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ramp-it-up · 3 years

Text

...And Forever

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Enhanced!Reader; Bucky Barnes x Enhanced!Reader

AU: MCU A/U, after TFATWS

Warnings: 18+ Only, Minors DNI. SMUT! Read at your own risk. Alternate MCU facts/timeline, lies, cursing, angst, oral, (F, M receiving) fingering, spit play rank kink, size kink, unprotected sex (wrap it up!), sex on a pool table, semi-public sex, a special surprise, stalker-ish behavior, almost Dark!Steve? Not Beta’d. All errors my own.

A/N: I am an MCU nerd but not a timeline detail gal. Please forgive me if the timeline is off. This is an alternate universe and a work of fiction. Please have fun with it! This is the second part to Always. Enjoy!

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You opened your eyes to see that you were in what looked like a break room. There was a coffee machine, a round table with five chairs, a row of lockers, two Captain Americas, and a Winter Soldier.

There was some strange conversation going on.

“Then who gave me the shield at the lake…?”

Sam was questioning Steve, but he stopped talking when you started moving around. You must have still been in the wedding venue, because you saw the name of the historic building on various items in the room.

You scowled up at Sam, Bucky and Steve.

You moved to sit up and Steve was at your side. “Easy…”

“Sweetheart, are you okay?”

You squinted at Steve. His hair was shorter and he was clean shaven, but he was still gorgeous. Those blue eyes were full of concern.

You raised your hand, and he held it, holding it and caressing it as you raised it to his face.

“Is it really you?”

Steve smiled ruefully at you. “Yeah, it’s me.”

You held his cheek and looked at him, bringing your other hand up to the other side of his face. He smiled at you.

You grabbed him and hugged him hard, and then pulled back again as he held you in his arms. He moved back and pursed those ruby red lips.

You had this irresistible urge to...slap the shit out of him. And so you did.

The sound reverberated in the room. Steve just stared up at you, with that fucking beautiful face, and then smiled, rubbing his jaw as if it hurt.

But you knew it didn’t. And you were tired of the bullshit.

Sam and Bucky moved to calm you down, but you were too quick for them, pacing to the other side of the room.

“All of you can stay the hell away from me. Y’all have some fuckin nerve. Especially you, Steven.”

Your Houston accent was shining through with your anger.

“Wow, Sweetheart, that was harsh. But I wouldn’t expect anything less.”

You pointed at Steve.

“Fuck you.”

You were seething, especially when he raised his eyebrow at your comment. But he quickly fixed his face when he saw the rage on yours. You looked at Sam, who just looked down, and at Bucky, who looked like he was in pain.

Fuck thier feelings.

“I deserve your anger. I didn't tell…” Steve tried it.

“You don’t deserve a got damn thing. Not even my anger.”

Steve was stone faced at your vitriol. You were shaking, trying to control your emotions and not cry. You were so hot. You fought to keep your voice steady.

“I thought you were dead.” It came out as a ragged whisper. But you knew everyone heard you.

Your voice was low, even, and scary. Bucky looked at you with wide eyes. Your own were brimming with tears.

“I thought you were dead and that they didn’t want to tell me.”

You waved your hand at Bucky and Sam. And you waited until Steve looked you in the eyes again.

“I thought you were in prison, that someone, on some alien star, forced you to play some sick gladiator games. Or that HYDRA was still around and they turned you into an agent for them. Or that you lost your memory in the blip. So many scenarios played in my mind, Steven.”

Steve knew better than to talk. This was his time to listen.

“But I never ever once thought that you chose this. Never thought it was your choice to leave and to stay away.”

“Listen…” Sam started speaking.

“Shut the fuck UP, Samuel.”

If you had Bucky’s knives, all of them would be seriously injured right now.

“You knew that he was alive and you didn’t tell me. Despite me begging for any kind of information.”

Sam just pursed his lips and returned your glare. You were right.

You went and stood in front of Bucky.

“James…”

He looked at you, those pained eyes making your stomach flip.

“How could you? You knew?”

He just stared at you. Retreating into not speaking.

Steve spoke up.

“Yes, I left. Yes, it was my choice. I thought I could… Well, let’s just say that hindsight is 20/20 and you can’t ever go back. I swore Sam and Buck to secrecy and I asked them to take care of you. This all just got out of hand. Didn’t it Buck?”

You watched Steve in disbelief and you swiveled your head toward Bucky and Sam again.

“You both lied to me. And Sam. Did you tell Steve to come back and ruin my life?”

Sam scoffed, offended. “No. I didn’t. S.H.I.E.L.D gave Steve quarterly updates. You and Bucky happened so fast…”

You ignored his explanation.

“But you knew exactly where he’d gone.”

“Yes.” Sam was cornered.

You turned back to Bucky.

“I asked you a question earlier. Did you know?”

He nodded, imperceptibly. “Doll… I…”

“James Buchanan Barnes. You knew?” Your heart was breaking even more than it was.

“Yes, but it’s complicated. He didn’t come back, at least not the way he left, and I thought it was a done deal. I thought he found…”

You interrupted him.

“What. Happiness?”

You turned back to Steve. “Is that what you were looking for, Steve? Happiness?”

“Sweetheart, you made me happy, I just had the chance to finally settle some unfinished business.”

You nodded.

“So James here took advantage of your little vacation to get with his best friend's girl while you explored your other options. Cool.”

It was not cool.

“Do you remember when you asked me if you could trust me, Steve?”

He just gave a little smile and came to stand before you, looking down at you in that way of his. He was trying to shake you. You were unshakeable. You raised your chin and looked right in his eyes.

“What you don’t understand is that you can’t pick and choose the pieces of life that you want, Steven.”

You moved away from all of them. Steve stepped toward you, but stopped when you held up your hand.

“I’ve lived my life for everyone else, for this country, for as long as I can remember. I deserve a little piece of life, Sweetheart.”

Steve really believed what he was saying.

“What about me? Do I get a choice?”

Steve looked around at his two best friends, who were now best friends, and his best girl.

“You’re right. I think you should. You should choose.”

Your mouth hinged open. You spoke at the wall, then looked at Bucky.

“What about you, James? Do I need to choose?”

Bucky walked in front of you

“No Doll. You don’t have to choose.”

You looked up into his eyes. Damn, he looked so handsome in his bespoke grey suit that he chose for the wedding. And the tie that you gave him set off his eyes.

“I just…. I just wanted a piece of happiness too. I knew you were Steve’s girl.” He took both of your hands in his.

“I don’t deserve you. When Steve didn’t come back, and you and I connected, I couldn’t help it. I was just going to keep an eye out, but…”

He gave you that cute little side smile of his. And then he kissed you. It was short and sweet and oh so hot. You looked up at him, shook to the core. And then he ruined it all.

“I love you Doll. It was nice while it lasted.”

Bucky was giving up.

You nodded and backed away. Not believing this situation.

“Ok. I’m making my choice.”

You raised your chin and looked at Steve and Bucky.

“I’m not some fucking marble that you pass around, play with, and trade with your friend.”

You took a deep breath. “I choose me.”

You were gone in a flash, before they could even register it. And although they ran, they couldn’t catch you before you were out of reach.

-----

Three months later, you walked through the late August soup of Houston heat to the bar, pausing when you thought you heard footfalls behind you. You used your speed to zip along to Willy’s; you were safe there.

You were back sharking with the best of them. But your training was put to good use. You never got burned and you never got caught. You were making a good living.

There were a jumble of misfit super humans who had gathered there with you. You were a leader now. And you were doing well on your own. It was a life.

You already knew he was coming, and maybe that’s why you moved to the back room to play.

You were prepared, but when you felt him, you still lost your breath. But you recovered quickly, straightening your spine, despite the fact that he was standing so close to you.

You looked at the dartboard on the wall across from you and chalked your cue.

“Don’t you have other things to take care of? Other wheres? Other whens maybe?”

You learned more about time travel since you’d left New York, and you understood more of what happened.

The Avengers had access to time travel. If only you could go back… but no. You were stronger than those men. You could live with your decisions. And move forward.

“No. What I need to take care of is right here. Right now.”

His deep growl stirred something inside you, and you fought your body, which was becoming moist at his proximity.

You bent over the table, super soldier dick poking you in the ass before you drew your pool cue back sharply into his stomach. Abs of steel met the cue and nearly broke it. He just stepped aside and shook his head at you.

You turned your head to look into his aqua blue eyes and you fell in love all over again. Shit.

You gave up and turned around, leaning back against the pool table, because he wasn’t giving an inch, not moving from your space.

You scanned the room and your people were watching, but keeping your distance. They all knew who he was, and your history. They gave you space, but wouldn’t let you be hurt without a fight. You nodded at them and they all went to the front, giving you more privacy.

He nodded in their direction.

“People fall under your spell fast, I know that all too well. They trust you.”

You lifted your head. “I’ve never done anything to make them not trust me.”

He sighed. “Point taken.”

“Why did you come here? I know that you’ve known where I was. Sam must have told you.”

“I’ve known where you were. How could I not? I didn’t need Sam to tell me. It’s not like you were trying to hide.”

He cocked his head at you.

“But the reason that I’m here, now, is that I’ve always been slow at math. And I just put two and two together.”

You smirked up at him. “You’re right. This is home. A leopard doesn’t change her stripes.”

He just chuckled at your evasion.

“You wanna play a game?”

His eyes followed you, undeterred by your challenge.

You walked around to the other side of the table, leaned over and gathered the balls to be racked.

You held two in one hand and looked at him. He smiled and the electricity at the small of your back was everything. He slowly walked around to you as you racked them.

He took in your form (including your ample cleavage) as you bent over the table and your mouth as you said the word, “Break.”

“I’m tired of playing games, Doll. I’m just here to win you back.”

You turned around and faced him, looking up at him, now aware of his smell. You closed your eyes and inhaled leather and metal. You opened them again and his eyes were blazing.

“James.. I”

Bucky grabbed your face, hands gently cradling your head, and cut you off with a kiss, his lips gentle at first. Then his hands moved to your hips and lifted you onto the table. He slotted himself in between your thighs, your bodies separated by the same brand of black denim.

His lips and tongue seemed determined to possess you. Bucky kissed and felt your body like he hadn’t in a lifetime. His hands roamed you like they were starved from touching you.

Your hands were on his neck and in his hair, relishing the feel of him. You’d missed him so fucking much. You drew apart, and his breath fanned your face as you two panted together, his forehead resting on yours.

“I am never going to let you go again.”

“James…”

“Hold on Doll, I’ve got to say this.”

He smiled and gave you another quick peck. You nodded, solemn.

“I said the wrong thing back in Brooklyn. I don’t care that you were with him first. I don’t care if you think that you might want to be with him. When I fell for you, I fell harder than I ever have. Even from the train.”

He was whispering the words you wanted to hear months ago, causing you to cry. But a lot of things caused you to cry lately.

Bucky smiled at you, his eyes crinkling in that adorable way that you loved. You opened your mouth to speak and he kissed you, silencing you again. You responded with a smile. He continued.

“I know that you think that I folded and just gave up on you on our wedding day. I was just thinking that I don’t deserve you. Especially next to Steve. I mean, you won’t find a better man. But in the time since, I’ve realized, even though it’s hard. I’m a good man too.”

“You are, James…”

“You helped me come to terms with everything that’s happened. Sam has helped me deal with everything I did...and I’m not perfect, and neither are you, but we can be perfect for each other.”

You nodded, smiling a little.

“I’m in love with you and I deserve you. You deserve me. We deserve each other. And I’m not saying this because I think you saved me. But you are the strongest woman I know, enough to be with me when I am weak. I figured out that I can be strong for you too. I have to be now. I am so sorry that I let you walk away. But I’m not going to let you out of my sight now, even if you don’t want to be with me. But I am asking you, again. Be my family. Make one with me. Choose me.”

You shook your head as tears fell from your eyes.

“James Barnes, there was never ever any choice. It’s you. It will be you. Forever.”

Bucky let out a sigh of relief and started kissing you all over your face, down your neck and into your cleavage.

“I was scared shitless, Doll! I love you so much,…”

You kissed him now, your hands under his jacket, slipping it off his shoulders. Next, you went under his shirt, feeling his nipples, playing with them as he shuddered. Then your hands went up to one cold shoulder and one warm, grasping them as he ground his hard jeans covered crotch into yours.

“Too many clothes.”

You ended up helping him pull his shirt over his head. You trailed your hand back down his abs to the button on his jeans.

“I missed you James. My hormones are going crazy, Baby…”

His eyes got wide as you popped the top button and bit your lip. Bucky moaned. He was about to explode just being near you.

“Th-that’s what we need to talk about…”

“Talk later. Fuck. Now.”

Bucky looked over your shoulder to the other room. To his surprise, the door was now closed.

“Wow, they…”

You hopped down from the table and got on your knees in front of him.

“You gonna let me suck your dick or not James?”

He looked down at you smirking up at him and could feel himself leaking in his jeans. Three months of his hand had been torture, thinking of you.

It seemed as if he unfastened and pulled himself out without knowing. For a moment he feared mind control.

But it was just love and lust.

You grasped him, testing his girth and admiring how your fingers did not meet around his cock.

“Mmmmmmmm,” you moaned while you thumbed his tip, collecting the pre-cum and lubricating him as you pumped.

He stared at you, slack jawed and sexy as he watched you. He reached down and put his hand in your hair, massaging your scalp.

You commanded him. “Eyes on me, Sergeant.”

Bucky locked eyes with you and watched as you licked your lips, opened your mouth, and spit on his cock.

“Fuck.”

You pumped him a couple of times before you opened wide and took him as deep as you could, relishing the feel of his wide, smooth, hard unit in your mouth. You pulled off of him with a pop.

“Damn I missed this dick.”

Then you deep throated him again, making Bucky have to hold on to the side of the pool table as he held your head while you spluttered around him.

“And I missed your pretty little mouth, Doll. Damn.” He watched as you did it a few more times.

When you looked up and he saw your ruined face, Bucky went feral.

He pulled you up by your shirt, pulling it over your head and wiping your face with it. Then he kissed you.

“Fucking love how you do that, Doll.”

He started kissing down your chest, pulling your breasts out of your bra, pinching and rolling your nipples gently, a little more carefully than usual. He looked at you knowingly as you squirmed in pleasure.

“I’ve been doing my research.”

Then, he leaned down and suckled them with that mouth until you almost came, writhing in his arms. Bucky unbuttoned your pants and pulled them down, kneeling, and staring up at you as you leaned against the green felt table.

You stepped out of your jeans and panties and watched as his flesh hand glided from your ankle to your ass, palming it and then sliding back down as he lifted your thigh on his shoulder. You shuddered as you could feel his breath on your cunt.

“I’ve been dreaming of this.”

His eyes held yours as he leaned in for a kiss, then a long wet lick of your cunt. You grabbed his brown hair as his blue eyes hypnotized you and as he ate you out. When his metal fingers came up, whirring, you started begging.

“Please, James…please…please…..”

He laughed, mouth still fucking your pussy. He pulled away, chin glistening with your juices. His fingers began pumping inside you, the vibration driving you up the wall.

“Are you begging me to stop, or to continue, Doll? Talk to me.”

“Unnnh, unnnnh, oooohhh shittttt. Don’t ever stop.”

And then you came all over his face, Bucky slurping it up happily. He stood up, taking you with him and maneuvering you so that you could feel his thick tip at your hole before it breached you.

Bucky’s cock stretched you out and made you see stars as you slid down his thick pole while he was standing up, pumping inside you as he deposited you on the table.

You wrapped around him like a vine as he held you, cock pounding from the feeling of being inside you again. He pulled back to kiss you again. He was grunting in his throat as he tried to speak.

“Fuck you feel so good...Fair warning, Doll. I’m not going to last. Been too long.”

You let go of him, and leaned back on the felt, arms braced behind you as you replied, “Just fuck me James.”

Bucky took in your body, from where you were connected up your torso to your breasts and the beautiful fucked out look on your face and started moving.

“Fuck, fuck, fuckkk.” You took him, looking down to see the impossible stretch.

“Yeah, look at that. Looks and feels so damn good, doesn’t it, Doll? How the fuck are you so… so… fucking… tight….?”

“Yes, fuck, James, FUCKKKKK.”

All nerves were in your cunt as you went down to your elbows, and then to your back flat on the slate table, pool balls going everywhere.

Bucky pulled your hips off the table and really started digging in, hips snapping at a frenzied pace as his metal hand slid down your body. You could tell that he was almost there.

“Cum with me Doll.”

When that metal thumb touched your clit, it was over. You came as soon as you felt his white hot ropes of cum drench your walls. You closed your eyes for just a second, and then opened your eyes wide.

‘Why am I curled up on a pool table after being fucked by my 106 year old fiance? What is life?”

Bucky laughed as he pulled his shirt over his head and helped you off the table. He looked around, going to get you a bottle of water from the vending machine.

“You good?”

Bucky eyed you as you got your clothes together. He leaned next to you as he watched you drink the water.

“Baby okay?”

You ducked your head, smiled and grabbed his hand, putting it on your slightly rounded stomach.

“Yeah. I can feel him moving around. Can you feel that?”

Bucky just stared at his hand, then at your face.

“Not really… Him?” He was astounded.

“That’s normal. I’m gonna be able to feel him before you can, And yeah, Him.”

You turned more fully toward Bucky and he took you in his arms.

“I had all kinds of tests, to make sure that he was okay. I wanted to know if… if what they did to me would affect…. “

You shook your head, then smiled up at Bucky.

“He’s healthy. I’m 20 weeks. I figured we’d call him Jamie?”

Bucky beamed at you and nodded.

“How did you know?”

“Well, I figured out that you didn’t faint at the wedding just because of Steve. Why didn’t you tell me, Doll?”

You rolled your eyes.

“Are you really asking me that question?”

Bucky blanched and you decided not to be salty.

“Well, At first, I didn’t want you to feel trapped. I was so happy that you asked me and didn’t know.” You beamed at him. “ But then…” Your smile faded.

“I’m an idiot, Doll. Forgive me. It’s me and you. And Jamie. Forever.”

You two shared the kiss you missed at the altar. It was going to be okay.

“Now, let’s go get some food. I know you’re hungry.”

You laughed as you punched his arm.

“Ass. But you’re right.”

You two walked down the street to Ninfa’s Restaurant hand in hand. Bucky turned his head and gave an imperceptible nod as you two passed by an alley/

Steve returned the greeting as he stepped out and watched you and Bucky make your way down the street.

“That’s okay Sweetheart,” he whispered. “Buck’s a good man. But I know you’ll choose me. In another time.”

He walked to the quinjet, which was pointed toward New York.

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Did Reader make the right choice? What do you think about the surprise?And what the what is Steve thinking? Let me know if you liked it by commenting or reblogging!

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hqamore · 3 years

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boreal star ✵ chapter six

now, he’s pissed off. general kirigan was going to get his sun summoner and blast all of ravka to hell. he was so close to reaching his goals and no one was going to stop him.

chapter genre: action

series pairing: [past?] aleksander morozova (general kirigan) x reader

word count: 2.2k

author’s babble: surprise! so soon? i know. i cranked this chapter because i finally decided how this series would end. enjoy and tell me your thoughts!

here’s the masterlist

three days, you and mal agreed on. you procrastinated for the first two. well, not really procrastinated. you purchased some food and extra layers in balakirev the first day. the second day, you made your way to ryevost. to your misfortune, you were almost caught by aleksander and his merry band of misfits. but, his attention was stolen by teenagers? it was certainly entertaining to see the grisha get outwitted by the bunch.

you waited until you couldn’t detect them anymore. swiftly and careful to hide your face, you made your way to tsibeya on the third day. by high noon, the white forest greeted you with light snowfall. about 5km in, two huddled teens came into view. the crisp sounds of your steps alerted them, their eyes darting to you.

“[y/n]?” alina stepped in front of mal in a defensive position, light drawn at the ready. you surrendered your hands as mal lightly pushed away hers.

“alina, i told you they were coming,” he said.

with some reluctance, the sun summoner lowered her hands and eyed her. “why would baghra send you? you arrived at the palace the same time as i did.”

you smiled, ignoring her question, and strode past them, only pausing for them to follow. mal slung his sack over his shoulder and gave alina’s hand a light squeeze before jogging ahead of you. “i’ll look out for the stag. but, it’d be better for all of us if you answered her questions,” he whispered. “she’s naturally curious and very stubborn.”

you sighed and slowed your pace, matching your strides with alina’s. “baghra and i have a mutual understanding, one that precedes the importance of the second army,” you said.

alina glanced at you warily. “which is?”

“the black heretic cannot gain any more power.”

her lips pursed. “but, you arrived at the same time i did,” she quipped, “and i still can’t do much.”

you offered a dry chuckle. “i guess i picked it up that much faster.”

silence fell between you two, the crunching snow and distance chirps of birds filling the air. you took this opportunity to take in alina’s appearance. she wore ill-fitted clothing that couldn’t have been providing any warmth. her profile was worn, sunken eyes accompanied by an angry blush from the cool temperature. you shrugged your coat off, leaving you in your kefta, and draped it over her shoulders. she looked at you in surprise which made you smile softly.

with this small bridge, you spoke. “it must’ve been difficult escaping the palace without help.”

alina sheepishly smiled as she tugged the coat on, shuddering in the extra warmth. “not really. i just snuck into the trunk of a carriage and waited until it stopped.”

“you snuck into a stranger’s carriage?” you raised in an eyebrow, mirth evident in your eyes.

“not my best idea, but i’m safe now!”

you laughed at her embarrassed look, causing mal to look back. you saw as his lips quirked when his eyes met alina’s blushing face. warmth spread in your heart as you witnessed his loving gaze, almost feeling as if you were intruding on a secret conversation. you peered at alina who just returned mal’s stare with a blinding smile native only to one alina starkov. you envied their relationship, wordlessly intimate and completely trusting. sadness stirred at the bottom of your heart, memories of hushed giggles and longing gazes bubbling.

all lies, it was.

—

the sun was setting and, luckily, the three of you had already arrived where mal had last seen the stag. mal said he doubted that the stag moved on, leaving you guys to wait around.

brushing some snow off of a log, you sat and hugged your knees closer to conserve some warmth. alina and mal joined you, leaning into each other to share their body heat.

“when we find the stag, i need to be the one to kill it,” alina grimly stated.

mal looked down at her. “you’re a terrible shot. they made you a cartographer for a reason.”

you snickered as alina feigned offense and mal grinned unapologetically. “besides, i thought we weren’t killing it,” the tracker said, glancing at you. alina’s forehead scrunched in confusion when she turned to you.

a puff of fog appeared as you let out a sigh. “we’re not. unless absolutely necessary.”

“if we don’t, kiri—”

“i have a plan, alina,” you interrupted. “all we need to do is guide the stag away. with a combination of your abilities and mine, it’ll be fairly easy.”

“that won’t stop him from finding it,” alina protested.

you gently placed a hand on alina’s head. “that’s why, once we get it out of fjerdan territory, i’m taking it to the wandering isle. the distance will prevent aleksander from coming for it personally and give me more time to work out a permanent solution.”

she stayed silent for a moment, mulling over your plan, before she frowned. “aleksander.”

your head tilted questioningly when her body faced you, a serious look on her face. “how do you know his name?” she asked.

sucking in a deep breath, you realized you had relaxed too soon. her sharp eyes trained on you as you rubbed your face. mal remained confused, leaning forward to observe the two of you.

“it’s difficult not to know the name of your warden,” you replied.

“warden?”

you debated whether or not to tell alina the complete truth, but you threw caution into the wind and exhaled. “my arrival at the palace was not the first time i had been there. some time ago, i actually called that place home. but, one day, i woke up from the false reality and escaped from the place that was, retrospectively, my prison.”

too intelligent, alina connected the dots in record time. “you’re the lover the servants talked about,” she said breathily. “the person baghra thought would change him.”

a bitter smile danced on your lips. “i’m not sure if he loved me as i did him, but i would’ve hung the stars if he asked me to.”

alina clasped your hand in hers, offering a weak smile. you returned it before continuing. “i met him about four-hundred years ago, when he was hiding from the crown. i was young and enchanted. i believed in everything he wanted for grisha and became his willing accomplice.

“when he returned to the palace, i followed. when he locked me in my room, i complied. as naive as i was, i was in love,” you paused to glance at the pair in front of you, reminded of their small moments that paralleled your memories.

“i was in love...” you trailed, staring at your lap as your chest panged dully. you shook yourself out of your daze and cleared your throat. “no matter, i saw him for the crazed tyrant he was and, when i found out you had been discovered, i returned to thwart his plans.”

faint rustling drew mal’s attention away, the tracker slowly stepping towards the source. alina’s eyes followed him as did yours. after a few seconds, he turned. “that way.”

like meerkats, you and alina shot up and crept beside mal. his eyes darted around the clearing you were approaching and, there in all its glory, was the stag. the three of you stopped at a safe distance when it turned to look in your direction.

you started laying out the plan. “okay. alina, you need to—”

“wait,” alina said, stepping forward, with her eyes trained on the stag. “i— i’ve been seeing it in these visions ever since i arrived at the palace. i don’t know why, but i think it’s been trying to reach out to me.”

then, the stag walked towards alina who took several more steps. she gingerly reached her hand out and the stag met her with its snout. light erupted from them and alina let out soft laughs, basking in the warmth of the light. you softly gasped at the sight. it chose—

suddenly, an arrow shot the stag, causing it to lurch away from alina in pain. she tumbled backwards as people rushed in from all sides. mal raised his gun and shot at the bowman, knocking him down. he swiftly notched an arrow in his bow, prepared to shoot the stag, when a strong wind forced it out of his hand. you turned and was faced with a familiar-looking squaller. you loosened gravity’s hold on her and forced her to float. when you were about to fling her away, a grunt sounded behind you.

“mal!”

your focus disappeared; you pivoted to see mal embedded with an arrow, effectively dropping zoya and incapacitating her. you went to help him when an intense pressure hit your chest, your heart beating erratically. it forced you onto your knees next to mal. your heart was pounding in your ear before it stopped.

bright flashes threw off the heartrender and bowman. you greedily breathed in air as alina darted to mal. you could hear the snap of the arrow followed by mal’s agonizing scream. glancing up, your vision slightly blurred, you saw shadows gathering behind you. at the sound of a billowing cloak, you rushed to create a gravitational downforce around you, not allowing anyone to move. you slowly stood up, facing aleksander with a glare.

he let out a haughty laugh. “i should’ve known you would be with her.”

“alina, i need you to get to the stag,” you commanded.

“but, mal! he’s— he’s dying!”

you glanced behind you to see her applying pressure on his wounds. thoughts raced in your mind before settling on one solution. “i promise you he won’t so long as you follow my instructions.”

desperation evident in her eyes, alina could only nod.

“get to the stag and shield us on my count.”

you inhaled deeply. “3, 2, 1!”

alina ran for the stag and created a barrier. you dove under it before it separated you from the others. outside of it, aleksander found himself free to move. creeping closer, he called out. “you can’t save them, alina. you may have the power of light but not the power to heal.”

alina’s resolve wavered as her eyes flicker to mal. “don’t listen to him, alina! i promised you, didn’t i?” you reassured.

alina bit her lip as she kept up the barrier. you made mal float and pulled him closer to the stag. you gently set him down and reached for the stag. it groaned and flailed in protest.

“i know i’m not your chosen, but please. i must heal him and then i can heal you,” you whispered.

the stag quieted and allowed you to touch it. with one hand on the stag, you hovered the other near mal’s wound.

“i’m sorry, mal, but this is gonna hurt like hell.”

you manipulated time on his body. blood slowly returned to the wound whilst the arrow pieced itself together, ripping itself out of him afterwards. mal let out a painful howl before the wound stitches itself back together, like no arrow had been there in the first place. as he recovered, you quickly moved around to the other side of the stag.

“i see you’ve been busy,” aleksander said sharply.

rage gathered in the pit of your stomach when you shot a glare at aleksander. “and you’ve been a complete fool. after all this time, you still can’t get it through your thick skull that morozova’s amplifiers have to choose you,” you spat.

you returned your attention to the stag’s wound. you murmured an apology before you worked on it. it whined through the pain but stilled once you finished. your hands trembled as you shakily pushed yourself off the ground. the stag stirred and stood on its legs, causing alina to follow in suit. you ran your hand through its fur and whispered. “just once more, friend.”

as if it reads your mind, it knelt before alina. you looked at her, mal now standing beside her.

“you two, get on.”

alina gave you a bewildered look. you returned it with a pleading one. without protest, she and mal both mounted the stag. then, it rose, looking towards you. you leaned your forehead against its snout. “take them far from here.”

you stepped to the side and took alina’s hand. “now, i only have so much energy left to keep them here. so, ride fast.”

“what? you’re not coming with us?” alina’s jaw dropped.

you offered her a melancholic smile. “please, if i have to witness anymore of your loving gazes, i’ll become a bitter spinster,” you teased before growing serious. “alina, keep the shield up until you’ve left fjerdan territory. only make it as big as it has to be. mal, you’re going to have to make sure she doesn’t fall off.”

you let go of her hand and gave mal a nod. inching away from them, you approached the center of the field, barely covered by alina’s light. you glanced back and jerked your head, signaling them to leave. you immobilized aleksander and his men once more, allowing alina and mal to slip through and disappear into the winter night. despite your raging headache, you kept your focus until you couldn’t see the light. you collapsed, the snow cushioning your fall. your vision blurred as you heard footsteps approach you.

“we’ll find them eventually.”

you squinted at your former lover. “no, i don’t think you will, aleks.”

aleksander crouched down and whispered in your ear. “i should kill you where you lay.”

“be my guest. you are well within your rights, general kirigan,” you taunted.

he sneered. “out of respect for our past, i won’t. but, you will be my prisoner.”

“what’s new?” you asked before promptly passing out.

taglist (couldn’t tag the ones in bold): @kykymyeon @shelivesindaydreamswme @blackbirddaredevil23 @amortentiaaaa @safetyhtom @savannah-elliott @deceivedeer @gloriousmoneyrascalbiscuit @sarcastic-and-cool @supersouthy @let-love-bleeds-red @andwhatofthelight @all-art-is-quite-useless @mixed-imagination @ashdab2611 @aria-grace-scott @multifandom-addict @aleksanderwh0r3 @p3nny4urth0ught5 @kirigansgf @evyiione @theoutsidelandhere @wizardwheezes @partiesandblurrypolaroids @pansysgirlfriend @takethee @imrann123456 @rachellovesharry

author’s babble pt.2: ohoho! can you believe they did that? now, you may be wondering why [y/n] is able to manipulate time. it has to do with spacetime being 4 dimensional and the complexity that comes with the concept of gravity. a bit wibbly wobbly timey wimey (ﾉ´ヮ´)ﾉ*:･ﾟ✧

continue to chapter seven? yes

#shadow and bone #shadow and bone fanfiction #grishaverse fanfiction #shadow and bone imagine #general kirigan x reader #general kirigan imagine #the darkling x reader #the darkling imagine #aleksander morozova x reader #boreal star

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usuallyapirate · 3 years

Text

A short Introduction to the most common Player-Races in Dungeons and Dragons as given by the DnD 5e Players Handbook:

Dwarf

“Yer late,elf!” came the rough edge of a familiar voice. Bruenor Battlehammer walked up the back of his dead foe, disregarding the fact that the heavy monster lay on top of his elven friend. In spite of the added discomfort, the dwarf’s long, pointed, often-broken nose and gray-streaked though still-fiery red beard came as a welcome sight to Drizzt. “Knew I’d find ye in trouble if I came out an' looked for ye!"

– R.A. Salvatore, The Crysta lShard

Kingdoms rich in ancient grandeur, halls carved into the roots of mountains, the echoing of picks and hammers in deep mines and blazing forges, a commitment to clan and tradition, and a burning hatred of goblins and orcs—these common threads unite all dwarves.

Elf

“I HAVE NEVER IMAGINED SUCH BEAUTY EXISTED,” Goldmoon said softly. The day’s march had been difficult, but the reward at the end was beyond their dreams. The companions stood on a high cliff over the fabled city of Qualinost. Four slender spires rose from the city’s corners like glistening spindles, their brilliant white stone marbled with shining silver. Graceful arches, swooping from spire to spire, soared through the air. Crafted by ancient dwarven metalsmiths, they were strong enough to hold the weight of an army, yet they appeared so delicate that a bird lighting on them might overthrow the balance. These glistening arches were the city’s only boundaries; there was no wall around Qualinost. The elven city opened its arms lovingly to the wilderness.

– Margaret Weis & Tracy Hickman, Dragons of Autumn Twilight

Elves are a magical people of otherworldly grace, living in the world but not entirely part of it. They live in places of ethereal beauty, in the midst of ancient forests or in silvery spires glittering with faerie light, where soft music drifts through the air and gentle fragrances waft on the breeze. Elves love nature and magic, art and artistry, music and poetry, and the good things of the world.

Halfling

Regis the halfling, the only one of his kind for hundreds of miles in any direction, locked his fingers behind his head and leaned back against the mossy blanket of the tree trunk. Regis was short, even by the standards of his diminutive race, with the fluff of his curly brown locks barely cresting the three-foot mark, but his belly was amply thickened by his love of a good meal, or several, as the opportunities presented themselves. The crooked stick that served as his fishing pole rose up above him, clenched between two of his toes, and hung out over the quiet lake, mirrored perfectly in the glassy surface of Maer Dualdon.

– R.A. Salvatore, The Crystal Shard

The comforts of home are the goal of most halflings‘ lives: a place to settle in peace and quiet, far from marauding monsters and clashing armies; a blazing fire and a generous meal; fine drink and fine conversation. Though some halflings live out their days in remote agricultural communities, others form nomadic bands that travel constantly, lured by the open road and the wide horizon to discover the wonders of new lands and peoples. But even these wanderers love peace, food, hearth, and home, though home might be a wagon jostling along a dirt road or a raft floating downriver.

Human

These were the stories of a restless people who long ago took to the seas and rivers in longboats, first to pillage and terrorize, then to settle. Yet there was an energy, a love of adventure, that sang from every page. Long into the night Uriel read, lighting candle after precious candle. She'd never given much thought to humans, but these stories fascinated her. In these yellowed pages were tales of bold heroes, strange and fierce animals, mighty primitive gods, and a magic that was part and fabric of that distant land.

– Elaine Cunningham, Daughter of the Drow

In the reckonings of most worlds, humans are the youngest of the common races, late to arrive on the world scene and short-lived in comparison to dwarves, elves, and dragons. Perhaps it is because of their shorter lives that they strive to achieve as much as they can in the years they are given. Or maybe they feel they have something to prove to the elder races, and that’s why they build their mighty empires on the foundation of conquest and trade. Whatever drives them, humans are the innovators, the achievers, and the pioneers of the worlds.

Dragonborn

Her father stood on the first of the three stairs that led down from the portal, unmoving. The scales of his face had grown paler around the edges, but Clanless Mehen still looked as if he could wrestle down a dire bear himself. His familiar well-worn armor was gone, replaced by violet-tinted scale armor with bright silvery tracings. There was a blazon on his arm as well, the mark of some foreign house. The sword at his back was the same, though, the one he had carried since even before he had found the twins left in swaddling at the gates of Arush Vayem. Father’s face was as kill she'd been fortunate to learn. A human who couldn’t spot the shift of her eyes or Havilar’s would certainly see only the indifference of a dragon in Clanless Mehen’s face. But the shift of scales, the arch of a ridge, the set of his eyes, the gape of his teeth – her father's face spoke volumes. But every scale of it, this time, seemed completely still— the indifference of a dragon, even to Farideh.

– Erin M. Evans, The Adversary

Born of dragons, as their name proclaims, the dragonborn walk proudly through a world that greets them with fearful incomprehension. Shaped by draconic gods or the dragons themselves, dragonborn originally hatched from dragon eggs as a unique race, combining the best attributes of dragons and humanoids. Some dragonborn are faithful servants to true dragons, others form the ranks of soldiers in great wars, and still others find themselves adrift, with no clear calling in life.

Gnome

Skinny and flaxen-haired, his skin walnut brown and his eyes a startling turquoise, Burgell stood half as tall as Aeron climb up on a stool to look out the peephole. Like most habitations in Oeble, that particula tenement had been built for humans, and smaller residents coped with the resulting awkwardness as best they could. But at least the relative largeness of the apartment gave Burgell room to pack in all his gnome-sized gear. The front room was his workshop, and it contained a bewildering miscellany of tools: hammers, chisels, saws, lockpicks, tinted lenses, jeweler's loupes, and jars of powdered and shredded ingredients for casting spells. A fat gray cat, the mage’s familiar, lay curled atop a grimoire. It opened its eyes, gave Aeron a disdainful yellow stare, then appeared to go back to sleep.

– Richard Lee Byers, The Black Bouquet

A constant hum of busy activity pervades the warrens and neighborhoods where gnomes form their close-knit communities. Louder sounds punctuate the hum: a crunch of grinding gears here, a minor explosion there, a yelp of surprise or triumph, and especially bursts of laughter. Gnomes take delight in life, enjoying every moment of invention, exploration, investigation, creation, and play.

Half-Elf

Flint squinted into the setting sun. He thought he saw the figure of a man striding up the path. Standing, Flint drew back into the shadow of a tall pine to see better. The man's walk was marked by an easy grace – an elvish grace, Flint would have said; yet the man’s body had the thickness and tight muscles of a human, while the facial hair was definitely humankind’s. All the dwarf could see of the man’s face beneath a green hood was tan skin and a brownish-red beard. A longbow was slung over one shoulder and a sword hung at his left side. He was dressed in soft leather, carefully tooled in the intricate designs the elves loved. But no elf in the world of Krynn could grow a beard ... no elf, but...

“Tanis?” said Flint hesitantly as the man neared.

“The same.” The newcomer’s bearded face split in a wide grin. He held open his arms and, before the dwarf could stop him, engulfed Flint in a hug that lifted him off the ground. The dwarf clasped his old friend close for a brief instant, then, remembering his dignity, squirmed and freed himself from the half-elf’s embrace.

– Margaret Weis and Tracy Hickman, Dragons of Autumn Twilight

Walking in two worlds but truly belonging to neither, half-elves combine what some say are the best qualities of their elf and human parents: human curiosity, inventiveness, and ambition tempered by the refined senses, love of nature, and artistic tastes of the elves. Some half-elves live among humans, set apart by their emotional and physical differences, watching friends and loved ones age while time barely touches them. Others live with the elves, growing restless as they reach adulthood in the timeless elven realms, while their peers continue to live as children. Many half-elves, unable to fit into either society, choose lives of solitary wandering or join with other misfits and outcasts in the adventuring life.

Half-Orc

The warchief Mhurren roused himself from his sleeping-furs and his women and pulled a short hauberk of heavy steel rings over his thick, well-muscled torso. He usually rose before most of his warriors, since he had a strong streak of human blood in him, and he found the daylight less bothersome than most of his tribe did. Among the Bloody Skulls, a warrior was judged by his strength, his fierceness, and his wits. Human ancestry was no blemish against a warrior – provided he was every bit as strong, enduring, and blood thirsty as his full-blooded kin. Half-orcs who were weaker than their orc comrades didn't last long among the Bloody Skulls or any other orc tribe for that matter. But it was often true that a bit of human blood gave a warrior just the right mix of cunning, ambition, and self-discipline to go far indeed, as Mhurren had. He was master of a tribe that could muster two thousand spears, and the strongest chief in Thar.

– Richard Baker, Swordmage

Whether united under the leadership of a mighty warlock or having fought to a standstill after years of conflict, orc and human tribes sometimes form alliances, joining forces into a larger horde to the terror of civilized lands nearby. When these alliances are sealed by marriages, half-orcs are born. Some half-orcs rise to become proud chiefs of orc tribes, their human blood giving them an edge over their full-blooded orc rivals. Some venture into the world to prove their worth among humans and other more civilized races. Many of these become adventurers, achieving greatness for their mighty deeds and notoriety for their barbaric customs and savage fury.

Tiefling

“But you do see the way people look at you, devil’s child." Those black eyes, cold as a winter storm, were staring right into her heart and the sudden seriousness in his voice jolted her.

“What is it they say?" he asked. “One’s a curiosity, two’s a conspiracy—”

“Three's a curse,” she finished. “You think I haven’t heard that rubbish before?”

“I know you have.” When she glared at him, he added, “It’s not as if I’m plumbing the depths of your mind, dear girl. That is the burden of every tiefling. Some break under it, some make it the millstone around their neck, some revel in it.” He tilted his head again, scrutinizing her, with that wicked glint in hiseyes. “You fight it, don’t you? Like a little wildcat, I wager. Every little jab and comment just sharpens your claws.”

– Erin M. Evans, Brimstone Angels

To be greeted with stares and whispers, to suffer violence and insult on the street, to see mistrust and fear in every eye: this is the lot of the tiefling. And to twist the knife, tieflings know that this is because a pact struck generations ago infused the essence of Asmodeus – overlord of the Nine Hells – into their bloodline. Their appearance and their nature are not their fault but the result of an ancient sin, for which they and their children and their children’s children will always be held accountable.

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hufflautia · 4 years

Text

Different Love Languages

✨COMMENTS+REBLOGS ARE GREATLY APPRECIATED✨ They motivate me and make me supes happy, so please pretty please reblog and/or comment!! It doesnt even have to be a coherent comment, keysmash if you must! ok fanks go read now and enjoy <3

Summary: Hufflepuff is the type of person to express her love verbally but Slytherin is different; he hardly says “I love you” and Hufflepuff worries that maybe it’s because he doesn’t love her as much as she loves him. Our darling puff will realize that this is simply not the case. People just have different love languages.

Hufflepuff loved Slytherin. She really did. In fact, she reminded him frequently.

“I love you,” she chortled during breakfast when Slytherin had cast a spell to make the bacon strips float around in a dancing manner so that she would cheer up after reading depressing news from the Daily Prophet. Another time, she cooed the term of endearment as he held her tightly in his arms, swaying to the sound of music in the background.

The thing was that Slytherin rarely said “I love you” in the entirety of their relationship. Instead of saying it back to her, he often replied by cupping her cheeks tenderly and leaning in for another kiss. Other times, he responded with a loving smile, his eyes glowing with warmth and infatuation.

It’s not that Hufflepuff thought Slytherin didn’t love her. She could definitely see it in the way that he looked at her, in those stolen glances when he thought she wasn’t looking. She could feel it when he held her close at night, his arms wrapped protectively around her.

However, a part of her- the small shadow of doubt within her heart that told her that Slytherin didn’t care for her as much as she did for him- just wished for some kind of affirmation, a clear signal that said, “I love you.”

One day, Hufflepuff and Slytherin sat side by side in Potions class, listening to Professor Slughorn drone on and on about Felix Felicis. She was absentmindedly staring at the board when Slytherin slid his notes in front of her so that she could see the doodle he drew on the side of his paper.

*Credit: Beastflaps*

Hufflepuff bit her lip to suppress a laugh and squeezed his hand 3 times.

Unfamiliar with the motion, Slytherin asked what the squeezes meant.

“It means I love you,” she whispered. Her voice was soft so that Professor Slughorn didn’t overhear their conversation.

Nevertheless, Slytherin heard every word. A smile tugged at his lips and he immediately squeezed it back. He didn’t just stop there; he repeated the gesture about 6 times- and Potions class hadn’t even ended yet.

From that day forward, Slytherin constantly told her I love you. Sometimes he squeezed her hand randomly- before he left for Quidditch practice, during breakfast when she passed him a plate of toast, and after he walked her back to the dormitory.

Aside from that, he would occasionally tap out the gesture with his finger.

Tap tap tap.

Hufflepuff looked up from her book and made eye contact with Slytherin from across the room. She knew what it meant. She always did.

Slytherin said I love you all the time now, more often than Hufflepuff’s verbal “I love you”.

She realized that he had a different love language from her, and that was ok. It was the love itself that mattered.

On their wedding day, as the officiant performed the ceremony, Hufflepuff looked up at Slytherin with adoration. “I love you,” she whispered.

He smiled warmly at her and squeezed her hand four times.

I love you too.

Based on a true story! If you can’t see the link that I attached, here it is:

https://www.reddit.com/r/Marriage/comments/ahb1c1/sometimes_i_forget_my_husband_has_a_different/

MASTERLIST ~(˘▾˘~) (click my profile to see the pinned post, aka my masterlist, if you cant see the link)

Author’s note: YAYAY HI!!! DID YOU LIKE THAT??

probably yall @ me rn lmaoaoao

You might be wondering why i wrote this one-shot. There was no special occasion this time, I just got a bonk of inspiration one day. also i felt bad for reblogging my ice skating oneshot so much (i did it to respond to other peoples reblogs) and i sent an ask to my favorite fanfic writer, asking her about what happens if i reblog my own work and if it pushes my fanfic up the algorithm, and she answered my question but also said that she usually deletes her reblogs bc her followers would probably get annoyed if they kept seeing the same work over and over again. i felt bad bc i had just done that, and i didnt want yall to constantly see the same fanfic all the time, so i wanted to give u something new. also i was thinking back on that person who said that my writing was sporadic (they werent trying to be mean). Sporadic basically means spaced out and occuring at different intervals. i felt bad bc my writing is definitely spread out by one month for some reason. im not sure what this means for next month bc i never write 2 fanfics in one month. does this mean that i wont write a fanfic for november? hopefully not. ok that sounds sad, im sure it doesnt but who knows bc the college process thingies is killing me

I wrote out the general details of the story at 1 am one night when i was trying to sleep lmaoao heres a screenshot:

This is basically how I write for most of my fanfics at first, it consists of the general info along with some specific details.

At first, the one-shot was gonna be a drabble (aka a story that’s only 100 words long) but when I finished writing it, I went to wordcounter to check the number of words and it was 500! i was like oop ok im just gonna call it a oneshot then. i wrote part of the story on sunday morning and then i went to exercise in the park with my sister. afterwards, i wanted to keep working on it but then i became swamped with college stuff so i stopped. i started writing again today (its monday, but im posting it on tuesday, aka today for you- or maybe not if ur not reading this on the day that i posted it) and i surprisingly finished- but that was probably a bad idea to be writing the oneshot during this week because i have a lot of exams, but lets look at the bright side, i finished the story!

I didn’t think of the idea completely on my own. I actually read the reddit story (found it in a thread on insta) a few years ago, and I don’t know why but I was thinking about it that night and I decided to make a one-shot out of it! Isn’t it such a sweet story (the actual story, not this)?? It would be kinda nice if I reached out to the person and said, hey i wrote a story based on you and ur husband!

Anyways, I just made a meme:

i didnt actually get up, i just opened the notes app on my phone in the dark and wrote the details down.

this isn’t related but i made a meme about the ice skating oneshot:

I’m gonna cut the authors note short (i usually write a lot. its funny when u go back and see my authors note in chapter 1 of the slytherpuff series, bc its so so short. wowza, times have rlly changed!) bc i think i have at least 2 exams tomorrow. this is gonna be me when i post this one-shot in the morning:

bc i have to wake up early and i am most definitely not a morning person:/ OH GOD OK I HAVE TO STUDY NOW-

Love you all, thank you for reading! TOODELOOOOOOO

Let me know if you want to be added or removed from the tag list!

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inf3stissumam · 3 years

Note

For the prompt thing could I request 14 and 17 with Mary Goore? 🥺👉🏻👈🏻

Number 14! I'll reblog with 17 when its finished, sorry this got so long!

The dive bar you bartended at was home to many rough, grungy, and loud bands that came in and out regularly and drew in rowdy crowds full of all the misfits and goth kids from the nearby college. There were a few local bands that played at the bar almost every week and you came to recognize them, you even became a fan of one of them. Their lead singer was hard to ignore with his pallid complexion, cheeks and eyes hollowed with black makeup, and his signature blood splattered face; not to mention the fact that he had the best metal voice of any of the bands you had ever heard play there. You had to admit that the nights that his band played left you easily distracted and made your job a bit more difficult, albeit much more enjoyable. You were always nodding along to his music as you poured drinks and although you couldn’t pick out any of the lyrics or the titles there was always one song that started with a slow guitar melody and you loved it and looked forward to it every time. You came to learn the lead singer’s name after a few months when he started coming to the bar after shows to indulge in a single beer. The industry was not forgiving, and you presumed it was because he didn’t have enough money to splurge on more than one drink – you always gave him the employee discount out of appreciation, but he didn’t know it. You had offered him a drink on the house, but he wouldn’t accept – you learned that night that he was quite stubborn. You also learned his name that night: Mary Goore. You read it off of his credit card. He never stuck around the bar for long, he would make his rounds to talk to all the patrons to promote his band or to find someone to go home with. After months of watching him do the same after every performance, you realized that it wasn’t just because he was looking for a quick fuck or to gain popularity through one night stands, but rather that he did it because he wouldn’t have a place to stay otherwise.

One night the bar was unusually empty – it was the homecoming football game at the local college which left only a few straggling, unamused tourists hanging about the bar while Mary performed. The patrons cleared out shortly after the set ended and you watched the band pack up their equipment as you wiped down the bar. Mary seemed a little lost, not knowing how to carry himself without being able to do his usually schmoozing. When the band was mostly finished, you watched as Mary made his way to the bar and began pouring a large glass of draft beer, setting it down right when Mary slumped in bar stood looking upset. It couldn’t have been easy to give so much to your art and performances with so few people paying attention and no money to show for it. You admired him for it.

“Mary. It’s on the house tonight, don’t argue with me.” You said to him firmly, prepared for his stubborn refusal.

But it never came. He just nodded, keeping his head and gaze down and dragging the glass towards him silently. He drained half the glass in one gulp. You reached a hand out to set it on the bar near him so he knew you were speaking to him.

“Mary? Is everything okay?” You hoped you weren’t crossing a line. This was pretty much the first time you had spoken more than a word to each other, despite seeing each other almost weekly. He didn’t respond, didn’t even look up as he finished his beer quickly. You knew that Mary needed a place to stay that night – there was no one left in the bar for him to ask.

“Look I know we don’t know each other well but I’m still worried about you. No one deserves to be alone.” You lean your head down to speak to him, not wanting to embarrass him or seem patronizing. He looks up and finally meets your eyes, eyebrows crooked like he was confused and shocked that anyone had noticed him and worried about him.

“Do you need a place to stay?” You asked him. “I live just around the block and there’s no reason for you to have to sleep in your car tonight. Just… stay with me? You can have the bed and I can sleep on the couch just… you never know what will happen at night around here and I just couldn’t sleep knowing that you didn’t have a safe place to sleep.” You rambled, knowing there was a high possibility you sounded like a creep. You just genuinely wanted to help him, you respected his craft so much and wanted to show that to him, unlike so many other people who frequented the bar and took advantage of his situation.

“Yeah… okay,” he mumbled, eyes on his fidgeting hands. “But please, I won’t let you sleep on the couch. That’s my only request, its your house you deserve to enjoy your own bed.”

You didn’t push it, knowing how stubborn he was. But later that night when you got back to your place and ready for bed you asked Mary once more if he wanted the bed, knowing it must have been a while since he had a comfortable place to sleep.

He said no, but he sat on the bed while he waited for you as you got ready for bed in the bathroom. When you were finished, he had already fallen asleep on your bed.

As you moved him slightly to tuck him under the covers, he reached two arms out, grabbing at you like a child. You were endeared and your heart tugged the way it had all those times you heard him play your favorite song. So, you joined him.

When he woke up with his back pressed to your chest and your arms wrapped around him, he didn’t even argue when you asked him to stay in bed.

“God, you don’t know how many times I’ve imagined waking up like this with you…”

#mary goore #mary goore fic #repugnant #mine

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s-creations · 3 years

Text

The Caring from Others

Gyro has never been good with emotions or understanding people. His younger years not helpful in those categories as he grew up. Good thing life wasn't ready to let him throw in the towel just yet.

Fandom: Ducktales ‘17 Rating: General Audience Relationships/Pairings: Gyro Gearloose/Fenton Crackshell-Cabrera, Fenro Warnings/Tags: Other characters are mentioned, How do emotions work? We’re learning today!, A little OOC.

The Father

Gyro doesn’t recall his childhood fondly.

Growing up in a small, back water farming town. A place where advancements, anything ‘new’, was labeled as dangerous. Deemed bad for everyone involved. His parents were less than thrilled when Gyro announced he wanted to become a scientist.

It wasn’t ‘honest work’.

A profession of false tests to make the common folk fearful of everything.

To make them more dependent on the government.

Even if Gyro suggested creating improved tools. Better way to help the farmers in making their jobs easier. Even safer. Every suggestion was just shot down. His parents claimed if their way had worked so well for so long, why change anything?

For 15 year Gyro had to work in secrecy. Knowing if any glimmer of creativity was found, it would be destroyed. Stomped out before it could reach their full potential. Salvation came when, after turning in so many applications, he was accepted into a high level university. Full scholarship and all. Everything was paid for, there was nothing to worry about.

Gyro should have felt some sting when his parents put up no fuss as he left. Happily letting their misfit son go off on his own journey. But Gyro honestly felt nothing but relief as he left that farmhouse behind for good.

While he now had the freedom to create in the open, university had its own issues to contend with. Like being mocked by his peers. Gyro was young and already set up with terrible social skills. It wasn’t better when fellow students deemed it a high priority to ostracize the chicken. The other students weren’t thrilled that someone younger than them had accomplished so much in their early years. The chicken’s ideas being scoffed at when he presented or attempted to make some connection. Gyro was sure he would have dropped out long ago if not for the continuous support and offered safety from his professors.

It was during Gyro’s last year of university that he was introduced to Dr. Akita. Properly introduced anyway. Gyro was well aware of the other long before this meeting. Having studied the scientist’s work extensively. It was almost like a dream come true when Gyro was offered an internship. A way to work with his idol directly.

How quickly it all turned into a nightmare.

2-BO was Gyro’s biggest accomplishment and regret. The chicken labeled as a mad scientist and abandoned by Akita when the chicken’s creation went rogue. Gyro was thrusted into a world he had no idea how to traverse. He was turned away from every opportunity. All knowing his history, fearful of what damage he was still capable of.

Gyro couldn’t blame them for being so concerned. He was honestly fearful of his own inventions at this point.

It was a surprise when Scrooge McDuck of all people reached out to him. Wanting Gyro to present his ideas to the billionaire and his board members. It was a mounting pile of nerves that was continuously being added to as the day drew closer. The chicken was honestly shocked that he didn’t pass out while presenting. Or from the unnerving quiet when Gyro finished. The buzzards looked unimpressed. Which did not help Gyro’s as yellow eyes stared him down.

“Mr. McDuck, this was a complete waste of time,” the buzzard from the middle spoke, “We are not in need of new hires for the production line. Especially not one with such a...dangerous past.”

Gyro swallowed weakly.

“Nonsense. Who ever said about having Dr. Gearloose here to be part of our regular R&D team.” Scrooge commented casually. He stood from his large, cushioned chair. Making his way over to the quietly panicking scientist. “I’ve been in the market for a personal inventor for awhile now.”

“Please do not tell me this is for your wild excursions sir.”

“Bradford, you’re too worried about keeping finances. Personal and monetary gain cannot be achieved at the same time. I have enough monetary value...for the moment. Now is the time for personal gain.”

“If you are so determined to do this. Could you at least get someone less dangerous.”

Scrooge slammed his cane down. Causing all in the room to flinch. “How can we expect growth if we cling to the past. Dr. Gearloose cannot be given redemption with no opportunity. I’ve seen his work. Both the bad and the good. I want him working with me.”

“Then I request a trial period. I would like to see a working, safe invention from the doctor here. If he does that, I won’t bring this up again.”

With a smirk, Scrooge gave a nod before facing Gyro. Who’d been honestly confused through the entire ordeal. Who just argues so freely with their boss?

“What do you say Dr. Gearloose? Think you’re up for the task?”

Steeling himself, Gyro gave a short nod. “Yes. Absolutely.”

He could do this. He knew he could. How many ideas had he sketched out when he was younger? Surely there were a number of inventions he could use to impress the board.

The good news was he was right. He was able to dig up multiple sketchbooks he had filled out from his college days that had yet to be used. Now came the trying task of deciding which invention he was going to use. One that was impressive enough to blow those buzzards away. But he could easily make it within the offered window of time. And that it was safe.

He wished Mr. McDuck would have been more forward with what he was looking for. The chicken would at least have a starting point.

Gyro really thought he had a winner when the month was up. More than a little confident when he entered the boardroom, all eyes on him. Giving his presentation with as much vibrato as he could. It was all going, in his mind, quite well. Even Mr. McDuck looked a little smug for Gyro’s success.

Then the machine was turned on.

It gave a warning whine, Gyro actually leaning in to see what the issue was. Letting out a choking sound as he was pulled back by Scrooge’s cane. All taking cover when the invention exploded. Leaving the pedestal it had been resting on and the wall behind it with dark scorch marks.

Gyro felt absolutely sick. Wide eyes staring at the spot where his achievement once sat. Only looking away when Bradford slammed his hands down.

“Unacceptable! Even a simple request created something so dangerous. I am putting my foot down on this Mr. McDuck.” The buzzard huffed as he stared Gyro down.

Scrooge, on his part, merely seemed unfazed by it all. Taking the time dust himself off. Pulling Gyro up and straightening him out as well before speaking. “Dr. Gearloose. Would you mind waiting for me in the labs. I need to have a quick discussion with the board.”

Gyro merely nodded. His voice stuck in his throat as he made his way to the elevator. Arms and stomach heavy with his failure. He knew he was fired. His one opportunity was gone. Gyro realized this was his best and only chance at getting any sort of job. A scientist who’s inventions caused more damage and cut off by Scrooge McDuck? Gyro would be lucky if he got a job at Radio Hut after all of this.

He collapses into the first chair he could find in the lab. Laying his glasses on a nearby flat surface and rubbing his temples. At this point in his life, Gyro wasn’t as emotionally blocked as he would later become. But he was learning that breakdowns were seen as weaknesses.

By his parents.

By his classmates.

By Dr. Akita.

So while he wanted nothing more than to hide away. Let this moment of emotional sorrow pass naturally and move on. Gyro had been conditioned to hold it in. Because what scientist falls apart?

He let out a slow breath as the elevator announced it’s arrival. Glasses on and standing as Scrooge made a direct line for him. While showing emotions weren’t allowed, Gyro learned that groveling was acceptable. Something Dr. Akita was quick to teach.

“I am sorry,” Gyro said quickly, “It wasn’t my intention for it to explode.”

“I had assumed so.”

“If given another chance-”

“Lad, you’re not fired.”

Gyro swallowed weakly. Stunned by the name and the announcement. “But...I almost killed everyone.”

“That’s a tad extreme. We would have been maimed. But kill? Doubtful.”

“It exploded!”

“I’ve experienced worse.”

“Mr. McDuck, with all due respect, you’re insane.”

Scrooge waved his hand. “No matter. Why don’t you take a seat.”

Doing as asked, Gyro looked up nervously, hands clenched together as he waited.

“As stated before, you’re not fired. Even after your explosive debut. I know Bradford is a stickler for keeping things ‘safe’. It’s one of the reasons I hired him onto the team. But he doesn’t understand that needed balance of risk and reward. I’m aware of your past. Which I’m sure you’re tired of hearing about at this point. We are our own worst critics. But I also know of your successes, your numerous successes.”

“I want to see you succeed. You deserve to see yourself succeed. I want to give you that opportunity. We’ll need to make sure you can give something to Bradford on occasion to keep him placated. But, other than that, you will have full creative freedom. How does that sound?”

Gyro swallowed hard, trying to keep himself stable. No longer fearful. Now extremely happy. However, he kept himself in check to remain professional. “Honestly, it’s too good to be true.”

Scrooge merely laughed. Clapping a hand on Gyro’s shoulder. “Well, get over that starstruck feeling quick lad. You have a lot of work ahead of you. I trust you can manage from here.”

As he watched Scrooge head back towards the elevator, Gyro realized something. “Um, sir?”

“Yes?”

“Your bet, with Bradford, you didn’t technically win.”

“Technically yes.”

“So...shouldn’t I be fired?”

A smirk appeared on the billionaire’s face, eyes seeming to shine. “Bradford needs to use his words better. He said if he wasn’t impressed, he wouldn’t discuss not keeping you. He never out right said I had to fire you. So, unfortunately, we’ll still need to hear his complaints. But he can’t fire you unless he gives me a good reason. Which I doubt he’ll be able to give.”

“I...thank you, Mr. McDuck.” Gyro weakly answered in disbelief.

“Don’t thank me. Just be the scientist I know you can be.”

“I will sir!”

Turning in the elevator to face Gyro, Scrooge gave a nod and smile. “I know lad. I trust you.”

_____________________________

The Brother

Gyro has always been a loner. He worked best this way. He was able to focus and didn’t have to constantly worry if his partner was doing their work properly. Plus, no one had really tried to include him in anything during his younger years. So he learned that working alone was better for him.

He was very much against the idea of having an intern working in his lab. Which Scrooge flat out refused to take Gyro’s refusal. Meaning the chicken couldn’t deny the hired help no matter how loudly he complained. With the unfortunate addition of the possible literal rendition of sunshine named Fenton Crackshell-Cabrera being hired a few weeks later. Which also meant an increased number of ‘visitors’ to this dangerous lab to see the brown duck. Doing nothing to help Gyro’s frantic state of keeping everything safe and making sure nothing became evil.

Scrooge was a common person to see there. After all, he owned the lab and it was attached to his place of work. Why wouldn’t he arrive to check on progress. To be shown what Gyro was working on. Now, however, the billionaire invited himself in to also check on Fenton. To make sure the intern was actually doing scientific research and not just cleaning the floors.

Launchpad had become friends with Fenton after that B.U.D.D.Y incident. The idiotic driver deciding that wasting time discussing some childhood show was perfectly fine. Gyro honestly tried to not become infuriated. But did he have to waste the interns' time! Even if the chicken didn’t want help from the other. It was the principle of the matter.

This also caused the blue nephew (Dew- something, whatever) to join Launchpad in the lab. Two children or beings with childlike personalities running around in the lab. A place filled with dangerous equipment. It was the perfect place to socialize in, Gyro sarcastically muttered to himself. And Scrooge actually encouraged it! Saying social engagement was good for both Fenton and Gyro. As if the chicken wanted to talk to someone who didn’t know what NaCl was.

So even he was surprised when he started to form a connection with Huey Duck. The red cladded nephew first started showing up to visit Fenton originally. The duckling particularly enamored with the scientist/superhero. Both talking for hours about new upgrades they could possibly make to the suit.

“With you permission, of course! D-Dr. Gearloose.” Fenton would assure with a sheepish smile. Which Gyro would respond with a mere rolling of his eyes.

As time went on and Fenton started to leave more and more due to hero calls, Huey started following Gyro around. The duckling deciding he wouldn't want to leave the labs quiet yet. And Huey wanted to pick the head scientist’s brain with his own ideas. At first, Gyro assumed his ‘wonderful’ personality would drive the other away. Huey, however, didn’t seem to care.

“You don’t have any siblings, do you.”

Gyro raised a brow at that. “Uh, no. At least I didn’t when I was actually living at home. At this point in my life, who knows. What’s your point.”

“My point being that your sullen attitude will have no effect on me. I’m the oldest of three. So, I have to deal with younger brothers. Sour attitudes are an old trick.”

“There really is no getting rid of you.”

“Nope.”

Gyro won’t lie, it was aggravating at first. He already had a shadow in the form of Fenton. Now the chicken was settled with another one that liked to constantly talk and didn’t fear him. Gyro only gave proper notice to the duckling when Fenton came to him with an upgrade for the Gizmosuit. One that sounded good.

“I thought you were busy with your toothbrush idea. When did you have time to think of this?”

“Actually, Huey came up with this.” Fenton answered.

“The red triplet?”

The duck smiled softly. “He’s been around here enough times. I think you can refer to him by his name.”

The chicken wasn’t overly fond of this idea. In his mind, the use of a name means Gyro cared enough to remember. And caring meant he wasn’t truly focused on his work. Something Akita was very adamant that Gyro learned.

But look where Gyro was now. Abandoned by his mentor.

Maybe Fenton was onto something. That felt strange to say.

“Very well. Perhaps I’ll have to try it your way.” Gyro was hit with a wave of confusion by the sudden sweeping sensation that went through his stomach. Fenton’s smile seeming to hit differently that day. But the head scientist filed that sensation away under ‘a later problem’.

Gyro should not have felt a sense of accomplishment seeing Huey’s eyes light up upon hearing his name. The chicken should have cut ties when the triplet sheepishly asked if Gyro could review Huey’s science project. And there should have been no sickening, worry feeling entering his veins when Huey arrived to the labs one day with a black eye.

Fenton, being the caring overbearing person he was, instantly panicked. “Huey! What happened to you? Are you alright?”

Gyro scoffed. “Of course he isn’t. He’s injured.”

“Do we have ice packs?”

“Freezer in the break room. I’ll get the first aid.” The chicken gestured for Huey to follow him. The duckling doing so without complaint. “Come on, take a seat. I need to see where else you’ve been hurt.”

Huey gave no response. Which was starting to become worrisome. The duckling was covered with small cuts and bruises. Gyro thankful it wasn’t worse… Because he didn’t want to waste the resources! Of course. What else would he be talking about.

Fenton came rushing back in. An ice pack wrapped in a hand towel was pressed against the black eyes. “Leave that there for a while. Do you need some pain medicine?”

“Already taken care of,” Gyro answered once again, “Now that all of that’s been taken care of. I think we’re owed an explanation.”

“Dr. Gearloose, just give him a moment.”

“I would like a reason for why Huey,” darn it Gyro said the name, “came to us instead to one of his uncle’s or other family members.”

“He can tell us when he’s ready. Give him a chance to relax.”

“And he can when he tells us- me what’s going on right now.”

“Dr. Gearloose-”

“I was able to skip a level in science.” The adult fell quiet hearing Huey’s whispered response.

“What?”

Huey gestured to his discarded bag. To which Fenton grabs it, handing it over. The duckling opened it and pulled out a familiar notebook that had been shoved into Gyro’s face numerous times. One that held Huey’s numerous sketches and ideas. Except it was destroyed. Practically torn to shreds, almost unrecognizable from what the head scientist had seen before.

“I showed my teachers my notebook. They were really impressed and talked to the principal about me skipping a level. It’s so I could enter the science fair that the upper level students can participate in. They said I had a lot of potential. Uncle Donald was happy, I was happy. My brothers teased me, but I know they were happy for me. I was kind of...blinded by my eagerness, I was under the assumption everyone would just be...okay with this.”

“Your classmates…” Gyro meant to have it sound like a statement. It instead sounded like a sickening realization.

But Huey merely nodded before continuing. “They’ve been writing things on my desk. Throwing things at me. I’ve been ignoring it…”

“Have they...hurt you before?” Fenton asked.

“No. I think they were tired that they hadn’t been getting a response from me like they wanted.”

“Have you told your uncle about this?”

“No… He’s already having a hard time finding a job and fixing the boathouse. I was hoping if I just ignored them, they’d leave me alone. ...I think I’m going to just drop back down to my grade level.”

“You are not going to let those punks win,” Gyro was surprised that he didn’t flinch as two sets of eyes snapped to him, “If you just go running back to your previous classes, you let them win. You’ll give them more fuel to think their actions are right. Especially if you haven’t told anyone about this. There will be no repercussions and they’ll continue to be terrible little creatures.”

“What do I do then?” Huey asked.

“You’re going to tell your uncle, your teachers, your principal, everyone you can. You’re going to come back with even better ideas. And This is a fight you can win because you have support. People who care about you...or something mushy like that.”

Huey gave a nod, rubbing his good eye and giving a blinding smile. “Okay...thank you, Dr. Gearloose.”

Gyro didn’t squirm weakly under the adoring look being sent his way. Or feel any sort of warmth blossoming in his chest knowing he’d helped in some way. Or become flustered at the smile aimed at him by Fenton, who’s eyes seemed to shine with happiness.

“I also know a side step that can break a femur. Very useful to know.”

“Dr. Gearloose!”

A few days later, Huey returned to the labs. Bright eyed and eager to show off his idea. No longer supporting injuries or secrets.

Gyro felt another save of fluster when Huey hugged his legs while Fenton laughed softly as he watched.

_____________________________

The Son

Gyro was surprised so much could change in one day. Well...one day-ish. It was more like three. Point being it felt as if all events had transpired in one day.

2-BO, now named Boyd, entered his life once more. The real boy having befriended Huey. Because of course that’s who would meet Gyro’s used-to-be biggest regret. Then he returned to Tokyolk after 10 years with Fenton, Huey, and Boyd in tow. The original intention was to destroy (Selene above he felt sick thinking about it now) Boyd. Get rid of his past.

Only for his entire perspective to be flipped. The mentor he thought was on his side had corrupted Gyro’s creation. Boyd was never given an option in his original purpose. Turned into a war machine that the chicken never wanted. And Gyro himself realized he was not the mad scientist so many had labeled him as.

He will admit, it was by sheer dumb luck and tapping into emotions he was sure had shriveled up long ago that it all ended so well. Akita was arrested. Going to be put to trial and allowing Gyro a chance to properly clear his name. Boyd overrode all corrupted coding, both Akita’s and Mark’s. Becoming the real little boy he was meant to be. All surviving and heading back home to Duckberg. As he rested in the cushioned plane seat, Boyd resting on his lap, Gyro was hit with two realizations.

The first topic (one which he honestly wanted to focus on much, much later) was an understanding of what Fenton meant to him. Between the fear of possible death and the burn of betrayal, Gyro had felt a deep distress watching the duck fight for his life. Fenton had given his all to protect the city and the citizens. And it almost cost him his life. Something Gyro never wanted to see again. The reason why was something that the chicken was not fully ready to review. Not yet. Possibly in the future, at some point. But he had another problem he needed to worry about now.

The second worry was equally confusing. Possibly because Gyro was still emotionally backed up. He wasn’t quite sure what was going to happen to Boyd. Gyro was made aware by Huey that the other real boy had been living with the Drake’s. A pompous rich family with an arrogant and rather disturbing child. A setting Gyro didn’t want Boyd growing up in. But what was the other option? Gyro himself? Someone who’s never known a stable family life and is not even close to the person Boyd once knew.

He could barely care for himself if Gyro was honest. Living off of multiple cups of coffee and cheap instant noodles. His sleep schedule was non-existent. Social skills were laughable. Gyro had honestly nothing to offer. It was terrible that there was not a better solution to all of this. Boyd deserved so much better than whatever his current care taking options could offer.

Gyro was shocked when, only a few days later, Boyd announced he wanted to live with the scientist.

“I- why?” Gyro winced at how harsh he sounded. But Boyd merely smiled back.

“I just found you. I don’t want to lose you again.”

Well, how was he supposed to say no to that? Gyro’s second bedroom, which once housed numerous boxes, was turned into a proper living space. He lived by a schedule that revolved around Boyd’s activities. Researching meals that both could enjoy and even learning how to properly cook. It was strange, but very rewarding. Gyro didn’t think it would affect him so much.

Until Fenton pointed it out.

“You’re really happy.”

It was a casual comment. But it gave Gyro pause. “What?”

Fenton stalled at that, flushing softly. “Sorry, I mean… I just noticed you seemed to be smiling more. And you’re more relaxed. You’re eating better and well rested. You just look really happy.”

Gyro leaned back in his chair. Tapping his pen as he thought the statement over. “I...suppose I am. Boyd really had changed me for the better, I think. Isn’t it strange...he was once my biggest regret. Now, I can’t see him not being in my life. I do worry that I’m not doing enough. Or that I won’t be what Boyd needs.”

Gyro flushed softly feeling a hand benign placed on his shoulder. Looking up at the beaming face Fenton. “You’re doing a wonderful job Gyro. Don’t doubt yourself.”

The scientist did all he could to not melt into the floor. He takes Fenton’s words to heart. Gyro had worked with Fenton long enough to know the duck wasn’t one to just give false praise. So, if Fenton thought the chicken was doing well, who was Gyro to question the given conclusion.

Gyro’s resolve was truly tested when he received a call from the school Boyd was attending. Apparently the real boy had been in a fight. A fight fight with another student.

Hearing this caused Gyro to panic. Worrying that possibly, maybe, the corrupted programming had returned. Wondering what could have happened for Boyd to act like this. Had Gyro said something sarcastic that the real boy had taken to heart? Was Boyd going to be taken away? Was this a sign that Gyro was not fit to be a caretaker?

The chicken was brought out of his spinning thoughts when someone grabbed his shoulders. Eyes connected to Fenton’s, who’s looking was concerning.

“Dr. Gearloose, you need to calm down. You’re drawing a conclusion with so little context. Just go to the school and hear what happened. Then you can react appropriately.”

“Right… Right, I need to get there.” The chicken mumbled weakly, eyes now frantically scanning the lab for his car keys. Fenton came to the rescue again when said items suddenly appeared in his hands.

“How about I drive.”

“...Yeah. That’s probably for the best.”

The drive was quiet. Fenton focused on the road while Gyro internally panicked. All too soon they were pulling into the school’s parking lot. The area was relatively empty as they walked up to the front entrance. Fenton made a quiet comment about the teachers having to park behind the building. It was a bit of a shock to run into Donald. The duck looked close to an angry snap.

“Hello Mr. Duck.” Fenton offered a smile.

“Fenton,” Donald’s eyes went to Gyro, “Boyd?”

Gyro nodded. “He was apparently in a fight. What about you?”

“Huey.”

What was going on?

The three walked in together, being directed by the secretary to where the principal’s office was. Dewey and Louie were waiting outside. The triplets wearing concerned looks when they looked over to the approaching adults. Donald gave them each a hug with a few words of encouragement before knocking on the imposing door. Gyro’s hand instantly shot out and grabbed onto Fenton’s as his heart raced. The duck gave no complaint. Even giving an encouraging squeeze as they walked in.

The large desk was the first thing to note. Large and imposing, telling all that the person sitting behind it to be respected. Even if the principal himself was a frail little bird. To the right sat a large bulldog boy supporting an arm with fabric wrapped around it. Gyro assumed there was a scrap of some kind underneath the fabric. A wiry female was dotting over the child while a brick wall of a man standing behind them both with his arms crossed.

To the left sat Huey and Boyd. The real boy seemed unharmed. Just appearing extremely nervous and worried. Huey, on the other hand, was supporting a black eye. A bag of ice already pressed on the injury. Gyro needed to research if there were long term effects of multiple black eyes.

Donald instantly broke away from the three, bending down to check on Huey. Gyro walked over to Boyd. Still having a hold on Fenton’s hand.

“Are you okay?” Gyro frantically asked. To which Boyd gave a sharp nod and fell still again. Deciding that was enough of an answer for now, the scientist moved himself and Fenton to behind the seats.

“Thank you all for coming,” the principal began, “I realize this was all on short notice. But we do not tolerate fighting. According to numerous student witnesses, there was a verbal dispute that turned violent during recess. One that resulted in Dennis benign pushed and Huey receiving a black eye. Before I continue, I will ask that you hold all comments and questions until the end. Is this agreeable?”

All adults nodded.

“Very well.” Reaching for something in his drawer, the principal pulled out a cell phone protected by a faded green case. “Louie Duck was able to record the incident and it lines up with the events the other students have provided. Dennis here was apparently using verbal harassment and inappropriate language against Boyd. To which Huey attempted to defuse the situation by walking away. Dennis has responded by throwing a punch. To what ends, I’m unsure, and Dennis has not provided an answer for his actions.”

The chair Huey was sitting in let out a loud noise of protest. Donald gripping the back of it tightly.

“And you well to continue, Mr. Duck?”

Donald nodded.

“Very well. Boyd here reacted to this by pushing Dennis away. The scrap on his arm caused by his fall. Mr. and Mrs. Morris, I’m unsure as to where your son has learned such language and actions. I would advise you to seriously monitor the media and outside influence your son consumes.”

“Oh absolutely,” Mrs. Morris answered readily, “Don’t you fret. We will have a stern talking to Dennis when we get home.”

“That is good to hear. Now, does anyone have any questions about this matter.”

“What exactly did young Dennis here say to Boyd. If I may ask.” Gyro’s voice was even. But, if Fenton squeezing his hand was any indication, his tone was dripping with venom.

“I won’t say specifics as I don’t wish to repeat them. Dennis was making comments about Boyd’s...past. Something about him being dangerous. As well as some...homophobic comments.”

Fenton squeezed Gyro’s hand again, the chicken shaking now. With fear or rage, he couldn’t tell. His own attention had snapped over to Mr. Morris. The father still having his arms crossed and imposing. But Gyro noticed the other’s eyes flitted down to Gyro’s and Fenton’s joined hands. The scowl seemed to become deeper once the father was caught in the action.

“I see. I’m very concerned as to where Dennis would have picked up language like that.” Gyro held eye contact with Mr. Morris until the principal cleared his throat.

“If there are no more questions… Mr. and Mrs. Morris, the actions, both verbal and physical, cannot go unpunished. We do not tolerate this kind of behavior. Dennis will be given one weeks suspension. As well as a written apology letter to both Huey and Boyd. I would also recommend setting up some meetings with the school counselor.”

“Understandable, very reasonable.” Mrs. Morris nodded while Mr. Morris was shaking with, no doubt, rage.

“Very well. Mr. Gearloose-”

“Dr. Gearloose.”

“Ah, apologizes. Dr. Gearloose, I’m aware Boyd was merely defending Huey. However-”

“You’re going to give him detention because he pushed Dennis. Defending himself in a violent way.”

“Ah...yes. Huey will receive no punishment. I hope we’re all understanding of this course of action?” Another round of sharp nods, “Very well, I won’t keep you all any longer. Mr. Duck, here is Louie’s phone. Thank him for providing me with his phone. All are excused for the rest of the day.”

It was tense walking out. The Morris’ were leading the way. But Gyro kept a tight grip on Fenton as Mr. Morris kept glancing back with a dark scowl. Something Gyro was not a fan of. It didn’t reach a head until they entered the parking lot. Away from the front doors and the cameras.

Mr. Morris turned and stalked over to the mismatched group. Gyro more than ready for the awaiting confrontation.

“I know you, Gearloose. I’ve seen your name in the paper before. You’re an absolute menace in every possible way.” Eyes darted back down to the still clasped hands.

“Yet I’ve accomplished more than you could ever hope for in your miserable life. Your need for constant approval has clearly made you bitter. Because you’d rather stomp out any spark of joy than attempt to change yourself or your family. If this incident was any indication.”

Mr. Morris let out a low growl. Gyro fully expecting to be decked as well. Only to be shocked when Fenton stepped between the two. The larger looking down with a raised brow.

“And who are you.”

“He’s my emotional support duck.” Gyro answered.

“Do you really think a confrontation on school grounds will reflect well in any way,” Fenton said, “I would suggest you step away from this now.”

Mr. Morris popped his shoulder, his scowl set. From behind, Mrs. Morris gave a clear and harsh cough. Her husband benign sent a hard stare of his own when he turned to look back. It was a silent, but brief conversation between the two of them that ended with the husband shuffling back over to his family. No one from the group relaxed until the pink mini-van drove away from the parking lot.

“So what exactly was your plan here?” Gyro frowned at Fenton, “I don’t see the Gizmoduck armor on you.”

“My body reacted before I could really...think.” The duck laughed sheepishly.

The head scientist merely rolled his eyes before turning to Boyd. Who looked back with worried eyes. “You okay?”

The real boy shifted nervously. “He called me a weapon and...I really tried not to fight. I tried to ignore him. But he...he pushed Huey and I got really mad… What if he was right?”

“He absolutely is not right.”

“Gyro.” Fenton whispers, in the same tone that told the chicken he was sounding harsh. The head scientist was thrown off for a moment hearing his name and not his normal title. Tuck that moment of broken mind away for later.

Gyro let out a slow breath before kneeling down and placing a hand on Boyd’s shoulder. “Boyd, you know who you are. I know who you are. You are not a weapon or a mindless machine. You are a real little boy. And you need to remember that, because you are going to meet a lot of people like Dennis. Closed minded and very ignorant. Saying anything they can to make you feel miserable and make them feel better.”

“However...you have people in your life who know you. Truly know you. Those are the people you need to listen to. Because they are going to make sure you believe in yourself. Understand?”

Boyd blinked as he thought the statement over. Eyes darting over to Huey, the triplets watching as Donald shouted at someone over the phone. No doubt having called up the principal or someone higher up in the schooling system to complain about the interaction in the parking lot. The red cladded triplet looked over to Boyd, giving a small smile and a wave. Which the real boy returned happily.

“I understand, Dad.”

Gyro swallowed weakly, pulling the small form closer while trying to keep his emotions in check. A weight on his shoulder drew his attention back to Fenton. Who had bent down as well with a smile on his face. The chicken smiled back in appreciation.

_____________________________

The Lover

Gyro knew this realization was a long time coming. No matter how many times he tried to deny it. Tell himself emotions were useless weights. He reached the point where he couldn’t hide the fact any longer.

Gyro had fallen in love with Fenton.

Which is not something he really wanted to focus on.

Gyro was sure he was becoming addicted to Fenton’s laugh. The head scientist had a mental category that each laugh fell into. A hard exhale through the nose was a sarcastic laugh if Fenton found something ridiculous but didn’t want to say anything. Hiding behind his clipboard with shoulders shaking meant he found something online but didn’t want to disturb the quiet. Small chortles seemed reserved for Gyro, the duck finding the head scientist’s dry humor funny. His full laugh was used with abandonment when he knew he wouldn’t be reprimanded for being so loud. Which was honestly more often than not anymore. Gyro found he loved how the sound would echo in the labs. It was almost like music.

There was also a list of body ticks that always caught Gyro’s eyes. Gently tapping the eraser of his pencil against his bill as he thought through a new problem. Tilting his head to the side with his hip occasionally cocked to the side as he looked over a blueprint. His brow would furrow when he concentrated hard on a situation. The top of his tongue would poke out when he reached ‘Gyro level’ of focus. His nose would crinkle when he silently found something amusing or disgusting. Which could only be determined by how brightly his eyes would shine.

Gyro could privately say, to himself, in his head, that Fenton honestly kept him grounded. The number of insults he would have hurled at the media dwindled when he thought of how disappointed the duck would be. The chicken had substantially cut back on the cups of coffee he would consume in one day when Fenton made a comment about being worried about his heart. He was surprised when he went to the duck to look over a new design, wanting feedback. Fenton beaming with each new time he was included in something. Gyro would counter saying Scrooge had warned the chicken he wasn’t utilizing Fenton to his fullest ability. Which was partially true. But he would be lying if Gyro wasn’t also looking for that blinding smile of adoration to be sent his way.

So, yes. After all the mental and physical lists he created. The pros and cons to having a relationship with anyone. Countless nights where he would lie awake knowing he was nowhere near worthy enough to have Fenton. Gyro knew he was in love with the duck.

The problem was moving forward with this revelation.

In all honesty, admitting it just made it all more bothersome. When Gyro still had his walls up, he could blame the rapid heartbeat as some symptoms of an onset illness. Just push the problem away to keep working. But having Boyd back in his life made him realize how bottling his emotions had become so damaging. Making Gyro more aware of what he was missing.

So now he was left to tread water. Wondering who he trusted well enough to ask for help.

There weren’t that many options with the Duck family. He and Donald had never really gotten along before the Spear of Selene incident. And Gyro was sure the duck still held some hostility towards him about the incident. While Gyro would consider Della the closest person to be a ‘childhood’ friend, she was dealing with her own issues. The kids were far too young to be considered as an option. Launchpad only had two rocks rolling around in that empty head, so any advice from him was not worth the headache. M’ma Cabrera? ...Selene above no. Even Gyro wasn’t that insane.

So that only left...Scrooge McDuck. This could not be considered a work appropriate topic. But the chicken was honestly at his wits end and needed help. The billionaire was his last and only option. It was with a heavy stone in his stomach that Gyro approached the familiar office doors. Knocking on them and only entering when he heard the familiar call out to do so.

“Ah, Gyro! What can I do for you?” Scrooge asked as the chicken sat across from him.

“I...need some advice.”

Scrooge paused in his writing, raising a brow as his full attention went to Gyro. “Advice on what?”

The chicken swallowed weakly. “Uh...romantic advice?”

“I see…” The billionaire placed his pend down. Clearing his throat, Scrooge sat up a little straighter in his chair. “Well, I will admit that I have not been very successful in my own love life. But I can offer help in any way I can. So, who’s the lucky person?”

Gyro swallowed again, feeling his face become flushed at the question. Doing all he could not to groan, he answered, “It’s Fenton.”

“The Gizmoboy? Really?”

Gyro nodded, not looking at Scrooge. His face on fire. “I just don’t know what to do. I’m aware that things have been going well and I don’t want to ruin it. But I feel like I’m going crazy! My heart is always going so fast when he’s near. I want to tell him, I really do. But...I also don’t think I’m the kind of person he deserves…”

Scrooge let out a heavy sigh as Gyro’s shoulders slumped. “I won’t act as if I’ve known you for your entire life. We both know I haven’t. But I have seen you at your lowest point and every triumph you’ve accomplished along the way. I’ve seen you slowly close in on yourself. It pained me to watch because I wasn’t sure how to help…”

“Let’s be honest sir. We both have not been in great positions emotionally for a while.” Gyro commented weakly. One that got a laugh out of Scrooge.

“This is true. But, the point is you have made a change in the past few months. I know you’ve built walls around yourself. I also know...bringing those walls down can be a terrifying idea. You’ve already started thanks to that boy of yours. Even if it was unintentional.”

“But what if he says no? I don’t know… There are too many variables that could offer a negative outcome.”

“That’s the risk of life. The good and the bad.”

“So what if he says no.”

“Then you move forward.”

“...I don’t know if I will recover.”

“Gyro, you’re putting the horse before the cart. And we’re still building the cart.”

Letting out a small groan, Gyro rubbed his forehead before looking back up. “Okay. So I’m taking a risk. We’ve determined that. But what do I say to him?”

“You just ask him.”

“Could you please not make it sound so easy.”

“It sounds easy because it is. You’re asking Fenton out on a date. Not defusing a bomb.”

“Yet the latter seems easier to accomplish.”

“Take the risk Gyro. Don’t waste your life wallowing on the ‘what-ifs’. You’ll regret it.”

Gyro left the office with not many answers and a pounding headache. But with determination to try and make this work in some way.

The bottom drawer of his desk was now filled with blueprints. Not for machines, but the best plan to ask Fenton out. The perfect places to go. All ranging from the cliche to the outlandish. What day would work best. His feathers became further ruffled as he worked. After a week of no progress, Gyro knew this wasn’t going to work. No reliable variables or knowledgeable outcomes. He just needed to do this. Because Gyro couldn’t stay in this mindset anymore.

Gyro’s first move was to wait for the lab to be empty. If he was going to crash and burn, he didn’t want an audience. Once that was achieved, he took a deep breath to settle his heart (didn’t work) and walked over to Fenton’s desk. The duck breaking from his thoughts hearing Gyro clear his throat.

“Hello Dr. Gearloose. What can I help you with?”

Gyro’s heart seemed to pick up it’s pace. Between the smile and wide eyes, the chicken felt like he was melting. In a good way. If that makes sense. None of this did.

Emotions were just so messy.

Darn it Gyro, focus!

“I...was wondering if you would be interested in conducting a...social experiment with me.”

“Oh, uh, sure! Of course. What’s the experiment?”

Another deep breath. “There is a new cafe that’s opened up recently near where I live. I am curious if you would like to join me in trying the products they offer. Sometime this weekend, possibly Saturday? Possibly trade some stories?”

Fenton’s head tilted to the side as Gyro spoke. A small smile forming as the other finished. “Dr. Gearloose-”

“Gyro. You...you can call me Gyro.”

“Okay, Gyro. Would it be safe to assume that this is an ask for a date?”

“That...would be a safe assumption.”

“Then I accept.”

Gyron was honestly shocked he was able to remain standing. Relief hitting him quickly upon hearing the answer. “Good, good.”

“How about I drop by your apartment around 8? Have breakfast at this cafe?”

“That’s acceptable.”

“Good. I look forward to this Saturday.”

“I am as well.”

One date turned to two. Which turned into three. Which became having dinner at the Crackshell-Cabrera household. Gyro was shocked when he received M’ma Cabrera’s blessing in dating her son. But not before getting a stern warning of what would happen if Fenton was hurt in any way.

“I think that was successful.” Fenton commented as they were sharing their good-byes for the evening on the front porch.

“Yeah. Nothing says accepting like a talk that ends in the threat of my kneecaps.” Gyro smiled softly hearing the other chuckle.

“Well, she may or may not be upset still about your MoonVasion comment. You know. About throwing Gizmoduck into the masses as a sacrifice.”

“I may now also regret that comment…”

Another laugh from Fenton, the duck reaching down to gently take Gyro’s hand. Placing a kiss on the back of it before holding it close. “I’m glad you came. I think M’ma really appreciates it as well.”

“I’m happy I came as well… You know...I don’t say or do things that intentionally hurt you. I did at first but-”

“Gyro.”

“Yes?”

“I know you better now than I did before.”

And the matter was dropped.

The first kiss milestone occurred at the park around the holidays. Both bundled up against the cold and falling snow as they admired the strung holiday lights hanging from the numerous trees. Arms hooked, Fenton led the way with wide eyes. Giving small comments about the lights and how lovely the park was decorated. Gyro was admiring the duck himself. Loving how the lights fell over the brown plumage. Fenton eventually caught on that the chicken wasn’t looking at the light as he was. Flushing softly seeing eyes on him.

“W-What?” The duck laughed, a small smile forming.

“You’re beautiful.” Gyro responded softly. Fenton’s eyes widened at the comment before softening into another smile. Gyro put up no restraint as he was gently pulled down. Fenton leaning up and meeting the chicken in a gentle kiss. It was only a few seconds, but Gyro loved every moment of it.

The utterance of the three words came a few months into them dating. Fenton had arrived back to the labs after an intense battle to find a worried chicken. Arms crossed and first aid kit in his hands. There was a sharp point set to the couch and Fenton understood the silent command. Stepping out of the suit and plopping onto the cushioned furniture. Gyro made it clear he was less than pleased at the moment.

“What were you thinking.” The chicken snapped. Hand shaking as he attempted to gently clean the cuts.

“People needed help.”

“Why is that your answer for everything and why do you think it’s a reasonable one.”

“Because it’s true. I have to defend Duckberg.”

“Even against crazies coming from St. Canard? Can’t that purple caped idiot keep them in his neck of the woods.”

Fenton smiled softly. “Villains are people too. You can’t control everything.”

“Don’t tell me that. You know the first thing I’m going to do is make something that controls people to make them leave this place.”

“Gyro, that’s unethical.”

“Well, maybe if you would stop being your heroic self and making me worry.”

“I understood the risks when I took this position. As did you. As long as I have you to come back to, I’ll be okay.”

Gyro huffed as he finished up. Turning to start packing up the supplies. “I love you, but you can be such an idiot sometimes.”

He didn’t catch it until Fenton grabbed his hand suddenly. The chicken looked up to find eyes filled with shock staring at him. “What...did you say?”

Gyro frowned, thinking back to his previous words. Face becoming full blown red when he realized what he’d just uttered. “I… Is it too soon to say that? I’m sorry, I just- I’ve been thinking it a lot and every time you go to your superheroing, I think how I’m not going to get to say it. But I know we haven’t dated for a year and-”

“I love you too.”

Swallowing his words down, Gyro’s head snapped back up to look Fenton in the eyes. They sat, staring at each other in disbelief before Fenton chuckled. Gyro shares his own sheepish grin before leaning forward to claim a kiss from Fenton.

It was close to a year of them dating that Fenton moved in with Gyro and Boyd. The real boy thrilled to have the other doctor living with them. The once small, cold apartment was now teeming with life. Mornings were a rush to get ready for the day and to be out the door before they were all late. The kitchen filled with warmth and wonderful smells as Fenton makes dinner with Gyro helping where he could. Meals being shared at the small dining table before watching a few shows until bedtime. Gyro and Fenton taking turns reading to Boyd before he powered down for the night.

It was a comfortable routine. Something Gyro thought he would’ve hated. But with each day ending with him and Fenton in their shared bed. The younger laying his head on Gyro’s chest and long arms wrapped around him. The chicken realized he wouldn’t want it any other way.

“I think we should buy a house.” Gyro suddenly commented into the darkness. Hearing Fenton hum softly as he was pulled from sleep.

“Where’d this come from?” The duck mumbled weakly.

“I’m not really sure. The boring suburban life seems pleasant after the craziness of...everything. What do you think?”

“I like the idea,” Fenton yawned widely before pressing closer, “We could get a big yard for Boyd and Lil Blub to play in. Neighborhood kids to become friends with. I think Della mentioned about getting a house in a quiet suburb. We could ask her.”

“That place won’t be quiet once that family moves in.”

“Oh hush. Wouldn’t it be nice to have Huey as a neighbor? Boyd would like it.”

“I suppose so…”

Fenton gave another hum, Gyro noticing the other’s breathing was slowing down again. He leaned down to place a kiss on Fenton’s forehead. “I love you.”

The duck laughed softly. Placing his own weak kiss on Gyro’s neck. “Love you too…”

Gyro let out a slow breath, a smile forming on his face. Eyes on the ceiling as he listened to Fenton fall asleep. A hand reached up to preen a few feathers as he pulled the other closer. Heart beating happily as he settled down further into the bed. A smile still on his face as he fell asleep as well.

#ducktales #gyro gearloose #fenton crackshell-cabrera #fenro #s-creations #fanfiction

42 notes · View notes

zevlors-tail · 4 years

Note

Depressed and touch starved Shigaraki crushing hard on y/n, a new recruit for the league/liberation front. He wants to be in a relationship with her, but is afraid of her turning to dust by his own hands. Little does he know, she feels the same way.

Warnings: Jealous Shiggy, bit of OOC/Yandere Toga? Knives, brief mention of villains/heroes fighting, heavy pining, tiny argument between Shig and the reader.

Ever since the day he laid eyes on you, Shigaraki had it bad. You had only joined the League of Villains a couple months ago, but within that short time span, you had completely captivated his heart. Maybe it was your quick thinking, or your reserved personality, or maybe the way your eyes seem to sparkle with mischief when he talked to you about future plans for the League. Whatever it was, it drew him in further every time he looked at you, brought out feelings in him that he hadn’t felt in a very, very long time; feelings that both scared and excited him to the point where he wasn’t sure whether to pursue something with you or run away.

At first, he chose the latter. A week in to getting to know you and he was terrified that he had feelings for you, so he pulled away in every aspect imaginable. He ignored you during missions, talked to you as little as possible, and barely even looked your way. You were lucky if he even passed by you in the halls of the hideout. He spent most of his time pent up in his room muttering and trying to scheme, although any plans he attempted to make were ultimately thwarted by thoughts of you. It didn’t help that even with the forced distance between the two of you and his giving you the cold shoulder, you were ever the friendly and kind person you made yourself out to be. You still tried to talk to him on the occasions he passed by you, still tried to get to know him without judgement or bias. Ignoring you completely just seemed to make the situation worse for him, so he finally had to face his newfound feelings and accept that yes, he, Shigaraki, had a crush on the new recruit for the League.

But with the acknowledgement of those feelings came another realization: as much as he cared about you, he could potentially hurt you with his quirk. Even if you returned the feelings, further disaster could ensue because of his existence, and that fact stung like no other. All he wanted- no, all he needed -was you. Your touch, your laugh, your whole essence...there was no part of you he didn’t like. He spent nights dreaming of your soft lips, of embracing you from behind and pressing kisses to the top of your head, of loving you without worry and limitations, and yet, he couldn’t have you. The world was continuously cruel to him still, relentless and ever inventive in the ways it found to torture his soul. You, on the other hand...you were the only good thing he had to hold on to in this desolate place.

As Tomura paced the wooden floors of the bar, he brought a hand to his neck, the familiar itching sensation driving him to scratch the same spot over and over again. He hated that damn habit of his, though truthfully he didn’t think he could stop. It kept him sane, gave him something to focus on other than the murky anxiety he felt welling up inside of him. He was like this whenever you were gone, but more so today than ever; he couldn’t stand knowing you weren’t here in his line of sight, that you weren’t under his protecting and watchful eye. Currently, you were on recon with Dabi and Toga, and he had a sinking feeling that something was wrong. His gut lurched whenever he thought about you, and he wouldn’t be satisfied until you were back at the bar in your usual seat, your familiar smile spread over your lips as you sipped on your favorite drink.

“Kurogiri. Any word from them?” This was the second time he had asked about you and the other two LOV members today. His patience was running out now, and he just wanted you back.

“They’re due back at any time, now. I’m sure they’re alri-”

As if fate wanted to prove the bartender wrong, the door to the hideout blew open mid sentence, and Dabi stumbled in with your unconscious form slumped over his shoulders, Toga hot on his heals behind.

“What happened?” Tomura growled out, immediately making his way toward you.

“Recon gone wrong, that’s what,” Dabi quipped. “We got spotted by some heroes on accident, not our fault. Y/N fended them off but she overused her quirk, and they almost got her.”

“Don’t worry, I sliced them up real nice! They were no match against my pretty knives...” Toga trailed off, a murderous glint in her eyes as she brandished a clean knife to look at herself in it’s reflection. “And I saved Y/N. I made sure to teach them not to touch what’s ours, Tomura! No one can have Y/N but us!” She let out a demented giggle.

Shigaraki wanted to correct her. Not ours, mine, he thought. His possessiveness got the better of him, and one look at Toga’s intense gaze was all he needed for jealousy to take root. He surged forward and seized your form from Dabi, careful not to touch you with all five fingers at once as he held you up. Dabi put up no fight in letting you go, completely understanding the situation and passing you over to his boss.

“Is she hurt?” he asked demandingly, giving you a once over for any obvious signs of distress or wounds. He found none apart from small scrapes and bruises.

“I don’t think so. Just unconscious. Side effect of her quirk, I bet.” His blue eyes stared off into the distance behind you and Tomura, gears spinning in his head as he recalled the fight from earlier. “I’ve never seen her quirk in action like that before. She’s strong, I’ll give her that.”

Of course you were strong, Tomura wanted to say. He knew the basis for your quirk, the basics of how it functioned and how it affected others, but new nothing of the drawbacks of it. This was new to everyone.

“Y/N’s quirk is so cool! Isn’t she just the best, Tomura?”

Something about Toga’s smile annoyed him and made the itchy burning sensation return to his neck. Before anyone else could say anything, he turned abruptly and started towards your room to lay you down and let you rest.

“Kurogiri,” he called as he was leaving, “I want a full report of the recon mission later, no details spared. Make sure they understand that.”

“Of course,” he replied cooly.

Tomura supported your frame against his shoulders as he trudged down the hallway with you, every step he took careful and measured so as not to disturb you any more than was necessary. His gut feeling had turned out to be right, after all. If he had just gone with you, this wouldn’t have happened. Even better yet, if he had just kept you here with him, then you wouldn’t have been in that situation in the first place. This was his fault, wasn’t it? It was hard to stop his thought process once it was started, and from there it all snowballed. You would never know how he really felt, and even if he was getting to touch you now, even if for a brief moment just to get you to your room, who’s to say something wouldn’t go wrong? What if he accidentally touched you with all five fingers, and you turned to ash right there in the hall, and died in his arms?

His thoughts were becoming too much to handle, even with you right there beside him. He was pathetic. Leader of a revolutionary and important group of misfit villains though he may be, he still wasn’t brazen enough to tell you how he really felt. And as he pushed open the door to your room and gently laid you down on your bed, he decided it was for the best if he just left you be. Even if he wanted to stay, it would do him no good. He gave you one last soft look and sighed heavily before standing. His brows knit together in frustration as he stepped forward, but a light tug on his sleeve kept him from going any further.

“Tomura...?” you mumbled groggily. “What happened?”

His self doubt slowly ebbed away at the sound of your voice, his anguish quieting for a moment as he down on your bed and met your gaze to explain. Who was he trying to fool? He could never just leave his feelings for you be. “You overused your quirk and fell unconscious. Dabi and Toga-” he shuddered involuntarily at her name, “took you back to the bar after fighting off some scum heroes.”

You sat up as he spoke, your head throbbing but otherwise feeling fine. “How did I end up in my room?” you wondered aloud, looking around to take in your surroundings fully.

“I carried you,” he answered matter of factly.

He couldn’t be completely sure, but he swore a faint blush appeared on your cheeks then.

“Thanks for that.” You smiled kindly at him, warmth radiating from your features and making his face feel oddly hot.

“Oh, sure.” It sounded sarcastic, bitter even. Not how he wanted it to sound. He was getting frustrated again; why did he have to ruin everything he touched, figuratively and literally speaking?

There was a small lull in the conversation, and you unexpectedly reached your hand out for his, resting it on top and caressing his fingers gently in a sudden move of boldness. He recoiled almost instantly, and the next thing you knew he was moving to get up and walk away.

“Tomura, wait-” you tried, desperately wanting his attention. He did pause, but he didn’t turn around, and once again his hand found it’s way to his neck. He really was getting irritated with himself.

“What?” he snapped, pivoting on his heel to face you.

“I’m sorry, I think I misinterpreted something...I- I didn’t mean to...” you trailed off, the dejected tone in your voice stabbing through his cold heart. “I thought you were-”

His blood ran cold at what he thought you were trying to say. Surely you couldn’t mean...

“Thought I was what?”

“I thought- No, I think it was just me hoping this whole time, but...I thought maybe you had...feelings...for me. You seemed so concerned a minute ago, and there was that moment where your face- Um, I could see it behind your hair-” You stuttered out your words, embarrassed to admit your feelings that you were now certain he did not reciprocate.

Tomura, on the other hand, wasn’t sure what to say. You had just openly expressed your feelings for him while believing at the same time that he didn’t feel the same for you, and he hated it. He hated it with all the burning fires in the world, with all the passion and drive he had left. And the worst part about it was that it was his fault. He should have told you. He wished he had told you. He could still tell you...but he wouldn’t. Not if it meant endangering your life, not if it meant that he could potentially hurt you. He couldn’t bring himself to say the words.

Lucky for him, you weren’t willing to let this go so easily.

You saw the tortured look on his face, saw the longing in his eyes and the way his fingers twitched, as if he wanted to reach back out to you. With newfound resolve, you stared him down, willing him to break.

“Don’t look at me like that, damn it.” Curse you. Damn you to hell and back. You did things to him that you had no idea about.

“So you really don’t feel the same?” you pressed, doubt creeping back up your spine.

Maybe you were wrong after all...

“It’s not that!”

Or maybe not.

“Then what-”

“Don’t you know I could kill you?” The words left his lips before he could stop them. “I could accidentally turn you to dust, Y/N. Doesn’t that scare you? Or are you really that stupid?”

“I know that.” You spoke with conviction, understanding finally dawning on you.

He was afraid to hurt you. That had been his reason for pushing you away, for not talking to you, for trying to ignore his feelings for you. He was scared. And rightfully so, with a quirk like his. The thought had crossed your mind before, but truthfully, it hadn’t really been anything more than a passing thought. Once you really got to know Shigaraki, once you saw him leading his small family, you had put all of your trust and faith into him. He was not to be laughed at or underestimated; he was calculated, thorough, and kept his family together at all costs. Even if Dabi sometimes was unruly, even if Toga creeped him out, even if Kurogiri failed sometimes, they all belonged together, and you were happy to be a part of that. You admired him for everything he had done, everything he was currently doing, and all of the great things he would do in the future. Maybe others couldn’t see it right at the moment...but this man was going to change the world.

“But I believe in you, and I trust you would never do something like that to me, even on accident. I don’t think you give yourself enough credit.”

“Don’t patronize me.”

“I’m not. Your quirk doesn’t scare me. I mean it. And another thing,” you gave him a pointed look. “I’m not stupid,” you spat defiantly. For someone so reserved most of the time, you sure had an iron will.

Tomura followed you with his eyes as you got up and attempted to walk over to him, but tripped in the process, still a little out of it from the overuse of your quirk. He was quick to catch you before you could hit the ground, and you smiled up at him once more while he just stared back at you, confused.

“What are you grinning like that for, hm?”

“I told you I trusted you. You didn’t turn me to dust, did you?”

“That’s not funny, Y/N.” Although, his words were all bark and no bite. What you had said was true, and it gave him a bit of relief to think that you were right.

He could make this work, after all. And for the first time in a very, very long time, Tomura Shigaraki felt calm.

He helped you back to bed and sat down with you again, this time planning to stay. And when your hand once again found his, he let you keep it there, enjoying the warm feeling of your touch.

“I know it’s not. I’m serious. I trust you with every fiber of my being, Tomura. I think I love you.”

He could have sworn his heart stopped, or maybe it was time itself that stopped. Either way, he never wanted this moment to end.

Instead of returning your words with his own, he layed down next to you and draped an arm over you. “You should be resting.”

You had once heard that everyone had different ways of saying ‘I love you’. For some, it was telling you to stay safe when parting. For others, it was asking if you had anything to eat yet. So when he spoke, you recognized the meaning behind Tomura’s words even if he wasn’t saying it outright.

‘You should be resting.’

I love you, too.

A/N: WOW OKAY THIS GOT LONG. Also, I’m so, so, SO sorry this took so freaking long to finish. I literally sat down tonight and told myself I was going to work on it, and I got hit with inspiration and BAM it happened. Shigaraki is actually not on my list of characters that I write for, but because it was my first request and I wanted a challenge, I made an exception and wrote it. And damn, anon, did you give me one hell of a challenge. Holy FUCK. Idk why this was so hard to crank out before now, but I’m kind of in love with this? I hope you all like it as much as I do!

#Shigaraki #shiggy #shigaraki x y/n #shigaraki x reader #tomura #tomura shigaraki #tomura shigaraki x reader #anon #anonymous #request #answered #bnha scenario #tomura x reader #LOV #league of villains #toga himiko #himiko toga #toga #dabi

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pikapeppa · 4 years

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Fenris/f!Hawke smut: Mouth

Some plotless feelsy smut, because sometimes a girl just has to write Fenris going down on Hawke. Or is that just me? Okay [goes to sit in the smut corner like a smut goblin]

~1800 words; read here on AO3 instead.

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Rynne Hawke spent a lot of time thinking about Fenris’s mouth.

He had the perfect mouth, in her opinion. His lips weren’t so plump as to be the first feature of his face to draw the eye, but her eye was drawn to them all the same. She lovingly studied the delicate bow of his lips, and she admired the way that bow became more exaggerated when he was sneering at a slaver or scowling at something Anders had said. She contemplated the perfect dusky-rose colour of his lips, and when she leaned away from him after a kiss, she silently cursed the smudges of her raspberry-red lip stain that dared to spoil the natural hue of his lips. Sure, there might be other mouths in Thedas that were more lush or more rosy or more attractively shaped, but to Rynne, no one else’s mouth held nearly the same appeal.

It wasn’t just the shape of Fenris’s lips that was so thoroughly preoccupying, though. It was the way they moved. It was the way they twisted in disgust when Fenris smelled fish down at the docks. It was the way they parted on a weary sigh when Rynne stumbled haplessly into the next late-night Lowtown fight. It was the way his lips pressed into a thin line when she said something foolish, and the way they stretched and curled into a smile when she said something foolish that he thought was funny. His lips were expressive, moving and shifting in time with his emotions and pulling at her heart like a puppet on strings. Rynne watched the evocative movements of his lips, and she thought to herself that she could spend a lifetime watching his perfect mouth and never get bored.

And then, of course, there was the way Fenris used that lovely mouth of his.

He used it for all the normal stuff, of course — talking and breathing and eating and all. But even those mundane acts were enough to drive her to distraction. When Fenris talked, Rynne watched the way his lips shifted around the baritone sound of his bone-melting voice, and she admired the way he slowly wet his lips when he was thinking about what to say next. When Fenris breathed, panting heavily after a fight or drawing a gasp of air when she dragged her tongue across his lyrium-lined abs, Rynne thought about the air that passed through those perfect lips, feeding into his lungs only to come back out shaped into a dryly humorous remark or a low-pitched chuckle or a pleasured groan. When Fenris ate, he hid his mouth sometimes behind one hand while he chewed, and Rynne treasured the moments when she glimpsed the tip of his tongue flicking out across his lip to catch a stray crumb or a precious drop of juice.

Fenris talking, Fenris breathing, Fenris eating and sipping elegantly from a glass of wine: Rynne watched with unabashed appreciation as his mouth did all of that fine and necessary work. But all of that was nothing compared to the way he used his gorgeous mouth to kiss.

His lips parted slightly as he drew her close, and Rynne happily gave herself to the perfect slightly-parted pressure of his lips. His kisses always started this way, a firm press as though he was anchoring himself to her before deciding whether to deepen the kiss or to draw away, and she was always delighted to let him be the one to decide which direction their kisses would go. In a life where Rynne Hawke was the one in charge, the one who led their merry little band of misfits from one madcap adventure to the next, she was more than happy to let Fenris lead the way in this slow and tantalizing dance of pleasure: this dance where his perfect mouth slid carefully and smoothly over hers, his lips coaxing hers apart and his sleek tongue stroking her own, his teeth pressing delicately into her lower lip until she gasped, his lips brushing over the corner of her parted lips with the delicacy of a butterfly’s wing…

Fenris leaned away from her, leaving her panting for air, and still she couldn’t look away from his mouth. His lips were plumper than usual from the firm pressure of their kiss and their colour had deepened to a tempting rosy hue, and she just couldn’t stop fucking staring at how beautiful they were.

“Hawke,” he said.

She forced herself to stop staring at his mouth. “Yes?”

His eyebrows rose slightly. “Are you all right?”

“Of course,” she said. “Why do you ask?”

“You are staring at me,” he said.

“I’m always staring at you,” she replied. “You are gorgeous, in case you’ve forgotten.”

He gave her a chiding little smile. “You’re staring more than usual, then.”

She tilted her head. “Did you know that you have the nicest mouth in all of Thedas?”

He scoffed and rubbed the lovely mouth in question. “Kaffas, Hawke. You will make me blush.”

“I certainly hope so,” she said cheerfully. “Your ears turn such a charming shade of red.”

He huffed a laugh, then lifted her chin with his thumb. “A nice mouth, you say,” he mused. “Is there something you want me to do with my mouth?”

His voice was a low and playful purr, and it triggered a pulse of lust between her legs. She let out a throaty laugh. “Why Fenris, what a naughty suggestion.”

“It isn’t naughty,” he said. “Not unless you make it so.”

She coyly nibbled her lip. “Well, if you’re offering…”

“I could offer,” he said. “But perhaps you should ask if there is something specific that you want.”

He was smiling faintly, and she nearly swooned at the treasured sight. She curled her fingers in the fabric of his tunic. “I’ll tell you what I want,” she said. “I want you to put that gorgeous mouth between my legs and do something useful with it.”

He chuckled. “I suppose I could do that,” he said, and he abruptly picked her up. The next thing she knew, she was sitting on the desk in the study while Fenris slid her silky skirt up her thighs.

She panted eagerly and leaned her weight back on her palms. Fenris sat in the desk chair and traced his thumb over her cleft through the barrier of her smalls, and Rynne jolted and lifted her hips.

He shook his head and smiled — Maker’s balls, that smile, the curl of mirth on that perfectly sculpted mouth! — then brushed his knuckle between her legs. “Your smallclothes are soaked through. How long have you been thinking about this?”

“All day,” she said promptly.

He paused in his petting and looked up at her with wide eyes. “All day? Hawke, it is past midnight.”

“It’s been a long day, believe me,” she said wryly. “Will you lick me now with your lovely tongue?”

He tsked. “You and your endless compliments,” he drawled. He pushed her skirt a little higher and carefully pulled the crotch of her smalls to the side, and when his tongue flicked out to wet his lower lip, Rynne stared at his mouth with rising desperation.

She wiggled her hips on the desk. “Fenris, please…”

He didn’t reply; instead, he lowered his mouth between her legs. His lips sealed over her pussy and the flat of his tongue pressed against her clit, and Rynne dragged in a tremulous gasp of air.

Maker’s balls, fuck, his mouth on her pussy… This was what made her come undone. This was the thing that distracted her the most during the day and kept her mind thrumming at night. The feeling of his lips caressing the slick folds of her flesh, giving her a gentle sort of bliss that complemented the more intense pulse of pleasure that his tongue was fostering in the swollen little bud of her clit: this was something that Fenris’s mouth did exceedingly well.

He pushed her legs further apart and kissed her sex, and Rynne stared shamelessly at his handsome white-haired head as he smoothed his tongue along the length of her cleft up to her clit. He graced her with an open-mouthed kiss and swirled his tongue slowly over her clit, and she clenched her nails on the desk with a gasp.

“Fenris…” she mewled.

He hummed into her flesh, a growly sound of affirmation that thrummed through her body and straight into her blood, and Rynne curled her hips toward him with rising desperation. She was spiralling toward her rapture, spiralling higher and closer in time with the gentle motion of Fenris’s tongue as it teased its way around her swollen little bud, and despite her playful jokes from a moment ago, she truly couldn’t stop staring. Fenris’s elegant fingers were holding her legs apart, and his hair half-obscured his eyes without hiding the tantalizing sight of his mouth moving at the juncture of her thighs, and the sight of him — Maker, the look of him, the sound of his hungry breaths ghosting across her sex, the sheer tangible reality of this incredible man gracing her humble body with the perfection of his mouth: it was almost more than she could bear.

He caressed her thighs with his palms and lapped carefully at her clit and kissed her with his beautiful mouth, and a heart-pounding moment later, Rynne found her bliss. It fanned out through her body and rippled all the way down to her calves and her toes, and she gasped and bucked her hips and cried out his name. He gripped her hips and continued to kiss her, his tongue sliding over her sex in perfect time with the frantic pulsing in her core, and when the ecstatic crescendo of her pleasure began to wane, she slid her fingers through his snowy hair in a gentle caress.

He wiped his mouth on her thigh, then lifted his head to look at her, and another exquisite half-smile pulled at his lips. “Hawke, you’re staring again.”

She let out a breathless little laugh. “You can’t blame me. You just have such a talented mouth.”

He huffed in amusement, then stood up and cradled her neck in his palm. “As it turns out, I am not the only one here with a talented mouth.”

She grinned and reached for his belt. “Is that so?

“It is,” he said. He pressed his forehead gently to hers. “And you are not the only one who has been thinking about this all day.”

His voice was husky and tender, and her heart flipped happily in her chest. “You smooth talker,” she whispered, and she tilted her chin up to lure him into a kiss – yet another perfect kiss from the most gorgeous mouth in Thedas.

Rynne spent a lot of time thinking about Fenris’s mouth. She thought about its shape and the way it moved, the curve of his smile and the way it curled around his Tevene-accented speech. But there was one reason and one reason alone that Fenris’s mouth was so thoroughly preoccupying to Rynne Hawke: it was the mouth of the man she loved.

Fenris was the man she loved, and his mouth was the only one she would ever want to kiss again for the rest of her life.

#fenris #fenris smut #fenris fic #fenhawke #fenris/hawke #fenris x hawke #f!hawris #fhawris #fenrynne #fenris/femhawke #fenris x femhawke #fenris/f!hawke #fenris x f!hawke #pikapeppa writes

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invincible-selfxmade-punk · 3 years

Text

My So Called Rise Against Life

All lyrics written and owned by Rise Against

No band, not even AFI, sings the soundtrack of the last 20 years of my life like Rise Against has. I was dragged to my first Rise Against show by Emily. Emily, the suicide girl, quite possibly the hottest girl in Corpus Christi, barely 5'1 and 98 pounds soaking wet, covered in tattoos and with Angelina Jolie's lips. To this day I cannot imagine why a girl who looked like that wanted to hang with me. I had never been to a gig at that little club called The Underground where the disenfranchised youth of Corpus Christi congregated. This was the very cusp of my punk rock midlife crisis and I went in scared to death because I'd heard concerts of this nature were violent.

At this point I was already considering the decision to become straightedge. I was curious but knew little about it. The sum of my knowledge was this: two of the guys in AFI were, and the guy at the mall was. The memory of this guy never leaves me. Like a stray dog with a tennis ball, catching a welcoming scent on the air, then chasing after a passing stranger who never looked down, I chased after him and each year I spent in that fruitless pursuit felt like seven. His friendship I would never win, but he would remain on the outskirts of my life, like the brass ring I reached for again and again only to fall on my face. I would see him that night too, but I didn't know this when Em invited me out. It was billed as a hardcore show. I had no idea what hardcore was back then, I just assumed it meant a rough crowd of millitant straightedge vegans that would have a sixth sense that I wasn't one of them and chase me out the doors. Rise Against was headlining and an equally unknown band called Avenged Sevenfold was opening. I'd never heard of either. Emily wanted me to go and I wanted to get out of the house for the night so it wasn't that hard for her to twist my arm in the matter. I met her at her apartment which was filth ridden, with drug paraphernalia everywhere, a wall size Misfits poster that took up the entire SIDE of her apartment, and electric guitars propped next to skateboards. As she slipped out of her clothes and into something slinky much to my viewing pleasure, she pointed me to her freezer with a purloined bottle of tropical Schnapps from the liquor store she was working for. Toasting in miniature tea cups I downed the bright blue liquid. I remember it so well, the frost covered bottle, cold in my hand, the electric blueness pouring into what looked like a child's tea party set up. This wasn't the last drink I would take, that would come two months later, yet I remember every detail of the experience. Suited up in skimpiness, we were off to the races. We hauled ass in Emily's SUV and she sat behind the wheel, dwarfed by it's hugeness and her smallness, joint in hand, careening down the expressway and swerving around orange construction barrels. As we exited into the worst part of town I had ever seen I must have looked uneasy. She turned to me and proudly exclaimed "Don't worry, I know this place! I used to score crack here!" We walked in and the first person I saw was the straightedge boy, who was taking money at the door. It was a good sign of things to come. It would also mean I would completely ignore Avenged Sevenfold's set in s stupid quest to get his attention long enough to make conversation. But Em was a champ, she stayed with me through the whole thing. In fact, I don't remember having the guts to say a word. She talked to him, I watched him talking to her and twenty feet away M. Shadows was screaming his sexy, tattooed, egotistical lungs out but I was utterly oblivious. From there we went to the merch booth where Em bought me an Avenged Sevenfold poster that I kept for years on my wall before finally giving it away right on the cusp of actually starting to listen to them. She also bought me a Rise Against patch that is still on my Dickies bag today though it is nothing more than a mess of black thread. We wandered over to the PETA booth, watched some gruesome videos, signed up for mail and picked up a cookbook I would later use to make one of the mall kids a vegan birthday cake. Then Emily spied someone she knew and I followed her over, still looking suspiciously through the crowd sure someone was just going to come up and punch me for no apparent reason. Still following, I watched as she struck up a conversation with this cute guy in glasses. I politely listened in as they talked about how they haven't seen each other since Warped Tour. For the life of me I can't remember what they talked about. I was distracted by a guy that looked like Davey Havok. Their conversation muffled to a drone until the guy looked at his watch and said "Oh crap!! I need to be on

stage! I'll talk to after the show!" and it was at that moment I realized Emily had been talking to Joe Principe of Rise Against. This was our cue as well though there was already too much of a crowd to get near the front. There were maybe one hundred people there and Tim held every one in the palm of his hand. I was amazed. I had never heard them before in my life so I can't tell you the set list but I knew from that time on I wanted to hear more. At the end Emily and I waited at the stage to talk to Tim. I had no idea what to say so I just shook his hand and now I wish I had held on a little longer. Emily got a shirt signed and talked to him for a while. Again I was too preoccupied with the AFI look-alikes in the crowd that I wasn't paying much attention. To this day I wonder if the dude I thought looked like Davey was actually Zacky Vengeance. I'll never know for sure. Soon enough Joe was with us again and he and Emily were engaged in conversation when he turned to me and said "Did that hurt?" I had NO idea what he was talking about, I was too overwhelmed by his very presence. I actually thought he was pointing past me to the PETA booth and I stupidly sputtered "What KFC is doing to chickens?" I swear to god when I'm miserable and in need of cheering up sometimes all it takes to make me smile is thinking "Hey, Joe laughed at my joke." The night drew to an end, Emily went out with the band, and being married, I went home. Next to singing a line with Dave Peters of Throwdown, that first night with Rise Against was the best night of the last ten years of my life. The next time I would see Rise Against they would be back in Corpus, opening for Bad Religion. This happened during what I call "The Emo Dave Era". I met Dave because of Rise Against. He was a little emo boy wearing a Rise Against shirt, skipping school at the mall. I stopped him and asked him about it and well that was it, he just kept coming around. I would end up knowing him for five years and eventually hiring him to work for me. By the second time they came to town Siren Song of The Counterculture was out and I remember bragging to Dave that if it was any other band I would have just downloaded it, but for them I would actually spend my hard earned money. I remember DRINKING in the songs, trying so hard to memorize all of the tracks before the gig hit. I remember the second Rise Against gig for many reasons. It was the first gig I went to alone at a time I was in the grip of panic attacks whenever I had to be in wide open spaces by myself. Two of my "mall daughters" met me at the gates and stayed with me the whole night. I remember that. I remember Dave hitting the merch table before me and buying me Rise Against stickers that I regarded like they were jewels and kept them in some special place until I hid them so well I hid them from myself. Dave and I and the girls were in the front row together, and sadly none of them I am in contact with now. Not only that, but Dave and one of the girls I was up front with would end up working for me and stealing over $1300 from my business during their tenure as my employees. Years from knowing this though we happily stood side by side and sang along for the whole set. What I remember most about that second gig was standing in front of Joe and when he sang "Single file like soldiers on a mission." I saluted him and he saluted back. Tim was wearing the exact same shirt he wore at the first gig but I was probably the only one to notice it. And when Tim asked "Who was here at our first gig when only 20 people showed up?" I proudly raised my hand. All the memorizing I did was pretty much for naught because I was so excited to be in the front row I damn near forgot every word to every song, but for some reason I knew every word to 1,000 Good Intentions. The first Rise Against show was in August, I can't tell you the date of the second one. I made my commitment to becoming straightedge sometime between December and January. I don't know the exact date because I was so scared about the whole

thing I kept it to myself "You're the new revolution The angst filled adolescent You fit the stereotype well..."

.All I know for sure was that I'd been edge several months by the second Rise Against gig at Concrete Street in Corpus. he second Rise Against gig also brings to mind another phantom of my past: a girl I was close to named Amanda (not the Amanda I went to Warped Tour w/, that Amanda I've always called Di because her screen name was Dionysus). This was Amanda's first night aout after being kidnapped and raped. Her parents were druggies and didn't want the cops involved so the guys who did it just got away with it and I'd see them at the mall all the time afterward and I couldn't do shit. It was her and her big sister who met me at the gates and stayed with me all night. I loved those girls. . . . Again, digressing. From First To Last opened and we spent the whole set talking about how much they looked like AFI. I ended up leaving the gig early, going to the house of one of them who still lived with his folks, ringing the doorbell and leaving a note in the mail box that said 'YOUR SON RAPES LITTLE GIRLS----just thought you should know'. It didn't really help anything but it made me feel better. During this mindlessly courageous time I was blinded by my commitment. I jumped into being edge with a fervor reserved for things like joining the Hari Krishnas or Jehovah's Witnesses. It was a complete make over of every idea I'd ever held. I didn't know a great deal but once I found it, I knew it was all I had been looking for. The only other person I actually knew who was edge was the straightedge boy, who now had become god-like in my mind. He was the first face of straightedge for me, the ideal, the standard, the one thing I felt I had to live up to. Sadly, by this time he was long gone, moving away from the mall where we worked and on to better things. This fact only drove me forward in a Holy Grail level quest to find him. When he was there I was terrified of speaking to him and then when he wasn't I kicked myself for not having the courage. I was sure that if I did make my way to him, he could impart some knowledge, some advice that would make my whole solitary experience make sense. The soundtrack of that quest was Blood to Bleed: "Steps I take in your footsteps Aren't getting me closer to what is left of the dreams of what I once claimed to know Within my bones this resonates...." Within weeks of each other three amazing things happened: Ceci, my best friend Amanda(Dionysus) and I went to Warped Tour to see AFI and in the process saw Rise Against as well. Then The Sufferer and the Witness came out, and at the same time Jadey and Ceci came to visit me in Corpus for quite possibly the most idyllic summer of my life. It was that summer we saw Rise Against for the third time. At that Warped Tour again we were in front of Joe, and again when Tim sang "Single file like soldiers on a mission... " we saluted Joe and he saluted us back and it was like a little piece of heaven fell to earth, the moment was so perfect. The set was

short because it was Warped Tour but we didn't care. We were together, we loved each other and we sang along with every song we knew. Sufferer and Witness came out in July right in time for Warped Tour and the girls coming down for a visit. I remember this so well because I had a cd of the straightedge boy's band and it seemed so important for me to play it for Jadey and Ceci. Do you remember that line in The Lost Boys: "Now you know what we are, now you know what you are." ? That was how it felt for me, this romanticized notion that my edge was not my own and it was all owing and belonged to someone else. I wanted to be able to trace it like a family tree to say, if I had not met him I would not have found out about AFI, I would not have made my committment, we would have never met, so therefore the life and friendship we have shared has all traced back to THIS. Well, they weren't all that impressed. I have a very clear memory of us being outside the Sonic Drive In and Jadey asking me "Please turn that noise off and put in something else." That something else was the The Sufferer And The Witnessand it stayed in the player for the rest of the trip. Ready To Fall was the song that defined the next year, much later, that I made my edge my own. In my journey I had looked to so many others for advice or reassurance or validation. I did this because I didn't believe in myself. I thought I was weak and sought in others what would make me strong. Sometimes I received it, like messages sent back and forth the guys in Throwdown and the near religious experience of seeing them live all the times I have, of singing a line with Dave, shaking his hand. Most of the time though my search was in vain. I remember very clearly seeking out help online. One guy told me I would never know who I was until I went to a hardcore show. This wasn't exactly bad advice, hardcore shows had the most amazing energy flowing through them and it did feel good to be surrounded by like minded people. The only thing I really learned about myself through going to hardcore shows was that if God had wanted me to hardcore dance, He would not have given me boobs. There was another guy who told me only the most insecure person would EVER wear a straightedge shirt out in public and if you were sincere about it, you'd keep it to yourself. I thought that guy was nuts. The whole POINT of being edge to me was proving I was not like the idiots around me. "With your eyes Glazed and half-smiled Explain to me the details of your God-given right You point your finger In my face but You can't remember what you did last night" I asked another guy what to do if I was tempted to drink again and he told me if I was tempted I was never really straightedge to begin with and I should just do the scene a favor and kill myself already. Then there were the kids that thought I was just the bees knees and were coming to ME for advice. I had no idea what to tell these kids, but I wasn't about to tell them not to wear sXe gear or kill themselves. Because of my own search for answers I refused to turn any kid away. One day they were telling me I was their hero and begging for advice, the next they were telling me I was out of my mind and to get lost. It took a good four years before I learned not to believe them in either case. "This could be my great awakening But how would I know when it's all noise to me? Are these words falling on deaf ears?" Right in the middle of this I had the good fortune to meet a guy named Chris X from Philly. He neither worshipped nor ignored me. He was simply THERE. I have the most vivid memory of this one morning. I had the same dream about the straightedge boy only this time I stepped out and stopped him and asked him if the hormones levels in milk made people more aggressive the way steroids did and asked if I should stop drinking it. Why this popped into my head I will never know. As usual the alarm rang before the blurry form opened his mouth and imparted wisdom. I woke up at 5 am and suddenly HAD to know

the answer to the question. It happened that Chris X was up too. I contacted him and he took the time out of his morning to discuss this with me completely out of the blue. I don't know why this sticks out in my memory but it does: Him being up at five am and taking an hour out of his morning to answer some moronic question from a girl he didn't know and being so nice about it. He is still edge, we are still friends and he is still there when I need him. He is the exception to the rule. Friends fell away and I remained steadfast, yet alone. Slowly though there came the time when I realized I needed to look no further than in the mirror. It wasn't like this was a new thing. I was told this many times and yet I never believed it. Right about this time Rise Against released Ready To Fall: "But here in this moment like the eye of the storm It all came clear to me I found a shoulder to lean on An infallible reason to live all by itself I took one last look from the heights that I once loved And then I ran like hell" The heights I once loved were ego driven, the compulsion to wear a straightedge shirt every day and X's for every gig and dare anyone to tell me otherwise. It was that romanticized notion of my edge,--that it hadn't been mine and all I was, was owed to someone else. It was as if I believed someone had physically stood between me and a fridge full of alcohol that first year and kept me from it. Or that someone had been there to comfort me when my husband was drunk or in a bad mood and was calling me names or throwing me around because I dared come home with a book of Marxist writing or simply did not shut up and go along or renounce my beliefs. I healed myself, I comforted myself and I did almost all of it completely alone. It was slow in dawning but it finally came to me that I was the only one I had to inspire or impress, and my own approval was all I needed. This revelation was scored by every track on Sufferer and Witness. The fourth time I saw Rise Against, I met Ceci in Austin to see them at Stubb's. Stubb's BBQ is a grand place to see any band because if you get there early enough, you can have lunch on the balcony while watching the band's sound check. We found this out the first time we went there, seeing The Rollins Band open up for X. Going to the Rise Against show I told myself "It's not big deal, I've seen them three times before, I'm just going to kick back and eat and enjoy the sound check" but as soon as Tim and Joe took the stage I could barely consume a thing I was so overwhelmed. As we waited in line after lunch for the doors to reopen, I met Ceci's brother Jordan who is, wildly enough, still my friend. Jordan. He hovers on the edges of my life, always there with a kind word whether I actually deserved it or not. He is the only good thing to come out of my friendship with Ceci. Evergreen Terrace opened that show and we were right in front of the guy in the Straightedge Soldier tshirt and that and a brilliant cover of "Mad World" was all I remembered of their set. Circa Survive came on next and Ceci and I took turns booing them and flipping them off. Not that they were necessarily bad, but we were in no mood to entertain the mopey emo set at that point. Soon we were all piled together up front, again in front of Joe. I didn't get to salute him at that gig. Ceci's arms were too tightly around me. Ceci, her girlfriend Grace, Jordan and my husband were tangled in a sea of arms, so tightly that I wasn't sure of whose hand I was holding most of the night. Though by that time I was perfectly comfortable in my commitment, Blood to Bleed still only reminded me of one person and Ceci knew this. I felt she understood me then, I felt she was one of the very few who knew me best. Beside me was my husband, but in my heart was a dream of someone else, of someone who shared my commitment and my ideals, a dream of an idea more than a person, the perfect guy/relationship/life I would never have. Two months later I would find out my husband was seeing a girl from work

that had got him hooked on heroin. Two months later he would come to where I worked and attack me in front of multiple witnesses and when called, the police would do nothing. Two months later I would sit sobbing in the back of a police car because I was too afraid to go into my own apartment and get my things. When responding to my call the enormous officer would glare down at me and say "Why are you afraid to walk in your own home? Are you on drugs or are you just retarded?" Instead of accompanying me inside to get my things they would search me for drugs. Two months later I would realize why Henry Rollins hated cops so much. Two months later. after ten years together, I would leave my husband. I did not know any of this then. All I knew was that in that instant my heart was bleeding inside of me for want of some friendship I would never have, the one thing I believed would make my life complete. It was that friendship, that idea of a person, of perfection, of everything I wanted myself and my life to be, that seemed like the holy grail of the second part of my life. Looking back, maybe it held value only because it was unobtainable. I had not yet learned to find it in myself so I sought it so furiously in a stranger. So, with the ridiculously angelic vision of the first straightedge boy I ever met in my head, and my unfaithful husband beside me, in that crowd at Stubb's, Rise Against tore into Blood To Bleed. It was our first time to hear it live together as they had not played it at Warped Tour. Ceci looked down at me, wrapped her arms around me and held me tight because she knew exactly who I was thinking of and why. As she held on to me with one hand and ran a hand through my hair, we both screamed out those lyrics that had haunted me and driven me on for years. "This place rings with echos of lives once lived, but now are lost Times spent wondering about tomorrow I don't care if we lose it all tonight Up in flames, burning bright.... Within my bones this resonates Boiling blood will circulate Could you tell me again what you did this for?" And just like I was blind to what was about to erupt with my husband I was just as blind to time bomb ticking inside of Ceci that would turn her into a complete stranger the next time we met, at the very same place it would turn out. Had I known that this was the last time she would hold my hand and sing with me and look down on me with love and empathy in her eyes, I would not have wasted my sorrow in grieving for a friendship that never was and instead would have known to grieve for the real friendship I was losing. I should have grieved for hers, but in retrospect, it was no more real than the idea of the one I chased after so fruitlessly. "I don't love you anymore is all I remember you telling me never have I felt so cold But I've no more blood to bleed Cuz my heart has been draining into the sea...." And the strange footnote to that day, that time, that moment of hope and loss and all that was to come is this: Even though his friendship I never actually earned, in his status of a wise, polite stranger, that straightedge boy I never really knew was far more civil than Ceci. His responses, however short they were, however long it took to get them, were genuine. It is such a small thing, his honesty, yet it is more than I can say for ninety percent of the people I've known in the last several years. Another song we sang together that night was Prayer of the Refugee. I had no idea then but that song was about to describe my life. "We are the angry and desperate The hungry and the cold We are the ones who kept quiet and always did what we were told But we've been sweating while you slept so calm in the safety of your homes We've been pulling at the nails that hold up everything you own."

The split with my husband was brutal. First I had to deal with police that didn't care, who told me at one point "Well, if he tries to kill you, call us back, otherwise there's nothing we can do. He's your husband and he has the same right to live here as you do." Thanks to the police not doing anything, I was thrown out of the apartment I had paid for for ten years. The battered women's shelter was full and I would have found myself homeless had it not been for my friend Lilo. Suddenly I was having to start from scratch and then, upon finding a place, having to pack up ten years worth of my life and move it all by myself. "I hit the ground and I'm still running but I need a place to stay tonight I swear I'll be gone in the morning I just need some place warm to close my eyes." Every day I worked until the afternoon, went home and packed until 2 am, fell asleep until 5 am and then got up and did it all again. Then once I was packed I had to move it all. I can't remember why I didn't ask for help but I moved it all alone except for the bed, entertainment center and tv. "The drones all slave away They're working overtime They serve a faceless queen They never question why Disciples of a god That neither lives nor breathes But we've got bills to pay Yeah we've got mouths to feed I won't go back..." This was such a strange time. There was no way to hide what was going on: my husband came to where I worked and jumped me in front of everyone there, I had to tell my boss "My husband kicked me out and I'm homeless at the moment, could I possibly get my check a day or two early to put a deposit down on an apartment?" and I had to own up to the fact that I was straightedge and my husband was a heroin addict. "We're broken but still breathing We are wounded but we are healing We pick up right where we left off Breathe on the ashes that remain So that these coals may become fire To guide our way.." This made my life suddenly seem a really bad B movie. There was nothing to do but go on. I would have asked myself "What would that straightedge guy do in this situation?" if I'd had any idea. Instead I asked "What would Dave Peters of Throwdown do?" and of course the obvious answer was "punch something". As much as I wanted to, I couldn't do that. However, I knew for sure what he wouldn't do and that was curl up in a ball and cry. So I didn't do that either. It was a such horrible time and yet when I look back all I remember is my own strength and the exhilaration I felt when I finally left. "So give me the drug Keep me alive Give me what's left of my life Don't let me go... Pull this plug, let me breathe On my own, I'm finally free..."

Lilo and Di swore I looked great, like I had suddenly gotten 10 years younger. They said I was glowing, but unless I had come in contact with radium I certainly didn't see how. I remember thinking "Well hell, maybe the Socialists were right. Maybe 16 hour days are the way to salvation." "Wake me up inside Tell me there's a reason To take another step To get up off my knees and, Follow this path of most resistance. And where ever it takes us, Whatever it faces and wherever it leads" As I came into my own power, the straightedge boy who had loomed so god-like over the first years of my commitment shrank back down to human size. Deep down I still hoped that if he was to know of all I had gone through he would be a little proud of me for surviving with my integrity intact. But if he didn't, well that was okay too. Survive I did, survive I continue to. "Somewhere between happy, and total fucking wreck Feet sometimes on solid ground, sometimes at the edge To spend your waking moments, simply killing time Is to give up on your hopes and dreams, to give up on your... Life for you, has been less than kind So take a number, stand in line We've all been sorry, we've all been hurt But how we survive, is what makes us who we are" When I had my own place and my own life again, to celebrate I bought myself a Christmas present: a tattoo of a sparrow carrying brass knuckles in her beak. It reminded me of this lyric that had been echoing in my head the whole time: "And if strength was born from heartbreak Then mountains I could move If walls could speak I pray that they would tell me what to do." I enjoyed more than six months of solitude in my cozy little apartment on Airline. I filled my weekends with walks on the beach, solitary shopping excursions for meatless dinners, and nights were spent at the House of Rock and the Underground watching bands, enjoying the freedom of staying out without getting yelled at or called names. I spent Christmas alone on Lilo's floor stuffing myself with processed cheeseballs and watching movies. It was my first UnChristmas. The Jehovah's Witnesses would have been proud! "Warm yourself by the fire, son, And the morning will come soon. I’ll tell you stories of a better time, In a place that we once knew. Before we packed our bags And left all this behind us in the dust, We had a place that we could call home, And a life no one could touch."

But I am flawed and cowed and crippled by the Christian concept of forgiveness. And by the time I would be seeing Rise Against again, my husband would be back by my side. In West Texas his mom had ran him through the MHMR system, let them start him on 7 different drugs, ---including three different tranquilizers and pills for hallucinations and seizures, which he never once had,--- used him to get on welfare, disability, and Medicare. Once he's served the purpose, she called a friend in the sheriff's department and had him pulled from her house, drugged out of his mind on meds at the time, and stuck on a bus to Corpus Christi. The Glasscock County Sherriff's Department called me at work to TELL me "Your husband is on a bus to Corpus, he'll be there at two am. He's your responsibility now." On the bus, because of his state of stupor, he was robbed of everything but his clothes and as much as I wanted to just shove him into the closest homeless shelter, I couldn't. Had it been me, as unlikely as that would be, I would want someone to have compassion. "We are the children you reject and disregard These aching cries come from the bottom of our hearts You can't disown us now, we are your own flesh and blood And we don't disappear just because your eyes are shut" I took him in. At first it was easy. Thanks to the drugs he was sleeping 18 hours a day. Finally I started to investigate what they had him on, what he could do without and how to get him back to normal. I'm not sure how I did it, but I weened him off of every drug he was on. At first it was out of necessity since I was making too much money for him to stay on state sponsored help and he'd have run out eventually. Looking back though, had he sustained that amount of drug intake for long he would have probably died. So he was back for good and conversely Ceci and Jadey and nearly every other friend I had at the time would have turned their backs on me and flocked to other, cooler individuals. All those kids that convinced me they would have killed themselves, starved themselves, cut themselves to shreds, OD'ed, etc had they not met me, who all imposed their problems and lives on mine for five years or more and took up every spare moment of my time and every inch of my heart all turned 18 at once. In turning 18 they realized they knew it all and I was no longer worth their time. "And if you think your words will ever make a difference Think again and carry on..." My husband and I are still together, but all those friends are long gone. I wish I could say he gave up all his demons, but he didn't. He simply traded the big ones for a myriad of lesser evils. He will never be straightedge. And though he claims to be proud of me, to this day he is convinced, utterly falsely, I am hiding some secret affair with the straightedge boy from years ago. I sat him down one day and asked "Do you get that we are straightedge? Do you get that in being straightedge we could not possibly cheat on our significant others and remain straightedge? Do you get that no matter how much he influenced me I barely knew him and he barely gave me the time of day? Do you get that what you are accusing me of is utterly impossible?”

Despite his insistence on this, the idea doesn't bother him enough for him to give up his own addictions and become edge himself. He no longer asks me to change and he is no longer violent, thank god. I no longer ask him to change, though I pray every day he will. We have been together for twenty years now and I have never been with anyone else. This doesn't keep me from dreaming of some nice sXe man who shares my ideals. But I think of it much like I imagine racing on the autobahn, knowing it will never actually happen and knowing I’d never do it even if I could. "We live on front porches and swing life away We get by just fine here on minimum wage If love is a labor I'll slave til the end..." Things in my life settled down for a bit as we prepared to see the boys again at Stubb's BBQ. Through myspace I found my friend Linda that I had not spoken to in fifteen years. As we sat on the balcony at Stubb's I kept one eye on the stage and the other on the door waiting to see her again. When she walked through the doors it was like the last fifteen years never even happened and instantly we picked up right where we left off and again were tearing through Austin with her at the wheel like we had so many times in the past. Because of this joyful reunion I was not first in line when the doors opened, I was buying rainbow necklaces in the gay shops in town and snickering over whether the guy behind the counter was flirting with my husband or not. - That was a strange memory for me, being in the very back of the audience for once, singing alone as Aaron sat on a rock and read a Robert Jordan novel. I was happy to be there, the music was incredible, but the feeling was all wrong. I was isolated and alone, in the back row with my fist raised and Aaron tugging at my arm every other song asking "What song is this? Do I know this one?". I wondered if Ceci was there in the front row, holding on to someone else and convincing them she would have killed herself if they hadn't come into her life. I imagined others in the front row, in our place, saluting Joe, singing our songs while I was the interloper that did not belong anymore. We walked out of the sold out show before the encore, a long drive home facing us. Aaron never lets me stay for the encores. He always wants to hit the road. As we walked to the car, with Worth Dying For wafting through the air above us, I blew a kiss to the wind and told Ceci goodbye. "Feel me rise in the strength I've found inside the warm embracing air Like a glacier melting watch me dissipate I searched for love in an empty world but all I found was hate" It was the lyrics of Rise Against that echoed in my head when I sat down to read the words of Marx and Lenin for the first time as a whole other world opened up for me. It was Rise Against that drove me on as I worked sixty hour weeks. "We're losing daylight but I can't work any faster Under the veil of dust we go on..." Their lyrics saw me through every major event of the last several years of my life. Appeal to Reason was released in the Fall of 2008 and though the year found me miserably poor and unemployed, I still bought it the day it came out. It was on my mp3 player and as I sat in the welfare office applying for food stamps I would hear the lyrics "Despite these petty fortunes we still can't afford a life...." for the first time and I would pause a moment just for the whole zeitgeist effect of it. For Christmas of 2008 I received an email from Ceci after a year and a half of ignoring my every attempt at contacting her. I had tried everything, even terribly childish measures to get some kind of reaction but every letter---first polite, then angry, then groveling-- every call, email, and package was met with silence. A year and a half passed and then I got the email saying "I got the new Rise Against and it made me realize how much I loved and missed you and loved AFI and I want to be friends again. I know you can't forgive me but can we be friends again? There's this song on that new Rise Against that

reminds me of you." True to the bond we had once held there was certainly a song on the new Rise Against that reminded me of us too: "Identities assume us as nine and five add up Synchronizing watches To the seconds that we lost I looked up and saw you I know that you saw me We froze but for a moment In empathy I brought down the sky for you but all you did was shrug" This was exactly what happened the last time we saw each other when she turned up her nose and pretended not to know who I was, just a week after sending me a letter saying how much she loved me. This led to the year plus of her not speaking to and ignoring all attempts at contact I made, even the immature ones. "And if you see me please just walk on by Walk on by Forget my name and I'll forget it too Failed attempts at living simple lives Simple lives Always keep me coming back to you." But too much time had passed and although that Christian weakness crippled me so with my husband, for once I stood strong and had no trouble in keeping the door to my heart shut. I told her not to contact me again. "I count the times that I've been sorry Now my compassion slowly drowns If there's a time these walls could guard you Then let that time be right now."

That doesn't mean that my mind does not still light to her like a bee to a flower, the years we were friends, that feeling of love and camaraderie and the bond I imagined we had. The last three Rise Against albums play the soundtrack of our friendship whenever I turn them on. When I play Appeal to Reason I wonder if this song reminds her of me:

"It kills me not to know this but I've all but just forgotten what the color of her eyes were and her scars or how she got them" If I close my eyes I am there again in that Port Aransas condo, the night we met face to face after talking online for so long. We are huddled together in the bedroom sharing the earphones of a cd player listening to Placebo's Sleeping With Ghosts. I am pulling down the zipper of my boot and showing her three freshly razored X's cut into my ankle, the blood still stuck to a wad of tissue pressed between my sock and skin. She is crying and wrapping her arms around me and telling me she understands everything and that someday she will show me her scars too. "I'll show you mine If you'll show me yours first Let's compare scars I'll tell you whose is worse Let's unwrite these pages and replace them with our own words..." She never did show me her scars. I wonder now if she even had any. There are lots of songs that transport me back then when she was my world. But now I know nothing about her nor anyone else I knew then was real and I wonder if that song ever reminds her of me and the way she led me to believe I was her lifeline, right up until the moment she cut me off and forgot me like a favorite toy after adolescence destroys the need for such playthings. "As the telling signs of age rain down a single tear is dropping through the valleys of an aging face that this world has forgotten ..." This is the music that accompanied my feet hitting the pavement of park sidewalks and treadmills, it is the melodies that buoyed me through endless work weeks and settled into the recesses of my heart in times of quiet contemplation. As I read words written years ago by writers we were never allowed to study in school, it is the soundtrack that played in my mind when those concepts began to make sense. When I read Ten Days that Shook the World by John Reed, what I was hearing in my head was

"but these ghosts come alive like water and wine walk through these streets singing songs and carrying signs, to them these streets belong.." As I struggled to understand the Communist Manifesto I was thinking to myself: "Unknowing, we lie and wait for the rain To wash away what they have made Face down in the dirt with your foot on my back In the distance I hear thunder crack C'mon Stand up! This system of power and privilege is about to come to an end Here come the clouds The first drop is falling down" I look back at many things and laugh. I remember when I was first looking for straightedge shirts I came upon one that said SUPPORT LEFTIST HARDCORE. I had no earthly idea what it meant and was way too scared to ask anyone. Now I can quote Trotsky. When I first turned edge I stopped eating meat for several months until my husband found out and started calling me a Communist. At the time it seemed like the worst thing in the world to be called. He still calls me a Communist but now with laughable results. I'll cock my head, say something to him in Russian, he'll mumble under his breath 'Yeah you only say that because you've had sex with the entire Communist party!", I'll roll my eyes and we go back to our common denominators of movie quotes, comic books, and making fun of people. I always loved the way the Russian alphabet looked and shortly after we were married I got a tramp stamp with his initials in Russian. He now claims it actually means "Welcome aboard, Comrade." I just laugh and we kid each other and life goes on. In the great Holy Grail of a search for wisdom that I thought could only come from the first straightedge boy I knew, I had one great fear: what if I found him again and he was no longer edge? I was terrified of this, sure that if he fell I would too, that if that touchstone was gone, all would be lost. This no longer worries me. I would be sad if it happened, but it would not affect my journey nor cause me to stumble because I have found my own way. It was hard way full of work, trial and error and pure blind luck. Maybe it would have been easier if things had gone differently and yet it is all mine and no one else's.

I have now seen Rise Against eight times each with its own small dramas, like when I was working for Job Corps, worked an 18 hour day, literally passed out in my car from low blood sugar and exhaustion—luckily before I had started the engine. I somehow made it home, downed two peanut butter sandwiches and went to the show where I had no energy to dance, but just stood there and sang.

The last show was the best in years for me. I was in the second row behind a little boy and his mom. His mom was my age and it was her son’s first concert. He was there to see NOFX. They put on an incredible show and I did my best to keep the crowd off the kid. As a reward, the mother gave me their spot and they went to the back when Rise Against came on. I had not been in the front row since that show with Ceci. I felt like I was twenty again. Rise Against is the music that scores ALL of this in my memory. It is the sound of hope and loss, of new directions and ideas, of the brass ring becoming just another small cog in the great, silent machinations of my soul. It is the music of discovering that the strength of the world lies inside my own heart. It is the sound of me walking away from what I loved, it is the joyous noise of friends you're certain is lost forever coming back to you. This is my so-called Rise Against life

#rise against lyrics #rise against #long post under cut #spilled ink

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gamerwoo · 4 years

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Hansol: Badboy

Characters: Hansol x female reader

Genre/warnings: badboy au, smut (riding, lotta praise, cockwarming, unprotected sex), fluff, very very very slight angst kinda, mentions of smoking

Word count: 1,361

Summary: People think they know Hansol, but you -- you really know Hansol.

a/n: I told myself I would focus on this one fic I need to get done but like I can’t get this thought outta my head and I’m just in such a badboy mood lately and idk I just needed soft sex w badboy!vernon ok

People give Hansol Chwe one glance over and they decide he’s bad news. Between his slicked back dirty blonde hair, the ripped t-shirts under leather or denim jackets, and the cheap cigarette always balanced in the corner of his lips that sometimes gets swapped out for a toothpick, you can see why they’d think that. He looks like the bad type of guy that would hang out outside of shitty hole-in-the-wall bars and go looking for trouble. Hell, all of his friends -- the few that he has, anyway -- look like that. His appearance screams trouble; to stay away.

And somehow, you’ve ended up on top of and beneath him more than once, screaming his name.

“Yes, baby,” Hansol praised in an airy, quiet moan, “just like that. Fuck, you ride me so well.”

His warm, calloused hands gripped your hips as he guided them on his own, showing you just how he wanted you to move on his cock. He always let you take control when you wanted it, but he mostly liked having the lead in things. He said it made him feel like he was making you feel good and you weren’t just making yourself feel good with him. But despite liking the control, Hansol had yet to be rough with you. The roughest he got was when his hands would squeeze your flesh hard enough to leave bruises or when his hips would snap into yours enough to have a sharp slap echoing through his run-down apartment. But he never hit you, pulled your hair, or said anything degrading to you. But his appearance would lead others to believe otherwise.

Your hands pressed into his chest harder, nails digging into his skin as he brushed over your sweet spot. He smiled up at you lazily -- but it was still dazzling nonetheless -- when he noticed how you clenched around him.

“Did that feel good, baby girl?” he cooed.

He guided you to move the same way, and you let out a whimper of his name, nodding your head. But your hips seemed to have a mind of their own because you began bouncing much quicker than the pace Hansol had set, eager to reach your high.

He let out a chuckle, holding onto your hips to keep them still, “There’s no rush, baby. We have plenty of time.”

“I know, I just...” you paused to catch your breath that you’d been holding ever since you started getting impatient. “You just make me feel so good.”

His cheeks were already a soft pink, but they deepened in color at your compliment. If you ever told anybody you made Hansol Chwe blush, they’d probably call you a liar.

“You make me feel so good, _____,” he told you, looking up into your eyes as one hand trailed up your body to the side of your neck. He brought you down closer to him to capture your lips in a soft kiss as he started guiding your hips again. Against your lips, he mumbled, “So fucking good.”

You alternated between swiveling your hips and bouncing them, going at the pace Hansol set for you. His hips thrust up to meet your own, his cock brushing against that spot that had your toes curling and stars appearing behind your eyelids. And you knew he knew what he was doing because his hand that had cupped your jaw was now trailing down to your clit and rubbing circles in pace with your hips as he smirked.

“But since you’re my baby girl, I’ll make you cum if you want it so bad,” he promised. His eyes closed as he sucked in a breath, a hint of his smirk still on his face. “Fuck, you always ride me so well. You do everything just right. You want me to fill you up, baby? Huh? Is that why you wanna cum so bad?”

You nodded eagerly, looking down at him with furrowed brows as you desperately tried to chase your high, his hand only resting on your hip now, “Yes, p-please, Sol.”

Hansol snapped his hips up into you with a grunt, pulling a loud moan from your throat. He held your hips in place as he thrust up into you relentlessly, though the words he groaned out were much softer than his actions.

“Do you know how pretty you look taking my cock, baby? God, I wish I could take a picture of you when you ride me. You’re such a pretty girl; wanna see how pretty you’ll look filled with my cum.”

His words were pushing you closer and closer to the edge, and he was very aware of it. Hansol was always acutely aware of everything you liked. When you first got involved with him, you didn’t think he’d be the type to care. He seemed like the type of guy to use you as a fuck toy and leave it at that, but he was very knowing of every little thing about you. Hansol took the time to get to know your body, learn what made you tick, and all the exact spots that had you curling your fingers into his hair or the sheets or the pillows as you cried out his name.

Hansol’s voice was getting breathier and his sentences were broken from grunts and soft moans more and more often. That was how you knew he was getting close, too.

“Such a beautiful girl,” he breathed, chewing on his lip as his brows furrowed. His eyes never left your form, either. “Want you to cum for me, baby girl. Wanna see how pretty you look when you cum on my cock.”

Your orgasm crashed over you, your nails digging into his shoulders as you cried out his name loud enough for his neighbors to hear it over the banging of his bed against the wall that they no doubt were aware of. The way you clenched around his length when you came pushed him over the edge, letting out a deep, throaty moan as his cum filled you in hot spurts. He guided your hips to ride out both of your orgasms until you were whimpering from the sensitivity. Then he guided you to lay down on his chest, wrapping his arms around you as he pressed a kiss to the crown of your head.

“I’m so lucky I have you,” he murmured into your hair.

Hansol also didn’t seem like the type of person to want you to stay after sex. But even after the first time you were with him, he insisted he at least drive you home if you really had to leave. He encouraged you to stay, but was understanding if you didn’t want to or couldn’t. Because he knew how people saw him, and he knew you would see him the same way.

But he wasn’t the person people saw him as.

“How are you the mushiest person I’ve met?” you giggled softly as your fingertips drew random patterns on his side.

Hansol wasn’t the badboy who hung outside shitty hole-in-the-wall bars or who went looking for trouble. He wasn’t the type of guy who got into fights or caused chaos because he was bored or went out of his way to be an asshole. He wasn’t the person anybody thought he was, and he definitely wasn’t the person you assumed he was.

“Because I love you,” he grinned when you moved your head to look up at him.

He was the kind of person who stuck with his misfit friends because all of them were misjudged and they needed to stick together. He was the type of person who had lollipops between his lips more often than cigarettes because you insisted he quit smoking. He was the type of person who cared more about you than he cared about himself, and he showed it every single chance he got and never cared if it ruined whatever dumb reputation people thought he had.

“I love you, too,” you smiled back before leaning down and pressing a sweet kiss to his lips that seemed to now permanently taste like cherry lollipops.

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saladejin · 4 years

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Call An Uber? | 19

BTS x Reader | idolverse au, uber driver!Reader, translator!Reader | Fluff, flirting, super slow burn, angst and hurt/comfort, mature themes and eventual smut

Summary: Your normal life with a normal, yet inconsistent job gets drastically changed when your dreams come true. Sounds boring right?

What happens when all of this occurs, but you’re still doing something you love AND getting a large sum for it? Now there’s something to think about, and it’s definitely not what you’re thinking.

Warnings: Drunken shenanigans, flirting and sexual implications

Word Count: 3.1k

A/N: Pt. 2 of the game! You can tell I had fun with this part, sorry if the decisions don’t match up with what you guys would choose, I know we’d all have a hard time picking though lmao.

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Knowing I had a decision, Jimin inched closer until I could basically feel the body heat oozing from his skin. The rest of the room was silent as they waited for what I would do. I could barely register the presence of the others at the moment though, because all I could seem to focus on were the smouldering burnt umber eyes in front of me. Even in all their makeup-free glory, they were magnificent in the way they helplessly drew me in and made me feel restless in every way.

I gave myself one final nod before rising to my knees and leaning further towards him.

Taehyung and Jungkook were unblinking like owls as they followed the movements with their widened gazes. My hands never left the muscles of Jimin’s upper arm, and I felt them tense suddenly as my face moved downwards to his jaw. I let my eyes trail the clear, albeit with a slight sheen of sweat, beautiful expanse of his collarbone and neckline before finally planting a gentle kiss on the bump I found in the middle. I felt his Adam’s apple move underneath my lips as he gulped against his will, and I wished I could see how he looked during the moment.

I wanted to see his head tilted upwards, his expression. I wanted to see how his eyes darkened and how he fought the urge to bite down on his bottom lip for a few heart-stopping seconds. I could only see the way his fists clenched while they rested beside him against the ground, as if he wanted to mix them into the action so badly, but couldn’t because it was only meant to be a stupid game.

“His…throat?” Taehyung pondered aloud once I pulled away. What had only taken a mere two seconds had felt like a lifetime, and I had to divert my attention when the feeling of my lingering breath caused a shiver to travel the length of Jimin’s spine noticeably.

“Nope. I know it’s not quite right, but I meant his vocal cords.” I shook my head, feeling somewhat embarrassed by the idea.

“Oh! But it’s impossible to be direct so you just went over the top?” Hoseok closed his eyes and breathed in awe, reaching out for a sharp high-five much to my amusement.

“Oh, how thoughtful of our (Y/n),” Seokjin murmured, also shaking his head in admiration before clapping slowly and laughing along with the others.

Jimin sat displaying a small tender smile, bringing one hand up to brush his fingers against the skin of his neck briefly. He then tried to hide his face while chuckling in pure bashfulness, and I again drew blanks on how quickly his whole demeanour could change in less than a second.

“His voice gives me actual life, what more can I say?” I pursed my lips and shrugged. “Actually, there’s a lot more, but I won’t go into it because I think Yoongi over there will skin me alive if I take much longer.”

Amidst the chuckling, I saw Jimin bring his gaze up to look at me meaningfully from across the room. It was noisy again, but I watched him mouth a tiny ‘thank you’ while straightening his posture. He was positively glowing. I couldn’t help but return the warm smile straight away, because I felt so delighted that he was happy and confident with the praise I’d implied through the kiss.

“Jungkook-ah and Yoongi-hyung to go. Rock paper scissors or just shuffle?” Hoseok managed after the sudden chatter had died down.

“Shuffle the damn thing, Kook-ah looks too scared to focus right now,” Yoongi snorted, a gummy smile making an appearance as he picked on the younger member.

“I’m not scared at all,” Jungkook complained, sharply moving to knock the hood off his head and ruffle his night-black bangs until they weren’t as tangled. Taehyung nudged a teasing elbow into the maknae’s arm, boxy smile never failing as he messed around with the other boy. Namjoon had been quiet for a while, but he was still fully absorbed into what would happen next – just like every other being in the room, including a certain grumpy rapper.

“Hyung it’s you!” Jimin and Hoseok screamed together, amusement reaching a new peak as the name flashed brightly on the screen.

“Well about time, I thought I was going to die here without getting my kiss,” Yoongi grunted, shifting so that he was perched on the very edge of the bed.

“Oi, don’t mess up my bedsheets so much,” Seokjin scolded from beside him, leaning his large body backwards to try and smooth out the covers with his arms.

So it is Jin’s room, looks like I was kind of right anyway.

I eventually got to my feet because Yoongi was too high for me to reach properly from the floor.

“Do you want me on the ground?” He inquired passively, but I narrowed my eyes at him for his questionable choice of words.

“No, I’ll have you on the bed,” I answered just as boldly. The whole room exploded and all we could hear was the soundless chuckling of the two youngest members, the loud cackles of Hoseok, Namjoon and Jimin, and the semi-muffled squeakiness belonging to Seokjin as he tried to hold it in.

“Well there’s a lot to think about with you. I love the brilliant rapping skill, but your tongue is a little too hard to kiss, right?” I decided to take it further with one cocked eyebrow.

“Yes, it’s moving a little too fast for me unfortunately.” He kept a level tone much to my surprise, but the response itself caused me to double over. We already needed to dig graves for the rest of the room as it was.

“Oh my God, I can’t believe you just –”

“I don’t know if I should have regrets right now.” Yoongi laughed quietly and licked his lips once as he glanced at everyone dying around him. I adored the way his sharp eyes were curved into little crescents, and I also felt my heart clench at the sight of the little crinkles appearing at the edges.

“I’m allowing myself two for this one,” I announced loudly before striding forwards and slowly leaning over his smiling face. Given enough time to react, Yoongi took note of my close proximity and straightened his sitting position. His smile faltered only slightly, but I still caught it.

“Is this okay for you?” I asked softly so only he would hear. The words were drowned out for the others anyway because of how they started to reprimand me for changing up the rules.

“Yeah, thanks for checking though.” He smirked and nodded once, casting his gaze downwards because he didn’t really know what else to do. He wasn’t pouting, but he had that stare where he just flattened out his smile and looked like an awkward ball of fluff. It was so cute and loveable, I just wanted to squish his cheeks together.

Who would even know this is one of the fiercest rappers in the world?

I leaned over him slowly again and was grateful that he angled his face upwards so I could figure out where I was going. Since he was sitting, the height made it so that the top of his head only just fell short of mine.

I cupped his face with two hands, telling him to close his eyes before brushing my lips over each of his eyelids ever so slowly. It was a strange place to kiss, so I kept the contact literally as feathery as I could, only grazing over them to indicate I had been there. I felt his eyes flutter when I pulled away, and resisted the urge to giggle when his eyelashes suddenly tickled the underside of my chin and cheek. He had apparently snapped them open as soon as he could, surprised despite saying he wouldn’t be before.

“Wow, Yoongi-hyung’s eyes are pretty unique,” Namjoon noted from down on the floor, earning noises of agreement from a few others. They laughed openly at how the eldest rapper just continued to nod indifferently. He still seemed a tad shy and shaken, but he chose not to let it show all that much.

“Okay Jungkook, I think they all want to go to bed soon. I’ll try and be quick.”

I hopped over to the other side of the circle, kind of stunned to see that he wasn’t looking as wide-eyed as he had before. Maybe he’d just gotten over the shock since he’d watched everyone else go through the same thing?

“Since it’s the last one, make it really surprising,” Jimin suggested, right before continuing to exchange whispers with Hoseok and now Taehyung too. I was suspicious of them and their offhand chuckling, but there was nothing I could do but just suspect that they were all up to no good. Seokjin, Namjoon and Yoongi also eyed them questioningly from the other side. I could only sigh and share in their confusion.

I turned back to Jungkook and saw him shift his eyes suddenly to the side, as if he didn’t want to be caught looking. The trio of misfits chuckled again, and I looked back and forth between the two in an even greater amount of suspicion.

Okay, he’s acting way too weirdly for it to be normal. And those three are definitely up to something… Hold on, what if they made a bet?

I inwardly gasped in realisation, looking back at Jungkook and narrowing my eyes to see if he would reveal anything. He definitely looked way too confident, and it was like his sense of competitiveness was overriding the fact that he was usually uneasy around women. Well, around women trying to kiss him anyway.

I’ll make him crack.

I turned back and smirked at the three others before shuffling forwards, and by the sounds of it someone had caught onto the fact that I’d noticed their little plan. Jungkook seemed only slightly tense now, but I knew he wouldn’t be prepared for what I was about to do.

“Is there anything you’re not comfortable with?” I asked with a teasing lilt to my tone. The boy in front of me cleared his throat and pouted in thought.

“I’m not sure what you really mean by that, but anything is fine I guess,” he answered, and I choked down an evil laugh of foreboding.

“Okay, well Jungkookie you have many physical features I love, but sadly I’ve used a lot of them for the others already.” I sighed, moving closer until we were at a distance that allowed me to finally touch him.

I looked into his slightly widening eyes to make sure he was fine before reaching downwards and tugging on the hem of his hoodie. His breathing hitched severely, but I knew he was way too stubborn and determined to give up on winning whatever he’d agreed too.

“These abs … never a necessity, but I can’t say they’re bad on the eyes.”

With a mischievous chuckle, I witnessed the moment his mouth went dry and his brain clicked with understanding. I left him no time as I tugged the hoodie up some more to reveal the boy’s stomach, abdominal muscles tensing due to his slightly leant back position. I knew everyone was holding their breath behind us as I swooped down to plant my lips against the smooth ridges of his muscles for a tiny second. To my surprise, he let out a massive exhale above me and clenched the muscles even firmer.

“(Y/n)…”

I pulled away and looked upwards in curiosity, because that voice was way too broken and breathy for my liking. He was looking down at me almost as if he was pained to do so, lips red and ravaged by his teeth from the looks of it. His brows were furrowed, and he looked away with widened eyes after holding my gaze for too long.

He’s flustered!

I turned around to see every pair of eyes trained ruthlessly onto Jungkook and I, but tried my best to ignore the pure heated amazement hidden within each gaze.

“Did he lose?” I asked the group of three who had let their jaws drop in unadulterated shock.

“W-what?” Seokjin stammered, finally moving to turn to Yoongi beside him and then switching to look at the same group I was looking at.

“You noticed!?” Jungkook suddenly whined, and I turned back with a knowing laugh bubbling to the surface of my lips.

“Yeah, those three were way too obvious and I knew you were acting weird.”

“He lost, we made a bet that he couldn’t make it through without getting shy or without blushing,” Taehyung explained, giggling at the defeated expression of the maknae who was groaning out a dry laugh and rolling around on the floor. I noticed his cheeks and ears turning a marvellous pinkish-red as we spoke.

“Now he owes us our next meals,” Jimin hummed, triumphant for winning but still seeming shocked over my unbidden actions. “How did you know? You could’ve helped him win.”

Jungkook sat up again.

“Yeah, why didn’t you help me? It was three against one!”

I hid my chuckle behind one hand, loving how funny this whole thing was. The other three hyungs who seemed out of the loop were now joining into the shenanigans too, but I figured they’d be used to random pranks being pulled around the dorm or studio every once in a while. Maybe even more often.

“You seemed too cocky and confident. I felt powerful, so I wanted you to lose. Sorry Kook-ah.”

He shook his head, glaring at me playfully before sighing a deep sigh and making sure his hoodie was fixed up properly.

“Well, you definitely won. You guys can’t blame me for that.”

The trio shook their heads fervently, and I burst into laughter at the scene. My mind wasn’t swimming as much as it had been about an hour ago, but I wasn’t completely all there yet. It seemed like a few others also weren’t, but Namjoon would soon have them sorted out.

“Alright guys, you know if we stay here too much longer we won’t be feeling great tomorrow. We have to be in good shape for our fans here in Japan, and for any ‘holidaying’ we want to do,” the leader said with a grunt as he got to his feet, collecting the beer bottles around him to throw away.

“You’re right, we don’t want Sejinnie-hyung to murder us.” Hoseok picked up his own bottle, sticking out his tongue and screwing up his face in disgust.

“I should get back too, I’m not even sure what I’ll be doing here yet,” I muttered, finally realising how my drinking actions tonight could have repercussions later down the track.

“Where’s your room? We should walk you.” Jimin smiled after collecting his own trash, but I shook my head softly.

“It’s just down the hall, thanks anyway. Tonight was great fun, it sucks we can’t let loose and go to clubs and parties together, but I hope we can have drinks again sometime.” I chuckled wickedly, moving to tie up my hair after finding the discarded hairband in a random corner.

“Definitely, I don’t think I’ve laughed so hard in one night for a while. It’s great to have you back,” Hoseok blinked his eyes in bewilderment, and Namjoon agreed wholeheartedly along with most of the others.

“It was funny watching, but I’d like to have something next time too,” Taehyung announced, weariness suddenly noticeable in the way his deep voice became a little croaky. I looked around to see all of them in various stages of sleepiness. Namjoon yawning, Jungkook rubbing at his eyes, Seokjin’s head slowly sinking forwards until he suddenly jerked himself awake.

I waved, earning a few more playful remarks and farewells before heading out to go to my own room. “All of you get some well-earned rest. I’ll see you in the morning chumps.” The air out in the hallway was crisper, and I breathed in heavily before turning on my heel.

I’m so happy spending time with them again. I love them too much. Separation was not a good idea after all. Plus, did I just actually fucking kiss them all!?

“Why were you in Seokjin-ssi’s room at this hour (Y/n)?”

Wait, that voice…

My heart skipped a beat as Soojin stood in front of me, her eyes calculating as she awaited my response. She was dressed more casually than I had ever seen her, but the most surprising thing was just her presence here in the empty hotel hallway. I didn’t think she’d be coming along on the tour too! I literally thought she was an assistant back with the company, not someone who managed on tours as well.

“Unni! I didn’t know you were coming to Japan. Actually, they’re all in there, we were just hanging out,” I spluttered, feeling like I was being judged all of a sudden. I guessed it did look pretty bad to anyone who didn’t know of my closeness to the boys, but I thought she would’ve known. She was Bang PD’s assistant after all.

“Yes, well I manage tours a few times a year depending on if it’s necessary or not. I would advise against ‘hanging out’ with them like this. You’re meant to be an interpreter and nothing more. There’s too much risk here.”

The dread and disappointment welled up inside me, because I did know all of this. I knew about my place, and I knew about the risks. These were things I had accepted and overcome as time had gone on, but here Soojin was planting those seeds of doubt all over again.

“I understand, I’ll head to my room thank you.” I dipped my head, eager to get out of the conversation and away from her piercing gaze.

“See that you do.”

I walked past as she entered her own room silently. It seemed it was terrible timing, because she must have been coming back from the bathroom or something just as I had left Seokjin’s room. It would’ve looked bad to her in every way imaginable, but I thought about how much better it would’ve been if I’d left the room just that little bit later or earlier.

I would have felt so much better not seeing her at all, because now I knew that this tour might turn out to be way more stressful than I had expected.

tagged: @joyful-jimin, @l4life, @gee-nee, @m0chilattae, @rossemayme, @doilooklikeinoe, @jeon-joker, @topthis808, @justyouraveragerando,@xcastielbabyangelface, @booklover240, @midnight1199

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