve of ink cautiously, almost shyly, poke itself out from under the curve of the man’s shirt sleeve and unfurl on the blank skin of his forearm.

“Hi, there,” Carlos said softly. He wasn’t sure why, but he desperately wanted the man’s tattoos to like him.

At his words, the ink froze, then started uncoiling at a more rapid clip. Inked tentacles and stylized geometry spread across the skin until the man had lines of dark ink covering his forearm from elbow to wrist.

“It’s beautiful,” Carlos said. He looked up in wonder to find the man watching him, warmth in his eyes.

“I’m glad you think so.” His voice was impossibly deep. “Because you’ll have your own set very soon.”

Carlos made the connection. “My citizenship card?”

He hummed. “Exactly. Much more difficult to lose than a flimsy piece of plastic.”

He appeared satisfied with whatever invisible sketches he’d been making on Carlos’s arm and slid away on his stool, releasing Carlos’s fingers. Carlos watched the gently waving tentacles move out of his range of vision.

He could hear the clatter of metal, and only the man’s absentminded humming kept him grounded and in the chair.

Then he slid back into view, tattoo gun in hand.

“Are you ready, Carlos the Scientist?” the man asked solemnly.

“Yes,” Carlos said firmly. Then, “What’s your name, by the way? I don’t think I ever caught it.”

He looked surprised by the question. “Cecil. Cecil Palmer.” He smiled. “Welcome to Night Vale.”

#AUgust 2020 #tattoo parlor au #tattoo au #this...actually ended up being what was on the tag #wtnv #welcome to night vale #night vale #cecil palmer #cecil's tatoos #cecilos #carlos x cecil #this is actually my first night vale fic guys