#*rubs hands together* heres a lil somethin' i wrote
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“Hey,” Satoru breathes, nuzzling his face into your neck, soft white hair tickling your skin.
“Hmm.” you hum, running your fingers through his soft locks, your other hand rubbing along his back, feeling the smooth material of his cotton shirt, lingering on the muscles you can feel under it. His arms tighten around you, pulling you even more into his lap so that your chests are as close as they could be, your bodies melded together. You feel his nose press into you and the rise and fall of his body as he releases a breath when you place a delicate kiss on his shoulder.
“You know you’re beautiful, right?”
“Satoru…” you do your half-awkward laugh, half-breathing out thing that you always do whenever someone compliments you, now burying your own face into his neck as heat crawls up your skin.
“You are. You truly are,” he says, pulling away from you and holding you by your waist, looking straight into your eyes with that unwavering gaze that never fails to let you know he’s being genuine. You take him in as his silver eyelashes flutter against his cheekbones, framing his azure eyes that are intensely staring back at you. His glasses are always off around you. He claims that he wants to fully see you as best as he can.
Awkwardly smiling, you hold eye contact for a few seconds before nervously glancing away from his eyes. At times like this you can’t help but wonder, how does he see you as that? As beautiful. Doesn’t he know that he’s the beautiful one? That he’s the one that makes you stop in place multiple times a day just to think, wow. It's hard to believe him sometimes, when he says things like this. He says it so freely too, with no hesitation, no reluctance, simply opening his heart for you to look inside and do whatever you want with it. It makes you grateful that he chose you, of all people. It makes you scared, because what will you do when it's over? When it doesn't last?
“We all know you’re the beautiful one, Satoru,” you respond, looking over his shoulder. When you’re met with silence, you glance back at him only to see his eyebrows furrowed, a pout on his lips, and without thinking you smooth your thumb over his bottom lip, smiling softly when he only pouts even more like a petulant child.
He cups your face with his large hand, frown softening but still there when your eyes flutter and you rub your cheek into him. “Why do you always do that? Why don’t you ever believe me?”
You keep your eyes closed. “You know why, Satoru…” You bring your front to his again, burying your face in his neck and holding him close as if he might disappear from under your fingers.
“I’m yours forever, you know? There’s no getting rid of me. No matter how hard you try. You’re stuck with me, baby.”
“So you’ve said.” You hate when you’re not able to respond with the same thing, hate the hurt he tries to mask but fails around you when you don’t tell him how you truly feel, but you know he knows. You just need to work up the nerve to let it out.
He lets you avoid, Satoru can never deny you. Instead, you breathe him in, inhaling the comforting smell of his cologne and detergent, and he rubs soft shapes into your back, deft fingers bringing you to the edges of sleep. It's like this for a few minutes, the soft sounds of your breaths the only thing you can hear on the couch, but then he speaks again.
“I’ll make sure to keep telling you until you believe me.”
You sigh, “Will you now?”
You feel the jerk of his head against your neck as he nods, determined, and you smile to yourself. You can’t ever let him go.
“I will, every single day.” You don’t mention that he already does. “You’re so incredibly beautiful, love. It kills me. I love it.”
You laugh, and he pulls away again to see the action, eyes crinkling with his own smile, dimples forming in his cheeks as his eyes sweep over your face.
“Alright, Sa- Oh!” You’re cut off when he lifts you up with one arm, wrapping your legs around his waist and strolling over to the bedroom. “Satoru!”
He winks at you, patting your ass. “I know a few other ways I can show you that I think you’re beautiful.”
#*rubs hands together* heres a lil somethin' i wrote#self insert for real for real#- satoru#gojo x reader#gojo satoru x reader#satoru gojo x reader#gojo fluff#jjk x reader#- love. satoru#- drabbles
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Come and get me.
Content: Yandere/Stalker Ajax, Lil bit of a blowjob, Reader is switch, AFAB reader, "Healing" but its actually not, Masturbation, Toxic relationship, Both are lowkey obsessed, Public(?) sex, Nosebleeds, impregnation, name carving onto skin
Pair: Ajax x Fem! Reader
A/N: Bare with the writing if it's bad since I wrote this like last year, I recently privated it cus I thought it was prob kinda cringe but I lowk like the sex part...
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part 1 / part 2 (coming soon)
Tears trickled down your cheek, his hand plastered to your neck as you felt him fill you to the brim, legs shaking in ectasy but also with fear. You were so unsure of what to think right now, Struggling to support yourself with your arms clenching onto the wrinkled sheets.
The way you spasmed around him was blissful, your moaning combined with whimpers was such a wonderful melody.
You wish you could fully enjoy it but you felt like a stress relief toy, nevertheless you loved being stretched out by his cock, wrapping around it as if you'd never feel it again.
And you really wished you never would, until now you try to fulfill it.
You ran away, obviously. Ahem, As I was saying, you ran away to a place in Liyue, and rented a small house with the bag of mora you stole from him while sneaking out.
But after a few years, you started to feel lonely, missing how he fucked you so hard, abusing your clit. He did it so often to you to the point you've gotten used to it and became hypersexual.
You hated it. You hated how you missed his touch. You hate how you know he never actually loved you but you tried to assure yourself he'd think about your own health one day.
Beads of water fell down your chin as you rubbed your clit, shoving fingers inside but it never felt enough, as each day passed, you felt yourself getting more and more needy.
Sometimes, you felt eyes on you. But you didnt care. And a few times, it'd feel intriguing to have someone watch you, especially if its him...
You have been hoping every year for him to come and find you, but you were met with disappointment everytime. But this is what you wanted, wasnt it?
Trying to hide this side of yourself fron your friends. "Hey xia..." You sat down, trying to act as normal as you can while clenching onto your thigh to relieve the need. "Hey! I'll get you something on the house this time! It'll be extra special too, after all you are my bestfriend!" She smiled happily, while going onto cook as you watched her from outside. Suddenly Hu Tao pops up scaring you once again.
"Hi! Heard there'll be something on the house, can I have some?" She exclaimed excitedly as Xiangling looked concerned for you and a little annoyed at Hu Tao, but decided to just take it as a joke anyway, "Coming right up!"
"Anyway, I'm gonna start some gossip now, Apparently a harbinger is here again on some business, They've been at every other nation already, I kind of expected this but do you guys maybe know why they're going to every nation especially here now?" She asked whilst smiling.
A harbinger?? Like a fatui harbinger? I wonder if its him... Hes probably forgotten about me by now. Its been years after all.
Your expression faded into a frown.
You had such mixed emotions about him, you love him but you dont, you always think about coming back to him but you're scared. You're scared of just being a stress relief toy again. You want to be something more than tha..–
"Uhm..." You snap from the train of thoughts, as you try to look at Hu Tao you notice someone is blocking the way.
...
"I cant believe we're meeting again! Perhaps fate wants us to be together..." Hu Tao gets up, and defends you by covering you with her arms wide open, "Im sorry, but who are you to her?"
"Shes right! How do you know [Y/N]?!" You felt your heart drop. But also feel a bit of sadness and guilt for him. Tears threatnening to spill like crazy as you try to hold them back. "Calm down, I'm just here to give her something." Cheerfully said, it made you feel disgusted. Nauseous, afraid, relieved. "Its fine...guys—Hes just..." I pause. I want to run away. Why cant I? Whats wrong with me? I hate myself. Im scared.
A few beads of water run down your cheek, as you hear him getting up, your friends completely confused as he wipes your tears, placing something in your hands as he walks away happily. "What the actual fu–" Xiangling rushes to put her palm over Hu Taos mouth. "I think she prefers to not talk about this... –She starts whispering in her ear– Who the actual fuck was that??" she looks at xiangling, an expression saying ’girl what.’
"Its fine, whens the food ready Xia?" The first words are shaky, with your heart thumping like crazy. Trying to calm yourself down, wiping your eyes. "Oh! It should be ready about now!" She stops the fire, Grabbing two plates getting it ready to be served. "Be careful, its super duper hot" She smiled "Xiangling... How much chilis did you add in mine?" Hu Tao smiled fakely with a sarcastic irk mark popping up "U–uhmm.." "GET OVER HERE!!!"
She yelled as she chased Xiangling who started running away. I stare confusedly, before turning to an item Ajax placed in my hands. You flushed red, but you couldn't tell why, because you've finally got your hopes fulfilled, or if you were embarrassed and scared. Ah, this feels repetitive somehow.
As you get home after spending some time with them, you open the box hurriedly he gave as soon as you plopped down on your bed. "Meet me at xxxx-xxx at 9 hihihi^_^" Beneath the note was a pair of lingerie. The box feels a couple of years old, is it because hes been looking for me... or perhaps Im getting my hopes up.
Should I go...? You stare at the ceiling, contemplating it as its already 7. "Its unbelivable he still writes in that shitty way." You chuckle... till you heard rustling from outside a window. You get up so fast, turning to the source. Walking to it while picking up a dagger on your nightstand.
Opening it, to find nothing, but a small camera that fell on a bush and got stuck. You felt sick. Now you were really sure you hate him. Or are you just denying your feelings again? Who knows anymore. You decide to go meet him and confront him.
The location is a fancy restaraunt, so you've also decided to look your best in hopes of meeting a handsome dude during it.
till you've realized after coming inside... he rented the entire place. He smiled, Head resting ontop of his hands, elbows against the table as he admires you.
Scanning your entire body even through the table. "I was expecting you to not show up, How lucky I am!" His cheeriness made you annoyed. "...Lets get to the point. Why did I find this outside my window?" You slam the camera down onto the table. He glances at it, his smile fading away, looking back at you with a dull expression. "Hm..." He placed his hand against his chin, trying to think of something.
Your mouth started to water at how hot he looked for a second as you felt that same need pop up again, blushing a bright red from embarrassment as you sit down, retreating your hand back. "Huh? Whats wrong with you all of a sudden?" To no avail, you dont respond, wiping your mouth. "Hmm... Come here." He pat his leg. Signalling you to come over and sit on his lap.
"Are you crazy? Why would I do that...?" You scoff, "Its not like you have a choice now that you came here, I'm sure you know I dont like resorting to force." "How about you make me?" He annoyingly stares. "You're really making me do it? Fine." He walks over, and you already start to regret it, getting up from your seat and walking to the other side from the table as him.
"I–Ill do it- I'll sit down." You shiver. "Well you're stubborn huh." He sits back down on his seat, Looking at you, and looking back at his lap. You shyly sit down on his lap, feeling scared as you can clearly see he brought a knife with him. One of his arms wraps around you, and the other slides down your thigh as you flush red.
"What if people see us?" Hes nips at your bare neck, making you shiver. Its been so long since you've done it. "Mhm..." He lets you off of his lap, and you start to feel disappointed. Till he signals to go down the table, Just what is he plotting? You decide to go down, its so dark under here,
After all there is a long white cover... you accidentally grab onto his knee, while almost falling down and you feel an arm pull you closer. "Suck it," He demanded. "Hurry up, I'm getting impatient." You gritted your teeth annoyed. You try to find it, and there it is, its practically begging to be let out, its bulging so hard.
You unzip his pants, finally letting it free, as you grip onto it, hearing him grunt a little. You stroke it a few times, Has it gotten larger...? "You slide your mouth up and down it, tasting a bit of precum. "Fuck, Hurry up and put it in your mouth, you dont understand how long I've been waiting ever since you ran away like an idiot."
You try to take it in fully, But you just gag like crazy, coughing and almost hitting your head. An arm reaches out, and pats you as you try again, Taking it in slowly. Tears are frantically falling down, as you start to get more and more wet by the second along with a sore throat. You're having so much trouble because its been years,
it feels so much more girthy, you shove a few fingers down your undergarments, stroking your needy clit, and across your folds your hands are covered with your juices as you already cummed. He grunted some more but he started to sound more and more annoyed till he dragged you out, your perfect hair was ruined,
and you were dripping wet. You were already a mess when you both havent even actually started. He placed you down on his lap, as you felt his abs through the shirt and his dick pressing against your back. He looks up at you as you blush a bright red, your eyes shifting everywhere. "Fuck off, dont look at me like that..." He chuckles, his hand raising to cover his face as he does,
Before he fists his hair into a ball. "Tell me, and dont lie, how long have you wanted my dick inside of you for?" He sucks on a a spot of your breast, while pushing your dress down to reveal it. "For...ever since I ran away." He smiles, "Oh really? Do you need it now?" "Y...–yes.. 'Need it so bad." You bite your lip in frustration, as you try to unbutton his shirt. "Go on, ride me like the whore you are." He feels even harder that before... You move up, placing yourself on his tip, slowly trying to enter as he holds onto your arm to support you. "Hnngh..~...mmn.." As he abruptly pushes you down full, filling you to the brim, you yelp loudly, as you shake like crazy. Trying to take some deeps breathes to process what just happened, "Fucking asshole– Let me take my sweet time." He kisses you on the lips, "Mhm..~ Cant wait anymore longer though, love." Half of his shirts buttons are unbuttoned and you can see his abs along with some scars. His face is so unreasonably attractive when he smiles like that. "Right..." You slowly move up and down, as you start to feel that same euphoria you've been longing for. Your pace fastens, bobbing yourself up and down like crazy. "Haaah!!~ Fuck! Ajax...!!~ S–sso bi—g.." His hand latches onto your ass, digging into its plush, as you feel yourself getting so close, you can feel every hot smooth inch of him after so long. "Fuck... You're such a slut with this pace. This is the first in years we're doing it and you're already cock drunk." He sucks on your breast, moving his hand to your clit, rubbing it in a circular motion and the other pinching your nipple, he leaves hickeys on your chest as you stop to cum, still having him inside of you as he stops rubbing, You fall onto him exhausted,
"Uh-uh we're not done here." He pushes you onto the table having full view of your body as he takes his gloves off, latching onto your waist making you shiver from how cold his hands feel. He leans into kiss you, starting to thrust sloppily as you felt blood trickle down from your nose.
Your moans and whimpers are muffled with the kiss, His tongue swirling with yours as your breast starts to press against his chest, His arm wrapping around your waist and the other wraps around from behind onto your shoulder. You feel yourself close again, his pace starting to quicken with one of his hands moving down to rub your clit again,
his mouth moving away, nipping your lips drawing blood as he sucked on your neck constantly biting parts of your body. You snapped, cumming alot as he did too, his seed spilling out of you down onto the floor, your juices with his cum mixed, as everything was messy, hes even getting you pregnant too. After all, if you concieve his child wont you both get married and stay together forever?
but thats not enough.
He pulls a knife out, dragging it through your skin as you start bleeding and whimper as a reaction to it even when your unconcious. He carves his name into your arm, smiling as he licks the blood after he finishes.
"I love you... I love you... dont ever leave me again... it was so hard..." He burrowed his head into your neck, eyes rolling up as he cooes there, sitting still inside of your unconcious body.
.
.
.
You gasp, waking up with a throbbing headache. looking around you to find Ajax beside you, sleeping peacefully with swollen eyes and a bloodied knife on the nightstand. "Ah... this is my house." You raised your hand to your forehead till you felt the immense stinging pain on your arm, noticing his names been carved in.
"Is he fucking serious?" He suddenly wakes up, still half asleep confused on whats happening. "[Y/N]...? Are you there..?" He rubs his eyes swaying his arms around blindly trying to find you.. "Huhuhu... did you leave me again.." He starts crying again like a child. "Um. I'm right here...?" You take him into your arms, burrowing his head into your chest feeling his tears.
...
He smiles. but in what way?
#childe x reader smut#childe x reader#childe x fem!reader#ajax x reader smut#ajax x reader#genshin impact smut#tartagliaxreadersmut#tartaglia x reader smut#tartaglia x reader#ajax smut#childe smut#tartaglia smut
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as the world caves in | ch. 9 | bucky barnes x reader
synopsis: You are a ghost story. A former Air Force pilot who had her plane shot down by Germany in 1945, but here you were in 2023, alive and frozen in your 25-year-old body.
You haven’t seen Bucky since the 1940’s, before his fall, before you went on a suicide mission only to come back alive. You aren’t sure reliving those memories – and being a living memory of everything the man has lost – is the best for him.
But you and Bucky won’t be apart for long.
This will loosely follow the plot of TFATWS - so spoilers ahead, specially regarding episode six (finale). Thread carefully!
masterlist | AO3
notes: thank you everyone for your patience with this chapter. I'm dropping this lil shortie so we can get the story moving. Let's go!
(warnings: lil' fluff, lil' angst) (word count: 3K)
nine: records
Bucky knocked on your door a few weeks later.
It was late, and you were snug in your pajamas, winding down after a long day. With your identity no longer a secret, the government was in the midst of transferring you to something more… hands-on, and definitely less diplomatic, you were assuming; so much for retirement, but you figured 30 years of it had been more time than you could’ve anticipated.
You almost didn’t hear the soft rapping on wood over Vera Lynn’s mellow singing.
When you finally opened it, you found him standing there, wearing tired eyes and a dark coat. “I’m sorry, I know it’s late, but I started walking and I—"
“When I said you’re welcome anytime, Bucky Barnes, I meant any time.”
A tiny fraction of a smile was offered your way, and you grasped it tight against your heart at the same time you do his hand, pulling him inside.
His fingers lingered on yours, but before you could start thinking about it he pulled away, taking a seat at the edge of your couch. “I finished it. The book.”
Bucky answered your question before you could ask it. “I just came from there. The last one– the last name.”
“Well. Are you alright?” You sat next to him, your knee knocking against his, and his gaze went from the floor, to the spot where your legs touched, and then to you. He knitted his eyebrows, seeming a little incredulous you were even asking.
“I will be.” His hands intertwined on the space between his knees, and you placed a hand ton his shoulder, getting him to look at you again.
“Yes, you will. Do you want to talk about it?”
One corner of Bucky’s lip raised up, and he shook his head. “Is that Vera Lynn?”
You smiled, turning to look at your record player as if Vera herself was sitting next to it. “It is. Takes me back, I guess.”
“It’s all we’d listen to at the front.”
Nodding, you wondered for a second if Bucky remembered dancing to We’ll Meet Again the night before he was shipped off. Even if you weren’t the only girl he had danced with then, you still asked yourself if that memory was burned on his mind as it was on yours.
We'll meet again, don't know where, don't know when. A short-term promise, made back then by hopeful lovers, friends, family members; you had no idea that those lyrics would prove themselves so literal when you and Bucky mouthed them at each other in the middle of a dancefloor.
You let out a breathy chuckle, standing up and beckoning him to where you kept the rest of your vinyl. “Come on. Vera’s starting to feel a little too nostalgic to me.”
Your record collection was pretty extensive, ranging from things of the good ol’ days from the special editions that were still being released nowadays. Bucky joined you on the floor, and together you started to make your way through decades eternized in discs.
“Marvin Gaye.”
You look up from The Rise and Fall of Ziggy Stardust, finding Bucky making a face at the album he was holding. “It’s really good. Do you want to—”
“No. No more Marvin Gaye.”
You furrowed your eyebrows. “You don’t like him?”
“I like Marvin Gaye! Jesus. Marvin is good—Marvin’s jus’ fine,” Bucky rubbed his eyes with his thumb and middle finger, and you finally understood.
“Sam’s been preaching you the word of R&B to you too, huh?”
You giggled at the tired look he gave you and silently took Trouble Man out of his hands, stuffing it back with the rest of the 1970’s.
Years ago, Bucky would be delighted to dive headfirst in the new – your trips to countless science fairs and expositions were enough proof of that – but looking at him now, knowing him as you were starting to once again, you figured that just a dip of the toes was more than enough.
You pulled Frank Sinatra from the 1950’s section.
“I know Sinatra.”
“Do you now?”
You put the record on your player, and Vera Lynn’s longing gave way to Sinatra’s swagger and jazz.
“Do you?” Bucky teased, frowning at the most recent items in your collection. As soon as Frank’s voice filled the silence, he nodded. “Yeah, that’s nice.”
“I do know him! Or did. Met ‘im in 1962.” You plopped next to Bucky, who was shaking his head. “What?”
“Show off.”
“No, just been around. Met people on the way. And, you asked.” Your smirk grew into a grin as Bucky mouthed your words back at you. Then his face fell for a second, and your amusement was quickly replaced by worry. “What is it?”
“Nothing, I guess – I guess I just missed a lot.” The same way one of the corners of his lips tug on his cheek again in his attempt of a smile, melancholy tugs at your heartstrings. “I missed out on everything. And I missed out on you.”
Bucky’s head was low as he spoke and you could see the tremble of his hands, even though he clutched one of your records tightly. Nina Simone, 1960’s.
“M’not going anywhere, you know.”
“You still lived an entire lifetime—”
“I did, yes, thank you for constantly reminding me that I’m over 100 years old.” You shook your head at him, sighing softly when he chuckled.
You couldn’t blame him, for clinging to every bit of past he’d missed while he was in HYDRA’s clutches – you knew that was inevitable, but you wished that such sorrow wasn’t so related to you.
“What are you doin’?” He asked as you summoned a small stool from the side of your shelf and stepped on it.
“I want to show you somethin’.” The thing you were looking for was stored at the very top: a heavy, brown leather suitcase that almost made you lose your balance when you pulled it from the spot it had been sitting in for—honestly, years, many of them.
The contents of the suitcase rattled as you climbed down and sat next to Bucky again. Sinatra still playing, telling his lover I've got you under my skin, I've got you, deep in the heart of me;
You almost laughed from the truth and irony of it.
I'd tried so, not to give in
I said to myself this affair never will go so well
You unlocked the suitcase, revealing the gathered memories inside. Pictures, movie tickets, theater playbooks, receipts, trinkets. All souvenirs of the 80 something years of your life Bucky hadn’t been there to see.
Not organized in the slightest, the keepsakes of your life were tossed together and out of order just as in your memory: photographs of you in uniform, and sometimes in party dresses; of when you bought your house; of the few times you had pets. Posing next to famous people and other important ones whose names weren’t as well known by the world.
As you and Bucky went through each of them, you added a story or an explanation, sometimes both, to fill him in on the details of your life events. He laughed at some, frowned at a lot, stared at you intently for all of them.
“Is this Berlin?”
You hummed, nodding. “1989. That party was great.”
“Party?” Bucky knitted his eyebrows in surprise.
“The city was unified, the wall was being taken down, and everyone was celebrating. I’ve never seen that many bottles of vodka in one place.” You laughed, taking a good look at yourself in the picture.
The 80’s were definitely not your best decade, looks wise. You had tried a perm the year before, and the poodle look was only then starting to dial down. The beginnings of a bruise were starting to creep on your left eye, from the mission you had completed just a few hours before.
“I don’t think I’ve ever been that drunk.”
Bucky’s surprise intensified, his eyes wide. “We can’t get drunk.”
“Yes we can.”
“No, no we can’t.”
“We can, in fact. It’s all a matter of quantity and, well, speed.” You giggled as Bucky’s mouth gaped more.
“And the hangover?”
“Horrible. Like getting shot on the forehead. Comes quickly, too.”
He grimaced, and with one last look – certainly to register your peculiar appearance on his mind – gently put the picture back inside the suitcase. A stack of papers seemed to call out to him and he picked it up, releasing them from the band that held them together carefully.
Postcards of the places you’ve been: a small note to James Barnes and Steve Rogers on the back of each one.
Bucky’s voice faltered. He let out an anguished little sound, probably something that was supposed to be an Oh, or a What, but had no strength to crawl up his throat.
You brought your knees to your chest as you waited for him.
“You—you wrote to us?”
“I did. You can keep those, they’re addressed to you.”
After all this time, you could barely remember the words you wrote in those postcards; all you knew was that some had longer messages, others a simple Wish you were here.
“After we met in Baltimore, I thought that— that you’d have moved on from us.”
From me.
As if that was possible.
“Well, I stopped writing by 2003, give or take. But really,” You sighed. “It’s hard to forget someone when you’ve always been expecting them to come back to you.”
Bucky flipped the postcard from Rome, read the writing and smiled wistfully at it. “And, I did.”
“You did. And staying away was the hardest thing I’ve ever done, but—”
“But you’re annoyingly stubborn.” His jaw tightened, then relaxed when he smirked. “I mean, I get it – If the roles were reversed, I’d leave you rebuild your life without me like a self-sacrificing idiot too.”
Alright. That was fair.
Shaking your head, you watched as he slipped the postcards in his pocket, an amused expression on his face.
“That was… a big mistake. Something a self-sacrificing idiot would do,” You screwed your eyes shut in shame, opening them when Bucky chuckled. “but now, I’m right here. And so are you.”
His stubble scratched the soft skin of your palm when you reached for him, and you continued. “We’re a little out of place in this century, that much is true, but if I’m being honest… I’m getting tired of yearning for the past, Buck.”
Good old times – sometimes really good, sometimes bad, every one of them old – tucked away in your heart like your records were tucked in neatly in their shelf, organized by year. As you went through the decades, your enhanced body eternizing you like marble, your heart seemingly stayed at that army camp overseas. Or maybe Sergeant Bucky Barnes had taken it with him, only for them to be frozen together, leaving you with an empty hole in your chest.
You lived your life longing for that missing piece, the one with blue eyes and the dashing smile and the skilled feet.
The one that in many other stories was the one that got away, the one who now believed he was somebody else, but had brought your heart back with him all the same.
The very heart that nearly leapt out of your chest when Bucky rested his forehead against yours.
You’ve never been this close – there isn’t an ounce of past in the gesture. His eyes being tightly closed kept him from seeing the surprise on your eyes and then how they fell to his lips for a millisecond. Then, those lips brushed against yours in a featherlike touch.
I would sacrifice anything, come what might
For the sake of having you near
He pried himself off you when you exhaled, as if your very breath had electrocuted him.
“M’sorry. I—I didn’t—” He said as you stared at the back of his neck, and the shock gives way to disappointment.
I didn’t mean to. Or maybe: I didn’t want to.
“That’s—it’s okay.” You clapped your hands on your knees, still feeling the prickle of his facial hair on them, and got up to change the music.
There was no doubt Bucky was touch starved, and that he probably craved the closeness that comes with a lover. He sought that for a fleeting second in Sam’s sister, and now in you. No point in dwelling on what it might have meant.
Right?
Looking at Bucky, his expression was overcast, furrowed eyebrows as he watched you from his spot on the floor. You offered him a gentle smile, and the crease on his forehead eased up slightly.
Right.
Don't you know little fool, you never can win
The record player made a scratching sound as you replaced Frank Sinatra with your go-to jazz compilation. Instrumental.
No lyrics.
There was one thing you’ve always been good at, regarding the infatuation with Bucky Barnes that has taken over your heart for almost a century now: locking the feelings away and stepping into the shoes of the best friend.
Besides, you’ve said it yourself: no more yearning for the past. Hopefully you and Bucky would be able to do that soon enough.
At that moment, however, you needed to feel the burn of whiskey down your throat and pretend it’ll heal the calcinating rejection spreading through your chest.
The guilt you found in Bucky’s eyes as he watched you sweep around your hardwood floors made you pour a glass for him.
He took it gratefully, frowning when you bottomed the whole thing up.
“There’s a lot in here.” He tapped the edge of the suitcase, skillfully steering the conversation in the direction of the more palatable, calm territory it was in before.
The sight of your autobiographical collection made you smile.
“An entire lifetime,” You said, fishing your dog tags from the bottom. “I suppose that’s where it started. Or at least, where thisstarted.”
Bucky took them reverentially, running his thumb over the imprint of your name and numbers.
He reached for his neck, producing from under his Henley the same type of metal chain he was holding in his hands. The fact that he still wore his like that sent a sharp blow to your lungs, almost knocking the air out of you.
His face softened, a smile so beautiful spreading across his lips, so much that your chest clenched in protest because it was simply not fair, how he still had you entirely.
He deposited both of your dog tags in your hands, and that’s when you saw it, and remembered it.
“Won’t we get in trouble for this?”
“Do you care?”
“Well…No.” You sighed, already resigned. And a little excited.
Bucky knew you well: it had been too long of being a good little soldier when all you were used to was the rush of being a hellion.
“And that is why, sugar, that I’m doing this with you, and not with Steve.”
The words made your heart soar, but you were sure to recapture it before it could fly away too high, still too attached to the sensation of the take-off to clip its wings.
You liked flying.
“And because Steve hasn’t been successful in his enlisting efforts. Yet.”
Bucky looked at you from behind his eyebrows, a reprimand hiding in his eyes, but he decided to shove his uniform hat on your head instead. You grumbled, calling him a jerk under your breath.
It was the night before Bucky was drafted to England. He looked handsome in his uniform, a shining, polished star, brighter than the sun even under the dim streetlight you two stood under.
After bringing his and Steve’s dates home (yours was lost to another boxing match along the way – not that you were crying about that) Bucky had decided he was going to stay up all night, because, in his words, he could sleep when the war was over. Or, more realistically, in the ship on the way to England.
So there you two were, illuminated by street lamps and moonlight, visiting the façades and front windows of your favorite places in Brooklyn like drifters in the night.
Bucky still concentrated on his task, his shoulder hunched slightly to block your sight.
“Let me see! Bucky!”
“ ’Sposed to be a surprise! I’m almost done.”
You huffed, crossing your arms. “It’s not like I haven’t seen ‘em before.”
“You gotta be more patient. Here.”
He dropped your dog tags on your hand. You displayed the small steel plates on your palm, scanning your eyes over the two. One of them, of course, had your name, number, blood type, next of kin – an aunt you’ve never met – and address.
The other had Bucky’s.
James B Barnes. 32557038.
He slipped his own chain over his head, the plate with your name clinking against his.
You brought the tips of your fingers to your lips, feeling a smile begin to form onto them.
“I forgot we did this. I haven’t looked at these in so long.”
You had stopped wearing your dog tags the day the war had ended – Bucky was gone then, Steve too, and the weight of his dog tags slamming against your chest was too much to bear – your heart was already heavy with its own engraving of their memories.
“Steve had a lecture prepared when he gave mine back.” Bucky chuckled when you looked up at him, incredulous.
You shook your head, half exasperated and half amused. “Good grief, Steve.”
“Y’know how he is. Was,” He trailed, lips twitching as they formed a thin line.
You reached for him, your hand hovering in the space between you for a second before Bucky took it, lacing your fingers. Scooting closer, you let your cheek rest on his shoulder.
“He’d be glad we’re reunited.” You said, raising your head to peek at him and the newfound upwards curl of his lip. “And mortified we’re still bickering.”
Bucky smiled and squeezed your hand. “Old people. Old habits.”
Laughter bubbled out of your chest, and you realized a few things.
In that moment, it didn’t matter – the heartache, the unrequited side of your love. It was just a fact, a fact of life, of your life, that you a lot of the times loved him as more than your best friend. You loved him. And that was the core of it, the most important fact.
And you knew he loved you – you had each other – in this big, ever-changing, modern world, you had Bucky and Bucky had you.
You sat in comfortable, familiar silence until your eyelids grew heavy and you felt yourself drifting in and out of consciousness.
“You dozin’ on me, sugar?”
“It’s been a long day.” You said with your eyes still closed, feeling him chuckle beside you.
“Tell me about it. I can go—”
“You know damn well you should stay.” You patted his arm and hoisted yourself up from the floor. “I’ll get the pull-up ready for you.”
As you sauntered towards the office, ignoring his pleads and protests that he’s got it, he doesn’t need sheets or anything, you put your dog tags back on.
They jingled lightly against your heart.
Maybe you didn’t have to leave all of the past behind to start building something good and new, after all.
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Sorry to be annoying but I asked awhile ago and I think tumblr ate my ask but did you ever do tattoo Harry blurb? I love them and I miss them:( I’ve looked through your tags and there isn’t any on there if you have posted one
I CAN POST ONE I WROTE A WHILE AGO RIGHT NOW :D I DONT THINK I POSTED HERE BUT LET ME KNOW HERE YOU GO PET
i.
“Baby -- baby, c’mon!”
It was rare that Harry ever woke Y/N with more than kisses and cuddles. Maybe an abrupt shoulder shake if the both of them slept through their alarms (and, considering that they are the only ones with the key to open up their own respective stores, they never typically arrived late facing happy employees -- or in Y/N’s case, employee -- Niall, in particular, was always more of a grump in that situation than Riktor even), but even that still managed to be tender, and soft. He always treated her so delicately, as if she were made up of porcelain in the morning and it was imperative to speak in a low, soothing voice with careful touches or she might shatter. And she really didn’t think it was because she was an absolute terror to wake up -- Y/N did quite well, even as early as 5 AM she was still in somewhat of a pleasant mood, certainly nothing to be fearful of -- she thinks he’s just gentle in the morning. He’s gentle all the time, but for some reason or another, he’s extra soft with her then.
They had both had a bit of a busy day, so by the time that they made it back to Y/N’s flat (Harry said he liked it there best because it smelled like her, and -- well, he softens her up and calls her Darling when he wants them to go over there, so it’s hard to say no), both of them were ready for bed. Neither of them could barely keep their eyes open as they scarfed down the burgers they’d picked up on the way home, and once they’d finished and brushed their teeth, they toppled into each other on the mattress. Y/N would reckon they both fell asleep before their heads had even hit the pillow -- she doesn’t even remember crawling beneath the blankets.
Apparently she had though, because now as her brain tunes in with the world around her and she realizes that the distorted voice that had begun to prod her dreams was actually a grumpy, dry throat Harry, she’s cuddling herself closer in the covers. This only makes him grumble at her more, “You’re such a blanket hog,” he whines and Y/N finally blinks her eyes open, being greeted with Harry’s disgruntled, pouted face illuminated by the sunlight beginning to slip through the blinds, “I’ve been trying to unravel it for like ten minutes, but you’re all wrapped up! I’m cold.”
Y/N smiles sleepily at him, not understanding the gravity of the situation entirely as she begins to un-burrito herself from the covers, “G’morning, beautiful,” she murmurs as she does so, finally disentangling from the blankets and while she was a little less warm, Harry was quick to wiggle in beneath them, “Sorry.”
“Don’ be sweet when m’tryin’ to be angry with you,” she puckers her lips at him dramatically, and though he sighs, he leans in and presses their mouths together softly, “Your kisses aren’t g’na sweeten me up, m’still grumpy, blanket hog.”
She can only hum as she cuddles closer to him, “Sorry,” she repeated, this time adding, “Like to swaddle myself like a lil’ baby. Reckon you weren’t holdin’ me well enough last night.”
An offended gasp leaves through his lips soundly, enough that it startles her, but his arms worm around her waist and draw her closer to his body, “Brat,” he grumbled, dipping his nose into her throat, “I held you so well and you just wiggled right out of my arms and took all the covers with you.”
“Like a worm -- I wiggled out like a worm or somethin’,” she tried to sit up but his arms tightened around her, “This worm has to pee though and she’ll soak the bed if she isn’t allowed.”
His arm loosens around her, “This worm sounds like she’s a sleepy sort of delusional that requires about two hours more of rest.”
Y/N stumbles toward the bathroom in her room, “Noooooooo,” she whines, frowning at nobody, not bothering to swing the door shut before she plops on the cold toilet seat to relieve herself, “We’re supposed to go get hot chocolate, no more sleep.”
“Baby, it’s 6 AM and I’ve been up the last 30 minutes freezing my bits off!” He calls back to her and she giggles some, her eyes trying to accommodate to the bright white lights of the bathroom, “Sleep just a bit more and we’ll get the hot chocolate when we wake up next.”
She waits until she flushes and washes her hands to respond to him, and though she knows that she is definitely going to crawl back in bed and fall asleep, she stands at the foot of it with her hands in fists at her hips. He had let his eyes flutter closed by then but she thinks he could feel her eyeballing him, so he looks up past the mountain of blankets now covering him so she could only see his eyes and his nose, “What’re you doing?”
“You’re telling me, you don’t wanna go at 6 AM, three hours before the kiosk even opens to get hot chocolate with me? You must really hate me, don’t you?”
He huffs a sharp breath through his nose which is how he usually laughs in the morning, when he can’t muster up the strength to have a proper giggle, “Absolutely loathe you, baby doll, but could you please come back to bed so I can loathe you in the warmth?”
It takes little persuading -- as she said, she knew she was just going to crawl right back in beside him -- and instead of relying too heavily on the blankets to provide her warmth (like wrapping up half of it around her so she was cocooned entirely. . .this is what she normally does, and she would say that’s probably why Harry almost never has any of the covers in the morning), she relies on him. Picks up his arm so that she can fit herself underneath it and lies her cheek on his chest, “Your pits better not be smelly.”
“I make no promises.”
. . .
“I love your hair.”
“Stop it, Sweetheart, I’m g’na start blushing.”
They had slept for four more hours rather than the two Harry had originally suggested, but that always happens with them. Y/N would say that they are just too content cuddled up with one another that they milk it for all it’s worth. If one of them wakes up before the other, then they just settle their head back down and close their eyes again. Unless they had somewhere to be, of course, but Harry had a free Saturday (no clients schedule, even though Saturday’s could often be some of his heaviest days) and he’d elected to spend it with her -- whether they were awake or asleep didn’t much mater, they just liked to be near each other.
When they finally did wake up, they lazily got dressed into about thirty layers so they wouldn’t freeze outside. The weather had grown frigid quite quickly this November, and neither of them stood the cold very well, but there was a park lined with little pop-up kiosks with hot chocolate, sweets, little holiday goodies, and an obscene amount of knitted blankets (it was a clever marketing tactic, Y/N thought -- everyone is more willing to spend money on a blanket when they’re freezing cold - she and Harry had certainly fallen for it today). Y/N bought them shoe warmers to keep their toes at least not numb, and Harry lets her borrow a pair of his gloves because she keeps forgetting to buy some of her own. They both have hats fitted over their heads too, and since Harry’s let his hair grow out, his curls stick out from beneath the pumpkin orange print and Y/N can’t stop staring at it. She’s always loved his hair, she told him as much one of the first nights they’d sat on her bookstore’s floor and talked about just a bit of everything. Back when she barely realized she had a crush on him. . . .when she didn’t know that in just a little time, she would be over the moon.
And she’ll never forget that people used to make him feel like shit about his hair, so she maybe overcompensates by telling him every time she has thought about loving it. Which means today, in the span of a short three hours they’d been awake, Y/N had complimented his hair about twenty different times. If she was running her fingers through it, fixing his beanie, or just staring at him, she let him know just how much she adored his curls.
“I hate to tell you this, Button, but your cheeks are already red as apples,” she shifted the paper cup of hot chocolate from her hand closest to him to the other, so she could reach up and tuck them behind his ear, that had reddened from the cold, “The air has you more bashful than I ever could.”
“Not true,” he murmurs, lowering his voice as he knocks closer to her ear, “I always blush when you go down on me.”
“God,” Y/N shakes her head, “You’re too much, d’ya know that?”
He laughs, nudging her with the cold tip of his nose, “You want the peppermint bark? We’re coming up on the seller.”
“Of course, I want peppermint bark,” she reaches for her wallet, “I’m stocking us up for the next hundred years or so.”
Harry slows for a moment, sliding his gloved hand into her own and squeezing, “Hey,” he begins, his voice soft, somewhat reflective and it brings her attention to him at her side, “Y’know when -- you remember how you said you just get random flushes of love for me and s’a whole lot and you just don’t know what to do with it?”
Y/N nods, “Yeah, like every waking minute practically. Why?”
He smiles shyly, “I’m having one of those moments.”
“For the peppermint bark?” She teases, but his brows furrow and he swats her shoulder playfully, “Hey!”
“I’m trying to be sweet on you, and you’re still going on about this bloody chocolate,” he rubs the arm that he swats, even though Y/N has so many layers on plus the blanket that she bought wrapped around her, that he made no real contact with her body.
Y/N pulls him in for a hug, narrowly avoiding a child running past them as she does so, “Oh, you know m’only kidding. I love you too, Bug, more than words can describe and ten times more than the chocolate I reckon. . .well, unless it’s made really well this year.”
“I’ll leave you here, blanket hog.”
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I have no idea where this came from? But uhhhh...here have this fic I wrote today on my day off. Should I post a second chapter?
Anyway, sorry for any/all mistakes! Hope you all enjoy! Sorry I posted it on my phone so I couldn't add the "read more" thing!
This is the time that I've just made up for them. I know it's not 100% right but whatever. I got it from TFwiki at least:
Nano-klik: Seconds
Klik: Minutes
Groon: Hours
Cycle: Days
Breem: Weeks
Orn: Months
Vorn: 1 year
Joor: 5 years
Deca cycle: 10 years
Mega cycle: 50 years
Solar cycle: 100 years
Stellar cycle: 1,000 years
_________________________
"So when were you two gonna tell me about this?"
Prowl and Smokescreen looked up from their respective tables towards the door of the rec room. In it stood a very rare sight; a pissed off Bluestreak. His arms were crossed, doorwings held high in agitation, and face scowling. Two more very rare things followed this, Prowl bit his lip and looked to his elder brother and Smokescreen sighed then stood up to be the mature one.
The rec room went dead silent to watch the trio. Everyone knew the three were brother's, and fights weren't uncommon. However, when a fight broke out it was usually between Smokescreen and Prowl with Bluestreak coming between them. To see Bluestreak mad at one was rare. If he was, he'd usually ask to speak with said brother privately, and sometimes he'd ask the other to join. To see him this mad, and at both, enough to approach them in a public setting? Something big happened.
"Blue-"
"When was I supposed to find out? Next time we see him? Or when he's dropping off his new sparkling? Or when the bot is dropping off a sparkling to us? Or, or, in a few hundred or thousand solar cycles when we run into a bot that looks just like us?!" Bluestreak growled. "Because you know that's how it'll happen!"
"Bluestreak!" Smokescreen yelled, "he's on his way to visit, and the bot is comin' with him."
Bluestreak's optics went wide at this, "Wh-what-? How do you know?"
"Because he told me."
"Oh of course he did." Prowl growled.
Smokescreen rolled his optics and turned towards his middle brother. "He wanted it ta be a surprise for you two, and me. I didn' know the bot was comin' with until Jazz showed me the flight list."
Bluestreak glared and Prowl rolled his optics. Smokescreen just threw his hands in the air and huffed.
"Doesn't explain why you didn't tell me about the bot."
"Because we knew you'd react exactly like this Bluestreak." Prowl waved a servo towards him, "cause a public scene, bring our family's personal business into the light, and throw a temper tantrum." Prowl scoffed at his little brother.
Bluestreak's optic twitched and he snarled, "you wanna see a temper tantrum Prowl?" He aimed his shoulder canon at his elder brother and growled, "I'll give you a fragging temper tantrum!"
Prowl's optics went wide at this. Red Alert, First Aid and Perceptor quickly jumped up and away from the table.
"Bluestreak don't you-" before Prowl could finish Bluestreak fired a shot at his brother. Smokescreen grabbed the bot and pulled him out of the way before it could hit him. When Prowl looked back at his chair his optic twitched when he saw it sparking from the static shock his brother shot at him. He turned back to scream at said brother, but was punched in the mouth. Smokescreen grabbed Bluestreak's shoulders and pulled him back. Bluestreak struggled for a minute before he slammed his helm back against Smokescreen's chin. Smokescreen lost his balance and stumbled. Before he could catch his balance Bluestreak tackled him to the ground.
"You- punch- two- punch- never- punch- tell- punch- me- punch- ANYTHING!" Bluestreak screamed in Praxian as he repeatedly punched Smokescreen's face and chassis.
Prowl tackled his younger brother and held his arms down and pinned his legs with his knees. He glared at the struggling bot below him until Bluestreak finally stopped and laid flat to glare back.
"You realize I could, and should, throw you in the brig and take your SpecOps title away for this? For unprovokingly attacking a commanding officer? And not just any, the-"
"The second in command of the Autobots." Bluestreak mocked. "S'not like anybot actually likes you or wants you to lead if something happens to Optimus Prime! For frags sake, he made you his second because if he didn't you'd whine and probably never have come. Not like you know the first thing about leading anyway." A smirk crossed Bluestreak's face suddenly, "besides you only raised through Praxian ranks, to get where you are now, because you're so good at sucking spike and spreading your legs."
Prowl went stiff at that. There were a lot of rumors as to how he so quickly rose through the ranks. The most popular one being he slept his way to the top. He could, and did, ignore most of them, but that one he hated the most.
"You damn well know that isn't true." Prowl hissed.
"That's why you're so good at being in this position, right?" Bluestreak hissed back.
Prowl looked down and noticed what Bluestreak meant. Granted he was pinning his brother down so he couldn't move, it did look very sexual.
"And with your own brother? That's fragging gross Prowl. Have some self respect." Bluestreak mocked.
Prowl sat back on his knees and stared down at his brother with a blank look. He felt a servo on his shoulder and immediately recognized it as Smokescreen's. When he looked up at his older brother and saw the energon dripping from his nose and cracked optic he twitched. He inhaled to calm himself down and that's when he realized his own energon was dripping from his mouth. Raising a servo he felt it and when he pulled it away he was shocked at how much there was. Shrugging he looked down at Bluestreak and sighed. "Fraggit." Prowl pulled his arm back and punched Bluestreak right in the face three times. When he pulled back to deliver a fourth blow he was tackled to the floor. Looking up he wasn't all that shocked to see Jazz on top of him. What did shock him was when he felt the stasis cuffs put on him and himself being lifted and pushed out the door, followed by Smokescreen with Ironhide and Bluestreak with Red Alert.
OoO
"I...I don't know what to say." Optimus said sadly as he looked at the three bots in front of him. "This kind of thing is expected of Red Alert, Sunstreaker and Sideswipe, but even they don't shoot and attack one another."
"There are two accounts of Sideswipe putting Red Alert in the medbay, three of Sunstreaker putting Red Alert there, three of Red Alert putting Sideswipe there, four of Red Alert putting Sunstreaker there, and over ten of them all ending up there together because of fights." Prowl said, a slight annoyance to his voice.
Red Alert went stiff at this. Prowl has access to a lot of information, especially as second in command, but even he shouldn't know medical information on bots. Unless it's critical of course.
"Rung and Ratchet have told the three of us if we can't talk it out then to sort out our issues physically. Multiple times. Not that that's your business." Red Alert replied dryly. "How you even know our medical information is beyond me, and a breach of security and Autobot privacy."
"I'm second in command. Nothing is a breach for me." Prowl mumbled, his back to Red Alert.
"I'm the head of security and security director. I know more than any bot what they should know and who should know what, and as second you do not have access to private medical records of other Autobots. Only Ratchet, Rung, First Aid, Swoop, Ambulon and Pharma have access. As well as Optimus Prime, only if he requires specific information for a valid reason. In fact a Conjunx can't access the other bots' medical records unless given permission."
Prowl huffed and kept his back to Red Alert. Optimus watched his second and security director for a moment before sighing and leaning against the front of his desk.
"Prowl, Red Alert is right. You have no right to that information. How did you acquire it?"
"This is really what we're focusing on? Not Bluestreak attacking Smokescreen and I? As well as making accusations against me?"
"What accusations?" Optimus asked, looking at Bluestreak.
Bluestreak sat up straight when Optimus addressed him, but glanced at his brother and glared, "I didn't accuse Prowl of anything."
"There were plenty of Autobots in the rec room Bluestreak. You can't lie your way out of this one." Prowl growled at his brother.
"Prowl, you an' Blue were speakin' Praxian. None of us had any idea what you were sayin'." Ironhide said, crossing his arms.
"We were what?" Prowl asked.
"Speakin'- bot are ya deaf?" Ironhide growled.
"Ironhide please." Optimus raised a servo and Ironhide rolled his optics. "Smokescreen can you please tell us what Bluestreak and Prowl were saying?"
Smokescreen stared at him for a moment then blinked, "ummm...Blue knocked me out. I came round and saw Prowl on top of him on his knees."
"So, no one understood what Prowl or Bluestreak were saying?" Optimus asked the other three.
"I sorta caught a lil ov it, but ah was tryin' ta help Smokescreen." Jazz rubbed the back of his helm.
"Can you tell us what you heard please Jazz?" Optimus asked.
"You speak Praxian?" Smokescreen, Prowl, and Bluestreak all asked.
Jazz smiled at the three, "jus' enough ta get by. Anyway, all ah really caught was Smokescreen and Prowl neva tellin' Bluestreak anythin'. Tha's when Bluestreak was hittin' Smokescreen. Then when Prowl jumped on Bluestreak ah rushed ta Smokescreen ta make sure he was okay, an' he was in stasis. All ah heard from there was Prowl threatenin' Bluestreak with strippin' his title, Bluestreak sayin' somethin' 'bout you an' Prowl and Prowl being second. Somethin' not being true an' tha' was it."
Optimus nodded at his third then looked at the three bots. He had a feeling he could fill in what Bluestreak had said to Prowl. He exvented and shook his helm. The three weren't known for fighting, not like Red Alert and the twins, but even those three kept their more violent fights away from prying optics. What could've possibly happened to set this off? Especially to have provoked Bluestreak, of all bots, to attack his elder brothers? Two bots he looked up to and respected so much.
"What brought this on?"
"Prowl accusing Bluestreak of throwing temper tantrums is what really started it." Red Alert said.
Prowl glared at Red Alert for that.
"No, I mean, Bluestreak, why did you attack your brothers to begin with? What did they do to hurt you so deeply you felt the need to do this instead of communicating with them, or perhaps coming to Ratchet, Rung, Wheeljack or myself?"
"These two didn't tell me something about our family. That I had every right to know!"
Smokescreen sighed and Prowl rolled his optics.
"If you don't mind my asking, and if need be Jazz, Ironhide, and Red Alert can leave and we can call Rung in here, what is it?"
Smokescreen looked at the ceiling, Prowl stared dead ahead and Bluestreak crossed his arms. Optimus looked up at the three bots and went to ask them to leave, but before he could, Bluestreak said something in Praxian. Prowl replied in a hiss and Smokescreen mumbled an annoyed comment back.
When Jazz suddenly broke out into a fit of laughter all the bots turned towards him. The three brothers with annoyed optics and the others with confused.
"Th-thats why you three did tha'?" Jazz tried to control his laughing, but he couldn't.
"Truly a professional Jazz." Prowl rolled his optics and turned back towards Optimus.
"Yeah, yeah, laugh it up, but you'd do it too I bet...well...maybe not you...probably Bumblebee though…" Bluestreak mumbled.
"In hindsight, it's pretty fragging funny. I'm with Jazz." Smokescreen said, sitting back.
"So...what is it?" Optimus asked, immensely confused now.
"Our Sire has a new mate." The three said in unison.
#transformers#maccadam#prowl#bluestreak#smokescreen#jazz transformers#ironhide#optimus prime#red alert#i just mix up series so its not like set in g1 or idw or anything like that buuuut if i had to pick it's more g1 probably...with added stuff#stuff being characters and concepts and yeah#my fic
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TUA SECRET SANTA - AU Fix It!
Klave, Klaus and Five shenanigans, Dave and Luther bonding, and apocalypse aversion in season 1! Please enjoy @fanthings !!! I haven’t written a fic in a very long time but I had a lot of fun writing this. I’m sorry if it isn’t suuuper great as I had to forgo finishing editing so it could be in on time. But I’m happy with how it flows as is. Happy Holidays! <3 @secret-santa-klaus
They were done. The war was over and Dave and Klaus made it back to the states, their arms draped around one another’s shoulders. They’d found themselves in Texas with nothing but a couple satchels and a briefcase that Klaus would have refused to take his eyes off of if it weren’t for Dave’s smiling and relieved face.
Dave’s family welcomed him home with open arms, and Dave refused to leave his “buddy Klaus” whose family didn’t even write back when he’d write. (Really, Klaus wrote letters for Ben and had them thrown into the fire. Dave saw this only once and decided that it seemed complicated enough not to ask about… And yet...) Of course, Dave’s family took the lil oddball in as soon as he hit them with appreciation for Dave, but Dave wouldn’t let him have it and launched into the story of how Klaus had saved his life.
Soon enough, eleven at night came to pass and both soldiers retreated to Dave’s old room, ignoring instructions to set up the second mattress on the floor. At just past eleven that night, though, Klaus turned to Dave and came clean. About everything.
“Dave,” he breathed, hands shaking a bit. Dave moved to close the door before settling his hands over Klaus’ trembling ones. In a worried hush, he whispered, “What is it? Are you okay? Did everyone overwhelm you—”
“No,” Klaus said. “No they’re lovely.” He smiled.
“Then, what’s wrong?” As Dave asked this, Klaus’ eyes flitted towards his briefcase, and as he looked back at Dave, his nose scrunched before tears began to well in his eyes.
“Oh, honey.” Dave caught Klaus’ first few tears with his thumbs but soon, he had an armful of boyfriend and tears staining his best shirt. Still, he hushed this precious, precious man, and rubbed at his back soothingly. Once his tears subsided, Dave asked, “What’s your bag, sweetheart?”
Klaus giggled a bit and pulled away shaking his head. “Oh, you know...” He trailed off.
“Well? Why not sit down then?”
“That’d be good.”
They sat and after a beat, Klaus spoke. “Davey, I’ve gotta tell you. Something.” Dave moved a little closer to Klaus, if possible and looked at him so earnestly that Klaus’ heart melted all over again. He took a deep breath and continued. “It’s really, really gonna sound crazy, so I just need you to listen until I’m done. Okay?” When Dave nodded, Klaus launched into the details of his life, which could only best be described as ludicrous. Once Klaus finished explaining, Dave nodded solemnly and cleared his throat.
“Well,” he started. “Klaus, it would definitely explain a lot,” he laughed. “But I’m still not quite sure. Just. I— Wow. I never thought...” Klaus turned his gaze to his hands where he was picking at his cuticles nervously. Dave interrupted this by taking his hands again. “But either way. Real or not, I still… Well, Klaus, I think you would know this by now. Maybe not, but I love you.” Klaus inhaled sharply.
“Really?” he whispered.
“Yeah,” Dave said with complete certainty. “Yeah, Klaus, of course. A-and I— you don’t have to—”
“No, Dave, yes. Yes, I love you too.” Klaus laughed a little. “I love you too.”
Dave smiled so bright, Klaus just had to kiss him. Only, then, the door opened.
It was well past 3 in the morning by the time Dave and Klaus were back outside the front door of Dave’s childhood home. Their few belongings in hand, the two men made it to a nearby park to talk over what would be next. Dave’s mother had made it very clear that Klaus would never be welcome again, and that Dave made it clear that he chose Klaus. He only stared blankly while they walked, not a tear shed.
“At least you met them,” he whispered once they’d sat down on a bench. Klaus fiddled with the briefcase.
“Dave, I’m so sor—”
“No, Klaus. It’s, well.” Dave paused. A single tear dropped. “Well,” he continued, “I don’t think I quite expected much else, if the truth ever did come out. I guess it was better sooner than later in case anyone got attached, or-or tried to set us up with some girls down the block or somethin.”
“Doesn’t make it hurt any less, Davey,” Klaus reassured, as he set his head on Dave’s shoulder. They both sat like that, contemplative in their own rights, until the sky started to turn a slightly lighter shade of blue and the birds started to interrupt their thoughts. Klaus sighed.
“Dave, d’you remember what I told you tonight? About, y’know, the future?”
“Klaus,” Dave started. “Is that what you want? Cause, you know I’d drop everythin’ for you right now. But are you sayin’ you’d go back to it all for me?”
“It’s just...” Klaus hesitated. “You know we could be together there. It’s not like it is here. We wouldn’t get hassled. And— well, I can start over. Ben always said it wasn’t too late to change my mind. I never did until. Well, until I knew I loved you, Dave. It’s just that you’ll be stuck there. We can’t come back n visit your mom or redo anything, you know that?”
“Well, ain’t that life anyhow, Klaus?” Dave smiled at him in the morning rays of daytime and Klaus knew he wanted this, too.
“Then,” Klaus said, standing. “How about we test this briefcase, yeah?”
“That sounds like a plan to me.”
They were gone in a flash.
The two veterans silently tiptoed into the academy and safely made it into Klaus’ childhood bedroom.
“Well, I dunno about you, but I need a long bath. Haven’t had one in a long time. Wanna join me?” He smiled serenely, both knew that this wasn’t a suggestive suggestion, however suggestive it could have been. So Dave smiled back and shook his head, looking around.
“I think I’ll have a look around. A bit of revenge for your time at my ol’ place...”
“Take your time, then, babe,” Klaus said, already rummaging for a towel. “I’ll be a bit. If you get tired, go ahead n get some sleep.”
“I will,” Dave promised. And so, Klaus readied his bath and left his headphones in his room, just in case Dave needed something
Halfway through his bath, though, came a series of shouts that sounded distinctly homicidal and threatening.
“WHO ARE YOU? The commission absolutely would not have sent you. How did you get this briefcase, and what is your business here?”
“Um, sorry, I’m with Klaus? He’s in the bath.”
“Yeah, right.”
It was Five.
Klaus scrambled for a towel and burst into his room after barely securing said towel around his waist.
“Five, goddamn it. This is Dave. Chill out little man.”
“Klaus,” Five sneered. “Why would you bring a man from another time to 2019? Jesus, do you understand nothing of time travel?”
“I had to.”
“Yeah, okay. Great. We’re dealing with this after I’ve used this.” He said this while taking the briefcase. “Good bye.” with that, Five was gone. After an exasperated giggle, Klaus closed the door and finished drying off before the two fell into a deep rest in his childhood bedroom.
They awoke to a loud clanging coming from downstairs sometime the next day. The both of them got some clothes on and rushed downstairs to find a drunk Luther in the sitting room, while an upset Ben followed them. Overwhelmed, Klaus turned to Dave.
“Hey honey, this is Luther,” he said, glancing at Luther worriedly. “He needs to sober up a bit and get out of his head. Can you talk to him? I have to go deal with something else.”
“Of course, Klaus. Just come back soon, okay?”
“I’ll try.” He smiled tightly, eyes shifting, before he kissed Dave’s cheek and wandered off, mumbling to something on his way out. Dave turned to Luther.
“So, Luther, yeah?”
Things came to a head on the night of Vanya’s concert, which Klaus and Dave were invited to when Klaus had gone to introduce Dave to her. Dave was taken aback by the world he’d been thrust into but he didn’t think he’d come across someone thinking it okay to lock someone up. The army didn’t lock people up when they were dealing with PTSD. Well, they didn’t really do anything, but this certainly was not part of it.
“Luther,” Dave started. “I know you’re scared. I understand. I don’t really know much of what’s going on, myself… That’s not the point though. This isn’t something, someone we can just lock up and put away. We need to help her.”
There was silence. No one was sure of what Luther was thinking but after another moment, he surprised everyone by turning open the lock and letting Vanya out. Klaus ran in and grabbed his sister, Diego and Allison on his heels.
The night passed and Five cornered Klaus.
“What changed? Did I save the world? Is it over? Where’s Vanya?”
“Vanya’s fine.” And Klaus explained everything, with the occasional input from Ben or Dave. When he was finished, Five was quiet.
“Is everything okay?” Klaus asked.
“I think so,” Five laughed, actually laughed. “Klaus, I think you saved the world!”
“Me?” Klaus looked at Dave. “What?”
“Yeah, it makes sense. You’re the only other factor here, and I really don’t think it was me. If you hadn’t gotten a hold of that briefcase, I wouldn’t have known for sure that it was Vanya, but you also wouldn’t have brought Dave back or gotten sober enough to have Ben tell Vanya what was going on while she was in the bunker. God. Wow.”
And so the family celebrated and moved forward, past April 1st, 2019, and past the trauma that had been uncovered, into the life ahead of them.
#klave#klaus hargreeves#dave katz#tua#the umbrella academy#luther hargreeves#five hargreeves#tua secret santa#tua secret santa 2020#im posting this at like the last 30 mins in the day it was due to be posted by so forgive me please#i hope you like it because i really did put a lot of thought into the outline and planning of it but i just havent written in a long time#much love!
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Horror Villains / Misc x Reader || Drabbles
Plot: You accidentally summon Beetlejuice because he convinced you that he could help you with your Slasher problem, but he becomes an even worse problem. So, you need your Slasher to help you exterminate him, instead.
Includes: Chucky / Charles Lee Ray and Freddy Krueger
Warnings: It’s got nasty gremlin man in it (Meaning, gross language, dirty jokes and such), and also Slashers (Meaning, gore, swearing, course and suggestive language). Groping (Himself)
Notes:
Okay, those of you who were with me at MainstreamBaddies; You remember that post I wrote about some rando killer trying to get the reader, so reader goes to the Slasher that’s also trying to kill them for help?
Well this is basically that but with (Movie) Beetlejuice as the rando.
THERE WAS MEANT TO BE MORE CHARACTERS!! But its late and I wanna slep ^^ Hopefully I’ll do Ghostface and Jason tomorrow!
~~~
THE START / ‘Beetlejuice, Beetlejuice, Beetlejuice’
“So… “Worrying my bottom lip, I look from the wall where I can think properly to the small, ‘fun size’ version of ‘Beetlejuice’ who’s looking expectantly at me. Excited even.
Although I guess that’s a given. If I was that small and had the possibility sitting right in front of me, of growing back to full size, and full power again, I’d be jazzed too. But, still, there’s something very off about this guy, and it isn’t just the fact that he’s the size of maybe 2 thumbs snapped off at the knuckle and taped one on top of the other. He’s very enthusiastic.
In a Gollum-Swamp Monster-Chick Hicks kind of way.
“’So’, what? I don’t have all day baaaaaay – well, I do have all day. I got nowhere to be – not many fun joints for a guy to go to at this size, amiright? Yeah, but, that’s not the point! Do you wanna get rida’ your lil’ problem or not? Eh?” Beetlejuice is practically vibrating, like an alarm clock and I have the most impulsive urge to call his name three times just to stop it.
Luckily, I have impulse control.
“Of course, I do. I… “Eyeing him pointedly, I start wringing my hands. “I just don’t want to create a new problem, in its place.”
He rolls his dark, feral racoon-panda eyes, muttering something lightning quick to himself before throwing out his arms and yelling. “BABE! I promise ya, really, sweetheart. Baby-lemon pie-dumpling-doll-dollar-sugar-tea, I’m just gonna fix your problem! All I want in the world right now is t’ cum-plete our deal! Get rida’ your Slasher, and be on my way! Unless theirs somethin’ else you ask of me, eh? When I’m back to my normal size? You know, I’m big in all the right places sugar tit- “
I took a deep, necessary breath in when he started on the ‘something else’ and now have the required breath to drown out the last words. “Oooookay!! I wont need that.” I say quickly, as a statement. He licks his lips. “But, um… Are you sure you can get rid of them?” ‘Them’. The bane of my existence right now. The co-star in the horror movie of my life. That them.
“Trust me, babe-sickle. It’ll be sinch.” For a moment, he looks absolutely calm. No vibrating, no yelling, no talking really fast. And it hits its intended mark – my assurances. Okay.
“Alright.” I wring my hands one last time, then clap them and step back from the town diorama that Beetlejuice is roaming in. I cross my arms, then drop them to my sides and look around, then finally back at the impatient ghost… who’s doing squats. Good grief, how much energy is in this guy? “Beetlejuice.”
He gasps, jumps up to his feet, nearly falling over because his weight landed wrong and then rubs his hands together. “Here we go!”
“Beetlejuice.”
“Oh. You do it right, babe.”
Oh my god, here we go. Hopefully this can’t make my situation any worse- I mean, I am being targeted by a killer. What are the odds that this goofball of a ghost could ruin my life anymore? “Beetlejuice.”
“PRESTO!”
Human! Chucky / Charles Lee Ray – Chucky’s POV:
I figure this is going to be a pain, when a screech tears from the ugly old house before I even get in. Confused, and more then frustrated because this spells out nothing but problems for me for when I get in, instead of the nice peaceful kill I was intending to enjoy, I open the screen door -bitch didn’t even lock the front door, it’s like she wants me to kill her,- and rush up the stairs to where the sound came from. “Hold on, I’m not there yet!!”
What the hell is going on?!
“Look, in my professional experience, the screamin’ doesn’t start til the killer takes out a knife, sometimes even before but not before I even get into the house, lady. The audacity of you, here- “
What am I looking at here?
In front of my eyes, my fucking eyes, stands of course Y/N, my victim. And some kind of zebra - one that’s been dead and left out in the swamp for a fuck-long time. He’s got crazy eyes if I’ve ever seen them, and have you seen mine? That’s saying something. Who is this joker? In my coat, I grip the gun I keep just in case strangulation goes awry, but don’t bring it out just yet. Not until this guy reveals his cards, first.
The guy’s eyes flicker in smug amusement from my face, to my gun pocket -evidently, he realises something’s up. Can’t blame the guy, damnit, -, then whips right around, leaving his back wide open for me and my weapon, to my facepalming victim. I smirk at her. “I take it that’s the guy you want rid of, toots?”
“Uh… yeah… “She looks adorable and awkward. The guy lets go of her waist, which he was holding close to his body as she leaned away before, when I walked in and he literally, and I’ve never seen any person do this before, halted in his tracks. Stopped breathing, stopped shifting, it even seemed like the history around him stopped for that ‘caught’ moment. And I swear I heard the sound of record music abruptly being turned off come from his mouth.
And for some odd reason, I get the feeling he’s not human. Can’t conjure a reason why, though.
I should be saying this shit out loud, I’m wasted on myself.
Figuring this guy’s been hired to get rid of me, I take out my gun. “Okay, you’re gonna have to catch me up on what’s happening... Oh, no? Well, okay.”
BAM!
A bullet flies across the room and sticks into the freak’s chest, and that is the end of things going my way.
Because the force of the bullet somehow sends him slamming across the room and through a wall in the back. His body goes ‘poot’ down two stories outside and theirs a silence that doesn’t last long enough for either Y/N or I to digest what just fucking happened before the bastard’s grotty fucking hand spiders up my spine from behind. I wriggle out of his reach immediately on impact, because it’s like a real fucking spider, and whip around, waiving my gun- which is useless now, of course.
Games are over.
The guy looks over at Y/N and grins, throwing his arms out in a ‘ta da!’ way. She winces and just narrows her eyes in a glare. “What’d you think of that, sweet cheeks? I got a flare for the dramatic, you know? Ssssexy! Eh?” When she sticks her tongue out at him, for lack of any words to respond to that with I guess -I mean, I, can think of some choice words for the guy, but she’s clearly not as creatively gifted in the art of insult as I have been told I am. But, a tongue out works, - he grins the most fucking horny grin I’ve ever seen and clutches his sack. Her jaw drops.
“Where the ever-loving fuck did you pick crazy pants up from??” I ask, looking accusingly at Y/N. She chews on the inside of her cheeks and looks even more awkward then before.
“Truce?” She asks, instead of answering my question. I’m genuinely curious.
I roll my eyes. “Ughh, fine.”
“Oh well that won’t do,” The guy speaks up again, looking between us and letting his Johnson go, thank god. The boys have to breath! “Baby girl, blossom, light of my FUCKING DEATH! You wound me. riGHT IN THE HEART! Let me show you, sweetgums, why that was a bad idea.”
Her eyes widen, and I suddenly feel real unsafe. “How about you don’t- “
“Watch this!”
He turns to me, makes some overdramatic hand gestures, throwing his back out in the process and momentarily acting like he’s out of order.
Then he whips back into action and shoots me with finger guns,
And then suddenly everything around me looks 4 times bigger then before. Oh, well, its that or… I’m closer to the ground.
Because I’m a fucking doll again.
I slowly look up from the little black baby shoes and the edges of the godamn jean jumpsuit, to the infected condom in black and white grease paint. “… You son-of-a-bitch.”
He chuckles and turns to Y/N, and gives her finger guns too, but the only other thing that happens this time is he winks at her. “Now, baby! Time to get hitched!”
“What?!” She shrieks.
Freddy Krueger – Freddy’s POV:
“I’m going to die of boredom before this bitch catches winks. I’m gonna pummel her with the counting sheep she clearly needs when she gets here.” The corners of my mouth lift up from the deep scowl I was wearing before, at the idea. It has merit.
Behind me the fine folks of Pompeii run for their lives and a red and green striped Vesuvius explodes molten lava over their little town when I remember it’s been 2 days since she’s fallen asleep. Or found some fucking Hypnocil. Or killed herself. Who knows, really. I have a… deadly effect on women.
But damn, it would be a bummer if she killed herself. I was having fun with her. I had plans.
Have, have. I have plans. I won’t give up hope yet.
An hour, or who knows how long later -time is a human construct and doesn’t exist in the dream plain, - , I’m lying on the ground watching Psycho play in the sky when that familiar tingle rushes through me, telling me someone’s entered my world.
I’m just getting up and brushing myself off, taking my damn time like she left me to wait -besides, I can turn back time and make it seem like I appeared instantaneously if I want to. Time’s a construct, remember? And this is my world. I’m just doing this for me, to make me feel better, - when she comes out of fucking nowhere and nearly knocks me over. Im-ee-diate-ly I open my mouth to ask her why she’s so eager, but she beats me to the punch, causing me sadness.
“Wake up, wake up, wake up!”
Hold on, I definitely think there’s something off here. Don’t I make the fucking demands?! “Bitch- ”
“Wake!”
“-I haven’t done anything to you yet.”
“Up!”
“Goddamn!”
What is going on here!?
“I’ll do anything you want, just please. Wake me up!” Her eyes are deadly serious, and I can’t help the greedy smile I get at her submissive idea. What could have made her this way? I laugh.
“Ohhh, I’ll think it over. Tempting offer, though~” She lets out a growl and let’s go of me in pure frustration, looks around quickly for something and then lays eyes on my glove. She picks it up, and my eyes widen in surprise at what she does next.
The blade slices through the skin in her upper arm before I can take any control of the situation, and a nauseous feeling suddenly rolls me and she whimpers from the pain of slicing herself open, as the world goes blurry around us and she wakes up- of course, still holding my glove, which is attached to me, so I go with her.
“Fucking he- “
Much quicker than you think it will be, we both turn up back in the fucking reality. She hops up immediately and flies across the room to a first aid box.
I’m just assuming, I mean. Because I don’t make any move to leave the bed at all and just close my eyes and groan, and resist the urge to cry.
I hate this placceeeeeeeeee.
“BABES, YOU’RE BACK!”
Now I resist the urge to scream and phase out of existence, because a man just appeared on the bed with me and called me his babes. Instead, I slowly turn my head to him and sinisterly narrow my eyes- and hope he doesn’t notice my distress from a second ago.
I’m starting to understand why Y/N was so intent on getting back here. If this guy, a dung beetle with… oh, god. Clearly, some kind of terrible illness if that smell indicates anything, was hanging around me while I slept, I’d be… slightly bothered too. If only for the stink!
He squints, and while he does, his hair flickers through the various colours in the rainbow, confused. “Sweetbottom, theirs something different about you. Did you get contacts?”
As a knee jerk reaction, I stab him in the gut with my blades. “Stranger danger, bitch!”
My panic dissolves into glee as I jerk the knives upwards… just to turn back into panic when he starts tearing all the way in half from my stab wound up to the top of his head with minimal effort from me. I gulp, and retreat from him to where Y/N is, taping her bandages securely around her arm. I gesture to the freak who’s padded onto the floor and is zipping himself back together in front of my eyeballs. “… the fuck is that?”
“That’s Beetlejuice, he’s a ghost=
“With the most, baby.” ‘Beetlejuice’ stands up straight and rests his hands on his hips, chest puffed out and winks at Y/N.
“-What do we do?” She asks, looking with wide eyes at me.
What does she think I am? The Fairy Godmother of the dead?? I’m no godmoth-
… I could use this. A slow grin spreads across my mouth. “First, you go over there and distract him.”
For a split second she looks like she’s actually going to go with it, then looks with furrowed, unimpressed eyebrows at me. ‘Beetlejuice’ makes grabby hands at us, and she starts to look more panicked by the second. “And what will you do??”
I yank the bedroom door open. “Run!!”
#Keatlejuice#Beetlejuice#Chucky#Charles Lee Ray#Freddy Krueger#Drabbles#Scenarios#Part 1#Horror / Misc Drabbles || Part 1#Beetlejuice x Reader#Keatlejuice x Reader#Chucky x Reader#Charles Lee Ray x Reader#Freddy Krueger x Reader
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This Bed of Recall and Recollections (1/1)
Summary: Most of the time, it’s convenient to have your husband as your doctor, except for the times he condemns you bedrest. A very pregnant Anne decides to open her chest of old memories to pass her bedrest time. (A future shirbert drabble).
Notes: Happy belated holidays @cresmix! Here’s a little somethin’ somethin’ for you because you and your kind heart deserve it. This was a request that @shirberts-sherbert came up with, so thank you for the idea. (Also y’all follow me because I write well, not because I photoshop well, but I gave it 110%. Even if it does look a lil funky lmao).
***
Anne knew there were bright sides to her current situation. The bed was impossibly soft underneath her, but stiff enough to support her weight against the headboard. She didn’t have to wear shoes in bed, either - an added plus. Just the thought of jamming her swollen toes into her dainty slippers as she had during the past several months had her cringing.
You were given your imagination for times like these, she scolded herself. There are plenty of lovely things about being on bedrest. Why, I’ve had time to read all the books on my list, and then some! A bitter voice in the back of her mind reminded her that she’d read all the books on her list already - twice, some of them three times! Gilbert promised to bring home some new reading material soon, but he’d been so busy at his medical practice, that she’d long since stopped asking if he bore her any surprises.
Now there’s a bright side worth thanking the Lord for, she decided. Not every woman, exhausted with the many weights of pregnancy, got to have her husband as her doctor. Anne argued that Gilbert was better attuned to her symptoms than any of his patients. Perks of sharing a bed with him, she supposed. There was no husband around with more compassion and love for his ever-glowing wife, even with the unpleasant oddities it brought to their relationship.
But it also meant that when her blood pressure had spiked to dangerous heights, Gilbert had said with very firm stringency that Anne S. C. Blythe - Queen of Conquering Obstacles and Goddess of Fortitude - was condemned to bedrest. At least until the new member of the house arrived. When the decree had been made, Anne was wise enough not to argue.
“Every time a man speaks like he’s got a sour cranberry on his tongue, it means he means business,” said Susan, their beloved housekeeper, to Mrs. Doctor Dear later that night. “And that you may tie to.”
Anne knew her husband better than that, though. Gilbert’s word, of course, did mean business, but she knew that a tiny part of him still held onto a poisonous drop of guilt. Susan might have claimed to know the Doctor better than most, but Anne was the one that Gilbert laid his head upon, weeping into her chest that it was his fault their first baby had died. If I had just paid better attention...There must have been something I missed. How could I? My own daughter? Not even Anne’s softest touches through his hair or the honesty of her own unnecessary forgiveness could take away all of his remorse. When she’d informed him of their second chance, he’d been even more attentive than he’d been the first time.
Thus, Anne was growing into a prisoner in her own bed. Her loving, caring husband, her jailor.
With a sigh, Anne turned her gaze toward the window. Her soul sighed. It was golden hour, the most beloved time of day, when the PEI sun took a few moments out of its busy day to say hello to her. It always looked so sweet over the garden, the early spring buds glistening as if they had been touched by Midas himself. Against the bedposts, Anne tried to imagine the soft moss underneath her fingers or the richness of the soil of her flowers, but the mental image fell flat.
Her window, though...Her window was only a few feet away from the bed. If she could just take a glimpse at the garden, maybe her heart wouldn’t feel so starved.
The coolness of the floor felt wonderful underneath her heat swollen feet. With a careful hand behind supporting her back, Anne gently rose up for the first time in days. Her vision swirled, but she ignored the momentary vertigo and began to creep forward with astonishing stealth. If Susan heard her up on her feet, there’d be hell to pay, especially when Gilbert got home. Just as Anne was able to take a self-indulgent glance at her garden, a familiar voice broke through the bird-song silence.
“Sweetheart, what on earth are you doing up?”
Anne jolted, and she staggered like a drunken fool for balance. Gilbert was at her side before she could see him fly over to her, one hand in hers to keep her steady, the other against her back. She could sense a scolding on the tip of his tongue, but he bit his lips against it as he guided her back to bed. Settling at the edge of the bed together, Gilbert rubbed her knuckles with a tender touch.
He could’ve begun his love-driven admonishment, but instead, he said, “A parcel came from Green Gables today. I stopped in town to pick it up.”
Just the mention of home was enough for some of the weight on her shoulders to dissipate. Her gaze drifted from the wrapped box at the end of the bed back up to the hazel warmth of Gilbert’s eyes. He gave her his daily “ I’m home” kiss and helped her shift back into her perch on the bed against the headboard.
“I know that bedrest isn’t the most stimulating activity in the world, so I asked Marilla to send this,” Gilbert continued, placing the parcel in her lap.
“What is it?” Anne asked, though she had already started tearing the brown paper away. She gasped when she found the wooden box underneath, fingers grazing over the grained smoothness. “It’s the box I kept when we were in college.”
“I remembered you had a memory box, but you never told me what was in it. I hoped whatever was inside, it could be enough to convince you to sit in bed.”
Anne lifted the lid away and the contents of box overflowed onto her lap.
“It’s so full because I kept every single letter you sent me over four years. But there’s some sketches from when I asked Cole to teach me how to draw. Oh, and look, a few pictures too.”
Gilbert settled at her side, wrapping an arm around her shoulders.
“If it’s every letter I sent you in college, that’s more reading than all of the Jane Austen books put together. We better start now if we want to finish by the time our new gentleman arrives.”
Right on time, Susan rapped against the door with her elbow, a tray of tea and biscuits in her hands.
“I put the tea on the stove as soon as the doctor came home. These are the last of the biscuits you like, Mrs. Doctor, but I’m baking more tomorrow. And there’s a piece of my cherry pie for you, Dr. Dear.”
Anne grabbed Susan’s hand before she could walk away, and pressed a firm kiss to it.
“You’re a blessing untold, Susan, thank you.”
When they were alone again, Anne grabbed the first thing she could find: a letter. The bluish hue of the envelope and the familiar scrawl told her what she already knew. This letter had been one of the later ones she’d received during their fourth year of college. The blue envelopes had been Gilbert’s way of trying out professional stationary, and each letter was monogrammed at the top with the initials GJB. As for the nearly illegible scrawl of her name and address, that was a bad habit he’d picked up from his medical professors.
“When did I send that one?” he asked, peeking over from his own reading.
“The April of 1904. I remember it without even needing to check.”
It took a moment, but Gilbert suddenly remembered what the letter said. He could picture exactly what his desk and room looked like the day he wrote it with the clarity of a photograph. Long lost in fireplace ash, there were several burned attempts that had come before the finished product that Anne know held in her hands.
“This is a question I had every intention of asking in person, but I find my patience has evaporated with the months our of separation,” Anne read softly. “Say that there was a velvet pouch in my pocket. Say that it contained a peridot ring that my mother once bore on her own hand. (Breathe, darling, I’m not proposing over correspondence. What I mean to ask is - ) Would you find yourself open to the idea of wearing it in the foreseeable future? If there was a fellow who had a question to ask - a plead, a beg really - would you be ready to answer the next time you saw him?”
The ring of his tender descriptions now rested on Anne’s hand, a little tight with her swollen fingers, but still glistening and lovely just the same. Gilbert took the hand and pressed a kiss to the stone that his father had chosen for his mother, the same stone that was a perfect green on his redheaded wife.
“Do you remember what I replied?” she asked, nuzzling her cheek against his touch.
“Not exactly,” Gilbert admitted with a fond smile. “I think as soon as I read your response, my entire brain stopped functioning and I all but floated around Toronto for the next month.”
Her shoulders shook against him as she chuckled.
“What’s that you’re looking at?” Gilbert revealed the journal that had been placed in his lap. Its leather was the same color as Anne’s girlhood horse, Belle and was tied around the middle with a strap. “Ah, the proof of my stint with art.”
“You were genuinely talented!” Gilbert argued. To prove his point, he flipped open the sketchbook to one of the middle pages. “This one is my favorite.”
Of course it was, she thought with an amused smirk. He had skipped over the pages where she’d sketched pink carnations - briefly wondering if he recognized they were the ones he’d brought her during one of his visits - and focused on the page where Anne had drawn one of the Blythe-Lacroix apples.
“Anne Blythe, Gilbert S. C. Blythe…” he read with interest. “If I didn’t know better, Mrs. Blythe, I’d say you were in love with me!”
“Oh, be quiet. If I didn’t doodle my feelings like an infatuated schoolgirl, I’d have dropped out of Queen’s and transferred to Toronto.”
“You wouldn’t have found arguments from me,” Gilbert said with a shrug.
Anne nudged him with her elbow, but kept flipping through the box with interest. Mostly, she found letters. To his delight, it seemed that not a single one had been lost over time. Each one was a treasure, and she’d treated them as such. Some of his more romantic ones appeared to have more wear, as if she’d found them in her hours of loneliness and reread the words in his voice. There were tear smudges, small rips in the corners, memories of smiles, and residual pining that never actually went away. Some of Gilbert’s later letters admitted the way he’d desired her, craved her touch and counted the days before he could love her in the ways he was meant to as a man. It made Anne glad that Marilla had always respected her privacy. If Rachel Lynde had read those letters and found Gilbert Blythe longing to kiss the soft skin of Anne’s breast, she likely would’ve shipped the young girl to France or England herself.
Lost in her amusement, Anne almost didn’t hear Gilbert sigh beside her. He held an old photograph in his hands, one that she groaned at the sight of. She’d sat for several portraits during her lifetime, but never before did she feel as unattractive as she did in the one he held.
“I ought to have just thrown that in the fire,” she commented. He gaped at her in surprise.
“What do you mean? Why have I never seen this one?!” he exclaimed. His eyes roved over the picture, and suddenly he felt like the eighteen-year-old boy losing his breath at the sight of her. In the portrait, Anne wore a demure, neutral smile on her lips and wine red blossoms behind her ear. And her hair ...Gilbert suspected that if Aphrodite or Hera were really out there, they envied the ocean waves of her auburn hair. “Anne, this is breathtaking.”
Anne paused before finally answering in a rush. “I originally planned to send it to you because you’d been asking for one, and I know how much you like my red hair so I asked the man to hand color for me.”
“I think he did a fine job!” Gilbert added, still confused.
“He did a fine job commenting on my hair, too,” Anne stated bitterly. “He said he never saw such salmon hair in all his years. Salmon, Gilbert. There was no way I could send the picture after that.”
Gilbert laughed heartily at this, shaking his head at the stubborn rage of his beautiful, impeccable wife.
“Well, darling, what’s mine is yours, and what’s yours…” He snatched the picture from her hands and stuffed it inside his jacket pocket. “Is mine! I’ll be holding onto this in my own memory box.”
Anne might’ve argued, but he rose from the bed with a kiss to her forehead. In any other circumstances, she would have followed him until she could reclaim what was hers, but that would’ve involved rising like Christ from her bed. If she owed her husband anything after all the years he’d stayed loyal through her stubbornness and her flares of anger, it was to heed his word and remain in bed.
Still, with him gone, she missed his warmth and wondered if she might convince him to sit beside her just a little longer.
“You need to eat, my love,” he concluded. “I’m going to go help Susan with dinner. Drink some tea, alright? You need to be sure you’re drinking enough fluids.”
“I’m hydrating for two, I know.”
Right before he disappeared out of the room, he let his eyes linger on her - the loveliness of her white bed gown, the sunlight on her hair, the loving glint in her warm blue gaze. He could taste the words on the tip of his tongue, hundreds of I love yous that he could mutter with all the breath in his lungs. Instead, he exhaled a shaky breath and said, “Let me know if you find anything else of interest.”
Anne nodded with a smile, finally looking the most comfortable she’d been in days. She reached back down to the very bottom of the box and pulled out the oldest letter she it contained.
“My Anne, I cannot think of a more wonderful way to start a letter…”
#anne of green gables#anne with an e#shirbert#shirbert fic#shirbert edit#tessa writes#catch this on ao3 too!#i mentioned this on ao3 but the last line is from my other fic#which tickles me PINK
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Whoops I wrote another Avatar AU thing. Oh well. Enjoy some Fiddleford and Ford content. As a frame of reference, I decided while I was writing this that instead of living in a dorm type situation, Ford and Fiddleford are renting an apartment together while they attend university. Anyways. Here you go. Enjoy.
(As a note: This AU is a collaborative effort, with @vulpixen, @bluestuffeh, and @nour386 involved in its development.)
——————————————————————————————
After the phone had rung for a minute without being picked up, Fiddleford let out a loud sigh.
“I told him he needed to start answerin’ the phone when I’m busy,” Fiddleford muttered angrily to himself as he got up. He looked down at the blueprints he was working on.
And I just got my inspiration. Fiddleford glanced at the door to the room of his classmate and roommate, Ford. It was closed. Faint sound leaked underneath the door, likely from the radio Ford had “borrowed” last week and never given back. The phone continued to ring. Fiddleford walked out of his room and into the kitchen, where the phone hung on the wall. He picked it up.
“This is Fiddleford, who’s callin’?” he asked, feigning cheeriness.
“Holy hog-monkeys, Fidds, you won’t believe what just happened,” the person on the other end said in a rush. Fiddleford chuckled and leaned against the wall.
“It’s been a while since I’ve heard yer voice, Angie,” he replied. “Yer off bein’ a famous pro-bender and whatnot, makin’ it to the championships. I like listenin’ to yer matches. I even figured out how to get the radio stuck on the pro-bending station, so’s my roommate don’t change it. The championships were tonight, right? I had schoolwork, so I couldn’t listen-”
“Are ya goin’ to let me talk?”
“Fine, fine.” Fiddleford grinned. “How’d the match go? If yer callin’, I get the feelin’ it went well.”
“…We forfeited,” Angie said quietly. Fiddleford stood up straight in shock.
“Really? You, Lute, ‘n that feller I still ain’t met yet decided to give up?”
“Yes.”
“I don’t know much ‘bout yer teammate’s personality, but you ‘n Lute aren’t the type fer that. What happened?”
“We…” Angie seemed at a loss for words. Fiddleford raised an eyebrow. His younger siblings weren’t prone to falling silent unless they were in trouble.
“All right. What did ya do?” he asked finally.
“Fidds-”
“If yer callin’ fer bail money-” he started, rubbing his forehead.
“No, we ain’t in jail!” Angie burst out. “It’s just difficult to explain everything over the phone. Stan-”
“That’s yer teammate, right?”
“Yes!” Angie said, exasperated. “He ran out of the arena ‘cause he airbended, and-”
“How in the world could he airbend? He’s a firebender,” Fiddleford interrupted. Angie huffed impatiently.
“I’m tryin’ to explain, but you won’t let me talk! It’s-” There was a loud whoomp. Fiddleford looked over. The sound appeared to have come from Ford’s room. A faint crash followed the initial sound.
“Angie, hold on a second, I’ve got to check on my roommate.”
“Fidds!” Angie protested. Fiddleford gently set the receiver on the counter. He walked over to Ford’s door and knocked.
“Stanford?” he asked. There was no response. Fiddleford opened the door. He gaped. Burning pieces of parchment floated around Ford, who was standing at his desk, literally steaming with anger. “What in blazes-” Fiddleford stared at Ford. “Look, I know yer the Avatar, but that don’t give ya a reason to try to burn down the apartment!”
“I’m not the Avatar,” Ford ground out. Fiddleford raised an eyebrow.
“Really? ‘Cause the Fire Sages said ya were.”
“They were apparently wrong.”
“What makes ya say that?”
“I was listening to the pro-bending championships, since I couldn’t listen to anything else. And I heard…” Ford trailed off. He put his head in his hands. “Just. Come close enough to hear it. They keep saying it over and over.” Fiddleford quietly walked over. The voice of the announcer crackled over the radio.
“If you’re just joining us, big news! The Swamp Catgators have forfeited the championship match at the discovery that their firebender is none other than the Avatar! His name: Stan Pines!” Fiddleford’s mouth went dry.
“The Swamp Catgators, that’s-” Fiddleford croaked. Ford looked at him, frustrated.
“I wasn’t focusing on that,” Ford ground out. “I was more concerned about the fact that my twin brother is the Avatar.”
“Your…” Fiddleford sunk onto Ford’s bed.
“Yes.” Ford’s voice was soft now. “I have a twin brother. It’s- it’s a long story. But apparently, he’s the Avatar, and I’m…” Ford looked down at his six-fingered hands. “…Just a freak.”
“No, Stanford, yer not,” Fiddleford said quickly. He put a hand on Ford’s shoulder. “And just so’s ya know, I was focusin’ on the Swamp Catgator part for a similar reason.” Ford frowned at him. “That’s my lil brother and sister’s team.”
“They’re Stan’s teammates?” Ford asked.
“I guess. I never met the feller. I’ve been too busy here to go back home.” Fiddleford’s eyes widened. “Shoot, this must be what Angie was callin’ ‘bout.” Fiddleford jumped to his feet.
“Where are you-” Ford started.
“My lil sister called a bit earlier and I had to leave the call to check on ya. I bet that she’s callin’ ‘cause of Stan bein’ the Avatar.”
“That makes sense,” Ford mumbled. Fiddleford squeezed Ford’s shoulder on his way out of the room.
“I’ll be right back,” he called over his shoulder. He arrived in the kitchen and picked up the phone again. “Angie-”
“It’s about time!”
“…Angie handed the phone over to ya, huh, Lute?” Fiddleford asked dryly.
“Stan wanted to talk to her ‘bout somethin’,” Lute replied. He took a deep breath. “So. The reason we’re callin’ is ‘cause-”
“Yer teammate is the Avatar,” Fiddleford interjected.
“Angie was right, yer in a real interruptin’ mood- wait. You know already?”
“Yep. My roommate made a big fuss when he found out over the radio. That’s what I went to check on.”
“He a fan or somethin’?” Lute sounded intrigued. “I could get him an autograph if he likes.” Fiddleford bit back a grin.
Ma said he likes all the attention of bein’ a semi-famous pro-bender.
“No. I’d say he’s the opposite.”
“…Oh.”
“He’s Stan’s twin brother,” Fiddleford added. There was a clatter and some muffled thumps. “Lute?”
“Sorry ‘bout that, I dropped the phone,” Lute said. “Did- did ya just say that yer roommate is Stan’s twin brother?”
“Yes.”
“Son of a- well, they didn’t part on very good terms, so maybe don’t invite him over.”
“Don’t you think that it would be good practice for Stan, to try to mend fences with his estranged twin?” Fiddleford wheedled. “He needs to learn diplomacy if he’s goin’ to be the Avatar.”
“…Nah,” Lute said after a moment. “He’s already dealin’ with a lot. I mean, once the Fire Sages get here, they’re goin’ to be testin’ his firebending, to see if he needs more training. And if they think he doesn’t, then we’re headin’ fer the closest air temple. I don’t think it’s very smart to heap anything else on top of him right now.”
“Fair.”
“We’ll call again once we know more. Take care.” Lute hung up. With a soft sigh, Fiddleford hung up as well. Ford emerged from his room.
“Well?” Ford asked. Fiddleford nodded.
“I was right. They were callin’ ‘cause their teammate turned out to be the Avatar. They said that once he gets assessed by the Fire Sages, he’ll either get more firebending training or start airbending.”
“I see,” Ford said quietly. Fiddleford looked over at him.
“I understand that you might want to talk to him, but-”
“What?” Ford crossed his arms. “No! Under no circumstances will I talk to him!” Fiddleford pulled a chair out from the table and sat down. He gestured at the chair across from him.
“Why don’t ya tell me the details about it?” Fiddleford asked kindly. Ford reluctantly took a seat. After a moment, he spoke.
“When we were children, we were very close. But when we became teenagers, I was determined the be the next Avatar, apparently incorrectly. And after that, well, things went downhill…”
#not bothering with a readmore for this one either#I proofread it ONCE and now I am done proofreading and want to post so here#Avatar AU#Fiddleford McGucket#Stanford Pines#Angie McGucket#Lute McGucket#(they make minor appearances. might as well tag them.)#ficlet#my writing#speecher speaks
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☆ ning “leslie” deiyi + chen kun ☆ cismale + he/him ☆ fourty + aries ☆ prosecutor
tw: bug ment., neglect, violence
pls dm for an abbreviated vers... i wrote a lil more than probably tolerable.
* BASIC INFORMATION!
FULL NAME: ning deiyi
NAME MEANING: clothed as a butterfly
NICKNAME: leslie
AGE: fourty
BIRTH DATE: april eighth
ETHNICITY: chinese
GENDER: cismale (he/him)
ROMANTIC ORIENTATION: not thoroughly explored, presumably biromantic
SEXUAL ORIENTATION: not thoroughly explored, presumably bisexual
RELIGION: n/a
SPOKEN LANGUAGE: mandarin chinese (strong chongqing/chengdu accent), english (slight accent as it is his second language)
OCCUPATION: prosecutor
* THE PAST!
the last affection shared between ning deiyi and his mother was outside the police station. the boy barely reaches her waist, and she’s smoothing back his unruly hair, wetting her index finger with her tongue to rub away the dirt on his cheeks. there are tears in her eyes that he doesn’t see, hiding behind his grubby fingers.
he’s crawling with lice, they stick to his eyelashes and his dirty clothes, when the officers shake his tiny backpack out, bugs have pushed their way into the meagre tupperware container that held his lunch. the social service workers spend a whole hour twisting the insidious fangs of ticks and fleas out of his malnourished body.
the days before that are gone from his mind. there are fragments, like a splinter in the back of his head, a sight or a smell will remind him of fingernails struggling at linoleum floors, of hunger, of fear. but it’ll vanish, forced down as quickly as it surfaces.
he is clean, in warm clothes, with more weight on his bones, when he is visited by the first couple who have shown interest in him. they don’t speak the same language as him, but they exude a familial type of kindness that he is so viscerally unfamiliar with. they leave him a photo album filled with pictures of their home, their dog, their city, with a bright red suspension bridge he can’t help but dream of.
he begins learning english, but it doesn’t take to him very well. by the time he is accompanied from chengdu to san francisco, he can only introduce himself and identify a few objects, but they have learnt some mandarin. he meets them in the middle. a strange lingua franca.
the first time he goes to school he still hasn’t mastered how to speak. there are some laughs, some teasing. he is stripped of the money his new parents pack for him to buy lunch, and it stirs something, a deep terror, the seering crack of bone. he hides in a paper cupboard for 4 hours as the teachers search for him, too scared to disappoint the kind eyes.
they coax him out of hiding eventually, and there is no anger there, just forgiveness and pity. his mother smooths back his short hair, wets her index finger with her tongue and rubs away the dirt from his cheeks.
he is an adult now, he compiles evidence, makes cases. he is powerful, but there is still a hint of chengdu in his accent. he is provided the opportunity to take a bribe but rejects it, distrusts the scent of crime and the way it bore holes in the lives of his birth parents. there is shame there, when he finds out both mother and father serve sentences for a long list of misdeeds. he had escaped a similar fate, karma dictated he must put order where his parents had grown disorder.
but, no matter how much he tries to atone, crime pistol-whips him in an alleyway and tells him he should’ve accepted the bribe. crime is the black eye that blossoms like a sordid flower over his face while he watches his career fall apart.
oscar wilde wrote, in lady windermere's fan, “we are all in the gutter, but some of us are looking at the stars.” but he had not just looked. he had grasped with hands that were once encrusted in dirt and the crushed carapaces of cockroaches, only to be returned, entombed by fate.
a bitter hatred blooms.
* THE PRESENT
he has aged five years. the wound stings but no longer grows. he works small cases here and there. his adoptive mother passes away, he and his father sit in silence for far too long. they both agree its better if he moves into their old apartment in new york rather than selling it now that she isn’t there to manage letting. he sheds his past like a snake once again.
* THE CONNECTIONS?
san francisco buds; perhaps classmates or ppl who were in school together. maybe not in the same grade.
criminalz; whoever smacked him with a gun and proposed the bribe on behalf of black iron :3 alternatively, people who leslie was pit against in court? maybe he got them jail time and they’re out for blooduhfsiuh
new fwiends ! ; hes newish to nyc. but maybe he frequents the same cafe as ur muse and,... due to his tendency to just dump all his belongings at a table and then forget abt them while he orders/does whatever… maybe they noticed him or somethin hehehe
im down for anything tbh… maybe ppl who could convince him not all criminals are truly… Evil… maybe ppl who just cement his judgements fuihiw.. someone who convinces him to cross the line OR maybe.. he convinces them 2 be less fuckin BUCKWILD ! maybe a mentorship… hes old.. like a dad…
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Shell shocked
Just a lil' somethin' I wrote a while ago~ It was unusually quiet at the lair. Raph wasn't shouting at Mikey, Leo wasn't shouting at Raph nor was Donnie complaining about former issues. I was sat in front of the tv with Mikey, watching as he played a video game of some sort, and fiddled with the tv remote while trying to get the hang of what's supposed to be going on in the game. Every once in a while he would excitedly shout "Did you see that, dudette?! That was epic!" and I would answer with a giggle at his enthusiasm and a "Yeah, it was cool!" even though I wasn't entirely sure what he was referring to.
And while we were in the living room Donnie was in his lab as usual, working on a new project that I'm not familiar with, Raph was in the dojo with master Splinter and Leo was in his room meditating, seeing as the dojo was occupied with others who weren't going to give him the peace he needed.
I was contemplating on moving from the couch to watch Raph and master Splinter spar or whatever they were doing, when there was a crashing sound coming from the direction of Donnie's lab, and the lights went out, along with the tv and game console.
"What? Aw, man! That was my highscore, dude! What the shell? Donnie!" Mikey whined and stood up to probably march straight to Donnie and demand he fixed the issue.
"It might not be Donnie? I mean, what if the power went out up there too?" I suggested, pointed at the ceiling and stood up behind my turtle friend.
"Nah, dudette. It was Donnie, I just know it!" He replied, and as he started walking I went after him.
The clanging sound and muttering was heard even before we entered the lab. Now even I was convinced Donnie was the real culprit, and was more sure when we went through the doorway.
"Donnie, c'mon, what are you doing, bro? I was just about to finish the level!" Mikey pouted and crossed his arms like a little kid. It was adorable, really. Donnie didn't turn to meet us, but instead kept his back towards us and continued to mess with some wires.
"I-I'm sorry, I don't know what went wrong! I mean, I'm sure it was the right wire! It-it couldn't have just done this if there was..." Donnie paused for a second.
"Oh. Oh, oh, yeah. That was... Oh. I know what went wrong now" He was clearly flustered at realizing his mistake and turned to glance at us with an apologetic and sheepish smile.
"Dude, can you fix it? I was on fire!" Mikey pleaded with wild hand gestures, as Donnie turned his head at the wires before him, and then at me.
"Yeah, yeah, I can. Y/n? Can you please help me a bit, I think your fingers are small enough to hold these two together... I just have to place this here and connect these first..." He furrowed his eyebrows and leaned closer to his work.
"Sure thing! Just tell me what to do, I really want Mikey to continue his conquest against the robots of The Underworld!" I finished the sentence dramatically placing my fist against my chest and grinning at Mikey who copied the action, showing his teeth with the wide smile. I skipped next to Donatello and leaned a bit closer to have easier access to the machine.
"Great! Good! Just-just take these two and place them against each other when I tell you to, okay?" I stole a guick glance at him and noticed a light blush on his face, probably because of our close proximity. I nodded my head at his intructions and took the wires, holding them a bit more smoothly than him, because my five fingers were definetly a lot smaller in size than his three.
"Okay, I'm ready" I announced with a determined glint in my eyes, and tongue slightly sticking out in concentration. At that time Raph decided to show up at the door with Leo.
"What's goin' on, Donnie?" Raph questioned a bit grumpily, probably because his training was interrupted, which he never liked.
"Just a second! Now, y/n!" Donnie commanded. I did as told and placed the heads of the two open wires against each other. And sure enough, with an electric crack the lights were back on, as expected. What I didn't expect though was the burst of knee buckling electricity that shot right through my body, starting at my fingers. I was shot back on my behind while my muscles convulced and my fingers tingled. The convulcing stopped almost right away, but I was still left baffled, and I couldn't even get a word out of my mouth.
"Y/n! Oh my god, are you okay?" I heard Donnie shout in panic, as the other three repeated my name. I soon found I was staring up at four green faces, blinking repeatedly while they were trying to check my condition.
"Can you hear me? Y/n?" Donnie asked with worry in his eyes. I opened and closed my mouth a couple of times before answering.
"Wow. I suppose there was chemistery between us?" I stated with a blank face. There was a moment of silence.
"Yeah, she's fine" Raph said before walking away from the scene with a grunt. I managed to grin at Donnie's stuttering while accepting Leo's hand to pull me up off the floor. Mikey snorted at my comment.
"You okay, dudette? Your hair is floating! That's hilarious!" He laughed. I lifted my hands to feel my hair, and found out he wasn't lying. Well, isn't this just annoying? Now it's going to stick to my face and just, urrgh.
"I'm fantastic, even though I was throughly shocked!" I giggled at my own pun. At this point Leo shook his head and left the room. Donnie grapped my chin and gently directed my face so he could inspect it for anything out of the ordinary. I felt my cheeks slightly heat up, but I would never admit it. Donnie's eyes flicked from my eyes, to my cheeks and from there to my hair. He then took a hold of my wrist and placed a finger on my pulse, checking it for irregularities. He visibly relaxed when he found none.
"I'm so sorry, y/n, I should've realized..." He started, but I hushed him by laughing and waving my hand in dismissal.
"It's totally fine, I'm totally fine! Happens to the best of us!" I tried to convince. His expression calmed a bit after I said that.
"Oh, dude! My game! Gotta dash!" Mikey shouted suddenly, and fled from the lab in such a hurry I'm suprised he didn't crash into anything. I could hear a chair tumble on the floor in the living room and cringed at my previous thought.
"Haha, thanks for fixing the lights though!" I laughed and rubbed the back of my neck. I looked up at him, I mean, really, really looked up at him (the height difference was... significant) and could see him nodding.
"Yeah, well, I did burn the circuit in the first place, so..." He laughed awkwardly. And then I jumped up and smooched his cheek.
"Well, true! But yeah, I'm gonna go now! 'Kay, bye!" I waved and dashed out of the room before he had time to register anything. When I was a safe distance away I let out a sigh and squealed while jumping up and down. I can't believe I just kissed his cheek! I can't believe I actually reached it! And with that thought in my head and a content smile on my face I plopped down next to Mikey and spent the next few hours grinning.
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Once Upon a Time in Blackwater
I’m hoping this story will eventually fill in some of the gaps regarding the pre-canon of the game - namely the events leading up to the Blackwater Massacre. (But we’ll see how that goes)
Plus if anybody can think of a better title let me know😜
Chapter 1
“Whatchu doin’ here gurlie?” Arthur asked as Lilly hitched her Hungarian half breed to the nearby post. She smiled at the affectionate nickname the man who she’d grown to love as a brother had gave her almost a decade ago when he, Dutch & Hosea had saved her as a frightened 15 year old who refused to give her name.
“Pleased to see you too Morgan” she playfully punched his shoulder. “I was gettin’ kinda lonely sittin’ in that room all by myself, so I thought I’d come and see some friendly faces…” she paused before landing the punch line. “…and your ugly mug too.”
He chuckled “well you ain’t wrong there” he replied scratching his scar lined chin before taking an oatcake from his satchel to feed her horse “You make sure you weren’t followed?”
“Well as I left Blackwater, I hollered over to the sheriff & his men my exact destination, and then made sure the group of men trailin’ me could see me clearly as I rode ahead” Unimpressed with her sarcasm he gave Lilly a steely gaze "No Arthur, I made sure, I promise"
He huffed before teasing “Well with that head of wild red hair, you’d be easy to spot anyway.” It was now Lilly’s turn to shoot a dirty look in Arthur’s direction as he chuckled "Well me & Hosea are gonna be finalisin’ our plans in a bit if you wanna take a look with us” Casting her eyes downwards she shuffled her feet.
“Not real sure Hosea wants to see me at the moment” she mumbled causing Arthur to raise an eyebrow.
“When has he never wanted to speak with you, you’re practically like a daughter to him”
Lilly blushed “maybe because…he…er…walked in on me”
“That’s it? You know he’s seen a woman before Lil’” Arthur chuckled “he was married to Bessie for 30 years”
“No, he walked in on me” Lilly emphasised but the look on Arthur’s face showed he still wasn’t getting it “…with a gentlemen friend” She thought it was in everybody’s best interests to stay vague with the details for the time being.
“Oh…er…right” he replied scratching his neck, blushing slightly “well, that makes more sense”
An awkward silence now filled the air between the two of them. Neither wanting to look the other in the eye, Lilly kept looking at ground – hoping it would swallow her up, while Arthur focused on feeding and patting her horse before clearing his throat
“So….err…okay then…I’ll catch you later” he stuttered while walking away towards to his tent in embarrassment.
Feeling bemused by the whole situation, and not really wanting to encounter Hosea just yet, Lilly walked in the opposite direction towards Pearson’s wagon.
“Lilly Mae James, you ain’t gonna say hello?” A pleasant voice greeted her as she walked past the dominoes table.
“Tilly!’ Lilly turned to greet her pulling her friend into a warm embrace "How’s things?”
“Oh you know, nothing much changes around here” she giggled picking up some dirty plates from the nearby table “here grab some of these before Grimshaw clips our ears for loitering” Obliging, Lilly walked alongside her towards the wash bowl. “So…what’s this I heard about a gentlemen friend?”
“Miss Jackson, were you eavesdropping on my private conversation?” She jokingly mocked
“Oh please, Like you wouldn’t do the same in my shoes - you’re the queen of listening to things that don’t concern you” she laughed placing a dish in the water "So tell me all about him then”
Lilly felt her face redden. “There’s not much to tell”
“You’re tellin’ me you disappear for weeks, and that has nothin’ to do with a man?” Lilly rolled her eyes
“Firstly I didn’t "disappear”, I was out looking for leads on Dutch’s orders - as you well know. Secondly, it’s complicated"
“Complicated?” Tilly passed her the clean plates to dry “What is he married or something?” Lilly nodded gently trying not to look at the disappointment upon her friends face “Oh! Sorry I didn’t…”
"I should have known the reason no work is getting done is down to you two standing around engaging in idle gossip”
“Well hello to you too Susan” Lilly greeted the camp matriarch who now stood before the pair with her hands firmly on her hips.
“We have been doin’ work” Tilly foolishly argued, gesturing to the clean bowls still in Lilly’s hand.
“Well not quick enough” Grimshaw barked “Get a move on girls, Mr. Pearson has nearly finished preparing supper and people will want feeding” she barked “and don’t forget Miss Jackson that there is a pile of laundry that still needs doing” she added before marching over to her next victim “Miss Jones, that bottle of whiskey in your hand seems to be stopping you from your needlework…”
As soon as she was out of earshot Tilly placed a reassuring arm on Lilly’s, whispering “I don’t understand why you have to go & do somethin’ stupid like that? A married man?”
Shrugging her shoulders Lilly simply replied “You can’t help who you fall for I suppose”
Tilly sighed gently as she passed the last dish over. Turning to look at her oldest friend in camp she smiled “But at least you seem happier now"
“I am” Lilly beamed.
“Ladies” John greeted the two girls “I heard the food was nearly ready - any spare bowls?”. Lilly nodded handing him one from the freshly cleaned pile. Catching his eye giving him a small discreet smile to which he returned his own.
“That’s how you’re gonna greet her?” Tilly teased earning herself a confused look from John. “You two were inseparable before you both decided to go wandering and you welcome her back by askin’ for a clean dish?”
“errr welcome back then I suppose”
“Just ignore her” Lilly chuckled “We all know Mr. Marston ain’t one for outward shows of affection. I suppose I should just be glad he’s actually spoke to me in the presence of an other”
“Hey!” he laughed
“Miss Jackson, will you hurry up” Grimshaw’s voice roared from across camp
“I better go, but our conversation ain’t over” Tilly warned as she hitched up her skirts to run back to the waiting pile of laundry.
“What conversation’s that?” John inquired walking closer so they could talk quietly
“Never you mind” Lilly teased before looking around to make sure nobody else was around “Has Hosea said anythin’ to you yet?”
John shook his head “After what he saw this mornin’ I’ve been keepin’ my distance. I can’t deal with another lecture this week”
“Best thing for it I guess” Lilly nodded, wondering what else had been said to John.
“Nearly 10 years of running with you guys & I’ve never seen that look of disappointment on his face before”
“Well part from Williamson does something stupid” he joked trying to make light of the situation
“Does this make us as big as fools as Bill?” Lilly asked in mock terror, clutching a hand to her chest.
“Nah, that ain’t possible” he chuckled “Suppose it coulda been worse”
“Worse than Hosea catchin’ us in bed together? I don’t see how”
“I think once he’s calmed down, We’ll be able to talk him around, especially if it’s you doin’ the talkin’. She raised an eyebrow “Everyone knows you’re the only person who he lets get away with shit” Lilly opened her mouth to protest, but John carried on “Anyway, you mentioned last night that it was meant to be Arthur meetin’ you in town this morning”
“Dear Lord!” Lilly eyes bulged “You’re right, Hosea givin’ us the silent treatment, but Arthur? I can see him beating the livin’ daylights outta you before reading me the riot act!”
“Well, it ain’t like he hasn’t been lookin’ for an excuse to kick my ass either” he sighed “He still ain’t really talked to me since I got back, yet he’s always the first to have a go when somethin’ goes wrong”
“Give it time, you know he’ll come around eventually, just keep provin’ that you’re still loyal to the gang ” Lilly took John’s empty hand into her own “You know he’s just hurtin’ still –“
“Well it don’t help that every time Abigail has problem with me, she goes runnin’ to him like he’s her knight in goddamn shinin’ armour” he vented
Lilly tensed at the mention of name of the girl who had come between her & John “She just knows he’s got a good heart that’s all”
"You know I was thinkin’ - maybe all of this…” he gestured “..it’s a sign. A sign about us” Lilly titled her head in confusion “After we’ve finished up here in Blackwater, maybe we should just run away together again” he paused looking deep into her eyes “Actually do it this time”
“are you mad?” Lilly hissed “We tried running away last time and it didn’t stick”
“No, you got scared and ran back to Hosea & Dutch after 5 minutes away from camp” seeing the hurt cloud he face he closed his eyes and shook his head “ but it’s different this time”
“How?” she sulked
“You’ve spent weeks down here by yourself before you wrote to Hosea. Maybe this time you’re ready”
“Well what about the boy?”
“That kid could be anybody's” he protested
Rubbing a gentle thumb over the back of John’s hand, Lilly tried to comforted him “That as well be – and let’s be honest she could’ve chosen anybody to trap but for some reason she named you though.”**
“Shit Lil’, you know I dunno how to be a father” He placed his plate back on the table and gently moved Lilly’s chin with his hand so her gaze met his. “…at least not without you by my side”
Tilting there heads, each slowly moved closer to the other with their lips parted in expectation, before being startled by a gentle “Ahem”….
#john marston x oc#my oc: lilly mae james#rdr2 fanfic#red dead redemption 2#rdr2#red dead fandom#arthur morgan#tilly jackson#susan grimshaw#hosea matthews#john marston#fangirl writes#apologies about the formatting#but my characters are very talkative
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First short story: A Simple Change pt 1
A/N: hey guys I thought I'd try a short story first just to give you guys a lil somethin' to see if you'd like to follow me haha, fluff is my life tho for real.... I love this type of stuff. Pls let me know if you want this to turn into something longer or if you're fine with it just being a short story. Y/N= your name and H/N= his name 🖤 I SUGGEST LISTENING TO THE SONG "CHANCES" BY THE THE BACKSTREET BOYS BEFORE, WHILE, OR AFTER YOU READ THIS, IT IS VERY !!!!. Although I wrote the story before I heard the song it's perfect. Ok enjoy~
Summary: She had no idea her perfect schedule would be thrown off course from the simple change of a song, an untied shoe lace and a little wind....neither did he for that matter, bus schedules and sleeping in don't mix...
Warnings: none unless fluff makes you combust then I suggest being careful 👀
*********************************
Her:
Comfortable. Yet, lonely. Those were the perfect words to describe her day so far. It all started off pretty nice. She had no idea her perfect schedule would be thrown off course from the simple change of a song, an untied shoe lace and a little wind....
She woke up at 8:00 this morning and had her usual routine:
Open eyes....check phone.....stay on phone longer than intended..... Use the restroom....Drink morning tea and eat blueberry muffin....brush teeth....attempt to brush hair.....fail.....wrestle hair into a ponytail....grab any old outfit (today it happened to be a white T-shirt tucked into a yellow skirt just above the knee, some knee high white socks and converse), grab her book bag and rush out the door. *Mustn't forget headphones!*
This all lead her to where she was now. Walking to the beat of one of her favorite songs playing through her headphones. There was just something about the fact that no one else could hear the song but her that she loved. She hummed along to The Backstreet Boy's newest song Chances, when she realized her shoe was untied. Bending down she quickly and lazily tied it up and continued walking...
🎶"Is it love? Is it fate? Where it leads, who can say, maybe you and I were meant to be.."🎶
That's when the wind started to pick up, the weather was perfect earlier, but now it seemed to wanna play as the leaves blew gently down the sidewalk. There weren't too many people out today, just enough where you had to watch where you were going..
Suddenly she heard a song she very much did not like start to play, what song even is this? She thought, irritated. Stopping again she scrolled through her playlist and replayed Chances, making sure to put it on repeat. Smiling, she continued to swiftly avoid colliding with people walking different directions. Today's gonna be a good day, right when she thought it, the wind picked up and her hair whipped around like a lasso.
Grunting, she stopped in front of a store window to see her hair had come undone and was now worse than her bed head this morning. She grumbled as she combed her hair roughly with her fingers Chances still echoing in her ears..
🎶"What if I'd never run into you?"🎶
She yanked her hair into a ponytail again..
🎶"What if you never smiled at me?"🎶
Murmuring grumpily she finally managed to wrangle it into a semi decent hairdo..
🎶"What if I hadn't noticed you too? You never showed up where I happened to be.."🎶
Then she turned around just in time to smash right into someone. She yelped as she lost her balance swinging her arms in an attempt to try and catch herself, ultimately failing and falling along with the victim of her flails, and collided with the hard concrete.
She looked up to apologise but froze when she saw the boy on the ground in front of her, wincing as he made eye contact with her as well, following suit with her as he just stared....what...just...happened?...
🎶"I coulda just walked by...who woulda thought?"🎶
_______________________
Him:
*beep beep beep*
"Hungh, just five mooore minutesss" he curled back up into his covers, welcoming the warmth.
*beep beep be- slam!*
"I said shut up you stupid alarm! I couldn't sleep at all last night!! Just have mercy on me!!!" He angrily threw it across the room wincing slightly as it smashed into the wall and landed on the floor..then he just glared at it and put his head back under the covers, falling asleep again.
...............
Sunlight poured into his room as he slowly opened his eyes. Grunting sleepily he sat up and rubbed his eyes, hands rubbing his head and mussing up his hair as he yawned. He glanced at his phone.
8:30?!?
He jumped out of bed and stumbled to his dresser quickly yanking out a pair of black jeans and a worn out green sweatshirt, pulling them on as fast as could he grabbed some socks and his sneakers then ran out into the kitchen.
I'm gonna be so late, he thought as he grabbed a granola bar and poured some orange juice into a bottle. He sat on the couch and tied his shoes while stuffing his breakfast bar into his mouth. "I'm so late, I probably already missed the bus," he muttered, standing up and grabbing his backpack along with his phone and headphones. Then he hurried out of his apartment, locking the door heading to the bus stop.
............
"I knew it!! Dang friggin ghsirhafwiabdi rbshdbejsbdjs!!!" He stomped and jumped up and down in frustration, until he realized he probably looked crazy. The bus had just pulled away when he ran up. He straightened out his hair and thought calmly to himself, ok, I'll just walk, I can get there in time anyway, I'll just speedwalk. Yeah. Plans change, it's fine....
Walking all slumped over he decided to put on his favorite song Chances. That cheered him up a bit, but not much. He kicked the leaves blowing across the sidewalk as he hummed.
🎶"What are the chances, that we'd end up dancing? Like 2 in a million, like once in a life."🎶
The wind picked up a little but he didn't mind, walking wasn't too bad. It was nice today, maybe he'd walk more often.... Ah, who was he kidding? This was stupid. Why couldn't he have a life like in the books? Curse his hopeless romantic heart.
🎶"What if I hadn't asked for your name? If time hadn't stopped when you said it to me..."🎶
He just happened to close his eyes as he hummed, walking to the beat. Probably not the best idea.
🎶"Of all of the plans that I could've made, of all of the nights that I couldn't sleep"🎶
He opened his eyes right before the girl turned and slammed right into him, he tried to grab her to steady her but she flailed her arms and smacked him in the face, hard. He was already off balance but that hit took him down. He fell and hit his butt on the hard concrete. He winced and rubbed his tailbone, then looked up to see if the girl was ok. She was staring at him through her hair; her ponytail was over her forehead. It was covering everything except her eyes, but he couldn't help but stare as well....Maybe missing the bus wasn't so bad after all....
🎶"What's a guy like me, doin in a place like this? Gettin close to you...But here we are."🎶
______________________
Her:
"I.....I-I'm so sorry. Oh...Oh my gosh. I'm so sorry. I.... I wasn't watching where I was going. Oh I feel t-terrible. Oh my gosh." She stuttered the best apology she could come up with in the moment as she tried to get her hair out of her face. The boy just stared at her in shock. His right cheek started to get red where she hit him, oh no, I-I hurt him! Oh gosh I feel terrible, I probably just ruined his day. Good going.
She started to blush in embarrassment, but bravely took a breath and said shakily, "I'm....I'm really so sorry, is your face ok? I feel so bad, how can I make it up to you?" She wrung her hands.
The boy wouldn't move....this was making it worse....did she hurt him so bad he went into shock?? What should she do?? She started to panic, then the boy smiled....was that a smile or was he gonna cry? Oh no.....no wait. That was definitely a smile....a smirk even.....a smirk? Why on earth was he smirking? She wished he wasn't so cute. That made this so much more awkward...
"Hey, I'm sorry it was my fault too, don't worry haha, here let me help you." The boy snapped out of it and took her hand pulling her up with him as he chuckled softly. "And I needed a good slap to wake me up for the day so thank you" he smiled brightly at her.
Oh help. He's so cute. She smiled and laughed a little at his joke. "Well, glad I could be of some help haha, I hope I didn't make you late, I'm guessing you go to the college over there?" She pointed towards the college.... Why would I say that. How creepy could I be? Oh gosh, I dug myself in even deeper. What is wrong with me??
The boy just smiled, "yeah I do, you too?" She smiled and nodded, thankful she hadn't scared him away. "Well, we could walk together if you want? Its nice to have company." His words shocked her. "y-yeah, yeah, sure!" She stuttered.
After they collected themselves, they walked side by side towards the college, talking about random things and laughing at each other's jokes. All too soon they reached where the girl's class was, and she reluctantly turned to the boy. "Well, this is me, thanks for being so kind, maybe I'll see you around campus?" She was quiet but he heard her and smiled. "Yeah, hey I never got your name, I'm H/N...."
"oh yeah, haha, I'm Y/N...."
"Well, Y/N, didn't you say you wanted to make it up to me for smacking me in the face at 9 in the morning?"
Panic.....he was angry....she knew it...."o-oh yeah. Yes. Um, what can I do to make it up to you?"
He just smirked. "There's a coffee shop on campus, wanna meet up there for a break later? I'd enjoy the company." He had no idea where this confidence he had was coming from but he just played along with it.
She was shocked to say the least.....she couldn't get any words out so she just nodded her head really hard and quick then turned and ran into her classroom.
What are the chances she'd run into a boy like that?? She couldn't wait until break time..
_______________________________________
End note: hey babes I hope you liked it! I loved writing it, and I can't wait to write part 2!!!! Reblog if you want~~ 💞💞
#love story#love quotes#love#i love you#fluff#hopeless romantic#romantic#romance#romance fiction#fluff fiction#new story#i love this story#pls reblog with credit#cant wait for more#my lil stories
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Enamor Me with EriDirk? or Fight Me with Eri and Ryan, that one character from Feathers! But like,,, in a friendly-ish way
Sorry this took so long! Have both (Second one is not Feathers AU):
“Listen Cal,” Eridan steepledhis fingers, staring across the coffee table at Callie with a seriousexpression, “I’ve hurt a lot a people in my life, some of which didn’t deserveit.” Callie bobbed her head in a nod, eyes alert but concerned. “This issomethin ya deserve to know, before you go and start gettin expectations orsome shit.” His mouth pressed into a tight line and his eyes flickered to theside. “I was a pretty big asshole in the past, ok? And well, now I’m like, halfthat bad. Well, two-thirds. I’m gettin there. The point is, well, I’m worriedif you’re gonna go about like, imprinting on people, keep that in mind, gotit?”
“Oh Eridan!” Callie clapped herhands together and shook her head. “I don’t think you need to worry aboutthat!” Eridan blinked.
“You already knew I was anasshole?”
“No! I mean! Well, I don’t thinkyou’re as bad as you’re saying!”
“That’s because you have thepersonality of cotton candy.” Callie just giggled at that, apparently taking itas a compliment, then her face turned somber.
“I worry about hurting peopletoo, you know.”
“Havin an evil twin doesn’tcount.”
“Aside from that!” Callieinsisted. “I just…” She sighed and her shoulders slumped down. “I can’t helpbut worry, just a smidge.” Eridan’s eyes softened.
“Well, it’s a good thing toworry about, I guess.” He leaned back and scratched his cheek. “I probablycoulda worried more in the past.” Callie raised her head to look at him again.
“Eridan?”
“Yeah?”
“Who do you most regrethurting?”
“Uh-” Eridan blinked rapidly.His first thought was the disaster back with Karkat and the others. Yeah, thatwas definitely up there, but what about Roxy, Dirk? Had he ever hurt them, hurtthem badly? Probably. Hell, he had hurt Callie’s body at least, even if shehadn’t been in control.
“I dunno,” He finally answered,eyes suddenly drawn to the wall, “I mean, there are a lot. Like, if I couldtake back one beatdown I gave someone…?”
“Hey,” Dirk called over to them.He was standing by the window, peeking out through the curtains. “He’s back.”Eridan glanced over at him and his eyebrows drew together in confusion, thenwidened in a horrified realization.
“Son of a pasty rottin corpse,”Eridan hissed through his teeth, then smacked his head down on top of hishands. “I ain’t home!”
“You think that’ll stop him?”Dirk let the curtain drop and headed toward the front door, just as thedoorbell began to ring manically.
“HEY HOPE!!” Eridan flinched atthe loud voice shouting from outside. “HEY HOPE LET’S FIGHT!”
“Go away!” Dirk leaned againstthe door and crossed his arms, shouting through the door. He had by now learnednot to open it. “He’s not here!”
“Our Mage said he is!” Heir shotback. Dirk groaned and rubbed the bridge of his nose.
“Fine, he’s busy. And if youbreak a window again we’re suing.”
“Whatever!” There was a heavybang against the door, one that made the often-replaced lock shudder. “What, isit homework again! Dumb! Have our Mage do it!”
“For fuck’s sake,” Eridangrowled and slammed his hands down on the table, standing up. He stalked over tothe door, despite Dirk shaking his head to dissuade him. He slammed his fistagainst the door, making it rattle. “Go away!” He shouted, “I ain’t playin yourgames today!” He was met with bawdy laughter and a barrage of hits on the door.
“I know you wanna! Let’s duke itout!”
“Fucker I said-”
The lock snapped and Eridanjumped back as the door slammed open. His eyes narrowed to slits and he openedhis mouth to spit some angry remark. It ended up being more of an angeredsquawk as Heir tackled him head-on, landing in a heap in the lobby. Eridansnarled and slammed his legs into Heir’s chest, pulling his hope into his feetto shove him off into an explosion of light. Heir tumbled backwards right outthe door, but by the time he was at the bottom of the stairs there was alreadypurple light rippling around him. He raised his head to flash Eridan a crazedgrin. Eridan answered by jumping down the steps with an enraged scowl.
Heir got the next hit in,dodging Eridan’s punch to slam his knuckles into his stomach. Eridan was bracedfor the blow, and he answered with a right hook to the jaw.
“Do you think we should stopthem?” Callie whispered as she came over to join Dirk, who was watching thefight, arms crossed.
“Ever since Eridan beat the crapout of this guy, he’s stopped harassing people,” Dirk answered, “And I thinkEridan needs to blow off steam every once in a while.”
“Don’t hold back on me, Hope!”Heir grinned and charged forward, “Let’s see your angels!”
“We’re in public, you dumbass!”Eridan skipped away, then raised both arms together to catch a wide swing. “Iswear to God I’ll get that fuckin restraining order!”
“Not until we’re both 18!”
000
“It’s him.” Eridan grumbled fromwhere he lay sprawled out on the couch, Jane working on a rather nasty splitlip. Callie sat nearby, looking concerned. “Of all the people I beat the crapout of, I regret beating the crap out of him the most.”
“He’s lyin.” Roxy chuckled fromwhere she was perched on the arm of the couch. “Cause now Mr. Heir respectsHope players now, doesn’t pick as many fights, and it’s all cause a Eri. AlsoEri’s just a lil proud Heir sees himas the best fightin buddy every.”
“Do not,” Eridan grunted.
“Do too.”
“Do not!”
“Stop talking,” Jane scolded himas she poked his cheek, “Unless you want me to heal your mouth shut!” Eridanclammed up, at least until she had finished healing his face.
“And another thing!” He jabbed afinger at the floor where Heir was passed out. “Why is he still here!?” Dirkchecked the time on his phone.
“His gang will be coming soon topick him up.”
“Those fuckers should be payingus for babysittin him.”
“What do you need the moneyfor?”
“Therapy at this point.”
“Like you’d ever go to atherapist.”
000
A/N: I swear this dude was supposed to be a throwaway asshole but then he became some kind of extremely violent puppy.
000
Eridanand Dirk Enamor Me
“Poetry?”
“Yes,” Equius mopped a towelover his temple and straightened to examine his work. He was building a roboticreplica of Pounce, at Nepeta’s request. Dirk sat on a work table nearby. “Itwas a tradition of the nobility back in our culture. If you wish to woo yourSeadweller matesprit, that is the first thing that comes to my mind.”
“Well I can do raps,” Dirkrubbed his chin, “So a little wordsmithing shouldn’t be too hard.”
“If you need guidance,” Equiusturned to face him, wringing out his towel, “I could instruct you on the basicsof such poetry.”
“Uh,” Dirk raised one hand,“Thanks, but I’m good.”
000
“Here.”
Eridan looked up at the envelopein front of his face, then cocked an eyebrow at Dirk.
“What is it?”
“I wrote you a thing.”
“A thing?”
“A poem,” He elaborated, after abrief hesitation. Eridan’s face, usually so free with expression, wasstone-still as he took the envelope and flipped it open to pull the paper out.He scanned over the writing in a manner of seconds, then his eyes flicked backup to look at Dirk.
“That bad, huh?” Dirk asked.
“Did Eq put you up to this?”
“Huh?”
“Only Eq would tell you to trypoetry.”
“Well, I may have asked-”
“Did he say it was noble or someshit?”
“Maybe.”
“Dirk,” Eridan clapped a handdown on his shoulder and fixed him with an intense stare, “Dirk, I love you,but please never give me poetry again.” Dirk blinked.
“Not a fan?”
“No.”
“Noted.” Dirk took the paperfrom his hand and crumpled it up. “So, if we’re on the subject, what kind ofthings do you appreciate romantically?”
“Oh fuck,” Eridan pressed a handto his mouth, eyebrows drawn together, “Well, there was this one scene in amovie I really liked.”
“Yeah?”
“This guy’s matesprit shows up,middle of a storm,” Eridan’s eyes go glassy as he spreads his hands out infront of him, “They had just had a fight, see, so obviously she’s here to reconcile.”Dirk nodded.
“Not planning on a fight but followingalong.”
“She doesn’t say anythin, ‘causetalk is cheap. Pretty words don’t mean a thing. Instead:” Eridan raises onefist with a gleam in his eyes. “She holds up the blood pusher of his enemy,still bloody. The movie ends with them embracing into ludicrous make-outs.” Hedropped his hand. “What do you think?” Dirk stared back at him, then dug hishands into his pockets.
“I’ll take it over poetry.”
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i wrote a lil’ somethin
Patton rubbed his hands together. “Got the recipe?” He asked with a wide grin.
Logan nodded, handing it Patton. “It has five stars and promising reviews.” He said, pushing up hid glasses.
Roman was grinning madly. “Let’s get started!” He said, clapping his hands together.
“Should we wait for Virgil?” Patton asked, looking down the hall, towards his room.
“Psh, we’ll be lucky if he even comes out of his room.” Roman waving it off. Logan nodded, adjusting his glasses once again.
Patton sighed before nodding. He grabbed the flour, beginning to mix the dry mix as Roman put on his Disney playlist.
As they began to mix together the dry and wet mix soft padded footsteps caught Patton’s attention. He turned, grinning when he saw Virgil, looking at them through his bangs.
“Hey! C’mon kiddo, join us!” Patton said cheerfully. “The more the merrier!”
Hesitantly Virgil made his way over to them. Patton had him mix the ingredients, he could’ve sworn he had seen the smallest of smiles grace his lips as Logic told him he was doing it correctly.
However Virgil continued to mutter small comments about how he was messing it up. How he was ruining the cookies.
“Could you turn the music down?” Virgil asked Roman, wincing. “Are you trying to blow out our ear drums?”
Roman huffed, “If you don’t like the music you can leave.” He told him stubbornly, “We didn’t want you here anyways, you’re too negative.” He told him, frowning.
For a second Virgil was silent, he had stopped stirring. “Virge,” Patton murmured as the boy walked out of the kitchen, flipping up his hood as he went.
They flinched as Virgil’s door slammed shut.
“Roman,” Logan groaned, eyebrows furrowed.
“What?” Roman said defensively, “Was I wrong?”
Patton frowned, “Finish up the cookies. I’m gonna talk to him.”
“I don’t know if that would be the most logical decision.” Logan said, eyebrows furrowing.
“I’ve gotta do something.” He took of his apron and set it on the counter. He left the two and walked to Virgil’s room.
He hesitantly knocked on the door. He listened but there was no response. He cracked open the door, peeking inside.
“Go away!” A small voice cried. Patton furrowed his brows. It sounded like Virgil but it was small, quiet as if he was far away.
“Virgil, please, I want to talk to you. Please kiddo.” He said, stepping into the room.
“Just go away Patton!” Virgil cried.
Patton frowned and followed the small voice. “He didn’t mean for it to be so, so cruel.” He said, eyes searching for Virgil.
His eyes landed on the bed, cocking a brow. A small lump was under the sheets. He made his way towards it.
“Well it came off that way!” Patton’s eyes widened, he pulled the blanket back. He gasped softly.
Looking up at him was a tearful Virgil.
At a mere four inches tall.
“Virge?” Patton breathed as he sank to the floor to see him better.
Virgil scrambled back, “I told you to go!” He yelled, wiping his eyes and choking on his tears. Patton furrowed his brows and shut the door.
“Kiddo, how, how are you so small?” Patton asked, cupping a tender hand behind his back. Virgil yelped at first.
“I-I don’t know.” He murmured. “It just, I just get small whenever I’m emotional.” He whispered, finding it hard to meet Patton’s sympathetic gaze.
“Oh, Virge.” He whispered, “How long has this been happening?” He asked, resting his chin on the bed.
Virgil shrugged, hesitantly leaning against Patton’s offered hand. He sniffled and wiped his nose. “Forever, I-I guess.”
Patton’s eyes went wide. “That’s why you’re in your room so much?” He asked, putting the pieces together.
Virgil nodded slowly, “I’m afraid that, that I won’t make it and I’ll shrink in front of-of Roman or someone and-and I’ll be defenseless. And they could just, do anything.” He mumbled, his slender fingers playing with each other.
“C’mere,” Patton murmured. He hesitated, “Can I pick you up, kiddo?” Virgil hesitantly nodded.
Patton scooped him up gently, cradling him to his chest and resting against the bed. He rocked him back and forth in his arms.
“We’d never hurt you kiddo,” he whispered as Virgil leaned against him. He brushed back his hair. “They would never, no matter what. Even if Roman can be a bit harsh sometimes, he would never hurt you, promise kiddo.”
Virgil leaned against him, nodding into his shirt. “Th-Thank you Patton.” He murmured, he dried his eyes.
“Mhm!” Patton hummed. He stroked his back, looking down in shock as Virgil began to grow.
Soon he was back to his normal size. He sheepishly bit his lip as Patton stared in shock.
Patton broke into a smile. He hugged him tightly once more. “Wanna go get some cookies? I’m sure they’re done now.” He said, eyes crinkling at the corners with happiness.
Virgil sheepishly nodded, letting Patton hug him before leading him back to the kitchen.
This! Is! So! Good!!!!
#gt#Giant/tiny#thomas sanders#sanders sides#infinitesimal!sides#fic#not my fic#thank you for writing this#amazing#i love#submission
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Welp. @watchmestaand inspired an angsty fic. Whoops.
•••
Jack was known for over thinking, especially when Crutchie was sick. He’d panic the second the boy got a fever, but it was always gone in a few days. He was always fine.
That’s what Jack kept telling himself as he watched the fever climb higher and higher, and Crutchie slip more and more out of it.
He was gonna be okay. He always was.
“Hey, Kelly! Where’s your shadow? Leg still got him down?”
Jack took his papers and glared at Oscar. “Shut up.”
“Oh, I made him mad,” Oscar chuckled. “It ain’t my fault you’re so dependent on some dumb cr-”
And that’s how Jack managed to get in a fight before even being awake for an hour. He left with a black eye, but he’d argue that he hurt Oscar worse.
Selling without Crutchie felt wrong somehow. He didn’t sell with Crutchie everyday, but still. Not even having him come up every once in awhile and brag that he’d already sold ten of his papes was just strange.
Jack normally sold with a partner, even if it wasn’t Crutchie, but lately, he’d been selling alone. The other guys offered, but he refused. He probably got more pity this way, anyway. With the lack of sleep and the shiner, Jack looked a mess, which meant more money.
Going back to the lodging house was never fun, but Jack always made a beeline over. He rarely went up on the roof anymore, since he spent every second by Crutchie’s side as he slipped in and out of consciousness, holding his hand the whole time.
“…Jack?” Crutchie’s eyes fluttered half-open every now and again.
Jack always got hopeful. “How you feelin’, kid?”
“Mm…” Crutchie’s eyes always closed again. “Think ‘m sick.”
Jack sighed and rubbed circles on Crutchie’s palm with his thumb. “Yeah, you are.”
Sometimes, Crutchie asked if he’d get better soon, and Jack never knew how to respond. But, most of the time, he just fell back into a feverish sleep.
No one could stand to see Jack like this. He only got a few hours of sleep each night, if he was lucky. He was uncharacteristically quiet. It was uncomfortable for everyone.
“You’re wearing it wrong.”
Jack turned to see Katherine standing in the doorway. “What?”
Katherine smiled softly at the brown hat on Jack’s head. “You’ve got it on the wrong way.” She flipped the hat backwards and rested her hand on Jack’s shoulder.
“Whoops, you’re right,” Jack smirked. “Crutchie hates it when people turn his hat forwards. He says it feels better backwards.”
Katherine bit her lip. “Take a break, Jack.”
Jack looked at her as if she’d just spoken a foreign language. “Ace, I-”
“Take. A. Break.” She repeated. “Go draw, do something that makes you happy.”
“Being with Crutchie makes me happy,” Jack argued. “I can’t leave him.”
“I’ll stay with him tonight.” Katherine said, pulling up a chair next to Jack’s. “You need some rest.”
“So do you.” Jack replied half-heartedly.
“I don’t have papers to sell tomorrow at the crack of dawn,” Katherine shot back. “Come on, Jack.”
Jack sighed. “Not all night. I’ll just…take a walk or somethin’.”
Katherine echoed his sigh. “Fine. I’ll stay with him, okay?”
“Fine.” Jack squeezed Crutchie’s hand one more time before reluctantly leaving. He hurried down the stairs and looked around. He had a nice amount of money, he realized as he stuck his hand in his pocket filled with a few coins. All those pity sales. He thought. Maybe I’ll treat myself.
•••
Now, Katherine was getting worried. Jack said he was just going on a walk, but it’d been at least a couple hours. As much as she wanted Jack to rest, she also didn’t want him doing anything stupid.
“Hey, Racetrack?” Katherine looked over at the boy in the bunk across from Crutchie’s. “Can you take over Crutchie duty for a second? I’ve got to make sure Jack isn’t being an idiot.”
“I don’t think we’re talkin’ about the same Jack,” Race smirked. “The one I know is always an idiot.”
Katherine let herself chuckle. “Go easy on him right now.”
“I can watch him, no problem.” Race said, taking Katherine’s chair as his own.
“No smoking,” Katherine said before she left. “He’s coughing enough on his own.”
With that, she left on her pursuit of Jack, but he didn’t take long to find. The second she stepped out of the Lodging House, she saw a figure sat right by the door, slumped over.
Katherine frowned. “Jack?”
Jack jumped and straightened up slightly. “Katherine? There some…news on Crutchie?”
Katherine kneeled next to him, crinkling her nose at the stench of alcohol. “Jack, what have you been doing?”
“Relaxin’, jus’ like ya told me to,” Jack sighed. “It ain’t workin’.”
Katherine rolled her eyes. “I didn’t tell you to go out and get drunk, I told you to get some rest.”
“An’ maybe I needed a lil help gettin’ the rest, huh?” Jack replied, swaying. “I was sleepin’ ‘fore you came here, you stopped me from-from restin’.”
Katherine pinched the bridge of her nose. “Jack. You’re a mess.”
“Thanks.” Jack stuck out his tongue at her.
“I mean it, Jack,” Katherine was clearly holding back anger. “Look at yourself. You’re sitting out here with a black eye and reeking of alcohol. This isn’t going to help Crutchie at all.”
“Well, yeah, no joke,” Jack grumbled. “This is how my dad ended up when-when my ma got sick, right? An’ Snyder always told me I’m gonna be a deadbeat jus’ like my father.” He took another swig from the bottle sitting next to him. “I’m jus’…I’m jus’ carryin’ on the family legacy.”
“Jack.” Katherine’s voice was sharp. “The last time you lost Crutchie, you shut down the news circulation for the entire-”
“The las’ time I lost Crutchie, I sold out my brothers and nearly bailed on all you’se to go to Santa Fe,” Jack cut in, trying to make eye contact with Katherine but not being able to focus. “You, you’re the one who wrote that paper, huh? Snyder-Snyder, he was right about me, so’s the damn Delancey’s.”
“Jack, Snyder was a sick and twisted man who knows how to dig into your worst insecurities.” Katherine said.
“If I can’t help Crutchie, if he don’t make it…” Jack trailed off and buried his head in his hands.
“If Crutchie doesn’t make it, he’s going to need you there, 100%.” Katherine retorted. “But, he wouldn’t give up on you this easy. So why are you giving up on him?”
“I don’t…I don’t know, Kath,” Jack groaned. She waited for him to continue, but he didn’t.
“Crutchie would want you to take care of yourself.” Katherine said. “Do you know what he’d say if he saw you like this?”
“He’d probably be real upset.” Jack mumbled.
“He’d give you a hug, say he’s there for you, then punch you in the arm and tell you to pull yourself together.” Katherine replied. “So, that’s what I’m doing.”
With that, Katherine pulled Jack into a hug, which ended up being mostly one-sided as Jack just fell onto Katherine’s shoulder. “You don’t have to be alone, Jack,” She whispered. “We all want to help you through this. We’re all devastated too.”
Jack nodded. “Thank you.”
“Of course.” She took his hands and helped him stand up slowly. Then, she punched his arm playfully, throwing him off balance. “Now, come on. You can spend the night at my house and clean up tomorrow.”
“I don’ wan’ your dad to see me like this,” Jack pouted. “He hates me enough. He’ll fire me.”
“Lucky for you, he’s on a business trip,” Katherine smirked. She put her arm around Jack. “Let’s get you to bed or you’ll hate yourself tomorrow.”
“I already hate m’self,” Jack slurred grouchily. “But fine. For Crutchie.”
“That’s the spirit,” Katherine chuckled. “You guys are gonna be okay.”
Jack bit his lip. “For sure?”
Katherine nodded. “For sure.”
#alcohol tw#sickness tw#violence ment#newsies#newsies fanfiction#jackcrutchie#jack kelly#crutchie morris#katherine plumber#my writing
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