#the us is like candy to me where studying language is concerned

[paris-geller-was-straightwashed]

February Writing Challenge (1/28)

surprise! guess who’s doing a writer’s challenge! I’ve never done one of these before bc the idea of having to finish a writing piece every day seemed a little intimidating - but, I feel like more recently I’ve been slipping off the writing saddle and not doing as much, so I kinda wanted to try a new project and challenge myself.

I’ve collected a pile of writing prompts for the whole of february, that, with luck, I’ll fill every one out! each one will be centred around one of my otps, so if you check in each day you’ll get to see which one it is :) or, you’ll just see it in the tags LOL and if there’s anything I feel like I especially like or whatever, I’ll add it to my ao3 after the month.

without further adieu, here’s day one!

Prompt: ‘Sweet Tooth (aka binging on candy with them)’

Pairing: Rory/Paris (Gilmore Girls)

Words: 2,853 (this is my first one, but ideally they won’t be this long)

Rating: G

Notes: when I saw the prompt, I just knew it had to be gellmore, obviously :) takes place during later season; you can imagine this is after rory dumped logan after the bridesmaids fiasco, or you can simply just imagine she dumped him on her own and then her and paris got together (really, the timeline doesn’t matter, the only reason logan is mentioned is bc I couldn’t resist the roast against him in this)

Really, any garbled, frustrated noise erupting through her apartment walls should come as a concern.

But, knowing her girlfriend had absorbed herself in some, all-important secretive task, Rory could only imagine what this entailed. Her head drew up from where she was studying on her bed, breaking away mid-paragraph of her textbook – the door was closed, but it clearly didn’t take a genius to sense something was awry. The question remained though, did Rory want to go out there to calm Paris down and risk getting in trouble for prying into secrets, or stay behind and simply watch this tornado grow until it swallowed up the whole apartment?

Rory held still in the silence. Then, came some more enraged muttering and that’s not how you run a business!! and the slam of a cell phone closing. Rory sighed in defeat.

Unfortunately, she knew better.

The brunette took in a breath, straightened up and squared her shoulders, before swinging herself off her bed. When she tentatively opened her bedroom door, she found Paris hunkered over the couch, a messily scrawled paper note on the table and hissing words under her breath that probably weren’t suited for children.

“Paris…?” Rory called out, quietly broaching the couch from the side, knowing her girlfriend needed to be approached with the caution you’d give to a wounded, snarling animal “Everything okay?..”

Ever the eagle-eye, Paris quickly caught Rory from the corner of her vision. Before Rory could even blink, Paris leapt with the spring of a jack-in-the-box, swiping the paper.

“You can’t see it!” Paris yelped, spinning around to glare daggers at Rory “And what’re you doing out here?! I told you that you can’t see what I’m working on – I need a ten-foot Rory-free radius around me!!”

“Just like in high school.” Rory said dryly “Well, when I heard you lay five different kind of insults down in one sentence, plus some Portuguese which I’m definitely sure isn’t also R-rated language, I figured I should check in. You sure everything is alright –”

“It’s fine!” Paris snapped back, pulling away at the gentle hand Rory raised, and, oh no, she’s in this mood “I’m just – I’m..working out some kinks! And, you know, god forbid that I ever expect anyone else on this planet to actually use their full brain to do things!..”

“Well, is there anything I can do?” Rory offered, trying to sneakily glimpse the paper the blonde held tight in her hand “Is it an assignment? ‘Cause if your concern is that I’m going to steal your ideas, I think you can let that one go –”

“Ha! I wish it were that easy – a school paper I can accomplish in my sleep.” Paris grumbled, leaning over the couch to swipe her phone “This is ten times both more complicated and dire!”

“Paris, relax, it’s going to be okay –”

“Don’t tell me to relax!” Paris hissed back “You don’t even know what it is!!”

“Then let me help! It’s clearly stressing you out –”

“No!” came the panicked yelp, and, this time, Rory could actually see rising anxiety break through the anger glazing over the brown eyes “I-I have to do this by myself! It’s of the upmost importance I get this perfect –”

“Paris, if you just tell me what it is –”

“No, you can’t know! This is my project Gilmore, stop trying to piggyback.” Paris deflected as she went over her sheet, causing Rory to sigh “If I can just – I just need to – I..dammit, okay, fine, not that I’ll..I’ll..ugh, I can’t do that either!!..”

“Paris –”

“Rory –”

“Paris.” Rory broke in forcefully, finally able to place a hand on Paris’s back, feeling the jittery girl relax against it slightly “At this rate, you’re going to get another noise compliant put in against us. Please just tell me what it is, and then maybe I can help so that neither of us have to worry over whether the next second is the second you’ll implode.”

That got her to quiet. Paris nervously teetered on her feet, vulnerable browns holding Rory’s gaze, but you could see the metaphorical flames start to dial down. Eventually, Paris sighed, shoulders slumping and arms folding in, finally uttering so low Rory could barely hear –

“...I’mtryingtoplanourValentines..”

“..What?”

“I’m trying to plan our Valentines!!” Paris tossed up her hands, her cheeks going pink “Alright?! And I want, I need, it to go perfectly! I’ve been trying to plan but I keep coming up against blockade after blockade – and, of course, usually, there’s no wall I at least can’t bulldoze my way though, but this is different! The ideal restaurant, my top pick, is apparently booked out for a month, no exceptions, and now apparently, the waiter has too high of morals to accept my offer of two hundred bucks under the table! So I went with the next best option, but when I called them they couldn’t even guarantee a window-side view! Who the hell runs their business like that?! The other place has more availability, but I know they don’t have as many of your favourite dessert options, and obviously, I know you enough to know that’s a high priority – and that’s not even to mention the Valentines Lights stroll put on at the park I wanted to take you to after, but depending on the restaurant we’re at, we may not even make it with the fifteen minute window I laid out –...”

Rory simply stood back, letting Paris roll out her frustrations – and, listening, couldn’t help but feel herself melting. A soft smile pulled over her lips, watching the blonde. She hadn’t even imagined that this was about her, but now, of course, she should’ve expected nothing less then Paris, her Paris, wanting to make their date night perfect. No detail spared, all cards on the table.

There’s been jokes passed around that Paris wasn’t exactly the romantic type – nothing about Paris was conventional, obviously, but Rory knew enough about her to know this was just as big of a display of love as anything mushy.

Rory reached in, grasping onto Paris’s wrists. That was enough to click Paris back into reality, slowing her rant, and finally turning face to face so Rory could lean in and kiss her cheek. Paris blinked back in surprise, finding not upset or annoyance, but Rory smiling back at her.

“Paris.” Rory began, grasping on her hands “While I should expect nothing less from you for going a hundred and ten percent, trust me when I say, that I do not need all the red carpets pulled out for me, especially when it comes to Valentines day. I mean, aren’t you the first to say that it’s just a consumerist trap anyway?”

“I mean, it still is – racking up five dollars for some cheap heart shaped crap is just one of the failing points of consumerist capitalism.” There she is “But I was also single then too.”

Rory snorted “I see..”

“Also..”

“What?”

“..This is our first Valentines together.” Paris explained earnestly “And I love you. You deserve the best, to put it bluntly.”

Rory’s smile grew “..Well, that goes for you too. And I don’t want to have you stressing yourself over some extravagant event that’s one night only.”

“I’ll reiterate Gilmore – it’s our first Valentines together. It needs to be special. Frankly, you’re the best relationship I’ve ever had; you’re my best friend. I won’t go half-way for you.”

“You never go half-way for anything.” Rory couldn’t help but tease, seeing the twitch of Paris’s lips.

“This is true. The fact that you thought I wouldn’t pull out all the stops for you, or even just for any event I’m planning..”

“How foolish of me.”

“Also, I refuse to be out-done by Logan Huntzberger – I know that Rolls-Royce car show model cut-out would’ve flown you to the moon if he could’ve, and I will not fall in second place.”

An uncontrollable laugh burst out of Rory. She had to bite into her bottom lip to tamper it, rising the back of her hand to her mouth as a poor mask. Paris was, of course, deadly serious by the finger she pointed in Rory’s face, but there was still mirth dancing along her tilted lips.

“..I appreciate that.” was all Rory decided to say, smiling as she swung her and Paris’s clasped hands “But am I allowed to voice an honest opinion on this whole thing?”

“You know I only speak in honest opinions.”

“..I really don’t want a whole red-carpet, put-out-all-the-stops Valentines. I mean, you do know me Paris; I’ve never really been a Valentines gal. And..doing a whole fancy restaurant ordeal..you know I get nervous just standing in those super spotless, sparsely packed boutiques where a t-shirt costs more then a brand-new car. You put me in a restaurant booth where our neighbours are some rich guy who owns three different blocks of the town sitting with this fourth wife, I feel like I’m gunna be more nervous over that ordeal then focused on us.”

As always happens, Rory expected some kind of argument, a rebuttal, so she was pleasantly shocked when Paris just nodded mutely. Not without some disappointment though, which got Rory to squeeze their entwined hands in gentle encouragement so Paris’s nervous eyes find hers.

“I love that you wanna make it special. Again, I should’ve known better then to assume that you wouldn’t have done all you could. But, I don’t want all that glitz. I just want you.”

By now, Rory knew how to parse her words with the firecracker that was her girlfriend. And when that quiet, careful rarity of a smile grew over Paris, Rory couldn’t help her own.

It’s true, that there was something special when someone who bares sharp teeth at everyone else, allows themselves a soft happiness towards you. About being the only one who gets to see it.

But Rory also just loves that smile.

“..But you’re still expecting some kind of chocolate or dessert too, of course.” Paris finally spoke.

“Oh, well, I assumed that was a given.”

Paris scoffed warmly. She lifted her and Rory’s entwined hands up to her face, kissing the back of the pale hand.

“Just like in that ‘Princess Bride’ movie you made me rewatch at least ten times, as you wish. I will find the perfect alternative.”

“I don’t doubt it. Am I allowed to offer any kind of input or help in this whole thing?”

“Try and intervene and you’ll be sleeping with one eye open.”

“Got it.” Rory rolled her eyes playfully, pulled away when she heard her watch interrupt with a beep! “Crap, that’s the hour – I gotta get ready for my evening class. I’ll see you tonight?”

Paris hummed in reply, a wry smile still playing on her lips, altogether letting Rory know that she was back in the confidence saddle. She placed her freed fingers under Rory’s chin, tilting her face in her direction to place a light kiss at the corner of her mouth.

“You go on my love.” Paris encouraged as she began backing up towards the bedroom, holding up her scribbled piece of paper with a grin “In the meantime, I’m going to cook up an idea for the best Valentines you’d ever witnessed.”

“So we’re actually going to have desserts then?”

“Don’t insult the hand that feeds Gilmore.”

-

And impressed Rory was.

To be fair, she didn’t have a lot to go off of in the first place. After that initial bump, there were no more moments of finding Paris tearing her hair out because she couldn’t make time-constraints bend to make her Valentines plan work. She seemed to have crafted the perfect idea, content to wear a smile of secrecy and keep it from Rory.

Now, Valentines was here and come. Rory was waiting for the invite, waiting for an ask, but Paris hadn’t even said boo about her idea; now, Rory was coming off of her late study-hall group, the evening encroaching, and when she’d called her girlfriend to say she was headed home, all Paris said was that she was just waiting for Rory to walk in the door, and then things would kick off from there.

Rory wasn’t expecting anything too wild, especially after explicitly telling Paris that wasn’t what she wanted – but, that didn’t stop her from speculating. She figured when she walked in, Paris would be ushering them right back out to head to the event she’s picked out. Something like that.

What Rory wasn’t expecting, was for her to open the door and find Valentines staring back at her instead.

No, there wasn’t any red and white balloons shaped like hearts clouding the room. There were no giant ‘Be Mine!’ teddy bears, or pink hearts strung up everywhere. What was there, was a complete massacre of candy.

Their whole coffee table covered in treats. Rory couldn’t even see the table anymore. Bowls of brightly coloured confections and chocolates, lined up creating a rainbow of colour. A pile of red licorice matched beside packets of oreos. Near the table, was an ice bucket of champagne accompanied by two flute glasses.

Rory stood gobsmacked for a good couple seconds. This was the last thing she would’ve thought of – and it was the best thing she could’ve thought of.

A noise of shuffling feet got her attention. Paris had appeared, idly standing off of the couch with the ghost of a smile on her face as she watched Rory. She was dressed in a nice, white sweater and simple jeans, blonde strands of hair grazing over her cheek. Rory always did like her with her hair down.

“Told you it’d kick off the moment you opened the door.”

“Paris..” a bemused laugh fell out of Rory as she took in the sight again, sliding off her bag and kicking the door shut behind her “I – you did all this?..”

“Don’t look so surprised.” Paris raised one of her brows, but her smile widened “Putting all this together was nothing – the hardest part, really, was hiding all the candy from you.”

“Oh, yeah – where did you hide it?”

“Behind that healthy cereal I bought that you claim tastes like cardboard.”

“Devious.” Rory grinned. Paris smirked. She walked over to take the brunette’s hand, pulling her into the apartment.

“But that’s not all – if you could glance upon the kitchen counter..”

Rory turned to follow Paris’s directions, finding an all new assortment – of chocolate and caramel sauces, with some whip cream and peanut butter. Surgery condiments, which could only mean..

“Unfortunately, you don’t get the whole picture as the ice cream had to stay in the freezer, but trust me that I bought at least three different flavours so you can double-stack your sandwich.”

“Ice cream sandwiches?? Wait, so, where’s the replacement bread –”

Rory followed Paris’s pointed finger to see the oven, which was usually only used to reheat leftovers when the microwave stopped working, this time had a cooling rack ontop littered in chocolate chip cookies. Cookies. Now Rory’s jaw hit the floor.

“You baked?!”

“You can thank Nanny for those. I needed something to sandwich the ice cream, and though I’ve yet to conquer the culinary world, that woman knows a baked good well enough she was able to walk me through the steps of her signature recipe.”

“Are they edible?”

“Funny. I actually tried one afterwards, and dare I say, they’re more then edible.”

“..I can’t believe you cooked.” Rory beamed back at her girlfriend “You cooked for me.”

“I baked a simple cookie recipe Rory, it’s not rocket science.” Paris waved off, smiling back “After having to reroute my original Valentines plan, I mulled over what it is you’d really like – and, frankly, in the end, I knew you would’ve loved a night in watching all our favourites, gorging on surgery snacks, over any elaborate escapade. Or, at least, that’s what I’m hoping you’ll say..”

The way Paris was looking up at her through her lashes, nervously biting on the answer, Rory couldn’t stand how cute it was. An all new smile bloomed over her lips.

“It’s perfect.”

The smile that burst over Paris could’ve made Rory lovesick. She lit up, rocking up on her toes, her grin reaching up all the way to her ears.

“Really?..” She asked softly. Rory let out a gentle laugh. She reached into cup Paris’s faces, a tiny pull inwards so she could kiss her cheek.

“I love it so much, and I love you. The array of treats – you really know the way into a Gilmore’s heart.”

“This many years on, I’ve learned some tricks.” Paris teased back, crossing the space to softly kiss Rory in return “Happy Valentines..”

“The best one yet.”

“Does that mean I beat Huntzberger then?...”

“Well, he never make me homemade ice cream sandwiches..”

“Ha!”

“Alright, alright, hurry up with your gloating – I wanna try these sandwiches paired with that champagne I saw earlier, and I want my girlfriend to try it with me..”

“As you wish, my love.”

#gilmore girls #rory gilmore #paris geller #rory x paris #february writing challenge #gellmore #hope ppl like it! #and that the formatting is okay and everything #this inspiration brought to you by watching pastry shows #no really though #I've really gotten into baking shows bc I both enjoy cooking and I'm a big sweets person #and while these people are undoubtedly masters of their craft they always manage to pull off something amazing despite the challenges #showcasing their love for both baking and how good at it a lot of them are #and it made ME a person who notoriously hates challenges and pressure to think I might wanna try something like that #and see what I can do within the constraints I've given myself and showcase what I can do #we'll see what happens #I'm trying to learn to be more resilient and not just give up the second things get hard #which is something I've done since I was a little kid #to actually learn to push myself #scary but doable! #check in tomorrow for the next update I've already got it partially written #just trying to find time to write something everyday is going to be the biggest thing #anyway who else out there really likes bake squad and the great canadian baking show

[limitlessgojo]

Blood Bound: Red Strings of Fate (Ch. 11)

Warnings: Action, Coarse Language, Fighting, Descriptions of Blood

Previous Chapter: Invisible Ties

Next Chapter: Goldenrod

Tags: Soulmates AU, Angst, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Fem!Reader

Taglist: @lessie-oxj @rizzo-nero @whoreuc @fkngkumiko @isl3t @gojoussunglasses @onepotatostand-blog @s-t-f-u-b-i-t-c-h @sunaswife

Notes: If you want to be tagged for every update, please mention it in the comments below ty <3

Additional notes: This is so funny but I made a mistake in assuming the previous Goodwill event was held in Tokyo. Rewatched JJK and found out it was in Kyoto so I had to rewrite it XD.

Chapter 11: Kyoto-Tokyo Goodwill Event

Breakfast was a quiet affair. He brought out a short table and you had the meal side by side.

It was grilled salmon and miso soup. You both stole glances at each other when the other wasn't looking.

A domestic life with Noritoshi. Yeah you could get used to this. "Thank you for the meal Noritoshi." You smiled and offered to wash the dishes.

He stood behind you in the small kitchenette as you did, humming softly to yourself. Noritoshi was holding your waist gently and leaning his forehead against your shoulder. Thumbing small circles into the sides of your hips.

You quietly smiled at yourself, not expecting Noritoshi to love physical affection this much. After washing the dishes, you laughed as you placed your ice cold hands on his neck, forcing him to let go of you and flinch back with a frown.

Leaving Noritoshi’s dorm after breakfast had terrible timing apparently. You bumped into Todo senpai on your way out.

“Ah.” You both stared at each other for a bit. Noritoshi was still behind you, the door to his dorm room open. It didn’t help that you had your pillows and blankets in your hands.

And you were still in pajamas.

“So is this like a thing now? Congratulations on getting together.” Todo smiled down at you.

“Ah uhm- we- I- “ You stuttered, but Noritoshi wrapped an arm around your waist and pulled you to him.

“Yes we are dating. And what of it?” He stared Todo down. You were flustered but incredibly pleased upon finally hearing a solid label between the two of you.

Todo just grinned. “So you actually have decent taste in women huh Kamo?”

“The best.” He replied dryly. You flushed and whined at Noritoshi, pawing at his robes. He just pulled you closer and hid your face in his chest.

“Didn’t know you had this shy side Tsuchi chan.” Todo was laughing. He bid both of you goodbye, and by the end of the day the entire campus knew both of you were dating.

But of course the both of you didn’t know it yet. “So…. you’re my boyfriend now Toshi?” you reached up to twirl his hair in your fingers as you made your belongings float in midair.

His eyes sparkled at the nickname. He leaned down close to you, “So it seems. Are you unhappy?”

“No. I’m happy.” You leaned up to press your lips against the corner of his.

Noritoshi sent you off, only letting you go after he had gotten a huge hug from you with a deep kiss to the cheek. He realized with a small jolt that he was pretty much touch-starved (no surprises there).

Wishing for more of your hugs and kisses already, and you just left for a few moments. He sighed heavily and shook his head.

Later that day, you bumped into Miwa as you were leaving your dorm. It was the weekend so you all had no classes and missions. She hesitantly called out a “Congratulations. You finally got together with Kamo senpai yeah?”

You looked at her in surprise. “How did you-”

“Todo senpai.”

“That man really doesn’t keep his mouth shut.”

◇◇◇

It was a different experience, having the other students tease the both of you about your new relationship as a real boyfriend and girlfriend. You felt weird by calling him your lover.

"I called it!" Mai proudly smirked down at you. "We all did Mai chan." Momo senpai giggled, bumping her hip with yours as you looked shocked over the bets they placed.

Noritoshi always had a soft smile for you. He recently managed his time better, finishing his studies very early so he could spend more time with you.

Not shy to take your hand whenever you meet in the hallways and drag you for a picnic under the huge Plum Tree or just to hug you quickly before going off to a mission.

You were more open, hopping up to him in the hallways and greeting him cheerfully. ‘It was nice’, you thought to yourself.

Ever the overthinker, you at times think of the secrets he mentioned having. Probably personal matters he wasn’t ready to talk about. That’s fine, you had your own fair share as well. Time will heal and bring whatever it may to the both of you.

◇◇◇

The Kyoto-Tokyo sister school goodwill event was drawing near. You and your fellow first years wished all your participating seniors good luck.

“I heard they also have a Special Grade 1st year student in Tokyo Tech.” You perked up at that, “Is that so?”

“I highly doubt they’d come though. Just like how you aren’t participating, Tsuchi. Usually 2nd and 3rd years are the ones participating. It is going to be held here in Kyoto Tech since we won last year.” Todo grinned.

You wondered about that.

◇◇◇

Just a few days before the goodwill event, Utahime texted you and said Noritoshi was injured from a mission. So of course you flew as fast as you could to his room, where he was being treated.

"Noritoshi!!" You wheezed out, entering his room in a burst of wind. You had come back from a lunch date with an old classmate from elementary.

You hurried over to his bedside and looked him over. He slowly turned to you, eyes widening. He smiled, "An angel is here."

You flushed and laughed out loud, "Noritoshi you've lost it. It's just me. Y/n." You brushed some stray hairs out of his face.

He continued staring at you dreamily, “Angel”. You were all dressed up, face fully made up. Rouge lipstick with a light touch of blush on your cheeks. You had your round shades on, prettily framing your face.

He used a free and uninjured hand to reach and cup your cheek. You leaned into his touch before pushing his arm back down. "You need rest." You said gently.

You placed your hands over his chest and activated your reverse cursed technique. He groaned as he felt his skin stitch back together. "Shhh, it will be fine."

He wasn't that badly injured thank goodness. “Angel, have you seen my y/n? I miss her.” He whined. You patted him on the forehead and shushed him with a quick kiss.

Why was he behaving like this?? You turned to the nurse packing their things from the corner, “I put him on anesthesia. He will be loopy for a bit.”

“Ah.” This might be a little bit fun. “Toshiii~ It’s me y/n how could you not recognize me?” You pouted. Noritoshi pouted and whined in return. The nurse pointedly ignored both of you and quickly left the room.

He stared at you with the biggest eyes he’s ever made, seemingly thinking hard. “Don’t think too hard, you’ll lose brain cells.” you whispered.

“Hold me.” He demanded not unlike a child asking for candy. And so you sat beside him and held onto his hand. You watched as he fell asleep, clinging onto your hand.

This loose-tongued and childish side to Noritoshi was just too adorable.

◇◇◇

Noritoshi stirred awake, seeing you so close to him. You were laying on top of his chest, one hand holding onto his.

He stared at your profile half sprawled over his blanket and reached to put a hand on your back and rubbed it soothingly. Then let his hand rest on the back of your neck while tracing small circles on it with the pad of his thumb.

You were so sweet on him. It was a wonder to Noritoshi, who felt as though he was always lacking in physical affection. To see someone sincerely take care of him without requesting anything in return was refreshing for a change.

He watched as you stirred, then your hand tightened in his and you brought it close to your lips, all while you were still fast asleep. Noritoshi’s eyes twinkled. What were you dreaming about? Was it about him?

He watched as you slowly woke up. “Mmmm Toshiii~” you blearily reached out for him. You were able to wash up and change your clothes while he was asleep.

He pulled you into his bed, making your half sprawl over his lap. “Why didn’t you get in bed with me? Surely your back must hurt? It’s late now, sleep with me.” You looked at the clock and to your surprise it was indeed late. 2am.

“Okayy” you were still whiny, half asleep, and slightly grumpy from waking up. You both settled in the bed and fell asleep holding hands.

◇◇◇

It was finally the day of the Kyoto-Tokyo Goodwill event. You were all out, 1st, 2nd and 3rd years with Utahime sensei and Principal Gakuganji, waiting for the Tokyo group to arrive.

Then you felt this ominous presence from afar. You took a few steps back, cursed energy flaring and winds whipping around you. Everyone looked at you in concern and Noritoshi whispered as he squeezed your hand, "Angel, you okay?"

You still found it funny how he now takes to calling you his angel when it’s just the two of you after you told him about his embarrassing moment when he was loopy on sedatives.

You stared off at a distance. "Everyone... Something… big is coming." You didn't realize that you felt Rika's presence from afar. Everyone tensed and looked in the same direction you were as the Tokyo participants came.

There were some really loud 2nd and 3rd years, but the one that stood out was a rather reserved boy with black hair. He had a Katana bag hooked over one shoulder. And a massive curse looming over him. ‘How is that thing not exorcised yet?!’

"Yooooo Everyone from Kyoto hello!!"

That voice. Your eye twitched. "Nice to meet you all again." Gojo Satoru cheerily yelled. Introductions were exchanged. The group challenge on the first day is Capture the Flag. The details for the individual battles tomorrow are yet to be announced.

Everyone was surprised to hear that the first year, Okkotsu Yuuta, the special grade cursed human, was participating to even out the numbers.

Based on that amount of cursed energy…. Tokyo school might win this year, you thought grimly. 'As long as there are no casualties please.' You prayed to yourself. You wished Noritoshi good luck with a quick hug.

After the participants were dismissed and released to their positions, the Kyoto 1st year's followed the two principals and Utahime sensei.

"Neko-chaaaan! How cruel, you don't wanna greet me?" His damn voice was so fucking loud everyone in the vicinity turned to Satoru.

(His nickname for you was cute but the story wasn't. When you were 4 years old, the Tsuchi family cat always ran away from you. You tried to be more catlike to befriend it, which Satoru found hilarious. Ergo, he started calling you Cat or Neko chan.)

Your eye twitched again as always does with Satoru. "Toru nii, it's been a while." You said, looking at the man leering down at your figure. He pulled you in for a side hug and ruffled your hair. "I missed you loads, it's been a while huh. How's school?"

"Not too bad." You fixed and patted your hair back down, aware of the eyes on you.

"Mmm, I bet." His bright blue [six] eyes could see the red strings linking your pinky to Noritoshi's. "You got a boyfriend by any chance y/n?"

You stopped at that and looked up at him. "Did Hiroki tell you anything?" "Nup" he always pops his P's obnoxiously.

You looked to the side and murmured "I do."

"You have a boyf-ooms" You slapped your hand over his mouth, floating up to his height. You could practically see his blue eyes gleaming behind those white bandages. "Keep your voice down dimwit." You hissed.

He licked your hand. "You're gross as always Toru," you wiped it on his sleeve as you walked on air to match his height.

"You should have told me you got a boyfriend. Anywayss, my students are gonna kick ass. Yuuta is pretty strong and he's the type to go all out you know?" He nudged you.

"Noritoshi and the senpais won't go down without a fight." You said. “Heehhh, is that so?”

You caught up a bit with him, making small talk as you made your way to the viewing rooms.

◇◇◇

Miwa later pulled you aside, "You know Gojo Satoru?! Isn't he, like, super famous?!"

"Uhhh?? He is?? … uhm I don't know. But we are family friends, he's like a brother to me really." You said confusedly. "The Tsuchimikado and Gojo clans always got along. His dad and my dad are friends."

"Ahhh I see." She nodded. She was still unfamiliar with the Great 3 clans and minor clans of Jujutsushi so it was understandable for her to be curious.

The rest of you filed into the room. The teachers allowed all of you to watch on the screens, so that you can get familiar with the goodwill event.

"Psst! Y/n sit beside me." You laughed as Satoru eagerly patted the seat beside him, sounding more like a teenager than a teacher. You scooted over to his side as he brought out snacks, chips, and popcorn. You stared at him. "You think this is a movie?"

"It's free entertainment." He shrugged.

And the event started. You all watched on the screens as both schools fought against curses while defending their home base flag and trying to take down the enemy's flag.

Todo, of course, was on the front lines, recklessly plowing into Tokyo high's home base. Hakari, a 3rd year, was facing him off, somehow holding his ground against him.

Noritoshi was following Momo around, taking down curses and stopping the other team's students from charging in.

But before they knew it, Yuuta was on the other side, flag in his hands. It wasn't a quick match but a rather rough one. At the very least, no one was injured badly.

Your eyes watched Okkotsu’s movements. It was very obvious he was new to fighting, but his brute force of cursed energy played well to his strengths. You were looking forward to tomorrow's matches.

Blood Bound: Table of Contents

#kamo noritoshi x you #jjk kamo #blood bound #red strings of fate #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk x reader #jjk fanfic #kamo noritoshi x reader #noritoshi fluff #gojo satoru #miwa kasumi #todo aoi #jjk x y/n #noritoshi x y/n #noritoshi headcanons

[i-am-a-closet-fanfic-fiend]

Carnival of Hearts (Part 2/6) ~ Bucky x Reader College!AU

A/N: Hi lovelies! Hope you’re all doing well! So good news! I’m pretty sure I’m going to be able to do regular updates for this fic. The plan is for weekly updates on Fridays at 12 PM EST. I will let you know if I can’t do it though. For now enjoy! 

This is my entry for @buckysknifecollection​ ‘s 3k Follower Challenge. Congrats on the milestone lovely! Go check out the blog. Personal fave is Hush (a must read if you’re into soft!Biker!Bucky)

Prompt: Our friends set us up on this carnival date but we’re both pining after someone else and this a bit awkward

Summary: When you’re set up on a carnival date with Bucky Barnes NOTHING turns out the way you expected.

Rating: T

Warnings: Language

Word count: 1916

Story Masterlist | Main Masterlist 

After six outfit changes, you were finally satisfied with your appearance. The red wrap shirt was your favorite, your jeans hugged just right, and you were rocking your favorite white converse. The last touch was to clip in a white hair flower just behind your ear before declaring yourself ready.

Steve was on set up duty so he had already been at the fair grounds for hours and Natasha was meant to meet you there after her shift at the coffee shop, so you grabbed your backpack purse and headed out, cautiously optimistic for the day ahead. You paced back and forth a little ways away from the ticket booth as you waited for your friends and your date.

Your phone buzzed in your hand as you checked the time again.

Nat: Coffee shop got slammed last minute. Going to be a while. Sorry. Just go meet Bucky and Wanda.

“Wonderful,” you muttered.  

You could go meet Bucky and Wanda if you had either of their numbers. You were about to text Nat and ask her to pass the info along when your phone buzzed twice. One from Steve and one from an unknown number. You opened the latter.

Unknown Number:Hi this is Bucky. Wanda is running late so she said for me to just meet you and Natasha.

You rolled your eyes, but snapped a quick selfie and responded.

Y/n: I'm by the ticket booth. Red shirt and a white flower in my hair. Just me though. Nat’s late too.  

Bucky: Be right there!

He responded with a selfie of his own.

"Y/n?"

You turned at the shout of your name. Bucky shot you a shy smile and a small wave, wading through the crowd of people.

“Hey, it’s nice to meet you.” He stuck his hand out.

“Nice to meet you too, Bucky.”

“Sorry, I’m late. I was technically on time, but I was waiting for Wanda.”

“No problem at all.”

He had a kind smile and it eased the knot of tension in your stomach, though an awkward silence stretched between you. It broke when you both laughed.

“I’m sorry. I’ve never been on a blind date before,” you admitted, worrying your bottom lip with your teeth.

“That makes two of us. But,” he continued before the conversation could lapse again. “I have been to a lot of carnivals with friends in my time.”

You clung to the lifeline.

“Well that we have in common. Although-” You crossed your arms over your chest. “I did just meet you so I’m not sure we can be called friends yet.”

Bucky put both hands up to concede the point.  

“Well let’s start with the carnival part and we’ll see the friendship comes naturally.”

“I can work with that.”  

Bucky bought an armload of tickets and the two of you entered the fairgrounds. Happy screams from the roller coaster mixed with ride music, and you were practically vibrating with excitement.

You grabbed a map from the information booth, smiling at Hope who was manning it.

“Enjoy the carnival!”

“Thank you!”

You huddled out of the way of the hoards of people, carefully surveying the map.

“Now, what I have learned over the years, is that there are two types of people. Ones who plan their carnival route. And chaos entities who cause their friends to miss their favorite rides.”

You raised an eyebrow at him.

“I sense some bitterness there.”

Bucky chuckled and shrugged but didn’t elaborate.  

“Well, I’m certainly not a chaos entity.”

“Excellent. So where should we start?”

“R.C.F.A.”

“Excuse me.”

“Roller coasters first always.”

“A girl after my own heart. Any rides that are a hard no?”

“Not a one,” you announced proudly. “But don’t let me eat before any spinny ones.”

“Noted. Okay, then.”

Bucky scanned the fairgrounds trying to track the flow of the crowd.

“It looks like the tilt-a-whirl has the shortest line.”

“Ooh and it’s right next to the two best coasters,” you pointed to the cluster of rides on the map.

“Then we’ll start there. And then we can follow the circuit back to the food area for lunch.”

“Sounds good. Let’s go!”

Unable to contain your excitement any longer you grabbed his hand and dragged a laughing Bucky through the crowds.  

“So what happened to Nat?” he asked as you waited behind a group of middle schoolers.

"Stuck at work. Cafe got slammed last minute. Wanda?"

"She was getting a haircut and they were running an hour late.”

You poked your tongue into your cheek. Bucky voiced what you had been thinking.

“Do you smell a setup?"

You let out the laugh you’d been holding back. "Oh yeah. I mean technically both of those are real things that could happen, but…”

“Yeah, it seems a bit suspicious.”

“I should have known Nat would weasel out of her end of the bargain."

"Bargain?" Bucky asked.

You inhaled through your teeth and offered him an apologetic smile.

"It may have taken a bit of convincing to get me to go on this date."

“What were the terms of this deal?”

You counted them on your fingers.

“We would meet as a group. I had a guaranteed out at lunch time. And she wouldn’t set me up for the rest of the semester. It wasn’t anything against you. I promise,” you explained.

He waved off your concern.  

“Trust me I took a similar deal. But you were smarter than I am. I should have gotten the no meddling clause in there.”

You exhaled a laugh, relieved you hadn’t offended him.

“Well now you know for next time.”

“True. Though based on how Wanda talked about you there won’t be a next time because you’re supposedly exactly what I need.”

"Nat gave me the same speech. Think they practiced?”

“Probably,” he snorted. “She says you're perfect for me. So my expectations are high just FYI.”  

"That’s fair. Personally, mine are astronomical,” you replied in a haughty tone.  

“I guess we’re both in for disappointment then.”

“Not so far at least,” you admitted with a sly smile that he returned as you were strapped into the tilt-a-whirl.

The line for your first roller coaster was longer than you anticipated, but Bucky kept you entertained. He questioned you on your taste in movies and TV shows which led to an in depth debate of the character arcs in Supernatural. In the next line you discussed Bucky’s favorite book which happened to hold a special place in your heart.  

 When you stopped for snacks -cotton candy for him and watermelon slush for you - you were comfortable enough to tease him.

“So, did you find Insta-stalking me last night helpful in preparing for this date?”

Bucky’s cheeks went red despite his best efforts to appear nonchalant.

“Pfft. I didn’t Insta-stalk you.”

“Oh, so it was a different JBBarnes317 who liked the picture of me moving into my dorm Freshman year.”

“I…” he hung his head, peeking at you through his long hair. “Okay so maybe I did. I tried really hard not to, but I was really nervous and I thought maybe if I knew something about you we could avoid a lot of awkward pauses. Sorry.”

You shook your head and patted his knee.  

“Don’t be. I had been arguing with myself all night. And when I saw that you liked my photo I totally caved. It was honestly a relief. Though I’ve got to say that your profile picture on Facebook does not do you justice.”

“Well I only change my profile picture if it’s a leap year.”

You opened your mouth to respond, but nothing came out. You tilted your head with an incredulous laugh.

“I have nothing to say to that. Are you serious? If so, why?”

He snorted at your expression.

“No. I just haven’t spent more than like ten minutes on Facebook since I was seventeen. I don’t even know why I have it any more.”

“That’s fair.”

“Well, since I’ve been exposed. I’ve got to ask. How far did you row yourself in the moving cart?”

“About 500 feet before I hit a bump and nearly pole vaulted myself out of said cart.”

“That was the funniest video I have ever seen. And I’m kind of mad I never thought of it.”

“There’s always move out.”

“I don’t live on campus. So no yellow carts for me when I move out. Just lots and lots of boxes.”

“Bummer. You can always help me move out!” you concluded triumphantly.

“Let’s see how the rest of the date goes before I agree to that,” he laughed. “But maybe.”

You smiled at the implication before returning the conversation at hand.

“Are you in an apartment then?”

“Yeah. It’s a really nice two bedroom about ten minutes from campus.”

“I assume two bedroom means roommate?”  

“Yes. Sam. He and I got randomly roomed together sophomore year, but it actually ended up being the best thing to ever happen. He’s my best friend. I can’t imagine living with anyone else. We thought we were going to have to get a third roommate, which would have been a bummer, but luckily we were able to find a place for just us.”

“That sounds ideal. I’m lucky because my scholarship pays for housing, but honestly I would kill to have a full kitchen again.”

“Or you could just ask nicely.” He smirked. “Do you like cooking?”

“No, I am a mediocre cook at best. But I love baking.”  

Bucky’s eye glittered.

“Well then you’re definitely invited to use my kitchen.”

“Let me guess. Payment in baked goods?”

“It seems fair.”

“It does. Do you cook a lot.”

“I can manage. But Sam’s an amazing cook. I keep telling him he’s in the wrong career path.”

There was a hint of frustration in his tone.

“What’s he studying?”

“Business. He plans to open and manage restaurants. Says it’s the smarter path. Which like I get it. But man, the look he gets in his eye when he makes a good dish. He just lights up the whole room. I mean he usually does just by being there, but this. It’s pure joy. It makes you excited to try his food. Even if you hate the ingredients. I just don’t want him to lose that. It makes him special.”

“He sounds pretty amazing.”

“He definitely is,” Bucky sighed, before shaking himself slightly. “But he has his flaws. Like, he likes to run. Every morning.”

“I’ve got one like that too. Steve gets up at the crack of dawn every morning. He’s even in the running club.”

“Sam is too.”

“Really? Huh. I wonder if they know each other.”

“They must. There can’t be that many people who willing give up sleep to run.”

“I swear it’s an illness.”

“Agreed. But I do get fresh muffins out of the deal. Steve always brings me my favorite. This summer, we lived together and he’d wake me up after his shower and we’d eat on our little balcony before work and it was perfect.”

“Sam and I eat on the roof sometimes and he always brews the best cup of coffee. He even manages to time it so it’s at the perfect temperature when I get to the kitchen. He may have magic powers.”

“We’re really spoiled aren’t we?”

“I think we are the appropriate amount of spoiled.”  

You both laughed as you tossed your trash and continued on your way.  

A/n: I hope you enjoyed and I’ll see you next week (hopefully)

Tag lists are open (Please send an ask) I am removing all tags that don’t work after three failed attempts. 

Carnival of Hearts 

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#bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #Carnival of Hearts #College!AU #College!Bucky Barnes #buckysknifecollectionchallenge #challenge fic

[whereflowersbloom]

Pumpkin Disaster

Richard could almost smell the cinnamon spice, vanilla scent and cinnamon sugar in the air. The colors of the leaves changed from green to a dazzling display of red, orange and yellow. The air became crisper and temperatures dropped a bit as a chill came into the air.

Richard Grayson absolutely loved Halloween. As expected of the eldest Wayne sibling, he was the kind of person who enjoyed decorating and preparing the manor for Halloween because of his everlasting enthusiasm for holidays. He loved the cheesy and horror movies, the excuse to stuff his face with candy, the seasonal special editions of cereal, the elaborate and extravagant costumes, the creative decorations. It was his second favorite holiday. And he definitely considered it a holiday.

Halloween wasn’t just a day to him. Oh no. The whole month of October was Halloween. But with his vigilante duties, intermittent Titans training and constant Gotham crises cropping up, he had made it through two weeks of the month without an ounce of Halloween festivity. But that was about to change.

“You never carved pumpkins for Halloween?” Dick Grayson asked incredulously, pressing a hand to his chest in a move overly dramatic.

Damian exclaimed a familiar ‘TT’ in response. For him seeing people playing pretend, wearing flashy and ridiculous costumes was not particularly interesting. Thought they weren’t much different from the impractical clothing Todd and Richard insisted on wearing. It was just a recurrent reminder that he was not a normal child.

“Which part of I was raised in the inhospitable and desolate mountains you didn’t comprehend, Grayson?” Damian brusquely returned with furrowed eyebrows.

“But we cannot celebrate it without carving your first pumpkin...” Grayson sounded so downhearted it stung Damian with shadowy guilt. Out of all his adoptive siblings Grayson was the pleasant and tolerable one. Damian swallowed hard.

“I want all of us to carve a pumpkin!” Dick declared holding up his index finger in contempt. Damian raised a dark eyebrow as a go on communicating silently. “We are all doing this together as a family.”

“It’s not necessary. I’m not a small child anymore.” Damian scoffed, rolling his eyes before refocusing on his Robert Frost book, flipping another page. No. He would not acquiesce easily into this. He was self-sufficient, mature preteen. Not a child.

“Demon spawn, you are only eleven.” Jason commented before putting out a finished cigarette. Fortunately Alfred wasn’t lurking around to give him disapproving eyes for smoking inside the manor.

“Is this your way of asking for a new scar, Todd?” Damian threatened through gritted teeth and clenched fists, mind quickly calculating the damage of throwing an explosive batarang.

“You’re getting less insufferable to be around.” Jason scoffed and met Damian with a sly smirk. “Dickie, pouting is not an acceptable reaction for a full-grown adult.” Jason sing-songed as he grabbed his motorbike keys.

“This includes you Jaybird. I plan on getting you into the Halloween spirit.” Dick announced with his authoritative leader tone, letting Jason know he would be part of this wether he liked it or not.

Jason groaned dreadfully, cursing under his breath. Great. Now he was part of the Halloween circus. At least he didn’t have to take the annoying gremlin pumpkin picking. God knows what would happened if they fed him candy. The thought gave Jason chilling goosebumps.

Damian folded his arms over his chest in a sign of disagreement. “I don’t do pumpkins. It’s a waste of food. It amounts to about 18,000 tons of pumpkin, including flesh and seeds. Have you read the recent studies on how it’s destroying the environment?”

“Come on, D. You will have fun. You can carve your own Robin lantern” Dick encouraged, practically vibrating with excitement. Damian wondered what on earth he did to deserve such blinding sunshine as his adoptive sibling. “...and I’m sure Alfred will find a convenient way to make use of the pumpkins.”the last words seemed to have done the trick to convince the younger boy.

Damian considered the options carefully for a solid minute. He knew better than ignoring Richard wouldn’t get him anywhere. He wouldn’t leave it alone. Sigh. If it meant he could help Pennyworth baking a pumpkin spice pie with ginger-snag crust...

“Lead the way, Grayson.” Damian sighed resignedly.

Dick squealed in joy, bouncing to his feet and wrapping his arms around Damian’s neck.

It was just pumpkin carving what exactly could go wrong. Right?

~~~

Less than two hours later Jason Todd walked into the kitchen of the Wayne manor, initially looking for a cup of peppermint tea as the Gotham chilly autumn winds were making him crave a hot beverage.

“Would anyone care to explain why is there a whole fucking pumpkin patch on the kitchen table?” Jason muttered audibly, mouth opened in stupefaction. What in the name of Halloweentown....Where did all these pumpkins come from?

“Language, Jay.” Dick scolded him glancing up at him over a pile of massive mutant pumpkins with a provoking grin.

“I grew up in the Narrows. I’m allowed to swear.” Jason rolled his eyes in reply as he tried to avoid stepping on the pumpkins, accidentally squashing them, they were scattered on the floor, table, those fucking things were everywhere. “Dickie, are you going to explain?”

“These are from Roy.” Richard gestured the numerous orange bulbs with his right hand. “I think he got these from some illegal smuggling bust. I didn’t really ask a lot of questions. I just accepted them because I thought it’d be fun to try carving Batman lanterns with little D.”

It took Jason less than two minutes to process the information. Why was the golden boy not bothered by this?

“You mean these are contraband pumpkins.” He remarked skeptically, green-blue eyes widening still rather incredulous.

Dick simply shrugged. “I didn’t think you’d have a problem.”

Right. Only if Bruce found out about the origin of the contraband pumpkins. Then he’d be blamed for being the bad influence and his merry band of disreputable friends. He groaned as he rubbed the nape of his neck.

“And where is the demon spawn. I don’t seem him anywhere.” He questioned narrowing his eyes and tilting his head to the side the slightest. He had to be close to Dick, but the kitchen was alarmingly too quiet. Too quiet for his liking. This meant trouble.

Tim didn’t try too hard not to flinch as a knife flashed dangerously close to his face and flied past Jason. “This is the third time in the last hour. I’m starting to think it’s personal.” Tim spoke calmly with a sarcastic tone as he continued sipping his black coffee expressionless as usual. Getting knifed by the little demon spawn before Halloween would hav been the cherry on top of the misfortune cake.

Jason was genuinely concerned and wondered how many cups of coffee Tim has had today. Hopefully not over five.

“If he wanted you dead, you’d be already in a casket.” Jason pointed out. It was no secret Damian’s strong aversion towards replacement, but he didn’t wish the shortstack dead.

Tim just shrugged his shoulders casually. “Well, I suppose we always could use your old one.” Fuck that. He took it back.

“Low blow, replacement.” Jason feigned hurt putting a hand to his chest right above his heart in a offended manner.

“It’s juts not cooperating.” The young kid voiced his frustration and discontentment . Leaving the kitchen knife he used on the table. Tt. He was trained and raised for excellence and he couldn’t carve flawlessly a stupid pumpkin. Mother would be entirely displeased.

“Requires time and practice, Dami.” Dick whispered softly with a warm smile, running his hand up and down the preteen’s back.

“I don’t know D, to me it looks like you’re slaughtering it mercilessly.” Jason joked with a wolflike smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. Head moving in different angles trying to find a figure or face in the pumpkin Damian had been carving. “Unless you were thinking of the Joker, If so then you have my seal of approval.” The little demon spawn was never the most pleasant person to be around but deep,very deep down maybe Jason had a soft spot for him. Not that he would ever admit it out loud. Never.

“Do us a favor and keep your mouth shut, Todd.” Damian barked, glaring daggers at him.

“I never did Halloween with my parents.” The words escaped Tim’s mouth before his brilliant brain registered the order. The pain wasn’t there anymore. No. There were charity Galas, social events for wealthy socialites, last minute journeys for significant discoveries. Because people often assumed there will be plenty of time later. Tim didn’t want Damian to live for the later.

“I remember trading a cheap wristwatch for expired candy once. Not a great deal.” Jason muttered nonchalantly, giving it unimportance. Tone flat and factual. His memories from the narrows weren’t memorable for being happy or enjoyable but he had what he managed to obtain and he did what was necessary in order to survive. Nothing to be ashamed of.

“There’s always a first, Timbo.” Dick placed sympathetically a hand on Tim’s shoulder in a comforting way. Tim smiled softly back. Well, perhaps this pumpkin carving experience could be fun.

~~~

“This is the grossest thing I’ve ever done.” Tim announced, scooping a handful of pumpkin guts out of his pumpkin and examining them distastefully. “Seriously. I’ve done some pretty gross things, but this takes the cake.”

Jason flicked playfully a few pumpkin seeds at him and Tim moved fast enough to evade almost all of them. “Don’t be such a crybaby, replacement.” He has been playing with the large pumpkin, stabbing it numerous times picturing the joker’s fAce.

“Look at the gremlin, he’s been doing it for like two hours. What if he’s developed an addiction?” Jason mumbled slightly concerned and half-joking to Tim.

Damian pulled the pumpkin impossibly closer to him, practically cradling the thing in his lap. His mind completely absorbed in the task of carving the perfect pumpkin. His back was pressed to the cupboards behind him, a series of knives and napkins scattered at his sides. He looked focused, impossibly focused, like there could never be a more important thing for him to pour his energy into. Because Damian Wayne even if he didn’t admit it was obsessed with maintaining perfection. Failure was not a word he accepted.

Damian rolled his eyes. “I’m fairly sure no one has ever got addicted to pumpkin carving and I can hear you, mindless fools.”

"Any behavior can become compulsive.” Tim supplied absently, eyes fixed on the small pumpkin in front of him.

Dick paused briefly from working on his Nightwing lantern to just observe Damian, not even trying to hide the smile on his lips.

Dick and Jason quietly exchange discreet glances. Quickly they picked a few pumpkin seeds out of the bowl that resided in the scented of the kitchen table, flicking them over towards Damian who squawked and tried unsuccessfully, to duck. Due to being too focused on the task assigned. “Will you stop distracting me? I have a masterpiece to finish!”

“A masterpiece?” Jason asked teasingly, glancing pointedly at his Batman lantern.

“Yes. A masterpiece, Todd.” Damian exhaled exasperated. What did anyone have to do to carve a mere pumpkin in peace?

“Come on, little D. It’s time to have some fun!” Jason threw a handful of pulpy flesh at his face. Oh. This would be seen as a declaration of war. Quickly, Damian grabbed a portion of pumpkin and aimed for Jason’s leather jacket. ‘NOT MY JACKET’ several minutes later, Drake was covered in the orange flesh from head to toes. He was in urgent need of a bath. Grayson was smart enough to grasp a breakfast tray and use it as a shield, however it didn’t work for long. Damian and Tim teamed up to caught him on the top with a surprise attack, Drake sneaking behind his back. Needless to say the kitchen was in shambles at this point. Good thing Pennyworth has been busy the whole day reorganizing the library.

“What’s all this mess in my kitchen?! Master Richard I demand a proper explanation!” A very agitated British voice came from the doorframe. Alfred very upset, furrowing his grey brows appeared looking utterly baffled by the chaos.

Oops.

“Fuck me” Jason and Richard grumbled in unison from the floor covered in pumpkin pulp. Soon they broke out in bowls of laughter all four of them. Damian genuinely laughed at his heart’s content with the innocence of a normal child. His family may have been unstable and insane, but canned if they weren’t entertaining and the best part of his new life.

Some mandatory batbros bonding October prompt 🎃 🙈🙈🙈❤️💜💜

Also I’m celebrating 1.8K followers. Thank you so much for your support and reading my stories. I appreciate it 🥺🥺

Edited here:

https://archiveofourown.org/works/26891536

@sofiii @chromium7sky @deep-in-mind67

#batfamily #batsiblings bonding #batbrothers #batbros #batman universe #bruce wayne #dick grayson #tim drake #jason todd #damian wayne #alfred pennyworth #hauntober #october prompts #dc fandom #dc universe #nightwing #red robin #red hood #pumpkin carving #halloween

[harringtonheartache]

Daybreak | Part Fifteen

Part Sixteen 

Pairing: Steve Harrington x Lab Escapee! Reader?

Summary: Part fifteen of this fic. Slow it down, what is going on here? Hopper needs to know.

Word Count: 2,300 +

Warning(s): Mild cussing

A/N: I’m not entirely fond of how I ended this chapter but I need to decide what direction I want the story to go in... Anyway, I hope you can forgive me and enjoy reading! 

Stacked neatly, Mike’s VHS tapes sat on Steve’s coffee table centered in front of the living room couch. Next to them were Steve’s socked feet, also stacked on top of one another as his legs stretched out before him. The credits for Indiana Jones rolled down the TV screen, and Nine’s eyes trailed across the words. Steve stood from his spot next to her on the couch, and gave her a puzzled look when she shot him one first. “You’re not-” she started, but her eyes traveled back to the screen. “Are you actually reading the credits?” Steve said, amusement in his voice. She looked back to him, giving up on the fast-scrolling text. “I didn’t know what they were,” she told him.

A smile dragged slowly across Steve’s face as he progressed into light laughter. “You don’t have to read those, they aren’t part of the story,” he explained. Nine cracked a smile as well, a breath of air leaving her mouth between her curled lips as if she were relieved. “Oh”. 

Steve crouched by the TV now, removing the tape from the player and finding its respective cover to put it away in. “So, what did you think?” he asked, turning his head to Nine as the tape snapped into place in the plastic case. 

“I liked it, it was nice to focus on other people’s problems for a while,” she said, and he laughed again. “Agreed”. 

About to engage in further discussion of the plot, Nine sat up and parted her lips to speak. Beating her to action, a chime rang through the house as someone outside pressed the doorbell. A recurring situation that had grown less scary and more irritating. Steve sighed as he stood up and looked to Nine with an apologetic expression, as if it were him outside ringing to be let in. 

It was Hopper. Chief of police returned to the Harrington residence as he said he would. The site of an authority at his door was inherently startling to Steve, but he let him inside as he thought over how long ago it was Hopper had been in his home, eyeing the empty space and scolding him to put an ice pack on his face. He realized now that he never did. 

-

Nine sat in the same seat she had occupied before, but this time her posture was stiff. She had first crossed her legs, one on top of the other, but moved to undo this after a minute. Her fingertips squeezed at folds in the fabric of her borrowed sweatpants, and she wished her injured arm hadn’t left her unable to borrow a shirt with long sleeves as well. So she substituted one jittery act for another. Beside Nine to her right, Steve was close; turned towards her slightly and hunched over just a little as if he were going to whisper to her a secret. Maybe he’d give her all the answers to the questions she would be asked. 

Hopper sat across from the two like a marriage counselor for a young couple. He leaned forward, forearms on his knees as if to get down to Nine’s level, to seem less dominating. She still wanted to back up, despite the intention.

“I don’t want to unsettle you, I just have to understand”. He started off with a half-apology after reading her body language, but continued on even when his sentence didn’t seem to make a dent in her demeanor. “I need to know more about where you came from — the lab”. He said the last two words as if he were reading them from a list, although looked straight ahead, trying to steal a moment of eye contact, even if it were accidental on Nine’s part. She only looked down, counting how long she could stand to hold her fingernail sharply against the pad of her thumb before ceasing the pain and taking the pressure away to watch the indent she had made in her skin fade. 

“Do we really have to do this?” Steve interrupted an interview that had hardly begun, opposing it with one question. 

“Yes, Steve, we do”. Hopper’s tone was more harsh when speaking to the boy. “Be grateful that I didn’t make her come into the station. I am going beyond off-road in terms of formalities,” he scolded. “I have a lot on my plate here, I just need to ask a few questions for now and the rest can be sorted out later”. 

Nine looked up, but only to catch a look at Steve’s face. He was sighing through his nose, biting into his lower lip and looking off to his right as he halfway rolled his eyes. His head swiveled back to face forward, then he peaked at Nine with large eyes. 

“How did you first end up there?” Hopper asked. Nine squinted, almost offended he hadn’t caught up on the basics of the story. She looked up to study the sheriff’s face for a moment, seeing only genuine curiosity on his features. She looked him straight in the eye as she responded. “I was born there”. Her tone was blunt, angry words leaving her mouth like weaponry. 

Hopper’s brows twitched, unexpectant of her harsh delivery or the answer itself. He sat back against his chair and opened his mouth to retaliate with another question. “Are there others, then?” he said simply, prettying his tone as if to ask nicely. 

“Other what? Kids?” Nine returned with another question, although she had understood his without the need for specification. He only nodded. “Yeah, there are others. I’m only number nine,” she said. 

Steve’s eyes were stuck on her as she spoke, a look of unease on his face. He appeared more concerned than Nine did at this point, but her twitching fingers reminded her of her anxiety. Another crescent-shaped impression faded slowly from her skin. 

Hopper’s next question was thick. “What did they do to you?”

Now Nine sighed, eyes traveling back to her lap for a moment as if recharging. “A lot. Ran tests — different things that evaluate and challenge our abilities.” She knew her response would set her up for a plethora of further questions, trying to keep it short in an attempt to fend off this inevitability. The look of confusion wasn’t wavering from Hopper’s expression, and she watched him gear up to ask another question. 

“Abilities? What does that mean?” 

Next to Nine, Steve shifted, his own two hands wringing together as if he had been asked the question himself. She glanced at him, then continued. “Specifically? Telekinesis, mostly.” She left out details of her other capabilities, leaving Hopper with a summary she’d hope would satisfy him. 

“Okay, come on… what?” He wasn’t satisfied. 

Nine’s voice was smaller this time, as if to make up for the increased tension in Hopper’s delivery. “I’d show you-” Steve cut her off, finally getting another word in. “No! You passed out at the lab because you over-exerted yourself. You’re still recovering, you can’t use your powers”. He didn’t even look at Hopper, acting as if he weren’t there at all. He searched Nine’s eyes, his own wavering back and forth in his attempt to read her expression. Hopper spoke again and the two broke their intense eye-contact. “Let’s just - calm down”. He sensed that he was losing both of those in front of him to the swelling unease of the room. Sitting up straight in his chair, he exhaled in demonstration. 

He dropped the subject, mentally scribbling the words telekinetic abilities with a question mark after them in his mind. “How did you escape? It’s a pretty secure building from my personal experience,” Hopper huffed, leaning back as cigarette-scented air left his mouth. 

Nine looked up this time, searching for an answer on the ceiling between cracks in the plaster. The sound of the Hawkins' Lab security alarm played in her head, uninvited and accompanied by vibrant visuals of running underneath it’s red light. “Something went wrong that night,” she started. “I-” she altered her speech, abandoning words that painted her responsible. “They reached the upside-down. Something from inside escaped, and I took advantage of the distraction.” 

She watched Hopper’s face as he processed her summary of events, then stole a glance at Steve like a child who was desperate for their parents to believe a poor excuse. Hopper moved along — the specifics of her getaway weren’t important to him right now anyway. What stood taller than Nine’s breakout was the something that escaped from somewhere he didn’t know of. “The upside down? What is that? That a place?” His tone was becoming more ragged, the unconventionality of this interview getting to him. He was used to routine, if anything boring work: a group of teenagers caught stealing candy from Mrs. Alexander’s corner store, a stale argument turned violent between two men at a local bar - things expected from a small town. This past week had introduced Hop to first-ever’s. First ever missing child case. First ever superhuman lab experiment escapee. 

Steve opened his mouth, shut it immediately. This felt invasive. This had been a secret between three, and this fourth member of the club brought doubtful glares and true consequence. He hadn’t known what he had expected, (Nine to spend the rest of her life hiding in his bedroom as his personal little secret?) but with the town’s sheriff sitting across from him in his own home, his reality felt menacing. Something about it seemed punishable. 

“There is a gate, like a passageway. It leads to the upside down, this place that- that’s like another dimension beyond our own,” Nine spoke. “A flip-side.” Hopper looked defeated, and felt his pants pocket to make sure his pack of cigarettes still laid underneath the fabric. It did, but he didn’t take them out. 

“There isn’t much else. We filled you in. Can we be done?” Steve phrased his question as if he were a kid wishing to be excused from dinner with his parents. A bit of expectancy in his voice; confidence he hoped would end the ‘check-in’ turned interview sooner. 

“No, no, no,” Hopper spoke aggressively again as he shifted back to conversation with Steve. “You did not fill me in on anything, she did.” Credit where credit was due. “There is still a lot I don’t know about Hawkins’ lab, and if I have more questions,” he spoke with passive-aggressive simplicity, like letters typed out in bold, “I will ask them”. 

Nine didn’t like his deserving attitude; it was flashy and ugly, although fitting of the uniform. “I’m done,” she spoke with Steve’s confidence. 

Hopper looked back to her, unhidden shock on his face as he had not considered his head-butting with Steve a true threat until now. He looked over the bruised girl in front of him, and sighed into his hands as he reevaluated the situation. Bringing his head back up, he spoke with a more controlled tone. “Okay, look. I am sorry.” His mustache twitched as he tried to find the words. “I shouldn’t have raised my voice, I'm just… confused.”

Silence draped over the room as Nine contemplated forgiveness. “I just have a few more questions, please.” Hopper added. As much as he wanted to butt in, Steve stayed quiet and let Nine decide if she would hear the sheriff’s finalizing questions. She looked at the man with an unchanging look on her face, one close to anger. She only nodded though, signaling him to continue despite her facial expression that had already convinced him the answer was ‘no’. He raised his eyebrows, almost in awe at her permission, then mentally stumbled over what it was he had intended to ask next. “Something escaped. What the hell was it?” 

Now it was Steve with violent visuals flashing in his mind. His ankle stung in remembrance. 

“I don’t know, some kind of creature. It’s big. It stands on two legs and towers over any human it encounters. It has no face, just a huge mouth with sharp teeth. Claws, too,” Nine said. Next to her, Steve wondered how she had such a clean mental picture of the ‘creature’. His own was scribbled and dark, an outcome of that night in the woods. 

“Okay…” Hopper was at a loss, flipping through an index of his personal experiences in his mind to try and find something to compare this to. “A creature with no face...” Hopper breathed out. Nine only nodded in response, and he looked to Steve as if he could verify the information. The teenager nodded his head slowly, his lips pressed together. An ‘I know, but it’s true,’ look. 

Hopper turned a page over in his mental notebook. “Uhm,” he started, his question lodging in his throat. He looked at the floor as he tried to loosen it. “One more thing,” he started. “I was told that you may have information on Will Byers. Is this true?” He regained his confidence, finding the natural groove of his speaking voice. Steve felt a surge of dread, air filling space deep in his chest as he inhaled. He wished that information hadn’t been used to barter for Hopper’s help. The visual of Nine sitting in a room painted a stark white — a setting his mind borrowed from Hawkins’ Lab, he realized — being pricked at and questioned, tested and retested under the idea that she would be useful to the investigation. Authorities from Hawkins’ own police station standing over her as she was returned to a place similar to the one she had escaped; a room filled with people who wanted to use her for her powers. 

Nine answered truthfully, and Steve chewed at his tongue. Hopper stayed silent for a moment, as if he weren’t expecting something he was already told to be true when he repeated it himself. “What do you know?” 

Her voice was softest when answering this question above all asked previously, words spoken slowly like they’d run off it delivered too eagerly. “I know where he is”.

---

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#steve harrington #steve x reader #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington fanfic #stranger things #stranger things fic #stranger things fanfiction #jim hopper #steve harrington series #st #ST fic #ST fanfic

[yodawgiherd]

Rome pt.2

>>>Read on AO3<<< 

Rating: M

Setting: Historical Rome

Second part of the Rome AU =) Stay cool.

The sun was hot, but Eren was used to that. Under the protection of the villa’s roof, the heat was not even that bad, other things irritated him way more. If he were to name one that pissed him off the most at this very moment, it was sitting right next to him. His father, Grisha, half-drunk as usual, yammering on.

“As I was saying,”, he continued whatever train of thought went on in his head, “If they increase the taxes again, I’d have to sell some of my farms.”

Money, yes. That was the one thing that concerned him. At least Eren was not the target of his father’s speech this time, it was old man Reiss, sitting across the table and somehow paying attention.

“We should put some pressure on the senate,”, Reiss said, “They can’t keep pushing at us forever.”

His father nodded at that.

“Power to the people! That’s right! We should…”

Turning off his brain, Eren filtered out his father’s voice, a skill he was proficient in, eyes searching for the last occupant of the table. The blonde girl, Reiss’s daughter and heir, Historia. One of his closest friends, and by the will of both their fathers, his future wife. No, he did not have a say in this, and neither did she.

Kicking her lightly under the table, he made her look up, doing a grimace afterwards to express just how boring the money-talk was. She hid her smile under her palm and kicked him back, much stronger. Eren couldn’t stop himself from grinning. Historia was great, really fun and everything, but there was a little problem neither his nor her father knew that would complicate their upcoming marriage. Eren himself discovered it by accident and had sworn not to tell anyone. As they still had time before being seriously pressed into tying the knot, they decided to just wait it out for now. There was time for everything.

His father finished another long monologue, draining his wine cup afterwards and reaching out. A slave immediately jumped in and refilled it, which made Eren’s stomach churn. He hated slaves. No, that came out wrong. He didn’t hate the people themselves, he hated the system of slavery altogether. Their family, as a rich patrician one, understandably had plenty of slaves, and it was a topic of many arguments between Eren and his parents. Even as a child Eren never understood why it is okay for a human being to be owned by another one, just because one was born wrong, conquered, or in debt. His father originally dismissed all that talk as a child’s words, but as Eren grew, so did his hatred for slavery. The idea of not being free just because someone decided it is that way upset him to no end. But he was not the head of the house, that was his father, so technically he could not do anything. He was not even the heir to their villa, that was his half-brother Zeke, currently a Tribuni in the Roman legions, winning fame for himself on the frontlines.

A sudden burst of laughter got his attention, as both Grisha and Reiss laughed out loud, with Historia having a tight-lipped courteous smile herself. She was very good at pretending that she is interested in whatever bullshit the two of them were talking about.

“I do understand that,” Reiss was just saying, wiping tears from the corners of his eyes, “When Historia was a child, she brought home a homeless orphan and wouldn’t stop crying until I gave her a place in my household. Now, what is her name….”

“Ymir, father.”, his daughter quickly offered, “She is my best friend.”

“I do not believe in associating with the lower classes myself.”, Grisha said, “Eren also had a small episode when he tried befriending some slave girl, but I quickly got him out of that.”

Oh yes, that was a great memory. Even now, years later, Eren remembered coming home and telling his mother all excitedly about this nice girl with strange eyes that he met, and that he gave her his candy. He remembered being all giddy when he asked if he could go and see her again tomorrow, perhaps bring her some more candy, so that she would tell him her name. And most of all, he remembered the pained expression that his mother had during that talk because unlike Eren in his childlike ignorance, she knew very well what Grisha’s reaction will be once he finds out.

“It was not easy,”, his father was just saying, “But a highborn must know who to make friends with, and it is not slaves.”

He turned towards his son.

“Tell us Eren, how did I stop you from seeing that slave girl again?”

As if he could ever forget.

“You threatened that if I ever went to visit her, you would buy her yourself and then have our house guards drown her in the Tiber.”, meeting his father’s eyes, it took everything Eren had to keep his voice calm, “And I would have to watch it all.”

“Exactly. And even with all the crying and locking yourself in your room, you obeyed in the end.”, looking back at Reiss, his father continued, “Principles must be taught to the youngsters, otherwise they would just get out of control.”

Sometimes, at nights especially, Eren wondered how that girl was doing, if she was even alive. Being a slave in Rome, mortality rates were high. Back then, she was working in a brothel, so was she a prostitute now? Did he maybe see her sometime when he was out drinking with his friends? Would he recognize her? Would she recognize him? No, he had to stop himself. This train of thought always made him angry, because it only reminded Eren of what his father robbed him. Maybe he could have had a best friend in that girl, just like Historia had in Ymir. Instead, he would never see her again.

Standing up abruptly, the eyes of everyone present swung at him.

“May I be excused, father?”, seeing the hint of irritation in Grisha’s eyes, he scrambled for an excuse, “I would like to take a walk with my lovely fiancé.”

That worked, so after being officially allowed to leave, he and Historia disappeared behind a corner where they shared a long exhale.

“God that was boring.”, Eren said, rubbing his forehead.

“You tell me. I almost fell asleep.”, she sighed, “I wanna do something fun.”

Now that was a language Eren spoke well.

“I’m in. Let’s grab some friends and live it up! Where did you leave Ymir?”

“I think she’s in a pub here somewhere, not far.”, Historia grinned, “Not like Ymir will be hard to find.”

Eren mirrored her smile, remembering just how loud the tall girl could be.

“You’re right. Let’s go then.”

Two of the taverns they checked lacked the Ymir factor, but the third one looked promising. Right from outside, they could hear loud voices, and when they entered their suspicion was proven right.

“I’m just saying,”, Ymir shouted over the ruckus, “You would look great at the chariot races!”

“I don’t think I’m good enough driver to…”

“Wait, who said anything about the driver? You would be pulling the chariot!”

The table erupted into laughter, while Jean, the butt of this joke, mumbled something and hid his reddened face into a cup of wine.

“That joke is so old…”, he sighed, but no one listened.

Ymir was the first one who spotted them, bolting from her seat and sweeping Historia in a hug.

“You’re finally here! We all missed you so much!”

When there was not any response from the table, Ymir turned towards it with a dangerous gleam in her eye.

“I said, we all missed you. Right?”

This time there were affirmative sounds from everyone. Nobody wanted to get on Ymir’s bad side.

Scooting over to make room for the newcomers, they ordered another round and the conversation flowed. Ymir wanted to know what their fathers were talking about, but Historia simply waved her hand and claimed that it was the usual boring stuff. While she was talking, Eren looked around, taking in this group of friends. He and Historia were the only highborn here, the rest of them were plebians. His father would never allow him to hang out with slaves, but he gritted his teeth and stayed silent while Eren surrounded himself with the lower class. It was a small victory, but Eren also genuinely found them much more interesting than any of the patricians. Now that he had the time to take everyone in, he noticed that one person was missing, so turning to Jean, he asked.

“Hey, where’s Armin?”

“Working tonight.”, his friend replied, trying to take another sip of the wine but realizing that his cup was empty. The discovery made him frown.

Armin was an interesting fellow. Part-philosopher, part-medic, he made his living by treating the filth of Rome. Slaves, lowborn, all these that would get rejected by any respected doctor flocked to Armin and he helped them all, whenever they had the money to pay for their treatment or not. In all honesty, Eren thought that Armin was probably the best person he knew, far nobler than him. The art his friend practiced, medicine, also highly interested him, but as with most things in life, Eren didn’t get a choice in his future career path. His brother was a soldier, so he was going to be a politician, Grisha decided. Easy as that. Which meant that Eren’s medicine studied were limited to the times when he visited Armin, trying to learn as much as he could form his friend.

“Do you know where he is?”, Eren pressed on, getting Jean’s attention, that was still focused on his somehow magically empty cup, back.

“It’s Uuuhh…. Hmmm….”

Eren had to suppress a sigh here.

“Come on Jean…”

“Oh right! He’s down in the pits tonight, treating the gladiators that get gutted there.”

The pits were a chain of tiny arenas where slaves, madmen and animals were pitched to fight each other to the death for the entertainment of the unwashed masses. It was like the Colosseum, only a hundred times smaller. Armin often worked there, as even the victors of these matches hardly ever escaped unscratched. The losers usually didn’t need medical attention anymore.

“You’re right, the pits could be fun!”, Jean went on, standing up and swaying only lightly, “Gang, let’s see some blood!”

As nobody wanted to be called a wuss for chickening out, they left the tavern in a sound of chairs dragged over the ground and the clink of coins, heading through the streets towards the pits. Jean led the way, as even drunk he could navigate the gutters the best out of them all. Eren fell in next to Ymir and Krista, the two of them inseparable as usual.

“I do hope that you are taking good care of my fiancé.”, he said to Ymir.

She turned to him with a wink, dropping her hand low and possessively squeezing the blonde’s butt, making her jump with a squeal and quickly retaliate with a well-aimed punch at the taller girl’s shoulder. This was the small secret that he and Historia had from their parents, who were so sure about their future marriage. Historia was, unluckily for her father, mostly interested in women, a fact that was rare but not unheard of. The problem was that while her family might not have that big of a problem with her orientation as it was, they would require her to have an heir. She was, after all, the only living offspring Reiss had. But that was a hurdle she and Eren would cross once they got there, and it was not here. Yet.

While they were consumed by this petty bickering, back and forth, Jean reliably led them through the labyrinth of Rome, finding his way with ease. Left here, right there, turn that corner and they were approaching their target, easily heard from the excited shouts that were up in the air.

With an excited shout, Ymir broke through the group, dragging helpless Historia with her, disappearing between the spectators. The rest followed soon after, their own excitement in various degrees. Eren himself had mixed feelings. He did not mind the duels, per se, but it was another business that was partly made up of slaves being forced to participate. The thing was in full swing, meaning that seeking out Armin right now was most likely impossible. He would be running between here and there, hands full of dead and injured, and hardly needed Eren to make his job even harder. With nothing better to do, he elbowed his way towards the edge of the ring, joining Jean at the railing.

“Hey.”, an unknown voice to his left, “You wanna bet?”

Turning, Eren saw a scrawny man with parchment and several purses hanging from his belt. A bookmaker. Before he could tell him that no, he does not want to place money on the lives of people, Jean butted in.

“Sure!”, he pushed past Eren, smelling of wine and sweat, “Who’s fighting?”

“The next bout is…” the bookie blinked at the parchment a few times, “Siren versus Cyclops.”

“Siren?”, Jean snorted, “Who the fuck takes such a name?”

It wasn’t unusual for the gladiators to have a nickname, some ancient beast or hero. But Siren was not a monster known for its martial prowess, so Eren had to agree with Jean here. It was rather strange.

“Oh, she didn’t choose this one, it was given to her.”, the bookie quickly supplied.

“So you… Wait a second.”, even with his wine-addled brain, Jean caught up on the unusuality, “She? Her? This fighter is a…”

“Woman.”, the bookie nodded, “But she is not to be underestimated.”

Laughing, Jean pulled out a few coins and handed them over to the bookmaker.

“Sorry, but I’m tight on the money now, so I’ll be taking the sure way. My coins are on the Cyclops.”, turning towards Eren, he nudged him, “What about you? Don’t want to make some easy denars?”

Maybe it was the old habit of disagreeing with Jean on almost everything, maybe it was something else, but Eren reached into his own purse, pulling out a generous number and putting them into the bookie’s eager hands.

“My money is on the Siren.”, he announced, making Jean’s grin widen.

“Dude, woman gladiators are a joke, don’t you realize that?”

Seeing that Eren was not changing his mind, Jean shrugged.

“Guess you don’t mind losing those then.”

“We’ll see how it goes.”, Eren answered, turning back towards the arena. Just in time too, as the combatants were being ushered in.

First in was the Cyclops, large and imposing scarred man, armed with a net and a trident. Raising those weapons, he was greeted by booming shouts coming from all sides, probably a fan favorite. Then the challenger appeared. The woman was lightly armored, most likely relying on speed over brute strength. She was armed with a short sword and a dagger, holding these with an experienced grip. The full helmet on her face prevented Eren from seeing her face, but her body was lithe and crossed with several prominent scars, marked just as her opponent was. She didn’t generate nearly as much hype as he, and there were several laughs heard from the audience. Eren and Ymir were probably the loudest supporters, cheering her on. Cheers or laughter, Siren didn’t seem to care either way, completely ignoring the crowd and keeping her gaze on the opponent.

Once the signal was given, Cyclops was the first to move, poking at his enemy with the trident, abusing the reach he had over her closer ranged blades. But Siren was too fast, easily dodging and batting aside the strikes, moving between them, fluid like water. A few minutes into this dance, the crowd was getting bored, and demands for more action were thrown into the ring. If there was no blood, there was no fun. While Siren ignored those, just as before, Cyclops obeyed, abandoning this safe approach. He stopped using the net as a shield and utilized it as a weapon instead, swiping at his opponent. It was easy to get tangled in it, and once Siren would be caught, a single trident stab would end her. The problem was, she did not get caught. Turning on the aggressive mode, she weaved in between his attempts, slashing at him. Not drawn too close, Siren’s attacks were shallow, more like scratches, but they still hurt and the blood that colored the sands was a proof of it. Cyclops was getting desperate, None of his attacks connected, it looked like he was striking a ghost. The metallic teeth of his trident were always late, the net too slow and clumsy to capture someone as elusive as her. Overwhelmed, Cyclops screamed in defiance before betting it all on a single last thrust, putting all of his might behind it. And for the first time, he aimed true. The spikes of his trident hit Siren in the hip, leaving behind three identical red paths, dripping blood. Unluckily, this also put him directly in her face with nothing to block. Cyclops had about two seconds to celebrate his luck when a short sword was slammed right into his throat, toppling the large man over. Stunned silence followed.

First one to wake was Ymir, shouting her support even louder. She laughed, hugging Historia while her eyes quickly found the bookie, gesturing for him to come closer. Jean on the other hand let out a tired “Fuck me.”, before dropping his head to his hands. Siren herself took a step back, cleaning her blades on the dead man’s body. Hooking a hand under her helmet, she pulled it off, shaking her hair free and revealing her exotic visage. The way the sun glistened on those midnight strands prompted another comment from Jean, who stirred from his defeated slump.

“Damn, would you look at that.”, he said, half-turning towards Eren, “Now it’s easy to see why they call her Siren.”

The girl was indeed alluring, just like the mythical creature, even with her face twisted into a dark grin. Making a very rude gesture towards the crowd that doubted her, she reserved a single wave for Ymir, her loudest supporter, before turning away and ducking into the old door that led into the bowels of the pits. Free from her spell, now that she was gone, Jean moved his attention to Eren, now fully.

“Well, there goes my savings. Say, my good friend, now that you won, would you lend me some coins? It’s not like need them anyway, right? Eren? Eren!?”

But the lucky bet winner did not hear any of that. He was staring at the door where Siren disappeared, completely obvious to his surroundings. Why? Because he knew that face. He knew those almond-shaped grey eyes, albeit now they were much wilder than before. He knew that dark hair, now chopped short, not nearly as long as it was before.

He knew who Siren was.

#aot #snk #fanfic #eremika

[missingartist]

The Witcher’s Mate- Chapter 14

Adva liked Triss. While being a skilled mage, there was a nurturing and caring nature to her. They spent many days together, practising the craft of spells and potions. In the three weeks, she never felt so free. Magic surged through her and with every day it grew. It wasn’t just the magic it was not having to wake up at the break of dawn to prepare the morning meal for the tavern, or stay up all night brewing a speedy recovery potion for the working girls who had had one too many customers the night before. Adva and Geralt had to feel into a pattern of sorts; each morning they would meet by the tree and spend the early hour of the morning together. Often or not, Geralt would sit in silence and watch her read or explain to her the various qualities of monsters or beasts. It was comfortable it was Adva favourite part of the day, spending a few hours with the moody Witcher. With each passing day, Adva was privy to a small glimpse at the man beneath all the armour, moods and mutations. A man who was sweet and caring he brought her a small packet of candy peanuts, he would never give them to her just leave them on her desk or would carry the mass of books Triss has dumped on her even little things like holding open the door. It was nice, but it did also reveal a sad side to his nature, a touch starved and painfully lonely man. His touches would linger, burn into her. I made her wonder when the last time someone hugged him, really hugged him. Being an orphan alone in the world, she knew what it was like to have no emotional intimacy; how it hurt.

For the last week, she rubbed the balm onto his chest, and stay with him till he fell asleep, sometimes she would doze next to him watching over him. Though he was sleeping better, sometimes ten hours straight, he still looked tired, his constant temperature was worrying. Geralt simple shrugged off her concerns with the news that he and Jaskier were going on a hunt. Both had disappeared for a week to a local forest infected by Ghouls. Every day that past Adva had become more adamant that they would not return. At the end of the fifth day, upon their return from their walk, Triss and Adva fell in the door laughing at some local merchant making a pass at the two women with the temptation of free cheese, to find the two men arguing in the living room.

‘Ahhh Geralt you have returned! We have just had a walk around the town…Smiggle, the Cheesemonger tried to talk Adva into a betrothal with a lump of cheddar.’ Triss’s laugh tinkled then bells in the parlour of the large house.

‘If it had been Brie, he would have got a different answer.’ Adva laughed taken a seat next to Jaskier, who laughed heartily and poured a drink.

It didn’t go unnoticed by Adva that Geralt gave Triss an outraged look, bordering between angry and irritation. There had been many secret looks and meetings in the workshop, behind the thick door. It uneased her. The way her ears burnt when they left made her paranoid. Geralt had been indecisively hot and cold. Some moments made her think they were almost friends than in a second; he would go cold and moody.

Geralt eyes rolled over Adva form, she wore the burgundy dress, with gold embroidery. It was tight across her chest and waist, showing delicious curves and flaring out at the hips to swish as she walked gently. Her hair had grown longer, and now wavy curls danced along her neck and the start of her back, every time she turned her head a waft of her smell invaded Geralt senses. He had spent the last five nights yearning for sleep; the smell had faded to a delicate reminder of her, calling him back to her. No matter how hard he scrubbed the smell clung to him, it has soaked into his very pores. When the last Ghoul had died, he saddled up Roach and headed straight back, not even bothering to clean the Ghoul blood from his body.

‘I thought you were meant to be studying Botany not how to flirt with cheese merchants. Triss your curriculum needs reworking’ Geralt bite out in a low cold tone

Triss glared as the Witcher, with deadly eyes. Five days gone, and the first thing he says to her was that—what a prick.

‘Adva why don’t you tend to the plant in the greenhouse, I have something to discuss with Geralt.’ Triss cooed and quickly ushered the woman out the room.

‘Geralt! The past five days, you have been like a lovesick puppy and that the first thing you say to her’ Jaskier scolded hands-on-hips.

‘I am not a lovesick puppy.’ The Witcher growled.

‘You are…Adva is so nice….you…you don't deserve her.’ Jaskier gave a high-pitched squeal, and he threw down his quill and followed the curly-haired women out to the Greenhouse.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

A slow sarcastic clap filled the air as Geralt stared grimily at the fire and burnt limply in the fireplace. Triss’s angry eyes were burning into the side of his face, but he refused to acknowledge her. ‘Well done, Geralt! Push her away.’

Geralt played his flagon taking deep gulps from the vessel, attempting to ignore the annoying Mage.

‘Ignoring me? Very mature, you must have been missing Adva immensely. I know she missed you, she kept pinning after you….’ Triss prodded and rolled her eyes, and he continued with the silent treatment. ‘Still nothing…. Well, I suppose you don’t want to know about the exciting discoveries I have made since you departure.’ Triss teased.

Geralt interest was ignited and his attention laid solely on the Mage, who gave him her best Cheshire smile as she waved her hand the table filled with papers and journals.

‘I sent for all of Tradi’s work; Lord Brightwater seemed to vary keen to get rid of it. Grumpy man. He also added some of Cersi notes as well. Seem your friend left in the middle of the night without saying goodbye to the sour Lord. He wasn’t best pleased. I sent one of the Marquis men to investigate; it appears that she left in the night in a hurry; the portal she used is nothing like I have seen before. No sign of the language in Adva book, I did, however, find an old journal.’ Triss pulled a journal onto her workbench, and pulled several pieces of paper from the book and scattered them in front of the two.

‘Geralt, Adva has been hidden her whole life…very carefully I might add. Cersi, in her journal, details the girl's growth and powers. Cersi seems very impressed with the girl's waterpowers peaking beyond expectation. There are pages and pages detailing everything magical goal she reached as she grew, how her body is formed, whether her body would be able to transform, or if she has bled. Don’t you think it's strange that ever since she left Brightwater, she had been attracting unwanted male attention? I have had to send away the Marquis men; they kept trying salivating over her. My guess's it's in her pheromones; there is nothing magical coming off her. That smell you're so addicted too. You’re her mate, so it does something more to you on a …metaphysical level. But for the rest of us mortals it does something else entirely, have you not noticed how people are with her?  They become enamoured with her, but if you place her in a Whore house, Adva’s scent would be void. Sex gives off powerful odours, enough to hide her in plain sight. Why do you think Cersi did not take her in… and teach her, she placed her where she would be the safest, away from prying eyes of Mages and the like. If we want to find out what is happening, we need to find and talk to Cersi….. Till then I would recommend we take her to Kaer Morhen. She will be away from civilisation, and you can claim her. We need to tell her today…now.’

‘No’ Geralt gripped definitely.

‘Geralt! For the love of Goddess, why are you fighting this! What more proof do you need? Do you want me to wheel her out with the words Geralt’s Mate Painted across her chest before you admit it? An idiot could tell that you are struggling. You are barely sleeping or eating, and you're burning up! My potions are not working anymore. Have you read that book of Witches? You know if you don’t bond with her, you are going to drive yourself mad.’ Triss all but spat.

‘The book said we had a year…’

‘Yes, but with a human mate. WE may not know what she is, but we know she is not human, her bloody scent is enough to send the men around here acting like besotted idiots, for her mate, it must be seven times more potent. Why are you fighting this? Geralt your skin is clammy, I can feel your temperature from across the room. Your mood swings are becoming very wild, even for you. Geralt you are killing yourself…if that happens, who knows what will happen to her.’ Triss was pleading now, not something she usually resorted to, but she was scared for them both.

‘Fuck off Triss…’

‘Goddess help me Geralt... I will tell her myself.’

‘You won't!’

‘Why shouldn’t I?’ Triss hunched over him, prodding her brazened finger into his armour.

‘Because she deserves better!’ Geralt pulled Triss back as he roared, lifting a table in the process and launching in across the room.

‘Geralt…’

‘She is so pure and untouched. So sweet and innocent. I can’t….I won’t. She doesn’t and will not want me a life partner. I won’t subject her to this sort of life. I love her too much for that’ Geralt boomed

‘Geralt it not about you anymore. What about Adva, maybe she wants to be with you. To have someone, she had been alone for a long time.’ Triss voice broke into a soft whisper as she reached out to comfort the shaking man.

‘I can’t be that someone.’ Uttered heartbrokenly before turning and rushing away.

Triss’s heart broke for a moment, for both of them. Love was a complicated thing. For Geralt he felt too much, he loved so devotedly, and fiercely it broke him every time Yennefer stomped his heart into the ground. If anyone deserved someone, it was Geralt. A plan started to form in her head. It would take some effort to push the stubborn Witcher in the direction of the lovely creature, but it would be worth it, she cared too much to let Geralt send himself to early death, and she was already too devoted to Adva to let her be cast off by the handsome Witcher. Smiling smugly she set off, Jaskier would be easy to recruit. If Geralt weren’t going to act, then she would do it for him. Despite the complete mystery that enveloped the woman, there was one thing she did know, the soul bond was strong, and if they didn’t mate soon, god knows what will happen.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Geralt couldn’t help himself. By nature, he was a very sexual being, that itself is one of the reasons there was an attraction between him and Yennefer. That spark of need that burnt between them. They satisfied each other; with a Witcher’s stamina he could go for days, and a mage could at least try to match that. Because of that Geralt could never really say he felt fulfilled with a partner, the nearest being Yennefer and whether that was because of the Jinns magic he couldn’t say. The Witcher had never cursed his sexual desire, he was never short of partners, and his energy seems to be limitless in the area, he has never failed to rise of the occasion no matter how beaten or broken his body. By now he cursed the fate for the situation he found himself in. All 6ft 5 of him stood half-collapsed against a bedroom for that was not his own.

After storming out, he forced himself to tend to Roach and after that momentary distraction found himself in Adva’s room. After five long days, he needed to calm himself with her scent. His nose had picked up the scent and dragged him like a prisoner to the room the other side of the house, where he had no reason or excuse to be in. The Witcher’s heart pumped faster, the first time in almost a century until it was the only thing he could hear. The perfume of her was suffocating, disorientating and intoxicating, he needed to get away but couldn’t tear himself to leave. Geralt could see the strands of scent in a sparkling blue that curled through the air leading to a swirling mass in the centre of the bed.

Swallowing hard he approached the unmade bed, tentatively perching on the side, giving at the rumpled bedclothes. The outline where her body had rested was clear; the scent permeated from where she had slept the past three weeks. Inhaling deeply, he drove through the scents, subtle difference depending on her moods and what she had eaten. He deciphered the scents layer by layer till he found the addictive fragrances that had driven him here, it was dark then the other, a navy blue, almost black. Apple and the sea but musky with a sweetness. Trailing his fingers over the bed, he felt it and saw it. Her want. Her desire. Her wetness.

The scent had soaked into the very fabric of the bed throughout her stay, every night, adding to the aroma. Never had he been so thankful for his Witcher abilities, he saw it. The way her hair cascaded against the pillow as she tossed and turned, clenching her thighs together as she the wetness formed and the pressure became too much to bare. A delicious bead of sweat travelled down her neck, travelling over her left breast and then missing with the other scents on the bed. Clothing would be flung off in an attempt to cool herself down with little or no difference. With reluctance, her hands would travel to her slick thighs in an attempt to rid herself of the ache, her mouth turning into the pillow to muff her sobs of pleasure and growls of frustration as she never managed to bring herself over the edge that she had teased herself along for the best part of two weeks.

Inside of him, two feelings flourished the sense of sadness that she did not know how to pleasure her own body but also pride at being her first and only, the only man that would teach and feel her. A throaty moan push passed his lips. The rough bronzed hand was slowly palming his raging cock; he didn’t know when he had unlaced his breeches, but he could bring himself to think about it. Instead, he found himself settling himself on the bed, ripping his undershirt in the process, his hand never leaving his throbbing member.

Adva could come back at any minute, or Triss discover him, but all Geralt could focus on was the heat that rushed through him with every stroke. The Witcher was accustomed to pleasure himself when a willing bedmate was not to be found but never had it felt this good. Palming his balls, they had been heavier than he could ever remember them being, tight and painful, a grunt rumbled from him as he rolled them in his hands, teasing the skin with his fingertips. His other hand worked his length, a generous amount of pre-cum was already dripping across his tip, along his hand to slide effortless up and down his throbbing cock. Rolling his wrist, he pumped up and down slowly, enjoying the sensation, his eyes fluttered close, and a thousand images passed through his mind. Her laying frustrated on the bed whimper his name softly, her looking down at him as shyly she reached out to touch him, and all he could feel was her hand, while the other stocked his hair as she kissed him softly. It was a tender, pushing him slowly along to his peak.

A hiss escaped him, pushing through his teeth and the scent overpower him, forcing his eyes open. Gold obs burnt down as he watched he hand franticly pound his hard cock. A bead of pre-cum dribbled down. Geralt hips franticly snapped against his hand to meet every thrust, grunts and growl shook against the walls paired the violent sound of rhythmic flesh slapping filled the room, boarding on animistic, with ever sound Geralt chest practically vibrated as he edged closer and closer to release. Pushing himself against the headboard as he dug his heels into the bed as he arched his body, his hand desperately gripped his reddening cock as he feverishly pumped his cock. Grasping his hand out, the Witcher gripped the ornamental bedknob tightly, series of feral roars escaped the panting man. A thick jet of cum spurted out against the chest pooling in his stomach.

All strength sapped from his body, and the Witcher collapsed against the bed, soft pants puffed out from his chest, as slowly his eyes fluttered closed.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Jaskier twirled to flower in his hand as he tilted from foot to foot as he observed the woman in front of him, he likes her immensely, it was half the reason he agreed with this plan. Adva was refreshing after spending what was like an eternity in the company of Yennefer. Jaskier felt an inner hatred for the violet-eyed Mage; she treated Geralt as a plaything, he did not disagree that there was some endearment on her side, but the way in which she treated his friend was beyond miserable, Ciri and him caught in the middle. The sad thing is Geralt could not see it, he followed her like a minion, and the big bad wolf turned to a lovesick puppy. Adva didn’t seem to mind the Witcher’s countenance, and there was a genuine affection for him. Jaskier might not have the Witcher’s sense, but he saw the looks, the subtle glances and the longing glimpses. If it weren’t for that, he would have set his cap to her himself. Adva was a beautiful woman, gifted with a voluptuous figure, violently blue eyes and plush lips that gave her a disarming smile paired with a caring personality; she was a catch for any hot-blooded man. But the hot-blooded man she seemed to want to be Geralt, especially going from the way her shoulders sagged as she tended the plants.

Adva busied herself tendering the plant in the glasshouse, Jaskier had followed her out and tended to her with soft praises and cheerful stories as an attempt to lift her mood. For the most part, Adva kicked herself for being that upset, Geralt lately had often been in a bad mood, but what had just happen wounded her. There was no reason why, nothing had occurred between them, so there was no reason for her to be hurt by his words, but she had thought they had grown close in the recent months. The Witcher’s scolding upset her.

‘We could go to town. Paint the town red.’ Jaskier lightly suggested as he plucked another flower up from Adva cuttings, causing her to look up and break her away from her thought.

‘…’

‘Come let have a night on the town. My coin purse is empty and I need to refill it with some wealthy listeners. The local tavern is a perfect spot, but I need a muse. Come with me.’ Jaskier cooed as he tucked the wildflower behind her ear.

‘Jaskier…’ Adva started before Jaskier cut her off with a stern look.

‘No…my creative flow is upon me. We will raid Triss’s wardrobe for clothing worthy of you and set off for the tavern. I envision an elegant undo with those pearl pin Triss has, oh and that burgundy dress I saw tucked at the back of his wardrobe. You are going to be my masterpiece, my subject of serenade; all will come to see you and listen to my songs. Now let's get you washed and polished. We are going to eat, drink and sing’ Jaskier bustled as he pushed her out the glasshouse.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Jaskier was very pleased with himself, the dress that Triss had ordered was perfect, no man or woman would be able to look away for her. It was tight-fitting column dress in a mix of silk and velvet, at the waist two separate vents shot off in fine mesh material, embroidered in a silver thread, her sleeve made from the same material. The front had a deep V that showed off the milky flesh of her breasts, enticing the eye and showed off a barely modest cleavage. It had taken two gins to get her into the dress and another to let him apply the makeup. Her face was made up by brief sweep of powder, and a dark dusky pink lipstick painted on, making them seem all the more pouting. Two-layer of mascara had been applied to her eyelashes and a light pat of eyeshadow and delicate touch of eyeliner. Adva protested at the reflection at the mirror, but Jaskier ignored her and began to pin her curls over one shoulder with pearl hairpins before pushing her out the door.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

‘Geralt’

The alarmed voice carried throughout the house stirring the Geralt from his post-orgasm doze by Triss’s urgent cry. Casting his eyes around, he found that he had slept most of the day away. The sky was now darkening alarmingly; he was still sprawled across the bed, dry cum still plastered across his chest, his hand still encircling around his half-hard cock. Rearranging himself quickly, he straightened his clothes and slipped from the room as quietly and quickly as possible.

‘Really?’ Triss deadpanned as she tapped her foot outside her trainee's door.

‘What.’

‘I take it I can’t hope the Adva is lying half spend behind that door? I haven’t heard any screaming.’ The Mage deadpanned cross at him.

‘Triss drop it.’

‘Well maybe if you had she wouldn’t be missing. I can’t find her anywhere. One of the servants saw her heading off into town with Jaskier. That was at midday….’

‘Fuck’

So guys, what do you think?

I have a little competition for you. I need a pet name for Geralt to call Adva. Best one or the most recommended wins. My top picks are Goddess and Love as a genuinely think Geralt is the kinda guy who would worship you- Well in my dreams he is!!!

If anyone want to me tagged please message me :P

@broco8​ @threepupsinapuddle​ @introvertedmouse​ @luxyash​ @shesthelastjedi​ @wonderlandfandomkingdom​ @crazynocturnalkiki​

#witcher geralt #the witcher #netflix the witcher #geralt smut #geralt x reader #geralt of rivia #Geralt #geralt x oc #geralt x smut #thewitcher

[irrelevantwriter]

Feliz Navidad

Pairing: (Mayans MC) Angel Reyes x Female Reader/You

Rating: Explicit, NSFW

Warnings: Language, oral sex (female receiving), inappropriate use of a candy cane, a little hand job action, unprotected vaginal sex, mentions of bodily fluid, Angel being adorable hot as fuck, Angel’s ringed fingers (bc that shit is what keeps me up at night)

Word Count: 3.8K

Summary: There’s a Christmas party at the Mayan’s clubhouse and Angel has a sudden bout of inspiration that includes a candy cane, EZ’s trailer, and his very persuasive nature your extreme horniness.

AN: This is my contribution to @ne-gans follower celebration. Congrats on the shit ton of followers! And if you aren’t following her, please do! She’s an amazing writer of all things smut. My chosen prompt was “Who knew candy canes could be so erotic?” for Angel Reyes from Mayans MC and it was way too much fun to write. Hopes this puts you guys in the Christmas spirit, and if not, at least in the Angel Reyes spirit because that man deserves. Please read, enjoy, and share with your friends! 

The amazing aesthetic was done by my fellow Angel thirst bitch and homegirl Ashley @negansdirtygirl22.

*Masterlist in bio.

*******************

Feliz Navidad

Feliz Navidad

Próspero año y Felicidad

You hummed along to the music flowing through the speakers as you sipped from the eggnog clutched in your hand. The Mayan clubhouse was alive with holiday cheer and activity, a sight rarely witnessed within the walls. It had been a joint effort between you, the other wives, girlfriends, and of course Letty and Chucky, to bring some much needed spirit to the club. The last few months had been hard on everyone and you and the other women wanted to give the men something special to put their heavy hearts and minds at ease.  

That’s where the Christmas party came into play. There had been plenty of parties around the holidays in the past, but nothing actually dedicated to one of your favorite times of year. This celebration was all about the horrible Christmas music, the way too boozy eggnog, the tamales that one of Creeper’s tias made, and the much needed sense of familia that had been lacking as of late. And it seemed to be paying off.

The space was decorated, all thanks to Letty and Chucky, who chose some of the most heinous looking plastic garland you’d ever seen. But it was the thought that counted. And everyone was having a good time. People were eating, drinking, laughing, and even playing Loteria in a corner. That’s where your eyes settled as they landed on your boyfriend trying to cheat in the game of bingo. His younger brother sat to his right, though he’d been banned from playing because of his unique memorization abilities.

You’d made a move to join him when Chucky appeared in front of you, mouth pulled into a wide grin. The man was obviously having a great time, if the red lipstick caked on his cheek was anything to go by.

“Señorita…” He greeted as he held up a candy cane, one of the larger ones that he’d purchased for the tree set up in the corner. “Para ti.” He held the treat out to you and you laughed, taking it from him.

“I accept that.”

If possible, his smile got even wider as he bounced off. You shook your head and smiled, truly taken by the oddity that was Chucky. Never a dull moment with the man.

You returned on your quest to finally join Angel. You two had rode together in your car, but had hardly spent time with each other once you’d hit the door. You’d been making sure everything was in place, helping El Presidente’s old lady as much as you could. Now you could finally relax and take in all the hard work; the outcome making you feel warm and impossibly cheerful.

“There she is.” Angel announced to the table, gesturing to your approaching figure.

You maneuvered so that you could sit on his lap, your legs pulled to one side and tightly together to keep your red dress in place. His arms welcomed you in, immediately attaching to you like a magnet. His calloused hands landed on your hip and bare thighs, unconsciously caressing the skin there. The motion made a rapid zap of heat shoot up your thighs.

“Baby, tell the guys that I don’t cheat at Lotería.” His voice sounded slightly petulant, like he’d been accused of the crime and teased mercilessly for it.

You sat your cup down and let your fingers dance in his hair, his dark eyes gazing up at you with boyish charm and excitement. It felt good to see him so carefree. It made all the pain worth it. All the late nights and brushes with death; the time you spent worrying that he’d never make it home to you. That all got erased in these moments.

“He doesn’t cheat at Lotería.” You dutifully repeated for him to the table of men. He nodded in satisfaction, feeling as if he’d won. “But he does at Uno.”

A loud series of “Ohhhhhs” and deep chuckles filled the space as they reacted to your statement. Angel looked at you in faux betrayal, his eyes crinkling at the sides from barely subdued laughter.

“Really, querida? Just like that. Telling my whole business.” His ringed fingers landed heavy on your lap, edging the hem of your dress up slightly.

You giggled and burrowed yourself into his neck. “Sorry, baby.” You left a chaste kiss on his neck, knowing your comment would be forgiven with the gesture.

“Hmmm,” He hummed, eyes squinted up at you in scrutiny. “You can make it up to me.” He raised his brows in question, lip pulled into a devilishly handsome smirk.

You let out a girlish giggle, unable to help yourself when he flirted with you. You vaguely noticed that the rest of the table had gone back to their conversations and the game, no longer paying attention to the wrapped up couple.

“Oh, I will…” You teased with a bite to your bottom lip. His eyes followed the movement, hands gripping your bare flesh just a little bit tighter in response. He ran his tongue over his own bearded lips and your breath caught slightly, feeling the alcohol and your sudden arousal start to take effect.

“How about right now?” He whispered into your ear, nibbling at the appendage. You closed your eyes for an instant, momentarily lost in the sensation before you remembered where you were. Angel had that kind of influence over you, and you hoped it never waned.

“And where would we go?” You responded breathlessly, only slightly embarrassed by your strong reaction to his minimal ministrations.

He smirked up at you, somewhat surprised by your willingness to go along with his mischief. Angel loved pushing your sexual limitations. He loved testing your boundaries and exploring all facets of pleasure. You felt comfortable enough with him that you found yourself ready to follow him to the ends of the Earth. Not to mention, the man owned your heart, fully and without condition. You were his in a way you’d never belonged to any man before. And you could confidently say the same thing about him. Angel was devoted to you. And he liked to show you just how much on multiple occasions.

“I got an idea.” He looked around you and to the room, inspecting your surroundings. He leaned up again and whispered into your ear, the grittiness in his voice making you shiver. “Let’s go outside.”

You nodded and wordlessly got up with Angel’s help, letting him lead you to the door and outside. No one called out for you. No one even seemed to notice your absence. Excitement pulsed through your blood as he gripped your hand and pulled you with him across the dirt lot. You didn’t ask questions. You didn’t stop him. You let him take control.

He opened the door of EZ’s trailer with a key inside of his leather. He helped you up the rickety steps, your black heeled boots not making the feat easy. He shut the door once you’d made it inside, the space cramped and narrow. EZ hadn’t been staying in the trailer lately so the place was a little dusty. You felt a small sweep of guilt at invading the space for your own personal debauchery. But seeing Angel eye-fucking you like he was right now made those feelings dissipate right out of the trailer.

“Have I told you how fucking hot you look tonight?” He asked from his spot near the small dining table. His intense study of you and his words made you instantly wet, your panties barely catching the residual.

“Yeah, you mentioned something about wanting to bend me over the counter before we left the house earlier. Does that count?” You replied with your own wicked smile.

He chuckled and stepped forward, hand smoothing down his whiskers. You’d started to see hints of grey within the strands and you’d let Angel know how attractive you found that as soon you’d spotted them. He was more than appreciative of your “compliments”.

“What’s this?” He pulled at your left hand, just now seeing the candy cane still clutched in your palm. You barely remembered you’d had it, too concerned with letting Angel get you alone.

“Chucky gave it to me.”

He took the red and white candy and pulled at the wrapper, removing it far easier than you would’ve been able to. He eyed the item closely and seemed to get an idea because his eyes bled into yours, the sizzling tension now undeniably boiling over.

He held out the long end towards you, near you mouth. You didn’t need to be told what to do. You wrapped your lips around the candy, sucking at the flavor. You stared up at Angel through your made-up lashes as you gently tongued the stick, the innuendo more than obvious. His breathing hitched when you took more of the candy down your throat, your mouth nearly meeting his fingers clutching the other end.

“Fuck…” He cursed once you finally released it from your clutches. He let the end dance over your lips, plucking your bottom one down and watching it fall back into place.

He pulled you to him with his other hand and captured your mouth. His tongue immediately sought entrance and you obliged. He tangled himself up with you, tasting the peppermint that now seeped from your mouth. Your hands gripped his kutte, desperate to feel his body pressed against yours.

You both pulled away, chests heaving. You could feel the heat around your mouth, the scratches of his beard burning your flesh. There were remnants of your lipstick smeared on his bearded lips, the sight fueling a possessive streak in you. He brought the candy cane up to his own mouth and sucked, intertwining the two of you.

“Come on, baby…” He grasped your hand and directed you to one of the cushioned benches. “Sit back.”

You had a weakness for Angel’s commanding nature in the bedroom. The way he would demand things of you while never expecting a response made you feverish. He knew he couldn’t get away with that treatment outside of the bedroom, but he more than catered to that desire when necessary. And he did it verywell.

You followed his lead as he gently sat you back against the cushion, kneeling in front of you. Your heartbeat accelerated, centering right between your thighs. His hands widened your legs and pushed your dress up, propping your heeled boots on his shoulders. He stared up at you with such intensity that you had to squirm against the seat to alleviate the ache. He caught the action and snickered.

“Relax, dulce. I got you.”

You nodded and bit your lip when his hands shifted your dress over your hips to expose the festive red lace panties you were wearing. You were exposed to him and you relished the unbridled lust that oozed from his pores and out onto you.

“Goddamn, you look good.” He swept a finger over your clothed slit, causing you to jerk. The material was damp, your body more than ready for his touch. “Feel good too.” He mumbled, finger still tracing your swollen lips.

You let out a whimper, his teasing having a more powerful effect than usual. You rocked your hips against his touch, encouraging him to explore you further. Angel was an impatient man, and while he was a master at teasing, he ran out of patience just as fast. He pulled the lace down your thighs and off, flinging the fabric somewhere behind him. You tugged at his thick locks and arched your back when his mouth finally connected with your opening. His hands split your thighs further apart, making room for his eager mouth. You threw your head back and moaned, feeling Angel lick up your walls. There was a slight cooling sensation and you realized it was the peppermint that lingered on his lips. The result felt amazing against your heated skin.

“Jesus, Angel…” You moaned when his lips attached to your clit. His face was buried in you, your slick coating him, and yet you felt as if he wasn’t close enough.

He pulled away with a smirk and suddenly brought the candy cane into your line of vision. You struggled to center back into reality and not on the neediness of your hunger.

“You trust me, baby?”

“Of course.” You answered without hesitation.

He nodded and moved back down to your spread thighs. “Lemme know if you want me to stop.”

You were about to chastise him for making you wait when you felt the pressure of something hard at your entrance. It was small, but firm and it slid into you easily. A low moan fell from your lips as it shallowly entered you and then traveled back out and up to your clit. Angel blew on your skin and the realization hit you. He was fucking you with the candy cane. The minty tingle left in its wake made you scratch at his scalp, unsure if you wanted more or not. The combination of dueling hot and cold sensations had goosebumps breaking out onto your flesh.

“You good?” He asked with a gentle lick to your weeping pussy.

You nodded, unable to find your voice as he continued to assault your clit with the candy.

“Want me to stop?”

“No.”

His mouth launched into a frenzied feeding as he opened you up to him. His tongue dived in and out of you, making your thighs clench around his head. That rush of lava-like heat started to consume your entire body as he worked you over, never stopping. His goal was clear as he sped up and you cried out when his mouth became too much. You stiffened and shook with each shock as you sailed through feelings of love, adoration, and immense pleasure.

“Shit, mi amor…” Angel rasped with amazement as he stared down at your now lax body. He didn’t let you rest as he pulled you into an upright position, locking your lips against his. You tasted yourself mixed with the sweetness of the candy and you found yourself wanting more.

His hands gripped your thighs and lifted you up, switching your positions. He now occupied your spot on the bench while you sat astride his lap, your needy pussy seeking out is hardened cock through his jeans. You pushed down on him, taking pleasure in the way he growled into your mouth. He began lifting your dress over your head and you aided him in removing it. His mouth immediately sought out your pebbled nipples through the red lace of your bra. You pulled him to you, your hands back to tugging at his hair.

He unclasped your bra and pulled it down and off your shoulders. You mirrored his actions by pulling off his kutte and unbuttoning his flannel. His tanned skin beckoned you, the black ink only fueling your want. You ran your nails down his chest, not hard enough to hurt but enough to let him know just how much you needed him in that moment.

“Take what you want, baby.” He taunted, directing your hands to his belt buckle.

You didn’t waste any time, pulling the buckle and button from its confines. He shifted his hips, helping you release his aching cock. At the sight of him you could feel your walls literally pulse, the phantom sensation of him buried inside you making you clamp down on nothing. You licked your hand, coating your palm with saliva. Cum was already leaking from his tip and you used it to pump his rigid cock.

“Fuck,” He cursed with his head thrown back. You took the opportunity to leave bruising kisses on his neck, suckling at the skin and making your way up to his ear lobe. You gently pulled at the appendage with your teeth, feeling his hips buck up into yours.

“Ride me.”

You followed his breathless request and slowly slipped him inside you. Your walls greedily accepted him, seating him inside of you perfectly. You both moaned in unison once you’d taken him in fully, his pulse synchronizing with yours. You sat in his lap, unmoving and soaking up the feel of him. He craned his mouth up, seeking yours. You met him in a slower, more tender kiss than the ones previous. He palmed your ass, rolling your hips against his. You took the hint and began moving, letting him slide in and out of you at a leisurely pace.

“Fuck, keep going.” He panted, fingertips gripping your hips and ass tightly. His mouth moved across your chest and collarbone, his hips attempting to meet yours.

The whine of the seat bench beneath you began to fill the space as you moved faster, chasing the fireworks that were sure to come. The trailer began to rock as you repeatedly fucked yourself on Angel’s cock. The girth of him burned, but the orgasmic bliss that came with it soon overpowered.

“Angel, right there…shit.” You rubbed at your clit as he fucked up into you, white lights starting to dance behind your lids, though that could’ve been the twinkling lights decorating the clubhouse that reflected in through the curtains.

“You gonna cum?” He nipped at your chin, his pace not letting up.

“Mmhm…” You moaned, biting into your lip to keep your enthusiastic screams at bay.

In the next moment, Angel had your hips halted in place above is cock as he rammed repeatedly against your cervix. You gripped his forearms, keeping your balance as he ravaged you. Your whole body reacted to the shift and when his hand manipulated your clit, you came undone.

You acted on impulse as you held Angel to you, gripped tightly in your quaking embrace. You no longer cared about being quiet as you moaned and whimpered, careening through space. He talked you through your orgasm, mumbling expletives and how beautiful you looked with his cock inside you. All of it added to the fire. All of it made both your heart and pussy flutter.

“Mi amor,” He called, his voice still sounding distant in your ringing ears.

You buried your face into his neck as he chased his own end. He grunted, his rings digging into your skin as he finally came. Thick warmth filled you, the feeling of being complete finally achieved. You watched his features twist in ecstasy and in a flash they were relaxed, his body following suit.

The distant laughter and music could be heard over the lot, the party still very much going strong. You both caressed and held each other, not in any hurry to detach. Angel touched you with a softness that made you smile lazily, the leftover oxytocin making you feel more connected to him. He mirrored your expression, caressing your neck and cheeks.

“Te quiero.”

“I love you too.” You confessed, shifting a strand of hair that had fallen against his forehead.

“Fuck...” He sighed tiredly. “Someone’s gonna come looking for us soon.”

“We can pick this back up at home.” You replied with a sleepy smile and wink. You shifted off his lap, hissing at the loss of him. His cum started to slip past your lips instantly and you rushed to find your panties.

Angel found them on the counter and helped you step into them, your legs still feeling unsteady. He smirked up at you once they cleared your hips, a lone finger sliding against your crotch.

“Quit, Angel.” You whimpered, pushing his hand away. He laughed, enjoying how sensitive you always got after sex. He was already dressed and pulling his kutte back on while you slipped your bra onto your shoulders and turned away from him. His fingers clasped the garment in place, hands smoothing down your back. He placed a soft kiss to your shoulder and reached for your dress. You took it from him and pulled it over your head, walking to the small vanity mirror above the sink to check your reflection.

After making sure your hair and makeup were still presentable, you turned to face Angel. He had the candy cane back in his hands, eyeing the sweet with a wistfulness.

“Where’d that come from?” You asked, having suspected the candy to have gotten lost during your activities.

“The table.” He motioned to the flimsy piece of furniture, the thing looking like it was on its last leg, literally.

You both moved towards the door, Angel opening it for you and taking your hand to help you down the steps. You took in gulps of the crisp night air, glad to be out of the stifling heat of the trailer. The thing surely smelled of sex and you made a mental note to air it out before you left.

“Don’t you think you should throw it away?” You gestured to the candy cane as you both walked back up to the clubhouse.

“Nah,” Angel shook his head and popped the thing right back into his mouth, a self-satisfying smile lighting up his face. “Think we should keep it. You can use it on me later.” He wiggled his eyebrows at you.

You laughed as heat warmed your face. Thinking on where that candy cane had been moments before and how much you enjoyed it made you look away from his mischievous expression, the desire already making a fierce comeback.

“Who knew candy canes could be so erotic?” You questioned playfully.

The moment was interrupted by the clubhouse door opening as you both climbed the steps, EZ walking out with an unreadable look on his face. He took a moment to look between the two of you. Angel was sucking on the candy cane, suppressing a smirk, while you tried hard not to meet the younger sibling’s eyes. His gaze shifted to the trailer and he sighed, head shaking.

“Are you guys serious?”

“What?” Angel attempted in an act of innocence. It wasn’t believable.

“You find ‘em, boy scout?” Coco called from behind EZ, cigarette propped between his fingers. He joined you on the porch, eyes taking in the situation. He appeared to find the whole thing comical, leading you to believe that you did not look as put together and unassuming as you’d initially thought when exiting the trailer.

“You owe me.” EZ deadpanned to Coco. You watched in astonishment as Coco cursed and then reached into his pocket for what looked like a twenty dollar bill, begrudgingly handing it off to him.

“What the fuck?” Angel questioned, eyes jumping between the two men.

“I bet boy scout you guys left to handle business. He said you were handling it out here. He won.” Coco explained rather nonchalantly.

Angel scoffed out a laugh, male ego now inflated, while you rolled your eyes. “Are we really that predictable?” You asked.

“Yeah.” Both men replied in unison. They laughed and turned to go back inside to the party.

You went to follow when a hand stopped you. Angel tugged and motioned up, your eyes catching the mistletoe hanging from the wooden beam. You smiled and let him pull you in for a more PG-rated kiss than the series of impassioned ones moments before.

“Merry fucking Christmas, querida.” He whispered against your lips, dark eyes conveying emotion he didn’t have to voice.

“Merry fucking Christmas, baby.”

#lisa's 5.5k follower celebration #lisa's xmas challenge 2019 #angel reyes #angel reyes x reader #angel reyes x female reader #angel reyes x you #angel reyes fic #angel reyes fanfiction #mayans mc #mayans fx

[thetravelerwrites]

Eli (Part 2) Lemon

Rating: Explicit Relationship: Female Human/Male Rabbitman Additional Tags: Exophilia, Mutual Pining, Reader Insert, Second Person POV Content Warning: Epilepsy, Partial Mutism, Facial Scars, Nearly Fatal Accident, Seizures, Myoclonic Jerks, Absence Seizure, Head Injury, Sex Words: 4255

The finale part of @littlemissmonsterfan​‘s commission! After a day out at the market with Eli, he and Winnie finally confront each other about the truth. Please reblog and leave feedback!

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After a breakfast you barely touched, Eli arrived. He was dressed a bit nicer than normal, which perplexed you. After greeting your mother, the two of you left and went to Market Row, where many vendors had set up stalls in between the established local stores.

Despite being a small town, Coleville was known for its diverse, well-guarded marketplace and friendly attitude toward traveling merchants, as long as they weren’t doing anything shady or selling anything illegal. There were always new vendors selling new things, so going to Market Row was a different experience every time you went.

Though, you didn’t go often. With your condition plus helping at the store, going to the market was difficult on your own. Doing most things was difficult on your own, if you were honest. Since you couldn’t talk, many people were hesitant to work with you and often shied away from interacting with you. It was exhausting. The stares at your scars didn’t endear you to strangers, either. Without the buffer of your mother, Eli, or another of your friends who knew sign language, dealing with other people was a chore that you often avoided.

Eli seemed in good spirits today; chipper even. He was smiling at people and being much chattier than normal. You weren’t sure if you were enjoying this weird out-of-character mood of his or if you felt jealous; he normally only acted like this with you.

Well, and Marnie, too, probably.

Alright, you were jealous.

There was a candy stall set up that you’d never seen before, selling honeyed nuts and caramels and candied fruit. It was all crazy expensive, but the vendor seemed to be doing well for himself. Considering the price of sugar, candy was a rare treat usually reserved for the very rich. It seemed many people in town felt this novelty was worth the splurge, including Eli.

“Let’s go get some,” He said.

“But!” You protested. “It’s so pricey!”

“When’s the next time we’ll get the chance? A little bit won’t bankrupt us,” He said. “It’s a special day, after all.”

“Why?” You asked, dreading the answer. “What makes today so special?”

He simply laughed and pulled you by the hand toward the stall. He bought a small bag of honeyed walnuts for himself and several crystallized fruit sugar sticks for you. Despite the astronomical cost, he refused to let you pay for yours.

Your anxiousness was growing steadily throughout the day. He bought you things all the time, but it was usually small things, bits and bobs he thought you might like. The candy and the perfume from the other day were the most expensive things he’d ever bought in his life, as far as you knew, and he’d given them both to you. Why? Because he was leaving? Were these presents to soften the blow? If that were the case, you wanted to tell him to take them back, but you also didn’t want to hurt his feelings. It was clear he was trying to make your last day together special.

He took you to the pub for lunch, where you saw Marnie and Theo. She winked at you from across the room, although you weren’t certain why. When you asked them to join the two of you, Marnie declined, saying they had an errand to run before forcing Theo out of his seat and dragging him behind her out of the bar. Theo seemed as confused by Marnie’s behavior as you did, but Eli didn’t comment.

Just before sunset, he took you up to the hill that overlooked the town where you and he had often played when you were children, and the two of you sat there with the dinner he’d packed for the two of you: fruit and cheese and ham cooked into bread. It was another costly thing in an already extravagant spread that had been this day.

While you ate, the two of you sat and talked. It was a long, deep conversation, the kind the two of you often had, just discussing everything and nothing. Eli was the only person you could talk to like this. Gods, you’d miss this.

“You know,” He said, popping a piece of the candy into his mouth and crunching noisily. “I do love this town. It may be small, but it’s home. I’d be terribly sad if I ever had to leave.”

With those words, the dam of anxiety you had been holding back all day broke, flooding your body with panic. As hard as you tried to stop, you couldn’t keep the tears from your eyes, and they fell down your cheeks unabated. He was looking out over the valley that cradled Coleville, staring at the sunset, so you didn’t think he noticed you at first, but perhaps you made some small sound without meaning to, a gasp or a shuddering breath, because you suddenly felt his large hand on your shoulder.

“Hey,” He whispered softly, a degree of alarm in the deep timber of his voice. “Hey, hey, hey. What’s wrong? What is it? Are you feeling alright? Tell me what’s wrong, love. How can I help?”

For a moment, you were crying too hard to allow coherent thought, so he put an arm around your shoulder and snugged you into his side, letting you weep piteously into his shirt. Once you’d calmed down, you looked him square in the face.

“Are you going to take the job in Dunmountain?”

He seemed taken aback. “How did you know about the shop job? Did Marnie and Theo tell you?”

“It doesn’t matter how I found out, why didn’t you tell me?” You asked him, a frown on your face.

“Because I wasn’t sure how to feel about it and wanted to get my thoughts in order first.” He studied you pensively. “Do you think I should go? Be honest. Your opinion matters to me, so I want to know what you really think.”

You took a deep breath and sighed heavily. “The part of me that is your best friend says… yes. Of course you should go. It’s a good job, a great opportunity. I mean, running your own shop! You wouldn’t be Mama’s carthorse anymore; you could be the boss. And you’d get to move to the city, a big place that has everything you could ever need. Compared to that, Coleville is just a hole in the ground. The part of me that wants what’s best for you thinks you’d be so much better off if you went.”

“But?” He pressed.

“But,” You said, staring out over the valley, the tears falling anew. “But there’s another voice. A voice I don’t listen too as often as I should. One that’s usually quiet and easy to ignore, but now it’s screaming so loudly that I can’t hear anything else.”

“What does that voice say?”

Sobs wracked your body as you forced your hands to say, “Don’t go. Please. Please stay. You’re the only reason my life still has color. If you’re gone, everything will be gray and cold. I don’t want to lose you, not to anything. Stay.” You covered your face in your hands, unable to stop crying.

He pulled you into a tight hug and held you. “Shh. Shh, love, it’s alright. Don’t make yourself sick. I wish I’d known you were so worried, I’d have told you sooner.” He pulled back and tilted your chin up so that you were looking in his eyes. “Winnie, I didn’t tell you about the job because I never intended to go.”

“What?” You asked. “Seriously?”

“Seriously,” He replied. “Yeah, it’s a good opportunity and it’s a change of scenery, but who cares? My home is here, my life is here. I have no higher aspirations than to live out my life in our pretty little hole in the ground, as you said, surrounded by our friends. That’s all I want. And besides,” He said, laying a hand on your cheek. “No matter what I decided to do, do you really think I’d ever leave you behind? You’re stuck with me, love, no matter what happens. I’m with you for life.”

You blinked. “Me? Why?”

He gazed at your face for a moment before answering with an affectionate voice and a tender smile.

“I think you know why, Little Bear.”

Your heart sped up so fast that it felt like your chest contained a hummingbird, flitting about your ribcage as if it were a garden of flowers in full bloom. You shook your head, disbelieving.

“No? You don’t know?” He said, his smile becoming a little sad and rueful. “Well, if you don’t, it’s my fault, isn’t it? Forgive me. Allow me to be crystal clear.”

He bent his head and pressed a gentle kiss to your lips, hesitating to deepen it in case you pulled away. Elated, you responded by grabbing his face with both hands and kissing him harder. You hadn’t hoped for this. You hadn’t even dreamed of it, but it was happening. His lips tasted of honey.

The two of you broke apart and he laughed at your exuberant reaction. “I hope that means you accept,” He said, wiping the tear tracks away with his thumbs

“But what about Marnie?” You asked.

“I talked to Marnie last night,” He replied. “We’ve broken up. She’s going to take over the store instead of me.”

“Wasn’t she upset?” You asked with concern.

He shook his head. “It was a mutual decision. I told you, Marnie knew what our situation was from the start. Our relationship was fun, but I could never have with Marnie what I have with you. I love Marnie, but I’m in love with you. She knows that, she always has. This way, she gets the big job and I get to be with the woman I love. We both get what we want.”

“I still want to talk to her and make sure she’s okay,” You said with a worried grimace.

“Of course,” He replied, running a soothing hand through your hair and pulling you closer. “She and Theo will be leaving tomorrow afternoon. They’ll both likely want to say goodbye to you before heading off.”

You sighed, placated but not convinced. “Eli,” You asked him curiously. “Why did you ask me to come out today, if you were never going to leave?”

“Because I’ve always wanted to take you on a proper date, and I never could until today,” He said, smiling the sweet, warm smile he only showed to you. “I’ve always loved you, Winnie, ever since we were kids, but I was never sure if you felt more than friendship for me, so I always hesitated to make a move. I started dating Marnie in the hopes that I would move on and get over you, which is a terrible reason to start a relationship, I know. It didn’t work, anyway; I never stopped loving you. Breaking up with Marnie and turning down the job finally gave me the courage to act on my feelings. Even still, I wasn’t sure how you felt about me until just a minute ago.” He grinned ruefully. “I’m glad you didn’t smack me.”

“I might still smack you,” You said, your hands moving sharply in annoyance. “You should have told me about all of this a long time ago. At the very least, you should have told me about the job.”

“I know,” He replied regretfully. “I just didn’t want you to worry yourself to sickness over it. You’d already had a bad fall. I didn’t want to add to your stress, but it seems I did anyway. I’m sorry for not being more forthcoming. I’m sorry for not trusting in you.”

“Well,” You said. “If we’re going to be together, there’d better be no more secrets, mister.”

A slow smile spread like a sunrise on his face. His long ears twitched, one after the other, as they did when he was excited. “You’ll be my girl, then? Officially? I can shout to the world that were together?”

“Only if you promise not to hide things from me anymore, not matter what it is,” You told him sternly.

He kissed your temple. “It’s a promise, love.”

“Good,” You said. “Now take me home.”

He seemed disappointed. “Alright. Are you tired? I suppose it’s been a long day, though it’s been so great I don’t really want it to end yet.”

“No, I don’t mean the store,” You said. “Your home. Your room above the pub. I haven’t been in it before. Take me there.”

“...oh,” He said. He actually gulped, his Adam’s apple bobbing. “Yeah. Sure, of course.”

It was actually adorable how nervous he seemed. He packed up the picnic and took your hand, leading you back into town.

It was after dark when the two of you got back to the pub, so most of the stalls had shut down and the pub was packed with people. As such, no one noticed the two of you walk through it, hands clasped, and head to the stairs at the opposite end. He stopped in front of the fourth door on the right in a long hallway on the third floor, letting go of your hand so that he could pull a key from his pocket and unlock the door.

The room inside was tidy and small, with a bed and a table on one side, and a wash basin and bureau on the other. There was a small fireplace on the opposite wall and a candelabra on the mantle. Eli set down his basket of food on the table and went to light the candles while you explored. The room was bare of personal belongings besides his clothes and a few books, although you did notice a little wooden rabbit, faded with age, sitting on his bureau.

“I can’t believe you kept this,” you told him.

He smiled. “Of course I did. It was a present.”

“I remember,” You said, returning his smile. “I scraped up every penny I had to get it for you. It was hard because I had to go to the market and try to get the vendor to understand what I wanted, even though I couldn’t talk to him.”

“All because I told you I’d never gotten a present,” He said, coming close and taking it from you, turning it over in his hands. “A lot of the kids at the orphanage never got presents, you know. Why did you only get one for me?”

“You were special to me,” You told him, looking up into his sweet brown eyes. “You still are.”

With his eyes locked on yours, he set the rabbit down and wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you tight against him. You stood on your tip-toes to kiss him, kicking off your shoes. His hands reached for the ties of your bodice, untying the knots and pulling the strings loose. You started on the buttons of his shirt.

It started slow, but as more and more clothes fell to the floor, the urgency became more intense, the kisses deeper, the clinging more insistent. By the time both of you had shed your clothes, you were gasping so hard you could barely catch your breath. You fell onto the bed together, and the sound of his antlers knocking against the wall brought you both back to reality. The two of you laughed self-consciously.

“Are you sure you want to do this?” He asked.

“Don’t you?” You asked in return.

“Oh, I’ve dreamed of this,” He replied emphatically. “I just don’t want to rush you. I know this is all a bit sudden, so if you want to wait…”

“I thought I’d never see you again after today,” You told him. “I was fully prepared to pine for you for the rest of my life. I’m ready for this. More than ready.”

“If you insist,” He said with a grin, maneuvering the two of you to the head of the bed so that his antlers weren’t scraping the wall anymore and bent to kiss you again.

His hands, the pads of which were rough like sandpaper, roamed your body, touching every hidden inch. When they grazed your breasts, you made a noise involuntarily, a soft whimper. Eli popped up on his elbows and looked down at you.

“Did you like that?” He asked. You nodded. “Can you do that again? Make that noise?”

Since the carriage incident when you were little, something in your brain prevented you from being able to form words, but you could make sounds. You didn’t like to do it around other people because it made you self-conscious, but Eli seemed to be enjoying it. As Eli kneaded your flesh, you did it again. Eli bit his lip, his hand moving further south.

“If I do something you don’t like or feels wrong, or if you start to have an episode, push me away, alright?” He said as he reached down to open your legs, throwing one over his hips as he lay beside you, and you nodded again.

He flipped his hand so that his knuckles caressed down your belly to your core, the back of his pointer finger slicked down your slit and back up again, rubbing against your clit and beginning to move in slow, tight circles like a gentle massage. You tried to keep your eyes on his face, but they closed on their own as the pleasure began to flow through your body. More of those sounds he liked so much issued from you as your breathing became uneven.

You were on your back, and Eli was on his side next to you, caressing you and watching your face. You hand was down by your side, and you felt something nudge it. Your head came up and looked down, and you were shocked to realize his cock was fully erect and right next to your fingers.

He looked down as well. “Oh!” He said, pushing his middle away from you. “Sorry.”

You shook your head. “Touch?” You asked with one hand and pointed at his organ.

“If you want to,” He said, returning to his previous position.

Looking down over your body to his, you reached out and touched the head of it, hesitantly at first but with growing confidence. It was smooth and silky, the same dusky grey as his fur with a blush pink tip. Eli buried his face into your hair and inhaled deeply, sighing with satisfaction. His massaging sped up, and your legs began to twitch.

As the two of you touched each other, you kissed lovingly and lasting. You pulled up your knees instinctually and he moved his hand to reach underneath your thigh, continuing the pressure against your clit. Your pelvis moved against his hand and the pitch of your noise increased. Eli responded positively to that, moving his lips to your nipples and taking them into his mouth, circling his tongue around them.

A crash of explosive bliss rushed through you, your muscles tensing and your back arching.

“You’re alright?” You heard Eli ask anxiously. His voice was a little distant, due to the rushing sound in your ear. You turned and cuddled into the fur of his chest, nodding happily. He wrapped his arms around you and snugged you in tightly, his nose pressed into your neck.

“I can’t believe this is really happening. I’ve loved you since we were little kids. I never believed you’d love me back.”

“Why?” You asked him, looking at him curiously. “Why would that be so hard to believe?”

He shrugged and avoided your eye. “I don’t know. I… I guess maybe… I felt like you blamed me for what happened with the carriage.”

You sat up in shock and stared at him in disbelief. “What? I’ve never blamed you, not once! How could you possibly think such a thing?”

He sat up too, pulling his knees up and resting his elbows on them, his head down. “I was right there, right next to you. I could have pulled you out of the way, but I wasn’t fast enough.”

You pulled his arms away and tugged his head up, climbing into his lap. “Have you been shouldering the idea that this was your fault all this time? No wonder you’re always so grumpy. It was no one’s fault but my uncle’s, you know that, Eli. He was a cruel, selfish man who will got what was coming to him.”

“I’d have killed him if you’d let me,” He said darkly.

“Well, I didn’t. Forget him. I have.” You kissed him again. “He’s gone. Let’s not think about him. Think about us, about where we are right now.”

His guilty frown transformed into a bright, lovely smile. “Happily.”

The two of you took your time, kissing and touching while you were straddling his lap, and when you asked him to, he reached between you and pressed his cock to your entrance, carefully guiding you down onto him. There was a sharp pinch, but it didn’t hurt as much as you thought it would.

He grasped your hips and showed you how to move as he thrust into you from underneath. He kissed your face and neck and chest and whispered how much he loved you over and over. You grunted and moaned and made more noise than you likely had in your entire life. When you came again, it was like fireworks, like sunrise, like every beautiful thing. He pulsed inside you and threw his head back, wheezing unsteadily.

You went limp in his arms with your head resting on him. He pressed his lips to your shoulder and went still as well as the both of you recovered in silence. Eventually, he lay you down on the bed and covered you both with the blanket.

“It’s gotten late,” Eli said, yawning. “I’d love for you to stay the night with me, but do you think you’re mother would be upset?”

You snorted. “Are you kidding? I think she knew this would happen eventually.”

“Your mother is a smart woman. She always has been,” He said.

“She’s smug about it, too,” You gestured snidely, and he snickered.

“In that case, sleep, love,” He said. “I’ll be right here.”

With your face nestled into the softness of his chest fur, you were happy to comply.

The next morning, Eli ordered in breakfast and the two of you lounged until noon. It was the closest thing to a vacation the two of you had ever had. You started to feel guilty around lunchtime, though, and headed back to the shop. Your mother had a smug smirk on her face as the two of you came inside, which you ignored.

An hour later, after you changed clothes and helped with the sweeping, Marnie and Theo came by to purchase some provisions for the road. After they made their purchases, you and Eli followed them to the woodcarving shop and met with Cetzu and his father in law, who were loading up two covered wagons that were full of inventory for the new shop in Dunmountain.

You gave Theo a hug and kiss and then stepped back for a moment so that Marnie and Eli could talk privately. Their farewell was brief, and after a short hug, Eli waved you over and went to bid Theo farewell. You went to Marnie and pulled her aside, out of earshot of the others.

“Are you really okay with this?” You asked. “Breaking up with Eli and moving to a new city?”

“Yeah, it’s exciting!” She said, her face bright. “I’ll have my own store, just like you will someday! It’s wonderful. I get my fancy life in the big city, and you get Eli, like he’s always wanted. Everyone wins.”

You felt like her words were sincere, but also like she was overselling it.

“Marnie,” You pressed. “Do you love Eli?”

She continued to smile at you, but it had changed almost imperceptibly. She pulled you into a tight hug.

“Don’t look so sad,” She whispered gently into your ear. “Everything is as it should be. Be happy. Take care of the big guy for me, eh? And take care of yourself, too.” She pulled away and continued to smile kindly. “If anything happens to you, Eli won’t know what to do with himself. He loves you more than anything in the world, you know.”

You nodded, unable to keep the regret off your face. “I’m sorry, Marnie.”

She shook her head. “Don’t be. I’ve got a new job to keep me busy. I’m happy about that. And I’ll send you letters telling you all about it.” She hugged you again. “Be well, little sister.”

You wrapped your arms around her tightly and squeezed for a solid minute. When you released her, she kissed your forehead before taking a step back and swinging up into the driver’s box of her covered wagon next to her hired escort. Theo followed suit in his. Marnie snapped the reins and the caravan took off toward the glittering city.

Eli came up and wrapped you in his arms.

“You alright?” He asked. “You look sad.”

“I’ll just miss them,” You said.

“Me too,” He said. “Maybe I’ll take you on a trip one day to visit them. Maybe it could be our honeymoon.”

You turned with a shocked look on your face and he chuckled.

“In time.”

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Thanks for reading!

My Masterlist

The Exophilia Creator’s Masterlist

#Exophilia #Rabbitman #Jackalope #Epilepsy #Reader Insert

[meltangospelhour]

Notes on Reverie & Discipline: Chapter 1

Format: 1st Person Narrative

Chapter Rating: R / +17 [Implied Sexual stuff/it's smut]

Summary: This story was written after and based upon the 2020 GOFest that's been collecting dust. It's a first person recollection of thoughts after certain events, as well as repressed feelings coming to the surface between three characters in particular.

Chapter 2 // Chapter 3

Blanche

Comparing notes is how we’ve come to conclude our daily routine. It has been logical to do so; our research overlaps quite a bit. As you know, I oversee the handling of evolutionary components and deducting the requirements; Spark is an expert when it comes to breeding and handling Pokémon in their infancy; and Candela, in matters of improving overall stats of a Pokémon, which can involve a combination of stardust and candies.

To address it as Spark would: “Candy makes the candy.”

...Ahem.

So, because candies can trigger the evolutionary outcome of a Pokémon, it is inevitable and without question that I would be working alongside Candela quite often. It’s a fate inescapable. Even if we’ve discovered nothing new, she and I will come together out of a habit that’s formed over the course of these years. If one of us is too sick to appear in person, we’ll connect virtually. In all matters of candy, stardust, and now Rockets, there is always something to discuss.

Such evenings are somehow intense, yet still quiet. Cozy, if you will. The way my partner shifts from being so analytical in one moment, into a giggling fit the next, was a pattern that alarmed me in the beginning. Are you really a scientist, I’d wanted to ask countless times during our first sessions. Now, I’m happy to be a witness to the gamut of personalities that find themselves called into the field that are Pokémon studies.

Candela is far more crafty and even more calculative than I had come to imagine. If she loses, she still somehow wins. I have to work hard for my victories against her; she loses gracefully, but you will have most certainly earned that victory. Countless times, I have created elaborate defenses, counting on her weaknesses--proven and potential. And, repeatedly, I have seen her sidestep them before she’d even touch the surface of my hard work.

As if I were the purest ice, she sees right through me.

With her, there is no hesitation in matters of reading my face, my eyes, the way my fingers move, the pace of my breath, the tone of my voice, the quivering of my lips. Even down to the way I dress, she knows the language I speak past my mask, intentionally and not.

I could, at times, feel where those eyes went. It was distressing, yet oddly… alluring. That reaction has yet to change.

Within six months of observing me, she once asked of me: “You’re upset; aren’t you?”

“And why do you think this?” I sharply quipped.

“Your braid; it’s underhanded. When you’re in a better mood and have your hair braided, you’d usually opt for an overhand technique. Right?”

I found myself paralyzed; she was right. My Lapras had come down with Pokerus. While the virus itself is generally beneficial, it doesn’t make the course of the disease any easier to endure. Seeing someone you care about in pain and discomfort weighs heavily on the mind. As always, I kept my more guttural emotional responses suppressed. The issue of anyone knowing what my Lapras was going through wasn’t the problem; the issue was the potential of my raw emotions stifling my work.

I found myself angry; I had lost control. To opt for a euphemism so many are wont to make: she thawed past my glacial barrier. With this knowledge, would she take advantage of it?

She did, only…not in the way that I’d feared.

Candela stopped by to make sure my Lapras was comfortable, and told a story about how her Infernape, then a Monferno, came down with it. The Pokémon's massive head now resting in her lap, my research partner sang to it a lullaby that I’d never heard--Only to realize along the crescendo that it was Lugia’s Song in a different key. My Lapras, for the first time since falling ill, found enough will to make sound beyond agonized moaning and hummed along with her.

I looked on at the scene that churned impossible-to-pinpoint feelings from within: a woman who I’d feared, and, in a panic, further embraced water-types into my repertoire. Only to find that she seemed relieved I had done so while jovially complaining about needing a real challenge. Now doting upon the very Pokémon who could potentially, with its gains in its newfound recovery, could likely better withstand her team, if not devastate it, if I calculate my strategy accordingly.

It dawned upon me that she saw herself as a small part of something much bigger. If we were strong together, it was all that mattered to her.

She’d said to me some time ago, not the exact words, but akin to: Battles are frequent. They are won, they are lost. But war only has one victory, and that is the victory to focus upon.

That resonated true, especially now.

The feeling of partnership and friendship remained stable. However, something else within felt threatened.

...Something deeper that I’d repeatedly denied myself.

❄❄❄

I’ve worried. I’ve found myself knotting up within. I hadn’t fallen ill. I began to follow the pattern that was behind this sudden nuisance. One of the GO Rocket leaders we were up against is a person from Candela’s past. Someone close to her. A rival and a close friend. In a passing and annoyingly irrelevant thought, I immediately processed the possibility of them being doubles partners in that not-so-distant past.

I found myself thinking about it more, wishing to see the fight they’d engaged in in that field. I thought more about them than I did Cliff. I feel so terribly sorry for Cliff; Giovanni is unworthy of a man that loyal. But I found my thoughts wandering more often to a point that could be deemed unhealthy at worst, counterproductive at best.

The Salamence were the ones that drove my thoughts into this descent. Candela had one that she loved so dearly. That is not to say that she didn’t love her Pokémon equally, but her closeness and address of the dragon seemed so very unique in of itself. To compare, she addressed her Moltres with a certain deference, as we often did with our signature birds. To further illustrate the relationship, one could say that they were our patrons and we, their scions, in a sense. With the Salamence, however, there was a certain reminiscence and determination that I could never understand--

--Until I learned of Arlo’s possession of a Salamence. Though, his was tainted--as far as I was aware. Likewise, this could all be fallacious; I could be bringing up Sierra and Candela’s Houndooms, mine and Sierra’s Lapras, or Spark and Cliff’s Tyranitars. These coincidences potentially had just as little-to-no grounds for concern.

...Right? Of course. Of course, I’m right.

The Salamence themselves shouldn’t be a detail worth my mulling over; however, it drove my curiosity as to who filled the ranks of Arlo’s non-tainted team that Candela had, from what Willow said (who recounted what Candela told him) requested to battle. For old friends who dedicated themselves to the world of Pokémon battles to have matching Pokémon, or Pokémon who were romantically involved, it was often seen as what one might call a ‘cute’ gesture.

A cute gesture between old friends…

...Old friends who could be considered to be of ‘marrying age,’ no less…

To share a pair of dragons was no small matter in certain cultures. After all, Arlo is presumably Kantonian, or perhaps Johtonian; Candela is--

If the dragons are or were mates, then, possibly--?

(I still do not know Candela’s exact age. Her appearance is considerably younger than Spark’s, despite her being the eldest. I attribute this to a number of factors alongside her own healthy habits. One of my admins even teased that Valor’s old guards biologically engineered their higher ranks to fit a certain ideal, to which I immediately dismissed, but considered the potential sciences for my own personal application in terms of enhancing my own mental aptitude permanently.)

In addition, I suppose Spark being very open to discussing Sierra, but Candela’s withholding of Arlo, fuels my ruminations. Spark and Sierra have shared no past, but the level of transparency he was willing to offer is to be appreciated.

“...Has she mentioned him to you?” I asked Spark while watching Elekid and my Metagross play together.

“Nope.” He was careless and quick to reply. I wish he’d not assume before speaking.

“...You’re aware of whom I’m asking about?”

“Yeah,” Spark laughed. “Candela and Arlo. It’s all over your face.”

He wasn’t being careless, and I was wrong about him.

Sporting the audacity to gesture around the proximity of my own face with his finger just to drive his point home, I felt anger well inside of me. And yet, I wasn’t sure who or what I was angry towards. I quickly deducted that I was mad at the situation itself; that I had let my feelings over the situation shatter my façade. He didn’t need to ask “who” due to the fact I had, apparently, exposed my emotions out in the open more than I’d anticipated.

“I suppose that Professor Willow is the only one that Candela had spoken with in-depth about him. Are you not curious?” I asked Spark.

“Of course I’m curious!” he said as Elekid went flying. Nonchalant, Spark raised his hand to catch the flying ball of flailing and laughing energy. He was many things, but the manner that his ‘mother Beartic’ side often activated, as effortlessly as taking a breath, never ceased to impress me.

“You know what, though? When Candy’s ready to speak, she’ll speak! ‘Sides, it’s not like she’s got anything we can actually use! I mean, what’s she going to say? Dude likes boxers over briefs? What are we gonna do with that? Mail him thongs?”

I was fortunate that my anger had found focus. Spark was right; it was pointless. The thirst for my knowledge was driven by my own selfish desires, nor was it hampering Candela’s performance. If anything, it was a fuel.

And yet, my desires persisted. And grew.

...How would she know what sort of undergarments he preferred? Why would you even use such a crass example, Spark? They were only close friends. Nothing more.

I have had days where I absolutely abhorred Arlo. I’ve yet to speak with him; and yet, the reports from trainers and the fact he’d hurt Candela was beyond enough.

I had nights where I reveled in our time -- OUR time -- comparing notes with one another. That time Arlo could have shared with Candela, had he behaved and not fled like a spoiled coward, now belonged to me. Her closeness as she leaned over to see my work along the scattered papers and array of holo-screens...

...The firm, caring squeeze of her hand upon my shoulder;

...The warmth voluminous breasts brushing against my back when she leaned in for a closer look;

...The tenderness and melody of her voice uttering my name, telling me how proud she was to be my partner.

...The scent she wore that often compelled me to lick my own lips.

...I’ve experienced guilt for this indulging. We are working. I always kept still and drank in those moments. I dismissed the apologies from her when she soon realized how close she leaned over me as I worked in my seat and at my desk. For the record, I do not like it when anyone invades my space uninvited. I’d not prefer it.

But this? This was acceptable.

Desirable.

I always kept my voice to a whisper when I forgave her, and kept my face close to hers. At first, it was never planned; a pleasant accident. But, after conducting enough research regarding such gestures, I found that it was a way to sate this growing need for her I had within. To quell the steam without crossing the professional line, so to speak.

I began to realize that part of myself had lost control for her. Close to my proximity, I could feel her warmth, combined with that warm, sweet, spicy perfume that most certainly had traces of Salazzle pheromones imbued within. Alone and in the darkness of night, I then found myself yielding to the temptation of vivid fantasies and succumbing to the will of my own wandering hands.

I felt safe to do so.

Then, from within a dream, something clicked.

Awakened by epiphanies is the norm for my course of sleep. I keep a notebook upon my nightstand for such moments. However, this was the first time I felt too horrified to write. I didn’t want the degradation of my thoughts towards carnal desires to be committed to any tangible memory.

Still; it was a thought that felt as if I were gazing down a void that could envelope me at any time. I kept wanting to know just how close they had been.

Why are the notes on him so vague?

Why so much hatred just because of Candela?

Did she break your heart, losing a Pokémon battle?

Or stealing your potential title?

Am I missing something?

You seriously cannot justify abusing Pokémon because you lost against her!

You wanted the leadership position; didn’t you?

No, that’s too easy. That can’t be it.

Sometimes that’s all there is to it, Blanche.

Perhaps I’m committing the sin of over analyzing things. I still recall Cliff’s message, chiding me for ‘thinking too much.’

(While his observations are… sound, that did nothing to gain the upper hand against me in our previous battles.)

Perhaps these concerns I ruminate upon weren’t merely carnal desires. Perhaps they were more...

[He is sly and manipulative.]

That note. Who’s being manipulated? Why mention this useless detail in our dossier?

I can only compare him to anything but. I’ve met Rattata who were more sly than he.

Small. Loud. Does nothing but preach. Preoccupation with humiliation, and announces frequently for his desire to not be embarrassed. And yet, he seems so simultaneously proud and disgusted of Rocket. That isn’t very manip--

“Wait.”

My need to annotate took precedence over my stubbornness. This might be important. I took only a few notes; short ones for column [A]; extensive ones for column [C]. [C] would come to explain [A]. I will make [C] explain to me [A].

And yet, weeks later, we found ourselves standing beside one another. The subsiding heat from the summer sunset radiated upon us in the glow of victory as we watched the GO Rockets flee. With the aid of Victini’s blessing, we were able to overwhelm what could have become a potential disaster beyond words. One may call such a scene ‘romantic.’ Perhaps that would have been the moment where I should have confessed to her. Perhaps share a kiss? That’s how that sort of thing works; yes? Two warriors, victorious in their pursuits, succumbing to their long-repressed desires. In those stories Candela loved so much, it always seemed to play out that way.

Almost always. There was that one spy novel she complained for an entire week about.

Despite my successful duel with Cliff fresh upon my mind, I set aside enough space to recall what I’d observed of Candela and Arlo.

(Due to the sheer number of witnesses, Spark and Sierra’s battle was not worth recalling and was quite straightforward; to this day, and apparently to Sierra’s chagrin, people still speak of it extensively.)

I had witnessed the Valors; leader and traitor, from a distance; the unreadable faces; the wordless, pre-battle lingering. The reflection of the sunlight in Arlo’s spectacles from my position obfuscating the legibility of his emotions--while Candela, so expressive as can be with her enrapturing eyes, was no more different from when challenging one of our trainers. She radiated so much vivacity; and yet, she told me absolutely nothing.

...That was the point; wasn’t it?

My recollection was suddenly interrupted by that familiar voice so warm and bubbly: “I guess we won’t have any notes to compare tonight, huh?”

“...I suppose not,” I replied. Of course not; we were uncovering details at an amazing pace; my personal concerns aside.

Still, my chest began to ache, caused only by what I could only ascertain was due to tension. Candela; invite me to something after our dinner with the Professor. Ask me something, anything. A showcase battle? A doubles battle with Spark and the Professor? Chess? Would you… Care to spend the night? Anything? I couldn’t look at her. I looked at everything and everyone else around me but her. I knew that if I did, she’d call me a Piplup and ask what was wrong. Not that I minded, but I wasn’t ready to allow myself to react to that the way I desired to do so in public.

She said nothing.

Before I could take command of the situation and extend my own invitation, I finally directed my eyes where she was supposed to be.

She was already gone.

I last glimpsed her waving to Spark and Professor Willow before mounting her Rapidash and taking out beyond the valley’s treeline.

I took a step forward to call out to her, to simply give her the similar dismissal/greeting that I often did by announcing her name; but the echo of the sound of my heel clicking down on a flat rock seized me by surprise, thus disrupting my usual vocal range into a far more embarrassing octave.

It was the reverberation of both my voice and that step that suddenly alarmed me. Something about that echo, in my mind’s auditory hallucinations, made it feel as if I were speaking in a chamber.

No, a theatre.

What would have been something of a charm in a natural, open space--to hear one’s voice echoing in such a way--triggered a visualization of all the notes that I had taken, and what I had bore witness to today.

Something’s up. I was now beyond determined to find out just what it was.

Chapter 2 // Chapter 3

#pokemon go #fanfic #blanche #spark #candela #pokemon fanfiction #leader blanche #leader spark #leader candela #my writing #candela x blanche #candela x ??? #leader arlo #ship fic #love triangle #smut

[rae-is-typing]

Feeling Faint

Anonymous requested: Hi! I was wondering if you could do a fem!teen!reader x Clint ( platonic) where the reader lives in the Avengers tower and is sick and no one knows what to do and they start freaking out so Clint ends up taking care of her? I love your writing! 💖

Characters: You, Clint Barton, Peter Parker, Tony Stark, Sam Wilson, Wanda Maximoff, The Vision, FRIDAY

Warnings: Fainting, sickness, the Vietnam War is mentioned, language, Peter panics, homework

Disclaimer: I’ve never fainted before, so I consulted the interwebs for my information. If you see any mistakes, please let me know :)

Word count: 1.9k

Warm spring rays bathe the communal floor in warmth, negating all need for artificial light in the afternoon. The sounds of video games and banter were distant, easily blending in with the sound of Vision and Wanda cooking in the kitchen.

It was a Friday in May, thank god. Fridays meant the weekend and May meant the school year was coming to a close. However, the school year coming to a close meant finals. And finals meant studying, so much studying.

Tony had a rule for you and Peter: homework before heroism. As the only two students in the Tower, you two had to stick together. You found yourself covering for each other if one of you had snuck out for hero purposes, helping each other out with school or even delivering snacks and gum during classes

It wasn't odd to see the two of you sitting at the designated " homework table', a small round table on the communal floor near the TV and surrounding furniture and near the kitchen and dining area. There were four chairs surrounding it so someone well-versed in the subject you two were working on could come and help the two of you out and make the living hell that is High School a little easier.

Today the two of you were on your own. You had caught up on all your homework the night before. You were also dead tired because of the all-nighter you pulled to get it done. Feeling like shit after an all-nighter was normal for you, but this time it was different. You head was splitting, your nose was running faster than Quicksilver and your entire body was sore. You couldn’t eat anything either, you felt like dying after taking a small sip of coffee earlier that day.

But Peter needed your help learning about the Vietnam War, and you'd be damned if you didn't help him out because you were a little sick. Even if you felt like you couldn’t help Peter out, you weren’t going to say you were sick. Avengers are good at saving the world, not taking care of a sick teenager.

The team didn’t like to leave you and Peter alone together. The last time they left you alone on the communal floor together, all the food was eaten, the kitchen was a disaster after a failed baking experiment, and a ten hour loop of Wii music was left on while you two recreated your favorite vines. Needless to say, some trust was lost.

Clint, Sam and Tony were gathered in front of the TV playing some sort of strategy shooting game. Vision and Wanda were cooking dinner. Peter sat in front of you, reading over his text book over and over again.

"So, the Tonkin Resolution let LBJ have full control over the military?"

"Yeah," You say, leaning heavily into the palm of your hand.

"Why?"

"Because communism."

"That's really it?"

"Pretty much. America wanted the war to escalate to stop the spread of communism," Your voice was flat, and speaking was starting to hurt your throat. You take a long drink from the water bottle next to you and dab at your nose with a tissue.

Peter nods, jotting that down on the paper next to his open text book. You close your eyes, rubbing them. A dull ache had grown in the back of your head throughout the day and the ache went to a roar. You scowled to yourself. It was getting painful to keep your eyes open.

"You alright, Y/N?" Peter asked, looking at you with soft brown eyes. His face was etched with concern and worry.

You offer a small smile, hoping that would calm his nerves a little. Peter was a naturally anxious guy already, and you didn't want to set off his 'Spidey Senses' as Tony likes to call them. "I'm fine, man. Do you have any other questions?"

"Are you sure you're okay? You really don't look great."

You blinked. "I meant questions about the Vietnam War."

"You really don't look good." Peter frowned, his eyes gleamed with concern as they bore into yours.

You picked your head up off your hand and nudged his arm. "I'm a-okay Pete. Do you want me to help you study for your history exam too?" You ask, swallowing a yawn.

"Maybe you should lie down for a bit?" He says meekly. "I'm worried, Y/N. Something feels off," His eyes dart around the room and knees are bouncing rapidly under the table.

"It'll be okay, Pete. So what can you tell me about World War Two?"

Your questions do little to calm Peter's senses, but he begins to ramble about World War Two. Without warning, you feel like the world is spinning around you. You were sure that if you were standing up that you would've fallen. Your head drops to the arm you had resting on the table. Your attempts to breath through the dizzy spell were futile and you barely register the hand that rests on your shoulder before everything fades away.

_____________________________

Clint bit down on his lip, moving his fingers carefully on the controller. One last kill and he would win. He aimed his gun at Tony's character and pulled his fake trigger. Boom! Right between the eyes! Clint let out a loud whoop, celebrating his victory. Tony's shoulders slump over in disbelief. Sam laughs and slaps Clint on the shoulder. 

"How the hell did you win that?" Tony demands. "I had that in the bag." Clint was about to answer, but he was cut off by a very panicked voice. 

"M-Mr. Stark?" Tony set his controller on the coffee table in front of the three of them. Clint turned to see a very shaky, very concerned Peter. His eyes were a little wet as he wrung his hands.

"What's wrong, kid?" 

"Y/N needs help, something's wrong with her. She passed out." Sam’s head shot up.

“What?” Tony hissed, worry growing in his eyes

"I do- I don't know, sir, she was asking me a question then she just slumped over like that." Peter sounded close to tears.  

Springing up from the table, Tony ran to the homework table. You were slumped over on the table, your head resting on an arm with your other arm hanging limply at your side. Wada had two fingers pressed to your neck, red smoke hanging in the air. 

"Peter, what the hell happened?" Tony demanded. 

“We- we were working on homework and she just fell over.”

"Did she say anything about feeling sick?" Clint cut in, voice calm. He had seen abundantly worse. They all had. But this was you, one of their youngest members, their child. 

Peter shook his head, looking at your limp body then at Tony. "Is she going to be okay?" 

Clint could easily see that Peter was beginning to panic. His hands were shaking and he was close to tears. Tony put an arm around him and led him out of the room. Sam was now leaning over you as well, checking for any visible injuries. Vision was saying something about fainting spells. 

"Back up, guys. Give her some space." Clint says, pushing his way to the table. Your skin lacked its normal color it was cold and clammy when he brushed some hair back from your face. 

"If she's not injured, move her to the couch," Clint says. Wanda steps back, as does Clint. Sam out an arm around your shoulders and them shimmied his other arm under your legs. He picked you up easily and moved to lay you flat on the long sofa. 

"FRIDAY? Is she okay?" Clint asked.

"Her blood sugar is low and she has a cold." 

"That explains the fainting." Clint says. "Can someone grab some hard candy and a glass of fruit juice?"

Wanda swiftly went into the kitchen, emerging in a minute later holding a few hard caramels in her one hand a glass of apple juice in the other. She passes them to Clint, and he sets them on the end table by your feet. 

“FRIDAY, is Banner free?”

“Dr. Banner is taking a nap. Should I wake him up?”

“No,” Clint cringed, remembering the last time Bruce was woken up before he was ready. That turned into a code green a little too fast. “We have to wait for her to wake up.”

_____________________________

Your eyes flutter open. Your head pounded, and the ceiling was spinning. When did you lay down? Why were you lying down? What happened? 

“Mornin’ sunshine," Clint says softly from his seat on a chair by the side of the couch. 

"Clint?" You ask, sitting up, rubbing your eyes. "What happened?" 

"You passed out, hon. Don't try to sit up," He says, making his way over to you and gently pushing you back down. 

"What?" 

"Yeah, you scared the shit out of Parker." 

"Is he okay?" You ask worriedly. 

"Yeah, Stark's with him," He grabs something from the table beside him. He turned back to you holding some candy and a glass of what looked like juice.

"Here, drink some of this. Its apple juice," He gives you a glass with gold liquid inside of it. You take your time sitting up, ultimately propping yourself up with the armrest. You sip at the cold juice while Clint continues to speak.

"We’ll have Banner check you when he wakes up from his nap. Something tells me Strange doesn't want to see us for a while."

"How were we supposed to know that Asgardian monsters were going to dye New York pink?" Clint chuckles. 

"I dunno kid, but his cape wasn't too happy about it," He stands up from his spot on the chair. "Hungry?" 

"No, no-" 

"Too bad. Chicken soup with noodles or rice?" 

"Noodles," Your disposition falls flat easily, you were too tired to stand up and not having an obligation felt nice.

"Atta kid. Noodles will always be better than rice.” Clint smiles before moving into the kitchen. You set your now empty glass on the floor and lie down on the couch. You closed your eyes, wishing to escape the beating drum in your head.

You arm was being shaken lightly. “Y/N, wake up, kid. Soups on.”

“Hmm?” You rub your eyes with the back of your hands.

“You fell asleep. The soup is ready. Can you stand without fainting?” Clint was standing above you wearing a purple apron with white bows and arrows on it.

“You’re wearing an apron,” You comment, giggling a little bit. 

“You’re definitely out of it,” He smiles. “C’mon. Sit up slowly,” He put an arm around your shoulders, leading you to sit up slowly. 

“Where’s everyone else?”

“They left. We didn’t want you to get overwhelmed,” Clint answers, helping you stand. He wrapped his arm around your mid-back, guiding you towards the dining area.

He sat you down in front of a bowl of soup while he washed the dishes. You ate the soup slowly, waiting for your stomach to act up. You got through half the bowl before you had to stop eating. 

“How you feelin’, kid?” Clint asked when you pushed the bowl away from you and laid your head on the table. 

“Tired,” You respond. 

“You wanna sleep on the couch here or go to your room?” You shrug your shoulders.

“The table isn’t comfortable, kid. Let’s go to the couch.”

You stand up, letting Clint guide you back to the couch. 

“Get some rest, kid. You need it.”

“Thanks, Clint.” 

The last thing you feel is a blanket being draped over you and a soft kiss on the head.

#clint barton x reader #avengers x reader #avengers team x reader #avengers #marvel #mcu #marvel cinematic universe #fanfiction #sickfic #avengers sickfic #marvel sickfic #requested #feeling faint

[trillian-anders]

amor de mi vida - 1939

pairing: bucky barnes x latinx!reader

warnings: slow burn, racism, prejudice, fluff, language barrier

word count: 5805

description: Bucky Barnes is a sweet young Brooklyn boy, just on the cusp of manhood, a hopeless romantic that falls in love with almost every girl he sees. when he sets his eyes on a young girl fresh off the boat from Cuba he finds out how hard love can really be.

for @cake-writes​ 1940s challenge.

Bucky loved Brooklyn, he loved everything about the borough. The Dodgers, the noise, the diner down the street from his house that made the best cherry pie he’d ever had, he even loved the way it smelled. The salty breeze from the that rolled in every morning and evening, the Statue of Liberty lighting up the bay. He was a Brooklyn boy through and through, even if his birth certificate said he was born in Shelbyville, Indiana. His parents moved here before he could even remember, Brooklyn was all he knew. 

He was on the cusp of manhood. The final years of his schooling before he was ready to take on whatever life threw his way. He didn’t have any expectations. To him it was so simple. Take up more hours in his Dad’s shop, find a beautiful dame, get married, pop out a few kids, have everything his parents ever had and everything they ever wanted for him. He felt so young, full of hope and ready. Ready for anything.

Munching on crackerjack he sat, feet swinging on the edge of pier five, his best friend sketching idly next to him. He tried to ignore the younger boy’s rattling breaths. He was fine, those breaths were normal for him, that’s all that mattered. Steve had recently had a pretty bad scare, when his Ma came down with TB and passed there had been a big concern that the sickly boy had caught it from her. There was quarantine and Bucky thought he was going to lose the best friend he’d ever had. 

Thankfully that wasn’t the case. 

The pair sat in a comfortable silence, the kind that comes with years of companionship. Just the company soothing them from their day. A test in math, the girl that just broke Bucky’s heart, another girl that wouldn’t pay Steve any mind. Bucky’s eyes drifted to his friend’s sketchpad, the Manhattan skyline taking shape slowly but steadily. 

It was warm, the beginning of summer. The switch from wearing sweater vests to short sleeve button downs, wool socks traded in for more breathable cotton. Bucky leaned back on his hands, feet swaying slightly over the edge of the dock watching the ship moving slowly in the water towards Ellis Island. 

“I wonder what it must be like,” Bucky said, “To leave your entire life behind and go somewhere completely new.” Steve’s pencil stopped on the page, looking over at his friend. 

“Must be scary,” Steve started, “Not knowing anyone I mean.” Bucky hummed in agreement. 

“Ma said she’s gonna make meatloaf tonight,” Bucky stood from the dock, helping his friend to his feet, “You’re comin’ to dinner right?” Steve nodded, stuffing his sketchbook into his bag. “Good, cause you really didn’t have a choice there pal.” Bucky’s arm swung over Steve’s shoulder, dragging the smaller boy behind him as they hopped into the junker that was Bucky’s pride and joy. 

The 11 year old Ruxton he’d found rusting away in a scrap yard last year, totaled in an accident and discarded. He’d only recently gotten it back up and running, but it was still a terrifying ride. He dared not take it farther than a few city blocks, but it was still nice to drive. They pretended like they were rich folk above it all, driving the recently painted sleek black car down the streets, wind in their hair only because the windows wouldn’t roll up. 

The next day Bucky fell in love again, and he couldn’t even remember who broke his heart yesterday. Dorothy Seeley. A beautiful blonde dame, bright green eyes, legs for days. She was in his english class. He could see a future with her, something Bucky always wanted. He could imagine loving her forever, her pretty pink mouth pressed against his in his car because he had one, and that made him special. Better than the other boys. 

He was sweet on her, doting, for days. A trip to Coney Island that left him broke, the drive-in, burgers and fries at the diner by his house. Steve in tow. Always. 

He was leant up against the side of his car, Dot pressed against his chest as they exchanged a soft kiss. “I’ll see you tomorrow?” He asked. She grinned, lips parting like petals around shiny white teeth. 

“You’re keen on me Barnes.” Holding his hand and stepping back, her skirt twirled around her legs. 

“Is that a bad thing?” He grinned, his own pearly whites showing. He could feel Steve rolling his eyes from inside the car. 

“Tomorrow then,” He pulled Dot in close to land one more cheeky kiss before she was skipping up the steps into her family’s brownstone, and out of sight. Bucky’s grinning face turned around to look at his friend, slipping into the driver’s seat. 

“I’m gonna marry that girl.” He said.

Steve rolled his eyes, “You say that about every girl.” 

“I mean it this time,” Bucky assured him, pulling the car away from the curb. 

Steve laughed, “You say that too.” 

Bucky’s family wasn’t rich, but they weren’t poor either. His Ma would always say, “We have just what we need.” And it was true. 

Bucky was the eldest of five, the only boy with four younger sisters, each spaced two years apart. The youngest being his favorite, but he’d never tell the other three. 

Rebecca Barnes was his partner in crime, the sweet girl looked most like him, at only nine years old she was a spitfire. Full of attitude and sass, almost always covered in dirt, and easily conned both him and his father into giving her penny candy on almost a daily basis. 

Susan Barnes was eleven and extremely smart, she’d often help her older siblings with their homework, studying. She almost always had a book in her hand and could recite Shakespeare off the top of her head. 

Ruth Barnes was thirteen and hated everyone and everything. It was just that age. She was experimenting with makeup, almost always on the telephone, and generally didn’t speak to anyone in the house unless she absolutely had to. Talking to her lately was just about as hard as pulling teeth. 

Lastly was Virgina Barnes, she was fifteen and much to her father and brother’s chagrin was a little boy crazy. Bucky was sure she was dating someone she wouldn’t bring around to the house, he’d often spy on her in the halls of their high school trying to catch a glimpse of who the punk was that had necked with his sister, but so far she’s been sneaky and kept out of sight. 

His parents were still very much in love. The two were always touching, kissing, slow dancing to music that wasn’t there. It was everything Bucky ever wanted. His mom, Winnie Barnes, came from money. Old money and his grandpa every rare time they saw him would be sure to make it known that he didn’t like their father. 

George Barnes had grown up pretty poor, very wrong side of the tracks. He’d fought in the War to End All Wars in the 107th, met Winnie Barnes when she was a nurse. Real classic story. One Bucky loved hearing. 

His Pops owned his own shop now, one of the only mechanics in Brooklyn which kept him pretty busy, but provided well for his family if their four bedroom brownstone was anything to say for it. Bucky parked the car outside the garage, men laughing, radio playing, he could see his Pops sitting in the back office, pencil behind his ear, looking over the books. 

“You gonna be good from here pal?” Bucky asked Steve. The smaller boy nodded, 

“Probably gonna walk around for a bit before going home.” Bucky wished Steve would take up his offer and come stay with them for a while, but the kid was too proud for that. He was currently living alone in a small apartment, selling funnies to the local paper. 

“If you need anything I’ll be here until seven probably, then I’ll be home.” Steve nodded, backing away.

“I’ll see ya tomorrow.” With a wave he was off, disappearing down the street. 

Bucky worked hard. As he was expected to. He was his father’s only son and George Barnes put a lot of pressure on his son to be a good example, not only for his sisters, but for the other guys that worked for him. He worked, and he worked hard. His hands had become calloused over the years, having worked in the shop since he was old enough to hold a wrench, he knew almost everything there was to know about fixing cars. 

His father believed that a good red blooded American man should know how to do three things. Auto work, Wood work, and wife’s work. He should be able to fix a car, fix the house, and keep his wife as happy as possible. It was ingrained into him since he could barely see over the hood, his father’s words ringing in his ears. 

“Keep your wife happy, the roof strong, and dinner on the table.” He said, “As long as you do those three things you’ll have a good life.” A life like his. Despite the hollowness of his eyes sometimes and the extra beers before bed. 

“It was the war”, his mother told him once, “Sometimes it just catches up to him.” Bucky wouldn’t understand that, not for a while. 

“Jaime.” His pops called him into the back office, a wrapped parcel on his desk. “Run this down to the post for me woulda? They sent us the wrong part, sendin’ it back for an exchange.” James nodded, 

“You need anythin’ else while I’m out?” His father’s eyes, blue like his, peeked up over the lenses of his readers, 

“Grab me a soda pop woulda?” A couple of cents placed into his hand and he was out the door, walking down the sunny streets to the post office three blocks away. There was a corner store next to it where he’d pop in and get his Dad a cola with enough change to grab himself one as well and he’d be on his way back. That was until his eyes landed on the girl peering into the store window in front of the said corner store, brows pulled tight in confusion. 

Her skin was beautifully caramel, dark hair and lips painted red. She was in a soft linen dress, buttoned front, low heels, roses stitched onto the sides. She was a sight. One that made his heart stop in his chest and his mouth drop open wide enough to collect flies. Her dark brown eyes and perfectly curled hair made his hands tremble. He rubbed his sweaty palms on his uniform pants, looking at himself in a car’s side mirror and fixing his hair before approaching. 

“Whatcha lookin’ for doll?” The young woman jumped, turning to face him, perfectly plucked brows raised in alarm. “Sorry,” He laughed nervously, scratching the back of his head. “I didn’t mean to frighten you.” He saw the girl take a step back, he was blowing it. “It’s just not everyday that you see such a beautiful dame such as yourself.” You worried your bottom lip. “Sorry,” He took a step back from you. “That was corny I just…”

“Lo siento,” [I’m sorry] You said, “No puedo hablar ingles.” [I can’t speak english] His face dropped slightly and he took a step back. He didn’t know what to do here, he looked at the window and back at you. 

“James.” He said, pointing to himself, then pointing a finger at you, 

“Y/N.” You replied, figuring out what he meant. He pointed to the store. 

“Store?” You looked at him confused. “Uhm…” He put his hands on his hips and looked inside, holding a hand out to you and pointed at the sign of the shop, “Store?” You looked at him skeptically, taking his hand and letting him bring you inside. He’d walked to the ice box in the back, pulling out two cola’s as he watched you pick up a loaf of bread, looking at him nervously. He tried to smile at you reassuringly but you didn’t seem to feel comfortable still. He took the change out of his pocket, counting out the coins. He had just enough for his two cola’s, not room for much else as he walked you to the counter. If he’d had enough he woulda bought the bread too. 

The shop keep seemed to glare at you, which confused Bucky. He looked between the guy at the counter and back to you behind him, placing his two colas on the counter, having the guy ring him up. “Have a good day,” the man told him, Bucky watched as the girl placed the bread loaf on the counter. The man glared at her, not moving. “No sale.” He said. 

“What do you mean?” Bucky asked, you looked between the two nervously. “Here.” Bucky took the coins from her open palm, and tried to hand them to the shop keep. He glared back at Bucky. 

“We don’t take their money here.” He said sternly, pointing to the sign behind him. Bucky had been in this shop almost five times a week and never noticed that sign before. ‘WHITES ONLY’ in big bold lettering. Bucky looked back at you and while he figured you couldn’t understand english you at least could feel that you weren’t wanted here. Suddenly your nervousness made sense. 

“It’s my money then.” Bucky said, slapping the coins on the counter. “Let her buy the damn bread.” The shop keep stood from the stool he was resting on, leaning over the counter.

“Get out.” By the time Bucky realized he was talking to you and not him you’d quickly walked out of the store and back onto the street. He’d quickly grabbed the loaf of bread, coins still discarded on the counter and followed you out. 

“Wait! Y/N!” He called, catching up to you. “Here.” You looked at him, brows pulled skeptically together before taking the bread from his hands. “I’m sorry about that guy, he’s usually so nice I-” Bucky bit his lip, he was unsure what else to say. Nothing he said made any sense to you anyway. He couldn’t say anything regardless as you gave him a funny look and slowly walked away from him, turning your eyes away as you crossed the street. 

He stared after you longingly and confused. He’d heard people speak spanish in passing. Guys that worked in the factories near the docks. He wasn’t ignorant to that. He just never really gave much thought to them. They were in a different world than him, it didn’t matter as much. But you’d struck him. The way the shopkeep had treated you struck him. He’d never seen a pretty girl treated that way. Usually guys would bend over backwards for a girl like you, but to be fair, Bucky never had a reason to think about skin color. 

It’s not that he didn’t see it, he just never cared. He’d heard whispers of people being irritated at the growing hispanic population in Sunset Park, but never really gave it much thought. It never crossed his mind. He had other things to worry about at the time, a girl to love, a friend to protect. 

The sweating colas in his hands reminded him that he had somewhere to be, and you’d long since disappeared around a corner. Gone from his sight. He was quiet that night at dinner, suspiciously so.

He didn’t see you again for three months, the end of summer drawing near, the days just beginning to get shorter. He’d been walking around Sunset Park occasionally, looking for you, under the guise of a stroll. Steve thought it was strange, his newfound obsession. 

“I’m gonna marry her Stevie.” He’d said. He knows he’s said it before, 

“I mean it this time.” He said that before too. “But you didn’t see her Stevie.” He grinned as the pair walked around the neighborhood for the first time, “She was more beautiful than Aphrodite.” Steve rolled his eyes. He wasn’t sure how many times he’s walked this neighborhood looking for you, but he told himself he’d do it every night if it meant he’d find you again. 

School had ended, he was working full time at his Dad’s shop now, little time for extracurriculars, the dance halls missed him, his favorite waitress asked Steve about him all the time, and he hadn’t seen a movie since the last time he went with Dot almost 3 months ago. All of his energy had gone into working and on his days off with Steve, looking for you. He thumbed through the spanish phrasebook he’d spent a pretty penny on, pages dogeared with things he might try to say to you when he saw you next. 

If it ever happened. 

He was beginning to lose hope, truth be told. Maybe you’d moved away. Maybe you were in the neighborhood visiting someone and didn’t even live nearby. It wasn’t until he’d taken a street down in the factory district on his day off that he saw you again. 

You were just as beautiful as he’d remembered, hair pinned under a cap, lips painted red, you were wearing another linen dress, flowers stitched around the skirt and on the lapels. You were leaving a dress factory. That’s where you must’ve worked. He watched you twirl in your dress, laughing at something another woman had said to you. The gaggle of them speaking such quick Spanish that the few phrases he studied didn’t even make sense to him anymore. 

He swore his heart stopped in his chest when your eyes met his, a firm blush spreading across your cheeks. Bucky, the hopeless romantic that he is, would tell everyone that time stood still. There you were, he would say, his future wife. Pin Curled and sweet, dark lashes and rose petal lips waiting for your first kiss. Like you’d been made for him. He would say that in that moment the stars aligned and brought you to him. 

He was a sucker like that. 

Steve had stopped a few steps ahead of him, noticing that his friend wasn’t following, the group of girls you had been walking out with also stopped, looking between the two of you and giggling at the sight. One girl pushed you forward and you turned to glare at her saying something to her that Bucky couldn’t hear. He took one step forward and then another, thumbing through the pages of the book and swallowing heavily, hands sweating. He’d never been this nervous talking to a dame before, never. He raised the book to his eyesight, glancing at you before looking back down at the page, 

“Lo siento,” [I’m sorry] He said in just about the worst pronunciation you’d ever heard, the girls behind you giggled and you shushed them with a perfectly red lacquered hand, he smiled nervously continuing, “Eres tan hermosa,” [You are so beautiful] He flipped a couple more pages not being able to find what he wanted to say next when you gently grasped his wrist, smiling at him. 

“James.” His heart almost dropped out of his ass as you said his name for the first time, “Hello.” Very heavily accented and you bit your lip with insecurity. 

“Hi.” He breathed. He looked back down at his book, finding what he wanted to say next, “Te estaba buscando.” [I was looking for you.] His pronunciation was horrible and he knew it. But the thought was still there. 

“Uhm…” You looked at him nervously, the girls were sure to gossip about this later. This white man who was holding a Spanish phrase book telling you about how you were beautiful and he was looking for you. 

“Y/N!” Came a yell, Bucky watched an older woman approach, she looked so similar it had to be your mother, “Que haces con este hombre blanco?” [What are you doing with this white man?] The older woman gripped your arm, looking at the girls behind you, “Veta a casa.” [Go home.] She spat to the other girls, glaring back at Bucky as you looked at him apologetically. He caught a few words. He knew casa meant home, he also knew blanco meant white. But he was unsure about the rest. 

Steve stood awkwardly off to his side, a silent witness to this strange situation. “That’s her I’m guessing?” The little shit grinned next to him. Bucky turned to his friend, matching his grin. 

“Yeah.” His heart was still racing, “And now I know where she works.” He looked up at the tall factory building next to them. 

He looked around the flower shop, the various blooms staring back at him. He wasn’t sure what to get, what you would like. Roses were maybe too presumptuous and a little too expensive “Can I help you?” The older woman asked him. She was wearing an apron over her plaid dress, hands brown with dirt. Bucky smiled softly, 

“I’m a little lost here,” He admitted. The older woman smiled, 

“What’s she like?” He stuffed his hands in his pockets looking over the blooms. 

“Perfect?” He offered, laughing, “But beautiful, sweet…” His eyes scanned the arrangements around him, “I don’t have a whole lot to spare, but…” The older woman nodded, understanding. 

“You could always do a single stem,” The older woman plucked a beautiful red flower from an arrangement, “If she’s as sweet as you believe, she’d be more than happy with it.” A peony. Vibrant red. Like your lipstick.  

He waited outside the factory for you. Hair slicked down, he wore a tie, his work uniform stuffed in the backseat of his car. He hoped you wouldn’t notice that he smelled a little like motor oil under his cologne. He barely made it before the door opened and his palms immediately sweat in a Pavlovian response. The anticipation of seeing you. 

Your dress was yellow this time. Stunning against you skin, yellow and white plaid. He wondered if every color was made just for you. Your eyes immediately met his this time, a shy smile spreading across your face. He timidly stepped a foot closer, 

“Hello, James.” In your beautiful broken English. 

“Hola.” Your nose crinkled when you smiled. “Oh, here.” The vibrant red peony being handed over to you, you twirled the stem between your fingers as he pulled the well worn book from his pocket. “Uhm.. Te ves hermosa hoy.” [You look beautiful today] He looked at you for your response, a red dusting on your cheeks as you held the flower up to your nose. 

“Es guapo.” [He’s handsome.] One of the girls teased you to which your eyes widened and you turned to glare at her, shooing her away. 

“Has estado practicando?” [Have you been practicing?] You bit your lip knowing he probably wouldn’t understand that. “How,” You started, “are you?” He grinned, he could respond to this one. Flipping back,

“Muy bien, como estas?” [Very well, how are you?] It took him a bit too long to say four words, but the smile on your face was worth it. 

“Bien,” [Good.] You replied. 

“Away!” You mother was back, standing in front of you this time, looking into Bucky’s face. His cheeks flushed. “Go away!” Your mother’s english was worse than yours, the words coming out thick and accented he almost didn’t understand. “Mantente alejado de ella.”[Stay away from her] She was scary, your mother. He looked to you for help, fingers nervously moving against the spine of the book in his hand. 

“El es una madre inofensiva.” [Mama, he’s harmless.] You explained, but your mother’s face turned red, turning fully to you she said, 

“Él te arruinárá.” [He will ruin you.] Her voice was tense and Bucky couldn’t begin to understand what she said as he watched her drag you away again. But it was fine, he was back tomorrow to try again. 

And he tried again, and again. It became a constant. He was spending $1.30 every week on flowers, considering he was only making $25 a week working for his Dad it was a good chunk of his money. He’d show up with a red peony for you every day. The girls, he knew, were making fun of him but the five minutes in between when you’d get off of work and when your mother would get off of work were the best part of his entire day. He was showing up even on his days off, rain or shine. 

Today he felt victorious, your mother hadn’t yelled at him. She simply looked at him and raised an eyebrow to you saying, “El no se rinde.” [He doesn’t give up.] With a smile and laugh. She pulled you away a little more gently that time, taking a look back at him and shaking her head. 

“You know it’s going to be hard,” Steve said to him once. 

“What do you mean?” Bucky bit into the burger Frankie, the waitress, had just put in front of him. His favorite burger at his favorite diner, he’d have to bring you here. Maybe the two of you could split a milkshake. He wondered if you’d ever had a chocolate malt. Steve looked at him incredulously,

“I can’t tell if you’re dumb or blind.” He’d slipped a picture from his sketchpad over, a picture he’d sketched of you for Bucky. His heart fluttered at the sight, tracing your jaw. 

“She’s it for me pal, nothing complicated about it.” The temperature had just begun to drop, a hot August ending. Fall was sweeping through the city, Steve was just starting art school, Bucky was pulling overtime at the shop saving up cash to move out and start his life. Hopefully with you. 

“Buck.” Steve sighed, “You know I have no problem with it, but…your parents, literally almost everyone else… it’s illegal.” Bucky paused, a few fries in his mouth. 

“It’s not technically illegal in New York.” He knows, he looked it up. “Just not…”

“Not approved of.” Steve finished for him. He sighed heavily, sitting back in his seat. “It’s gonna be difficult, pal.” Bucky shook his head, 

“Nuthin’ could be difficult when I have her,” A sip of soda, “Nuthin.”

The next day when Bucky showed up with his flower your Mother was already waiting for him when he pulled his car up. He finally got the windows working. She knocked heavily on his window before he’d even pulled the keys out. 

“Come.” She said, grabbing his arm and pulling him over to a man, a scary one by Bucky’s count, who was standing where he’d usually wait for you. “Preguntarle.” [Ask him.]

The man was hispanic, but not old enough to be your father. Your brother maybe? “She wants to know what you keep doing here.” The guy’s English was perfect, his voice gruff and accented, but perfect. 

“I’m…” Bucky started nervously, “I want to date her daughter.” The guy scoffed, making Bucky feel like an idiot standing there with his one flower. 

“Él quiere llevarla a una cita.” [He wants to take her out on a date] The older woman scoffed as well. He smiled sheepishly. She looked at Bucky, studying him for a moment, “Dile que Y/N no es un juguete.” [Tell him Y/N is not a toy.]

“She’s not a toy,” The man said, he looked at the older woman before continuing on his own, “Look, Y/N is beautiful, don’t get me wrong, but it’s never going to happen. Your kind is not allowed with our kind.” Bucky felt anger rising in his chest. The man lay a hand on his shoulder heavily, “I’m saying this honestly, if you care about Y/N in any way you’ll back off. You’ll ruin her reputation with our people if you keep showing up here. The women are already gossiping about you showing up here everyday.” 

“This is about her being Spanish?” Bucky asked. 

“She’s Cuban.” The guy explained, “You are privileged enough to pretend not to care about race, but this is only an obsession, you’ll ruin her reputation and leave her when you find someone of your own kind to be with.” The man’s grip on Bucky’s shoulder tightened, a warning. “Get back in your car and don’t come back. If you do, our conversation may not be so pleasant next time.” 

Bucky looked to the older woman with pleading eyes, pulling the Spanish phrases book from his pocket, but before he could find anything the man across from him snatched it from his fingertips. “I said go.” 

Bucky wanted to pummel him. He wanted to punch the guy right in the jaw, but he didn’t. He’d find another way to see you. He’d figure something out. The flower in his hand dropped to his passenger seat as he sat heavily behind the wheel, staring out at the doors to the factory. You walked out just in time to see him drive away. 

Nueva York. That’s what your Mother called it. A new start in America where anything could happen. Your belly had never been that full before. There were no jobs in Havana. Less and less by the day. Your nimble fingers had always been useful as a seamstress, but the less money people have, the less money they had to spend paying someone else to fix their hemlines for them. Your Mother and you moved here in the beginning of the summer, hopeful for a new life.

And you found one. 

The neighborhood of Sunset Park had a growing Hispanic community the two of you had quickly nestled yourselves in. A small one bedroom apartment became your home. The two of you not needing much space. You’d quickly found factory work through a neighbor. Not exactly a seamstress, but you did spend 12 hours a day hunched over a sewing machine. Pennies saved and eventually you’d have enough money to live comfortably. You might even have enough to get a new bolt of fabric to make you and your Mother some dresses. Maybe. 

The only thing you had to look forward to every day were the few minutes watching a handsome man trip over his words, speaking broken Spanish to you and flipping, very endearingly through a book trying to have a conversation. 

It’d gotten a little easier lately, a boy in your apartment building helping you and your Mother learn English and with James practicing his Spanish you’d been getting a little farther past ‘how are you’s in the past week or so. The growing collection of dried flowers in your closet was becoming alarming, the row of dead peonies hanging by their stems, but you didn’t have the heart to throw them away. 

That’s maybe why it hurt so much when you’d exited work today, waiting to see the blue eyed boy that made your heart flutter in your chest, and saw him driving away. Your Mother and Mateo staring at the back of it. “Qué hiciste?” [What did you do?] Neither of them answered you, sharing a look. 

Your eyes met the back of the fading car once more, longing in your chest, eyes prickling with tears. “Vamos,” [Come on] Your Mother called, beginning down the street. You sent a steely glare to Mateo, turning to follow her away, his large footsteps following. 

When you first came to America almost five months ago both you and your Mother were enamored with Mateo. She’d teased that you’d found a husband the first day you’d moved in, but the more time you spent with him the less you liked him. He worked a taxi service, one his family started. They had a good amount of money, promising, is what your Mother had said. He could provide for you. But he was pompous. He thought because he had a little bit of money he was running the whole block. His ego soured your opinion of him. If it wasn’t for the fact he was helping you learn English you would have closed your door to him a long time ago. 

Your Mother didn’t want this life for you. Truthfully she’d brought you to America so you’d marry, find a nice Cuban boy and settle down. Let him provide for you. Take care of her grandchildren God willing. It wasn’t as though you didn’t want that life. You wanted to marry, you wanted love. You loved children and always wanted to be a mother but the most important thing to you was love. 

When James approached you that first time you were confused, yes. You hadn’t understood a word he said. But he was handsome and he made you feel butterflies in your stomach. You felt as though his blue eyes could drown you, like a siren’s call, you’d lost yourself in them. But you’d found yourself embarrassed at the counter when the man was angrily talking to him. James was animatedly arguing back, in words you didn’t understand. Taking the eight cents you’d had for bread and slamming them on the counter. 

You’d been surprised when he’d actually left successfully with the bread, you had been peering for the sign the shopkeeper had pointed to before he’d actually drug you in the store, and your stomach dropped when you’d found it while inside. You should have known you weren’t welcome in that part of town. A little too far outside of your little barrio. 

You’d like to think it was fate, God ordained. You’d thought about it again when you saw him outside the factory for the first time. He was nervous, but so were you. You thought it was cute, him flipping through the phrasebook trying to figure out what to say. It warms your heart and every day since you couldn’t wait to see him. He’d even ignored your Mother and kept coming. The collection of red peonies growing by the day. 

It broke your heart to see his car driving away from you. And you knew exactly who was to blame. 

“No tenes derecho.” [You have no right] You stomped up the stairs next to Mateo. “Deberías mantener tu nariz fuera de oso.” [You should keep your nose out of it]

“Te quiero, Y/N.” [I love you Y/N] His arm gently grabbed your hand, “Please don’t do this.” Your jaw clenched, heart still aching from the sight of James driving away from you. 

“I... hate... you.” His hand let go of yours, dropping his to his side as you returned walking up the stairs and entered your apartment, slamming the door behind you. 

Germany had just invaded Poland.

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taglist //  @corneliabarnes​ @bookish-shristi​ @saturnki​ @jennmurawski13​ @geeksareunique​ @albinotigerpython​ @cake-writes​ @iheartsebastianstan​ @000bananaclip000​

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #captain america #challenge #the winter soldier #1940s bucky barnes #steve rogers

[is-it-art-tho]

This is Chapter 4!

Chapter 1  Chapter 2.  Chapter 3.  Chapter 5

Summary: The BatFam goes to a party and Dick learns that even the suburbs of Gotham aren't without their monsters. Especially on Halloween.

“You’re loving this, aren’t you?” Dick asked, studying himself in the full-length mirror hanging on his closet door.

“I really am,” Barbara giggled. She’d been cracking up for nearly five minutes straight, tears streaming down her flushed cheeks as her abdomen ached. “Hold your phone up higher. And do another spin.”

“Babs,” he whined, lifting his phone to give her a better view.

“Please?” She let her voice got all plaintive and cute the way she knew would turn Dick into putty in her hands. It was a power she had discovered long ago, and one she wielded with reckless abandon.

Dick obeyed, the silky cape drifting around him as he came to a stop. He was in a replica of her old Batgirl uniform. Some knock-off Tim had scored in an online bidding war.

“You look great,” she said. The suit she used to wear hadn’t been quite so delicate. The overall gist was more or less accurate, but hers had been designed with combat in mind, everything layered and dense. The cape had been heavier, the boots not quite so rubbery and squeaky, and the colors much more muted – it would be hard to sneak up on anyone with bright neon yellows and purples announcing your presence from a mile away.

Even so, looking at the suit now, she could almost feel the wind rushing past her face; could feel her stomach flip in the sweeping arc from one building to the next.

For a long time, she hadn’t been able to remember those days without a bitter knot twisting in her gut. She was glad now to be able to look back fondly.

“You know, I really do,” Dick agreed, twisting to show off his butt in the thin spandex. “But I’ve seen better.” He flashed a rakish grin, and she laughed.

“You sure you can’t make an appearance tonight?” he asked.

“Nah. I’m still troubleshooting some bugs from the last system update. Probably take a while.”

Dick sighed. “Won’t be as fun without you there.”

“You bet your ass.”

He barked a laugh as he walked away from the mirror and set his phone down. Now the entire screen was black as she listened to him talk and move around his room.

“Just so you know,” he said, opening and closing drawers. “There’s probably gonna be like a ton of girls there. Can’t make any promises if I meet a nice lady Nightwing.”

“Yeah, yeah,” she grinned. “See you later, Batboy.”

She ended the call before he could protest the name and smiled to herself, letting the warmth of the conversation linger in the air a moment longer before turning her attention to her computer.

____________

The party was in one of the wealthy suburbs just outside of the city and the houses were pretty big. Not Wayne Manor big, but large enough to comfortably host well over a hundred people. It was one of those sprawling parties that took up every inch of the house and the back yard and managed to also bleed out into the street.

In every direction people were gyrating and laughing. There was no way most of them even knew whose house this was, but no one seemed too concerned about that. The host certainly wasn’t. Dick had seen him drunkenly carving a pumpkin by the pool and had quietly switched the steak knife out with a butter knife before the guy’s headless horseman costume became a lot more convincing.

Now Dick was standing on the deck, watching the fire pit where Steph, Tim, and Damian were among the crowd roasting marshmallows. Cass was leaning against Steph’s shoulder, her arms wrapped around her knees. Dick couldn’t see her expression through the papier mache Red Hood mask, but he could tell by her languid body language that she was having a good time.

Seeing them in each other’s uniforms was disorienting, like looking at a green sky or eating hot ice cream. Not necessarily bad, just off. But the anxiety he’d felt about the risk to their identities had died when he’d picked them up from the manor and saw them up close.

They looked more like pajamas than anything else, and they definitely wouldn’t draw any more attention than a bedsheet ghost or a grim reaper. Plus, their open enthusiasm for the whole thing made them all seem that much younger and unassuming. Just a bunch of young people excited about Halloween. It was honestly pretty fun to watch, especially coming from kids who were so often called upon to leave their more childish impulses at the door.

He put his phone to his ear. “Babs?”

“Batboy!” There was a smile in her voice. “Sounds like you’re having fun.”

She must have been talking about the music. It was coming from every direction. His bones rattled with each chord and was once again reminded of how freaking old he was getting. When had that happened?

“It’s a riot,” he said, dodging a fairy as she stumbled toward him with a plate piled high with nachos. Both she and the nachos went over the railing and the sound of the impact below hit him with a pang of guilt for not just stopping her. When he peeked down, she was laughing from the center of a bush. Four other fairies leaned over the side to laugh and throw pretzels at her.

“Uneventful?”

“So far.” He squinted for a second at Damian who was now standing, showing a Power Ranger a batarang. He nearly bolted across the yard until he noted the way it caught the light of the fire. Dick was fairly certain it was either plastic or cardboard. Not real. At least, he hoped not.

Cass and Stephanie had gotten up and slipped past him through the French doors and into the kitchen. Tim was still sitting by the fire, clumsily navigating a conversation with a witch who was openly flirting with him. He tossed a pleading look to Dick, who just smiled and waved, savoring every second of it.

“I think Tim has a new girlfriend,” he added.

“Fun. How’s Steph handling it?”

He glanced back into the house. She and Cass were rifling through a massive trash bag of candy that had been left on a counter, picking out all the king-sized bars and grinning ravenously. The many pockets in Cass’s brown leather jacket – Dick wasn’t sure if Jason had loaned it or if she’d commandeered it – were already full to bursting.

“Inconsolable.”

“Poor girl.” Babs sounded distracted, keys clacking as she muttered to herself.

“What’re you up to?”

“I keep getting the same system error, but I can’t figure out if it’s an issue with the hardware or software. I’ve run like ten diagnostic protocols already and I’ve been staring at the same wall of code for like five hours. I’m probably gonna end up just rebooting the whole thing. Comms’ll be down for a couple hours. Or days the way this is going.”

One finger jammed into his free ear, Dick wandered down the steps and around toward the front of the house in search of a respite from the chaos. He motioned to Damian, signaling that he was on a call, and Damian, in his oversized Batman cowl, nodded.

It wasn’t until Dick was a few houses away that the music and chatter became more of a muted throb than an overwhelming assault.

“What’s B up to?” he asked in a lull, his pace slowing.

“Alfred got him to hang around the manor and help give out candy for a while. I think he guilted him with the turmeric incident.”

Dick laughed then he went quiet for a moment, considering, before asking, “And Jason?”

“Nothing. Is it just me or does something seem off with him? I mean, I know he’s not the most communicative guy in the world but, I don’t know.”

Dick sighed. “It’s compli–” He fell silent. At the end of the block there was a guy in a wolf mask standing under a streetlight just… staring at him.

Dick glanced over his shoulder then back at the man.

“Dick?” Barbara asked.

He didn’t respond. A sense of foreboding had washed over him; a crackling thrum in the air that set all of the hairs on his body on end.

Instinctively, he found himself taking stock of his surroundings. He already knew exactly how many steps it would take to close the distance between them, how long it would take for him to get back to the party if he needed to.

He knew how he could use the string lights on the porch closest to him as a weapon or a restraint. How he could tear his Velcro cape from his own shoulders and get it around the man’s face and throat or disarm him since it looked like he was holding something – a pipe? There was a garden gnome in the yard beside him with a hat that looked sharp enough to do some damage if it came to that.

The man was big. Probably had a foot and eighty pounds on Dick.

Dick pushed his cowl back from his face.

The man turned and lumbered away.

Dick exhaled.

“Dick.” Barbara’s voice had slipped past playful curiosity. She sounded about two seconds away from alerting the cavalry.

“I’m here.”

“Geez. What just happened?”

Dick watched the disappear around the corner. “I don’t know. There was just some guy. He was staring at me, I think.”

“Friend of yours?”

“Not likely.”

“Maybe he just really likes Batgirl,” she teased.

Dick let out a breathy laugh, but the man had set him on edge and now he needed to run it off.

“Think I’m gonna call it on this party,” he said. “I need to unwind.”

“Most people do that sort of thing at parties.”

“And since when have I ever been like ‘most people?’”

Babs laughed and Dick felt his chest warm.

“You going home or going out?” she asked.

“I think we both know the answer to that,” he said, grinning as he turned back toward the party.

“Where would this city be with you, Batboy?” she sighed airily.

Dick chuckled despite himself. “Talk to you in a few,” he said, then hung up and opened a group message with Steph, Cass, Damian, and Tim.

Leaving early. Be back in a few hours to pick you up.

Tim’s message came a few seconds later. Don’t worry about it. We’ll just hot wire a car here.

You can’t just steal a car. Dick.

It’s not theft if we return the vehicle. Damian.

Everybody is wasted anyway, Stephanie said. We’d be doing this city a favor.

Cass just sent a car emoji, a beer, and an emoji of a girl making an X with her arms.

Exactly, Steph responded.

Dick pursed his lips and decided to roll the dice on whether or not they were joking. If they weren’t, he hoped they’d at least return the car before it was missed.

He was standing by his own car now, staring at the screen as he mind went to other things. Babs had sounded stressed, so already he was set on stopping by her place. Maybe he could bring her some of the candy he'd managed to snag throughout the night. He could swing by the Manor for his Nightwing suit and then hit Barbara’s place before going on patrol.

Just the thought made him smile, but there was something else still nagging at him. He needed to find Jason. He still had no idea what he wanted to say, but he couldn’t leave things the way they were.

As he sorted out his plans for the evening, his screen went black. And only then, in the dark reflection of the glass, did he see the wolf mask peering over his shoulder.

And in a flash Dick was turning, ducking, his fist clenched.

And then he was falling, and the left side of his head was an explosion of white, searing pain, and suddenly he was staring at boots, one half of his face hot and wet and throbbing, the other cold against the sidewalk.

He heard himself dragging in short, ragged breaths, his teeth gritted as he ordered his body to move. But his limbs remained where they were, heavy and obstinate. His neck ached as he tilted his face up to look his attacker in the eye, his cheek scraping against the sidewalk.

Squinting into the light of the streetlamp, Dick’s eyes focused just in time to watch the man bring the pipe down again, fast and hard.

And Dick heard the sickening wet crack of bone yielding to metal.

And then nothing.

#nightwing #dick grayson #dick grayson whump #jason todd #jason todd whump #red hood #batman fic #batman fanfic #batman fanfiction #dick grayson and jason todd #hurt/comfort #AllOurBrokenParts

[mab1905]

84 Questions

original: 

https://fuckyeahsurveys.tumblr.com/post/61049002526/84-questions

1. Put your music player of choice on shuffle and list the first 10 songs

Someone New (Hozier)

Cactus Tree (Joni Mitchell)

Budapest (George Ezra)

And Dream Of Sheep (Kate Bush)

Nancy Mulligan (Ed Sheeran)

And Then She Kissed Me (St. Vincent)

Level of Concern (Twenty One Pilots)

Lovefool (The Cardigans)

Best For Last (Adele)

Video Killed The Radio Star (The Buggles)

2. If you could spend a week anywhere in the world, where would it be and why? Would you take anyone with you?

Japan. I travel a lot and it’s been on my list for a while, I would really want to go to the Hayao Miyazaki/Studio Ghibli theme park, if it ever opens that is. I would bring my best friend, Layla. I also would love to go to Amsterdam again.

3. What is your preferred writing implement? (eg. Blue pen, pencil, green pen) 

My ink nib cartooning pen (similar to a quill, but without the feather)

4. Favourite month and why? 

October, not too hot, not too cold, and of course, Halloween!

5. Do you have connections to any celebrities (even minor)? List them.

Nope, met several, got to true connections though. 

6. Name 3 items you could pick up from where you are.

My iPad, my Leatherman Multitool, my collection of David Bowie postcards.

7. What brand logo is closest to you currently?

The Apple logo

8. Do you ever play board games or other non-computer games? Got any favourites?

Chess. Card games like Solitaire, Black-Jack, and Castle. A game that I can’t remember the name of but it’s essentially a board-game version of Capture The Flag. Mostly Chess.

9. A musical artist you love that isn’t well known

St. Vincent? I’m not sure if she’s well known or not.

10. A musical artist you love that is well known

David Bowie. 

11. What is your desktop background currently?

A picture of Apollo 11 accompanied by the words “It won’t fail because of me”

12. Last person you talked to, and through what you talked to them

My best friend Layla, through the iMessage app.

13. First colour name you can think of that isn’t in the rainbow

Salmon

14. What timekeeping devices are in the room you are currently in?

My iPad, my computer, my collection of vintage stopwatches

15. What kind of headphones do you use?

Sony, wireless, noise canceling, over-the ear 

16. What musical artists have you seen perform live?

Twenty One Pilots, Sylvan Esso

17. Does virginity matter to you?

I guess? I think it’s important, it’s certainly some kind of ‘milestone,’ but I don’t think it should be treated like the scale of a persons ‘purity.’ It’s important because it’s sex, and (hopefully) that means that you’re sharing a consensual, intimate experience that feels fucking great for both (or all, if it’s more then two) participants.

18. What gaming consoles do you or your family own?

Z e r o, although I’m hoping to buy a PS4 at some point so I can play Detroit Become Human.

19. What pets do you have? What are their names?

Juno is my cat, she is an adorable grey tiger-striped shorthair. She’s got little white mitten-paws and it’s absolutely ridiculous.

20. What’s the best job you’ve ever had?

Doing tech at a local theater

21. What’s the worst job you’ve ever had?

Teaching art to little kids (I like kids but it was just exhausting)

22. What magazines do you read, if any?

The New Yorker, and the National Geo if I’m like, waiting in my doctor’s office or something.

23. Inspiration behind your URL?

It’s just my initials and a year from the Edwardian era

24. Inspiration behind your blog title?

It’s just my initials 

25. Favourite item of clothing?

My reddish-brown knit sweater vest and my floral bow-tie (often paired together)

26. Are you friends with any exes?

I made a very conscious effort to cut my exe out of my life… we were not happy for a very long time to say the least

27. Name at least one book you loved as a child.

Strega Nona, it’s about an Italian witch that makes great pasta in a magic pasta pot. My dad would read it to me and my sibling in Italian.

28. What’s your native language? If that language has distinct regional variations, which variation? (eg. AU English, US English)

US English

29. What email service do you use?

Gmail

30. Is there anything hanging on the walls of the room you are currently in?

So many things. Here's the list:

A giant David Bowie poster, a plaque that says “David Bowie IS,” five David Bowie postcards, a giant Abbey Road poster, all of my patches from summer camp, polaroids of me, my friends, and my family (including my cat), ticket stubs from concerts and plays, two trail markers that I took off of fallen trees on two important cross-country backpacking trips I went on, playbills from a bunch of broadway shows I’ve seen, a poster that says “Stonewall was a riot,” a DC Comics poster, a Pink Floyd poster, a few paintings of mine, and a painting that I got for free from a street artist I befriended in Rome when I was twelve

31. What’s your favourite number, and why?

16, 24, 21, and 8, some numbers make me uncomfortable, but these are just very soft and light and nice 

32. Earliest moment in your life you can remember? 

A rocking chair with fruits painted on it sitting in a dark room and my great grandfathers brown leather loafers (I remember early early stuff in just images or stills, not full moments)

33. What did you have for dinner yesterday?

Pasta with shrimp

34. How often do you brush your teeth?

Usually twice a day, but I’ve been waking up later and later and sometimes forget in the mornings

35. What’s your favourite candy/chocolate?

I don’t know the name of it but it’s this chocolate bar that is stuffed with caramel, hot chili flakes, and crunchy bits of baked tortilla. It's one of the greatest things I’ve ever tasted.

36. Have you had other blogs on Tumblr? Do you have any other blogs currently?

I used to have one but I deleted it because I never used it

37. If you were suddenly really hungry, what would you choose to eat?

I would probably walk into the kitchen, realize that too eat something I would have to muster the effort to cook something instead, and then decide to just have a glass of milk instead.

38. What fandoms would you consider yourself a part of?

Downton Abbey (primarily Thommy)

Chernobyl HBO (as well as the Leonid Toptunov/Sasha Akimov subfandom)

Lord of The Rings and The Hobbit (books and movies)

CrankGamePlays

Buzzfeed Unsolved

Star Trek TOS

Philosophy Tube

The Dark Crystal and The Dark Crystal: Age Of Resistance

39. If you could study anything, what would it be?

If I had the energy to fully wrench my life in a completely different direction I would like to become a professional scuba diver and study the ocean. I already am a scuba diver, but it’s a hobby and not something I’m able to do very often at all.

40. Do you use anything on your lips? (eg. Chapstick, gloss, balm, lipstick)

I’ll wear chapstick if I have a cold

41. How would you describe your sense of humour?

Intellectual and dry

42. What things annoy you more than anything else?

People who think they’re better than everyone else and people who recognize a fault in themselves and then refuse to work to change it

43. What kind of position are you in at the moment?

I’m laying on my bed, hunched over my laptop

44. Do you wear much jewellery?

Occasionally I’ll wear a necklace or a few rings. I have a lot of non-traditional bracelets (I literally just have pieces of canvas and industrial tie-line wrapped around my wrist). I’m a gay guy and I like to sort-a walk the line between feminine and masculine (often leaning more towards the masc side), so it really depends on my mood.

45. Who is the leader of your country, currently? Any other levels of government with leaders? (State, region, province, county, district, municipality, etc)

A cheese-pizza flavored pringle is currently POTUS and every day the thought of that tears away at a piece of my soul. 

46. Last 3 blogs on your dashboard, not including any of your own

@shochmonster @velvet-of-the-night @panicsheerbloodypanic

47. What do you carry your money in?

My pocket, I have a wallet and I don’t use it

48. Do you enjoy driving? Why or why not?

It’s fine, don’t love it don’t hate it

49. Longest drive you have ever been on?

Three days

50. Furthest away from home you have ever been?

Went on a trip to Switzerland to visit family, I think that’s the farthest but I’m not entirely sure.

51. How many times have you moved house?

Twice

52. What is on the floor of the room you’re currently in, not including furniture?

Five paintings, stacks and stacks of books, boxes filled with stuff (mostly more books), plates, glasses, cutlery, clothes

53. How many devices do you own which can access the internet?

2, and iPad and a computer

54. Is there is anything that is guaranteed to always make you happy?

Listening to music

55. Is there anything that always makes you sad?

Thinking about my past for too long

56. What programs do you currently have open?

Google drive, I’m writing

57. What do you associate the colour red with?

Blood and fire

58. Last strong smell you can remember smelling?

Shrimp and butter

59. Last healthy thing you ate?

Three green olives and a handful of bean sprouts

60. Do you drink tea or coffee, and how much per day?

Used to drink coffee like it was life support (which it essentially was), now I’ll have the occasional cup of tea.

61. What do you associate the colour blue with?

Birds and rain

62. How long is the closest ruler you can find?

I don’t think I own one

63. What colour pants/skirt/etc are you currently wearing?

I am wearing olive green corduroy slacks

64. When was the last time you drank water?

30 minutes ago?

65. How often do you clear your browser history?

Never

66. Do you believe nude photos can be artistic, rather than erotic?

Nude anything can be artistic, it can also just be normal, eroticism is in the eye of the beholder.

67. Ever written fanfiction for anything?

Yes dear god so much fanfiction.

68. Last formal event you attended

I genuinely can’t remember, I am have extreme social anxiety and don’t go to events like that unless I absolutely have too

69. If you had to move your birthday to another date, which one would you choose and why?

I don’t care about birthdays

70. Would you prefer to be at a beach or in the countryside?

Beach, I love to swim, I’m also a surfer

71. Roughly how many people live in your town?

Uhm… eight times the number of people who live in the state of Montana and that doesn’t count daily commuters and tourists (New York City is essentially just a tin of sardines, except inside are 8.399 million sardines)

72. Do you know anyone with the same birthday as you?

No, but three of my friends were born on the day just after my birthday.

73. Favourite place to shop? Can be a certain store or a place where there are multiple stores

The Strand Bookstore, L Train Vintage, any antique shops in the town of Hudson, New York 

74. Do you have a smartphone? What kind? If you don’t, do you want one?

I used to have an iPhone 5SE but then it stopped working after a few weeks of quarantine and I haven’t gotten a new one (I’ve had it for about 5-6 years so it makes sense)

75. What is your least favourite colour, and why?

I don’t have a least favorite color, but my favorite color is prussian blue

76. How do you spell grey/gray?

Grey

77. Go to your dashboard and describe the image shown in the radar section (below the “Find blogs” link)

It’s anime fanart for a show I’ve never heard of

78. What difference is there between how many followers you have, and the number of blogs you follow?

3

79. How many posts do you have?

219

80. How many posts have you liked?

619

81. Do you post mainly reblogs, or your own content?

Mostly reblogs but I do my own content as well

82. Do you track any tags?

No, just blogs

83. What time is it currently?

10:39

84. Is there anything you should be doing right now?

writing

I’m not quite sure who to tag so it’s just open to anyone I guess?

#i love questionaires #they're so much fun