#like I’m actually going to unleash my full fury on anyone who tries to be pretentious about reading Dracula before this | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

emachinescat · 3 years

Text

Mama Bear

A Tales of Arcadia Fan-Fiction

by @emachinescat @whumptober2021 day 3 - Sticks and Stones May Break My Bones But... ("who did this to you?")

Summary: After Jim’s fight with Draal, his mom sees his bruises, and Mama Bear is unleashed. Post-Win, Lose, or Draal.

Whumpee: Jim

Words: 2,603

Note: This fic was inspired by what Barbara said in 1x13 about Jim coming home from school covered in bruises. As is my way, I took the idea and ran with it.

TW: none

Barbara Lake had always considered herself incredibly lucky that her son turned out as well as he did. It wasn’t her own doing, she was sure of that – she always did the best she could, but being a single mom meant she’d had to work extra shifts to support her small family and never felt like she was there enough.

No, Jim was just a really good kid.

Not many moms could boast that their sixteen-year-old son could cook better than they could, let alone that they made gourmet lunches and dinners (and breakfasts, on most weekends), not just willingly, but happily. And not many moms could brag that their sixteen-year-old son did the dishes or kept the house clean or put aside his own wants and dreams to take care of his overworked mother. Who got up early to leave flowers on their bedside table after a long night at work, or who tucked them in after they fell asleep on top of the covers, still in their scrubs, because they’d been too exhausted to do anything else.

Barbara tried not to brag too much about Jim. She knew that he did have a social life of his own, and as far as she could tell, he was fairly well liked at school and she didn’t want to embarrass him if any of his friends found out just how much he doted on his mother. But sometimes she couldn’t help it, and she’d find herself rambling to her beautician or the nurses at the hospital or sometimes even a long-suffering patient about how her son was one-of-a-kind. He didn’t get into trouble at school, didn’t fight, didn’t skip school, and almost never missed curfew.

Until one day, he did.

It wasn’t even like it was a gradual change. There was no slow fade. She didn’t watch him slowly descend into bad grades or late nights or midnight calls about museum break-ins. There were no signs. He went to bed one day, the same as ever, and then suddenly he was getting into trouble at school, getting into fist fights, missing curfew, breaking into museums in the dead of night. Not only that but his grades – which had always been slightly higher than average – had plummeted, and he’d developed dark circles under his eyes like he never slept and sometimes he moved around like he was an eighty-year-old man and though his good nature and kind heart remained, it seemed strained at times. He still did sweet things for her, but not as often.

At first, she’d thought he was burning the proverbial candle at both ends and his lack of sleep was taking a toll on his mental and physical health. As a doctor, she’d seen firsthand what lack of sleep could do to a person. Their entire personality would change, or fizzle out, and their judgment would be severely impaired.

But then she’d seen the bruises and her sleep-loss theory flew out of the window.

***

Two weeks ago

Barbara thought boundaries and independence were a valuable part of a child’s development, so she always knocked before she entered Jim’s room. Of course, if he were gone, she wouldn’t bother.

On this particular day – one of her rare days off – she was sure he wasn’t home. She hadn’t heard him come in, hadn’t seen his bike propped up against the side of the house or in the garage. The container of store-bought chocolate chip cookies (she had neither the time nor skill to bake them herself) she’d left out for him hadn’t been touched. For all appearances, Jim hadn’t gotten home from school yet.

And so, she didn’t knock as she approached his bedroom door with a laundry basket propped on her hip. Jim always did his own laundry, but she’d seen how tired and overworked he’d been lately and wanted to ease his burden however she could.

The sight that greeted her when she nudged open the door and flipped on the light was one that would stick with her, tattooed onto her mind’s eye, for the rest of her life.

Jim was asleep on top of his unmade bed. It looked like he’d gotten halfway undressed and then decided to forgo comfort for sleep, and lay on his stomach in only his jeans. One shoe was on, the other halfway under the bed. But what arrested her attention so violently was the great rainbow of bruises arching across his back and stretched around his side, disappearing beneath his stomach where he lay on the bed.

She couldn’t help herself. A horrified shriek escaped her, and Jim sprung up so quickly it made her head spin. The panicked look in his eyes did not escape her notice, nor did the way he made a desperate reach for his pocket, like he was trying to grab something – trying to defend himself? When he saw who was in his room, and that they were alone, and that there was no danger, the raw fear faded, though a hint of panic remained.

“Mom!” he squawked, crossing his arms across his chest like that would be enough to hide the dizzying array of green, purple, yellow, and black that blanketed his chest. She noticed with surprise the lean muscles of his arms. Jim had always been fit, but never strong. He’d never said anything about a gym and he’d never been serious about sports, but she filed this information away for later and focused on the problem at hand.

Her stomach twisted as her doctor’s eyes traveled slowly, deliberately down her son’s bare torso. The bruises were worse on his stomach and chest, something she hadn’t thought possible, and she realized with horror that some of them were days, maybe weeks, older than others. This – whatever this was – was not an isolated incident.

Rage like she’d never felt before, like the protective energy of all mothers who had come before her collected into one finely-honed sword, pierced her soul as she came to the only conclusion that made any logical sense: Someone had done this to her son.

When she spoke, she barely recognized her own voice, cold as the furthest depth of the ocean, shaking with unmitigated fury.

“Who did this to you?”

Jim’s answer didn’t surprise her, but she also didn’t believe it for a second. “No one. It… was an accident.” She watched, lips crammed together in an impossibly thin line, teeth grinding against one another, her hands trembling with a righteous anger she had no outlet for, as Jim slowly reached out for the shirt he’d left in a heap at the end of the bed, the other arm still wrapped protectively around his torso. She didn’t stop him. She would absolutely be examining his injuries fully before the evening was done, but for now, she’d seen enough. The sight of her son’s bruised flesh would burn in her memory forever, more clearly than when she saw it right in front of her.

Skittishly, like a cat caught sniffing around back alley garbage cans, he snatched up the shirt and swiftly pulled it over his head. He couldn’t hide the flinch as he raised his arms to pull the fabric over his head. As he did so, she got the full view of his torso, and the wild, impossible thought flitted through her mind that it almost looked like some giant hand had wrapped around his body and squeezed. The image, however nonsensical, sent waves of nausea crashing through her. Her anger swelled again, and the crest of it burst forth, no longer containable, and the only person she could release it on was the one who was actively lying to her.

“James Lake, Jr. – do you think I’m an idiot?!”

Jim froze, his hands stilling completely as he adjusted the neck of his tee. He had never heard his mother direct such cold fury at anyone, let alone himself. “W-what? Of course not, Mom. I just–”

“You expect me to believe that you accidentally hurt yourself this badly? That you woke up one morning and you were covered in bruises? Jim, I’m a doctor. I see people come in for less than this. I wouldn’t be surprised if you have fractured ribs.” Now the anger was giving way to panic. “And don’t think that I haven’t noticed that some bruises are newer than others. This isn’t something that just ‘happened’ and it’s not an accident. So tell me. Who – the – hell – did this to my son?”

A small, ridiculous surge of satisfaction bubbled up inside of her as she watched Jim’s mouth fall open. He’d never heard his mother utter a word stronger than darn before. She’d always been very careful about the language she used in front of him. But his condition released something feral inside of her, and it was honestly a bit of a shock that nothing stronger came out.

She watched his face, saw the conflict in his eyes, knew with even more surety that he was hiding something big from her and trying to decide if he was going to answer truthfully. Well, tough luck. He wasn’t leaving his bedroom until he answered her question.

He must have seen this in her eyes, for after a moment, he dropped his gaze. Heavily, he sat down on the foot of his bed and stared down at his hands. “Mom, I… can’t. I just can’t. I’m sorry.”

At this, the fear took center stage again, and Barbara fell to her knees in front of her son, cupping his face in her hands. The tears she’d been holding back with such determination threatened to fall at the way he unconsciously leaned into her touch. His eyes closed briefly, and for a moment he was a child again, sniffling from a scraped knee and being comforted by his mother. That moment ended all too quickly, because his scraped knee was actually a bruised and battered torso, and he wasn’t a child anymore, and he was in trouble.

“Jim. Whatever is going on, I promise, I won’t be angry. But someone is hurting you. You can’t deny that. What is happening to my son?” She tried not to speculate – dared not speculate – but so many possibilities chased themselves through her head, each one worse than the last. Bullies? Abusive teacher? Drugs?

He sat for a moment, a slumped, defeated statue with too much weight on his young shoulders – Young Atlas, Walter’s voice echoed in her mind. She saw the exact moment when he made his decision. He squared his shoulders, set his jaw, and met her eyes once more. Something brewed within those beautiful blue depths, but what it was she couldn’t say. Was it regret? Guilt? Fear?

“It really was an accident,” he finally said, voice slow and measured.

“Jim, really–!”

“I’m telling the truth, Mom!” he insisted so fervently that she was tempted to believe him. Almost.

“Do you hear how ridiculous you sound?” she demanded. “What kind of ‘accident’–”

“A Vespa one,” Jim blurted, and his eyes flickered down to his hands in shame. “I… a friend gave me a ride on his Vespa. I was on the back and got thrown off and rolled halfway down the embankment before a tree caught me right in the ribs.”

Fresh panic wormed its way into Barbara’s mind at Jim’s confession. As horrible as it was, part of her desperately wanted to believe him. If he had been in a vehicle accident, then no one had been deliberately hurting her child. It was just his own irresponsibility and stupidity.

“When did this happen?”

A beat. Then, sheepishly, “... yesterday.”

But – “What about the older bruises, Jim? Did you get into two Vespa accidents?”

“Paintball,” Jim answered without missing a beat. “We had a whole thing a few months back. Guys versus girls. And I got hit. A lot.”

Barbara recalled clearly the size and location of the older bruises that had peeked out from underneath the fresh, reaching ones. They could have easily been from punches or kicks, but it was feasible that the bruises could have come from being shot at close-range by a paintball gun.

Deep down, something still nagged at her. But Jim’s explanation was a siren’s call and she was so tired of swimming.

“Do you promise me you’re telling the truth?” The gaze she fixed on him one would have withered a succulent.

Without hesitation, Jim answered, his voice clear, strong, and insistent. “Yes.”

Relief flooded through her, and she squashed the last remaining doubts, perhaps a bit too eagerly. “In that case, you are grounded.”

Jim’s eyes widened. “What, really? You promised you wouldn’t be angry!?”

“I’m not angry, I’m disappointed. Let’s see, you know how I feel about both paintball and those Vespas and yet you went behind my back and nearly got yourself killed. You’ve been lying to me, Jim, keeping secrets. Is this why you’ve not been sleeping? Why you’ve been so distant?” It didn’t explain why he’d been getting into more trouble than usual, but right now she would take what she could get.

The slightest of hesitations. “Yeah.”

She considered, eyes burning into him, for a long moment, then she sighed, the sound of every evil thing escaping Pandora’s box, and she clapped her hands together briskly. “Okay, come on.”

Jim cocked his head to the side. “Where are we going?”

“The hospital.”

Jim groaned. “Mom, I’m okay. I’m just bruised.”

“I’m not taking any chances, mister. You could have fractured ribs. You should have been rushed to the hospital as soon as the accident happened. Who is this friend, anyway? Why didn’t he take you to the E.R.?”

Jim scratched the side of his neck. “You wouldn’t know him,” he evaded, and Barbara made a promise to herself to revisit this point later. “And we were afraid we’d get into trouble…”

“Well, you did, kiddo. Now, get up. We’re going to the hospital, you’re getting x-rays, and then we’re getting ice cream.”

Jim blinked up at her. She wondered if he realized his arm was curled protectively around his ribs as he slowly eased himself off the bed. “Ice cream? I thought I was grounded.”

“You’re hurt, Jim, and I’m your mother. I’m not a monster.” A soft smile pulled at the corners of Jim’s mouth at her words, and not wanting him to get too comfortable, she added, “You are grounded, though. Absolutely. You’re not going anywhere after school for at least two weeks. And depending on the x-rays, you might not be leaving your bed for a while, either.”

“Mooom.”

“Don’t you ‘mom’ me. Now, put your other shoe on. Let’s hussle. I want you looked at as soon as possible.”

What she didn’t see as she turned to leave the room was the heavy curtain of guilt being drawn over Jim’s face.

Later, she’d drive him home with a diagnosis of two cracked ribs and deep bruising across 80 percent of his torso and a bottle of muscle relaxers for the pain. They’d get ice cream and he would mope about bedrest and she would try to cheer him up (but not too much; he was still grounded, after all). But behind the pain of his injuries lurked a deeper, fierer ache that no balm could soothe, no medication could ease.

With every lie, he could feel the chasm widen between him and his mother, and it hurt more than a few broken ribs and bruises ever could.

20 notes · View notes

herstarburststories · 4 years

Text

Devil, bring me to heaven

Kinktober day 5: Deep throat

Hauntober: Moonlight

Pairing: Demon!Dean x Reader

Summary: You suck Dean off under the moonlight and you both are interrupted.

Warnings: oral sex (male receiving), public sex, jealous!dean, kinda of non intentional voyeurism for a bit, hint of fluff bc yes

Your knees ached against the soaked cement. It rained earlier, making the situation more painful and you mind a bit more sickened with the realization that you couldn’t change a thing. Man, that would probably leave some bruises.

Then again Dean loved bruises on you. At least, this demonic version of the king of your heart did. He enjoyed love marks and hickeys before. It made Sam constantly call you two horny teenagers. It was rougher now, but this was still Dean.

It was Dean. That was all that mattered, even if you had to lose yourself to find him.

The cold ground was as unrepentant to you as the green-eyed demon's cock in your face. He was hard, his precum wetting your cheek as you dared to look up. The moonlight shined on his face as if it had always been meant for him.

You kissed his balls, already familiar with how he liked his blowjobs. You didn't have time to spare here, though. You two were in an open parking lot behind a forgettable restaurant — someone could easily walk through here. You had to make him come quick.

Dean's toughened hands caressed your head, tangling his fingers in the glossy strands of hair. You looked so beautiful like this, on your knees just for him. He may be a demon now, the Knight of Hell even, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t appreciate you — especially when you knew his body so well.

“Come on, baby girl. Take it slow. You know I love some good foreplay, no rush here.” He pulled you back once your skilled mouth became too spirited for his liking. Dean was relaxed tonight. Maybe he'd even go slow on you later. You could take your time here.

You did as he said like you usually do when it comes to sex. Your smart mouth and commandeering nature always melted away when he was like this, exposing you at your neediest. Dean, of course, was more than happy to oblige.

You teased at his tightened sac, enjoying the weight of the stiff cock pressed against your cheek. Your mouth got greedy as time passed by, starting to mouth at the soft flesh of one of his testicles while your fingers slowly rubbed the other one. Dean let out a quiet groan, fingers sunken in the ocean of your hair to lead you to his throbbing cock. You two were dwindling into the night, coalesced as one holy sin.

Your lips had barely been placed on the side of his velvety cockhead when you heard footsteps. You grunted after giving his dick an open-mouthed kiss and started to pull away, but Dean wasn’t having any of this.

If someone had a problem with his girl sucking his cock, then he'd simply kill them. Granted, he'd probably kill them anyway for seeing you in that position — this was only meant for his eyes, green or black.

The unfortunate person might’ve been lucky to die for this, honestly. Dean would say that seeing you blow him off was a pretty damn good last thing to see before being murdered. He was a man about Sam’s age; tall, yet not as tall as Dean; and muscular. Dark hair, hazel eyes, and tan skin. He was essentially the guy you'd call your type before you met Dean.

The Winchester had seen enough crappy 70’s flicks to know you had a weakness for it. He already hates this guy's guts. He was going to die or, at least, bleed enough to make unleash a crimson river under the moon’s pale radiance.

What? He was a demon, after all. He didn’t need much of a reason to hate, much less channel his aggression onto any Tom, Dick, or Harry that so much as looked at you twice.

The man's steps grew closer as Dean guided your swollen lips back to his cock. You whined and nuzzled his sweat-slick skin as if there was no better place to be. Still, you weren't sure about someone else seeing you suck Dean off. You've never minded some harmless public touching, but this is way more forward than anything you’ve ever done before.

The male stopped in his tracks, the hard pavement under your knees digging into your skin as you jolt. Your lips were gentle to the base of his shaft. You kissed your way to the top where the precum smeared your lips. Your hands on his hips dug in, winding him in closer while your tongue soothed the ache of his weeping head.

“Whoa, woman. You know I love it when you do that thing.” Dean grunted under his breath when you slipped your tongue into his slit. Your lips wrapped around the tip of his cock before swallowing him thickly, soaking up the warmth of his slick spill. “Yeah, honey. Go ahead. Take all of me into your mouth.”

“What the fuck?” The other male choked, taking in the scene with wide eyes. You didn't appear to be forced onto doing this, so he didn't rush to push Dean away, but why the hell were you two fucking behind an Arby's? This was his dad's restaurant!

You jumped a little when you heard his voice. Why didn't he just keep walking? You were so embarrassed by anyone but Dean seeing you like this. Even though you had your clothes on, you also had half of a cock inside your mouth. Contradictorily enough, it also turned you on. Someone was seeing that you were Dean's and he was yours.

The eldest Winchester could feel hesitancy in the tenseness of your neck, but he soon managed to wipe away your worry with his hand on the back of your head, caressing your hair with a gentleness that could only come from his human side.

“What? Haven't seen a hot girl sucking cock before? You should try a porn site, buddy.” Dean gave him a whimsy smirk, forcing himself not to moan as you swirl your tongue around the heat of his still-hard cock. You leaned in as he was coaxed with the promise of your tight throat. Just like you two trained.

Besides his flushed cheeks and obvious arousal despite his indignant surprise, the guy managed to speak: “Who the fuck do you think you are? This is a serious establishment.”

“I'm Dean Winchester,” the demon answered with a cocky smirk. The unprecedented third party to their fun might not know what his name holds now, but he surely would find out soon. “And this is Y/N Y/L/N. She's too busy to tell you hello right now, all hungry for my cock. My girl just can't let it go, not even for a minute.” Dean shook his head lightly, as if you were some poor, needy thing. Pursing his lips, he asked, “And you are…? Wait. I don't care. Get lost.”

“I'm Priestly Conner. Just the owner of this place.” The stranger, Priestly, groaned in fury. He was hiding the fact that his dad was the actual owner. How dared Dean to disrespect and degenerate his ego like this? The Winchester, though, couldn't care less. He gave the Priest dude or whatever was his name the chance to walk away and keep his life. You’d taken the time to swallow more of him, the glossy sheen of his swollen cock buried in your throat as you repressed the urge to gag. It was perfect. “Can she get up? And can you get your dick back in your pants and leave now?”

Priestly's voice was starting to irritate Dean's ears. Hurting his ego was good, but wasn't it obvious who had control of the situation here? Besides, he wanted to enjoy this blowjob, thank you. That man was nothing but a distraction. If you could talk now, you'd probably roll your eyes, slap Dean's puffed chest, and something along the lines of ease up and knock off the alpha-macho behavior, Winchester.

As usual, you'd probably be right. There was no reason to garner unnecessary attention to yourselves over a spoiled little man wearing clothes more expensive than Dean's car. He tried to take it easy and give Priestly one last chance.

“Yeah, sure. Just two problems: I don't answer to you, and my girl won't let go of my cock.” He grinned darkly. To prove his point, the green-eyed man moved back a little. You let out a sharp whine, nosing close enough for your nose to brush against coarse hair. His balls slapped your chin with the sudden jerk, your slippery tongue enveloping his hardness in a desperate effort to keep him close. Fuck, that felt good. “See? She's all about my dick, sorry. Don't worry, babe. It's all yours.”

Dean ran his fingers through your hair in a soft reminder that he wasn’t going anywhere without you. He murmured encouragement under his breath as you sucked his cock. His girl was so good to him.

“You… She…” Priestly was tenting in his pants, unexpectedly excited by the scene like it was live action porn meant just for him. Dean groaned. Couldn't this dude get the hint and leave? He was getting the best head of his life here. “G-get your bitch and get the hell out of here!”

As soon as the words left his mouth, both you and Dean knew he fucked up.

“Now, now, now. No name calling. It’s rich of you to call her a bitch and still get a hard on out of it.” Dean bore his cock down harder into the wet of your throat. It made you gag, but you kept going as if you were made to keep his dick in your mouth. When he howled, neither of you were able to discern if it was out of anger or pleasure. “Maybe that's why you don't have a girl right now, buddy. You don't know how to treat women, so you don't get a good suck.”

“You… ”

“I'm done with you.” With a waft of his hand, Pristley was thrown at the wall, hitting his head and falling unconscious on the floor. Weak. “Come on, honey. Make me cum so I can go wake up that son of a bitch and break his back for disrespecting you.”

A moan reverberated in your throat, causing a whimper out of Dean as his dick throbbed. He pulled your hair and started to move his hips, fucking your mouth as if he was fucking your pussy. He was tearing you apart, thrusting deep you like you had a sweet spot there too.

You felt so full like this. Sure, it wasn't like having him inside your cunt, but the warm sensation of his cock occupying all of your throat was heavenly even when you knew how inappropriate that sounded: the devil taking you to heaven.

You coughed when Dean’s rhythm hastened, thighs pressed together in a loose attempt to gain some relief for your wet pussy. Your hands cradled his balls, massaging them while your mouth swallowed his cock.

It didn't take longer for him to cum, shooting his load inside you as you took all of it. He tasted a little too salty, a flavor you’ve grown accustomed to since his transition into demonhood, but you found yourself quickly craving it. You loved how he tasted and how he came so much and all for you.

Dean kept his hands on your head, helping you remain standing until you swallowed all of his cum. You finally released his dick with an audible pop, looking up to him. The moon made the big tears budding in your eyes glisten marvelously. Dean felt so lucky. He helped you to get up, kissing you softly for once. The old Dean, your Dean, came in glimpses sometimes.

He tasted himself on your lips. It was a delicious proof that you were still his. He had to let Sammy go, but you were here. He still had family, someone to cling to. Someone who wouldn't change him. Dean licked your lips.

“So good, honey.”

Your legs still trembled as your pussy cried out for attention. Thankfully, Dean held you close. “What are you gonna do about him?”

You nodded at the breathing body on the floor, your voice gruff from taking him so deeply. He loved it.

“That son of bitch?” He groaned at the mention of the annoying interruption. You placed your hand on his heart, rubbing there. Dean placed his forehead on yours. “He disrespect you so he's gonna die.” His green eyes changed into black with a wink, showing the actual weight of his darkness. “And then I'll eat you out and fuck that pretty pussy that's already wet for me.”

“Dean…” You sighed, ready to try putting some sense in his head, but then his bruised hand slipped, fingertips touching your bare arm, your hand, and then your belly, hips, and pelvis. Dean pressed a single digit on your clothed heat. You managed to ruin your panties, yourself, and the silk skirt all for him. You gave in. “Okay. Be quick.”

“I wasn't asking for you permission to kill him, Y/N.” He raised his eyebrows as your hips chased his touch.

“I know, but you still need my permission to get inside me,” you said despite the situation. You didn't think talking so casually about killing a guy would somehow become your new normal. Although, in all honesty, it wasn't that different from the hunter’s life before.“Take it or leave it, Dean.”

“Yeah, okay. Whatever.” He huffed, rolling his eyes before he pulled away to walk towards Priestly. “You better go wait in the car if you don't wanna see some blood, sweetheart.”

“Make it quick. And Dean?”

“What?” his gruff voice asked, turning to face you. You were so gorgeous under the sequin moon.

“Cuddles later?” You beamed at him, as if he wasn't about to murder someone.

The single smile he gave you in return could convince any jury of his innocence. “Of course, honey.”

Leave a comment and REBLOG. Feedback is magic! Check my day 1,2,3&4 of kinktober, and my masterlist ♡

TAGS ON REBLOG! WANNA BE TAGGED? SEND ME AN ASK OR DM.

345 notes · View notes

waywardwrestlewritingwaif · 3 years

Text

Raise the Stakes, Part 5

This one just keeps rolling... I swear we're moving towards an ending... eventually... I think.

Usual bit about how this isn't going to make sense if you haven't read

Place Your Bets

And parts one, two, three, and four of this story.

Pairing: Jay White x OFC, referenced David Finlay x OFC

Word count: 1,830

Content advisory: sexual content

It’s weird, this new Jay. It’s not like he’s all over you in public or anything, but it’s not entirely like he isn’t. You’re used to him hovering around you, grumbling about the work you’re doing or not doing, or whining about how he’s not getting what he wants. For years, he’s signalled that he wants you to take care of him that way but pouting and sulking. And for years, you’ve been aware that he wants you only when he’s too lazy or angry to bother turning on the charm to talk to someone new. But apparently, things have changed.

He still hovers but he doesn’t complain or act out. He just stays close, giving you little touches every so often. If he speaks, it’s to encourage you to finish what you’re doing because he wants to slip away from the scrutiny of other people. You hate yourself for the little giggles and blushes that this elicits from you, like you’re suddenly a dumb teenager who can’t believe the hot guy in school likes her.

“It’s not that I’m trying to hide anything,” he sighs, resting his head on your shoulder while the two of you wait for the company photographer to come collect him for his latest shoot.

You look at him as best you can, trying to balance your computer on your lap. Why the hell do they call them laptops when they can’t remain stable on a human lap?

“I know,” you reassure him, “you don’t need to explain.”

Modern though the company might be, there’s still a stigma about relationships and for women above all. If higher ups feel like Jay’s just taking a salary for his girlfriend, they’ll tell him to fire you and find someone else in the blink of an eye. You feel like there are eyebrows being raised already.

He touches his lips against your neck and whispers against your skin.

“I want to go home.”

You press your thighs together, feeling yourself get wet just at the sound of his voice.

“Can’t we just leave?” He whines softly. “Let’s go home and watch a movie or something.”

And that is where things have gotten really weird. You haven’t just hung out with Jay since your time in the dojo but all of a sudden, he wants you around him just for… regular stuff. He wants to watch movies, or try to explain basketball to you (although that’s a lost cause), or have dinner, all that… you hesitate to even think of the term: girlfriend stuff. That’s completely new ground for you.

A few weeks ago, you’d been at his apartment eating dinner and disinterestedly watching tv. He was exhausted and aching from the constant cycle of matches and had just drifted off to sleep with his head on your lap. When your legs started to feel prickly under the weight of him, you’d woken him up and gotten him to his bed while he was still half-asleep.

Figuring he’d rather just get a good night’s sleep, you’d started to gather up your stuff to head home, only to hear him yell at you from the bedroom.

“Hey!” He was sitting up in the bed, wide awake now, chest heaving a little in that angry way you hadn’t seen in a while. “What the hell?”

What have I done now? That’s the thought that ranthrough your mind but you didn’t let yourself say it.

“Do you need something else? “ is what you said instead.

“You’re just using me for sex now?”

“I’m sorry, what?” You couldn’t imagine what he meant.

“I’m tired and sore and I don’t want to fuck this one time and you’re taking off.”

“You want me to stay?”

“Of course I want you to fucking stay. I’m a human being and I’d like to think you might want to be around me even if you’re not getting off.”

You dropped your purse on the spot and placed the bag with your computer next to it.

“I just thought you wanted-“

He slammed himself down on his side with an exasperated noise. “I thought you liked me.”

You’d shuffled off your clothes and crawled into bed with him, running your hand over his shoulder and down his bruised back, trying to get him to turn over and look at you.

“Don’t be like that,” you murmured. “I’m just not used to you wanting me around.”

After a second, he rolled onto his back and pulled you right into his side. A few minutes later, he was asleep again, which was good because it meant he couldn’t see you lying there next to him in a full-blown panic while you tried to figure out what was going on.

After his photo shoot, you drag him through a couple of press appearances and set up and by the time the day winds down, it’s like you have a very horny toddler on your hands. The two of you head back to his place and you do start to watch a movie but you’re all over each other long before it’s over.

At some point in the middle of the night, he shakes you out of the deepest part of sleep and for a second, you think of how easy it would be to jab your finger right in his eye.

“Is something on fire?” You groan.

“Why don’t you leave stuff here?”

“What?”

“You’re always dragging around a bag with all your stuff like you’re permanently living out of a suitcase. You could at least leave a toothbrush here or something.”

Somehow, Jay manages to make everything sound like you’ve insulted or abused him.

“You’re waking me up in the middle of the night because I don’t leave a toothbrush in the bathroom?”

“Don’t you want to?”

“If I promise to leave my toothbrush here in the morning will you let me go back to sleep?” He looks so hurt that you actually start to feel guilty. “Ok, thank you, I would appreciate it if I could leave some things here.”

He lies back down, a satisfied little smile on his face.

“It’s like pulling teeth with you sometimes,” he sighs.

The next day, something is clearly different. Today, Jay isn’t content with subtle flirting. He’s plastered to you the entire day. There are a lot of meetings for the executives, so the people who might pass judgment aren’t around but it still seems reckless that he keeps wrapping his arms around you, or taking your hand as you make your way from one obligation to another. Several times, he leans in and starts whispering absolute filth in your ear, and every time, you feel your face grow so unbearably hot that you think you must look like a traffic light.

You’re reviewing some merchandise designs, just sitting in one of the lounges next to the training room when he pulls you right onto his lap.

“Jay, what the hell?”

He just keeps right on talking about the different designs, though, and so you tell yourself that just maybe it looks like you’re standing next to him and you’ve just bent over to take a closer look at what’s on the table in front of you. Jay keeps prattling on and as he does, you feel one of his hands slip under your skirt and make its way up your thigh.

“Ok,” you snap under your breath, “you need to stop that right now.”

It’s like he doesn’t even hear you. Instead, he slowly moves his hand higher until his fingers are pressed against your panties.

“Let’s just get this done so we can continue this in private.” You try to sound firm but your voice gets a little shaky as he starts to rub at your clit through the delicate fabric that’s getting wetter by the second.

“Let’s see how discreet you can be,” he whispers.

“Let’s not because I’m pretty sure there are people who are going to figure out what’s going on.”

But he keeps up with his ministrations, slowly building up speed so that you have to grab hold of the table to control the shaking of your body. You shift so that your face is angled towards him and away from everyone else as you grind your pelvis to meet his movements. And despite the fact that your movements are restricted and there are people all around you, he’s able to work you to a shuddering climax, purring contentedly when you drop your head against his. He lets his fingertips slide inside your panties just enough to pick up some of the moisture before he raises them to his lips, frowning at the table like he’s poring over some very important detail.

“Alright, that was amazing but for god’s sake don’t do it again because someone is definitely going to figure out what we’re doing,” you breathe.

He licks his lips a little and gives you a boyishly guilty look. “Don’t hate me, but I think someone did.”

Your eyes grow wide and you laugh a little. You’re about to joke that you’re going to kill him or something similar when he grabs your jaw and turns your head a little.

And there, of course, is David Finlay, who’s apparently back in Japan, in the building, in this bloody room chatting with some friends. For a split second, his eyes meet yours and the look of absolute fury and revulsion on his face makes your body run cold all the way down to your bones.

You wrench your face free from Jay’s had and glare at him, hardly able to form words.

“You unbelievable bastard. You did that on purpose.”

“He was going to find out sooner or later. I’ll offer him a shot at my title. That’ll make him feel better.”

There’s a very large part of you that wants to punch Jay in the throat and go running after David, although you’re not even sure your legs would support you. You’ve never been as angry at Jay in your life, which is shocking because you’ve been very angry at him at many points in your life.

He looks up at you and the second he sees that sliver of doubt, his eyes darken like the sky before a hurricane.

“We’ll finish this stuff later,” he hisses, tapping his hand on the table. “We’re going back home for a few hours.”

He digs his nails into your hip hard as he continues. “I will repeat myself: I am not sharing you, not with anyone, but especially not with that piece of shit.”

You nod dazedly and give him a weak smile because the thought of him unleashing the jealous rage that’s all over his face is actually exciting. It’s almost enough to push out the horror you feel at the thought that David is going about his life thinking of you with all the emotions you saw in that brief moment of eye contact.

#wayward wrestle writing #njpw fanfic #njpw imagine #jay white fanfic #jay white imagine #david finlay fanfic #david finlay imagine #wrestling imagine #wrestling fanfiction

20 notes · View notes

dastardlydandelion · 3 years

Note

Max Mayfield and Tory Nichols in a horror film, what would be the plot/monster and would they survive?

this is it. this is the tumblr ask. the ask i've been waiting for my whole life. my time to shine, here we go!

filming begins under the cut:

tried and true creature feature, this is a werewolf movie. let's go with a werewolf between the van helsing (2004) and trick r treat (2007) variety. the beast once transformed is fucking huge, clearly both lupine and human, head almost entirely wolf, body primarily bipedal in shape, but robust, sinew shredding claws and big ass bone tearing teeth. also tails!! bc tails are cute!!! powers include monstrous strength, accelerated speed, healing factor. weaknesses silver and decapitation.

okay, so van helsing (2004) werewolves are mindless rage monsters and trick r treat (2007) werewolves are cognizant. for our max & tory creature feature, they're gonna of the in between variety. i chose a werewolf movie for these two specifically bc they both have their anger problems and the werewolf has long been a symbol of anger unleashed in the horror genre, even tho common gray wolves are just like. i mean, yk, animals, they hunt and howl and pee on trees and most of the time would rather avoid humans. but obvi horror genre werewolves are not common gray wolves, they need to be scary, and like, the remnants of traditional folklore influenced by rabies and discourse in the middle ages...wait, where was i going with this? anger, yes, max and tory both have anger problems and i think this works for what i'm gonna do with this theoretical movie.

who's the werewolf in town? terry fucking silver. bc terry is evil and dramatic and also, i think it's rly funny for a werewolf to have silver as a surname. he's fully cognizant in his transformation and he's purposefully biting kids and teenagers bc he wants more talented karate students. and like. yk, with the enhanced strength, speed, and regenerative recovery of lycanthropy, well. there u have it, more talented karate students.

do max and tory know each other, if so, how? okay, so in this 'verse tory is a lil older than max. that reflects their canon ages, i think. let's say max is 13 and tory is 16. billy has tory in some of his classes and he more or less makes a deal to spilt his allowance with her if she'll babysit max bc he's tired of neil riding his ass to babysit max. tory needs money so she's like, 'sure, why not.' max finds it rly stupid that she's 13 and neil thinks she needs a fucking babysitter but as far as babysitters go, tory is fun. she likes to show max what she's learning in cobra kai and they spar together a lot. max would actually like to join cobra kai but 1) neil would throw a fit on various fronts and 2) lucas is in miyagi-do. max knows there's some rly intense beef between cobra kai and miyagi-do. ofc tory's filled her in on the karate war, how could she not?

well one day tory takes max to the playground to watch a plane fly like she does with miggy in ck, and it's nighttime, ofc, and lo, the full moon is out. shining up in the sky. they hear a howl. they both look at each other. max is kinda curious but tory's like nah, nah, we gotta go. she grabs her, starts pulling her along. but the next howl is a lot closer and they can hear smth running and it just sounds fuckin big. they're running too now, legs pumping hard, but there's no escape once the beast is right behind them, hot, rancid breath blasting the backs of their necks and harvest gold eyes glowing in the dark.

max gets bitten first. tory tries to kick the big ass beast off of her and then it rounds and bites her too. the terror is real now. and then shockingly, as fast as it'd come, it leaves. neither girl has an explanation for wtaf just happened but tory takes max home. billy gripes at her for being out late but helps her patch up. when susan learns what happens she decides to take max to get rabies shots right away. loads her up in the car, runs her off to the emergency room-- but when the bandages come off, they are no wounds.

tory's bby bro tries to help patch her up too. but he's like 4 yrs old and his idea of "help" is sticking bandaids with cartoon characters up and down the wounds in haphazard fashion. tory plans to redo it all properly once she's put him to bed. sure enough after he's asleep, and she peels the bandaids off from every open mouthed pac-man to every green teenage mutant ninja turtle, the wounds are gone.

meanwhile there's missing ppl err day on the news. terry turns kids and teens but kills adults for the lulz.

tory and max know what happened to them was an event that tangibly, definitely happened but neither have any explanation for their wounds just disappearing. max, our resident horror fan, is the first to propose a real life werewolf as an explanation. she cites the missing ppl on the news. tory thinks she's tripping balls but reluctantly gives an inch when she acknowledges no, she can't think of any other explanation.

life goes on. max tells lucas what happened only she leaves out the part abt tory bc she's not gonna tell a miyagi-do student she's kickin it w the enemy. he doesn't rly believe her, like how she didn't rly believe him about the upside-down in their canon. he thinks the horror movies are rotting her brain.

tory almost tells her dojo but she gets distracted being pissed off by sam and that should be her priority, right? sensei kreese is always going on abt getting back at the enemy. she spends her shifts daydreaming abt revenge bc it's more comforting than worrying abt past due bills and her mother looking paler by the day.

full moon next month comes around. neither tory nor max are cognizant of or during their first respective transformations. max's first kill is neil. she's seven feet of fur and fury, tears his ribcage open with claws like daggers and sinks her teeth into his putrid, maggoty heart. susan isn't home. billy is, but he doesn't hear any of the fracas. he's unconscious on the living room floor, crisscrossing impressions of neil's belt buckle blaring red on his back.

tory's first kill is sam. sam larusso wants to think she's a bully?? fine, tory will show her a bully. she hops the miyagi-do fence after hours. she just wants a fight. just a fight, they always fight. but then she's sprouting fur and tory as tory gives way to smth else. she'd not aware of being a person when she doesn't have fur. not really, all she knows is rage and ravenousness and the morsel below her has bunny rabbit wide eyes.

neither of them remember what they did the next day. not vividly, anyway. it's there but it's cloudy and hard to discern, like a groggy fever dream more than a memory. but max burps up neil's wedding band and tory finds señor octopus (sam's stuffed animal) bloodied in her bed. it's apparent what happened. max accepts this more easily than tory bc 1) she always kind of suspected she'd turn, since she sincerely considered what attacked them was a werewolf and 2) max isn't terribly upset abt killing neil while tory is acutely horrified she killed sam.

max kinda had some smidgen of attachment to neil bc like, he's the only father figure in her life and here and there they've had their moments. but his abuse (psychological/physical toward billy, sexual/financial/psychological/emotional toward susan, psychological/emotional toward herself) outweighed any and all of those moments. she is genuinely concerned that she tore a human being to pieces and only vaguely remembers it but like, if she had to kill anyone, she figures neil was the best to kill. max is mostly concerned bc she can't kill neil a second time. she's worried the next time she turns it could be an innocent person, or one of her friends, or her mom, or billy.

tory is blindsided and scarcely able to comprehend the reality, holy shit, max was right, she's a fuckin werewolf. and she's sick to her stomach bc she hated sam but she never wanted to do anything like that. she didn't want to kill, she just wanted to break her face. scare her. rough her up. she didn't want to eat her. she just killed someone. she's a literal horror movie monster and she just killed sam. what's miguel going to think?

tory and max talk. they decide they need to find the werewolf who turned them. we get montages of them going over the news articles with a fine-toothed *ba dum tss* comb and searching areas where it seems like a werewolf would be. the woods. some caves. max all of a sudden has a freakishly tall man constantly hounding her to join cobra kai. neil's gone but she still hesitates bc of lucas being in miyagi-do. also he believes max now and with the proff, she's decided to let the rest of the party in as well. they also exist in this 'verse. she showed them the crime scene and the wedding band she burped up. billy isn't a roid rage racist in this 'verse bc that would be a giant buzzkill. he doesn't believe the werewolf shit either. he thinks max saw neil get attacked by some animal and that the carnage was so traumatizing for her, she subconsciously created a werewolf fantasy to cope.

tory meanwhile spirals downward. bc she passes sam's memorialized locker in the hall everyday. her memorial table in the other hall, full of sticky note condolences and mournful teddy bears, and a picture of sam right in the center always, always accusing her. miggy is heartbroken and distraught. hawk didn't care for sam but even he's freaked out by what happened, how the news said there were only torn up chunks and bones picked clean found in her bedroom. tory is terrified of herself. she's desperate to find whoever did this bc she wants to make them pay. if sensei silver has been asking her extra questions lately and presenting her performance to the class more than normal, she doesn't notice at all. aisha notices tory's fucked up but tory can't exactly tell aisha that she *ate* sam. aisha is also mourning, she and sam used to be bffs. so she doesn't say a word.

max has a theory that if u can learn to control ur anger, u can learn to control urself when u shift. she is, after all, v familiar with angry horror movie werewolves. and she's savvy enough to know it's smth she and tory have in common. neil is dead but that doesn't mean max isn't angry anymore. she's still angry at the damage already done and tbh also angry that there's some werewolf around turning ppl willy nilly bc she recognizes the danger in that and it wasn't smth she consented to. but controlling ur anger is an easier feat for max than tory insofar that max has a support system w her friends, and better relationships with the remainder of her fam. tory has two mentors actively, adamantly teaching her and her friends to be ruthless, view the world as ur enemy, use violence as ur go-to solution, and that mercy is weakness not to be tolerated.

when the next full moon rolls around, they decide to spend it together under the correct inference that they will transform. they think it's better to be together. they're hoping they'll be able to control each other, if not themselves. or that if they are both mindless rage monsters again, that rage will be turned on each other. this would be a better outcome operating on the presumption that one werewolf will be able to take what another can dish out, at the v least more so than a regular human being.

max is successfully able to maintain enough of her consciousness to control her actions once transformed. she feels aggressive and hungry, but not enraged and ravenous. she can keep it in check. tory, on the other hand, uh...tory can't do it. she throws her wolf head back in the most bloodcurdling howl ever and takes off like a bat outta hell. max goes loping after her. they can't speak like human speak in this form, but max tries to communicate with her. whimpers plaintively. tackles tory at one point, not out of anger but just tryna subdue her, licks at her ears and tries to get her to settle. tory bucks her off.

tory runs off again, max in pursuit. they wind up at the skate park where billy n robby are prolly up to some fuckery or another. i could easily see pre miyagi-do robby n billy getting up to all kinds of mischief. ooh, actually, they're prolly arguing abt that. now that robby's in miyagi-do he has another outlet for all his energy and he's getting the positive attention he craves so he's not participating in hooligan activity or shenanigans w billy anymore and billy is like. offended. except suddenly there's werewolves. fucking. snarling, gigantic, toothy, hairy ass werewolves.

let's say robby kicked miguel down two stories in this 'verse too and tory recognizes him in her werewolf form even if she isn't exactly cognizant of herself. she tears straight for him, jaws open. billy doesn't exactly *mean* to protect him but it's kinda an automatic reaction from putting himself in between whenever he thought neil was getting too aggressive w susan or max. and like, sure, robby's the better fighter (not that billy would ever acknowledge this) but it's not like he's gonna karate kick the motherfuckin werewolf anyway-- billy is bigger, he's bigger and it's instinct and the next thing he knows, he's in between robby and the thing w sharp teeth (tory).

and that's when max gets serious. she bowls tory over, away from billy before she can bite. they're rolling, tearing at each other with teeth and claws. lo and behold, terry silver is lurking in the background like the evil mastermind he is, just watching them shred each other and evaluating his experiment. it's a p close match and tory is the more aggressive of the two but she's also been going, going, going since she shifted and she's burning herself out. she's also fighting with the blind instinct of a threatened animal while max maintains more precision bc she has better control of herself. max also isn't wasting energy unnecessarily. max gets her jaws around tory's throat and tory just goes slack. but she can think and she doesn't want to hurt tory, so she opens her mouth and relaxes her maw, teeth grazing harmlessly thru tory's fur.

tory's being shown mercy. possibly for the first time. it's so unlike her conception of others' ruthlessness, so unlike the worldview that's been instilled into her that it startles her enough to crack thru to her cognizance. she does the wolfy deference thing where they tuck their tails and lick at the dominant pack member's muzzle. max responds in kind and lets tory up.

this is when they notice terry lurking (billy's already worked out the werewolf that came to his defense is max so he's just dumbfounded watching all this shit, and robby's not abt to leave someone who just saved his ass, so he's stuck unsuccessfully tryna pull billy away and inevitably watching too). terry calmly slinks over, sizing up his charges. he's pleased with the performance. but tory and max are anything but, another werewolf fight ensues.

so while they all get huge after transforming sheerly on the basis of being werewolves, i'm gonna guess the size is proportionate to their human forms. so tory is a little larger than max and terry significantly outsizes them both. terry is also the more experienced werewolf. it's two against one but it's not the curbstop it would be if this was some weaksauce werewolf, it's dramatic evil karate werewolf terry fuckin silver. terry's shredding tf outta these two. their healing factor can't keep up, he's dishing out faster than either of them can recover and tbh they were already winded from fighting each other first.

but it'd be a major buzzkill if our movie had a downer ending. and also, the power of determination and friendship and shit. terry's got his jaws around max's throat now. he's a millisecond away from tearing it open. tory's pinned under him but she thinks fast, frees a hind leg, and rips her claws down his soft underbelly as deep as she can and doesn't stop ripping, like pedal kicking almost for a human, but with her hind claws. his intestines shoot out like paper snakes from a gag candy can!! okay, well, maybe they don't shoot out w that much gusto, but still. the bowels are free, the bowels are hanging low and tory's tearing 'em tf up, fluids n fecal matter errywhere. on tory. i'm sorry tory. ur under him, that's just how gravity works.

terry dies. healing factor can't keep up with the damage done, it's too critical. but nobody knows it's terry until the dawn breaks and he reverts back to his human shape.

max is v much 'i told u so,' in billy's face. robby promises not to tell. he doesn't want to get mauled or killed or anything. tory's able to cope better with what she did to sam knowing that it won't happen again, that she won't hurt anyone else she doesn't want to be she can control herself now. tory believes in mercy now bc max spared her, she trashes kreese's philosophy and joins eagle fang when johnny and daniel join forces in this 'verse too. max also joins eagle fang, takes her place in the front row right between tory and lucas at her v first practice.

credits roll.

after the credits we see tory considering turning her mother in the hopes that having the healing factor would help her mom's condition improve.

is that a teaser for the sequel?

idfk.

#max mayfield #dare i tag tory #i dare not #lucdarling #ask box #my fic tag #i kind of want to write this as a fic for real #fuck

4 notes · View notes

unfortunatelysirius · 4 years

Text

The Bad Boy and Hogwarts’ Ice Princess | Part I // Sirius Black

「 ❁ 」PROMPT 「 ❁ 」 [Ten Things I Hate About You AU] James Potter is new to Hogwarts, home to giggling birds and witchcraft. Upon arrival he’s bewitched by the enchanting Lily Evans, a popular sixth year Gyffindor. However, Lily comes with an overprotective, overbearing sister who refuses to date and refuses to let her sister date. But James is determined to win Lily over, and if it takes finding someone to thaw her scowling sister’s ice-cold heart, so be it. But there’s only one man for the task and James isn’t so sure it’ll work. But perhaps Sirius Black is FULL of surprises... 「 ❁ 」AUTHOR’S NOTE 「 ❁ 」 Hey guys, this is my new series! I SHOULD be writing new additions to my other series (hahaha plural) ASAP, especially Chocolate Frogs and Love Notes. Send some love in the inbox (aka, what do you want updated or what do you want a sequel imagine to???) and I’ll try to make it happen ;) I’m making a promise to actually write some shit this time around. For my next uploads I’ll be using a tag list SO IF YOU WANT TO BE ADDED, MESSAGE/INBOX ME!!!! 「 ❁ 」WORD COUNT 「 ❁ 」 2360

JAMES POTTER HAD ONLY BEEN AT Hogwarts for less than twenty-four hours and already he was the talk of the town for being a womanizer.

James knew letting his hormones speak over his head was a bad, badidea. He did it more often than someone should, and it had costed him immensely. His mother had taken him out of his last school, Beauxbatons, for being a playboy. He was constantly flitting from girl to girl, never to stay longer than his interest allowed him; birds there were very pretty, coming at the cost of being very insipid and unremarkable. His mother eventually caught wind that he was fooling around with girls’ hearts and that his reputation there was tarnished beyond repair (Even with the professors! How had they gotten wind of his philandering?), thus leading him to where he was at now, a new student at a new school where no one knew him or his old habits. His mother was understandably ireful and asked that James not write her for a while, so she wouldn’t try sending a Howler or Apparating to the school so she could strangle him. Really, in essence, James’s mother just wanted to avoid the walking disaster that was her son.

James didn’t blame her.

James was easily bored and a massive flirt. If a girl was pretty, he’d play his cards until eventually the chase grew tiresome or she proved to be as indistinguishable as a hand towel. He tried explaining to his mother that it wasn’t his fault girls were so boring, but of course she was having none of it and snarked back, “Find a new hobby!”

Chasing girls isn’t a hobby, he really wanted to tell her, even if she would have rattled the neurons in his brain for backtalk. And for being an arse. It’s a lifestyle.

An exhausting lifestyle indeed, but a lifestyle, nonetheless.

James came to Hogwarts expecting to be disappointed. Beuaxbatons during sixth year would have been full of girls at their respective peaks, all pretty, vain, and vapid. James loved the chase as long as they didn’t play too hard to get, and usually it took mere days before they were going to him and not the other way around. He prided himself on being handsome. Maybe the conceited energy came from being coddled growing up; his mother sure did regret telling him he was her “handsome little boy.” Maybe if she jokingly called him a troll, he wouldn’t be like he was.

He had tousled black hair that never stayed still. A mess of curls that girls always wanted to run their fingers through. His hazel eyes were mischievous and lit up at all times, hidden behind a pair of trendy circular classes. His fashion sense wasn’t too shabby either, not that he had any choice with a dress code in place. He didn’t care much as long as he could wear the socks and shoes that he wanted.

James was tall and lean, his frame accentuated by subtle muscles. He was top-heavy, but he had some nicely shaped thighs from all his laps. He wasa Quidditch player, after all.

There was no question why he got all the girls he wanted.

Until he was the handsome new student at Hogwarts Academy, freshly sorted into Gryffindor, already a heartthrob among the ladies, restrictions on womanizing from his mother ringing around in his head—and he couldn’t believe what had just happened.

“You just got rejected, mate,” some idiot twat laughed from nearby, but James’s head was stuck in space.

Rejected…

Ten minutes ago…

James was almost to his second class of the day, Potions, when he saw it. Saw her. A girl who put all of the birds he chased to shame, a girl who looked like she’d just walked out of a magazine.

Holy—

“Oh, my Merlin,” James blurted out, his eyes stuck—frozen, as a matter of fact—on the redheaded bombshell standing outside of Professor Slughorn’s classroom.

James was infatuated immediately. Call it love at first sight, call it a sexual fantasy, call it a mutation on the brain—call it whatever! Infatuated, bloody infatuated. All thoughts of Hogwarts being a disappointment escaped right out of him, and all that was left was this thought that James Potter had to have this girl.

He wasn’t even sure how he meant that, just that he wanted her. In his bed or in his arms permanently, he had no clue.

He just wasn’t used to being so… set on someone.

He was approaching her before he had any inclination of what he was doing or going to say.

“Well, hello there, love,” James said flirtatiously, putting on the French lilt he picked up from attending Beauxbatons. It worked on Hogwarts girls exceptionally well, almost alarmingly so; they ate him and his faux accent up like Shepherd’s pie.

To his complete bewilderment, the girl blatantly looked reluctant to tear her gaze away from the floor, looked him up and down like he was a disappointing distraction, then she said, “Pleasure.”

That wasn’t supposed to happen.

James back-peddled, but he didn’t lose his smug grin like weaker men would have done. Flirt game: infinite, strong. “I saw you over here and couldn’t leave a beautiful madame standing all alone,” he said, leaning on the wall next to her and crossing his legs at the ankle, like the suave master of all things effortless he was. “What’s to say you and I be Potions partners? I’m rather good with my hands… and my mind.”

The girl was completely dry, from the tiptop of her head to her feet—frown most of all. “Get bent,” she said.

Was that…

Was that… a rejection?

James’s grin fell. Flirt game: weaker than weak. “What?”

“I said, ‘Get bent.’ You’ve been flirting with all the girls since you got here and I’m not going to be one of your victims, prat,” the girl spat, with dynamite-like fury. Maybe she’d saved all her anger for this very day, to unleash it on James the newbie playboy. “So go be a twat elsewhere.”

She turned her back to him and huffed.

…

James stood there for what felt like hours, yet the professor hadn’t shown up yet and the beautiful redhead’s friends had appeared from nowhere and dragged her into a corner. One of her friends was a brunette James remembered giggling at his advances just last night in the Gryffindor common room. No wonder the redhead knew about him and his ways.

He felt like disappearing in a hole and staying there forever. His mother was right to be peeved with him and surely she’d take the mickey when she found out that it had all backfired on her idiot philandering son.

The redhead probably wouldn’t believe him if he said he had a condition where he just couldn’t help himself around girls. She’d probably just punch him in the face.

James was still as a statue. He’d definitely win a contest.

Until he realized someone was trying to get his attention.

“Psst,” someone said from behind him, and James—ever slow and ever bewildered—took his sweet time turning around. He was even more bewildered when he saw a lanky, nervous-looking guy standing in the shadows. James threw caution to the wind and approached the guy, not even trying to act threatening.

“What’s up?” James said, like he hadn’t just been embarrassed in front of his entire Potions class.

The boy who’d called out to him was tall, taller than James actually. He was more sickly-looking, with a frame his attire seemed to drown. He had mousy brown hair and grassy eyes. He was handsome, but not a conventional sort of attractiveness--but who was judging? He was an alright bloke!

“That’s Lily Evans,” the peculiar boy said quietly.

“Pretty name… how do you think she’d feel about the nickname Lily-flower?” James asked, oblivious to the peculiar’s boy expression as it rapidly grew more nervous. “I’m sure she’ll accept me into her heart if she finds my wooing to be… more sincere.”

“You really, really shouldn’t,” the boy said, looking like he feared for James’s safety.

“Why’s that, mate?” James asked, ever oblivious.

The boy glanced around, spying for anyone bold enough to eavesdrop, then whispered, “Her sister’s Y/N Evans.”

James blinked. He didn’t remember meeting a Y/N Evans yesterday or anytime this morning. If she were anything as pretty as her sister, he would have definitely noticed her—but none of the girls he’d met so far were a Y/N. Why did she matter? “So?”

“She doesn’t take kindly to anyone harassing her sister… she may retaliate. Lily, she’s never dated. She hasn’t dated because of her sister.”

“Is this sister of hers a shrew?” James said obnoxiously, choking on his laughter.

The boy shook his head, ever nervous. “I don’t want to see you hurt. You seem nice. Y/N is a good person, but she’s… merciless, too.”

“You seem kinda nerdy. Why do you care?” James asked. The boy indeed looked like he wouldn’t care about gossip or help unknowing passersby. He looked like your average bookworm who cared less about the goings-on of school drama and more about fictional lives.

The boy’s face turned sheepish. His face said all that James needed to know.

So he fancied Lily too, huh?

“Ah,” James’s face said but what his mouth said was, “So?”

“She’s Hogwarts’ Ice Princess,” the boy began. “She’s never fancied anyone. I guess she is a shrew, per se. She thinks men are going to use Lily and they’ll do the same to her.”

“I wouldn’t use her!” James said indignantly, but he knew he was preaching to the devil’s choir. He wasn’t the most charming or respectful of blokes; there was a reason his mother was cross with him at the moment. “Okay, maybe from the past—I wouldn’t—… well, I would change for her.”

“Y/N doesn’t know and she doesn’t care,” the boy said with a sigh, just as Professor Slughorn was arriving. The boy’s nervous face gave a nervous smile and his nervous hand reached out for a nervous shake. “I’m Remus… Remus Lupin.”

James grinned a shit-eating grin and he took Remus’s nervous hand, sealing the beginning of a beautiful friendship. “James Potter.”

I have an idea. It’s a good one, James sloppily wrote on a crumbled-up piece of parchment, handing it under the table to his new friend.

Remus had been more than eager to be James’s Potions partner, and even though he proved to be extremely studious, it seemed like their friendship mattered more. He took James’s piece of parchment immediately and wrote back, What?

This went on as Professor Slughorn lectured and droned pointless information.

You said Y/N’s never dated, right?

Yes.

Well, what if we got her to break off and date somebody?

That’s impossible. She has a vendetta against us.

Maybe she just hasn’t found the right bloke… wink.

Are you going to date her yourself so you can then date her sister?

What?!?!?!?! No!!!!! I’m just saying, what if we paid a guy to pursue her, be everything she wants in a man, then it makes her warm up to the idea of Lily dating?? Foolproof plan right?

Lily doesn’t even like you. And she’s liked plenty before. What if this plan actually pulls through and she still doesn’t want to date you?

All a work in progress, mate… we just have to find the perfect man for a not so perfect girl.

James couldn’t stop smirking and winking the rest of Potions, and Remus just looked even more nervous than he began.

“Sirius Black,” Remus hissed, nudging James hard.

The two of them were in the Great Hall for dinner, eating and whispering with their heads together. James hadn’t flirted with another girl since he discovered Lily Evans’s existence—to the dismay of several beautiful birds trying in vain to get his attention—and right now he was looking for a girl who looked menacing and like she ate blokes for breakfast. He was failing miserably so far.

Remus’s nudge made James choke on his pumpkin juice. “Wha—who?” he sputtered.

“Sirius Black,” Remus said, directly James’s head to see a head of curly black hair bent over a plate of nothing but meat. The guy was aggressively eating, a glower on his face even though he wasn’t looking at anything except a plate. He seemed attractive but James couldn’t be sure with half his face covered.

“He looks cool,” James said with a grin.

“He’s a rebel,” Remus whispered. This Sirius Black bloke was also a Gryffindor, it seemed, but you couldn’t tell from how dangerous his vibe was. If James hadn’t seen him sitting here or sporting a red and yellow tie, he would have suspected the guy was a Slytherin. “He was kicked out of his family for being a Muggleborn-lover. He hates his family and hates everyone here. He gets into fights frequently and uh… he hates me.”

James looked at Remus and laughed at the crestfallen look on his face. “He sounds bloody perfect for the job,” he said, referencing their plan. It sounded completely foolproof to his deaf ears. “But what’s this Y/N bird look like?”

As if on cue, a girl walked through the Great Hall entrance—a girl both doe-like and formidable. She had H/L H/C hair shooting into her face and a scowl as terrifying as it was sexy. She was wearing a modest outfit by Beauxbatons standards, but even to James, naïve to everything Hogwarts, he could tell there were alterations. He was in utter awe at this terrifying girl who definitely looked like she ate boys for breakfast.

She caught James’s eye as she made it the Gryffindor table, giving him the most hateful glower he’d ever been at the receiving end of. James immediately looked away. He wasn’t that stupid.

“That’s Y/N,” Remus said meekly, also awestruck.

James stared at him with wide eyes, then took subtle glances at both Sirius and Y/N at opposite ends of the table. Both completely terrifying… and both definitely uninterested.

Neither of them are perfect… opposites attract, though, right? If James had any self-respect left, he would have dropped his intentions right then and there.

Maybe Lily wasn’t worth the trouble…

But Merlin knew James was a reckless bloke, and if something screamed for him to get away, he’d just fall in further.

200 notes · View notes

rhabakoli · 4 years

Text

Strength and Weakness

FIRST OF ALL: The biggest thanks to @riviawitch3r for not only giving me the idea for this, but also for being such an amazing beta reader, and for keeping me on my toes and making me a better writer. I adore you.

Taglist for all things Witcher: @this-is-whump-dammit @dreamwritesimagines @habitchi (i dare to, even tho I am not sure)

Warning: this is 3.9k words of smut. Possessiveness, teasing, Jaskier being threatened.

Geralt was trying to ignore that one woman practically undressing him with her eyes, despite her husband being right by her side, when he heard Jaskier curse and gasp. Immediately, his eyes sought out the bard, finding him pressed against the wall in a rather dark alcove. There was a hand pressed to his chest, some Lord right up in Jaskier's personal space. The beast inside Geralt recoiled at the thought of someone rubbing their scent all over Jaskier, and his body was moving before he was aware.

“I should rip out your tongue and cut off your balls for even looking at my wife.”

Oh hell. He really couldn't keep it in his pants, could he?

“Geralt wouldn't- he wouldn't be very happy about that.”

Jaskier tried to talk his way out of this situation, but the knife at the soft swell of his belly made him nervous enough to swallow his tongue and stumble over his words.

Geralt saw red. No one should ever dare to threaten his bard. No one.

His stride lengthened, his nostrils flared at the scent of fear in the air. Jaskier's fear.

No one.

He'd decimate the smell with the blood and tears of this Lord, he'd make him lick the floor and apologize to his Bard. He would. If he gave in to the beast inside his chest, roaring to right the wrongs.

Instead, he laid a hand on the Lord's shoulder, his voice deep as he growled into his ear. “If you don't stop this very instant, you will feel what it is like to have your tongue ripped out.”

Jaskier's pretty blue eyes were so wide, so round, so pitiful, Geralt's stomach churned. The only situation calling for that kind of wide-eyed look, is when he inevitably will get fucked hard enough to forget where he was and who he was. A brat like him deserved that.

The Lord opened his mouth to snarl at the intruder, but shrunk back and stumbled over his feet when he recognised the hair and the eyes; the man.

“I should be the one threatening you for touching my man, mylord.”

Geralt took a step after him, closing in on the Lord. “How dare you insinuate unfaithfulness? My bard?”

He tilted his head, a smile stretching his lips. A very scary smile, a close imitation of a wild animals snarl.

“Maybe if you spent your time satisfying your wife, instead of going after my partner, she'd be faithful to you.”

His hand wrapped around the scrawny neck, it's size alone a telltale of its ability to snap bones.

They were toe to toe now, Geralt being taller and having to bend down made his statuette so much more imposing.

His voice dropped, bassy growl taking on an almost demonesque quality, as he hissed into the Lord's ear.

“You will walk away, tell no one of this. You will never even look at my bard, nor think of him. I will find you, if you do.”

The second he released the man, he scrambled away, almost falling on his nose as he did.

Geralt was still tense, muscles coiled, ready to unleash fury on whoever deserved it. After a deep breath, he turned.

Jaskier had remained pressed to the wall, his eyes still wide and trained on the Witcher. His pretty plush lips were parted, the tip of his tongue peeked out when he licked them. A nervous habit.

Geralt's beast grumbled in his chest, thoughts and pictures of where this tongue could be, what it could do, flew by before his eyes. He couldn't hold back much longer, having suppressed his need, his desire for far too long. His blood ran hot, almost boiling, as he took in the bard. His lithe figure, his floppy hair that would feel like silk between his fingers, his eyes that were so, so beautiful.

Geralt was short of snapping.

“Did you- did you just call me your partner?”

“I called you a lot of names.”

He swallowed, pushed away from the wall. “You just pretended we were a couple? For me? You didn't call me out on my lie?”

A bright, blinding smile split Jaskier's face, delight radiating off him like warmth from an oven. He came closer, bounced on his feet and reached up, to cup Geralt's face.

“I'm safe forever now! No one would dare to anger you, you big bad wolf.”

Damn right. His beast was preening, cherishing the thought. Geralt was trying not to haul him up and just take him right there against the wall.

So instead, he grabbed the bard's wrist and forced him to follow. “The evening is over, we're leaving.”

Jaskier either didn't notice his tense mood, or simply chose not to comment. Which, for once, would show his intelligence.

Instead, he babbled on about the rumors that would surely arise, about Geralt and him being with each other, how he'd be much safer by default, and so on.

Geralt grew tenser, and tenser, his hands itching to tear off those ruffly clothes, get his hands on the bards arse, displayed so well in those tight, tight breeches. To curl a hand in those dark locks, pull his head to the side and bury his face in the crook of his neck, nose right on that spot under the jaw where his scent was the strongest. He wanted, wanted so much, right now, couldn't hold back.

“Really, Geralt, I'm so glad you were there, otherwise he'd have shishkebabed me right there against the wall.”

Enough.

For the first time since Jaskier sauntered into his life and refused to leave, did he use his abilities on him.

Jaskier squeaked when the forceful push against his chest plastered his back against the door. Geralt was upon him just half a second later, one hand clapped over his mouth, the other flat against the door next to his head.

Jaskier was once more reminded how huge Geralt actually was. How dangerous he was. How he could manhandle him without breaking a sweat. He swallowed audibly. His dick in his breeches took interest, seemingly very happy with the proximity to the Witcher.

Geralt's eyes were piercing, his voice dripping with anger, tension and frustration.

“You are the bane of my existence, bard. How did you think this would go? Did you think you can just stick it wherever and get away with it?”

He stepped closer, pressed his knee between Jaskier's and higher. A small, cruel smile found its way onto his face, when he felt Jaskier's… excitement.

“You think you can go around, solving your problems with my name? Use my reputation to stay safe from angry husbands?”

He hiked his knee higher, provided more friction against the bard's crotch.

“You think you can do all that, without consequences? Without giving me what I deserve for putting up with you?”

Jaskiers hips moved, rubbing against thick muscle and soft leather. His moan was muffled by Geralt's hand, still covering the bards mouth.

“You think you can make me your lover without me reaping the benefits?” He shifted the hold on him, wrapped his fingers around Jaskier's throat. His lips were ghosting just above the bards, teasing him.

“Think again, bard. I'm done holding back.”

“Please-” More, he didn't get out, as Geralt crashed into him, kissed him, devoured him. Never had he been kissed like that, like a man drowning and he was land. He tried to move, tried to get closer, but he couldn't. Not with a hand wrapped around his neck and that perfect, perfect thigh pressed between his.

Geralt heard the little noises, as low as they were, bit more importantly, he felt them. Felt the vibrations under his hand, against his skin, spreading up his arm. He had to suppress a groan. How would it feel, if it was his cock the bard whined around? If the bard was stuffed full so he could barely breathe and was forced shut up for once in his life.

Geralt pulled back, cruel smirk back in place when he noticed how disheveled Jaskier looked already.

“Look at you. Look how needy you are. How absolutely desperate.”

He wrapped an arm around Jaskier, picked him up, buried his other hand in his curly hair and made sure he looked right at him with those blue eyes. The bed wasn't far away, just a couple strides of Geralt's long legs, and then he was dumped onto the bed, expensive mattress bouncing with the impact. Before he had any chance to situate himself, get some semblance of control over his body, he was flipped over. A strong hand between his shoulder blades hindered any attempt to move, and strong thighs bracketing his weren't helping either.

He was completely at Geralt's mercy, and he loved it. His affairs here and there were fun, but never promised more than a quick in and out, a way to let go of his frustration and the sexual tension. But now this? The way Geralt had stepped up for him, how he manhandled him, the way he didn't stop touching him for more than a second?

He felt like he was dreaming, his blood loud in his ears as his heart tried to pump enough blood to his brain to keep him from passing out.

“Don't move.”

As if he ever would. Not now. Not when he was so close. Jaskier just nodded, stretched his arms up over his head and pressed his face against his bicep. The mattress dipped, Geralt's weight above him shifted and placed his hands to both sides of the bards head.

“When you tell people you're with me, do you think about this?”

His hips rolled, his rock hard cock, trapped as it was, nestled between Jaskier's cheeks, teasing the breath out of him.

Shit.

Oh God of Bards, please let him have that.

He imagined how it would feel, how Geralt knew how to work it, seeing as his prostitutes tended to like having him back.

“You thought about me above you? Shielding you with my body, keeping you safe?”

His hips now stronger, more forceful. “Or did you think about my cock? How it would feel inside of you? How I'd split you open, leave you broken for anyone else? Did you think about how it would be? How I'd make you mine?”

He pressed a chaste kiss to the back of Jaskier's neck, then sat up, back onto the bards thighs, and then his hands were back. They traveled down his shoulders, down his sides, stopped at his hips, for just a second, before Jaskier felt Geralt's broad palms on his ass, kneading it, pulling and pressing, his fingertips sure to leave marks, even through the leather.

“Maybe we should think of a new name for you. You are no innocent little flower, bard. You are a siren. You're calling to me day and night, taunting me with your perfect little ass, flaunting it in front of me and everyone else.”

Jaskier rutted into the mattress, he needed some relief. The friction was delicious enough to make his eyes close, his teeth clench.

And then it was gone.

“No.”

Geralt's hands were vices around his hips, having pulled them up and robbed him of that sweet relief.

“No, the only one giving you what you want is me.”

His hands traveled down that fit little ass, to grip the very top of his thighs, his fingers dipping between them, teasing Jaskier even more.

“You will beg, and you will suffer.”

He bent forward, pressed his dick back against Jaskier's butt. A press of lips at the top of his shoulder, stark in contrast to his words.

“And you will love it.”

His hands came around, tugged open the laces of his breeches. Jaskier was shaking with want, with desire, with mindless horniness. He was pressing back against the Witcher, little moans escaping him.

Another shiver, a never-ending one.

Geralt's voice was the most potent aphrodisiac, and his words caused all the blood in his body to flow to his dick. He felt light headed.

Geralt's hands came around, slipped under the leather and shoved them down his ass, left them bunched up underneath.

His deep, appreciative grumble went straight to Jaskier's dick.

“You have the most wonderful ass. Like a ripe apple.”

He bent down, grabbed one cheek and sunk his teeth in.

Under him, the bard howled and cursed, and jerked away, but Geralt tugged him back to lay down another mark.

“You won't be able to sit.” A dark chuckle. “And not only because you're good enough to eat. Which you are. I could make a meal out of you. Eat you for days, eat you, until my jaw aches and my lips are numb and all I can taste and smell is you. I could take you apart and put you back together until you can’t remember anything but my name, until my body gives out. Whichever comes first.” Deep chuckles reached his ears. “Oh, the times I have thought about having you under me, taking you, providing you pleasure no mortal man would ever be able to… It has kept me awake for weeks.”

A smack to his ass, then another one and then the soft press of Geralt's lips on his power back. “And now I will return the favor, and keep you awake for just as long, if not longer.” His hands kneaded his butt, thumbs dipping into the cleft of his arse.

“Stay.”

And then he was off.

The Witcher got off his bed, went over to Jaskier's pouch and rummaged in it, before he came up with a small vial in his huge hands.

On his way back, he shed his layers, until he was left in those tight black pants, with the buttons undone.

And, for fucks sake, did he have to look like that?

Like the very personification of Jaskier's dreams? Everything he ever wanted, ever dreamt of?

He groaned at the sight, the hair on his chest, how it spread down, shrunk to a treasure trail leading into his pants. On second look, the flaps of his pants barely kept his cock confined, it's head peeking out on top.

“Geralt.”, He whined, swayed his hips. “Please.”

He hummed in answer, a smile on his lips. “So needy. So hungry for me, aren't you?”

He came over, set a knee on the bed and beckoned him over. “Come here, Jaskier.”

Didn't need to say that twice.

He was up immediately, crawled over to where Geralt stood and got up on his knees as well.

Jaskier dared to put his hands on Geralt's stomach -for balance -, felt his muscles flexing underneath them.

“Sweet little bard.”

His hand came up, cupped his cheek. “So sweet, so precious.”

Jaskier turned his head, kissed Geralt's palm.

The taller tilted his head upwards, to be able to kiss him properly. It was soft, almost sweet.

And then Geralt angled his head, his hand now on the back of Jaskier's neck, the other on his ass.

“So sweet, it's going to be a pleasure to ruin you.”

Teeth captured his lips, pulled, Jaskier gasped and couldn't help but rut against Geralt.

“I will draw out every single fantasy you ever had, and I will make you live through them, and you will love it.”

A nip at his jaw, tongue soothing over.

“Every. Single. One.”

His hands fisted the front of Jaskier's shirt, clenched, pulled. The harsh sound of fabric ripping pulled Jaskier out of his clouded mind.

“Hey! That was one of my best shirts!”

Geralt didn't seem especially perturbed. He just shrugged and mumbled into Jaskier's skin. “I'll give you mine.”

He nipped, bit and licked a trail down his chest, got on his knees for him.

“I'll make you scream my name, Jaskier. I'll stuff you full, and then even fuller, until you're leaking.”

He eyed Jaskier's dick, rock hard and twitching at his words, and grinned. “And then I'll stay in you, for as long as I want.”

A much more violent twitch.

A broad grin.

And suddenly he was up, Jaskier was back on his stomach and Geralt was finally, finally, tugging off his breeches. He grabbed the blanket, bunched them in his hands, tried not to seek out relief against the fine fabric, but hell, was it hard.

He didn't notice Geralt shucking off his own pants, only noticed how there was naked skin against his thigh, the witchers heavy weight along his back.

“You are precious, my little flower. You're mine to look at, you're mine to touch, to smell, to nurture. You're mine to reap, and mine alone.” The sound of a cork being popped echoed through the room, making Jaskier jump a bit. “Geralt, please, just- Oh fuck.” Cool oil dribbled down the small of his back, down the cleft of his ass, coated his rim and made its way further. Geralt caught it with a finger pressed against his skin, right behind his balls, before he drew up and circled around Jaskiers rim. “Hmm.” Jaskier pressed his forehead against the bedding, spread his knees and pressed back against the Witcher. “Oh, you’re so needy. You want this finger?” Said finger breached him, pulled back, pushed forward again. It didn’t take long for the bard to beg for more, to make him shiver and babble, but Geralt prepared him well, steadily, completely unaffected by his bards begging and panting. Finally, fucking finally, just when Jaskier thought he’d explode and climb the man, his fingers left him, just to be replaced by the heady feeling of a cock pressing against his opening. “You want this? You want my cock?” “Yes, please. Please Geralt. I want you, please.” The Witcher grunted, wrapped his hands around Jaskiers waist and held him exactly where he wanted him. He knew he probably left bruises on Jaskier, but judging by the low moans and the trashing going on, the pressing back and the scent of want and sex and lust wafting through the air - he wasn’t all too disturbed by the thought.

“Oh, fuck, yes, GERALT.” He was trying to pull away, get him to move, once he was bottomed out, but Geralt didn’t let him. He just, held on, stayed still to take it all in. The way Jaskier was begging, almost angry now, the way he was squirming in his hands, clenching down on him in an effort to make him move. It was delicious, and he’d make sure no one else would get to experience this, ever. So he leaned in, his lips against that spot at Jaskier’s jaw, that made him go weak in his arms, one wrapped around him and the other next to him on the bed. “You want me to move? You want me to fuck you?” The bard nodded, lips pressed together, nostrils flared. “Oh, little flower.” He nipped at Jaskiers jaw before straightening back up. Jaskier missed the warmth immediately, but didn’t get to say anything. His breath was pushed out of him, his brain was mush, as soon as Geralt started to move. He didn’t give him any more time to adjust, he pistoned into Jaskier, his hips slapping against Jaskiers ass, the sound filthy and heady, mixing with the Bards moans, with his sighs and Geralt's grunts and curses. “You won’t be able to walk. You’ll be sore for days.” Jaskier keened at that, moved faster against Geralt, disrupted their rhythm. Which, Geralt did not appreciate. The manhandling caught Jaskier by surprise, the display of strength made him groan, his head already swimming. Geralt had pulled out, kicked his knees away and straddled his closed thighs. “I’m in control here, little flower. You don’t get to decide, you just take what I give you.” And then he pushed back in, the first breach in this new angle making Jaskier almost scream, the moan loud enough to be heard outside the room. “Fuck, Geralt, please. Touch me, let me touch me, please, I can’t take it.” “Yes, you can.” He could. He had to. Every push of Geralt’s hips against his ass made him rut against the bed, his dick trapped between his stomach and the mattress. The friction was delicious. Geralt’s hips were undulating, his groans growing louder, his hands pressed harder, his cock deeper. And then he found that one spot that had Jaskier scream for real. The sound refocused Geralt, filled him with new vigor and energy, he moved faster now, chased those sounds and their pleasure. “Yes, Jaskier. Scream for me. Make it known you’re mine, and mine alone." The dark, possessive growl was what pushed him over the edge. Jaskier’s scream got stuck in his throat, his body locked, his hands fisted the sheets. He could feel his spend on his stomach, warm and sticky, his limbs grew heavy and he tried not to pass out. He wanted to feel Geralt, wanted to feel him come. “You did so good, little flower, my little dandelion.” A soft kiss to his shoulder, two, three thrusts before Geralt froze, stayed as deep as it would go. A deep, satisfied groan clawed its way out of his chest, spilled over his lips, into Jaskiers skin. Silence covered them like a blanket, their skin sticky with sweat, Geralt's words ringing in Jaskiers ears. He thought it was over, Geralt would move and leave, and he’d not see him again for a couple months at least. His heart clenched at that, and he knew it was irrational, not after such an obvious display of possessiveness and desire, but Jaskier couldn’t help it. “You’re thinking.” Jaskier turned his head, tried to catch a glimpse of the man still spread above him, still pulsing inside him. “I am human, humans think.” “Hm.” He littered kisses along the bard's shoulders, everywhere he could reach without moving much. “I may have to fuck you a couple more times then. If you’re still coherent, I obviously haven’t done a satisfying job.” Jaskiers dick was interested enough to twitch, his body covered in goosebump at the words. “What?” “I told you, Jaskier. I’m staying in you for as long as I want to.” He shifted, just slightly, to take some of his weight off Jaskier and, coincidentally, drive his cock deeper. His hands covered all of Jaskier, calloused, rough hands being so gentle and warm, it made Jaskier feel safe, cherised - made his chest hurt at the thought this could be over at some point soon. “Mhhm, and I will never not want you. I will never not dream of your body in my hands, your soft skin, your smell in my nose. I will never not get hard when you wear those tight clothes, tease me all day long. My self control will never not suffer around you, because-” He bent down, his fingertips just barely brushing along his cheekbone. “-my little flower-” Another kiss, Jaskiers heart clenching at the words, at the unexpected tenderness. “- you’re my weakness and my strength, Julian.” The usage of his given name made him whimper, tears threatening to spill over. Could it be? Could he be talking about- “You’re still thinking.” Jaskier nodded, pressed his face into the fabric below him. “Oh, little flower. You’re in for a very long night.” It wasn’t until well into the morning, that Jaskier was able to form a coherent thought.

#The Witcher #Geraskier #geralt of rivia #Jaskier #smut #possessive Geralt

244 notes · View notes

killshield · 3 years

Text

they’ve become quite the paradox. shield, unironically, and spear; unstoppable force and immovable object. two incompatible premises with an uncanny ability to piss each other off.

the intel that had fallen into ward’s lap two weeks prior would have been inconsequential to anyone else. it was an easy connection to make: one of sunil bakshi’s close associates, a low - ranking member of old hydra, apprehended by SHIELD agents during a routine sweep of a former base of operations. ward harbored no delusions as far as allegiance went; what he’d done to bakshi was enough incentive for anyone to flip. no coincidence that this follows so closely on the heels of roman briggs’ jailbreak. coulson needed the excuse, and ward’s schedule happened to have an opening.

a change in the very air between them as soon as they’re alone. charged; alive, like the air before a storm.

alone. curious, ward notes, that coulson doesn’t hide behind deathlok this time.

he holds up a photograph, a full - color freeze - frame printed off the footage from a surveillance camera. not an accident: a challenge.

“nice glamour shot,” he says dryly.

ward smiles. “should’ve had it framed. not my best angle, but —”

“c’mon, ward.” what curves the line of coulson’s mouth isn’t amusement. “let’s skip the pleasantries. we both know you’re not that modest. you wanted my attention? congrats. you got it. now tell me what you want with briggs.”

“it’s funny,” ward muses, disregarding the second half entirely, “you say that like i ever lost your attention in the first place. and here i thought you had bigger fish.”

“it’s a wide net.”

“is it.”

“you exposed yourself to break him out of a secure facility crawling with agents, most of whom would kill to see you back in a cage. why?”

again, the question is ignored. “you tried that. didn’t work out so well.”

“you wanna know what i think?”

“not really.”

another tiny, humorless uptick. coulson leans forward on the table, wary, measured where ward is relaxed.

“i think you might be just deranged enough to believe you’re actually doing him some sort of favor. that in your own backwards, twisted way, you’re setting him free, when all you’ve really done is take away his only chance at starting over.”

deranged. deluded. same song, ward thinks disinterestedly; different verse, albeit only by a key or two, if that. his brow arcs.

“right. a clean break, no more looking over his shoulder — sounds familiar. it’s a good speech. almost had me fooled the first time around. second time, not so much. don’t patronize me, coulson. SHIELD was neutralizing a threat, nothing more, nothing less.”

“and you took it upon yourself to willfully unleash that threat,” coulson says. “so i’ll ask again — why? i’m sure you did your homework. roman briggs is an unknown variable, a powder keg ready to go off. some might say he’s a liability. i know you, ward. you’re way too calculated to bet on that kind of horse.”

“see, that’s the difference between us.” ward cants his head a fraction of an inch to one side, arm poised, elbow bent, along the back of his chair. “where you saw a wild animal that needed breaking, all i saw was potential. an opportunity.”

“an opportunity for what? don’t tell me loyal henchmen are in such short supply these days that hydra’s resorted to bargain - hunting from SHIELD holding cells. oh, speaking of —”

“henchmen, or shopping trips? sounds like a date.”

“loyalty. you’re already slipping. how do you think i managed to track you down?”

“educated guess — ? bakshi’s guy folded like a cheap suit the moment you promised him protection. how’s he enjoying SHIELD custody so far?”

“you’re good.”

“and you’re predictable. you didn’t just come here to talk about briggs, and you definitely didn’t come without backup.”

a grim smile, peppered with skepticism. “but i’m supposed to believe you did?”

“well — yes and no.” something almost metallic flickers behind ward’s eyes, a hollow - point spark. slow pull to draw a cellphone from his pocket, his opposite palm mildly raised at the spasm of movement across from him: coulson, on reflex, twitching toward a weapon. ward regards him with another scant raise of brows and connects the call with the successive press of two buttons, then a third to put it on speaker. still watching coulson, he says, to the receiving end, “how are we looking?”

roman’s voice. calm, steady. “target secured. ready to move on your signal.”

coulson boomerangs his focus; ward, down to the phone, up again to ward.

“good. hold position and wait for the green light.” the way his mouth curves at each corner isn’t a smile, not even the facsimile of one. it’s a quiet taunt, preceding the ghost of something thoughtful that falls short of sincere. “you know, SHIELD still has a surprising number of active safe houses, and most of them really aren’t that hard to find. couldn’t have been fury, he was too cloak - and - dagger for that. so it must’ve been your call, huh? pretty careless, director. seems you’re already slipping.”

a muscle tic. the flare of both nostrils. otherwise, coulson is composed; ward will give him that. “quit screwing around, ward — what did you do?”

“yeah, i don’t screw around, you of all people should know that. and i haven’t done anything, at least — not yet. if he doesn’t hear from me in the next fifteen minutes, though,” he gestures with each hand, a blown out breath, mimicking an explosion. “different story. you’ll be down half a dozen agents, just like that. good people, too. i checked. so, the question is, are you willing to make that sacrifice just to take me in? you know you won’t be able to hold me. you never could.”

“you’re bluffing.”

“like i was bluffing with may’s ex - hubby? c’mon, coulson. maybe it’s been a while since we’ve exchanged christmas cards, but things haven’t changed that much.”

no. they’re past that.

“okay.” aside from the shadow that crosses his gaze and the barely perceptible curl of his lip, coulson maintains neutrality. or what passes for it. "then answer me one thing.”

a beat. ward waits, unmoved.

“what’s randall prescott have to do with any of this? what was so important that you and briggs went all the way to portugal to murder a guy who’s been off the radar for years? i’ve seen briggs’ file — they were in the same orphanage, back in the day, but after that, it’s quiet. no connections, or none that left a paper trail. so what is it about him? what’s the significance of executing a defected hydra agent and his wife in cold blood? on their anniversary, no less, but you probably knew that.”

“they had a falling out.” in deference to coulson’s look, he elaborates, “prescott and briggs. wanted to reconnect, dig right down into the roots of their true feelings. i’m not a shrink, but i really think they made some progress.”

“ah — so that’s what this is.” the look shifts from uneasily perplexed to comprehending, disparaging. “a revenge kick, just like you manipulated agent 33 into. figures. i mean, after you shot her to death, you were a clyde without his bonnie. should’ve known it was only a matter of time before you found yourself a replacement.”

the first slip of emotion — visceral, raw, but securely contained, effectively distilled — comes out in the brusque undercurrent of a scathing tone. “and what about you, coulson? you find your replacement yet, or can you still not shake the memory of rosalind bleeding out in your arms?”

a mirrored response. “i’m not the one who slaughtered her, you sick son of a bitch.”

“but she’d be alive if it weren’t for you. let’s skip the pleasantries.” ward’s jaw works at the curve, hard and sharp. the hint of a sneer. “as for what happens next, you have two choices. i get up, and i walk out, and you tell your reinforcements to stand down — or, six SHIELD agents pay the price. they’ll die quick, which is more than i can say for you. so what’ll it be? we’ve got about,” he tips his wrist, checks his watch, “nine minutes left. and trust me when i say, he isn’t the ‘no news is good news’ type.”

“you’re not walking out of here, ward. i won’t make that mistake again. it’s over.”

“shoot me, then,” ward invites, arms spread as he rises to a stand. “end it, right here, right now. you’ll still lose some of your people, but ...”

“i’m never gonna stop,” coulson levels out, as he, too, gets to his feet; levels, although emphasis catches on every word like his tongue is serrated, “you do know that, don’t you? that for the rest of your short, miserable life — no matter what you do, ward. no matter where you go, or how far you run, i will always be right behind you.”

“and that’s just it, coulson.” ward lowers his arms and smiles. no warmth reaches his eyes, nor the deep well of shadow around them. “you’ll never be able to catch up.”

he moves, and almost anticipates coulson to follow.

he moves, and almost expects an icer to the back. maybe a real bullet. maybe they’re past that, too.

he moves, and coulson stays.

at the door, he pauses to catch coulson’s eye one last time.

“give my best to the team,” he says. “you know — for old time’s sake. i’m sure we’ll be seeing each other again soon.”

#debrief.#au / a hybrid signal: both shelter and warning at once.#this is a mess but it's fine #mythscar #coulson tag.

1 note · View note

elisaphoenix13 · 5 years

Text

Decisions Regrettably Made

A few members of the team decided to drink last night. Surprisingly, Tony was not one of them. Even more surprising was the fact that Stephen was. He got really drunk too, and Tony was willing to bet he got as far as blackout drunk if the way he found the drinking team the next morning was anything to go by. They were all sleeping on the floor. Clint laying on his stomach, Stephen was as well but he was using the archers back as a pillow, Scott of course had to touch the sorcerer in some way so his legs were thrown over Stephen's, and his head on a throw pillow from one of the couches. Sam wasn't part of the pile but he was nearby with his own pillow being strangled in his arms under his head, and Nat was using Stephen's back as a pillow, but she was awake and filing her nails while watching tv. Thor was the only one on a couch and looked completely unfazed aside from Natasha. Tony was pretty sure they weren't part of the drinking squad last night.

"Sooo..." Tony starts and Nat looks over at him. "Any idea why my husband's shirt is missing?"

"Thor and I just got here, but his bare back looked inviting." Natasha says.

"We made sure they were still breathing." Thor gently kicks one of Clint's legs but gets nothing for his effort. "They will not wake up though."

"At least it's not his pants." The engineer shrugs. "How much you wanna bet Mama Bear will wake up for his cub?"

Nat smiles. "I'm not taking that bet because I know he will. It will be a matter of urgency though. If the baby spider doesn't sound alarmed, he will continue to sleep."

Tony raises an eyebrow. "A hundred says that Pete just needs to say Mom."

"Now that is a bet I'm willing to take." Natasha says as she moves to her feet and joins Tony.

"Whoever wins, I want part of the winnings." Peter says as he comes out of his room yawning.

"Fair." Both Tony and Nat say.

Peter stretches as he moves to the entrance to the living room. Thor only seemed mildly interested in the outcome of the bet but mostly kept his attention on the television. When the teen opens his mouth, he only snaps it shut again when the elevator whooshes open and Nick Fury steps out onto the floor. Tony lets out a dramatic sigh.

"FRIDAY, thanks for the heads up." When she doesn't respond the engineer glances at Fury. "You screwing with my tech?"

"I wanted to surprise you."

Tony rolls his eyes. "You visiting is surprise enough. What do you want?"

"Have space to put up a couple of people for a few days?"

Tony scoffs and walks into the kitchen, grabbing some blueberries from the fridge and tossing some in his mouth. Did he have space? He had all the space in the world. It just depended on who the director wanted space for.

"Depends."

Fury rolls his uncovered eye. "You're as charming as ever Stark. When I heard you were married, I felt sorry for the poor woman."

Peter barks out a laugh and Tony throws a blueberry at his son. The teen only caught it in his mouth and munched happily. "Have you been hiding under a rock? I'm not married to a woman. I thought you of all people would know that." The mechanic explains when Fury looks at Peter curiously.

"I tend to tune out the news when you're the subject, but I managed to process that you adopted Mr. Parker over there." Nick points toward Peter and ignores the teen's correction of Stark. "So a man then? Still feel sorry that the poor bastard has to deal with you. So where is he?"

Tony motions toward the living room. "Somehwere in that pile of bodies on the floor. Now back to why you're here in the first place. Who am I babysitting?"

Fury says nothing when the elevator opens and instead steps aside to show T'Challa and Shuri stepping onto the floor. Tony grins and walks up to the Wakandan king and claps him on the shoulder with his free hand.

"Hey Kitty-cat! To what do I owe the honor?"

"Director Fury wanted our help with some of their equipment...Shuri and I wanted to sight-see."

"I'll show you myself! It's handy being married to a wizard. Wherever you want to go, we can be there instantly. Hope you don't mind waiting though. Stephen is currently dead to the world."

T'Challa raises an eyebrow. "You married the captain?"

"Nope. Actually, Nat and I made a bet so you might be able to meet him in a second."

"What kind of bet?" Fury asks suspiciously.

Tony nods to Peter who turns from their visitors and back to the living room. "Mom."

The billionaire had to keep himself from laughing at the incredulous look on Director Fury's face.

Peter huffs and allows a tone of fear drip into his next words. "Mom!"

The reaction was instantaneous. Stephen's eyes snapped open and he got up so quickly that any hangover effect that he might have to suffer through didn't have time to bother him. He was on his feet and in front of Peter before anyone could blink and immediately started looking for injuries. When he found none and there was no immediate threat to be found, he slumped down against the teen who uses his strength to keep him up. Stephen was definitely feeling the effects from his hangover now.

"Don't do that."

Fury glances at Stephen and Peter. "I don't want to know. You people are crazy enough."

Tony watches the man leave with a smirk and then motions toward his pale husband. "T'Challa, meet Doctor Stephen Strange." Stephen slowly lifts his head from his cub's shoulder to glance at the king. "Babe, this is the king of Wakanda and his sister Shuri."

"I apologize for my state." The sorcerer mumbles.

"You look like you had a fun night." T'Challa says with a grin.

"Clint's idea. I feel like I've been hit by a truck at least three times and I don't remember everything that happened."

The king laughs as Natasha turns to Tony with her hand out. "I believe I won that bet."

Tony pulls out his wallet and gives fifty to the Russian and the other fifty to Peter, who pockets it into his sweatpants before leading the sorcerer back into the living room to lay on one of the vacant couches. Tony collects a glass of water and some painkillers, passes them down to Stephen when he walks into the living room, and then turns back to the visiting royal party.

"Mind waiting until tomorrow for sight-seeing? I can get you two settled on the guest floor in the meantime."

T'Challa opens his mouth but is interrupted by a thud. " Mothertrucker, dude, that hurt like a buttcheek on a stick!" Peter exclaims and Stephen groans.

"Please cub...I already have an excruciating headache."

"AHH! Stahhp. I coulda dropped mah croissant!" Shuri says and Peter looks over at her with an excited gasp.

"How much money do you have?" He asks.

Shuri grins. "Sixty-nine cents."

"You know what that means?"

" I don't have enough money for chicken nuggets!"

Stephen almost sobs from his place on the couch and Tony and T'Challa stare at the two teens.

"Oh my god...there are two of them." Tony groans loudly.

"At least someone understands her." The king says.

__________________

Peter and Shuri hung out the entirety of the three days that the royal siblings were in New York. Tony made true to his promise of showing them the sights with the help of Stephen's portals, but it was a bit of a chore when the teens spoke mostly in vine references. The three adults just let Peter and Shuri do their thing. Tony and T'Challa were a little more used to it so they knew how to tune it out, but Stephen tended to look into his cup of tea with a look like the gods had forsaken him. They found it hilarious.

When their royal visitors finally left, with the promise that the New York family would visit Wakanda next time, Peter finally spoke sense and Tony could visibly see the relief loosen tight muscles in the doctor's shoulders. Peter was more than enough, but having Shuri around to encourage the boy was borderline insanity. She and T'Challa made it up to Tony at least by giving him some vibranium and the princess helped the engineer upgrade his and his family's nanotech suits.

"Woah! That was awesome!" Peter had just tried out unleashing the energy his suit absorbed from his father's hits. Much like T'Challa's did.

Tony coughs and extracts himself from the wall. "Ow."

"Oh crap! I'm sorry Dad! Are you okay?" Peter asks as he rushes over to the billionaire and brushes glass and pieces of metal off of him.

Tony waves him off and both let their suits retract into their respective cores and then look at the Tony sized dent in the wall.

"Let's keep that little perk for aliens and enhanced enemies, okay?"

Peter nods in agreement. "Yeah."

"We've been down here long enough anyway. Let's go make some lunch and have a movie night or something."

Tony leads the way to the elevator and back up to the family floor and they find Stephen sitting in the living room with a book and a plate full of sandwiches waiting on the coffee table. Scott, Clint, and Sam looked to have already helped themselves. Their presence only reminded Tony that he had meant to ask if they remembered anything from their night of drinking a few nights ago.

Peter rushes forward and jumps onto the couch after grabbing a sandwich, and curls into the sorcerer's side as he takes a bite. Tony takes the empty spot on the other side and picks up his own.

"What happened the other night? I've been meaning to ask." Tony wonders.

"You just want to know how we got Mama Bear shirtless." Clint snickers around his turkey sandwich.

"Actually, I'm surprised you got him blackout drunk let alone to actually drink."

Stephen peers over his book. "I would like to know where my shirt went as well. I don't remember anything past the jello shots."

Peter looks up at the doctor with a scrunched nose. "How much did you drink?"

"A lot...and that was before the jello."

"He technically drank us under the table." Sam admits.

Tony raises an eyebrow and looks at his husband. "That's really arousing...but none of you told me about the shirt."

"Why don't you just ask FRIDAY to show you the footage?" Scott asks.

"Watching it isn't the same as hearing you guys tell the story." Tony responds.

Clint finishes his sandwich. "We've only seen Stephen shirtless one time and that was when Peter almost froze to death so we couldn't see anything. We wanted to know how fit he was."

"Man, he did not disappoint." Scott practically drools and he curses when a portal opens up under him and he falls through.

"Anything crazy?" Tony asks.

"Stephen made himself a sandwich. He used wheat bread." Sam says.

"That's not crazy."

Sam snickers. "No, but it's hilarious when he called the white bread racist."

Stephen moans and covers his face. It was kind of funny. Not necessarily something to be embarrassed about, but then they kept going. After the jello shots, Stephen apparently decided that he had to practice neurology again, had opened a portal to the hospital, but Sam and Scott had tackled him to the ground and taken away his sling ring. They also distracted him with a teddy bear, saying it was Peter, and he had sat on the floor for a good thirty minutes staring at the toy. Scott at one point wanted to see how far gone the sorcerer was, but was quickly thwarted by red bands and a yell that Stephen was married thank you very much.

Both Tony and Peter were in tears from laughing so hard at the stories, and Stephen was just mortified. He was never going to drink again. They all had their idiotic moments that night, but Stephen was the only one that got blackout drunk. The others got close but they were still aware enough to babysit the sorcerer's dumb ass.

"Next time you guys drink, I'm sending Peter to Ned's and joining you." Tony laughs out.

"That will never happen because I am never drinking again." Stephen glowers.

Peter smiles. "Either way I'm glad you were able to relax enough to do that."

The teen grabs his third sandwich and Stephen ignores Tony when the man waggles his eyebrows at him, and ponders the teens words.

Maybe he needed to find a healthier alternative to relax and have fun with the team. While the night of drinking was fun (what he remembered of it at least), the hangover was not. That had taken him a full day to recover from and Stephen allegedly drank like a college frat boy after blacking out.

Then again, this was the Avengers. They would find a way to get him to drink again.

#tony stark #ironstrange #peter parker #mama bear stephen strange #supremefamily #avengers #nick fury

138 notes · View notes

thotteus-beaumont · 4 years

Text

I’m in love with a boy

Summary: “Finest boy in the world...”“

“Don’t forget we have to stop at the video store.” Pete laid his head on Henry’s shoulder and sighed. For a moment or two, the three friends watched people pass them by with hoards of bags. They had laughs on their lips or kids at their hips but most of all, they just looked rushed.

Ship: Henry/Pete & background Jonesy/Beaver

Words: 4,450

{September, 1981}

The pink & blue tiles framed the spot of the floor in which Beaver had spilled his soda in a nice diamond shape.

Moon-Park Mall was about the closest shopping center to Derry (that didn’t just house dead Sears) and even it was a few miles outta the way. But the rush of after-school energy always made the trip worth it for most Derry-students.

The ceilings were lined in neon-light stripes which matched the tiles--minus the new huge fizzy-brown stain--and shined down a dewy haze of color on every customer. And the plastic trees littering each corner really enhanced the consumer paradise with a soft atmosphere comparable to a pretty sunset...that just happened to be over a ‘Frost-Bite’s: Ice Cream’.

Henry liked it well enough and the gang was far too rowdy to walk up-and-down the aisles of Derry’s finest pharmacy, Mr. Keene could only take so much.

Beaver had been trying to find a speaker to stand under when he bumped right into Pete’s side and unleashed his refreshment all over those dusty tiles.

“Fuck me Freddy.” He shook out his tiny palm and sprinkled a few extra droplets around. “I spent my last bit of cash on that shit.” His frown was genuine but the pout which followed was far exaggerated. Old ladies with baskets curled in their elbows, spared them a few glares as they strolled by.

“The forbidden drink...” Pete licked his lips and stole Beavers useless straw and made a forward gesture, as if about to suck the brown puddle up through his teeth. Jonesy kicked him.

Pete just chuckled and sat back down on the tiny bench by one of those plastic trees. He was still in his cross-country clothes; Derry Tigers stamped shorts and a matching red-and-white jacket. “No use in crying over spilled cheap-generic soda, Beav.” Henry rubbed behind his ear & bumped his glasses.

“Easy for you to say. You still got twenty-bucks left.” He scoffed.

“Oh, a, oh.” Pete echoed the song playing over the loud-speaker without even thinking about it.

“Yeah, and I’m spending it on one of those crappy hot-dogs from the food-court.” Henry stuck out his tongue.

“Oh, a, oh” This time, Jonesy joined in.

Beaver rolled his eyes but nonetheless, the four of them burst into a united annoying chorus with more of a casual expression rather than excited.

“I met your children Oh a oh What did you tell them? Video killed the radio star Video killed the radio star...”

With no obvious tell of their musical moment, “Get some paper-towels from Mr. Harper at the Pretzel place, Beav.” Jonesy lightly tapped the tiny mans back and ushered him to start in that direction.

As he took off, the others lazily plopped down on the bench and stared forward at the puddle, past their dirty sneakers. “Don’t forget we have to stop at the video store.” Pete laid his head on Henry’s shoulder and sighed.

For a moment or two, the three friends watched people pass them by with hoards of bags. They had laughs on their lips or kids at their hips but most of all, they just looked rushed. “We have to watch the movies at your place tonight cause Beav broke his VCR, remember?” Jonesy laid his head on Henry’s other shoulder for easier communication.

Pete’s nose wrinkled.

“We could always do something else.” Beaver butted in as he flew past them with crumpled up towels. He crouched down on the floor and began wiping the liquid away while Henry hummed. “We are Seniors after all--Pardon my big-boy talk, Pete. Some of us are Seniors.” He stuck his thumb over to him and Pete rolled his eyes.

“Interesting to hear big-boy speech coming from you, Beaver. What are you 5′3 now?” Pete chuckled and was rewarded with a face-full of soda drenched towel. “Ow, fuck.” He whipped it back to Beaver.

“Hey Pete, C’mere.” Henry flicked his tongue and gestured for Pete to come in close. He mumbled a few words into his friends ear in a whispered tone and both giggled.

“What are you telling him?” Beaver laid the towel over his arm and came at them like a tiny ball of fury.

Pete blinked a few times and leaned into the whisper before smirking. “Your credit-card number.”

“So?” Beaver shrugged, not seeing how that could possibly be a big deal.

“I’m gonna register you for that Modeling contest downstairs.” Pete could barely get the words out before laughing madly and hopping out of his seat. Running down the length of the 2nd floor before Beaver even started after him. He was that fast.

Jonesy craned his neck to watch them go and laughed quietly, hearing their annoying teases from way down the halls. “Where do you think they’ll end up?” he asked as the two of them slowly got up from their seat.

Henry hummed again, rolling his shoulders back. “Either the Food Court or Spinners.” Spinners had become one of Beaver’s favorite places ever since he first stepped into the aisles of records. “We better run after them, huh?”

Jonesy chuckled. “Oh, let’s get a move on.” He nodded and the two of them started to slowly stroll down the Mall, whistling.

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

{Stupid Cupid by Connie Francis playing over muffled speakers}

Pete set his chin in the middle of his palm and watched Beaver aimlessly flicker through records. Sometimes he’d pull them out and stare for twenty or thirty seconds and then slide them back inside their bins.

Spinners sat in a nice little corner of Moon-Park which had a very convenient fry-stand nearby.

“What’s Randy doin’ today?” Pete asked, with a mouthful of salt-and-peppered garlic fries. He followed Beav with loose interest.

“Most likely making out with his girlfriend to something shitty like Jessie’s Girl.” Beaver shrugged, not much into whatever the hell it was that his older brother was doing on this fine day. “Why?”

Pete shrugged and swallowed some food. He breifly made eye contact with a passing dude in a white t-shirt that read; ‘I Love a Rainy Night’. “Remember when he used to chaperone us whenever we came here?”

Beaver took a few fries and smiled. “Yeah. Jesus-Christ-Bananas, time is kicking our asses.” He frowned and Pete pursed his lips, shrugging himself. “We’re gonna be graduating and then what?”

Pete felt a tug in his chest at the thought. He’d been doing his best all summer to pretend like they were all going to stay-together after the school year even though he knew better. “You’ll leave me behind.”

Beaver smacked the back of Pete’s head. “We say some stupid shit, don’t we Pete?” He gestured between them and Pete smiled with genuine warmth and fondness.

“We know what we are.” Pete frowned again but it was more mocking than anything and stuck out his hand. He’d been genuinely sensitive over the fact that he appeared to be a total moron compared to Henry and Jonesy ever since the start of their friendship. He was aware that outsiders recognized that fact as well. But the Beav always made him feel better because ,Hell, anyone would look dumb next to Gariella & Henry.

Beaver smacked it with joy.

“Smart enough to figure out who the villain is in Scooby-Doo-”

Pete rolled his eyes. “Be serious, idiot. It’s supposed to be something you’re actually proud of. This routine was your dumb idea anyway.”

Beaver chuckled. “Smart enough to pass Mr. Landon’s Algebra test.” He compromised and tipped his chin.

“Smart enough to get an A on that science test.” Pete smiled smugly and accepted Beavers distant yet proud whooping as he paraded once again around the aisles of Spinners.

‘I Love a Rainy Night’ guy went past Pete again with something like an interested look before pulling out a few records.

Pete turned around and nailed his back against the row of bins that Beaver was currently browsing. “Who sings that song again, Beav?” He tried to subtly point to the dude with his head.

Beaver glanced up over his glasses. “Oh, um...shit it’s-...Rabbitt.” He snapped his fingers a few times. “It’s like Joey Rabbitt or something, crap.” He mumbled a few names to himself.

Pete was pretty sure the last name was right anyway, so he slowly walked on over to stand next to the guy. “Rabbitt fan, huh?” Pete smirked.

The man nodded, looking eerily ready to play this little game. “Yeah. I am. Why?”

Pete hummed and ate another fry. “Well, you know the phrase ‘screwing like rabbits'? I think you and I can do better, want to try?”

Beaver nearly choked on his own spit as he watched the encounter. It wasn’t technically uncommon for him to see Pete do something so bold. The two boys had confided in each other (and each other only) shortly after puberty had told them that bisexual thing might apply to their horny-teenage selves.

It wasn’t exactly an accepted thing so they’d managed to keep it to themselves for a long time before they’d accidentally got drunk and maybe kissed each other to experiment. Their hypotheses were right in that they liked boys but the experiment failed in a sense because the kiss was gross. But it’d only been because the two of them were never meant to swap spit like that. Only when sharing sodas.

But this was an extremely bold move that Beaver wasn’t a fan of. If the dude happened to take offense to the ‘accusations’ that pick-up line held-

The Rabbitt fan just smiled and looked Pete up and down. “I’ll see you around.” He shook his head and strolled off.

Pete looked after him and chuckled to himself as he walked back over to the Beav who was uncharacteristically pissed.

“That could’ve been a real fuckarow, asshole.” He shook his head and took in the fact that he may have well been the ‘responsible’ one in this situation.

Pete leaned against the display again and frowned. “Sorry. But he was checking me out. I wouldn’t have said anything if I hadn’t been 100% positive, Beav.” He poked Beaver’s arm and looked mighty sorry. “I think he thought I was cute, at least?”

Pete’s voice was bright and giddy. Beaver had to giggle at the idea of an actual person having feelings for one of them. Between the four of them, none of them had ever had a real girlfriend or any meaningful sexual encounters.

{Peace Of Mind by Boston slowly transitions onto the muffled speakers}

Jonesy and Henry quickly cut off their stream of the giggles when they entered the store and happily came over.

“They didn’t take him. Too short.” Pete pursed his lips and mocked sadness, taking Beavers little arm-punch like a champ.

Henry rolled his eyes. “Beav you’re going with Jonesy to buy those dress-shoes he needs.” He gestured to the far end of the mall. “Pete, you’re coming with me to get those dang hot-dogs I want so fuckin’ bad.” He chuckled and playfully reached to grab Pete’s arm. Pete had no complaints.

The neon pink hues from the lights were bleeding into Pete Moore’s hair and blushing against his cheeks. Henry bit down on his sleeve and watched his friend messily dig into his own paper plate of food.

His mind briefly filled with memories of their childhood, he could almost taste the sweet candy that Beaver used to steal from his brother. As they grew, candy became weed. Henry chuckled to himself and swallowed a bit of hot-dog.

“Don’t laugh, I know I probably got food everywhere.” Pete rolled his eyes and took another large bite.

“No-I wasn’t laughing at you.” Henry giggled.

“Convincing, That’s what we tell Beaver when he does impressions in public-”

Henry shook his head and curled his fingers together under his chin. “Nah, I’m serious. I was just...thinking.” He rolled his lips together and felt oddly alive at the sight of Pete’s warm smile in this damn commercial building.

“What about?” Pete hummed, interested.

Henry wasn’t sure what exactly he had been thinking about. Just that it was...nice to look at Pete. To be with him. “Remember when Randy took us to the mall and you blew chunks?”

“Yeah, I was eating my weight in junk back in those days. Now, I’m all healthy and shit.” Pete wiggled his leg and gestured to his sports jacket. Henry lingered his eyes on his friends greasy tray and hummed.

“Time flies.” Henry shook his head and stole some fries off of Pete’s plate. “Soon we’ll be adults...” he widened his eyes for a few seconds while Pete seemingly paused mid-action. “I can’t imagine us like that.”

Pete swallowed and pulled his hands into his lap, leaning back casually. “I can’t imagine living past twenty-one...twenty-five, tops.” He chuckled, like it was funny but Henry felt hot anger.

Moderate traffic could be heard through the large windows and past the echoes of the thick sounding music playing over the loudspeaker. Henry picked a small collection of crumbs from between his teeth and let the neon wash over him for a second. “It’s forty for me.” He frowned, scooting closer and laying his elbows on the crusted table. “I just don’t know--...sometimes I think I was meant to be thirty...a comfortable adult, y’know? But forty?”

Pete hummed. “That’s a long time to try and stay happy.”

Henry blinked. “Yeah-...that’s...” He nodded his head and leaned back again. “That’s exactly what I think when I-...y’know?” He shook his head and sighed. They both turned towards the windows and silently observed the new falling rain, which tapped lightly.

“You’re gonna be with me though so...forty won’t be so bad.” Henry made sure to add that with the sincerest of looks. Pete made slow eye contact and dragged it out farther as he gently rested his chin on his elbows which were curled on the table. Smiling all the way like...well-...like he was looking at his best friend.

“Randy bought me a ginger-ale and walked me to the bathroom.” His chuckle was muffled as he hid his smile in the crook of his arm. “I thought that was the shit, H.” He giggled again which ignited a bit of confusion in Henry. “My best friend’s older brother was paying attention to me, y’know?”

Henry slowly copied his friends position, lowering his chin and resting it like he was falling asleep in class. “He had a Grateful Dead t-shirt on...and I thought he was the coolest guy.” Pete lazily smiled, looking a little whacked-out with charm as he always did when he was joyful. It was contagious. Especially to Henry.

He’d always been softly fond of Pete Moore.

“I gotta pee.” Pete made the move to get up.

“Hold it.” Henry smirked, teasing him slightly but also not wanting to break whatever this fun little moment was.

Pete cocked his head as if too amused with that comment to actually speak it into words.

“-I’ve seen enough brown puddles today, go to the bathroom.” Beaver cut in from behind them and happily bounced over to the table. Jonesy just bounding over from the escalator.

“He has to pee, Beav. You sick freak.” Henry stole Jonesy’s coke and took a long sip as Pete pushed little man’s shoulder on his way to the bathroom. Beaver broke out into hysteric laughter and ate the leftovers on Pete’s tray.

{A muffled version of Help Is on It’s Way by The Little River Band playing over those loudspeakers}

They’d managed to split up in all possible pairs before Henry and Pete landed together again.

Pete was strolling along the shiny pink railings and dodging large plastic leaves from the potted plants as he walked the length of the floor. Henry just followed behind him and occasionally next to him if he was able to catch up, that is.

Pete was a little in his head and had been that way since their snack break. But it didn’t stop him from roaming around the Mall as if he hadn’t been coming there since they were kids. He’d unzipped his sports jacket and revealed his old NASA t-shirt that was littered with faded stars behind a long rocket.

Henry was quietly enjoying the next time he ended up able to match Pete’s speed when he noticed some guy in a ‘I Love a Rainy Night’ shirt just down by the anchor store of their wing.

The guy seemed to be observing someone behind them with an expression of interest. It was only when they were in talking distance that Henry noticed the man was looking at Pete, who was far too deep in that mind of his to notice.

Henry wondered if they’d have to jump-start Beaver’s car to get outta the parking-lot this time.

The dude glanced down at Pete’s T-shirt just as his friend came-round from his little daze and halted.

“I think you might be a star, because I can't stop orbiting around you.” Eddie Rabbitt’s fan flicked his tongue and Pete’s cheeks no longer needed the mall light’s to glow pink. He seemed uncharacteristically at a loss for words.

Henry had to blink himself out of his own daze. He’d never seen a man so bluntly try to ‘pick-up’ another man...let alone Henry’s friend.

“Ha...” Pete looked at the patch of odd carpet they were standing on and scratched at his neck.

The man seemed to notice something that Henry didn’t and nodded his head. “Sorry, look...I thought you were someone else..” He mumbled awkwardly and went to walk off. He was a little ways a way when he turned back and gestured out behind him. “Can you tell me where the Sears is?”

Henry opened his mouth but Pete shuffled over and pointed off.

As Pete approached, the guy’s face quickly became apologetic. “Hey, look...I’m such an idiot. I didn’t even think about the fact that you might not even be um- out to your friend over there.” He frowned, in a whispered tone.

An odd flash of strong emotion punched Pete in the stomach. He blinked towards the floor and grouped his hands together, pressing them against his lips...a nervous little tick. “It’s...-” He flicked his hands out. “It’s fine.” He broke them apart and shrugged.

“Hey, man...” The man sighed. “I know this can be a lonely...and scary thing but it ain’t because of the thing itself.” He ran his hand down his face. “It’s the situation. “I know that it feels heavy to you right now and you’re scared to lose your friends or be ridiculed for just being...who you are.” Eddie Rabbitt’s fan gestured and Pete widened his eyes a little.

Henry was beginning to get antsy, wanting to know why it took so long to tell him where the Sears is.

“But you don’t need to settle for people who are going to treat you differently for that. There will always be people who love you for who you are and anyone else isn’t worth your time. You don’t need to hold this shit in just because you’re afraid to lose people who ain’t worth shit anyway.” He rolled his lips together.

“It’s the fuckin’ eighties man...I’m hoping a more accepting time is coming.” He looked around the people passing them. “I didn’t mean to come on so strong with that support, buddy. But y’know, there isn’t much of that going around for us.” He playfully slapped Pete’s frozen arm.

“Fuck man, I never really thought much of it.” Pete finally spoke.

“I admire that.” He nodded.

“Beaver giggled with me today...over a boy-...you that is.” Pete chuckled nervously.

“Beaver-?”

Pete waved his hand. “Oh it’s a nickname...for my other bisexual friend.” He laughed again. “He taught me the words.” He nodded to himself. “He taught them to me but I never really...appreciated them beyond...” He waved forward again. “Nodding along and rolling with it. Happy enough with the go-ahead that I could have more fun fooling around.”

The guy smiled and opened his mouth.

“Though to be honest, I haven’t been ‘getting any’, y’know?” Pete chuckled. “I’m only a Junior in High-school...I mean, I kissed the Beav but that was just a tester. And Julie Winters and I made-out during spin-the-bottle once.” He spoke in a rushed tone. “I think...I may have feelings for this guy but....Jesus-Christ-bananas, Henry is gonna figure out I’m not just telling you where Sears is, huh?” He frowned.

“Pete, by the way.”

“Senior. Trevor.” He stuck out his hand which Pete shook.

“My...” Pete looked back to Henry, who wiggled his nose to push up his glasses and shot him a nervous grin. “Best friends love me.” He bit into his lip but still managed a genuine closed-mouth grin, which was honestly more sincere than his toothy-smile sometimes. “And Sears is over there at the left end.” Pete happily snapped and flicked his fingers out.

“Thank you, Pete.” Trevor mocked a salute and was off in just a few seconds.

As he walked off, Henry strolled over and gave Pete an odd little curious face. He puckered his lips in a cute way and crossed his arms. Semi-distracting, in Pete’s opinion.

He opened his mouth but Pete quickly jumped in with something smart-

“I’m holding in my pee.” He blurted out and instantly regretted it.

Henry raised his brows and smirked.

“I just mean-...” Pete sighed. “I wanna talk. An hour ago, I feel like we were having this great conversation and I tried to get out of it by peeing.” He gestured back to the food-court. Henry only smiled, rubbing his curled finger against the tip of his nose. “But I won’t this time.”

“I don’t want you to burst, Pete.” Henry chuckled.

The bathrooms were no escape from the neon lights and colors, though they were an exclusive club for painted fish wall-decorations.

Henry was observing the way the colored bulbs bounced light over the fake scales of a miserable angelfish, one eye opened & his head cocked, while Pete’s stream of pee flowed behind his view.

“So, we left off on Randy?” Henry leaned his head back on the tiny wall which separated the mirrors from the row of urinals.

The stream turned into a trickle and then faded off with a zipper finale. Pete stood in-front of the urinal for a few seconds and listened to the muffled version of Fleetwood Mac playing throughout the Mall, just outside the doors.

He hummed and leaned back on the same wall, just behind Henry’s side. “Yeah. We did. Remember the ginger-ale?” Pete playfully reached over his shoulder to tap wherever he assumed Henry’s arm was resting. Henry hummed back.

Fleetwood Mac transitioned into a quiet Zombies song...’She’s Not There’...

The vocals seemed to bounce off those ugly yellow-plastic chairs which filled the sitting area outside. Henry turned so that his temple was what was resting on the wall and crossed his arms again. “I liked everything about Randy. He was older and cooler than us...” Pete spoke much softer. “The first time we went cruisin’ in his old car, his cup-holders were all sticky from coke residue and we were all singing along to ‘Stand by Me’...and that was my favorite fucking day ever.”

Henry watched Pete come ‘round from behind him and plop down onto the counter, covering the ‘No Smoking’ sign. “Douglas was there and he was singing with us. He kept repeating the same lines and it was way damn better than the actual song.” Pete chuckled at the memory.

Henry nodded, smiling too.

“I somehow thought Randy was responsible for creating that day and making it so special. It had been his car, after all? And he’d looked so fucking cool driving with the sun-set and shit. But it was the five of us, really. That was my real favorite part.” Pete gestured between them. “But...I was kinda gone on Randy back then, just didn’t really know it. Probably why I experimented with Beaver when I first recognized my feelings for dudes, huh?”

Henry pursed his lips. “Maybe. Subconsciously.” He nodded and Pete was expecting more from him. “I didn’t know you had feelings for dudes...” He coughed awkwardly.

Pete nodded, that shy smile came out again. “Yeah. Me and The Beav both.” He shrugged, looking up at the fish painted above Henry’s head.

Henry pushed his glasses up his nose and smiled, softly. “So, are you-?”

“Bisexual is the term that Beaver taught me. Means I’m into boys & girls. Same with him.” Pete narrowed his eyes in thought and hopped off the counter. He started to stroll out of the bathroom and back out to the brighter world of the Moon-Park Mall.

{A muffled version of Thirteen by Big Star playing over the loudspeakers}

Pete and Henry silently glide down towards the first floor by way of escalator, music playing but no words exchanged.

“By the way, my-’not talking in thirty minutes’-is a show of support.” Henry playfully yet awkwardly bumped their arms together just before they hopped off and dodged the play-train as it rolled past. Pete chuckled and shoved his fists deep into the pockets of his Derry Tigers jacket.

“I figured.” Pete shook his head with a smile. “Process it, H.” He shrugged.

Henry nodded. They walked towards the video-store and exchanged a few nervous glances.

“You experimented with Beav?” Henry blurted as they past a few quarter-swallow’s, as Beaver called the little machines which popped out gumballs and shit. Pete nodded and Henry hummed for the millionth time. “But it wasn’t good?”

“Nah. We’re not like that.” Pete stuck out his tongue in disgust. “That Randy thing is long-gone too. Just so you know.”

Henry pursed his lips. “Cool.”

Pete stopped walking and gave him a little-look. “Cool?” He raised his brows and Henry smiled.

“Cool.”

Pete did a little mini-shrug of surprise and giddiness. “Cool.” He repeated, more to himself.

Beaver was making Jonesy tie his shoe for him and glancing around at the videos on the shelves, a smile on his face.

“Do you ever get the feeling that horror films are becoming far too cliche?” Jonesy mumbled as he finished tying. They were standing in-between the horror aisle and the classics. “I think they need to make something crazy. Fucking aliens or some shit coming to earth and killing you from the inside-out.” He chuckled.

Beaver shook his head. “Oh, you are so the boy for me.” He chuckled, knowing all-too well that Jonesy didn’t hear a thing.

#sorry if this sucks #dreamcatcher #dreamcatcher (2003)#pete moore #beaver clarendon #henry devlin #Gary Jones #stephen king #stephen king books #my fanfiction

2 notes · View notes

helenarlett-rex · 5 years

Text

Want to use an eldritch horror in your D&D game? Why not Cthylla?

So like I’ve mentioned in my previous posts on this topic, eldritch horrors are a common part of D&D. One of the three pacts given for Warlocks right there in the Player’s Handbook is all about dealing with eldritch horrors... But there don’t seem to be many, or any... eldritch horrors listed in the Monster Manuel for you to actually use. This leaves you having to resort to homebrew but who to homebrew is the question? Naturally most people just jump right to Cthulhu but come on... You don’t want to be like everyone else, do you? Where’s the variety? How about this...? Instead of Cthulhu, have you considered Cthylla?

Cthylla, also known as The Kraken or The Secret One, is the youngest offspring of Cthulhu and his mate, Idh-yaa. Cthylla, like her parents, is a Great Old One. She came from the star Xoth, but now dwells on Earth in Yhe, where she is guarded by Cthulhu's minions. Namely, a great number of Deep Ones and Yuggya.

Cthylla has the appearance of a gigantic, red-bodied, black-ringed, and six-eyed octopus with small wings. Like her father, she is able to alter her body-proportions at will, such as by enlarging her wings to enable her to fly, or give herself a killer beach bod... don’t look at me like that... she could if she wanted to... In fact she has actually been seen to have given herself a humanoid form on at least one occasion. So who’s to say it couldn’t happen?

While she normally has eight arms like any octopus, she can extrude or retract additional ones at will and has been known to sport as many as twelve arms at a time. Each arm is equipped with dozens of razor-sharp claws, each about five inches in length. Picture trying to fight a giant octopus but instead of suction cups, each of its tentacles are lined with claws in their place. That’s not really something I personally would want to fight...

Cthylla may be the youngest of Cthulhu‘s children, and probably considered the least powerful, but she is by no means the least important. If anything, Cthylla is the most important of Cthulhu‘s children. This is because poor Cthylla is little more than an insurance policy for her father. You see, Cthulhu, in his great power, has foreseen that one day in the distant future he will be destroyed. And when that happens, Cthylla is destined to mate with Cthulhu‘s half-brother, Hastur, and give birth to Cthulhu once more.

This makes Cthylla critical to Cthulhu‘s plans. Insuring that she stays alive is the only thing that insures Cthulhu himself will be reborn after his death. This is why she is known as The Secret One. She’s so important that the members of Cthulhu‘s cult will go to any means necessary to insure her existence remains a secret, hiding all information about the goddess. Even going as far as defacing the Columns of Geph in order to remove any reference to her.

Should any harm towards Cthylla even be so much as attempted, Cthulhu himself will take action, unleashing the full fury of his wrath against those who would harm his daughter.

But Cthylla herself is not invulnerable, which is probably why she is so fiercely protected. In fiction we have seen that she can be wounded. She was wounded by a subterranean atomic bomb. She was also captured by simple researchers once who mistook her for a rare species of octopus and tried to breed her.

Cthylla has two other names she is known by. One of those is The Kraken. To which you may be asking, do you mean... The Kraken? Like, the monster in the Monster Manuel? Release The Kraken! That Kraken?

Yeah, that’s what I mean... And if you aren’t convinced, the other name she is known by is Scylla. As in the sea monster spoken of in Greek Mythology. We already know Cthylla can alter her shape, so it shouldn’t be much of a surprise if she goes around looking like other horrible sea monsters, especially considering she is supposed to be keeping her identity a secret.

So how would you use Cthylla in your game? As a patron for a Pact of the Great Old One warlock I would play her up as being very grumpy but also extremely willing to act as a patron and lend her power. Remember, she’s Cthulhu‘s youngest child and still rather physically weak. In Great Old One terms, she’s pretty much still a teenager. A teenager who is a Goddess but isn’t worshiped by anyone because her father’s worshipers have covered up her existence and removed her name and likeness from her own temples. In addition to that she’s essentially been grounded for life, placed under heavy guard, and told that her only purpose is to one day have sex with her uncle and give birth to her own father. You show me one teenager who is going to be okay with any of that...

Cthylla is going to be an extremely grumpy and ill tempered girl. But that would also make her very eager to lend her power to any warlock who actually manages to find out about her and go to her for a pact. Name me one reason she wouldn’t be thrilled to actually have followers who recognize her for who she is after centuries of being forgotten and kept a secret... Depending on what kind of game you are running, you may even want to play Cthylla as rebellious, ordering her warlock to work against her father’s plans. I mean, if I was an all powerful octopus goddess who had been locked in my room under heavy guard and told I couldn’t come out until I gave birth to my own father I’d probably be like, fuck you Dad! I’m going to give all my power to this warlock here and order him to kill my uncle so there is no possible way for him to impregnate me with you!

Just a thought...

But if you did want to go for that angle it would make for a rather interesting character. You could actually play Cthylla as an ally to the party instead of an adversary or some great cosmic being who is just indifferent to their existence the way most eldritch beings are. Or if that’s not your cup of tea, you could always make her completely onboard with her father’s plans and just play her as an evil cosmic monster happy to play her part in the destruction of humanity.

As for using Cthylla in combat, you don’t actually have to do all that much work to homebrew her. Most of the work is already done for you. Remember how I said one of her other names is The Kraken? I would actually just take the Kraken from the Monster Manuel and use it for Cthylla‘s stats. It’s already a CR 23 monster, which is about right for Cthylla. Although I would add a few things to it just to make it a little more on point.

The Build

As I said, start with Kraken base stats.

Next, change the monster type from Gargantuan monstrosity (titan), chaotic evil to Gargantuan aberration (great old one), chaotic neutral, unless of course you don’t plan to play her as the rebellious type, in which case you can keep the chaotic evil alignment.

Step 2, add a fly speed of fly 80 ft. (hover). She does have those wings after all...

Step 3, bump up her Dex to 22 (+6).

Step 4, Give her Damage Resistance to all spell attacks and all attacks from magical weapons. After all... if an atomic bomb only left her wounded, then she should be able to shrug off spells like Fireball.

Step 5, change her languages to Deep Speech; telepathy 300 ft.

Step 6, add darkvision 120 ft.

Step 7, add Innate Spellcasting. Cthylla’s innate spellcasting ability is Charisma (spell save DC 24; spell attack +16). She can innately cast the following spells, requiring no material components: At will: dispel magic, dream, 3/day: suggestion, feeblemind,

Step 8, add Frightful Presence. Each creature of Cthylla’s choice that is within 120 feet of her and aware of her must succeed on a DC 24 Wisdom saving throw or become frightened for 1 minute. A creature can repeat the saving throw at the end of each of its turns, ending the effect on itself on a success. If a creature’s saving throw is successful or the effect ends for it, the creature is immune to Cthylla’s Frightful Presence for the next minute.

Step 9, add Legendary Resistance (3/Day). If Cthylla fails a saving throw, she can choose to succeed instead.

Step 10, add Change Shape. Cthylla magically polymorphs into a humanoid or beast that has a challenge rating no higher than its own, or back into it’s true form. It reverts to its true form if it dies. Any equipment it is wearing or carrying is absorbed or borne by the new form (Cthylla’s choice). In a new form, Cthylla retains her alignment, hit points, Hit Dice, ability to speak, proficiencies, Legendary Resistance, and Intelligence, Wisdom, and Charisma scores.

Step 11, remove Lightning Storm.

And that should sufficiently turn your Kraken into Cthylla. And just so you can see what it all looks like when it’s finished so you don’t have to spend the time writing it all down yourself, here it is...

Cthylla

Gargantuan aberration (great old one), chaotic neutral

Armor Class 18 (natural armor) Hit Points 427 (27d20+189) Speed 20 ft., swim 60 ft., fly 80 ft. (hover)

STR 30 (+10) DEX 22 (+6) CON 25 (+7) INT 22 (+6) WIS 18 (+4) CHA 20 (+5)

Saving Throws Str +18, Dex +15, Con +15, Int +14, Wis +12 Damage Resistances All spell attacks, bludgeoning, piercing, and slashing from magical weapons. Damage Immunities lightning; bludgeoning, piercing, and slashing from nonmagical weapons. Condition Immunities frightened, paralyzed Senses darkvision 120 ft., truesight 120 ft., passive Perception 14 Languages Deep Speech; telepathy 300 ft. Challenge 25 (50,000 XP)

Amphibious. Cthylla can breath air and water.

Freedom of Movement. Cthylla ignores difficult terrain, and magical effects can’t reduce her her speed or cause her to be restrained. She can spend 5 feet of movement to escape from nonmagical restraints or being grappled.

Siege Monster. Cthylla deals double damage to objects and structures.

Frightful Presence. Each creature of Cthylla’s choice that is within 120 feet of her and aware of her must succeed on a DC 24 Wisdom saving throw or become frightened for 1 minute. A creature can repeat the saving throw at the end of each of its turns, ending the effect on itself on a success. If a creature’s saving throw is successful or the effect ends for it, the creature is immune to Cthylla’s Frightful Presence for the next minute.

Legendary Resistance (3/Day). If Cthylla fails a saving throw, she can choose to succeed instead.

Change Shape. Cthylla magically polymorphs into a humanoid or beast that has a challenge rating no higher than its own, or back into it’s true form. It reverts to its true form if it dies. Any equipment it is wearing or carrying is absorbed or borne by the new form (Cthylla’s choice). In a new form, Cthylla retains her alignment, hit points, Hit Dice, ability to speak, proficiencies, Legendary Resistance, and Intelligence, Wisdom, and Charisma scores.

Innate Spellcasting. Cthylla’s innate spellcasting ability is Charisma (spell save DC 24; spell attack +16). She can innately cast the following spells, requiring no material components: At will: dispel magic, dream, 3/day: suggestion, feeblemind,

Actions

Multiattack. Cthylla makes three tentacle attacks, each of which she can replace with one use of Fling.

Bite. Melee Weapon Attack: +18 to hit, reach 5 ft., one target. Hit: 23 (3d8 +10) piercing damage. If the target is a large or small creature grappled by Cthylla, that creature is swallowed, and the grapple ends. While swallowed, the creature is blinded and restrained, it has total cover against attacks and other effects outside Cthylla, and it takes 42 (12d6) acid damage at the start of each of Cthylla’s turns. If Cthylla takes 50 or more damage on a single turn from a creature inside her, Cthylla must succeed on a DC 25 Constitution saving throw at the end of that turn or regurgitate all swallowed creatures, which fall prone in a space within 10 feet of Cthylla. If Cthylla dies, a swallowed creature is no longer restrained by it and can escape from the corpse using 15 feet of movement, exiting prone.

Tentacle. Melee Weapon Attack: +18 to hit, reach 30 ft., one target. Hit: 20 (3d6 +10) bludgeoning damage, and the target is grappled (escape DC 18). Until this grapple ends, the target is restrained. Cthylla has 12 tentacles, each of which can grapple one target.

Fling. One large or smaller object held or creature grappled by Cthylla is thrown up to 60 feet in a random direction and knocked prone. If a thrown target strikes a solid surface, the target takes 3 (1d6) bludgeoning damage for every 10 feet it was thrown. If a target is thrown at another creature, that creature must succeed on a DC 18 Dexterity Saving throw or take the same damage and be knocked prone.

Legendary Actions

Cthylla can take three Legendary Actions, choosing from the options below. Only one legendary action option can be used at a time and only at the end of another creature’s turn. Cthylla regains spent legendary actions at the start of her turn.

Tentacle Attack or Fling. Cthylla makes one tentacle attack or uses her fling.

Bite (Costs 2 Actions). Cthylla makes one bite attack.

Ink Cloud (Costs 3 actions). While underwater, Cthylla expels an ink cloud in a 60-foot radius. The cloud spreads around corners, and that area is heavily obscured to creatures other than Cthylla. Each creature other than Cthylla that ends its turn there must succeed on a DC 23 Constitution saving throw, taking 16 (3d10) poison damage on a failed save, or half as much damage on a successful one. A strong current disperses the cloud, which otherwise disappears at the end of Cthylla’s next turn.

5 notes · View notes

avengerofyourheart · 6 years

Text

Flour Girl {9} (Bucky x reader AU)

Characters: reader, Bucky (Jimmy), Wanda, Clint.

Summary: Discovering the cute guy you just flirted with is the heir of a rival bakery, you suddenly find yourself running into him all over the city. Can your small boutique bakery compete? And how do you deal with the guy who seems determined to make your life a living hell? Luckily you’re distracted by a secret admirer…But who is he? (Inspired by “You’ve Got Mail”, Enemies to Lovers)

Warnings: none! Mild swearing?

Word Count: 2.1k

A/N: Ummmm. So, yeah. :) I know, there’s been so much anticipation leading up to this part!! Just know that there’s a lot more story coming and trust me, it’ll all work out. I’m actually still on vacation as you read this so I can’t wait to get home tomorrow to read all your reactions!! I love you all. As always, any feedback is adored and appreciated!! <3

<<Part 8 Part 9 Part 10>>

Flour Girl Series Masterlist

Full Masterlist

______________________________________________________

The afternoon went by in a blur as you tried your best to work quickly and efficiently until your date. The lunch rush came and went, followed by a short lull in customers so during that time, you baked extra back-up for Wanda to fill the pastry case with while you were gone. Another short rush came so you went up front to help. As 3pm neared, Wanda basically shoved you out the door so you could get ready and head over to the cafe.

You didn’t have time to fully shower and do your hair, but you cleaned up as best you could and made sure there wasn’t any flour or cake batter visible. Slipping on your favorite Beatles shirt, you paired it with a comfortable but flattering pair of jeans and cute shoes you could walk in. Putting on makeup for the first time in a while, you liked the way it accented your features and made you feel more dressed up than you were. With one more primp of your hair, you grabbed a jacket and headed down the stairs onto the sidewalk.

As you walked past the bakery, Wanda waved and gave you a thumbs up, which you returned. You arrived at the Hawk’s Nest with 10 minutes to spare, so you looked around to carefully select a table.

“Welcome to the Hawk’s Nest, can I help you?”

Whirling to face the familiar voice you laughed. “Clint, it’s me.”

The blond’s eyes widened. “Y/N? Wow, you look great! I mean…you look different.”

You just shrugged with a smile. “You mean I’m actually wearing something without flour on it and put makeup on for once?”

He smiled sheepishly. “Well, it’s a good look. What brings you here in the afternoon?” Clint asked, walking around the counter to clear one of the tables covered in coffee mugs.

“Actually,” you said nervously, “I’m meeting someone. Sort of a…blind date?”

Clint offered an encouraging smile as he stepped closer. “That’s great, Y/N! You work too hard. I hope it works out for you,” he said with a friendly squeeze of your arm.

“Thanks, Clint,” you smiled shyly and headed for a table.

You sat at a table for two with your chair facing the door. Checking the clock again, it was eight minutes until 4pm. Fidgeting nervously, you pulled your jacket open so your shirt was visible, but then decided to take the jacket off entirely and placed it on the back of your chair. You straightened the sugar packets in their small container on the table and brushed away any crumbs visible. A voice nearby spoke then, making you jump.

“Hey, Y/N,” Clint began, noticing your jumpy behavior. “Whoa, sorry. I guess you don’t need this coffee, since you seem pretty alert already, but here’s your usual. It’s on the house.” He placed the coffee drink on the table with a wink and then walked away.

“Thank you,” you called out after him.

You had considered ordering a drink while you waited, but then you’d have to get another one when B arrived. Right? Wasn’t that the proper protocol? You weren’t even sure anymore. Regardless, you blew on the mug of coffee lightly and took a sip of the comforting elixir. Five minutes until 4pm.

Each time the bell above the door chimed, your eyes flew to whoever was entering. There were all sorts of people: an elderly couple with arms linked, a girl with her nose buried in a book, and three young teenagers who laughed and joke around as they ordered. There was a close call when an attractive man entered, but his girlfriend, you assumed, entered a moment later.

Your fingers tapped on the table as the minute hand on the clock ticked closer to vertical. You held your breath as it struck 4pm and your eyes were trained on the door for what felt like eons. A minute passed. Then two. Digging out your phone, you checked the time to make sure the clock was correct, and it was. Sipping your coffee, you jiggled your leg under the table to vent some of your nervous energy.

Five minutes late, but you figured he just might not be a very punctual person. Taking your last sip of coffee, suddenly you had nothing else to occupy your hands or your attention. At ten minutes past 4pm, you pulled out your phone to check for a text you might have missed, but there was nothing. So, you decided to send a message of your own, just in case.

FG: Still planning on the Hawk’s Nest, right? Didn’t break your phone already, did you? ;)

You hit send, hoping your text sounded light-hearted and not like nagging. Watching the text send and then be marked as “delivered”, you now knew it wasn’t the fault of his phone. Where was he? Your mind began to run wild then, envisioning scenarios where possibly he was hurt somewhere or held captive. Maybe he was stuck on a subway train or in traffic. What if he just decided not to come and it was all a ruse? What if, what if, what if?

B was now 20 minutes late with no messages on your phone. Feeling the disappointment settle in your heart, you thought about leaving right then. Perhaps he wasn’t the person you thought he was. Or maybe it had all been a facade. Maybe you got “catfished”, or whatever the term was, and he wasn’t a young man in his 20’s but an old man. Or a woman. Who knows?

Just as you were reaching behind you for your jacket, the door jangled and your heart leapt in your chest. Eyes flying to the door, you held on to hope until….you saw him. Jimmy. Unbelievable. Hoping he hadn’t noticed your presence, you hunched down over the table and put up a hand, shielding your face. Maybe he would just order and go away without you having to speak to him at all, you prayed.

You heard him greet Clint and then the sound of footsteps drawing closer filled your ears. No. Please, no.

“Y/N? Is that you?” Jimmy asked from where he stood beside your table.

Begrudgingly dropping your hand, you finally looked up to reply. “Jimmy. What are you doing here?” you asked coldly.

This was not the time. You couldn’t deal with him in your current state. He looked perfect as always in black jeans and a zipped up hoodie with his hair expertly quaffed. Obviously he had cleaned up since you saw him earlier because there wasn’t a hint of hat hair on that head. Why did his very presence mock you somehow?

He shrugged. “I was in the neighborhood. Listen, I—“

Suddenly, you slid you chair back with a scrape of the wood and got to your feet. “Not now, Jimmy,” you said in a clipped voice as you slipped on your jacket and took a step toward the door.

Jimmy gripped your arm lightly. “Hey, wait, I—“

“No!” you exclaimed, a little too loudly as you shook off his hand. “Can’t I have one moment’s peace? One day where I don’t have to feel your little jabs and criticisms about how I’ll never make it in the business world? About how I’m doomed to fail? I’ve wanted this my entire life and I’ve worked too hard for too long and sacrificed too much for you to try to take it away from me,” you snarled angrily within inches of his face.

Jimmy seemed speechless but he couldn’t have stopped your rant, anyway. There was a pent up fury that was suddenly being unleashed from inside you.

“I haven’t had an actual day off since I opened the bakery. Why? Because it is mine. All mine, I’m not riding on my daddy’s coattails. I have built this business with my bare hands and I won’t let you or anyone take that away from me. I’ll wake up at 4am and bake until my lungs are white with flour, I’ll plunge toilets in the middle of the night when tenants call, I’ll scrub floors and do dishes until my hands crack and bleed. Because that’s what it takes. I want this more than anything and you have no right to criticize because you know nothing about my life or my business,” you finished, finally taking a breath and standing up straight with conviction.

The brunet’s mouth had gaped open sometime during your unleashing of words and he still had yet to recover.

Straightening your jacket, you began to feel the anger drain from you, leaving behind the heartbreak and sadness of being stood up. Refusing to fall apart in front of this man, you squared your shoulders and looked him in the eye.

“Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a business to run,” you declared, storming out of the cafe and down the sidewalk before the tears began to fall.

Wanda was surprised to see you returning so early, but when she saw the look on your face, she knew. She excused herself from the one customer at the counter and followed you back into the kitchen where she wrapped her arms around you without a word. You clung to her and cried for a few minutes until you finally pulled yourself together. Wiping your tears and blowing your nose, you gave Wanda the short account of what happened. He never came.

She asked a few questions, but there were customers to attend to and it was still a little too raw to speak of, so you said you’d tell her later and asked her to get back to work. There was no time for you to fall apart. Making yourself presentable, you passed through the bakery once again and headed upstairs to change. Looking down at the crumpled Beatles shirt on your floor, your heart squeezed. How could you have gotten it so wrong? Had you misread all the signs?

You went back to the kitchen and focused on what you did best: baking. Blasting music and singing along, you did your best to distract yourself. As the night ended and you closed the bakery with Wanda, you finally offered more details about what happened, including your encounter with Jimmy. She was impressed by your outburst and only wished she could have seen the look on his face. It was a pretty spectacular face, you admitted with a small smile.

As you were about to lock to door, you finally voiced the worry that had been rattling around in your brain.

“What if he showed up, took one look at me…and left?” you asked with eyes downcast.

“No,” the long-haired brunette assured you instantly. “Whatever his deal is, it has nothing to do with you. If he’s everything you had told me, then there has to be a logical explanation for him not showing up. You are amazing and beautiful and a badass baking boss who deserves someone who will not be intimidated by that. And if it’s not this B guy, then forget him,” Wanda said sternly as she pulled you into yet another hug.

You let out a watery smile and thanked her before watching her walk to the subway station and then climbing the steps up to your own home. Getting ready for bed, you slipped out of your pants and plucked your phone from the pocket. You hadn’t been able to bring yourself to check for messages as you worked, mostly assuming there wouldn’t be any.

Tossing the device on your bed, you washed your face, dressed, and crawled under the covers. Only when you plugged in your phone to charge did you see the screen illuminate, showing a text message waiting for you. With shaking fingers, you opened it.

B: I’m sorry. There are no words that could possibly express how sorry I am. I wanted to be there so badly. I have no excuse. Someday, I hope that I can explain but right now….I can’t. I won’t expect you to forgive me and if you never wish to text me again, I’ll understand. But just in case you do…I’m still here.

Feeling tears threaten, you locked your phone and set it aside. A small sob escaped as you curled around your pillow, wishing and praying for a deep, dreamless sleep.

__________________

Part 10>>

_________________________________________________________

Ahhh!! I know, I know, I’m sorry!!! It absolutely broke my heart to write this part, but this is the way it had to go. This is far from the end, though, so I hope you’ll trust me to make it right. Some of you will say that she should have let him speak because yes, maybe he would have told her the truth, but I really think what it comes down to is...she wasn't ready to hear it. That screaming rant at Jimmy feels a little cathartic, though, right?? He deserves it, for sure. Now we get to see if what’s been broken will be able to come back together again. I adore you all and again, I’m sorry for the heartbreak. It’ll all be okay, I promise. :) I’m still on vacation as you read this so I’ll reply when I’m home! Please let me know your thoughts, I live for your comments and feedback!! Thank you. <3

Permanent Tag list and FG tag list are CLOSED.

Permanent Tags:

@pietrotheavenger @thisismysecrethappyplace @part-time-patronus @feelmyroarrrr @ria132love @interestedbystanderwrites @abovethesmokestacks @hymnofthevalkyrie @spideypnw @badassbakers @janeyboo @palaiasaurus64 @dustycelt @mylittlefandomfanfictions @officialcaptain-marvel @maryehudson @sebbytrash @bionic-buckyb @sebastianbarnesandchrisrogers @jaybird6232 @bemystucky @averyrogers83 @beccaanne814 @eyesofgoldenambers @missmotherhen @bunnieandcrow @mizzzpink @buckysberrie @imaginingbucky @deathbyarabbit @avengersandchill @timeladylaurel @indominusregina @queen-merc @vaisabu @1800-peggys-orange-lipstick @piensa-bonito @msshadowboxer @coffeeismylife28 @withahintofpestoaioli @cant-decide-at-this-moment @jaderbugz @blue1928 @jbarnes87 @whothehellisbella @captainrogerss @sebseyesandbuckysthighs @themcuhasruinedme @buckybarneshairpullingkink @ilovebeingjoyful @maririn @hello-sweetie-get-the-salt @girlwith100names @writingruna @lokiandbuckyaremine @hufflepuff-ish @pixierox101 @supernatural-girl97 @stay-wokke @airixaram @buckyssxxhair @buckys-newarm @lostinspace33 @poealsobucky @buckyofthemyscira @joannie95 @4theluvofall @im-a-light-child @1999yanira @escapetheshackles @lbouvet @black-eyed-bucky @finhabastos

FG tag list:

@yallneedtrek @lexie-mo @flowercrownsandmetallicarms @kingcarterprince @snuggleducky @acunningstargazer @zadyalyss @satans-knitting-club @honey-bee-holly @just-add-butter @captainradicalpassion @chook007 @peekingsunshine @odinhson @chrisevans1fan @fangirlwithasweettooth @angryteapot @srhls @jurassicbarnes @livingoffsavvyillusions @ahufflepuffbitch @sebbystanlover-vk @thisismyfriend-tree @susmita121 @fandom-addict-aesthetics @lowkeybuckyb @jitterbuck @lunarcajun @aligatorinavest @isnt-the-blog-youre-looking-for @lilyblack78910 @uservalkyrie @hawaiiantozier @belledamsceno

**I’m still having trouble tagging some of you. I’m sorry!! Tumblr is the worst. From what I’ve gathered, it has to do with your settings. Otherwise, I don't know, I’m sorry. :( **

#bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fic #bucky fluff #bakery au #reader x bucky #bucky barnes #reader x bucky barnes #bucky au #bucky barnes au #bucky barnes imagine #avengers au #marvel fan fiction #avengers fan fiction #you've got mail #baking #bakery

668 notes · View notes

variantia · 5 years

Note

❤️(Ayatsuri) 💙(Dmitri) 💛(Mother) 💚(Vesper)💜 (Any muse that you think needs more love)

Peer into my muse’s memories // accepting !

BELLUM. I chose Webber for the last one ! under the cut bc is long and also D’s and Vesper’s have some triggers ! !

❤️- A happy memory that makes them smile

Soft hums leave the puppet master’s lips as she finishes the final strokes of paint on her doll. The marionette is small enough to fit in the palm of her hand, with details like one would expect from an expert artist. She’s beautiful, with stark white porcelain for skin, pin-straight black hair that shines like a gemstone, and an intricate silvery outfit with dark trim.

A simple melody plays from a music box in the background, a soundtrack to Ayatsuri’s delicate work. Dark polished nails sweep gingerly through the doll’s hair ; her eyes roaming over every inch of her handiwork. ❝ Oh, Tsukiko, ❞ she coos.

This is the first puppet she’s ever made completely on her own from scratch. She fired and molded the porcelain, painstakingly laid every strand of hair, and spent countless hours sewing the dress. They’re all things she’s practiced before, but now holding something that is entirely her own creation, with her time and taste and essence poured into it, is something unlike anything else.

❝ You’re perfect. I can’t wait to make you a little friend. ❞

💙- A sad memory that makes them cry

❝ Mother, please. Let go. ❞

D has never been so relieved and regretful to say anything in his entire life. Now Mina Harker has slipped away into a quiet death, and he will have to navigate the world without his mother.

He sees the spark fade from her eyes, but she passes with a smile on her face. Her twisted fingers are around his just as tightly as they have ever been ; when they go limp, he knows she is gone. His mother was a light unto the world, and the world never appreciated her. Everyone cast her away because of him. Because of her son. Because of what he is. She suffered so much, especially now as her body was failing her, as she clung to her life only for her child.

It wasn’t fair. None of it. And because he’s never gotten too close to anyone else, D has no frame of reference for this. What is he supposed to do now that she’s gone ? Why does he feel so empty ? Why was she smiling ? Why did she always let people say ugly things to her, and why did she forgive everyone, and why has she always treated him like he is the most important thing that exists ?

Not for the first time in his life, but for the first time since he has learned to control his emotions, D breaks down in tears. Crouched by his mother’s bed, with her lying lifeless under the sheets, so close and so far away, he feels more like a terrified little boy than he ever did in his youth.

He doesn’t know how long he stays like this, lost in his own head as tears refuse to stop. He thinks about every beautiful memory he has of Mina. Every time she held him close or kissed his forehead or erased someone else’s awful words with a gentle lullaby. Despitethe fact that that he was the greatest source of her own pain, she treated him like a precious thing.

After a long while of thinking, he reaches a conclusion.

Even though the world never appreciated her unrelenting kindness, he did.

From this moment on, he will do his best to be someone who deserves it.

If it’s the last thing he does with his pitiful life, he will make his mother proud.

But for now, a wound has been ripped open in his heart, leaving it raw and angry and full of despair. Before he makes his mother proud, he must heal.

He’s sure it will take a long time.

He’s not sure he will ever truly heal.

💛- A memory that makes them feel angry

The fact that Greed left the group is only half of the reason that Mother feels fury burning inside her chest.

The bigger reason is Envy’s reaction.

Envy, the one of her children she’s always felt like she never had to worry about, Envy who claims they hold no real affection for their brothers and sister, is currently on a pseudo rampage contained mostly to their own room. When she arrived back, it was them who toldher that Greed was gone ; in a screaming voice that sounded like it was going to tear their throat in two. Now, they’re throwing things and breaking the few possessions they have and punching walls.

Her other children have wisely decided to find reasons to suddenly be far, far away so that they can just leave Envy to their tantrum. In the meantime, Mother has slipped away into the streets, disguised, to unleash her rage in a less violent manner.

She doesn’t know where Greed has gone. Her best guess would be that he’s gone somewhere with a lot of humans, maybe with a lot of wealth – because he’s predictable. Because he’s always been fascinated by those two things in particular.

Even as her eyes scan the crowd, she knows she won’t be going anywhere. Looking for him would just be a waste of time. It wouldn’t matter if she found him or not. He won’t allow himself to be dragged back, and she can’t bring herself to incapacitate one of her children in order to force his return. She’s perhaps cruel, but she’s not that cruel.

Wherever he is, though, he should make no mistake. His mother is furious with him to the point that her hands are shaking in anger. Her eyes are sharp as she moves through the throng, and it’s a surprise that the streets don’t start to smoke wherever her feet touch.

Greed will find himself in her arms once again, whether he likes it or not. Whether he realizes yet that he will. He can’t stay away ; they’re his family.

That said, she thinks that the next time they meet, she will have to punish him before she permits herself to embrace him. How dare he hurt his siblings like this.

💚- A memory that makes them feel guilty

When Vesper wakes up, he’s lying on clouds so soft he knows he must be in heaven.

For a few minutes as he tries to gain his bearings, he can’t remember anything. Even the exact chunk of time that would explain why he was unconscious in the first place is missing.

There’s noise and speech all around him, and as soon as he’s able to focus, he knows what this is. It’s one of the judgment rooms that belong to the other angels. There are screens forming every wall that are replaying his failure nonstop.

The memories that flood his mind are those of an attempt to guide a woman toward happiness. Someone who had just had a fight with her girlfriend, who was still angry. Vesper can remember gently pressing his essence against this young lady, trying to influence her toward the best path. If she could just talk to her girlfriend, now that a few days had passed, things might be better. They might be able to make up and get back together. They would be happy.

❝ Go, go, ❞ he whispers on the screens, an encouraging smile on his tender features. He remembers being so hopeful. So careful. And now this is coming from so many angles, he can’t stand it. ❝ You can do it. Just talk to her. It’ll be okay. ❞

How could he have predicted that which the screens suddenly cut to ? – The image of this woman lying on the sidewalk with a bullet in her head, fresh blood staining the stone, dead eyes staring through these screens at him.

Another angel, full-blooded and pure, stares at him from outside the room, and when he lifts his head to look at her, tears streaking down his face, her eyes look at him coldly.

❝ You are a menace, Vesper. LOOK WHAT YOU DID. ❞

And he cries harder, because she is right.

💜- A memory about one of their loved ones, happy or sad

Even as young as Webber and Wendy are, they can still be useful to the rest of the survivors’ group. Often, they are.

Today is a day for relaxing, however. Although they could go forage or build some things, the adults are taking a break for the day, so the children decide to follow their example.

Wendy is lying on the grass with her long hair splayed out behind her, arms crossed over her chest in a manner that would suggest she were a corpse in a coffin, and Abigail’s flower is resting comfortably on her stomach. There’s a subtle chill in the air which indicates that while Abigail isn’t right here next to them, she’s not far away. Webber sits next to his friend, quietly crafting something that there’s no real need for.

❝ What are you doing, Webber ? ❞ Wendy eventually speaks up in that eerie, whispery voice of hers that makes adults nervous. ❝ You’re making this rustling noise. Is that actually you, or has some great, terrible beast finally come to ravage our camp- ground ? ❞

A gravelly buzz of a giggle leaves him, and he taps her shoulder. ❝ No, of course not, silly ! I’m making something for you. Sit up ; it’s all done ! ❞

Once Wendy has taken her time in doing so, opening her eyes to blink at him, he reaches over and slides his creation onto her wrist. ❝ There we go ! It’s a friendship bracelet. Isn’t it lovely ? ❞

❝ Oh. ❞ That’s all she says for a moment, staring down at the bracelet. It’s not very fancy, just made out of woven grass with some flowers for decoration, but it’s something he made specifically for her. At last, she leans over and wraps her arms around him. She doesn’teven seem to mind the feeling of the bristly spider fur. ❝ Thank you, Webber. I’ll never take it off. ❞

For the first time in a long time, he feels warm without being near the fire.

It’s nice to have friends even if none of them know what exactly tomorrow will bring.

#death tw #domestic violence tw #you scream into the void ; the void screams back. ( ANSWERED ASK. )#let’s play again sometime ! ( MEME REPLY. )#one of Bellum’s favorite pastimes. ( BELLUM WRITES. )#done by the hands of a broken artist. ( AYATSURI. )#rather be the hunter than the prey. ( D. )#if you could see what I see you’d be blinded by the colors. ( MOTHER / SIMULACRA. )#you were my savior in my time of need. ( VESPER. )#the indigestible. ( WEBBER. )#(( WHEW IT'S BEEN A WHILE SINCE I'VE WRITTEN FOR SOME OF THESE GUYS !#or more accurately I don't get to use many of them much XD #the first tw is for D's and Vesper's and the second tw only applies to Vesper's <3 ))#historias-multorum

0 notes

ask-beacons-finest · 6 years

Text

Grimm fears, never ending.

Hi! Admin here! This is put on a read more for several reasons! One being! It’s grimmfuture and you know how that is!

Two being! It’s actually kind of long, so oof.

Three being...it’s uhh, well it’s a bit about umm...Cinder and Ruby...and a very...unpleasant...occurance...

Just avoid reading this through if you can’t handle sexual assault.

“Oh...is...no one else here?”

Ruby questioned sheepishly as she stood frozen in the doorway to a simple dorm. One that held no decorations or personal articles that give life to the dorms of the more permanent residents of Beacon. It was a dorm she had been in countless times before, though few were memories of absolute comfort. Most of her time spent in this dorm was filled with her nerves standing on edge against a constant assault of her subconscious screaming for her to run and escape, things she constantly avoided because, in her own words, nothing quite that bad had happened, which is a thought that is always immediately responded with the voice her sister, breaking through her running thoughts and saying a single word that fills her with dread.

Yet.

Ruby’s cautiousness about entering the empty dorm seemed to irritate the woman standing behind her, holding the door open for the both of them in such a manner that gave the young huntress no means of maneuvering away from this increasingly worrisome situation. Ruby’s eyes darted side to side as well, no students occupied the hall around them as they stood silently in front of what Ruby feared could be a makeshift prison cell of a room, a feeling not too far off from what she usually experiences when here. The irritation of the woman behind her finally burst through the seems and in an instant Ruby felt a stern hand press against her back, forcing her into the room with a heavy shove.

“No,” the woman’s voice came out like nails on chalkboard to Ruby’s ears. What anyone else would interpret as a deadpan voice which showed little concern for the speaking topic, Ruby knew the awful truth behind it, this voice was but a precursor to the violence she knew oh too well. She always uses this voice when she’s mere steps away from using a more silent, but painful option to get Ruby to do as she pleases. Ruby could only catch herself from stumbling forward, nearly falling onto the floor of the dorm before clenching her eyes shut to stop any tears from flowing.

Tears only made her angrier.

“Emerald is out doing...whatever. And Mercury is trying to get some training in, apparently, he’s a little...nervous...about fighting that sister of yours.”

“Y-Yeah well,” Ruby stood up straight and turned to face the woman, forcing a smile on her face to mask the great fear already welling up in her stomach, “Yang won’t go down so ea-”

Ruby’s voice came to a quick halt when a soft hand gripping hold of her cheeks, digging sharp nails into the skin of her face. The hand itself may have been soft, but the grip it held was anything but, the battle to hold back tears became more of a war as the tight grip continued on. Ruby tried her best to stop her body from instinctively fighting back and struggling as the hand dug its claws deeper and deeper into her skin, the pressure building up more and more until she feels a horrifying release against one finger, a wet trickle of blood trailing from her cheek down the slender finger holding her captive.

“I’ve had enough of you talking. Do you understand?”

The only noise Ruby could muster was a whimper of agreement, her eyes shaking with horror as they stare intently to a shoulder covered with jet black hair. Looking her in the eyes when she was like this would only mean more bruises for her to cover up from prying eyes of friends and teammates. Ruby could feel the amber eyes glaring down into her skin as if begging for a reason to unleash the fury hidden behind them, but after a moment that stretched on for what felt like an eternity, they found not a single one. Ruby was released and nearly collapsed down to her knees, rubbing the sides of her faces with her hands and feeling a stone drop in her stomach when realizing one is now smudged with a deep red. Her eyes widen in sudden remembrance when a hand is thrust down in front of her face, the pale ring finger lined with a dark red trail, Ruby trembled before it, but knew just what was expected of her.

Slowly she leaned forward and gently took the bloodied finger into her mouth. The twisted taste of iron mixed with the feeling of shame and fear that flooded her entire body. It was not the first time she was forced to clean her own blood from the hands that brought it out, and she feared if one day, the last time she ever does this; would it mean she was rid of this evil, or would it mean she would not live to see the next day.

“Good,” the hand ripped itself away from her, and she looked down to the side in fear of retaliation should she glance upward, thought that fear seemed to not matter.

“Look. Up. To me.”

Ruby winced at the voice, and due to taking more than a second to follow the command, was grasped once more. This time by a tight grip on the top of her head, a handful of hair coupled with a quick jerk back forced Ruby to look upwards, locking eyes with the wide amber orbs glaring down at her with such hunger it made her stomach churn.

“Cinder you’re hurting m-”

Ruby’s mouth blurted out the plea before her brain could find the sense to halt it. She could only shut her eyes tight and pray silently that those few words weren’t enough to merit more punishment from her supposed girlfriend. Tears threatened to burst out the walls of her eyelids as her hair was tugged up, forcing her to stand up to her feet. In an instant the burning rage and fury she felt fromthe woman in front of her seemingly melted away, now replaced by a warm and gentle glow. The hand gripping tightly to the top of her head by her hair let loose its grip, and gently glided towards the back of her head, placing itself firmyl against the nape of her neck and pulled forward to an embrace, the other arm slithering its way around Ruby to ensnare her regardless of her feelings towards this moment.

“Oh, oh my little darling Rose,” The voice was gentle now, almost soothing and loving, Ruby could feel her fear and anxiousness slowly draining from her mind, the churning of her stomach coming to a halt, “I so very sorry. I never mean to harm you my dear, you must understand how frustrating you can be sometimes.”

“A-ah,” Ruby nodded, though her eyes were still locked tight she allowed her head to be coerced upon the woman’s chest. resting against the older huntress for but a moment before leaning back and facing her head upwards, “I know...I’m sorry...I just get scared sometimes and-”

A pair of lips pressed tightly against Ruby’s, stopping any words from escaping. The sudden kiss sent Ruby’s brain spinning and her heart pounded within her chest. The soft lips against hers were burning, setting the young huntress’s mind ablaze, maintaining a solid train of thought became difficult. She struggled with words, possibly of protest, but was silenced with a smile and a shake of a head.

“Nonsense, nonsense, my darling Rose. Come, let’s lay down?”

Before she could say a word she felt herself dropping backwards, falling down towards the bed behind her. Upon striking the bed her eyes shot open in a panic, what should have been a soft landing was painful. It felt as though she had landed flat on her back upon cold hard stone, the breath in her lungs forcing itself out in a harsh cough, she could only get a single gasp for breath before the heavy weight of yet another stone landed on top of her. The fear she felt in her stomach when entering this room only moments ago was back in full force, having now even tripled in intensity. The room around her seemed to blur and mix in a melting pot of colors and sounds as she struggled beneath the squirming mass on top of her, rushing to get a hold of her breath as she experienced what felt like a thousand hands grabbing hold of her, trying desperately to struggle against the untangible force. The only constant in this swirling nightmare were two amber eyes, gleefully watching as Ruby struggled beneath them.

“Cin-Cinder stop! Stop you’re hurting me! Cinder I’ve told you I’m not-I’m not ready for this! Stop! Stop!! STOP!!!”

“Oh Ruby, just wake up, and realize you want this just as much as I do. Just wake up, wake up, wake up!”

Ruby did just that, her eyes broke open and she jerked up into a sitting position, a desperate and sharp gasp for breath. Her hands shot to the sides of her pounding head and gripped tightly to them as she attempted to shake the hellish nightmare from her mind. Her breathing was quick and shallow through gritted teeth as her eyes trembled, unblinking. Her vision didn’t come back to her for a few seconds, the blurry image of her legs came to view as well as only a few inches of the archaic scar left atop her womb by the very same woman who haunted her dream, and a yellow robotic hand calmly held a cantine of cold water out in front of her.

With animalistic savagry Ruby grabbed hold of the cantine, and in mere seconds drank every last drop of it, yet her throat still burned. Very slowly her hearing began to come back, the ringing in her ears dying down, she heard her name repeated again and again in a familiar, calming voice.

“Ruby...Ruby are you with me? It’s Yang...It’s Yang. I’ve got you, you’re okay. Ruby...Ruby?”

Ruby opened her mouth to respond but not a single sound could be mustered from her throat, she could only offer a weak nod to her sister. Yang slowly began to stand up after a relieved, but shaky sigh escapes her lips.

“Okay, okay. I’m gonna go get some more water, alr-”

Yang stopped moving, she looks down to see Ruby’s trembling hand gripping tightly to her arm. Her sister’s fingers dug into her skin, yet Yang held back any show of pain, she didn’t even wince. She nodded and positioned herself back to Ruby’s side, watching over her as she continued to tremble and shake like a freezing baby animal, left to die in the cold. Yang could feel her heart snapping with each heavy convulsion her sister went through, she had come to learn that it was Ruby’s brain’s odd way of trying desperately to rid the feeling of Cinder Fall’s clutches.

It broke Yang’s heart even more, since she knew it never worked.

“Okay. I’ll stay. As long as I need to. Forever even, I promise.”

#rwby #ruby rose #yang xiao long #cinder fall #grimmfuture!au #grimmfuture au #grimmfuture #cw rape #tw rape #cw blood #tw blood

15 notes · View notes

vechkinfan · 6 years

Text

End Of Me (Bucky Barnes)

A/N: This is my first fic in quite awhile so please bare with me while I try to grasp my writing abilities again haha. If you guys would be interested in a second part let me know!

Words: 4k+ cause I have a problem with keeping things short AF

Warnings: Angst, sadness, Bucky being adorable, Smut later on????

Summary: To know that you’ll never be good enough is a tough pill to swallow, but even tougher when your best friend so easily replaces you. That’s where Calin finds herself, stuck between letting Bucky Barnes go willingly or finally sucking it up and telling him how she really feels. (SORRY I really suck at summaries)

Part 2

Calin stared blankly down into the bowl of oatmeal in front of her, swirling the metallic spoon through the brown mush that she hadn’t touched since she cooked it. It had been three hours since she had made her way into the kitchen, getting ready for her usual dinner night with Bucky. It had become a tradition shortly after moving in to Stark tower.

A tradition that involved just the two of them on most occasions, but also Steve and Natasha when they weren’t busy. The four of them getting along the best. However, tonight was suppose to be a just the two of you kind of night. Where they could have easily burnt the kitchen down making whatever the hell they wanted. While Vision made snide comments from the living room and warning Tony about a potential fire hazard asking if his insurance cards were up to date.

By hour one Calin presumed that he had lost track of time. Bucky had a concerning lack of an internal clock now, and would get distracted by almost anything that caught his attention. She always laughed at how surprised he seemed by the advances that happened since he became the winter soldier. By hour two, she figured Steve might have kept him late for training. Knowing that there was a mission coming up and all the practice was necessary for people to come back alive. However, by hour three she had come to the conclusion Bucky had forgotten. Calin supposed it wasn’t that surprising, this had been the fifth time in three weeks that he had missed their scheduled dinner.

Shoving the bowl away from herself, she sighed heavily. She knew deep down that Bucky would grow bored of their friendship. He had used her to pull himself out of the depths of darkness, and now that he was on the path to recovery it was time to move on. It was only a matter of time before she was traded in, dropped for the shinier upgraded version, one that had all the bells and whistles. Calin had hoped it would have been further down the road, where she could have pulled the ripcord before he made any decisions. But like most things in her life, that plan seem to explode in her face.

“Where’s Buck?” A calm voice brought her out of her thoughts, causing Calin to glance up.

Steve was standing by the sink, grabbing a glass of water. His tight fitting grey shirt dotted with large patches of sweat. Clearly he had just come from training, and since he had no idea where his best friend was she knew her earlier thoughts must have held true.

Shrugging her shoulders she answer him, “Don’t know, thought he was with you.” The words come out a bit harsh, which caused Steve to lift a brow in her direction. It wasn’t uncommon for Calin to get agitated, it was just a rare moment for her to unleash it on a undeserving bystander.

“He left early kid, said he had a dinner date.” Walking across the obscenely shiny floor, that Tony just had waxed again, Cap found a seat beside her in the breakfast nook. His large, muscled body sliding gracefully over until his shoulder rested against her own.

Steve knew Bucky had been up to something, the way his eyes averted his own when he had asked about his plans. He just never figured Bucky would have left her all alone. Calin was one of his closest friends besides himself. It may not have been like that initially, but the two of them were nearly inseparable now. Where she was, Buck was close behind.

“Not with me.” Again she sighed, her eyes staring longingly at the kitchen door that was propped open. Wondering if he would ever make an appearance or if he’d leave her all night. “Did I do something?” She finally asked defeatedly, still not diverting her gaze away from the doorway. Hoping….

Steve didn’t know what to say to that, he was just as baffled by his buddies behavior the past few weeks. Especially knowing this wasn’t a one time occurance. It was uncharacteristic of him to even forget a meeting, let alone time with Calin.

“No, Bucks probably just in a funk. Give him some time.” Steve finally settled on a path, hoping Bucky would turn it around soon. Maybe voice his problems instead of letting them fester.

“You’re right, I’m just overthinking.” She turned her head to give the Cap a genuine smile. “If you see him, let him know…. You know what forget it.” Sliding out from the table, she grabbed her bowl throwing it in the sink quickly before exiting the room. “By the way I baked you some of those scones you like, I hid them on the bottom shelf in the pantry so Clint can’t find them.” She vaguely pointed to the doors just as she rounded the corner, knowing Steve loved anything she tried baking. But he especially fell in love with the chocolate scones she seemed to have mastered.

“You’re the best!” Calin heard him call after her as her boot clad feet carried her down the long hallway heading towards her room.

From here she could hear Thor and Bruce watching a soccer game on the television. Both getting a bit to aggressive over who was actually winning. Which had her shaking her head,Thor had never watched a game in his entire life but his pride was to big to say otherwise, and of course pretending to understand what was happening was easier than asking Bruce to explain it.

Natasha and Clint were walking down the opposite hall, heading towards the training rooms. Both holding a pair of sheathed knives, twirling them at such a speed she definitely would have stabbed herself and anyone else that happened to be in close proximity at that point. Calin was definitely not the most graceful of the group, but she managed just fine. Even if it didn’t involve her powers, which she had refused to use since Tony brought her to Stark tower.

No one quite knew what she could actually do, besides the few parlor tricks she amused them with, and frankly it was best that way. Not unlike Dr. Banner, she too could lose control. The only difference was she didn’t turn into the jolly green giant at the end. No, she turned into something much scarier, much more dangerous and something so hard to control that even Calin couldn’t stop it once it had started. There was no calming technique that she learned or a big red fucking button that cut the power. Once it was on it was on until she could claw her way back into control. There of course had been rumors at first, wondering if she truly was “gifted”, which she scoffed loudly at. She would have gladly told them it was more like a fucking curse than a gift.

She wasn’t born with her powers, no, she had been chosen by HYDRA when she was just a kid. Her parents had gotten paid a large sum of money to allow it to happen, so they turned the other way when they hand picked her to be a lab rat, experiment on, injected and cut open. Until one day they ended up with a girl who was so emerised in rage that her powers were no longer controllable. The outcome of that day scared Calin, her mind reliving it on repeat almost every night. The looks…. the blood that soaked her clothes, the metallic smell lingering in the air, the sudden deafening silence they settled across the HYDRA base It all scared her, that’s why she silently vowed never to let the power to take control of her again.

That was until she had been out on a mission, it was typical nothing out of the ordinary. Until the small group of HYDRA agents blew up the supporting walls of a skyscraper in Dubai. Steve, Natasha, Bucky, Sam and herself were in the direct path. There was nothing to be done and in seconds everyone would have been crushed to death. No amount of running or flying would have gotten any of them to safety quick enough. As they braced for impacted, she gritted her teeth using every ounce of energy in her to channel it towards the building without waking the beast within.

It was a blur after that, as black smoke billowed out if her palms and up into the air, wrapping like spindles around the falling building. Bucky had been the first one to look up, especially when the falling debris had stopped. Her eyes had locked with his as she all but screamed out in agony, the weight of the building pulling at every muscle, every tendon in her body.

In a flash he had been over to her, throwing his gun to the ground so his hands could come up to support her own. Whispering words of encouragement and playfulness demanding she not crush them because you guys hadn’t even finished the third Jurassic park and how was he suppose to watch it without her commentary. Calin had to fight back the small laugh that he brought her,extremely grateful for his distraction. It cleared her mind just enough to push the building back up, leaning it against itself so no one was to badly hurt. The last thing she needed was another bad press conference and dozens of dead civilians.

That had been the first and only time she had used a large portion of her powers and it wasn’t even the full blown event either. It was merely the tip of the iceberg. But of course there were questions, demanding questions brought upon her afterwards. Nick Fury both intrigued and infuriated that somehow she blatantly failed to tell him how powerful she truly was. Practically threatening her existence as an Avenger if she didn’t show what she could do in front of the council. Calin had put her foot down though, sticking to what she knew. No good would come from it, not one fucking thing. And it pissed her off that he fucking acted like he owned her, like she was some circus act that he could call upon to make dance at his convenience. Newsflash no one would ever own her. And if it came down to that, than it wouldn’t be very fun for them. It definitely wasn’t a fun time for those HYDRA agents who had tried the same thing years before.

Shaking her head, she cleared her thoughts as she found herself at her bedroom door. Pushing it open she walked in, kicking her boots off one at a time into the corner where her laundry basket sat, filled to the brim with dirty clothes. It had been a few weeks since she washed any, and her lack of clean wardrobe was showing. Given the fact she was in a pair of black mesh gym shorts and a old ratty looking hoodie she had stole from Steve awhile back.

Bypassing the bed, she sunk to the floor beside it instead. The mattress so soft that it felt like she was slowly being sucked into quicksand, that uncomfortable smothering sensation consuming her to the point where sleep would never come.

Curling up into the mound of blankets she took a deep breath. Her eyes landing on a photo of Bucky and her on the bottom shelf of the night stand. Reaching out she grabbed the frame, panning over it with interest. It had been taken a year ago at Tony’s surprise party. They both had those stupid oversized party hat’s on which made them look ridiculous. His metal arm was wrapped around her waist pulling her in for the picture. It had been the only photo that she had gotten her hands on of Bucky actually smiling, a true, heart melting smile.

The two of them looked so different though, a stark contrast between one another. Calin was average looking at best. Certainly nowhere near the same realm as Natasha or even Wanda for that matter. While Bucky was something pulled out of a GQ magazine, even when his hair was disheveled and he hadn’t shaved in weeks. Basically, pure sex God as people on the internet had collectively decided. This she happily showed him, hoping he would get a good laugh from it. But what she got was a devilish glint in his piercing eyes and a small blush spreading across his cheeks. It had happened so quickly that if she hadn’t seen it for herself, she would have never believed it. He was the tough winter soldier, but Bucky Barnes was ever the gentleman, even after everything that happened to him.

A sudden knock at her door, had her placing the photo back down on the nightstand. Quickly making herself comfortable, hiding her face in the blanket, trying to make it appear she had fallen asleep. Calin was in no mood to talk, or discuss plans of any kind, she just wanted to be alone. Afterall Bucky left her alone so why not just carry that right on through till tomorrow.

When she didn’t respond, the door clicked open. The hinge creaking ever so softly as it was pushed on. Who ever it was clearly didn’t take the hint and was making their way closer. Their boots almost silently carrying them across the hardwood floor. She inwardly grimaced knowing exactly who it was, the bed creaking from up above her giving them away. Only one person ever invited themselves into her quarters, and that same person was the one always laying on the bed when she found it to be a useless piece of furniture. Something not even worthy to be considered an ottoman.

She squeezed her eyes closed, and trying her best to slow her heart rate. Bucky had excellent hearing given the fact he was a super soldier, and it wouldn’t be hard for him to tell if she was truly asleep.

The both of them remained quiet, unsure of whether or not he was buying her charade. If he didn’t, he was playing along. Soon the familiar weight of his metal fingers smoothed gently across her back. Even through the sweatshirt she knew it wasn’t his human hand. He never touched her with anything but his metal appendage. His fingers deftly making intricate patterns on the fabric of her shirt, just like he always did when they spent time together.

“I know you’re awake, Doll.” Bucky finally broke the silence. He had known she was awake the moment he had stepped into the room but had decided to play along with the little act. Knowing her brooding had been caused by himself and his actions.

Bucky found himself stuck between a rock and a hard place at the moment, one that had his mind torn on what to actually do. He had been distant to her lately, pulling away to the point where he was purposefully skipping their scheduled time together. With the regimented agenda that Steve had him on, that tended to only be once or twice a week. And Bucky had skipped out on the last five or so, managing to avoid Calin with the utmost care. Making sure he was out of the tower or hidden in his room well before she would build up the nerve to look for him. However it surprised him that she never actually looked, she let him hide and forget their time together like it had been nothing.That was Calin though, she never pushed or poked him for answers, if he didn’t feel like talking then they would sit in a comfortable silence. So he supposed it shouldn’t have been that shocking the girl never came looking for him after all.

“No I’m not, and don’t call me that.“ Calin finally answered, her words trying to be like sandpaper pulling down his cheek, harsh and painful. She was silently hoping he’d take the hint and go but it didn’t seem to work.

Bucky had to bite his tongue at her comeback though, it was classic Calin as he knew her, always the smart ass. However his nickname was a sure fire way to get her to respond no matter the mood she was in. She had adimmently protested it, glaring at him with such hatred each time it fell from his lips, telling Bucky she was nowhere close to a doll. It amused him, dames from his time had always crumbled at the pet name, but Calin wasn’t as easily swayed. Then again he had never met someone quite like her back when he was younger.

Ignoring her bitter tone, he continued to gently soothe her back, tracing his name aimlessly into the dark red fabric unbenounced to her. It was something he had found calming, the simple gesture such an intimate act that he only felt comfortable doing with her. The mere thought of that had him stopping, pulling his hand away as if it scalded him. He couldn’t do this anymore. He couldn’t just touch her, it would give mixed signals, confusing the situation even more than it already was. He was here for a reason.

“Can we talk? Please?” His words came out more pleading than he wished. But this was important, Bucky had to do this now or he would never find the strength in himself to say it. He had managed to muster enough courage over the past week, or as Sam so politely put, Bucky finally found his balls.

Silently groaning Calin shifted, sitting up from the cozy spot on the ground. Turning around to face him, her eyes landing on his face with the utmost care. Searching for any signs, anything to tell her what he was actually here for. As usual, Bucky’s emotions were hid extremely well, even from her.

“You missed dinner.” She broke the silence first, a bitterness in her words that almost made her mouth cringe. There was no right for her to be this mad at him, they were just friends and if Bucky wanted to stay away that was his prerogative.

Casting his eyes towards the floor, his long chestnut hair fell around his face. “I know, and I’m sorry.” His voice sounded pained, which had Calin sobering up real quick. Her anger and rage at him completely dissipating like it never even existed. That was one quality she hated about Bucky, one carefully crafted sentence and she was like putty in his hands. Willing to jump through fiery rings of death if that is what he wished for.

Calin carefully watched the soldier as he laid there quietly, his eyes staring intently at the floor as if he was searching for an answer hidden in the wood grain. So when he finally turned over and sat up, her eyes followed his movements. His large metal hand coming up and patting the black bedding beside himself, beckoning her to sit with him. She didn’t hesitate, lifting herself from the floor and sitting down beside her friend.

Well friend being a loose term for her feelings for Buck. He was always so kind and sweet, and she had fallen head first in what Steve explained was the James Buchanan Barnes charm. It had been unintentional, she had solidly put her foot down commanding herself to not fall for him just because he was being nice. Calin had a problem with that, any guy who paid the slightest bit of positive attention to her had her instantly falling for them. Even if she knew the likelihood of that happening was slim…. well more like nonexistent. Calin knew that there was a higher probability of seeing fucking God at the moment than Bucky seeing her in any other light then a good friend. But it didn’t stop the twang of hurt that shot through her heart seeing him so distraught.

“I just can’t do this anymore.” He all but mumbled, which had Calin furrowing her eyebrows in confusion.

“Do what Buck?” She cautiously asked, not certain about even wanting the answer to that. Bucky was so tense at the moment, his muscles locked tight as he twisted his hands together over and over again. A gesture that she had come to know as his way of releasing his nerves.

Reaching out she gently tried to take his hands, trying to ease his mind. He moved though, just as her hand was about to touch him, pulling just out of reach. The act causing Calin to sink back in embarrassment, he had never recoiled at her touch before. A new harsh wave of hurt crashing into her, one that started in her chest and cascaded down to the rest of her body.

“This.” He finally gazed up, his steely blue eyes finding her own as he gestured between the two of them. “I can’t keep avoiding and lying to you. You mean to much to me, for that.” Calin was barely even registering his words at the moment, knowing that there was most likely a “but” coming. “But… I’ve found someone, and I want to spend time with them. With missions and training lately, there’s just not enough time for everything. And I don’t want to be that guy who promises to be somewhere and doesn’t show up.”

“Oh….” Her eyes diverted away from him, swallowing thickly as she tried not to burst into tears. Calin didn’t cry and she wouldn’t cry, not in front of him. “If that’s what you want.” She didn’t even fight what was happening currently, knowing she would always be on the losing side of this battle. A battle that in her head was going to happen at any moment, after all she was on borrowed time with him, and she guessed her time just ran out.

“We can just take a break you know, catch up when we do missions together. Maybe train like we used to. ” Bucky nudged her shoulder, but she didn’t look in his direction.

“Sure.” It was simply put, and Calin didn’t feel like explaining to him why her voice was off.

Bucky regretted everything that had just spewed from his mouth. Another lie, a huge lie to the girl sitting beside him who at the moment looked like she was about ready to crack. His eyes had been watching her carefully, watching as the once bright light in her hazel eyes slowly dimmed until it all but burnt out completely. Her head turning just to the right angle where her features became hidden. Not allowing him to he see any emotion. To Calin emotion was a weakness, a chink in the physical armour. She could break twenty bones and refuse to shed a single tear, worried it would change the way people looked at her. So as she sat deadly still, her breathing very controlled as if she was aware of everything at the moment, Bucky knew she was trying to gain control.

There was no other girl though, there would never be anyone else. No one would put up with his punk ass, with all his faults and flaws, with the nights he woke up several times screaming from his vivid nightmares. Calin did though, the girl had made a broken man not so broken. She had been there through it all, her room being beside Bucky’s, many nights she had probably woken in a panic hearing him scream. But every time she’d make her way to him, sitting down beside him on the bed just long enough until he’d fall back asleep.

He didn’t deserve her plain and simple. And the recent dreams he had been suffering from only instilled that notion. They had plagued him for weeks, causing him to pull away from her, worried they would somehow come true. That he would revert back to the winter soldier and kill her with his bare hands. Strangling the very last breath from her body. The mere thought had Bucky’s heart aching, he refused to have her blood on his hands, he had too much innocent blood there as it was. So the only logical thing to do was pull away with the biggest lie he could come up with. Tell her he found someone, make her believe because if he asked her for anything she would jump through hoops to do it. If he asked for time apart, she would go along with it, no questions asked.

“Hey… look at me.” Bucky finally said, using his metal fingers to tilt her chin up towards him. The feel of her burning hot skin against his cold metal hand such a stark contrast, that it actually let him truly feel her. It was something he hadn’t been able to do with his left arm in years. It was like a numb, lifeless extension of himself until he met her, and he took every opportunity to sooth her back or grab her hand just to see if the sensation wasn’t just a cruel trick “You’re still my number one girl, you got that.” His thumb gently traced small circles on her cheek.

Calin didn’t want to hear it though, she didn’t want to hear any of the things he had to say. Because she knew it would only lead her down a path of pain. It was just like Bucky to weave some perfect sentence, making her feel like she was the most important thing in his life, when in reality he had just asked her to leave him alone.

“Sure.” She plainly put once more, pulling away from his hand. Not wanting his touch anymore. “You know what I’m kinda tired, so I’m just gonna go to bed.”

Getting to her feet, she made her way back to her blanket on the ground. Sinking down so her back was to Bucky, her eyes going blurry as she fought with every ounce of energy to keep the tears at bay. To keep the anger coursing through her veins down because she didn’t feel like turning around and punching him in the jaw yet. Again she had no right, he wasn’t hers.

“I-I can stay…” He started, his resolve completely deteriorating by the second. But he grimaced when she opened the door to her room with a slight flick of her fingers.

Calin didn’t use her full powers, but she used the basics especially when her emotions were getting the best of her. Opening doors, flickering lights nothing that was that spectacular. As Tony classified it, she was a living version of a poltergeist.

“I think your new girl wouldn’t appreciate that very much.” Turning to look at him, she gave Bucky a small smile, it may have been fake and forced but it was a smile.

They stared at one another for a few seconds in a uncomfortable silence. The first time in their friendship where it was a skin crawling moment of awkwardness.

Bucky finally moved, getting to his feet shoving his hands in his jean pockets. There was nothing to say, nothing to fix what he had just done. So he hoped that it was the right thing to do, that breaking her heart was what needed to happen to keep her safe.

“I love you Calin, remember that.” Bucky quietly said as he turned and made his way out of her room.

Once she heard his footsteps disappear down the hall, she let out a single sob. Her heart shattering into pieces she had no interest in picking up. Bucky was her best friend, and in an instant he threw it all away.

That was the exact moment she realized he would be the end of her.

Tags: @this-kitty-has-claws

#bucky barnes #bucky x oc #drabble #bucky barnes fanfiction #avengers #captain america #steve rogers #bucky x plus size reader #angst #my loves

280 notes · View notes