#shoves them away so hard the camera breaks and the screen goes black | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

tojakku · 3 years

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✶ - sugarplums and stardust

pairing: fpopstar! reader x arc trooper fives summary: you, sugarplum, galaxy-wide adored popstar. fives, galaxy-wide renowned idiot. warnings: rated m for mature! this chapter includes: smut (18+), oral (female receiving), dirty talk, implied rough sex, pee pee in v, the beauty of checking up on your partner, mature language... a hot clone trooper, flirtation... alcohol... etc... fives being a little slut

THE BARRACKS ARE ALMOST ENTIRELY QUIET. Almost. The centre of Coruscant never quite escaped from the thrum of late-night traffic, or the sing of the planet throbbing right below their feet, through canals and chambers and pipes of sewers crawling with scrap rats.

Sometimes too much silence wasn’t good for Fives’ brothers. Sometimes it made them more restless, tossing and turning before eventually leaving to the gym, to push weights and punch bags until their tiredness had them collapsing on the mats. It was an uneasy and unpredictable world in the barracks- right where it should be predictable and easy.

The 501st are on shore leave along with a good handful of other battalions, a couple from the Inner Rim, the 13th Battalion from Sullust, even Wolffe and Cody were sticking around somewhere. Fives, although he was meant to be raving and silly and wild, was feeling a little… well, he hadn’t eaten much at dinner.

Something about the last campaign on Bothawui, a second, months after the first, and being soaked through with blood and gunfire, had just dulled him a little. Maybe he just needed sharpening.

He muscles his helmet in his hands, trudging down the main corridor through the barracks. There were separate rooms inside now, the one he shared with the rest of Rex’s squadron far at the end. The lights, although top of the range, working perfectly, were too bright, flickering off the durasteel of the walls, the floors, the ceilings. Fives wrinkles his nose. Too bright.

There’s the slightest shimmer of music, though, and for a brief fleeting moment, Fives is convinced it’s coming from outside, from Coruscant, but when he pushes through into his part of the barracks, his stomping ground, he stops still.

Now, the 501st have always been fans of partying, music, drinks, cantinas, women, but Maker, Fives was not expecting four full-grown men huddled around a datapad, nodding their heads to a silvery voice accompanied by a thrumming beat. He didn’t expect, either, the harsh shushing he receives from an irritated Kix.

The medic holds up a hand and starts rabbiting on to Jesse, perched on his left on the bunk, leaning his hand on his brother’s shoulder. Damn batchmates.

“See? She’s amazing,” Kix mutters, gesturing at the datapad. “She was on the radio the other day, little Tano said something about her and I looked into it.” Fives tosses his helmet on the opposite bunk and takes a peek at what exactly they’re watching.

Oh.

A popstar. Shimmying. Rather precariously.

She’s all clad up in pale, pastel lavender, her cheeks dusted in a thin film of shimmering pink, her mouth painted a matching shade. She’s even got this wild, bright yellow hair. Kix takes a wary glance at Fives before angling the screen a little more.

“Sugarplum.”

“She’s some babe from the Core Worlds, a superstar,” Hardcase supplies, chewing on a bar of some unidentifiable substance with a grin. “Hot,” he comments, when she turns to wink at the camera.

“What is this?” Fives asks, leaning heavily on the bunk. Her shimmering, glittery skin seems to just seep through the datapad with every shift, shimmy and spin.

“She’s doing concerts all over Coruscant in the next few days. Then Corellia, then the other ecumenopoli.” Echo speaks as if it’s common knowledge. Fives scowls at his twin, shoving his shoulder with a hand.

Kix swipes left on the datapad and suddenly a rather risque picture flashes up, Sugarplum’s tongue out, her eyes rolled back. A ripple of chaos from the boys as they try to cover the datapad, and a roar of laughter from Hardcase when the pad goes flying over their heads.

“What the fuck?”

“That is not my datapad, I swear-”

“Yeah, it’s Tup’s!”

“No, no, it’s definitely ‘Case’s.”

Fives snorts, throwing himself onto his bunk, listening, happily, to his brothers bicker.

“Want to bet she wants a piece of clone ass?” A murmur of dissent and discern when Jesse speaks follows- Fives struggles not to burst into a laugh. The cog-faced trooper looks down in embarrassment when he’s knuckled into a headlock. “Come on!”

“Yeah, maybe she does, but we weren’t going to say that!” A pause. “It’s practically gospel truth all of the beautiful ladies want a piece of us.”

The door busts open again, on four troopers in a pile, and Fives, beaming happily away on his bunk. It’s Rex, ole’ Captain, and he looks once at the pile, once at Fives, before moving into the barracks, silent as night- not on Coruscant, silent somewhere else.

Fives wriggles under his Captain’s gaze, uneasy. Sometimes he made him uneasy when he didn’t talk, didn’t even greet them. Sometimes it meant the end of shore leave. Fives swallows, stuffing the panic hard down in his stomach to edge himself along the bunk with a little more formality. Rex catches his gaze.

“You lot looking at Sugarplum again?” There’s an uproar of disagreements, denials and something else, just Jesse relenting with a sigh. Fives stuffs a fist against his mouth, trying to contain his laughter at the four troopers fumbling over each other, even as Rex stares, unimpressed.

“Yeah,” Fives mutters. “They were, but we saw some of Hardcase’s secret bank and they threw the-” A pillow hits him square in the face. “Hey!”

“You guys are bad as cadets,” Rex huffs, laughing softly, bringing his datapad up. He looks more tired than usual, rings under his eyes.

“You tired, Rex?” Kix asks, suddenly fluttering into medic-mode. He touches Rex’s forehead with the back of three fingers and draws an amused sigh from the Captain. Fives watches over the edge of his fist. If something’s wrong with Rex, that means no drinking themselves into inhibition later that night.

“Better not be! We’re out tonight,” Jesse knocks his hand on Rex’s shoulder as he throws himself up from the bunk. “And I’m dreaming of beating Commander Wolffe in a drink-down this time. This time.”

“Don’t you say that every time, vod?” Hardcase levels a gaze back at the now-scowling Jesse.

“What clubs do you think Sugarplum goes to?”

“Those glitzy ones on the upper levels, probably, the ones suspended in the air,” Rex joins in then, making weird shapes with his hands. “You’ve seen.” A moment of silence. “Okay, well, the General told me they sell sunfruit liquors there for five credits a shot.”

“Is it supposed to be better than the shit they sell us at 79’s?”

“Who fucking knows.”

“The General, apparently-”

“Kenobi was the one who told him.”

Another round of laughs. Fives sighs, smiling, before wrestling Echo into a headlock.

“Ready to get out-drunk tonight, brother?” A shove, a scoff, then a grin. “You better be. You owe me three drink runs.”

“Three?”

“Three, vod, three. For the last time I saved you.” Echo shakes his head, pushing a hand through his dark hair- same as them all, deep down. “Three.”

“Two.”

Fives laughs, bumping forearms with his brother. Echo knocks his temple against Fives’ and a moment of softness breaks the twins’ bickering.

“Fine, two.”

Fives never could refuse his batchmate.

You weren’t, and never will be, completely keen on Coruscant. Too much… difference. No, it’s not that, it’s just the deep tunnels into the ground and the rumours you hear sometimes, through your girls, through… well, anywhere.

‘Disease grows twofold as the lower levels of Coruscant are ignored for a Senate sickness’, or ‘The lower levels of Coruscant- most dangerous place in the galaxy?’. No, of course not. There’s police, you stupid news writer.

You pick idly at your nails, smoothing your thumbs over each metallic-blue painted tip to soothe your nerves.

Eva and Lirisa had planned for a club outing tonight. The concert earlier had gone perfectly fine, just amazing, really. Everything was on point, the dancing, the singing, the backup vocals, the crowd… it still tingles on your skin like a second skin. The thrill would never hit any different.

You’re hidden away in your dressing room back in your apartment, slumped over a chair like a swooning lady. Lirisa is fixing her hair around her three little head horns, a bright, vivid purple like her skin, frowning in the mirror over your shoulder. She catches your gaze after a moment, face folding into concern.

You stretch out in the plum velvet chair, legs in fluffy slippers spreading when she gets that look. That look meant questions.

“Why are you so down?” You frown, shaking your head, returning your gaze to the datapad in your hands. A news article about you paints the screen. Lirisa looks down, once, twice, realises, and snatches your chin away from it. “Stop reading it if it’s bad.”

“It’s not bad. It’s good.” She pouts, letting you go with a soft pat to the shoulder. You shuffle uncomfortably in your feather-trimmed robe, the sheer material not offering much of a comfort in the face of a wide-open balcony window a few paces away.

Eva appears seconds later, looking plump and perfect in her eye-snatching candyfloss pink minidress, feet hidden in peculiar fur-cuffed ankle boots. She shifts, eyes ducking against the ground, her tattoos across her nose, little black diamonds against pale green skin, vivid and stark.

“Oh, wow!” You exclaim, turning the spinning chair with a free hand. Lirisa squeals, rushing forward to tug at the hem of the dress, pulling the daring v-neck even lower. Eva hisses, batting away her friend’s hands.

“Don’t pull it down that far!”

“I wasn’t!”

A giggle and a sigh, then attention flickers back towards you. Your gut drops when they rush forwards, springing upon your wardrobe like it was their job- well, it was, but that doesn’t matter. There’s two options for dresses and you’ve already made your decision. A deep blue second skin, a dress that shimmered like a starlit night under the right light. The front was a simple scooped neck, low enough that your cleavage could make a gasp for breath, but not low enough you’d be recognised for a sleaze. The back is a square of sheer material until your hips, a little more than daring, a little less than risque, perfect for a night of dancing and drinking.

There were even little silver stilettos in the corner.

“No one will recognise me in blue, so stop trying to find other dresses,” you chide. “I’ve already made my decision.” A pout from Lirisa doesn’t move your hard-as-steel expression. Sometimes the Theelin girl had the ability to actually change your mind, but now, you sit there, waiting patiently for her to stop sulking. “Are we still going to that… um, that bar?”

“‘That bar’,” Eva mocks, turning you sharply to the mirror to start fiddling with your hair. It rests, untouched, until she starts pulling it up. “The clone bar.”

“Are we even going to be allowed in?” Eva nods, twisting a coil of hair around her finger. It’s not the same electric yellow it was on stage- the wig was long gone. “Who have you bribed this time?” You grin, glancing at her in the mirror. She shakes her head, disgusted at the pure suggestion of bribery.

(Wouldn’t be the first time she had… well, Eva had once tried to bribe a club bouncer with a tray of meiloorun fruit.)

“I heard from a reliable source in the GAR offices that a whole bunch of sexy, all-too-willing clones are on shore leave.” You sigh, tugging on a forlorn strand of hair. Eva grabs your shoulder, firmly. “Don’t pull, your hair is almost done.”

“Shouldn’t I get my dress on first?”

“You’ll only spill blumfruit juice on it.” You scowl. “And we’re leaving in twenty minutes, standard. I already called a speeder for us.”

“No paps?”

“No paps.” A pat on your shoulder and you relax. “Anyway, we’re going to have fun tonight!” Lirisa moves around in the background, now clad head to toe in what looks like skin-tight purple leather. She smiles, fondly, smoothing down a crease at her hip. The neckline plunges low below her sternum, but she acts as if she’s wearing Jedi robes with a swish and a sashay. You redirect your eyes when you get a rather tasteful flash of sideboob. “Looking good, Liri.”

“Thank you!”

“Is it a new suit?” A pause, a shrug. “Is it from my wardrobe?” You ask, eyebrow cocked in question. She nods, coyly smiling. “Fair enough.”

“Huh! If I took that you’d scream at me.”

“No, because I’d never confidently display so much sideboob at a club, Eva,” you mutter. Eva ponders it for a moment, but agrees, nodding. “Exactly.”

“Well, let’s just get to the club first, then we’ll decide how much ‘sideboob’ you’ll display after a few drinks.”

If there was one thing Eva was right about, it was the abundancy of rather good-looking men in the same place. Getting in had been easy- just flutter your lashes at the Coruscant guard on the door, he’d step aside and let you straight in with promises of a kiss later.

Inside was beautiful, purple and blue lights swinging low from a long-greyed ceiling, huge yellow holograms with all manner of languages on them- news, nunaball, flashes of the GAR-droids, the ones that present it. Then, even a flicker of your own face. A familiar beat begins thrumming ten steps into the bar.

Eva barks a laugh, hooking her pale green arm through yours, tugging you closer towards the bartender. She starts ordering shots in a rapid call, smiling politely at the droid behind it. You lean an elbow on the bright, turquoise counter, relishing in the sultry high notes of one of your latest tunes. Lirisa throws her arms around your waist, humming softly.

“Three.” Eva holds up her fingers. “Thank you.”

You flex your hands under the glow of a green-yellow menu. It’s fascinating, being suspended in a place like this and being able to take your eyes off the crowd for just a moment without being scared of being hustled. Eva touches your shoulder momentarily, her usual gesture of reassurance.

Your gaze slips from the bar- it’s fascinating, yes, but more fascinating are the similar faces flashing around you. Each one the same, but slightly different. Silver hair, shaved head, tattooed, long hair, dark hair, pale hair, wider smile, careful gaze. You wet your lips and catch the gaze of a trooper a few seats down.

He’s broad, like the rest of his brothers, but something else settles about him like a halo. Dominance, confidence. He’s got one cybernetic eye, too, but the gruffness of his expression as he moves from his seat has your eyes fixated.

Suddenly, you catch another gaze of another set of troopers some ways away.

Huddled in a booth, an entire squad is staring right at you. With a startled huff, you cross your legs, tugging gently on Lirisa’s leather sleeve.

“I think I’ve been made.”

“Where?” She looks over your shoulder, brown eyes searching against the near-darkness of the club. She raises an eyebrow, slowly. “Oh. Just troopers, it’s okay. They won’t bother you.” You frown, interlocking your fingers and moving, slowly, to lean awkwardly against the counter. Their gazes reside on your back, sticky like syrup, until someone speaks roughly at your side.

“You’re not a clone.”

You turn, matching the gaze of the gruff man from before. A glance over his armour tells you nothing- great. He’s patched in a pale, unforgiving black, and he moves, tilting his body to rest on the countertop.

“No,” you murmur. “I suppose I’m not.” Your fingers go immediately to your necklace, a thin chain of silver studded with transparent stones, to tug. It’s a habit. The trooper looks at you for a long moment, dark eye and silver eye roving until he smiles, a little. Something tells you smiling isn’t normally what he’s used to. “Is that a good thing?” A look through your lashes and a splutter of drink from Eva over your shoulder has you struggling to hold in a laugh.

The man’s eyes flit to the screens, then back to you.

“Is that you?” You purse your lips, glancing at the hologram. “Nice.” Nothing else is added before he prepositions: “Want to dance?”

It’s only a moment after he offers his name, ‘Wolffe’, that you agree, letting him lead you to a writhing pack of men, clones and civvies, a few girls of all species. Your fingers thread through his and with a giggle, you sit your drink- a sunfruit cocktail- now finished, on an empty table. A rivulet of excitement ripples through your stomach when he tugs you firmly to his chest, roving a strong-fingered hand over the small of your back.

He asks a soft ‘this okay?’, but you’re too far flushed with music and finally, relaxation. You throw your arms around his neck and sway to the upbeat bass. A few more moments and your head drops back with a soft sigh, Wolffe’s fingers catching against the thin seam where the sheer material turns back into oil-slick silken fabric. Your breath hitches.

“Never did get your name,” he huffs, nose brushing yours. You sigh, smiling politely.

“They call me Sugarplum,” you murmur, letting his hands on your hips move you a little more vigorously to the disco-beat. Wolffe grins, wolfish, before flipping you around, a hand flattening against your stomach.

The music continues, and you continue to let Wolffe roam his hands along your midriff until he’s heaving heavy breaths in your ear and becoming slowly less dancer-like. You had to admit, the clones seemed like they were lithe bands of silk ready to snap, but you were dying for a drink.

When the song starts to pulse out in favour of a quicker, sharper tone, you slide your hands against his and softly remove them.

“I need a drink,” you shout over the music. He swipes a hand over his sweat-stricken hair and nods, dropping himself into a booth. “Thanks for the dance.” You brush your lips against his cheek and dart through the crowd, desperately searching for a flicker of pink, or purple. Luckily, Lirisa’s still at the bar, pressed against it by someone in red armour, perhaps, but there nevertheless, and smiling, sober. “Liri and… friend.”

“This is Thire,” she calls, patting his hand. “Coruscant Guard.”

“Fancy.” You stare at him for a moment, trying to decide on his intentions when he gives the brightest, sweetest smile you’ve ever seen. You feel your cheeks rush with heat. “Nice to meet you.”

“Plum,” Lirisa mutters. “How was your dance?”

“Oh, fine… you know me…”

“What, a prude?”

“No!” You bat her arm with a hiss. “Picky.” You flag down for another drink, dumping a pile of credits on the counter. Thire’s brows skyrocket, his face a portrait of shock when the droid picks through and takes only what’s needed. “Oh, I don’t know the prices…”

“That’s a lotta’ credits.”

Lirisa tilts his chin with one long, lavender finger and captures his mouth, eyes settling on you with a meaningful look. You swipe the credits up, dumping them back in the little silver shoulder bag she’s got on the counter. Oops.

You hear yourself in the speakers again.

“Huh. Whoever’s DJ-ing has nice taste.” Lirisa pulls away from Thire after a long moment, her lipstick a little smudged, but with a warm smile, Thire swipes it back into place. “Thank you, baby doll.” Thire darkens. “I’ve always liked ‘Popgloss’.”

“It’s not my best,” you murmur, eyes fluttering with shyness.

“This is you?” Thire asks, gesturing at the screen. You look at yourself, bearing a bright, fluorescent blue wig and matching lipstick. “That’s you?” He huffs a laugh of surprise. “Nice lipstick.”

“Thank her,” you reply, jabbing a thumb in the Theelin’s direction.

The droid slides a new drink over. You frown, staring at it. The glass is literally glowing, a white-ish liquid simmering inside.

“Courtesy of the 501st, ma’am.” The droid trundles away and you stare at the bright blue liquid with a smile.

“Boys in blue, huh?” Thire looks at the drink, then back at Liri with hooded eyes. “That looks like a mist-cocktail.” He turns, glancing over his shoulder towards where you’d seen the table staring at you. You follow his gaze, but only a few troopers remain. One of them raises a hand in a two-fingered salute, though. You smile coyly, waving in return.

With a careful touch, you raise the glass to your mouth and take a sip. It’s warm, warm down to your toes, and tastes amazing.

“Tastes great,” you say, a little surprised. “I should go thank them.”

“No, you should leave them waiting, maybe they’ll come up to you!” You scowl, shaking your head. Another sip of your drink and you turn, walking swiftly towards the table where only three troopers remain out of what was a lot more. One with long hair, another with lines tattooed down his face, grinning roguishly, and the last with a buzzed, blonde cut.

“Um, I just wanted to say thank you for the drink.” You fiddle with the draw, lashes fluttering of their own command. All three troopers are staring, two at your face, and the other quite firmly at your legs. “And, well… thank you for fighting. Your service,” you murmur, suddenly taken aback with shyness. Come on, superstar personality! Make your appearance.

The blonde grins.

“You’re welcome. On both counts.” His demeanour is remarkably similar to that of the Wolffe from earlier. Perhaps a Commander. “We’re quite enjoying your music tonight.” You chew idly on a thumb, smiling bashfully. “And we enjoyed Wolffe’s poor attempt at dancing.”

“Oh!” You snort. “He wasn’t that bad!” Eyes follow your hips as they turn, swaying back and forth as you try to plant yourself firmly and more confidently at one side of the round table. “Um, well, thank you anyway.”

“Thank you, Sugarplum.”

You make a wild getaway before you can embarrass yourself further or faint in the lap of the blonde, who was staring a little too sharply for your taste. The music seems to pulse louder with every step you get back to Lirisa, who is now firmly shoved against the counter and smothered by Thire’s mouth. Eva is nowhere to be seen.

“Where’s Eva?”

“She ran off with a Twi’lek lady.”

You smile, huffing a chuckle of disbelief, leaning forwards to finish your drink in two more sips, when slowly, you notice a presence approaching you from the side.

Hands, well-defined, lined with veins and a few here-and-there scars, draw your attention like an industrial magnet. His skin is bronze, a dark, deep gold, like his brothers, but he plants his weight on the bar and clears his throat softly before speaking.

“Hey,” he says, voice low, dark. You swallow, hard, turning your head. He’s quite a face. He’s got quite a face- sorry, he’s… got quite a face. Right below his hairline, there’s a little ‘5’ tattoo, nestled there, inked in night-black. You take another sip of your drink for courage.

Alone, it’s easier.

“Hello.” Your voice is a little uneasy, but the trooper smiles, his eyes shining with politeness. Your eyes flutter shut when another one of your songs bursts through the speakers, but the trooper’s grin only grows.

“I’m not boring you, am I?”

“No! No, sorry, I’m just… I don’t know.” His smile softens at the corners, less devilish, and he shifts his weight, spine arching with the movement. You let your gaze flicker along his lithe body, contained in blue-stained armour. ‘Boys in blue’, Thire had said. “Oh! You sent me the drink… it’s delicious.”

“Yeah? One of my favourites.” He moves a hand back through his dark hair, eyes ducking for a brief second, before meeting yours once more. You feel your chest swoop and you smile, wide, wider than usual. “Fives.” He offers a hand, a handshake, and you accept it, only for him to flip your wrist. His lips ghost your knuckles. “Pleasure to meet you.”

“You can call me Plums,” you supply. “That’s what all my friends call me.”

“Friends?” A coy, cocked brow. Your chest flutters and you nod, drawing your bottom lip between your teeth. You’ve probably got dark lipstick all over your teeth by this point, but the way Fives poses the question has you suddenly not-so-bothered. Lirisa’s knuckles jabs your spine twice, a signal. You’re pretty much alone now. She’d bring Thire back to her apartment, two floors under yours, and Eva was wherever that Twi’lek took her. “We like your music in the barracks.”

“Oh? Thank you,” you murmur, gazing into the bottom of your glass. “I wish you could all come to one of my concerts, that’s the only place I sound good sometimes. My studio stuff is a little-”

He suddenly tilts your chin with the knuckle of his finger, still grinning brightly.

“Don’t want to lose my beautiful view.” You chew helplessly on your lip, chest releasing a sort-of sigh, more like a swooning hum. “And I like both. All of it. The boys were playing a couple clips of your concert today.”

“Really?” You fiddle with the stem of your glass, not letting your eyes drop from his face, chiselled and kind, warm.

“Yeah. I like the pink, but if I’m honest, I like this blue on you even better.” He taps your lower arm, where the sleeve ends at your wrist. “We’re matching, see?” He gestures at his blue-painted armour. You suddenly smile, nerves dissipating.

“Seems like we are.” A smile shared, and Fives shifts forwards. His fingers skim your waist as he signals the droid for another drink. “You want me drunk or something?”

“How many have you had?”

“I can handle another. For you.” He raises a brow, eyes suddenly narrowing with a wild grin. “I suppose.” You rest a hand against his chestplate and he huffs a noise of near-surprise, before taking your fingers in his. He brushes his mouth against them and thanks the droid when he appears with another mist-cocktail, no, two. “What are these even made from?”

“Good question,” he murmurs, taking a long sip of his. You stare at him, unabashedly, for a moment, watching the light flicker through his long lashes, then the twitch of his mouth when he realises you’re staring. “Something you like?”

“You have the most beautiful profile I’ve ever seen,” you gush, turning his head with the tips of your fingers, smiling. His breath comes out in a slow whirl when you slide a fingertip down the bridge of his nose. “Like a statue. One of those ones on Naboo in the big fancy halls.”

“You callin’ me handsome?”

“I’m calling you more than that.”

He takes another long drink of his cocktail and you follow, letting it warm your stomach. You glance at his blue armour, touching the lines of his arm.

“Boys in blue?”

“501st Legion.” He bows his head. “At your service, I’m certain. In fact, half the GAR will probably fall at your feet, princess.” You smile, sheepish. “Don’t be so unsure of yourself,” he murmurs, touching a curl of fallen hair at your temple.

“Who said I was unsure? Maybe I’m just faltering in the sheer radiance of your beauty.” Fives laughs, a low rumble in his chest, finishing his drink in one swallow. “501st… are you a Commander?”

He shakes his head with a smile.

“ARC-trooper. Advanced Recon Commando.”

“Oh? So… elite of the elite?” Fives’ eyes flutter, sliding over your features in one long, languid sweep. “Am I stroking your ego?”

“I’d much rather you stroke something else.”

You hum, head turning. You want to pretend the crude line has made you suddenly disgusted, but when he fastens a hand around your waist, you’d rather fall into him, onto him, onto him. He radiates energy.

“Can you kiss me now?”

His eyes widen, at least a little, and he smiles, eyes lidded, gaze smokier than a Sullust sunrise.

“Can I kiss you? That can be arranged.”

Fives leans, capturing your lips in a soft, chaste kiss. He tastes of cocktails and fruit and something else sharper, darker, but you don’t care. It’s suddenly rather hard to care as he brushes a thumb along your ribs and leans you back further. Your chest hisses a content sigh when he tilts your chin, pulls back, then takes your mouth a little harder.

He’s soft as silk for a soldier with calloused hands, his touch careful, hesitant until you moan quietly into his mouth and he touches his tongue against the seam of your lips. You let your jaw open, and he slides his tongue along your teeth, grins, then groans when your hips cant into his.

“Fives, do you want… do you want to come to my apartment?” He huffs, almost as if he can’t believe his luck, mouth shining with moisture. His head dips, claiming your lips once more like he’s got unfinished business there.

His thumbs ripple over the creases in the dress at your hips, his index, middle, ring finger pressing into your ass, pulling you closer. He knows how to work himself, that’s for sure. You shudder, one hand threading into his hair, the other fastening firmly around his bicep like a vice. He slides his tongue into your mouth and sucks at your bottom lip with a chuckle. You muffle a choked whine, desire suddenly starting to yap at the gates like a feral beast.

“Yeah…” he replies, finally, eyes fluttering to kiss you again, twice, three times.

There’s gazes on you from the boys in the booth, you know, you feel them, but you don’t take a chance at them until you can lean back for a cool breath of fresh air. They all sit there, slack-jawed, wide eyed.

“Your friends are looking at us,” you murmur, fingers digging into his upper arm.

“Let them look. They’re not the ones getting an eyeful of this masterpiece up close,” he hums, nosing along your jaw. “You should be painted.”

“Is that what you say to all the girls?”

“What do you want to hear?”

“The truth.”

“You’re the first one it’s true for.” You feel your heart thrum a little quicker, his fingers pressing hard into your ass, then relaxing. “You wanna call a cab?”

“Yeah. Yeah, come on,” you murmur. You’re more out of breath than you’d like to admit- than your ego would like to admit. Fives steals another cool kiss in the entrance to the club, greeting a few of his brothers in a language you don’t understand, before ushering you in his warm, huge hands, to the cab drop-off. His arms suddenly hook around your waist and you sigh, softly, contently.

After dialling in the address to your apartment, the cab takes only another long two minutes to show up, of which consists mainly of Fives drawing his tongue in teasing circles on your neck, and hot, heavy touches along your ribcage.

You step into the cab first, smiling politely to the driver, only to be pinned to the seat by a suddenly ravenous Fives. He pulls you up, over, onto his lap and keeps you there with a hand on your thigh.

“What do you want from me?” He asks, voice low, rough. “I want to be sure you want this.” A finger gestured between your chests and you laugh, threading your fingers through his hair. “What’re you laughin’ at?”

“How could it be possible anyone wouldn’t want you, Fives?” You tug gently at his roots, smoothing kisses on both of his cheeks with a coy smile.

“You haven’t met my brothers,” he whispers, lips brushing your ear. “They don’t want even to bet on me when we spar.” You sigh, stretching. “Do you normally do this?”

“Do what?” You ask, certain your eyes are probably blared with lust and something more primal, more dangerous. Fives smothers his face in your throat, nipping gently at your pulse, breath more of a growl now. “Invite handsome men back to my apartment? You should ask my friends.”

“The Theelin and the Mirialan?” You nod.

“They think I’m quite picky, so nine out of ten nights end with me alone, eating ice cream and watching limmie.” Fives laughs, stroking a thumb over the crease of your knee. “So, you’re lucky.”

“Oh, yeah,” he growls, thumbing at your bottom lip with a grin. You take the digit into your mouth with a hum. “I’ve hit the jackpot.”

The cab stutters up to the dock at the very bottom of the apartment block, and it takes Fives a moment to stare up at the towering building before you can pay the driver and usher him into the doors. Islair, the Nikto receptionist, raises his hand in a polite wave, before doing a double take at the trooper on your arm. He still smiles, though, when you step into the lift.

“You aren’t afraid of heights?” You ask, when Fives leans against the metal bar on the opposite side of the half-glass lift. It slides smoothly through the building, leaving Coruscant more and more distant with every floor climbed.

“No.”

“Good. We’re going to the fiftieth floor.” You smile, fluttering your lashes, crooking your finger towards him. He crosses the lift, boots thudding against red carpet beneath your heeled feet, before shoving you roughly against the wall. His lips break your resolve as soon as he presses them against yours, tongue sliding through into your mouth with a hard groan. He shifts his hips against yours and hooks your wrists beside your head.

“You… we have to make sure there are boundaries.”

“You’d be surprised how much I can take, Fives.” He huffs, a low, gasp of a breath, fingers running up, below your dress. “How much can you give?”

“You’re really riling me up, princess,” he whispers, voice sharp. “How long till your floor?” You glance at the numbers, ticking up through thirty.

“Not long, handsome,” you murmur, sliding the tips of your fingers down his stomach, along his codpiece, until he groans, planting two hands hard on either side of you He could almost bend the metal. “Relax.”

“Tell me to relax while you’re doing that?” He grumbles, smothering you in another rushed kiss when the lift pings, and the doors open. In one graceful swoop, he hauls you into his arms and waits for you to flick out your apartment key. You rustle through the black, studded purse in your hands and quickly draw it out, a shimmery, pearlescent card.

“Apartment Three,” you whisper. Fives hurries along the carpeted hall, lowering you to your feet in front of a rather decadent black door, watching as you flick your card over the scanner. A soft, delirious scent of vanilla hits him right in the face when it opens, and he lets you tug him inside.

There’s a moment of silence.

“So, this is my apartment,” you mumble, feeling his presence creeping behind you. His hands snake around your middle, to the hem of your dress and up once more. He takes his time, like he’s standing in front of a painting at a gallery, pushing himself along your spine. You arch your back, sighing softly when he cups your breasts in his hands and kisses your throat, once, twice. “You don’t care…”

“Nice place.” Is all he manages, rubbing his thumbs over your nipples, hardened against the silk of your underwear, underneath your dress, but he knows- he grins, smoothing his hands down your sides. “Do you want me?”

“Yes.” You turn, fiddling with the latches of his armour pieces, kneeling on the cool wood of the ground. His throats jumps, but you ignore it, finely, too, as you release the rest of his white and blue protection onto the floor. “There. All done.”

“Uh, uh,” he calls, wrapping a hand around your wrist when you try to escape. Your breath hitches. Your back hits against his chest. “Your turn, princess.” His fingers play with the hem of your dress, spreading out along the warmth of your thighs.

“Zip.” He leans back, moving a hand to slowly drag the zip along your spine.

“You’re beautiful,” he whispers, kissing your shoulder, your throat. “Beautiful girl.” You exhale, sharply, shifting the dress from your arms with a wriggle. “Fuckin’ Maker,” he huffs, reaching forrwards to skim his thumbs over your bare skin. You’re suddenly quite happy you wore the black, slightly sexy underwear rather than the black, completely mismatched pair you were rushing for a few hours earlier.

“You like it?”

“Who were you planning to snag at the club? Wolffe wouldn’t have lasted five minutes with you. He’s hard on the outside, soft on the inside.” Fives smooths the pads of his thumbs across your breasts, nipples hardened in the cups of your bra, before lowering his mouth to the crevice between them. He runs his tongue, slowly, carefully, along the cool silk of your skin. “Fox, maybe. No… no, he’d finish and kick you out. Rex? My Captain? My brother?” You gasp, cupping his face between your hands. “No. Too soft. Too slow.”

“What are you trying to say, Fives?”

“That I’m the brother for you.” You giggle, throwing your arms around his neck. “I promise, I promise from the bottom of my heart… I am the clone for you.” He offers a goofy smile.

“I trust you, Fives,” you whisper, brushing his nose with yours. “Do you still want to try it, though?” You stroke a finger down the nape of his neck. “Figure out whether I’m the woman for you?” He tucks an arm below your hips and hauls you up, up into the air.

“I already know.”

“You don’t even know my favourite colour… my favourite flavour of ice cream, my favourite meal!”

“All in good time. For now,” he busts open a door at random. “Good choice.” It’s the bedroom. A wide bed, perfect for ignoring alarms, and what seems to be, to Fives, a good throwing range. He tosses you onto the mattress, and you bounce, just a little, watching him from the head of the bed. “Comfortable, too.”

“Come here,” you call, springing onto your knees. Fives reaches over his head and tugs in one mighty pull, his shirt off. You swallow, dry-mouthed, when he displays deep bronze skin, six lines of ridged muscle, broad arms, broader shoulders. His grin grows.

“You like what you-”

“Yes.” You hook an arm around his neck and pull him back onto the bed, hauling him below you. Bare skin against bare skin, you tremble with every hot, silky-smooth touch he ghosts up your legs, over your knees, along the curve of your spine. You shift your hips against him, pressing purposely along the velvet length hidden in his blacks. Your fingers splay against his chest, sliding along his stomach, into the waistband of his trousers.

A husky gasp and a growl when your fingertips fuss through the downy triangle of hair at the very centre of those defined lines of muscle, a perfect V. He thrusts his hips up, planting himself at an angle on his elbows. You grin, wrapping a hand around his cock.

It’s broad, long, big enough to make you wince, and hot to the touch. You sweep a thumb over the tip, wetness pooling there somewhere, a drop, more than that, a rivulet running along the underside of the head.

“Fuckin’ hell.” You smile, capturing Fives in a hard, rough kiss. His teeth clack against yours, but he doesn’t care, all he seems to care about is keeping that pressure on his dick and keeping you right there, beside him. “Oh, Maker.”

“That feel good, soldier?”

“Pull rank on me and I’ll cum in your hand right now.” He grins. You sigh, tapping your chin with your free hand.

“What comes next, I wonder?” Fives growls, tossing you on your back in one hard motion. He kicks off his pants, exposing bulking, heavy thighs corded with muscle and a long, thick cock. You grin, going to crawl forwards, but Fives presses you to the bed with a hand.

“No, no. Just stay there.” His fingers hook in the waistband of your panties. They’re lace and silk, elegant, and he tugs them down, slowly. “You’re beautiful.” You feel your body flush, Fives’ breath quickening against your stomach, your knees, the apex of your thighs, before he presses his mouth into your heat.

“Oh, Gods, give a little warning next time-” He squeezes the skin of your right thigh with a sigh, running his tongue up the liquid warmth between your legs, between your folds, along the petal-pink flesh, wet with desire. “Fives.”

“You’re sweeter than sugar, princess. Sweeter than anything.” He taps your hips and pins them into the bed, nose brushing your clit with dangerous precision. “So pretty, soft.” His tongue thrusts into you, gathering your slickness in one long motion. He moves his fingers slowly, carefully, along your skin, rubbing one against your entrance in a wolfish, evil way.

“You’re an asshole.”

“Hm?” Fives croons, biting softly at the skin of your thigh. “You say something?” He hums, licking his lips before shoving his face back between your legs. With the quick shift of his head, his finger eases into you, slowly, carefully. You groan, pushing your hand through his hair. His tongue is teasing at your clit, his finger shifting delicately inside you, slower than anything, but electrifyingly so.

“Fives, you tease,” you groan, eyes screwed shut. “Stop playing around.”

“You’re asking me to stop playing around?” He adds a second finger, stretching you to the knuckle. You hiss, a hand latching around his upper bicep like a vice. Fives grins. He pecks you twice on the hipbone, then returns his attention to between your legs. “I’m quite enjoying playing around.”

“You’re being a tease. I’d much rather give you attention- ah, fuck, fuck- too. Please,” you hiss, eyes shuddering back as he coaxes the oncomings of an orgasm out of you. A grin against your skin- you feel it. His teeth graze your skin, then his mouth latches onto you once more. Liquid heat burns through your gut, coiling you tight. “I’m going to…”

“Yes, pretty girl, give it to me.” He flicks his tongue over your clit. “Give it to me, Sugarplum. You got it, baby.”

You choke on a moan as your orgasm snatches you away. It’s a thrumming feeling, a wheeze that escapes through your lungs and burns you hot inside out. A grin spreads onto your face, your skin is vibrating, shivering under the still-relentless touch of Fives between your legs. He eases up onto the bed, then, smoothing your breasts into his hands.

“Perfect tits,” he whispers.

“How do you want me?” You ask, breathless, eyes still spotty-white from the blinding climax rushing between your legs, rendering you twitching, shaking.

“Get on your back for me?” He asks, pinching a nipple between two deft fingers. You keen, shuffling beneath him. Your hand snakes between his leg and slowly strokes his cock, carefully, quietly. Fives groans, capturing your mouth with his. A moan is lost into his tongue, wetting your lips then moving against them once more. He’s a battering ram- no mercy, a perfect soldier.

“Fucking hell, Fives,” you whisper, raking nails over his scalp. He moans. You feel your stomach drop to your feet. “You like that?” He nods, parting your legs with two rough, callused hands. Your fingers pull hard at his hair and he whines, slipping his tongue back into your mouth, sliding his hand between your legs once more. He plays with your clit, your hand around his cock.

“I’m gonna fuck you now,” he rasps, nipping at your bottom lip. You let go of him, reaching up to slide your arms along the hot, hard planes of his back. Fives stares at you, just for a moment, eyes dark like smoke, before he grips himself and pushes against you. “Slow?”

“Whatever you want,” you whisper, mouth cracking open when he impales you carefully in one liquid thrust. “Oh, shit. Now is probably a good time to tell you I’m on suppressors.” Fives tries to speak, but his words are lost in a broken groan into the hot crook of your neck. Your nails push crescent moons into his shoulders, letting him stretch you carefully along his generous length. “Are you all your brothers… this big?”

Fives huffs a laugh, nose brushing your pulse.

“Weird question.”

“Yeah,” you gasp, fanning your face with a hand. “Yeah, you’re right.” You stifle a moan between your fingers, eyes ducking back into your head. “Fuck, fuck, Fives, just a little quicker.”

“Quicker?” His hips snap against yours with a sharpness you haven’t felt before. Your chest drops out, but he continues, thumbs digging into your hips when he tilts you upwards, finding the best angle. His fingers slide beneath the small of your back to suspend you there, perfect for his ruin, when he brushes his mouth over your nipple and ruts firmly into you. “That, ah- that better?”

“Hm, yeah, yes.” You slide a hand into the hair at the back of his head, eyes fluttering shut, mouth slipping open with every thrust of his hips, every shift of his cock inside you. “Yeah, baby, that’s better.” You scratch gentle nails over his back, admiring his warmth, before tugging carefully at his hair. He groans, pinning you into the bed.

Your eyes slide shut. Stars begin to speck behind them and you think he knows by the breathless laugh against your throat, then the broken moan into your jaw, your mouth. He tongues your mouth gently, bruising your lips swollen with the fervent touches.

“Fives-”

“Ah, yeah?”

“Touch me, just a little more,” you plead, nose brushes his as he pecks you once more, thumbing your right nipple, then finding your clit beneath a rough finger. “Yeah, yeah.”

“You like that, pretty girl?” He huffs, dragging his tongue along your throat. “Yeah?”

“Yes! Gods, yes, please!” You wrap your legs around his waist, pulling him flush against your chest. Fives’ eyes disappear beneath his eyelids, his chest rumbling with soft, persistent groans every other thrust. You whine, pulling at his hair, scratching at his back.

“You’re a little… fuckin’... ah, keep pullin’.” You giggle, threading your fingers through his hair, kissing him twice on the mouth, once on the jaw, angling his head as you see fit. “Yeah, baby, that’s right. Tight little pussy.”

He squeezes your waist with one hand, still flicking at your clit with the other hand, desperate to chase your orgasm out of you, and it works, he gives you one in moments. You stiffen, back arching, fisting a hand in the sheets, the other smoothing over his neck. Your moan echoes in your bedroom, and Fives eggs you on with gentle praise.

“Good girl, yeah, keep… fuck,” he wheezes, hiding his face in your shoulder. His arms are so tight. “Can I move you?”

“Uh-huh, yeah,” you whisper, letting him shift you into a lower position, where he impales you so suddenly your breath hitches and you shriek, turning into a whimpering mess. “Oh, that’s so good!”

“That’s good?” He breaths, pupils almost completely lost in black-brown irises.

“Yes, Fives, it’s good,” you whisper, smothering your mouth against his with a giggle, a grin, slipping your tongue into his mouth. He grunts, releasing your clit to roll a nipple between finger and thumb. You hiss sharply against him, forcing your heels into his back to push him deeper, harder. “Harder, baby, please.”

He quickens his pace, the bed shaking a little under his force.

“You’re so fuckin’ beautiful,” he murmurs against your lips. “Sweet angel,” he reaffirms. “Heaven sent.” His fingers wrap around your free wrist, pinning it against the silken sheets below your head. Your back arches with the pressure, a grin spreading along your face. “Fuckin’ hell, I’m gonna cum.”

You hiss when he touches your clit, so eager, so painlessly prepared to give you what you want- another orgasm, more pleasure, anything. He coaxes it out of you, another climax, relishing in your writhing against him, your low whine in his ear, the shiver that follows, the sweat that slicks him head to toe.

“Fuck!” You cry, shuddering back into the sheets.

Fives’ hips falter, his eyes scrunching shut, his groans lower, deeper, until you wind a hand into his hair and kiss him once more, and his thrusts pause.

“Inside?”

“Yeah.”

He finishes, coating you with one hard grunt, a sharp sigh, his eyes finally opening to find yours, a grin eventually appearing on his tired features. You let him fill you, for a moment more, before he pulls away a little.

“Sorry,” he whispers, pulling out. You huff at the cool touch of air against the wetness sinking deep into your skin, and watch him do a quick double-take around the room for the bathroom. With a snort, you point at the door on the left. He punches the release and wanders in, clattering around.

“Under the sink, baby.”

“Yeah! I got it,” he calls, reappearing after the tap runs for a moment. He kneels between your legs and gently, softly, wipes the warm cloth over you until he’s satisfied you’re cleaned up well enough. “There, princess.”

“Thanks.”

He disappears back into the bathroom, and a wet slap suggests he’s just tossed the rag into the bath tub. An muffled ‘oops’ and there’s another sound of running water.

You stifle a giggle behind your hand, darting from the bed to snatch up his long-sleeve top. It had the Republic branded right in the middle, grey against the black, and you snuggle into it, sliding your arms into too-big sleeves. Fives reappears after a moment and grins, crooking a finger towards your shrouded form.

“Do you want me to go?” He asks, quietly, sincerely. “I’m assuming ‘no’ since you’ve stolen my shirt,” he hums.

“No, stay, please.” You usher him towards the bed, hands on his ass. You squeeze once with a snort and toss his trousers at him. He eases himself into them and pulls you into his chest.

“Are you okay?”

“Better than okay.” Fives grins, craning his neck to kiss you softly on the mouth, the nose, the forehead. You stare helplessly at him, your heart suddenly quite warm, and collapse onto the bed. “Come sleep.” You pat the space beside you and watch as he slides himself in. “Never had a double?” His look of confusion is an easy tell.

“Nope.”

“Comfy?”

He turns, half buried in thick duvet and silk sheets. You can barely make out his nod but slide down beside him, tucking your head into the crook of his neck. He’s like a furnace- probably going to irritate you later in the night- but you relax against his chest.

“‘Night.”

“G’night, pretty baby.”

for the bbs always: @thegoodbatch @djangofetts @jangohshit @queenofheavenandhell

#fives x reader #fives #arc trooper fives #arc trooper fives x reader #fives imagine #arc trooper fives imagine #fives smut #arc trooper fives smut #star wars #the clone wars #star wars smut #purely self satisfying

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remmushound · 3 years

Text

Rise boys = Raphael, Leonardo, Donatello, and Michelangelo. Bay boys = Donnie, Raph, Mikey, and Leo.

This is a fic to lead into a Bayverse/Riseverse crossover! This is also an opening to make any requests for the bay/Rise interactions! I’m also accepting bay requests separate from the crossover! @brightlotusmoon

Link to second part: https://remmushound.tumblr.com/post/645470221504839680/brightlotusmoon-part-2-of-the-bayrise

The alarms sounded in the lair in the early morning, while Donnie was still in REM sleep and Mikey still wrapped himself snuggly in his blankets. When Raph still hugged the bear he always denied he owned and while even Leo still hadn’t woke to take advantage of the day. The only occupant of the lair that was awake was an old rat in the dojo, taking advantage of his son’s absence to meditate on current issues that worried his mind.

His ears jerked to attention as the nirvana of his mind was jarred with Donnie’s warning alarm. He was to his feet in an instant, and soon from their rooms came his sons one by one. Leo first, like always, closely followed by Donnie, and then Raph, and last Mikey.

“Dude, who turned on the screaming?”

“Talk to me Don.”

“Working on it!” Donnie was already at his desk, working a mile a minute to pull up the camera from where the alarm originated. “Got it— wait, that’s not right.”

“What is it?” As usually, Leo was hovering over Donnie’s shoulder and looking at the screen.

“Just looks like black to me.” Raph grunted from where he stood, a more respectable distance away.

“Yeah— it is— somethings up with the cameras.”

“What, they broke?”

“No, someone turned them off— and the only way they could do that is to hack into the camera’s systems—.”

“Which obviously didn't happen.” Leo said, “Could someone be covering the screen a different way?”

“Well, I mean, I guess, but—”

“Alright, then lets move out— try to get a better idea of what we’re dealing with here.”

“Don’t gotta tell me twice.”

Leo held out his arm to stop Raph from running off immediately. “Careful, Raph. This could just be a sewer worker in over his head.”

“Yeah. Or it could be the Shredder.” Raph growled.

“Exactly. So be ready, but quiet. No use exposing ourselves if we don’t need to.”

Leo made the motion and Raph took point and was the first down the slide that took them out of the lair. Mikey was after him quickly. “Don’t worry, I’m a professional!” Mikey waved jazz hands.

“So am I.” Leo shoved Mikey down the slide after Raph. “Don, you next.”

“Arlight, but Leo I really think—”

Leo shoved Donnie into the tube the moment he got within sliding distance, and then gave it a few seconds before jumping in after him. The slide was a steep one, more like a straight drop than anything else, and eventually curving into a slope and then a tunnel. For a moment during the decent, Leo felt his shell leave the wall, and he braced himself for the jostling that came when he hit the curve straight on. He could see all three brothers in front of him in varying stages of the slide, Mikey making every attempt to loop around the length of the tunnel as many times as possible, which kindled his speed enough that he was dangerously close to colliding with Raph. He did another loop, narrowly avoiding the older turtle as he took the lead

“SNOOZE YOU LOSE, RAPH!”

“Mikey! Stop breaking formation!”

“Woah—“

Raph had to put on a quick break as he almost ran into Mikey’s shell, and the momentum made him spin around and slow. Before he could right himself, Donnie started to panic and tried to avoid raph by sliding over the walls as Mikey had, but it wasn’t fast enough and collided into Raph’s plastron.

“WATCH IT DONNIE!”

“THIS WASN’T MY INTENTION!”

“OUT OF THE WAY!” Leo just barely escaped another collision by doing the same move as Mikey, dodging the backup of his brothers as he sped after Mikey.

It took another half a minute for Raph and Donnie to detangle from each other, still sliding all the while.

“Move your arm!”

“Ow, that’s my leg—“

“I don’t care what it is, I’m gonna break it!”

“I’m trying— oh, my glasses—“

“Get offa me Don!”

“I’m struggling just as much as you are!”

Finally, Donnie got himself separated and held his position by digging his staff into the stone to defy the rushing water. He waited until Raphael had turned the corner before he let himself go once more to rush after him.

~~~~~

“Get back here.” Leo growled and grabbed Mikey the moment he caught up, turning the smaller turtle to face him.

“Ah— mercy—!”

“What’s up with breaking formation?”

Raph arrived, flying out of the slide and into the lower section of sewer, landing hard behind them.

“I coulda crushed you!” Raph gave Mikey a harsh shove.

“Hey hey hey, chillax, my dudes!” Mikey tried, holding his hands up in defeat. “I didn't mean to!”

“That’s not an excuse!”

Leo heard Donnie fly out and breathed a sigh. That was all of them.

“Guys, Quit fighting!” Donnie tried to get between them and Mikey. “We’re not alone here, remember?”

“Right.” Leo huffed, and made a motion for the brothers to follow him. “Remember— stick to the shadows and if we do find something, wait for my command before you do anything. Think you can handle that, Mikey?”

“What? I could do that in my sleep, bruh! I’m a shadow! You’re think I’m over here— hwa ha!” He fliped around Leo waving his nunchaku, “—but I’m really—over here!”

Leo prodded the handle of his sword into Mikey’s stomach to quiet him before he took the lead in climbing up the tube that led to the higher section of sewer. The walls were slick and lined with a thick layer of sludge, so getting a grip was difficult, but not impossible. Every so often he’d look down to make sure his brothers were following after him— Mikey, Donnie, and Raph in that order. If they were to fall, each brother would be able to catch the ones on top of him— Mikey could hold Leo, but if he fell then Donnie could catch both Mikey and Leo, and if all three fell, then Raph was at the bottom as backup.

Leo stopped as he reached the surface, just barely peeking his nose up over the edge. All he saw was dark sewer, and after a minute of searching every shadow and potential hiding space, he felt a sharp prod.

“Ow!”

“Move it!” Mikey insisted impatiently, “I don’t wanna look at your butt all day!”

Leo growled and retaliated with a careful kick to Mikey’s shoulder before pulling himselfup finally through the tunnel. He took another look around before turning to give his brothers the signal to follow, but Mikey was already through and Donnie was halfway out.

Leo made a ‘really guys?” motion and sighed, just letting the misdemeanor pass as his three brothers joined him in the dark tunnel.

“See anything Don?”

Donnie hummed and pulled his goggles down over his face to get a better view in the dark.

“Hm. Not picking up any heat signatures besides ours, but there’s splash marks on the walls higher than the current should be able to reach.”

“Meaning?”

“Something’s been splashing around here recently— the amount of residue is too big to be a rat. It could be a dog maybe, but that wouldn’t explain the camera…”

“Dude, it’s like, totally an aligator.”

“No it’s not.” Raph nudged his baby brother.

“No, dude, it totally is! I read about it once!”

“There are no gators in the sewer Mike.”

“Actually, there’s reports of gators living in the tunnels as far back as the nineteen twenties. The story goes that people would buy baby gators when they were small and cute and abandon them when they got too big to be kept in an apartment. The fascinating part is that the city actually rescues up to a hundred alligators a year from exotic breeders or incompetant owners with no liscence.”

“Donnie—“

“Though theoretically they could survive in the sewers for a short time, long-term survival would be highly improbable given cold tempatures and the bacteria in human feces. The only reason we can survive down here is because—“

“DONNIE.” Leo said, this time louder, “The alarm?”

“Oh. Right.” Donnie cleared his throat, looking away sadly as his rant went unfinished. “I… am detecting trace amounts of mutagen, but that could just be cross-contamination from one of us or Splinter. I’m sure someone would have told us if Bebop or Rocksteady escaped.”

There came a noise. A loud, jarring noise like the snap of metal. Each brother had their weapons ready before the sound even stopped echoing, dropping into their respective defense stances as they stared down the side of the tunnel that the noise came from. Nothing happened. A minute passed. Nothing.

“Think they left—?” Mikey was shushed thrice.

Leo gave the motion for his team to follow him as he lead the way down the tunnel.

“It could be an ambush.” Donnie whispered to Leo as they approached.

“If it is, we’ll be prepared—“

Leo held out his hand to stop his brothers as the sound started up again. It took a second, but eventually Leo took notice that it wasn’t the same sound. This time it wasn’t metal snapping, it was more like groaning. Like someone had taken two metal pipes and twisted them together. And there were footsteps— heavy, slow footsteps in uneven intervals.

“What in the world…?”

Leo squinted when a figure made itself known. It looked amost like a spider, with a massive, spiked body and five and a half legs. It seemed to have two heads each moving separately of the other, and the noises it made sounded like something under great strain or in pain. It swayed unsteadly before them and tried to take a step forward.

“Stop right there!” Leo commanded to the beast, holding his katana in its direction.

The monster seemed to understand., and it stopped.

“Leo, that’s—“

Leo shushed Donnie.

“But it’s—“

The figure tried to move toward them again and Leo flashed his sword in another threat. “I said stay back!”

“LEO!” Donnie didn't give Leo the chance to say anything, pulling up his goggles and flicking a flashlight on the creature. “Look…”

The creature— or more like creatures— flinched at the light shined in their faces. Of the six legs Leo had thought he’d seen, only two of them proved to be real, and the one creature turned out to be two. The smaller one was on the bottom, supporting a second, larger creature on his back. Leo, Raph, and Mikey all gasped and withdrew in their shock, but Donnie held steadfast and kept the light trained on the enemy.

The smaller creature was a dark green with stripes of purple streaking across him, purple armor torn and some lost all together. He only had one kneepad and both of his sock peices were soaked dark and torn. His elbow pads remained mostly untouched, and his hands were bare. Technology littered his body— goggles on his head and a tablet on his arm and a belt and shoulder straps that supported a massive shield over his back— over his shell. From the armor came four metal arms, one of them broken and the rest straining to support the immense weight on top of him.

The larger was big enough to cover his carrier almost like a blanket, hiding a majority of the small turtle beneath his massive plastron and bulking arms. He might have been a lighter shade of green— it was hard to tell in the lighting, and even then it hardly mattered. The only evidence the great beast was still living was the fact that he was moving his head around, just slightly. Thick streams of crimson bubbled forth from a gaping wound in his carapace, bleeding out and covering him in streams of shiny red that dripped down his arms and side and onto his companion. He gave the slightest groan at the light shining on him and tried to open his eyes.

“What the fuuuuu…?” Leo gaped.

The purple-clad mutant looked weakly to the four with tired, terrified eyes. “Help…”

He collapsed into the sewage.

#rise raphael #bayverse raph #bayverse leo #tmnt bayverse #bayverse donnie #bayverse mikey #rottmnt donnie #tmnt crossover

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kjhmyg · 3 years

Text

christmas/ny (drabble)

pairing: jungkook x reader | jungkook x oc

genre: fluff, steamy at the end

words: 1.7k

summary: re!couple celebrating christmas and ny with jungkook after the holidays

a/n: um first of all, sorry. this is so bad im cry but also it’s kinda ok? idk. sorry anon if this isn’t what u wanted. i’ll try again next year 2022 lmao

𝄖

As patient as he is Jungkook can’t wait for your nightly call. You try to stay off your phone for the most part being back home, leaving time to talk to Jungkook only when it’s dark out. Of course, some days you miss him so much that you break that rule to sneak in a couple of texts or photos. Today’s not one of them.

Unfortunately, he had missed your earlier call. Horrified seeing two notifications of your failed attempts to reach him, he’s decided not to do anything else till he hears your voice.

Jungkook shoves a spoonful of Suga’s homemade microwave spaghetti into his mouth, eyes not leaving his phone.

“You’re staring at that thing so hard the screen’s going to crack.” Suga judges him from across the table.

“I’m expecting a call.”

“Yeah, I know.” He sighs, “But it’s not like your phone’s on silent. It’ll ring once she⎼”

Jungkook jumps within the first few seconds of his phone lighting up, your name flashing across the screen. Leaving Suga to himself, he rushes into the room and takes a deep breath before accepting the call. “Hi.”

“Hey you.” Your chirpy voice makes him smile. “Missed you earlier.”

“I know, sorry. Was busy. Did you have fun today?”

“It was okay. We got a cute little tree and I managed to do some really last minute shopping because I just found out my cousins will be here tomorrow night.” You sigh. “Did you miss me?”

“So much. I hate being apart, you know that.”

“Well I did offer you to come home with me.”

Jungkook had declined again. He doesn’t think it’s the best time to introduce himself to your family yet. Though, he had no qualms about letting your dad know. Funny enough, you decided not to. But you’re certain you heard your grandmother telling him about the couple photo you have as your homescreen.

“Maybe next time.” He hums, thinking about the possible future.

“I think my dad will like you.” The sound of your giggles has him cheesing so hard.

“Is that why you chickened out on telling him about us?”

“I did not! The timing isn't right.”

“Sure baby.” He laughs. “You’re not embarrassed of me are you?”

“I’m embarrassed someone like you is even interested in me.” You both laugh and let the silence engulf you. “You know I love you right? I hope we can spend the holidays together next year.”

“I hope so too.” There’s a tiny amount of sadness in there if you’re listening right.

“I might not be able to call you the next few nights. Since my cousins will be over. I promise to text though.” You say.

“That’s okay.” You hear the smile in his voice. “Just have fun okay? I’ll be here when you get back.”

“One more week.”

“Right. One week. Seven days. I’m sure I can handle being without you till then.”

“Merry christmas my love.” You send him a kiss over the phone.

“Merry christmas to you too.”

When the call ends ten minutes later, he trots back outside, face looking even worse than before. Suga, now done with his food, shakes his head disapprovingly as Jungkook takes his seat and goes back to the sad, cold dish in front of him. “You’re pathetic.”

𝄖

Jungkook holds his breath as the train slowly comes to a stop at the platform. Yesterday was the first day of the new year, which means today’s the day you come back. He’d planned out his route. First he’d get coffee and bagels to-go with chocolate danishes for you, in case you hadn’t had anything during the long trip. Then a short stop at the florist to get you a single rose before going off to the station.

It gets messy as everyone starts alighting and he struggles to catch you among the crowd. That’s when you come into view, head popping out between other random faces, wrapped in a beanie and scarf. Your face lights up when you see him, making hurried steps and dragging your luggage behind you.

“Jungkook!” You squeal, running into his arms.

He kisses the side of your face. “Hey stranger.”

“I’m so happy to see you.” You say, squeezing him tight. “How are you?”

“You’re asking me that as if we aren’t constantly texting each other.” He laughs, handing you the rose and letting you cling onto his arm with your luggage in his other hand, headed for the car.

“I know I’m just trying to break the ice.”

Inside the comfort and warmth of the car, he kisses you deeply. Something he’s been looking forward to for the last three weeks. “How’s that for breaking the ice?”

You roll your eyes but a smile plays at your lips as you properly adjust the seat belt. Gasping when you’re handed chocolate danishes, you pout at him, “You’re so sweet. Come here.” It earns him more kisses which he happily accepts.

In the back seat you notice an odd shaped item, in purple wrapping, done quite messily. “What’s that?” You ask knowingly.

“A surprise.”

“I have one for you too.” You smile smugly.

“Yeah? Can’t wait.”

On the way back, you give him a run down of what went on back home. When he ended up confessing that he hadn’t done anything special for the holidays, not even with Suga, it made you feel bad. Even though he tries to assure you he didn’t want to celebrate it anyway.

Back home, you lug your baggage into the room and dig something out of your bag. A packet of cookies lands on Jungkook’s lap as he takes a seat on the floor in front of the couch. “For me?”

“Mmhm.” Nodding, you tear open the paper bag, behaving more excited than he is. “My grandma said she packed this for my friend. She winked when she told me that. And I’d already brought some back for Hana. I think she knows.”

“About us? How?”

“She’s always been nosy.” You giggle. “I guess she doesn’t want you to get left out.”

“Aw. She’s kind just like you.”

“Wait!” He pauses, startled by your hand on his, stopping him from pulling one of the cookies out of the bag. “Hold on.”

You get up and run to the room. Carrying as many pillows as you can with a comfy blanket somewhere in between, Jungkook watches as you make a barrier with the pillows and spread the blanket over him. Then, you’re off to the kitchen.

After a minute of cabinet doors opening and closing and the clinking of glasses, you come back with two mugs of hot cocoa, marshmallows on top of course. Just the way your dad makes them. You place it right next to him then push the coffee table all the way forward to make more room to spread your legs. You put on a lame christmas movie on netflix, then snuggle up next to him.

“Now it’s a real christmas party.”

Jungkook laughs, holding you close and kissing the top of your head. You do the most unexpected things at the most random times. But he appreciates the way you always try to make sure he’s not left out. “Thank you baby.”

You grin up at him and watch carefully as he takes the first bite of the cookies. His eyes go wide and you nod knowingly. It’s your grandmother’s famous recipe. One even if you had, wouldn’t even be able to replicate its taste. He hums in delight, stuffing his mouth with one cookie after the other.

“So. Let me guess what happens after cookies and cocoa.” He says after finishing almost half the packet.

“What?” You ask, eyeing him.

He reaches round the side of the couch and pulls out the odd package you had seen in the car. “Presents?”

“Presents!”

You run back to your room and appear with a small wrapped box. The rule was not to buy anything that costs more than your monthly rent. You both had agreed to this a while back. Which was difficult for Jungkook because all he wanted to do was to spoil you with expensive gifts.

“What is this?” Jungkook holds the box to his ear and shakes lightly. “Hm.”

“Wait I think I can guess what mine is.” You giggle, pressing into the soft parts of the wrapping.

“Okay then you go first.”

“Okay.” Tearing away the wrapping carefully, you find inside a soft, pink bunny with funky eyebrows. On the bottom of its little feet, there are hearts and in those hearts are both your names embroidered with a plus sign in between. “Aww no this is so adorable. I love it so much.”

“It’s not a diamond necklace but⎼”

“No this is so much better. Thank you.” You give him a hug with the bunny squished between your bodies. “It strangely reminds me of you.”

“Really?”

“Yeah it’s weird and I like it.” You giggle, pinching his cheek. “Now open yours.”

The wrapping comes off easy and he immediately realises what it is as the box comes into view. He looks at you for a second before unboxing it and pulling out a matte black polaroid camera. Jungkook takes his time with it, carefully looking at it from each side.

“Do you like it?” You ask. “I know you like taking photos so I thought you might like this.”

“Y/N I love it.” He smiles, bringing the viewfinder to his eye and getting a feel of it, then putting it down to focus on you. “Let’s take one together.”

You scoot next to him as he loads the film cassette. Then hugging his middle, he hooks his arm around your shoulders and your faces press against each other. He clicks the shutter and you both wait for the film to develop.

It comes out perfect, both your smiling faces perfectly in frame and even bunny made it in which makes Jungkook laugh. He can’t stop staring at it, holding it by the edges so carefully like he’s afraid he’s going to ruin it.

“I love you.” He says, looking at you when he finally sets it down.

“I love you too.”

He kisses you, tasting of hot cocoa and love. You’re being pushed onto the pillows with the blanket beneath as Jungkook hovers over you, pushing the hair out of your face. As Jungkook removes his sweater, you pull your shirt over your head. Jungkook smiles down at you, kisses you, then reaches for the camera. “Merry fucking christmas to me.”

You shimmy out of your jeans and hook your ankle over his shoulder. Snap. “And happy new year baby.”

#jungkook drabble #jungkook fic #jungkook scenarios #bts scenarios #myfic #rainworks #drabbles;re

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nike-shawn · 3 years

Text

Hockey Shawn Part One

It’s here!! I really hope you guys enjoy my next series: Hockey Shawn! Let me know what you want to see later on, and happy reading! ⚡️❄️

⚡️ November 1st, 2020 ⚡️

You wake up early, before the sun. The hotel room is bathed in city light but the sky is dark, and you notice small snow flurries sticking to the floor to ceiling windows.

Snow. The first of the season.

Careful not to wake the sleeping boy next to you, you sneak out from underneath the duvet and pad to the bathroom where you splash cold water over your face. One quick look at the bags under your eyes and the mats in your hair could tell anyone what you were up to the night prior— you blush as you remember his calloused hands running over your soft skin, moving lower, lower...

You jump into a cold shower. The first seconds are miserable but you soon get used to it, as you always do. Water falls over your tanned legs and shampoo lathers in your hair as you try to hurry through all the steps. You’re going to be late for school, and you’re already skating on thin ice. Your boss, a stern, older woman with bright red glasses, has had her eyes on you since you accidentally let out a laugh at one of your kids’ senior pranks. (It was something to do with shaving cream and pencils— you can’t quite remember, but it definitely was hilarious). One more slap on the wrist and you’ll be firmly placed on her bad side.

Hooking up with a hot guy at a bar on a Sunday night was not the brightest idea you’ve ever had. You didn’t think it would lead to you sleeping in his classy hotel room, but here you are. You can just slip away into the darkness of the morning and he’ll be none the wiser. Of course, you’d love to leave with his number, but you doubt he’s staying in town for more than a few days judging by the lack of luggage he had in his room. You’re better off leaving before he cracks his pretty eyes open.

You towel off and cringe as you put last nights dress on. There’s nothing else to wear, but the thought of dirty clothes touching your newly cleaned skin makes you a bit sad. You push the thought away as you emerge back into the bedroom.

“Oh,” you jump, pressing a palm to your heart that is racing in surprise. “I didn’t think you’d be awake.”

The man who you forgot to ask the name of smiles softly, and you notice that he has an adorable lazy eye. “I have to get going soon too,” he replies. He runs a hand over his unruly curls and clears his throat. You watch as his eyes drag slowly over your body. “Did you want to borrow something?”

You awkwardly pick at the (very short) hem of your dress. “If you don’t mind,” you say.

“Not at all.” He turns to his now open suitcase and starts to shuffle the clothes around. You see a flash of red and black, something that reminds you of a jersey, before the lid closes and he’s offering you a plain white t-shirt and black joggers.

“Oh, wow,” you say as you take in the brand names of each item. “You don’t have to give me nice stuff; I’m not sure when I’ll be able to get it back to you.”

He shakes his head and motions for you to turn around. You do, and he starts to tug your zipper down, much more gently than he did last night. Your dress goes slack around your shoulders. “It’s no problem. Don’t worry about getting them back to me anytime soon.” You smile your appreciation as you pull his clothes on. “Though, I would really like to see you again.”

You blush. “I’d love to see you again, too.”

You turn to examine yourself in the mirror and you catch his eye in the reflection. “Here,” he says. His fingers dig beneath the waistband of your (his) joggers and he rolls it over a few times so the legs aren’t as slouchy as before. Your skin heats up from where he touches it. “Better, eh?”

You raise your eyebrows. “You’re Canadian?”

He just nods, that genial expression still light on his features. He’s really such a kind person, you think, as you grab your purse and dress off the floor. You really would like to see him again.

In an uncharacteristic bout of courage, you lean up and, with a grip on his shoulder, kiss him. You can feel him smiling underneath your lips.

“I hope to see you again soon,” he tells you.

“You too.”

You walk out the door and feel like you’re walking on clouds.

🍁⚡️🍁⚡️

That morning at school, your students are oddly energetic.

You’re trying to gather their attention when you overhear a couple of them talking about some sports scandal. You weren’t interested until you catch a name, one that was oddly familiar. “Shawn Mendes.”

Suddenly you’re transported back to the bar last night, completely sober and fighting annoyance at your best friends who were swooning over a boy across the room. He was obviously trying to stay on the downlow, since he was almost completely shrouded in the darkness of the far corner. “Shawn Mendes,” your friend told you, “he’s in big trouble these days.”

You must have pushed those words out of your mind because not too long after, the same boy ran into you outside of the bathroom. As soon as you locked eyes, you knew exactly how the rest of the night would play out. And you were right, of course, because you woke up in his bed. But if it weren’t for your students’ conversation, that entire situation with your friend would’ve completely slipped your mind.

Trying to push all those anxious thoughts away, you get through the rest of your day with little to no concern for Shawn. However, the second you get back to your apartment, you open up google and type his name into the search bar. Millions of results fill your screen— the first few being articles that reference an infamous video, a conversation between him and a paparazzi. It doesnt take you long to find a link to that particular scene, and you wait only a minute for YouTube to load before his beautiful face comes across your desktop.

He’s flustered, obviously so. It was from last month, so it hasn’t gotten too cold yet, and he’s dressed only in a light windbreaker and sweatpants with a logo you recognize on them. He looks exactly the same as he did in your hotel room, though his hair is a bit shorter. And, of course, he looks a lot angrier. “Get out of my way,” he says gruffly, wedging his way through the crowd of cameras. One person who was out of the frame must have refused to move, because Shawn says “I said, get out of my fucking way, man.” A few seconds pass and they’re all shouting things at him, things like “you and Maddy, huh? How is she doing? Have you talked to her?”

Then, there’s yelling.

The camera pans to the man in question, and all you see is Shawn’s fist collide with his face.

The video ends.

You stare at your computer in shock. Who is this guy? The boy in that hotel room would never do that, not in a million years. And why is he being followed by paparazzi? You figured he played some professional sport, but there’s a big difference between being on a team and being harassed by tabloids, wanting to know every last thing about your love life.

You check the sidebar for more videos of him, and you see a few referencing his “Greatest Plays” or “10 Times Shawn Mendes Made Me Swoon”, but then one towards the bottom catches your eye. “Shawn Mendes’ Career-Ending Accident”.

You’re too curious. You click on the video and feel your heart pound as it loads. It takes you to a hockey rink, the stadium filled with fans cheering loudly. The score is the New York Lightening 3, Detroit Cougars 2. The New York team is wearing the jersey you saw in Shawn’s suitcase. The camera finds him, the star of the show, and you find yourself smiling as you catch a look of his face through his helmet.

Then, a player on the other team comes up and shoves him against the edge of the rink. The hit itself didn’t look extremely hard— you hadn’t seen too much of hockey but you know that the players get hit much harder than that on a regular basis. However, this one must’ve hit somewhere that it shouldn’t have. Shawn falls to the ice and starts convulsing, the scariest sight you’ve seen in many years. The announcers of the game are rightfully concerned, and the crowd has fallen to a whisper. You find your palm over your mouth in shock.

Finally, after what feels like hours, he becomes still and a stretcher breaks through the crowd of medical professionals that have gathered around Shawn, shielding him from view of the camera. He is carried off, and before he disappears into the locker room, you can see him sitting up with a dazed look on his face.

You look over to the shirt and sweatpants he gave you. Last night and this morning with him seems so, so far away, and his picture in your mind has shifted dramatically. He’s an extremely famous hockey player who suffered an injury that has kept him from the game since this day over a year ago, and he has a famous ex-girlfriend who’s simple mention caused him to get angry enough to assault a cameraman.

His name is Shawn Mendes, and you need to see him again.

🍁⚡️🍁⚡️

The opportunity comes a week later.

Your friend convinces you to return to the same bar you went to last week. Convinces is actually quite a strong word for what happened— she mentioned her plans and offered for you to come along and you readily agreed. A part of you desperately wants to see Shawn again and ask him about his life, about all the things you had no idea about before. But you know that, in the off chance you did see him, you’d sink back into your shell and revert to the same thing you two did before. You’d go back to his hotel, have sex, and wake up the next morning beside him, all without any semblance of meaningful conversation.

You walk into the bar and immediately your eyes latch on to that corner where he stationed himself last week. There’s definitely someone there, but it isn’t your six foot something hockey player hookup. You fight the disappointment in your chest.

It’s for the best, anyways. Plus, tonight is Saturday, and last week you saw him on Sunday. Maybe he’s a Sunday night regular. Or, maybe he isn’t a regular at all. With a hint of sadness you realize that he most likely lives somewhere else and just flies in when he needs to be in the city. Why else would he be staying in a hotel?

“What’s wrong?” Your friend Lilly asks, gripping your elbow to gain your attention.

“Oh, nothing. Just distracted,” you say, smiling softly. You sit next to her at a bar stool and immediately lose interest in the scene. The bartender starts to flirt with Lilly and you fight the urge to roll your eyes. You wish Shawn was flirting with you like he is with her, but it seems like you’re fresh out of luck.

The night drags on and you spend a lot of it scrolling through Shawn’s Instagram. Most of the recent posts are sponsored, one for a sports drink and another for a protein powder, and both pictures are just of him with a smile that doesn’t reach his eyes on the balcony of a gorgeous high rise somewhere in the city. So he does live here, you think. You want to kick yourself for never getting his phone number. The next few are action shots of him on the ice, his cheeks flushed and his hair sweaty and matted against his head. He looks fantastic in his uniform-- no wonder the pictures have over a million likes each.

“Are you ready to go?” Lilly asks, shaking you out of your Instagram stalking.

With one last glance at that dark corner, you nod and grab your coat and purse. The two of you exit the bar not having paid for one drink thanks to Lilly’s flirtation, and you feel like a deflated balloon. You gained absolutely nothing from the past three hours when you could’ve met back up with the sweet, handsome boy you had a massive crush on who has some secret, intriguing double life that you want to know more about.

You walk back to the parking lot behind the bar and breathe in the very unfamiliar smell of the small patch of forest around the lot. In the city, you don’t get much of that natural, woodsy scent, but you welcome it, even if you can see right through the shallow gathering of tree trunks to the other side, which is classic, crowded New York City. You get lost in the view of the snow gathering on the branches. It’s beautiful.

“Y/N!” Lilly whispers. “Holy shit, is that him?”

You snap back to attention and follow Lilly’s finger to the tall, very familiar figure that’s getting closer and closer. If you didn’t immediately recognize that messy head of curls, you may have been scared. But instead your chest fills with butterflies.

“Hey, wow,” he says as he gets closer. His cheeks are flushed rosy red from the cold and the yellow streetlights illuminate his face enough for you to catch the sight of his adorable lazy eye. He is slightly out of breath and you figure he was on a run, taking a quick glance at his dry-fit long sleeve and leggings with running shorts on top. “Crazy seeing you here.”

You are almost stunned into silence, but Lilly covertly kicks your foot to get your attention again. “Yeah, hey. That is crazy. You live around here, then?”

“No, not really. I’ve been staying at uh... at that hotel.” You can see that he’s uncomfortable with Lilly being there, thinking that she may be unaware. Of course, you already told her everything. “Just went out for a run because I’ve been holed up all day working.”

“Us too. We came to the bar to let loose a little,” Lilly fills in for you. “Rough week at school.”

“You’re both teachers?” He asks.

“Yeah, high school English,” you answer. You start to realize that he knows your job before he knows your first name.

You both let a small silence blanket the conversation before he breaks it with, “I came over because I thought I recognized that shirt.” His blindingly white, straight-toothed smile is back.

You look down, mortified at the memory of throwing on his plain t-shirt underneath a cardigan and tucking it into your jeans only a few hours ago, rushing through getting ready because Lilly was already waiting for you outside your apartment. It was the first thing you saw, so you grabbed it without any thought.

You flush a deep red. “Oh my gosh, I’m so sorry; I didn’t even realize,” you stammer.

“No, no,” Shawn laughs. “Don’t worry about it. Looks better on you.” If you weren’t blushing before, you definitely are now. “Do love those sweatpants I gave you, though. Can I have your number?” You feel yourself smiling like an idiot, your embarrassment fading away. “Just to get the pants back, of course.”

“Yeah, definitely.” You reach into your purse to grab your phone as he hands you his, a new contact page already pulled up. You both save your name and number in each other’s phones. “My name’s Y/N, by the way,” you say a bit awkwardly.

“I’m Shawn. It’s really nice to run into you, Y/N. Hope I see you soon.”

“Just to get your sweatpants back, right?” You joke.

“Oh, yeah. Just because of the sweatpants.”

You both laugh a bit before waving, and you watch as he disappears back to the trail that he was running on.

Lilly whistles lowly. “Well, shit. You’re in for quite a ride with him.”

You had no idea how right she was.

Part Two

#hockeyshawn #Shawn Mendes Imagine #fluff #HOW DID YOU LIKE IT #Idk it's kinda long but it needed all that build up #PLS LET ME KNOW WHAT YOU THINK

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emersonfreepress · 3 years

Text

New Year's Eve 2000 @ the Emersons'

"Is he here? Have you seen him?!"

The laughter in Heidi's clique fades abruptly and the queen herself scowls at her brother for his interruption.

"Seen who?" Jessie asks in such a sweet tone Heidi's forced to wipe that sneer off her face. Good ol' Jess. Curt can always count on her to diffuse the H-bomb before it even gets going.

"Gabe." Curt does another cursory glance around the room and still doesn't see him. Then he checks his watch and groans. "It's like five minutes to midnight, where the hell is he??"

"I'm pretty sure he isn't coming," Madison says. She crosses her legs and looks up for a second in contemplation. "Is he even in town still?"

"What do you need him for?" Brooke whines with a pout and a subtle toss of blonde hair. "Come sit with us, the countdown's starting soon."

"Brooke," Curt starts. "You're beautiful."

Brooke quits pouting and preens under the unexpected compliment, batting her lashes with a small smile. "Curtis..."

"But I see you all the time."

She deflates just as quickly.

"Cortés said he would be here, he wouldn't just..."

The girls all stare at him. Madison fails to hold back a laugh.

"Oh." Madison covers her mouth slightly. "Sorry."

"He wouldn't just lie to you?" Heidi asks, voice dripping with sarcasm. Her eyes add, 'Are you stupid?'

Curt just groans again and walks away. He can't explain himself to them. Jessie might know what he's talking about but he's only got four minutes left to find Gabe and he's already got his answer: they haven't seen him.

Is it possible he really didn't show? Curt doesn't know how to feel about that. He's not an idiot, that was sort of what he expected. Gabe has skipped the holidays in Emerson for two years straight and it was pure dumb luck that Curt even spotted him at all downtown last weekend. He didn’t seem all that different, busy as ever somehow, but he'd at least had enough time for Curt to invite him to his parents' New Year's Eve bash and to give a polite yes.

Curt sighs. Maybe that was the sign. The politeness. Since when has Gabe ever been polite to him?

It's only ever hostile neutrality or whining with that guy...

Three minutes.

Curt is being stopped by a former classmate/future nobody or some family acquaintance every few seconds now. Even if Gabe is here, there's no way he's going to find him before the clock strikes twelve. Sighing forlornly, he decides to make his way back to Heidi and her friends. At least Brooke is reliable for a kiss.

- - -

"Oh!" Jessie beams and jumps up from her seat. "There you are!"

Gabe gives her half a genuine smile before settling into a more careful one for Heidi and the Madisons—um, Brooke and Madison. He should probably stop thinking of them like that.

"Hey, Jess." The two hug and Gabe shuts his eyes for a quick second as he gives her an affectionate squeeze. They part and he greets the other girls. Heidi shoots him a nod of acknowledgment and a raised glass while Madison gives him a short wave. And Brooke... crosses her arms and ignores him.

Okay...

"Curt's been looking for you," Heidi says, holding an empty champagne flute out to him before standing to grab their table's bottle of Dom. "Apparently you promised him you'd come."

"Ah, yeah. I wouldn't call it a promise, though. " Gabe almost passes on the champagne but Jessie's bright smile leads him to accept the glass and the alcohol that follows. "More like..."

"Placating a child?" Heidi asks, amused.

Both Gabe and Madison laugh at that.

"Sure, that."

"One minute, everyone!" someone shouts.

"Here we go..." Madison gets to her feet, nearly reaching Gabe's height in her heels.

Brooke jumps up, perplexed. "What, already? Who the heck am I supposed to kiss??"

"Aw, I'll give you a kiss, Bee."

Brooke's arms uncross just to rest on her hips alongside another pout. "That won't count, Mads."

Madison just laughs in response and teases Brooke some more. Meanwhile, the remaining empty hands around the room quickly fill with glasses while more and more people begin joining the countdown. Heidi makes sure their group's glasses are filled before swapping the bottle in her hand for a tumbler of whiskey and downing it. Gabe also notices her shoes are off and to the side—someone's had a long night.

Jessie lightly nudges him in the side with her elbow, breaking him from his observations.

"So are you leaving tomorrow, after all?" The soft smile on her face is hopeful so Gabe sighs, regretful to disappoint her.

"Yeah." He rubs the back of his neck. "I just... This town is..."

"'Stifling?'" They both wince a little, Jess in her attempt to keep a smile on despite her disappointment and Gabe at hearing his exact word quoted back at him.

"Right. It's not the people—"

Jess giggles and pats him on the arm. "Oh come on, Gabe. It's the people."

He rolls his eyes with a light laugh. "Okay, yeah. Even just being here right now..."

Jessie sighs. "Yeah, I know. It's always weird coming back just after a few months out of state. I can't imagine after two years."

Gabe nods, the thin glass stem in his hand suddenly feeling a little too brittle for how tense he is. How tense this environment makes him. He shrugs, though.

"Well, I'm glad I got to see you, at least."

"Ten seconds! Ten! Nine!"

Jessie hits him with the full brightness of her smile and one of her tiny bounces of joy.

"Yeah! Me, too."

- - -

Just as the entire party begins counting down from ten, Curt finally gains sight of his sister and her friends again. Brooke catches sight of him too and smiles, knowing exactly why he's returned. He smiles back at her for a second before he falters when he sees...

Ha! I knew he meant it!

He's never wrong about these things. Curt smirks hard and licks his lips, unable to keep from internally gloating. Gabe showing up at all is a victory in and of itself.

"Eight! Seven!"

Oh, wait. No, it's not. Curt speeds up his approach.

"Six! FIVE!"

It's only really a victory if he reaches him at midnight!

- - -

"I have a good feeling about 2001!" Gabe rolls his eyes, cynical as always, but Jessie cheerfully insists. "Just watch, this year is going to be perfect and—oh! Three! Two!"

Gabe refrains from counting but turns with everyone else to face the giant screen displaying the Times Square Ball Drop.

“ONE! Happy New Year!”

The room they’re in, and the rest of the house, erupts in raucous cheers, shouts, and champagne glasses chiming. Jessie nearly crushes Gabe with a giant hug as she shouts “Happy New Year!” and that manages to pull a real smile from him, even as they almost spill both of their drinks. They both laugh and clink glasses instead.

“Happy New Year, Jess.” He turns to the other girls, who are just toasting each other. “Happy New Year, Heidi. Madison.”

Heidi wears a polite smile and nods as she raises her glass to him and Madison enthusiastically clinks her glass against his with a breathless “Happy New Year!”

Gabe turns to Brooke, who’s turned away from him and is fluffing her hair. Should he bother? Eh... might as well. “Happy New Year, Br—”

- - -

Curt is vaguely aware of Brooke leaning into him as he walks up to Gabe, but his tunnel vision forces him to sidestep her with a smile. Everything’s fallen into place: it’s a bangin’ party, it’s midnight, Auld Lang Syne’s just started, and the belle of the ball has finally arrived. He doesn’t wait for the boy to finish whatever he was saying and just goes for it.

Gabe’s eyes widen just a bit before Curt plants a kiss fully on his mouth, placing one hand lightly at his lower back for support as he leans into him. Gabe lets out a stuttered breath and clasps at the lapels of Curt’s suit jacket to keep upright. That brings a cocky grin to Curt’s lips and he raises his other hand to brush his thumb along the bottom of Gabe’s jaw, just as lightly.

"Mm." Curt darts his tongue out to savor his old classmate for just a moment longer before finally drawing back. With a boyish smile and a slight bite to his own lip he says, "Happy New Year, Cortés."

Madison makes a strangled noise somewhere between a gasp and a shriek.

“God—DAMN it! I told you I needed my camera, Jessie!” The girl darts away in a flash of jet black hair and spilled champagne, presumably to go find it. Brooke has gone pale. Heidi rolls her eyes and takes a sip of her champagne.

Gabe is frozen, gobsmacked. After he starts to feel others’ eyes on them, though, his expression finally breaks into one of angered incredulity and he shoves Curt away from him.

"What is your fucking problem, Emerson?!" He wipes his mouth on his sleeve as his face breaks into a subtle yet violent blush. "Is—" Gabe’s expression clouds, the brief panic that was there gone in an instant. "Is that why you invited me?!"

Curt frowns, confused.

"Of course! I said I couldn’t wait to kiss you at midnight!”

Brooke, completely forgotten, makes an indignant sort of squawking sound.

Gabe's hands curl into fists and the look he throws him is venomous. "Curt."

“And I’ve said kissing you's on my bucket list?” Curt blinks, lost. “Like, a thousand times at this point, Gabe."

Gabe’s fists curl tighter and Jessie steps between them, her glass waved between the boys like a penalty flag and a deceptively natural smile plastered on.

“Oookay! Curt, I think you just startled Gabe. I’m positive he didn’t think you were being serious, right?”

“No, I fucking didn’t,” Gabe growls.

Curt has the gall to look even more confused.

“For six years?”

Gabe shuts his eyes, his anger in danger of rising faster than he’s able to suppress it.

“Jesus, Curt. Just apologize.” Heidi looks more annoyed than anything else. But at least Curt finally catches on to the huge party foul he’s committed.

“Sorry! Sorry, man. I thought you knew what I meant.” Curt is, for whatever it’s worth, blushing now, seeming actually embarrassed for once. When Gabe doesn’t reply, he raises his hands in a placating manner, then brings them together at his chin with a truly pleading look in his eyes. “I’m sorry, I’m really sorry. I’d take it back if I could, don’t be mad!”

Gabe rubs a hand over his face and lets out a long, hard sigh. Then his other hand rakes through his hair briefly as he looks away from the blond idiot.

“Fine. Fine.”

Curt sighs in relief.

Then, because it’s very important to him, he asks, “It was good, though, right?“

Heidi barks a laugh, flopping back down into her seat. Jessie winces and pleads, “Curt, no...” Brooke, of course, seethes and plops into her own chair, quietly downing the contents of her flute.

And even though the anger has dissipated, Gabe’s annoyance surges to new heights. But before he can even voice his disdain, Curt’s looking around the immediate area as if something’s just dawned on him.

“Oh, wait a minute.” Curt huffs, dissatisfied. “I’m the only one without champagne!”

#not canon #canon?#idfk #future canon whoosh #their names are Brooke Madison and Madison Feng btw 😂 hence the grouping #now to hopefully nurse this hangover completely away #and possibly cuddle with my cat but... that seems very unlikely lmao #cie snippets #i ship it #in my heart ^ ^

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susiequaz12 · 3 years

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Whumtober 1- All Trussed up and Nowhere to Go

This is part 8 to my Superhero/Sidekick story (which I completely forgot to update for a whole year, whoops). Part 7 is here, masterlist here.

CW: lady whump, possessive/intimate whumper, restrained in chains, manhandling.

- - -

“Oh come on darling, you haven’t eaten in over a week. Surely you must be hungry by now?”

“Quit calling me darling.”

Villain gripped the side of her face in one hand, bringing them nose to nose.

“I will call you whatever I want. Next time, if I’m the one in chains, then you can order me around. How’s that sound sugar?” He squeezed her chin, forcing her mouth open. “Now eat.”

He shoved the spoonful of food into her face, and she relcutantly accepted it. As soon as the spoon was gone, she spat it all back out in his face. The man reeled back in shock, before backhanding her across the face. She groaned out, the chains rattling abover her.

She was strung up inside of his office. He had a row of thick bookshelves behind his desk that were built into the walls, conveniently, with hooks for several lengths of chain to go through. She was pulled nearly off her feet, as her arms were outstretched above her. Her cheek now stung, flushing red as he clattered the bowl of food onto his desk.

“Listen Suzanne, my patience with you is wearing thin.” The villain picked up the small remote on his desk, and clicked on the tv that was across the room. “I can only be so kind.”

The picture across the tv displayed a place Anne was all too familiar with. She recognized the cheap paintings on the wall, the old beaten couch, stained carpet. From the angle the camera was pointing, they could see from the living room, into half of the hallway, and most of the kitchen. Standing in front of the fridge, hunched over to peer inside, was her sidekick.

Her heart perked up at the sight of him, and she watched as he rummaged uselessly for something to eat. He was unsuccessful and shut the fridge, sitting back down at their small table. He had his laptop open, but she was unable to see what he was working on.

“Look at him.” Villain stated. “He’s so hopeful. He’s been looking for you ever since you disappeared. Even the news has noticed at this point. After all, a sidekick without their hero? It’s unheard of.” The man paced around the room, waving around that same thick cane that he had all those years ago. “Tell me, exactly how much does he know? Hmm?” He raised the end of the cane to lift her chin up, and she glared into his face. “How much did you tell him?”

“I- I told him-”

“Told him what?”

She gritted her teeth at the lie she was so used to concealing.

“I told him I worked for a consulting firm.”

His laugh echoed around the room. “Exactly! A consulting firm. In a city as large as ours, there could be hundreds of possibilties. From where I see it darling, you have a few options.” He began to stroll around the room once more as she stared blankly at the screen.

“You can continue to fight. Making your efforts futile and yourself weak, until we break you, or, you can give up. Quit making this hard on yourself. Come back, work for me again, and we can do great things, Suzanne. Like we did before.”

“Great things?!” She shouted. Her chains rattled behind her and a few books tumbled to the floor. “Because assassination was such a great thing! Yeah right!”

Villain sighed. “Honestly Suzanne, look at him. He’s a big useless baffoon, who can’t do anything without mommy there to hold his hand. He won’t find you. He can’t find you.” The man stood less than a foot away from her, a finger, rising to lift her chin and she shuddered.

“My advice to you sweetheart? Let. Him. Go.”

Anger bubbled through her veins, rising up to her hands and she gripped the chains above her. In a swift motion, she curled her knees to her chest before kicking out and sending the man flying across the room.

He gasped as he crashed back against the wall, gripping his cane in a white-knuckled fist.

“I’ll never work for you again!”

She flinched as he came forward, swinging the cane above his head, and it came crashing down on one of the shelves beside her. Books went flying across the room as she tried to swing up her legs again.

“Never!”

“Guard!” He cried out. A heavily armed security guard burst into the room before he had a chance to shout again. Villain grabbed a black baton from the guard and thrust the end of it into Anne’s side. Within a split second, sharp pains began coursing through her whole body.

She clenched her teeth and groaned as she yanked on the chains. Her body convulsed and sweat poured down her forehead.

“I need to get me one of these.” The villain mused. He sent the guard back out of the room as Anne slumped in her restraints. He took a few steps closer to her and she instantly tried to swing her legs up once more, but he knocked them back with his cane.

“You’re just desperate to fight me aren’t you? Should I let you down and we can see how that goes?”

She shook a loose hair out of her face as she took in a shaky breath.

“I’d like nothing more.”

#whumptober2021 #no.1 #you have to let go #bound #ocs #my ocs #superhero and sidekick #lady whumpee #electrocuted #i hate that im posting a day late but i didn't have internet #we moved into our new apartment and got it set up today!

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wkemeup · 5 years

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Guiding Light (8)

summary: It was supposed to be a simple mission. Get the intel and go home. Until everything goes wrong and you’re taken captive by Hydra and now, Bucky can’t breathe without you. Not until he brings you home. If he even can. pairing: bucky x reader chapter word count: 8.1k warnings: angst™, cannon violence, mild reference to passive suicidal thoughts, description of a panic attack 🖤series masterlist // series playlist

Bucky took in a steady breath; a cold, calculated inhale as he focused his scope on a target sitting at a table outside a quaint café in Brussels. A light breeze filtered through his hair, enough for him to adjust the positioning of the rifle a few millimeters to the left before he took his shot. The man, dressed in a navy suit and dark tinted glasses, took a sip of coffee from the mug on the table, steam visible through the end of Bucky’s scope.

He positioned his finger on the trigger, the soft click of the safety as it released, and Bucky narrowed in his aim, ready to make that final pull, the difference between life and death with a single flinch of his finger.

“Busy, Barnes?”

Natasha’s voice chimed from behind him and his positioning faltered as he swung back an angry glare in her direction. Wearing her leather jacket hung over her shoulders and red hair worn up away from her face, she sat on the edge of the rooftop, back to the café and legs swinging aimlessly beneath her. She raised an eyebrow, searching for an answer to her question and Bucky rolled his eyes. He didn’t have time for her antics.

He turned back to his scope to find the target missing from the table. Gritting his teeth, he searched for the man amongst the crowd, only to find a short glimpse of him before he disappeared inside of the restaurant. Bucky sat back against his heels with an aggravated grunt.

“What the hell are you doing here?”

“Who’s the target?” Natasha countered, knowing eyes upon him and he knew she didn’t need the answer to confirm her suspicions.

“Not your business,” he replied shortly, unscrewing the end of his rifle and carefully placing the pieces back in the case. He’d have to take out the target on foot; up close, personal. It would be a welcomed change, could give him a chance to make sure that asshole knew exactly who was draining the life from his pathetic, feeble existence.

“Think it might be actually,” Natasha shrugged, jumping down from the lip of the roof, “since you’ve gone rouge and all.”

Bucky paused before he slammed the case shut, locking the rifle away. He stood to his feet; case gripped tightly in the palm of his left hand. Natasha watched him, studied him, because while he was still getting to know her again, she knew him better than most, knew the tells he didn’t realize he had. But Natasha had known the soldier, he reminded himself. It wasn’t the same.

“I’m not rouge,” Bucky grunted, shoving past her as he headed for the stairwell. “Steve knows where I am.”

Bucky’s hand grasped onto the door knob, warm from the beam of the sunlight and he turned it sharply before Natasha’s voice called out again.

“He also know you’re taking out Hydra agents on a hitlist without SHIELD jurisdiction?”

Bucky froze. He had told Steve he was taking time for himself, traveling for bit, because being in the compound a second longer was going to destroy him. Steve had seen him take the weapons with him, caught him as he loaded a rifle into his bag and about four different hand guns and a series of knives, but he didn’t say anything, didn’t question it. Bucky assumed Steve had his suspicions, but no one, not even the Captain, was going to challenge him after what happened in Times Square.

No one except Natasha, apparently.

“Go home, Natalia,” Bucky urged, keeping his back to her as she approached him.

“Can’t do that,” she retorted with a purse of her lips, arms folded over her chest, “not when you’re gonna get yourself killed.”

“I’m doing just fine.”

“Are you?” Nat accused, standing in his way as he attempted to pull the door open to escape this conversation. She pressed her hand against the door and slammed it shut. “If you were okay, you wouldn’t be out here killing off Hydra agents like it’s a damn hobby. Y/n wouldn’t want—”

“Don’t,” Bucky snapped, dropping the case and shoving Nat hard against the door. His forearm draped over her collarbone, pressing her securely in place.

If she was afraid, she didn’t show it. Always so calm, collected. Unaffected. She watched him carefully like she was searching his face for something he’d never say aloud. He hardened his features, unwilling to give her the satisfaction and pulled away, releasing her from his grasp.

“Y/n doesn’t want anything for me,” Bucky growled, voice low and unforgiving. “She’s dead.”

Natasha flinched, losing her cool demeanor for only a second but it was long enough for Bucky to notice, to feel a sting of guilt pierce through the impenetrable exterior he built around himself.

He hadn’t let himself think of you in the two months since you died. It wasn’t just because it was too painful; the mere memory of you cutting and ripping at the hole in his chest until he was broken and empty. It had become survival instinct.

In the days after the events in Times Square, he had been a mess. It took hours before anyone could convince him to leave the open streets, even as camera vans pulled in and reporters shot their footage of the winter soldier sobbing on his knees, frozen, paralyzed, as the rest of the world continued on, as pedestrians moved about their day. His legs grew stiff and numb from how long he stayed there, knees digging into the pavement and unable to catch his breath.

He couldn’t seem to get away from the nonstop coverage of the event. It was on every news network, every late-night show, in every newspaper. He was plastered across the cover of TIME magazine; an image of him kneeling in the open streets, Times Square brought to an agonizing stop, devastation on his face and images of the man in the black mask covering every screen in sight. He couldn’t escape the reminders of what happened to you.

He holed himself up in his room; didn’t eat or sleep for days, and only found rest when he wondered into Dr. Cho’s office and begged her on hands and knees to sedate him, because the thought of seeing you in his dreams was more than he could handle and the need for sleep was crippling his body at the seams.

Bucky wasn’t the only one suffering. He knew that. The whole team had loved and cared for you and they lost a member of their family, but for Bucky, it was more than that. You were the light in his life, his reason to get up in the morning, the crutch that held him up when his body ached. He put too much on you, put his recovery and the darkest parts of his mind for you to hold, but you made it too easy, always asking for his burdens to share, always wanting to hold his hand in the dead of night, always curling up against him when the nightmares pulled him under.

Bucky didn’t know how to be the man you loved anymore.

Somewhere along the line, he decided that the man you knew him to be wasn’t strong enough to survive this. The Bucky you loved was too soft, too weak to have protected you that day, to have saved you in that Hydra facility before you were even taken, to have rescued you before you were executed on the live television for the world to see. That version of Bucky broke on 7th Avenue.

The day he finally emerged from his room again, after he’d lost nearly fifteen pounds of muscle and dark bags hung heavy under his eyes, his beard unkempt and hair grown long and unwashed, he’d told Steve he was going to Spain for a while, said he would take some time away to find himself again; a bullshit excuse to fuel the rage and vengeance stirring in his chest and Steve agreed with little persuasion.

Only one month after your death and Bucky regained the weight he lost, packed on muscle and lived behind the scope of his rifle. He found a reason to live again and it was killing every son of bitch that was remotely rumored to have had any contact with you in your time in Hydra’s captivity. He didn’t care about trial and justice, or whether the rumors were true. He’d take out every Hydra agent he could find and it would ease the suffering in his chest. Every kill would make it just a little bit easier to breathe.

It was what he told himself anyway.

It was also how he ended up on a rooftop in Brussels two months later. He came back to the compound intermittently, feeding Steve lies of what he’d been up to, though he could tell Steve was more than aware of what Bucky was doing than he let on. He didn’t say anything, didn’t challenge him on it, and Bucky was thankful for that, at least. It seemed he wasn’t the only one hell bent on revenge.

“Bucky,” Natasha started, breaking through his train of thought, voice softer now as he reached out and put her hand on his shoulder. He stiffened under her touch. “You should come back with me. Don’t put yourself through this. You don’t have to be alone.”

Bucky clenched his jaw, teeth pressed so tight that it ached in his muscles. He yanked his arm out from Natasha’s reach and grabbed the case from the ground. He didn’t say another word, didn’t offer an excuse, as he shoved his way through the door, leaving Natasha on the rooftop alone.

***

Hours later, once the sun had gone down and Bucky tracked his target to a laundromat on the outskirts of the city, he grabbed his bag of weaponry from the trunk of his car. The soft chirps of crickets in the background in stark contrast to the hustle of the inner city, and Bucky pulled a handgun from his bag and slipped it into the holster at his side. He grabbed two knives and set them in place on his jacket before closing the trunk securely.

He had a job to do, one he would thoroughly enjoy.

“Whatcha got there, Barnes?”

“Goddamn it, Romanoff,” Bucky grumbled as red hair emerged from behind the shadows.

She was one of a very few number of people who could sneak up on him. Hands tucked into her pockets, her eyes glimpsed at the silver reflection of the knives strapped to Bucky’s chest before she turned back to the window of the laundromat where the man from the café was loading clothes into a washer inside.

Bucky gritted his teeth, shoving past her as he made his way to the door. “I thought I told you to go home.”

“Don’t think I ever agreed to that,” she responded flatly, following him. “What exactly are you planning on doing?”

“Go. Home. Natalia.”

There was a short pause that followed, one a lifetime could have sat between. He was nearly to the door when Natasha’s voice called out after him; softer, aching.

“Y/n was my friend too, you know.”

Bucky stopped dead in his tracks, breath caught in his lungs. His hands clenched into fists at his side, nails of his right hand puncturing his palms. The pain wasn’t nearly enough to distract him.

“Don’t say her name to me.”

“You don’t get to capitalize on grief, Barnes, and you sure as hell don’t get to control how the rest of us mourn!” Natasha shot back. “You don’t get to use her as an excuse to pursue a vengeance she never would have wanted for you! This doesn’t have to be who you are anymore. It was Y/n that showed you that, don’t you remember? You don’t have to be this.”

The Winter Soldier. Cold. Ruthless. Vindictive.

Bucky closed his eyes, unwilling to turn around and allow Natasha to see the painful clench of his jaw, the burn in the back of his throat, the red in the whites of his eyes. It had been so long since he’d heard your name, since he let himself even remember who he had been when he was with you, and it was all rushing back. He couldn’t let that happen.

He couldn’t let himself be weak again.

Bucky took a step forward but Natasha rushed around him, placing a hand on his chest and planting herself to the ground.

“Get out of my way.”

She shook her head and Bucky grabbed firm hold of her arm, metal gripping flesh and shoved her aside until she slammed against the trunk of the car with a grunt. Bucky was halfway to the door when she spotted her reflection charging at him through the window of the store. He spun on his heels to catch her leg in time before she kicked it against his side. He swung himself around, sending an elbow to her back. She retaliated with a punch to the side of his face though he barely felt it, even as blood gushed from his lip.

They went back and forth, Avengers fighting in the alley under the mask of darkness, evenly matched, until Bucky yanked the handgun from the holster on his thigh and aimed it straight at her chest.

Natasha’s eyes widened, flickering between the barrel of the gun and Bucky’s face. She was panting, heavy breaths in her chest as he stared at Bucky in disbelief.

But she’d never understand. Bucky knew with certainty that no one would. It was why Steve never asked questions when he saw the weapons in his bag. Bucky only knew how to fill the void inside of him with violence and vengeance. It was all he knew before you and now that you were gone, it seemed like it was all he could physically muster just to stay alive.

He looked at Natasha, red hair clinging to the sides of her face in sweat. He knew how much you cared for her, how she had been the one who trained you, who taught you that you could have more in your life than just missions and SHIELD. She was your closest friend and Bucky had been cruel to her, tossing her aside like her own grief meant nothing in comparison to his, but he needed to be selfish, needed to protect himself because if he didn’t, he’d drown.

“Y/n wouldn’t recognize you right now,” Nat exhaled. Her tone was lacking the malicious intent he deserved, only filled with a devastation he couldn’t quite understand.

Bucky lowered his gun and set it back in the holster.

“Go home, Natalia.”

With that, he turned on his heels in search of the next man on a list of names whose blood would find its way to his hands. She didn’t follow him.

***

A few weeks later and Bucky found himself in Bratislava at the center of a Hydra base. Blood coated his hands, dripping in clumps down his sleeves and soaking into the fabric of his jacket. Bodies lined the hallway from where he came, dozens of men who dared block his path. His escape plan had been thrown out the window the moment he stepped foot in the building because at the end of the long hallway, he spotted one of the men at the top of his hitlist, a low-level agent named Brent Murkowski.

Murkowski had been one of the men who had dragged you away from him all those months ago. Harsh hands wrapped around your arms as you kicked and screamed as Bucky tried to punch his way through the barrier with no avail. Murkowski had the nerve to smile at him, taunting him as they took you away, and Bucky was determined to cut the man’s lips from his mouth if that was what it took to ease the sharp pain that had taken residency in his chest

No man would stand in his way.

And no man did.

He killed every last one of them. The floors were red with blood. Murkowski was bent over the table, throat slashed, and Bucky felt no relief. Being numb would be better than this.

Feet sticking to the tiles from the blood under his boot, Bucky carefully moved to the doorway, only to find Steve standing it’s his frame, a strange mixture of shock, anger, and disbelief on his features as his eyes trailed over the series of bodies, the blood, until they landed on Bucky.

“Jesus, Buck,” he gaped, shaking his head, “this what you’ve been doing the last few months?”

Bucky shrugged, brushing his knife off on his pants. “Usually it’s cleaner than this. Been sniping ‘em from a mile away,” he said casually. He grabbed a hold of Murkowski’s hair, lifting his face for Steve to see and blood gushed from his neck. Steve winced. “This one deserved something more personal.”

Steve shook his head, hand brushing over his lips as he took in the scene. “This is insane, Buck. It’s not you.”

“You don’t know what’s me anymore, Steve.”

“Like hell I don’t!” Steve crossed the room in a span of a few paces and grabbed a hold of Bucky’s arm, dragging him out to the hallway. “You’re acting like you’re the only one who lost her! Like you’re the only one that’s affected by what happened! Nat was right. You’ve gone too far and I’m putting a stop to this. Now.”

“Oh, so now you have a problem with me killing off Hydra agents now that you’ve seen my work?” Bucky scoffed, ripping his arm from Steve’s grasp. “Or is it because your little girlfriend thinks I’m out of control?”

“Watch yourself, Buck.”

Bucky shook his head, clenching his jaw to hold the anger boiling in his veins in.

Steve sighed, gesturing to the far end of the hallway. “Get to the jet. I’m taking you home.”

“I’m not a child—”

“You’re sure as hell acting like one!” Steve shot back. “You’re throwing a temper tantrum with knives and guns and taking out your anger and your grief on any Hydra agent you can find! They deserve that. Hell, they deserve worse! But you don’t have to be the instrument to do it! It’s the last thing Y/n would want and you know that!”

“Will you people stop fucking saying her name to me!”

Bucky’s chest was panting heavily; the rise and fall heavy in his lungs, anger left unclaimed and unrestrained setting him ablaze. Steve shook his head, sadder now, as if seeing his brother this way, this lost and helpless, drained the frustration from him.

“She’s not just something you can push aside and forget about, Buck,” Steve said, his voice considerably softer now and his shoulders began to slump. “She was real and alive and she changed you. You can’t erase her from your life like she never existed. You can’t pretend didn’t love her.”

“I’m—” Bucky exhaled through his teeth, “I’m not. I’m taking down the people who killed her, Steve. She’d want that. We’re Avengers, aren’t we? It’s in the fucking title! I’m trying to avenge her since none of you will!”

“Look around you! All this blood and violence… You’re going to get yourself killed, Buck!” Steve shouted, slamming his hand against the wall enough to make Bucky jump. “Don’t you care at all?!”

“Yeah, well, maybe I don’t!”

The words slipped out before Bucky could stop them and wished for a moment that he could reach out a grab them from the air before they fell on Steve’s ears because the absolute look of devastation upon his friend’s face was worse than he could have prepared for. His name came out in stuttered consonants from Steve’s lips but he pushed past him before anything could be said, walking down the hall towards the jet.

He couldn’t talk about it. Not now. Not with fresh blood coating his hands and the stench of death in the air. Bucky couldn’t face another conversation about how he was throwing his life away, how he was being too reckless in his hunt to destroy Hydra, how he waited patiently for each of these self-destructive missions to be his last and relieve him from the burden of this never-ending pain in his chest.

Bucky had lived through so much in his life, too much for any one man to take on alone, and for a while he didn’t have to. For a while, he had you to lighten his load, to give him something to look forward to each day and for the first time in very long time, he started to think about days further out than the next, started to wonder if you’d like to go apple picking in the fall or Coney Island in the summer.

He had started to let himself fantasize about what a life would be like with you if he ever worked up the courage to tell you how he felt. His nightmares started to be replaced with pleasant dreams and his trainings in the gym were sparring at your side instead of beating a punching bag until his knuckles bled. He started running around the compound instead of running for his life. He was free.

But you were gone and any progress he made left with you. Though, if he was honest with himself, he was worse now than before he met you. At least then, he had been convinced he would never find something to live for, something that made his days on this Earth worth dealing with the torment he had survived.

Now, he knew there was. He had it in the palm of his hand and it was ripped from him, violently and without remorse.

He stalked up the quinjet and took a seat in his usual spot. Steve didn’t say a word as he filed into the pilot’s seat. It was a quiet flight back home.

***

It was easier out on the road where he could push you from his mind, where he wasn’t constantly reminded of you everywhere he turned.

He saw you stretching by the fridge in the kitchen wearing your workout gear and the smile that made him want to come out from the darkness. He saw you in the gym, on the sparring ring, heard your soft grunts and the laugh that echoed through the raptures when you’d finally get him on his back. He saw you down by the lake, by the bench you’d read on as he’d sit in the grass at your feet, your hand casually carding through his hair like it didn’t mean more than just innocent touches.

You were everywhere and Bucky couldn’t breathe.

So, he started spending most of his time in the east wing of the compound. It was largely unfinished, with exposed beaming and dry wall, wooden frames of the foundation peaking through. It was the only place that wasn’t haunted by you.

Tony had put the project on hold after you were taken, so it was empty, quiet, and Bucky could find sanctuary somewhere no one would bother him, where no one would ask how he’s doing or if he was willing to see his therapist yet because the answers were always ‘fine’ and ‘no’.

One day, he found a spare pair of gloves in the corner of one of the rooms and picked up a hammer. He was always good with his hands, so he started to follow the plans the builders had laid out. It gave his mind something else to focus on besides the cruel voices in his head.

It was where he went first thing in the morning and didn’t return back to his room until long after the sun set. Sometimes, Sam would bring him some food he’d leave by the door, hoping Bucky would try and eat something, and every once in a while, he brought it back with a few bites missing. It was improvement, at least.

Two weeks in to his new routine, he brought his laptop with him, in need of something other than the sharp sound of the hammer to distract his thoughts, and reflexively opened up to one of the many playlists you made for him. It hadn’t been his intention, didn’t even consider that this would be the first place he’d go for music, to the tracks you strung together at the foot of your bed. His hand hovered over the cursor, shaking, unable to even press play before he broke down in tears. It was the first time he cried in months and once he started, he couldn’t stop.

It was Sam that eventually found him, after he’d been sent to bring Bucky dinner, curled up on the floor, hyperventilating and tears streaming down his face. Sam had rushed towards him, dropping the plate as glass shattered on the expose wood. He skidded on his knees and wrapped his arms tightly around Bucky, urging him to find five things he could see.

“C-can’t,” Bucky gasped, clinging onto Sam’s arms.

“Yes, you can, Barnes,” Sam had replied sternly, squeezing his shoulders a little tighter. “Five things you can see. Do it now.”

Bucky looked around the room, though it was blurry and tunneled and losing focus, he caught sight of a pair of gloves on the floor.

“G-gloves,”

“Good. Four more.”

“Ha-hammer,”

“Keep going,”

Bucky nodded, doing as Sam instructed until he named all five items he struggled to focus his blurring vision on.

Then, Sam asked him for four things he could feel. Shaking hands dug into the fabric of his jacket, felt the way Sam’s arms restricted around him, felt the hard of the wooden floors under him, the muggy heat of the air. He told Sam so.

“Three things you can hear,” Sam continued, “Come on, man, do you’re almost there.”

Bucky nodded, telling Sam he could hear his own heavy breaths, agents talking down the hall, Sam’s stupid, irritating voice. Sam laughed slightly at that and Bucky told him he heard that, too. It was getting easier to breath but his head was feeling numb.

Sam asked for two things he could smell.

Bucky took a minute, forced in a harsh, shaken breath through his nose and reported back, “f-fresh wood and leather, from your jacket.”

“One thing you can taste,”

It was the last step. He didn’t want to say it aloud. It was too embarrassing, though, he supposed Sam had already seen the worst of it.

“Salt.” From his tears.

It took him a while to come back down from the haze, so long that his head was pounding and his arm felt numb by the end of it, but his heart rate did go down again, and he caught his breath.

He pulled away from Sam slowly, swallowing thickly and avoiding his eyes. Sam helped Bucky back up to his feet and offered him a short smile.

They never spoke of it again, but Sam started showing up to help Bucky with the renovations the next day, no matter how many times Bucky pushed him away.

Sam would hum to himself in the corner of the room, asking dumb questions, and undoing all of Bucky’s hard work and it drove him insane. But he found that he laughed when Sam caught his thumb under the head of the hammer and he started to tap his foot to the music Sam put on.

The days weren’t as long now with someone to talk to.

***

Bucky had been assigned for lunch duty, much to his reluctance. He left Sam behind in the east wing and jogged his way back to their kitchen. His own stomach was growling, which was new for him, and he wondered if it was part of the progress Sam talked about. He was starting to feel normal again, less of a machine, more like the man he was supposed to be, and he supposed that maybe eating meals three times a day was something he should be doing.

He pulled open the fridge, digging through the back to find the sandwiches Nat had put together for them this morning. He sighed, removing the bags and setting them on the counter as he noticed their names written in her handwriting, signaling who’s had mayonnaise on it. He wanted to apologize to her for how he’d treated her in Brussels but she wouldn’t hear it. Not because she didn’t accept it, but because she claimed it wasn’t necessary. He disagreed.

After grabbing a few water bottles, Bucky turned to head back to the east wing when he heard Steve’s voice from down the hall.

“Tony, you’re seeing things,” Steve said, voice strained, followed by a few drawn out footsteps. He was pacing. Bucky narrowed his eyes, leaving the sandwiches behind and following Steve’s voice down the hall.

“I’m telling you, Rogers, there’s something wrong here,” Tony replied, just as Bucky turned the corner to find the two of them standing at the end of the conference room.

Bucky’s heart nearly leapt from his chest when he saw what they were huddled around; an image of you on the television, tape pressed over your mouth, tears down your face. It was the video from the worst day of his life.

“Look at it,” Tony urged, pointing his finger at the TV. “There’s a fleck of gold in her eye in this frame. It’s subtle but it’s there. Go on, look!”

Steve looked closer, leaning into the television to get a better look, but his arms were crossed. He pulled away with a shake of his head. “Tony, I think you’re grasping at straws here. It’s probably the lighting.”

“You’re not listening to me,” Tony grunted, picking up the remote and zooming in until the entire TV displayed your eyes. Bucky grabbed onto the wall for support. “Look!”

“What am I supposed to be seeing here Tony…”

“Those aren’t Y/n’s eyes!” Tony shouted, almost gleefully, “That’s not Y/n!”

“Stop,” Bucky exhaled from the doorway, and though his voice was quiet, barely above a whisper, it instantly grabbed the attention of the two men as they turned around sharply, surprised to see him standing behind him. Bucky’s grip on the wall was so tight it started to warp under his grip. “Don’t do this, Stark.”

Tony stepped forward, quickly turning the TV off and your eyes faded away from the screen. “Barnes, I’m– I’m sorry. You weren’t supposed to see that.”

“Y/n’s dead,” Bucky gritted out, the words never any easier as they fell from his tongue. They tasted like poison in his mouth. “She’s gone, Tony. We all saw it happen.”

Tony paused, clenching his jaw like he was trying to keep quiet. It didn’t last long. “But what if we didn’t? What if it wasn’t her?”

“Tony, stop,” Steve warned. “There is nothing worse than false hope.”

“Then I’ll find proof,” Tony conceded as he exited the room.

Steve pinched the bridge of his nose, glancing over at Bucky nervously. “I’m sorry you had to see that, Buck. We all grieve in different ways and I think it’s just hitting Tony, you know? Think he’s struggling to believe it’s real.”

Bucky nodded, he knew the feeling well. “It’s okay. I get it.”

Steve smiled softly, putting a hand on Bucky’s shoulder. “I know how hard this is but it feels like you’re starting to find yourself again. Y/n would be really proud of you.”

It was the first time he heard your name without wanting to scream and yell and throw himself into the dark embrace of the soldier. For the first time, he felt a sense of calm. Still, hurt in his chest, but it was a deep kind of longing he didn’t think would ever go away. It was something he could survive though, he thought.

“I feel like I owe it to her,” Bucky confessed carefully, voicing thoughts aloud he struggled to let himself process on his own, “to be the man she knew. I think… I think she’d want me to be okay. I’m not there. Hell, I’m really far from it, but it’s something I can work towards.”

“Something to keep you going?” Steve asked slowly.

It was only three weeks since Steve found him in Bratislava and brought him home, since Bucky had all but admitted to Steve he lost his will to live when you died. It was the reason he was asking now and Bucky nodded sincerely, sorry that he had scared Steve enough for him to still be questioning it.

“Besides, I gotta fix all the shit work Sam did in the east wing,” Bucky shrugged, a light hearted tone in his voice for the first time in months.

Steve snorted back a laugh. “Better get back to work then.”

***

Nights were still hard but he was getting better with them since he started going back to see his therapist. Steve’s jaw nearly hit the floor the day Bucky had asked him for a ride. It wasn’t easy and he certainly wasn’t ready to talk about you, but he learned new skills for evading the nightmares in his sleep, for controlling the panic attacks when they came. Turned out Sam’s method for counting the senses was legit and he figured he should thank him again for that if he got the courage.

He realized with the help of his therapist that you were his main coping skill. It was you that talked him down after his nightmares, that held him when he struggled to find reality when he opened his eyes again. It was you who coaxed him down when he struggled to breathe, when he couldn’t catch his breath and he was too lightheaded to stand. You were the glue that held him together and now he needed to learn how to pick up the pieces himself.

So, when he woke in the middle of the night with sweat on his skin and his heart pounding painfully in his chest, he immediately threw his jacket over his shoulders, tugged on a pair of jeans and sneakers and tried something new for a change.

Instead of stalking off to the gym to beat his knuckles raw on a punching bag, he decided to borrow one of Tony’s cars and head into the city. It wasn’t usually something he did alone; too afraid of the stares and the chaos, the unpredictability, but it was a place that reminded him of you and he wondered, for the first time, if maybe it was okay to follow your ghost.

Hands tucked tight into the pockets of his bomber and a baseball cap over his hair to obscure his eyes, he made his way through Brooklyn. The breeze was cool on his back, the city much quieter at this time of night, and there was an era of peace to it he didn’t expect to find.

Without realizing where he was going, he found himself in front of the bookshop you had dragged him to in his first trip back into the city since before the war. It was closed for the night, but something in the window caught his attention. It was a poster, hung on the door behind the glass, an image of your face upon it, smiling, almost mid laugh. Above it, in clear font, it read, ‘New York Does Not Forget.’ Below, it the bottom corner of the page, scribbles of messy handwriting wrote, ‘even if she was a pain in my ass. RIP’.

Bucky couldn’t help the laugh that escaped him as he brushed his fingers over the glass, like touching it would bring him just a little closer to you. He could still see you arguing with the shop owner over when the building was built and the gleeful smile on your face when he conceded the argument. You still purchased all of your books here and Bucky knew it was a lot. Your feud with the owner was only in jest.

With a heavy sigh, Bucky let his hand fall away from the glass and back into his pocket. He shuffled back onto the sidewalk and followed the path wherever it led him.

Eventually he came upon a street with more people than he’d seen in a while. They huddled together at the crosswalk, waiting for the light to change, and then as one, they all crossed the street heading down towards something beyond what Bucky could see. He narrowed his eyes, watching as people from every corner of the block seemed to be heading in the same direction. They were all going somewhere together.

Curiosity getting the better of him, Bucky jogged across the crosswalk with a few seconds to spare. He followed the crowd down several blocks until he came upon a massive crowd, all gathered at the center of an open park. Signs in their hands, candles illuminating the darkness.

“Five months to the day,” a speaker said from behind a microphone, though her voice was soft, reserved. The crowd was silent as they listened. “Five months since we lost one of our beloved heroes.”

Bucky sucked in a harsh breath, jaw clenching on reflex.

“Nearly seven since she was captured while on duty with the Avengers, doing her part, behind the scenes, to keep the people of this country safe from threat,” the woman continued and Bucky was frozen in his spot. “We are gathered tonight to remember her sacrifice.”

Bucky couldn’t move. He was frozen on the sidewalk, staring into the gathering like an outsider. He didn’t belong here. Shouldn’t be a part of something like this. He struggled every day trying to convince himself it wasn’t his fault, tried to hear it in your voice because he knew it would be what you’d say, but it was a constant fight, one he rarely won.

He turned to escape when he felt a tug on his jacket. No one ahead of him, he narrowed his eyes suspiciously until he felt the tug again. Looking down, he saw a girl no older than seven staring up at him; big dark eyes and curly brown hair pulled up in a large bun at the crown of her head. She smiled up at him like he wasn’t something to be feared.

“You need a candle?” she asked sweetly.

“I—I um,” he gaped nervously, eyes darting down the street to somewhere empty, quiet, and he turned back to the little girl who was holding a candle up for him, waiting patiently for him to take it. He swallowed despite the dryness in his throat. “Thanks.”

She grinned, smile beaming, and that was when Bucky noticed she was wearing a shirt with your insignia on it. He let out a heavy sigh and watched as the girl skipped back over to her mom as she stood at the edge of the parking passing out candles to those who entered.

Trying to get a hold of himself, Bucky tilted the brim of his cap down to shield his eyes and he made his way into the park. He kept a careful distance from the others the best he could, but soon the small greenery was filled with people.

“Agent Y/l/n was more than just an Avenger,” the woman’s voice carried through the crowd, “she was a New Yorker. She was one of us.”

Murmurs of agreement followed, people whispering to one another and raising their candles.

“If you saw her on the streets, she’d greet you like an old friend. She was exceptionally kind and cared more about her city and the people in it than anyone knew,” the woman said as the crowd nodded in response. The woman let out a heavy sigh. “She was lost to us too soon. Taken by the evil she worked so vigilantly to protect us all from.”

Bucky clenched his jaw and he looked down to find the candle snapped in his hand. Panic shook him from his trance and he glanced nervously around to see if anyone noticed. He couldn’t afford to stand out, couldn’t have people looking at him, knowing he was there. He was certain he’d be chased out.

“Hey,” a voice said beside him and Bucky’s whole body clenched up. He turned to find a kid who looked about the age he was when he was drafted; young and in a NYU hoodie. He pressed his lips out into a thin line and extended his candle to Bucky. “Take mine.”

Bucky stared at the candle for a moment before he turned to the young man. He recognized Bucky, that he was sure of, but there wasn’t a trace of fear in his eye, or a disdain he was so certain he would find. Instead, there was only condolence, a sad smile as he gestured for Bucky to take the candle.

“Thank you,” he muttered and the kid nodded, giving him a reassuring smile.

Bucky felt a little less out of place after that.

He stood there for hours, listening to the woman at the microphone he’d come to find out was named Maddie. She worked down at the Boys and Girls Club and knew you personally. Bucky learned for the first time that you spent a Saturday afternoon there once a month visiting the kids, playing games, and teaching self-defense. He hadn’t known that and it made him smile; the idea that he could still learn new things about you even after you’d gone.

He listened as Maddie passed the mic off to people as they lined up on the stage of the small, makeshift stage, and they told stories of the short encounters they had with you. He listened as a young, college aged woman told the crowd about when she accidentally spilled coffee on you in that café you’d brought Bucky to once, and how you had been nothing but kind and laughed it off easily, even offered to buy her a fresh cup.

Then, a teenage boy came to the stage, fumbling and nervous, but he grabbed the mic with as much courage as he could muster. He talked about the day Hydra agents had flooded the streets and he had been separated from his father when he was just ten years old. It was before your days as an Avenger, back when you were on a SHIELD ops team, and he was proud to have a story about you from that time.

He spoke about how you had swept him out of the way of an oncoming vehicle caught in the crossfire of an attack in mid-town, how you held his hand for the two hours it took to help locate his father, and you never once complained, never tried to pass him off to an officer because he was just so damn afraid of anyone but you.

Bucky’s heart swelled with pride and he barely noticed the tear that brushed down his cheek.

It was story after story, strangers recalling the absolute best of you and it was more than Bucky had allowed himself to indulge in your memory for months. It was a breath of air and it was suffocating. It was relief and burden all at once.

As a middle-aged woman took the stage and recalled the day she was visiting Times Sqaure with her daughter, the day your face appeared on every billboard for a mile long, Bucky swore his heart stopped. He pinched at the bridge of his nose, desperate to hide his face because tears had welled up in his eyes, a sob creeping its way through his spine.

He gasped against the lump in his throat, trying to stifle his cries before anyone could notice and he almost turned to leave when he felt a hand on his shoulder. Wide eyes snapped to his right and he was met with a familiar face, a comforting one, who only offered him a soft, sad smile before he took his place next to him, carrying a candle of his own.

Steve.

He stared up at the speaker, listening intently and Bucky couldn’t take his eyes off of his friend.

“How did you–”

“FRIDAY,” he responded in a light whisper. He gestured to the back gate. “Once we figured out where you went, the whole team wanted to come.”

Sure enough, as Bucky glanced back at the gate, Natasha was gathering a few candles from the greeter. Sam was shortly behind her, talking with a young boy wearing a Falcon t-shirt, while Tony and Pepper walked hand in hand towards them.

Bucky nodded, a little overwhelmed as he turned back to the front. Steve’s hand gripped at his shoulder, firm squeezes in an effort to remind him he was there, that he wasn’t alone in his grief. The tears didn’t stop as he continued listening to the speakers, but they didn’t hurt as much after that, didn’t feel like shameful burns on his skin, but instead, like they were healing.

***

It was nearly dawn by the time the team made their way back to the compound. Climbing out of the cars, Steve’s arm was thrown around Bucky’s shoulders, laughing about some story Sam had told about the time you had nearly convinced Thor that you were the Queen of New York. For the first time in months, Bucky had tears in his eyes from something other than heartbreak, cheeks burning with laughter.

The sun was rising in the distance, casting a stunning reflection of pale oranges and pinks and yellows over the tree line, and Bucky stopped for a moment, just letting himself take it in, to see something of beauty again. Steve clapped his hand against Bucky’s back, giving him a smile that was filled with of pride and relief.

Bucky wondered then if maybe he could find a way back to the light.

But then, a scream pierced through the grounds and Bucky’s heart stopped hard in his chest. It echoed and broke through the tree lines, surging birds in flight through the morning sky. Broken and fearful and full of a devastation Bucky didn’t even know how to place, he stumbled back out of Steve’s grip.

Steve sprinted towards the scream and Bucky quickly realized it was Natasha who had voiced such a sound. Shaking himself from his stupor, Bucky chased after Steve, running as fast as his feet could carry him because if anything was to scare Natasha like that, it had to be some awful, something truly terrifying and she’d need the entire team on alert.

It was only a few seconds before Bucky approached the rest of the team to find them gathered around something on the floor. Natasha was on her knees, gathering something up in her arms, though she was blocked from his view by the rustling crowd approaching. Tony was barking orders at agents as they approached with a kind of panic in his voice Bucky hadn’t heard before.

“Someone call Cho, now!”

Cho? Why would they need to call Cho, Bucky wondered as he glanced at Steve’s back only to find his muscles stiff, clenched.

“How the hell is this possible?” Sam gaped; his hands clasped on his head as he stared down in disbelief.

Bucky still couldn’t get a good look of whatever they were gawking at, but as Steve turned to face him, an unreadable expression on his face, his eyes wide and his lips parted in a loss of words, speechless in a way Steve Rogers never was, Bucky shoved his way forward until he caught sight of what laid at their feet.

Heart plummeting to the depths of the planet itself, knees weak and he nearly collapsed if it wasn’t for Steve’s sudden hold on him. Barely able to stand on his own feet, leaning heavily on the super soldier behind him, Bucky couldn’t find his voice, couldn’t even find it in him to scream or cry or speak a single word.

It was the culmination of months of heartbreak and anger and pain all shoved back into the span of a few seconds. Nothing he had experienced in the last seven months came anywhere close to this, to what he saw wrapped in Natasha’s arms, bloodied and scarred and teetering on the edge of consciousness, but so incredibly alive.

You.

—-

This was one of my favorite chapters to write. idk why that says about me but I loved writing Bucky in so much pain and going through stages of healing lol

Your feedback has been so wonderful and encouraging and I cant tell you how much every comment and reblog means to me so thank you! We clearly have more to go so hold on tight my friends 💕

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loveislattes · 4 years

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Patience Is Key (Darkiplier/Fem!Reader) Chapter 1

Commission prompt: Reader only knows that sex is pain, so Dark shows her otherwise...?

Caution! This story does contain mentions of past borderline-abusive relationship and there is one scene that slightly delves into the situation, but it never goes further than pushing and forced kissing.

This chapter is SFW other than some cursing. The next chapter will be the oh so lovely smutty bit. ^^ Chapter 2 will be out next week!

“Ah, damn it!”

The curse left my lips the second I finally registered that I had dropped the extremely large box of pots and pans on my toe, and not on the flat floor as intended. Jerking back, I fell into the rickety wooden chair behind me and pulled my injured foot up into my lap with a wince.

“Why am I such a fucking klutz?!” I wheezed through the pulses of pain.

It took a few minutes of babying my poor toe but eventually, I managed to soothe away the pain and get back onto my feet. Why was it that toe injuries always felt so much worse than other injuries? As I debated that question, as well as the existential existence of pain at all, I got moving about the sparse kitchen once more. The boxes weren’t going to empty themselves after all and I only had the two days until I started my new job to get it all done.

“Lord knows if I had to take one more extra day off, it’d be the end of the world,” I muttered under my breath.

Working retail had to be one of the worst career choices in the world. Sadly, it was all I could find for the time being and this new house mortgage, low as it was, wouldn’t pay itself; Not to mention that my savings were meager at best and wouldn’t last long if I had to rely on them, thanks to my problematic ex.

This house was a blessing in disguise and I definitely couldn’t afford to lose it. A beautiful victorian-style two-story home at only four hundred fifty a month, with no real damage other than cosmetic updates needed? Yeah. It was practically impossible. My first thought was that it had a sordid past, whether drug crime or murder related, but that didn’t seem to be the case thankfully. The owners had inherited it and we’re willing to sell it for a steal just to get rid of it so they didn’t have to pay taxes and insurance. Their loss, my gain, apparently.

I had gotten so lost in my thoughts about work and the house that I was done moving the last of the boxes before too long. Score one for daydreaming!

I set about organizing my cabinets next, emptying the boxes one by one until they were all barren and tossed to the back of the room.

“That’s a problem for future-me,” I muttered, running a hand through my hair with a huff, “I guess dinner is next on the list. Never a better time to find out what take out they have around here!”

I meandered into the living room and plopped down on the worn couch, pulling my laptop into my lap. While waiting for the screen to wake up, I grabbed the TV remote from the coffee table and turned it on as well, needing the background noise with how silent the old home was. I’d definitely have to keep an eye on that or else I’d find myself creeped out even without anything happening. A random cartoon filled the large screen and jaunty music spilled from the speakers as the characters conversed. Shrugging, I tossed the remote back down on the table and returned to my laptop.

After logging in, a quick google search led me to a page full of restaurants both familiar and new to me. Moving to a big city definitely had its perks!

“Now the question is which one,” I sighed.

It took a few minutes of debating but I finally settled on ordering from a highly rated Chinese restaurant across town. I was promised my food in about twenty-five minutes and a delivery tracker popped up on the screen right after.

“That’s nifty!”

Setting the laptop back onto the table with the dimmed screen facing my direction, I let myself be pulled into the ridiculous antics of the cartoon characters on TV until a commercial came on. My eyes instinctively drifted over to the laptop to check on the tracker. The red line was about halfway across, indicating they would be leaving the store soon. Nice! Unfortunately, I also caught my reflection on the screen and couldn’t help but take a moment to fix my hair out of reflex. As I adjusted my top to look less wrinkled, I suddenly noticed a black shape in the background, near what would be the corner of the room behind the couch. I froze, heart pounding in my throat as my eyes widened.

“No way,” I whispered.

Leaning in closer, I focused on the shadow. Too afraid to actually turn around and look, I hoped I could debunk it from this angle alone. I was just about convinced it was actually a part of the LCD going out in that one spot- when suddenly it moved!

“FUCK!”

An uncontrollable screech left my lips as I leaped up from the couch. Spinning to face the shadow, I reflexively snagged up the throw pillow on the couch and tossed it full force in that direction while trying to move away. Unfortunately, I forgot exactly where I was standing in the new layout and the fact that the table was behind me. I was reminded painfully of that fact as my calf muscle slammed hard into the solid wood and I went careening backward. I frantically tried to catch myself but only succeeded in slamming my elbow into the edge of the table and whacking my fingers against the floor in a way that made me see stars.

Tears pricked behind my eyelids as I hissed through the urge to cry. I was about to lie in a puddle of agonizing defeat until I remembered the whole reason I fell. With a curse, I rolled over to my hands and knees, panting as I looked toward the offending part of the room. There was nothing there. No shadow and no reason I should have ever seen one there; no coat rack, no bookshelf, nothing. Just a bare wall.

“What the hell was that?!” I groaned.

Now that there was no impending, visible, threat, I spent a good few minutes taking all my injuries into account. Sore calf, elbow, and fingers. Bruises were likely in each spot, unfortunately. Thankfully it didn’t get any worse than that. With my luck, I was surprised I didn’t crack my head open on the floor instead. It was with a heavy, defeated sigh, that I succumbed to the need to lay flat on the floor and catch my breath.

“I’m losing it. That has to be it. All the stress of the move and being alone just got to me,” I assured myself quietly.

I wasn’t sure how long I wallowed there in self-pity, but it couldn’t have been as long as it felt because I was soon roused by the sound of someone knocking at the door.

“Foooood!”

Collecting my fallen pride and battle wounds, I scrambled up off the floor and rushed to the front door, snagging my wallet from my purse on the way. The delivery driver was nice enough and we made small talk as we exchanged food and money. I thanked him after he mentioned their loyalty program then shut the door before hesitantly making my way back into the living room. As I scanned the rather empty space, I was relieved to find it just as it was before; no shadows in sight.

“I’m probably gonna have nightmares from that shit too,” I muttered, plopping onto the couch and popping open the box.

With a little shake of my head to clear my thoughts, I returned to the show and let the thoughts from the day slowly melt away with every mouth full of delicious food.

…

It took two months of living in the new house to finally feel more at home. Most everything was put away and decorations filled the walls, warming up the once empty and creepy place. I no longer felt like an uncomfortably unwelcome stranger. The thought of that shadow did, unfortunately, still linger in the back of my mind every night though. I’d be fine all day until it was nighttime and dark in the house. Once the sun was down, it was like my gorgeous home was a totally different place. I didn’t see that moving shadow anymore, but I swore I saw things out of the corner of my eye and it constantly felt like I wasn’t alone.

One particularly rough night left me searching the entire house for hidden cameras and trapped doors because I could have sworn I was being watched. Of course, I found nothing of the sort, but it didn’t lessen the fear by much. I even started making myself go to bed earlier than usual just to avoid being alone with my paranoid thoughts. Something had to give before I went crazy!

I was even to the point of considering making new friends; Something to break up the monotony and constant feeling of being alone. Maybe inviting another person into the house would make the eerie feeling go away? One could hope! I wasn’t in the habit of bringing home people, due to my ex, but it was getting to the point where it might be necessary. A person could only take so much alone time!

A rapid knocking on my door tore me out of my lonely thoughts and back to reality with a jolt.

“Who could that be?” I muttered under my breath.

I hadn’t ordered any food and I was pretty sure I hadn’t ordered anything off Amazon recently. Uncurling from my nest of blankets, I hastened to the front door when the visitor knocked again. Impatient buggers weren’t they?

“I’m coming!”

Without thinking to check the peephole first, I pulled the door open and instantly recognized the horrible mistake I had made. I tried slamming the door shut before he could enter but already I was too weak with fear; simply seeing his menacing face leaving me powerless. He was easily able to catch the wood and shove his way in as if I weren’t even there.

“Heeeey baby.”

I wasn’t even given a breath’s moment to respond. Instantly his hands were on my shoulders and I was slammed into the wall. Pain exploded through my skull and my knees weakened dangerously as I struggled through frustration and fear.

“You thought ya could just move away and I wouldn’t find ya, baby? Ya outta know better’n that.”

The familiar sensation of bile rose in my throat when his lips smacked against mine. It took all of my resolves to hold it down. It would only add insult to my injury because he wouldn't give a damn and I’d be left worse for wear.

“Aw, come on. Play nice with me, won’t cha? It’s been far too long since I’ve seen ya.”

All I could manage was a timid shake of my head.

Fuck, it was like this any time he was around! Just being in his presence made the littlest of movements hard, like my body just instinctively gave up to avoid more trouble even though my heart told me to fight. If I could fight back, he’d probably back off after a while but I just couldn’t. Flashes of the times he tried to force himself on me, drunk and belligerent, held me back from it. Giving in was just easier, safer, in the long run.

I felt the numbing sensation of acceptance slide through my muscles when his mouth pressed on mine again. Disgust and hatred bubbled in my gut; not only for him but also for myself. So weak, pathetic.

Out of nowhere, the deafening sound of doors slamming rang through the air, causing us both to jump apart. With a Yelp, I clapped my hands over my ears to block out the painful noise as I looked around in shock for the source. To my utter disbelief, I found the cause to my cabinet doors, opening and shutting at breakneck speed. It only lasted for about half a minute before suddenly they stopped, just as abruptly as they had started. My astonishment was cut short by a cry from across the room.

Having abandoned his pursuit, my ex now stood frozen near the door, ashen white and shaking. Upon closer inspection, I thought I could see a faint shadow around his throat but my line of vision was disrupted when he turned and rocketed out the door. Once the entryway was clear, the door shut calmly behind him.

It was deadly quiet in the aftermath of whatever the hell happened. The sounds of my heavy breath were the only noises in the air. Scared, but thankful, I hesitantly surveyed the kitchen and the living room for any sign of what had caused the disruption. There was nothing, of course. Not even a hint of the shadow I had spotted months ago.

Letting out a nervous sigh, I ran a hand through my hair and said, “Thank you… whoever you are."

I didn’t wait for a response before high tailing it to my room and diving under my fluffy comforter, torn between calling my mom or crying until I fell asleep. My body made the decision for me before I could contemplate it for long, shutting down and passing out quicker than anticipated.

When I woke, it was dark in the room. The radio clock beside my bed read an irritating one thirty am. Despite having slept for six hours, I felt like I hadn’t slept a wink; nightmares resounding in my head like sirens the entire time.

Rather than trying to force myself back to sleep, I slipped out of the bed, determined to get some hot tea or cocoa to help soothe my inner demons. Unfortunately, I spotted my reflection in my vanity mirror on the way by and I felt compelled to stop. My usually glowing skin looked pallor and lifeless and the bags under my eyes gave the same sentiment.

“Fucking hell,” I muttered, pulling at my bedhead locks in frustration, “I’m not gonna recover from this.”

My outside reflection was only a sliver of the mess that was inside my mind though. And I knew I would get over it in the long run but it always felt so impossible at the start. I just had to turn the sadness into anger. My thoughts were derailed by the sudden feeling of eyes on my back; That familiar itching sensation of being watched sending shivers down my spine. I didn’t see anything in the room around me but when I finally turned back to the mirror I spotted it; an eerily familiar shadow. It was only moments before there was a man suddenly standing behind me in the reflection.

Although my mouth moved, trying to scream or make any sort of sound, nothing would come out. Scads of questions bombarded my already frazzled sense of sanity as I tried to scream until eventually a worrying sense of calm washed over me in place of the stilted panic.

“I’m not going to hurt you,” he assured me as if reading my mind.

The low timbre of his voice made the rational part of my brain melt but the way it reverberated around the room sent my hairs standing on end. My body instinctively went stiff and still as his arms reached around my sides. Cool fingers rested on my forearms and slowly rubbed the goosebumps away in a soothing manner while he stepped closer. I could hardly meet his eyes in the reflection without feeling as if I were staring a predator head-on.

“How did you get in here?” I finally managed to ask.

An absolutely devastatingly handsome smirk curled up his lips before he flashed large, sharp, pearly whites down at me.

Oooh fuck, those were some pointy fangs.

“I’ve been here the entire time, darling. You’re the one who barged in rather abruptly when you decided to move in.”

I began to question my sanity once more as his form slowly lost color and brightness in the mirror, becoming a barely distinguishable shadow behind me. Though his touch on my skin never diminished, to the eye he was nearly invisible. Just as gradually, he filtered back into view.

His reasoning was lost to me as I tried to figure out just what was going on until eventually, it clicked.

“You’re the mother fucking shadow that has been driving me insane, aren’t you?!” I shouted, jerking out of his reach and spinning to face him, “Just how in the hell did you do that? Why have you been scaring me? What-”

His hand came up swiftly and I froze immediately, only able to watch as he cupped my jaw. A whimper reflexively slipped out as his thumb pressed against my lips.

“To answer your questions in order: Yes, I am. Shifting is just one of my many abilities. I have not meant to scare you, well, not these last few weeks anyhow. I’ve become- let’s call it- fascinated. Most would have left by now and yet here you stand, heels dug in like a stubborn mule. You’re intriguing.”

The moment he released his hold, I found myself asking, “What are you?”

“What do you think I am?” he retorted, stepping back and slipping his hands into his pockets.

I simply shrugged. How should I know? Before now, I didn’t believe in anything supernatural, but now I was questioning that stance.

“A demon? A ghost?” I replied.

He hummed momentarily before cocking his head to the side, eyes narrowing as they burned into mine.

“Does that scare you?”

So many freaking questions! I scrubbed a hand over my face wearily before slapping my palms against my thighs and mentally admitting defeat.

“Unless you’re going to kill me, no. You were terrifying in that shadow form but now that I’ve seen you face to face, I’m not so scared. Don’t get me wrong, I have a healthy respect for you but it’s also comforting to see that you’re not some decayed-looking ghost who is going to warp my face by looking me in the eyes,” I hesitated as another realization hit me hard then carefully added, “Not to mention, I’m pretty sure you’re what saved my ass earlier… right?”

There was a flurry of emotions across his face as his brows knitted together before he seemed to relax some and amusement showed at last.

“You are just full of surprises, aren’t you?”

I shrugged in response before finally slipping past him to sit on the bed, the shakiness of my legs becoming too much to bear. I could put on a brave face but my body could give way any second. I had been through too much in the last twenty-four hours. Once seated and more comfortable, I met his gaze again.

“Am I right? Were you the one that scared him away?”

He hummed and tilted his head once in a positive indication before adding, “Luckily for him, he’s as cowardly and self-concerned as most of you humans. Had that not have worked, I would have been forced to take further measures.”

The way his echo deepened and his fangs flashed in an animalistic snarl sent more goosebumps up my arms and neck. Fucking hell. My emotions were having a hard time keeping up through it all; enamored by his good looks, terrified by his powerful aura, curious about his existence. He was, simply put, overwhelming.

If it wasn’t for his discoloration, echoing voice, and the fangs, he’d seem like any ordinary human. A very attractive human at that… I had to stop that train of thought right there! I’d be just like me and my horrible taste in men to get a crush on the ghost- demon- thing.

“So, um, you said you were here before me. Are you stuck here, like a ghost or something?” I managed to ask while rubbing my goosebumps away.

“No. This is merely a residence of convenience. Your closet holds a portal to my realm and it’s the simplest way in and out for me. I choose to stay here when I must remain in the human world for any amount of time. You’re the first person to live here in decades.”

I thought my heart was going to jump out of my chest in bewilderment when he suddenly moved towards the bed at an inhuman speed. A reflexive flinch had me jerking away when he reached out for me but he was quicker, hand snagging my chin to keep my gaze solely on him.

“Your turn to answer a question for me,” he stated without giving any room for argument, “Who was that man from before, and what is his concern with you?”

Eyeing him warily, I chewed on my lip then answered honestly, “My ex. I wouldn’t say he’s necessarily concerned about me. More so he’s concerned about losing his control over me. He was borderline obsessive and abusive.”

“Do you foresee him being a problem in the future?”

That was a hell of a question. Would he be back? I didn’t even really consider that after how fast he’d run away before but it was always a possibility.

“I honestly don’t know. I guess I should invest in some ADT or something, huh?” I half-assed joked, forcing on a weak smile.

The flat line of his lips told me that he didn’t find my statement as funny as I did. However he did, at last, relinquish his hold on me.

“I will not stand for a brain dead ape damaging my property. If he comes back, he will be taken care of once and for all.”

Some little devious part of my mind dared to question if he was actually talking about the house, or if he was subtly making a claim over me. The domineering air around him made it seem like a slight possibility. I felt the heat flare over my cheeks before I could stop it and quickly wrapped my arms around my chest defensively before sinking back further onto the bed.

As if a private moment were suddenly disrupted, he cleared his throat loudly and stepped back while adjusting his suit jacket.

“I need to be going. It was nice to officially meet you. If it sits well with you, I will be more prominent around the house since I no longer need to avoid you.”

I nodded and awkwardly replied, “Yeah, er, that’s fine. I mean, it’s more your home than mine anyway, right?”

He made a noise of agreement then turned toward the closet, but stopped with his hand on the doorknob. There was an indescribable expression on his face when he turned back; the whites of his eyes darker than before.

A smirk that could only be read as cruel crossed his lips and he said, “You may call me Dark. If he comes back when I’m not here, simply ask for me and I’ll be here.”

#darkiplier x reader #darkiplier fanfiction #two part post #angst #fluff #smut

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boat-dock · 3 years

Text

“Snapshots” chapter 3

Guess who’s actually being productive and writing over her holiday break!! I hope y’all enjoy this chapter and as always all feedback is appreciated and enjoyed

@schese

Chapter 3: “Far From Angelic”

The royal wedding is happening in Scotland while Millie is home in Texas for the holidays, this is the longest they’ve been apart since they’d started dating and Millie finds that she is missing her girlfriend more than she anticipated.

Millie’s alarm tore through her peaceful sleep at the ungodly hour of 2:30 am. Groans came from around the room as she flailed blindly to turn it off. Every ounce of will power she had was used to drag herself from bed and into the sticky Texas air. Even during December it was still hot.

Without thinking she shoved Lee awake and loudly told Jude and Darcy -who were on the other side of the room still asleep- to get up and come downstairs. Things were strange with Jude still but they were getting better. Going away to Scotland had done her a world of good, well that, and the gorgeous princess she’d fallen for. She’d been emailing back and forth with Flora every day since she’d come back home and Flora had gone back to Edinburgh for the wedding.

The wedding. That was the reason for her being up before the sun. This morning over a thousand miles away Prince Alexander was getting married and it was being broadcasted live all over the world and she and her friends were going to watch it.

They crawled down the stairs and crammed onto the couch, Darcy was asleep again as soon as she sat down. Lee started flipping through the channels searching for the program they needed. In the kitchen, Millie could hear her aunt Vi moving around making them breakfast and hopefully coffee. After clicking down the brightness Millie checked her phone to see a yellow notification.

A Snapchat from Nicola. They had exchanged social medias after their brief meeting but they had never reached out and on a day as hectic as this one she was confused as to why she would.

The video was from hours ago, that would be early even for the people in Scotland. She clicked it and the video that played brought a grin to her face.

Familiar golden hair and eyes appeared along with a dazzling grin. Her girlfriend’s makeup was done elegantly but her hair was still down and she seemed to be wearing some kind of silk robe. Behind her a cluster of makeup and hair people moved throughout the room. “Hello love!” She sang, giving a small wave. Ears perked up around the room and her friends leaned in closer to watch the video. “ I know you’re still asleep but I just wanted to say I miss you and I wish you were here.”

Millie’s heart skipped a beat and she is filled with an overwhelming longing for her girlfriend. They’d only been dating for a few months but she missed her like a missing limb now that they were apart. Long distance was not going to be easy.

A distant voice comes through now from somewhere beyond the phone,” Who are you talking to?” then Daisy’s face appears over Flora’s shoulder, with a champagne glass in hand. Next to her Lee leaned his head on her shoulder, letting his eyes start to drupe shut again.

“I’m sending a message to Quint,” Flora started, then backtracked,” Millie,” so that the others know who she is talking about.

“Hi Millie,” Daisy smiled, “I’m jealous that you’re still asleep right now” Millie chuckled as a voice that she couldn’t make out and was definitely in a different language got Flora’s attention.

“Got to go darling, time for hair,” she blew a kiss at the camera before it turned black.

She halfheartedly raked her fingers through her hair as she started to send a reply. “I am awake,” she announced as a form of greeting. “And so are all of my friends, well most of my friends,” she glanced around and to say they were awake would be a definite white lie,” and we are ready to watch this wedding.” Somewhere along the way someone’s legs ended up in her lap, they were all piled on top of each other so she didn’t know who they belonged to.

“You look beautiful by the way,” Millie stifled a yawn and offered a sleepy smile. “And you need to remember to thank Nicola for letting you use her phone to talk to me,” it wasn’t a secret that Nicola didn’t not want to be in Scotland for the wedding and she was sure that Flora wasn’t making it any easier.

The sounds from the kitchen were getting louder and were followed by an amazing smell. Jude perked up beside her at the aroma and the tell tale beeps of the coffee pot. Despite this Millie kept talking,” I hope everything goes well today and tell everyone hi from me,” in the middle of her talking Vi’s voice sounds from the kitchen.

“Pancakes!” She calls and the formerly dead tired kids around her launched themselves from the couch effectively knocking Millie over and kicking the phone out of her hand.

They were beating her to breakfast. If she didn’t get there soon all the coffee would be gone, but she had to finish off this video before going. Slightly breathlessly and disheveled, she pulled the camera back to her face and breathed,” pancakes gotta go,” then threw the phone and bee lined for the kitchen.

After devouring their breakfast and downing their coffees they all made their way back to the living room and settled in front of the tv. Crowds of thousands lined the streets and cheered, waving flags and throwing flowers, as a line of cars drove through. Millie knew that somewhere coming up behind them was a carriage carrying the bride but all she could think about was that in one of those cars was Flora.

Beside her, her phone dinged with another message from Nicola.

The video started with Flora smiling at her while Seb took a swig from a small silver flask. “I want pancakes so bad right now,” she whined, but Millie almost didn’t hear a word she was saying.

Millie’s breath hitched in her throat. With her hair up in a dramatic updo and a tiara gracing her head, her girlfriend glowed like an angel and it was enough to stop Millie in her tracks and make her mind go blank.

Anyone who knew Flora knew she was far from angelic, but today she looked the part and no doubt she had been instructed to play it without fault. In the eyes of the media Flora was a rebellious party girl who lived for attention and drama, and they honestly were not wrong. That was what she had thought of the young princess when they first met, and she might have thrown in a few more explicit terms, but now after getting to know her there was a different side to Flora. It was hard to pinpoint the change. Her jabs became friendly instead of pointed and her smiles became genuine. She had chipped away at Millie’s defenses until she fell hopelessly head over heels for her.

She knew that Flora had wanted Millie to be at the wedding with her and had even gotten permission from the queen for her to come, but Millie had to decline.

She had been looking forward to going home for Christmas to see her friends and family since she left for school and it wasn’t fair to any of them if she decided to stay in Scotland over the holidays. Besides what would she do at a royal wedding besides stick out like a sore thumb.

“Roomy Quinte!” Seb exclaimed, obviously already quite tipsy despite how early it was and how important a day it was. “Welcome to the party.”

Millie grimaced and Flora shoved him away, but she seemed unconcerned. “I”m glad you’re up. We’re about to reach the church now so I will not be able to talk for a while, but I’m glad to be able to see you before we go.” Millie wasn’t sure how or why Flora still had Nicola’s phone but she really hoped that she remembered to thank the young girl, who had given up so much of her time to making sure everything went off without a hitch.

“That is enough Flora,” came the stern voice of her mother from behind the camera and for a split second Flora’s face hardened with rebellion before she skillfully pacified, determined not to cause any issues.

It wasn’t for her parent’s benefit but for her brother’s. Flora adores her older brother and this was one of the biggest days of his life -second only to his inevitable coronation day- and the pressure of it all was overwhelming. She was going to do everything she could to make it easier for them.

With a tense obviously fake smile, Flora said to her,” talk later my love and wish us luck.”

The screen clicked to black and Millie turned her attention back to the tv. The cars had finally reached their destination and she caught half a glimpse of Flora and her finally exiting the vehicle before the video switched to the golden carriage adorned with flowers carrying Ellie and her father. Her face was covered in a large veil and Millie couldn’t get a clear look at her, but she could see the delicate lace that lined her arms.

She’d only met Ellie briefly, but she knew that she was kind and deeply in love and Millie’s heart warmed for her. Across the room aunt Vi shot her a look as Flora came back on screen and Millie blushed before rolling her eyes.

She knew that look and knew that when they were alone they would have to talk about it. Aunt Vi liked to pry and she had been suspiciously quiet on the topic of her dating a Scottish princess.

She had always had her future planned out, get a scholarship for college, then get into an amazing doctoral program for studying geology and a princess with an attitude problem didn’t fit into that plan. A future with Flora was a future that she had never imagined for herself but now as she imagined it, no matter how strange it might be it was what she wanted.

#her royal highness #flora baird #princess flora #millie quint #rock salt

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ashleyisdeviant · 4 years

Text

N$fw

—————————I’m Watching You————————

“Dude, some of those jokes were like... absolute genius.” Arin says as he leans back in his chair, swiveling from side to side and throwing his hands behind his head. Dan laughes.

“Yeah, some of them were. But dude come on, some of them were, like, hot garbage.”

Dan is on his bed, laying on his stomach while his feet cross up in the air behind him. Arin can’t help the small flutter he feels when dans smile spreads across his face.

They both chuckle for a moment, then grow silent. It’s Arin who sighs first. Dan notices but chooses not to pry. He knows he won’t have to. He knows Arin will confide in him.

“I frickin hate this, man.” Arin starts, quickly leaning out of his relaxed pose and holding his head in his hands, elbows landing on the desk. “I’m tired of having to be at home all the time. I miss my friends.”

“I know,” Dan says as he drops his head “I know it’s what’s best but, I really hate it too. I feel like I’m going crazy stuck in this house.”

“I just wish it would end, the virus, the quarantine, all of it.”

“It will, Big Cat. Just give it time. This is just how it has to be for right now.”

Arin nods, instantly feeling less aggravated hearing the nickname.

“Yeah, you’re right.”

Dan smiles and reaches up to adjust his camera. Arin’s screen goes all glitchy for a moment before returning to normal.

Arin can’t help himself from staring at Dans tanned stomach as his too tight shirt rides up. To defeat the impending inappropriate thoughts he can feel creeping in, he cracks a joke.

“Is that shirt like an extra small or something?”

He watches as Dan glances down and instead of pulling the shirt back into place, he places his palm flat on his stomach and runs it slowly up the small dip of his bellybutton and under his shirt.

“Yeah, I think I’ve actually gained some weight during all of this. None of my shirts fit me

right anymore.”

Arin tries to laugh, but it comes out as a heavy release of breath as he watches Dan’s hand, jealous and entranced all at the same time.

Arin’s lack of response and transfixed state seemed to catch Dan’s attention.

“Arin?”

He quickly snaps to, clearing his throat and sitting up straighter in his chair.

“I wouldn’t worry about that dude, you look great. “

The glint that flashes in Dan’s eye is mischievous, but it’s gone in a second. Instead it’s replaced with a wide and proud smile.

“You like this hot bod, Arin?” Dan teases, climbing to his knees and placing a second hand under his shirt, sliding it up his stomach as well, pulling the fabric further up his torso.

Arin feels his dick stir in his sweatpants as Dans dark nipples slowly slip into view. For a moment Arin is lost. It’s wrong to feel this way about his straight best friend, right? But there Dan is, using one hand to keep his shirt up and sliding the other up and down his stomach, to the side of his own ribs, letting the pad of his thumb brush over his own rapidly hardening nipple. And it’s not in a ‘HAHA funny joke right?’ way, but in a slow, teasing, flirty way that makes a burning heat start to pool in Arin’s stomach. Dans eyes flick right to his camera lens and Arin can feel his confident smirk through the screen. Words Arin... use words!

“Having fun over there?”

“Maybe I am.” Dan says smoothly. “You...uh...you could too, you know.” Arin’s face must give away his surprise because Dan quickly follows with “If you wanted to.”

Dan tucks his shirt under his chin and let’s both hands slowly trickle down his stomach, fingertips brushing the skin there feather light. He is no longer looking at Arin or the lens, but down at his own hands watching himself with a slightly open mouth.

“Dan,” Arin manages to say after watching him for a long moment. “You know, this isn’t exactly a totally heterosexual thing to do with your best friend... right?” Arin chooses his words carefully. He didn’t want to discourage him at all, but he wanted to make sure Dan understood where Arin’s mind was going right now.

Dan shrugs eyes lifting slightly to look at Arin on his screen, black lashes folding over dark cheekbones.

“I don’t care. It’s you.” The shyness in Dan’s voice finally shining through. “I trust you.”

Arin pauses and asks one last time.

“You sure?” He watches as Dan swallows hard and nods. “Okay.” Arin breathes, finally giving himself permission to enjoy Dans little show. He leans forward puts an elbow on the desk. “Take your shirt off.”

Arin swears he can see Dan shiver at the command. Dans eyes travel back to the camera lens as he grips the thin fabric, pulling it over his head, beautiful dark curls bouncing as he tosses it to the side. Arin drinks him in. It’s not like it’s something that he hasn’t seen before, but it’s never been offered up to him quite like this. Dan’s hands still dance over his own skin, his hips doing a very subtle sway back and forth as his eyes flutter closed.

“How do you feel?” Arin asks.

“Warm.” Was Dan’s simple answer.

“It’s about to get warmer.” Arin teases.

A playful smirk breaks across Dan’s face.

“Bring it on, baby bear.”

Arin adjusts in his chair.

“How about we bring one of those hands down south a bit more.”

Dan does as instructed and slides his right hand slowly down his stomach, fingertips brushing against the elastic if his boxers sticking out above the top of his holy jeans.

“Put your hand on the front of those jeans.”

Without hesitation, Dan does just that.

“Good, now cup your hand around that dick for me.”

Dan’s Adam’s Apple bobs once as he swallows hard, fingers curling around the rough denim. His eyes are still closed and his head is tilted back a bit.

“Now press down.” Arin says with a suddenly strained voice. “Massage it through your pants.”

Dans mouth slides open as his hand works against the thick fabric.

“Don’t forget your nipple Dan,” Arin scolds. “Give it a good pinch for me.” And as he does there is a strong hitch in Dans breathing. “Good boy.” Arin praises and he can see the way his body responds to that. Dans hips buck into his hand and his mouth hangs slightly open.

“A-Are you?” Dan tries to ask his eyes finally coming open to glance to the screen. It takes a moment for Arin to understand what he is asking.

“No, do you want me to?”

“Yes.” Dan says without hesitation.

Arin nods and looks down at his tented up sweats before taking a somewhat shaking hand and groping himself through them and he has to hold back a moan.

“Now,” Arin goes on, his mind feeling a bit foggy from everything that is happening. “Undo your belt.” Dan does and Arin can’t help but feel so lucky as he watches. He is buzzing with anticipation. This part feels delicate, like it’s something that has been slowly crafted for years and he’s got to be careful so he doesn’t break it. Arin cant bring himself to speak too much louder than a whisper. “Can I see you Dan? Will you show me?”

“Yes.” Dan practically whines as his slightly shaking hands work open his jeans and pull them down along with his boxers, just enough for his fully hard dick to spring free.

Dan is beautiful Arin thinks to himself for almost the one thousandth time as Dan reaches for himself.

“Don’t touch.” Arin commands. Dan stills his hands and let’s them hang at his sides, looking up and watching Arin. Arin pushes his chair back from the desk a little ways and shimmy’s his sweats down, pulling his hard cock free before slowly stroking it, almost experimentally. “I’m watching you Dan.” Arin growls. “God, look at that dick. It’s so hard, so thick. I bet you are just dying to touch it.” The wave of ecstasy that washes over Dans face is breathtaking. Arin watches as Dans dick twitches at his words. “It’s just throbbing, Dan. Begging to be touched. You want to touch it don’t you? Or...” Arin pauses, “Do you want me to touch it?” A groan rolls it’s way out of Dans mouth. The noise shoves Arin closer the the edge. “You do, don’t you? You want me to wrap my hands around that thick throbbing cock and you want me to jack you off.” A shudder rocks it’s way down Dans body. “Or maybe you want my mouth...”

“Arin!” Dan begs breathlessly “P-Please.”

“Touch yourself Dan. Jack off that juicy, touch starved cock and think about me putting it in my mouth, sucking you off, begging for you to cum down my throat.”

“Jesus fucking Christ.” Dan groans, his fingers wrapping around his dick, pumping it hard and fast. Arin knew they weren’t going to last much longer. He watches Dan as his whole body rolls into his strokes, hips meeting hands, puffy lips being bitten, hair a curly mess. And he is beautiful.

“You’re fucking gorgeous Dan, do you know that?”

“Arin!” Dan cries out again.

“Cum for me baby. I wanna know what that face looks like when you cum. Im watching you Dan. Put on a good show for me and cum.”

And Dan does, and it’s beautiful. His hips stutter and his body shakes. He makes soft, sweet, whining noises as hot ropes of cum burst from him, landing all over his bed and running down his knuckles, dripping from his hands. The sight is a masterpiece that sends Arin free falling into his own orgasm, shooting wave after wave over the fabric of his sweats and on his shirt. Dans chest heaves as his body slowly comes back down to earth. After a few silent moments and a short clean up on both ends, Arin speaks.

“You are a performer in everything you do, that’s for sure.” Dan gives a breathy laugh.

“Arin I... wow. You’re so...” Arin can’t help the flutter in his heart as he takes in Dans smile. “That was... wow.” Arin laughes.

“It was.” Arin rubs the back Of his neck. “How are you feeling?” He can’t help but worry.

“Arin, I’m fine.” Dan pauses. “Do you think, maybe, when all this is over... Do you think maybe we could hang out?”

Arin lifts a teasing eyebrow.

“Like we do all the time?”

Dan lets out a nervous laugh.

“No like... a little different, maybe?” Arin catches his unspoken words and smiles.

“Yeah, id like that.”

#egobang

57 notes · View notes

jayankles · 4 years

Text

Future Dreamboat: Part 2

Pairing: Time Traveler/40’s!Dean x 40’s!Reader

Word Count: 1350

Summary: Based on 07x12 – Time After Time so yeah. Dean gets thrown back in time, when he needs a break he asks Eliot Ness, where the nearest bar is. A woman is in an alley that needs someone’s help, which just so happens to be Dean’s. Dean has to prove to the reader that he is from the future.

Written for: @spngenrebingo / @/spnonewordbingo

Squares Filled: 1940’s / petticoat

Also written for @sdavid09’s 2020 bingo challenge filling the cannon square.

Future Dreamboat: Part 1

(gif from @secretsandgreeneyes )

“Where did you come from?” You muttered under your breath. There was no way that this man was real.

“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you, Y/N.” You could see the pain on his face as a bittersweet smile arose.

You gave him a nervous laugh, “what? Are you from the future?”

Dean’s palms began to sweat, you had hit the nail right on the head. Dean was tempted to scratch at the back of his neck but Ezra would kill him if he messed up his suit or his hair. Instead he shoved his hands into the pockets of his petticoat, shrugging. There was nothing else to say other than to tell you the truth.

“I hate to admit it, and you probably won’t believe me, like I said, but yeah. I’m from the future. 2014 to be exact.”

He was right, you didn’t believe him. There was no such thing as time travel - right?If it were a thing, somebody would have stopped these horrible wars or the bad people in this life, right?

“You’re right. I don’t believe you. You’re talking a lot of nonsense and I demand the truth right now.” You were confused. You needed Dean to tell you that this was all some big joke and he had gone to the cinema and seen too many of those silly movies. “I need you to tell me the truth, prove it, or you can get out of my apartment.”

You were ready to kick him out until he pulled out a small device just a little bigger than his hand. As he pressed a button on the little thing, it seemed to light up.

“This is my cell phone. They make them smaller and portable in the future instead of the one that is attached to the wall 24/7.” He tried to think of something else that wouldn’t damage the future, Dean scoffed forgetting about the ‘time-traveling rules’ by telling you - just one person - but he was going to get you to believe him. “The war ends next year. Hitler offs himself but I think it was foul play.”

“Can I see your cell phone?” You stood, holding out your hand for Dean to place it into your hand. As soon as you had it in your grasp, you inspected the object. “So you can make telephone calls with this. Wherever and whenever you wish?”

“Not just calls, you can send texts - they’re like letters but you can send them on here - you can also take photos, play games.” You thought you heard him mutter something about porn but that couldn’t be right, you didn’t really want to think about it. Maybe he was telling you the truth about being from the future. Being able to do these things just sounded so bizarre and unimaginable. How could this small device be capable of doing so many other devices jobs.

“I can show you something awesome too.” He asked for his phone back, tapping in his password and pulling up the camera, showing you your own face. “This is selfie mode, it lets you take a picture of yourself.”

“That makes sense. It’s a clever name.”

He told you to smile before you saw him press a button on the screen, within seconds he had pulled up the photo of the two of you and you were completely and utterly enchanted by it. It was an instant image of the two of you.

It was hard not to believe Dean after he had shown you his cell phone and told you the results of baseball games, the very near future about the war. Dean had even shown you how fashion had evolved. It wasn’t an incredulous idea that women wore pants, or shorter dresses, or even tops that were cut in half; Dean informed you that they were called crop tops.

You didn’t know whether to be shocked or intrigued about the fashion in the future. It wasn’t too different from now but you still loved that women weren’t subjected to just wearing what men thought was appropriate. You wondered what it would be like to live in that era. How would it be different? Would it be better? Worse?

Your trail of thought was interrupted when you heard him sigh. “There’s something else, isn't there? You’re very jumpy and restless, like someone is after you. Did you anger someone?”

“It’s not a someone per say. It’s a something. Chronos. He is sort of the God of time. He left a trail of bodies in 2014 and when I found him he dragged me here. Now somehow me and my brother have to communicate 68 years apart. That’s where things get difficult.”

It had been days but they were finally able to get through to Sam 68 years from now. He eventually found the house and summoned Chronos with the help of one of his old flames. You were there to witness it and say goodbye to Dean.

“Wild guess-” You heard Dean say. “It takes three kills to juice you up.”

Chronos interrupted with a scoff. “Sacrifices. Three sacrifices, and I can control when and where I land. But once I get there, it’s never for long before I’m tossed through time again. That’s my life, Lila. And all I want is to get back here.”

Eliot choked out a laugh, “because you just love the clean Canton air?”

“Because I love her! Because I lived the worst existence you can imagine, and then I found you.”

Eliot mentioned Tyler Crosby and Cathy Porter but the next thing he says just rises bile to the top of your throat Eliot deduced that Lila was going to be his third and final victim so he could travel again, there was a sadness in his eyes. Maybe he did love Lila but it was still no excuse to murder. He took a step towards the woman in question but Lila was distraught. She knew about Cathy, one of the people that he had murdered.

“You are a monster.”

“No, Lila, please!”

Dean is ready to stab Chronos but the latter sees the movement in Lila’s eyes and ruins the chance Dean had to stop the God, making him drop the stake to the floor. Eliot’s gun goes off. POP. POP. It’s two shots in the back but it doesn’t seem to stop Chronos from grappling Dean by the throat.

There’s a blinding red light, it’s coming from Chronos’ chest and if that doesn’t make you believe in magic and time travelling, you didn’t know what did. From your spot, you wince when Chronos chokes Dean. An idea sparks when you spot the grandfather clock.

11:34.

You find the stake on the floor and throw it to Dean after you get his attention from calling his name, you can’t help it but you scurry over to where the two fight, trying to get Chronos to let go of Dean but there is an explosion of red and white light.

What you hadn’t expected was to be whisked away and thrown into the future. Standing there with Dean, in front of some new people that you had never met before but noting the smiles on all of their faces you deducted that they might just be Dean’s family that he was searching for.

You can’t really hear anything, your ears buzzing. You missed Sam shouting, catching Chronos’ attention before he stabbed in the chest with the stake

Another white light pulses and flickers in Chronos’ chest, travelling up his neck. The God of time drops to his knees, weakened by the dreaded stake to the heart but with his dying breath. Chronos laughs in the faces of the Winchesters. “You want to know your future? I know your future. It’s covered in thick black ooze. It’s everywhere. They’re everywhere. Enjoy oblivion.”

In seconds Chronos is dead, you see Sam and Dean glance at each other, his head dropping down as Jody holds him upright in her lap.

“Oh, fudge sticks. I’m guessing that’s not good.”

FEEDBACK IS GOLD AND APPRECIATED

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godlydolans · 4 years

Note

Can you do concept about y/n doing a cheating prank on Ethan 😳

I feel like pranking him will be so hard because he's just such a genius when it comes to pulling them on others and he also isn't the type to see something and react immediately. Ethan sits and observes things, never wants to jump to any conclusions, always wants to sit and talk things out if there is even a possibility of a misunderstanding happening.

So you know the prank will have to be long and really well thought out.

And you're willing to put in the effort to watch him take the L for the first time in his life.

"I'm gonna go take a shower," You announce as you place the iPad on the bed, the ebook you are currently reading still open on the page you're at.

Ethan looks up from his phone and raises a brow. "At 2 in the morning?"

Taking out a loose t-shirt from his wardrobe, you shrug your shoulders. "I'm all heated up. I gotta take a cold shower or I won't be able to sleep."

At the mention of a cold shower, both of Ethan's eyebrows went upto his hairline and his mouth dropped open. "Y/N, you'll freeze to death, babe! And if not that, you'll definitely catch a cold."

"I'll be fine." You respond a little rudely, making sure he caught the roll of your eyes as you turned for the bathroom. "I'll be out in a few."

You've been acting a little distant towards Ethan for a few days just so the 'cheating' would look more believable when he finally 'finds out'. Everytime you pull away from a hug or end a kiss too quickly, a part of your soul breaks. Ethan noticed a change in you a while ago and he has brought up your distant behaviour once, but you didn't entertain the conversation.

Thankfully, you won't have to carry on with the facade any longer because tonight is the night the actual prank would go down.

Hopefully.

Before leaving for your shower, you texted your best friend, whose contact name you've changed to Trevor for the time being, to call you once and then text you something scandelous.

Last night was fun. Let's do it again soon? Sounded too fake since it has been used so much by tv shows and movies alike so that line was scrapped.

So were some of the other lines you and your friend came up with, so you just told her to wing it.

You left your phone beside Ethan before leaving so hopefully, the call from 'Trevor' would get his attention and he would see the text that would follow.

And hopefully he would read the previous conversations that you and your friend staged for the prank. There was some serious juice in there.

It all depends on your lovely boyfriend now.

You hum and sing in the shower, happy with your ability of keeping the plan moving without a single hitch for this long. All the hard work would definitely pay off when you will capture Ethan's 'just pranked' face in your camera like he's done to you so many times in the past.

"Oh I'm gonna get him back sooo good for all the shit he's pulled on me!" You grin as you rinse the body wash off but a sudden harsh knock makes you jump out of your skin and curse under your breath.

Here it goes.

"Y/N?" Ethan calls from the other side of the door and you immediately turn the shower off and grab your towel. "Come out right now."

Drying your body in record time, you put on the t-shirt all while your heart is beating fast in your chest.

Don't screw it up don't screw it up don't screw it-

"Y/N?" His voice sounds angrier than it did when he demanded you to come out of the bathroom.

"I'm coming, jeez!"

You take a deep breath to calm your nerves and channel your inner Meryl Streep before opening the door and coming face to face with the brewing tornado that is Ethan Dolan.

He pins you in place with his furious gaze and you notice he's clutching your phone in his hand so hard, his knuckles are white. His breathing is, however, calm and he is just watching you silently.

You gulp.

Don't screw this up!

"What happened? Why were you shouting?" You begin to act like you're annoyed at him. "I had to cut my shower short for you."

A muscle in Ethan's jaw ticked and the dark look he wore in his face made you pray to never get on his bad side. The man who is known for his even temperament finally opens his mouth and the first words that he utters are spoken in the calmest voice you've heard him use.

"Who is Trevor?"

You just stand there in nothing but a t-shirt, pretty sure your nipples are hard and poking through and you realise you should have practiced what you would say to certain questions when your mind goes blank after the one he asked.

"Trevor?" Your voice sounds unsure tobyor own self and you praise the lord for your acting skills. "Tre-trevor who?"

Ethan's eyes seem to turn dark with fury at that response and his anger finally makes his breathing pick up. "Don't. Fuck. With me." His low tone is making your legs weak and your mind shamefully registers how much hotter is is when he's mad. You've rarely seen him this mad. The next second, Ethan shoves your phone into your hand and you barely hold onto it before it could fall.

"Jesus, Ethan! Be careful, will you?"

"Who the fuck is this son of a bitch is what I'm asking you and I need an answer right now, Y/N." Ethan seethes, "What the fuck are those texts?!"

You look at your phone and the screen shows your conversation with 'Trevor' about the size of 'his dick'. You wince, reading some of the texts, knowing just how much of a bitch you must be looking to Ethan right now.

"E..." You make a show of scrolling further down until you come to the picture you had sent 'Trevor' of yourself in the shortest dress you own. When you do look up, you wish you hadn't. Ethan has never looked more heartbroken and betrayed than he does now. Your heart breaks for him and you subconsciously reach for his face.

He steps right back and spits out a, "You have been cheating on me? Since when?"

"I didn't want you to find out like this," You keep the act up, remembering that time he had pranked you into thinking that he'd fallen and split his head open on the skating ramp. Or that time he had pulled "the most epic hockey prank in the world" on you. Those were his exact words. Considering Ethan's impressive history of all the pranks he's pulled on you, you shouldn't really be feeling guilty for this one. "I was gonna tell you on my own, I never wanted you to find out like this."

"How could you do this?" Your heart shattered seeing tears in his eyes. "You of all people? Y/N, I trusted you blindly and you-" Ethan's voice breaks on the last word and he locks his jaw, holding the back of his head with his hands. "Wow, Y/N, real class act."

Your hands itches to pull him to you as he keeps putting distance between you two with every step he takes away from you. "Babe,-"

"Babe?! Don't fucking call me that!" He points his finger at her, yelling at the top of his voice. "If you didn't love me anymore, you could have said so and fucking left! Why did you fucking cheat- you've been acting weird because of that asshole, aren't you? You don't want me because fucking Trevor is now in the picture, huh? Who the fuck is this Trev-"

Ethan lunges for your phone and rips it out of your hand, causing you to gasp and gape at him, stunned.

"Ethan, what are you doing?"

"I'm gonna call this motherfucker and give him a piece of my mind." He furiously looks through your contacts until his eyes land on the one he was looking for. "This son of a fu-"

"Ethan, give me my phone!" You try to get the phone out of his hand but he only grips it tighter, his jaw set and eyes blazing.

"Why? You don't want your little boyfriend to get chewed out? Oh wait! That's me!" Ethan scoffs with a shake of his head. "You know what? Fuck this and fuck you. I don't wanna talk to that scum and I don't wanna look at your cheating face for another second."

Throwing the phone on the bed, Ethan turns and starts for the door but not before grabbing his car keys from his nightstand. You silently rejoice in your head at how greatly the whole plan played out. You knew he would want to leave after the 'confrontation' so you already got Grayson to paint some words on Ethan's BMW.

When you two make it outside, you see that Gray has done his job right. Right there on the hood of the black car, blood red paint spells out-

Just a prank, babe! ;)

Ethan halts and you stop a step behind him, finally being able to smile without having to worry about hiding it. Ethan's back faces you and just by the way his tensed shoulders relax, you know he's read the message.

"Really?" He breaths, slowing turning to face you. His eyes roam your face attentively and when he's done searching for whatever it is he is looking for in your expression, he sighs and brings a hand to his temple, massaging it. "This isn't cool, Y/N."

You are sporting the biggest cheshire cat grin ever as you shrug like you didn't just work him up to a mini heart attack. "Gray wanted to take revenge on you by using spray paint but I made sure it was washable."

Ethan turned back, swiped his finger through the paint and surely, it wiped off. "Thank fuck. That's the least you could do after what you did to me."

"I got you good. Really good." You can't stop grinning from ear to ear.

Ethan reaches out for you with one simple command, "Come here."

You don't have a problem with doing as he says and within seconds, your head his pressed against his chest and your arms are wrapped around his narrow waist. Ethan holds you tight, his chin resting on top of your head.

A moment of silence passes where you just enjoy being in each other's embrace before Ethan breaks the silence.

"Who is Trevor?"

After you facetime 'Trevor' and Ethan gets to see it's actually your best friend, he is slowly getting back to his hype self.

"I can't believe you did that! And you had Grayson paint my car!"

"Its not like you haven't done worse things to both Gray and I!"

"You don't know how fucking pathetic that was! I almost cried, babe. What the fuck." He mumbles the last three words into your bosom, his arm thrown over your waist as you let him lay half on top of you. "I can't do that ever again."

"You never admitted that I got you good."

"Shut up."

"C'mon, don't be a sour loser. Admit you just got the life pranked out of you!"

"Babe."

"You know what? Don't just say it to me, tweet it out with the picture I took of you outside."

"Babe, c'mon!"

#asks #anons #concepts #thursday

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ashintheairlikesnow · 4 years

Text

Just Listen: Kauri/Owen

For the writing ask with dialogue prompts, @spiffythespook requested two but I was only able to get to one tonight - lots of holiday stuff + this got long. So here we have: 5. “Will you just listen to me?? For once?!”

Tagging: @maybeawhumpblog, @pepperonyscience, @haro-whumps, @18-toe-beans, @burtlederp, @fairybean101, @18-toe-beans

CW: Referenced noncon, extremely dubcon touching, emotional manipulation/abuse, referenced violence, abuse

“Please, please don’t make me watch it again.” Kauri wants to pull away from Owen, but his arm is heavy and too warm around his bare shoulders, and he doesn’t let Kauri move at all.

“You need to. This is good stuff. They always put out the best fucking content.” Owen doesn’t even look at him. His favorite Youtuber posted a new video, one Kauri doesn’t want to watch anymore, never wanted to watch.

They’ve watched it five times, and each time there was some new pain Kauri hadn’t allowed to filter into his awareness the time before. He’d wound up hiding his face against Owen’s neck, curled around him for warmth and for comfort, flinching with each impact, with each hitched breath or sound.

Owen kept turning up the volume, rehashing segments, remarking on how unfortunate that poor sad Colton was compared to how soft and painless things were here, how Kauri was so lucky Owen never left marks like that.

But you do leave marks, you just make sure they disappear. There is pain, you just tell me there isn’t. You pretend you never hurt but you do, you do.

“They make a lot of jokes that make me really wonder,” Owen says, thinking, tapping on Kauri’s skin idly. “What do you think goes on when the cameras are off?”

Kauri might tense, just a little. If he does, Owen doesn’t seem to notice. “I-I don’t know, Mr. Owen.”

Probably just what you do to me, but without the last seven positions.

“Hm. I’d love to know. Still. Shame to see a pet’s back all fucked up.” The way Owen nearly salivates watching the video gives the lie to the way he tries to sound sympathetic.

And if he wants to mark you, 645898? Brand you? Fuck up that pretty face and wreck your resale value?

Wh-what happens to uh-us ah-after the return period of three months p-post delivery is the p-p-p-… please, h-hurts-, give me a, a second-

I asked a question, you overgrown lapdog. Answer it.

What owners ch-choose to do with n-n-nonproductive peh, pets is their own prerogative, s-s-sseh, s-… oh god, god please no, please-

“Please,” Kauri whimpers. “I-I don’t want to watch anymore, we’re not-… I’m scared of what’s in the video, please!” Normally when he begs, when he really really begs, Owen touches his face, tells him he’s so good, that seeing those big blue eyes begging me to stop is all he really wants in the world - and stops hurting him.

Usually, Owen bundles him into his arms and tells him it’s okay, Kor-bore, it’s okay, you’re so safe with me. You’re so safe and you wouldn’t be safe with anyone else, would you? I’m safe.

Y-you’re safe, Mr. Owen. The owner is safe.

That’s right. You understand, Kauri. You know who you belong to. You know you belong to me.

I kn-know. The owner’s touch is safe. Even wh-when it hurts.

Then they take a bath or a shower or he holds Kauri on the couch until the shaking stops. Until the little bits of that other person under his skin are gone. Until he forgets her - forgets them both - and he can’t even remember that he’s forgotten anyone.

This time, Owen glances at him sidelong, then snorts in derision. Kauri winces at the look on his face as he turns back to the screen and moves the video back to the caning. “Look at how hard they hit; really look, Kauri. Oh, shit, look at that.“

He doesn’t want to look - but Owen told him to, and so his eyes move whether he wants them to move or not. Follow directives. He’s just like Keira, in the end; he has his docking station in the bed and he has what he does for Owen in the condo and he’s not a person, either.

They all think they’re people until they’re done.

He flinches when the boy in the video flinches, trying to close his eyes to the bright red weals that rise on his back, the Host gleefully showing them off. Even when his eyes are clenched shut, his forehead leaning against the side of Owen’s head, feeling the prickles of the sandy blond hair that brushes against his face, he can still see the boy’s back.

Kauri’s back is perfectly unmarred, because all his hurts stay on the inside or they fade, because he’s never supposed to be marked up, not him. Kauri hurts in places hidden deep enough that when Owen looks at every inch of his skin, there’s never anything to see.

645898’s custom discipline order says to make sure he doesn’t get used to the physical stuff. ‘No permanent marks’.

They all say ‘no permanent marks’, Everly. There’s a lot of damage we can do to this little monster without having to leave a mark. But fair enough.

Seriously, Connor, how have you not been fired yet?

Don’t know. Why do you keep asking me for advice, if you think I’m so terrible?

Because you get results, I guess.

Right. I get results. You want my help? I’ll teach this little shit to beg for it standing on his head is that’s what the prospective wants.

Yeah, well, it’s both more and less creepy than that. I need help with making him afraid of this thing when I’m not allowed to use it.

Oh, fun. That’s my kind of Saturday overtime. Give me that cane. I got a couple ideas this pet’s owner is going to love.

He hates the cane, hates it, but there are other things in the video he hates, too. Hates more. Kauri is trapped on the couch - Owen isn’t a comfort at all, won’t let him go, holds him tightly as he replays the shock collar section again and again and again.

You’ve already watched this six times, Kauri thinks desperately. Why do you have to keep watching?

Owen smirks as the Host moves through each disciplinary item, scoffs at the company language about safety. “See, that bullshit is for owners who can’t afford the fines,” Owen says, holding Kauri tightly against him, one hand slipping up into the black curls on his head, scratching idly against his scalp with fingernails that are always just a little too sharp.

Kauri tries to think helping, nice things to the other pet trapped inside the screen, but he’s not sure there are any helping thoughts. Not when none of them will make this have happened any less. Not when his heart is beating so hard in his chest that he’s sure, he’s so sure it will break right through.

When Owen tries to make him watch the part with the sensory deprivation hood again, Kauri feels his breathing go shallow, ragged and uneven, from the second the Host pulls the hood out of the box.

On the screen, the green-haired host drew the hood over the boy’s head, and Kauri could feel the cloth shifting over his own face, too, the weight of the soft padding just slightly greater than the silky-smooth base cloth that clung to his skin until he couldn’t feel it any longer, until it was all gone, until nothing was left but the box-

Kauri heartrate acceleration, Keira beeped from her docking station under the couch. Kauri physical condition deteriorate. Kauri assistance require.

“Shut up, dumbass,” Owen says without ever looking away from the screen. “He’ll be fine. Commence shut-the-fuck-down. They’re not supposed to like those things. That’s why it’s called discipline.”

Commence shutdown. Owen Grant directive. Keira beeps three times, and Kauri feels totally alone.

Alone, and panicking. “Mr. Owen, please don’t make me watch, please!”

“I told you to watch. I want you to watch. And what do you want, Kauri?” Owen tightens his grip on Kauri’s curls, moving from the slow, comfortable twine of soft hair around fingers to sudden pain, making Kauri yelp and try to pull back, only to have Owen shove his head closer to the screen.

“I w-w-want what you want, Mr. Owen,” Kauri says, voice shaking, staring as the Host pulls the boy’s arms behind his back, first one and then the other. “I want what you want, I al-always want what you want.”

“That’s right. And I want you to watch. Listen to them joke about padlocking the sensory dep hood. I’ve never done that to you, have I?”

Kauri shakes his head, desperately, watching the host push the boy’s head down while forcing his arms up behind his back, up and up and up, and Kauri knows exactly how that feels. “Pl-please, Mr. Owen, I c-can’t, I can’t-”

The boy in the video drops to his knees, and Kauri listens to the short, sharp, panicked breaths with sickening familiarity, his own lungs frozen in sympathy.

“I h-h-have to get up, I have to get, I need to, please let me go-”

“Let you go?” Owen turns away from the video for the first time to look directly at him, and Kauri flinches back from the look in his eyes, then just as quickly tries to move back to him, only to have Owen grab him by the wrists. “What, because you don’t like that you get disciplined when you fuck up, Kauri? Is that the problem? You don’t like being reminded of what happens when you can’t even be what you are correctly?”

“N-No Mr. Owen, I just-… I don’t like seeing that boy h-h-hurt, is all, I-”

“I could be so much worse to you.” Owen holds his wrists tightly, too tightly, and Kauri’s wrists are so thin. Someone used to say to him you two are my little birds but he doesn’t remember who. “I could be so much worse. There are pets out there treated like shit. Kicked around, abandoned by the people who are supposed to care about them, to stick it out no matter what. Left by them-fucking-selves to figure shit out when it all falls apart, people who tried, they really did, but it’s fucking complicated, isn’t it?”

“Mr. Owen, please, please listen-”

“I could fuck you up badly. I could beat the shit out of you in broad fucking daylight and pay the fine and no one would care. Do you want that? Are you not happy I don’t do that?”

“N-No, Mr. Owen.” Kauri closes his eyes, swallows hard, drops his chin down. “Please, all I’m asking is just let me get up, off the couch-”

Away from you

“Kauri-”

Get me the fuck out of here, someone wails inside his head, but it’s not Kauri, because Kauri wants to be here, he signed the contract, this is the only place left on earth he belongs.

Get me the fuck away from you

“Please, will you just fucking listen to me, Mr. Owen? Just once?”

Owen goes still, and so does Kauri, and the two stare at each other for a long, long time as the video ends. The timer counts, and it moves on to the last video on the playlist, the one with the boy cooking by himself, the only one of the videos Kauri likes to watch.

“Did you just raise your voice to me, Kauri?” Owen’s own voice has gone low, and deadly-soft. “That’s against your training.”

“Oh, oh n-no, it’s only that you, you weren’t listening. I’m so sorry, Mr. Owen, I didn’t even realize-”

Owen glances at the Youtube video playing, then back at Kauri with a bitter twist of a smile. “You saw all those disciplinary tools. You saw how much worse I could be to you. I could break your skin, make you bleed. I could send you back, have you refurbished, clean slate. But I’m not going to do that, am I?”

“Oh, no, no you’re, you’re so nice to me and I”m so-… I’m so lucky, to have you, Mr. Owen, I’m so l-l-lucky-”

“Then you’ll realize how lucky you are that the sensory dep hood is all I’m going to do to you for snapping at me like that.” Owen lays a hand against his face, tenderly, and Kauri leans into it, closing his eyes, thinking for a second maybe Owen will feel better if he does, and if Owen feels better Kauri feels better, because he wants what Owen wants.

Owen’s touch is safe.

Owen is safe.

Owen bought me, and he wants me, and he’s safe. Even when I’m scared. Even when it hurts.

“It’s time to go dark, Kauri.” Owen’s voice is a low whisper, soft and sweet, loving and gentle. “This is discipline. Pets require discipline, do you understand?”

“I-I understand, Mr. Owen. I spoke out of turn. I sh-shouldn’t have.”

Please, someone get me out of here

Who? Where would I go?

I signed the contract

I’m not even a person

“Right. Good boy. Do you think you can do sensory dep discipline without crying this time?”

Kauri bites down on his lower lip, pulse pounding in his neck and his chest and down in his wrists so hard he can feel it, and shakes his head.

He’s never gone into the sensory dep hood without crying. Not once. Owen tells him the day he can do it is the day he never has to wear it again.

Kauri tries.

He tries so hard.

But in the end, he always cries when he’s alone in the dark.

“Too bad for you. Go into the spare room. It’s time to get in your box.”

“Y-Yes, Mr. Owen I’m s-s-sorry, Mr. Owen.”

Kauri stands, hands shaking, to head back into the spare room where Owen keeps the discipline tools and the box he came in.

He’s crying before the hood is even fully fastened onto his head, and Owen tells him he’s lucky he doesn’t make him stay in it even longer to teach him to be brave.

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rawritzrobin · 4 years

Text

Angel Amongst Bats Chapter 11

Title: Angel Amongst Bats

Pairing: Jason Todd x Stella Covington (My OC)

Warnings: Cursing, past major character death, a little bit angsty, fluff.

Summary: Stella was getting used to living in this universe. Things were peaceful. But peace never lasts.

A/N: Wanna be on my tag list? DM me and let me know (:

Prologue Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10

Chapter 11: Hunted

“It’s been weeks!” Jason screams.

Jason, Tim, Dick, Bruce, Barbara, and Damian were all inside the Batcave. Tim was sitting at the meeting table staring at a blueprint of a building, a hot cup of coffee in his hands. Dick was doing pull ups on his dual gymnastic rings, while Barbara was on the other side of the training room doing sit ups. Damian was practicing his aim towards the back of the cave. Alfred was walking around with a feather duster, looking for things to clean.

He huffed, frowned, and crossed his arms in anger when he noticed no one was paying attention to his rant.

Jason was living in the manor with the others. Ever since Stella disappeared, he couldn’t bare to go back to his empty apartment. After he woke up from whatever Bruce drugged him with, Alfred offered him his old room at the manor and he didn’t hesitate to move in.

He looked like hell. His hair was undone, sticking out in various places. He had large bags under his eyes from many sleepless nights. He wasn’t eating, he wasn’t drinking. He spent the first 3 days breaking things around the house. After a stern talking to from Alfred, he focused all his energy into training, determined to get Stella back one way or another. He survived on supplement bars and shakes, only eating real food when Alfred deemed it “necessary for living”.

Bruce was sitting in front of the Bat computer starting intently at the screen. On the screen was Martian Manhunter, the Flash, and Zatanna.

“Give us a few more weeks. We are very close to narrowing it down. We are pretty sure we know which dimension she is in, but we want to be sure.” Zatanna said confidently.

“weeks ?! What if she’s in danger? Can’t you just starting sending me into the ones you think she’s in and have me look? I am sick of waiting around!” Jason screams at the computer.

Bruce interrupts his rant. “Let us know when you find the right one.” He says as he hangs up the call. Jason stares at Bruce with murder eyes.

Alfred, sensing conflict, steps in front of Bruce. “Master Jason, can you please help me with something upstairs?” He asks, pulling Jason away from the others. Alfred was always the only one who could calm him down.

“Are they really close to finding her?” Dick asks, approaching Bruce.

“We’ve dealt with dimension hopping before. Granted it was just The Flash who was able to travel through the dimensions. But I am fairly confident we will find her soon.” Bruce answers.

Just then there is a loud crash from upstairs. Dick winces.

“I hope so. I don’t know how much longer Alfred can distract him before he goes on a murder spree.”

———————— Stella felt better after talking with her mom, she always did. She avoided Bruce for the most part, sticking with Tim most of the time. He enjoyed the company since he told her Conner was off planet for a mission. She had come at the perfect time.

She went out with Alfred whenever she could. She enjoyed leaving the house and she loved helping Alfred with everyday things. It was one of those little pastimes she never got to do with her mom as a kid. They always had a nanny or a butler who would do everything for them. It was nice to be able to do the little things in life. Grocery shopping was her favorite. She loved looking at all the fresh fruits and vegetables and picking out the perfect ones.

Occasionally, Stella and Damian would head out to the dog park together with Titus. Stella learned fairly early on that he loved animals. Stella even took him to the Zoo on his day off from school. They shared a cotton candy together while Damian lead them around the park, telling Stella all the facts he knew about each animal. Stella made a mental note to take Damian behind the scenes of her marine animal park when she got back home.

She was starting to get used to living in this universe. The sad part was, she was slowly beginning to believe she would never go back.

What she didn’t know, was that Jason had been trailing her, ever since he saw her in the graveyard.

———————————————

Jason had been following Stella for days.

He started by watching the entrance to Bruce’s estate. The manor itself was under high security, but the roads leading up to the manor were not. It wasn’t hard for Jason to plant cameras around the roads leading up to the house. Every time Alfred’s car pulled out, Jason would be on the move. To his surprise, “Stella” was always out with him. He even followed her around the Zoo one day. She managed to make the demon spawn laugh. Jason had never seen Damian laugh before in his entire life. He didn’t even know it was capable of emotion.

Today Jason followed them to the local shopping mall. It was about one in the afternoon. Alfred was weaving in and out of mens department stores, no doubt shopping for one of Bruce’s fancy parties. Jason scoffed at the idea of Bruce’s stupid gatherings.

Stella was dressed in a pair of tight gray jeans and a plain white off shoulder blouse. She was wearing a black beret and a pair of large fake glasses. Her long blonde hair flowed behind her back. She was as beautiful as Jason remembered. She was no longer a young teenage girl. A beautiful woman was now standing in front of him. His heart ached every time he saw her smile.

What he didn’t understand was how, and why she didn’t come looking for him if she was alive.

————————

“Hey Alfred, I’m going to take a walk down to Gotham prep. Can you pick me up there later when you’re done?” Stella asks.

“Of course. I should be done in a few hours.”

“Thats perfect! We’re just so close to the school, and I wanted to see how the school has changed.” And to grab a milk shake at the local diner, she thought.

Alfred smiled at her. “Be careful.”

“I will. See you in a bit!” Stella says as she starts to walk away and waves goodbye to Alfred.

It was a brisk Fall day. A light breeze blew through the air. The sun shined lightly through a thin layer of clouds. Stella stretched out her arms and smiled. She put in a pair of earphones and put her hands in her pocket.

She was almost at the school, when she suddenly had a gut feeling that something was wrong. The street was completely void of people, which was normal for this time of day, but it was a little too quiet. She stopped her music, and listened to the sounds around her. She heard a pair of footsteps behind her. She slowed down, they slowed down. She sped up, they sped up. And when she stopped, they stopped as well. By the mirrored sounds of footsteps behind her, she knew she was being followed. She began to pick up her pace.

——————— Jason started following Stella as soon as she left Alfred’s side. She was headed in the direction of Gotham Prep. He kept his distance, about a block or so away.

The crowded streets of Gotham began to die down. Soon, it was just him and her. But as she passed a street corner, two people came out and started following her.

Jason tensed. He looked around the area and they were all alone.

He noticed Stella’s pace changing. First she slowed down, then went back to a normal pace, and then started speeding up. She knew she was being followed. It was a trick he taught her on how to test if someone was tailing you. He hoped that they would be able to make it into a more crowded area, but then Stella turned into one of the alleyways. Once she disappeared from their sight, the two figures started running after her. Jason took off after them.

———————————

Stella knew this alley lead directly to a street in a busy area. She would be safe once she got into a crowd. She made a sharp left turn as soon as she entered the alley. She could hear heavy footsteps behind her. Stella’s eyes widened when she saw the large fence straight in front of her.

“Shit, Shit, Shit.” She cried out. That gate was not supposed to be there. The alley was supposed to lead straight through to a big street.

When the hell did they put up this fence? Stella thought.

Her heart was beating a million beats per second. She ran straight into the fence and started to climb. She was about halfway up, when a pair of arms grabbed her hair and yanked her off the fence.

“Where you going babe?” The larger one asked in a creepy tone.

The shorter man grabbed Stella by the arm and she cried out in pain. His grip was painful and she knew she would have bruises after this. That is, if she she survives. She punched him with her free arm and he let go for a second. But in an instant, the second man shoved her against the wall and pressed his body into hers. Stella started fighting back and began screaming, but he covered her mouth with his hands.

“Feisty. What’s a pretty thing like you doing all by yourself?” The man asked looking her up and down, licking his lips.

“Should be a little more careful, you never know what kind of creeps are out here.”

Tears welled in her eyes as the other man started to lean in closer. She closed her eyes, not able to look at his face any longer.

Almost instantly she felt the pressure release. The man was violently ripped off her as she fell to the ground. She covered her face and braced for what was coming. But, nothing did. She heard sounds of fists connecting to skin, but none of it was aimed at her. Finally, the sound of two gun shots echoed through the walls, followed by silence.

She opened her eyes when it was quiet. She saw the two men’s bodies facedown on the floor, blood beginning to pool around them. She noticed another pair of boots standing over the bodies. She looked up and her eyes widened.

“Are you okay?”

#Jason Todd #Jason Todd x OC #Stella Covington #DCU #DC #Alternate Universe #alfred pennyworth #Batman #iwritethings #gotham #fanfiction #red hood

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