#if you tag this as ship I will personally come to your house and stomp you to death with my hooves

[galaxy-lilies]

Happy Halloween!

#if you tag this as ship I will personally come to your house and stomp you to death with my hooves #indiedraws #tubbo mcyt #tubbo #tommyinnit #tommyinit fanart #tubbo fanart #mcyt tommyinnit #halloween #happy halloween #tubbee #ghostinnit #ghost tommyinnit #ghost tommy

[ohmysparkle]

Spellbound intro III

🌙 Pairing: Hyunjin (Stray Kids) x Reader

🌙 Genre: Dark Fantasy AU, Mystery, smut.

🌙 Teaser Length: 3K

🌙 Warnings: Blood, bodily injury, cannibalism in this chapter. For the series overall, smut, gore, witchcraft, religious themes.

🌙✨Tag List: @xviternity @straykisz @97lovestay (unable to tag)

✧･ﾟ:･ﾟ *✧･ﾟ. ✨ . *: ･ﾟ 🌙 * ･ﾟ✧ * : ･ﾟ✧. ✨･ﾟ.*.✧

It’s smouldering hot, and the once neatly dressed man that stands on the corner of the street has now soiled his white clothes with sweat. The beads shimmer on his dark skin, and he rubs at his brows, to remove the tension as well as to wipe the perspiration before it falls to his eyes.

He’s had enough. If the man he waits for doesn't come to him, then he shall go to look.

The first person to ask is only a few steps away. He stomps past his own - empty - storefront and enters the following shop, the butcher’s shop precisely.

“Eustace!” The sweaty man calls, awaiting for a dimwit in his 20’s with a curly head of hair to appear. The front stall is empty, but somewhere in the back he hears a clang before his call is answered.

“Ji - Jiggly? What can I help you with today?” Eustace replies in confusion.

“Your brother is late.” Says the man, rather matter-of-factly.

“Hmm.” Eustace thinks, for longer than necessary, “He should have been by yours a while ago.”

“Yes - I know that, which is why I’ve come here to tell you he’s late. It’s almost ten o'clock and I’ve yet to finish the filling for the meat pies - they wont be done in time for lunch unless Emerson shows up now.”

“Well…” Eustace thinks. The impatient man pauses at the worrying thought that he, the older of the two brothers, is somehow to inherit the family business. It’s not a match for his mind.

“Eustace - could you call your father to figure out how much longer the delivery will take?”

“Oh, dad’s not at the other shop. Emerson was only going in today to pick up the day’s delivery orders.”

“So you don’t know where he is?”

“I really have no idea.”

“Ah - goodness Eustace, does that not bother you in the least?”

The man storms out from the butcher's place, mumbling and grunting to himself, making his way to the corner once more to see if Emerson has made an appearance. He looks over the bend, down a block to where the road runs along the shore of the lake - nothing.

It’s getting late, and he’s sure his clientele would not appreciate the absence of his meat pies.

The lake, glistening in that cool morning sun…

Just how desperate was he to find Emerson?

“Why do they talk to you like that?” Jiggly asks you, clothed in your usual black, but in thinner fabrics to allow for the breeze to cool you on that one summer day.

“Like what?” You ask him.

“Well - they actually talk for starters. And they’re kinda nice, don’t look like they’ll bite you.” He says, watching in awe as you gently take the hand of each of the ladies in the water as a greeting.

“Jiggly… look. Mermaids, sirens, think of them as regular leg people. Do you walk up to a person on the street and gawk? No. Do you slowly socialize until they are acquainted with you? Yes. Just come down and make small talk from time to time and they’ll get along with you just fine.”

“But don’t they eat people?!”

“Well… they could, but I brought them apples so I guess they’re not really hungry now.”

“Apples? That’s all it took?” He looks at the three wet ladies, sitting upon the small embankment that piled onto the paved sidewalk. “Just apples?”

“Well… fruit in general they tend to like. I always start with apples, nobody has dietary issues with apples. Sometimes I make them some food too.” One of the ladies, with long hair that winds and circles around her body covering her figure along with some small white garments, strokes your calf as if she were petting a cat. It all seemed so bizarre, the water women were always so angry, hissing and growling, baring sharp teeth and nails.

“They’re fond of physical contact once they trust you.” You explain, taking a bite of one of your spare apples. Another lady, a younger, girlish one, pokes at your thigh as you are about to eat more. You roll your eyes and relinquish the apple to her.

“I’m not taking chances.”

“You underestimate how helpful they are. They can go from one side of the lake in a minute, they share everything they hear with one another, they travel the oceans. If you’re on their good side, they might just let you submit some mermail to them.

“Mermail?” Jiggly is in awe, it’s like the two of you were in two different realities with you always saying things that stunned him so.

“Yeah, mer-mail… mermail? Get it? Like, put a message in a bottle and they’ll ship it to wherever you need so long as it's close to a body of water?” You elaborate.

“Yeah, yeah - I know what it is. I just didn’t think it was… real.”

“Ha!” You snort. You turn around to the water ladies, saying something in an older language he does not recognize - they seem to understand it though, and laugh along with you.

“Jiggly… mermail is real.” You deadpan. “It’s not like… a myth or anything.”

“Mail?”

“Yes… well, packages, letters, messages… ”

“What do you pay them with? I thought the mermaids didn’t use money.”

“Eh, they sometimes do. But all it’ll cost you is kindness, or maybe a little favor. They’ll do plenty of little favors if you just give them a little kindness in return. Real nice sense of community they’ve got…”

Kindness…

He had that. What he lacked for this specific task was confidence.

But there they are, just a couple of them. Young girls, in their early teens, wearing some dry cloth sheets over their bodies to break the ever chilling wind, just enjoying the morning sun as they etched pebbles with tools, most likely to make some jewelry, as they sat on the edge of the footpath with their feet hanging over the surface of the lake.

“Ehem… hello?” The man cautiously says, his voice nearly cracking due to the uncertainty. He is at a loss of words, just momentarily, when they return a gaze with their bulbous, unnaturally blue eyes. The irises nearly gone, it was like staring into water itself.

“Hello?” He says, closer this time.

“Hssss.” one of them hisses at him, like a cat, baring her small sharp teeth.

The other one pats her shoulder to silence her, and raises her hand to beckon the man over.

He approaches fearfully.

“Hi.” The calmer girl says, staying put. Her voice is quiet and hoarse, almost whisper-like, just like all the other women who lived in the waters. You had once explained it to him, it’s because they were sometimes unused to speaking above water, and they often had accents of old languages, now that newer ones weren’t quite common below.

“I’m Jiggy - the baker.” He says trying to be as personable as possible. “You might remember my friend… Dr. Nemo.”

The girl nods politely. Good.

“She told me you might be able to do me a little favor. If you want I can make you anything for lunch in return.” He was trying to smile, in a friendly neighborly way, not in a creepy man in his thirties way.

“Lunch?” The polite fish girl asks.

“Yes!” He sings, almost like some character from a children's program.

“Fish?”

“No, I don’t carry fish.” Did he ruin it? Did they only eat fish?

“Pork? Bacon.” She says again.

“Yeesss…” He does his best friendly-dinosaur impression.

“Yes. Bacon.” She looks at the girl that had hissed, and she nods in return after a brief moment of silent conversation. “What… do you need?”

“Well… you might know the man that drives the meat truck.”

“Stupid man?” The polite girl says in her funny voice.

“Yeeesss… the stupid man.” Clever girl. “Could you ask around and find out where he is? He’s late and I need him to bring me my cuts of meat.”

“Where? Where do we look?” It was a good question… Emerson only delivers between two neighborhoods.

“Eastbend by the Shore!” He points to the area further up along this same side of the lake. Over there the houses are smaller, climbing up the sloping hills. It's cooler from all the trees, and that is where the slaughterhouse of Edwin & Sons lies - and where Emerson should be stalling.

“Right over there!” Jiggly points, nearly seeing the white roof of the taller building among the quaint brick houses. “Right over - AHH!” Something in his hand pinches every bit of his attention.

Chomp!

He looks down to the pinching and blunt pain on his hand - it was the hissing girl biting him! Latched on to one of his fat fingers with her sharp teeth - the audacity!

He tries to pull his hand away, and it's like he can hear it, a rip. The girl's pale, veiny face is suddenly painted by a splatter of blood that she’s made the flesh release, gushing from his index finger, an arc of red liquid painting a line from her mouth to her forehead. Her furious blue eyes, still trained on his hand, almost satisfied at the outpour.

“Aaaaaaaaahh!” He shrieks, a long piercing howl.

The polite girl begins to scold the other, Jiggly can hardly comprehend, but when she smacks her companion across the head it does not make the hold of her jaw relent. It only makes his skin drag further from his bone.

If he moves back she’ll rip it off, if he pulls closer she might latch her bite further up. He is paralized, his entire body feels pins and needles from the panic, but it begins and ends with his one, bitten finger.

Smack! The polite girl smacks the other right across the forehead, one last time and now the girl lets her jaw slack. The man holds his hand up, shrieks once more as he sees his bone beneath the torn and bleeding skin. Even against his dark fingers, the blood is so red and so bright, so so bright. No translucency at all, just a solid red, redder than anything he had seen before. But there, a peek of something pale within the digit - and he could feel it; the bone.

The girls bicker and argue.

“Fucking fishy!” He cries at her.

“Lunch!” The bloodied girl cries. She goes back to smacking her lips, picking at her teeth with her tongue as if there were flesh stuck between her teeth. There probably was.

“It - it’s the baker! Come help!” a man yells behind him, having been attracted by the screams. There is a clamor of feet approaching the scene.

Jiggly turns, men approach him from behind, the girls swat and slap at each other in front of him, his finger bleeds.

“Jiggly! What happened?” He recognizes the voice. It's the captain of the cadets from this side of the lake, a handsome man that seems to eat too many of his croissants for the size of his waist, one of his very best customers. But alas, here he is, running as he does daily, with all of the young recruits in training panting behind him as he stands there with barely a mist of a sweat on his face.

As he turns to face the handsome man, he can hear a growl from one of the girls behind him.

“My fi-finger.” He chokes out, an airy whimper making up his words. ”Hal… She bit my finger.” he says, pointing at her bloody face with his bloody hands.

The man is of the unflinching kind, bats his eyes as he pieces it all together, but he doesn’t react with any repulsion.

“Does anyone have a clean towel?” He yells at the cadets. Someone hands it to him and he expertly wraps Jiggly’s hand. “You all, keep going. I’m taking him to the doctor.”

“Doctor…” Jiggly ponders, too distracted by his bleeding finger.

“Are you feeling lightheaded?” Hal questions. “I’m taking you over to your friend, Dr. Nemo.”

It’s a few blocks of his dazed stumbling. He didn't notice what happened to the fish girls, or the cadets, or how long it took him to get there. All he knows is that suddenly he is at the steps of your clinic, the big dark blue door looking over him and Hal firmly holding his side..

And as if you sensed it, even before Hal could let go of the cloth he pressed to his hand to knock, you open the door. There, above them, in your usual dark and neat attire.

“What happened?” You inquire.

“Doc! Jiggly’s had an accident.” Hal explains.

You usher for him to come inside, Jiggly feels as if he levitates as the muscular, but gentle, man guides him up.

“Just sit him down somewhere.” You say absentmindedly, grabbing things from the many cabinets and shelves. “Caro! We have a patient.” You shout for your apprentice. The girl would usually come down sooner.

“Yes Miss Nemo!” She politely replies, eager to attend however she can. Until she sees who it is and lets out a gasp. “Jiggles!” She calls in awe, seeing his bloodstained clothes.

“What happened to him?” You ask Hal, seeing that Caro has now taken to applying pressure to Jiggly’s hand.

“I think one of the younger water women bit him…” He ponders. He stands a little too close to you. You can basically smell him, the sheen of perspiration… his dark red locks dampened and slicked back, the muscles in his neck and arms exposed so handsomely.

Focus!

“Siren or mermaid?” You ask.

“I think… mermaid.” Hal replies, unsure.

“Did she have the weird eyes?” You ask.

“Her face was covered in blood, I didn’t really notice if -”

“Yes!” Jiggly shouts from his seat at your small breakfast table. “Horrible eyes, horrible child.”

“Child?” you purse your lips, Caro even lets out a giggle. “How bad could she have bitten you?”

As you set the items on the table beside him, Caro slowly unwraps the bloody rag… and - it’s quite awful.

“Ha!” You laugh, a hearty laugh, Caro eventually joins in. “A child did this to you?!”

“She was feral and - uuaaahh!” He whines again. You had taken advantage of his distraction to pour antiseptic onto his wound, your apprentice dabs at it with some clean linens.

“Shouldn't we put him on one of the tables?” Hal quips.

“Eh, this seems pretty basic. Right Caro?” The girl doesn't reply, being hyper focused on her task, the bloody hand, the bloody rag, the bloody linen. “Caro, I said; this seems pretty basic, right?” you say more sternly.

She blinks back to reality, “Yes Miss, quite simple.”

“See? Just a few stitches and some healing goo and he’ll be good.” You tell Hal, placing a hand on his chest, quite firm and… toned, to push him back gently. You needed the space, he was too close for comfort, as usual.

“Miss… stitches or, do you think we could use the good stuff?” Caro suggests… ah yes, expensive magical healing ointments.

“Fine… just a little should be enough.” You conceded, after all he was the most popular baker on the lake, and you weren’t sure how happy the townsfolk would be with his being out of commission.

Hal once more, is upon you… it’s a bad habit of his that you’ve tried to quell. And he is never subtle, which you wouldn’t particularly mind if he weren’t so keen on doing so in public.

“You know, I’ve gotten a letter from my cousin.” He says, “She sends her regards, inquires about you.”

“Your cousin, the demon hunter?” Jiggly buds in, and for a moment, you wish to chastise Hal for his lack of prudence. “How does Doc know her? Isn’t she halfway around the world?”

He stutters, not knowing how to answer Jiggly’s question. How indeed does he explain to Jiggly that you are acquainted with his cousin, who is a local legend but has not returned to the area in quite a few years, that you know her despite never having been in town at the same time as you?

He regrets his insolence. How could he have said that so easily?

“I don't. We don't know each other at all.” you reply, with a special and strange tone.

“But he just said you did.” Jiggly argues.

“No he didn’t.” A little more charmingly.

“He didn’t?” Caro tenses as Jiggly resists, but she continues to treat his wound.

“He didn’t. He hasn’t mentioned anything about his cousin at all.” It takes a moment for your words to sink in, but slowly, they do.

“That’s right… Hal hasn’t said anything about that.”

“Precisely Jiggly, he hasn’t said anything at all.” You reply contently once you see him nod with a distant daze in his eyes. As soon as Jiggly’s attention is diverted by your apprentice, you look back to Hal.

“You lack prudence.” You sternly whisper, making sure Jiggly is unaware. “Leave - and make sure he gets home.”

“I - forgive me. It slipped, and I -”

“Don’t make any mention of it to him - ever again. Not to anyone.”

“I won’t.”

“You are the only person in this damn place that knows, and I guarantee you do not want to be responsible for it getting out.” You cut him off before he can respond. “Caro, are you done?”

“Yes Miss, just about!”

“Good. Jiggly, Hal will take you home. Let your hand rest for today but you should be fine tomorrow.”

Caro quickly ushers them out, and once the door is closed behind them, she turns to you.

“Do you think it worked?”

“Of course it did - do you doubt me?” You ask her, almost displeased.

“It's just… you haven’t done anything like that in a long time.”

“Girls like me - like us - don’t get rusty.” You remind her, finishing her sentence with a tap to the tip of her nose.

At the doorstep of your clinic Jiggly feels confused, almost dreamy, as if he only had the faintest impression of what had just occurred during this particular morning.

#hwang hyunjin smut #hwang hyunjin #stray kids smut #hyunjin au #strange devotion skz collab

[neonthewrite]

Washed Up Winchesters 3

Everyone's awake, and there is No Need to panic! No need at all! Someone let the Winchesters know that before they give themselves heart attacks...

Cowritten with @nightmares06, the writer behind the @brothersapart multiverse!

( 1 ) ( 2 ) -3- ( 4 ) ( 5 ) ( 6 ) ( 7 ) ( 8 )

Story Tag

~~~~~

Sam blinked, several times in rapid succession. "Lilliput?" he repeated, the name slowly sinking in. "We're in Lilliput? That means the ship must be--"

They had been hoping to keep this situation contained, and hearing that they were not only in the wrong place at the wrong time now, far from their targets, but also they'd already reached Lilliput across the bay, sent Sam's slowly spinning plans crashing to the ground.

Pounding Dean's shoulder, Sam barked at him. "Dean, wake up! "

With a start, Dean jolted from his spot. The water spilled all over his face and the covers, leaving him sputtering and looking around for a threat. The fact that they were in a quiet, peaceful home did nothing to ease his confusion as he searched for the reason for Sam's panic.

"Th-the skinwalkers!" Sam exclaimed. "They've already reached Lilliput! We have to hurry!"

“Wait. The what?” Chase asked, before holding up his hands as if he might slow down the strange turns the whole conversation had taken. “Skin … what?”

He didn’t get a chance to elaborate on his confused question, as the rumbling grew closer and harder to ignore. Chase glanced towards the door, then back at the Blefuscan pair that he’d taken into his home. It seemed like a few kinds of trouble were on a collision course. “Jacob’s almost back, so maybe we should head out and like … figure out what the hell is going on with you two?”

“Skinwalkers,” Sam declared grandly, as though that might clear up the confusion.

Dean was still trying to fully wake up and figure out where the water attack had come from when a hand clamped around his collar and hauled him, the blankets, and the empty glass up off the couch with little warning.

“Ack!”

Sam dropped Dean in place, leaving him wobbling on unsteady legs. Wrinkling his nose, he gingerly moved one foot, discovering that his socks were completely soaked and his feet squished in place. Then, his attention was torn away yet again when Sam shoved a jacket into his arms.

“We need to go,” Sam said firmly as he collected the last of their remaining possessions.

Chase almost flinched back from the sudden energy Sam had on display. Only minutes ago, the guy had been barely awake, gingerly coming out of a near-coma from his trials out at sea. The way Jacob told it, they’d nearly drowned out there, and would have been lost beneath the waves if he didn’t get to them in time. Even he wouldn’t have been able to find them if they sank too far beyond his reach.

“Dude, wait,” he said, stepping closer and holding his hands up. He had to tilt his head back a little to meet their eyes. He was flustered that his words had largely been ignored, but he could try to bounce back from it. “You don’t even … I know Lilliput’s not like, the biggest place around, but you don’t even know your way around!”

The rumbling came closer. At the next step, the windows rattled faintly in their panes and a shadow crept over the outside of the house, stealing away much of the natural light in the room.

"We can't wait, there's no time," Sam protested, not pausing in his preparations.

Dean, finally shaking off the effects of his extended time at sea and the sudden wake up, felt his stomach drop as he spotted what was happening outside. "Sam..." he said warningly.

Sam ignored Dean as much as he'd ignored Chase. "The ship should be down at the pier, we can find where they docked..." he was mumbling as he tucked his jacket closed.

"Sam!" Grabbing Sam's arm, Dean jerked his attention to the windows. "They have a giant!"

In the following pause, Chase held up his hands and grinned as if presenting something exciting. “Surprise?”

Another rumble came, this one even more noticeable than the last, and then a final one as Jacob presumably stopped outside the house. He had learned well how to step into the Lisongs’ backyard without damaging anything, and more than once Chase had wandered outside to find him kneeling by the house. Even sitting down, Jacob was taller than the house.

“That’ll be Jacob,” Chase explained, gesturing towards a doorway out of the living room, through which a kitchen and a back door could be seen. “He’s just out back. Don’t panic though.”

"Jacob?" Sam blinked in surprise, momentarily derailed by such an ordinary comment.

"The giant," Dean corrected. "Why does Lilliput always get the giants?"

“Lucky, I guess?” Chase grinned and shrugged. “Maybe he can even help you with your … secret mission, or whatever. Do you want to--”

His voice cut off as the back door he’d indicated shuddered in its frame once, then twice. Something heavy had bumped against it, in what was Jacob’s gentlest attempt to knock on the door. Chase pursed his lips and then nodded absently as Jacob finally spoke outside, his voice an unmistakable rumble. “Hello?”

The sound of the voice made Dean jerk back from the direction it came from, a gun appearing in his hand as though by magic.

"No way, nuh uh, I am not dealing with a giant, they're never on our side!"

Chase’s eyes widened and he stepped back in alarm as the gun glinted in what warm light remained in the room. “Dude, what the hell!” he blurted, his hands lifting up to try to wave Dean away. “Put that away!”

Sam grabbed Dean's arm, jerking it so the gun was pointing at the ground. "No one's shooting anyone," he insisted, giving Dean a pointed look.

Dean ignored the meaning that Sam was trying to get across, jerking his arm free. "I am not letting a giant tell me what to do!" he snapped, stomping towards the front door. "We will figure this out ourselves and get back to Blefuscu!"

Throwing the door open, Dean looked left, then right, then dashed out, leaving Sam with the other two.

Sam blew his bangs out of his eyes. "That went better than expected."

Chase threw him a bewildered look, but recovered as quickly as he could. “Really? Were you expecting him to shoot at me?”

The back door opened before he could list off any more irritated questions, and Minnie reappeared. She leaned around the doorway to announce her return, and stopped with her mouth open. One person was missing. “Chase, what happened?”

Chase rolled his eyes. “The other one took off. Be right back.” He hurried to the front of the house, hoping to intercept Dean before he made it too far away from the house; there was no telling what a jumpy guy like that might end up causing if he got lost in town.

“Chase!” Minnie’s call went ignored as he hurried out, and then she loosed a frustrated sigh before glancing back at Sam. “He didn’t want to warn you guys at all and I told him that wouldn’t go over well! Jacob’s really not a danger to anyone, if you’re worried about that.”

"Oh..." Sam looked over his shoulder, where the sounds of a giant were coming from. "Neither is Dean," he replied lamely, knowing that his older brother's actions weren't exactly in line with his assertion. "Not unless you're a monster of some kind."

~~~

Quick and furtive, Dean dashed from tree to tree, keeping a sharp eye on the sky to watch for the giant.

He did not want to get caught now.

"Goddamn giants," Dean muttered under his breath, pausing in the shade when the coast looked clear.

Admittedly, growing up he hadn't really believed the stories of the giant that came and helped Lilliput, back when they were at war. It sounded fantastical, like a fever dream. Some random giant just shows up? Decides to help the people that caught him?

Of course, learning about monsters and then dedicating most of his life to rooting them out made Dean reassess his belief on giants. Which left him at least semi-prepared to come face-to-face with the reality.

On Lilliput's side. Again.

Chase wasn’t that far behind him. There weren’t that many shade trees out in front of the house to offer cover, and the town itself wasn’t far ahead. The last thing he needed, however, was to let a Blefuscan loose in town going who knew where. They hadn’t made a lick of sense since they woke up and started talking about their “mission”, and he had already gotten some trouble for bringing a giant home.

His chest was tightening from all the excitement, but Chase ignored it to keep moving. Until he almost hurried right past a figure huddled behind the trunk of one of the trees.

“Dude!” he blurted, not bothering to keep his voice down. “What the hell! What’re you taking off for? You don’t even know where anything is!”

“What do you think?” Dean hissed in annoyance. His gun was lowered, the safety on so long as the giant wasn’t coming directly for him, but held at the ready just in case.

This case was turning into a giant pain in his ass. He certainly had no plans on sightseeing in Lilliput anytime soon, but there wasn’t much chance they’d get back home until they’d seen it through.

“The giant might be on your side, but he ain’t on mine,” Dean said, his voice heavy and full of emotions. “There is a ship out there, possibly already docked, full of shapeshifters that we’re trying to track down before they hurt innocent folk! We have a job to do, and all of this is just wasting time!”

Chase’s confusion didn’t wane, but that had never shut him up before. “What do you mean ‘this’? ‘This’ is you running off really soon after almost drowning. In the ocean. Jacob’s the one who saved your ass!” He waved a hand back at the house. Behind it, Chase barely noticed the giant figure leaning to the side to track the source of the noise they were making.

“Look, dude, no one cares where you’re from or anything, but really. Think about chilling, maybe?”

“Chill?!” Dean was wholly offended by even the concept. “Are you even listening?” He waved a hand in the general direction he had been making his way before Chase had caught up to him, though without any map or compass, he had no idea what was actually in that direction. “There’s an entire ship full of monsters making land somewhere in Lilliput, and you want me to chill?”

Chase shrugged one shoulder. “Okay, I get that that’s really, uh, freaky,” he admitted, though he wondered how much of what Sam and Dean said was true. He’d never heard of shapeshifters or skinwalkers or whatever, but then again he had a whole giant living on the family land. Things weren’t black and white.

“Dude, you almost drowned, though,” he pointed out. “You really should take it easy--”

“Chase? What happened?” Jacob’s concern rumbled overhead, and when Chase turned to look, the giant had sidled around the house at last and now crouched in front of it. He had to lean to the side to even see Chase at the base of the tree; it was part of why he didn’t go to the front of the house very often.

Dean reacted immediately to the new implied threat in the area.

Despite Jacob’s rescue of the Winchesters earlier, Dean couldn’t find it in himself to trust a giant. All of the stories he’d heard circled around the fact that the only giant in recorded history had stood on Lilliput’s side, and, as a Blefuscan, that was hardly helping him feel secure.

The first thing he did was go for his gun.

#mywriting #collab #washed up winchesters #jacob andris #chase lisong #sam winchester #dean winchester #minnie lisong #g/t #gullivers travels fanfiction #supernatural fanfiction #chase in lilliput au

[missskzbiased]

I Hate That I’m Afraid to Love You (21)

Genre: Romance, Friendship, Angst, Hurt /Confort , Suggestive, Fluff, College Au, Enemies to Friends to Lovers Au, REALLY Slow burn, Love Square (?)

Pairing: Hyunjin X Fem!Reader  X Han X OC

WC: ~ 9,2K

[Previous] [Chap] [Next]

Masterlist

Warnings (general*): Language, Mentions of (Physical abuse, Death/ Loss of Loved One, Child Abandonment/Neglect, Divorce, Toxic Parents, Cancer, Mental disorder, Anxiety Attack, Alcohol, Food), Suggestiveness

Tag List:  here

Notes: SO! I hope you guys like it. I’m sorry for the delay. Next one will probably take some time as well. I’m an anarchist now, and updates will come out as I finish the chapters or once a week, no schedules.

PLEASE! Tell me if there is anything you would like to read regarding cute/suggestive scenes so I can include them <3

                                                      ////

    You closed the door behind you with a heavy sigh.

    It had been just a few hours ─ if you could call about eight hours just a few ─ but it felt like time enough to last for a week; the exhaustion from a day too long crushing you mercilessly. You hesitated for a second, staring at the woody surface as you held the doorknob, before letting out another sigh while dropping your shoulders. The soft thud that filled your ears as you rested your forehead on the door was somewhat comforting, emphasizing the silence that met you in the living room.

    Fucking finally.

    Perhaps you were just too overwhelmed by all the things that happened along the day but as you wandered your eyes to the floor ─ meeting the familiar surface under your feet ─ there was an impossibly tight feeling in your chest that urged to be released. The realization that you were indeed at home crawled you little by little, getting to your mind and making you tear up. You never thought that day would come to an end but then you were right there in your living room, enjoying the comforting silence of your home.

    You inhaled deeply, feeling every single corner of your lungs being filled by the air and holding it in as you closed your eyes to focus on everything that you shut away inside your head. The flickering thought that crossed your mind ─ two dark orbs that dived into your soul; a hurt twinkle dancing in them ─ made your breath falter for a second. The urge to cry hit you like a truck, and as soon as you choked on your own emotions and memories, the moment died in your throat.

    You couldn’t let Paris see you crying for him.

    You opened your eyes slowly, frowning as you focused on the complete lack of any sounds in the dorm. Why was it so silent in here? You detached your forehead from the door, turning around with narrowed eyes that roamed around the place just to find it empty. What was going on? You finally placed your eyes on the TV ─ turned off, therefore explaining the lack of the background noises ─, confused as to why Paris wasn’t watching it as usual.

    “Paris?” You called unsurely, stepping away from the door to get a better look inside the house, “Paris?” You tried again, knocking on her door before opening it and peeking inside her room. No one to be seen. You frowned as you closed the door, divided between feeling relieved or worried about her absence.

    Did she mention anything to you?

    You roamed your eyes around the room again, looking for any piece of paper that could vaguely resemble a note but finding nothing in sight. There was something definitely wrong here. It wasn’t like Paris to go out so late at night… Especially without a previous warning. Did something happen to her? You pursed your lips, fumbling through your pockets to find your phone ─ hopeful of any kind of message or missed calls ─ and setting your sadness and tiredness aside for a moment.

    No message or missed calls.

    As much as you wanted to be alone ─ finally allowed to mourn over your poorly made decisions ─, you didn’t want to be crying while Paris could be out there in need of a friend. At the same time, the realization that it was yet another thing to deal with at the end of this excruciating day didn’t help much. The way your eyes turned watery again brought another heavy sigh out of your lips as you rubbed your face in distress, trying to organize your thoughts.

    You pinched your nose bridge ─ index and thumb holding it firmly ─ before you let your fingers slide to make some pressure on your eyes. The motion ─ the closest thing that you would have from a calming massage ─ was barely able to ease your nerves, relieving the pent-up stress in an unsatisfying way that would have to be enough for now. You felt your eyebrows knitting as you tried to hold back your tears; lips quivering and chin trembling.

    You had to organize your thoughts… You should be thinking… You should be doing something… You should make a decision… Why weren’t you calling her? Why were your feet stuck on the floor? Why weren’t you running or yelling or crying or –

    The creaking sound snapped you out of your thoughts and your eyes glued to the entrance as the opening door revealed a smiling Paris carrying some plastic bags. You let go of your phone to stare at her blankly; arms dropping to your sides as she closed the door behind her. The way she walked to the counter ─ placing the bags there without much thought ─ was an incredible indicator that she was fine as hell and you were worrying over nothing.

   Honestly? You didn’t even have the energy to be mad at her.

    “You’re here” There was something under her tone that raised your suspicion immediately. The sentence hung in somewhere between excitement and acknowledgment, and you couldn’t help but frown at her input “I bought us some stuff” She shifted to a somewhat knowing tone, looking at you with glinting eyes as she gestured to the bags.

    Usually, you would ask what was going on with her. Or at least you would study each motion and pattern she had ever presented to you so you could figure it out. But not today. No… Not today. Today you just wanted to go to your bed, tuck yourself inside your blankets and bawl your eyes out for rejecting Hyunjin.

    You wanted to suffer for something you put yourself into and were now regretting. You wanted to be alone, and safe, and able to ignore anything that could add to your already stressful day. You wanted to ignore Paris and any strange antics she was displaying right now for whatever reason she had.

    You wanted to feel at home.  

  “Yeah… Yeah, I’m here” You agreed mindlessly, averting your eyes to your door and nodding your head at it “And now I’m going there,” You said, forcing a small smile as you took the first step to your safety nest. You didn’t miss the way her expression dropped ─ a mix of shock, confusion, and upsetness going through her face ─ but you choose to ignore it as you took another step towards your goal.

  “Wait” She blurted; eyes darkening as she looked at you “Don’t you want to tell me about your day?” She sounded conflicted ─ maybe even offended ─ as she crossed her arms over her chest, tilting her head to the side “I thought… I thought that since I missed classes yesterday and we didn’t have much time to talk…” She mumbled unsurely, frowning before averting her eyes “And today…” She trailed off, darting her eyes back to you.

    Today?

    There was just so much one could ignore and pretend not to notice at all… As much as you wanted to believe it was all a coincidence, you didn’t really think that Paris would show up with your favorite ice cream and wanting to talk about your day ─ especially today ─ if she didn’t know anything. You stopped in your tracks, sighing before turning around to look at her with narrowed eyes.

    “What about it?” You asked just to throw her off, watching as she licked her lips before biting them ─ a quirk that showed up every time she was anxious ─ and swallowing dry “Do you have anything to say to me?” It was clear by your tone that you had picked up on something, and the way she darted her eyes around the room to avoid yours was a good indication that she knew it too.

    Paris and Chan were working together.

    You should have seen it earlier ─ actually, it had been happening quite a lot to you lately, hm? ─ but you had no doubts now. Of course, it could be just another gossip going around… Maybe someone had seen both of you? No… Paris wouldn’t just believe in a rumor like this… Not to the point of showing up with your favorite ice cream and asking about your day… Not to the point to get that disappointed.

    On the other side, there was someone who Paris would believe on the spot… Someone that knew far too well why you were waiting for Hyunjin. Someone who knew your feelings and his. Someone who was encouraging you to go after him. Someone who tried to trick him and make him jealous just so he would do something about it. Someone who made sure to clear his real intentions up before walking away… Someone who had been suspiciously close to Paris lately.  

    There was no way they weren’t working together.

  “No… It’s not that I have something to say but…” You watched as she uncrossed her arms, letting them drop to her sides, “I mean… It’s just that I thought… I guessed you would…” She floundered before clearing her throat; the nervous antics confirming your assumptions “… Want some ice cream after a long day?” She risked, forcing a smile that looked more like a grimace than anything else.

    “Unbelievable” You scoffed, shaking your head in disbelief.

    “Fine!” She whined, pouting as she stomped the floor “Chan told me you and Hyunjin had a talk today, okay?” She confessed bitterly as you threw her a disappointed look “I’m sorry but I am waiting for that ship to sail for too long to not be curious!” She said as if it was a good way to defend herself “Can you blame me for wanting to hear that you finally got someone who loves you?” She tried to appeal, getting another scoff.

    “Yes, I can” You said matter-of-factly, huffing before looking away from her for a second “It’s my personal life, Paris! You shouldn’t be meddling with it!” You scolded, returning your gaze to meet hers “Now what? You and Chan will be like two old ladies gossiping about my life behind my back?” You sneered, huffing “My love life is none of your business” You reminded her, tone wavering slightly with the anger boiling inside you.

    You weren’t quite sure what made you react the way you did.

    It was like your mind had split up into two different trains of thoughts that were totally opposing each other. On one side, you felt the need to be focused and rational, so you pursed your lips and tried to stay composed, pretending to be calm on the outside. On the other side, the sadness was giving way to anger and it boiled and burned you in the unhealthiest way possible.

    You wanted to scream and cry and fight and be mad and… Anything.

    You wanted anything that could put all your fears away.

    Maybe that was why you were being such an asshole.

    “Hey” Paris blurted in surprise; brows arching as she stared at you without a clue of what was happening “What the hell?” She didn’t sound offended as she said it but lost, frowning at you while tilting her head “You don’t seem too happy… Didn’t he… I mean… I thought you would be really happy right now” She admitted, trying to play dumb and not give away his feelings.

    “Yes, he did” You answered blandly; a faux calm settling in your face as you stared at her blankly “He confessed; if that’s what you’re wondering” Of course, you knew far too well that this was exactly what she wanted to know. You knew that your next line would get you into an argument but somehow you didn’t care; you even urged for it “I rejected him” You stated simply, watching for her reaction.

    The expectation raised on you as Paris seemed shocked by your input; eyes lost in yours as she didn’t have a clue of what to do now. You studied the lack of expression on her face, catching the slight change when a hundred thoughts seemed to cross her head at a time. You pursed your lips as her brows slowly knitted together ─ as if each second that went by made her realize what you had just said ─ until she finally frowned at you, mad eyes connecting to yours.

    “You did what?!” Her tone was heavy and stern, a reprehension that fueled you as she scrunched her nose to show you how she despised your decision “Y/N!” That was it! That was the anger you were looking for “Why would you do that?! You like him!” She inquired in dismay; eyes diving into yours to find any signs that could explain your behavior.

    “What does it have to do with anything?” You knew you were being obnoxious and Paris swallowed it hook, line and sinker. The way her eyes glinted in disappointment and outrage fueled you to keep pushing her boundaries “I don’t get why you’re so interested… It’s not like you want him anyway” She scoffed, averting her eyes to try and not take her anger out on you.

    “You know what?” She sighed, still refusing to look at you “I don’t get you” She shook her head in wonder; the grimace present in her face insinuating how pissed off she was “I don’t get what is going on inside your head… I really don’t” She admitted, returning her gaze to you “You’re being ridiculous and I know you know it” She added “I just don’t understand why” She stared at you, disgusted at your antics.

    “Maybe you should ask Chan” You taunted, getting a scoff as she rolled her eyes, tilting her head to look at the ceiling in a fed-up manner. You watched her curiously, waiting for her to blow up but she didn’t. Paris returned her gaze to you once more and threw you a look that almost made you ashamed of yourself.

    Almost.

    Because that was exactly what you wanted.

    You longed for her outburst.

    “I’m not going to play this game” She smirked knowingly; surprising you as she seemed to pick up on your plans “If you want to fight, you need to do way better than that” She grimaced, shaking her head to show that she wouldn't give what you wanted “If you have all this energy to keep bullshiting me then go to Hyunjin and sort things out, Y/N” She sighed, scowling “What do you expect me to do? Yell at you?” She scoffed, arching her brows skeptically.

    “Yes…” You didn’t intend to answer her so honestly but before you knew it, the word hung in the air heavily, making you shrink. You lowered your head, peeking at her reaction just to see her expression morphing into a surprised one, clearly not expecting you to actually answer her “I mean… No, of course not” You lied, voice so low that you couldn’t even convince yourself.

    “I don’t understand” She admitted simply, tilting her head in wonder. You noticed how she started moving away from the counter ─ careful as a hunter afraid that their prey might run away ─ and came in your direction with hesitant steps “Why would you want me to yell at you?” She asked with caution, glancing at you unsurely.

    “Because I deserve it…” You muttered under your breath, prompting her to hum in confusion, questioning you again without any words “Because I deserve it!” You finally snapped; head going up to allow you to meet her eyes. She yelped ─ startled at your break out ─, looking at you with wide confused eyes that couldn’t grasp what was going on “Because I’m a coward, Paris!” You added; voice shaking as you let the tears roll down your face and eyes overflowing with hurt and regret.

    “Y/N…” She mumbled; pity oozing from her eyes.

    “Don’t Y/N me!” You cut her off “Yell at me, Paris! For Lord’s sake! Yell at me! Tell me I’m wrong! Tell me I’m awful! Anything!” You wailed, hand going to rub your face and wipe away some of the tears “Anything! Just tell me that I’m a coward! Tell me that I do nothing but run away! Tell me…” You hicked up, choking on your own tears as you let yourself slowly go to the ground.

    You curled up as you sat, rocking your body back and forward.

    “Tell me I don’t deserve him… Tell me I blew everything up…” You begged, raising your eyes to meet hers. You could feel your face twisting in a pained grimace that threw her off for a second “Tell me I’m a coward, Paris… Please, tell me I’m a coward…” You couldn’t help but curl up again, hands pressing hard against your eyes as you let all your feelings out of your chest; the crying loud and ungraceful.

    She stared at you silently; gaze burning your skin.

    “Why don’t you yell at me?” You mewled; swollen eyes going back to meet hers in a suffering question that you knew she wouldn’t answer “Why can’t you do this, Paris? I’ve been bad… I did everything wrong again… I messed everything up and I can’t stop doing it!” She kept her silent stare at you, and the lack of response prompted you to keep rambling “I run and run and run and run… And I keep coming back to the same mistakes again, Paris” You vented; hand going to rub your running nose and wet cheeks.

    Again, she just stared at you.

    “Say something!” You yelled, eyebrows knitting together in renewed anger “Anything, Paris! Hit me if you want! I don’t know… Just…” You tried to fight back the quivering in your lips, tangling yourself with your own arms before lowering your head again “Just hurt me…” You pleaded, shutting your eyes as much as you could “Gimme a reason to cry, Paris…” You choked on your own words, hiding your face from her as you burst out in tears once more “I don’t wanna cry for him” You mumbled, voice muffled.

    The steps echoed in the room along with your crying but you didn’t raise your head to follow her path, shrinking when you felt two arms wrapping you. The warmth provided was very welcomed, and you leaned on her touch; the unexpected tenderness being enough for you to pour everything out of your chest. You felt Paris kissing the top of your head, no words being said as she silently supported you through your breakdown.    

    “I’m so sorry” You howled but what you really meant was thank you.

                                                       ////

   You stared at the dancing branches above you.

  The light beams that managed to get through the heavy layer of leaves decorating said branches painted the air with thin yellowish strings that caught your attention. You let your mind wander as your eyes followed every single notch that came together into a messy crease pattern, getting distracted by the falling leaves that blocked the beams every once in a while. The moment meant to be calming and reassuring to your soul but you couldn’t help but feel melancholic as the grass underneath you tickled your skin, reminding you of brighter days.

    It was kind of funny how the blue sky peeking at you behind the treetop, the insufferably shiny sun casting beams all around, and the perfectly shaped clouds couldn’t brighten up your mood. As much as you could tell that this was a beautiful day ─ maybe the most beautiful day of the whole season ─, you couldn’t feel healed by any of this. You could see it was all dazzling and colorful and perfect… Yet, you felt exactly the same as if it was a cloudy rainy day with nothing but grey to take in.

  The wind fanned all over the place; a soft puff that intensified the branches’ dance and disturbed the sunbeams’ path, allowing it to hit right at your face. The forced warmth wasn’t enjoyable and the sudden brightness that hit your eyes was even less welcomed, prompting you to close them shut. The motion was harmless and it wouldn’t bring you any suffering on any other day but something about it brought you everything you were trying to push aside right now.

    Perhaps it was the fact that you cried so much on the day before that your swollen eyes felt too heavy ─ even if you had plenty of time to get used to it by noon ─ and closing them just reminded you of your own feelings. Perhaps it was the fact that closing your eyes brought you the urge to cry again ─ even if you had already cried enough for an entire lifespan ─, reminding you of the sadness you pretended not to feel right now. Perhaps it was the fact that the blackness and emptiness behind your eyelids served as a screen to project all of the details ─ his eyes, his mole, his nose, his smile, his dimples, his tears… Just all of him ─ that you didn’t want to remember.

    You exhaled heavily.

    Perhaps it was because you were a fucking masochist that decided to lie down under the very same tree that witnessed everything… From your laughter ─ such as when you caught him pretending to read a book ─ to your bonding ─ such as when he cried while venting about his insecurities ─ to your confession ─ such as when he kissed you as if you were the only thing that mattered in his world ─ to your departure… Such as when you walked away from him, leaving all your true feelings unspoken.

    Yeah, perhaps it was because you were a masochist.

    “Are you fucking kidding me?” You snapped your eyes open, startled at the sudden intrusion as Chan’s voice made its way to your head “Do you mind explaining to me why the fuck are you lying down under this damn tree instead of making out with the bloody guy I had to trick to confess his own feelings to you?!” You sighed; eyes softening into a vulnerable gaze as you shifted to sit down and look at him “Because I sure as hell don’t have a fucking clue!” He groaned, clasping his hands together as he met your gaze in a demanding and inquiring glare.

    “I don’t know what you want me to say” You confessed, exhaling heavily as you crossed your legs, resting your arms on your lap as you lifted your chin to fully return his gaze. He scoffed ─ closing his hands on a fist as he bit his lips to hold back a comment that would have probably hurt you ─ before throwing his head back to huff at the sky. Chan returned his eyes to you with nothing but outrage, grimacing before pinching his nose bridge tiredly, trying to stay composed.

    The façade didn’t last even for a second.

    “Say that you fucking love him!” He snapped, floundering his hands in the air to try and calm down “Wasn’t that what you wanted to say to him?” He asked in distress, eyes urging for your answer “Isn’t this how you feel?” He insisted, offering you a lost and yet frustrated look that prompted you to sigh “Just go and kiss him! I don’t know!” He pressed his temples, closing his eyes as he exhaled heavily to try and organize his thoughts.

    You stared at him blankly, studying his upset features for a few seconds before you lowered your head, focusing your gaze on your lap. Contrary to what you would have expected, the sudden outburst didn’t startle you. If nothing else, his scolding felt like a warm comforting hug and a pat on the back. It was just what you needed. The way he yelled those words at you ─ demanding to know why you had chickened out like that ─ was just like hearing everything going on inside your head out loud.

    There was something about hearing it from him and not from yourself ─ from actually hearing it and not just torturing yourself with those thoughts ─ that fulfilled your needs. It felt real. It was like all those words and feelings weren’t just inside your head anymore. You weren’t the one mourning and reliving everything. You weren’t the only one who despised your actions; plus, you could see it plastered over his face in a way that was impossible to ignore.

      And you didn’t want to.

      As you looked at him, you felt the urge to take care of Chan… To calm him down… To soothe him. This feeling ─ the kindness that finally ran through your veins instead of the hatred and contempt ─ was strong enough to distract you from your mind. Maybe that was what you really needed. Although you could reach out for Chan─ place your hand on his ankle and squeeze it reassuringly ─, you couldn’t do the same for yourself.

    You didn’t deserve it.

    The disappointment you held for your actions was too much to allow you to be this kind to someone so unworthy of it as you. The way you saw it, there were just two possible ways to deal with it. You either cried everything out ─ and you didn’t think you had the right to do it ─ or you relived it over and over again ─ punishing yourself for being like this.

    There was no time to be kind to someone like you.

    But you could be kind to Chan.

    Maybe it could make you worthy of something other than hatred.

    You didn’t need any words as you lifted your eyes to meet his; thumb rubbing circles on his skin and lips twisting in a small smile that was meant to tranquilize him. You sensed it wasn’t the right time to talk ─ as you could see in his embarrassed and regretful eyes ─, so you waited patiently for him to say something, giving him enough time to think about whatever was going on inside his head. He let out a heavy sigh, sitting down across you and taking your hand into his, holding it gently as he stared straight into your eyes with a tiredness you never saw before.

    “I’m sorry” He huffed, hold tightening just a little bit as if to say that he meant it “I shouldn’t have yelled at you like this” You couldn’t help but fight back a smile, finding it amusing how he was so apologetic about something that made you feel so at ease. You shook your head ─ a slow motion that was meant to conceive how untroubled you were about his behavior ─ before smiling at him, dismissing the idea that you were somewhat offended by anything he said “I’m just really tired…” He sighed, rubbing his face in distress.

    “Why? What happened?” You asked softly, and he scoffed before looking away in disbelief. As you stared at his profile, you noticed the dark circles under his eyes but you choose not to comment on it “Do you need my keys?” You offered, tilting your head as you tried to read his expression but getting nothing out of it.

    “Are you really going to ignore why I’m here?” He asked grudgingly, returning his eyes to you “Y/N… I thought you loved him” He admitted “I really did… I…” He chuckled bitterly, pinching his nose bridge before sighing one more time “I spent all night long watching ‘My Best Friend’s Wedding’ and seeing Hyunjin crying and eating everything he could find in his way” He confessed, and the picture was somewhat funny and yet depressing.

    You didn’t answer him; there was nothing to say.

    “If I’m gonna be honest with you… I thought you guys were meant for each other” He scoffed “I thought you loved him as he loves you… I thought you guys shared so many struggles that you could heal one another… I thought…” He hesitated, letting his shoulders drop as he lowered his gaze to his lap “I thought you would say yes, Y/N…” He confessed, clearly disappointed at you.

    He let the silence hang in the air, expecting you to say something.

    You didn’t.

    “Nothing?” He sighed “Really?” He raised his gaze to meet yours.

    “I don’t know what you want from me, Chan” You tried your best to let your tone unwavering but you failed, and you knew it. You noticed how his eyes twinkled, picking up on your oddness “What do you want me to do?” You asked obnoxiously, scoffing as you looked away “Lie to him?” You felt your lips twitching slightly; the lie tasting too bitter for you to keep a straight face.

    “Haven’t you done that already?” He asked knowingly; voice softening as he seemed to figure out everything “Y/N…” He smiled kindly; the corner of his lips sinking just enough to show his dimples as he played with your fingers “Why are you lying to yourself?” He didn’t sound judgingly but gentle, trying to look into your eyes but failing as you avoided his gaze for dear life “You love him” He stated matter-of-factly, chuckling in relief.

    “No, I don’t,” You scoffed, still refusing to meet his eyes.

    “So what is this for?” He asked, hand going to your face.

    You allowed him to lift your chin and guide you to look at him, shivering as his finger slid from there to the corner of your eyes. You knew far too well what he was going to find there. You pursed your lips as firm as you could, trying to hold back everything that you wanted to pour out of your chest. He caressed your skin gently, and you could feel the faint watery sensation there as he let go of your face to show you his finger; a single drop balanced in there.

    You closed your eyes, refusing to acknowledge it.

    He chose to stay silent, waiting for you to be comfortable enough to say something. Anything. The way your entire face twitched and spasmed ─ especially your jaw that seemed settled in quivering nonstop ─ brought the realization that it was too late. You couldn’t fight back your tears anymore. You threw your face back, opening your eyes in a vain attempt to allow the soft wind to dry your tears away but it didn’t. The way you clenched your jaw and tensioned your throat did nothing but bring you pain before you finally let everything out, bursting into tears.

    “Why are you doing this to me?” You howled, choking on your own feelings as you threw Chan a look that was meant to be a glare but turned out to be more of a cry for help “I don’t want to talk about it… I don’t want to feel it, Chan!” Both of your hands shot to your eyes, pressing them firmly to try and hold back the tears “I don’t want to love him!” You cried, shaking your head repeatedly “I don’t want to!” You insisted, voice stressing in a pained mewl.

    “But he loves you, Y/N” He pointed out carefully, placing his hand on your head to stroke your hair gently “He really does” He reassured you, body sliding on the grass ─ the soft sound giving him away ─ to get a place beside you. He let his hand trail down to your back before sneaking to your shoulder and trying to pull you closer to him but you didn’t give in to his touch “There is no need for you to run away… He’s already yours” He hunched his back to try and take a look at your face but you still had your hands over your eyes “Why not take this chance?” He tried again, and this time it was too much for you.

  “Because I’m a coward, Chan!” You snapped, removing your hands from your eyes and glaring at him “Because I’m a fucking coward that can’t face my own feelings!” You cried, connecting your eyes to his even though you couldn’t clearly see him “Is that what you want me to say?!” You let the corner of your lips quiver, knitting your eyebrows together “Do you want to hear that I won’t ever have someone to love because I’ll keep running away from it?!” You choked, overwhelmed by everything that crashed over your feelings.

    You threw your head back, feeling the tears streaming down your face.

    “Do you want to hear that no matter how much I run, I always end up in the same place?!” You scoffed ─ almost a whimper as your throat tightened by the second ─ before returning your eyes to him “No matter how much I run, Chan… I run and run and run and run… And I always…” You took a deep breath, air wavering to get into your lungs “Always” You emphasized, averting your eyes from him “End up alone, Chan” You muttered, hugging yourself as you lower your gaze.

    “Y/N…” He whispered, shocked by everything you spilled on him.

    “I don’t want to be alone, Chan” You howled, throwing your arms around him as you shoved your face on the crook of his neck, letting your tears soak his shirt. He wrapped you up in his arms, rubbing gentle circles on your back as he let his lips graze over your strands “Just don’t leave me alone…” You pleaded in a choked way that prompted him to shush you.

    “Never…” He promised quietly “I would never”

                                                           ////

    How exactly did you end up in this situation?

    You cut the beef on your plate awkwardly as you avoided looking him in the eyes, the scratching cringe noise making you shrink and grimace as you fixed your gaze on the fork and the knife in your hands. Now that you thought about it, maybe you should have weighted your options a little bit more… Wisely. It was too late for that, though, as Han sighed before dropping his cutlery in his plate, raising his eyes to stare at you uncomfortably.

    “Lemme see if I got this right…” He said, covering his mouth and muffling his voice as he tried to manage swallowing down his food and talking at the same time “You’re asking me advice about your relationship with Hyunjin?” He stressed out the word love, throwing you a skeptical look “Because I hate him” He added in confusion, frowning at you.

    “Yeah…” You cleared your throat, refusing to look in his eyes “Pretty much yeah” You risked a glance at him, bringing the food to your mouth as you tried to buy some time. He stared at you fixedly; head slightly tilted down, which made him look judging and attentive as you munched your food. It went down your throat as gently as a rock, prompting you to cough “I mean… Is tha such a weird thing?” You shrugged but the answer was quite obvious.

    Yes.

    “Kinda” He chuckled, arching his eyebrow funnily “I mean… You stumble over me on the way to have lunch” He raised his index finger in a counting motion “You comment on how Hyunjin missed today’s classes and how Paris saw him wandering around and went after him, leaving you alone” He pulled the second finger “You have puffed eyes and dark circles and look like literal shit” He pulled the third finger, and you couldn’t help but to chortle.

    “Oh, Thank you!” You chirped mockingly, lifting your head so you could fully stare at him, “Such a nice thing to say” You pointed out playfully, getting him to pale and deadpan at you for a second. You could almost hear his system rebooting but it didn’t prevent you from laughing at his face “I’m just kidding” You decided to take pity on him.

    “That was totally not what I meant!” He reassured you eagerly; system finally back and eyes settling for desperation “You’re beautiful as fuck, I swear!” He rushed to say, frowning at his own words “No! I mean… Not like beautiful in a flirting way, you know? Just like beautiful as… As in beauty and... Hm…” He rambled, seeming embarrassed as he trailed off and stared at your grin “You know what? You can do the talking” He sighed, holding his cutlery again and shoving food in his mouth.

    “I think the saddest part is that you’re still being awkward as fuck around me” You mentioned, leaning back on your chair as you tilted your head and looked at him teasingly “The bright side is that you always were kinda weird anyway” You joked, prompting him to lightly kick you under the table and making you laugh.

    “Ha-Ha! You’re hilarious” He rolled his eyes, shaking his head in disbelief “Pardon me for not wanting to make it more awkward than it already is” He grumbled; mouth making soundless complaints as he took another bite at his food “I mean─ I literally confessed to your all sweaty and smelly and mouth full of sauce… God, that was terrible” He cringed, hand going to hide his face “And then I go all–” He scoffed, taking his hands away from his face “You’re so beautiful” He spoke in a silly low tone, mocking himself.

    “If it makes you feel any better this is the first time that I genuinely laugh in three days” You offered him, face twisted in a playful frown “Also… You weren’t that smelly and sweaty… You didn’t practice hard enough that day, I think” You taunted, and he snorted before looking to the ceiling and huff.

    “Okay… So first: No, it doesn’t make me happy” He knitted his eyebrows together, throwing you an inquiring look “You literally just said you’ve been sad for three days” He pointed out, eyes widening slightly to emphasize his sentence “And two: Coach practically shoved that ball up in my ass! How can you say that?!” He whined, grimacing grudgingly at you.

    You laughed at that ─ like wholeheartedly laughed at that ─, and for a second you actually believed that your attempt to brush aside your feelings was working out. Silly you. It struck you again ─ just like a truck ─ and your laughter died in your throat little by little until the twinkle in your eyes vanished like the flame of a blown candle. Something about it must have caught his attention because Han mimicked your expression, staring fixedly at your face as he waited for you to voice out your thoughts.

     You didn’t.

    “Everything fine?” He asked concerned as you didn’t offer anything back. Hell no… No, it’s not fine. You could never voice it out loud, though, even if it was the truth, “What’s with that face?” He risked, arching his brows to invite you to answer his question.

    “Got it when I was born” You tried to joke it off.

    “I see your jokes didn’t get any better” He taunted; a playful tone trying to mask the worry you could see in his eyes. He cleared his throat before reaching out for you; hand slowly slinking its way to lay on top of yours in a reassuring motion. The situation itself made you fight back a smile, and you found it somewhat cute the way he tried to push aside his shyness to make sure you were okay.

    “Tough crowd” You smirked at him, and as much as he rolled his eyes playfully, you knew he wasn’t buying your cunningness. Wasn’t the fact that you could deceive neither of you kinda funny? You sighed heavily as you lowered your eyes, knowing that pretending there was nothing going on inside your head wouldn’t get you anywhere “Hyunjin confessed to me” You admitted dejectedly, peeking at him to see his reaction.

    Contrary to what you expected, Han didn’t seem surprised or enraged at all, deadpanning at your statement for a few seconds before clearing his throat again and lowering his gaze. He didn’t say anything for a while, diving deep into his thoughts and pursing his lips as his eyes changed from time to time. Maybe you shouldn’t discuss your love life with a friend that confessed to you not that long ago… But now was a little bit too late for that.

      Were you capable of doing something right at this point? You didn’t think so. You sighed heavily as you studied his features, wondering how could you have put so much unnecessary stuff on everybody’s shoulders in so little time. To be fair, you had a lot on your plate right now… It didn’t mean you had the right to fill someone else’s cup, though. You opened and closed your mouth a few times, ready to push the subject aside and move on to any other thing but Han beat you to it.

    “So you love him?” Han’s tone wasn’t really loud but it startled you just like he had shouted right to your ears and then hit you in the face. You didn’t even answer him, mouth closing shut and eyes staring at him blankly for a few seconds as your system seemed to reboot “You wouldn’t tell me he confessed to you if you weren’t interested…” He mused, narrowing his eyes at your reaction “But you rejected him” He assumed wisely, stating it in a matter-of-factly way that made you wonder when did he start to actually be able to figure out what was going through your head.

     There was no way of taking it back now.

    “Love is a strong word” You mumbled, averting your eyes from him and fixing it on your plate again; fork poking the food and scrambling things all over. Well… As people say: You are what you eat. You grimaced bitterly at the sight, grossed out at the mixture you did yourself and dropping your fork with a clink before swallowing down the lump on your throat.

    “Yeah… It is quite strong” He agreed softly, almost sounding mindlessly before he squeezed your hand once to invite you to look at him “But is it the right word?” He questioned solemnly, and you could only be thankful for not giving in to his squeeze and refusing to meet his eyes, or else he would have seen things you didn’t want to show to anyone.

    Things you were trying to hide from yourself.

    The truth was that the rollercoaster of emotions you had experienced through Wednesday and Thursday brought you a realization: There was no way to fight those feelings away. Well… If you were really being honest with yourself there might be a way but you just didn’t have enough willpower to succeed in it. If you had feelings for him but you didn’t want to and you couldn’t fight them away, there was just one other option available for you… Ignore them.

    Initially, you felt guilty for trying to fight away your feelings. Especially with how harsh you were about it while rejecting Hyunjin. Although you weren’t rude, you weren’t gentle as well… You were raw, to say the very least. You knew how much it meant for him to face his fears and voice his feelings out loud. You knew hard it must have been for him to say that he loved you and wanted to be with you even though he was terrified of bonding. Now, you couldn’t feel guilty at all.

    Now, you couldn’t help but think that you should feel proud of what you were doing. So what If you were running away from your feelings? So what if you were scared to handle this maturely? So what if you didn’t want to risk your mental health for him? You weren’t meant to do this. It wasn’t your job to take. You shouldn’t feel sorry for protecting yourself from the instability that was bound to come from this relationship.

     You shouldn’t feel sorry for running away again.

    It didn’t matter how many times you chanted it to yourself, you couldn’t help but feel guilty anyway. In retrospect, you couldn’t remember a time when you managed to overcome your feelings… You couldn’t point out one time that you didn’t give up and decided to run away… You couldn’t point out one time that you fought for dear life for something you wanted. And it destroyed you. You couldn’t help but run away from your problems and every single time you did it, nothing was resolved.

    Your father? You watched as he walked away from your life and you did nothing about it. You let him abandon you and your mother and when he came back ─ as if nothing had happened ─, you let him walk into your mother’s life just so you could follow your own path. Your mother? You left her behind just like your father; ran away from all the problems she got you and herself into and didn’t even look behind. You let her with the one man you could never trust for the rest of your life and pretended you weren’t as bad as him in the most hypocritical way you could ever have done. Hyunjin? You rejected him as if you didn’t love him as much as he loves you… You settled on finding a reason why you shouldn’t love him back and held on to it for dear life.

    Maybe, if you could convince yourself he wasn’t good enough for you, then you could finally let him go. Maybe, if you ignore your feelings like you had been doing throughout all your life, you would eventually grow used to it. Just like, eventually, the pain of being left behind was manageable enough. Just like, eventually, the disgust of acting like your father was manageable enough. Just like, eventually, the façade that you weren’t just like him was manageable to maintain. Just like, eventually, you would be capable to manage to not feel affected by your feelings for him.

    You didn’t need to fight it because, eventually, it wouldn’t even affect you anymore. You didn’t need to be a fighter ─ to be fair, you weren’t really a good one ─, you just needed to be a good runner. And that you could do for dear life. You were a hella of a runner and if you needed you would be the best of them all. You would run away from your feelings for dear life. You would proudly and actively pretend that not seeing him in the morning didn’t affect you. You would convince yourself that knowing he couldn’t even bear to go to the same classes as you didn’t affect you.

     You would convince yourself that this was your best choice.                        

    You would convince yourself that the tight feeling in your chest meant nothing but an overattachment that you would be able to manage eventually. You would convince yourself that the fact that you kept turning your back to people didn’t affect you… That you weren’t afraid of being abandoned again… That you weren’t afraid of not being enough… That you weren’t afraid of being crazy just like your mother… That you weren’t afraid of being untrustworthy just like your father… That you weren’t afraid of running over and over and over–

     “Hm… Y/N?” Han called you unsurely, trying to catch your attention by waving his hand right in front of your face “You’re still with me?” He asked jokingly; a vain attempt to lighten up your mood. You blinked a few times, trying to regain consciousness. What were you talking about before? You didn’t even remember anymore “So… Do you love him?’ He cleared his throat, searching for your eyes.

    “What I feel doesn’t really matter” You dismissed his question, though your answer made it quite obvious “What matters is that I don’t think he’s the right person for me” You lied but the scoff you got as an answer was a good indication that Han wasn’t buying it at all “And Paris and Chan don’t seem to share my vision… And I was wondering if…” You glanced at him unsurely “You know?” You grimaced sheepishly.

    “You were wondering if I wasn’t up to badmouth him since I hate the dude” He completed for you, arching his brow amusedly “You want me to say that he’s a fuckboy and there is no way that he loves you for real and you shouldn’t fall for his charms, right?” He licked his lips, crossing his arms over his chest as he leaned back in his chair “You want me to say that he’ll cheat on you and hurt you because he’s a huge piece of shit” He added, and you felt your throat itching to refute him, and yet you urged to believe in it.

    “Yeah… Kinda” You nodded, getting a chuckle as an answer.

    “This can never get out of here…” He muttered, moving forward to lean on the table as he cupped his mouth to mockingly pretend to tell you a secret “And I mean never” He emphasized; eyes glinting in amusement. You nodded, confused as to why he was acting so lighthearted to the fact that you just implied you loved Hyunjin and needed reassurance that not acting on it was the right choice.

    “Just spill it” You rushed him, frowning in confusion.

    “I don’t think I can give you what you need” He admitted, and to say that you were flabbergasted would be an understatement. You gawked at him, surprised to see him shrugging his shoulders as he returned to his seat “I know I tried to meddle a lot in your love life… And I know I said he just wanted to get into yours and Paris’ pants that day” He coughed to hide his embarrassment, eyes darting around before fixing on you again “But the truth is that… He did a lot for you guys” He said grudgingly.

   There was no fucking way.

    “You’re kidding me, right?” You scoffed “What happened to your attitude?! You hated him!” You scowled; the rage suddenly building up. What were you going to do now?! You were counting on it! You needed to hear someone supporting your decisions! “Now what?! The fact that he fucked the whole campus doesn’t matter anymore?! The fact that he’s always pissing you off?! The fact that he’s annoying to the point of being obnoxious?!” You slammed the table, though it wasn’t strong enough to catch anyone’s attention.

      “I don’t believe I’ll have to say it…” He sighed; the grimace that narrowed his eyes ─ as well as the whining and ridiculous whimpering ─ showing that he wasn’t happy to say what he was about to say “So what about the fact that he went way out of his way to help Paris?” He scowled as he defended him “Or the fact that you’re constantly defending him when I roast him?” He added, eyebrows moving to emphasize his point “Or the fact that both of you always seem comfortable around him even though he’s a dick? Or the fact that you literally let him kiss you on the stairs?” He pursed his lips judgingly, and you couldn’t help but feel your face burning at that.

    “It was a fake kiss!” You retorted eagerly “And what about the fact that you were always dismissing all those arguments?! What about the fact that I don’t want to hear his good points but his bad ones?! What about the fact that I’m freaking the hell out here?!” You yelled, getting up from your chair and placing your hands on the table to look more threatening “You were supposed to tell me that he sucks, Han” You whined “I need you to help me hate the idea of being with him” You sighed tiredly, returning to your seat.

    “No, Y/N…” He offered you a small smile, reaching for your hands once again “You need to face your emotions” He said softly, rubbing circles on your skin “You were the one to encourage me to tell my father my real thoughts… My dreams…” He sounded grateful, and you couldn’t help but stare deeply into his eyes “I was afraid too, you know? I was afraid I would disappoint him… I was afraid… Well, it doesn’t matter” He chuckled, shrugging “The point is that you’re afraid of your feelings… You’re afraid of being hurt” He moved his hand to your cheek, cupping it gently.

    You lowered your gaze, unable to look him in the eyes right now.

    “And it’s normal” He reassured you “But to be honest with you… I don’t think you would be like this if you didn’t believe he loved you back” He admitted, prompting you to nod softly “You would just know that you couldn’t give in to your feelings and be firm about it… I was on the other side once, I should know it” He laughed, making you cringe for a second “If you love him and you really think he loves you back… I mean… Someone who comes to his enemy to ask for help for a friend couldn’t be that bad, hm?” He offered you, and this time you looked at him again, catching the disgust in his features.

    “Who would think that you would come to like him one day” You joked, chuckling as he scrunched his nose and retreated his hands from you, shaking his head eagerly to dismiss the thought.

    “Not a word about it to him!” He said threateningly, narrowing his eyes at you “If he comes even close to knowing that I don’t hate him that much now, I’ll make your life a living hell!” He grumbled, making you laugh wholeheartedly.

    “You know what?” You rested your cheek on your hand, leaning on the table “I think you deserve a hot dog tonight” You offered him, a grateful smile on your face “Really… Thank you for saying that” You sighed “I think… I mean… I knew it was the right choice but…” You cleared your throat “You inspire me to be bolder, Han” You cringed, hiding your face behind your hand “God! I’m so cheesy and emotional nowadays” You grimaced, making a gagging sound as you let your index go into your mouth jokingly.

    So maybe you were freaking out about your emotions… Maybe you were too afraid of being hurt and hurting him… Maybe you were terrified of not being enough for someone you loved so much. Again. Maybe you were terrified of not being able to support him… Maybe you were just too afraid to allow yourself to fully express your feelings for him… But that was why you were in therapy.

    You would learn how to deal with your struggles…

    Eventually, you wouldn’t be so afraid anymore…

    Eventually, you would learn to manage it.

#skz angst #skz x reader #stray kids x reader #hyunjin x reader #skz fanfic #skz scenarios #skz imagines #hyunjin scenarios #hyunjin imagines #stray kids fanfic #stray kids scenarios #stray kids imagines #hwang hyunjin fanfic #stray kids angst #hwang hyunjin x reader #hyunjin angst #han jisung fanfic #han fanfic #bang chan fanfic #chan fanfic

[therenlover]

Welcome Home (Part One of Till Forever Falls Apart, A Peter Maximoff/Reader Series)

Synopsis: As if getting thrown through the multiverse, trapped in an attic (albeit a cool one), mind-controlled to manipulate his grieving sister, and subsequently dragged out of Westview “for his own safety” by the FBI wasn’t enough, Peter Maximoff has now been shipped off to New York to live with a glorified baby sitter like some tragic orphan in a comic book until they find a way to get him back home. Things are not always as they seem, though, and this change might just be for the better.

Tags: Pre-Relationship, First Meetings, Slow Burn, Post-Wandavision

Rating: T

Warnings: Mild Language, References to Ralph Bohner

Word Count: 2400~

This fic has already been posted to my AO3, along with the next two parts! I’ll be continuing it on both platforms.

-------

“So… Ralph Bohner?”

Peter looked up from his mug, the tea inside having gone cold long before. His eyes had been fixed on the floor, his leg bouncing far quicker than what should have been humanly possible. It had been a little over 24 hours since the Hex had disappeared, and Peter was firmly of the mindset that he was taking it all very well.

Even to himself, he was a terrible liar.

“Ralph?” His new keeper spoke again, voice soft in the quaint kitchen of the brownstone that Peter would be calling home for the foreseeable future.

It had all been so strange. In one moment he was reorganizing his new attic and trying to figure out how to work the damn DVD player, and somehow in the next, he was a prisoner in his own mind, backseat driving as a witch used his face and voice to torment Wanda. Not his Wanda, though; a new, strange, grieving Wanda with unfathomable power at her fingertips. Thankfully, that didn’t last very long.

After just 2 weeks in this strange new reality, Peter missed the X-Men. He missed his dad, no matter how absent and strange he was. He missed his friends, and his sisters, and the strange normalcy that came with being a part of the team when the world wasn’t in danger. Peter found himself wishing that things would just slow down enough for him to catch up and figure out what the hell was going on. That was a new one for him.

At least he still had his speed. If he had lost his powers in the freak accident that sent him into another universe… well he didn’t want to think about that.

Despite this, the FBI guy who had dragged him out of Westview and across the river to New York had given him an explicit warning not to use his powers while civilians were present. Peter didn’t mind Agent Woo, he seemed like a good guy and treated him with more decency than most government lackeys would have back home, but it was gonna be completely impossible for Peter to avoid using his speed in public. It wasn’t like Agent Woo would even be around to stop him anyway. The only person who could possibly protest was the poor sap that the F.B.I. called in to babysit him, and they would never be able to keep up even if they tried.

“Peter? Are you okay?”

Fuck.

His eyes shot up to meet hers, “You aren’t supposed to know that name,”

“I’m not supposed to know a lot of things,” she replied almost nonchalantly, “but neither of us is known for doing the things we’re supposed to do, are we?”

Peter chuckled, and for the first time in a while, he cracked a genuine smile. “I guess not,”

The smile seemed to please the woman across the counter. Smiling back, she wrapped her hands around her own mug and sat down on a tall stool, leaning towards Peter. “Now, first things first! I want you to ignore whatever rules the FBI gave you while you’re here. My house, my rules, and despite the fact that you’re in witness protection I doubt anyone unwanted will come knocking at the door to snatch you up,”

As she spoke, Peter really took her in for the first time. She was a small thing, in shape and stature, but soft, all rounded edges and gentle touches. Despite her young face, there was an age to her, too. Looking deep into his memories, he realized she had the same haunted look in her eyes that he had seen all too often in the older members of his team. It was the look of someone who has seen unspeakable loss and survived to tell the tale. He decided at that moment that maybe staying with her wouldn’t be so bad.

“So about that rules thing,” Peter tapped his fingers against his half-full mug, doing his best not to speed up and break it, “I don’t exactly do well with rules. They aren’t my thing. I can’t promise that the cops won’t show up at the door, and I especially can’t promise that they won’t be there because of something I did that I knew was against the rules,”

When Peter met the woman’s eyes again she was still smiling, not a hint of displeasure on her face.

“If I had a problem with you being you, Peter, I wouldn’t have offered to take you in. Besides, as long as the cops that show up are human there won’t be a problem,”

Peter paused. “What?”

“That’s a question for another time,” The woman took a sharp turn then, hopping off of her stool and walking her mug to the sink where she proceeded to rinse it out. “Next, even in public, I refuse to call you Mr. Bohner. Ralph I can do if you care about staying anonymous, but I won’t be acknowledging any part of your… chosen last name,” Even as she shuddered, there was humor lacing her voice, “Bohner, though? Really?”

“It’s funny!”

She turned back to Peter with her face scrunched up in faux disgust. “Maybe to a middle schooler,”

“I had just been pulled out of my room, sucked through a portal, and thrown onto the steps of goddamn Quantico, so excuse me for not being on top of my game. Besides, Bohner wasn’t even my first choice. They wouldn’t let me go with Jack Ingoff,”

That was enough to send them both into a fit of giggles.

“Jack Ingoff?” She wheezed, “You tried to get the F.B.I. to give you the legal name Jack fucking Ingoff? That’s just so you,”

“Hey! What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means you’re both an idiot and the funniest person I have ever met,”

“I’d better be,”

As they continued to laugh, Peter found himself completely enthralled by this strange woman’s face and it occurred to him that she was incredibly beautiful.

It wasn’t as if she was a supermodel, though in Peter’s eyes it wouldn’t have taken much to make her one. Every part of her just seemed to glow as she gripped her stomach and stifled laughter. She was pretty in quiet ways, in soft glances and gentle touches and unrestrained joy. In the way that everything around her felt like it was full of life. In the kindness that had never wavered while Peter had sat at her kitchen counter, even when he had come through the door swearing at Agent Woo and demanding that he didn’t need a babysitter.

The longer he looked, the more beautiful she became, in actions and words and features combined, and Peter suddenly became aware that if he hadn’t taken the time to really see her, he never would have realized. He was glad he had slowed down for once.

Somewhere down the line, her laughter quieted.

“So,” he cleared his throat, “what’s your deal?” The cold mug in his hands was suddenly extremely interesting.

Across the counter she stilled, frozen in place for a moment. When she spoke, her voice held an edge of… fear? “What do you mean?”

Peter did his best to backpedal.

“I didn’t mean it like that! I was just wondering what you did to get stuck with me, that’s all. I doubt they would stick my annoying ass with just anybody, especially after… well everything that went down in Westview. Plus, I’m not just a normal dude. What average New York socialite would take in a kleptomaniac who just so happens to also be inhumanly fast out of the goodness of their heart?”

As he spoke, her shoulders relaxed and she loosened her grip on the edge of the marble countertop. “Oh, my deal,”

“Yeah. There’s more to you than what meets the eye, I can tell,” Something in the way her face flushed at his words made Peter’s heart fill with pride.

“I… well I had a unique upbringing,” she responded, voice careful and measured while she watched the floor, “I’m not a mutant, not like you, but I have a little bit of power at my disposal that makes me useful to heroes and hero adjacent agencies. I’m not a part of the team, my skills aren’t usually helpful when it comes to fighting, but they keep tabs on me just in case I’m needed. This was one of those times,”

Peter snorted. “Sounds like a pretty shitty deal,”

“Trust me, if I didn’t have to have the government breathing down my back, I wouldn’t, but after I worked with the Avengers they pulled up my file and found out I shouldn’t exist, so they’ve been keeping a pretty close eye on me ever since,”

“Ah… well, next time just don’t get caught,”

“Not all of us have the luxury of being able to dodge bullets and outrun law enforcement, Peter. Besides, I like this house and I’m not quite in the mood to have to abandon it just yet.”

He shrugged. “To each their own. Now how the hell did you get stuck with me? Were you just the closest or did everybody else refuse,”

“Well, actually I offered to take you in,”

Peter choked on the air. “Why the hell would you do that?”

She was quick to defend herself, and in a way him too.

“Because Jimmy is my friend, and when a friend needs a favor I try to help them out. It’s more than that, though. I won’t lie. I’m fascinated by you, Peter Maximoff. I find you wonderful exactly how you are and I couldn’t stand to let any of the other assholes in New York try to stomp out your personality. Here with me, you can just be you, and knowing that you’re able to be comfortable until we find you a way home was more than enough of a reason for me to volunteer to take you in. Besides, if you weren’t with me you’d probably be in the tower’s holding cell, and believe me, that wouldn’t be any fun,”

It took Peter a minute to fully digest what he was hearing.

He wasn’t going to be a burden. There would be no curfews or screaming matches or long lectures about his chosen pastimes. She wanted every single part of him there and had already gone out of her way to assure him that even the worst of him was welcome under her roof. Even during his time at X-Mansion, he had never been treated like this.

Sure, he had been himself there. People would yell or try to stop him from doing what he wanted but their efforts were futile. He couldn’t be tamed. At best the other members of the team had just tried to ignore him until his powers came in handy. He was an annoyance at worst and the household funny guy at best, and yet now a total stranger wanted him around. It took all of Peter’s small reserve of restraint to not take a victory lap around the block there and then.

Being wanted was the best feeling in the world.

When his head cleared, he smiled again. “You know, when Agent Woo brought me in here I was fully prepared to wait for him to leave then make a run for it, but I’ve decided to save you from the F.B.I.’s wrath and stay for a while instead. You’re welcome,”

He expected a snappy retort, but instead, her words came out strangely genuine, almost a whisper.  “Thank you for saving me, Peter. I appreciate it,”

“Any time,”

Slowly the flush from before crept back onto her face.

“I know you’re not the type who likes to be tied down, so I won’t keep you here much longer,” she said, before taking Peter’s mug to the sink, “but there are just a few more things I need to tell you before you go off to do whatever it is you do on a Thursday morning.”

He would never admit it but Peter felt anything but tied down. Instead, he just nodded.

“Go for it,”

She washed the mug as she spoke. “Alright, well first of all what’s mine is yours. Unless I specifically ask you not to use something you have free reign over whatever you need. You can come and go as you please, I keep odd hours and don’t mind a little noise even when I’m sleeping. The house is pretty simple layout-wise, you can explore whenever you want, but the room at the end of the hallway to your right is my bedroom and I’d prefer if you didn’t go in there unless you need to. Your room is the first door at the left of the stairs on the second floor and… well, I think that’s all,”

There was a sort of sorrow in the woman’s eyes when she stopped, placing the now clean mug on a drying rack before turning to face Peter again. A yearning. It made Peter want to… well, he didn’t quite know what it made him feel. He just wanted to do whatever would ease the strange pain that resided in his new friend.

He went to speak but nothing came out.

“Is everything okay Peter?”

It was Peter’s turn to flush, face red with shame. “I...uh, well, I wasn’t quite paying attention when the agent introduced us. I’m gonna need to know your name if I’m living with you,”

It came as no surprise when she laughed gently, making her way across the kitchen towards the living room, passing Peter at the counter on her way. “My name is Y/N. It’s nice to finally meet you, Peter,” The strange sorrow was still present, reflected in her words, but it seemed lighter than before, more manageable.

“Nice to meet you too Y/N,”

“I’m heading to work,” she pulled on a light jacket as she spoke, “so feel free to explore at your own leisure while I’m gone. I’ll hopefully be back by 5, but sometimes things run late. Do you need anything while I’m out?”

Peter shook his head no. “If I can’t find something I need I’ll just run out and grab it myself.

Y/N laughed again. “Just don’t get caught, you won’t know the number to call from jail yet,”

“I’m sure I’ll manage,”

She paused, halfway out the door. “Oh, and Peter?”

“Yeah?”

“Welcome home,”

----

a/n: Thank you so much for reading! I have 3 1/2-ish parts of this series written, but the plan is for it to be a long haul where each part is a connecting oneshot. I hope you’re excited! 

Please don’t post my work to other sites, thanks!

#peter maximoff #peter maximoff x reader #evan peters #quicksilver #x-men #quicksilver x reader #marvel #wandavision #ralph bohner #fanfic

[mcwriting]

the costume

In which Tom dresses as Marty Mcfly for a Halloween party in Malibu and things get progressively wilder.

This is kind of my 200 followers celebration plus just some Halloween fun! Thanks to everyone who’s following, I really appreciate all of you and if you ever need a place to talk, my asks and messages are always open!

Ship: Tom Holland x Reader

Word Count: 1622

Warnings: mentions of alcohol consumption

Rating: K/K+

~

“So, how do I look, Jennifer?” Tom asked you with a raised brow and a smirk, his arms spread in display. 

You rolled your eyes in amusement. Tom looked ridiculous in his Marty McFly outfit consisting of jeans, a patterned button up, a Levi jacket, and the iconic puffy orange vest. 

Tom was taking you to a Halloween party at Robert Downey Jr.’s Malibu residence that was going to be filled with celebrities, some you know personally and others you were just fans of. 

Somehow, he had convinced you to dress as Jennifer from Back to the Future since he was Marty. So there you were, clad in pink floral pants that went way too high up your waist, a white button up, and a denim vest. Your hair was styled into big loose curls. 

“Good one Marty. That’s the last time I’m calling you that tonight, by the way,” you joked as you went to peck Tom on the lips. “You look very convincing. Too bad Robert wouldn’t go as Doc. You guys could finally recreate that scene.”

Tom chuckled.

“Yeah. I’m not actually sure what he’s going as tonight. He said it was a secret,” he said offhandedly. You could see a glint in his eyes but decided not to push him. 

Instead, you went outside where a driver was waiting to take you to the house party.

The party was in full swing when you arrived, drinks flowing freely among the star-studded crowd. You saw all kinds of costumes, movie characters, famous people dressed as other famous people, memes, mythical creatures, and more. 

You were a little star struck, but Tom led you through the crowd, saying quick hellos as you navigated the mansion. People were complimenting Tom’s and yours costumes and you felt yourself blushing.

Eventually you came upon a group of people you actually knew and talked for a little bit. You started looking around expectantly.

“Hey, babe?” you asked Tom quietly. He hummed in response. “Where is Robert? I mean, it is his party after all.”

“Oh you know him. He’s waiting to make an RDJ entrance. He probably won’t be long.”

You accepted that answer and went back to conversing with your friends, Tom leaving you for a moment to grab drinks.

Eventually the lights started flickering.

“Here he comes,” Tom muttered under his breath. You smiled. 

Some strobe lights circled the room and on came a spotlight, leading to cheers and applause.

Only a couple yards away stood Robert Downey Junior dressed in full Doc Brown garb, from the Hawaiian shirt and lab coat combo to an electrifying white wig. 

Your jaw dropped and you turned to Tom, who was just smirking.

“You knew?” you asked incredulously. Tom shrugged.

“Maybe.” 

You rolled your eyes again. Robert scanned the room as people looked between him, Tom, and you. Finally his own eyes landed on Tom.

“Great scott! Marty, is that you?” he asked in an eccentric voice, one finger pointed up to the sky. He marched over as Tom began laughing, unable to hide his amusement. 

“Woah doc! I’ve been lookin’ all over for you!” Tom said in an exaggerated northern American accent, paralleling Michael J. Fox’s from the film. 

They didn’t make it any further as both men couldn’t help but break into laughter, hugging. The lighting went back to normal and people started going back to their own conversations.

“Well look at this, you brought Jennifer!” Robert said, turning to you. You hugged him quickly and began talking with him.

A few minutes had passed when there was a loud interruption.

“MCFLYYYYYYY!” came a loud exclamation from a male voice. Everyone turned towards the source.

“No. Way.” you said, looking to your boyfriend again. He had a wild grin on his face. 

From the crowd burst another man onto the scene: Jake Gyllenhaal. 

You couldn’t help but burst into laughter.

He was dressed as the one and only Biff Tannen: cuffed jeans, a white tee, and a grey zipped jacket. 

He pointed angrily at Tom, stomping over.

“Why don’t you make like a tree and get out of here!” Jake exclaimed. He, too, quickly fell into a fit of laughter just as the other two had. 

He then happily greeting the group as well, hugs all around.  

“What’s next, George and Lorraine?” you joked, looking to Tom expectantly.

“No, no. Jake was the last of it,” he assured. 

You took a few group photos to show off your great costumes and spoke for a while. After a bit,��people started floating around from group to group, saying more hellos to friends and Tom making introductions for you.

You were happy to just hang out with everyone and drink and be merry, but eventually Jake came up and whispered something into Tom’s ear. He nodded and turned to you.

“Okay babe I need to go do something real quick are you good or do you want me to find Chris and the others?”

“Oh, um, well. I think they’re just over there actually, but where are you going?”

“You’ll see,” he trailed, throwing you a wink. “I’ll be back in a little bit.” 

He gave you a quick kiss and disappeared with Jake. You resigned yourself to finding your friends but couldn’t help but wonder.

What are those boys up to?

You were mid conversation when the lights once again changed to illuminate the stage where the DJ had been all evening. Everyone turned their attention to see a background revealed to look like a school hallway. 

Out came Jake in his Biff garb with a microphone, a giant smile on his face.

“Ladies and gentlemen, Doc Brown and Marty McFly,” he said gesturing to the side before disappearing off stage. 

Tom and Robert appeared, now changed into different outfits. 

This time, Tom had slacks with a grey and red jacket along with a patterned white button up underneath. Robert was dressed in similar pants with an eccentric red and yellow button up, a white sport coat, and white had with red accenting.

You slapped a hand over your mouth.

Tom shoved his hands into his pockets.

“Doc, she didn’t even look at him,” Tom said in his Peter Parker voice.

The crowd cheered.

One they died down, Robert said the next line, continuing the scene that had been famously deep-faked of the two.

The scene finished quickly with Robert first saying,

“What are their common interests? What do they like to do together?”

“Nothing,” Tom finished. With that, Robert walked off, leaving Tom to look around confused and the lights to go down.

Everyone screamed and clapped and cheered at the scene’s end. You let out a few whoops and clapped as the lights were brought back up, Tom and Robert both laughing and waving.

Robert gave a conductors’ signal for the crowd to quiet and everyone settled down. 

“I just wanted to give a big thanks to everyone for coming out tonight,” he began. He gave a quick speech about the circumstances that led to them doing the scene for the party and then turned the floor over to Tom.

“Thank you, thank you! Before I say anything else I first want to call up my girlfriend, wherever she is,” he said, looking around the room. A few people moved and pointed towards you, making it easy for Tom to spot you in the crowd.

“Come on up here, y/n!” he exclaimed. People shuffled around to let you go forward and step up onto the stage. You were confused as to why he wanted you there other than maybe because of your costume.

Tom wrapped an arm over your shoulders before speaking again.

“I need to apologize to my dear y/n tonight,” he started, causing you to give him an equally concerned and confused look. “Y/n, I’m sorry for lying to you about my whereabouts this week. Every time you went to work I came here to rehearse instead of just going to the gym.”

You breathed a sigh of relief and laughed, then smirked.

“Well I guess I should be honest too, then,” you followed, stretching up to say it into Tom’s mic. It was Tom’s turn to look surprised.

“Let’s just say that “find my friends” and snap maps don’t lie...” you trailed, causing the crowd to “ooooh” and Tom to drop his jaw. 

“You knew? Since when!?”

“The first day you came here, you goof. I kept dropping hints all week to see if you’d come clean about it.” 

“So you’re telling me, in front of all these people, that you knew about our surprise? And you never said anything?”

“Well I wouldn’t say I knew for sure, but that was the best case scenario and I figured I’d give you the benefit of the doubt.”

Tom just shook his head incredulously and gave you a squeeze, planting a quick kiss on your head.

“My girlfriend, everyone! The smartest, and maybe sneakiest, girl I know!”

With that the party continued on early into the morning of November first. By the time you were taken back to yours and Tom’s place, you were both still pretty buzzed from all the drinks you’d consumed after Tom finished his little speech. 

Neither of you, however, were all too tired yet.

“So... Marty,” you began as you and Tom walked down the hall to the bedroom.

“I thought you weren’t gonna call me that anymore,” he said with squinted eyes.

“It’s a new day isn’t it?” you replied, sliding his jacket off his shoulders. 

“Well I guess it is, Jennifer.” His voice was husky as he began stripping off your own vest. 

It didn’t take long for you to exhaust yourselves after that.

~

A/N: Once again, thanks to everyone for reading and following! I know I’m not the most consistent writer but you guys are awesome for sticking around. Hopefully I can get another marriage project chap our by next week :)

permanent tag list: @jackiehollanderr, @one-big-fangirl, @agentnataliahofferson

#the costume #tom holland #tom holland imagine #tom holland x reader #tom holland fanfiction #tom holland oneshot #spider-man #tom holland spider man #robert downey junior #robert downey jr #jake gyllenhaal

[lone-star-ranger]

How to Scam Your Way Into Marriage Bonus content + new chapter announcement

Ok, next chapter (Injury Recovery) is drafted; sitting at 1320 words.  Now to get my wife to look at it tomorrow (Friday) and publish it either early morning CST or late evening CST depending on whether I can get it on Ao3 before my shift.   Bonus content below the cut; my hurt/comfort draft that I felt was too repetitive to post as a standalone chapter.  Rough draft; not edited; read at your own risk.

Tagging @thereviewguest; this was the chapter I was going to try work Hakoda in based on our discussion, and @ljf613; tagged because “Scam” is your gift fic.

CHAPTER 2 1/2 HURT AND COMFORT

Toph stormed away from the dining hall in a huff. She wasn’t sure why she and Zuko hadn’t been talking except to fight more and more.  If they weren’t careful, rumors would begin to spread.  Throwing open the door to the training arena, she began hurling rocks at the targets. The door eased open behind and she scowled before burying herself in a stone igloo.

Hakoda sighed as he saw the rocks rise into place.  “Toph, I’m just here to talk if you want.”

At his words, a small hole bent open and Toph’s voice floated out, “Well, excuse me for my lack of decorum at the breakfast table.”

Hakoda shook his head, “I’m not upset at you. It sounds like you need someone to talk to or someone to listen to you and since my kids aren’t here yet, I’m willing to listen.”

“Yeah, right, old man.”

“How many times did we talk in the temple, Toph? You know I’m not interested in changing you. I just want to help.”

Toph snorted and Hakoda sighed, sitting down and drawing a blade.  Reaching into a pocket, his fingers closed on nothingness. Checking all his pockets, he realized Malina must have taken his whetstone out when she set everything out for him this morning.

“I felt that.” Toph called out to him.

Hakoda blinked out of his thoughts, “Hmm? Excuse me.”

“The disappointment. It radiates through the stone and I can feel you judging me.”

“Ah, sorry. Right emotion, wrong target. I don’t have my whetstone to sharpen my blade while I wait.”

“That’s it?”

“That’s it.”

The hole widened a bit and a perfectly formed whetstone leaped out from the hut.

“Thank you, Toph.” Hakoda settled in and let the rasp, rasp, of the whetstone over steel settle his mind.

The sun moved slowly through the sky as Hakoda calmly sharpened his sword, his saxe knife, and his boot knife.  As he finished the last blade, he walked over to the used weapons pile and picked up two swords to sharpen.  Returning to his bench, he settled back down and began sharpening the sword dulled by use against an oaken pillar.  After a few strokes of the whetstone, the hut crumbled and Toph stomped over to him.

“Fine, old man. You win.”

Hakoda nodded, “Would you like to sit?”

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

Admiral Jee opened the door cautiously. “You asked to see me, my lord?”

“Drop the ‘my lord’ nonsense and come with me.” Zuko opened a door in the wall that led to a passageway that plunged deep into the caldera and they walked to a platinum bunker held aloft by thick chains.

Jee lifted his eyebrow at the bunker. “I take it, whatever we’re discussing has to do with your fiancée?”

“Good guess.”

Stepping in and sealing the door, Zuko lit the air-warning candle and pulled out a thick packet of papers only to find Jee studying a painting of the Wani. Jee spoke without turning, “Would this have anything to do with the argument at breakfast, my… Zuko?”

Zuko scowled, “Yes and No. I need you to sign this.”

Jee lifted up the papers, “The Fire lord’s official MOST secret protection act? A specialized act even more restrictive than the Secrets protection act?”

“Yes, what I want to talk about is not to be repeated to anybody at all.”

Jee signed his name with a flourish. “Very well…Zuko, spit it out.”

Zuko froze as he debated how to start, but finally blurted out, “I’m in love with Toph.”

Jee nodded slowly, “Yessss… Isn’t that why you’re marrying her?”

“NO! The council invoked the bloodline security act and her father threatened to have her dragged back to the Earth Kingdom if she didn’t marry! This was supposed to give us cover for a few years until we figured something out, but now, RAAHHAGH!!!” The sconces flared as Zuko yelled before he threw himself into a chair and put his head down in his arms on the table.  “I can’t do anything about it either.”

Jee furrowed his brow, “You can’t talk to her about it?  If she’s a good friend…”

“The best”

“Your best friend, then, why don’t you talk to her?”

“It’s not honorable.”

Jee barked out a laugh, “Kid, I was stuck on a ship with you for three years and you’re still going on about honor?” Zuko looked up and scowled at him and he added, “my lord?”

“It’s not honorable because everything she depends on right now, friends, housing, work, leisure, everything she has here, I can snap my fingers and make it all disappear.”

“Pretty sure she’d snap you if you ever tried that.”

Zuko glanced up from the table, “Really? You lack that much faith in my combat prowess?”

Jee snorted, “No, I just have more faith in the ‘Melon Lord.’ How fast did she win the Caldera benders brawl?”

Zuko smiled at the memory, “3 minutes, 44 seconds against 49 benders, 10 of them Imperial Firebenders from my personal guard.”

“I rest my case.”

“Fair enough.”

“Anyway, since she’s such a threat… why don’t you talk to her? She’s your best friend and if you have a chance for this friendship to blossom into something more, shouldn’t you take it.”

Zuko shook his head, “I can’t do that to her.”

Jee shrugged, “Personally, I understand your concerns, but she’s an earthbender. I think she’d appreciate knowing the situation entirely so she can face it head-on.”

Zuko nodded, “I’ll take that under advisement.”

“Pleasure as always, my-“ Jee broke off at Zuko’s exasperated look, “Zuko.”  

#TOKO #toph x zuko #toph beifong #Zuko #zuko fanfic #hakoda #lt jee #rough draft #discarded draft

[dememarquette]

True Crime

They parked outside a cottage. Portend Point was a gorgeous neighborhood. Occupying it, 1305 Parkview was an equally picturesque property. It had everything one could want from a gentrified postcard: a manicured lawn, a white picket fence, friendly neighborhood dogs excited to see you but not too excited. A sign advertised this slice of warm American pie could be yours. FOR SALE it said, smacked across an unfortunate realtor's forehead. Kevin Locklear had a new golf cart staked on this commission. In his desperation, which reeked as bad as the scene, he ducked below the police tape to plant an optimistic 'Open House Resumes Wednesday!' picket. Adria would take personal pleasure in throwing it in the garbage.

"Jean and Sidney Morin," She briefed, as Ian punched in the door code. "They're from New Gisen, reported missing 72 hours ago. Gas station footage has the suspect grabbing Jean at the Circle K. Sidney was seen by traffic cams in hot pursuit, but we have nothing after the first intersection. Men are checking doorbell cameras along the street. So far, nothing." The stolen car in the driveway was similarly combed through. Every stray hair inside was documented. There wasn't much left that wasn't bagged, tagged and sent off to the lab, but Ian liked one last intimate walk-through before tossing the keys to clean-up. If he was absorbing one word of what Adria was saying, it didn't show. Her partner worked like a TNT detective. Adria pictured the world bottoming out around him. He'd suffer 50 consecutive epiphanies after looking at something stupid like a tipped ketchup bottle, and construct a convoluted MO from there, but that's not how she worked. If reading the block text helped, murder's hooked on phonics, by God she'd do it. "Neighbors didn't hear anything. We have no idea where the struggle took place, if there was one. Judging from the looks of this place-" "It wasn't here." He said, tuning in only for silent confirmation. She nodded, and he killed the lights. His UV swept over the walls. The inside had the aesthetically-pleasing insipidity of a gourmet cracker. It had been sanitized for a showing, but according to the carpet, the perp wasn't admiring the crown modeling. A modest drip-trail led straight from the front door to the basement, and there wasn't a petal out of place before it. After a quick scan of the rooms composing the ground floor, Ian got his fill of Ashley HomeStore's heritage collection. To the basement they went. Each wood plank creaked under their feet. The floor consisted of a flat slab of water-stained cement. The space was fashioned into a man-cave. Shelves were bolted to the walls. All the sofas were leather. Posters on the wall were swapped for something more palatable, flanking an entertainment system that was to be marveled. In a move that didn't appear to serve any purpose toward the room's breathability, all the furniture was shoved to the side to clear the center. A single bulb hung by chain overhead. Energy funneled through a copper wire made it hum. Evidence photos never did it justice. The victims were strung together by a lawn hose. A single cloth gag- maybe a sheet- knocked their heads together, pulled taut at the pocket of their jaws. Their height difference forced Jean's face heavenward. The whites of her eyes were visible from the top, but you had to be at the bottom to see the shadow she sat in was actually a pattern. Their blood leaked into a paste-like outline, seeping color into the circle etched into it. Where the natural tug of gravity didn't fill the trenches, the killer dropped to their knees and started fingerprinting, casting away any macabre elegance it formerly had. Their hands scraped to fill the pattern all until it got to the bottom of the arc. Ian read her mind. "They were interrupted." "By what?" She asked. His mouth pressed into a hard line. He didn't have an answer. Instead he completed his circuit before dropping closer to the gag. Adria knelt beside him, her boots toeing the edge where the brushwork tapered. Fingerprints- fragmented and smeared- were shipped off to IAFIS. Problem was, when the suspect hadn't indulged in some casual DUI, she needed something to match it to. She sized her hand up against theirs, while the deceased husband stared on. Adria avoided eye contact. Violent crime wasn't anything new. She's seen her fair share since moving to the city, but never a throat cut this deeply. Sidney had been nearly decapitated. Skin folded off his Adam's apple like a bow-tie. Stringy matter underneath was on full display. "What about the design? Does that mean anything to you?" "The team is working on tracking it. So far they're thinking it’s some type of online cult." "And that?" She tipped her head to the bowls skirting the outline. Ian grabbed one, sifting through it with a finger. Its contents stuck to the latex, white. "Cinnamon, and salt. The last one's pyrite. Offerings." "Then what were they?" "Bait." The moment he said it the lights died. Ian shot up. Adria pulsed to follow, but her balance teetered. Neither were near a switch. "Who else is here?" "No one." The bowl Ian was holding warbled a low note, spinning where he’d been. He shouted from the foot of the stairs. "Has to be the breaker. Don't move." "What?" "Don't move." "Wh- I'm not going to touch anything!" Adria lurched on steel-toes. Offense had her fumbling with her flashlight. Sure. Okay. Fine. So in the past she hasn't been the most careful. Maybe she's stomped through one or two crime scenes. But never when it mattered! So it's not like she'd- Something blew past her ear.  With a graceless shriek, she made it a third. "God DAMN it!" Coagulated blood gunked to her jeans. She fell onto her back, swearing and curling to assess the damage. Ian would take one look at her and scowl. He'll do that smoldering, glower thing of his that she only liked when it was directed to other people. And then she'll have to go home, change her jeans, and hope he lets her back onto the property before they break out the body bags. He's going to see right away that- There's smoke? She dropped her knee. Sniffing, she swiveled. Air was escaping somewhere, hissing like a busted soda can. Whatever it was suffused the room. Her eyes burned just to move, but she couldn’t shut them. It could be more than the breaker- But that wouldn't explain why it was in the middle of the scene. With a yelp, she witnessed a spark fly between the corpses. Her heels planted into the floor. She kicked, hastily wedging distance between her and smog lifting off the concrete. She could've pretended she missed the class where she found out cinnamon was flammable. She could've maybe let it slide that denim wasn't an accelerant, but this was straight up sulfur. A ribbon of light unwound between them. A silhouette stretched out from behind it, towering. "Ian?" She asked, already knowing it wasn't. It had too many feelings to be. "What is this?" It croned. Miserably, it picked up a leg. "Ugh." Fingers acting faster than her brain, Adria whipped her gun from its holster "HANDS. Hands up, now!" "Sticky-" It groused. She heard a wet, staggered ppmf-ff. That suspiciously sounded like bodies toppling. In a maneuver she couldn't repeat, she blindly vaulted over the sofa, jamming herself between its backing and the wall. Her vision developed slow. First outlines, then shapes. Colors a little after when the smokescreen fanned out, blurring the glow around his face. She propped up her gun. Old leather gave away her position. The red light of eyes widened, vaguely cartoon-ish. "WHOA, hey now. Don't shoot." "Get on the ground." She ordered. "I said I wanna see your hands! Both of them, now!" "Aye-aye!" He complied. There was something sarcastic about the way his shadow wiggled to the floor. "Happy?" "Who are you?!" "Demetri Marquette, at your service." He tried to bow, until the violent rattle of her pistol suggested that was strictly prohibited. "What are you doing here?!" "Same as you, I imagine." "What?! What does that mean?" "You know. Working. The hustle." He shimmied. One by one, the candles surrounding them lit. The man in the center appeared nothing as he did in the shadows. His stature halved. The reddish glow vanished from his face, but most perplexing yet was that he somehow found a cover to throw over the bodies. With the blanket over them, they looked like fucking sock puppets. Adria sucked in a breath, sputtering nothing but inarticulated syllables for solid five seconds before, "Hey- stop fucking with my scene!!" "Oh- this?" He patted the victim's heads. The disrespect alone should’ve been grounds to fire. "I was meaning to talk to you about that. I'm sorry but two? Overkill. We’re not in the business of extra credit but I do appreciate the enthusiasm. So, uh. What's it going to be?" She swore nothing about this conversation was tracking. "Huh? "Money, fame, power, et cetera?" Nonsense! Complete nonsense. What was he implying? That this was an offer? A transaction for the bodies? It didn't matter. He overstayed his welcome before he popped in. And the fact he got in here at all may mean he knew something they didn't. This ridiculous, unexplainable suspension of belief kept her from feeling imperiled but this fuck was going to ruin the whole case if he didn't already. She pinched the button on the side of her walkie. "Ian, I need back-up downstairs now." The stranger sucked his teeth. "Ah. I wouldn't do that.” ’Oh my God, shut up. “Come on, talk to me.” He cooed. “What would make you more comfortable? Fresh air? The lights- is it the lights?" She glared, trigger finger satisfied with rapid-fire button clicking. Ian's hip would be going off like the fire alarm should be. "You know, I was going for ambiance, but." He snapped. Suddenly the power was back. She twisted from her fort. Corner to corner, stomping cleared across ceiling. The basement door creaked. Ian came swinging down the stairs, perfectly on cue. "The breaker fixed itself." He announced, sounding leery of it. "Imagine that," Said Blondie. Adria’s aim stayed fixed, prepared for sudden moves. There weren’t any, even from her partner. Ian’s velocity slowed to a stop. His grip on the handrail turned rigid before the bottom, tightening like it was the only thing keeping him upright. His eyes roved over the ruined scene, the magnitude of it driving a huge crease into his brow. He did not notice the stranger directly beside him. Adria desperately looked between the both of them. "He can't see me," Demetri elaborated. "Adria?" Said Ian. The gravelly rumble of his voice asked fifty questions- none of which she had an answer to. She had a gun aimed at nothing. Two bodies were down, bizarrely set up for a picnic. "I-..." She stuttered. "Word of advice," Demetri picked a piece of lint of Ian’s shoulder. The detective reacted with only the slight drift of his eye-line, before his attention snapped back to Adria. "Don't say anything or you'll buy yourself a ticket to a psych eval." "Ian, you can't-?" "Nevermind. From this angle, you already look insane." Ian waited for her to continue but she lowered her gun. If he was right, there was no coming back from this. "...I thought I saw someone in the smoke." "Smoke?" There was no smoke. No fire, no light. Demetri's trapeze around the basement hadn't even left footprints. To Ian, she used the two minutes he was away to go nuts. Just lose her mind. Sanity to the wind. Who needs to critically think when you can barricade yourself behind a sofa, wildly waving a gun around? Defending yourself from scary shadow people that a paid electricity bill keeps at bay? Ian stared, impatience surging from a quiet simmer to a boil. She realized it’s been too long since she even tried answering a question. "Are you alright?" He rephrased. What she heard was ’Are you an idiot?’ Her face burned hot. "I think-" She slung her bag over his shoulder. "I think I need a minute. I'll be back." The tight set of his jaw meant he agreed. She ran past him, bolting for the cruiser. Now she was going to have to type up an incident report. Scrub her pants. Contemplate the onset of her paranoia induced insanity, and hope they wouldn't take her badge for this. She threw herself into the front seat of her cruiser. The door slammed behind her. Before she’d let frustrated tears get the better of her, she pulled up a Chrome browser. Occult. Satanism. She typed. Demon summoning. Symbol. All the results looked close. Matching the exact twisted pattern would be a nightmare. "Mind if we hit Starbucks?" Demetri necked her seat. She jolted, narrowly stopping herself from throwing her elbow through his eye socket. Knowing he was fictional made her wish she hadn't hesitated. "Why are you in my car?!" She swiped at her face. "For a frap. Hopefully. Is butterscotch still in season?" "No! Get out." His cheek squished against her headrest. "Aw, c'mon." She adjusted the rear-view, only for him pop up passenger side. "I get it." He said, proving he did Not actually. Devoid of any understanding of what 'Get out' meant, "More of a Dunkin' girl. That's fine I guess. Oh! Hope you don't mind. I dug through your glove department. I was trying to get to know you." He waggled a scrap of stationary. "Does the department know you're dating? Seems naughty. Is that against HIPA or something?" She flustered, red-faced. That note had been in Ian’s lunch. "OUT!" "I mean, I'm not judging. I like it. You'd think detective romances would get cliché but ugh." He pressed it to his heart. "There's something so enticing about seeing the ugliness of humankind hand-in-hand with the one you love. A real testament to love's resilience. Do you listen to Rihanna?" We Found Love belted from her speakers. Forget the psych eval, now she had to worry about the HOA. "What do you want, huh?!” Adria punched her stereo. “What do you want? Why are you here? Turn this OFF-" "I want to know what you want." He shrugged. "I want you to leave?! I’ve said a million times!" "No can do. Gonna need something more substantial. Unless, gasp." He made a show of patting down his slacks before producing a pen. The document it came with looked real and official. Spooky, until it came to 'Officer Hardass' at the top of a memo. It read "I forfeit my eternal soul to get Demetrius Marquette to GTFO" in gold. She looked down at the paper, head reeling. This was a fever dream. A nightmare. A joke, but she could feel the weight surrounding the document. Metaphysical. And as tempting as it would be to physically take his pen and jam it through his palm, five finger fillet- "NO." She shouted, chucking it back at him. "I'm not selling anything." Rihanna's chorus guttered and died. Its volume fell with his face. Hopeless indeed. "I don't get it." He huffed, impossibly exasperated. Like she was the one being objectively difficult here. "Why did you even summon me, then? What's the point?" "I didn't summon you, asshole! Some psychopath did!" "Huh." He pondered, deciding that did make more sense after-all. "...SO GO AWAY." "EeeeeEEEH. I don't think I will." He kicked back in the seat. A pair of sunglasses slid down his nose, gilded logo hitting the sun just right. How did a Dolce and Gabbana sales associate see him but not Ian? "You see. The problem is that I'm here now. I can't go home without something to show for it." "That's not my problem," Adria said, incredulously. "YOU are my problem! I don’t know who you think you are, but I don't owe you anything. You came onto my scene, jeopardized my career, made me look like an idiot, and now you're making my car smell like eggs!" Demetri recoiled. For a moment she thought she got through to him. Then it became abundantly clear it was just the egg part, actually. "Wow." He said. Hurt gave his voice a raspy edge. "Wow..." “So GO AWAY.” She tried for two. Three would be a taser. “You- you know what?” Demetri splayed his hands. “Fine. We’re done here. I’ll go-” “THANK YOU.” He scowled. “-I’ll go, but I will be back. And when I return, we're continuing this discussion in earnest. I hope, I sincerely hope Detective Kyro, that you think about it." She wouldn’t. But he vanished before she could say so. - - - By the time she got home, the scene was cleared. Since it had been cataloged ad nauseam, there was no need to report his partner’s lapse in sanity. Ian let it go. He covered her ass by risking his to shuffle in clean-up before anyone with a badge audited the damage. She got off easy. Despite earning every letter of a psych referral, confrontation fell away into 'unspoken' territory. He said nothing, but it was strongly encouraged by his cancellation of their Friday after-work happy hour that she take an extended weekend to 'rest.' That part he phoned in without her approval. Defeated, she threw off her jacket. She hooked her gun belt on a peg by the door. Her jeans were just going to burn- they were as good as cursed as far as she was concerned. There was nothing left to do but take a long, hot shower. Maybe she’d feel better if her skin ran hotter than the shame. The rest could be dealt with Monday. What choice did she have, really? She jammed a thumb through her braid. The plaits fell loose as she kicked off her boots, Adria went through the motions of attaining tentative comfort. And the moment she thought she could let it go (until she’d inevitably replay it at all again tonight) she smacked into the chest of someone in the bathroom. Her bathroom. This motherfucker made himself at home. “So,” His finger wound in the cord of her hairdryer. Freshly washed, and expertly coiffed, Demetri smelled exactly like her body wash. "Did you think about it?"

#a JUST FOR FUNSIES au #adria #true crime #story

[just-random-obsessions]

Funny Moments In Thor Ragnarök

Thor 1

Thor 2

Avengers 1

I know I said I was gonna do Avengers Age of Ultron too, but because it didn’t have Loki in it, I decided to scrap that idea because this series is mostly focused on the relationship between Loki and Thor. So without further ado, all the funny moments in Thor Ragnarök. Side note: This accounts for all the moments were SUPPOSED to be funny. However these are mostly toilet humor, so whether or not it was actually funny to the viewer just depends on that person’s taste in humor. Funny moments listed below cut line which is underneath the tag list.

Edit for clarification: This is not a post supporting Thor Ragnarok. This is an anti post. In another post (that I’m too lazy to write right now) I will be explaining the difference in humor tones between this movie and the previous three. I will also be explaining why this tonal change is hated by anti Ragnarok people.

Tag List: @fyrecrafted @lokijiro @nikkoliferous @miskiett @icyxmischief @iamanartichoke @juliabohemian @official-and-unstable-satan @darthxerik @melodylnoelle @just-another-human-2019 @fandomsandfanfictions @mentallydatingahotcelebrity @cateyes315 @burningarbiterheart @imnotacreepijustlikeyou @usedtobegoodfriend96 @alexakeyloveloki

~ “Where I met you :)” *skeleton’s jaw drops*

~ “Surtr. Son of...a bitch you’re still alive?!”

~ *The chain keeps spinning Thor around and interrupting Surtr

~ “And you’ll grow as big as a house-?” “A mOuNtAiN” 

~ “Oh that’s a crown. I thought it was a big eyebrow”

~ *Thor’s timing being wrong when he says “that’s what heroes do”

~ “oh I make grave mistakes all the time. Everything seems- *shit that’s a bg dragon* -to work out”

~ “Behold!!! My stuff!

~ *Pronounces Texas wrong*

~ “I call them Des and Troy. Together, they Destroy”

~ *Thor drops the hammer in the dragon’s mouth* “Stay!”

~ *The entire Asgardian play*

~ *The woman in the audience emotionally grabbing Thor’s arm*

~ *Thor being all wtf???*

~ “Father” “Oh shit”

~ *that smile!!!* 

~ *Out of breath* “Behold!! Thor! Odinso-” “You had one job”

~ “I swear I left him right here” “right here on the sidewalk or right here where the building’s being demolished?”

~ “Can’t see into the future. I’m not a witch” “No? Then why do you dress like one?” “hEy!!!1!!!1!!”

~ “I can’t believe you’re alive. I mourned you! I cried for you!” “I’m honored??”

~ *the two girls who approach Thor to take a selfie*

~ “Sorry to hear that Jane dumped you” “She didn’t dump me. I dumped her. It was a mutual dumping”

~ *Thor poking the piece of paper cause he thinks it’s Loki*

~ “You can put down the umbrella”

~ “So Earth has wizards now” “The preferred term is Master of the Mystic Arts” “Alright wizard”

~ *Thor fumbling with the cool spikey things*

~ “I don’t drink tea” “Well what do you drink?” “Not tea”

~*the self-refilling beer*

~ “No I don’t have a phone but you could’ve sent an electronic letter. It’s called an email” “Right do you have a computer?” “No what for?” *confusion*

~ “My hair is not to be meddled with-OW!!!!”

~ “We could’ve just walked”

~ “Don’t forget your umbrella” *the awkwardness between them as everything crashes*

~ “I hAvE bEeN fAlLiNg FoR tHiRtY mInUtEs!!!!1!!1!!!!”

~ I’m pretty sure Odin’s death scene was the only scene to not have any humor in it.

~ “Who are you?” “I’m just the janitor”

~ *Valkyrie tries to do the Badass Walk but falls off the edge*

~ *Val keeps stumbling*

~ “But we’ve already got him” “Alright then. I guess I go through you”

~ *The guns not working at first*

~ *Val’s smirk*

~ *Thor’s mashed up face on the window of the ship*

~ “Whoever you are.” “Whoever I am?! Did you listen to a word I said?!”

~ *Thor’s scared screaming turned into a confused and awkward screaming as he is introduced to the Grandmaster*

~ “He’s wonderful. It is a he?” “It is a he”

~ “She is the- and it starts with a b” “Trash” “Were you just waiting to call her that? It doesn’t start with a b” “Booze-head”

~ “You’ll pay for this” “No I got payed for this”

~ “I am the god of THUNDER” *sparkles*

~ “OH MY GOD I’m stepping in it!!!”

~ “I’m going back to Asgard.” “Assgard?”

~ “Loki!” “Shhh!”

~ *Loki and Thor start arguing*

~ “Get me out!” “I can’t!” “Get me out!” “I can’t!”

~ “I’ve never met this man in my life” “He’s my brother” “Adopted”

~ “Let me introduce myself my name is Korg. I’m kinda like the leader in here”

~ “I tried to start a revolutions but I didn’t print enough pamphlets”

~ “Oh no. Doug’s dead”

~ “That’s exactly what Doug used to say. See you later New Doug”

~ Infinity Gauntlet: “Fake!!”

~ Casket: “Weak!”

~ Surtr’s Crown: “Smaller than I though it would be”

~ *Thor throwing rocks at Loki*

~ “Piss off ghost!!”

~ “It would pull me off-” “Oh my god. The hammer pulled you off?” 

~ *Thor fumbling with talkin to Val and doing the thumbs up*

~ “By Odin’s beard you shall not cut my hair” *2 seconds later* “Please kind sir do not cut my hair”

~ “I have to get off this planet” 

~ “Loki! Look who it is!” *NOPENOPENOPENOPENOPENOPENOPENOPENO

PENOPENOPENOPENOPENOPENOPENOPENOPENOPENOPENOPENOPE

NOPENOPENOPENOPE

~ *Thor gets whacked around like Loki did in Avengers* “YES!!! THATS HOW IT FEELS*

~ “Not just to execute people, but also to execute their vision. But mainly to execute people”

~ *Hulk being naked in the hot tub* “That’s in my brain now”

~ “What are you crazy?!” “YES”

~  “Hulk like fire. Thor like water”

~ *Thor stumbling around Val again*

~ “Because that’s what heroes-” *gets bonked in the head with the ball*

~ *the voice activation being “Point Break”*

~ “What happened to your hair?” “Some creepy old man cut it off” “It looks good”

~ “Banner” “Welcom strongest Avenger” “Uhhh what?”

~ “You and I had a fight “ “Did I win?” “No I won” “That doesn’t sound right”

~ *Topaz trying to hand the Grandmaster the meltsick*

~ “I don’t wanna fight your sister that’s a family issue”

~ *Thor and Bruce arguing like children*

~ “It’s my disguise” “I can see your face” “Not when I do this”

~ *Bruce complimenting Valkyrie*

~ *Thor stealing the name Revengers from the Avengers*

~ “Where are you at these days?” “It varies from moment to moment” *NOPE*

~ “We are going through the big one” “The Devil’s Anus?!”

~ “I’m asking for safe passage. Through the Anus”

~ *The snake story* 

~ “You guys have a beast :D?!!!!”

~ *”I’ll explain later”*

~ “I don’t like that word” “Mainframe?”

~ *Thor and Loki step out of the elevator* “Hello” “Hi”

~ *get help*

~ “Alright I can figure this out it’s just another spaceship”

~ “Did she just say the Grandmaster uses it for orgies?!!” “Yeah. Don’t touch anything”

~ “Use one of your PhD’s” “None of them aRe FoR FLYING ALIEN SPACESHIPS”

~ “Well you do seem like you’re in desperate need of leadership” “Why thank you” 

~ “Not that [Asgard’s] not nice it’s just that it’s on fire”

~ “I love what you’ve done with the place. Redecorating I see”

~ *heroic music plays* *Bruce falls flat on his face*

~ “I’m Korg. This is Miek. We’re gonna jump on that spaceship. Wanna come?”

~ “Your savior is here!!! Did you miss me?”

~ “You’re late” “You’re missing an eye” 

~ “I think we should disband the Revengers”

~ “Hit her with a lightning blast” “I just hit her with the biggest lightning blast in the history of lightning”

~ “So what do we do?” “I’m not doing Get Help”

~ “You can’t defeat me” “I know. But he can”

~ “We’re fulfilling the prophecy” “I hate this prophecy”

~ “For once in your life! Don’t smash!” “Big monster?!” 

~ “It will become a haven-” *Asgard explodes* “Yeah no sorry”

~ “Oh Mieks dead. Yeah I stomped on him on the bridge. I felt so guilty I’ve been carrying him around all day.” *2 seconds later* “Oh Miek you’re alive!! He;s alive guys!! What was your question?”

~ “Do you really think it’s a good idea to go back to earth?” “Yes of course, the people of Earth love me”

I FINALLY FINISHED IT!!!!!

#that took forever to do too #Anti Chris Odinson #anti chris hemsworth #anti-ragnarok #anti ragnarok #anti thor ragnarok #anti taika waititi #im finally finished!!!!!!

[xelles-archive]

3, 5, 7, 12, 15 for the s/i asks ^^ pick whoever you want

hi ari! ty for stopping by ^w^ i promise i'll work on the asks y'all sent supposedly meant for f/ovember rhfhfifj

i'm gonna use kryxelle baden because they're the most i have worked on, hehe. i'm also gonna put this under a read more bc i got carried away whoops.

3. Does your s/i have a full backstory yet? Or is it still in the works? If it's done can we see it?

yup, it's technically completed now! though i don't really have a story or an outline lol. but it basically goes like this-

they were abandoned by their biological parents (they left them somewhere near shore)

they were discovered and soon adopted by a married couple (who happened to be both bakers)

they have an extremely supportive adoptive sister named samantha (i haven't drawn her yet but i have a tag for her!)

they grew up to be a baker (wow how susprising)

they were around their late 20s when they met jose

they met jose late at night near the bar he was drinking in

"how about you stay at my place for the night?"

"no."

the bastard was drunk, don't be surprised.

since they weren't interested in the man, they instead tried to hook up their sister with him.

... that did not work out so well.

they rampaged to jose's office and slapped him LMAO.

a few days later, they found out they were adopted by accidentally eavesdropping on their parents' heated conversation.

"they're the reason why our REAL daughter got upset!" (dad)

"but that doesn't mean they're not a part of our family!" (mom)

wowowow dramatic scene, they ran away crying and stayed on the beach for a while.

oh, what, tall lanky man to save the day?

they were cold towards him at first, but eventually warmed up as they started to hang out more.

the beach was like, a place they can run to.

don't worry, their parents alongside their sister apologized to them.

several months has passed and they eventually gathered up the courage to confess to jose.

*insert kissing scene*

over the next day, they were struck with the news that jose had a fiancée (the queen's daughter).

now this is where the song 'love story' starts to apply. :]

"since when?"

"just yesterday!"

jose tried to explain to them that it was a forced marriage arranged by his father but they wouldn't budge.

~dramatic running away commences~

jose hasn't seen them for a long time, and the day of the wedding came.

he was fidgeting as the marriage officiant was saying his thing.

he caught a glance of kryxelle at the very back, a disappointed look plastered over their face.

they walked away without saying anything, and jose had the biggest urge to run after them.

and he did.

his father was angry lol.

he was able to catch up with them.

"marry me, kryxelle."

"what?"

"it's you whom i love."

yay, they shared another kiss in front of other villagers! :D

jose's father was stomping his way towards them, they were expecting him to be angry but he cried instead.

he felt guilty for trying to lure them away from jose.

they finally got married near the shore.

a few years has passed, and jose's father suddenly disappeared without a trace.

it was a drastic time for both jose and kryxelle.

there were bad rumors spreading around, itching at jose's head. he started drinking more than usual.

fortunately kryxelle was there to help him.

soon, jose had to leave to look for his father.

though, before he left, he and kryxelle did some *cough* funky business. 😳

that's where he ended up in the manor for nearly ten years.

he came back to their house with louis being the very first to open the door to him.

he didn't know about louis being his son yet, and so he got tricked that kryxelle and their family immigrated (that boy lmao).

his worry was washed away as soon as he saw kryxelle coming out of the kitchen.

*insert another kissing scene*

turns out jose brought some comrades along (naib, kevin (fuck you kevin), william, and murro).

both jose and louis were shocked when kryxelle explained their relation.

and now they're all together again. happy family. :)

5. Do you speak about your s/i in first or third person?

both! but i mostly speak in first person because i feel more "connected" so to say.

7. Give us 3 random facts abt your s/i!

they have motion sickness (this explains why they don't go on jose's ship a lot)

they get flustered very easily, especially in public (which is why you shouldn't leave them with a drunk jose)

if they were able to arrive in the manor like jose did, they would've been most likely to be called the "Baker" (though i don't really know what their ability would be).

12. Can we see a picture of your s/i?

yah! i drew this in 15 mins lol, don't actually use it as reference-

15. Does your s/i interact with any other self shippers s/i's?

unfortunately no. D: i'm too much of a coward to ask fellow idv shippers, but god i wish. ;w;

s/i ask meme

#since i'll probably never be able to write out me and jose's backstory y'all can have this ;-; #i actually haven't drawn them in a while so ty for giving me the chance to do so again hehe #most of my s/i's back stories are developed in the bathroom lol #i could stay there for an hour just thinking of scenarios between me and my f/o's #xelle.answered #ari tag 💕 #self ship ask game #s/i: kryxelle baden

[mcfiddlestan]

Last 10 Fics Tag Meme

Rules: Post the first lines of your last ten fics read or written and then tag others to do the same.

No one tagged me, but I saw it in the tags of one of my ships and it looked fun.

1. Untitled WinterFrost Single Dad AU (Bucky/Loki)

The sound of his front door opening and closing pulled Loki from a deep sleep. So deep, it took him a moment to remember where he was and how he knew that was his front door. His eyes opened slowly once, twice, and then again, to nothing but the darkness of what he was sure was his bedroom. Then the pounding started. Incessantly, pulsing around his entire head. Damned migraines. Loki let out a low grain, thought fuck it, and buried his face deeper into his pillow. Moments later, the door to his bedroom pushed open.

“Time to rise, Sunshine.”

Loki grumbled at the familiar voice, and slowly, he turned his body, rolling onto his back. “Why are you always so chipper in the morning? Oh, for Norn’s sake!” He threw a pillow over his face as the curtains were pulled open and let the blinding daylight flood the room. “I’ve got a damn migraine!”

2. Untitled Stucky Modern AU (Steve/Bucky and a healthy side of Sam/Natasha)

Bucky, his mind drawing a blank, was idly strumming his guitar when he heard the hard slam coming from next door. He surmised his neighbor and best friend, Natasha, had returned from her date, and assumed she’d be over in a few minutes to tell him about it. But when he heard a couple more distant slams and one very heavy thump against their shared wall, his curiosity got the better of him. Setting aside his black Fender, and stepping carefully over a dozing Avalanche, his tuxedo cat, Bucky walked barefoot through his apartment, into the hall, and breezed right into Natasha’s apartment.

He didn’t see her, but Bucky heard Natasha swear sharply, followed by something rattling against the hardwood floor. Waiting, he slipped his hands into the pockets of his dark sweatpants. Bucky watched as the top of Natasha’s head, burgundy hair in a stylish messy bun, popped up as she’d bent to pick up what he suspected was the cap to the bottle of vodka in her hand. “Hey, babe.”

Natasha turned dark green eyes on him, a sour expression pinching her usually attractive features, and said nothing, only moving to pour herself a full tumbler glass of the clear liquor. Bucky watched her swallow down most of it then waited silently as she filled it up once again.

He moved to rest his elbows on her pub height dining table. “Bad date?”

“You think?”

3. A Boyfriend for Christmas (Bucky/Loki)

“I need your help.”

Loki stared at the man in his doorway for a good five seconds, his lips in a thin red line, and his perfectly groomed black brows arched in curiosity. The man — his neighbor, Loki knew — was good-looking, Loki thought as he took the time to look him over, lips turning up in a soft grin. “Good evening to you, too, 9B.” The man’s lashes fluttered as they did a quick change from widened panic to a more relaxed gaze. Norns, his eyes were an impossible blue. “I can’t promise to help, but try me,” Loki drawled, taking a casual stance, crossing his arms as he leaned against the door jamb.

“Okay. Believe me, I know how this is gonna sound, and I swear I’ll make it up to you — somehow — but…well…okay. Here goes…” Loki cocked a brow, amused. “I need you to be my boyfriend for one night.”

Surprised, and maybe even surprising his neighbor, too, Loki laughed, a tickled near-giggle, and straightened. “You need me to do what now?”

4. Welcome Home -- working title (Bucky/Loki)

Bucky woke with a start, shooting up in his bed, and opening his eyes to near darkness, but for the faint orange glow of the streetlamps outside his bedroom window. For a moment, he was still in the dream; back in the desert, embedded in dirt, surrounded by heat. And flanked by Steve. On his right. He rubbed at his eyes, harder than necessary, willing the image of his best friend smiling and laughing to fade away again. 

Two years had passed since it all happened. The first year was the hardest. Stuck in the hospital, healing, speaking to no one but nurses and doctors — and the occasional military personnel, looking for the gory details. The minute he was out, Bucky was hounded by government officials wanting him to attend various memorials in the good captain’s name. Wanting him to relive the worst day of his life — which is saying a lot for a kid from Brooklyn who wasn’t far from ground zero on September 11, 2001. Was it any wonder that Bucky chose to up and disappear and go into hiding once it all finally ended?

5. WinterFrost Tumblr PWP Prompt (Bucky/Loki)

Bucky barged into the loft apartment, a dark expression screwing up his face, and paused just as the door slammed closed. His eyes, hidden beneath the black face paint smeared around them, like a burglar’s mask, did a quick scan of the layout of the open space before him. He kicked off his muddy boots, leaving them near the door, knowing his ‘loftmate’ wouldn’t take kindly to him leaving a dirt track through the well-kept place. He made a quick mental note to take care of the boots first thing in the morning. His mouth in a deep pout, Bucky thought to himself that it was times like this when he returned from a mission exhausted and not in the mood for company, that he wondered why he ever decided to move in with Loki, resident God of Mischief.

6. Post-Civil War/Ragnarok Frostiron AU (Tony/Loki)

There was no doubt in Tony’s mind just exactly what -- or rather who -- brought that subtle shift in atmosphere into the lab. He’d been expecting it, at some point, if he was honest with himself. And while a small part of him felt relief, there was, always had been, that slightly narcissistic part of his personality that would resent not being at the top of a certain someone’s to-do list.

Tony felt the faint flutter of air sweep across the back of his neck first, which reminded him he really needed to get a haircut. His nose tickled at the sharp tang the wafting scent of ozone often left in its wake. Realization about what exactly was about to transpire had Tony’s stomach doing a bit of a flip; pride, though, forced him to remain with his back to where he felt someone else’s presence. For a fleeting moment, Tony wondered if he could handle this.

Recalling everything that had happened since he last saw his visitor -- the mess with Ultron, the devastating truth about his parents’ deaths, the ends of friendships he actually mourned, the airport, Rhodey, the kid, the Accords -- all of it was a rollercoaster ride for which Tony had never signed up. But this...this one had hurt. The worst part was having to hide the hurt, the heartbreak, because no one knew. No one; not Pepper, not Happy. Not even Rhodey. Nobody knew the blow it was to the one they called Iron Man. How could they? No one knew that Iron Man had fallen in love with the God of Mischief.

7. Untitled Royals AU (Tony/Loki, with a splash of Bucky/Loki)

“Do you enjoy embarrassing me like this?”

Odin, King of Asgard, aimed a dark look across the conference table at Loki, the younger of his two sons, his anger and frustration growing by the second. The air of arrogance and disinterest emanating from Loki, raven-haired and more handsome than was good for him at an aggravating twenty-four years old, was making Odin curl his weathered hands into tight fists on top of the table. Loki looked at him, a questionable flash of surprise crossing his pale, chiseled features, his mostly-green eyes all but twinkling at him, mocking and laughing. 

“Of course I don’t.”

He was no fool; not Odin Borson. His expression darkened further, as he waited for the next words to come from Prince Loki’s mouth. 

“It’s not that I don’t enjoy embarrassing you. It’s more that it’s…a perk.” He smirked at Odin, like the brat he was, and Odin’s response was interjected by the Queen’s subtle astonishment. 

“Loki.” His eyes moved to her, and her disapproving look, and the smirk vanished. 

Odin slammed the newspaper that he’d been keeping in his lap to the glossy top of the long mahogany table. The headlines of Loki’s chaotic week in the States screamed about alcohol, fast cars, and the general recklessness of a perceived overly-spoiled son of royalty. “This is not a joke, Loki.”

8. Take A Bow (Tony/Loki)

Loki rushed through the narrow hallway, coughing to clear his throat of the makeshift fog that had filled the stage for the final moments of the play. By the time he reached the haven of his dressing room, his necktie was undone and his shirt was half unbuttoned. The hurried shouts and stomps of people working backstage were blissfully drowned out as Darcy, his new young assistant, quickly closed the door behind him.

“Great show tonight, Boss,” Darcy chirped as she took the discarded tie Loki handed over and waited to take his costume jacket and vest. Loki chuckled a thank you as she turned away from him. He urged her several times already to just call him by his name, but she insisted on calling him Boss, like he was a gangster in the 1930s. Darcy returned with a glass of water and Loki smiled his thanks before taking a long drink.

9. The House Guest (genderswapped FrostIron, fem!Toni/fem!Loki)

Loki sat in the front seat of a beat-up red convertible and stared blankly ahead. A mixture of hurt and anger had her brow furrowing, her lips pressed tightly together, and her chin, goddammit, was trembling. As Fandral droned on, giving his pathetic explanation, Loki did her best to focus on the other sounds around her — the birds chirping in the late summer morning; a neighbor’s dog barking in the distance; someone’s car alarm down the street malfunctioning — and fought to keep her eyes, fixated now on the white garage door in front of the car, from filling with tears.

Bullshit. She was hearing noting but utter bullshit. Her high school days behind her, Loki had spent the summer constructing plans for the next few months that didn’t involve going to her father’s alma mater in New York and spending the next four years of her life behind more piles of books. She had no interest in swapping high school jocks for frat boys. What she’d had were plans to go on a road trip across the States — and beyond — with Fandral, making love and making music.

But, apparently, Fandral had other plans. And the shitty reasons he was giving for not staying with Loki weren’t helping her understand any better.

10. WinterIron Bodyguard AU (Bucky/Tony)

“Founder and CEO of Stark International and Columbia professor wife critically injured in car accident.”

“Howard Stark, 69, runs car off-road in upstate New York.”

“Socialite couple Howard and Maria Stark injured in car accident. Condition, for both, critical.”

Tony watched the words all but screaming at him from the two flat-screen televisions mounted side-by-side on his bedroom wall, frozen in the spot where he stood by his bed. The words the news anchors spoke, giving details of the accident, were nothing but white noise in his ears. He’d gone numb. He processed nothing. Except that his parents had been in a horrific car accident — a shot of what was left of father’s silver Cadillac made Tony’s knees give out and he dropped to the foot of his bed.

How could anyone survive that? he thought to himself.

----

Tagging @teadrinkingwolfgirl @incredifishface @maeve-curry-writes @stephrc79 and literally anyone else who wants to/feels like doing it (tagged peeps, don’t feel obligated!)

#frostiron #winterfrost #samtasha #stucky #winteriron #fic meme #my fics #mostly WIPs #i have a lot to work on #writer's problems

[kaetastic]

VACATION

pairing: Bucky Barnes X Rogers!Reader

summary: Steve Rogers finally decided to take time off, away from his nonstop phone calls and endless meetings that made him pull his hair out. Only this time, he brought his daughter to the lovely holiday. And oh, his best friend tagged too.

word count: 4.5k yeeee

warnings: starter angst, no complete smut, dirty talking

notes: i have so much on my plate lol, my study routine is at least 2 hours a day and although my sleep schedule is not falling out- i demand for more. I AM SOOO SORRY for not posting that much, writers block has seriously done me badly and it hurts.

The flight felt like forever, in the middle of the air with the aeroplane wheezing; passengers asleep, eyes shut tight even though the transportation bounced up and down- hitting faint turbulence that was somehow not noted towards the flyers. Y/N crossed her legs, her arms on the foam-filled armrest of her first-class chair; a luxury she was born with. The spacious pod felt free, not suffocating at all as she could breathe with no one beside her. Although she was free from forced conversations, this could only mean one thing she didn’t like: uncontrollable thoughts that can sometimes lead to unpredictable imaginations. Her fingers drummed a gentle beat like pressing softly onto the keys of a piano, she rested her head onto the glass to admire the dark night, stars painted with glittering highlights.

She caressed the double-framed window, the frigid air from the outside glossed her fingertips. Her fingers ran over the twinkling stars, a frown playing on her lips at the sudden remembrance of her mother’s writing. The story she wrote ever since she met her father. It will never find a conclusion. I wish to hold you, my love, I want to stay with you until you grow old and I shall cripple with age; but my dear, even though you aren’t here, outside with me- I love you. I wish to sing you a different lullaby every night. You will always be my little girl, now I understand why my mother used to stick by me. Dear my love, your father and I are ecstatic waiting for you, although he isn’t patient- every time you would kick me (which really hurts), he would rush in to feel it. Before we even knew of your gender, we had already planned the whole room for you. I don’t know what it was, but I went with a space theme; stars stuck to every inch of the walls and ceilings. Even your crib mobile had the moon and planets; I didn’t force it onto you did I? I’m sorry my love

And the dotted lines that drifted out of the boundary of the paper ended. Its black ink smudged the words that existed above it. That was it. No other words added onto her melancholy part of the story, if it shall be continued- it will never be the same. Whenever she was curious child, she would read the writing on and on; it was like a guide book to her. A tourist pamphlet from her cherished mother. And although she never got the chance to speak to her or be able to brag about the amazingness of her mother, the book was the connection she could faintly have. The bond between her words and Y/N’s heartbeat will always be in sync. The slight clench it gave her will never be the same if someone else was to proceed with the beautiful art her mother had created and crafted with her emotions. That was the ending.

Every time a stewardess or a steward would walk down the aisle, she would just wear a faint smile and a shake of her head when they would ask if she needed their assistance. They would reply with the same gesture before fading away. A sigh escaped her lips. With a bang of her head, it landed on the inflexible seat.

“Psst,” A voice called her, she snapped back; her head whipping up and down the aisle- everyone seemed to be asleep. The only light illuminating was from the galley and those massive screens which shone brightly onto the asleep figures. Clearly too bothered to switch it off. She was not surprised when her eyes landed on Bucky. He looked so freshly awake, not a tint of tire in him. He gestured his hand for her to come to him, she glimpsed at her father who sat on the opposite seat of her aisle, his mouth wide open as faint snores rang out. His nose scrunched. “Come here,” Bucky mouthed, pointing to his seat as an invitation.

Y/N bit her bottom lip in contemplation, she glanced at her father one more time before unbuckling her seatbelt. The click of the metal clashed with the muffled seat, she winced in her head at the volume. She stood up, holding her armrest as a stabilizer, making sure no one was walking down the aisle. Strutting to the designated place, Bucky poked out of his seat; his eyes trained on her as she puts on a show for him. A chuckle left her lips. She plotted onto his lap, legs hanging off the seat and swinging into the aisle. He huffed at the abrupt place of weight on him, a slight wince fell off his lips. She threw her head back, slapping his chest at the exaggerated reaction. 

His arms snaked around her waist, tugging her closer, her hands flat open to rest on his shoulders, “You look so hot in this.” His fingers slyly brushed against her skin, it was freezing like ice. She yelped. Although she created an audible noise, she was quick to realize her mistake. Covering her mouth with a slap of her hand, her eyes widened while Bucky laughed, amused at her expression.

“It’s just a simple shirt.” She reasoned once she had scanned the seats to check if there were any awake witnesses, his laughter died. 

Eyes scanning the clothing, Bucky hummed, yes- it really was. The white shirt had a simple image printed onto it; an eyebrow quirked up, not agreeing with her opinion, “Well, you definitely look fuckable in it.” 

Y/N rolled her eyes, unable to understand his insatiable horniness that can never be satisfied, “I guess I have to say thank you now.” He hummed, nodding curtly as his fingers played with the hem of the shirt, fiddling with the fabric between his fingers. 

Bucky pushed himself back to relax on his seat; his eyes shot up to gaze at her. He leaned in, his mouth hovering over her ears as it occasionally brushes with little contact. Slight frustration roared in her. Eyes fluttered to a shut, she enjoys the warmth that swirled her to thoughts she shouldn’t be having, “You’ll have to be quiet baby,”

The confusion that strikes her sipped away as his hand rested on her clothed sex, his frustratingly slow gestures pressed onto the now wet panties. Her mouth fell open as his fingers traced her inner thighs with languid movements, he nudged a leg to open her legs wide for him. Toes curling whenever his fingers would accidentally brush against her, she grabbed onto his arms as intermittent breathing echoed out of her lips. As soon as his fingers slipped into her pants, his fingers rested above her cunt. A tired groan was heard- too familiar. And with a splat, Y/N met the floor with agony pain rippling through her body, “I’m so sorry babe, I-“ Although he didn’t know the father continued his snooze, Bucky whispered-shouted an apology to the person he just threw off his lap and onto the dirty floor.

Y/N glimpsed at him with anger before scoffing, ignoring the hand he let out for her to grab ahold of. Dusting her knees, she straightened her outfit before stomping away- back to her seat with pursed lips as she held her head high. Bucky could only peek with squinted eyes, holding a sigh of relief when he saw his passed out best friend; the anxiety that crawled in him for what he will get in return later on as karma- did not feel good.

“Finally, I can feel my legs,” Steve grumbled, head thrown back as he groaned out the complaint. The shades he wore tilted back, he narrowed his eyes. The burning and beaming source of the rays burning the whole planet like a flaming furnace.

Y/N exited the car, a duffle bag on her shoulders as her eyes scanned the area she assumed she would be staying in for a few days. The platform above the clear crystal water, that seemed as if it were millions of glittery gems, creaked and cried as every pressure cracked its bones. Petit kids ran around with little care in their heads, a large hat on their heads as a thick layer of sunscreen seemed to be slapped onto their skin. The manager of the area scurried in a hurried manner; the floors yelled. A clipboard in his hands- a string with one end wrapped around a minuscule seashell created the loudest of the noise whenever it would bang into the metal. It would vibrate over the cackling of the seagulls and the gnashing of the ocean waves. The saltiness was obnoxious, at least it was better than staying on a ship that would rock in the water. The puking challenge would’ve last for a second, “Please follow me.”

So they did so, her eyes wouldn’t rest on one area- its relentless movements filled her with fascination at the gobsmacking view of the see-through water. Y/N’s lips fell into an ‘o’. She shrugged her shoulders, adjusting the position of the backpack to rest comfortably; but it just keeps digging and stabbing her shoulder with no mercy. She huffed. 

“Let me help you.” Her shoulders lifted up, feeling it light as a force tugged her bag away. She snapped her head to face the voice who offered her help, he already had his arm looped inside the sling. 

“You don’t have to.” She reasoned, tugging the bag in an attempt to carry it by herself. Halting, Bucky quirked his eyebrows up, the sunglasses he wore shading the icy blue eyes she could get lost in very easily. Giving up easily, she removed the weight off of her with slight reluctant, she pushed the strap to move to his. 

Houses connected its front entrance door to the platform, a small bridge that had been secured by fences that ran along the side for safety. Standing on top of each fence in front of every house was a sign. The wood was supposed to inform those as it displayed the house number. Y/N’s legs ached in agony, although they slept well in a flight like tired babies- it had caused them to throb with pain as soon as they stood up to walk. Even if it was a first-class seat with a supposedly large area for leg movements, the aeroplane still constricted area to go. And all she could remember was anytime a ding rung out, her father would wake up with his eyes shot open- his feet were quick to move, he ran up and down the aisle without uttering a word before plopping back onto his seat.

Finally, they stood in front of their holiday house. They took quick notice of the location, the furthest from the rest. Steve pushed his glasses down, to remove the layer of darkness that glossed over the stunning house that they will be calling home for a few weeks. Bucky hummed as had wore a faint smile, approving at the great choice by his best friend. 

Figures of those who were guiding her disappeared. Pulling away from the cursive view, a frown played on her lips, not comfortable by being alone in an area she didn’t know anything about. Before she entered the house, her hand rested on the doorknob, eyes scanning the sign that laid above the door- 39. Her head tilted to the side, a hum muffling in her mouth. But the idea of exploring the house attracted her more. So she did so. 

Y/N let out a loud huff as she stretched her arms, her back was stabbing her like thousand of needles. The interest in adventuring her room called her even if she just wanted to spring open like a starfish onto the bed. In the corner of the room was a simple desk with a wide mirror- all of its drawers empty. The walls held few framed photos of art she wouldn’t be able to understand- swirls of lines and colourful parallel shapes. Pacing towards her toilet, she pushed the door open. With a creak, the door welcomed her to the next room. A sigh of relief fell off her lips at the realization of the layout, she didn’t even know she was holding it in. She desperately craved for a bath.

That’s how she ended up in the tub, head rested on the sides as she enjoys the eerie swirls of the water. Even with the slightest of movements, echoing of the liquid could be heard throughout the room. It was so silent, quiet and tranquil. Every so often the growing sadness prodded her thoughts, but all she could do was hum a random lyrics with words presented on her head in an attempt to overtake the thoughts. It didn’t work.

“What a sight,” Eyes shot open with trembling shock, her head whipped to the voice that rung from the door. The thumping of her heart calmed as she gently pats it. Although peacefulness eluded from the room, she somehow did not hear the door opening. Her eyebrows furrowed in confusion. But before she had the chance to utter out the question full of doubts; Bucky beat her to it. “You left the door open, doll.” She wasn’t so surprised, he’d done this so many times- taking any chance he would get.

Pushing the crying door, he swung it- opening and closing it, playing with it (clearly not a toy) like a little child before halting to a stop as the words he always imagined her to say fall off her lips like strings of melody, “Care to join?” And oh boy, he did not miss a second as soon as the beat started; his fingers agile and rapid, unbuttoning his shirt and tugging down his pants. Turning his body to face the tub, his ready posture caused her to quirk her eyebrows at the open ajar door. His lips fell into a rounded ‘o’ at the realization.

With a click, he waddled back before curling his fingers at the side of his boxers; fiddling with it as his eyes rested on her face, watching her as he teased her. And boy did it work. Her eyes didn’t move anywhere else, a shameless act she wasn’t even ashamed of. Y/N’s mouth dried. The semi-hard shaft now hardening, it flicks as it was freed from the suffocation.

“Come on babe, make space for me,” He teased, a proud smirk playing on his lips as he watched her squeeze herself to the front of the bathtub- knees bent to rest on her chest. His eyes ran around her exposed skin before jumping in to join her routine. Hands resting on her hips, he pushed her up so she was hovering over the bed of the bath. Although there was a lot of space for one, to squeeze in two-person was a tight compromisation. A sigh left his lips at the warm water engulfing his body, the feeling of himself sink into her; the tender tight hug of her around him cause him to rest his head back. It hangs over the edge as the bathtub laid a few metres away from the walls. Y/N’s fingers curled around the tub, eyes shut tight as she felt his shaft throb; it poked her cervix. Thoughts ran around his head aimlessly, uncontrollable ideas zapping out of nowhere.

Soft caress rubbed against her shivering back. His calloused fingers prodded her sensitive skin. Although the water was warm, the temperature seemed to be out of balance. Cold air, warm water and the heat pressuring in her created a turmoil. The thought of having him run his fingers around with no pathway only made Y/N excited. Her eyes shut tight at the enjoyment. A low groan echoed from Bucky’s lips. His hands tightened its grip on her skin as she wiggled around, the soft splashing of water that created a loud noise, “Oh- fuck...”

His toes curled. The position she was taking him felt surreal, he was prodding places that felt like heaven. Eyes rested on her back with his fingers wrapped around the back of her neck; stabilizing her as she bounces up and down. Chorus of moans and grunts filled the room with water overflowing out of the container. The two bodies froze. A knock from the door stopped them. 

“Y/N? You okay in there?” Bucky’s hand halted, hovering above her cunt as the voice of his best friend echoed through the crevices of the door. If it wasn’t for Y/N’s reminded to lock the door, god knows what would happen to both of them. She would never want to see that day. 

She realized the lingering moment of silence that her father might’ve found suspicious. Her thoughts jumped from one idea to another, maybe he might be nosy and try to find out? Albeit a mess, her head still managed to squeeze out words, “O-oh! Yes! I’m fine, everything’s okay Dad! I’m peachy!” The assurance fell off her lips quicker than she wanted it to be, her eyes shut tight at the stupid mistake that seemed frantic and panicked.

“Sure? I heard a groan.” The muffled voice of her father seemed to be blurring away as a tender touch pressed onto her clit. Her eyes widened, head snapping down to face the hand that could not be controlled. Even at times like these, the insatiable man could not wait even for a second. Bucky smirked as she whipped her head back to face him, his fingers only brushing over her needy lips languidly and teasingly.

“Yes, I’m sure! It’s nothing really.” The grip she had on the walls of the tub tightened; she tried her best to not grind on his finger, she needed her father to go away first. The teasing fingers of Bucky caressed around the area she desperately needed him at. Although he wished he could carry on to play with her, edging her- he would love to see her try to muffle her moans. He wore a smirk, he tugged his cock out- the erected shaft stood out, poking out of the water as it slanted onto her cunt. He plunged a finger into her. Thanks to the water as lubrication, he had no problem to sink his digits into her with smooth flow. A ragged moan left her lips, her eyes shut tight at the tightness around the digit.

”Are you sure, honey?” Bucky rolled his eyes, tired of hearing his best friend cockblocking him. The frustration exerted force... somewhere else. Irritated, he pumped his fingers in a relentless pace; unbothered by the splashing of water that weighed him down. Her back arched, if only her father wasn’t in front of the door- she could have been undone by now. Knowing how she would react, he wrapped his other hand around her chest, he pulled her back so she would lay flat on his. A breathy sigh left his lips, he could only take a glimpse at his work. In figures of eight, he motioned onto her clit, he grunted as her nails dug into his arm.

“Yes, dad! I am very sure!” Her tone being too angry and furious was laced with frustration. The need of him to stay far away as possible dug into her head.

“Oh, alright, if you need me,” His words seemed to be stretched out, the strings of mumbling sentences bashed against the shield that covered her ears. Her toes curled as Bucky’s fingers rubbed the spot. It’s as if he knew her body as if he studied the areas that make her writhe with the slight touch of his hand. “I’ll be outside.” The soft pacing off footsteps outside the door was relieving.

“Is that all you got?” He raised his eyebrows at the competitive question. Oh, he was about to prove her wrong.

She pulled the doors of the fridge with slight force, the strong attraction between the door and its body seemed stronger than the bonds that brought her life together. She paced back at the abrupt consequence. Shadows of darkness lined the floors and every crevice. The only light illuminating rayed brightly from the opened fridge and the small lamp that sat in the corner of the counter. It watched her as she scanned the levels with hope twinkling in her eyes. But all of it diminished. She pulled away when she couldn’t find the glass of cold water. Nudging the door, she sighs as it emitted a loud splat as soon as it meets the door.

“Looking for somethin’?” Her body jumped at the voice who poked her ears with surprise, her heart thumped harshly. Eyes widened, she rested her hand on her dancing heart, in an attempt to calm it. The brown hair swiped to one side, his arms crossed and his head quirked to the left.

“Jesus Buck! You scared the hell out of me!” He chuckled at her whisper-shout.

“Sorry doll, come here.” With open arms, she narrowed her eyes in suspicion at the almost friendly gesture. Reluctantly, she paced towards him and wrapped her arms around his waist; she laid her head on his soothingly beating heart that was muffled by his skin. She inhaled the enticing scent of him, the cologne he uses still somehow laced into him. The soft fabric of his pyjamas rubbed her cheeks with gentle caresses.

And all the enjoyment died within less than a minute. Although she wished the moment to be pure and innocent, Bucky Barnes does not come with those two assets with clean intention. The throb that slapped her thighs caused her to let out a heavy sigh. Pulling away, she craned her head to glance at the guilty man. It was slightly amusing, to see him with closed eyes and pursed lips in an attempt to hide his expression away.

“You horny man.” Y/N chuckled, slapping his chest lightly. He bit his bottom lips, trying his hardest to prod his thoughts with clean ones; none of imagining her on her knees. It didn’t work. He let out a sigh at the failure.

“I’m sorry okay? It’s hard to not imagine you on your knees.” She rolled her eyes at his horrible excuse.

“This whole holiday will be just us fucking around? What is it? A sex holiday?” Her eyebrows furrowed at the idea. Bucky raised his eyebrows, focused onto the new topic. Somehow, he was interested. “Oh, you.”

Her hand halted in mid-air, hovering above his chest that was ready to beat it. The fingers that wrapped around her wrist stopped her movements. With a smirk, he mumbled, “Who said it isn’t?”

She didn’t understand how she got herself in that position. With her lips moulding into his, loud smacking of lips echoed throughout the open kitchen. There was an attempt to lower the volume. A hand in his pants, rubbing his erected shaft that poked his sleeping boxers; she muffled his groans. Pumping his cock, she noted that one hand wasn’t enough to wrap around his whole dick. The room now filled with pitchy moans as Bucky’s hand slithered into her shirt, fiddling with her erected nipples that were not protected by a bra. He didn’t mind, her with a bra or no bra on; he liked both. The other hand that wrapped around his neck tightened, her chest rubbing into his. Running his hand down, he rested it in her pants, grabbing a handful of her ass cheeks.

Although she was concentrated on satisfying his needs, she couldn’t help but pull away in occasional times. The vein that popped out of his cock laced her fingers. While she was pumping him, he laid back and watched her with lustful eyes. Whenever his fingers would accidentally brush over her slicked cunt, which dripped like a waterfall- she would pull away with her mouth open, breathless moans rining out of her luscious lips. His eyes laid on the cleavage that was displayed to him, her breast resting on his chest. A groan left his lips, he couldn’t help it, it was too much. He couldn’t ignore it even if he wanted to, but why would he? The professional hand around his cock pumped him with passion and all he could do was watch her moan, tits just exposed for him?

Tugging her shirt up, the hem now rested above her breasts. Drool practically ran down his lips as he stared at it with need. As soon as the breezy air that ran out from the open window, the salty scent flowing in drummed on her chest- she let out a breathy moan once again. It rubbed on his chest. Flattening on him. She brushed the slit of his cock, the groans that rung out of his lips were music to her.

All actions were halted as soft dragging of legs on the wooden floorboard muffled into their ears. They pulled away, frozen with eyes widened. Y/N straightened her clothes, pulling down her shirt to cover her bare chest. Bucky cleared his throat in silence as he crossed his arms to look sophisticated. There was no one else in the house with them other than her father. The close proximity that was between them now increased with great number. A faint buzzing of light hummed, the dim light from the hallway shining a small area of the corridor.

“Oh, Bucky, Y/N. You both awake too?” Steve narrowed his eyes from the bright light, groaning at the sudden stabbing of the rays. The shadowed figure of her father stood at the open arch. Yellow rays beamed from his back.

“Same reason as you, Dad.” Bucky hummed, not knowing what to say so he followed his only resort that came to mind (clearly screaming in his head when he tried to play calm outside)- agreeing with her.

“Really? You had a horrible dream of a dragon trying to swallow you whole and you stumbled upon a great wizard who had a long beard?” She stood there confused, lips parted as she tried to think of an answer. Sadly, all she could say was ‘uhuh’. Bucky palmed his face, trying his hardest not to cringe at her chosen answer. “Oh, what a small world? I guess,”

They both leaned on the counter as their eyes rested on his figure, Steve opened the fridge with force once again. Bending down, he scanned for his desired item. He pouted when it wasn’t there. The splat of the attraction between the fridge and its door echoed through the kitchen. “I’ll get going, you two should go back to bed- we have places to be later on,” They nodded, agreeing with slight vigorous movements- a bit too positive with his statement. “Also, I think you just peed your pants Buck.” Steve chuckled, walking out of the kitchen with no thoughts. The remaining two glanced down at his pants. The large splotch of translucent liquid creamed his pants, preferably his groin area. He groaned at the incident. It was the only comfiest pants he brought with him.

tags: @callmebucky-doll @just-a-littlebit-of-everything @usernamesarebitches @iheartsebastianstan

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes #bucky barnes oneshots #bucky barnes oneshot #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes imagines #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes x rogers!reader #bucky barnes x y/n #rogers!reader #rogers!reader x bucky barnes #marvel oneshot #marvel imagine #marvel imagines #marvel #mcu #mcu imagine #mcu oneshot #marvel smut

[chickensarentcheap]

Best Part of Me - Chapter 4

Warnings: none

Tagging: @c-a-v-a-l-r-y​, @alievans007​, @thunderintheshadows​, @innerpaperexpertcloud​

While it is a more peaceful existence, it is often a lonelier one. The safety and security of seclusion at times feeling like isolation. Their property…their home itself…is beautiful beyond anything she could have imagined; surrounded by the sights and sounds of nature, the dense and lush woodlands and the pristine beach and majesty of the ocean. Aside from the noise and activity of their own residence, they are very much shut off from the rest of the world; two hundred yards from their closest neighbour, tucked at the very end of a three kilometer stretch of recently paved road. Weeks can pass by before she even sees another human being, let alone speaks to them.  There’d been scares and complications during the last three months of her final pregnancy and she’d had to relegate herself to living the life of a ‘shut in’ for the sake of both her health and that of her unborn daughter; never leaving the property aside from specialist appointments. Addie had been an incredibly determined little girl; wanting to make her debut long before it was safe for her to do so. It had been nothing short of a miracle when the doctors had managed to tide things over until week thirty-four, and everyone that had been providing care had thought she’d been in the NICU for the long haul. Only for her to prove them all wrong; being released after only a week and a half.

 A fighter. All five pounds, ten ounces of her.

 Normally Esme would spend the first part of her morning -after the older kids had been shipped off to school-  on the beach; Addie in the carrier strapped to her body, Declan toddling along beside them, allowing him to stop every so often to splash and stomp in the water or play in the sand. Today they walk the road instead, Mac’s leash secured around her waist, one hand pushing the baby in her stroller, the other tightly gripping Declan by the wrist. He is quick and has no fear and won’t think twice about bolting into the woods or onto someone else’s property.

 The pavement is hot but comfortable against their bare feet. It was one of the things that she had found so unusual at about Australia at first; no one ever seemed to wear shoes unless going into businesses, and even then, occasionally footwear would be noticeably absent. It is one of the charming ‘quirks’, going hand in hand with their laid-back natures and accents and hilarious slang words. An entirely different way of life; a refreshing and welcoming change of pace. Everyone seeming much more relaxed and calmer.  Friendly. Always willing to help one another out, whether friends or strangers. And while Colorado had been lovely in its own right, it often felt too ‘fast.’ That life was constantly hectic, barely given you a chance to catch your breath, never mind admire your surroundings. Everything about Australia is incredible to her; the scenery, the people, the way you just take time to enjoy everyone and everything around you.

 But it is still lonely at times. Outside of her own family, she doesn’t really have a life; no relatives that can visit, no friends to talk to or hang out with. It has been that way for years; long before she’d ever met Tyler. Once her first marriage had disintegrated, she’d begun the long and arduous journey of ‘rediscovery;’ more than content with the job she had, jumping from place to place, and living out of suitcases, never forming bonds, or putting down roots. She’s older now though; almost thirty-six. And lately she’s found herself craving more.  She had thought that she was perfect content with just being a wife and a mother, but her heart has begun to yearn for something extra.  Mom friends that she can talk to whether it be face to face or through a text, other women she could have lunch dates and engage in ‘girl talk’ with. Needing to be more than that someone’s spouse. Someone’s mother. Needing…wanting… to exist outside of the comforts of those two realms.

 And she feels guilty for that. As if she’s taking every thing she already has for granted. That she is makes her selfish for wanting more and she should just be happy with the way her life already is. She has a lot more than a lot of women in the world:  a supportive, loving, and helpful husband, five beautiful and amazing kids. Shouldn’t that be enough?

 ****

 It is a beautiful morning. Brilliant sunshine, the sky a vivid shade of blue and cluttered with enormous, pure white clouds. The temperature is always cooler where they are; a few to several degrees lower thanks to the abundance of trees and the winds that roll in off the ocean. And she is comfortable in a pair of tattered and weather jean shorts and a hoodie over her t-shirt, one of her husband’s ball caps pulled low over her eyes. It’s become a habit that she wishes she could break herself of; a hat used more for disguise than a cute accessory or protection from the sun. That paranoia still lingers; that there could always be someone out there watching, hell bent on revenge and looking for the perfect opportunity to enforce it.

 The walk is slow going; Declan routinely stopping to investigate things, whether it be rocks and sticks he finds particularly interesting, or wildlife that lingers at the tree line that he wants to watch. He is infinitely curious about the world around him, noticing everything and anything, big or small. He hasn’t met and animal or person he hasn’t liked, and vice vera. Out of the five, he’s the ‘charming’ one; able to melt hearts with those striking blue eyes and mischievous smile. Extremely affectionate and loving to everyone he meets, even old ladies in the grocery store who always seem to be enamoured by the thick red hair and the outrageously long eyelashes. While Esme may be biased -as all mothers are- he is just damn cute. A sweet little personality to go along with an even sweeter face. And she can’t resist pausing to take pictures of him with her phone; so adorable in his backwards baseball hat, loose tendrils of hair sticking out at the ears.

 She sends one of the photos -of Declan holding a baby garter snake and flashing that trademark smile that crinkles the corners of his eyes (his father’s smile)- to her husband’s cell, along with a text that reads: see what cute babies you make?

 The house closest to them has been up for sale for three months; a one-story white stucco place with elaborate Japanese inspired front gardens and an interlocking brick driveway. The property itself is much smaller that what they own, but no less stunning. She notices that not only has the ‘for sale’ sign been taken down, but there’s a bright blue Suzuki hatch back in the driveway; tailgate up, surrounded by boxes being unloaded by the home’s new owner. A tall, statuesque blond with vibrant pink, purple, and aquamarine highlights in her shoulder length tresses. And she watches -albeit briefly- as the woman continues to remove items from the back of the car. The couple that had lived there before had been in their eighties and absolutely hated kids and would complain about Millie and the twins ‘running wild and unsupervised’ in the road despite the fact that their father would have been  less than ten feet away. Never directing the complaints to Tyler himself, but waiting until they’d see him leave and then knock on the door to confront her. So it’s nice to see someone younger. That hopefully won’t be such a miserable asshole.

 The front door of the house has been left open and a pug comes waddling out; immediately noticing them at the end of the driveway, which starts off a round of barking from both the smaller dog and Mac and absolute excitement from Declan who begins repeatedly shrieking ‘oggie!’ and tries to yank his wrist out of her grasp. He’s incredibly strong for a little guy; heavy, solid, and powerful. And Mac -still barking yet thankfully not bolting- parks himself right in front of the toddler to block his path.

 The woman in the driveway smiles and waves to them in greeting, and that’s when Esme makes the ultimate mistake; letting go of her son’s hand to wave back. He seizes the opportunity; taking off up the driveway the second he feels his mother’s grasp release.

 “Oh my god Declan! Get back here!” she bellows, and unleashes Mac from around her waist, allowing the dog to chase after him. At the most he’ll grab the toddler by the back of the shirt or knock him to the ground. He’s done it before with each one of the kids; showing an incredible instinct -and with no training- to protect the little humans. “Declan William!” she hollers as she hurries after him and the dog. The latter now making friends with the initially startled pug; the new homeowner scooping Declan up and settling him on her hip.

 “Well hey there cutie,” the blond gushes, gently taking hold of his hands as he tries to tear the unique and colourful glasses off her face. “Who are you?”

 “This is Declan,” Esme responds. “And he’s not usually this much of a shit head, I swear.”

 “You’re just a curious little man, aren’t you! You just wanted to come and meet Stan-Lee. Here, let me introduce you…” their new neighbour drops down to one knee and places Declan on her thigh, taking his hand in hers and then running it over the pug’s fur. The toddler giggling with the dog licks at his hand. “See that? He likes you already! He loves to meet new friends. Especially little ones.”

 “I am so sorry,” Esme can feel the blush in her cheeks. “I’m usually not that stupid. Letting him get away like that. Especially on the road. Although no one but us ever comes down this far. We used to get people that would speed down here and park on our property to get into the woods. But we own all that, so my husband went out and scared the crap out of them with a hunting rifle and they never came back. You must think I’m a shitty parent.”

 The blond waves off the mere suggestion. “Not at all. They get away sometimes. No matter how hard we try to stop them. Not to mention he’s crazy strong! Two? Two and a half?”

 “Seventeen months. I know. He’s absurdly tall. But so is his dad. I am sorry he ran over like that. Bothering you and your dog and…”

 “It’s no bother. Honest. I’m Salena,” she offers a hand, and Esme accepts it warmly.

 “I’m Esme. And that’s Mac,” she nods at the German Shepherd as he playfights with the pug. “It’s actually Macaroni. Don’t ask. My son named him. And this is Adeline,” she gestures to the stroller. “Be we call her Addie.”

 “Is this your little sister?” Salena speaks to Declan as she places him on the ground and takes him by the hand, leading him to the stroller. “How about you show me your little sister. I bet she’s a cutie, just like you. May I?” she asks Esme, taking hold of the corner of the blanket that covers the buggy.

 “Of course.”

 She peels the blanket back, then places a hand over her chest. “Oh my gracious! Look at you, pretty girl! Aren’t you just a darling! You’re just new.”

 “Very new,” Esme confirms. “Only two weeks.”

 “And you already look like that?”  Salena looks over the top rim of her glasses as she eyes Esme from head to toe.

 “Please! The clothes hide everything, trust me. I’m huge. And I feel gross.”

 “You’re crazy! You look amazing. Are these your only two?”

 “No. There’s three more,” she says, and the neighbour’s eyes widen. “Five-year-old twin boys and a soon to be six-year-old daughter. I know,’ she laughs. “I’m crazy.”

 “I just can’t believe that body’s had five kids. Five’s the limit?”

 “Four was the original limit but by husband wanted one more. I don’t know who is more insane. Me or him.”

 “Well if these two are as beautiful as they are, I can only imagine what the other three look like. The red hair comes from your husband?”

 “His mother. Declan’s the only one with it. The other three are blond. Or light brown. Whatever you want to call it. And the last one is all me. Which I feel I deserved after having four that look and act exactly like their father. All that work and getting fat and I don’t get one that looks like me? That is some bullshit.”

 “Would you like to come in?” Salena inquires, nodding towards the house. “I have a breakfast casserole in the oven, and it is way too much for just one person, even with leftovers.”

 “We shouldn’t. We were just on a walk before lunch and we don’t want to impose or…”

 “You won’t be imposing at all. We can sit out back and chat some more. You’re the first person I’ve met since moving to Cookstown. I was staying a hotel right in town while waiting for the house to close. It would be nice to have a friend that’s close by.”

 It’s tempting, and as much as she loves the idea of having a friend…especially a neighbour…she knows Tyler will be hesitant. He’s severely overprotective. Beginning after Dhaka and becoming increasingly worse over the years, hitting its peak after the McMann incident. In his mind, everyone is a possible threat. Including the neighbour with the funky glasses and the colorful hair.

 “Just stay for a little while,” the other woman urges. “Just for something to eat and a little chat. I don’t bite. I promise.”

 “It’s not that and it’s not you, believe me,” Esme attempts to explain. “This is going to sound really weird, but things went really bad before we moved here and I’m a little…apprehensive…when it comes to new people. It’s not personal. I swear. It’s all my own issues.”

 “I promise I am not a serial killer. Just come in and have some lunch and let me spend some more with this cutie pie,” she tickles Declan’s stomach until he’s giggling hysterically and beaming up at her with the utmost adoration. “Just an hour,” she says. “If I bore you or I annoy before then, you can leave. I won’t hold you hostage.”

 “Okay,” Esme finally agrees, as Salena scoops Declan up once more and leads the way towards the house.

 ****

He receives the text message just as he pulls his truck up in front of his father’s new place; a small, cottage style bungalow in a newly established retirement and nursing care community in Port Douglas. It had been bittersweet when he’d eventually found out that the old man had sold the family home. The years there hadn’t all been horrible; there’d been a handful of good memories made between those four walls. That house was the last physical tie that Tyler had had to his mother, and the new owners had bulldozed it with plans on custom build for the lot. The demolition had finally erased all the dark secrets that the place had once held. All the cruel words, all the tears, all the holes in the walls, all the beatings.

 Killing the engine, his pulls his cell from the side pocket of his cargos and checks the message. A slow smile spreading across his face when he sees the picture of his youngest son, and the words that his wife had sent afterwards. If there is one thing they excel at, it’s making beautiful children. And the activities that help with the actual creation of them. He texts her back, telling her that they’ve just reached his dad’s place and have two stops afterwards close to home. That he loves her and the kids and will see them soon.

 He begins to ask where she is but decides against it. It will only irritate her if she feels as if he’s keeping tabs on her and attempting to control her. She claims he’s overprotective to the point of suffocation, something that the therapist had said they’d touch on in the next session. Why he is the way he is and what he can do to either control it or stop it altogether. Tyler doesn’t necessarily want to be that way; he doesn’t want her to feel as if he’s locking her away in the house and controlling every move she makes. But he’s already come so close to losing her. Twice. And he doesn’t want to take the chance of there being a third time.

 So he doesn’t ask. Even though it gnaws at his stomach that she’s out there. Off the property. With two of his kids in tow. Instead he pockets his cell, pulls the keys from the ignition, and then finishes the coffee that sits in one of the cup holders between the front seats.

 “How are we going to explain me?” Ovi inquires. “Am I just going to be some guy that you hired or…?”

 “He already knows all about you.”

 “How much does he know? Or what does he know?”

 “Your folks were friends of mine and Esme’s, they died, left us you in their will. Nice and simple. It doesn’t need to be complicated.”

 The lying never stops. Not when it comes to the old life. To the old Tyler. But at this stage in the game -with his father not functioning properly in the first place- he doesn’t see the need to burden the old man with the truth. Chances are he’d be extremely pissed and/or disgusted and wouldn’t even remember what he’d been told the next day.

 “And you think he believes it?” Ovi asks.

 “Mate, I don’t even know if he knows who I am anymore. Chances are he doesn’t even remember I have a wife and kids. Or that I even told him about you already. But if he asks, that’s what we tell him. Got it?”

 Ovi nods.

 Tyler opens the compartment between their seats and fishes out the extra bottle of anti anxiety meds. It’s always smart to have them on hand; never knowing what situations or environments will bring on an attack. But he can already feel the heaviness in his chest and the dryness in his mouth, and he takes three of the pills and places them under his tongue, waiting for them to full dissolve before putting the bottle in his pocket.

 It’s a hell of a way to live. Having to dope yourself up just to be able to get out of the goddamn car.

 And he’s plain fucking sick of it.

 ****

 The personal support worker greets them at the front door; a short and stocky Aboriginal woman clad in brightly patterned scrubs and bearing a name tag that identifies her as Maggie. She as kind, almost sad eyes, and a soft, pleasant smile and her grip is deceptively strong when she shakes their hands.

 “You must be Trevor,” she addresses him.

 “Tyler,” he gently corrects, and removing his sunglasses, hangs them on the neck of his t-shirt.

 She offers an apologetic smile. “He told me he was expecting someone named Trevor.”

 “Trevor was his brother. My uncle. He died twenty years ago. But I’m Tyler. His son.”

 “This happens, you know,” she sighs. “Moment when they can’t remember the people in the present, but they remember the ones from the past. It isn’t personal. It’s just the disease. It’s a cruel thing; what it does to people.”

 He nods in agreement, trying to at least appear sympathetic. But he feels nothing. No empathy. No pity. No sorrow that his father is slipping away. No regrets that they’ve let the years go by without even attempting a reconciliation.

 “You just moved back, I hear,” Maggie comments, as she leads them from the front foyer and towards the back of the house. “Were you gone long?”

 “Five and a half years.”

 “That’s a long time to be away from home. What made you come back?”

 “I came into some money and I was able to retire early,” Tyler explains. It’s not a total lie; that part did happen. It just wasn’t as easy as he’s making it sound. “My wife and I decided this was the best place to raise our kids.”

 “Well I can’t argue with that. Is this them?”  Maggie pauses in the hall between the living room and kitchen, nodding at the frame photographs on the wall. “Your kids?”

 It’s their school pictures from last year when they’d still been in Telluride. Before they’d ever heard of Michael McMann. And one of Declan when he’d just been a baby; not even crawling or walking yet.

 Tyler nods. “They’re a year older now. And we added another. A little girl. Two weeks old.”

 Maggie arches an eyebrow. “You’re telling me you have five kids?”

 “Yup.”

 “Five kids,” she breathes and shakes her head. “Boy, you’re either both brave as hell or you’re both just plain crazy.”

 “Maybe both?” Ovi suggests, and then laughs when Tyler directs a playful elbow into his stomach.

 “I actually have six kids,” Tyler says. “If we count him,” he jerks a thumb over his shoulder. “When he’s not being a smart ass.”

 Maggie looks Ovi up and down. “You’re one of his…” she nods at Tyler. “…kids?”

 The young man nods.

 “And just how does that work? When you look like you do…” she looks at Tyler, then at Ovi. “…and you look like you do.”

 “They took me in,” Ovi explains. “Six years ago. After my parents died. It was in my mother’s will. That I was supposed to go to Tyler. So…. here I am.”

 “Here he is,” Tyler confirms, and tousles Ovi’s hair. “Congratulations. It’s a boy. All six foot one and two hundred pounds of him.”

 “He’s not my father, but he is my dad,” Ovi says. “And that’s good enough for me.”

 Maggie gives a slow nod of agreement, and then once again leads the way down the hall. “Your father insisted we put those pictures up as soon as he moved in. He’s extremely proud of his grandkids.”

 Tyler doubts it. On both counts.

 “He’s having one of his ‘okay’ days,” she says. “Woke up knowing what day is, what month, what year.”

 “But thinks his dead brother is going to show up,” Tyler tosses out. And again, nothing. Not even the slightest hint of sadness. The man doesn’t deserve any. Not after the life he’s lived. Not with all the things he’s said and all the things he’s done.

 “He may have just screwed the name up,” she suggests. “I mean, you’re his son. He obviously knows your name.”

 “I haven’t been his son in a long time,” Tyler says. It doesn’t hurt to admit. It just is what it is. In the same way that Ovi may still bear the Mahajan name, but his father had stopped being a part of his life a long time ago because of his own selfish and evil choices. Just as Tyler’s old man had destroyed their relationship with the use of a belt or a fist or whatever else his father could get his hands on.

 “You’ll always be his son,” Maggie’s tone has a scolding tone to it. “He helped give you life.”

 “That’s about all he did. He knocked my mum up. That’s it. I know you mean well, but you shouldn’t be lecturing about how things are between him and I. I lived with him. You didn’t. So how about we just cut the chit chat and you mind your own business.”

 She holds her hands up un surrender, then nods towards the sliding glass door that leads out onto a small patio. “He’s out there. Likes to sit in the sun and listen to the birds. He’s a very sweet man. Very gentle. Very good to us.”

 Tyler gives a derisive snort. It will be a cold day in hell before he acknowledges any of those traits. Because before the old man’s brain started going on him, he was a tyrant. Controlling and manipulative. Drinking far too much. Treating his mother like a slave and then degrading her and beating her if she dared stand up for herself. And when she’d died, all that cruelty and abuse had been turned onto his only child. He could forgive what his father had done to him, but there’s no goddamn way he’d ever forgive him for what he’d done to his mum.

 ****

 His father sits in an old porch swing; frail and sickly looking, a far cry from the man he’d been the last time Tyler had seen him six years ago. When he’d still carried himself with a hint of cockiness and superiority; shoulders still broad, eyes still icy and intimidating. He’s a shell of his former self, and Tyler almost hates himself for viewing this as a form of karma. That after years of treating people horribly, the old man has been reduced to needing help from complete strangers to perform even the smallest of tasks.

 “William, “ Maggie speaks from the doorway. “You have company. Your son and your...” she looks at Ovi for clarification as to just who he is.

 “Grandson,” Tyler finishes for her.

 “Your son and your grandson are here,” she continues. “They’ve come to visit.”

 Tyler gives her a small, appreciative smile and then waits until she steps back into the house and shuts the door before turning to Ovi. “Why don’t you go and find that list he supposedly made of the things we need to fix. Probably on the fridge or the kitchen table or...”

 “TV,” his father speaks up. “It’s by the TV.”

 Tyler smirks. “Go check there. See what you can do on your own. I’ll be in in a few.”

 Ovi nods, then gives a nervous smile and a small wave when he notices Tyler’s father watching him, a puzzled look on his face.

 “Go on,” Tyler encourages. “I need a few minutes here.”

 “Okay,” Ovi agrees, and slips back into the house.

 “Hey dad,” Tyler greets, as he grabs one of the patio chairs and places it facing the swing, sighing heavily as he sinks down into it. “You know who I am right?”

 His father nods, then leans forward and takes a hold of Tyler’s chin, turning his face to one side, then the other. “They let you keep that fur in the army?”

 “I’m not in the army anymore. I haven’t been in it for a long time.”

 “The war is over? They sent you home? From Afghanistan?”

 “I was in Afghanistan sixteen years ago. The war’s been over for a while. That one at least.”

 “So you’re home now?”

 Tyler nods.

 “I don’t know if I have enough room here for you. There’s not a lot of space. I had to get rid of the old place and downsize and...”

 “Dad, I have my own place to live. In Cookstown. With my wife and my kids.”

 He looks puzzled. “You have more than one now? When did that happen? Wasn’t Sarah just getting ready to have Austin?”

 Tyler sighs and runs a hand through his hair, then over his face. “Sarah and I haven’t been together in a long time. Since Austin died. That’s almost sixteen years ago now.”

 His father cocks his head to the side, confusion in his eyes and lining his face. “It is?”

 “I got married again. You were at the wedding. In Sydney. Same little place you and mum got married at. Near the opera house.”

 “Tiny little dark haired thing?”

 “Esme. You made a joke about her having a weird name.”

 “Esme...Esme...” his eyes squint as he tries to remember. “...cute wee thing. I like her. She’s a sweetheart. You’re still married to her?”

 “Six years and counting. She’s still putting up with me somehow. Do you remember meeting your granddaughter? Amelia? I brought her to the old house.”

 His father nods.

 “She’s going to be six in a couple months. I’ve also got twin boys that just turned five. Tyler and Tanner and another boy that’s seventeen months, Declan. And we just had another baby two weeks ago. A little girl. Adeline.”

 The old man smiles. “Your mother’s name.”

 “We call her Addie for short.”

 “That’s nice. Real nice. That you named her after your mother. She loved you so much, you know. Your mother. You were her pride and joy. The light of her life. I’d never seen her so as happy as she was the day you were born. She was a good mom to you. A real good mom.”

 “Yeah....” Tyler clears his throat noisily, trying to rid himself of the lump of emotion that sits squarely in his windpipe. “...she was.”

 “She’s a good mom? Your wife?”

 “She’s an incredible mom. I couldn’t have asked for a better mother for my kids. Or for a better woman to give me children.”

 “Six years?” his father asks. That you’ve been together?”

 “Six years and a couple of months,” Tyler confirms. “I haven’t screwed this one up. Not yet, anyway.”

 “Must be a good woman. A strong woman. To put up with the likes of you. You’ve always been a handful.”  It isn’t said with malice; there’s a soft smile curving the old man’s lips.

 “She keeps hanging in there. Keeps giving me another chance every time I screw up. Which has been a lot, unfortunately. But she never gives up on us. On me.”

 “Don’t let her get away. You’ll regret it if you do. And treat her right. Don’t make the same mistakes I did. You’re better than that. You always have been. You’re better than me. Thank Christ.”

 “Well I guess that’s one thing I do have to thank you for,” Tyler muses. “Showing me how not to be.”

 “And you’re back home? In Australia?”

 “We were in Colorado. We just move back six months ago. We should get you out to the house. You’d love it. It’s right on the beach. Awesome spot. And you’d get to see Amelia again. And meet your other grandkids.”

 His father smiles. “I’d like that.”

 “Maybe for Amelia’s birthday,” Tyler suggests, and then stares down at his hands; palms up, studying all the callouses and scars that years on the job have left behind.

 There’s so much he wants to say. Things that he needs to get off his chest in regard to the nightmare that he’d lived through growing up. He wants to punish his father; make him feel even the slightest bit of regret and remorse for all the things he’s said and done.

 But he doesn’t. Because whatever he says will never come close to the torment that’s always taking place in father’s broken mind.

#tyler rake #tyler rake fan fiction #tyler rake fan fic #extraction #best part of me #chris hemsworth character

[fairiesnova]

The Questioning Phase

This was written for @ft-wwtdp pride month event for the prompt: question. It’s late because it turned out longer than I expected. Also tagging @ceruleanshockwave for putting up with my minerzajane obsession and @fuckyeahft-poly-ships and @ftmlmages

Read on Ao3

The sunlight was blinding by the time they walked outside. Erza squinted up at the sky before reaching into a side pocket of her dress to pull out sunglasses. Jellal eyed that dress for the third time that morning. It was new, flashy in a way Erza wasn’t. It was one of the changes in her wardrobe he noticed over these last couple months. But if she wasn’t going to mention it he wasn’t going to ask.

People in glass houses shouldn’t throw stones after all.

Perhaps there was still some awkwardness after their brief dating attempt in high school ended in a disaster, but they always avoided the topic of dating on their weekly meetups. They spoke about their coursework, their favorite professors, about their families and mutual friends but never mentioning Erza’s roommates or Jellal’s new friends.

Or maybe there was another reason neither asked the other about romance and love.

Both had been avoiding talking about what happened early that morning.

“Oh hi,” A woman with white hair and a bright smile opened the door. “Are you lost?”

“I don’t think so. I’m looking for Erza.” This was the first time Jellal was going to Erza’s room to pick her up for their weekly coffee meetup. As soon as Erza’s name left his mouth the woman’s expression changed. Her smile dipped into a frown before changing into a neutral face. It was fast, but Jellal caught the movement. There was a tense silence as the girl stood unmoving in the doorway. That wasn’t broken until a different voice came from inside the room.

"I swear I told both of you bitches to stay out of my wardrobe but here I am missing clothes again." The voice was raised and angry. A few seconds later the sound of a door opening and feet stomping towards the doorway reached Jellal’s ears. Then a hiss rang throughout the room, “Turn around I know you hear me talking to you!”

The white-haired girl barely reacted. She merely turned her to look over her shoulder at the angry woman approaching them. As she got closer, Jellal could see she had jet-black strands of hair skewed wildly across her face and snarl on her lips. She was pretty, and terrifying. Erza must have really lucked out with roommates.

The white-haired girl looked the new-comer up and down and snorted. “Go put some pants on, we have a guest.”

“Oh, shut the fuck up.” She scowled before looking towards Jellal. “Who the hell is he?”

The first girl gave her a knowing looked as she answers, “Oh, he says he’s here for Erza.”

Suddenly the temperature in the room dropped and Jellal felt like a deer thrown into the den of lions. He coughed awkwardly hoping to clear the air in the room. “Uh-yeah I’m here to-can I come in?”

The dark-haired girl slivered up to him and gave a wide taunting smile. “I don’t know, can you?”

Given the tone she spoke and that deadly sharp smile, Jellal was pretty sure that was a threat.

Then, like an angel appearing from the shadow’s, Erza came from one of the empty rooms with a smile on her face. She bumped both of the girls out of the way and wrapped Jellal into a hug. Jellal couldn’t tell if she was oblivious to the tense atmosphere or purposely ignoring the two woman glaring into the back of his head. Erza started to quickly lead them out of the door whispering something he couldn’t hear under her breath. Before they stepped out, Jellal could hear the white-haired girl turning to the black-haired one and saying, “guess you found your dress Minny.”

She had gestured to the pretty blue dress Erza was wearing currently. In another time, maybe Jellal would ask. He would ask about why the two woman seemed way more possessive of Erza then your normal roommate situations. Would ask if they were the reasons behind the perk in Erza’s walk or the smiles that come onto her face. Would ask if Erza had ever been the situation that he was in currently. But he didn’t, couldn’t voice the words in his head. And she didn’t offer. So, they hugged goodbye as always with Jellal ignoring the scents of three different perfumes sinking into his clothes. He went home in a daze, so lost in his thoughts that he almost missed his front door being ajar.

Some time ago, this would worry him.

Now he just rolls his eyes at his roommates’ lack of manners.

Jellal walked into his home already knowing what he was going to find. Sure enough, Gajeel lounged on his sofa with his feet up on his coffee table. He could hear Laxus calling out a greeting to him in the kitchen while Gajeel barely looked up from the tv screen.

“Haven’t I told both of you to ask before barging into my home?” As soon as the words left his lips Jellal winced. He sounded just like Erza’s dark-haired roommate. Well at least he didn’t have to worry about them stealing his clothes.

His wince however caught Gajeel’s attention. He paused his movie to frown up at Jellal, “What’s with you? Have a bad date?”

“They aren’t dates. You know that.”

“They’re dates.” Laxus came out of the kitchen with three water bottles tossing one to Jellal and Gajeel before collapsing next to the man on the sofa. Gajeel’s arm automatically lifted to curve around Laxus’ shoulder as they both stared at Jellal expectantly. Jellal stayed focused on that hand.

He had never given much thought to love and romance over the years. Him and Erza didn’t work out, he moved on quite easily. He always figured he’d just met some other girl somewhere down the road and settle down with marriage and a family like his father.

Then he met Laxus.

They were grouped together for a project and bonding over shit-talking their professor and annoying kids in their class. He had heard Laxus mention his partner more than once but had assumed he was referring to a partner on another project. And to be fair, Gajeel and Laxus did not act like any other couple he knew. The first time he hung out with them they bickered for 2 hours over what to cook for dinner and nearly burnt his kitchen down. It wasn’t until they were stuffing their faces with the pizza he ended up ordering that Laxus had sat down and Gajeel immediately plopped down in his lap. Like it was second nature, Laxus just wrapped an arm around his waist and pressed a greased kiss to the back of his neck.

It was like entry into another world, and even now 2 months later, he still feels breathless every time they exchange intimacy around him. He was drawn to them like a moth to a flame slowly daring to get closer and closer each time but withdrawing right before he could get burnt.

He wanted them. Wanted that. But want was still a feeling Jellal was getting used to.

Slowly his emotions, Jellal turned his eyes away from his own personal flames and towards the tv keeping them there as he spoke, “They are not dates. And I get the feeling Erza’s roommates would plot to kill me if they were.” He paused to sip his water before continuing, “They’re…close.”

Both men’s eyebrows went up as they registered what Jellal was hinting. “Oh, good for her.” Laxus shrugged.

“Is this a I just found out my ex-girlfriend might be gay conversation? I’ve had one of those.”

Jellal ignored them both leading Laxus to watch him closely. “Does that bother you?”

“No.” He answered honestly. “I’m just…confused.”

He had known Erza for half of their young lives and he never knew she had attraction to girls just like he never knew he held attraction to guys. He wondered if Erza went through the confusing phase of questing his identity the way he did. Or was it easy for her? Did she breeze through her realization and Jellal was the only one feeling this lost?

Before he could spiral anymore in his thoughts, a calloused hand tugged on his wrist. He looked into Gajeel’s dark eyes seeing the understanding laced through them. “We told you before, everyone moves at their own pace. It’s okay to be confused.” He tugged once more and Jellal went willingly into their embrace. His couch was not designed for three grown men, but they fit perfectly. Jellal allowed himself to sink into Gajeel’s arm around his shoulder and Laxus’ around his waist. He would eventually talk to Erza, would hopefully be able to answer the question regarding his own sexuality, but for right now he was just going to enjoy being warmed by his flames.

#ftlgbtpride2020 #minerzajane #jellal x laxus x gajeel #minerva x erza x mirajane #jellaxus #erzajane #minerza #minerva x mirajane #jellal x gajeel #jellal x laxus #laxus x gajeel #jellal & erza #ftlgbtfics #these tags are a mess #my writing #my post #ftlgbtales #jexus

[ceealaina]

Title: Standing Face to Face Collaborator Name: ceealaina Card Number: 3088 Link: AO3 Square Filled: S3 - Anger Issues Ship: Gen Rating: Teen Major Tags: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Civil War Fix-It, Making Up Summary: When Tony gets an emergency call from Nat after the events of Civil War, he doesn't hesitate to drop everything to help.

... He's never trusting Natasha again. Word Count: 2792

Tony trudged into the workshop, exhausted after another round of Accords meetings. He was done with the entire world -- except for Rhodey, who was beautiful and wonderful and had never betrayed him -- and this close to calling the whole thing quits. He was ready to lose himself in some War Machine upgrades, let that numb his mind for a bit, when his eyes fell on the flashing light on the landline tucked in the corner. 

“Shit,” he hissed, exhaustion suddenly gone. “Friday, baby? Stealth mode, please.” 

“You got it, boss,” she told him, the windows already going opaque. 

The thing was, the tale of the Avengers breakup had been slightly exaggerated. Sure, Steve and his gang of merry assholes were, technically, on the run and, even more technically, no longer classified as Avengers. But they were still out there, actively fighting crime to their heart’s content. Which Tony knew, because he had regular check-ins with them to see if things were okay and to keep them apprised of the Accords situation. He was their ‘in case of aliens’ emergency back up, he sent updates for all their equipment, and once a week -- give or take -- he and Rogers would get into a yelling match over the phone, and usually end up hanging up on each other. They were still his team, and Tony would do anything required to help them (the fact that anyone anywhere thought Steve was capable of breaking into the Raft, without leaving a trace, on his own, was frankly insulting) but he was also about ready to dropkick Captain Asshole off a very tall building. 

But regardless of his personal feelings for Steve, if the emergency line was ringing, he was going to answer it. 

Natasha’s voice was ruhed and harried, sounding like she was trying to keep from being heard. “Tony? Budapest. Right away,” she told him. There was a burst of static, and she gave him a set of coordinates, and then the line went dead. 

“Shit,” Tony muttered, already suiting up. “Friday? Cancel… Everything.” 

“On it, boss,” she reported as he took off into the sky. 

***

The coordinates that Natasha had given him took Tony to some hole-in-the-wall local bar so far on the outskirts of town that he didn’t know if it could really be considered Budapest anymore. He hesitated for the briefest of seconds, but he knew better than to think Natasha might have made a mistake. She hadn’t given him a stealth warning so, still fully wrapped in the armour, he stepped through the front door. 

The bar was dimly lit, a few tables scattered around the room, all sitting empty. There were only two occupants inside: The bartender, who didn’t look up, and a drunken patron half-slumped over the bar, who did. 

“Ayyy!” he cried, holding up his stein and sloshing beer over the counter. “Iron Man!” A moment later he was slumped over the bar again. 

Tony popped his faceplate up, blinking incredulously at the scene before him. “Uh… Okay.” 

The door to a back room opened then, and Clint sauntered out, a beer bottle in hand. “Bout time you got here,” he drawled, and Tony stared back at him. 

“Some emergency, Barton.” 

Clint shrugged, not even looking embarrassed. “Had to get you here somehow,” he replied, and before Tony could ask why, he was opening the door again to stick his head back into the room behind him. “Hey guys!” he hollered. “He’s here!” 

Tony stared as Nat filed out through the door, followed by an extremely put-out looking Sam and then, finally, Steve. Tony took a tiny bit of solace in the fact that apparently Steve hadn’t been told what was going on either. He stopped at the sight of Tony, taking up the entire doorway, and his eyes narrowed. 

“What’s he doing here?” 

Tony resisted the urge to stick his tongue out at him. “Yes. What am I doing here?” he asked instead, feeling increasingly more bewildered. It wasn’t a feeling he was used to, and he didn’t like it. The last time he had been this confused was when Rhodey had kissed him back in college, and while that had turned out pretty fantastic, he wasn’t holding the same hope here. 

Natasha and Clint shared one of those freaky spy twin stares, having an entire conversation without words, but it was Natasha who finally spoke. “So the thing is, Clint and I and… Well everyone, really. We’re sick of your shit.” 

Beside her, Clint nodded sagely, folding his arms across his chest in that way that he thought was supposed to be impressive (it was, the man had biceps for days, but Tony wasn’t going to tell him that). “The two of you,” he said, gesturing between Tony and Steve. “You can’t go five minutes without having a screaming fest. It’s fucking annoying.” 

“So you’re going to sit here, with Sam, and have couples therapy until you work out your anger issues with each other,” Natasha continued.  

Sam drew in a deep breath, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I feel obliged to mention for the millionth time that I’m not actually a therapist. What the fuck even?” 

“You’re the closest thing we have!” Natasha and Clint replied in unison. It sounded like a well-worn argument. 

“And I don’t have anger issues,” Steve mumbled, sounding petulant. The four of them turned to stare at him incredulously and he shifted a little uncomfortably, not meeting anyone’s eyes. “Okay, maybe I have a bit of a temper,” he admitted. “But I don’t see how this is going to help anything.” 

“Not to mention the potential security risk,” Tony added, with a pointed look at the bar. 

“Yes!” Steve practically shouted, clearly looking for an excuse to get out of this. “Exactly.” 

“Don’t worry about them,” Natasha said, waving off their concerns. “They don’t speak English.” 

“And see?” Clint added. “You’re getting along better already.” 

Tony rolled his eyes. “This is bullshit, and I can’t believe you hauled me all the way out here for this. I’ve got forty million actual things to do, so... I’m going. It’s been, uh… Great catching up?”

“Uh-uh.” All of a sudden Nat was holding a gun in each hand. “We’re serious about this, Tony. You’re gonna fix this thing between you.” 

Tony blinked at her. “Are you… Are you threatening me?” 

Natasha just shrugged, arching a brow at him. And the thing was, Tony was pretty sure she wouldn’t really shoot him, but he couldn’t say it with 100% certainty -- he was still wearing the armor. He met her gaze for a long moment, trying to call her bluff, but she didn’t flinch and Tony sighed, feeling his entire body sag. 

“Fiiiiine,” he said, dragging the word out to about five times the length so that she’d know how displeased he was. Pointedly not removing the suit, he stomped over the bar. For a long minute, nobody joined him. Then, after some loud whispering that he ignored in favour of trying to piece together enough Hungarian to get a scotch from the bartender, Steve came over and slumped down on a stool beside him. He didn’t speak, or look at him, leaving it to Tony to start the conversation. Tony kind of regretted putting the faceplate up, because Steve would definitely notice if he made a face at him. “So, uh… Where’s the rest of your motley crew? Simon, or Sean, or whatever his name was. The shrink ‘n gro guy?” 

Steve gave him an unimpressed stare. “I know you know his name is Scott. Just like I know you know that he made a deal with the Feds, and that he’s under house arrest stateside.” He turned away again, and Tony rolled his eyes at the sticky bartop. 

“Excuse me for making conversation,” he muttered. “And, uh, what about Wanda?” 

When he looked at him again, Steve’s gaze had hardened, his expression unreadable. “I’m not telling you where Wanda is.” 

“Jesus Christ,” Tony muttered. “What, you think I’m asking so I can call up Ross and sell her out? Really, Rogers? The back-up, and the checkins, and making myself available to you all the goddamn time is just so that I can fuck you all over at the first available opportunity? Fuck you. I’m the one out there trying to get things fixed so you idiots can finally come home!” 

“Oh yeah,” Steve scoffed. “How altruistic of you. Like how locking Wanda up in the first place was for her sake, not yours, right?” 

“It was!” Tony insisted. “I had her staying on the compound, Steve. You know, the giant ass place where we all chose to live? The one with walking trails and an Olympic size pool and six different gourmet kitchens in addition to the private quarters that are bigger than most NYC apartments? It wasn’t exactly a 6x8 cell.” 

“It doesn’t matter! You can’t just lock people up. People deserve freedom, Tony!” 

“Oh my god. I wasn’t locking her up, I was keeping her from being locked up. They wanted to take her in for questioning, Steve. Do you know what happens when people like Ross take people like Wanda in for questioning? They disappear. Keeping her on the compound meant they couldn’t just waltz in and take her. Not to mention what could happen with random people on the street. She’s misunderstood Steve, I get that. But when people misunderstand things, they tend to fear them. And they can react to fear in pretty violent ways.” 

“I think Wanda can handle herself.” 

Tony scoffed. “Yeah, I saw how well she handled herself in Lagos. You really want a repeat of that in upstate New York?” 

Steve opened his mouth, clearly ready to lay into him, but before he could there was a sharp whistle from across the room. They both whipped around to see Natasha, Sam, and Clint glaring at them pointedly. 

“This!” Clint said. “This is exactly what we’re talking about! Come on, you two were really good friends. I get this is a big disagreement, but...” He gestured between himself and Natasha. “Look, Tasha and I were on opposite sides of the Accords. You don’t see us going at each other’s throats every time we look at each other. We’re still friends! Don’t you want that back?”

Tony felt himself deflate a little. He chanced a glance over at Steve out of the corner of his eyes and found him looking equally subdued. Neither of them actually said anything, but Clint got a smug, self-satisfed look on his face anyway. 

“That’s what I thought,” he told them.

“Okay, so.” Natasha planted a hand in the middle of Sam’s back and shoved him hard, getting a yelp out of him as he stumbled over toward the bar. “Sam’s gonna stay here and... guide you, while the two of you sit here until you get all your shit talked out.” 

“I’m really not qualified for this!” Sam informed them again. 

“And Nat and I’ll be waiting right outside the door until you do,” Clint added, with a look that suggested they’d be doing more guarding more than waiting. 

So, with Sam as mediator, they talked. It didn’t start out well, the two of them doing more screaming than talking, every topic veering into anger. Sam had to interrupt them every five minutes to try and get them to refocus, grumbling the whole time about how he wasn’t getting paid enough for this shit. Once, Clint and Nat had stuck their heads back in, presumably to make sure they didn’t actually kill each other. Tony had been screaming about how if Steve thought Tony had been acting selfishly, he’d better look in a mirror, or was he trying to claim that not telling Tony that his parents had been murdered was really for his benefit. But Steve hadn’t yelled back, and Tony had gotten his breathing and heart rate under control -- without kicking Steve’s chair out from under him, as tempting as it was -- and they had left again. 

And eventually, things had shifted. Tony was still mad, but he could understand some of the fear and reasoning that had led to Steve being so against the Accords, and Steve had admitted that while he still didn’t agree with them, he could see how some oversight was virtually inevitable, and that he probably should have had more faith in Tony, and the possibility of a middle ground. He’d admitted that it hadn’t just been the Accords, that between that, and Lagos, and then Peggy dying, he’d felt like the ground was falling out beneath him and hadn’t reacted well, and Tony had admitted that he could have done more to see where he was coming from -- he wasn’t exactly unfamiliar with the sensation of the ground falling out beneath him himself. 

“Shit,” Tony mumbled, rubbing at his eyes as he looked around the bar for what felt like the first time in hours. He didn’t actually remember when he’d stepped out of the Iron Man suit, but he was sitting on the barstool beside Steve in a business suit, Iron Man standing guard in the corner. There was no sign of the bartender or the other patron. “How long have we been here.” He frowned. “And where the hell did Sam go?” 

“I think he gave up and called it quits around the time I called you a hack,” Steve offered. His voice was dry, but he offered Tony a crooked grin, and Tony felt a pang; it had been a long time since he had seen Steve smile like that and he’d missed it. 

He sighed, fiddling with a bare spot on the counter. “I didn’t want to kill Barnes,” he admitted quietly. “Not really. I know it wasn’t his fault. I just… Seeing my mom killed like that? It brought everything all back, and I just saw red. I wanted him to hurt as much as I was.” He gave Steve a wry look. “Not very superhero-y of me, huh?” 

“Yes. Because I’m known for my even-temper and measured responses,” Steve deadpanned. “I get it, Tony. I probably would have done the same. I didn’t want to hurt you either, for what it’s worth. I just wanted to get Bucky out of there. I was scared I was going to lose him again, and you were a little terrifying. I don’t know if you know this, but you’re kind of a badass.” 

Tony rolled his eyes. “You trying to flatter me, Rogers?” 

“I’m just saying, it did take two fully grown super soldiers to even slow you down.” He grinned, then sobered again. “But what you said back there? You were right, Tony. You were my friend. I should have had respect for that too.” 

“Ye-ah…” Tony shrugged. “I get it though. If our places were switched, and that were Rhodey? Full offense, Steve, but I would lay you out to save him.” 

Steve gave him another soft smile. “I don’t doubt it.” 

Tony’s phone gave a loud jangle then, buzzing harshly against the counter, and he and Steve both startled, jolted from the hazy peace they’d fallen into. WIth a rueful smile, Tony picked the phone up and grimaced at the message waiting for him. 

“Shit,” he muttered, rubbing a hand over his eyes. He looked over at Steve, an apology on his face. “I gotta get going. Ross has decided to come by in a couple hours, and if I’m not there he’s going to start trying to look into where I am…” 

“Yeah, yeah, no,” Steve said quickly. “I understand.” He hesitated a moment, chewing at his lip. “I haven’t said thank you, Tony. All of this, dealing with Ross, and the Accords, and trying to bring us home…? I appreciate it, I really do. I know it’s a lot, and it’s all on you, and I know I’m terrible at showing it, but I do appreciate it. Thank you, Tony.” 

Tony smiled softly. “Thank you,” he answered, nodding his head back toward the front door. “For keeping them safe.” 

Steve snorted. “Because Nat needs so much looking after?” he teased, earning a soft chuckle from Tony. 

“I missed this,” he told him. “I mean, not the screaming and the yelling and the wanting to murder each other, obviously, that’s all horrible. But…” He gestured between them, not having the words but knowing Steve would get it anyway. “This. I’ve missed this.” 

“Yeah. Me too.” Steve rubbed at the back of his neck. “Maybe we could do it again sometime?” 

Tony grinned, stepping back into the Iron Man suit. “Find me somewhere with a decent scotch, and you’ve got yourself a deal, Steve.”

@tonystarkbingo

#tonystarkbingo2020 #tsb2020 #tony stark #steve rogers #civil war fix-it #canon divergence #natasha romanoff #clint barton #sam wilson

[ladyseaheart1668]

Endless Summer Book 4 : Daughter of Vaanu (Chapter 46)

Description: The captive Catalysts struggle to keep it together. Tahira fights a battle of her own. Meanwhile, Zahra receives a break in the case.

Tagging: @endlesshero1122 @mysteli @xo-endlessmayhem-xo @feartheendlesssummer @whatmcsaid @tigerbryn11

Jake

I don't know exactly what to expect after I feel the wheels touch down and the plane slows to a halt. I guess I'm not surprised when the armored goons who stomp into the bathroom gag us and shove our heads into dark flannel pillowcases before dragging us upright. Makes sense that they don't want us to know where we are—or call out to anyone who might be passing. But that doesn't mean I'm not keeping alert. The landing was rough. Rougher than I would have expected on a sky-worthy private jet. The angle we landed at was steeper than expected, too.  

The staircase getting us down is narrow. So narrow that my armored escorts have to move into file ahead and behind me, and I can feel the handrails on either side if I just lean one way or the other a couple inches. The goon ahead of me must be taking the steps backward, because there's something sharp pressed to the soft flesh just under my sternum, just hard enough for me to feel its point. There's also what's unmistakeably the barrel of a pistol at the nape of my neck. They don't say anything. They don't have to. The warning is clear: don't try any shit.

After the bottom step, I set my food down on a surface that doesn't feel like tarmac or asphalt. It's soft. Dirt. Or grass. Explains the steep-angled landing—and it tells me that the plane transporting us has to be smaller than I was originally imagining. The air on my exposed skin is warm. Humid. Unfortunately, I can't notice any distinct smell to it. There's not much penetrating whatever fruit-scented detergent this pillowcase was washed in before my head was jammed into it. ...Which is either coincidence, and whatever pillowcases they grabbed before starting just happened to come straight from the wash...or there's actually a distinctive smell to this place that they're purposely hiding.

Wherever the plane landed, it isn't far from where they plan to hold us. It's only about ten minutes of being shoved along before I hear a door creak and the heat and humidity is replaced by the sudden icy chill of air conditioning turned on full-blast. I lose track of myself for a moment, but before long, I'm shoved hard from behind. My knees buckle under the assault and connect sharply with a cold concrete floor.

I'm almost surprised when I hear a key click, and the cuffs fall from my wrists. I immediately yank the pillowcase off my head and go for the gag at my mouth, but by the time I've gotten both off and oriented myself, I realize that Sean, Michelle, and I have been locked inside what appears to be an industrial tool cage in a warehouse somewhere, lit by a single lightbulb directly above us—and the goons who dragged us in here are all on the other side of the bars. They don't seem to be leaving immediately, so I stand and turn slowly to face them, glaring.

“Where is your boss?” I growl. “I have a couple questions for him.”

“Yeah, Wolf. Kinda figured you would.” Lundgren's voice hits me like a fist in my gut. He appears first as the cherry-red tip of his cigar gleaming in the dim light beyond the cage before emerging where I can see him. He pulls the cigar from between his teeth and blows a pungent cloud in my direction. I grit my teeth, resisting the urge to cough.

“Where are Mike and my wife, you piece of shit?”

“Darwin's around. Behave yourself, and maybe I'll let him say goodbye before I beat your brains out.”

“What the fuck is this, Lundgren?”

“What the fuck do you think it is? It's revenge. Everything you boys did to me, you think I haven't been dreaming of this moment for the last five years?”

“You got what you deserved, you rat bastard!” I snarl.

“And you'll get yours soon enough, Wolf. I can guarantee that.”

I step up to the barrier between us, the fence of thick wire. I grip at the links, locking eyes with Lundgren.

“I know you aren't in this alone, Lundgren. You died and left a body behind same as Rourke, but that wasn't you. That wasn't the you that's here right now. You're not nearly smart enough to pull that stunt on your own. I know Jeanine was the one who took my wife. So I gotta figure you're both back in Rourke's pocket.” I lean forward slightly, my voice low. “Where is she, Lundgren? Where is my wife?”

“Ahh, right. Alodia. Cute little blonde cunt. Pretty face hides a goddamn superweapon living in a devious bitch. Rourke's beautiful 'mystery,' the key to everything. I'm impressed you managed to knock her up. She looks human enough, but I wouldn't have been surprised to find her kind had crystal teeth down there.” He takes a long drag on his cigar and exhales luxuriously before grinning at me. “Don't worry, Wolf. You'll see her again. I want you to have a front row seat when Rourke cuts the brat out of her. ...I want to watch you watch her die.”

The rage that surges through me is white-hot and blinding, and it swallows my conscious self. I can hear myself screaming, an animalistic howl as I rattle the bars with all my strength, beating the sides of my fists against the metal frame of the locked door. I throw my whole weight into the door again and again until something drags me off, holds me back, pins my arms to my side.

“Easy!” Sean hisses in my ear, holding me firmly. “You're gonna hurt yourself more than him like that!”

I slowly settle, my breath quivering. He's right. As my rage cools to a controlled simmer, I can feel the throbbing at various points where I connected with a metal support pole or the door frame. When he's satisfied that I'm in control, Sean releases me, though he keeps his hands steadyingly on my shoulders. I raise my head to find Lundgren grinning like a kid who's found the cookie jar.

“Thing is...you and Mouse are the only ones Rourke promised me. He might have plans for the lovebirds in there, but I doubt they're gonna be anything but leverage to keep your baby mama in line. And he might not need 'em at all. Maybe I should check. ...Maybe he'll let me kill 'em in front of you as a warm up.”

“You put us in a room together, asshat,” I snarl. “That means you'll have to fight me to get to my friends.”

He shrugs. “That sounds like it could be fun.” Without another word, he turns and marches out of the room, leaving four armored goons standing guard with rifles ready.

There are tears coming to my eyes. I scrub at them furiously with my forearm as I pull away from Sean and look around desperately for something to kick or punch in this room. The only thing here is a metal bucket. Probably our piss bucket, but it's empty at the moment, so I kick it viciously into the wire wall, making the cage rattle. Then I sink to my knees.

“...Rourke isn't going to kill Alodia,” Michelle says softly.

“Damn straight, he's not!” I growl through my tears. “I won't let him. I'll find a way to get to her. I'll protect her.”

“Of course. But I actually meant that I don't think killing her is in his plans.”

“You don't?” Sean asks.

“Think about it. Sure, Lundgren's out for revenge, but from everything we know, isn't it more likely that Rourke's going to try to restart Project Janus? We don't know exactly what kind of power Alodia has in her current incarnation, but I find it hard to believe he's just going to kill her when she's probably more useful to him alive.”

“That doesn't exactly make it all better,” I mutter. “Alive is better than dead, but it doesn't mean she's not suffering right now. And River...and Mike...”

Sean kneels to put a hand on my shoulder. “...Jake's right, Michelle. We gotta find a way out of here, ASAP.”

Bernadette McKenzie

The local time is about 5:30am when the plane from Louisiana touches down in California. The flight is virtually empty. Frank and I meet our daughter at the baggage carousel with fierce hugs, collect our meager luggage, and pile into her car to make the trip to Laguna Beach.

“How was the flight?” Rebecca asks.

“Smooth,” I reply softly. “No troubles.”

“What's the latest news on your brother?” Frank asks.

“They've got various coast guard ships scouring the Caribbean for the yacht he took off on. Apparently, he made it to La Huerta and he and his friends set sail from there okay, but then the signal got lost about an hour north of there.”

“...What about Alodia and her friend?”

“...Everyone's looking into ambulances that have been reported missing in California in recent weeks. There are a couple promising VINs, but there's always a possibility that the license plates were switched.” Rebecca shakes her head. “...I think we're dealing with pros here, Mom. ...No one really looks at an ambulance speeding by with its lights on. No one wants to delay them in case there's a real medical emergency they're dealing with. Procuring one wouldn't have been easy, but once they had one, it was the perfect way to transport captives.”

“I don't understand,” Frank murmurs. “I don't understand why. Why Jake? Why his partner? Why their friends? And why all at once like this? Did they really think none of them would be missed? Or are they trying to send some kind of message?”

“I don't think the why matters, Frank,” I say softly. “...I just want my boy back. I want him back, and his partner, and our little granddaughter, and all their friends.”

“That's all I want, too,” Frank assures me. “...But I also want to know why.”

* * *

The house in Laguna Beach is unlike anything I've ever seen in person before. Under normal circumstances, I would be intimidated—even put off—by the obvious wealth put into such a place. But not today. Today, I don't see the house as containing folks with millions of dollars more than me. Today, I see it as the house containing scared parents—or legal guardians as the case may be, but the point stands. In this gleaming mansion are the frightened family of the woman my son loves—the people who raised the mother of my unborn granddaughter.

Rebecca lets us in. Apparently, they gave her a key, at least while she's staying here with them. The house is quiet, though there are faint sounds coming from a room near the back. We drop our bags in the front hall and Rebecca shows us where to hang our jackets before we make our way through the lower level of the house, following the sounds to a rec room. The light from a massive, wall-mounted television flickers across the floor as a news channel with a droning newscaster plays at a volume I would consider slightly too loud. A woman in a bathrobe lies motionless on the pristine French-style sofa, the screen reflecting in her sapphire-blue eyes. I know immediately who she is. She looks so very much like her niece.

“...Molly Fisher?” I venture, hoping I remembered her name correctly. She looks up at me with weary eyes. I think I can see her summoning the will to greet us. I hold up a hand. “...No need to get up. We're all in the same boat here. ...I'm Bernadette MacKenzie. This is my husband, Frank. ...We're Jake's parents.”

“...And grandparents to my niece's child,” Molly murmurs with a sigh. “...The only living grandparents that little girl has.”

“--Next up, an unusual and alarming string of suspected kidnappings involving a pregnant woman, a best-selling author, two former Navy pilots, an NFL quarterback, and his new wife.” The news segment captures everyone's attention as it starts up. “28-year-old Alodia Chandler of Laguna Beach, California; as well as her housemate and long-time friend Diego Soto, also 28, both went missing yesterday afternoon within hours of each other. Mr. Soto and Ms. Chandler—who is currently 36 weeks pregnant—intended to meet for lunch in Riverside, where they both grew up, and where Ms. Chandler is working as a dance teacher, but they never made it to their rendezvous. Around the same time, Ms. Chandler's partner, 33-year-old Jacob MacKenzie, as well as their three friends, Michael Darwin, aged 32; Sean Gayle, aged 28; and Michelle Nguyen Gayle, aged 28, were all reported missing in the vicinity of the Caribbean islands. Now, details are still emerging on all of these disappearances, but it does appear that Mr. Darwin and Mr. MacKenzie were escorting Mr. and Mrs. Gayle off the island of La Huerta, where they had spent part of their honeymoon. All six victims were part of the infamous Vacation Gone Wrong in 2017, involving La Huerta and the island's owner at the time, Everett Rourke Senior. Police have stated that the close connection between the victims does suggest a personal motive. They have also stated that the disappearances were almost certainly orchestrated by a large, and very organized group. They are asking for the public's help in locating the victims. Any information anyone can provide will be greatly appreci--”

“I hate the language they use,” Molly whispers. “'Suggest a personal motive'. As if it isn't obvious to anyone with half a damn brain.”

She slowly sits up, letting her slippered feet meet the floor. She makes a vague gesture towards the armchairs with one hand, nodding. No one needs a translation. Frank and I both sit down.

“...I'm glad you're letting us stay here while this is sorted out,” I tell her. “It's so much easier to have support at a time like this. People outside of yourselves who understand what you're going through. ...I wish we had known each other five years ago.”

Molly's lips quiver just a little before she draws them tightly together, but I can't help seeing the sparkle of tears in her eyes, even as she ducks her head.

“...I'm scared it will be like last time,” she confesses hoarsely. “...That everyone will come back except Alodia. Everyone will get their kids back except me. ...I never even wanted kids. But she was my little sister's baby. Cassie was gone so damn fast and I...I couldn't just...”

“...Of course you couldn't.”

Molly looks up at me. “...She was a good kid. High-spirited. Rob and I just weren't ready, no matter how much I wanted to keep that piece of my sister. I thought if we hired a nanny, I could have my cake and eat it, too. Keep Cassie's kid around without having to really parent her. In so many ways it worked. ...I never really had to answer the hard questions about who her parents were, because she mostly didn't ask them. I don't think she trusted me enough. I got to spoil and indulge her and dress her up like a little doll and feel proud of her accomplishments when I knew what they were...but she figured it all out. She's smart. She knew we weren't great parents. She knew we couldn't really handle her. She got to be a teenager...she got rebellious...by the time she went to college, it was like she was just a tenant in a boarding house who came to stay with us over summer, Christmas, and sometimes a week or two in the spring...”

“No one's teenage years are easy to parent through,” Frank says soothingly. Molly gives a short, bitter bark of laughter.

“But we didn't parent! That's my point! We punished when she broke our rules and ignored her when she wasn't making trouble. ...We lost her for five years, and we swore we'd do better with our second chance, but it's all been the same shit! We throw our money at her, buy her expensive gifts, but we don't know what's really going on! We've never asked her about how her pregnancy is going. We only know she's having a girl because Jake told Rob at work after they found out! We didn't think to ask. We've never thought to tell how proud she's made us or how much of a wonderful person we think she is or how much we lo-love her...!” She gulps and lets out a sob, covering her face with her hands. “...I'm sorry. I shouldn't be pouring my regrets out onto complete strangers who are guests here...”

“Oh, shah!” I can't help myself. I go over to the couch and sit down beside Molly, drawing her into my arms. “We're not strangers here. We're mothers. Mothers and fathers. Now, don't argue. You're that girl's mother, no matter who gave birth to her. Every mother has regrets. I'm not here to judge you for what you could have done better. I'm here because right now, we don't know where our kids are, and we're scared out of our heads.”

It takes a moment, but Molly melts into my embrace, winding her arms around me like a child with a teddy bear.

“I can't do this again!” she sobs piteously. “God, how can I do this again?!”

Alodia

The small portion of the sky that I can see from the bed is still dusky when I'm wrenched from my sleep by a loud noise. Vague images from my dreams—a plastic doll swaddled in my arms, a brightly lit stage wooden stage, the darkness beyond the polished lip, and the dark, narrow staircase that impeded my path up to the stage where I was supposed to be dancing--linger in a cloud on top of my brain, the fog pierced by footsteps, and finally by hands that yank the  blankets back and drag me upright by my arms. My baby twists in my womb, no doubt agitated about being suddenly jostled. When Diego yelps, I finally come fully awake.

Arachnid goons have us both by the arms, and we're being dragged to opposite sides of the room while Fiddler stands in the center of the bare wooden floor, looking between us with a smug, predatory smile.

“Wh-what are you doing?” I manage to croak.

“I intend to make sure you remember who is in charge here, my little blonde brat. Don't think no one noticed that you puked on one of my friends last night.”

“I was motion-sick,” I protest. Even as I do, I realize that she probably doesn't really care. It doesn't take a genius to figure out that what's happening right now is a power play, nothing more or less. The problem is that I have a sinking feeling that I know how she plans to assert her authority. “It wasn't something I did on purpose.”

“You're probably telling the truth,” she concedes. “But, it was still nasty and smelly. And in the event that you're lying and you did do it on purpose...”

Before I can react, she whips around and drives her closed fist into Diego's gut. His knees buckle as he doubles over in pain, coughing. The Arachnid goons hold him upright as I struggle against my own captors, crying out angrily. Fiddler crosses the room and grabs my chin, pressing the walls of my cheeks into my teeth.

“That's me going easy on you,” she hisses, bringing her face close to mine. “If you don't do everything I tell you to do, I'll go harder. Understand?”

I can't really talk with her fingers squeezing my face, but I nod as much as I can. This seems to satisfy her, because she releases my jaw.

“Good girl. Now, you and me are gonna go downstairs. You try fighting me on it, I'll give your buddy a beating he won't forget.”

I'm not going to fight her. I don't have it in me to test her right now. The Arachnid soldiers holding Diego let go of him and he sinks to his knees, clearly trying to swallow a grimace as he looks up to meet my eyes. I can't think of anything reassuring to say. My vision blurs with tears as I turn and move dazedly toward the door.

I'm quiet on the stairs, concentrating on taking each step without falling. I'm not blindfolded this time, but late pregnancy has me prone to weakness and dizzy spells, even without the added stress of being goddamn kidnapped by someone I watched die five years ago.

The downstairs of this cottage or cabin or whatever is just as sparse as the room at the top of the stairs. The curtains over all the windows are heavy and drawn, no doubt to keep us from seeing out—and possibly to keep anyone else from looking in. But what I find myself really fixating on is how clean everything is. Like someone swept and scrubbed in anticipation of our arrival. That feeling is only compounded when it turns out that Fiddler is leading me into a rustic but pristine bathroom where hot, clear water is flowing out of a polished tap and crashing into a clawfoot tub. Steam rises off the surface of the water, nearly halfway up the tub. A washcloth and towel hang on the bar beside the vanity. A pair of gray sweatpants and sweatshirt sit neatly folded on the closed lid of the toilet, along with a pair of cotton panties and plain white socks.

I can't stop a faint, “What the fuck...?” from passing my lips. Fiddler snorts.

“Are you blind? It's a bath, blodie. A healthy fucking bath, heated to 98 degress.” She goes to turn off the tap. “And a change of clothes. I told you my employer wants you and your parasite healthy.”

“...You can say 'Rourke',” I mutter. “We all know who's greasing your palm. ...Am I going to be permitted some privacy?”

Fiddler snorts. “And risk you trying something stupid? I don't think so.”

I roll my eyes. “What exactly do you expect me to do? Climb out the window with this belly? You think I'm just going to abandon Diego?”

She shrugs, but she doesn't move, nor does she attempt to argue her point. She doesn't have to. She's got the power here, and she knows it. I sigh and start to undress. I'm still wearing the sweat jacket and unitard that I left the studio in yesterday. I peel them off and fold everything neatly and deliberately before stepping carefully into the tub and lowering myself into the water.

I can't deny that the water feels amazing. But the fact that it feels good only serves to upset me more when I remember that I'm a prisoner here. I find the soap in a dish beside the tub and start to scrub resentfully.

“...This isn't going to end how you want it to end,” I inform her flatly.

“Tell yourself that if it makes you feel better,” she replies, which I might have expected.

“My baby will not be born in captivity. ...This isn't La Huerta, Fiddler. This isn't Rourke's territory. We're not isolated on an island while the rest of the world is burning.” I turn a sidelong gaze on her. “And my husband is still out there. Do you really think he's going to rest before I'm home safe?”

The slow way she smiles makes my blood freeze. When she speaks, her voice is a purr. “Oh, I was so hoping you would bring him up. I absolutely wanted you to find out this way.”

My heart drops like a stone, splashing into something icy in my stomach. “...Wh-what are you talking about...?” I ask, my voice thin and breathless.

“Rex Lundgren's got Wolf now. Oh, don't panic. I can pretty well guarantee he's not dead yet. No, it's too soon. And I'm pretty sure he and Rourke want to make sure you see it when he does die. But he probably isn't having a whole lot of fun right now.”

The soap slips from my numb hands as I grip the edges of the bathtub, struggling to breathe. I stare into the rippling water between my bended knees. On the edges of my vision, my submerged thighs are a strange shade of gray, starkly contrasting the pink kneecaps that peak up above the surface like islands. My panicked thoughts chase each other through the storm in my head, tackling, wrestling each other for dominance.

Jake...oh, god, Jake...He isn't dead! He can't be dead. Even Fiddler says he isn't dead...Yet'! Not dead 'yet'!...And he might be suffering...he might be in pain...

“...Why...?” I whisper. Fiddler rolls her eyes.

“Jesus, do you really have to ask?” she sneers. “You said it yourself. He'd only be getting in our way if we left him to his own devices.”

I glare at her, feeling my expression twist into something ugly with sorrow and anger. “Why do you hate him so much?” I snarl. “Did he dump you or something?”

Fiddler raises an eyebrow. “Now why would you assume that?” she sounds irritated.

Her question actually catches me off guard, but only for an instant. Just enough that I can get the tears under control. I fish the soap from the water and rub it between my palms. “Your hatred is clearly more than professional. It's personal. You were glad to turn him and Mike in all those years ago.”

“I was thrilled,” she agrees. “But why do you assume it's because we were lovers? Because I'm a woman, any hatred I have for a man has to be because he scorned me?”

That actually gives me pause for a moment. “...I just can't imagine Jake doing anything else that could possibly explain why you hate him so much.”

“Of course not,” she scoffs. “You're his perfect 'princess', and he's your dashing goddamn rogue hero. You're a fucking fairy tale, and neither of you will ever be anything except perfect in the other's eyes. I could tell you why I hate him, but it won't make sense to you because he'll always be a paragon to you!”

“...So what did he do to you?”

“He showed me up!” She practically spits the words. “Five years I had been fighting and clawing my way into the elite ranks, and then suddenly this scrawny kid from the fucking swamp just comes in and is immediately the best pilot in the whole goddamn Navy?! Everything I worked for was just snatched away and handed to someone else?!”

“...That's the way life goes sometimes,” I reply softly. “There's always someone better, Fiddler.”

“Yeah, well. Sometimes you get the chance to tip the scales back in your favor. You know the only reason I don't just kill you right now is I'm sure whatever Rourke is planning for you is worse. And whatever it is, I hope Wolf lives long enough to see it.”

* * *

When my bath is finished and I'm dressed in the unflattering gray sweatsuit provided to me, I'm hustled back to the attic room. Diego isn't there when I get back, and I almost panic. But within a few minutes, he reappears with damp hair and wearing the same plain gray sweatsuit that I am. He smiles mirthlessly when he sees me.

“...Guess this is the uniform for prisoners here. Gray is the new black, anyone? ...Doesn't really have the same ring to it as 'orange,' but it also goes with more...”

I don't answer. I'm crying again, and all I can do is run to him and throw my arms around him. I press my face into his shoulder as he winds his arms around me.

“I'm sorry...” I whimper. “I'm so sorry...”

“Oh, Allie...this isn't your fault. None of it is your fault.”

I pull back to look at him. “Are you okay? It looked like she got you pretty bad before.”

He winces a little. “Well, I won't say it didn't hurt. But I'm undamaged. I'll be okay.” He puts an arm over my shoulders, leading me over to the bed. “C'mere. Come sit down.”

I go where he leads me, sinking down onto the bed. I scrub at my eyes with the sleeve of my sweatshirt, sniffling.

“...Do you remember back on the island, when we found the game room in The Celestial?”

“You mean when we still thought the Vaanti were trying to kill us?” he says wryly.

“Yeah. And we found the dossier with my name on it?”

“Right. The one with like, zero information on it, except your birthday and your birthplace.”

“...I didn't understand it. At that point, I still had this whole timeline in my head. The one where you and I grew up together. The one we're living now. I couldn't understand why I was the one with the highest threat rating, the one no one could figure out. I thought I was simple. Nothing special. And if I didn't know what I am now, I still wouldn't understand.”

“...What do you mean?”

“...The people I love most in the world are all smart and successful. Geniuses, athletes, revolutionaries. You write books that make the best-sellers list. My husband was an ace pilot in his day. Raj is a world-famous chef. Michelle is a doctor. Quinn is changing lives. ...I'm a dance teacher who didn't even finish college. To the casual observer, I don't really seem to fit in with the rest of the family.”

“...But you know none of us would be where we are without you, don't you?”

I know. Of course I know. It's the whole reason I was born, and it's the cause of all the existential angst I've been experiencing for the last ten months. But I'm not up for rehashing all my insecurities right now. Not even to Diego. In any case, my mind is only leaping to them in an attempt to distract me from much more pressing fears. ...It isn't working. I look up at Diego.

“...Lundgren is alive, Diego. He has Jake.”

Diego's expression crumbles as the color drains from his face. “...Oh, god...Oh, Allie...” He pulls me into his arms and holds me hard against himself, rocking me just a little forcefully. I didn't think I had tears left, but here I am, soaking Diego's gray sweatshirt with them. His hand trembles at it strokes my hair.

“...Fiddler says he's probably alive. ...But just because Lundgren wants him to suffer.”

I feel his grip on me tighten. “...We're getting out of here. I don't know how yet, but we're getting out. Either we get ourselves out, or someone will come for us. All I know for sure is that we have the best family anyone could ask for, and they have never let us down.”

In spite of myself, I feel the weakest smile tug at my lips. “...Aren't the inspirational speeches my thing?” I mumble.

“Yeah, usually. But it kinda seemed like I needed to step up here.”

A sound escapes me that might be a mix of a cough, a whimper, and a half-hearted laugh. I feel like I'm back on the mountain pass leading to the La Huerta Observatory, helplessly dangling miles above the rainforest with the rope knotted around my waist and a failing grip above me as the only things keeping me from plunging into the arms of the open air and oblivion. I grip Diego more tightly.

“...Stay with me, Diego. Whatever happens, just promise me you won't let me be alone.”

“...I promise, Allie.”

I don't know if it's a promise he'll be able to keep. But I appreciate him making it.

Kenji

I get to the hospital early the morning after the attack. I didn't sleep very much, but I don't feel tired. I'm anxious and agitated and a single cup of black coffee doesn't really help matters. I have to stuff my hands in my pockets to hide how much they're shaking.

Eva is waiting in the hall outside Tahira's room when I arrive. Seeing me approach, she pushes herself off the wall she was leaning on and comes to meet me. Her expression is one of grim determination that makes my heart twist painfully. That's not a good news expression.

“...How is she?”

“Stable. But still unconscious.”

“Is that normal?”

“For anyone else? I don't know. Doctors are being kinda vague about that. All I know is that it's not normal for her.”

“What are the doctors saying?”

“Very little, according to Rochelle and Grayson. Just that the damage wasn't as bad as it could have been and her vitals are strong.”

I sigh, and pull my hands out of my pockets without thinking to rub them over my face. When I pull them down again, Eva is frowning at me.

“You okay?” she asks. “You're...kinda shaking like a leaf.”

I shake my head, stuffing my hands back into my pockets. “It's fine. Coffee jitters. Plus I didn't really sleep last night.”

“Yeah, me neither,” she admits. After a moment, she reaches out to put a comradely hand on my shoulder. “...She's gotta be okay. They can't just...they can't just take her down...”

“No,” I agree, my voice grim. “They can't.”

I feel the tingling on my fingertips a moment before it registers that my phone is going off in my pocket. I groan, pulling it out to glance at the screen. I don't recognize the number, and I tap to ignore, stuffing my phone back in my pocket.

“Who's calling?” Eva asks.

“No one I know, and no one I care to talk to.” I lean back against the wall. “...So, can we see Tahira?”

“Yeah, I think so. I was in there for awhile before you got h--” She cuts herself off when my phone starts to buzz again. I groan, pulling it out of my pocket to read the screen.

“Same number.”

“You should answer.”

“Probably some over-enthusiastic telemarketer,” I grunt, tapping ignore again.

“...You sure about that?” Almost before she's finished her sentence, the buzzing starts again. I swear under my breath and finally raise the phone to my ear.

“Hello, who is this?” I snap.

“Katsaros,” a familiar voice grumbles back. “About time you answered, you shiny bastard.”

“...Caleb?! What the fuck?! Where the hell are you?!”

“Never mind that.”

“How did you even get this number? Did Tahira give it to you?”

“No. Never mind how I got it. ...How is Tahira?”

“Stable,” I answer flatly. After a brief hesitation, I add. “But...still unconscious.”

“...I gotta tell you something. Something she said when she was in my van. It didn't register at the time, but it might be important. ...She said, 'I think there was something on the knife'.”

“...What does that mean?”

“The fuck do I know?! Maybe it means she was poisoned somehow!”

I feel the blood rush out of my head. It makes sense. Too much sense. “...Shit...” I whisper, my voice weak and hoarse. “...If you're right...”

“...Look, I'm gonna do what I can to track down her attacker. Or at least the weapon. If I can get that back to your brainiacs, maybe they can do something with it.”

I don't mention that the only medical doctor we could actually trust with the secret side of Tahira's biology has been kidnapped from her honeymoon. I guess Dax's biologist friend at Prescott Industries could be trusted with a sample of Tahira's blood...but that would mean acquiring it...

“Caleb, be careful,” I murmur, lowering my voice. “The...person that attacked her...they aren't human.”

“Aww, you worried about me, Katsaros?”

“Fuck you!” I snarl. “I don't give a shit about you! I just care about getting hold of whoever hurt Tahira!”

“Okay, okay. Calm your tits. Seriously, relax. Remember I can conjure fire. ...But you mind telling me what this thing is, if it ain't human?”

“They're...like a hyper-evolved human. Superior strength, speed, and super senses.”

“...So it's like us.”

I sigh. “...Superficially, yes. ...You get your hands on them, or on the weapon, I'll explain in more detail.”

“...You saying that'll make you trust me?”

“I'm saying that if you help us save Tahira, it will be a huge step in the right direction.”

Tahira

I'm not conscious. I'm sure that I'm not conscious. The last thing I remember was the bright florescent light in the operating room and a face in a surgical mask hovering over me. I was cold. But the right side of my torso felt like it was on fire. Neither of those two sensations have altered, even as I open my eyes to a familiar fuschia sky. I roll my head carefully from one side to the other. The world takes a moment to catch up and slide into focus, almost like I'm drunk. But I see what I was expecting. Crystals. Giant crystals sprouting from the landscape. I'm back in the crystal dimension. The planet where I was born.

I roll carefully onto my uninjured side. The pain remains suspiciously steady. The motion doesn't cause it to flare. There's no tugging sensation to warn me that I might be about to tear whatever stitches they put in me. I sit up slowly and lift my shirt to examine the wound. But there is no wound. Just a red glow, as if there's a flashlight lodged in my torso. It burns. But the rest of me is cold. But I'm not shivering. I press a hand to my chest, and feel the steady throb of my heart under my palm. I raise my hand to hover under my nose and deliberately push out a hard breath. The rush of air tickles my skin. I'm breathing. My heart is beating. I hurt. I don't think I'm dead.

Tahira...!

The voice fills my head and spills out into the air around me. I look up sharply to see a shimmering figure floating among the crystals. I squint. Only three beings I would expect to appear to me this way. Its shape is vaguely masculine, which narrows it down to two.

“...Dad?” I venture to guess. But immediately I realize that isn't right. “No...Vaanu. Uncle. What's happening? What am I doing here?”

Wake up, Tahira. There is desperation in the voice in my head. You must wake up. I cannot reach my daughter.

“Alodia? What's wrong? Is she in trouble?”

Your enemies are moving against you. I cannot reach her. You must wake up.

“Of course. Right away...” But even as I say it, I am aware that I can't. “...Wait...I don't think it's gonna be that simple...”

Wake up, Tahira.

“I swear I'm trying! ...I think they poisoned me, Uncle. I felt so strange before I slipped off. Like I could feel a fog filling my head...” It had all come on too fast, I remember thinking. With my enhanced strength, I shouldn't have collapsed so quickly. I shouldn't have gone into shock. I should have been able to hold out longer.“...Am I dying?”

Though the thought does bring on a twinge of anxiety, I'm not nearly as scared as I probably should be. Still, Vaanu's next words are comforting.

You will not die. But you must fight.

“Right. Fight. ...Um...how?”

...Wake up, Tahira! WAKE UP!...

I grit my teeth as I struggle to my feet. The pain doesn't change with the motion of my body, but it still hurts enough to be hindering. Still, Vaanu has told me what I need to know. I'm alive. But I'm trapped. Trapped in my mind. And I am not going to escape lying in the dirt. I gather my strength and take a step. My bare foot sinks into soft purple dust. It supports my weight, and I raise my other foot to place it in front, leaving behind a neat impression in the dust behind. That's the hardest part over. I don't know where I'm going, but I've taken the first step. I'm coming, Alodia. Wherever you are, I'm coming.

Zahra

I spent the night on the floor of the office. Iris has been plugged into our systems since the news broke. Her hologram has mostly stayed off, but the lights flickering on the surface of her drone assure me she's staying vigilant. Craig came by sometime after midnight to bring me food and coffee—and an extra-large sleeping bag and pillow for us to share. I didn't get a lot of sleep, but that's par for the course. And it was nice to have Craig spooning me all night, feeling his breath against my neck. I catch a little sleep around four in the morning, waking up a couple hours later to find him gone, the heat fading from his spot in the sleeping bag. I check my phone and find a text alert:

P2: Gone to get breakfast! BBS! <3

I smirk, tapping out a reply: Better b donuts

P2: So many donuts!!! I R best bf evar!

An email alert scrolls down at the top of my phone screen. At the same time, Iris' drone chimes, her hologram flickering to life.

“Zahra, an email message has come through, marked high priority.”

“Thanks, Iris. I got it.” I double-tap the alert with my thumb and my email opens. I don't recognize the address—a string of apparently random numbers and letters—and there's an attachment. I would brush it off as a phishing scam or a virus attack, except for the message that accompanies it:

To find Cassandra Sullivan's daughter, consult her first baby. Everett Rourke was never above buying what was useful to him, no matter how ill-gotten.

“...Cassandra Sullivan. That was Alodia's mom's maiden name,” I murmur aloud.

“What about Alodia's mom?” I turn to see Craig pushing through the door, balancing a box of donuts in one hand and a dangerously sagging cardboard tray of two coffee cups in the other. I leap up to grab the tray of cups before our precious caffeine fix ends up all over the carpet.

“Jesus, Craig! Put the cups kitty-corner when there's two of them! It's too heavy when you put them both on one edge!”

“Sorry. So, what about Alodia's mom?” I show him the email pulled up on my phone. He frowns. “...What does that mean? And who sent it?”

“No idea. Iris, can you trace the IP address?”

Iris' holographic eyes flicker for a moment. “Email was sent from an internet café in Barcelona, Spain.”

“Internet café?” Craig repeats. “Those still exist?”

“...'ProjectGalatea'...”

“Huh?”

“That's what the attachment is called. ...How's our antivirus software, Iris?”

I swear Iris's smile looks smug. “Useless compared to me, Zahra. That is why you always take me with you when you go hacking.”

“Touché. Well, I'll let you take care of opening that attachment, then.”

“Of course, Zahra. I...oh, dear...” She trails off, frowning.

“What? What's wrong?”

“Observe the screen, Zahra. I believe there is something you ought to be aware of.”

I move to sit in front of the computer, where Iris has displayed a readout of security data. It takes a few times going over it to realize what I'm looking at. When it finally sinks in, I feel the blood drain out of my head. My hands start to shake on the desk in front of me.

“...Shit...oh, shit...how...?!”

“Z? What is it? What's wrong?” Craig comes to grip my shoulders. “Hey, P1, take a couple breaths.”

“...Security breaches on the island. Three of them. They weren't there when I originally went through the data logs. Iris, are these time stamps accurate?”

“I am afraid so, Zahra. These files came from the back-up archives. I was only just alerted to the discrepancy. I don't know why I didn't catch it sooner.”

“I think I know why,” I reply grimly. “Whoever is responsible, they had access to the latest codes or they would have tripped the alarm. And they were able to delete the records from the primary logs, so they have access to the security system. ...The first breech is about an hour after we lost contact with Jake, Sean, and Michelle.” I feel Craig's grip tighten at the mention of Sean.

“So...what's that mean?”

“...We won't know for sure until we look. But I have a hunch that those three at least are still on the island.”

#playchoices #choices stories you play #pixelberry choices #Endless Summer #hero #Jake McKenzie #Diego Ricardo Ortiz Soto #sean gayle #Craig Hsiao #aleister rourke #raj bhandarkar #estela montoya #quinn kelly #zahra namazi #michelle nguyen #grace hall #eva minuet #dax darcisse #poppy patel #kenji katsaros #grayson prescott