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onecanonlife · 3 years

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In which Tommy travels back in time and tries to prevent a nightmare from happening to everyone he knows. Everyone else, meanwhile, is highly concerned.

(fic masterpost w/ ao3 links)

(next part)

(word count: 2,086)

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Part One: Tubbo

Tubbo wakes from a dream of fire and smoke to find Tommy shaking him.

It takes a few seconds for his brain to puzzle through that fact, sleep-addled as he feels, and he blinks blearily. In that time, Tommy doesn’t stop shaking his shoulder, rather roughly in his opinion, and that’s about when he realizes that Tommy is speaking, too.

“Tubbo, Tubbo, wake up, Tubbo, you’ve got to wake up, you need to wake up, Tubbo—”

The words fall from his lips like a litany, like a prayer, and Tubbo is definitely still half-asleep, but it doesn’t take a genius to figure out something is wrong. Because Tommy doesn’t do this, doesn’t sound like this, not even when he has a nightmare and slips into his or Wilbur’s bed for the night. Then, he never admits that he’s seeking comfort, just says some bullshit about shitty air conditioning or people nearby being too loud, and Tubbo never calls him on it. He doesn’t know if Wilbur does, but he doubts it. It they called him on it, he would stop coming; Tommy’s particular about that, about anything that could threaten his self-set image as a big manly man.

Which makes this odd. And more than a little concerning. Tommy sounds all wet and choked, like he’s crying, and Tubbo’s first thought is that maybe someone has died.

So he sits up, swiping at his eyes to try to bring some focus into them. Tommy jerks back from him, as if surprised by the motion.

“‘M awake, Tommy,” he says. “What’s the matter? Are you alright?”

Stupid question, really, because clearly Tommy is not alright. His room is dim, making Tommy barely more than a vague silhouette in front of him, but even in the darkness he can see the way he’s holding himself all tensely, and the expression on his face is not a happy one, even if Tubbo can’t make out particulars.

For a long second, Tommy is completely quiet. It sort of makes Tubbo wonder if he’s still asleep, and just gone from one nightmare to another. Because Tommy’s never so quiet. Never ever.

“Tubbo?” he finally says, voice trembling, wavering. “Are you okay?”

… What?

“Tommy,” he says. “Tommy, that’s what I just asked you. Course I’m alright. I was sleeping. You woke me up.”

“Right, yeah, sorry,” Tommy says, and he sounds way more distraught than the situation warrants. And then, to Tubbo’s horror, he sniffles. Actually sniffles. Like he’s crying. Actually crying.

Oh, gods, someone really has died.

“It’s just,” Tommy continues, before he can think of a way to ask whether they’ve got a funeral to attend, “it’s just, Tubbo. You’re good? You’re really alright? You’re here?”

There is definitely something very strange going on here. But he’s so very tired, and thinking feels like wading through molasses, and he can’t get his brain to cooperate with him enough to formulate a proper theory. Also, he hasn’t ruled out the idea that he’s still asleep, in which case he’ll wake up tomorrow unnerved but otherwise alright, and he’ll be able to put the whole thing out of sight, out of mind. Because Tommy will be normal. Everything will be normal. As normal as it can be during a revolution.

“Not sure where else I’d be,” he says. “It’s nighttime. So I should be in here, shouldn’t I? Sleeping? Not like there’s anything else to be doing. You know Wilbur doesn’t like us taking the night patrols.” He squints, wishing he could see his face better. As things are, he can’t tell what Tommy’s eyes are doing, which is unfortunate, because Tommy’s eyes are very expressive. “Did you—you keep asking if I’m okay. Did you have a nightmare?”

It’s breaking an unspoken rule, asking outright like that, but he’s not sure what else to do. He fully expects Tommy to deny him flat. But instead, Tommy draws in a shuddering breath, and laughs a little, a quiet, broken thing, and Tubbo is one hundred percent alarmed now. Or at least, as alarmed as his stupid tired brain will let him be.

“Sure,” Tommy says. “Yeah, we’ll call it that. A big, stupid nightmare. Oh, Prime, Tubbo, it just went on and on and didn’t end and I couldn’t wake up.”

Tubbo’s got absolutely no clue what to do with this.

“Well, you’re awake now, aren’t you?” he asks lamely. Tommy laughs again, that same broken laugh.

“Fuck if I know,” he says. “Maybe I just traded one nightmare for another. Except—no, no, you’re here, you’re here, so it has to be better, right? This is better. Fuck, this is just—I wish I knew what they—” About halfway through this, he starts muttering to himself, as if he’s forgotten Tubbo is there at all. So Tubbo just sits there awkwardly, trying to figure out what the fuck Tommy’s talking about, when Tommy abruptly stops.

“How’s Wilbur, these days?” he demands.

“Um?” he replies. “Fine, I guess? I suppose he’s very stressed, but he’s doing his best. We are at war, you know. Tommy, you just saw him a few hours ago, why are you asking me that?” An idea occurs to him. “Do you want to go get him? He stays up real late, he might still be up. Maybe he can—”

“No!” Tommy exclaims, and his vehemence takes him aback. And when he continues, his voice is softer, but there’s a note of some emotion that his sleepy brain can’t parse out. “No, Tubbo, I can’t go to Wilbur with this. Not even—no. Not even now. Can’t risk it.”

“Tommy, you are genuinely starting to freak me out a little.”

Tommy straight-up flinches a bit, which was not his intention at all, but since when is Tommy so easily injured by words? Where is the bravado? The insults? The over-the-top loudness? Sure, it’s fuck off o’clock in the morning, and he’s rolling with the nightmare idea because it’s the only possibility that makes even a lick of sense, but still.

“I’m sorry,” Tommy says, and there is the weirdness again, because Tommy almost never apologizes for anything, not by using the word itself, and now he’s done it twice in the span of ten minutes. “I didn’t mean to—I guess it just really unsettled me, yeah? I didn’t mean to disturb you, Tubbo.”

The words themselves are fine, but the way he says them is—wrong. Wrong in a way he can’t put a finger on, but definitely wrong, and he feels the need to backtrack a bit.

“No, I mean, it’s fine, Tommy,” he says. “I’m just a bit worried about you, is all.”

Instead of going off on him about how he doesn’t need anyone’s worry, thank you very much, Tommy heaves a gusty sigh.

“You’re a good friend, Tubbo,” he says. “The very best one I have. You do know that, don’t you?”

And Tubbo blinks, because—yes, he knows. He knows that Tommy cares about him a whole lot, and that he cares about Tommy a whole lot in turn. But it’s mostly another one of those unspoken things. Tommy shows his love by calling him names and roping him into chaos. Not by stating it plain.

“I know. You’re my best friend too,” he says. “Tommy, are you sure you’re okay?”

In response, Tommy wraps him up in a hug. It’s so unexpected that he freezes up for a good three seconds before managing to return it.

“I could live without you, Tubs,” Tommy mumbles into his shoulder, the words barely distinguishable. “It’s so fucking hard, but I can do it. But I don’t want to. I don’t ever want you to not be with me, okay? So you have to remember that. You have to, you have to stay alive. Because I know I’m myself without you, but myself is hard to be when you’re not there.”

“I’m not,” he starts, and his throat has gone dry, so he has to swallow and start again. “I’m not going anywhere, big man, I promise.”

His heart is racing, galloping a hundred meters per second. He doesn’t understand where this has all come from; would a nightmare make him react like this? A nightmare is still the only reasonable explanation, but his surety in the explanation has begun to slip through his fingers. Nightmares are terrible, but nightmares are not reality, and the way Tommy is talking, it’s like he’s lived it. Like he’s lived in a world where Tubbo himself… wasn’t there any longer, and it doesn’t make any sense at all.

Another thought occurs to him, this one far more horrible, and maybe nobody’s died yet, but what if someone’s going to? What if Tommy—?

“You’re not, are you? Going anywhere?”

“Not planning on it,” Tommy says, though there is a peculiar emptiness in his tone that doesn’t help Tubbo to believe him at all. And after a moment, Tommy pulls away.

“I know you’ll do your best,” he says, voice firmer now. “That’s alright. I’ll do my best too. It’s gonna be so fucking best, it’ll set a new record, that’s how much best I’ll be doing. I think I know what I need to do now.”

He feels wrongfooted, like the conversation’s been snatched out from under him, turned on its head once again. Why couldn’t Tommy have picked a more reasonable time to have—whatever this is? Like late afternoon? Late afternoon’s a good time for talking.

“What’s that?” he asks.

Tommy snorts. “A whole fucking lot, that’s what,” he says. “I’ll tell you later, how’s that? You can go back to sleep now.”

And that—that stings, just a little. Because Tommy makes plans, and then Tommy tells him about the plans so they can enact them together. That’s how this works. That’s how this always works. Except now, Tommy’s got some kind of plan that he’s not telling him about, and Tubbo’s not so sleepy that it doesn’t hurt, just a bit, to be left out of the loop. Especially when Tommy’s acting so strangely. Especially when Tubbo’s not sure he should be making any plans at all.

And now Tommy’s getting up. Off the bed. He’s moving to the door, his figure dark and covered in shadows, and Tubbo feels an inexplicable sense of panic.

“Why can’t you tell me?” he blurts out.

Tommy pauses. Turns his head back to look at him. Tubbo still can’t make out his eyes.

“Go back to sleep, Tubbo,” he repeats, and then he slips out into the corridor and vanishes. His footsteps retreat, and then there is nothing. Tubbo is left alone, sitting up in bed with all the lights off, the moon barely a suggestion outside his window. If he looked outside, he would find the peace of the night undisturbed, and that feels wrong, somehow, that the wider world will not reflect the talk he’s just had.

The world does not revolve around TommyInnit, he knows. But sometimes he feels like it should. And something, somehow, is fundamentally different.

He considers going to get Wilbur. But Tommy’s voice fills his ears again, and he almost flinches at the phantom of his panic. Perhaps it means he should go get Wilbur after all; anything that Tommy so desperately doesn’t want Wilbur to know is sure to have some sort of repercussions. But then, perhaps it truly is nothing, a nightmare that shook him more than usual, and Tommy will be so angry if he goes to Wilbur with something like that. Tommy looks up to the man like a brother, they both do, but for Tommy, that means a determination to always seem capable in front of him, to never show a sign of weakness, even though Tubbo knows very well that Wilbur would do just about anything for Tommy’s sake.

No getting Wilbur, then. And if he’s not going to get Wilbur, there’s really nothing left to do. So he slides back under his covers, lies down, and tries to go back to sleep, to put the whole thing out of his head until the morning.

It doesn’t quite work. And when he does finally slip back into dreams, his nightmares return. There is no fire, no smoke, but there is Tommy, disembodied and faceless, his voice as desperate as any soldier trying to seek home.

He tosses and turns until the sky turns pink and the birds begin to sing.

#mcyt #dsmp #dream smp #dsmp fic #tommyinnit #tubbo #wilbur soot #not rly here but they mention him a lot #clingy duo #/rp #cw death mention #cat writes fic #starting a new au because i have no self-restraint i guess #here have some time travel #time travel au

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weirdthinkingdragon · 3 years

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Slithering Chains PT (1/3)

Yandere naga present mic x reader

quirkless/aged up au. Warnings: Only swearing for now

“C’mon Y/N! It will be fun! Rumor has it there are friendly nagas on the island!” Gushed Mina. That makes me cross my arms. She’s seriously out of her mind if she thinks it’s a good idea to go to an island for something that’s a supposed rumor.

“I highly doubt they’d be friendly. Especially since we’d technically be invading their territory.” I reply. She rolls her eyes and huffs.

“Besides, why should we go looking for a damn overgrown lizard?” Katsuki cuts in with a scowl and his arms crossed. Hanta shrugs. “I’m with Mina on this. It would be really cool to see one,” he turns to Eijiro. “What do you think?”

“I don’t know. I was hoping we could go camping instead somewhere. Katsuki still has to show me those incredibly manly skills he learned back in boy scouts he hasn’t shown me yet.” Katsuki’s face went to full-on pride.

Mina suddenly jumps up and down. “I have the PERFECT idea! We should go camping at the island!!! That way we could do both!”

“Ooh! That’s a great idea! Count me in!” Exclaimed Denki.

Katsuki’s face falls into a deep frown. “That actually sounds like a good idea!” Eijiro cheerfully replies. Mina fist-bumps the air and tackles Eijiro into a tight hug. “You can definitely count me in!.” Hanta pipes up.

I can already tell we’re not going to win this argument. Wait, didn’t Hanta go to boy scouts as well? “Weren’t you in boy scouts too? Can’t you do the same things?” I question. He sheepishly smiles at me. “Eh, I didn’t last very long in it for a few different reasons.”

“Not showing up half the damn time and hanging out with dunce face really didn’t help.” Katsuki informs. They both flinch at his words. “Uh… let’s not talk about that…”

They all suddenly turn to me expectantly, even Katsuki, probably hoping I deny. You know what? There’s nothing too bad that could possibly happen, and they most likely won’t stop begging until we do. “... fine,” I turn to Katsuki. “You better have some mad skills.”

He glares at me annoyed. “Of fucking course they’re good!”

I smirk. Sometimes he’s so fun to piss off. “Well, pack up guys. We’re going camping.”

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It took a little longer than we thought to find a boat that would take us. No one wanted to go to the island. We eventually found a place around the ocean that would bring us for a rather large fee. None of us were happy about that but it was the best shot we had. Also if something happens to us on the island we’re on our own since they won’t come back for four days to pick us up. Good thing we packed extra food. We also only brought three tents since they’d be a hassle to carry otherwise and we can take turns carrying them if needed.

We get right up to the island and get dropped off on a sandy beach. The boat immediately pulls away from the island. A nagging feeling was rising in the back of my mind. “You wonder why none of them wanted to come to this island?” I suddenly question.

“It does seem a little odd. Even the one we came on left pretty quickly. I’m sure it’s nothing important though!” Eijiro replies.

I refuse to let it fly by. Something about that seems more wrong the more I think about it. Looking at Katsuki, he seems to be thinking the same way I am. The other four take off towards the tall trees not too far from the beach. With the sun being at its highest peak, the trees are casting a large shady area half over the beach. I’m a little jealous of how he’s carrying two of the tents and his backpack so effortlessly.

Luckily they waited up ahead for us. “Seriously, if you and I weren’t around, I swear they’d have died of their crazy antics years ago.” He grunts in confirmation. Denki sees something and takes off in another direction.

“Denki! Get your ass back here! We need to stick together for now!” I yell at him.

“Come here then! This place has weird blueberries!”

Oh no. “Denki! Don’t eat them/Don’t even touch the fucking bush!” Katsukii and I yell simultaneously. We quickly get up to him with the other three trailing behind us. Katsuki goes right up to him and slaps the small black berry in his hand out of it. “You fucking dumbass, that’s nightshade!”

Looking at the bush, it wasn’t just any nightshade. I facepalm. “We haven’t been here for even ten minutes and you already almost ate deadly nightshade.”

From the fear that grew on Denki’s face, he understood well the name of the plant and stepped away. “Whew, well, uh… Good thing I didn’t eat one yet, huh?”

The only reply was Katsuki smacking Denki on his forehead.

“I’m sorry! I won’t do it again!” He shrieks.

Boisterous laughter comes from above. We look around, and my eyes catch onto a long tail draping across a few of the branches higher up. It was light green with darker green lines across and a pale yellow underside. “Good thing ya caught your friend! I was just about to stop him myself!” The large serpent body trickles to the floor like molasses until the too human-like torso comes down as well. His hair is incredibly long. It’s past where his torso ends and the snake part begins. He’s. Fucking. Massive. I look at Mina. “You didn’t tell me they were this big!”

“How was I supposed to know!? The news never said anything about their size!” She yells at me. Katsuki goes into a fighting stance like he could actually do harm to the giant thing. Judging from the chest and face, it’s a male. His green eyes match the light green on his tail, and his hair matches his underside.

The naga replies with another laugh, leans down, and pokes my nose. “Well, I am! And you guys must be curious humans, huh? There haven’t been any here in quite a while!”

My brain is still trying to process how large he is. He’s longer than four of me together. An intrusive wanting of touching his tail pops up in my mind. Seriously!? I JUST saw him and want to touch him? What the everloving FUCK mind!?

He looks at our backpacks. “Ooh! Ya guys stayin’ for a few days? That’s great! You guys can tell me more about your place!” Mina wasn’t kidding about them seeming to be friendly. “Those bags seem heavy, would you like me to help?”

I shake my head. “Nah, we got it. Do you know a place we could set up a camp though?” I ask him. He nods enthusiastically. “Yeah! There’s a pretty good open area by my cave!” He takes a sharp left turn with his body a little ways ahead of us.

We all look at each other and shrug. He seems friendly enough. Well, Katsuki is the only one still not on board with being around the naga. The naga could be faking, but he seems pretty genuine. My bet is it just hurts Katsuki’s pride he wouldn’t be able to take the naga down himself if a fight breaks out. He’d still try though knowing him.

The naga kept stopping and looking behind to make sure we were following. Most of us were falling a bit behind since he was still rather fast despite his constant stopping. It must have been about twenty minutes until we got into a clearing with a giant cave next to it. Denki is breathing rather heavily. He throws off his backpack and faceplants into the soft dirt. We all laugh at him, even the naga. Throwing my backpack off, I roll my already stiff shoulders. Man, how do hikers keep those giant backpacks on for so long?

I look over at Katsuki. Once again, the all-powerful man doesn’t even need to do that. “Dude, I seriously envy you sometimes.” He rolls his eyes. “You’re just weak, dumbass. You’re also not used to it.”

“Hey, hey, hey! No need to be talkin’ like that! We’re all friends!”

Katsuki’s face goes into a snarl. “You can’t tell me what to do, you fucking overgrown lizard.” The naga has an astonished facial reaction for a second. “Sorry about him, he’s always like this.” Eijiro sheepishly informs.

He shakes his head, and grows a smirk. “Well, good thing you’re all used to it! I gotta say, haven’t been called an overgrown lizard before! Also, shouldn’t it be ‘an overgrown reptile’?” He goes up to Katsuki and starts poking his forehead. “What other so-clever names ya got hidden up in there?” Katsuki tries to bite his finger, making him quickly pull his hand away. “Feisty!~”

“We all kinda have a nickname he gives us. Mine’s shitty hair, but uh, please just call me Eijiro! What’s yours by the way?” He questions.

His eyes widened. “Right! Name’s Hizashi! Ya probably heard of me at some point!” We all look confused at each other. “Nope, sorry, that name doesn’t ring any bells.” He grew sad for a moment about that, and mumbled something.

I decided to try bringing him out of… whatever he’s getting into. “Mine is Y/N. The crabby one is Katsuki, the other blond is Denki, the pink-haired is Mina, and the black-haired one is Hanta. We may not have heard of you, but maybe you could tell us about yourself after we set up camp? As long as you’re truly okay with that.” I say, a little concerned we might still be intruding on his territory.

“I’d love to! And of course you guys can stay around here for a while! It’s probably better since some nagas don’t like humans too much.” Katsuki crosses his arms. “Well, I dare them to take me on.” Hizashi pinches his cheek for a second, only to be nearly bitten again. “Aw, like ya could do much harm to us! Your enthusiasm is great though! They’d easily crush you.”

“Oh yeah? Well, I’m not going down without a fight.” I roll my eyes at him. The others snicker at my reaction. “Anyways, we’re burning daylight. Let’s set up camp, and maybe our new friend could show us around a bit.”

He mock bows. “Gladly, your highness!” Mina snickers and whispers “I ship it” jokingly. I give her a “really bitch?” look, making her almost keel over in silent laughter. It doesn’t take long for us all to take out our things and start setting up the tents. I pull out my rolled up sleeping bag to place next to the tent. “Yellow, huh?” Questions Hizashi. He gets a far-off look in his eyes for a second. I look down at the giant obnoxious yellow sleeping bag in my hands.

“Not my choice of color, but it was on sale for a really good price, so I thought I might as well. Is there something wrong with it?” I ask.

He shakes his head. “No, not at all! It just reminds me of another human that came here a while ago!” There was a look in his face that almost seemed obsessed. None of the others noticed the possibly red flag. Mina was too busy goofing off with Hanta and Denki, which were having trouble setting up their tent. Eijiro was trying to help Katsuki, but he kept messing Katsuki up, making him get multiple smacks on his head.

“Is it okay to ask what happened to him?” His face turns into a harsh glare. It was easy to tell it wasn’t directed at me. “His “friends” took him from me when he left my cave one night. I waited years for him to return, but he never did. They must not be letting him return!” His tone went from angry, to sad, back to angry.

Something doesn’t seem to add up with that. If he really wanted to return, he would have visited a while ago. Then again, it was pretty hard finding a boat to bring us here, and life can get hectic quite easily. I decided to put it in the back of my mind and focus on the now.

The sound of tazing brought my attention to Denki, Mina, and Hanta. Mina has an electronic flyswatter in her hand, and smacked Denki with it. “Mina! That’s not what that’s for!” I yell at her.

She laughs. “Come on, it’s not hurting him too badly!”

“Easy for you to say! How about I zap you now!?” He swipes it from her and smacks her forearm with it, making her shriek.

I facepalm. “Which one of you idiots brought the flyswatter?” Hanta and Mina point at Denki. I glare at Mina. “What were you doing digging in his backpack when you could have been helping me put up the damn tent?” She replies with an embarrassed smile.

I’m struggling to keep the tent up and push the tent pegs into the ground without a hammer. “I can help ya! What should I do?” Hizashi asks. “Could you help me push these in?” He nods and I move out of the way to hold the tent tight. He slams the tip of his tail on the peg, pushing it all the way down in one go. It honestly startles me. “Jeez dude! A little warning would be nice!”

He rubs his neck sheepishly. “Sorry!” As we do the other three pegs, I can’t stop looking at his tail. He seems to notice, and wags the tip of it. “Like what ya see?” He teases. I look away in embarrassment. “Don’t worry about it! I was kinda the same way the first time I saw one of your kind!” He puts his tail in front of me. “I can tell you wanna touch it. Go ahead!”

I’m unsure about it, but place my hand gently on the top of his tail. It was the back of it closer to his human torso. Nothing but raw muscle, and the heat it radiated was phenomenal. I quickly take my hand away.

“You two are getting along well quick! And to think you didn’t want to come Y/N!” Mina comes up and teases. Hizashi seems surprised by hearing that news. “Aw, good thing ya did though! It’s already fun having you guys around!”

“Yeah, yeah. Enough of that stupid cheesy talk or whatever. Show us around.” Katsuki says half-heartedly like he really doesn’t want to be here. Hizashi ignores his lack of enthusiasm and nods with a smile. He then starts to move his body to the right of us.

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A few hours after, we arrive back to our camp exhausted. The sun was close to setting. Even Katsuki’s breathing was slightly ragged. We’ve learned a lot about this place. Mostly not many nagas are too open to humans, and there aren’t that many due to most being quite territorial as well as females being rather rare. The four of them were horrified learning we could have met a bad end. Katsuki and I called it that they wouldn’t be too friendly.

There is also the giant pile of wood he’s been collecting in case any humans visit. That’s so nice of him. He told us it gets pretty boring since not many talk to him, even the others on the other side of the giant island. That makes me feel rather bad for him. Of course, Mina being Mina, hugged him then. He returned the hug with no objections. He also told us the lifespan of nagas can be an average of 800 years. He himself is only about 300 years old. We all almost fainted from the shock of that.

He helps haul a ton of rather large pieces of wood and sticks next to his cave. The pile was a bit farther out so it wasn’t in his way of his cave. Katsuki starts setting up the fire with a bunch of giant rocks that Hizashi still has around. It takes him no time at all to start a good fire.

“Way to go dude! Knew you had the skills!” I tease. He glares at me in a way that shows he’s dangerously close to smacking me. I only give him a smirk in return. “Of fucking course, dumbass. Why would I not?” I shrug in reply.

“Hey, you guys want marshmallows? I brought a few bags.” Hanta says, grabbing a bag of marshmallows out of his backpack, along with two short roasters that can extend.

“Sure dude, pass me the bag. I’d rather eat them not roasted.” Denki informs. Hanta passes him the bag while he extends the roasters and passes one to Eijiro. After Denki opens the bag, Hizashi reels away a little bit, catching my attention.

“You alright?” I ask him. “Heh, yeah! Those things just smell a little too sweet for me, ya know?” I nod in understanding.

“Oh yeah, I guess it would be pretty weird, huh?” Mina wonders aloud.

“Would you like us to put them away?” I ask. Denki hugs the bag of marshmallows to his chest. Hizashi shakes his head. “Nah, I’ll be fine. Thanks for being so considerate though!”

After a bit, we decided to tell scary stories. The cheesy usual thing to do. Hizashi seems rather invested in every story told, no matter how bad it is. Right now, Mina is saying hers, and it’s actually pretty good. It’s about a male serial killer that fell obsessed with a male victim of his. The male refused to be with the killer for the obvious reason of them being a killer, and that they’re not interested in men. They were able to escape the chains the killer put them in, and picked up a large piece of a broken mirror that was near him. He decided to give the killer the element of surprise by pretending to still be chained.

“And so, while the killer’s back was turned, the male plunges the glass through the killer’s back!” she brings her hands up for some sort of dramatic emphasis. “They ran towards the still-chained other person and helped them pull the chains free while keeping an eye on the killer who fell to the ground. The man knew the killer was still alive, there was no way they died that quick. He helps the victim pass the killer and tries to pass himself, only to be grabbed by the ankle by the killer! He was still weak though, so it was easy enough for the man to break free and run outside. Luckily for them, they were in a neighborhood with a house not far away.”

We’re all honestly at the end of our seats listening intently. Well, minus Denki who seems rather terrified. Hizashi has an unreadable expression.

“The neighbors were terrified, but called the police for help. The only problem?... There was no body on the floor when the police investigated. There was only blood. To make things scarier, the blood belonged to someone not in the system.” She grows quiet.

“Is that it?” Denki questions.

She shakes her head. “The man knew the killer would come for him again. He moved to the other side of the country. Everything seemed fine for him years later, starting his own family and moving on. At least, until he came home from work one night to a rather quiet home. He enters the home to the copper smell of blood overpowering him, bringing back memories he’s tried so hard to forget. He turns on the light to see his wife in her own blood, his blood freezing in fear. The familiar voice of the killer whispers behind him “You want a family? Well, now we can be.” and the last thing he saw was his children with nothing but fear tied up on the couch in the living room.”

I was in shock that she said a story so dark. “Damn Mina, that was a wicked story! Where did you learn such a story?” I ask.

“It was actually from a book a friend told me about!”

“They sure have a shitty taste in books.” Katsuki quips.

“Like yours is probably much better, little boy scout.” I sarcastically reply. His fists clench.

“Uh, hey! Maybe we should all go to bed! We have another big day tomorrow of exploring.” Eijiro pipes up, trying to prevent Katsuki from doing anything drastic. Katsuki growls and stomps off to his and Eijiro’s tent.

Mina lets out a big yawn herself, stretches, and goes towards our tent. Denki and Hanta go to their tent as well. Hizashi puts a hand on my shoulder. “Hey, uh… Would ya mind hanging out with me for a while yet?”

I shrug. “Sure, just let me get my sleeping bag.” I go and get it, Mina giving me a teasing smirk. “Don’t you get those thoughts in your head.”

I drag the sleeping bag over close to the still burning fire. It grows quiet between us for a bit, the only sound being the crackling of the fire and the chirping of the crickets. His tail wraps around the bottom of my sleeping bag, trapping me from moving if I decided to by being around my feet. I reach down and pat his tail.

“So, is there anything you want to talk about now?” I ask, lowering my voice to a near whisper so the others could sleep. “Well, how long are you guys planning on staying?”

“After this, three days. We couldn’t get them to change the amount of days. It was so odd and hard getting here.” Hizashi perks up at that information. “Anyways, what are we doing tomorrow?” I ask.

“Ooh! There’s a waterfall not too far from here I think you and your friends will like! It’s kinda hidden, and we’ll have to be careful since it will be close to two of my kinds territories, but as long as we don’t do anything it shouldn’t be a problem. One of them is the other most friendly naga I know! He may even come say hi!”

“I bet Mina will be happy about that.” I felt more of his tail stealthily trying to go farther on my legs.

“You’re really not being stealthy you know,” His tail stops. “Sorry. I just can’t help but wanting to touch someone as cute as you!~”

Heat rushed to my face. “Well, you can hug me if you want. You just had to ask.”

He didn’t have to be told twice before his tail wrapped more around my sleeping and his bare torso went against my back. This isn’t exactly what I had in my head, but I did say hug. He’s still rather warm to the point of it slightly going through my sleeping bag. “How are you still so warm?”

“This place usually doesn’t get that cold. My body’s most likely used to that.”

“Makes sense I guess.”

-------------------------------------------------

I wake up to feeling something tight around me, and whispering. I can’t move my arms either. It’s obviously Hizashi. “Katsuki bro, you don’t have to do anything! He’s not hurting them.”

“I don’t fucking care. There’s something about that damn thing that isn’t sitting right!”

“Aw, you truly care about-” Denki starts. He suddenly stops.

“You’re probably just overreacting. We’ve only been here not even a full day. He’s still pretty friendly.” Eijiro sounds almost desperate.

“That’s the thing you fucking dumbasses! Did you not hear him last night with Y/N? It’s not fucking-”

“Well, mornin to you guys too!” Hizashi suddenly pipes up, silencing all of them. Ugh, it’s too early. I groan and nuzzle closer into his tail in front of me. I don’t feel like opening my eyes to look at them.

Hizashi laughs. “Morning to you as well!”

I felt someone get close to me besides Hizashi. “Mina, I swear if you touch me with that fly swatter…” She steps away, confirming my prediction. “How did you know?”

“You dumbasses are known for doing such stupid things. Not really a surprise.” Katsuki replies. “Aw, Katsuki, you don’t have to be so mean about it!” Denki jokes.

“Shut up guys. It’s too early.” I grumble.

“Early? The sun is already half way to its highest point!” Hizashi replies with a teasing tone. I only reply with a groan again.

Hanta clears his throat. “So, uh… What are we doing today?”

“I already told Y/N last night, but we’re going to a waterfall today!”

“A waterfall? How did we not hear it on our walk yesterday?” Eijiro asks. “Simple! It’s the other direction over a cliff!” he states like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “C-cliff? Isn’t that dangerous?” Denki asks.

“We will be fine! I’ve done it many times before!”

“If you say so…” Eijiro replied, sounding quite unsure.

Hizashi unwraps around me almost reluctantly. He rubs the top of my head, waking me up a bit. “C’mon, ya gotta get up so we can go Y/N!” I ignore them and try to sleep again, using my arms as a pillow since Hizashi is no longer by my head.

“Tzzt” Something touched my arm and sent a sharp pain through my arm. I instantly knew what it was, and I am NOT happy. I get up instantly. “Minaaaa!”

“Oh shit!” She drops the electric fly swatter and takes off running behind Hizashi.

Denki and Hanta start laughing. “Get her Y/N!!!” Hizashi blocks me with his hands and holds Mina by his tail while chuckling. It wasn’t light like usual though. This sounded slightly darker if that makes sense. All I know is it sent a chill up my spine. I glare hard at Mina.

“Now, I know whatever that thing was woke ya up, but let’s not focus on that, and let’s get going to the waterfall, yeah? If you want, I could carry you for a bit more sleep!” I back away in embarrassment. “That’s okay. Let’s just get going then.”

He laughs normally again and lets go of Mina.

----------------------------------------------------

It didn’t take too long to start climbing the cliff to the waterfall. The crashing waves of it is able to be heard in the distance. Hizashi is leading the way with us rather close. It’s getting rather narrow and crumbling with a really high view in front of us. It’s beautiful with the trees, but terrifying how one step can make you fall off the edge. More ground crumbles under my shoe. My foot is basically off the edge at this point. I look up at Hizashi. I’m right beside him while the others are a bit back. “This seems like a bad idea. I think this is more-” My foot slips and I start to fall. My heart feels like it stopped. “Shit!”

“Y/N!” they all yell. Faster than someone can even blink, Hizashi’s tail wrapped around my torso before I got too far down the cliff. I look down to see a very deep drop that would obviously kill me, but what was even more concerning was the naga looking up at me. It has to be twice the size of Hizashi.

Hizashi kept a very tight grip on my torso as my legs shakily kept trying to give out as he had me stand up. We all stopped for a moment. “That’s it, fuck the waterfall. This isn’t worth going for.” Katsuki says, even more angry than usual.

I can feel Hizashi shaking as well. “Heh, that was not a part of the plan. We’ll be going down towards the waterfall soon. I’ll see if Toshinori would let me bring you guys through his territory on the way back.”

“Well, why didn’t we do that in the first place!? Y/N could have died!” Eijiro exclaims. “I’ll admit, I thought the fear would be funny. Definitely not now!”

He kept me closer to him as we went down the cliff. It felt better the closer the even ground came to be. The giant naga I saw earlier comes fast into our view. He has a bright golden tail that matches his hair. The most obvious part of him is a giant scar on his side. His eyes show great concern. “Are you all okay!? I saw what happened a bit ago,” His eyes squinted at Hizashi. “And I TOLD you to stop taking that way with visitors!”

Hizashi replies with a teasing roll of his eyes, but it’s showing that he understands and does regret taking that route. “Very shaken up, but fine I think.” I reply. It wasn’t until now I noticed how the waterfall is much louder. He nods. “That’s a relief. I take it you’re going to the waterfall?”

We nodded. Mina quickly goes up to him. ‘Hey, what’s your name by the way? Mine’s Mina!”

He grows a kind and friendly smile on his face. “Toshinori. Nice to meet all of you. We haven’t had any humans visit in quite a while.” In quite a while? So people DID used to come here. That’s making the unnerving feeling rise up again. Something must have happened to make them stop coming. But what could it possibly be? These two are friendly. Is it because they might be the only ones that are friendly? Maybe he’d know. I could ask Hizashi, but something feels like that’s a bad idea.

Mina suddenly pulls out a camera. “You brought a camera?” I asked. “Well, duh! I forgot earlier if I could take pictures of them, but seeing the one even bigger than Hizashi reminded me!” she looks up at Toshinori. “Could we take some pictures to show my other friends?” he perks up at that. “Why, of course! Why not wait until we get to the waterfall? We could do a group one!”

Mina fist-bumps the air. “Yes! In front of the waterfall would be a GREAT view! Let’s go!”

The rest of us told our names to him, well, Eijiro did for Katsuki again, on our way to the waterfall. Hizashi still hasn’t let go of me. Toshinori’s brows seem to crease in worry about that. I pat his tail twice. “Uh… Hizashi? Could you let me go now?” He does reluctantly. Mina giggles again. I decide to ignore it. The waterfall was finally in view, making the others grow more excited. Toshinori was farther ahead with the others.

Now would probably be a good time to ask Toshinori a few things. “Why don’t you go ahead with my friends for a bit? I want to ask Toshinori a few things I’d like him to answer personally if he can.” He almost seems to go on guard after hearing that, but makes himself relax. “What about? Ya gonna talk about me?” He teases.

“No! Of course not! I want to hear the story about that crazy scar on his side.” I lie. The scar might be interesting, but there are more important things at the moment. He seems unsure of my answer, but nods and heads up to lead the way.

“I need to ask you a few things.” He looks down at me. “Is it about my scar?” I shake my head. “No, I want to know if you know why no humans want to come here lately.” He looks at Hizashi, who I can swear started moving more slowly, then back to me. He nods.

“Do you know why humans no longer want to come to the island?” His smile disappears. “To prevent you from being afraid, all I will say is it’s safer for you to leave the island sooner than later.”

My face scrunches up in frustration and confusion. “That doesn’t make sense! Why though? What could be here you guys couldn’t help us from?”

“At least a little more information, dumbass.” Katsuki pipes up from behind me. Toshinori shakes his head and goes back to the others. I look beside me to see Katsuki crossing his arms. “I still don’t trust these overgrown lizards. Especially now.”

“You and I both. Well, I trust they aren’t going to kill us, but I don’t trust they’re not telling us what they should.”

“It’s good we’re staying here two less days.” I look at him confused. “What do you mean?”

“I told them to make it two less days, or when we get back I’d make their lives hell. I wanted to be here the least amount possible.”

“Are you sure they’ll listen? They might leave us here if you threatened them.” He grew a sadistic smirk. “Kyoka is making sure.” I shake my head while smiling at him. “Always the ever-clever one, huh?”

“Someone has to be since you dumbasses sure won’t.” I roll my eyes at him again. “Can’t argue with that.

Nerd.” I take off running to catch up without looking back, afraid of being smacked if caught. “Y/N!!!” He angrily screams, and it’s easy to tell he’s running after me. “Hahahaha!” I ran past Hizashi. His tail slams down between Katsuki and I. “Let’s save rough play for later, yeah?”

I pout. “Aw, Hizashi, you’re no fun!”

He pouts back. “No fun? I’m PLENTY of fun! C’mere!” He wiggles his fingers, signifying what he’s going to do. I shriek and jump away, but with no success since he's faster and uses his tail to get me stuck in place.

“That’s enough Hizashi.” Toshinori harshly says, and takes me out of Hizashi’s grip, keeping his body closer to mine so Hizashi can’t.

The others seem confused by Toshinori’s reaction, but shake it off. Katsuki glares harder at the two nagas. I decide to ignore everything and look at the waterfall. It’s really high up and beautiful. I stop. “Hey, wouldn’t this be a good area for the picture? We could get a large portion of the waterfall in it!”

Mina quickly takes out her camera again from her pocket. “Yes! Let’s do it!” We get situated. Toshinori is on my right with Eijiro and Mina. Katsuki stays close on my left with Hizashi next to him, with Hanta and Denki unnecessarily crouching in front of him and doing the peace sign. Toshinori grabs the camera with his tail and is able to hold it out to hopefully show all of us in it. No doubt Katsuki isn’t going to smile in it.

He took a few, and they all turned out great. We then wander close to the bottom of the waterfall where there’s a rather slow stream that goes half way up my calves. I know since we all took our shoes off and entered the shallow stream with the nagas not too far away just in case. While the others are messing around and throwing water at each other, I saw a really cool looking rock a bit farther in the water. It’s in a bit deeper water though… I could possibly ask someone to help. Nah. I look over to see Hizashi being busy talking with Toshinori. It doesn’t seem too friendly whatever they’re talking about judging by their movements. Katsuki is fairly close to them without them realizing, and he doesn’t seem happy with whatever he’s hearing. His face is crunched even more than usual.

I look down towards the rock again and reach for it. The water goes up past my shoulder, getting my shirt wet. The current in that part is much stronger, almost making me lose my balance. My hand touches it, and I try to bring it up. It’s rather stuck in the ground. I firmly grip it and yank it. It comes free, kicking up a lot of dirt with it. Rinsing it in the water a bit more, it came out clean and was a rather large agate. It’s the size of my palm. A really cool one with multiple lines in it too. I dry it a bit on the bottom of my shorts and put it in my pocket.

---------------------------------------------------------

The day went by rather quickly until we returned to our camp. Toshinori didn’t come with us, much to Mina’s dismay. We definitely got some kind of sunburn today. Denki looks like he’s gotten the worst of it. Katsuki nearly slapped him until I prevented it. I’d rather not hear how loud he can scream in pain.

We didn’t feel like doing stories tonight. “Ugh, after this, I don’t think I’m ever going outside again.” Denki complains. “You will, even if I have to drag you.” Katsuki threatens. “Aw, big old buff boy truly does have a heart for us!” I tease. He harshly slaps my shoulder. “Point taken.” I say in a bit of pain. “You shouldn’t hurt your friends like that.” Hizashi pipes up being next to me on my right. Katsuki ignores him. “Forgot to mention, the boat will be here tomorrow to pick us up.” Hizashi tenses up.

“How do you know that?” Hanta asks. “It’s Katsuki, how else?” I reply. “But we’re having so much fun here! And Hizashi has helped tell me so much about nagas!” Mina whines. “True. well, it was fun while we were here though!” I look at Hizashi. “Thanks for that!” He nods. “Of course!” Something didn’t feel too genuine or enthusiastic with his answer. I heard Hanta snoring. He must have passed out not too long ago.

Eijiro yawns. “Man, today sure was fun though! Hopefully we can come back some day!” Katsuki and I share a look. “Yeah! It’s hard to find a boat to take us though, so it might be a while.” I inform, trying my hardest to not give away that we won’t be coming back.

“Hey, Katsuki, could you bring Hanta to our tent? I can’t carry him.”

“No. The dumbass fell asleep out here, he can stay out here.” Eijiro rolls his eyes at him. “I’ll do it.” He gets up and bridal carries Hanta to the tent with Denki following. Mina goes to ours. Katsuki pulls me close. “Don’t trust that fucking naga. Stay away from him.” He hisses, gets up, and goes to his tent. What was that about? He hasn’t been wrong before though, so it might be best to listen. It stayed silent for a while after Eijiro went to his tent and most likely everyone was asleep.

I put my hands in my pockets and felt the rock. “I want to give you something to remember us by when we leave,” I take out the rock and give it to him. Something glinted in his eyes and he took it and cupped it with both hands like it was the most fragile thing in the world. A feeling is telling me I just made a big mistake. Why though? It’s just a rock? “It’s not much, but maybe you’ll like its memories?”

“I’ll definitely treasure it!” his voice becomes more quiet. “Just like I’ll always treasure you.” He means like everything we’ve done the past two or so days, right?

“Well, goodnight Hizashi!” I say, and go towards Mina and I’s tent. “Could we please do the same thing as last night? As a parting gift or something? It will get so lonely again.” His tone became rather saddened. I almost gave in on pity for him. I remember Katsuki’s words though, and try to think of an excuse. Right! Sunburn! “Sorry Hizashi. I really don’t want to be touched tonight, especially with this sunburn. That will hurt.”

“Maybe the cold of my cave could help with that! Why don’t we try that?” He sounds desperate. Him being desperate sends off another red flag in my head.

“Sorry. I’d rather be alone tonight.” I say and enter my tent, zipping it up.

He must have given up since he goes quiet after that. It doesn’t take long after that for sleep to start to overtake me.

...Did the zipper just open? I was too tired to check. It’s most likely nothing.

#yandere present mic #x reader #yandere present mic x reader #quirkless au #naga present mic #yandere naga present mic

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antigonick · 4 years

Text

Out of sight

DISCLAIMER : Everything belongs to Malin Rydén and Fallen Hero, as you must know by now. THERE’S ALSO : I guess this one and this one feature the same idiots, though they all work as stand-alones. WHAT TO EXPECT : Well, I said I’d do a bit of farm-angst for Una, so that’s where we’re at. I’m still trying my hand at their POV, and it’s all very vague and very where-are-you-going-with-this, I have no excuse, I just had a free night and stopped using my brain halfway through.

2013. The Farm.

You’re not closing your eyes now, not in this place, not ever. Blink and you fucking disappear. Things have changed. You’re just biding your time. You’re just crouching low. You look at them straight in the face and if they’re too soft you bare your teeth to make them stumble back. You can smell the fear on them, the unease. They’ve seen you quick, they’ve seen you wild. They can prod, they can slice, they can tear. You don’t care. You lock your muscles and you give them a smile that will turn their dreams to anguish. Oh they know, that they’re threading dark water.

What did they expect?

You fled once, and you had no-one then. They don’t stand a chance this time. No slipping away into the night. No fleeing on silent feet. No mercy. You’ll be ready when the cavalry breaks down the door with a quip and a zap. Any day now. Keep your eyes open ’til then.

─────

No windows underground. No clocks in the labs, only watches that the white coats hide under long sleeves. They keep you awake, but you wouldn’t sleep anyway. Your brain left to its own devices tends to spew a bloody-black tar of vertigo. Your eyelids feel vellum-thin and your fingers mauve-cold, and that’s all fucking fine. Jittery means paranoid, paranoid means alert, alert means lethal. Or as lethal as you can be when they tie you to the exam table and inject you with enough tranquilliser to kill a small dog. Guess you shouldn’t have slammed your forehead in a-too-close-nose on—when was it? Day three? Day four? No more than that.

You can see your synapses blink and flash on their black screens. Their speech is muddied, but it trickles in eventually, molasses-slow; sometimes it comes back quick and sharp when you break the surface of awareness, heart mad with the return of life.

In the morning (is it morning?) they pin your tongue with a metal probe that tastes like a gun barrel and your name screamed too late. You’re not worried though. Too late once, but not twice.

─────

It’s not that you can’t do it alone. They’re not stashing you in the same facility, weapon that you are now, but you’re starting to get the hang of the layout, stumbling in blinding corridors between two guards, listening to a stray hint and a whispered conversation. If you take them by surprise—a well-placed elbow when they free your wrists—you might be able to slip and hack your way through those keypads they thumb carelessly. The white coats don’t have guns, but the guards do. You’ve become more than adequate; you should be able to beat one of them up, even if your limbs right now feel like pulp, even if your mind— The dampeners make your telepathy buzz and writhe inside your skull—too long, too long without stretching itself, without extending its fingers to brush at a reality blurry as a nightmare. Experienced like this, stuck inside your own body, bereft of those mind thresholds that allowed you the grey freedom of liminal spaces, the world has grown unreal. Maybe it is. Maybe you’re not here. Maybe you’re already gone.

Hey, come back. What were you saying? You should be able to beat one of them up and run run run to that metal door you hear shut like a sigh when the white coats finish their shift. Really—it’s not that you can’t do it alone. It’s just good thinking. You’re stronger with someone on the outside. When he comes, you can split this place open like a bruised fruit.

You just have to hold out a little longer.

─────

Any day now.

─────

You don’t know what’s happening to your eyes. You’re not closing them now, not in this place, not ever—or maybe just a minute, only because the light needles at your optic nerve like a nail—you can feel it shift inside your pupil, nudging your brain with a wet ripe sound, all the way… All the way, far far far down to the back of your throat.

Stop.

Where are you? You haven’t seen your face in so long. Behind the mask there’s a mask that hides a mask that hides a mask. No—that’s not true. It was all real, it was, it was. You remember your face, unveiled on a grey-fog night, glimpsed one last time in the glass panes before they shattered into emptiness—it can’t have been more than a week. You know he’s coming for you like you always come for him. They’ll be here. They’ll all be here. They’re heroes after all. You’re heroes after all. None of you would let the world fester like this. None of you would let the tubes leak black, the air turn to rust, the HOWL enter you until it spreads and slashes at your brain, until the trigger clicks. Where are you? You haven’t seen your fa—Wait. Rewind, don’t get lost, he’s coming for you like you always came for him. Shouldn’t you prepare yourself? Get up? Move fast? Cover your bare spine, your naked legs? You wouldn’t want them to see your skin.

You’re running now. There’s a good chance you’re running. Remember? Remember? Remember the city how the windows reflect the street how the skyscrapers melt into the sky how the sky dissolve into the dark mad sea? The pavement is thumping against the sole of your feet and the heat is swarming up your legs up up up through the tip of your fingers to the root of your hair. Yes you remember the heat. Outside, inside. Heart bursting with it.

You think you gasp awake.

─────

Don’t forget again, you have to keep your eyes open. Blink and you fucking disappear.

─────

Time is sluggish around here. No clocks, and you miss the toxic purple of the Los Diablos sunset, the velvet cover of the night, you miss, you miss, you miss Anathema, their voice, their hand on your shoulder, that smile you saw melt like too-hot play-doh under their stained fingers—shut up—you miss the heat of the sun on your nape—yes that’s better—you miss coffee rich and dark, you miss the mind-voices weaving in and out of your head, never alone, always alone, you miss the supple cover of the suit, the darkness of the mask, you miss you miss you miss your name so roundly shaped by tongues warm and familiar.

You remember your name, right? One of the white coats joked about it the other day. Asked you if anybody ever fell for that cardboard Irish heritage you aimed at. They’re growing bolder now; they get in your face, they laugh, they don’t hesitate before they pull at your eyelids, stab at your arm, open your jaw. Too close, too cocky, leaving on your tongue the foretaste of revenge.

One night (is it night?) two of them move around you snake-like in the yellow daze and while they stick their electrodes on your scalp they jeer, they circle, they ask again and again—so did you like it, the glitter, the fame? Say, how was it? Did you party your heart out? Did you touch your heroes? Did you wear a dress? Did you think you could be a person? Did the tattoos turn your little friends on?

As if they didn’t know that what you snatched for yourself back then was only a half-life, hidden and veiled like prey, every opening making you weaker, making you reckless, making you—what? Hopeful? Still they shouldn’t, shouldn’t snicker, shouldn’t touch, shouldn’t spit.

You could still bite. You will, won’t you? You were supposed to be crouching low. Feels like you might have fallen to your knees instead.

─────

Time is running out. You’re not stupid. You can feel your palms turn soft, your muscles turn liquid, the mellow ginger fuzz growing thicker and thicker when you slide a hand on the head they shaved—when? A week ago. A month ago. A century ago.

Any day now. He knows you can take it until he’s ready. He must be planning something big. Silly man, always so dramatic. He’s had time to track you down now, to gather what he needs, to convince Steel, even. You can see it now, the bursting in all guns blazing, the brilliant grin, the righteous anger, the flash of blue and white. You’ll be ready, you’ll be ready.

It’s not that you couldn’t do it alone, but you’re a little tired. It’s so much easier when someone’s got your back, right? He taught you that. You should tell him when he gets here. You should tell him a lot of things.

Hours—days—weeks—seconds unfurl like a shroud.

They leave you alone a little sometimes and when nothing moves when nothing hurts it’s difficult not to sleep. Pain soft and hushed has settled at the base of your spine, reminding you where your body starts and stops. You haven’t felt the edges of your mind in so long, you have to cling to flesh.

Today they’ve settled you in the familiar lab, sitting slightly swaying on the exam table, waiting, useless and empty. Your patient gown is thin and papery, gaping at the back like a hungry mouth. The air is hot and humid, the neon tubes sizzle and pop like bug zappers. On the white boards, they left a few of your scans—lovely colourful waves on translucent black. On the nearest work table, you can see the coffee growing cold, and two library books wrapped in neat plastic covers, and even a trashy tabloid with a cover so crisp and new— So crisp and new—

You know that smile. Suddenly swallowing is stretching your throat. You know that stupid fancy shirt. You know those camera flashes. You know that lazy hand caught in a cheeky wave, two fingers up. You know that sloping shoulder, that arm wrapped snugly, warm as a secret and light as electricity. Oh yes yes you know that sun-drenched happiness. You don’t know the girl, you don’t see the venue, you can’t read the title, but it doesn’t matter.

You’ve seen enough. You close your dry eyes before they burn. He’s not coming. Nobody’s coming. You fucking disappeared.

#fallen hero #fallen hero rebirth #about fallen hero #notebooks #this is VERY random and lazy i'm sorry #oh and of course hi yeah go play fallen hero if you don't know what it is

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eve6262 · 3 years

Text

infection [leona/diana]

By the time it reached Targon, there was news about it in different places. Piltover and Zaun had immediately shut all their ports of entry, denying anyone an explicit need to be in the city; even then, there were body scans and inspections to be had had in holding before that could be allowed. Demacia and Noxus, careful but not overly so, had cautioned its citizens to be careful of the sick; the Freljord, hearing from Demacian travellers, had confidence the blight could not survive the harsh winter. Shurimans had no care, already knowing of the dangers of the Void.

But the news hadn’t quite made it all the way across the desert.

Leona had, upon seeing one of her fellow dedicated Solari cough up a purple bug, immediately known the dangers and quashed the thing beneath her shield before asking the priests not allow anyone to see her unless it was absolutely necessary or, of course, them for healing. She didn’t want this spreading. With no objection they had, posting a single guard at her door and not even allowing family to visit. Even still, it made her pace in her room thinking about just how bad it could get.

The sight had terrified her, she realized, and she hadn’t a clue why.

Because she already knew what it was. It was an infection of some kind, maybe a parasite- the Sun would cleanse it, as it always would for the devout. Their bodies were temples; whatever may try and defile it must also face the wrath of its guardian deity. But it would take time, and surely having a ton of people out of commission for a while was the scary part?

That wasn’t true. Because she knew very well the Lunari would not attack them while they were down. Diana would never allow it. Diana, whose sweet touches tasted like molasses and honey and sugar stars, and whose lips imparted all the soft, gentle beauty that she’d never see in the moon; she’d never allow it.

But it was still terrifying. And she didn’t know why.

So, she turned to meditation, as she sometimes would when she was stressed. Not as often as she probably should, usually finding more solace in battle preparations or helping with dinner or really any kind of menial chores, but it had been quite a while and everyone’s collective comments were that she should go get some sleep instead of insisting on driving herself thin, so.

At first it was going well. Her mind was blank, save for the light of the sun; even now, just at the brink of the night, she could see it in her mind’s eye. A cascade of warm yellow, with just a little orange, painting the sky a beautiful scene and rendering her nothing; before it she is bare, allowing it to see all and know all. Though she wears a thin button-up shirt and pants in the real world, this scene- a delusion? meeting? fantasy? fanatic devotion?- has none of those. Everything belongs to the Sun, for the Sun gives her everything she has.

It can see. It can see the poison in your body, the parasite clinging onto your stomach like it has no place otherwise. It can’t burn it because it would burn you, and it would never do that. What?

No. No, this is not that. This is the Sun. This is Her.

Bask in its beauty. Bask in its glory. Bask in-

The tap at her window.

She expects to see a bird, maybe, who just landed, or a Solari (it’s happened before). What has never happened before is Diana sneaking all the way into her room and apparently climbing up into her room through her window.

“Hey.”

There’s silence and stillness for but a moment, in which she gets a look at the woman. Her signature hairstyle has been forgone in favor of letting her hair fall, hiding the sigil on her forehead and lending her a youthful serenity. Instead of her usual armor and weapon, all she’s in is a military style jacket and pants with Solari inscriptions in it.

“Did you steal that?”

“No. Had it since my old days, remember?”

“They let you have a coat?”

“...Okay, yes, I stole it, but that was before I left.”

“I suppose that’s better.”

“Anyway, that’s not why I came.”

“Right. I assume it’s important if you bothered to sneak in for it.”

“Yes. Have you seen any purple bugs around?”

Leona swallowed something thick, and took in a deep breath.

“One of my people coughed one up, yes.”

“So it’s here, too.”

“Why? Do you not also have rituals to purge it?”

“That’s the problem. It’s not-” She sighs, finally jumping off the windowsill and starting to pace in front of the bed. “I’ve been to Shurima, and I know where it’s from. And I know very well our usual methods aren’t going to kill it.”

“How so? The Moon and the Sun are very well more powerful than any of their weapons.”

“More powerful than another dimension?”

“....A....A what?”

“The Void.”

“What’s that?”

“No one really knows, as far as I can tell. From what they say, it’s a dimension filled with creatures that will stop at nothing to consume and recreate in their image- and no one to this date has stopped them.”

“I believe in the Sun.”

“I know you do. And I believe in the light Mother Moon, but...”

“But?”

“I think we just need to be a lot more careful about this, is all, I guess.”

The silence weighs heavy on both of them. Eventually, Leona takes charge.

“Come here,” she insists, patting a spot on the bed. With a confused look, Diana does.

Immediately she’s wrapped with two strong arms and, in a moment, reciprocates it softly. “It’ll be okay,” one of them says, though neither is sure which. “It’ll be okay,” responds the other. Nonetheless they stay like that, arms wrapped around each other, for what feels like a few hours. This is more therapeutic than meditation, thinks Leona, smiling and hoping Diana feels the same way.

What fools, sneers the little bug that finds its way into their room. Its sister is right beside it. What fools, it agrees, and they both descend.

yay lesbians

~Eve6262

#writing #fanfiction #league of legends #lesbian #leona lol #diana lol #void #void lol #void parasites

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forever-more-never-again · 4 years

Text

Thaw (A Request)

Requested: Anonymous

Word Count: 2375

Pairing: Natasha X Reader

Warnings: Mentions of blood, murder, fighting

Request: Could you do a Natasha x mutant reader where the reader has frost powers and she can control ice/snow/temperature? Maybe the reader starts off as a villain and gets arrested, then the avengers find out about her powers and send Natasha to recruit her? Thx luv

A/n: Didn’t specify a happy ending so ahahahaha....I may have made this a little angsty.... hahaha don’t hurt me, enjoy

Masterlist

Time seemed to stand still as you ran through the siberian forest.

The snow was pristine and the lack of any animals made it seem like you were running through molasses.

The scenery never changing.

Of course you didn’t feel the biting cold, you couldn’t feel the freezing snow under your bare feet, or the ice cold air drawn into your lungs.

Perks of being a mutant with ice abilities. You never got cold. Never felt cold. It was like you were immune to the one thing that made you a freak to normal people.

The reason you were currently on the run.

“Find them! Now! We can't let those documents fall into the wrong hands!”

The stern, bellowing voice broke through your reverie and you picked up your pace. The files in your hands tucked against your chest.

You had been paid top dollar to steal confidential files from an Avenger sanctioned Blacksite.

You didn’t know what was in the files, you didn’t need to know.

To survive in a world that had only looked down on you, had been cruel and unjust, you did what you had to to survive. Which was how you found a group of mutants in America that used their abilities to be sold to the highest bidder to survive.

It didn’t matter who bought your service. Be it government, villains, civilians, as long as they followed the guidelines used by the group.

No real names. No contact except through a secure site. Payment up front. And complete discretion from both sides.

You had survived breaking a prisoner of war out from camps in the middle east, stealing a priceless artifact from high security museums. You had even gathered evidence on the occasional cheating spouse.

This was the first, and you thought grimly, last time you would take a request to steal something from the Avengers or SHIELD.

When you dropped off the files, you would make sure to pass the info to any customers.

Because being chased by Captain America and Iron Man was not something you ever wanted to experience again.

“Got visuals on them...Holy Shit Cap’ it’s the Mercenary FrostBite!”

You growled low in your throat. Shit.

“Turn yourself in FrostBite! This doesn’t have to get messy!” Iron Man’s electronic voice boomed through the sky.

Turning quickly, without losing momentum, running backwards, you smirked up at the suit flying after you.

“How about no!” You shouted up at him before gulping in a breath of air and releasing it in a slow stream.

Before he could dodge, Iron Man’s entire suit was coated in ice and he fell like a brick out of the sky.

“Tony!”

Looking down, you saw Captain America sprinting towards me, gaze burning with determination.

You winked at him and blew a kiss, which brought up a huge wall of thick ice. And caused a flurry of snowflakes to block his line of sight.

Giving you just enough time to jump into the portal of one of the other Mutants and disappear back to the base in New Jersey.

“Woah. [Y/n], you look like hell. What happened?” The portal wielder, some young guy named Amuk, asked before shaking his head, “Never mind. I don’t care. Just get to the drop off site so you can go on your next mission.”

You huffed. You had just gotten chased by some of the Avengers. But that was the way it was around here. Everyone for themselves. No one was friends. If you died, no one cared. It was just a way to get money and survive.

You had a day before you had to drop the file off at the designated drop off site. And now you were curious.

What was so important in these files that someone paid for you to get them out of a blacksite used by the Avengers?

You tried to never look into what you were paid to steal, but this had your attention now, and the more you tried not to think about it, the more it called to you.

Finally you couldn’t take it anymore, and in the safety of your room, which was really just a hollowed out hole in the side of the abandoned subway station where the group lived, you flipped open the file.

A picture was the first thing to meet your curious gaze.

It showed a cell with the walls covered in plans and diagrams.

You were interested in them as they seemed to depict doomsday devices like bombs, pathogens, and different ways to take out high powered world leaders and officials.

The next page showed a picture of the guy who you believed was responsible for the frantic words scribbled along the diagrams.

A disgraced Hydra scientist. Adal Herscher. Seems like SHIELD had captured him during a raid on a Hydra bunker several years back and now Hydra wanted him back.

Your skin crawled. The money that sat innocently in your backpack now seemed menacing. Blood money.

Inner Ward you were wondering why this bothered you now. You never cared who bought your services before.

Then another side of you piped up saying you never knew who bought your services before so you never had to worry but now that you knew it was Hydra…

Now though, you wanted to destroy this file and get rid of the money you had from the organization.

You knew all about Hydra and you knew what they did to Mutants. How could you be sure that they wouldn’t come after you?

Even though you were anonymous, everyone who used the group knew that it was run and provided by Mutants. Particularly, mutants that had nowhere else to go. No one to miss them if they went missing.

And then you got to the page that showed who caught him. Natasha Romanoff. The Black Widow.

You were embarrassed to admit you felt your cheeks warm as you stared at her picture.

She was so strong and beautiful and deadly.

“Oi! [Y/n]! Just received a transmission. Whoever asked for that item you acquired wants it at the drop site today instead. Top Priority, they’re willing to give another five hundred grand for it.”

Startled, you slam the file shut and look up at Amuk. He just raised a disinterested eyebrow and waved a hand, opening a portal to where the drop site was.

For the first time in the five years since you had joined this group, you hesitated.

Drawing a deep breath, you stepped through the portal. And immediately regretted it. The sun blazed down on you. Causing you to drop your temperature to stay cool, but also taking a lot more energy from you to do so in the presence of such intense heat.

Looking around, you saw that the drop site was apparently outside the Colosseum in Rome. Great. You knew the client had said the drop site was an underground arena, but you had thought they meant like an underground boxing ring. Not a literal underground arena.

A bunch of tourists were giving you strange looks as the portal closed behind you.

You were still dressed in the outfit from Siberia which consisted of bare feet, black spandex and a plain tshirt.

Minimum protection, but it allowed you to use your mutation to its max capacity.

You held the file close to your chest, avoiding the weird looks you were getting as you walked to the ticket line and flashed your most innocent smile.

“Hello. There should be a ticket on hold for me. Under S.S. Dereks.” The woman behind the counter clicked a few times on her computer and smiled back at you.

“Yes. Here you are. Looks like you have a pass to tour the construction that is happening to the underground area of the Colosseum, so if you follow that path,” She pointed you in the direction away from the rest of the tourists, “You’ll see the security. Just show them your ticket and you’ll be good to go!”

You thanked the woman and followed her directions, ignoring the uneasiness that came from being underground.

The security guards gave me no trouble, but I eyed the stun guns they had on their belts.

The underground arena was quiet, and a lot cooler than it had been up top. There were boards of wood and power saws and tools scattered everywhere. Tarp covering areas, and signs marking certain historical stones and areas that weren’t to be touched.

You found a small insignificant toolbox off to the side and opened it up. Inside was the extra five hundred grand promised and you took it out and replaced it with the folder.

“I’m so sorry. I hate that I’m doing this. But I need to survive.” You didn’t know who you were apologizing too, or why you were talking out loud to yourself. But it didn’t help ease the small amount of guilt you felt as you closed the toolbox and began walking back out.\

That was when you felt it. The sensation of being watched. Not giving away that anything was wrong. You began forming icicles over your fingers.

And with one quick twist, you released the sharp claws up towards where you thought the person was.

There was a dim sound of the ice hitting stone, but no one cried out and nobody dropped from the rafters.

“Hmm…” You eyed the dark area suspiciously for a moment, before turning around, and immediately jumping back.

In front of you stood Natasha Romanoff. Black Widow, in her SHIELD outfit and glaring at you.

Snow blew in her face as you threw your hands up and let ice grow on your fingers again in preparation to strike.

But she didn’t charge. She didn’t settle into a fighting stance.

So you took the incentive to start the banter before the inevitable fight, “How did you find out about this?”

Black Widow shook her head, her gaze softening, “[Y/n] [Y/l/n], alias FrostBite. Mutant Gene carrier that gave ice and snow abilities. Abandoned and ran away from foster homes before seeming to disappear off the map. Joined a Mutant group in New Jersey that sells out their services to the highest bidder. Wether that be murder, arson, stealing, or otherwise. But you, you’ve never killed. The most you have done in the past five years is steal and spy.”

Your eyes were blown wide as she recited your history to you. How did she know all that?

“What do you want with me!?” A growl and snarl ripped from your throat as you raised your hands, the ice on your nails growing to a sharp point, ready to fire at a single moment.

Natasha cocked her head, you tensed, “You stole a file. Did you read it?”

Your eyes swept over to the toolbox quickly, but not fast enough that Natasha didn’t see it.

“We know Hydra wants that file. That they want that scientist back from the black site you stole it from. Why steal for them? You know what they do…”

You felt heat sting your eyes and silently cursed at yourself telling yourself not to cry. You would not show weakness.

“You remember what it’s like, don’t you Natalia Alianovna!” You spat her name, enjoying her mild look of surprise, “Yeah, I know who you are. You should know what it’s like for us who don’t fit into society's perfect little mold. You do what you have to to survive. To live another day. To hope that one day it will get better. I do what I do to survive. You seem to have forgotten what that was like ever since you became oh so popular Black Widow.”

Natasha’s shoulders dropped the longer you spoke. Your voice was growing in volume until you were nearly shouting. And then, with horror, you realized you were crying.

The tears were hot against your cheeks as they fell to the dusty floor.

“Then let me help you. Let me use the power I have now to give you a better future than the one you have right now.”

Her words were so soft. So warm. You wanted nothing more than to agree, to take the hand she held out to you and let her take you away. But you knew that the future was not going to happen.

“Your promises are empty Natasha Romanoff. Empty and cold just like my heart. I have done things you will never find out, things that haunt my nightmares. You can’t save me. No one can.”

A sob heaved through you, causing the ice on your fingers to melt off.

A soft hand on your cheek had you jerking and then you were swimming in emerald green.

“You can choose to be good. You can choose to help instead of hurt. If I can be redeemed, so can you.”

In a sudden decision that you would most probably later regret, you surged forward and captured Natasha’s lips with yours.

The salt from your tears mingled with the heady aroma of cherries and the taste of vanilla on her tongue.

It was everything you dreamed and more.

Just as suddenly, you tore away from her with a gasp, stumbling out of her reach.

She stared at you with wide eyes, one hand reaching up to touch her lips.

“Take the file. Once I knew it was Hydra that hired me, I didn’t want to complete the mission. Take it and never come after me again. Or I will fight you. Goodbye...Natasha.”

And before she could recover you ran.

You ran with your tears streaming down your face.

Regretting leaving her behind already.

But you knew nothing good could come of you going with Black Widow.

She didn’t know. No One knew. You had been the one...all those years ago...that had murdered your parents when they tried to beat you. You had been the one...that had shot and killed a witness...by shooting through Natasha’s abdomen.

Your crush would go unrequited, but, as you jumped through the portal, you touched your lips, remembering the taste of her, at least you got something to remember her by during the lonely cold nights.

FOREVER Taglist:

@sxph-t @mialeelavellan @rainydaysrnevergrey @platonic-plots @sociallyawkwardcircus-freak-hi @queenbbarnes @mythixmagic @chas-z @thefridgeismybestie @strangersstranger @princess-evans-addict @rororo06 @timelordhunterandmysterysolver @xxxtwilightaxelxxx

Natasha Taglist:

@ludwigvonbaethoven @hanjiscience-slut @kitten-q-p @morbid-gaymer @honeybadgerwhodoesntcare @sunnyandtwisty @zoeyknight @kurlyafro @thewomanofwonder @5aftermidnight @myfemininelesboworld @gaytrashgoblin @marvelb00kwolf @multifandom-imagines-things @turtlelurky

Avengers Taglist:

@jadepc @marvel-is-a-mood @brynnloh

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aeide-thea · 4 years

Note

This is a gentle request for any Geraskier fics you want to rec, because the number of them in the tag is a bit overwhelming but I KNOW there are gems in there 👀

i’m pretty sure i’ve reblogged things in the past! but it’s true that i haven’t done that in any systematic way, so—let’s see. under the cut are 20-ish recs alphabetized by author, which seemed like a good way of avoiding having to make any hierarchical declarations:

o, empathy by almostnectarine/@nectarine-pit: bodyswap! i forgot how much i loved this fic. geralt and jaskier walk a mile in each other’s shoes, and learn to appreciate each other better; this is keenly observed and thought-through, and frequently extremely funny. a thoroughgoing delight.

Jaskier pulled a face and swiveled the straps such that both swords almost fell from their scabbards at once, ruining the moment. “Geralt,” he said, “this leather itches. You’ve lived five lifetimes—” “Not that old,” said Geralt, in protest, and then, considering: “Maybe three.” “—and you never once thought, hm— oh, I see why you do that all the time, it is quite fun, isn’t it— hm, maybe I’ll add a little padding?!” His mimicry of Geralt’s tone was very good, although perhaps it was cheating, when the voice was already the same.

public displays of affection by autoschediastic/@bluesoaring: geralt and jaskier go to a sex party! (not to be confused with the other fic by sospes in which geralt and jaskier go to a sex party, which is also excellent.) if that wasn’t enough of a sell, well, you confuse me, but—the flavor of the power dynamic here is a little complex and unusual in a way i enjoyed, plus frankly the description of geralt stripped down for this party is really, uh. really A Lot. i admit to being biased in favor of sex party stories in general but this one is definitely a keeper.

to you always, also by autoschediastic/@bluesoaring: in which geralt is a demanding, insatiable bottom. ...honestly, this fic has significantly more emotional weight to it than that description might suggest, but i still stand by it. also the initial setup is just really funny to me, because jaskier getting hilariously outraged by geralt’s sheer infuriating geralt-ness is, like, my fave flavor of jaskier. (that’s a lie, every flavor of jaskier is my favorite flavor of jaskier, but i do really delight in this one.)

@blossomsinthemist’s mixing memory and desire series (wip) is basically my favorite thing ever, like, just truly perfectly crafted to please me personally. it’s h/c, and just astonishingly luxuriant and languorous and lovely—or, okay, let me actually just quote a comment i left on an early chapter:

this is just so exquisitely tender and molasses-lovely-sweet so far, my god the glimpses we get dimly through geralt’s hazy bemused perception of what jaskier’s feeling are so heart-clenchingly poignant—and then of course the glimpses of what geralt himself is feeling for jaskier without understanding it, this stunned rapt gratitude for everything jaskier is doing but also everything jaskier is, the lovely gentle sturdy solicitous gift he is & keeps making of himself to geralt, who would probably call it undeserved except that of course we can see precisely what in geralt has tugged this tenderness from jaskier, this terrible aching wounded gallantry that’s so astonished to meet with respite…

the meet death sitting (wip) series by @bomberqueen17 is my other favorite thing—much plottier than the previous, with a much wider cast of characters, and while i’m ultimately in it for the geralt/jaskier and therefore being strung along in exquisite agony while all sorts of plot things get in the way of any real resolution of that, it’s honestly worth it; what you lose in immediate gratification you gain in, like, a sense that this story inhabits a real, full world, with real events that aren’t just arranged to suit our heroes’ convenience. if i could only get you to read two things it would be this series and the previous one: between them they have my heart. anyway i guess i may as well quote myself again:

it’s the rich realistic interweaving of things that’s so remarkable here, how the absolute throat-thickening aches run abruptly up against the entirely mundane and all of it has to be coped with, because that’s life, and this story has life within it, in a realer way than probably anything else in the fandom, maybe anything else i’ve read in a long time. and of course a large part of me is so, so desperate for geralt and jaskier to finally come back together, with enough time and space to settle into a mutual secure tenderness instead of the current wordless, longing, poised-always-to-spring-away-like-deer-in-a-forest situation; but the story is coaxing me into a more adult patience, an appreciation for the smaller quieter incidental pleasures that aren’t the one subsuming great love, and then also teaching me to live with the wounds one inevitably acquired along the way, the pull and ache of those that makes the whole thing real, not a shining fantasy but a homely pie with a rich satisfying filling, savory and bolstering.

my body bruises at your touch by @brawlite: jaskier gets tied up by geralt as bait for the monster of the week, and discovers he likes it quite a bit. smut (and then aftercare) ensues.

demand an encore (wip) by emamel/@theaceace: jaskier is a witcher of the viper school, or used to be. he doesn’t remember it, but geralt does.

it’s been a while since i read this, but the way the layers slowly start fitting together is really satisfying: all the joy of what i think the kids call ‘identity porn,’ with the twist that here, it’s geralt who knows both identities, and jaskier who’s still in ignorance. ugh, i want chapter 3 now.

musica universalis by flirtygaybrit is bookverse and clearly so—it’s not romantic, but there’s a particular ambiguous flavor of solicitous tenderness that elevates this ‘friendly drunken hookup’ scenario to something memorable for me.

of cherries and dandelions by heyriel: in which a still-virginal jaskier bites off more than he can chew, and tries to disguise it until he can’t anymore. as i said to the author:

this is lovely and realistic in its navigation of, like, trying to Be Cool and the ways that can sometimes get you in trouble as a young sexplorer—geralt is so good to jaskier here and i’m having feelings about it!

also geralt uses a dildo on jaskier, which was not a thing i’d known i wanted before reading this, but it turns out i’m very decidedly here for it! i haven’t seen a ton of sex toys in geraskier fic and this story makes me wish there were more.

gentle-sharp and strange by lisztful has some excellent touch-starved pining geralt, also a performatively public bath scene with very satisfactory sexual tension, also an Ancient Tradition which is maybe the thing i remember most about this fic.

i know that you would want it (if i could sink my teeth into you) by objectlesson is... look, there’s an actual emotional arc to this story, but really what i always remember about it is that it’s got the most overwhelmingly visceral rimming scene i’ve maybe ever read? it’s a lot, it’s a gift, go read it.

@pasdecoeur has several stories that are very funny with some very piercingly erotic moments! briefly sketched in some ways and more pining than porny but no less effective for it.

benefits by @shastafirecracker is a pwp story in which jaskier is first surprised to find geralt wants him to top, and then determined to give geralt the best dicking he’s ever had. jaskier’s inner dialogue in this one is really fun; geralt’s exterior dialogue is true to the show in that it’s minimal but nonetheless includes a bad pun. :)

even a small love by shecrows/@leighway is like. you think you know how things are going to go, and then jaskier balks and it abruptly swerves sideways and develops a whole plot, and then comes back around to where it started, but deeper and better. don’t you love how you can summarize a fic without saying anything meaningful or even helpful about it? anyway: read this one.

snowmelt by silklace/@silkcoeur is a/b/o and somehow both extremely hilarious and extremely hot in full measure. the banter is a fucking delight but so are the tension/sex/feelings.

It wasn’t until they were well on the road away from town that it really hit him, though possibly he should have been paying attention to the way the backs of his knees had started sweating the minute he’d seen Geralt walking towards him outside of Yennefer’s manor, or to the way his throat had gone hot and dry despite the taste of sweetness still on the back of his teeth from the wine skin he’d pilfered from her pantry on his way out. In his defense, he’d still been recovering from spending the prior evening steadfastly spitting his insides up onto his outsides. Also, he tended to always get a little sweaty around Geralt, a fact they were both apparently extremely united in assiduously pretending was not happening.

the sevenfold path by star_flaming/@europeansdomusicalsbetter: in which jaskier is demonstrably extremely well educated, and geralt has feelings about it. (i also have feelings about it, but mine are in my pants.)

you are in my blood by @suzukiblu: au where jaskier is a bruxa. this alters his character significantly—hard to be too skittish about bloodletting when you’re a vampire!—but the story’s so engaging you probably won’t care? plus, uh, hot. :)

Jaskier’s just debating how much trouble he’s actually in when Geralt, marvelously, talks them out of it. After that, well... Jaskier still wants to eat him very badly, but he supposes it’d be a bit ungrateful of him. Geralt isn’t very impressed with the song he writes for him, unfortunately—which, rude—but doesn’t try to run off and leave him either, so.. Well, Jaskier’s a bit smitten. A delicious-smelling witcher who can talk his way out of being murdered is very impressive. And he always has wanted a pet.

taran (@iamtaran)’s manhandling without plot series has no sex but lots of violent, compellingly visceral hijinks and i like to think of it as preslash. three times geralt hauls jaskier out of trouble.

Jaskier is flat on his back with his chemise rucked up to his armpits, salve burning on his bruised ribs, breathing hard; he is drunk, but not nearly as drunk as he was when he threw that first punch; Geralt is stupidly strong and has him pinned beneath one hand and the sheer girth of his own hips, looking grumpy and short on patience, and under everything—the aromatic menthol and chamomile smell of the salve, the aching of his cheek and lip, the relief of seeing Geralt just as upright and uninjured as he had been when he left, Jaskier is… He had thought he was furious. He still is, somewhat. Like… like a seed is a flower. It was, at first, before it became something else. And given enough time it might become such again. It is what it is in the meantime, however. Fury. Seeds.

last but not least, @toyhto has a bunch of fics that crack me the fuck up: geralt is unbelievably oblivious to his own emotions even as he acts on them, and it’s just—it’s so, so funny. also sometimes quite sweet, and sometimes quite painful! there’s a particular air of, i don’t know, almost see-spot-run impenetrability to the writing here that lends itself perfectly to the thing the stories are doing, where geralt is just operating totally on a surface level and, like, feelings are moving in the deep but he can’t quite see them...

...and that’s all for now! more to come later, maybe; but this seems like plenty for a first pass, and anyway i’m blurbed out.

#the witcher #geraskier #fic #recs

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kashimos-hajime · 5 years

Text

aphrodite | b.b.

Summary: Bucky’s only in town for the night, and then he meets the woman who steals his heart without a second look back. Unfortunately for you, the small town girl, Bucky’s more than your heart can take.

WARNINGS: CUTE ASS FLUFF! for once, Bucky’s a little shit, unsafe motorcycle riding, pls ride with a helmet, and mentions of sex but like it ain’t that explicit, also sad ending but perhaps a pt 2? Pairing: badboy!Bucky x fem!waitress!Reader Word Count: 6.2k A/N: So I was inspired by Shawn and Camilla’s new song (Señorita) and the music video so I decided it was time to get saucy. Also, I say DEDICATE FICS TO WRITERS YOU LOVE RIGHTS. Therefore, this is dedicated to @jurassicbarnes bc i love her Masterlist

“That’ll be all for you?” you ask, scribbling down the last order of milkshake and fries for a family of three. Tapping your pen on your notepad, you put on a smile and slide the two items into your apron pocket, scooping up the menus. “Great. Thank you.”

“Thank you, Y/N,” the man responds, and you let the grip on your pen slack.

“No problem, and if you need anything,” you stress the word, “please give me a call?”

“We will,” the woman assures and your eyes flicker over to her. Your lips press together in a warm smile because they don’t want your pity. Instead, you look out the windows and note the rain thundering outside the little bistro. “Hot summer rains, huh.”

“Yeah. It’s gonna be a wet summer this year.”

“More fun for the little one,” you tell them as you wave at the tiny boy sitting in the woman’s lap. They chuckle before you leave them alone. Your eyes linger on the rain. You want to run out and let it fall all over you, soaking you to the skin, but you still have to work. Remembering that, you head for the kitchen and rip off the new order, hooking it on the line for Wanda.

“We’ve got a new order. Family of three with a little boy,” you tell her, leaning over the counter. Business is slow in your tiny town of yours, and everyone knows everyone. “It’s Ben and May Parker,” you clarify when Wanda arches a brow at you while she works. She’s great at micro-managing and you watch in amazement as she juggles the deep fryer, stove, and oven all at once, “with Peter.” You can see Wanda’s movements slow as the information sinks in. The two of you share a look and you just stare back until Wanda remembers she can’t let anything burn.

“I’ll make something special for them,” the woman decides and you shake your head with a smile. “I know what May will say, but tell her it’s from me.”

“She’ll know,” you promise, straightening up again. You still have an hour left in your shift, so you might as well make it your best one yet. Fixing your apron, you tuck a slip of hair behind your ear and glance around. No one needs your attention, but you do spot dirty plates, so you head over to collect them before heading back to scrub them up. Less work for Wanda means you guys can close up shop early. Slipping your name tag into your apron pocket lest it fall down the drain and you lose it forever — it’s happened before — you dunk the dirty dishes into the half of the sink full of soapy water.

You begin to run the tap just as the bell above the door rings up front. Sighing, you head out to see a lone figure heading to one of the booths, dripping all over your floor from the rain and your lips twist into a small scowl. Slipping hazard.

Still, it’s not their fault it’s raining in the summer. It’s just the weather around here. So you head on over there, your friendly smile coming up on your face on its own accord. You grab a menu on the way, and think happy thoughts.

“Hi. Do you want me to get you started on anything to drink?” you ask as standard but you find your words come out thick when the figure turns to look at you. Through drenched brunet strands of hair that stick to his cheeks and jaw, blue eyes pierce into your soul and you swallow, not knowing what else to do besides that and blink repeatedly, absorbing this gorgeous guy in front of you.

As you said, tiny town where everyone knows everyone and you certainly don’t know this guy.

He seems to have a lost for words, too, or maybe he’s just wondering what the hell is wrong with you. But one thing you know for sure, he recovers first. He tears his gaze away and you notice he’s wearing leather gloves which he pulls off to reveal those hands and you try not to stare as he tosses them onto the table before extending a hand up. He has a cute smile and you stare at him dumbly, not understanding.

“I, uh, I need the menu, doll,” he says and you snap out of it.

“Right! Right. Sorry,” you stammer, giving him the menu you’d been hugging to your chest as soon as you lay eyes on him. Heat pools in your cheeks as you try to get through the gist of the weekly special and that he should tell you when you’re ready to order. He scans the menu, listening to you talk with a slight cock of his head and you try not to focus on the fact that this is really how you’re going to get fired. Embarrassing myself in front of the new hot guy. Figures. His fingers trace over the words and you can’t help staring at the strength you can see in them.

“Just let me know when you’re ready to order,” you manage to get out at last and he looks up at you. There his smile is again, and his blue eyes squint along with it. He rakes a hand through his wet hair, pulling it back and you chuckle nervously. “I can get you a towel or something, if you want.”

“That’d be nice,” he admits, wiping his hand on his pants. Setting down the menu flat on the table, he holds out a hand that’s not rain-wet. “I’m Bucky.”

“Bucky, right.” You slip his hand into his and nearly shiver at how warm he is. His blue eyes pull you in like a hypnotic mist and your breath catches in your throat. “Bucky, okay, uh, right. Just let me know when you’re done with that—” You point at the menu, cringing internally at how you’ve suddenly lost all your communication skills— “and I’ll come take your order.”

“You said that already. Three times, actually.” And then he lets go with that smirk of his and you’re left dazed, blinking.

“Right. Um…” You’re a complete mess, looking down at yourself. You realize you don’t look at all your best, in a day-old uniform with barely any makeup and your hair oily, and compared to him, all black leather and blue eyes, you know this is not the best way to make a first impression. “Towel! I’ll be back, and, uh, just let me know when you’re ready to order.”

Exiting the situation as quick as you can before you can repeat yourself a fourth time, you duck your head to hide your red face as you hear him call after you.

“Thanks, doll!”

You give him his towel, his food, a milkshake and a refill. Then, you refund all favours you’ve ever done for Wanda for her to go and give him the bill while you clean the kitchen. You’re closing up shop now, and the Parkers head out, giving you a wave through the kitchen window. You wave back before pretending to busy yourself, knowing that his eyes are on you.

When Wanda comes back, he gets up and flips the collar of his jacket, tiny droplets of water spraying over as he tries to catch your gaze. Heat is rushing to your head and you turn away, pretending that you aren’t trying to sneak peaks of him out of the corner of your eye.

I need to take inventory, you tell yourself, heading to the back as Wanda deposits the money. Counting the stock of potatoes, you can’t focus and start from one every three seconds as you stare at the tubers.

“Y/N,” Wanda calls softly and you blink, turning to see her at the doorway of the storage closet, “how many potatoes do we have?”

“Uhm.” You turn back to the potatoes, trying to see if you can make a quick count as Wanda walks in, placing a hand on your shoulder. You’re busted.

“The guy out there wanted to know where my beautiful friend went,” she tells you, and you duck your head, that flustered feeling knotting up your chest as you try to stammer out something like you were busy. But it’s Wanda. “He wanted to ask you out on a date, but I told him my beautiful friend is busy tonight.”

“Busy?” you repeat, turning to Wanda who smiles. “Where are we going?”

“Clubbing.”

Bucky drums his fingers on the bar counter, taking a pull of his whiskey. He had needed to stop in the new town to rest before he headed over to Barton’s country-side home for the wedding, but the bistro he’d stopped by prompted an extra few nights stay.

It wasn’t the bistro so much as the waitress who’d served him. Bucky knows how to keep his cool around the ladies, but to say he hadn’t been momentarily stunned by the woman who’d walked up to him would be a fat lie.

Even in the stained waitress outfit, and the messy hair, you had been the most perfect woman he’d ever seen. Beautiful, in all ways, with your kind smile and rolling words. With your gentle hands as you pulled summer rain from his soaked hair with that towel of yours, as you told him the milkshake refill was on the house as a welcoming gift to ‘our small little town. Enjoy your stay.’

He needs to see you again. Learn your name. Tell you he wants you.

Bucky’s never believed in love at first sight, but he does believe in love at first meeting, and damn it if—

Stop. You need to stop thinking about her. He closes his eyes, letting the sound around him melt into a lethargic ocean, the air around him thick on his skin, hugging him like molasses as the music fades out into some new romance song that’s a hit on the radio these days. But he can’t. You’re in his mind like a brand, burning so bright and warm. Your eyes stare back at him in his mind’s eye, as if daring him to stop.

If he can find you again, find the most loveliest woman he’d ever seen to walk this Earth, he will, ‘cause then he’ll have the real thing.

Someone asks for a drink two seats down, and Bucky blinks out of his reverie, taking another sip of whiskey. He sweeps his gaze through the bar, trying to see if anyone’s worth his attention or time. Perhaps he can get his mind off his new infatuation for a few hours. Better than drowning in the little memories he has of his Aphrodite — just a taste, not enough.

His dark eyes flicker from patron to patron, groups of people dancing on the floor as drinks are spilled and food bounces into corners of the bar no one will ever see, left for the rats to feast. It’s a nice place, cozy in a retro way, with a jukebox and neon signs. The club is plunged in red light, and he can barely discern one face from another as the crowd parts in a way he can only claim is destiny.

There you stand beneath the neon lights.

He sets down his glass of whiskey harder than anyone ever intends to when they’re in their right state of mind and just stares, unable to take his eyes off you, the way that fabric wraps around you. The way the sequins of your black dress seem to darken underneath the red light as you speak to your waitress friend from where you stand around a table. You’re holding a mojito, or something, sipping on that straw and then he’s up, wading through the crowd.

People push up against him, whether intentional or not, but he only has eyes on you.

Your hair is pinned away from your face, but the rest spills down your shoulders, brushing over your arms as you turn to your friend. More girls join you, giggling and flushed and smiling, but he only has eyes for you.

Bucky rakes a hand through his hair, making sure he can soak in every inch of you as your friend points at him. He strides on over, an involuntary smirk making its way onto his face as you set down your mojito on the table. Your friends all stare, but he only has eyes for you.

“Bucky,” you say at last and the sound of your voice is a masterpiece, a symphony of colours he’s never seen before and places he wishes he’s been to. “I didn’t expect to see you here!” You shout because the music pumping in Bucky’s veins means it’s in his blood, roaring in his ears. Maybe it’s pounding in your head too. Your friends tell you they’re going to get drinks. You don’t seem to hear. Your eyes are fixed on him.

“Well, I wasn’t planning to be here,” he replies and you blink, your bottom lip trapped between your teeth as you look at him. His tongue darts out to wet his lips and you let out a sigh. It puffs against his cheek and smells like mint and sugar. “I just wanted to get wasted,” he adds, leaning in closer. His fingers reach for your wrist as you shiver, and your eyes flicker shut, eyelashes dusting your cheeks. His lips brush the shell of his ear and he hums playfully along to the music. His fingers coax your wrist into his grip as his other hand lands on your hip. Your eyes open drowsily, like you’re Sleeping Beauty and he’s your prince, and you search his gaze. In the red light, the shadows of your face darken and cause you to look cut from marble, a statue of Greece, beauty made eternal.

Your other hand finds his bicep and he pulls you into him. Your chests collide. You squeeze and he smirks, knowing you’re feeling what is there. Leather and hard muscle and power.

“Then you came to the right place,” you breathe, chin tilting and his head falls to your neck. Your hand on his bicep slides up to his shoulder as he presses a kiss to your neck and you tug, oh so slightly at his jacket like you want to tear it off. He’d let you. So much for a stumbling mess, Bucky muses. Cats come out to play at night. “Bucky, I—” He lifts his head so your gazes meet again, and your lips are trembling, eyes wide with something dark and wild and feral.

“What is it, Aphrodite?” he whispers, tilting his head as his hand holding your wrist slides up your arm slowly, intentionally, and you react in a way he knows you will. You gasp, and his smirk grows. Your hand flies his elbow, stalling him. Curious, his blue eyes meet yours again. “Wanna dance?”

“I—” The noise comes out strangled and you blink, inhaling sharply. When your eyes open again, what is left is who you were earlier that day. The quiet, shy, stammering woman who’d taken his breath away. You shake your head despite what lies within your eyes. “I have to head home. Busy day tomorrow.” In seconds, you gather your clutch and slam a few bills on the table.

“Wait—” Bucky reaches after you but you’re smaller than he is, and you slink into the crowd. You’re a nymph, beautiful and mystical and magical and maybe you aren’t quite real enough to touch. Bucky isn’t sure. He chases after you, pulling through the crowd — people dancing and laughing and drinking — and he thinks maybe. He catches glimpses of the color of your hair, a flash of your eyes, a slip of your dress.

He’s on the wrong side of the bar when he hears the bell above the door chime, and he knows.

You’re gone, and so is his heart.

He returns to his seat at the bar, slams a fifty on the counter and asks for shots instead of whiskey. Maybe then it’ll chase the ghost of you out of his head.

He doesn’t come for you, like you thought he would, and Wanda doesn’t seem to know if he’s gone, too.

It’s three days before you have to accept the fact that he’s gone. Gone to some other town with some other girl. Guys like him have no trouble getting girls.

You didn’t expect you to be grieving the loss of someone you don’t know, but then again, you’ve never felt so drawn to someone before. On your break, you eat a protein bar and take your hair down for your fifteen minutes and head outside for a breather. The other waitress is in today, and although it’s a busy hour at night, you think the lull in business can give you an extra few seconds. The wind leans into your face, smelling of petrichor and summer sugar, and you know summer rain’s gonna come again. That just reminds you of him, so you push that thought out of your head.

You need to head back inside. You’re closing tonight, so you might as well work to finish early. You count money, clean dishes, wipe down the windows and counters early and mop the floors. Wanda cleans up the kitchen and the last patron leaves thirty minutes before closing, meaning you can leave right on the dot. Wanda and Dot, the other waitress, clock out early as you begin taking stock of the last few ingredients for next day. They’ll need to order soon, otherwise there won’t be any more apples left for Peter Parker’s fourth birthday pie.

“I’m heading home. You sure you’re gonna be okay?” Wanda asks, lingering around the entrance to the kitchen and you send her a tired smile. You can’t read her expression that well when you don’t linger on her face but you know her tone of voice. “You know, it’s okay to miss him.”

You laugh to cover the abyss in your heart. “I don’t miss him. I didn’t even know him.” Wanda looks at you with an ounce of skepticism and you roll your eyes. The hollow feeling in your chest is temporary. “Besides, I’ll be a-okay with my apples and tomatoes.” Wanda wears her tentative smile like a shield as if you’ll blow up at her. She uncrosses her arms, looks at you once more. You sigh. You’re exhausted. “Wanda, go home to Vis. I’ll lock up.”

“Alright. Call me,” she says in farewell and the chime of the bell above the door rings, leaving you alone. You finish up taking inventory and begin locking up, turning off the lights and making sure everything’s sealed. Heading out the back door that instantly locks once it’s closed, you pocket the keys and head out, pulling your hair out of its bun. And then you spot the figure sitting on the couch outside and you slow down, turning to look.

Bucky sits up, eyes wide and lips slightly parted and you smile incredulously. He leans forward, almost half way to standing. You pause mid way through adjusting the strap of your bag and then turn around, a silly smile working its way onto your face as he gets up, scrambling after you.

“Wait! Aphrodite, wait.” You cross your arms as he runs in front of you, towering over you as he does and his blue eyes warmer than any summer rain. “I… I don’t even know your name.”

“Why are you here, Bucky?” you ask quietly, and he runs that hand through his hair again. Aphrodite, you realize, warmth gathering in your stomach. A voice tells you, He thinks you’re beautiful. As beautiful as a goddess. Still, you can’t help the hurt in your voice as you add, “I thought you left.”

“I was thinking of what to say. Thought you didn’t wanna see me,” he mumbles and your eyebrows gather together. Before you say anything, though, he continues, “But I came to ask… ask if you wanted to take a ride.”

His motorcycle is parked a few steps off and you turn to look at the black beast, huge and shining and sleek. It’ll roar when you tear down streets. You know it.

“Yes.”

He helps you on before swinging on in front of you. His ass presses against you as he grabs the handlebars. “Don’t hesitate to wrap your arms around me, Aphrodite,” he murmurs and instantly, your arms encircle your waist and you melt against him. Your legs press against his thighs and he kicks off. The motorcycle purrs and vibrates beneath you as you begin speeding down the street and towards the beach.

The wind rips at your hair and face as the world around you becomes a blur. The night is quiet besides the bike, splitting the night apart with its engine and there’s the smell of sea and salt on the wind. You haven’t been to the beach in forever.

You hug Bucky tighter when he pulls a smooth turn down a road that leads out of the town. Bucky feels right beneath your palms, all hard and soft lines, leather, and pure muscle where his thighs are concerned. He checks up on you at a stop light, his cobalt blue gaze drawing you into him until you’re leaning against him, cheek against his back as you two start off again. You can hear his heart above the thunder of the motorcycle, and the wind stings your nose but the smell of him stings more.

He is one of the seven deadly sins, lust on legs, smoke and cedarwood and sweat, and you cling onto him like he’s your saving grace. Your legs tighten and he takes the chance to eye you out of the corner of his eye, turning his head just enough to take a glimpse of you as a Welcome sign for your city comes and goes, a spot in the distance within seconds.

“Focus on the road, Bucky,” you whisper and he listens. You press your lips against the shell of his ear, eyes focusing on the blurring road ahead. The only thing that’s clear is the man you have every inch of yourself pressed again. “And my name is Y/N.” With every word, your lips brush against his ear and you notice the knuckles of his hands blanche remarkably.

“Aphrodite is better,” he tells you through gritted teeth. The muscles in his jaw twitch and oh, how much you want to touch him except if he gets distracted, you both die. Still your hands play with the edges of his jacket, until he scolds you. “Down, girl. I needa focus.”

Alright, baby.” Your words cause a shiver to run down his spine and you feel it as he twists the throttle. Everything is nothing more than colours — the sky, nothing more than a smudge of black ink, the moon, a streak of white. Your arms tighten around his waist. He leans and swerves, boots barely brushing the asphalt and you taste the burn of rubber in your mouth just like how the smell of Bucky bleeds into your nose.

When you reach the beach, your hair is tousled and you’re panting because the rush of riding a motorcycle has you breathless. Your heart hammers in your throat, almost like it’s trying to speed out of your chest and you swallow it down to your chest, the adrenaline pumping into your smile as Bucky kicks the stand and parks the motorcycle on the pavement

Bucky places a hand on your thigh, swinging his leg off and getting up. The weight of his huge hand, heavy and hot, has you breathing even harder. He’s not wearing his gloves and you can feel the heat of him on your bare thigh. The day dress you’d worn to work and wear now has hitched up your legs, and he gently caresses your thigh as he walks around the bike.

His hand drifts over your skin, across your hips, to your other thigh and then his other hand finds your hip. He lifts you off the seat, putting you down with ease and his skin burns you deliciously. The weight of his hands on your hips is like the best kinda belt and you breathe him in, feel his heat. He licks his lips. You find yourself hungry for something that isn’t food.

“Come on. Beach is empty.” He takes you by the hand, dragging you to the open sand. He dumps his jacket in the sand, pulling off his boots and socks, and you stare before letting your bag drop and toeing off your sandals. You walk out, feeling the summer sand warm beneath your toes as sea winds sweep between your legs and arms. Bucky follows after you, taking hold of your hand and you let him lead you into some dance you somehow both know.

You sway in time to invisible music, as he leans down to press his forehead against yours. Your arms loop around his neck, and you wonder if it’s possible to be drunk off someone else’s presence.

You twirl through the sand, the gentle lap of the waves your own choir as you push off of Bucky, arms spread out and your head tilts back, letting sapphire moonlight spill all over your face. A carefree smile splits your face apart and you close your eyes. You could stay here forever.

Then, strong arms scoop you up and your legs wrap around a thick waist. Bucky spins you around, his eyes never leaving yours and you touch his face, the rough of his stubbe prickling at your palm as his hands hoist you up from the bottom of your thighs and ass.

“Bucky?” you mumble, completely lost in the way his eyes shift from navy to cobalt to sky. He stops spinning. His lips are parted, tongue flickering out to wet his lips again and something takes a hold of you. This man chose you. The notion blows your mind.

Your hands flat against his cheeks, you decide that if this is real, you might as well take what you can get. So you kiss him, and he bleeds whiskey and honey and all that is sweet in this world.

There is summer rain.

That’s the first thing Bucky thinks of as he wakes up. The soft sound of rain splattering windows and tiles and walls, along with the warmth in his gut is a welcomed way to start a morning. Feeling the space beside him, he finds it empty and rolls over, glancing at the window. The tequila sunrise glows golden as you force apart the curtains of the hotel room. Bathed in its glory, you look out the window. So, it rains on a sunrise, does it? Bucky might just start liking this town even more than the people in it.

You continue to stare out the window, and Bucky takes the chance admire your form, covered in nothing but a knitted cardigan that reveals everything and not enough. Bucky squints against the glaring sun as it rises, and moans, catching the attention of his Aphrodite. You turn, tugging your cardigan together as if to preserve decency.

“C’mere,” he mumbles, arms spread out, and you chuckle. Long gone is the shy, stammering waitress with the gentle hands. Here you are, in all your glory; his little minx, his seductress, his bewitching witch. He sits up, naked as they day he was born and you sit in his lap, sinking into him with a soft sigh. “My Aphrodite,” he whispers, hoarse from sleep and other reasons. Your lips meet his again, and you tastes like things he can’t name as your eyes slide shut. Your kiss is toxic, just like the night before, and his hands grab at your shoulders from behind, grounding you to him.

He needs this poison more than he needs to breathe.

His mouth opens underneath yours and you groan, taking hold of his face. Hooked on your tongue, his eyes close and he bites at your lip. His hands peel your cardigan off your body, and you fling it off, returning your hands to his neck and jaw, shoulders and back, like magnets. You’re so warm, the sun in his arms, and you fit so perfectly in his hands as your lips glide to his neck.

“Don’t stop, Buck,” you whisper, moan, plead. Bucky tilts your jaw back to him with a crooked finger, bright eyes meeting yours. You are something ferocious and wild and enchanting. Bucky wonders what he wouldn’t do for you. “We stay in here, alright? We never have to leave.” You duck down to his neck again. He bites his lip, raising his head to give you better access as his fingers scratch down your back. Your hands trail down his shoulders and sides, scratching and clawing and you’re biting and touching as he sucks in a long breath, lips finding the plane of your collarbone. You taste like summer rain, sweet cream, and sweat, and he wants to devour you. “You hear me?”

“We don’t leave,” he whispers, and he takes you by the hips, twisting around so he pins you to the bed. The white covers are clouds around your skin, and maybe you really are a goddess. Flushed cheeks, wine-stained lips, you sing the prettiest song for him.

“Bucky,” you sigh, lovely and deeply, the sweetest harp, the most beautiful angel.

“We stay here,” he promises, pressing ragged, messy kisses against your mouth as he speaks, “and I love you every second until I die.” His hips press flush against yours and when his lips find the column of your sweet, silky little throat, he wonders how he’s gonna tell you he has a wedding to get to. He wonders how he’s even gonna manage to leave this hotel room that has your lips and skin and heat and smell.

How is Adonis to leave his Aphrodite?

“You have to go, don’t you?” you ask as you place the strawberry milkshake between the two of you. Bucky sits at the bar, as you get ready for the day to start. The blinds are filtering the sun through the bistro, the doors locked still. The rain has stopped and it smells like fresh pavement out there. You’re here before opening hours, tugging Bucky into the place by your interlaced fingers. On your arm is a poem of numbers and dashes — Bucky’s number — and on the back of his hand is yours.

The strawberry milkshake is topped with whipped cream and a cherry, and there are two straws poking out of the top. He takes a sip. You sigh. Neither of you comment about the bruise under the handkerchief you have tied around your neck or the one blooming on the juncture of your neck and shoulder, just visible when your collar shifts. Or the marks on the thighs where his lips had undressed you the night before. And that morning. And twenty minutes ago.

“Y/N,” he begins but you merely smile sadly, knowingly. He sighs, pushing the milkshake towards you. You take a sip. It’s not the sweetest thing you’ve tasted today. Bucky’s lips can give anyone a toothache. His blue eyes hooded, he grabs your hand on the counter, leans over the counter, and kisses your swollen lips.

Your hands wrench in his hair, tugging him towards you as he merely cups your face, kissing you sweeter than you want. You want rough, you want something harder. You want him to hurt you so it’s easier to let him go.

“I have a wedding to get to,” he whispers and it sounds a lot like farewell. You want him to ask you to come. You want him to even think about it.

“Bucky…” you begin, unable to finish. He smiles, a whole tragedy in the twist of his lips and the burning in his eyes. His hands slide down your neck, your shoulders, lingering little touches you’ll never have again.

Because your life is here, and his life is somewhere far from your tiny little bistro.

You can’t even pretend you don’t need him.

“It’s so damn hard to leave ya, doll,” he murmurs, fingers playing with yours. You push off the counter, tearing yourself away and he lowers his head. “Y/N, please.” You walk around the counter and he stands, the strawberry milkshake forgotten, and you try to calm the whirling hurricane in your heart. You try to ignore the aching pain, the grief you feel for no goddamn reason.

And then you’re running across the bistro, running for his arms that spread out and you jump into him, legs wrapping around him like he’s the only thing keeping you from drowning. One hand wraps around your waist and the other traces the curve of your thigh as he closes his eyes, hugging you to death.

“You don’t forget me, alright?” you whisper fiercely and Bucky’s hugging you tighter, holding you like he’s gonna lose you.

“Like I could ever forget you, Aphrodite,” he mumbles into your hair and your face nuzzles into his neck, feeling the warmth of him so different than the heat last night. You wonder if he’s gonna take your heart with you when he goes or just half. I hope this meant something to you, Bucky Barnes. “God, doll, if you ever call my name, you know I’m gonna be comin’ for ya.” He sets you back down, but you’re not quite sure your legs touch the ground. Your knees wobble and you hold onto his biceps, taking in his face — memorizing every tiny scar, freckle, blemish of his face, the colour of his eyes, the rosey touch and shade of his lips. You’re nearly chest to chest, and when his hands cup your face, his lips press against yours, tentative. You feel the tears slip down your face when he pulls away.

His thumb brushes away your tears, kisses every single trail, every new tear he’s missed, tells you you look beautiful and kisses your cheek.

It feels a lot like I love you.

This is goodbye. You wrap fingers around his neck, pull him down for a hard kiss of teeth and lips and tongue. He kisses back, the mess of both of you stumbling until you’re against the counter, one arm around your waist his other against the bar and your hands tangle in his hair. You have enough time for one more, you don’t care if it's right here. It might be enough of a reason for him to stay—

But he tears himself away before he can pull apart your blouse and bend you over the countertop. You’re left trying to catch your breath, trying to tell yourself it doesn’t hurt. He mumbles something to himself, and the wretched glare he gives you nearly causes you to crumble. You hold onto the counter, desperate, miserable, liar.

And then he turns to go, and you don’t stop him, too weak to move, too tired to try. You close your eyes, turn your head away and let it drop as you sit on the red leather barstool, swivelling to lean on the counter. Your elbow digs into the wooden counters as your tears burn into your skin. Resting your head against your hand, you pretend not to notice when there’s a long pause between the bell above the door ringing and the door closing again. You pretend you don’t feel him look at you one last time. You pretend your heart is still whole in your chest.

You only burst into tears when you hear his motorcycle fade off into the distance.

Wanda finds you minutes later, sobbing into your arms at the counter, dressed for work, but not ready at all. She calls in Dot to cover your shift, puts away the strawberry milkshake so it doesn’t go to waste, takes you outside to the bench near the back — the very spot Bucky Barnes waited for you — and tells you to stay there until she is on lunch break. You stare at his phone number, inked onto your skin, a stain like a lot of things he’s left on your body, and time seems like something you don’t understand anymore. So you sit where he sat, imagining his motorcycle parked in the lot, his arrogant little smile, his surprise of ‘Didn’t wanna go to the wedding anyway, Aphrodite.’

But he doesn’t come. You know you need to get it together because you have work to do, so you cry, sob over the boy in leather who’s never coming back, until you’re all dried up forever.

It nearly works, and you’ve almost taped yourself up enough to get back to being just another waitress, but then Wanda is on her lunch break. She sits beside you, offers a sandwich, asks you to spill, because you’ve fallen in love with a stranger who’s long gone. And the tears come again.

TAGS: bucky: @beyond-the-ashes @aryaes permanent mcu: @teawithbucky @jcc04220 @shenala @schwankyblock permanent: @dulharpa

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spotlessvast · 3 years

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jetsam and flowers

the boundary between winter and summer is ever so thin on a march day, but time moves like molasses on naked trees in lukewarm air. april teases you with hope and snatches it with rain of its final day, instead of giving rain to steptember to quench the dry grass previously scorched by flames. november and december feels more wintery than the real middle of winter, but it only ever snows in february anymore. life is delayed, and holiday shopping is no exception. i'm a stranger among sisters, and i haven't told them what i want yet. an adult among children, a child among adults. out of place everywhere i go.

frigid december air eats at my already dry face and the only moisture left is the mist underneath my eyelashes. i pull my turtleneck over my nose and hesitate behind them. brick wall buildings are intimidating if they're just the right shade of red, with only steel and no wood. the bricks are a staple rather than an accent, and they clash with the cobalt all too well. inside the store is much warmer, and a little crowded. everyone runs off in different directions, but i stay in place while the whole store morphs around me.

i don't want to be here, i thought. i don't like being here. i don't belong here. i already made a mistake showing myself to these girls and offering even the slightest of my obligations; now i can't escape. with eyes of an artist i observe every small detail in the faceless mannequins and faceless advertisements. consumerism is a soul-sucking disease. apparently, the younger you're exposed to it, the more it affects you.

holiday shopping season is when i miss the summer the most. after the new year, all i see in front of me are days of pre-summer. i wait, and i watch, and i wait again. hoping that this next spring, this next summer, will happen the same with the same old people, except nothing bad happens this time. it's almost pathetic, but there's nothing else to do except wander and wait. summer comes around, and i'll end up hating the heat. it gets hotter and hotter each year, colder and colder each year, and earth's denizens continue to worry themselves. why is consumerism the only medicine they can find? don't they know it's temporary? don't they know it's—

"excuse me sir, no loitering in the entrance."

right, i'm still by the entrance.

i'm outta this joint.

hey, i don't like automatic spinning doors! i don't like self-playing pianos either! automatic spinning doors are less scary than self-playing pianos, but i see more automatic spinning doors in my life. and this store inside the mall had one. it must have been a really fancy one before undergoing renovation, because why else would it have an automatic spinning door? sidestep to the sway of glass walls, don't get crushed by bricks. avoid the consumerist death trap. i'm rewarded with warm april air and a pencil sunset.

unconventionally. sunsets don't usually happen at this time of day during this time of year. it got dark before we even got to the store. however, this was unmistakably the same air as late april despite it being december when we walked in. i exhaust myself trying to figure out what the hell just happened, when i'm snapped back to the present by short haired guy bumping into my shoulder pretty damn hard. and first of all, ow. second of all, upon closer look it appears that i know this guy.

he gathered himself and spoke; "long time no see."

"haha, yeah."

he didn't bump into me, he was knocked flying in my direction, and i realize that now upon hearing a voice as equally enraged as it was collected.

the fancy-looking guy connected to the voice sighed, put his hands in his pockets, and sighed as a trail of smoke followed his footsteps. "well, this isn't the best place to continue a fight. we should move elsewhere." he paused, then made eye contact with me. "oh, hello there."

i stare for a few seconds and then wave. "what the fuck are you two doing here?" i turn my head back to the entrance. it's no longer a mall, but a warehouse. who knows what could be inside it. either way, it does look like a good place to continue a fight, so why would he give it up now...?

"what does it look like?" the short-haired guy said.

"fighting."

"precisely. also, he started it." the fancy-looking guy pointed at the short-haired guy.

"haha, man. you must've done a number on him to get him all the way out here." i gave the short-haired guy a nudge to the side.

"we have unfinished business," he said, matter-of-factly.

i let them bicker it out for another two minutes while i shove my face against the window to the warehouse. it doesn't look like anyone's inside, but there's some lights on the ceiling and a bunch of junk scattered around. i go inside anyway, just to see if it'll take me back to the mall.

it doesn't.

funky.

maybe i forgot the twists i went through on my way out. it'd make sense, though. i ended up in a different parking lot than i started in. malls are fucking huge. sometimes they have storage warehouses, but usually they're not so out in the open like that.

what's weirder than the situation of my current whereabouts is the fact that i know these guys, but never learned their names. oh well, it's fair that they never learned mine, either. i just know them as "this guy" and "that guy," and they probably know me as "that motherfucker."

"hey, so," i start. i wait for a response, but there is none. "y-"

and then there's the response from the fancy-looking guy. "hm?"

i pause. "a mall warehouse is a pretty damn good place for a fight, though."

"but you shouldn't be in the middle of this fight," says the short-haired guy, slugging behind me.

"so what? if one of you gets knocked into me, i could probably take it."

there was silence.

"if i may ask, what brings you here in the first place?" asks the short-haired guy.

i shrug. "dunno." and i was telling the truth. i would've told him about holiday shopping, my family, but with every step i take i feel myself growing more and more distant from that. i never really liked spending winter with them, anyway. a liar among sisters. and it's not december anymore, anyway.

a soft april breeze courses through the vast emptiness of the storage warehouse. that's how i can tell the most.

time passes.

time always passes.

time passes, and we end up talking about things i don't care for talking about any longer. my throat is stuffed by ghosts of the past and wrung out with the presence of more friends who tagged along. i was told of a secret hiding spot near the outskirts of the city. an abandoned spot reincarnated to an underground mall with super fucking good pizza. or at least, that's what the guy with the fur collar said.

he stumbled onto the conversation between myself and the short-haired guy and the fancy-looking guy and immediately caught them silent. he always dominated conversations, but had a knack for keeping the listener interested in what he had to say. or maybe i'm the only listener who cares, and i'm an exception who's easily entertained. either way, it's easy to get lost in his stories. i want that pizza.

i tell him i wanna go there, and he leads me out of the warehouse. for a moment, we're the only two people in the world. in the next moment, we're surrounded by hurried shoppers exiting the store i walked into first. and i hate the atmosphere here, but he makes it bearable.

...but where did the others run off to?

probably to finish their fight, or be petty.

"where...are we?" asks the guy with the fur collar.

"i dunno," i say, and i'm telling the truth. i don't remember the name of this place, or how i got here, i just know that i was here to pick up some things for some people that i don't give a shit about.

i try to say more, but my breath runs out before my sentences can end. it's horrible. and suddenly, i'm alone again in a crowd of faceless consumerists running in and out. they get too close, and they'll infect me with their consumerist germs. i put my hands over my face to protect myself, but my hands are bare too. i cover my face like i'm about to cough into my arm, and run.

i trip over a speed bump and land face first into a junk pile outside the ruins of a five-story parking lot.

somehow, every scratch and bruise on my face, arms, and legs were more bearable than going home that night. am i even going home? home is a snare trap on my spinal cord.

the fancy-looking guy grabs me by the shirt collar and pulls me up to eye contact. he narrows his gaze and stares needles through me. "you look like hell. what happened to you?"

"a lot." i can speak now, but i'll have to limit my words. can't waste my breath. "friend's gone."

he just sighs. "shouldn't you go home?"

i flinch. i don't want to go home, so i shake my head side to side.

his grip softens with his gaze, and i fall softly to the ground. my wounds hurt, though i can still walk. it's not like i'm going limp anytime soon, it's just a bit of blood. my top lip tastes like iron...

following my instincts, i walk slow behind him. thinking about it now, he wanted to get away from me or just be left alone in general. those who want to go somewhere always look for directions, and i'll ask him for directions. i dunno what it is about him, but i can't leave him alone.

beneath every step i take, the ground changes shape. what was once a tar road became a narrow dirt path with flowers tangling down and mossy rocks peeking out. the dirt turns into mud, and suddenly i'm walking through a lake while seasonless night sky reflects on the water's surface. i'm watching his footsteps. his shoes are getting wet, his socks are getting wet, and they look expensive. i feel sorry for him, almost.

oh well, he could afford new socks and shoes. wouldn't even have to go through all the trouble of washing them.

a wood fence turns into a brick wall and we walk out of the alleyway. no longer choked up, i try to speak again. i breathe in, and before i can say anything, he turns his head to face me and says; "what?"

we sit down on the curb outside the mall.

"did your parents hate you, too." a ghost spoke through my mouth.

crestfallen, he said nothing. i caught a glimpse of a cut on his neck, just the size of a fingernail.

who am i trying to escape? where am i trying to escape to? i don't need words from you. he's not saying anything. i want to go home to my friends. this world isn't real, and this unreal world is happening in all the right places at all the wrong times. april is the real beginning of the year, and september is the real end. everything in between is suspension between beginnings and ends, and i'm unsure what to do. did my parents hate me? did your parents hate you, too? are they even mine? i am a chameleon among the norm, and my faces aren't dictated by my own will.

are you a social chameleon too? is it my choice to pile on images to fit a role?

"we don't have parents."

a pair of empty hands carry murky pond water in their palms as they ache to be touched by something real. who those hands belong to, is unknown.

and somehow, i know.

i don't have to go back inside to buy flowers.

why couldn't it have been you, instead?

and if i may see you once more in the past can i say "if you are to die soon or quickly can you die pretty" like a famous movie so i can rest against your shoulders, guiltless, and spill all my bottled up muddy secrets.

the guy with the fur collar catches up to me with the rest of his ensemble. it's about time to go home. out of the corner of my eye i see three strangers pushing a full shopping cart.

#spilled ink #short stories #writers on tumblr #surrealism

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chubbyheroesworthyheroes · 4 years

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Can we ask for two characters? Because if we can, can I ask for Robin and Gaius + 🐷?

Yes, you can ask for two characters! But, that’ll probably be my limit, as any more than that can get dicey and hard to keep the characterization from diluting too much. Hope this was what you were looking for! Ended up giving this one a sort of Hansel & Gretel vibe, since I’m sure Gaius’ dream would be to find a candy house lmao.

Robin didn’t mind getting his hands dirty when it came to doing things with the Shepherds; though strategy was most certainly his wheelhouse, even he could get bored when stuck in a room for too long. Fresh air and physical activity could also do wonders for the mind, especially if he was feeling stuck on any particular plan or issue. Besides, Robin wanted to pull his weight just like the others, and getting out in the field was part of that.

He just hadn’t thought he’d be paired up with Gaius for this.

Robin didn’t really mind Gaius; they had a bit of an awkward and slightly irritating start, but the tactician had long since come to equal and friendly footing with the thief. Still, it could be a bit of a struggle to communicate with Gaius – the other man tended to jump to assumptions where Robin was concerned, and it took way too long for him to get through to the ginger what he really meant. When out on a mission, especially when it was just the two of them, this communication issue could end up causing some really big problems if it wasn’t figured out early on.

At least this time, they were only supposed to be checking out an area and asking the locals some questions. Apparently, near this small village in the woods, there had been a number of disappearances. It had only been a handful of months, if Robin understood right, but quite a few people had simply gone into the woods and never returned. It was their job to scope out the area, and try to figure out what the situation was before the Shepherds committed to any sort of action.

Of course, it wasn’t going to be as simple as it sounded. There was something strange about these woods, and the village itself…

“Well, Bubbles, I don’t think we’re going to get anything good out of these people,” Gaius groaned, stretching his arms up and over his head as the two of them left another little house in the small village.

They’d spoken to most everyone that was left, but they weren’t incredibly helpful in answering questions. Most of them seemed…weirdly standoffish, and others were uncomfortably welcoming. It was an odd mixture, and it set Robin on edge. There was concern for the villagers who had gone missing, but it wasn’t to such a degree that anyone had actually gone further into the woods to look for any clues or to even try finding the missing people.

Robin couldn’t really argue with Gaius here. They’d gotten nothing helpful beyond the unanimous suggestion from the villagers to go into the woods.

It wasn’t something Robin was comfortable with, but they were here to try and figure this mystery out. If they couldn’t get any information from the village itself, their only logical next step would be to scope out the forest and try to locate any sign of the missing villagers.

Sighing, Robin rubbed at the back of his neck, turning to face the all encompassing darkness that seemed to lurk heavily where the dirt road led into the trees. “You’re right…We don’t have much choice, we’ll have to head in and see what we can find on our own.”

Armed with torches and their weapons of choice, the two wasted no more time heading into the mysterious woods. It was bizarre how quickly it felt they went deep into the woods, the village disappearing from sight in what felt like only a few minutes of walking. The trees were thick and old looking, their branches heavy with leaves that looked a gray-green at the edges of torchlight as they walked. It was eerily quiet in this forest, the sound of their footsteps crunching through dead leaves on the pathway the only noise between them as they continued on. The lack of any animal sounds made it feel like they were being watched or followed, but it was impossible to tell when they had such limited light and vision.

Time seemed to seep by as slowly as molasses. Every tree looked the same, every turn and twist in the path serving to further disorient. No wonder people had gone missing after wandering through these woods, it was horrendous to try and navigate through it.

After what must have been several hours of following the dirt path, Gaius came to a sudden stop, nearly causing Robin to bump into him.

“No way…Are you seeing what I’m seeing?” the thief murmured in a sort of awed voice, moving forward once more and giving Robin a better look at what he was talking about as the now low light of the torch illuminated what was ahead of them.

It looked like a house – colorfully decorated to look like it was made out of candy. There were graceful swoops of frosting along the roof and window sills, almost like it was imitating mounds of snow that might settle on the house. The house itself looked like it as supposed to be gingerbread, supported by strategically placed columns of striped candy canes. There were swirls of chocolate and caramel along the walls, large gumdrops glittering with sugar interspersed all over the quaint building.

It looked utterly ridiculous to Robin, but it made complete sense that something made to look like candy would grab Gaius’ attention like this.

“We should keep looking…,” the tactician tried to remind his partner of their job, but Gaius was already too absorbed in getting an up close look at the house.

“Yeah, yeah – we can take a little break, right? I mean, we’ve been walking out here for a while now, and I could do with a snack to get my energy back,” Gaius weaseled, pacing around the house from the front to the side, inspecting the colorful decorations adorning it.

Robin made a face, but trailed along nonetheless. He didn’t like lingering around these woods and not staying close together. “I hope you mean that you brought something to eat by that, and not that you want to break your teeth on someone’s house,” he commented, raising an eyebrow when Gaius turned to him with a look that said that had been his exact plan. “No. No! It’s a house, Gaius, you can’t and, frankly, shouldn’t eat it!”

“Bubbles, this isn’t an ordinary cabin in the woods here! Can’t you smell it? This stuff’s the real deal!” the ginger exclaimed, proving his point by popping off one of the large gumdrops and taking a bite out of it. The candy was large enough to heft in both hands, and it left crumbles of sugar along his mouth when Gaius bit into it. It tasted like cherries, wonderfully sweet and impossible to not have another taste of.

Robin narrowed his eyes at this, taking a careful sniff at the air as he got closer to the house. To his utter bafflement, it did smell of sweets – like a bakery, or a confectionery. That couldn’t be right, though. You couldn’t build a house out of sweets, and if you did, it would be destroyed by the weather and wild animals. Yet, here it stood, completely spitting in the face of his logic. Walking around the house of sweets, he tried to figure it out, absently running gloved fingers over its surface to test its integrity as he did so. Chocolate smeared across his hand, and with a slight noise of annoyance, Robin licked the sticky substance off the fingers and palm of his glove instead of wiping it off on his pants or coat.

The second it touched his tongue, Robin recognized his mistake. It was absolutely perfect in its taste and texture, and something in his brain told him that all of this had to be on account of some sort of magic, but his body wasn’t listening to his mind as his hand reached back out to scoop more of the chocolate off the wall.

“G…Gaius, I think we need to go–” Robin attempted to say, to get the other’s attention, but his hand moved of its own accord, shoving an overflowing handful of fudgy delight into his mouth, forcing him to swallow unless he wanted to choke. The chocolate seemed to settle heavily in his stomach, making his head feel fuzzy the more he ate. He needed to stop, he needed to…get to Gaius at least. Maybe they could stop this better together rather than on their own.

It was a struggle to get his legs to listen to him, but Robin started off woozily back to where Gaius was near the front of the house, his hands continuing to take off sweet mouthfuls for him to eat as he shuffled on.

He heard Gaius before he saw him, the sound of loud, messy eating reaching his ears as he returned back the way he’d come. Brown eyes widened when he finally got a good look at his friend, his appearance having drastically changed in the short amount of time Robin had left him – or, well, it had only felt like a short amount of time, but things didn’t seem to flow quite right in these woods…

Where Gaius had once been rather trim, his frame had started to balloon out as he greedily shoveled sweets and chunks of the house into his waiting mouth. Tight clothes had ripped at the seams at the sudden growth, doughy flesh oozing out of the rips and further enlarging them the more Gaius grew; belts had popped open and ties had given up, clothes barely doing their job of covering him. Chubby hips gave way to a perky bubble butt that had busted the ass of Gaius’ pants with very little trouble, blubbery thighs ripping through the most strained seams along the legs of his pants as well. His formerly form fitting shirt most definitely hadn’t stood a chance against the swell of fat that his once trim midsection now was; there was a massive tear down the middle of his shirt, fat belly billowing out and hanging down over his similarly busted belt, the only thing keeping it from tearing open completely being a small section still struggling to hold together against the plush swell of Gaius’ moobs. Fat arms were squeezed like sausages in the cut off sleeves encasing his arms, little diamonds of fat bulging out where the laces intersected in the material.

“Wha…That’s…That’s not possible!” Robin stammered, his fuzzy brain struggling to process everything that was happening. Of course, as he stood, transfixed, his hands and mouth kept up their steady work of eating whatever he could grab off the house. Despite its structural soundness, anything he took off the house seemed to come away freely, and yet didn’t seem to damage the place at all. Everything felt so slowed down, his eyes dragging away from Gaius’ gorging to look down at himself, dazed to see his own body blowing up with fat just the same as his comrade. He could feel the belt at his waist stretch and then strain as his stomach pushed against it, bulges forming around the leather before the mass behind it became too much to handle. Plush flesh quickly filled out Robin’s rather baggy clothes, his expanding gut easily untucking his shirt from where it had been secured by his now destroyed belt and trousers – which, not to be left out, were just as quickly becoming unbearably tight.

Groaning in discomfort at the way his clothes now poorly fit him, Robin found that he still couldn’t pull himself away from the candy house. Though he wasn’t going at it as ravenously as Gaius was, the tactician soon found himself on his knees in front of the gingerbread house, shoving handfuls of cookie, candy and other sweet things into his mouth almost faster than he could chew. His clothes soon reached their limits as well, and a chorus of rips sounded from his pants and shirt, even his cloak wasn’t able to contain him as their feasting ramped up.

Time spiraled away into near nonexistence, and when Robin blinked himself to some clearer form of awareness again, it seemed quite a lot had changed once again. His breathing was heavy, tightly packed gut weighing him down in such an unfamiliar way that he grunted as he tried to move away from the foreignness of it. He didn’t get very far at all, sluggishly realizing that his belly had grown so fat that it had practically pinned him where he was on the ground – a heavy blush rising in his cheeks when he realized that he felt the tickle of grass against the underside of his swollen gut. His limbs were similarly bloated, his legs tingling with numbness from remaining kneeling for so long, the majority of his weight resting solely on his flabby stomach now. He couldn’t possibly get up now, even if he wanted to – his center of gravity was too different, and his legs would be too unsteady to even try.

So, he stayed right where he was, shoving more sweet goodies into his sticky mouth. Everything was still blessedly within reach, crumbs and smears of chocolate littering down the width of his pale gut. Burying his face into some of the creamy frosting by the windows, Robin barely noticed the way his face elongated, coming to a wide, blunt ended snout that eagerly snuffled into the sweet fluff in front of it.

Not too far away from Robin, Gaius was much further along in his own transformation, having started eating earlier and certainly managing to get more of the enchanted candy into his belly than the other man. There was barely a scrap of cloth on the thief anymore, his clothes completely torn asunder as he grew rounder and larger. Eventually, his weight had become too much to take, and he’d simply flopped down on the ground, shoving his face into whatever sweet bite he could get his mouth around, chubby hands tearing off more from the house to eat at a feverish pace. Lounging on his side, chins smooshed down into pendulous breasts as he gorged, his fattening belly’s weight sagged heavily to one side as he leaned over to grab his next handful of treats. It bloated out over the ground like a glacially moving avalanche, rolls upon rolls forming at his sides.

Gaius grunted and snorted as a curly pig’s tail sprouted just above the swell of his globular ass, ears turning a pale pink and folding out into partially folded pig ears not too long after.

The two continued to eat themselves into a stupor, never depleting the sweets of the house no matter that they ate more and more as the hours trickled by. They only grew fatter and softer, their features acquiring more hog-like attributes as the door to the candy cottage eventually opened, and a voice laughed lightly as its owner turned the corner to see the two men-turned-pigs glutting themselves on their home.

“Well, well, well…It seems the villagers have sent me two new prize piggies! Don’t worry, boys, I know how to treat swine like yourselves. The others will be so happy to have some new faces in the pig pen.”

#Anonymous #male weight gain #male wg #pig transformation #pig tf #chubby!robin #chubby!gaius

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fox-moblin · 5 years

Text

I Can’t Explain

Part 1 :>

Part 2 :>

Based in @linkeduniverse

Twilight wakes.

***

He wakes and it is dark, but he can hear. There are voices above him. They sound rather stressed. Rather upset.

He feels a bit guilty, if he’s being honest.

He recognizes them now and he’s ashamed he didn’t early. It’s Wild, close to his right side, speaking in hushed tones to Time, who’s somewhere to his left.

“I just… I don’t know what to do…”

“He’ll pull through, just give him time.”

Twilight wants to laugh at that. Time, time, time. It seems he’s been given more.

“It doesn’t usually take this long…”

Ah cub, he has time now. He’s not going to waste it.

Be patient.

Give it time.

***

When Twilight finally does come to, fully, there is light. It’s soft and subtle as if filters in through the gap in a makeshift tent. He blinks, the blurriness of his vision abiding a bit. There are birds chirping, somewhere. It’s morning.

There is also warmth on either side of him. It’s not unpleasant, but whatever is causing it has pinned him in place. Twilight stifles a groan as he turns his head. The wound on his stomach protests, but it’s worth it to see Time lying beside him, asleep.

He’s drooling.

It takes a combination of pain and pure willpower on Twilight’s part not to laugh. Time shifts in his sleep, snuffling about, and Twilight has to turn away, stifling a smile.

There can only be one other person on his other side.

Wild has buried himself into Twilight’s side, using Twilight’s arm as a pillow. It’s oddly comforting, Twilight has to think. His nose is scrunched, his face flushed, as he shifts in sleep; he has a hand on Twilight’s chest, reaching across so that it lays palm down above his heart. Twilight lifts his other arm, which Time has mercifully left free, and pats Wild’s hand lightly.

Wild pouts, blinking awake and staring at Twilight blearily. Twilight gives him a tired smile.

“Hey.”

He expects Wild to say something; scold him, maybe, or smile and welcome him to the world of the waking. What he doesn’t expect is for Wild to make a choked noise and launch himself into Twilight’s chest, wrapping his arms around Twilight and pulling him upwards. It’s mildly uncomfortable and astoundingly surprising. Time jerks awake next to them, roused by Wild’s sudden movements. Twilight feels a hand on his back, supporting him. Time is watching him with concern and, then, Twilight is surprised again as his mentor leans over and wraps an arm around his shoulders. He ends up sandwiched between his mentor and protege. Twilight feels a twinge in his chest.

He hasn’t felt this kind of affection since he was just a little thing, held up on Rusl’s shoulders as they traversed through Ordon village.

“Um…” he says, ever articulate, and Wild leans back to look at him. He’s not crying, but his eyes shine with emotion.

“A week,” he manages after a moment and Twilight feels his stomach drop. “A week of not knowing whether or not you were gonna-” He breaks off and looks away. Twilight feels Time squeeze his shoulder.

“You were touch and go there for bit, pup.” Twilight meets his gaze and sees. I was worried over you. Wild was worried over you.

He feels guilty again. Beside him, Wild has moved away and is now kneeling, holding Twilight’s hand in his own. His eyes are downcast, but he looks up when Twilight squeezes his hands.

“I’m sorry.”

Wild stares. There’s a silent conversation, a sort of exchange, that passes between them. Twilight doesn’t quite know how to explain; he’s only ever had with Time and Wild. He thinks, maybe, he knows the reason.

Whatever it is, Wild lets a small smile grace his lips and he stands slowly. His knees crack and Twilight winces.

“I’m gonna make food,” he says quietly, casting a quick glance at Twilight. Twilight smiles and Wild seems to find it satisfactory. He slips out of the tent, silent as ever, and Twilight can hear the others start to pester him outside.

Time sighs and Twilight feels himself pulled a little closer.

“I’m sorry,” he says again because that guilt is still there, but it’s swept away when Time huffs and squeezes his shoulder again.

“Rest,” he says, and helps Twilight lay down again. “Wild’ll probably bring you food soon.”

Twilight wants to protest, but as he’s laid back down against soft bedding, he finds it’s become harder to keep his eyes open. Time is smiling softly down at him, in a way that reminds him of the warm candle light of Lon Lon Ranch, saying something that Twilight can’t make out. Twilight doesn’t get a chance to ask; the candle blows out and he goes out with it.

***

He dreams of time and Time, and Wild running towards him, calling his name. He looks down to see that he’s standing in his own blood again. The world is muffled and misted and he when he looks back up, he realizes with a start that Wild isn’t going to make it in time. He’s too far away and Twilight’s falling to fast.

Gods, he wishes he had more time.

And then he does. The world slows around him. He remembers this part, remembers floating down instead of falling. Remembers the sounds of the outside warping and distorting so that he can no longer make out words.

This time, though, he looks around and sees. The others are almost frozen in mid-battle, the swing of their swords fighting against an unseen force. He turns his head and sees Time, arm outstretched and trapped mid-stumble, panic clear as day on his face as he tries to reach Twilight. He see the moblin, caught in mid-death, its chest pierced by Time’s hook shot.

It’s a strange scene indeed. He wonders if this is what near-death feels like, all slow like spilled molasses. He thinks, maybe, he’ll ask Wild… or maybe not; that might insensitive.

He doesn’t get a chance to ponder the ethics of asking such a question; footsteps, un-warped and clear as they pound against the earth, draw him from his thoughts and Twilight looks and sees Wild, running.

Full speed, no freeze, jumping over companions like the horses he catches in untamed fields to make steeds; Wild leaps over a stock still Four and lands with grace. Twilight is awestruck. Wild ignores time; he ducks under the still forms swords and he’s running to Twilight full force, his arms coming up to catching him.

He reaches him before Twilight has barely even fallen two inches.

Just as Wild’s arms grasp him, pulling him close, the world speeds up and everything goes dark.

***

Twilight wakes to Wild sitting beside him. It disorienting, and he uses the time he has before Wild notices him to take stock. Time is moving normally, the sounds of the outside bright. Wild has his knees drawn to his chest, his arms resting on them and his head resting on his arms. He’s asleep again, Twilight notes with a bit of fondness. He figures Wild’s probably been awake for quite a while.

He can’t linger on that for long; the contents of his dream won’t allow it. Instead he’s forced to think, which is hard with the headache that’s beginning to pound at the back of his skull.

He’s thirsty.

And hungry.

There’s a bowl of something sitting next to Wild. Twilight eyes it from where he lays. He could sit up. It’s an option for sure.

He tries and manages, with some difficulty. Wild doesn’t wake as Twilight takes the bowl and begins to eat. It’s a simple combo of salted meat and greens, but to Twilight it’s gold and he consumes it with a fury. If he’s really been out for a week, that means that food has been a scarcity in his body. He’s pretty sure they’ve probably been sustaining him on potions.

When he’s done, he sets the bowl aside and sits. And waits. And thinks.

There’s really only one explanation.

He remembers now, the absurdity of it all; of passing out in Wild’s arms despite the distance between them. It should have been impossible, but... with all the many times that Wild has seemed to prove such a notion wrong, Twilight is starting to have doubts. He looks down at his hands in his lap and sighs through his nose. Interesting.

He wonders if Wild even knows. Does he realize what he can do? Can he do it on command?

He thinks about Wild’s speed; firing volley after volley of arrows mid-air. Taking enemies down mere seconds. He’d chalked it up to strength, of which is protege undoubtedly has plenty, but this is a new development.

They should really discuss this. He feels a tad of betrayal at the thought that Wild didn’t want to tell him, but pushes it away. They’ve all got secrets. He trusts Wild.

Still… they really have to talk about this one.

It hits just a little too close to a certain mentor figure. Twilight grimaces. Time would have a coronary.

...

Ok, so maybe Wild’s valid in keeping this one tucked away.

Still.

Twilight debates with himself for the better part of half an hour on how to broach the subject while Wild doses beside him. He almost wakes him under the notion that his protege will get a sore back from sitting like that, but then he’d have to bring up the whole situation and he’s not sure how that’s going to go down.

Seems he doesn’t have to worry much longer; Wild shudders awake with a groan, and Twilight watches as his protege comes back to himself with a jolt and a shake of his head. Wild looks at him, relief clear in his eyes when he sees Twilight awake sitting, and then down at the empty bowl beside him.

“Ah, you ate. How was it?”

“You can slow time.”

It comes out of Twilight’s mouth before he can stop himself and he sucks in air so quickly he thinks he might choke. Wild is staring at him, mouth hanging open. He opens and closes it a few times, but can’t seem to find words. Twilight has his own mouth clamped shut. They stare at each other, silent.

The open of the tent has them both jumping and Twilight yelping as the movement smarts his wound. Time peaks in, eyebrows raised at the both of them.

“...everything okay…?”

Wild nods jerkily at the same time Twilight lets out a choked ‘Yep!’ and Time nods slowly, eye darting between the two of them. He waits a moment, before he seems to decide that he wants no part of this and slowly backs out of the tent.

There’s a tense minute of silence as they listen to him pad away before Wild whips around to face Twilight, his face pale.

“Don’t tell Time!”

“I won’t tell Time.”

Wild seems surprised by this, and, if he’s being honest, Twilight is surprised by himself. But the panic in Wild’s eyes pinches something in his heart, so he lets the statement remain as it is. His protege clutches at the hem of his own tunic, the blue fabric stark against his skin.

“...promise?”

“On my life,” Twilight responds without hesitation and it’s like an oath. Wild nods firmly, lips pursed. Twilight reaches a hand out and grasps Wild’s wrist. Wild tenses, but allows Twilight to bring his hand up so that it’s held between the two of them. Twilight tries to give him a reassuring smile.

“We don’t have to talk now, but later I think we shou-”

“How do you know?”

It stops whatever thought Twilight was having and he has to stop and think.

“I… When I got, uh, stabbed… it felt like everything slowed down…”

Wild stares at the ground.

“I didn’t think anybody else could tell.”

“I don’t think the others know,” Twilight says, remembering the image of their forms frozen in space. Wild chews at his bottom lip, nervous, and Twilight pats his cheek. “Hey, hey, it’s alright. It’s gonna be fine.”

Wild looks at him warily.

“You’re not upset?”

“Ah, cub,” Twilight says and wraps an arm around Wild to pull him close, so that they’re pressed together side by side. “I get why you didn’t say anything to us…”

The unspoken Time hangs in the air like a silkworm. Wild huffs and leans into Twilight.

“Sorry.”

“Don’t be.”

They sit there, in silence. It’s not uncomfortable this time. Wild relaxes, bit by bit, and even laughs as Twilight cracks a few jokes about all the things such an ability could accomplish.

“Is this how you manage to get Legend back every time during your prank wars?”

Wild hides a smile behind his hair.

“Nah… that’s just pure talent.”

“Oh, surely.”

Wild shoves him with his shoulder, and then immediately looks horrified as Twilight hisses with pain.

“I am so sorry-”

Twilight waves him off, grimacing.

“It’s fine, it’s fine.”

Wild doesn’t look convinced. He places a hand at Twilight’s back and chest and helps him lay back down.

“Rest,” he says softly, and in the dim light of the tent, sitting above him with kind eyes, Twilight wonders if this is what Time looked like before the goddess ripped his youth from him. When he’s settled, Wild makes to leave, but stops when Twilight grasps his wrist.

“Uh,” Twilight starts, but Wild doesn’t let him finish, instead settling down next to him again. He pulls his slate from his belt, tapping away and just remaining at Twilight’s side as sleep begins to take over.

Wild is humming, his voice soft and smooth. Twilight doesn’t recognize it, but as he drifts off, he can’t help but feel a sort of nostalgia in the tune.

#linkeduniverse #linked universe #mobwrites #angst #hurt and comfort #fluff #hero of the wild #hero of twilight #botw #tp #twilight princess #lets discuss that good good time stuff #huh wild

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acrobaticcatfeline · 4 years

Text

Unstable (A Fe Sides Fic)

Word Count: 2171

TW: It’s another vent fic babyyy swearing, yelling, insults, threats (sort of), an excess of anxiety, there’s an intrusive thought from one of them about jumping off of a building but its one line that she gets scolded for. I think that’s it but if there’s more let me know!

Notes: I had a really rough week last week and now that I’m done with school I have time to write fun things again and I needed a vent. It also is part of rebuilding my personal mind palace! I plan on making more with these guys, they are really easy to write honestly, it was like an out of body experience.

Pairings: Lol nope, not even a little bit no.

Summary: The mind palace was usually quiet. The facets did not all get along, and everyone is high strung during Quaranfinals. Someone needs to step in and get this train moving again.

The mind palace was usually rather quiet. All facets left each other alone for the most part, hoping to stay functional and avoid unnecessary fusions but the last few weeks had been out of the norm. Inge was high strung as ever and was snapping at the smallest inconveniences and that wasn’t even addressing the others.

“Listen here you unstable mother fucker! We don't have time for your whiny depressed bullshit right now! She has two huge finals and your fucking cahoots with Barbie is the opposite of helpful! She needs to WORK and you guys are actively working against that! Don't either of you care about her future?!”

“How about you shut your trap for 5 seconds and drop your high and mighty act? The only reason me and Izzy have been working against you is because you have been failing at your job ever since this quarantine started. If you actually did your fucking job maybe me and Iz wouldn’t be falling down a hole ourselves. For someone who needs to have so much control all the time it's surprising how little you’re ever able to keep. You act like you're the ringleader around here when it's obviously Izzy and Lia. I may not like Lia but at least she can work with me. You on the other hand-”

Lia and Isadora were nervous. They were onlookers in the argument and couldn't get a word in edgewise to stop them. Izzy was trying to hide in her Roman Sanders sweater and Lia was hidden in her hoodie that was too big on her, biting her thumb as her eyes darted everywhere but the fight. In the real world Fe was closing her laptop with a sigh, desperate to go and take a nap. She looked quickly to Izzy with all she had to say, communicated in the glance. Suddenly the palace shook and Inge snapped her head at Lia who was very interested at her chewed up Crocs and not the anger filled gazes directed at her.

“LIA WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!”

“She's too stressed. If you keep at this you're gonna wake up T and that wont help you in getting her to do her work. If T gets up right now she's gonna fail and we all know it. Let Izzy calm her down for a bit. See, she's only taking a half an hour long nap, like her dad told her to. We all just need to chill for a bit.”

Lia was scratching at her face and Inge finally let the anger and annoyance leave her. She gently swatted at Lia’s hand, placing a quickly conjured sheet of bubble wrap in it. Lia smiled at the floor, still not meeting her eyes, vaguely worried at the signs of T waking up, hoping beyond hope that she was just still channeling the hyperactivity that Fe was plagued with. Izzy was meanwhile glassy eyed, placing herself on the floor blindly, waving her hands about in a way that all three recognized as her weaving a dream. It was wonderful to watch, extremely relaxing to see her go off on an adventure of her own design. It was almost meditative to watch her methodical movements, the simple twists of her wrists as she moved the story along. Lia busied herself with popping the bubbles, as Carli and Inge both left to busy themselves in their own wings of the palace. Lia sat across from Isadora, glancing up at her every once in a while. She muttered quietly to herself and maybe Izzy as well.

“She's waking up. I don't know what we’re gonna do, we really gotta get Fe through this last week, but Isa will stop us, I know she will, but how are we supposed to still get things done”

“We’ll figure it out”

Lia’s head snapped up at Izzy whose eyes were still unseeing as she spoke.

“Talisa works with us. We just need to convince her to use her strengths to support us in this. I know she can. Besides, dreams are so much more fun with her around. Who knows, maybe daydream mode will help her write her essay”

Lia smiled softly as she felt comfortable enough to look Izzy in the eyes that couldn't see her. She nodded and went back to her bubble wrap, far more content with the slow draining of anxiety from her body. At least until the palace shook again.

“AAAAAH!!! Well what a wonderful time to be alive eh? Heh, that's a joke, gods, she's asleep and she's still exuding panic like no one's business!”

Out of a darkened corridor walks Talisa in all her glory and self deprecation. There was yet another shake as Fe awoke. Isadora’s eyes cleared in an instant as she rose to her feet.

“Oh boy, Pops woke her up? Ooooh that's not great. I'm sure she's gonna be off all day huh Iz? Oh that's just fuel for this, gosh what have I missed?”

“Quarantine you lucky bitch”

Izzy walks to her with a cocky grin and does a simple handshake with the crazy eyed side. Talisa’s eyes glance around the room. She grins wider, scratching at her scalp.

“All this panic and mania and I wasn't invited? I feel like I should be insulted!”

Lia rose as well, abandoning the bubble wrap as the need to stim left her, and walked over. She smiled small and avoided her face.

“She's got homework. Its, it's all homework now, everything's homework. I haven't been helpful much, but I knew you would probably make it all harder for her, I've been enough of a hindrance for her, I imagined she probably wouldn't do well being overly mentally compromised AND lazy as all get out”

“Oh Lia! I'm wounded! I'm not all bad! Plus-”

There was a sudden shift of the palace again as Fe sat down and started furiously writing her essay, anxiety as her fuel, aided by a giant cup of soda from the gas station.

“A little blood pumping’s good for the brain, ain't it? She just needs a little push! Maybe off of a building eh? Sounds like a ball!”

“Yo, you've been up for less than 5 minutes, stop with that shit, give her a week maybe? So we can properly talk her down?”

“Oh fine, I guess my premium service can wait to activate!”

Her hands moved from her scalp to her arms, scratching without conviction. Isadora softly took her hand off, stopping the scratching and handing her a fidget cube to replace the destructive stim.

“Ohhhh! This is neato mojito Dora!!! Where'd you think this un up? It's pretty! It's my colors too! Ain't that sweeter than molasses! Why I've been so rude, how've you been doing Dora? And you Lia?”

The two smiled. They genuinely liked her, she was nice to be around, while she had her problems, she didn't get mean and angry like Inge and Carli do. She was just… manic. A little odd, maybe crazy, but she wasn’t mean. She didn't yell, and it calmed the two. And they got along well anyways, Lia because she often was a placeholder for her when Fe wasn’t extra out of it and knew how to deal with her quirks, and Dora because divergence fed her like nothing else, made her imagination run wild.

“Whoo! Well ladies, looks like I've got my work cut out for me eh? She invited that boy over last week and that was the first time she saw him in weeks? Oh and her other school friend left her group chat? Yikes, she's a right mess!”

“Yup. she… hasn't been adjusting well to all of this well”

“I’ll say!”

Talisa fidgeted absently with the cube in her hand as she walked around the palace commons, looking around at the scenery. The walls, usually a light lavender were dark violet and the paint was peeling in spots, revealing a gooey black underside. The TV was stuck on a looping image of the most recent Sanders Sides episode. She grinned wide enough to look uncanny, bending her back to crack her spine, almost splitting in half and did a spin as she rose again. She interlocked her fingers and cracked the lot of them and twisted her neck to pop that as well.

“What are you about to do?”

“Why, what I do best dear Lia!”

She jumped in the air snapping her fingers twice. Her appearance changed, her extraordinarily unruly hair was tied back in a ponytail, tucked through the hole in the back of her baseball cap with the Slytherin logo across the front of it. Her shirt that had been well worn from being worried between her fingers as well as used as pajamas, changed to a tangent hoodie, her shorts with frayed strings switched to a flower patterned pair of leggings, and a skateboard appeared under her feet. She spun around on the board with her wild smile never leaving her face.

“WE’RE ON THE HIGHWAY TO HYPERFOCUS BABES!!! And a little smidge of depression but hey it’ll add to its effectiveness”

It was then that Inge and Carli came running and screamed simultaneously.

“LIA YOU WERE SUPPOSED TO KEEP HER ASLEEP!!!”

“Couldn't you for once just do something that was helpful for Fe?”

Talisa stopped in mid spin, turning slowly to look at Carli and Inge. She was no longer smiling. She was glaring and she stepped off of her board and took slow methodical steps towards the two.

“Now now girls, there's no need to scream!”

She was completely in Inge’s face when she said her next words.

“Isn't that right brainiac?”

Inge nodded instantly, fear filling her instantly. Talisa then turned to Carli and grabbed her by the collar of her dress. She glared hard into her eyes and began to grin as Carli’s eyes filled with panic and she avoided her gaze.

“And just for your information, Lia is more helpful than you could ever hope to be, you coward. For someone whose supposed to be confidence you’d think you might be able to share some of that with our host instead of sitting in your room at 3 in the morning and crying into Ramen over the fact that she still isn't in a relationship”

She released Carli, who fell to the ground and scrambled as far away from her as possible and sobbed quietly in the corner she curled up in. and then a moment later, her entire demeanor changed and she smiled happily.

“Oh hi there gals! I was just starting to get Fe to get working!”

Inge blinked owlishly. Her head tilted, as if the whole interaction before held no merit over what Talisa had just said.

“What? But I thought?”

She walked to the TV screen, changing the screen to be a first person view of Fe working away on her essay. Inge made a noise of confusion as she looked back at Talisa yet again.

“But, but you’re a hindrance! You, you make her life a living hell, how is she still doing her work?”

“You know what I do right? Like, you know what my job is? Come on pinky and the pain, I do ADHD yeah, but I also do anxiety and depression. If she doesn't get this stuff done she’ll fail, doncha think that'd drive her to be anxious enough to get it done? If she doesn't she’ll be depressed as all hell, there's no chance she can do law school if she can't even pass an English course. And the bonus of ADHD is that sticky hyperfocus! She’ll be done with that essay before Thursday, and that test for math?”

The palace shook again as the TV showed her turning in her math test. Talisa grinned.

“I’d say it was a walk in the park, wouldn't you? But you know, on an unrelated note, we should really fix that shaking affect, makes me dizzy”

Inge stared in shock and Carli did the same. Talisa stuffed her hands into her front pocket on her jacket and went over to the beanbag across from the TV and plopped down onto it. She pulled her right hand out and chewed on her thumb as she watched the screen. Her job was done for the moment so she let herself relax as she felt the others do the same. Inge rushed back to her room to help aid Fe with the memories needed for writing her essay, but the others placed themselves somewhere in the common room. Carli sat on her love seat and watched the screen intently. Izzy fell asleep quickly, not being needed for the moment, same for Lia, the both of them curling up with Talisa. She let her left hand leave her pocket to pat Lia's head. The only noise was coming from the soft snoring of the sleeping sides and the TV projecting the real world. Finally, finally, the mind palace was quiet again.

Taglist: @fivebyfive-finebyfive @tacohippy56900 @analogical-mess @crookedlyoptimisticdestiny @angels-and-dreams @fandomloverangel

Let me know if you want to be tagged in my writing or taken off my list!

Thank you for reading I will see you later ladies lords and nonbinary royalty!

#my ocs #my sides #lia fe #isadora fe #talisa fe #inge fe #carli fe #tw swearing #tw cursing #my writing #original story

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myaekingheart · 4 years

Text

101. Reconciliation

Rei rolled over onto her side and blinked sleepily as she felt Kakashi’s weight shift off the bed. She instictively reached out to grab him by the pants, tugging him backward. “No” she groaned, voice half-muffled by her pillow. As it turned out, the message Tsunade had intended to relay was that she was unable to find a substitute for Kakashi’s March 14th assignment and therefore it had been postponed until today. Though if Rei had it her way, she would postpone it forever.

Kakashi smiled bittersweetly down at her, brushing the tangled hair out of her face and kissing her forehead. “I’m sorry, but I need to go” he whispered. “I have a duty to the village.”

“You have a duty to me, too” Rei mumbled, voice slow and sleep drunk like molasses.

Kakashi chuckled. “I know I do” he replied, caressing her cheek, “But I can’t afford to miss any more work.”

“Lame” Rei whined. She rolled over onto her opposite side and tugged the blanket all the way up over her head. Her childish defiance was equal parts annoying and endearing.

“No amount of whining is going to get me out of work today, you know” Kakashi said. Rei hated that she knew he was right. It just didn’t feel fair. She poked her head out from under the blanket and pouted at him. Weakened by her neediness, he dropped down onto the edge of the bed and leaned over to rest his forehead against hers. “We have all the time in the world to be together. We can handle one little mission apart.”

It wasn’t that she was unaccustomed to their conflicting schedules and lengthy missions—they had been at this for so long, they were practically experts. But things were different now. Before, they were merely boyfriend and girlfriend. Now, they were engaged. The weight of their distance just held that much more meaning.

“Not if you’re KIA” Rei complained.

“Rei, that’s not going to happen and you know it” Kakashi replied, his voice suddenly more stern than before.

“How do you know?” Rei asked. “I can’t stand to be a widow.”

Pursing his lips, Kakashi shook his head. “Because this is a D-rank mission. It’s nothing extraordinary. It’s like picking up litter off the side of the road.”

“Anything can happen” she said matter-of-factly, a certain level of sass in her tone. But underlying all of that was a subtle joking quality. If anyone knew the realities of ninja life, it was definitely her. There was danger, yes, but there was also a mundanity to it that you grew rather accustomed to after a while. In a way, it even became boring.

“I’ll be home by dark” Kakashi said as he fastened the holster around his thigh. Rei shuffled out of bed to retrieve his vest, clutching it close for a moment so she could drink in its scent. “Why don’t you go out today and spend some time with friends?” he suggested.

“What friends?” Rei’s question had an edge to it, her argument with Sekkachi still sharp and stinging. Her insistent suspicion of Kakashi’s infidelity felt all the more vile now that Rei and Kakashi were engaged. Truly, how dare she.

Kakashi caught onto this quickly and shook his head. “I think you should see Sekkachi” he replied. “You might find out that things aren’t always as they seem.”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” Rei asked. She was defensive but not without purpose. She just couldn’t fathom how Kakashi could still think fondly of someone who would say such cruel things about him, or at the very least how he could expect Rei to.

As he tied his headband around his forehead, Kakashi explained, “Sekkachi and I had a little talk last week. I really think you ought to go and see her yourself.”

A talk? The implications of this made Rei anxious. She clutched the fraying hem of her night shirt in her fist and chewed the inside of her cheek. “What do you mean you had a talk? What happened? Kakashi, what did she say to you? I swear to god, if she—”

“Calm down” Kakashi insisted, turning to place his hands firmly on Rei’s shoulders. “It was nothing bad. I just think you’ll be able to think more clearly on the subject once you go and talk to her. Besides, it would be a shame for you to lose a friend like that.” The somber glimmer in his eye communicated between them that horrible shared understanding, the fact that life is fleeting and anything could happen. The fact that you can lose someone in the blink of an eye regardless of your current standing.

Yet somehow still, that wasn’t enough. “Why can’t you just tell me what happened instead?” Rei asked. She really didn’t want to have to speak to Sekkachi herself. At this rate, she wasn’t sure if she ever wanted to speak to Sekkachi again.

Kakashi adjusted his headband, zipped up his vest. “I would if I could but I’m already running late” he replied. “Besides, I really don’t want to bore you with the details.”

Rei shook her head, growing desperate. “No, bore me with the details! Please!”

Kakashi merely placed a tender hand upon her shoulder and looked down at her with a soft smile. “What I will say, however, is that there are two sides to every story. Please, just trust me. Go and talk to her. I guarantee you’ll feel better once you do.” He brushed the bangs out of her face and pressed his lips to her forehead before pulling his mask up and approaching the door.

Rei watched him depart with an unresolved gaze, tangling her fingers in Toshio’s thick fur for comfort. He nuzzled her hand and panted happily before shaking his head so that his ears thwacked against her side. If she had to do this, at least Toshio would be there to support her. And at this point, she really had no other choice. Something deep in the pit of her chest was pulling her toward it now. The vagueness of Kakashi’s explanation had piqued her curiosity. There was no way she could hope to relax until she got some answers. Sighing, she spun on her heel to get dressed and track Sekkachi down.

It was Wednesday which meant, for better or for worse, Sekkachi would be easy to find. The training grounds were no doubt already ablaze with the vigor and passion of her weekly sparring matches with Might Guy. Rei took the long way around, walking especially slow, under the guise of not infringing on their tradition. She couldn’t bring herself to admit that this was really an act of avoidance but she was grateful for it nonetheless. Procrastinating meant ample time to organize her thoughts and think through how to even start this daunting conversation. She reviewed the words passed between them at the ramen shop, the way Sekkachi slandered Kakashi’s name and insisted that he was no good for her. And the longer Rei thought about it, the more her uncertainty transformed into rage. Maybe finding Sekkachi wasn’t such a terrible plan, after all, if it meant tearing her to ribbons with her newfound knowledge. Sekkachi had long since had a habit of making Rei feel inferior or worthless anyway, so it was high time she wracked up the courage to stand up for herself. Rei only needed to culminate in that anger for a short while longer, to fully marinate herself in it before allowing herself to explode. As she turned the corner and headed down the street, she decided in the meantime to warm up with another necessary battle: speaking with her parents.

Kaminoki was quiet as Rei slipped inside. Her mother glanced toward her daughter from behind the register, nearly finished ringing up a customer. Within the acknowledgement of her presence was an inexplicable anxiety. It took all of two seconds for Rei to recognize the physical manifestation of her own anxiety—her clenched jaw and knitted brows. She softened her gaze and hoped her mother understood her silent apology. It was never Rei’s intention to worry her.

As she waited, however, Rei absently placed her hand atop Toshio’s head. The sunlight glinted against the engagement ring, sending a flash through Hana’s periphery. She glanced down, her heart leaping into her throat, before quickly refocusing on the customer before her.

It was times like this when Rei’s empathy was truly a curse. Her mother’s panic was almost palpable and Rei wondered what kinds of unsavory things would be said when she officially told them the news. She feared for her father’s wrath and her mother’s tears and for a moment considered slipping out and just forgetting the whole thing. They didn’t really need to know, did they? But now she was just being ridiculous. Rei sucked in a deep breath and awaited her mother’s attention. In the meantime, she gathered all the internal power and confidence she could manage. Heaven only knew she was going to need it.

And then the man gathered his parcel, bid Hana a good day, and nodded politely to Rei as he exited the shop. A veil of charged silence enveloped mother and daughter, staring expectantly at one another, alone save for the books on the shelves.

“We, uh, we weren’t expecting to see you today” Hana finally spoke, her voice a murmur. She shuffled through paperwork on the counter—anything to keep herself distracted. “Is, um…is everything okay?”

Rei pursed her lips and nodded. “Yeah. Yeah, everything’s fine” she lied. “I just…do you guys have a moment?” She hated asking for their time. Every time something important happened, it always warranted a temporary closure of the store which Rei knew her father despised. Time was money and anything worth their time always wasted money, it seemed. But money was superficial and this was important. Their potential rage meant nothing to what she had to do.

Hana slowly untied her apron with a minute nod before shuffling toward the door to flip the open sign to closed. She fed Rei a nervous smile as she motioned for her to follow her up the back stairs where her father and grandmother would be. A whole family affair. Toshio nudged Rei’s hand as he followed her into the apartment, a silent sign of solidarity.

Once upstairs, Rei was overwhelmed with a horrifying static energy. It was a chakra cocktail of expectance and anticipation, a buzzing in the ear. Her first instinct was that she needed to find Grandma Teiko. That was the only way anything would be okay, the only way she would have the strength for this.

Yuruganai grimaced as Hana ushered him into the living room, sliding his glasses up the bridge of his nose as he impatiently sunk down in his arm chair. Hana settled onto the couch beside him, folding her hands in her lap and silently urging Rei to speak.

A jolt of panic surged through her in that moment. “Wait, not yet. Th-this isn’t everyone” she stammered. “Where’s Grandma Teiko? She should be here, too.” Her absence was stirring within Rei a pulsating, almost unbearable anxiety. She was supposed to be here. She was always here. Rei’s mind warped back to that winter day when they made gyoza together, how shockingly obvious Grandma Teiko’s mortality had become. Rei clenched a fist at her side, sucked in a deep breath. “She needs to be here, too” she croaked.

Clearly growing frustrated, Yuruganai sucked his teeth and replied, “She’s resting, just let her be.” When that proved to be an insufficient explanation, he added, “She wasn’t feeling well this morning and wants to be left alone.”

If anything, that explanation only made Rei’s anxiety soar even higher. This was merely validation that things were steadily declining, that the hourglass was nearing empty. “B-but she needs to be here, she just—” Rei stammered but before she could say anything more, she received a hard thwack on the head from behind.

“Calm down, girl, before you blow a fuse” an all-too-familiar voice spoke. Rei whipped around and there she was, a smug smile on her pale, wrinkled face.

“G-Grandma Teiko--!” Rei gasped.

Yuruganai jumped to his feet, mouth taut and gaze cold. “Mother, this isn’t important. Go back to bed. You need your—”

“Well, if it wasn’t important, there woulnd’t be so much noise out here now, would there?” Grandma Teiko interrupted. She patted her son on the shoulder condescendingly as she shuffled toward the couch, taking a seat beside Hana. “Besides, I can sleep when I’m dead” she chirped. Her eyes scrunched up as she grinned and for a moment, Rei was paralyzed with equal parts anxiety and appreciation.

Defeated, Yuruganai sunk back into his chair. “Well, get on with it then” he sighed, glaring at Rei and rubbing his temples. No wonder he spent all his time calculating finances—at least numbers were tight and neat and compliant. They didn’t talk back or cause a ruckus.

By now, all of the focus and strength Rei had garnered was completely nonexistent. She scratched behind Toshio’s ear and searched her audience for reassurance. The ring on her finger grew heavier by the second. “Okay, so, uh…the thing is” Rei cleared her throat. She was unable to look her parents in the eyes. “A few days ago, uh…”

The air grew humid with anticipation. Rei tried to swallow back the lump rising in her throat but it was no use. They were all staring at her, their collective gaze like spiders crawling across her flesh.

“Come on, girl! Out with it!” Grandma Teiko suddenly interrupted, gesturing for her to go on. There wasn’t any malice or impatience in her tone, however, but rather a sort of stern encouragement. The exact sort of thing Rei expected from Grandma Teiko. And honestly, deep down Rei knew that procrastinating was only going to make it worse. She needed to just take a breath and say it already.

Squeezing her eyes shut tight, Rei blurted, “Kakashi asked me to marry him and I said yes!” She jutted her left hand out into the open to display the ring, wincing as she awaited the impending uproar. A few moments passed before finally, Yuruganai spoke.

“We already knew.”

Rei didn’t even wait to process his statement before going on the defensive. “Okay, listen, I knew you were going to say that but you know what? It’s my life and—” Rei started but then her brain finally comprehended everything mid-sentence. “W-wait, what did you just say…?” she then asked, voice smaller and softer than she had expected.

Hana smiled politely and reached her hand out, delicately resting it upon Rei’s forearm. “Rei, sweetheart, we already knew.”

Instead of relief, Rei was overwhelmed with confusion. “That’s impossible, there’s no way you could’ve known” she said, shaking her head and dropping her eyes to the floor. She tried to do the calculations in her head, to figure out this twisted game of telephone. She didn’t want to think about how quickly the news may have spread, uncontrollable like a virus, or who was already privy to this information. She suddenly felt slimy and sick and violated. “Who told you?”

And then the answer hit her like a ton of bricks.

Hana shifted in her seat, brushed her mousy hair behind her ear. “Well, actually, it was…it was Kakashi.”

Rei’s mind plunged even further into chaos. Kakashi. None of this made sense, and yet it somehow made perfect sense. All she could manage was a croaked “H-how…?”

Now it was Yuruganai’s turn to speak. “He came by not too long ago to ask our blessing” he explained. “Said he didn’t feel right proposing without asking for permission first.”

A jolt of panic rose in Rei’s throat as she raked her fingers through her hair. Asking for permission was traditional. It bore weight. It meant Kakashi still held the utmost respect for her family, despite everything. And if he hadn’t felt right proposing without asking first, then he definitely would not have felt right without their approval. Which meant someone had to have told him yes, which was perhaps the most unrealistic idea of them all.

And then came Grandma Teiko. “Congratulations, Rei” she smiled and for a moment, Rei thought she saw tears brimming at the old woman’s eyes. Grandma Teiko never cried, or at least Rei had never seen her do so. It was in that moment that Rei knew this was all thanks to Grandma Teiko.

Without a second thought, Rei surged forward and wrapped the old woman in a tight hug. Her body felt so fragile and small, so uncharacteristically vulnerable. Rei shoved those nasty thoughts out of her head as quickly as they came. Now was not the time to worry about mortality. All that mattered now was that Grandma Teiko had given her perhaps the best gift she could’ve possibly asked for: Kakashi’s acceptance into this family. For that, she would be forever grateful.

The confrontation with her parents had, much to Rei’s surprise, left her feeling far more at peace than she had ever expected. As she hugged her mother goodbye and slipped out of Kaminoki, she considered whether she even needed to speak to Sekkachi now. Kakashi had gained her family’s approval. What business did she have proving his worth to anyone else? All other opponents seemed puny in comparison. But no, Rei needed to speak with her to put her in her place if nothing else. She needed the closure.

The midday sun shone down upon a group of genin sprawled in the grass. They watched as their sensei and a dark-skinned woman sparred across the field, each punch and kick in perfect synchronization like choreographed dancers. Sekkachi scanned he horizon for a moment, her gaze landing upon a familiar figure beyond Guy’s team. Rei. She knew this was bound to happen sooner or later. Her heart leapt into her throat and, amid her distraction, Guy swung his leg around and kicked her in the shoulder, offsetting her balance and effectively knocking her to the ground.

“You’re not one to get sidetracked, Sekkachi!” Guy said, extending a hand to help her up. She took it with aggravation, grumbling under her breath as she rose to her feet.

“Yeah, well, something came up” she muttered. As she dusted the dirt off her clothing, she then said, “I think I’m gonna have to cut training short today. Looks like I have some business to attend to.” She glanced back at Rei, this time locking eyes with her, and in her gaze was a certain strength and determination that proved she meant business.

Guy followed Sekkachi’s gaze and quickly understood the circumstances. He patted Sekkachi on the shoulder and gave her an encouraging thumbs up, but not even that made her feel better. Sekkachi met him with a polite but restrained smile, bidding him a silent goodbye as she approached her comrade.

“Can I help you with something?” Sekkachi asked, arms crossed and eyes looking her up and down. Guy’s team peered over their shoulders to watch the interaction unfold. Guy quickly intervened, ushering them away from the scene so as to give the two a sense of privacy.

Rei pursed her lips, her confidence unwavering. “You and I need to have a long talk” she said. Toshio stood beside her, releasing a slight growl in agreement. They would not take no for an answer. Sekkachi nodded only once before they disappeared down the street.

It was so strange returning to Ichiraku with her like this. Teuchi eyed them with a hint of suspicion and perhaps even concern as they tok their seats, wondering what might come of this visit. And truly, this was the last place Rei wanted to go for this. A part of her feared that returning to the same environment with Sekkachi would leave her vulnerable and unhinged, like reenacting the past. The only issue was that she couldn’t think of anywhere better to go. Their apartments were too personal, too suffocating. The park was far too open and broad. Any other restaurant would just feel like an intrusion. Ichiraku was the only valid option, as much as Rei wished it wasn’t. She met Teuchi’s eyes, a silent affirmation that this was strictly business, perhaps even a warning that he should prepare for the intense conversation that was about to transpire. He got to work immediately fixing her a plate of gyoza. Ayame set before them two glasses of water dripping with condensation.

Sekkachi fumbled around in her pouch, producing a pill bottle. She poured a single blue pill into the palm of her hand, tossing it into her mouth and chasing it with a long swig of water. “So, what did you want to talk about?” she asked as she wiped her mouth. She did not meet Rei’s eyes.

Rei watched her suspiciously, shaking her head. “What was that for?” she asked. “You haven’t even eaten anything.”

“Precautionary measures” Sekkachi replied bluntly. “Something tells me this conversation is going to give me a flare-up.”

Rolling her eyes, Rei laughed incredulously. “God, you’re so fucking dramatic” she muttered under her breath.

“Are you going to tell me why we’re here or not?” Sekkachi asked. On the outside, it was easy to assume that she felt Rei was just wasting her time. Internally, however, she just wanted to get this over with. Sekkachi knew exactly what was coming. She knew she was bound to face the repercussions of her misjudgment sooner or later. Every day leading up to this point had been rife with indigestion.

Rei sucked in a deep breath and fixed her eyes on the countertop. “It’s about Kakashi” she said, voice firm and gaze unyielding.

“Listen” Sekkachi sighed, “I know what you’re going to say, and I—”

“Shut up” Rei snapped. She tightened her grip on her water glass, watching the droplets spill onto her pale knuckles. “I’m going to need you to do me a favor and keep your mouth shut, got it? Because I have a lot to say and your interruptions are only going to fuck me up” she continued. Rei barely glanced over to catch Sekkachi’s response but she could see her nodding in her periphery. Ayame anxiously set a plate of gyoza out for her and Rei nodded once in quiet thanks. She tried to channel all of her energy into this moment, into focusing on what needed to be said, on formulating the sentences in a way that were both meaningful and comprehensible.

Sekkachi nodded once, her posture loosening. “Okay” she said. “I’m listening.” And it was then that Rei knew she had her undivided attention.

Rei furrowed her brows and concentrated hard on the confrontation at hand. “I am sick and tired of you constantly putting me down and treating me like shit. And that goes for Kakashi, too” she started. “I don’t know what it is that makes you think you’re responsible for me but I’m not a little kid anymore, Sekkachi. You think you have good intentions but if anything, you’re just condescending and insulting. I can make my own decisions and you need to trust that I’m doing what’s right for me, not anyone else.”

“I know, and I—“ Sekkachi started.

“I told you not to interrupt me” Rei growled. There was a crazed panic in her eyes that Sekkachi was unsure she had ever seen in her before, or at least not to this magnitude. An expression that threatened to gut her should she defy orders again. After a moment of silence, Rei composed herself and continued. “I know Kakashi hasn’t had the cleanest track record. I know he’s done things that have seemed harmful but you need to have faith in him and believe me when I say that he is a good person. You don’t need to protect me from him. He loves me and takes care of me. This should be proof enough of his commitment.” Here, she extended her hand out across the table to show off the engagement ring. Sekkachi stared down at it dumbly before giving a single nod in understanding. “I fully intend to spend the rest of my life with him no matter what anyone else has to say about it. Not even my parents—who, I will have you know, actually approved of this, so there’s absolutely no reason for you not to.”

“Th-they did…?” Sekkachi croaked.

Rei nodded, her lips taut. “He asked for their blessing, Sekkachi.”

“But your family hates Kakashi, what the—”

“I know” Rei interrupted. “But they gave him their permission anyway. They accept him, so why the fuck can’t you?”

“Am I allowed to speak now?” Sekkachi asked.

“Don’t be a dick” Rei snapped, a harsh affirmation.

Rubbing her forehead, Sekkachi huffed and tried to figure out how to even explain this. Apologies weren’t exactly her forte. “I fucked up, alright?” she said. “I got caught up in feeling like I needed to protect you because I know how much Kakashi has put you through in the past, and I wanted to believe that things were going fine and everything but knowing how close you two had gotten now, and how suspicious he was acting, I just…I couldn’t stand to see him hurt you again. Not now. I know what you would’ve done to yourself if you found out he was pulling shit.” Here, her eyes glanced down at Rei’s forearms, the pale scars lining her skin. “I can’t afford to lose anyone else” Sekkachi added. Her voice was low and hoarse, so uncharacteristically weak. “I was so angry about it all, so pissed off at the idea that he could do something like that to you, that I confronted him and…fuck, I made such a big fucking mistake.”

“Damn right, you did” Rei agreed. Toshio huffed down at Rei’s feet and she tossed him a dumpling from her plate.

“I asked him about everything, and he was honest” Sekkachi continued. “When he showed me the ring, my heart just dropped straight into my stomach. I can’t believe I was so fucking dumb. How could I have misread all of those signs? And then he started talking about how much he loved you, how you deserved the world and all that sappy shit. He was going to wait forever for the perfect moment. At that rate, I didn’t think he’d ever actually ask. But I told him not to procrastinate. That if he kept waiting around for the perfect moment, it was never going to come. That…that you need to tell people that you love them before it’s too late. There’s not enough room for dicking around when our lives are on the line.”

Sekkachi didn’t even need to say her name for Rei to know this was about Naru. The aftermath of her death still loomed heavy over both of their heads. “Guess it’s just an occupational hazard” Rei muttered, shaking her head. She shoved a dumpling in her mouth, her cheeks puffing out as she chewed and swallowed.

“I wish it didn’t have to be” Sekkachi replied. “I just can’t afford to lose anyone else. Sometimes…I don’t know, sometimes I just feel like you’re all I have left.” Even saying it made Sekkachi nauseous—too sick for her medication to counter. She leaned forward and took a tiny sip of water, knowing her time was running short.

“That’s not true” Rei replied. “You have Guy.”

“But that’s not the same” Sekkachi replied. “What Guy and I have is special but it’s nothing like the bond between two women.”

“What about Chikara-sensei?” Rei asked.

Sekkachi shook her head. “When was the last time you saw her around? She cares, yeah, but she’s too busy for either of us and you know it. Face it, Rei. When it comes down to it, you’re the only person I really have. Like the sister I never wanted but got stuck with anyway. You piss me off but I can’t let anything happen to you.”

Rei hated how much weight her words carried. “Yeah, well you piss me off, too” Rei replied. “I don’t want to keep anyone in my life who isn’t going to support what makes me happy. I’m tired of constantly feeling like I need to prove something to you. You’re so selfish, Sekkachi. You only ever think about your own perception. Believe people when they tell you the truth. Shut up long enough to listen to what someone has to say to you.”

For a moment, Sekkachi was fully prepared to counter. As she stalled, however, she realized she didn’t have a leg to stand on. Rei was right. She was selfish. She was preoccupied with her own perspectives. A pang of pain struck her in the gut and she began fumbling for cash in her pouch. Her time was up. She needed to go home.

“I’m sorry” Sekkachi sighed. “I can’t say I won’t stop being an asshole because at this point, it’s just part of my sparkling personality, but honestly? I really cannot afford to lose you.” She slid the cash across the counter and then looked at Rei with a soft, somber expression. “I love you, you bitch. I am committed to making you comically miserable for the rest of my life. And I need you to believe me when I say I’m really, truly happy for you, Carrots. You’re finally getting everything you ever wanted and I’ll be damned if I miss out on it.”

As Rei watched Sekkachi depart, she wasn’t sure whether to feel relieved or pissed off. But after twenty years, she had grown to understand that that was just the way it was with Sekkachi. She was never going to stop being a blunt, arrogant thorn in her side. But maybe things were different now. Maybe, deep down, Sekkachi really, truly did, in fact, care. And as much as Rei hated to admit it, she couldn’t afford to lose her, either.

#kakashi hatake #rei natsuki #the scarecrow and the bell #naruto #naruto oc #fanfiction

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fanfictrashdump · 4 years

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Queening a Pawn, 1

I am kind of Loki trash. I take pleasure in attempting to write some of the cheesiest/most cliched fanfiction around. Honestly, my policy is that if it makes me “awww” or giggle to myself, it goes in. So enjoy this WIP and let me know what you think!

Summary: During the Time Heist, Loki stole the Tesseract and escaped. He did not expect, however, to be pulled through a Time Loop that delivered him to a Midgard more than a decade older, wiser, and bitterer. Having just lived through his unsuccessful attack in New York, Loki must learn to live in Midgard after the defeat of Thanos (post-Endgame). The question is, who is Loki without a quest for a throne or total domination?

Loki x OC

The air was still and silent, as it had been for the last several hours. The guards had not been around for a few hours to check on him– why would they? He was trapped in a gilded cage with little to no chance of escape. Not with those wretched manacles that stopped even the lightest whiff of his seidr to come alive. It was very early morning, if the light streaming in from the windows was to be believed– he didn't. Not that it mattered. Not that he was anything more than a sitting duck at the mercy of these annoying, useless mortals and his buffoon of a brother. Briefly, he wondered if they were ever going to attempt to torture him for information. Maybe that would liven up his current situation.

Bright, fool-hardy whistling echoed down the concrete halls and made his ears ring uncomfortably. The blessed, unmarred silence that seemed to be soaking up all of his self-pity was now gone, which meant that the hare-brained Midgardians would be back with questions. A single human appeared within the doorway, headphones in their ears, and hands laden with a box of what seemed to be colorful ornaments.

Loki sighed, rolling his eyes much like a petulant child. "What are you, then? Psychic? Super-strength? Power to boil me from the inside? Therapist?"

The sudden noise seemed to startle the newcomer, and they placed the box on a nearby table before turning towards the source. Behind the cardboard box was a woman. Her chocolate brown hair was cropped short, though the messy fringe fell into her eyes as she moved. It made her look messy in a very purposeful manner, like she wanted to look approachable and kind, but also didn't want you to think she didn't put effort into her appearance. The green eyes turned his direction sparkled nearly as bright and excited as the grin perched on her lips as she pulled the buds from her ears and shoved them into her jeans pocket. Loki frowned. This was… different.

"Sorry, didn't hear you. What was that, sir?" Her head tilted sideways like a curious pup at a weird noise, though twice as enthusiastic.

"Are they sending children in to question me now? What, not enough ice-thawed super soldiers to do the job? And Stark? What of him? It's odd he hasn't come to gloat, yet." Loki scoffed, throwing himself into the only chair available in his cell, growing more impatient with every passing moment.

The woman's face fell, if only slightly. "Oh. You don't know, do you?" Green orbs snapped up to her saddened expression, curious. "Mister Stark died with the Titan and Captain Rogers… well, you wouldn't recognize him if you saw him."

"Who are you, then?"

"I manage the Compound. I was just putting up the Christmas ornaments." She gestured over her shoulder at the box with the trinkets, as if it were an obvious response.

Loki frowned further, trying to process the information as it was received. A moment later, he stared back, deadpan. "You realize this is a prison, yes?"

The woman's cheeks darkened as she fidgeted with her jumper sleeves. "To be honest, I couldn't really see over the box, so–"

He rolled his eyes, opting rather to pinch at the bridge of his nose with a groan. "Norns, I am surrounded by idiots. Why am I still here?"

"Well, Sam and Valkyrie have been trying to find your brother for the lon–"

"It was a rhetorical question!" He seethed, and the woman snapped her jaw shut at once.

She awkwardly looked around the room before her eyes stopped on a holographic chess board that was sitting just outside the cell. Clearly, this was some of Tony's sense of humor showing through the AI he left behind, FRIDAY. He would have probably summoned up the board with a how about you think about what you've done, and if not, just play with yourself. She had encountered more than a fair share of these ghosts inside the code in her time, like the nervous Is that a trick question? whenever she asked the smart mirror in her apartment if she looked OK.

There was a single knight in play on the white side of the board. "Are you a chess enthusiast?" There was no response. "Stalking the knight out first is a powerful move." This sentence was accompanied by a huff, but no verbal retort. "FRIDAY, favorite pawn forward." The second to last pawn zoomed gracefully into place a square further and settle there. She looked up at their captive demigod, sneer locked into his lips and eyes staring dead into the wall. She waited several minutes for a move, any move, but came up empty.

"Lilah, there you are!" Sam strode into the prison floor, still clad in his black flightsuit and more than a little on edge. "FRIDAY, tell Valkyrie Lilah's fine." The AI acknowledged the command, immediately. "What are you– are you putting up Christmas ornaments in the prison deck?"

"Just checking in with our guest," she lied, smiling.

Sam turned on his heel to face Loki's cell. A shiver ran past him as if simply gazing upon the Liesmith gave him the heebie jeebies. "How is he, then?"

Lilah shrugged, disinterestedly. "No worse than last time."

"No, not like last time. Last-time-Loki helped save the world and his whole realm from his psycho sister. This Loki just came off trying to enslave New York."

"Tomato, tomahto. Same dude, different day, Sam." With an amused smile, she turned the glaring superhero and nudged him out ahead of her. "Someone should be down with your dinner in a bit, OK?" She assured, as if that cleared up the rest of the questions brewing in Loki's head.

Loki knew was out of sync with the time. He could feel it in the air and with every pulse of his veins. The agents who brought him into the basement gave him a barebones recollection of what had happened– how the Titan known as Thanos, how half the population died, how time had to be altered to change the course of history. Dangerous games played by children who didn't know any better. Once the Stone had been pulled from his timeline, he had jumped, as well.

It took an impressively short amount of time to apprehend him, as they had the benefit of time to adapt to his wily nature. He had found it odd that he was not immediately chained and scrapped for every bit of information he could give, that they didn't bother monitoring him 24/7, that there seemed to be only a handful people employed in the facility. Midgard was different: older, wiser, a little jaded. It had lost many of its heroes in a short time, it seemed. The corner of his eye caught the subtle glow of the chess board, effectively interrupting his internal monologue.

Lilah walked cautiously across the threshold of the prison floor. In her hands she balanced a tray with covered food and a large pitcher of sweet tea. Funnily enough, none of the staff found it a great opportunity to bring their prisoner his dinner, despite the fact that he had been doing nothing but bellyaching at the walls and pout for the week he had been there. That meant it was up to her to slow walk some food and drink over to the prison desk and hope she didn't spill. Lilah wasn't particularly clumsy, but she also never had the need to carry a tray full of food and drinks across a couple of floors before.

"I don't know what you wanted to eat, so I made you a plate with some of everything. Then, I brought sweet tea and then remembered that almost no one outside of the South likes sweet tea, so I brought you some water, but you're free to have some tea if you can tolerate it," Lilah rambled, passing a plate through the hatch on the door along with a bottle of water and a glass of sweet iced tea. Though he tried to seem disinterested, the smell of food made Loki abandon his in-bed lounging and cautiously approach the cell door. He first took the glass of tea and took a tentative sip. His face screwed up unpleasantly a moment after. "Yeah, it's an acquired taste– like watered down cane molasses."

His face turned hard as he swallowed down a few gulps of water to wash out the taste. "Is your intent to poison me?"

"I don't know. Do Asgardians get diabetes?"

"What?"

"That's a no." Glancing over her shoulder, Lilah glanced at a chair by the empty sentry desk. "Mind if I join you?" She gestured the remaining plate on the tray.

For a long moment, he did not reply, instead glaring into her as if his eyes could become lasers and explode her from the inside out (though they probably could if he tried hard enough). "If you wish." A satisfied grin perched itself on her lips as she placed the tray on the floor and jogged over to collect the chair. She carried it right to the cell's side and collected her tray before sinking into it cross-legged.

Loki had not moved from his place in front of the food hatch, quietly watching the mortal woman dig into a plate of vegetables, chicken and rice as if it were the most exquisite of treats. The weight of his gaze pulled her attention, and she glanced upwards. "Eat. I don't want Thor griping about you getting thin. God knows he already has enough going on in his brain. If Valkyrie even finds him."

"You must be mistaken. The Valkyries are dead," Loki says, simply, an observation.

Lilah stopped chewing, putting down her fork back on her plate, speared carrot and all. "I suppose they still are, for you."

"Where is my brother?" Lilah hesitated. "You also said earlier that I saved my people from my sister. I don't have a sister."

"Fuck, Thor. Where the hell are you when I need you?" She muttered to herself. "FRIDAY, can you pull up the records on Asgard and Hela, please?"

"Are you sure you want to show him this, Delilah?"

The woman rolled her eyes at the AI's sass. "Do you know where Thor is?"

"King Brunnhilde has yet to find him, as of ten minutes ago."

"You know the answer, then." The glass of the prison cell lit up with pictorials of Asgard. "Some time ago Odin Allfather disappeared." An image of Odin faded into the ether on the screen. "You, in true Loki fashion, had taken up the throne dressed as his clone. Thor found out and forced you both to find him. Odin died shortly after." The images of Thor, Loki and Odin faded and Hela was left in their wake. "His death caused the release of Hela, Odin's eldest child and death-bringer to all realms. You tried to fight her off, ended up on a trash planet called Sakaar." The images on the screen turned to the bright, metal and pastels of Sakaar, complete with Hulk and Thor fighting while Loki stood in a corner laughing.

"On Sakaar you met Brunnhilde, the last Valkyrie. Thor, Banner, and Valkyrie escaped the planet to rescue Asgard. Surprisingly, so did you." The images of Loki graciously arriving in the giant cruiser ship with Korg and Miek flashed before them, and Loki could not but feel fascinated by this stranger who wore his face. The people of Asgard smiled and thanked him as he ushered them into the ship and jumped into the fray of battle below. "Eventually Hela was defeated and you fled with your people from Asgard. They've made a new colony in Iceland called New Asgard."

"They, not you?" He asked, perceptively, brow furrowed. "I did not survive the trip," he added, matter-of-factly.

"Thanos happened," she quipped with a sigh. She leant a small smile to him knowing full well it was not to be returned. "You died protecting your people."

Loki seemed as surprised as anyone who heard the tale from Thor, afterwards. "I died a hero?"

Lilah now smiled in earnest. "It seems you are capable of amazing things when you want to. You rose to the challenge," she finished, watching the holographic Loki sink his dagger into an undead sentinel and toss another over his shoulder with dangerous precision.

Despite himself, Loki smirked, staring somewhat proudly at the ferocious warrior hopping around the scene. He took his plate to the small desk in his cell and tucked into his meal, seemingly satisfied with her answers thus far. Lilah followed his lead, eating her dinner in silence before picking up the remainder of her dinnerware and preparing to leave Loki, once more. Before she did, she noticed the chess board hds moved. Smiling, she glanced shortly at Loki, who had taken up a book and was quite immersed in it, though she swore she saw him briefly gaze at her while she thought of her next play. With a quick jolt of her fingers, her bishop conquered his knight. She then swore she saw him frown.

"By the way, you can ask FRIDAY for more books, access to the archives, or movies or something. You're not meant to be here to rot in your boredom." She gave a friendly wave. "Good night, Loki."

#fanfic #fanfiction #loki fanfic #loki x oc #loki x ofc #we fucked up the timeline dudes #i do what i want #mcu #mcu fanfiction #fan fiction #Loki

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remedialpotions · 6 years

Text

Over Biscuits

Happy birthday to one of my very favorite people, the amazing @aloemilk ! I feel so lucky to count you as a friend ❤️ I hope you enjoy this fluffy little fic!

Word Count: 2,075

Rating: K+

This can also be found on FFN (author: bowtruckles) and AO3 (author: remedialpotions)

***

Pausing in the doorway, Ron furrowed his brows at the scene developing before him. Hermione stood at the stove, her bushy hair just barely contained in a thick knot at the back of her head, gaze fixed intently on a saucepan. Not unsurprisingly - she was skilled at a great many things, but this really wasn’t one of them - her face betrayed more stupefaction than she’d ever displayed in Potions class. Given that this was his wheelhouse, he knew he should help her, but when she started nibbling on her lip, a flush rising in her cheeks from the heat emanating off the range, he thought there also wasn’t much harm in allowing himself to watch her.

Just for a minute, anyway. He didn’t see as much of her lately as he would have preferred, and it gave him a small glow of warmth, deep in the pit of his stomach, to see her standing in the kitchen of the Burrow, scowling at a recipe. Too many times over the past four months, he had thought the Christmas hols might never actually be upon them and that he would spend the whole of his life missing her, but she was home. For two glorious weeks, he had her all to himself, and he wasn’t going to let any of it slip away.

He always loved watching her when she didn’t know he was looking. Hermione was rarely vulnerable, but when it was just the two of them together, or he caught her in a moment when she thought she was alone, all of her pretenses fell away. She stopped being Hermione Granger, Head Girl and war hero and ‘brightest witch of her age’, and simply became the woman that he loved - the one standing in his parents’ kitchen with streaks of cinnamon across her cheeks.

“After melting butter on low heat,” Hermione was muttering to herself, eyes fixed on the stained and crumpled parchment before her, “stir in brown sugar, molasses, salt, and spices.”

She tugged a sack of brown sugar toward her, picked up a measuring cup, and dutifully dug it in.

“There are spells for that, y’know,” said Ron, opting to make his presence known and striding across the faded tile floor toward her. He plunked a tub of molasses down on the work surface and grinned at her.

“Yes, well.” Hermione used the back of her wrist to push a rogue lock of hair out of her eyes. “It never hurts to do things the Muggle way, does it?”

“No, s’pose not.” Stepping behind her, Ron set his hands on her hips, his chin coming to rest on the fuzzy wool covering her shoulder. As she leaned back against him, one of her hands falling onto his, he peered into the saucepan. “Er - I should probably tell you-“

She craned her neck to meet his eyes. “Oh no, what?”

“The butter,” said Ron, wincing. “It’s a bit - er -overmelted.”

With a sorrowful glance down at the oily, golden-brown liquid in the pan, Hermione let out a sigh of resignation.

“You can just say that I burned it, Ron.”

Suppressing a laugh, he pressed a firm kiss to her temple and tightened his arms around her waist. So many times over the past four months he had wanted to hold her, just to feel the warmth of her in his arms, and he wasn’t about to take it for granted now. He only had a second to relish it, however, before she wriggled out of his embrace to retrieve her wand from the kitchen table. In the next instant, the burned butter had vanished from the pan, replaced by a fresh new block from the cooling cupboard. Instantly it began to sizzle and hiss against the scorching cast iron.

“Oh, that’s too hot, see?” Ron reached around Hermione’s hip to dial down the flame. “It isn’t supposed to bubble like that.”

With her lips pursed tightly together, she glared at the butter as though it had committed a personal slight against her. She never did cope well with being less than the best at anything, even something as trivial as baking gingerbread biscuits.

“Just pretend that it’s Potions class,” he told her, wrapping one arm around her shoulders and using his free hand to gently stir the butter with a wooden spoon. “You’re brilliant in Potions.”

“But you hate Potions - and yet you like doing this-“

“Yeah, well, this is better, it results in food,” he grinned. “And anyway, Potions was different, there’s no way to like a class when you've got either Snape breathing down my neck, or Slughorn, who poisoned me and still couldn’t remember my name-“

“Technically it was Malfoy who poisoned you, not Slughorn-“

“Still,” argued Ron, that little spark inside of him igniting like it always did when they bickered back and forth, “you’d think if someone nearly drops dead in your office, you’d-“

“Oh, stop,” Hermione whined. The genuine anguish on her face was like a blade through his chest. “Let’s not talk about that anymore.”

“Sorry.” He dropped a chaste kiss on her lips by way of apology. “Look, it’s really not a big deal,” he continued, deciding to pick up where she left off with the brown sugar. “We’re only responsible for the entire pudding portion of Christmas Eve dinner, so no pressure - oi!”

For she had pinched him on the arm.

“That isn’t funny,” she moaned. Eyes closed, she leaned her cheek against his shoulder. “What if I end up ruining it-“

“You won’t.”

“But-“

“You won’t,” he repeated gently. “We - we’ve had some pretty shit Christmases in our day, my family, but none of them have been completely ruined.” He quickly shoved away the thought that, in his eighteen years of life, no Christmas on record had ever followed events like that of the spring, and instead offered Hermione a smile. “It’d take a lot more than some botched gingerbread biscuits, I promise.”

She gave an relenting nod. “Fine.”

Her fingers brushed his as she took the wooden spoon from him, stirring as he poured the brown sugar into the melting butter. There was still a streak of cinnamon across her cheekbone, and he wiped it softly away with the pad of his thumb.

Unbeknownst to Hermione, Ron had actually offered, in conversation with his father one Sunday evening, to make all of the Christmas puddings. It was the one part of the meal he felt he could successfully prepare, and while he wasn’t naive enough to think that it would relieve the weight that had permanently settled onto his mum’s shoulders since the second of May, he felt it was the least he could do. He wasn’t naive, but he also wasn’t blind. He saw the weariness in her every time he and Harry visited for Sunday dinner, and as the pang of guilt shot through him, he would always promise himself he would do more, be there more. The only problem was that the Ministry of Magic seemed to think he had no life outside their intensive Auror Training program - and then George had asked him for help getting the shop back in order, and he couldn’t say no to that - and he’d also been Apparating to Hogsmeade every chance he got-

Anyway, baking a few batches of biscuits and a treacle tart felt like the very least he could do.

A companionable silence fell between them as they continued to prepare the dough, punctuated only by the occasional shared kiss or murmured request for an ingredient. And Ron let himself pretend, just for a second, that perhaps this wasn’t his parents’ kitchen, but their own, and maybe they weren’t baking for his family, but for their own children - and it was madness to think about, at eighteen, things like marriage and babies, but he couldn’t stop himself. He looked at Hermione, and he saw the whole world before him.

“So now,” he said, giving the sticky dough one last stir, his biceps sore from the effort, “this has to cool for about an hour, then we bake it.”

“So how do we spend our free hour?” asked Hermione, a sort of mischievous twinkle in her eye that made Ron deeply remorseful that his parents were in the next room. Kissing was one thing, but he definitely couldn’t sneak her up to his room undetected.

“I - well - as great an idea as that is, I - I got you something,” he confessed.

He had never seen her look so indignant. “You - but we promised-“

“I know, but it really isn’t a gift - just stay here for a second, yeah?”

Before she could respond, he kissed her hastily on the forehead and darted out of the kitchen.

It had been a strategic move to stow this little token of affection in his former bedroom at the Burrow, knowing that he and Hermione would be spending a good portion of her Christmas hols there. And while he understood why they had agreed not to exchange gifts, given that neither of them had any income to speak of, he couldn’t resist wanting to show her what she meant to him. He hoped this little item, silly and useless as it might have been, would maybe at least come close to doing that.

Her eyes were still shooting daggers at him when he returned to the kitchen.

“If it helps, you don’t have to think of it as a Christmas gift,” he said as he pressed the box into her hands. “It’s really just because I love you, anyway.”

At his words, her expression softened, and she leaned back against the work surface as she prised open the box; Ron’s stomach shook with nerves.

Gingerly, as though scared to harm it, Hermione pulled the little gold key from its bed of cotton with two fingers and looked expectantly up at Ron.

“It’s to Grimmauld Place,” he explained, though this did nothing to assuage the polite bewilderment on her face. “And I know what you’re thinking, that you don’t need a key to get into Grimmauld Place, but it’s - y’know, so that you know that it’s as much yours as it is mine or Harry’s.”

Her lips were on his before he could keep talking. Though he had more to say, he couldn’t help leaning into it, forgetting everything but her and the taste of sugar on her lips.

“But also,” he said around one last kiss, “it’s really mostly symbolic so it could also be for - for anywhere, really, that you and I might live together. Y’know, in the future.”

As Ron watched, a series of emotions crossed over her face in rapid succession as she pieced his words together: confusion, surprise, happiness.

“So you want to live together,” she stated as a smile split her face.

“I definitely don’t want to live apart,” he assured her. “Not any longer than we have to, anyway. This is for later, by the way,” he felt compelled to clarify. “For once you’re done at Hogwarts and you’ve set the record for most NEWTs achieved by a single student or something-“

“Stop-“

“I just mean,” he said, sobering a bit, “that it’s there for you whenever you’re ready - if that’s what you want-“

“Of course it’s what I want-“

“I’ve completely bungled this up, haven’t I?” said Ron, now a bit sheepish. “It was supposed to be romantic-“

“And it was - oh, come here-“

And she grasped him by the ears and kissed him soundly on the lips. When she pulled back, her fingers remained plunged in his hair.

“You still don’t really get it, do you?” Her nails tickled down the nape of his neck. “I love you-“

“I know you do-“

“And I want all the same things that you want.”

He knew that. Of course he knew that. Two people couldn’t share all that they had over the years without knowing, but she had never stated it quite so plainly before. It was something quite different to hear it aloud, to see their future etched more clearly before him.

“All right,” he said, reaching up to take her wrists in his hands. “All right, you decide, then. Wherever you want to live, whenever you want to live there - you just tell me and I’ll be there.”

“Sounds perfect.”

“And in the meantime,” Ron said, giving her forearms a tender squeeze, “we’ve got a treacle tart to make.”

#romione #romione fanfiction #ron weasley #hermione granger #romione fanfic #my writing #happy birthday! 🥳#also I hope you know which part is inspired by a certain gif of harry and meghan #that may or may not have been my starting point #anyway LOVE YOU!#also lol at not being able to link anymore #I like my workaround

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