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Light My Fire (Again) | beau arlen

Summary: “I thought I’d swore off love, Jenny.” I smiled, chuckling a bit as I looked down to my feet then back up the skies, taking in the twinkling lights. “God, I really thought I did, and I was doing such a good job at it too. But, well, I just… I couldn’t help it.” I wet my lips slightly, biting the bottom one. “It’s improper, but it’s true.”

SERIES MASTERLIST

MAIN MASTERLIST

(divider credits go to cafekitsune)

one - green lights and red stains

TWO MONTHS EARLIER:

I was at my desk in Big Sky Country, Montana’s sheriff’s department, papers strewn over the desk in a similar fashion as they were at home. Making small mountains and also making me rather sympathetic for the trees who suffered just to have me keep ‘em all like this on another plank of wood on more sticks of wood. However, I couldn’t bring myself to clean them, not today. As well as that, the acting sheriff had made his speech today, and I knew if he’d talk to me, I wouldn’t make a great impression, not with all this mess.

“Ain’t this a sight?” I looked up to see none other than Sheriff Arlen, standing in front of me, his stance wide set as he peered at my scribblings which varied between neat and scrawling handwriting. I jolted a little, panic striking through me as I began to shuffle my files into a more orderly pile, but he held out his hand to put me at ease. “Nah, don’t worry about it. Truth be told, I’m not the most organised either.”

In response, I stood up laughing a bit as I ran my hand through my hair, the action not as smooth and easygoing as I hoped as my index encountered a knot in my raven hair which I quickly untangled. “Well, I’m afraid this is what you’ll be seein’ every day.” I gestured down in circular motions to the messy piles.

“Then I’m lookin’ forward to it.” He put out his hand with a broad grin, green eyes twinkling along with his startlingly white teeth. He had an air of giddy charm and confidence around him that I couldn’t help but crack a smile to. “Beau Arlen.”

“Isabelle Joyner.” I replied, shaking his hand firmly. His grip was strong, but comforting in a sense.

“Well, darlin’, I’ve heard some good things about you from Jenny Hoyt, or Hoyt, as she wants me to call her.” Beau chuckled at the thought, glancing towards Jenny, who was in conversation with Poppernak. “She’s a real firecracker.”

“That’s Jenny for you.” I smiled, nodding resignedly and also flicking my eyes to her. “She knows me better than anyone; we’ve been best friends for as long as I remember.” Then I spotted the uncertainty in his eyes as he once more looked at Jenny, and I laughed a bit. “She’ll warm up to you. She’s just a bit miffed, y’know, didn’t get put as acting Sheriff.”

“I learnt that the easy way and the hard way.” He snickered slightly, his shoulders shrugging. “Well, it’s a lesson well learnt.”

“Damn straight.” I grinned, putting my hands in my pockets, and we fell silent for a moment before it got a bit uncomfortable. “Anyway, welcome to Big Sky. I’m sure you’ll be great.”

“I goddamn hope so.”

NOW:

“Liv, sweetie?” I called up the stairs, my eyes darting back to the pancake cooking on the stove. It was half past eight in the morning, and I needed to get Olivia, my niece, to her stepfather’s house. Her mother - my sister - had been… lost. In a murder, six years back, but they’d never found who’d done it. In her will, she’d given custody of Olivia to me, that the court had approved. Her stepfather, Markham, was not happy, but there was little he could do.

“Yeah?” Came her sleepy voice from upstairs, making me laugh quietly. She’d grown so much since I got her as a timid nine year old. Now she was sixteen in a week and the most beautiful girl I’d ever see. She was my baby girl at this point, and I couldn’t be prouder.

“I’ve got work, hon, and I’m makin’ pancakes!” I heard a brief pause, then a scramble to get up. I smiled knowingly, returning to the pancake as the thunder of footsteps down the stairs signalled her arrival. Her blonde hair bounced in stunning curls and her brown eyes flashed excitedly, even though they were riddled with sleep. I passed her a plate of pancakes stacked up, shaking the whipped cream. “Mornin’, gumdrop.” I grinned cheerily. “What would you like on your pancakes, hm?”

“Whipped cream, syrup, and raspberries.” She replied instantly, then returned my smile. “And good morning, auntie.” Olivia gave me a bear hug, which I returned gladly, kissing her hair before letting her go with a pat on the back.

“Good choice.” I squirmed the whipped cream in a circle, grabbing the syrup bottle and drizzling it generously before passing her a bowl of freshly washed raspberries so she could knock herself out, also sliding her a fork and knife. “Dig in.”

“Hello, there!” I heard Jenny call, the door opening. Jenny and Cassie walked in with big smiles on their faces, especially so when they found the combination of Olivia and pancakes. “Hope you don’t mind, we just used the spare key under the deco rock.”

“And I’m glad we did, because why weren’t we invited to the party?” Cassie faux-gasped as she gestured to the pancakes.

“Elle, explain yourself.” Jenny chastised, raising an eyebrow at me, but when I passed them each a plate of pancakes, they melted. “Ok, no explanation needed.”

“Yep, we’re all good now, no beef here.” Cassie agreed, dolloping whipped cream on hers before passing the canister to Jenny. “Also, hi, Olivia.”

“Hey, Cassie.” Liv waved with a smile and a mouthful of pancake. “Hi, Jenny.”

“Hey, kiddo.” Jenny grinned, waving before digging into the pancakes.

“Never knew I’d be catering for four today.” I chuckled, turning off the stove and embellishing my own plate of pancakes, making it even more of a sugar rush than it already was.

“Well, now we get to boast to Beau about what we got cooked.” She replied with a cheeky smile. “He’s always returnin’ with clean dishes of what Denise cooked, so I guess we could clap back a little.”

“His favourite deputy cooked us pancakes and not him.” Cassie giggled, making me roll my eyes. These two.

“Shut up. Both of you.” I snickered, trying to remain stern. “If Sheriff Arlen wants pancakes, he can come over and I can make him some pancakes, it’s not exclusive.”

“And here I thought we were special.”

“Aw, hey, I didn’t mean it like that.”

“She did.” Olivia giggled.

“Yeah, she did.” Jenny gave me a look before we all burst out into laughter. We spent a bit of time chatting as we finished our pancakes, telling Olivia the ups and downs of our latest solved case and what movie we wanted for movie night this week. When we were done, I picked up my keys, jangling them.

“Olivia, time to go.” I smiled, but Cassie put her hand on my arm with a smile.

“I’ll drop her off.” She chuckled, holding up her own keys. “I know where Mark lives, and it’s on my way.

“You’re not exactly the most civil with the guy.”

“That’s cause he’s an ass, but I’ll try my best.”

We engaged in a staring contest for five seconds, until I gave in, nodding in defeat. “Fine. But if I get a call from my brother in law-”

“You won’t!” She raised her hands in surrender. “I promise. Now, you and Jenny need to get to work before Beau rings you up.”

“God forbid he does.” I joked.

“C’mon, he hasn’t had the heart to tell you off after you found the hostages a few weeks ago, one of them happening to be his daughter. Another Darlene.” Jenny teased, nudging me playfully.

“You two are really keen on setting us up, hm?” I raised an eyebrow, shaking my head. “You know I’m not that keen on dating. Not after…” I trailed off with a frown. It was a sore memory, one that ended with me waking up at the bar with five empty shot glasses and a bill with far more drinks than I’d usually take.

“After Harry.” She sighed, patting my shoulder. “He wasn’t your fault. After all, he did the deed.”

“He doesn’t know what he lost.” Cassie added sympathetically. “The ass.”

“I wanna kick him in the nuts.” Olivia added, making us all raise an eyebrow.

“That’s fair.”

“And on all of our minds.” Jenny grinned.

“I can’t even be mad.” I sighed, then kissed Olivia’s forehead. “Be good, ok? If I get a good report, I’ll make you an ice cream sundae tonight.” As Cassie and Jenny opened their mouths to speak, I held up a finger. “You guys get one too.”

I walked into the sheriff’s department with Jenny, and the first person we saw was Beau Arlen himself. “Well, ain’t it my favourite deputies?” He sauntered over with that charming grin of his, looking between us. “Hoyt.”

“Beau.” Jenny smiled.

“Sheriff.” I chuckled, running my hand through my hair.

“C’mon, Belle, call me Beau.” Beau chuckled, gesturing to himself. “No formalities here.” The statement made me laugh, but I shook my head, looking down at my feet before back up into those twinkly green eyes.

“I’ll try my best, Sheriff.” I teased with a grin, then took a sharp breath in, looking around. “Any cases today?”

“A missing person’s case.” Beau’s expression changed slightly as he mentioned it. “Little girl named Harriet Brown, she was out playing in the front yard, parents were arguin’, when they come out, girl’s gone.”

“My god.” I whispered, then cleared my throat. “We should get on the case, and quick.” I pouted slightly, sucking in air through my teeth. “Any leads? License plate? Footage? Maybe someone who has a grudge?”

“Closest to a match we have as an enemy is the girl’s stepfather, Will Brown. And by parents arguing, I mean the birth father and mother arguin’.”

“Stepfather, what, lays claim to the kid?” I asked, concerned. I knew what that was like all too well (and by that I mean the outskirts of those feelings), and if that was the case…

“Possibly. He’s the only recent frequent visitor.” Beau frowned at the look on my face, tilting his head a little in curiosity. “You look a lil’ green around the gills there, Deputy. You doin’ ok?”

I shared a look with Jenny, who subtly patted my wrist, signalling me to speak up. I jolted out of my thoughts, nodding and putting on a smile that I felt didn’t quite reach my eyes. “‘Course, Sheriff. I’m always ok.”

“You sure?”

“Deadly.”

Beau looked at me for a bit, trying to gauge my reaction, before nodding resignedly and patting me on the shoulder with a small smile. “A’ight. But if anythin’ comes to mind, do tell.”

“Gotcha.” I nodded, my blue eyes looking into his green ones. After I’d met Beau on his first day as acting sheriff, he’d understood me. He knew I was raising Olivia, albeit had never met her, and related to that with his own little girl. Emily was an angel, and I guess I became more of one after he found me getting along well with someone who was his world. As well as that, after the incident with Buck Barnes, I’d managed to find the hostages, including Darlene and Emily, getting them out.

Ever since then, it’s like he treats me as if I’m God’s gift to him. I was just doin’ my job.

I breathed in, then released a deep on through my mouth. “Let’s hit the house, Jen.”

“You got it, Elle.” Jenny smiled. I picked up my jacket, adjusting the photo of my sister and I on my desk as I put it on with a sad smile.

“I miss ya, Lucy. Truly.”

I was in Beau’s truck, the landscape flying by as we made our way to the Brown’s house. The atmosphere was uncomfortably silent - damn the awkwardness of social interactions sometimes - but somehow Beau made coping with silence look easier than it felt. He wore an easy smile, waffling on about fishing with a charmingly boyish look in his eyes that I’d come to recognise and find adorable.

“While I love talking and yapping about fish to the point your ears fall off, Belle, but, uh, don’t you wanna get that?” I was snapped out of my reverie, finding that my ringtone was playing with the name Dean flashing on my screen over the green circle of light representing the button to accept the call, which I’d gladly do.

“Oh! Yeah, that’s right.” My face lit up as I pressed the ‘accept’ button, bringing the phone to my ear. “Dean, hey!”

‘Isa, hi.’ I heard a cheery voice from the other end. This was Olivia’s birth father, Dean Barlowe, who I preferred in spades to Markham Leeds. I never understood why Lucy and Dean had split up in the first place, since Dean was the best father I’d ask for where Liv is concerned. We hadn’t had contact in months, but this was a pleasant surprise. ‘How’ve you been?’

“Oh, now I feel brilliant.” I laughed, looking out the window. “How about you? It’s been goddamn months, I’ve been dyin’ for a call.”

‘Well, I’m feeling great now too. It’s always nice to talk to you. A familiar face.’

“Yeah, it is, isn’t it?” I nodded with a happy sigh. “Are you holding up ok? After… Lucy? It’s been a while, but it hit you pretty hard too.”

‘Doing better, if that counts.’ I heard a pause on the other end. ‘Hey, do you think Liv would mind if I pop over for a visit in a week’s time?’

“For her birthday, right?”

‘Yeah. Mark wouldn’t be too mad, right?’

“Who gives a damn about Markham, just come over, ok?” I smiled, and I could practically hear his own relieved one on the other end of the line. “Liv’s gonna love the surprise, don’t you worry.”

‘You know exactly what to say to soothe my nerves, don’t you?’

“Hey, it’s nothin’. Just being a dutiful sister in law.” I saw an exit sign that said we were almost at the house, so I decided to wrap it up. “Hey, uh, Dean, I’m about to start working a case, so I’ll chat later.”

‘Ah, right. Thanks, Isa. Bye.’

“Bye.” I cut the call, and found Beau smirking at me, his eyebrow raised slightly. “What?”

“You seem real chummy with this Dean fella.” He snickered knowingly, but I shook my head rapidly.

“No, no, no. He’s my brother in law.”

“Wait, this is the ex-husband of your late sister?” Beau nodded approvingly. “By the way you’re talkin’ to him, he seems like he’s got his name written in your good books with sparkly gold ink. Unlike Mark.”

“Well, Mark’s an ass.”

“Markham is an ass.”

Beau, Jenny and I were flicking through the security tapes of the Brown house the day their little girl Harriet was kidnapped. “Look, there.” I pointed to the screen, where a man was approaching. “It’s our stepfather.”

“Damn straight.” Beau nodded, leaning forward to ID the guy’s face. “Yep, that’s him. And he just scooped the girl up gave her a lollipop and high-tailed it.”

“We need to get this girl back.” Jenny sighed, her expression pensive as she peered at the screen.

“We got an idea on where she could be taken?”

“Possibly his cabin. Witness accounts show that he’s been buyin’ a lot of bedding, more than you’d need.” I frowned, then stood up. “We need to bust this guy and fast.” I didn’t know exactly why, but this was pissing me off. A stepfather, kidnap his own stepdaughter.

“Let’s bust a crooked stepfather.” Jenny got up, and so did we, heading out the door, running to our cars as Jenny texted me the address, which I put into Beau’s GPS. We quickly got in, and Beau floored it.

“You seem rather frustrated on this case, huh, Belle?” He asked, sighing deeply. I shook my head, plastering on a smile that once again did not reach my eyes as I looked back at him.

“No, sir, I’m just concerned for the kid.” I answered not as smoothly as I’d hoped to have done. My voice was slightly shaky, and I knew what he was thinking. Mark had been after custody of Olivia for ages, and was still trying. However, he couldn’t do anything, not when I was named Olivia’s legal guardian and was Lucy’s next of kin.

“It’s about Mark, right?”

I chuckled lowly, nodding. “That obvious?”

“You’re like a mama bear in these cases.” He grinned, then patted my knee. “But now, I need my deputy to have a clear mind. God knows you help me keep mine all clear and sunny skies.”

“Gotcha, Sheriff.” I smiled as we pulled up to the house. “Hear you loud and clear.” I reached under the seat, pulling on my bulletproof vest and strapping it tight. I looked over, seeing that he’d done the same. “Shall we?”

“We shall, darlin’.” We got out at the same time as Jenny, making our way across the front yard before I tried the handle of the door, finding it locked. I nodded to Beau, who reared up and kicked the door open, all of us putting up our guns as we stormed the house. Jenny went to check the kitchen and living room, Beau heading upstairs while I took the basement. I crept down the stairs, treading light in fear of startling Will. I gently tried the door, hearing a little girl whimpering. Then I spotted a middle aged man holding a gun, and a small brunette girl hugged my legs, terrified.

“It’s ok.” I whispered, training my gun on Will Brown. “It’s ok, sweetheart. As for you,” My eyes focused on the man, “Sheriff’s department, put your hands where I can see ‘em-” He fired, and my trigger was pulled in a quick response, aiming for his shoulder while his bullet got me clean in the gut, which was caused by me moving to protect Harriet at the same time. The little girl screamed, while Beau and Jenny started yelling from upstairs. I collapsed against the wall, sliding down as Harriet crawled up to me, looking terrified.

“He hurt you.” She whispered, crying, but I shushed her and brought her head to my shoulder, ignoring the riddling pain in an attempt to soothe this little girl.

“Hey, it’s-” I was overcome by a cough as my hand moved to stem the flow of blood, “it’s ok, sweetheart. Perfectly fine, you’re safe, ok?” I stroked her hair, closing my eyes briefly as the red liquid stained my fingers. My head spun from how damn painful it was, like a thousand daggers piercing one spot on me, driving in slowly. “Just calm down for me, my friends are coming.”

As if on cue, Beau and Jenny rushed in, and once they realised that my attacker and Harriet’s kidnapper was downed, their attention turned to me. Beau instantly knelt in front of me while Jenny checked up on Will, his expression freaked out and pale. “Jesus- Jesus holy Christ, Belle, we’re gonna need a paramedic. Hoyt, call it in, now!” Then he turned back to me, putting his hands over the bullet wound to put pressure. I coughed slightly, hissing, but I kept stroking Harriet’s hair, not wanting her to get too scared.

“Just get her out of here.” I nodded to Harriet. “I’ll hold on, just keep her safe.” My bloodied hand reached out to grip Beau’s bare forearm. “Take her home.”

LMF TAGLIST:

@deans-spinster-witch @nancymcl @hobby27

Preview of Chapter Two

#beau arlen x oc #beau arlen x reader #beau arlen x you #beau arlen #beau #big sky #cassie dewell #jenny hoyt #beau arlen fanfic

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justjams2003 · 7 months

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Between two Gods-4

Paring: Alpha!Thor Odinson x Omega!Reader x Alpha! Clark Kent

Warnings: A/B/O, mating, breeding, threesome, oral sex (both male and female receiving) P in V. Mxm, mxmxw, afab!reader, possessive!Thor, possessive!Clark, guys kissing, rutting, knotting

Masterlist

Part 3~Part 5 (coming soon)

Word count: 2k

Dividers: @benkeibear @poison-aesthetics

When your mates are two gods, your heat is something of a girl’s wet dream. It was honestly more enjoyable than any daydream. Your mates took a week off and in turn your heat was spent with day and nights of knotting. By the end of it, you had to buy a new bed and also new bed sheets. It was rare for any of you to be wearing clothes, except when eating of course.

You ensured that the moment your heat finished, that you three went house shopping. Though, you struggled to choose. If it was by the woods, it doesn’t have a farm like Clark wants. If it has a farm, it isn’t by the forest, like you want. And if it has both, it isn’t big enough like Thor wants. It was starting to frustrate you. Your own bachelor flat is growing small, especially with all the boxes standing around.

Or maybe it’s more than that that is irritating you. “Thor! You’re late. Now dinner is cold, and I’ve already packed the plates away. Cold pizza and paper plates for you.” You scold at the God of Thunder, not even greeting him. He frowns, turning to his fellow Alpha. He drops his hammer and hangs up his cape.

He shakes his head and then, without warning, pulls you closer by the waist and giving you the most passionate kiss. And when you come up for air, the anger has dissipated from your eyes. “Hello, my dear omega. Why yes, I have missed you, my dear.” He gives you his charming smile and then your legs are Jello.

He then lets you go, after hearing your phone call. He sits down on the couch next to the other Alpha. “Hello, my pretty boy.” Thor smiles, lifting Kal’s chin and giving him a sloppy kiss. “What’s got our girl so fussy?” He asks, pulling the other alien into his side. “It’s the same as yesterday, we’d gone to 5 more house showings and none of them were ‘just right’.”

“Hi mom,” You call into the phone after picking up Martha’s call. “Hello dear, so nice to hear from you stranger.” You can’t help but laugh. You’ve gotten really close to her over the past few years. “Yeah, I’m sorry. We’ve been so busy. You’d be really happy to hear that we’re trying for pups.” You can hear the excited squeal from the phone.

“That is such good news!” You can hear the birds in the background. “Not only that, but we’re looking for a new house. Clark wants a farm, Thor wants a million pups so a million rooms and I want something by the forest. Our apartment is already packed up but we haven’t bought any house yet.” She sighs, looking at the state of her normally neat apartment.

Martha is quiet for a moment. “Why don’t you move in with me?” She asks, and you bite your lip. “I have the farm, it’s right by the forest and it has 6 bedrooms. One for me, one for you three. That leaves four extra bedrooms.” It’s sounds almost too good to be true. It’s exactly what they want. “I’m growing old and I miss the company.” She adds, trying to win you over.

“Hold on.” You put your own mother-in-law on hold. You scatter over to your partners, plopping in both of their laps. “What if we move in with Clark’s mom? She has the big empty house, the farm, the forest.” You give them the biggest doe eyes you can muster, pushing out your bottom lip.

“Of course, my lady, whatever makes you happy.” Clark gives a similar reply to Thor. You return to the phone call. “It sounds like a fantastic deal. The boys agree. We can’t wait!” You squeal out, hugging your partners closer before finally saying goodbye to Martha.

You yawn, stretching out your body. The boys didn’t allow you to lift a single box and yet you still feel exhausted. You’re starving but there is nothing that seems like it would stay down. “Are you alright, dear?” Martha ask, handing her a glass of water. “I don’t know, I’m just so tired and so hungry but so nauseous.” You mutter, swallowing the stomach acid with the water.

“Dear, that doesn’t just sound like fatigue or a stomach bug.... You said you already had your heat, yes?” You can only nod to her question. “Lucky for you, I prepared for this. There is pregnancy test in your ensuite.” Your feet moved faster than your body. Your partners went to get dinner, not wanting you or Martha to cook after a long day of unpacking.

You wait in anticipation, sitting on the bathroom floor waiting for the timer to go off. And when it finally does, you feel the panic rise in your throat. Why you’re panicking, you’re not entirely sure. Maybe that once Thor knows, he’s taking you straight to Asgard, no questions. Your legs are shaky, you grab the test from the counter.

Two pink lines.

Pregnant. Very pregnant.

There is a knock at the door. “Hello dear, dinner is here.” It’s Clark, relief forms in your stomach. Your shaky hands open the door. You have to tell them. They’re your Alpha’s. They know what is right for you and your pup. “Are you okay?” He asks, wiping the tears which had fallen without your knowledge.

Your only reply to him, is the tick in your hand. His brows furrow before you clarify it to him. “I’m pregnant.” It takes a moment to realise in his head, before he scoops you up into his arms. He gasps and yells with glee. So much so that Thor comes running up the stairs. “What is the matter?” He asks, seeing your close embrace.

“We’re going to be dads!” Kal exclaims, knowing just how choked up you are. A huge grin covers Thor’s face. He pics the both of you up in a huge bear hug. “I can’t believe it!” Tears are forming in his eyes and it too makes you want to cry even more.

“We must haste for Asgard, at once.” Thor exclaims, looking to repack all your clothes. Or even leave them there and dress you completely in Asgardian clothes. Both you and Clark.

Clark places a hand on Thor’s shoulder. “Please, Thor. We’ve just moved, she hasn’t even had chance to nest yet. I’m sure she wants to tell her brothers too, before we leave.” He reasons, he could smell the anxiety coming from you when Thor came up the stairs. He knows going to Asgard is for the best but, certainly it can wait?

It doesn’t much but two pairs of whimpering eyes for Thor to cave. “Fine. But we’re not staying past the first trimester.” His voice is stern and there is a hint of Alpha voice. The other mates bare their neck, showing that they submit to these rules. “Can we invite my brothers then, next week?” You ask, placing your hand on his chest.

“Only if we get kisses.” Clark commands and you smirk at his dominance. He’s so soft at times, you do appreciate it, he and Thor balance each other out perfectly. With that you obey his order. Giving them both a deep sloppy kiss.

The sun shines through the bright balcony, the sheer white curtains blow in the wind. The bedsheets are dispersed and tangled between legs and arms. All you can see is blue. The light, sky blue of Thor’s eyes, avoiding your own. Then the rich, navy blue of Clark’s, also watching your Alpha’s move carefully.

Like Thor said, the day after your brothers left, he’d packed up everything and transported you to Asgard. Frigga was so excited to see you again. It was rare that you went to Asgard and it was usually short and sweet visits. You’ve never been here for more than a week and now you’re stuck here for nine months.

You can feel the burn between your legs, and the sticky mess coating your body still. “Do you have to go?” Clark asks, reaching out for Thor’s hand. The blonde god takes his hand and places a gentle kiss. “I do, I do apologize my loves, but my father has called for me.” He takes your hand and places a kiss as well.

It’s a strange feeling. Back on earth, whenever Thor was home the both of you would have his full attention. Now that he is back home, everyone wants his attention. His duties as Prince and Alpha take more of his concentration that you thought it would. You’re glad you have your other Alpha, but still.

When Thor’s gone, you miss him. When Clark’s gone, you miss him.

Then he bends down and plants a soft kiss on your stark-naked belly, there’s rarely a bump, rubbing circles before eventually standing back up. “Love you, my loves,” he waves goodbye before leaving for his day of duties. You groan at the sunlight and roll over into Clark’s arms.

He lets out a chuckle and soon he hears your snores again. The maids come in soon though and he asks them to fill the tub. When the time comes, he picks you up bridal style and carries you to the bathroom. “Noo, let me sleep.” You complain, but when the hot water hits your back the complains die down.

Soon enough, Superman joins you in the tub. But the silence is so loud and you finally decide enough is enough when Clark lets out a loud sigh. “What’s wrong, my Alpha?” You ask, enjoying his touch as he washes your legs. “Just that. I’m an Alpha, I’m a superhero. I’m the Superman.” You furrow your brows but allow him to speak.

Again, he sighs, “I spent every day of my life protecting the people of Earth, before you, before Thor. Now, I’m here, mating day and night with lavish amenities and maids attending to my every need.” You can’t help but chuckle and lift yourself into his lap.

“Oh, my dear, are you feeling a bit unimportant?” You coo, wrapping his curls around your fingers. He laughs again, “Something like that. I can’t help but worry about them. They’re just so destructive to themselves.” Now you really howl at his words.

He blushes at your laughter. “My love, you do not owe them anything. Their own eradication is not your fault. Think of it like this, when Thor becomes king, the people’s own slaughter will be his fault. Because they chose him to be their protector. The other humans, did not chose you.”

You smile, hoping that you’re not sounding too insensitive. Also hoping that the words you speak of the Asgardians will never happen. He doesn’t answer, only drawing circles on your skin. “You threw that onto your shoulders only because you’re stronger.”

He can’t help but grin, you just know him so well. He groans and hides his face in the crook of your neck. “But they’re so fragile!” You roll your eyes at him. “If they’re so fragile, then I’m so fragile! So very weak, a weak human omega. Is that what you’re going to say to your child?”

Clark knows he’s really dug himself a hole now. “Huh? When your little boy looks up at you and says, ‘daddy I want to be like you some day,’ will you look down and say, ‘no, you’re weak, you half human.’?” It’s a rhetorical question but you can tell he still believes it.

“No?” He seems uncertain of himself. “Yes, no.” You nod to him, trying to guide him to the right answer. “No, I want you and our pups to stay home forever so that we can protect you. I’m sure Thor agrees.” He nods with a shit eating grin. You shake your head. “Quite the opposite, he’s very excited to take them into battle.”

Clark’s face goes pale, “The pups will grow up. They will spread their wings and will refuse to listen. They will get hurt. But they will learn from it and so must the humans.” He sighs and pecks your mouth. “What will we do without you?” He asks, picking you up out of the bath after cleaning you.

“You’d work for 160 hours a week and the other eight hours you’d just have hot gay sex.” You giggle to yourself; the pregnancy has made your tongue a little lose. Clark clicks his tongue at you, “You’ve got such a filthy mouth.” You can’t help but wink at him, “You should know.”

#thor #Thor Odinson #thor x reader #thor x you #alpha!thor #aplha!thor x reader #alpha!superman #aplha!clark kent #alpha!superman x reader #alpha!superman x you #alpha!clark kent x reader #alpha!thor x omega!reader #alpha!superman x omega!reader #alpha!clark kent x omega!reader #alpha!thor x omega!reader x alpha!superman #alpha!thor x omega!reader x alpha!clark kent #Between two Gods

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sigritandtheelves · 1 year

Text

All Along, Like Fire

Part 1

R | 1.8k words | MSR, AU

Summary: What if Mulder had been married to Diana Fowley when Scully joined the X-Files?

A/N: I know this story has been told before—I’ve read at least one version of it. But I wanted to tell it myself and the motivation aligned with the idea, so here we are. I plan on two more parts, I think, unless this gets out of hand. Be gentle, I’m very rusty.

—

1993

She really was looking forward to working with him. In that dank office overflowing with paper he had slides at the ready. He’d been waiting for her, rolled his sleeves like an arrogant schoolboy. He’d spent time thinking of a line to snare her or scare her.

In the glow of a projector bulb displaying the body of a dead Texan, she’d smiled at the challenge: hooked. And the crook of those lips revved his heart in return, in spite of himself, because he swore not to trust her. She was here to undo him, and he wouldn’t let that happen.

He wouldn’t.

And then, when she made herself vulnerable to him, against all his better judgment, he told her everything.

Like teenagers at a sleepover, in candlelight and to the sound of thunder, he spilled it all. He opened up his guts and poured them out in front of her.

The hook was in deep, but when he said the word wife, something in her wriggled like a worm.

She’d not known.

She felt different about coming into his room now, ashamed like she’d been in those moments just after her panic when she caught her breath and regained her composure and wrapped her robe around herself again. And the fact that this wife was FBI—had helped him find these very files, knew all of these deep secrets about him already—shook the still uncertain ground beneath her. The knowledge was like a splash of cold water, waking her up, reminding her: this was her job, only her job and not her whole life.

“She doesn’t work with you anymore?” Scully wondered if the Bureau had separated them because of the marriage.

Mulder swallowed and a look of discomfort crossed his face. “She transferred to an anti-terrorism unit about ten months ago. She spends a lot of time overseas.”

He told her no more, but the fact was that he hardly saw Diana these days. And he didn’t want that part of his life in the room with them now, not when they were onto something big. Not when a case hadn’t felt this right in years.

A phone call sent them off into the night again, and Scully tried to steel herself against what felt like a too-easy attachment to this boyish energy and earnest charm. Then cold rain in an Oregon cemetery brought a kind of euphoria that Dana Scully had never known. Her first case in the field and the excitement of unfolding a mystery—god, the elation of it—knocked her punchy, wired her like an electric fence. Was it like this for everyone? Was it always like this for him?

It wasn’t and it wasn’t. Mulder also tried to guard himself against this small, frizzy-haired creature who could belly-laugh beside an open grave, who wielded a scalpel like the sharp sword of justice. But if she wasn’t to be trusted, why did he want to tell her everything? Why did he feel the itch to call her just hours after they separated at the airport, to make sure she’d be in the office tomorrow morning so they could begin the hunt again?

They each tried to hold the other at arm’s length against the magnetic pull that yoked them ever closer. But in the end, that meant they were both still holding one another.

—

It was months before Scully met Diana Fowley. The tall brunette breezed into the X-Files office one day like she owned it, while Scully herself was barely comfortable perched at the spare work table.

“Where’s Fox?”

Scully’s mouth fell open for a moment before she could speak, and the other woman eyed her up and down conspicuously.

“He’s—he’s requisitioning a car.” She swallowed. “I’m sorry, who are you?”

“Diana Fowley,” the woman said. “His wife.” She said this as if it should have been obvious, which maybe it should have been. Scully realized that there were no pictures of the woman anywhere in the office. Mulder rarely spoke of her.

“Oh.” There was an awkward pause before Scully stood up to shake the woman’s hand. “Well, it’s nice to meet you. I’m Dana Scully.”

Diana gave her a pained smile and a limp handshake. “Yes,” she said. “I’ve heard a lot about you.”

Scully’s eyebrows went up at this. She crossed her arms, unsure what to say.

“Do you know when he’ll be back?”

Scully looked at her watch. “I don’t know, he left about twenty minutes ago—“

And just then Mulder came through the door waving the approved rental form and holding a set of keys in his other hand. “Took me some wheedling, but I got the Taurus with the good air conditioning.”

He stopped short when he saw Diana.

“Hello, Fox.” Her smile was smooth like satin. Slippery.

She’d said almost nothing to him, but he looked chastened, arms flopping to his sides. “Diana,” he said like some wind had been knocked out of him. “You’re back.”

“Just this morning,” she said. “Can we talk for a minute?”

He nodded, and they stepped out into the hallway, closed the door behind them. Scully heard escalating voices, muffled through the closed door, but harried nonetheless. She concentrated on their paperwork and tried her best to withhold any judgment of Diana Fowley.

—

It was easy, at first, for Mulder to compartmentalize the passion he felt for his work, the strained affection he felt for Diana, and the simple pleasure of his growing friendship with Scully. Each had its place in his life and seemed not to rub too much against the others.

“I don’t think she likes me much,” Scully mused one day over a chicken Caesar. Her tone was casual, but it hung over a small stormcloud of anxiety.

“Who, Diana?” He was slurping a Cup-O-Noodles, unevenly heated in the basement microwave.

Scully gave him a look and turned back to her expense report.

Mulder cleared his throat. “She doesn’t know you,” he said, a half-truth to cover his own suspicion that Scully was right. Diana had made a few passing comments about his new partner, none of them pleasant.

Scully made a small sound in the back of her throat and left it at that.

Three days later they were isolated at the edge of the world, facing down death on the Icy Cape. They held loaded guns at each other, yet Mulder had never felt more fiercely protective of a partner. He was afraid for himself, but terrified for her. In the bald overhead light in a storeroom, he placed his warm palm over her neck and felt her shiver. She was small and fierce and painfully good.

He might die for her, he realized, and willingly. He wondered what that meant.

—

1994

The thing was, Diana was cagey about her work but eager to hear about his—if dismissive and cutting every time he mentioned Scully. She blew back into town a few times a month, fucked him so hard he thought his ears would bleed, and then stroked his back while he told her everything he’d been doing: every case, every lead.

“What about you?” he’d ask.

“Nothing exciting. Nothing I can talk about, really,” she’d say—or some equally vague non-answer.

“I miss you,” he’d tell her. “Can you stay longer?”

She’d give him a sad chuckle. “I wish I could. Only until Tuesday.” Or Sunday or Friday or whichever day gave them barely a few hours together.

“I love you,” she’d reassure.

“I love you, too,” he’d confirm.

Mulder held on to hope that this was just a phase, a rough patch.

Diana didn’t visit him in the hospital after he was shot. Instead Scully was there every day, hovering and checking his chart, asking him to lift the blanket so she could check the bandage and feeling his forehead, fingers lingering a bit too long. She carried his bags in the airport and drove him home to an empty apartment.

“Fox, I’m so sorry,” Diana said when she finally saw him again. He was hobbling on crutches and she held wine and his favorite takeout.

“It’s okay,” he said.

And it was, for a while—until everything came crashing down around them. Until they closed the X-Files and sent Scully away from him and he felt like he’d been ripped in half.

Late one night when Diana was home for once, he heard her on the phone: “He’s withdrawing. He’s losing interest.”

Mulder sat up in bed, rustling the covers more than he’d intended.

Diana’s voice fell. “Yes. … Yes. … I have to go,” and then the sound of the phone settled back in its cradle.

Who? he wanted to ask, but he was tired. So tired of everything. It wasn’t worth it to fight. He slept.

—

Mulder was off course and she was just so worried and she really truly never intended for this to happen. She would hate herself for it soon—already did, or would, if it didn’t feel so absolutely right.

His tongue was in her mouth and they were both wet from the hotel shower, the humidity, flying high on the thrill of escaping death again together. They’d made it all the way to Savannah in the rental she’d left in Miami before they pulled into a motel. One room was enough—with two beds, they thought they’d be fine.

They were, until she saw him dripping and alive, the light back in his eyes, and she’d reached to cup his stubbled jaw.

“You’re here,” she told him. “You’re back.”

“You brought me back,” he said, and then his lips fell to hers. She didn’t resist; the thought never crossed her mind.

Now he was hilt deep against her pelvis and her knees were in the air and even though she swore, swore, she’d never do this again, she wouldn’t let him stop because Jesus fuck it was so good, he was so good.

“Mulder, oh…” and then just whimpers because his lips were on her neck and one hand was palming her cheek like she was fragile porcelain.

“I’m sorry I ignored you. I’m sorry. You’re everything, Scully.”

She couldn’t think enough to make sense of what those words might mean, so she turned his head with her hands and kissed him again, kissed him quiet.

She knew she couldn’t have him, not really, but she followed him off the cliff anyway. She would save regret for Washington, where they’d both swear never again, no matter how good it had been.

—

Late at night in the apartment, and this time Mulder didn’t hear the hushed phone call—a tragic missed opportunity for the truth.

“He’ll never stop while he has her,” Diana whispered fiercely. A hot wave of jealousy lived beneath those words. “Take her out.”

And two weeks later, Scully was gone.

~ end part 1 ~

Read Part 2

#a thing i wrote #all along like fire #season 1 au #txf #msr

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revelisms · 9 months

Text

Little Numbers

Jinx has a lot of things she doesn't like—and, mainly, she doesn't like thunderstorms. Silco, slowly, is learning how to navigate that.

Rating: G | WC: 1.5k | Oneshot A lil' semi-sweet morsel of a character study, set early after Act 1. Features Jinx brainstorming a new invention, talking about her and Vi's papa, and asking Silco about his past. Silco is still figuring out how to be a Dad™️. Full story below and on AO3

They've something of a routine, in this.

He's come to expect it, over the months; on days like these, most of all. Past a spider-spiral of jade glass, glossed with gold, brews a storm: the rains speckling off the windows and battering over the roofs, a haze of gloom laid about their streets, like an old god stirred from the tides. It rakes its claws off every storefront and tile; leaves its footprints in polluted pools on the cobbles, with each howling stagger through the Lanes. It skews his office to gray tones, and ripples the walls with water-shadow.

A kindred spirit, in its own way. A comfort. But not for her.

The child dislikes the rain—much as she dislikes sunlight or the color lemon or the feeling of water in one's boots. Those menial things, though, can be corrected: a change of environment, new paints, fresh clothes. Contrary to the superstitions of those paid by his coin, however, he cannot control the weather.

A storm will oft send the girl into a reclusive fit. Ill associations, perhaps. He knows, best of all of them, that memory's a wry devil. With a sorceress's charm, she weaves sensation into the most stubborn edges of one's nerves; she steals things that were once cherished, and tarnishes their taste to rot; she encases, cages, and gnaws at the mind.

In his case, the work and the drink and the walks through the night's chill do enough to abide her.

Jinx—as she is now asking to be called—is still finding her ways.

On the rare, rain-drenched instances she will emerge from her den, brave the firecracker of the thunder to peel up the bar's varnish-slick steps, he's learned to find her here: her quiet tinkerings echoing from the underbelly of his desk, her small head at his knee, a gargoyled hunch in the cave-cover it provides.

He tends to think of the girl in feline terms: a spatting kitten clawing up the curtains. On these days, she's more akin to a pup at his feet—one he has to remind himself is there.

He shifts in his chair, pen in hand. She's brought a closet's worth of crafting supplies with her: papers, pens, metal parts, screws. His own work, housed in a series of reports, is similarly cluttered: steel mills, imports, distilleries, bullets. Cogs and wheels of his own toolbox.

"I see you're...working on something new." Rain smatters; his pen scratches. At his knee, the girl rifles through a set of oil-crayons. "Another invention of yours?" he wonders slowly, slicing the quill into three sharp lines.

1-5-7.

A code for Sevika: a blessing in order, with a red string. The mills were up thirty percent from the last quarter, but their chief of operations was getting skittish. Not all saw the promise in supplying disputes across the water.

He could bend their workers' ears, differently.

A small, paint-spackled hand twists around the front of his desk. With it, a splatting page.

The girl has her own codes, he's found. Music or mantras or poems, when the words won't seem to come to her. A color palette of emotions, when she isn't quite sure how to box them in, herself. He's picked up enough on their patterns. Blue means happy; yellow, sad; green, nervous.

She retreats her hand, quickly. In silence, he muddles over what he's left with.

No talking today, it seems.

Scrawled on the page: a flash of neon-pink.

Her penmanship spears through the paper, jagged lettering and punctuated swirls. It has a touch of carnivalesque charm about it. Bold, vibrant, uneven.

Gilby — Gilbert — Gilly? Like a smokie bear-BOOM! He's gonna be pink and red. See?

Underneath, she's drawn a ghoulish rendition of what appears to be a pipe bomb, with extra wires atop the head and a set of welded ears. The face wears the signature scowl she so seems to favor. Scribbled along the sides sit two claw-tipped paws.

Curiously, Silco cocks his head. She's gone so far as to outline the very chemistry she intends to use to stage the explosive. A viper-sharp mind in that little head of hers.

He hums. His pen scratches in a quiet response. A line jetted through smokie—above it, a thin respelling. Beside her drawing, he leaves notes of his own, in his sliced, sloping script.

Lovely colors. Consider a chlorate mixture — will better suit the size.

He slides the page back towards the edge of his desk, and returns to his reports. A thin set of fingers tiptoes over the varnish: slips the paper back out of sight.

Another rumble of thunder bleeds through the streets. His pen sweeps down a second sheet. Not a moment after, he finds his work again interrupted. A series of stars have been added across her page.

Sawdust or sugar? Why is it better? How did you learn about chemistry?

Silco leans into one elbow, with a low breath. He has half a mind to send his reports to the girl; see if her sharpness for equations extends to analytics.

Instead, his thumb slips her candy-colored questions farther over his wall of numbers, careful to avoid smudging her work. A gust of wind batters the rain against the windows. Beneath his desk, an incessant tick-ticking of metal. He scratches in his responses, lamplight glimmering on still-wet ink.

Sawdust. This design will have a greater reliance on pressure than combustion. From working the tunnels, then the doctor, then the tutors he knew of.

And so their routine begins: a question to a response, a response to a question. With each tradeoff, another smattering of doodles appears—some pink, some blue, some black.

Did you like school?

She's drawn a small galaxy, now, complete with star-shine and moons. He does his best to write around them: neat boxes of black lettering.

What I could get of it, under the company allowances. They hadn't much care for an educated workforce.

The company hadn't much care for anything, beyond bodies sloughing through that black earth, doing as they were told. Huddled in the barracks, his lamp tucked beneath his sheets, he used to read stolen books cover-to-cover and back again: histories, economics, folktales.

What was your favorite part? Literature.

The girl scribbles a violent response, to that. He lifts his brows, patiently, fingers laced. Gives a dull huff to the slash of pink she slides before him.

UGH!! Borrring! Did you ever write anything? Boring for you. Started with union pamphlets. Some essays stuck in the press.

A light thwunk of her boot hits the floor.

What about geology? I like geology. What's your favorite rocks? Consequence of the trade, less than like it. Minerals, not rocks. Covellite, jasper, bloodstone.

Each mineral hosts their own illustrations, by the time she turns the sheet back to him: a blue comet, a red heart, a green hand.

What were the mines like?

His pen idles on the page.

"Am I to answer that in stanza, or in a speech?" he muses, dryly.

Beneath his desk, a small sound, like an animal stifling a hiccup. After a moment, Jinx speaks. "Papa worked in the mines."

She hardly ever mentions her parents. When she does, it is with the same veneration that she speaks of her sister: like something too far gone to touch; something feared and worshipped, in turns.

Silco thinks of his own father, nigh-nonexistent father, with a lineage stripped from him since birth, and feels his nail bite into his thumb.

He thinks of Vander, for a short, vile moment—and then he doesn't.

"Then you know of it, enough," he mutters, regathering himself.

A feather-light touch toys at the clasps of his boot. "Papa hated them."

He is back in them, briefly. Back in that hellish chill, dry as death; in the red-lamped glow signposting ten-meter intervals in the pitch; in the feel of the rock at his back, a crawlspace of a work path, ore and diamonds rattling in his carts; the smell of sulphur and sweat and dust in his lungs, thick as sludge in his throat.

His pen twitches.

"Most the lot of us did, child," he says, far quieter than he intends, "and most hadn't a choice."

Jinx says nothing to that, for a long moment. She makes no move to retrieve her sheet, either. But he feels her shift: a firmer pressure at his knee, her tinkerings forgotten.

He lingers over her drawings.

Pink. The color of her shame and anger.

Silco drags his thumb against the ridges of his fingertips, worries over the hard calluses the years of that labor had left: scar tissue too deep to fade. In the silence, his reports tether back his attention. Still, Jinx sits.

He marks three sharp lines: another code for his right-hand. A gloss of green light begins to break through the gray. "These wretched things in life," he finds himself murmuring, "we all must endure. But we are stronger, for having endured them." His other hand loosens from his temple, finds the soft crown of the girl's head, and rests there. "Remember that."

Jinx draws in a small breath, picking at a piece of tin.

For minutes, she doesn't say a word. Then, quietly: "Okay."

The rains lighten. He returns to his work, leafing through new proposals and policy drafts.

At his feet, the child scribbles.

Pink and blue, and pink and blue.

#arcane #arcane fanfic #silco arcane #jinx arcane #silco & jinx #crime dad daughter duo #these season 2 tidbit ideas hit me like a truck #listen i just hhlskfj #i love lil jinx so much #and complete awkward crime boss dysfunctional dad silco #totally at a loss for how to Do This #but also just seeing so much of *himself* in her #and almost reapproaching his inner child as a result #writing

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abarbaricyalp · 1 year

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Written for the @sambuckylibrary TFATWS Anniversary Event

3.3k words // CW: sports injury and discussion of recovery // AO3

(i mean baby) Do You Know The Game

The energy of a hard fought win was still thrumming in Bucky's veins as he collapsed into the press junket chair. His whole body hurt and he was irritated that it was a close game in the first place. They hadn't started strong and had only barely managed to claw their way back with a solid closer and a lucky series of errors to load up the bases before Steve got up to bat in the ninth.

This was going to be one of those days that the PR team regretted putting him in front of cameras. It was always a toss-up. He was either the most charming player the press could talk to or a walking storm cloud, complete with hail, lightning, and thunder. He was feeling particularly thunderous today.

Luckily, there was Barton to run interference. He was the kind of player the press loved because he could talk stats and numbers all day long. He was funny and a better actor than Bucky and he'd take the win at face value. No moping about a poor early performance.

Bucky half listened to Barton rattle off where Wilson's ERA was going to land after this game and how Steve's RBI numbers meant more than his base running and what kind of trades Fury would be looking for in the postseason. Bucky mumbled answers back about refocusing after the sixth and the momentum of a good inning and all the bullshit the papers always wanted to hear. And then...

"Is the feud between you and Wilson resolved?" a reporter for a magazine that was more lifestyle than sports asked.

Bucky's eyes narrowed warily. The feud everyone was so obsessed with was about as real as the conviction behind his answers this afternoon. Sure, it had been real at one point. All the gossip rags were right: Sam was the hot new upshot. He'd joined the team while Bucky was out on medical suspension with the TBI and shattered shoulder. Bucky didn't get to play his first two seasons, only saw him at practice and team events. Sam was everything Bucky had been–fun and smart and confident and good. God, he was a good player. Knew the game like his own face. And that was all exactly the kind of thing Bucky didn't want to see in his replacement.

He wasn't sure how it got out to the press that there was some friction. He tried not to talk about anyone else in interviews but surely he'd been asked one too many times about the new guy and snapped out a mean answer once or twice. To be fair, Sam gave as good as he got. There was one interview where he said something to the effect of 'I won't talk about an injured teammate negatively, but ask me again later and I'll tell you he's probably past his prime.'

Which, thinking back on it, that sentence was probably what led to the beginning of the end of the feud, since it directly led to a really fantastic champagne-drunken night in a fancy hotel after the team formal that year.

And once their relationship was on steadier ground and Bucky was in a better place mentally and physically and Sam was settled in with the team and the spotlight, it was fun to play with the rumors when he had the energy. Neither he nor Sam wanted to make the relationship public and they knew there was no real heat behind the occasional gentle ribbing in an interview. But Bucky didn't have any energy to spare right then. "All the good games he's had haven't ended it before. Why should this game change anything?"

"I wasn't referring to the game," she pressed. "Though you did seem to have a warm reaction when he got you guys out of the sixth. I was referring to the fact that you arrived today in his practice jersey."

Bucky looked down at his game jersey, as if it was the one he'd worn in for warmups. "I think you're mistaken," he said, even though there was a creeping dread that he probably had grabbed the wrong one while Sam was shoving him out of the door that morning. Bucky had done his laundry at Sam's and the jerseys all looked the same when he was in a rush.

The reporter turned her tablet around to show a very clear image of Bucky walking into the facility, head turned over his shoulder to show off his profile, with Sam's last name sprawled across his back just below his jaw. It was actually kind of an endearing photo. He liked how Sam's name looked on him.

"I guess it got confused with the team laundry after practice Monday," he said with a shrug. He could feel a traitorous blush climbing up his chest and neck and cheeks, all the way to his hairline. "I just grabbed the one nearest my bag. Don't you have something more interesting to write about?"

But judging by the way half the room's eyes were now lit up, he was assuming this was the most interesting thing to happen to them since the last season-ending injury they had to cover.

"Does that happen often? Getting jerseys mixed up like that?"

Bucky glowered and crossed his arms in a pouty, telling-on-himself kind of way. "I was tired on Monday."

"Which does happen," Barton cut in. "Frankly, I think it's a little disappointing that you're making a scandalous story out of a TBI survivor's brain fog."

Now Bucky turned to glare at his teammate. He did not have brain fog. Usually. Bucky wasn't sure if Barton had become privy to his and Sam's relationship. All three of them were individually close and Barton was probably the most perceptive person in the room at any given time, but Bucky had never told him in so many words. And Barton was always up for messing with reporters. It could go either way.

The reporter held up her hands with a placating smile. "Hoofbeats and horses-not-zebras," she suggested. "I just thought I'd ask."

The room chattered for a few seconds before someone else got them back on track with a question about the upcoming series and whether they thought their league standing would improve before their bye-week.

By the time Bucky got out of the junket, he felt like he needed ten aspirin. Three for his shoulder and seven for his head. Barton parted from him at the locker room door with a pat on his good shoulder and well wishes for the night. They got almost a full week break until the series started up next Friday and they said they didn't want to see each other until then.

Bucky waited for the door to shut behind Barton before he let himself into the locker room. He detoured to his locker, pulling off his game jersey as he went. He tossed it into his locker and dug out the practice jersey from the pile of sweaty clothes heaped in the bottom of it. Indeed, Sam's name greeted him. He ran his fingers over the screen printed letters and then brought the jersey up to his face to breathe in the remnants of the smell of Sam's detergent and apartment.

When the real thing surrounded him, along with arms around his waist and a strong body against his back, Bucky let the jersey fall away. He put his hands over Sam's forearm and leaned back into him.

"You could've mentioned I took the wrong one," he said.

He felt Sam shrug. "Too late now."

"You saw the interview?" Bucky surmised. As Sam shifted from his back, Bucky dropped his forehead against the locker in front of him. Sam sat on the bench beside him, shoulder resting against Bucky's hip.

"Don't worry about it, man. Shit happens. No one's gonna think twice about it. And if they do, Clint set you up a pretty solid excuse."

"No one is going to buy that." Mostly because it wasn't true. "And I'm not going to start some beef because you made me late."

"Oh, I made you late?" Sam asked with a teasing lilt to his voice. He shifted over in front of Bucky and dragged his eyes slowly down his body until they were level with Bucky's navel. His hands came up to Bucky's hips, strong and sure, tugged him forward just a little. "I remember you dragging me back into bed like this."

His nose brushed along Bucky's stomach and Bucky let himself enjoy it for a few seconds before he hooked a knuckle under Sam's jaw and lifted his face. "You kept me in the shower," he pointed out.

"You wash your hair wrong," Sam offered back with zero belief in his words. He rested his chin on Bucky’s belly and looked up at him with dark, glinting eyes. “Come on, lay down and let me rub out your shoulder so you can stop being so grumpy.”

“You could definitely rub something out, but I wouldn’t have picked my shoulder.”

Sam grinned and kissed just above Bucky’s belly button. “I bet I could. But we agreed: not in the locker room.”

“I remember the showers getting carved back out of that agreement.”

Sam pushed Bucky back from the lockers to the narrow bench that separated the two rows. “Lay down,” he ordered. “And relax.”

Continue on AO3

#sambucky #bucky barnes #sam wilson #captain america #sambucky fanfic #the falcon and the winter soldier #writing #tfatwsanniversaryevent2023 #tfatws

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adrowningmansballad · 5 months

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the grey waltz

a faint waft of burning sludge tickled my nose as i stumbled through the manmade field of hardened stone and splintered wood. the familiar scent could not be distinguished from the rich, decadent gasoline coating the floor or the greasy cooking oil that was used to commit a sizzling embrace around the corner of the block. as the odour grew stronger, i took an eager step forward, breaking a delicate figure under my cold boot. glancing down, a broken dollhouse befell my somewhat looming shadow, lying depressingly amongst the beauty of the real world. a closer inspection allowed me to observe the occupants still inside, clutching each other’s hand in a desperate attempt to express a final farewell. their figures required the utmost gentlest touch, paper thin like the veil of indifference to this hellscape i tried to maintain. in the distance i heard a thunderous boom like the world had been cleaved into two. smog, thick and luxurious in all her glory, came hurtling towards me. her presence felt urgent, wrapping around me tightly and filling the surrounding area with her smoky embrace. she caressed my face as if to persuade me to dance with her, through the beautiful field of rubble and over the charming ruins. the crackle of the burning buildings provided the perfect rhythm that matched the joyous tunes of static flowing from the handheld radio within my grasp. an orchestral symphony of distant gunfire and regretful cries joined the mechanical heartbeat that coursed through the two of us. it was so moving that i was stripped bare as she grabbed for me. a showcase of vulnerability was my forced ode to her glory, surrendering my identity to her power. the surrounding landscape unified as we blissfully spun together, a jarring palette of monochrome and fire ember orange creating a dreary kaleidoscope of lights before my dulling eyes. touching her curves and waves before me was intoxicating, leaving me addicted to the claustrophobia of her grip. she took the lead in our ethereal waltz, past many remains that i could not discern. but at last, my journey with the beautiful ashen air came to an end, and i suddenly found my reflection staring back at me within a lonesome puddle. my features had withered, viciously distorted into an anguished cry that could all but be carried away by the wind. clothes battered and torn, as if my imprisoned guilt and sorrow had reared their heads in rage and attempted to claw their way outside my husk of flesh and bone. i was fragile and cracking, waiting to be shattered into a million shards. my decrepit skin became transparent, but stained with dirt and grime. a deluge of tears rippled my pale cheeks, as if nature was trying to hide what i had become. i turned back to claw for the comfort of the darkness, only to be met by an emptiness that resonated aggressively within. feeling lost, i gazed towards the horizon, as if searching for a saviour amongst the gloom. in response, the sun rose and bathed me in a golden glow, washing away all my despair. its presence caused my mind to melt out of my brittle skull and pour out of my ears like the slick oil i had smelled ever sweetly. the sensation was spiritually blinding, as if a god waved his hands over the city to shroud my sinful eyes with his purity. a buzz filled my ears and battered my bloodstream, warming my very soul from the inside. i was desensitized, like the synapses in my brain had been burned by a foreign fire, and my heart became a chasm. for a small moment, she left my mind, only to be replaced with ersatz evergreen and colossal towers that stretched up into the sky to greet the heavens. a strange scent of sickly sweet flowers skipped towards me, their petals laughing in the wind with a tone of mischievousness. it swirled with an air of familiarity, as if to distract me from the grim reality. carried with them, was a slight tinge of a haze, following ominously like the shadow standing behind me… waiting to dance with me again.

#writing #writing?#vignette #writblr #writeblr #light angst #pov #post apocalyptic #post apocalypse #post apoc rp #beginner writer

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moraygrotto · 1 year

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ok i would usually append this to the post i made publishing this ask from a while ago, but the tumblr app is being very unkind to me so i'm gonna try making a new one =_=

anyway mini fic!!! based on anon's stellar idea above

~💜~

Deuce slumped back in the leather booth, letting out a long "Hnnnnnnf~" of a sigh. He was bigger than Epel, and hence should have been better off, but it was visible how much he had eaten. His belly was pudged further out beneath his T-shirt than it was when the pair arrived at the diner, and Epel could hear each of his shallow breaths. Charming as he never failed to be, Deuce also got sleepy when he ate well.

Epel leaned his elbows on the table, looking upon the remains of their shared feast. Crumpled, oil-stained paper sat atop skeletal french fry trays. A depleted puddle of ketchup was congealing atop his plate, which was otherwise empty save for crumbs. A clean-scraped soup bowl sat at the summit of a stack of dishes, and clear cups stood majestically all around: four were drained of soda, and two were emptied of all the milkshake they had once contained.

Epel, into whom about half the spread had vanished, felt ready to burst in the best possible way. "We cleaned that lunch right up, huh, Deuce?"

Deuce blinked slowly. "Totally," he said. "We were both hungry, I guess."

Epel swirled a straw around in the melting ice of his soda glass. "Helps to have someone you don't mind eatin' around, too. Like, really eatin'; you know?"

When Epel looked back up, Deuce was blushing. "I know," he replied, and as he gave a little chuckle, his mouth popped open, and a euphonic little burp burst out of him. "Oh my god," he said, immediately looking around. At this time of day, they were alone in the diner, and their waitress was in the kitchen. Deuce's stomach gurgled in the aftermath.

Finally, his eyes fell upon Epel. "I am so sorry," he said faintly, not an ounce of his prior sleepiness about him.

A flicker of competitiveness rose up within Epel, the dire need to teach him a lesson for thinking of him that way, like someone who wasn't gross as anyone else. He just as quickly quashed the feeling. Deuce looked so sheepish; Epel couldn't be mad.

Instead, he swallowed, straightened up, and gave his chest a thump.

Like a monster smashing free from a cage, a loud and rough belch thundered up out of Epel. As it echoed off the chrome-lined ceiling, he rubbed his chest, sighed, and smiled at Deuce. "Still sorry?"

Deuce's eyes were wide, and he sat stock-still. "Have I... never heard you burp before, Epel?"

"Mmgrp—Guess not," Epel said through the low gurgling of an afterburp.

"I don't know what to say," said Deuce.

"You don't have to say anything. I know I'm pretty good. Here—" He took a dry slurp at the dregs of his soda, feeling the air from the straw mingle with the cool drops of liquid down his throat. With one press to his full tummy, another burp spilled out of him, this one brassy, long, and powerful. Afterwards, his mouth tasted like his meal— part of that burp had come from deep inside him.

Grinning, Epel let out a contented breath. "Maybe if I keep goin', I'll have room for dessert~"

Deuce's eyes were darting around, but he was still blushing hotly. "Epel, we are technically in public..."

Epel took another slurp. "Yeah? So?"

"I mean..."

"Gurp—Why's the public so important, anyway? It feels good, and it ain't hurtin' anybody. I'm gonna keep burping all I want until somebody tells me to stop." He raised a playful eyebrow. "Are you tellin' me to stop, Deuce?"

"No!" Deuce blurted at once. "Honestly, I think that'd be a crime," he said more quietly. "Your burps are amazing."

Little conquest complete, Epel relaxed, leaned over, jabbed his straw into the melted ice of Deuce's soda glass, and slurped it dry in one suck. The liquid added pressure to his already packed belly, which drew his attention to a bubble of air he could feel gathering deep within him.

He squeezed his stomach muscles, shifted in his chair, and drew the burp up in one strident expulsion of air. He let his eyes fall shut as it burst out of him, rumbling through all his belly, chest, and throat like a massage.

As his stomach settled, he felt light, freed from a tight pressure he had barely noticed was bloating him up. He gave his belly a slap of contentment, then ran a hand through his bangs as he looked up at Deuce. "'Scuse me," he said.

Deuce had conceded to rub at his own tummy with one hand. "Can— Can I ask how you burp like that?" he stuttered.

Epel raised his eyebrows. "Same way you do, I reckon."

"I mean, so huge—"

"Heh, thank you." Epel wiped his mouth with a napkin, which somehow managed to jar another burp from him. "I know you mean that 'cause I'm so little, but I'll take it as a compliment."

Deuce took his fork, and squished a sesame seed from Epel's plate between the cleft of two tines, "Would you take offense if I said your burps were cute?" he said softly.

"No, but only 'cause it's you sayin' it." Epel gave his belly a probing squish. Despite having eaten so much, the pies du jour in their glass case were looking delicious. While Deuce still looked like he wanted to curl up somewhere and digest for a while, Epel wasn't sure he could abandon the desire for something sweet now that it had crossed his mind.

"Say, Deuce," he said, and picked at a corner of his paper placemat. "You don't have any room needs clearin' out in your belly, do you?"

#moray writes

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tallmadgeandtea · 1 year

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Happy Valen-TURNs Day!

Hello, and Happy Valentine’s! (And happy birthday to me!) For today’s Turn event, here is a little Drabble that fits the “secret relationship” space- which, to be quite honest, is something Benjamin and Elizabeth are very good at. Sometimes. Only sometimes.

“Major Tallmadge!” She shrieked, but it was already too late- the front door of Greene’s quarters shut, the slam seemingly shaking the entire valley, and he was grabbing her hand, pulling her with him like a relentless captor, but he wasn’t wicked. No, she saw it in his smile, in that charming, irreducible grin, in the shining, sky blue of his eyes, laughing when his mouth couldn’t. It was useless to try and dig her toes in, whirl her head around to see if anyone was watching.

He’d the won race before, so it was only fair to let him have this, right?

Don’t act like you don’t want it either, Elizabeth.

She learned it rather quickly in camp that-

God help her, she loved being reckless.

She closed her eyes for a few brief seconds, intently listening to the sounds in front of her, being her, surrounding them. Birds in the trees. The ever so faint, ever so distant sound of General Greene’s voice in the four walls. Benjamin’s helmet hitting the ground in a careless thud. The swish of her skirts as she flew through the air and landed in his grip- she was higher than the birds, higher than the trees, her heartbeat picking up and taking off like diving off a cliff and learning to fly.

Falling?

She couldn’t fall if he was holding her.

She kept her eyes closed for one more second- he kissed her, tilting her head up to meet his, his hands spread out against her back, pulling her cloak close. She caught his sharp intake, desire passing through all the joy, the laughter. Kissing him was never something she didn’t understand, something she had to learn.

She wanted him to go deeper, wanted him to take off her cloak and lay it on the ground-

Want to let him win, do you?

She opened her eyes.

They were outside Greene’s house, up against the stone wall, the window inches from them. If she moved her hand the wrong way, she’d bang on the glass, ruin everything.

“Benjamin,” she breathed.

“Yes, Elizabeth?” He said, sickeningly, dangerously innocent.

But she didn’t pull away. “We could’ve been seen!”

“Yes,” he answered, going in swiftly for another kiss, his lips on her neck.

She pushed him off, too little, too late. “We’ve got to stop meeting like this.”

He tilted his head, playing the role, practiced ease radiating off him. “How?”

“With you-“ she paused, breaking her stare. “With you flustering me!”

“I enjoy it too much, after a long day’s work.” He somehow stepped closer, his legs spread out to fit through her skirts. “As much as you enjoy being here.”

“That’s impossible,” she whispered. No one loved it here more than she did. “And it should be the other way around,” she added.

“Whatever do you mean, Miss Walker?”

Maybe she wouldn’t let him win.

Not completely.

She reached out, sliding a slim arm past the blue wool, her sleeve brushing his waistcoat until she found the back, the ties underneath her fingertips. “There was a time I was the one who left you flustered.”

Benjamin’s breath caught in his throat, crumbled up like a piece of paper in her fist. “I… I remember it.”

She pouted, blinking, “Do you, Major?”

“Yes.”

“Do you remember following me around like a lovesick boy? Saying my name softly? Escorting me home?”

He smiled. “When did I ever stop?”

She laughed, freeing her other hand, raising it until her grip was around his neck. “Good. I knew you had a perfect memory.”

“Like I could ever forget anything about you, Elizabeth.”

“Take me home, Benjamin.”

The sudden snap of thunder broke the birdsong, her moment of recklessness.

“Sooner rather than later,” she sighed.

#is this good?#whose to say?#but it’s been awhile since I wrote a kiss so #have fun with this!#benjamin tallmadge #elizabeth walker #SS&SP #the summer soldier and the sunshine patriot #turn fic #turn: washington's spies #amanda writes (kind of)#valenturnsday2023 #don’t ask about kissing mechanics. I’ve never been kissed. I’m making it up!

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mystech-master · 2 years

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Hero Artifact Ideas

I'm sure you all have seen my recent Hero Artifact pictures, where I basically make some BS empowering artifact meant to basically be Light Novel protag level power-ups to various protagonists.

Those were the first ones I put to paper but I have a few more roaming around in my head. Here is a list of heroes I am trying to come up with weapons for and some concepts that I have for some of them:

(Note: an * next to the name means that I haven't fully watched the series and have just heard a lot about it from a friend or have read up on it a bit, so I am a bit limited on design ideas)

Naruto Uzumaki (Naruto) *: 9 shuriken made from the same metal as the Uzumaki Adamantine chains, can use Flying Thunder God technique on them, each contain Tailed Beast Chakra. With Chakra from lots of people and the Hashirama Cell Wood Release he can make a new Demonic Statue of the Outer Path and become a 10 Tails, but this is a risk to Kurama.

Ichigo Kurosaki (Bleach)* : must connect all 3 of his powersets, each power represents one of the worlds: Quincy = Human world, Hollow = Hueco Mundo, Soul Reaper/Shinigami = Soul Society. Small Quincy ZXanpakuto has laser blade like other Quincy weapon.

Natsu Dragneel

Son Goku (Dragon Ball)*: Power Pole upgraded to let Goku fight more conceptual threats using the more mystical nature of Ki. Goku later turns it into dragon tattoos.

Ruby Rose (RWBY)

Izuku Midoriya (My Hero Academia)

Maka Albarn & Soul Eater (Soul Eater): Moon charms that share Black Blood and Anti-Demon Wavelength. Maka can access weapon blood and so can Soul.

Jotaro Kujo (Jojo's Bizarre Adventure: Stardust Crusaders)

Josuke Higashikata (Jojo's Bizarre Adventure: Diamond is Unbreakable)

Giorno Giovanna (Jojo's Bizarre Adventure: Vento Aureo): Scarab Shield that reflects damage, based on the abilities of his life constructs

Asta (Black Clover)*: 5th Demon sword, makes all his 4 other swords represent the virtues of the Clover Kingdom.

Shinra Kusakabe (Fire Force): Already done

Denji (Chainsaw Man)*

Sonic the Hedgehog (Sonic series)

Link (Legend of Zelda)

Oracina of Time/Majora’s Mask*

Twilight Princess*: Twilight sword, has shard of twilight mirror and shard for Wolf Link

Breath of the Wild: Something to do with the Sheikah tech, but I want to wait for BOTW2 to see what the deal is with his arm first.

Yu Narukami (Persona 4)*: mirror sword with electrical powers

Ren Amamiya/Joker (Persona 5): Already done

Shrou Emiya (Fate/stay night)*: Already done

Illyasviel von Einzbern (Fate/kaleid liner PRIMSA ILLYA)*

Hakuno Kishinami (Fate/EXTRA)*

Sieg (Fate/Apocrypha)*

Ritsuka Fujimaru (Fate/Grand Order)*: Armor with different modes/powers for each Servant Class with/or knuckle dusters that become giant tower shields.

Sly Cooper (Sly Cooper)

Ragna the Bloodedge (Blazblue): Harpe Sword/Sickle with Time powers

Hyde Kido (Under Night In-Birth): Insulator’s origin of Vatista’s wing brought forth.

Danny Fenton/Danny Phantom(Danny Phantom): must be tech based as he doesn’t really lean into the mystic stuff, maybe an upgraded version of the Ecto-Skeleton (Vlad proves a non-lethal-to-user version can be made), using the Gem of Life from the Reality Gauntlet.

Marinette Dupain-Cheng/Ladybug (Miraculous: The Tales of Ladybug and Cat Noir): Already done, might tweak

Dipper Pines (Gravity Falls): Spell Book journal with his Pine Tree symbol instead of the six-fingered hand, with the Big Dipper/Ursa Major on it.

Ben Tennyson (Ben 10): 1. Electric Sword (has a lot of electrical aliens, references Ascalon, also references Take-Mikazuchi a Sword and Thunder god from Japan who was in first sumo match, referencing Sumo Slammers), or a Band that gives him Ki powers (X is Roman 10 and pronounced “chi”, and Chi is also a form of life energy like Mana b/c fuck you writers saying only Gwen can use mana).

Star Butterfly (Star vs the Forces of Evil)

Rex Salazar (Generator Rex): upgraded Tanto that Six gave him

Jacob Luke “Jake” Long (American Dragon Jake Long)

Randy Cunningham (Randy Cunningham 9th Grade Ninja)

Zak Saturday (The Secret Saturdays)

Manny Rivera/El Tigre (El Tigre, The Adventures of Manny Rivera): shards of an Obsidian mirror of Tezcatlipoca, feeding on the discord of Manny’s struggle to choose between good and evil, upgraded later with melted down Golden Sombrero of Chaos and Bronze Boots of Truth.

Jenny Wakeman (My Life as a Teenage Robot): Cluster Heart Mechashift Chip mixed with a Pip Crystal

Maxwell “Max” McGrath & N'Baro Aktsteel X377/Steel (Max Steel)

Those are the heroes I chose to try and come up with Artifacts for and some ideas I already had. If anyone wants to help me come up with an idea if any of these guys seem appealing to you, feel free to speak out. Naturally, I'd expand a lot more on the ideas if the weapon design actually gets made.

#hero artifacts #need ideas #hero artifact #weapon #weapons #weaponry #anime/manga #video games #western animation

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tenshiharmonia · 2 years

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Bayonetta Recap - Part 6

III - Miscellaneous notes

- Regarding the characters based on already existing species of angels and demons (like Joy or Malicious), I was considering giving them their own names, to make them feel more like actual individuals than expendable tools. I mean, since Máni and Apollonia care about them as friends, it would make sense. So my idea was that Máni’s demons would have been named after lunar craters, like "Tycho" or "Aristarchus", while Apollonia’s angels would have been named after stars, like "Aldebaran" or "Fomalhaut" (those are just examples, by the way ; I didn’t really think about which names I’d actually like to use*). Ideally, they would also have their own unique appearances, slightly different from the other members of their species to mark them more as individuals... But in the end (and without even taking into account the fact that I lack the artistic precision needed to concretize the idea), I cannot help but feel a little uncomfortable about the whole concept. I don’t know how to put it, but the thing is, I really like those angels and demons as they are, be it in names or in designs, so it kind of makes me feel like I would be desecrating them, if that makes any sense. I don’t know, maybe I’m just making a mountain out of a molehill, but that’s how I feel on the matter. Still, I wanted to at least mention the idea. And maybe ask what you think of it. ;)

* For the record, though, I was considering "Bellatrix" (no, not that one) for the Joy. Etymologically speaking, it appears to mean "female warrior", which is already quite appropriate for the skilled and powerful guardian angel she is, but the fact that it contains the phoneme "bella", even if they are completely unrelated on a semantic level, makes it all the more fitting for such an enticing creature. Additionally, I was thinking about "Castor" and "Pollux" for the Grace and Glory brothers. Those ones are pretty self-explanatory, I guess, being the names of the two brightest stars in the constellation of Gemini, named after the mythological twin sons of Zeus and Leda, but I kind of like how the vowels of the stars’ names match those of the angels’ names (Grace and Castor, Pollux and Glory) ; I thought it was quite funny. Moreover, of the two twins, Pollux is said to be the only one who was actually sired by Zeus, so it would be quite fitting for his name, as the son of the god of thunder, to be given to an angel who controls lightnings...

- If this was an actual game, I like to think that the Moon-themed song of the adventure (you know, like "Fly me to the Moon" and "Moon River" for the first two games) would be a cover of "It's only a paper moon". Since Frank Sinatra seems to be the common denominator between the two aforementioned songs, I limited myself to his repertoire. (For the record, "Reaching for the Moon" and "The Moon was yellow (and the Night was young)" were also considered. And if we don’t limit ourselves to Sinatra’s discography, I also thought of the "Moon Song", from the movie "her", a charming duet whose only downside is its painfully uncreative title.) Anyway, I think that a Bayonetta remix of "It's only a paper moon" could indeed make for quite a stylish battle theme. As for the traditional pole dance section of the credits, I searched for the most languorous version of the song there is, and I think that Harry Nilsson’s cover would be ideal. It’s oh so fittingly slow and sensual... Alternatively, I’m also pretty fond of Paul McCartney’s version. It’s a little more upbeat than Harry Nilsson’s performance, but it could be an interesting choice... (For good measure, I also like to imagine that it would be a double choreography featuring both Bayo and Máni. :3 )

- It has technically nothing to do with my characters, but I must say that I really like Luka and Rodin as a pair (and even more, if you see what I mean :3 ). They admittedly don’t share a lot of scenes, but what little chemistry they displayed in the epilogue of the second game was certainly delightful, so I’d definitely like to give them a larger part in the plot and explore their relationship.

- It’s probably a little weird to think about such a detail without even knowing what the plan would actually entail, but I’d like for Máni and Apollonia’s grand design to be referred to as the "Last Judgement". Because it’s bad*ss. (Alternatively, it could simply be the title of the story’s ultimate segment...)

- Now that I think about it though, their plan could maybe involve some form of massive, forced reincarnation and the idea of passing judgement on the Trinity of Realities, sorting the wheat from the chaff before severing the ties between the three realms… Or maybe they could go full-on Neon Genesis Evangelion and try to force humanity to ascend to godhood... I’ll really have to make up my mind regarding what their goal could be...

- That being said, I like to think that, for their own selfish reasons, the forces of Paradiso and Inferno would also be trying to prevent the siblings’ project from coming to fruition. So the latter parts of the game would take place while Glitnir is under attack, invaded by an army of angels on one side, and by an army of demons on the other, as everyone is rushing to Apollonia’s sanctum to prevent Baphomet and her from enacting the last stages of their plan...

- Since each of the three playable characters would have their own collection of weapons, we’ll also need plenty of Gold LPs to unlock all those bad boys (although luring demons with angelic music would probably not be the only way to gain new weapons this time around, especially for Máni, since a large part of his arsenal would be powered by souls his infernal friends would willingly lend him). So to conclude this recap, here is a list of the various pieces of music I’d like to use for this purpose (I’m not a music expert, so excuse me if I mostly use the colloquial names of those songs) : "Air on G string" (Bach) ; "Worthy is the Lamb" (Handel) ; "Veni Creator Spiritus" (Mahler) ; "Te Deum - Prelude" (Charpentier) ; "Wedding March" (Mendelssohn) ; "Sempre libera" (Verdi) ; "Flower Duet" (Delibes) ; "Magnificat" (Liszt) ; "The Infernal Gallop" (Offenbach) ; "Boléro" (Ravel) ; "L'amour est un oiseau rebelle/Habanera" (Bizet) ; "Le veau d'or est toujours debout" (Gounod) ; "Graceful Ghost Rag" (William Bolcom) ; "Dance of the Hours" (Ponchielli)... And many, many more. I was also thinking there would be a special "Ode to Joy" LP, handed by Apollonia herself, as part of the main story or maybe as a reward for a post-game sidequest (or maybe looted from her personal collection XD ), that would allow Cereza to unlock one of the game’s ultimate weapons. I also considered having her gift it to Máni instead, but as I said, her brother’s weapons are actually rarely crafted with the help of an angelic LP, so in the end, I thought it’d make more sense for her to give it to Bayonetta, as a token of friendship and good faith, in a "I heard that your blacksmith friend uses recordings of angelic voices to gather the resources he needs to craft your weapons, so please take this one ; I'm sure it will help him make something especially dandy..." kind of way.

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sweet-demiboi · 3 years

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Well. Mhmmm, I was thinking of being the other King of Asgard and maybe also a God? (maybe the God of Knolagde). And maybe the Avengers need help so Thor asks his Husband😜 and that of course, means that the Avengers will meet him and maybe kinda fangirl? Oooh I'm so stupid, I forgot to ask, do we need to describe our personality? Cause if so I'm rather shy.

Also feel free to message if you need any clarifications.

Thanks!

Thor x Male!Reader

Plot: Requested

Warnings: Hm... bad English? A bit angst, but really not much

.............................................................................................................................

You were having trouble in your mind. You sat outside in the beautiful gardens of Asgard's palace, admiring the beauty of the nature around you. But it wasn't able to clear your mind of the concerned thoughts you were thinking about for the past days now.

Thor had promised to inform you about everything that was happening in his life on Midgard but he had neither sent a message nor had he visited Asgard by himself. You were seriously concerned about your husband.

You got up from the chair you were sitting on before and started walking around the gardens. No other god or goddess disturbed you as they could clearly see that you were trying to focus on your problems.

At least that was something you could do really well, after all you were the god of knowledge and wisdom. Different scenarios played in your imagination and you didn't notice the person standing next to you until they laid a hand on your shoulder.

Your head went straight up and in the matter of just a few seconds, you had pulled out your dagger and were putting it against the intruders throat.

"Whoa, keep calm, (Y/N)!", Thor laughed with raised hands. You sank your weapon and looked at him with an accusing look in the eyes. "Why didn't you tell me about your days? I was concerned.", you asked with crossed arms.

Thor smiled but looked a bit defeated at the same time "I am sorry, my love, but I wasn't able to send you a message. The mission we're working on right now is quite hard.", he stepped closer to you and took your hands in his own, big and warm ones. His blue eyes had a pleading look in them "I should have told you about it earlier, I'm sorry." A small smile spread on his lips as well as on your own.

"I'm still mad.", you informed him "But not as mad as before." Of course your husband could've handle the situation otherwise but everyone made mistakes sometimes although Thor didn't want to hear that. You decided that you had forgiven him, but wouldn't tell him now.

"So, why are you here?", you asked "Obviously something's up." The god of thunder smiled, you knew that he loved it, when you acted smart "I need your help with that mission I was talking about before." You nodded slightly and and started slowly walking with his hand in yours. "Tell me about it.", you demanded, so he told you:

"Hydra is active again, it's a terror-group, which managed to hide from us for quite some time now, but we managed to get a few hints from some... shady people. If we could crack the code they gave us, we could handle them! This coded message can tell us their location! But sadly... we couldn't crack it until now."

"That means you want me to help you with that message?", you understood. Thor nodded "You're the god of knowledge and wisdom!", he took both of your hands in his and stood before you, excited and with pleading eyes "Please! Please, (Y/N), help me!" You smirked slightly and whispered: "Of course."

Thor smiled brightly, cupped your cheeks and kissed you pasionately on the lips. Oh boy, how you had missed that! His warm lips on yours, his body pressed against your own and rising together in that bubble of love for each other. His tongue found its way into your mouth and played eagerly with your own. You slung your arms around his neck to stabilize yourself.

You looked deeply into each others eyes after this kiss. "Let's do that code!", you whispered against his now swollen lips, which showed you a big smile now.

.............................................................................................................................

Over all this excitement you had forgotten that you were rather shy towards new people, so you grabbed the hand of your husband while Heimdall was bringing you to earth. Thor's thumb brushed slightly over the back of your hand, calming you a little bit.

Suddenly you stood on the top of the Avengers tower, Thor had already told you about. The outlook you had over New York was stunning and something you had never seen before. "It's beautiful, isn't it?", Thor asked next to you and you were only able to nod. He closed your mouth with putting a finger under your chin, smirking when you blushed slightly.

"Oh, Thor, you're here again!", a man with sunglasses and an expensive looking suit walked over to you. It had to be Tony Stark, who your husband had also talked about. "And you must be his charming, smart husband he always talks about!", he gifted you a smile and put out his hand for you to shake it.

"That's right, Tony Stark.", you shook his hand a bit nervously, but he didn't seem to notice. "I guess Thor already told you about our problem?"

"I wouldn't be here, if he had not.", you answered and Tony laughed, already guiding you inside. You weren't pleased by seeing even more people in the conference-room, where you had just walked in. The looks were on you, the other Avengers seemed interested in your presence and someone was walking towards you.

"Hello, my name is Steve Rogers.", he shook your hand "Thank you for the cooperation.", he acted a bit nervous himself, but you just smiled and introduced yourself too.

"Where's this code I'm here for?", you asked. A red-haired woman in a black suit came to you and gave you a piece of old-looking paper. "We tried to figure it out with countless programs, but nothing worked.", she had a slight russian accent, and looked you up and down.

You took the paper out of her hand and looked briefly at it "No wonder, I don't think any computer or even program was invented in the time this language was spoken, Ms Romanoff."

"Wait a moment, it's a language?", a man, Clint Barton, asked with crossed arms. "How could you figure that out so fast?", another one interfered, who had to be Sam Wilson. "The structure and signs in the text are similar to old-greek although it's way older. It might be an old japanese text, as there are still some people who can translate it. Give me an hour and you'll have a translation."

The group was starring at you with surprised looks, which made you a bit uncomfortable, so you looked over to your husband, searching for help. Thor came right next to you and requested the others to get out that you could concentrate. "Can we keep him?", Bucky mouthed to Thor, who rolled his eyes smilingly, but you felt very flattered as Thor had told you that the 'man with a metal arm' wasn't trusting people fastly.

"They already like you.", Thor commented, when everyone had gotten out of the room. "Looks like so... it's calming that I'm not the only one who is nervous." Your husband laughed a little and caressed your cheek. "I wish you good luck with the code.", you smirked "I don't need luck." Thor smirked back "Have fun." He kissed you softly and left the room too.

You weren't mad anymore. How could you? You loved him.

I found time a bit earlier! :D Hope you enjoy it, @marilynmonroefanfics

#thor x male reader #thor x male!reader #requested #fluff #marvel #the avengers #mcu #gay #loveislove

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mrs-march-ahs · 3 years

Note

how the evans would act when they have a crush on u ^^

How The Evans Act When They Have A Crush On You & How They React When You Tell Them You Like Them Too

Award for the longest title goes tooooo... me!

JAMES SUCKS BUT I MAKE UP FOR IT BY DOING BOTH KYLE’S AND A DETAILED KIT

Two other requests-

Could I please request how the Evans would react to their best friend (reader) admitting they're in love with them?

Heyo! I’m not sure how this would go but how would the Evan’s react to a nervous/insecure reader confessing to them?

-I hope this is satisfactory, even though I don’t think it’s what you two wanted<3

Enjoy! :)

Tate

-Would always just be interested in you

-Wanting to help you, watch you, talk to you, just constantly be around you

-But he’d also be insecure whether he was annoying you, so occasionally he would make himself invisible and just watch you

-Whatever hobbies you had, he’d love to watch you do them, paint, draw, write, play games

-If you played any instrument he would love to lay on your bed and listen to you, no matter how good or bad you were

-He would leave little sweet messages on the chalkboard and leave little post-it notes for you to find

-They would have fun little facts about birds or other trivial stuff but you would find them cute

-The occasional fact about something romantic, like ‘Every time you kiss somebody, your heart beat increases by 10-15 beats per minute’

-He might go a little far and leave a message like ‘Your dress looked pretty’, which you would find creepy since you didn’t know Tate was a ghost

Kit

-He thought of ways to tell you how he felt but because it seemed like your family was gonna live in the murder house for a while, cause you were all settling in well, he didn’t want to risk losing his friendship with you, since you were the only ghost with whom he really got along

-You walked down to the basement and said his name in a sing song voice, “Tateeeee”, “Come out come out wherever you are!”

-He showed up and you asked him if he wanted to go out on a real date

-He was obviously nervous, because you didn’t know yet that he was a ghost, but when he hesitated and you looked upset, he said yes right away

-You ran up and hugged him and kissed him on the cheek, making him blush and laugh, and whilst you were at school, he got some things ready and got candles and a table cover so make your kitchen look like a restaurant

-He ordered McDonalds delivery and got your chicken nuggets under a serving platter for effect

- “We are dining on, nuggets of the chicken”

-Although you were a little disappointed and wanted to go out on a real date with him, you found his effort cute

-He definitely played footsie with you under the table the whole date

-Definitely walked you to your room

- “Well… this is me…”

- “Just wanted to make sure you got home safe”

-Kissed you

oh my god I got so carried away

-You would first meet Kit when you first come and move to Massachusetts

-One day you want to venture out and get an taxi to go to town, only a few minutes later to realise you don’t have your wallet

-You awkwardly tell the driver that if takes you back home quickly, you can get money and you will pay him right away

-But since Boston men aren’t usually so sweet, he just kicks you out, leaving you to wander the motorway alone late at night, far away from your home and hoping to quickly find somewhere to go

-Eventually you stumble upon a gas station, and as you walk up, a hand appearing on your shoulder makes you automatically turn around and push whoever touched you to the ground

-The man in blue uniform gets up slowly with his hands up defensively, “Hey hey, didn’t mean to startle ya, miss”

-You apologise, feeling stupid for this kind of encounter, but he doesn’t seem to mind as much as you’d think

- “It’s always nice to see a woman able to protect herself”, he smiles

-He offers to drive you home, and you thank him dearly, explaining to him that you don’t have a car yet, having only just moved here

-He offers to take you to buy one, knowing an awful lot about cars, and to convince you further, tells you that any man working in a car salon will try to sell a single lady a piece of junk for a high price

-You agree, thinking that the offer is sweet, and he takes you to buy yourself a car, to make the date even more fun, Kit tells you to pretend you’re an old married couple

- “Miss Walka over here needs a car, good Sir”

-At some point while looking at cars, Kit holds your hand and you don’t even notice

-He negotiates a good deal with the salesman, and you get a car together

- “Your husband just got you an awfully good deal, Madam, he’s a man who deserves a good meal and a cold beer if I’ve ever seen one”, the salesman laughs, signing the last of the papers before handing Kit the keys to your car. “Oh, he’ll get more than that”, you say to tease Kit, before smiling at him sweetly. Kit blinks at you, before turning back to the salesman and shaking his hand. As the two of you walk away, Kit looks at you in disbelief, the thought of your dirty words clearly plastered in his mind. “Did ya mean what you said back there?”. He says, as he opens the car door for you. “Whatever do you mean?”, you act stupid. “I was just pretending to be your wife, Mr Walka”

-When he has a crush on you, he gives you sooo many compliments

-Little dirty innuendos

-Would definitely call you and talk to you late night on the phone until one of you fell asleep (house phone if they had them)

-He’s the kind of person to tell you that he got a visit from a cute dog earlier at the gas station and it made him think of you

Kyle

-Every time you go to get gas from Kit, he gives you only a little amount, so you have a reason to keep coming back

-One time when you go get gas from him, you forget your wallet again, and he teases you about it

-He lets you off and pays for your gas

- “I owe you, Mr Walka”

- “How about a date?”

-You smile at how confident he is, and nod excitedly, having been waiting for him to ask you for a while now

-Kit winks at you and waves as you drive off, completely melted inside about finally getting his girl

-Even though he’s always confident, he’s still a little shy and awkward around you when he sees you in class

-If all of his friends are in a class messing around, throwing stuff, being loud, and you walk it, he tells everybody to shut up because there’s a lady present

- “Hey careful, make sure you don’t throw it at her”

-It’s not until he sees you at a huge party, that he’s confident enough to go up to you

-Even though he’s more than happy to flirt, he’s just not confident enough to do that last step and ask you out somewhere

-He’ll bring you a drink and talk and flirt with you, and you’ll definitely get the hint

-He slowly lifts his arm up and stretches it over you, trying to do the classic yawn move, hoping you won’t notice or mind. You look over at him and narrow your eyes in fake suspicion.

- “Didn’t you come here with a movie star? Surely you get handsome men bringing you drinks all the time?”, he says, motioning to the drink in your hand.

“You calling yourself handsome?”, you tease him. Kyle laughs a breathy awkward laugh and nods. “Well yeah”

-When you do ask him for a date, he insists that he take the initiative to plan what you two do

-Clearly wanting to make a good first impression, he’d take you somewhere interesting

-Aquarium, in which he’ll make up clearly fake facts about the fish just to make you laugh

-Bowling, just so he can tease you about how much you suck

-Mini golf, so, even though you know how to play, he can wrap his arms around you and help you put

-And if he does take you to the movies, you aren’t spending a dime

-He’ll also wrap his arm around you not-so subtly

Franken Kyle

“Whatcha doin there, hm?”. Kyle leans into your ear and whispers.

“Just in case you get scared, you can cuddle up to me”

“Kyle we’re watching the Lego movie”

Jimmy

-You’re a witch at the academy, and with Kyle’s very slow progress to getting better, both Zoe and Madison are getting slightly tired of having to constantly take care of him

-But you don’t mind, finding his Frankenstein state cute

-Whenever he stumbles into the kitchen by himself you always help him make food

-If he’s ever struggling with anything, he usually comes to you, knowing you’re the most patient out of them all

-Then, one night, all the teens in the academy go to a party, while you lay in bed

-But when the rain starts to get really heavy and the first thunder growls, Kyle rushes into your room, before slowly knowing and peaking his head out, clearly scared

-You let him come and lay with you, rubbing his back to calm him down

-Although no real words are spoken, it’s from that moment that you decide to take on all responsibilities relating to Kyle, the good and the bad

-He’s admired you from afar for a very long time, ever since the first time you joined the circus

-You were incredibly flexible, and always showing off to everyone and practicing on stage

-He would always come and watch you practice, cheering you on more than anybody else

-You called Jimmy ‘my cheerleader’

-It made him blush every time

-Amazon Eve always told him to just ask you for dinner, but the only thing that stopped him was the thought that you wouldn’t want to go out and be seen with a freak like him, especially since your body looked so normal that you didn’t have to hide anything

-Eve and Paul reminded Jimmy that it’s him who’s always the most confident in going out into the real world, and he mustn’t be scared

-When they all plan to go to a diner together, as a protest to being shunned from society, you find his leadership charming and happily go with them

-Even though you all get kicked out, you calm Jimmy down and take care of him when his dad beats him up

James

-You wipe the scars on his face and tell him how brave you think he is

- Trying to gain confidence, you take a deep breath before making the move. “Maybe the two of us should go to that diner”. Jimmy looks up at you, as if he expects you to keep talking. When the nerves hit you all at once, you begin rambling. “You know cause if the two of us go and they’re okay with that then maybe we can start going with the others one by one, and then you know we’ll ease our way back into society and stuff”. You laugh a breathy laugh, but Jimmy says nothing. With every silent second passing, your heart begins to break. But luckily for you, Jimmy speaks up. “Wait, are you asking me out? Like… on a date? To the diner?”. “What if I were?”, you quietly reply. He smiles wide and pulls you closer to him, “I’d love that”.

-James is definitely the least subtle

-Constantly giving you compliments, kisses and gifts

-Opening every door for you and listening very carefully to everything you say

-He doesn’t want you to even think about another man, so he overwhelms you with every way he can show you he likes you

-I can imagine him organising a big ball or event at the hotel just so the two of you can dress up and go together

-He is also the most confident out of them all, although he is a softie around you, he has no trouble asking you anything he wants to you

-He’ll kiss your hand a lot and you’ll eventually get the hint

Kai

- “I would be most delighted if we were to make our relationship more official, and vow fully loyalty to one another”

-You agree and he is over the moon

-Once the two of you are in a relationship, the compliments, kisses and gifts don’t stop

-He will give you your space without him, but when the two of you are in the same room together, he treats your precious time together as if it’s sacred

-He will approximately 43 seconds into your relationship begin planning how he’s gonna kill you

-You can tell Kai likes you when he’s harsher on you than he is on other members of the cult

-He’ll be pissed at you for being a distraction for him

-He’ll definitely tell you when he’s impressed with you, when you murdered somebody or helped him plan something

-Even though he definitely would not want it

-If you proved to be smarter than him in any aspect, he’d be furious

-You’d be sat on his sofa while he’s talking to you about having to kill Sally because she’s getting in the way of him winning city council

- “Samuels looked at where she lives, and it has no back doors, no nothing, it’ll be impossible to get in her house without smashing windows and causing attention”

“Why don’t you get Ally to go to her first? If Meadow convinces her to go to Sally to talk about the cult, then the front door will be open”. Kai looks at you with angry eyebrows. “We’ll sit in the car and wait for a few seconds, she’ll let Ally in, won’t lock the door straight after her, and then let them talk for a minute before we just walk right in”

-His ego won’t let him take suggestions from somebody below him, so even though he wants to be proud of you for being smart, he’s mad

-He’ll sit for hooours trying to think of any other solution he physically can think of, to not go with what you suggested

-Around the cult, he’d treat you like everybody else though

- “Y/N’s idea was brilliant, Ally just walked in and they walked straight to sit down, she didn’t lock the door”

-He’d praise you to encourage you to think of ideas, which he would later be mad that you have

━━━━━━♡♤♡━━━━━━

-You’d find out how he felt about you during pinky power

-After being suspicious that he may have feelings for you for a while, you realised this is the only way to truly find out how he feels without him trying to manipulate you

-He’d ask you about something deep, and you’d latch on after he finishes a sentence to ask him your question

- “I have a question for you”

“Go ahead”

“How do you feel about me?”

Kai stays silent and continues to look you in the eye, taken aback by the question but not wanting to show it.

“When you’re with me, how do you feel?”

“I think you have real potential, you’re strong-”

“I’m not asking the Divine Ruler, I’m asking Kai, Kai Anderson”

He takes a deep breath before unintentionally breaking eye contact for a few seconds to think. You wait anxiously for the answer, and with every second passing you know what it will be.

“You’re special”, he starts, looking you in the eye again. “You’re valuable to the group, and to me. And I think you’d be a great… mother”. The last catches you off guard, not expecting Kai to be a family man or to think about this with you.

“You… you want me to… have your children?”

“I think our children would be indestructible, strong, powerful, decisive. They would be the seed of the better future”. Although it was a little forward for somebody you’ve never even kissed, you were beyond flattered, knowing how specific Kai is with traits in people.

“Let’s make a baby”, Kai says.

“Whoa whoa”, you laugh and unlink your pinky with his. “We’re not even dating, Kai”

“Why date if children is the ultimate purpose?”

“Then don’t look at is as dating… look at it… as getting to know the mother of your future children”

-Kai would love this and you’d soon end up dating

-And have like 6 kids

@milly-louise @amourtentiaa @kitwalker02 @tatestripedsweater @therenlover @maria-akira @tatesimper @thxc0untessesgl0ve @mossybank @ahsxual @mxlti-fand0m-imaginess @mrs-march-ahs-biggest-fan @kitwalkerangel @kitisagoldenretrieverboy @darlingkitt @blackbat2020@elaineygrace @kaiandersonskoolaid @undeadcortez @whiiiiplaaaaash

As usual, if you wanted to be added or taken away, dm me or comment!! I won’t mind! <3

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wkemeup · 3 years

Text

Sunrise (8)

summary: After an explosion takes his arm and his only sense of belonging, Bucky is content to live out the rest of his days in the hollow comfort of the dark. This is, until Sam drags him down to the local VA and he meets you. (Modern AU) pairings: bucky x reader chapter word count: 5.3k warnings: sweet happy beautiful bucky, a unpleasant reminder of the past, whiplash of emotion, the angst I warned you about 🧡 series masterlist / series playlist

Bucky wasn’t quite sure how to hold onto this feeling without suffocating it.

It had been nearly a year since he’d felt even an ounce of the relief like what washed through his body when you walked through the door. All it took was a single smile from across the room, the soft brush of your hair over your fingers as you nervously tucked it behind your ear, and he was gone.

Enough for his cheeks to ache from smiling. Enough for his stomach to twist and knot from laughter. Enough for the wrinkles by his eyes to draw long and pronounced— the physical embodiment of joy upon his face.

He wasn’t walking on eggshells, waiting for the carpet to be dragged out from under his feet, for the paralyzing darkness of an empty void to consume him whole. The shadows weren’t lingering in his wake, itching to clench their claws into his spine and drag him away from the one thing that finally drew light back into his life.

For the first time since he stepped back on American soil, Bucky Barnes was happy. Truly and honest to God, happy.

“So! What do you think?” your voice called to him, breaking the trance he’d been in.

“Hmm?” Bucky blinked a few times to adjust to his surroundings. You were laughing at him, a hand over your lips in an effort to muffle the sound. Behind you, a woman directed a pointed stare in your direction despite the busy chatter inside Luciana’s.

“The book, Bucky,” you grinned, tapping on the edge of the binding.

He glanced down. The Invisible Life of Addie LaRue sat propped in his right hand, the clip you’d given him the first day of book club nestled in at the center to keep the pages open. Truthfully, he hadn’t read a single word of it since he sat down with you an hour ago. His attention had been better kept watching how you tugged your lower lip between your teeth in concentration, how your eyes widened at a particularly suspenseful part of your chapter, how you clicked your nails against the coffee mug in perfect rhythm with the café music.

“It’s good,” he said, though you pouted at him.

“Bucky you’ve been on the same page for twenty minutes!”

Busted. He shrugged, a laugh in his breath.

“Guess there were better things to look at.”

Your lips parted for a second, caught off guard, before you settled back into your seat. Your hands wrung out in front of you, eyes darting down the floor. It wasn’t easy to make you flustered, but damn if it was Bucky’s favorite feeling in the world.

“Don’t insult my books like that, Barnes,” you teased, lingering smile upon your face.

“Wouldn’t call it an insult,” he said simply. “There’s not much that can hold a candle when you’re around.”

The stun didn’t leave your face for a few seconds. You stared at him, then glanced around the room nervously as if he’d said something incredibly intimate. He couldn’t remember the last time this came so easy to him – the flirting, the charm. It was something he’d thrived on before the war and now, it seemed you brought that side out of him again.

“You’re a charmer today,” you observed, laughing through the nervous energy. “What’s gotten into you?”

“Nothing.” Bucky shrugged, reaching across the table to break off a piece of your pastry and plopped it into his mouth. “I’m happy. Can I be happy?”

You nodded quickly, almost a little too enthusiastically, with a smile so wide on your face he wondered if it were possible for it to touch your ears.

“Yeah. Yeah, you can be happy.” The words left your lips almost breathlessly. You were looking at him like he was the goddamn sun and damn if that didn’t tug straight at his heart. “I like you happy.”

“I like me happy, too,” Bucky chuckled. He glanced up at the clock. “Come on, we should head over to the VA.”

You downed the rest of your coffee in a single chug and set the cup on the counter. Luciana waved at you as you moved towards the exit, Bucky in tow, and she winked at him as he passed by. He nodded, offering her a tight-lipped smile as he stepped out into the cool Autumn air. Your hand naturally slipped into his and you tugged him along the sidewalk.

“Promise me you’ll actually pay attention to Steve’s spiel instead of staring at me the whole time,” you teased him as you walked over the crosswalk, nudging his side.

Steve was giving a presentation at the VA for the open house; explaining the benefits, the groups, different opportunities, and the respite rooms. It was a big deal apparently and helped to bring a lot of former soldiers into the fold. It was one of your favorite days because there was usually an increase of members at book club for a few weeks after.

“No guarantees,” Bucky replied, face as even as he could manage it. That was, until you swatted his chest and he burst into laughter, drawing the attention of a group of teenagers who eyed him as they walked by. Their lingering stare meant nothing to him when he stood at your side.

When you reached the VA, you pushed open the door, considering his hand was otherwise occupied, and led him inside. There were dozens of people in the lobby, certainly more than he’d ever seen inside. Men and women were mingling around the tables, some sitting on the couches, with paper plates of cheese and crackers from the grocery store.

Tony stumbled by carrying about four boxes filled with cookies, barely keeping his balance.

“I could use a little help, kid!” he called, eyeing you as he frantically made his way to the kitchen.

“Coming, Tony!” You turned to Bucky, smile still present on your face as you ran a hand along his arm in comforting sweeps. “Will you be alright?”

“Yeah, I’m good. Go.”

Maybe if he looked close enough, he might have seen a well of pride on your face, but you didn’t give him the chance before you leaned up and pressed a kiss straight to his lips— no cares for the crowd in the room or the fact that Sam and Steve were lingering around the VA somewhere. Bucky couldn’t find it in himself to worry about the stares because, hell, maybe he wanted people to know you were the woman he had the privilege of kissing.

“Go,” Bucky said again, pulling away from you reluctantly as a clanging could be heard from the kitchen, followed by an aggravated moan which could have only belonged to Tony Stark. You pouted, stealing one last kiss before bolting down the hall and out of sight.

Bucky spent a few extra seconds staring down the end of the empty hallway before he turned back to the room. The crowd didn’t bother him as much as it might have a few months earlier. He didn’t feel the same rush of anxiety in his veins as he felt on busy streets, but it didn’t mean he was explicitly comfortable either.

So, he kept to the outskirts of the room, standing along the wall and observing quietly from the corners.

The event seemed to be going well. He’d spotted Steve mingling with a group of older guys with long white beards and biker jackets, laughing as they told him about their adventures biking cross country. Sam found his way over to the couch beside a few of the guests who had busied themselves with the food instead and even found a way to get them talking to one another. Bucky kept his hand pressed into his pocket, a semblance of a smile on his face as he watched Sam pick a chip of the plate of the woman he was talking to without reservation.

It was a good place. A respite. Just like Sam had told him it would be. Bucky found a sense of normalcy in this building he couldn’t have hoped to find out in the real world alone— a belonging – and he knew a lot of that had to do with you.

He was just about to head down to the kitchen to see if you needed any help when he heard a voice that ran like ice through his veins. What it had said was indistinguishable, but Bucky could recognize the thick grovel of the tone almost anywhere. Slowly, he glanced over his shoulder, trying to remain as small as possible, as he spotted Jack Rollins emerging from the entrance.

With slicked jet-black hair, hardened angular lines upon his face, and a permanent scowl etching down on his features, Jack Rollins was not a man Bucky ever wanted to see again. He spoke with the two men in his wake, gesturing to a woman who was standing quietly by herself, reading the flyers on the bulletin board, as if he were stalking prey.

Bucky’s heart was thunderous as he took a step back. His black slammed against the wall, catching the breath in his lungs. His fingertips brushed over the chill of the pealing wallpaper, trying to find his grounding before Rollins noticed he was there. But luck was never so kind to him.

It only took one scan of the room before Rollin’s eyes landed on Bucky. He stilled, just as surprised to see him, but then, something dark twisted upon his features.

“Sergeant Barnes!” he called over the crowd, a jeering sort of laugh in his voice.

Bucky gritted his teeth, forcing himself to meet Rollins in the eye. “Jack.”

“Been over a year, man. How you been?” Rollins was conversational only in statement. His tone was near threatening, his men following behind him like a shadow. Dark eyes trailed down along the empty sleeve on Bucky’s side, a smile rising on his face.

Bucky tried to pretend as though he didn’t notice. “Recovering. You?”

“Yeah, I bet you are.” Rollins chuckled. Then, he puffed his chest up. “I’ve been working for the private sector.”

That didn’t surprise him. Rollins always had an affinity for the darkest parts of the job overseas. He took too much pleasure in the use of his weapon, paid no mind to the destruction left behind in his wake. Rollins was exactly the sort of man the military hoped to produce; follow chain of command without question, find purpose in your mission, execute without remorse. Seemed he found more of the same when he returned home. Only this time for a bigger paycheck.

Bucky could still picture him dressed in army camouflage with the weight of near forty pounds of combat gear on his back, finger always on the trigger. It felt a bit like that now, Bucky realized, as Rollins narrowed his eyes as if he were going in for the kill.

“You know, Barnes,” Rollins shrugged, exchanging a snide grin with his friends, “I’m a little surprised you’d even show your face around here after what happened. Takes guts.”

Bucky swallowed as though there weren’t blades in his throat. He tried not to let the hitch in his breath show or how his stomach dropped about ten feet below the surface. Instead, he pressed his lips together into a thin line, holding Rollins’ stare as if he were made of stone.

“You should leave,” Bucky said, his voice low enough to break gravel.

“Me?” Rollins mocked, laughing as he turned to his friends. Then, facing Bucky again as a darkness clouded over his features. “That's rich, coming from you.”

Bucky held his breath. He tried to draw on images of you sitting across from him at Luciana’s, how you smiled at him, how you made him feel like he didn’t carry such a heavy weight upon his back. He pictured you curled up next to him in your bed, imprints of the pillow on your cheeks and the covers pulled up tight to your chin. He imagined how your hand felt in his, how it brushed along his back, how your lips felt on his cheek, on his mouth.

But those pictures started to fade the longer Rollins stared at him, that devilish smirk upon his face as he ran a hand along his jawline, cracking his knuckles against the bone. Those comforting images of you sunk into the darkness, pulled from him somewhere far beyond where he could reach and suddenly, he felt like he was standing on a pillar at the center of the ocean, nothing but violent waves surrounding him for miles. Alone.

“I mean, what the fuck are you doing here, Barnes?” Rollins jeered, picking up a cookie from the table, inspecting it for a moment before he tossed it back on the platter. It crumbled on impact. “You think you even deserve to step foot in this building after what you did?”

“It didn’t go down like you think,” Bucky shot back, his voice uneven, wavering, as if he didn’t quite believe it himself.

He tried to repeat the words that Sam had worked to instill in him again and again for months after he came home. They never seemed to stick until the last few weeks but now – now they felt as far away as ever.

I did everything I could.

Some things are outside of my control.

It wasn’t my fault.

He wasn’t sure he believed that with Jack Rollins circling around him like a vulture, amused by the distress quickly forming against Bucky’s features.

From across the room, Sam stood up from his place on the couch, a hand gesturing over to Steve as he caught sight of Rollins. Bucky retreated in his stance, feeling as though Rollins was towering over him, his chest caving in. Rollin smirked, teeth bared and ready to strike.

With venom like precision, Rollins spat, “You’re the reason half our unit is dead, asshole.”

It hit like a sucker punch to the gut, made him stumbled back a few paces as if he were clocked in the chest. The initial blow only lasted for a few seconds before the overwhelming sense of shame seeped back into his veins, slipping through his blood like muddied waters and stealing away the careful, steady progress he’d made.

Then, a lingering acceptance as it cleared him to the surface.

A numbness took over, casting back to the shadows inside his mind. It was what he’d been waiting for since the day he’d stepped foot off that plane – for someone to confirm all the destruction and self-loathing he’d felt since that day.

Rollins was right.

I could have saved them.

I could have prevented all of it.

It was my fault.

He’d been foolish to convince himself otherwise.

“Hey!” Sam barked, jutting out in front of Bucky and shoving a hand to the middle of Rollin’s chest as he attempted to draw closer. “What the fuck is your problem, man?”

“My problem? My problem is you’re letting just about anyone walk through those doors!” Rollins shouted, pointing an accusatory finger at Bucky. “Your buddy here is responsible for eight of our own coming home in caskets!”

Bucky flinched, visibly recoiling as if something had burned him, and it seemed to be the reaction Rollins was looking for because a snide grin slid up along his cheeks.

Steve was suddenly on his left, a hand pressed to his shoulder. He was whispering something in his ear, but he couldn’t quite hear him. He could hardly make out what Sam was shouting as he attempted to push Rollins towards the door. A crowd was gathering – standing in watch to observe the shame of a soldier who should have burned in the desert with his friends.

“What’s going on?”

Bucky’s heart dropped at the sound of your voice as you appeared on his right. He didn’t know how long you’d been there or what you heard, but it was the first time he ever regretted allowing himself the luxury of your presence, of your warmth and kindness. You should have been an anchor beside him, but he could feel the rope slipping from his grip, letting him sink down into the ocean or float high into the clouds – somewhere far away from where you were.

You ran your hand along his arm, trying to thread an ounce of comfort back into his body, but he was rigid as stone. The touch was paralyzing. It was a reminder of his emptiness, of his ill attempt to be worthy of your affection. You seemed to notice as you stared up at him, worry filling your eyes.

“Ah, so you’ve got a girl now, too?” Rollins sneered towards Bucky, shoving Sam aside.

“Leave her out of this,” Bucky warned, his voice returning to him only in your defense. He stepped out in front of you, shielding you from Rollins’ gaze.

It only seemed to amuse him more. “Tell me, sweetheart. What’s it like? I mean, can he even get the job done? You wanna try being with a real man again?”

It was Sam that roared in response. “Watch your fucking mouth!”

Your hand rested on Bucky’s shoulder blades as if you were trying to ease him but he felt like he was on fire. Rollins shoved Sam aside to get a better look at you, a predator going in for the kill.

Rollins’ cold eyes stared directly into yours and Bucky felt his breathing stop.

“Did you know half of our unit died under his watch?”

Everything became white noise after that. Bucky didn’t dare turn to look at your reaction, nor could he hear Sam’s defense or Steve’s angry shouts as Rollins continued his taunts. He didn’t know how it happened, but suddenly, Rollins was on the floor. Sam was shaking his hand out, holding his fist against his chest.

Rollins stumbled his way back to his feet with a vengeance, folding his hands into fists as he charged at Sam.

“Get him out of here!” Steve’s muffled voice called to you as the crowd began to swarm in. Former soldiers joining the chaos, cheering or barreling fists. A man bumped into Bucky’s shoulder, but there was no trace of a reaction on his face. He was empty. He was numb.

Bucky could vaguely feel your hand as you slipped it into his pocket, drawing his own to intertwine between your fingers and you tugged him down the hall. He knew better than to look over his shoulder at the mess he was leaving behind.

***

You took Bucky into the empty library, quickly closing the door behind you to muffle the sound of the shouting down the hall. Bucky stood at the head of the couch, his eyes downcast.

“Are you alright?” You knew there was no good answer. It was a foolish question. And still -- you asked.

Your hands slid along Bucky’s chest, up to his shoulders to try and draw some of the tension away, and for the first time, he recoiled under your touch. Your hands quickly dropped down to your sides as you took a few steps back, hands held tightly in front of you. A flash of remorse covered his features as he looked at you, but then the stone swept back in its place and hardened the softened edges you adored. You pushed aside the splinter inside your chest.

“Who was that guy anyway? He seems like a real piece of work.” You laughed, though it was tense and forced. Bucky didn’t so much as crack a smile.

It was silent for a moment. The only sound coming from the low hum of the radiator in the corner of the room. Bucky’s gaze was fixated on the carpet, staring at the years’ faded stains and the dust bunnies at the foot of the couch. A terrible aching tugging down on his lips, on his eyes, on his cheeks, and he barely resembled the man who had teased you over coffee at Luciana’s just an hour earlier.

“He was right, though.”

You swallowed, daring to ask, “what do you mean?”

“I'm the reason half my unit is dead,” Bucky replied flatly. When he looked at you again, you found his eyes were red, his lips swollen from chewing on the edges. His right hand had indents in his palm from where he’d dug his nails into the skin. Your stomach lurched.

“Oh, Bucky.” Your heart broke at the sight of him. “That... That can’t be true.”

He didn’t say anything, but the grit in his teeth was enough to tell you that he believed it. You’d only seen glimpses of how the war had touched him, how it cast shadows over the man he’d been before he stepped on that plane and adorned the uniform, but now – now, it felt like those shadows had consumed him whole. He couldn’t so much as see the soft rise of the sun over his shoulder. He was too swept up in the embrace of darkness. The light couldn’t touch him where he stood shielded by night.

“Why don’t we go to my place?” you offered, inching a step closer. When he didn’t retreat, you gathered his hand into your own. While he didn’t pull away again, you could feel the reluctance in his grip, the rigidity in his stance. “I can make dinner and we'll throw on a movie, okay? Let’s just get out of here.”

Your right hand slid along the side of his face, cupping at his cheek. He usually leaned into the touch, pressed a kiss to the inside of your palm. Instead, the most he could force out was a tight-lipped smile that did not touch his eyes. You could practically feel how hard he was clenching his jaw, the muscle tired and aching. Still, he nodded.

As you led him out the back exit of the VA, you glanced behind you to see Rollins sitting on the floor, nursing a bloody nose as a police officer stood over him, jotting down notes as he spoke with Steve. Sam caught your eye for a second, nodding in your direction. A relief washed through you and you tugged Bucky outside before anyone could notice him slip out.

It was silent the whole walk to your apartment. It wasn’t entirely unusual, but it was the first time the air carried a lingering sense of discomfort in it. You wondered what was going on in Bucky’s head, how badly he’d construed whatever Rollins had said to him, even before you arrived. Sam had told you of Bucky’s self-destructive habit of carrying guilt far heavier than he could carry, guilt that didn’t belong to him. He seemed to welcome it like it was made for him. He didn’t mind if it ripped him apart and left him broken and empty when it was done. He seemed to think it was what he deserved.

You squeezed his hand, hoping it might draw back a sense of comfort, but he kept his eyes forward on the empty streets ahead. His hand was little more than limp in your hold.

***

Bucky was just on the edge of sleep when it began to creep up on him. Slow at first, and then, sudden, in violent flashes.

Sweltering heat. The low rumble of a jeep. An infectious laugh on his left and the cold compress of a gun in his hands. A sudden stop.

Bucky gritted his teeth, trying to turn away from the images attempting to draw him under, to sweep him beyond the current, to drown him in the darkest parts of the depth. But the riptide caught hold of his leg and forced him underwater.

Heavy equipment on his back. Sand under his feet. The sun blinding in his eyes.

He swallowed, but his throat was lined in rust. It burned. He couldn’t breathe.

A reflection over a valley. Someone shouting. Screaming. Warning. Frantic.

The kid. Get to the kid!

Then – the heat of a fire scorching his skin. Ringing in his ears. Muffled. Agonizing silence. Blood on the sand, on his shoes, dripping down his side and soaking into his uniform.

Pain. So much pain. So much pain. So much—

Bucky’s eyes shot open. He sucked in a breath of air and it came in short and shallow, barely filling his lungs, and he was panting for more. He swung his legs over the side of the bed, gasping for breath until he took enough in that the dizziness started to subside. His forehead was lined in sweat, his right hand shaking uncontrollably as he gripped at the sheets.

It was as mild as it’s ever been – the nightmares. Usually, he woke up screaming, his voice so raw it ached until morning. He thrashed and kicked and drew blood until something finally jarred him awake. He’d broken the lamp beside his bed four times in the weeks after he came home. It was violent and messy, and it was a damn miracle he’d only felt a sliver of it tonight.

But it had been so long since he had one. He almost thought they had finally released him from their hold before Rollins showed up. For a while, they let him be happy. He should have known better than to expect it to last.

The mattress dipped slightly behind him and with a sharp hilt, Bucky suddenly remembered where he was.

He turned over his shoulder to find you laying on the bed beside him, hair cast up and around you against the pillow, eyes closed, the steady rhythm of your breaths indicating you were still fast asleep. He stilled for a moment, watching the gentle rise and fall of your chest, the light scrunch in your nose.

You’d tried so hard to get him to smile the whole evening after what happened at the VA. Constant touches to his cheeks, along his arm, playing absentmindedly with his hand. You made him dinner and curled up against him as you put on a movie that you were certain would turn his mood around, but he remained stoic and cold until you finally resigned to the bedroom.

He could tell how exhausted you were. Even reaching for his hand, there was a helplessness in your grasp, but you’d begged him to stay, insisting you didn’t want him to be alone after what happened at the VA. You held him tight to your chest, told him over and over again that you didn’t care what Rollins said, you knew he was a good man and that was all that mattered.

Bucky wanted so badly to believe that.

But here you were – so beautiful, a light, something good in his life he didn’t deserve.

Sam would kill him for giving into those thoughts again, but all he had in his head was violence and agony and there you were – so peaceful and soft and kind. He'd taint you with all the mess threatening to break through his seams. He’d hurt you. He'd break you. You couldn’t hold him together no matter how hard you tried. He didn’t deserve such kindness. Today reminded him of that.

Bucky leaned in and pressed a short kiss to your temple. It was feather light and still, you sighed in your sleep. He tried not to notice when the corners of your lips curved up into a smile.

Then, he crept out of the room, stealing one last look at you as you turned onto your side, arms crossed over your chest protectively. Something tugged inside his chest, begging him to stay. He could feel it pushing him back toward the bed, to your embrace and the comfort it brought, but he turned his back. He ignored his every instinct to return to your side and dragged his feet of the bedroom instead.

Despite his reluctance, he found himself lingering on the photograph in your hallway of the Air Force pilot; sandy blonde hair, a tight-lipped smile, features that made him look younger than he probably was. A pang of jealousy wretched into his stomach at the sight of this nameless man. Shame quickly followed.

You never spoke of the man in the photo – the nameless Air Force pilot who stood at your side in front of your parents. The way you pressed out a smile despite your tears, the position of your stance angled closer to the pilot as if to preserve your last remaining moments together, made Bucky question what had happened to this man. This was clearly a man you had loved. Might still love.

Bucky didn’t dare allow himself to wonder if he had ever measured up. He supposed now he would not get the chance.

Bucky let out a sigh as he turned away from the picture. He made it all the way to the door before he heard the squeak of the floor boards behind him.

“Bucky?”

Sleep was still etched in your voice. You yawned as you folded your arms, squinting at him to adjust to the dim light in the kitchen. Bucky clenched his jaw, reluctantly turning to face you.

“It’s the middle of the night,” you said, eyes flickering to the clock above the stove. It was then you must have noticed the jacket draped over his shoulders, boots on his feet, hand begrudgingly releasing the door knob. Your face fell. “Where are you going?”

He didn’t know what to say. Was there an easy way to break your heart? Was there any excuse that could allow both of you to walk away from this unharmed? There was no good answer, but his silence certainly was worse.

“Bucky?” you tried again and he could hear the inflection of concern etched into your tone. You took a step closer to him and he held himself firm. He was stone now. It was what he had to be.

“I’m sorry,” he muttered out, voice low, though he met your eye. “I can’t do this.”

If you were still half asleep a moment ago, you weren’t anymore. Your eyes widened, lips parting. Your arms fell down to your sides.

“What... What are you talking about?” you exhaled, barely above a whisper. He could hear the hurt in your voice, the confusion, and he hated himself for it. You stepped closer, reaching out for his hand. “Please, just come back to bed. You look like you haven't slept for—”

Bucky pulled his hand away the moment you touched his fingers. It forced a hitch in your breath, a step back. You hadn’t expected him to recoil from you like that. Two times in the same day. You were losing him, the realization clear in your eyes. He was slipping and he would not take the tether as you threw it to him.

“This is about what that man said at the VA, isn’t it?” you asked timidly, your lip quivering. You shook your head, trying to hold back tears though Bucky could practically hear the tension from the lump in your throat. “He was... he was just being cruel. I don’t believe a word of it. And neither does Sam or Steve – the people that love you, Bucky. Don’t give in into him. Don’t let him win.”

Bucky didn’t say anything, rendering his reaction colder than you deserved.

You reached out for him again, a habit, though you pulled your hand back to your chest before you could touch him. It was shaking.

“Honey, please,” you tried again, unwilling to give up on him like you should. “Come get some rest and maybe you’ll feel better in the morning. Just... don’t go. Don’t be alone with this.”

You were begging. He could hear it in your voice. The desperation. And still—Bucky offered you nothing in return.

He sank so far inside himself you couldn’t reach beyond the cliffside to offer your hand. All it took was a single push. He was already standing so close to the edge. Rollins had set a hand on his back, like an old friend, like an enemy, and shoved. Bucky didn’t even try to catch his fall.

“Whatever this is...” Bucky murmured and eyes focused down at the tile, unable to look at you as he broke your heart, “it’s over.”

His heart was splintering as he said it and still, he turned and left without another word. He didn’t wait for your response, didn’t wait to see whether his cruelty had ended in tears, and closed the door behind him. You didn’t attempt to follow.

You’d understand eventually, he convinced himself. Even a woman as compassionate and loving as you couldn't possibly love a man so broken, with jagged edges and open wounds, with shards of glass embedded inside him and poison in his touch. Empty and hollow. Broken.

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes

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lorei-writes · 2 years

Text

A Hundred Days and Nights

Kenshin x MC Gods AU

Written for: Song Event Request: @the12thnightproject Prompt: “Right On Time” by Brandi Carlile

Content Warnings: none*

* - no potentially triggering content was described in any greater detail. However, if any mention of (even fantasy) war upsets you, this is not a work for you.

Even gods can tire of fighting, streams of tears falling from the skies. Even gods can mourn – and even they can fear, regardless of their dominion or cause they bestowed with their divine attention. Wisdom, Justice, Earth or Clouds, it matters not, for even War fears when Peace is the beloved.

Kenshin was an unusual god, not quite fitted for his position – fearful and fearless all at once, ferocious in battle, anxious when faced with harmless charm. It nearly seemed that the stronger the enemy, the greater grew his might, thus rendering him completely helpless against foes whose weapons were anything but the many terrors of the conventional violence. Although soaked in blood, he was pristine, a halo appearing to crown the head of light hair. The slash of his blade was thunderous; his voice, however? It rumbled like a waterfall, soothing and low.

A contradiction, that perhaps was his true nature. Perhaps the split occurred sometime along the way, the path he had chosen never being the one he should have trodden. After all, is god born to his cause, or is it the cause that is taken by the god? The one made to rule could not be anything less but omnipotent, omniscient… And yet, at certain times, Kenshin was not any wiser than a mere human, not any more powerful than a child.

Rain poured from the sky in heavy streams, wind ripping the curtains of water apart. Whipped by the droplets, trees knelt their branches to the very ground, black clouds gathering to issue their judgment. Earth rumbled, hardened itself – or perhaps growled, unsettled by the hoofbeat resonating through it, lone rider cutting through the sea of grass at a break-neck pace, his form merely a mirage. Kenshin narrowed his eyes, wet robes sticking to his arms, his knuckles turning purple from cold… Yet he pushed forward, hand reaching towards the hilt of his sword. War does not look back, does not stop when the enemies are still nearby – so he slashed, an army of ghosts at his command, until the world quieted, and the sun re-emerged. Many a gods had fallen that night: one of the eight winds, who came to aid the creator of mountains; Flood Bearer and the Lord of Dispute, numerous lesser divinities having enlisted into his regiments. What imprudence… Although they did not expect Kenshin himself to be the adversary they’d have to fight.

The moon had risen and fallen by the time Kenshin neared his estate, a palace of gold, silver and paper growing tall at the edge of the horizon. A knot tying in his stomach, he hastened his horse, the white mare neighing in discontent – immortals do not rest. The animal broke into the gallop, mist rising over the fields and orchards around them, each square of land soon being enveloped in thick duvet of low clouds. Faces emerging all around, Kenshin focused his attention on the gate, his soldiers basking in the dimmed sun, fleeing to rest between trees and bushes, phantom armour sinking into the soft soil.

The courtyard welcomed him in silence, a myriad of streets stretching wide and far in front of him. His heart pounded, although the mare slowed down, its hooves drumming against the cobblestone. All was quiet, but peacefully so, content sighs and snores coming from the various households. The star had not yet bloomed fully, there was still time… Kenshin watched in mild shock, as he always did upon the return, familiarly unfamiliar path passing by his very own eyes, living quarters gradually thinning out on the behalf of orchards and bushes, the vivid copy of the outside of the wall.

The mare came to a halt, a woman standing in the field of flowers in front of them. Kenshin dismounted hurriedly, his body beginning to ache under his armour – and he dashed forward, through chamomile, rudbeckias, cornflowers and sage, fearless of nettle or thistle. The woman turned around, the skirt of her dress flaring as wind blew by. Her hands dropped the watering can, eyes widening as her lips smiled sheepishly. She opened her arms, the trim of her sleeves dyed by the soil – and he fell to his knees, forehead pressing into her abdomen as waves of relief washed over him, arms crossed behind her thighs to keep her close.

“Welcome back,” she whispered in gentle breeze, hand combing through his hair soothingly.

“You’re here,” he rasped, lifting his gaze up with upmost reluctance, for it meant letting her go.

“Silly, why wouldn’t I be? You’re right on time… But first, shed those robes.”

As if per her command, sun rose and fell a hundred times, chasing the stars over the playground of the sky, metal plates rusting until naught but dust remained. Kenshin blinked in awe as she extended her arm towards him, as if her lithe form could offer him any support. Nevertheless, he took it, his lips bestowing a kiss over her palm.

“I shouldn’t,” he forced out, regret rooted deep within his voice.

“You should.”

“I’ll soil you.”

“Impossible,” she snorted, dropping to his level,” for you are my beloved.”

Her arms crossing behind his neck, his eyes watered. Perhaps the path he had chosen was not as treacherous as it sometimes appeared. He returned the embrace, her fragility filling him with anxiety. What if he hurt her, broke her, on accident? He could never, he would never let it…

He was Kenshin – the Protector, the Defender.

Never the War itself.

#kenshin uesugi #ikesen kenshin #ikemen sengoku kenshin #ikesen #ikemen sengoku #ikemen series

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natashas-widows · 3 years

Text

101 fluffy prompts

send me your prompt and the person you want it to be with.

prompt credits to : @otppromptlists

001 "You're really soft."

002 "You smell nice."

003 "I'm here for my daily fix of hugs and kisses."

004 "Is it possible to love too much?"

005 "I don't wanna get up-- you're comfy."

006 "I will always be there protect you."

007 "I'm cold. Come closer."

008 "I love you a lot, but please stop trying to cook me dinner, you suck.”

009 "The stars look especially lovely tonight."

010 "I've never seen such gorgeous eyes before."

011 "May I have this dance?"

012 "I can't stop thinking about you."

013 "You'll never feel alone with me by your side."

014 "Let's get to know each other over dinner."

015 "All I want is you."

016 "I could never leave you, I love you too much!"

017 "A fairytale with a happy ending always brings a smile to my face."

018 "I want to hear you sing."

019 "I don't think anyone could ever be as lovely as you."

020 "You look incredible in that."

021 "He/She's quite stunning, isn't he/she?"

022 "Sometimes I just can't control myself when around you."

023 "Do you believe in love at first sight?"

024 "I think I'm in love."

025 "I’d like it if you stayed.

026 "People are jerks, but not you."

027 "I'll share the blankets with you."

028 "I have never felt this way about anyone."

029 "I want this to never end..."

030 "Can I kiss you?"

LIVING TOGETHER

031 "I waxed the floors, grab your fluffy socks."

032 "Who changed the thermostat settings? I’m freezing to death."

033 "Can we just watch a movie and fall asleep on the couch?"

034 "You can put your cold feet on me."

035 "Your stray red item turned my whites pink."

036 "A thunderstorm is rolling through town and you’re scared of lightening/thunder so I’ll protect you."

037 "There was a power outage and now we have to have dinner by candlelight."

038 "Rock Paper Scissors to see who has to go talk to the neighbors upstairs for being too loud."

039 "I just came home to you crying while watching a movie, please tell me what’s going on."

040 "Our AC is out and it’s the middle of the summer."

041 "You found me crying on the kitchen floor in the middle of the night surrounded by a shattered jelly jar."

042 "My parents are coming over in 10 minutes so please put some clothes on"

043 "We’re repainting the apartment and going to the hardware store together to pick out color swatches."

044 "IF YOU USE UP ALL THE HOT WATER ONE MORE TIME IM GOING TO BAN YOU TO THE COUCH FOR A MONTH."

045 "We’re watching Toy Story 3 and we can’t stop crying."

WEDDINGS/PROPOSALS

046 "I caught the bouquet"

047 "My ex just invited me to their wedding and I need you to be my date so it doesn’t look like I’ve spent the last few years failing to get over them."

048 "We accidentally got married in Vegas oops"

049 "I’m really drunk, please help me get safely out of the way so I don’t ruin our friend’s wedding."

050 "I planned out this super romantic proposal and you just ruined it by beating me to whole proposing thing."

051 "I wasn’t planning on asking you, but it appeared to me that life is short. Will you marry me? "

052 "If you shove cake in my face this will be the worst wedding night of your life."

053 "Do you take this man/woman to be your lawfully wedded husband/wife? "

054 "May I have this dance, wife/husband? "

055 "You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me. I’m so happy I can finally call you my wife/husband."

056 "I jokingly told you that the only way I’d marry you was if you did this weird outlandish thing, and you actually did it, and I’m kind of charmed."

057 "This is probably a bad time, but marry me?"

MARRIED LIFE

058 "We’ve become the clingy newlyweds you always complained about. "

059 "Your ‘miracle hangover cure’ couldn’t possibly beat mine."

060 "I know you haven’t had the best experience with dogs in the past but look at its face please please can we keep it?"

061 "I wanted to surprise you for our anniversary, but everything that could go wrong, did go wrong."

062 "I beat you at Mario Kart and now you're banishing me to the couch for the night?”

063 "I surprised you with tickets to see our favorite band… WHAT DO YOU MEAN YOU SURPRISED ME WITH TICKETS TO SEE THEM TOO?"

064 "I know we had a big fight but we still need to decorate the house for the holidays."

065 "Oh! Hey! Could you come and taste this to see if it's okay?"

066 "We’re arguing over book versus movie."

067 "I came home to a Nerf gun on the front porch and a note that says ‘Here is your weapon. I have one too. Loser cooks dinner. Good luck. xo’"

068 "We’ve been celebrating our wedding anniversary on the wrong day for the past nine years."

069 "You had a business trip and I missed you so much that I kind of tore up the house in your absence like a dog with separation anxiety… sorry?"

070 "We both have nowhere else to be so we get to spend our rare day off at home."

PREGNANCY

071 "I bet it’s a girl/boy."

072 "Do you think it’s possible that I…might be… pregnant? "

073 "I thought I was pregnant but the test must have been wrong. I’m not. "

074 "You’re lucky I’m pregnant!"

075 "Can you help me up, your child is pretty heavy."

076 "I could really use a foot rub right now."

077 "Your dad is really excited to meet you soon, it’s driving me crazy."

078 "Do you wanna know the sex of the baby?"

079 "The baby’s kicks are keeping me up at night."

080 "Did you feel that?"

081 "I can’t fit into my favorite dress anymore. "

082 "OH MY GOD I’M GOING INTO LABOR. WHAT DO WE DO NOW?!

083 "I can’t be pregnant… or….OH MY GOD! "

084 "I think you might be pregnant.”

085 "It’s 2 am but you’re craving cake and we’re both up anyway so let’s bake in our underwear."

PARENTING

086 "I knew it was a mistake to get the twins matching clothes."

087 "Sh…they’re asleep."

088 "I think someone had a little accident with the finger paint."

089 "Mondays are your diaper days."

090 "Our kid is totally the one who wanted to build a pillow fort, not me."

091 "Ooh…someone’s got a tummy ache."

092 "Are you sure you don’t want me to drop them off myself? I don’t think you could handle seeing them off alone."

093 "I told you we should have just gotten that German Shepherd puppy."

094 "What do you think for their punishment? Grounding? No video games? No going out for a week?"

095 "Mm…your kid before five in the morning."

096 "Come on now, I think you’re being too harsh. He/she’s just a kid. Remember all of the stupid things we used to do when we were their age?"

097 "So, how should we break the news that they’re going to have a new baby brother or sister?"

098 "I think we should have another."

099 "Why wasn’t I invited to your wedding?"

100 "Okay fine, one more story, but then you really have to go to bed."

101 "…They just grow up so fast."

#natasha romanoff series #chris evans x reader fluff #steve rogers fluff #steve rogers smut #marvel smut #yelena belova smut #chris evans headcanon #daddy!sebastian #mommy!natasha #mommy wanda #marvel fluff #wanda maximoff smut #bucky imagine #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes x reader

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