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somewhatgreatexpectations · 3 years

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Nirvana (Wanda Maximoff/ Reader)

Hello, again! We have reached Infinity War! Loosely inspired by Sam Smith’s “Nirvana”. Pieces from the film are used here with some definite adjustments. Let me know what you think.

Summary: Wanda and Y/n attempt to navigate the course of healing. Will other circumstances get in their way?

“It's too late to run away from it all, it's too late to get away from it all, I'm done with running, so I give in to you.”

Being on the run with Wanda was a stark contrast to being on the run alone. The feeling of emptiness was easily replaced with fulfillment and meaning with Wanda. She transformed what used to be a burden that weighed heavily on you into something light and manageable.

You both spent days and nights rebuilding the ruins of trust that used to lay shattered at your feet. It wasn’t always easy. Some nights were hard and ended in screaming and tears, others were effortless and made it feel as if no time had ever passed between the two of you. Despite yourself, you couldn’t help but completely adore both sides.

There was no doubt in your mind that the love you both shared together had blossomed into something even more powerful than it was before. There was one problem though, you couldn’t seem to allow the final wall you had built around your heart to fall. That final line between friendship and romance seemed to be the hardest for you to cross.

You knew that Wanda noticed, but she never pushed you for more than you offered. She was fully aware that you had to set the pace and that she had to earn her way back in. She was more than willing to be patient.

Currently you were both located in a small apartment in Scotland that truly felt like a place you could both call home with the beauty and stillness that the city offered. Unfortunately, you’d been stuck inside the last few days because of a torrential downpour. When you heard the rain stop, you wandered over to the large bay window and opened the curtains fully to allow the moonlight to seep in.

Wanda looked up from her book when you left your shared bed. Her eyes watching you curiously. “The sky looks beautiful tonight.” You whispered in awe, your eyes locked on the full moon.

With a small smile, Wanda put her book down and wandered over to you, slowly wrapping her arms around you from behind. She always allowed you time to pull away. “Not as beautiful as you, moya lyubov.” She whispered against your ear and pressed a light kiss to the side of your head.

With ease, you leaned into her, so your back was pressed flush against her front. Your hands rested over hers. “Wanda?”

“Hmm?” she hummed as she buried her face into your neck.

“I’m happy you’re here.” You confessed quietly, feeling vulnerable at your admission.

Even though you couldn’t see it, you could feel her smile against your neck before she turned you in her arms, so you could face one another. “And I am happy you’re here with me.” She rested her forehead lightly against yours.

“Wanda, I…” you stared into her beautiful green eyes which watched you adoringly. Your heart pounded nervously against your ribcage. The words practically hanging off your lips. “I…”

Lovingly, she raised a hand to lightly caress your cheek. “Yes?” Her tone was patient.

“Do you want to go for a walk?” you finally stuttered out, avoiding saying what you truly wanted to at the last minute. Not able to shake that last remnant of fear in your heart.

Disappointment flashed briefly across Wanda’s face before she replaced it with a small smile. “It’s cold out though, krasivaya. We should stay in and cuddle and watch our show instead.” She countered offered hopefully.

You turned your face slightly and kissed the palm of her hand, watching her practically melt at the action. While Wanda tried to show affection as often as she could, you still hesitated the majority of the time so even small actions like this made her swoon.

“It’s beautiful out though,” You said with a pout. “And we’ve been trapped inside the last few days. Let’s just go for a little.”

Wanda threw her hands up in defeat and turned away from you to get dressed. “You’re lucky I love you.” She grumbled as she put on her boots. You couldn’t help the small smile that appeared at her words.

Half an hour later you were both walking hand in hand down an empty cobble stoned street. You couldn’t help but watch her out of the corner of your eye, the way her nose became pink against the cold night air, the way her eyes were so full of life despite the circumstance. You loved her, all of her. Your efforts to prevent yourself from loving her always proving to be futile. It was impossible to not love her.

You decided you needed to try and tell her again. To push passed your fear.

“What?” she asked with a laugh. “Why are you staring at me like that?”

You pulled her to a stop and smiled slightly at her. “Because you are beautiful.”

A rosy pink spread across her cheeks as she ducked her head shyly. “Quite the charmer there, Y/n.”

“Wanda, I need to tell you something.” You said seriously.

Her brows furrowed in concern at your sudden change of tone. “Of course, what is it?”

You took a deep breath and took both her hands in yours. “For so long I felt broken. Convinced that a broken heart was just something I would just have to learn to live with. The pain from that night on the roof was so intense that I sealed off my heart. Swearing that I would never allow someone back in… Swearing I’d never allow someone back in because I knew I wouldn’t survive the pain a second time.” Wanda’s thumb traced over your knuckles soothingly as she listened with rapt attention. “I never would have imagined that you’d be the one to help stitch me back together.”

The vulnerability you allowed yourself to express made you feel anxious as your gaze fell to the floor. Wanda gently used her thumb to tilt your head up so you could look into her eyes again.

The love was clear in her eyes as she slowly leaned forward, giving you time to pull away. Rather than pull away, you met her half way and connected your lips in a gentle kiss. Sighing contently at the contact as Wanda gently tugged you closer by the waist. This was the first genuine kiss you had both shared since your break-up. Kissing her felt right and you couldn’t help but feel at home in this moment.

When you pulled away you rested your forehead against hers. Watching the way her eyes glimmered happily. “Wanda, I lo-“

“Wanda.” The sound of another voice interrupted your words. You both turned to find Vision in his human form as he walked over to her urgently, making no attempt to address you. “I need your help.”

At the sight of him, you stepped away from Wanda slightly, which caused her to frown. “How did you find me, Vis?”

“I am part android, Wanda.” Vision said simply then winced. “It’s the stone, I need you to tell me what you feel.” He said and grabbed Wanda’s hand, placing it over the stone.

Wanda looked back at you hesitantly, but you were looking off in the distance, your arms crossed defensively. She couldn’t help but feel like she just took dozens of steps back in the progress she had made with you.

With a sigh she looked back at Vision and allowed her magic to enter the stone. “I just feel you.” She replied with confusion.

Before either could say anything, you took urgent strides away. Wanda immediately noticing and following you, worried you were trying to leave her. You stopped in front of a shop window. Your eyes focused on the screen that was facing out towards the street. With concern, you watched the scene of what was occurring in New York play out on the TV. “What are they?” you questioned, more to yourself than anything.

“What the stone was warning me about.” You heard Vision reply as he came to a stop beside you both.

Even if you didn’t know what was happening you knew you needed to do something, you needed to help. “Wanda, I won’t ask you to go if you don’t want to, but I think I need to go. To do what I can to help.” You said quietly as you began walking backwards.

Wanda’s eyes became wide with nerves, she knew she had to convince you to stay. “Y/n, I don’t think going is a good idea. Maybe you should wait until-“

“Wanda-“ Your words were cut off as you felt something slice deeply into your side and throw you into the wall of the building you were standing next to.

“Y/N!” Wanda screamed, instantly moving to run to you when a creature stepped in front of her.

The being chuckled at her tears. “Fear not, we are not here for her, but for him.” Before Vision or Wanda could react, the same object that had sliced into you had stabbed Vision and propelled him to the opposite side of the street. Wanda stepped back and was preparing to attack when she got hit with a force and was hurled into a window. The creatures took the opportunity and began digging into the stone on Vision’s head.

Weakly, you stood up, holding your bleeding side as you flicked your wrist, forcing the creature to sink into the floor. The other one turned to face you angrily when you felt yourself become incased in a red glow and get thrown in the air along with Vision. The ground quickly approached you until you felt the same red glow cushion the impact and place you back down.

Wanda tried to help you sit up when you waved her off. “Help Vision, he was hit worse.” She looked reluctant but did as you asked and helped him up as the three of you moved into an arch way to find some semblance of safety. Wanda wearily waved her hand over Vision’s wound as futile wisps of red attempted to seal it.

“The blade. It stopped me from phasing.” Vision gasped out between pained breathes.

Wanda turned towards you with wide eyes. “Is that even possible?”

“It’s not supposed to be.” Vision’s labored reply came.

Trying to ease Wanda’s nerves you quietly mumbled, “I’m beginning to think we should have stayed in and cuddled like you asked.” A weak smile crossed her lips before the creature flew in and took Vision.

Before either of you could react, the second creature came and attacked, cutting into your wound again. You hissed in pain as Wanda furiously sent the creature flying back at the sound of your pain. Working together you were able to keep her at bay until Vision’s screamed echoed through the plaza you were in. “Go, Wanda! I can handle this.” You shouted to her.

“Y/n, no.” She began to protest, forcing the being back with her powers.

“GO!” You shouted, building a wall from the concrete to buy yourself time. It was clear that Wanda didn’t want to go, but you saw the flashes of red lift her up and onto the building that Vision was taken to anyway.

Using your hands, you manipulated the concrete to attach to the being’s hands, forcing them down into the ground as you brought the clock tower down and buried her in the rubble. Quickly manipulating the earth until she was completely encased. As you were looking around for the next best course of action, you felt Wanda fly down and wrap an arm securely around you as she used her powers to propel the three of you into the air and away from danger.

The moment was short lived though as you felt a blast of energy hit Wanda and suddenly the three of you were free falling. You felt Wanda wrap her body tightly around yours in mid-air, obviously trying to absorb the impact. The glass ceiling you crashed into shattered easily as you slipped out of Wanda’s arms and slid across the platform of the train station and into a metal rail. You groaned when your side made impact with the railing. Vision landing on the opposite end.

Wanda urgently rushed over to you. Her tone was panicked. “C’mon, get up. We have to go.” She gingerly placed an arm under you and helped you stand. The blood drained from her face when she saw her hand come away covered in blood. You leaned against the rail behind you weakly. Just a moment later the creatures returned. Without hesitation, Wanda turned to take a protective stance in directly front of you as her hands began to glow.

The creature seemed more interested in something over Wanda’s shoulder though as it threw its weapon which was stopped in its trajectory by the shadow.

A moment later, Steve stepped out of the shadows. You couldn’t help the look of relief that spread across your features as you sunk back down to the floor, feeling woozy from all the blood loss. Wanda rushed over to you, pressing tightly to the bleeding area of your abdomen. You vaguely watched as Sam and Natasha attacked the beings by surprise but the injury made it impossible to focus for long. It seemed as though you blinked and suddenly Steve was marching over to you as Sam and Natasha helped Vision up.

“Let’s get you home and patched up.” He said gruffly as he lifted you into his arms. Wanda followed closely behind, worry never fading from her expression. With the adrenaline wearing off and the knowledge that Wanda was now safe, you decided couldn’t keep your eyes open any longer as you allowed the world fade out to black for rest.

______________________________

When you finally came to, you were almost certain that the events of the night before were just a nightmare, until you felt the dull throbbing in your side. You squinted your eyes open to find Wanda at your bedside, her hand in yours and her eyes worried. The tension draining from her shoulders when she saw your eyes open.

It seemed you were back at the Avengers tower infirmary.

“Y/n,” she breathed out. “I’m so glad you’re okay. I was so worried.” Gently, she tucked a strand of hair behind your ear and tenderly kissed you, which you gladly returned.

When you pulled back you weakly chuckled as you tried to lighten the mood. “I wish I was a synthazoid like Vision, no blood. Faster rebound time.” Her eyes looked conflicted. You sat up, only wincing slightly. “What? What aren’t you telling me?”

With a sigh she squeezed your hand lightly. “We have to go to Wakanda. Steve says they might be able to extract the stone from Vision without destroying him. If that fails, I may need to destroy the stone myself.” She paused slightly, clearly troubled by the information. You knew what that implied.

“Are you okay?” you questioned, swinging your legs off the cot so you could be closer.

Wanda answered with an unconvincing nod. “I don’t know if it’s something I’ll be able to do.” She said quietly as you squeezed her hand in comfort. “I think you should stay.” She finally added, her expression serious.

Your brows furrowed. “I’m not going to stay. I’m going to help in whatever way I can... I need to go and make sure you’ll be okay.” You said with finality, leaving no room for her to argue.

She knew you wouldn’t budge, all she could do in response was move to stand in between your legs and take you into her arms tightly. Terrified of all that could happen. Terrified to lose you.

“So cute.” You heard a teasing voice call out from the door way. You looked up to see Natasha and Steve standing there. Steve with a content smile on his face.

Wanda pulled you closer as you rolled your eyes at Natasha. “Shut up.” You quipped playfully.

“I’m glad you’re up, kid. You lost a lot of blood on the flight back. You had me worried for a second there.” Steve admitted with a small frown.

Carefully you released Wanda from your arms and hoped off the cot, keeping her hand in yours all the while. “You can’t get rid of me that easily, Capsicle.” You said lightly.

Despite the severity of the situation, Steve couldn’t help but laugh. He missed moments like this.

“Hate to take you away from lover girl, but Rogers and I have been waiting patiently for a hug.” Natasha said teasingly as she opened her arms. You looked at Wanda who let go of your hand reluctantly so you could hug the remaining two in the room.

When you pulled away from Steve, you gravitated back to Wanda, taking her hand in yours instinctively. Steve and Natasha exchanged pleased looks. “So,” you began nonchalantly, “When do we leave?”

Wanda clenched her jaw at your words, it was clear to everyone that she was unhappy with your decision.

Steve knew better than to fight you on something once your mind had been made though. “As soon as you’re dressed. Bruce will explain what we’re up against on the flight there.” _________________ Arriving in Wakanda was breathtaking as you marveled at the magnificent land, one short glimpse at Wanda let you know she was equally as awe struck. You just wished you were there on better circumstances.

There was very little time to admire as you were all ushered into a building where T’Challa’s sister, who’s name you learned was Shuri, could analyze Vision. You quickly realized Shuri was brilliant and far smarter than Bruce and Tony. You couldn’t help but snicker when she critiqued Bruce’s work on Vision, Wanda also giggling but being much more discreet than you.

As you listened to the conversation go on around you, you could feel Wanda slip her hand into yours and interlace your fingers. You turned your head to face her, taking note of how anxious she appeared. “Are you okay?” you asked quietly.

Wanda looked back at you with a hesitant smile. “As long as you’re here I am.”

You could feel the words on your lips again, those three little words that you’ve wanted to tell her since Scotland. You bit your tongue though because this moment didn’t feel right to tell her. Instead you lightly kissed her, hoping that she understood what your heart was trying to convey even if you hadn’t said it out loud yet.

The sound of a loud explosion caused you two to pull apart and glance out the window where the sound was coming from. You tried to keep a neutral face as you all watched what had to have been half a dozen foreign ships land outside the protection of the dome and attempt to enter.

“We’ll hold them off.” T’Challa said determinedly when Shuri explained she needed more time.

Steve turned to where you and Wanda stood. “Wanda, as soon as that stone is out of his head, blow it to smithereens.”

“I will.” Wanda said with a resolute nod as the rest of the team began moving out to go defend the land. You turned towards Wanda and she immediately began shaking her head when she saw the look in your eyes. “No. You can’t go.”

Gently, you brought her hand up to your lips and placed a short kiss on her fingers. “I have to. I have no use here. Out there though… out there they could use my help.”

“Y/n. No.” Wanda said seriously, her lip trembling.

You slowly began backing away, your extended hands keeping you connected. “I have to, Wanda. You know that.”

“Then I’ll go with you.”

You shook your head solemnly. Trying desperately to mask the fears you felt. “They need you here. You’re the only one that can destroy the stone, the only one that can stop Thanos.”

Wanda marched forward and took your face in her hands, kissing you passionately which you gladly returned for a moment, but you knew you had to go, so you reluctantly pulled away.

You reached a hand up to gently wipe away the single tear that fell down her cheek. “You and me, we’re a happy ending, okay? We’ll have a happy ending. I’ll always come back to you.” You whispered to her gently as you stared at one another for a moment. After a minute, you turned and ran out to catch up to the rest of the team before you lost your nerve.

“I love you.” She said to your retreating figure, wishing she said it just a moment before, wishing that you’d have a chance to say it to each other after the battle was done.

____________________________

Out on the battlefield, the fight was intense, and it genuinely felt for a moment as though you would all lose, each one of you out there heavily outnumbered in comparison to Thanos’ army. You were surrounded by the enemy with Natasha and Okoye, preparing to fight when red wisps suddenly appeared and redirected the deadly machines to the swarm of creatures that were about to overtake you all.

“That’s my girl.” You said proudly as Wanda turned to look at you, a small smirk on her lips.

Before any of you could react, you heard Steve over coms. “Anyone have eyes on Vision?”

Wanda shared a look with you, still reluctant to leave your side. You nodded at her reassuringly. “Go. I’ll be right behind you.”

“I love you.” She said sincerely and steadily before using her powers and flying away.

For a moment you allowed yourself to watch her. “I love you too.” You said to yourself before Natasha got your attention.

“Let’s go. They’ll need all the help they can get to keep him away from the stone.” Without hesitation all three of you began running towards the forest in the distance with determination. Herds of creatures attacking you along the way.

Eventually you saw an opening to not harm anyone on your side and used your powers to split the earth making the creatures fall in and clearing a path for you.

By the time you reached Wanda you found her standing over Vision’s lifeless body with a horror stricken look on her face.

“Wanda?” You called tentatively, but when she turned you felt your knees give out underneath you, an odd feeling of fading away overtaking your body.

Dread instantly filled Wanda’s body as she watched you fall to the floor. She hurriedly ran over to you and fell to her knees by your side, collecting you in her arms. “Y/n,” She cried urgently, “What’s wrong?”

“Wanda,” You whispered with a small smile on your face as you looked up at her, raising your hand to rest over her cheek. The simple action alone feeling almost impossible in your state of fading. “I love you. I'll always love you. I wish I had told you sooner. I wish we had more time.”

She let out a choked sob as she attempted to pull you closer. The words that she had dreamed of hearing from your lips out in the open, but this wasn’t how she wanted it. She didn’t want to hear those words as you were leaving her. She wanted to hear them and experience life with your love. She couldn’t lose you.

“Y/n, I love you. Don’t go,” She cried desperately, her forehead pressed firmly against yours as she pressed a desperate kiss to your lips. “Please, don’t go. I need you.” Wanda begged through broken sobs as she could feel you begin to disintegrate in her arms. Only a moment later you were gone, all that was left was dust in her hands.

Heartbroken cries fell from her lips as she clutched desperately at the ground you had been just moments before.

Only a moment later, she began feeling herself fade as well and willingly gave in to the feeling. The feeling brought her a despairing form of peace because with it came the knowledge that she wouldn’t have to exist in this world without you. The realization offered her a twisted form of comfort as she faded into nothingness as well.

Oof, part 11! I knew Infinity War was a lot but I didn’t realize how much until I wrote this. Next up is..... What do you all think is going to happen next? Remember there are two more chapters. ;) As always, hope you enjoyed and let me know your thoughts and comments! I love reading them all!

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headoverhiddles · 3 years

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The Romance Of A Yellow Rose - Dr. King Schultz x Reader [Smut]

Words: 5.6k

Synopsis: You and King get married, and celebrate your first night together by consummating the marriage.

Commissioned by a friend! Enjoy.

Your eyes open on the rugged planes of the Southern state the three of you had found yourselves in. As you roll over to stretch the sleep out of your body, you find a single yellow rose, native to this area. A smile grows on your face. It’s King’s way of saying good morning to you, as it had been for many months.

For years now, you had been tagging along with Schultz and Django. Having attached yourself to their travels three hot summers ago, the two men had become quite fond of your travelling company; King in particular. Over time, your relationship had evolved from a companionship, through friendship, to having romantic feelings for one another. You were the first to admit to them; King hadn’t wanted to say anything, as he still held a fruitless hope that one day he could return you to the pleasantries of the normal life you once knew, before it had been uprooted. But as the months passed, you getting more and more comfortable and (dare he say) suited to the lifestyle of a bounty hunter, it was becoming apparent that you were going nowhere. Not without him, anyway.

Hildy had decided to stay with some friends in the North while the three of you travelled the country on business. Texas Jack, Turkey Creek and Jack’s wife Camarilla were more than happy to keep her with them. It had put Django at ease at least, knowing they had one less person they had to worry about with them catching a bullet. Hildy was even teaching Camarilla different things she had learned over the years at their home, and the four were getting on fine from what Django took from her letters to him. King wished you had enough sense to stay with them, but where the older bounty hunter went, you went. You had made that quite clear.

Today, a warm day in mid October, you, King and Django were headed to visit a plantation in Conroe, Texas. There an outlaw by the name of Amos “Sly Eye” Little had been posing as an overseer for 3 months, flying under the radar on the small eastern Texan plantation. He wasn’t a particularly dangerous outlaw, only wanted for his habit of skipping out on poker games before paying up. Three months ago, he ended up double crossing the wrong man which led to legal involvement, and now to deter trouble in peaceful towns he was wanted dead or alive by the state. King and Django had discovered upon visiting this plantation that the family who owned it had been dodging the law for a while as well.

After the slaves had been freed by King and Django, this outlaw family just so happened to get in the way of a few bullets. The last man left alive on the property is now Amos.

“Back here!” you call. King dashes toward you, swiping you out of the way as a bullet whizzes by your ear. You sit in shock for a moment, King’s arm still around you. For a man who isn’t very dangerous, this Amos sure is trigger happy.

“Django!” King shouts, but his partner is already far ahead in pursuit. “Never listens,” the doctor mutters, loading his shotgun and aiming. You watch as Django dodges a couple more of the outlaw’s bullets before grabbing Amos by his collar, lifting him up a few feet. The man tries to scramble for his gun, but Django of course is faster. Just as he’s about to fire at close range, King clucks his tongue, looking through his target. “Bullseye.” Your eyes shut briefly as the snap of the bullet leaving the gun jolts you closer to the older man. He pulls you out of sight once more as the bullet hits Amos through the side of his head, out the other side in a bloody deluge. Django jerks his head up your direction, dropping the corpse into the carnage at his feet.

“I was handling it!” he mutters.

King comes out from behind the tree, helping you up with one hand. You brush off your pants as you both approach the other man. “You were being hasty again,” King says.

“I was handling it,” Django insists with a look. You two nudge arms amiably, and King gives you a disapproving look.

“You are encouraging him.” He turns to Django. “And you’re encouraging her.”

“What’s wrong with a little congratulations?” you giggle. “You got your dead cowboy.”

“I would trade a thousand dead cowboys to keep both of you alive. You’re the best things that have ever happened to me, do you know that?” King gives you a meaningful look, before brushing off Django’s jacket and squeezing your hand. “Forget this place. We’d better get the horses and get out of here.”

Taking the initiative, you go off in search of Tony, Fritz and Ida, your mare. Django approaches King, taking off his bloodstained gloves. “You talked to her yet?”

“She doesn’t know, no.” King looks down, nervously stroking one side of his moustache. “I was waiting for the right time.”

“You wait any longer, she’s gonna be burying her husband to be.” King doesn’t bother taking offense—he knows Django is right. He’s much older than you—not one foot in the grave as Django likes to tease, but older. That had been another source of insecurity for him during the burgeoning relationship, but you had made it clear that you didn’t mind; in fact, you liked the difference in age. King’s fellow bounty hunter interrupts his thoughts. “Y’all should get married here. Nice place, no one left in it now.” Schultz looks around the grounds. It is pretty, and it would be nice to marry you in such agreeable weather... but King shakes his head.

“No Django. This place was built on treachery and suffering. It would be not only tasteless, but bad luck to get married here.”

When you three make it to the next town in the state over of Arkansas, something is waiting for King at the inn.

“You Doctor Schultz?” the innkeeper asks, spitting tobacco into a spittoon. King nods, taking out his billfold. The innkeeper sizes him up. “Yep, man who sent this said fella looking like you’d be coming through here. This’s for you.” He takes a letter out from behind the desk in one of the cubbies, and slides it across. King expects it would be from Texas Jack, but it instead it’s from a different friend in the North; a sheriff acquaintance he had written to before about his situation with you. Thanking the man, you all head upstairs, and when King gets to a desk, he slips on his reading glasses.

Thought you’d make your way through this here town, Schultz-

Sounds like a hell of a woman, the one you’ve told me about. You softie. Knew you wanted to settle down, and it’s about damn time, too. What the hell are you doing with her down in the South then? She oughtta be up here. Maybe I’m biased, but there’s a lot more law n order up here. Better people too. I am biased, spose.

You asked me what I thought about asking for her hand. Why wait to marry her? Hell, bring her up, we’ll have a ceremony here! I’m not only a sheriff, but an ordained minister too. Bet you didn’t know that. Wouldn’t kill you to ask. Anyway, no reason why I can’t make things look good, clean up the place nice and host your happy union. Got some more birthday cake here too, for someone to eat. Pretty good.

Come on up when you finally convince yourself she won’t say no.

- G. A.

“You got a letter back from Sheriff Snowy Snow?” Django smirks. King stares at the letter in his hands for a long while, before looking up at him with a smile.

He could do it. He could finally ask for your hand.

“Django, my boy. We’re going to Nebraska.” You overhear, and turn back with the bags.

“Up North? What for?”

“To see an old friend of mine, fraulein,” King says, taking the bags from you to carry inside. “Sheriff Gus Arnett.” You smile. It’ll be nice to get out of all this heat and around some likeminded people—people who King can relax and be himself around.

You had all stopped off to pick up Hildy in Boston after travelling by train through the Southern states and switching back to horsepower as you made your way up through the wintery landscape of barren northern land. It was worth it, of course; King and Django had insisted Hildy come too, and you had been happy for female company.

“Has my troublemaker been behaving himself?” is the first thing Hildy asks you, kissing your cheek in greeting.

“About as much as mine has,” you laugh.

“Coming from the most stubborn woman I’ve ever met. It is you who has been the naughty one,” King chastises you right back.

“Maybe one day, you can teach me a lesson for it.” King blushes as Hildy lets out a loud laugh at the connotations of such a taunt. He knows you’re still virginal, waiting for marriage as you’ve told him before. Once united by matrimony, that’s another wall that could be knocked down between you, if you decided you still wished to give yourself to him.

It was no secret you wanted King, and he had made it plain he would wait for you—he’s a gentleman in every sense of the word. Still, men have needs, and some late nights it had been hard. Many evenings by the fire had ended with you in his lap, grinding down as you kissed him with feverish intensity. It had always ended the same way however, with you heading off to sleep alone and leaving him with nothing but his mind to picture what the next hour may have felt like. This time, King feared he wouldn’t last once he finally got to feel you as he’d wanted to for so long. Either way, he had a silver tongue, and experience in the art of pleasuring a woman. He wouldn’t leave you wanting; whatever you needed he would give you.

Arriving at the snowy lodge some days later, Sheriff Gus Arnett comes out the front door. A couple of minks and rabbits are hanging from the roof over the porch, and two pairs of boots caked with snow are drying outside by a wooden rocking chair that had been collecting frost no doubt since September.

“King Schultz and Django Freeman, in the flesh! Come on in with your little ladies!” he says, opening his arms. You approach first, and he shakes your hand with the assurance of a man who’s not used to gentle handshakes. “I don’t believe we’ve met, ma’am,” he says softly, “But any friend of King’s is a friend of mine. Especially a friend like you.” He winks at you and smirks over at King, who ushers you in out of the cold quickly. Gus tips his hat at Django and Hildy, closing the door after they come in.

“Like I said,” he sighs, “We got some cake. Y’all want some?”

“Perhaps we wait until after dinner?” Schultz proposes.

“I wouldn’t mind some,” Django speaks up, giving King a look. King just chuckles.

“Go ahead, my boy. I was a dentist, remember. Old habits remain, I suppose. Would you like some, (y/n)?”

“I’ll have the piece you didn’t want,” you tease. You lean closer to him to brush your lips against his ear. “When it comes to you, I want everything.” The former dentist swallows. This proposal couldn’t come at a better time, as things between you two are heating up.

That night after dinner of rabbit stew and some leftover cake for dessert for everyone but your beloved, everyone had retired to bed a few hours after the sun had gone down. In your own room, you set your satchel on the bed of clothing you had been travelling with in the South, and just as you’re about to unpack, a knock at the door distracts you from your task. King slowly pushes the door open—he’s dressed in his white shirt and grey vest, his hair freshly combed back. It seems counterproductive to groom that well before bed, but to be fair, you had never personally witnessed King’s nocturnal habits in a place that allows such a luxury. He offers his arm, and when you take it in curiosity, he leads you out the back porch of the lodge home. The wind isn’t too cold tonight, but he still wraps his arm around you. The mountains are beautiful out here, and the snow has stopped for the night to allow for a crystal clear view of the surrounding landscape, snow white on the bottom and starry black on top.

“It’s been a while since we’ve been able to sit together like this,” King says. “Just sit and enjoy one another’s company alone. It’s very rare we get time just the two of us without our faithful hero.” You lean into him, resting your head on his shoulder.

“Mm. We’re usually around a campfire, with Django snoring behind us.”

“At least we don’t have any of that to score our evening. I think Django’s gone to bed with Hildy in there.”

“You should be in bed too,” you fret. “I’ve noticed you haven’t been sleeping well.”

“I never have been very good at that. I’m a light sleeper, fraulein. Especially when I have lots on the mind.”

“You know what helps me when I can’t sleep?” You smile. “Something I learned from you.” King turns to look at you, a soft chilly breeze blowing the silver blonde hair from his eyes.

“What’s that?”

“A story.”

King ducks his head, and pulls you closer to him. “I think that would do the trick. Go on then, my love. Will you regale me?”

“I know a story of a deep running love, where a woman slowly developed feelings for one who she learned to depend on.”

“A common story, no?” King teases.

“Shhh. She loved very freely, but this was different. She not only loved this man, but worried about him when he wasn’t around, yearned for him, desired him in ways that drove her crazy sometimes.” King’s breath audibly quickens.

“And what did our heroine do about this tumultuous situation?”

“Oh, she took care of things. But not like she knew he could.” His breath hitches. You bite your lip as you go on. “The two had been together so long... learning one another’s quirks, laughing at little things and sharing moments others wouldn’t understand. They knew what scared them, what made them smile. At the end of the day, she told the man a million times how she adored him. But she was afraid he still didn’t know how much.”

King rubs down your finger, eyes trained on it before looking up at you. “I think I do.” You forget whatever you were going to say next as King rubs his rough fingers over your knuckles, bringing them up to his lips to kiss them. His beard grazes your skin pleasantly as he opens his mouth. “Will you be my wife?” Your heart skips a beat.

“Truly?”

“True as my love for you.”

“Tomorrow?”

“If you wish.” You lean in to kiss him.

The door bangs open, Gus tosses a pail of water out all over you two. He realizes where you two were sitting, and his eyes widen.

"Gott verdammt."

“Oh, hell. I’m— what are the two of you doing out—?” He can’t even finish his sentence—you’re laughing too hard. King tries to keep up a grumpy facade at the fact that you had both just been drenched in ice water in this weather, but he can’t help it. Your laughter is infectious.

“Please tell me there is enough boiled water for a bath,” he sighs, and you shiver. “For the fraulein, at least.”

Django and Hildy had been up to witness the commotion from the noise of it all, no doubt committing the sight to memory for future teasing. They returned comfortably to bed with one another, which was a comfort you and King couldn’t currently afford in your state.

You get to work drawing the bath as Gus passes you each pails of hot water. King comes in, shedding his dripping fur coat and tugging at his tie. Your eyes drift down to his chest, then back up to his face. King subsequently tries to distract himself so as not to focus too hard on you. You had stripped down to your slip, which was stuck to every curve of your body from the water. The temperature hadn’t done much to help any other evidence of the cold, around your breasts. He tries not to look too long.

“Would you take me out of this?” you ask. It’s a harmless question, but King’s thoughts run wild. He could simply refuse you, but what reason would he give then? That he couldn’t control himself around you, so close to your wedding night?

“Of course,” he sighs softly, and approaches. He takes the back of the slip and undoes the buttons, helping you pull it over your head. He inches it up, the wet material dragging along your skin. He turns to go as you’re revealed, and to his dismay, you don’t stop him. Only one more night, and he could have all of you.

As you step out of the lodge, it’s as if you’ve stepped out into a painting. A light dusting of snow is falling over you, snowflakes catching in your eyelashes and melting tracks down your cheeks like tears of happiness. King is standing there at the end of the pathway shovelled out, just by the small lake. It’s frozen over, reflecting the light of the moon through every little icicle hanging from the branches of trees hanging over top of it. Mountains soar around the group of you, boasting the most beautiful landscape you’d ever seen.

King takes your hand as you approach. Beside him, you see Django dressed in a handsome green winter’s jacket, black leather gloves pristine. On your side, Broomhilda is wearing a beautiful green dress under layers of a form fitting brown jacket. You’re in a beautiful snow white dress with furs covering your shoulders and a fur hat. King is also wearing his grey fur coat. The two of you join hands, and recite vows.

“I know I’m a considerable number of years older than you,” King tells you softly, “But I promise to make up for this. I promise to protect you with my life, cherish you, and support you in every endeavor you wish to pursue.”

“I will stay by your side no matter what,” you tell him, “I’ll be brave when you can’t be. I’ll be strong when you need me to be. I’ll love you as long as my heart beats, and oppose anyone who tries to take you away.” Kindness in his eyes, King smiles down at you, crow’s feet crinkling. He lifts your hand up to kiss.

“Do you take this man?” the sheriff asks.

“I do.”

“Do you take this little lady?” King sighs out through his nose, thumbs rubbing over your knuckles.

“I certainly do,” he breathes.

“Well hell, you may kiss the bride then!”

When King leans forward, you surprise him by taking a step forward and wrapping your arms around him, deepening the kiss. It lasts for an eternity between you, and when you part, King brushes the snow off your rosy cheeks and presses his lips to your forehead.

“Ich liebe dich,” he whispers into your hair, and you slide your arms around his middle in embrace.

Inside the bedroom upstairs, a fire crackles in the hearth. The curtains are open to the snowy view outside, and the frost on the glass only makes you savour the warmth inside. King pours you some bourbon, and comes to sit down beside you in front of the fire. As you cuddle into him, he puts a hand on your back and draws you in for a kiss, his beard pleasantly tickling your face. Bourbon forgotten, the kiss deepens, and you feel his tongue slip into your mouth as you part your lips for more. You pull away, smiling.

“Can I ask you something?”

He looks at you. “Of course. What are you thinking about?”

“How does it feel?”

King looks at you. “You will have to be a little more specific.”

“How does it feel to finally consummate a marriage?”

He stares into the flickering fire. “We don’t have to do it if you’re nervous.”

“I didn’t say that,” you say, crawling over to straddle him. King welcomes you into his lap. “I just wanted to know. You’ll show me?”

“I would love to.”

“You know I’m inexperienced.”

“I do,” King nods.

“Isn’t that undesirable?” King seems offended that you would even suggest such a thing, at the very least ruffled by the idea of it.

“My dear, of course not. Being inexperienced merely means I can show you how to do things.” He hums against your neck, grazing his lips down.

“I’m not completely clueless,” you breathe as you tilt your head back to give him better access. You stand in one smooth movement in front of the fire, leaving King sitting and gazing up at you. “I know what fucking is.” You hear his exhaled breath.

“Yes. I would assume you wouldn’t be entirely in the dark about that.”

“But I’ve never felt it,” you whisper. “I wanna feel it, King.” He doesn’t get a chance to respond. You undo your dress, lace by lace, letting your fingers twine slowly between the hooks. You sigh his name as the corset comes free, recalling how you’d longed for him to do this last night, and you hook the straps of your dress under your thumbs, sliding it down to reveal the slip beneath. You hear his breath hitch, but he doesn’t make a move.

You run your hands down over your ass, letting out a soft noise. You hear him readjust where he’s sitting, and you work now on the cream coloured pants beneath the white gown, sliding them down ever so carefully.

“(y/n),” King whispers.

You let out a moan. “I’ve been wanting to get out of this the entire ceremony just to see how you would look at me, seeing me like this for the first time.” You swing your hips a little, arching your back, and finally wiggle some more as you drop your pants to the floor. King’s breathing is heavier now, and you stretch your arms above your head, sighing again as you let your hair free. “Like I said. I may not have done this before, but I know a lot more than you think I do.”

“I’m not certain I believe that, my feisty little one,” King huffs, averting eye contact. Oh, no. Not tonight he doesn’t. You’re only in your chemise now, and you turn to reveal smooth skin he’s never seen before, bunching the fabric up just enough to give him a peek of the v of your hips.

You can see the visible outline of his hardened cock in his pants, straining against the tight confines and desperate for some kind of relief. You put one leg over his lap to straddle him.

“Touch me?” you whisper, and reach down. He doesn’t stop you, just watches closely as you bring your hands to his pants, untie them, and reach in to take his cock in your hand. He does as you say, returning the touch with his hands up your back, taking the straps of your chemise down. He takes a shallow breath as your fingers come in contact with his warm cock. You grin wickedly, swiping your thumb up to spread his precum around a little. He meets your eyes as you pull him fully out of his pants.

“Oh,” he huffs gently, head falling back a little as you stroke him once.

“Is that good?” you ask softly, pressing a kiss to his ear. “Am I doing it right?” King stutters a little, gasping for air when you swipe over his swollen cockhead again.

“You are doing just fine,” King whispers, lips parting.

“Mmm,” you mumble, pressing a trail of wet kisses down his face and lazily taking his lips between your teeth, leading into a dizzying kiss full of tongue and one another’s slow breath.

“Stop. Wait my love,” King mumbles, stalling your wrist with his hand. You pout.

“What’s wrong?”

He opens his eyes to look at you, pupils blown with lust. “After a show like that, I am at your complete and ready service, not the other way around. Tell me exactly what you want me to do,” he whispers gently, and you get off of him, lying back on the floor like a princess awaiting a treat.

“Could you pleasure me with your mouth?”

Your cheeks heat, but King nods with a smile, dispelling any nerves you might have for such an intimate display of sensuality. He lays you on the floor, pressing kisses down your neck, over your collarbone and across the top of the soft skin of your breasts. His hands come up to gently hold your hips down as they circle upward—he moves your legs so he can brace himself between them, pressing more kisses down over your stomach to the impressions on your hips he’s left with his fingers.

“I want you to have me,” you whisper. King strokes one hand along your thigh.

“It takes time to discover each and every spot that will make you weak for me, lieb,” he mumbles, mouthing at your panties with a practiced finesse. “Be a good girl now for me. Be patient. There is more to come.” The bounty hunter takes the panties down with deft fingers, sliding the fabric down your legs until you’re bare to him. Your cheeks heat, but he reassures you with a starstruck gaze, looking over your body like a lovesick man. He dips his head back down with a soft kiss to your thigh, reaching up to hold your hips as if he’s predicted your body’s reaction already. He presses a reverent kiss to your clit, and his tongue takes a sweep of your folds, making you quiver as his beard scratches the soft skin of your thighs. His prediction proves correct when your hips jerk up as he gives his first lick between your lips. You reach back to grab the carpet, before deciding instead to grip onto his blonde and silver locks where his mouth works between your legs. It’s a surreal pleasure—unlike anything you’ve felt before, and you want more.

“Does that feel good?” King asks. All you can do is nod, but he encourages you to tell him exactly how you feel. “Use your words, fraulein.”

“Yes. Don’t stop,” you sigh.

“My good girl.” King dips back down, swirling his tongue around your bud until you’re shaking. Taking care to hold you close to him, he moves himself up until he’s grinding himself against you. “I want nothing more than to be inside of you,” he whispers.

“Take me as you wish then,” you groan.

“Tonight is about you,” he murmurs against your skin.

“I want it.”

Unbuckling himself, he takes his time slowly working a finger inside of you. He adds another and gently curves them up, before gauging your reaction. Going by the desperation in your face, he slowly replaces his fingers with his cock, pausing every inch to check and see if you’re still alright. You can tell how he’s exercising his restraint—you’re so tight, and all he wants to do is take you until both of you are sweaty and screaming, but he must make this last. You can feel him sliding into you, and his hand comes up to hold yours. Your eyes screw shut as he finally bottoms out, and he presses a kiss to your chest. “Tell me when it is okay to move.” You nod.

“Please.” He starts up a slow pace, covering your body with his as he takes his time with you. Too desperate to take the time King might have in mind to teach you patience, you push your lips harder against him, and roll over on top of him. You kiss the bounty hunter, again and again until your lips are swollen and King is painfully hard inside of you.

“Lift up your shirt for me,” he whispers, his voice gentle. “That’s it.”

“Have me,” you mumble.

“What was that?” King asks, “You must use your words if you would like something, hm?”

You blink up at your older lover. “Please take me King,” you raise your voice, and he smiles.

“Hm.” He gives you an affectionate smile. “I have no choice but to oblige my lady love when she asks as nicely as that. Very well. As you wish.”

He pumps in harder, ripping a groan from you. You’d dreamed of what this would feel like, and it turned out better than you had imagined, King’s soft sighs and the rocking of his body against yours heightening every touch he grazes your sensitive skin with.

A moment later, he pulls out and flips you over gently. He then positions himself between your legs and brings his mouth back down between your legs, suckling around your clit again. “King,” you whisper, breath hitching.

“Louder,” he encourages, and goes back to masterfully taking you apart with his tongue. He soon encourages you to sit on his face, and you do, feeling him lick you perfectly as the pleasant feeling of his beard returns to tantalize your skin. He circles your clit with the tip of his tongue as you reach down to touch his cock. It’s a foreign feeling in your hand, but you soon get the hang of the motions, twisting your fist and using his precum to slick your strokes.

“King... don’t stop,” you groan, his tongue delving just barely inside of you. He moves off of your pussy as you moan, and licks his lips.

“I must admit, I wanted nothing more than to do this all day,” he groans as he moves back up your body, “But I am a gentleman.”

“Too much of one sometimes.”

As if in challenge, he picks up his pace and starts to grunt your name, leaning down every now and then between thrusts to press a kiss to your breastbone as his face scrunches up. You love how uncharacteristically possessive King is getting– it turns you on beyond belief. Your moans grow loud as the bounty hunter’s cock fills you over and over again, satisfying your need for him as your noises blend together into the creak, groan, gasp of making love for the first time.

“K… King…” you groan, breasts bouncing with every thrust. His breath is hot on your neck, and he presses an open mouthed kiss there.

“You are astonishing,” he whispers, “You’re perfect… oh, bitte, bitte Fraulein, you feel so nice… you are my everything.”

“King, just like that, oh god–” you groan, and he makes a noise at your slutty display, reaching up to massage your breasts. You feel your orgasm approach as he continues to touch you, and his hand quickly comes down to rub your clit.

“Ah,” you moan, and clutch his shoulders. King sighs, feeling your pussy squeeze him, and with a stuttered thrust he cums as well, spilling inside you. Soon, you’re crying out his name, and he squeezes your hand tighter as you both finish at the same time, the love you share burning at the height of its passion as your bodies become one. You both rock together to ride out your orgasms until you’re satisfied. Panting breaths mingle as you snuggle close to him.

“Is that what all the fuss was about?” you tease. King frowns at you, and you laugh into his chest.

“Into bed before I take full offense to your jokes, beloved,” he murmurs. You nod, smiling as he helps you up with one hand and carries you bridal style over to the bed covered in furs for a warm night’s sleep together—finally together.

"I am lucky I have such a pretty creature warming my bed tonight," he jokes, "A plucked chicken like me should be very grateful." You huff another laugh, rolling over beside him to finally tuck in with your love.

"I've only ever wanted you. That'll never change, no matter what." You grin. "Tonight only helped solidify that fact."

"So you are with me for my talents in the bedroom, ah!"

"NO--"

"I understand it now."

"King!"

"Shh. Let's sleep now. We will argue like an old married couple in the morning."

The next day, Hildy and Django are already in the living room of the lodge. Gus is in the kitchen making up some breakfast.

“You look radiant this morning,” Broomhilda says, smile wide.

“Yeah. You do look pretty good. Different,” Django nods, narrowing his eyes as if to try and decipher what could have changed about you. Hildy just rolls her eyes, turning back to you from her own husband.

“So. Where’s your significant other?” You grab yourself a cup for the coffee that’s brewing, settling in across from them at the table.

“He’s still sleeping. He worked hard last night.” Tucked in the pocket of your nightgown is a single perfect, yellow rose he had saved you from the South, one King had left his new wife to find upon waking.

#dr king schultz #dr king schultz x reader #king schultz #king schultz x reader #django unchained #quentin tarantino #christoph waltz #christoph waltz x reader #django #django fanfiction #tarantino fanfiction #dr schultz #reader x dr king schultz

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leafs-lover · 3 years

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If he's lucky I'll let him join

Prologue: Not Enough

Series List

A/N: This is the prologue and is written from Auston’s POV. Auston mentioned in one video chat that he had a friend who plays in Europe that was staying with him during quarantine (that’s who Trevor is, but he is only briefly mentioned). This starts the day he met Katie (August 2019) and ends with the night in May 2020.

Warnings: A little fluff at the beginning, angst, swearing, drinking and smut (m + f oral, fingering, sex and complete and utter dominance by Freddie), voyeurism

Word Count: 8000

It was a hot Arizona day; you could already feel beads of sweat developing at your roots under your hat. It was barely 10am, but it was already nearing 100°F, and it was only going to get hotter. Walking in and taking off your Oakley’s it took a few seconds for your eyes to the change in lighting.

You weren’t even sure she was real at first, the way the light filtered through the large windows and kissed her skin. Her long hair tied behind her head flowing down her back, bright blue eyes staring back at you. But the thing you noticed first was her smile. God her smile was captivating.

Standing there talking to her twenty minutes after she had handed you your drink, you just kept trying to make her laugh, hoping to get a glimpse of her smile one more time. The two of you exchanged numbers and started hanging out. You didn’t even play the “Auston Matthews hockey player” card with her. She didn’t even know until one day a few weeks later you were picking her up after practicing in Phoenix and she saw the hockey sticks in the car. And even then she didn’t seem too phased by it.

You only had about 5 weeks with her before having to leave for training camp, but they were the best five weeks. She would spend her days off by your pool, her boxer Carlos swimming around. There were countless sleepovers and impromptu dates.

One day you picked her up after work and she dragged you into a vintage shop. Forcing you to try on ridiculous outfits and even finding a monocle for one of them. Blue feather boa around your neck, black top hat on your head with your arm over her shoulder while she was in a blue coloured 1950‘s dress that had a poodle skirt. It was the most ridiculous you had looked, but Katie had never looked better. She didn’t hesitate to pull your phone from your pocket and snap a few pictures, one them even ended up as your lock screen for a little bit.

She took you to her favourite spot, a two hour hike through the desert that lead to a lookout. There was rolling hills with winding roads and it overlooked Scottsdale. You also took her to your favourite sunset spot. Your roof.

You had taken a few girls up there before, your roommate Trevor used to tease you about it but it was different with Katie. The two of you stayed up there for hours, long after the sun had set and the stars had come out. You talked about anything and everything, only going inside after her third yawn in 15 minutes. Only then did you realize it was after 2am.

Leaving for the season you’d still text a few times a week, facetime and even sent flowers when her dog was sick. You wished you met her sooner; you had driven by that café every day going to the rink, why didn’t you ever stop by before? Those five weeks just went by too quick.

Everything with her seemed to be going well, and maybe at some point there could be a future for the two of you. Katie had just gotten out of a relationship a few months before meeting you and wasn’t looking for anything too serious. You remember thinking that maybe after next summer where you would have three months to spend together it could be better. Maybe she would be ready then.

Even still you carried on with the season slowly finding yourself with less time to chat. Instead of facetiming twice a week, it turned to once a week and then every other. Lying in bed awake at night you sometimes find yourself scrolling through the pictures on your phone, reliving those moments.

Meeting Y/N she instantly reminded you of Katie. Maybe it was her smile, or maybe it was her laugh. But there was warmth about her, a familiarity. You were instantly brought back to the clothing shop, and the nights on your roof. You remembered all those mornings waking up before Katie, her hair a mess wearing nothing but your t-shirt as she snored lightly beside you.

Leaving the party that night you called her, wanting to hear her voice. You stayed up probably an hour later than you should have just listening to her laugh on the other end of the phone. You even managed to find a few days where she could come down and you got Y/N out of your mind after that.

Weeks went by and you didn’t think of Y/N, even when you saw her at dinner with Fred. You quickly realized that everything you were feeling for Y/N was just lust; there was no real emotional connection with her.

Seeing her at Early Mercy you told yourself it was just the dress, Katie had a similar one she had worn when she visited. But you weren’t entirely sure you believed it. It was weird how one smirk and your hands on Y/N’s hips had brought everything rushing back. Like a dam being opened up, you found yourself once again thinking of two women.

But before you could process what you were feeling for Y/N. What was real, what was tricks your mind was playing on you, the league shut down and you were back in Scottsdale with Fred and Trev. The three of you lounging by the pool, having relaxing days with Felix, even hitting up the golf courses a few times.

Katie, being a barista, she wasn’t considered essential and you got to spend some time with her during the lockdown. It started with just a night or two together each week, and slowly you found her and Carlos over at your place more often.

Not able to take her out you ordered in a couple dinners but Fred and Trevor would be there too. Living together and all. You had said hi to Y/N a couple times while Fred Facetimed with her, but overall you didn’t talk to her a lot. Your feelings for Y/N went away as your feelings for Katie re-emerged.

You still got the idea Katie wasn’t looking for anything too serious. Sometimes lying in bed with her wrapped in your arms you thought you were the only person in her world. But then there were other moments you felt the complete opposite, just a small piece of her life.

She would leave and you wouldn’t hear from her for days. She would send you a couple texts and then it would be radio silence for hours. When she was with you she kept her phone on tight wraps, quickly reacting to alerts. She often would walk out of the room for phone calls, coming back saying he mom or sister said hi. It could be nothing, but given how you have done those exact things to women before it made you think there was something else going on.

But you really realized she still wasn’t looking for anything serious when she not so subtly hinted about threesomes. You knew she had done them in the past, mostly with one guy and another girl. But she told you about one night in college when she got drunk with her roommate and two guys.

Her and her roommate ended up hooking up a bit in front of the two guys. They sat there watching while they stripped the others clothes off and fooled around a bit. Her roommate ended up falling asleep and Katie almost kicked the guys out but changed her mind at the last minute.

She told you how she fooled around with both of them for hours. The alcohol in her blood led to her first threesome with two men and she described it as her favourite night. Not long after that she met her ex and they were together for a few years but he had no interest in anything like that so she didn’t participate in any more. Now that she was single she made it known she was very open to more. With two guys, with another girl, it didn’t seem like it mattered.

It started so slowly you didn’t even notice. She would not so subtly ask “where is Trev” when he was out getting groceries. Then she would get a little too close while offering to help him with dinner.

A week ago after a few drinks she was very obviously flirting with Fred in your kitchen. She slowly ran her fingers over his wrist asking about his watch, her body almost pressed against him. The next day she asked him to rub sunscreen on her back and pulled her hair to expose her skin but you were only 10 ft. away. Her not so discreet winks left little to the imagination and Fred noticed.

But both times he brushed her off saying he had to go call his mom even though it was the middle of the night in Denmark. And Trevor would wander away mumbling about working out. After the sunscreen incident the two of you had a major fight and you didn’t see her for almost a week.

Earlier today Trevor left to go to his parents for a week and Fred was out with some girl he had been talking to. You invited Katie over and everything seemed to be going well. She apologized for flirting with your friends, saying it wouldn’t happen again and you apologized for blowing up about it.

The two of you fell back into easy conversation. Watching as Carlos swam in the pool and Felix panicked from the safety of the concrete. He ran around the perimeter of the pool barking at Carlos, he even tried to reach out to get him and fell and you had to scoop him out. But that didn’t stop Felix from trying to “save” Carlos again; he managed to fall in the pool two more times before you all went inside.

After dinner Carlos and Felix are curled up on the couch together. Carlos seems impartial to Felix, but Felix is absolutely enamored with him, becoming his shadow for his entire visit.

Katie is up in your room on the phone with her sister who is in Michigan when you hear the front door open. Shoes are haphazardly kicked off followed by his footsteps down the hall, neither dog even lifting their heads too tired from the fun during the day.

Walking into the kitchen Fred opens the fridge quickly twisting the cap off a beer. Glancing to the stove you see it’s 1030. Sitting at the bar he tells you about his night, you weren’t expecting him until tomorrow morning. He starts ranting about some bullshit drama the girl started and how he is done with her, doesn’t want the headache.

He asks if you want to go out to a bar for a drink, saying he can use a change in scenery. Restrictions are beginning to lift in Arizona, bars and restaurants opening up with partial capacity. He doesn’t know Katie is upstairs. How could he? She arrived after he left.

You respond by telling him that it’s a Tuesday, nothing will be that busy. But you know that it’s not really alcohol he is after, there is plenty in the house. He is seeking a distraction for the night. Brushing him off he accepts your lie and sits at the island, further diving into his night.

“Someone here?” he asks pulling the beer to his lips. Katie must have dropped something, your bedroom being right above the kitchen and it echoes off the hardwood.

“Yeah Katie” you say dismissively, when you see the spark hit his eye. The wheels in his brain beginning to turn and you knew exactly the path they were heading. You two have shared women before, and your eyes got that same glimmer in them when the idea crossed your mind.

Only difference the last two were his girls, Emily and Sarah. Sarah was a random girl he had only known for a few weeks; someone Fred said there was no future and was just having fun with.

And Emily met him in Toronto. A few nights later she approached you at a different bar. When you invited her out for drinks a few weeks later with some of the guys she played dumb like she didn’t know you and Fred were friends, but you both quickly realized what she was after. He had no attachment or desire for anything further with either woman.

But up until recently you thought Katie was different. You thought there could be something, although she did just reiterate the fact she doesn’t want a relationship about 2 hours ago.

“Yeah?” he asks smugly raising an eyebrow. “Think she wants to have some fun tonight?”

Those words sting. One you knew she was already going to have fun with you. But two, you knew he was only asking because he knows she is into it. He wouldn’t ask if he genuinely thought Katie had no interest.

“I don’t know man” you sigh. Looking up you are met with his dark brown eyes eagerly waiting for you to catch on “I’ll go ask” you finally say.

Walking to your bedroom you almost considered not knocking, telling Fred she said no and ushering him out before she even knew he was there. But you also know Katie wants this, and you want her to be happy.

Slowly opening your bedroom door you see the bathroom door is closed, a flicker of light under the door frame. Sighing you sit on the bed and wait for her to come out; hoping she is in her pajama’s with her makeup off and ready for bed. Instead when that door opens you see her hair still flowing down her back. Tight dark jean short and a white tank top that your surprised can even stay buttoned up, her tits barely fitting inside. Your dick twitches at the sight, just as it had when she walked in your door earlier in the afternoon.

“Hey” she smiles walking over to you. She stops in front of your legs, hands resting on your shoulders as you get lost in her floral perfume. Leaning down her lips brush against yours, her hands tangling into your hair as she straddles you on the bed, a deep groan getting caught in her throat.

You want nothing more than to throw her onto her back and dominate her for the next few hours. Tie her up and make her scream your name time after time again. But you don’t, and she can sense your hesitation.

“What’s up” she pulls away slightly her lips moving to your jaw and neck.

“Fuck” you groan getting lost in her touch tilting your head for her. She smiles at your response and you allow her to continue for a minute before pulling back. “I gotta talk to you about something” you reluctantly whisper.

“Hmm” she doesn’t even pull back, clearly one thing on her mind.

“Fred” you choke out “he came back and had an idea…” you trail off as her teeth sink into your neck and she grinds her clothed core over your dick. “He umm” you can barely focus as she continues to pepper kisses along your neck, gently sucking on your ear lobe. “He wanted to know if you wanted a threesome” you practically whisper out the end out that sentence.

You aren’t even sure if she heard you because she doesn’t stop, grinding her hips down further. “Yeah?” she finally mumbles against your neck “what do you think about that?” You know she is only checking in with you given how you spent 40 minutes discussing her openly hitting on your friends, if you hadn’t of fought over it she probably would have accepted the offer by now.

“It’s up to you” you groan hands gently gripping the back of her thighs.

“Mhm” she muses “but do you want to?”

That question makes your stomach churn. You want to do it for Katie, for Fred even. But if you are only thinking about yourself the answer is no. Literally any other girl you would have no problem with. But the thought of Fred fucking Katie makes you nauseous.

“Yeah” you say softly and she smiles wide quickly bringing her lips to yours. The kiss is full of passion and heat, and you know her answer long before she tells you. Her tongue swipes the inside of your mouth, her breasts pressing against your chest.

“You better go get Fred then” she whispers bringing her lips back to yours.

Quickly flipping her she lands on her back with a loud squeal, a sound guaranteed to make your dick throb. Your mouth quickly attaches to her neck before dipping lower, your tongue swipes along the crescent of her breasts and you leave some open mouth kisses. You hope she pulls you down closer, not letting you leave, too caught up in the moment. That her legs wrap around your waist and she pins you on top of herself. Instead she giggles and gives your shoulders a playful push and you pull away.

She shoots you a playful wink and you saunter off, finding Fred exactly where you left him. At the island, his beer almost gone. His eyes perk up when he hears you, and he smirks when you give him a nod toward your bedroom.

Silently the two of you make your way to the bedroom and a huge part of you hopes she is waiting to tell you she changed her mind. Instead you see her sitting on the end of the bed, stripped from her clothes in nothing but a matching white lace bra and panty set.

Fred mutters a low fuck and you can see his eyes raking over body. Following the valley of her breasts down her stomach to her core that you can only assume is soaked. You swallow so hard at the sight you think she could see your Adams apple pop from your throat, or your dick throbbing in your pants.

“Hey Fred” she says breathlessly walking over to the two of you. She stops at you first and pulls you down for a kiss. You are slow and cautious while she is full of heat and need. Gripping your hands she brings them around her body to her ass, encouraging you to get a huge handful while her arms lock around your neck. She pulls you down, her back arching as her tongue dances in your mouth.

The two of you are locked in a heated kiss, you continuing to firmly squeeze her ass. Her fingers gently tangle into your locks, your hat falling to the floor. For a moment you forget Fred is there, getting lost in Katie’s touch. A slight groan gets caught in her throat and the two of you pull away gasping for air. She smirks feeling your bulging erection in your denim and brings her thumb to the side of your lip to wipe away some lip gloss smeared around your lips.

Taking two steps she walks over to Fred who without hesitation has a hand on the back of her neck. Tangling into her hair he pulls her face forward their lips crashing into the others. She moans into the kiss and he walks her backwards to the bed. Her knees hit, his hands are on her back slowly lowering her onto the mattress.

Once on the bed, his knees on either side of her he pulls back pealing his shirt off. He throws it right at you, a little extra touch. Nonetheless you throw it on the floor, quickly followed by yours. You watch her eyes light up taking in his broad shoulders and the curves of his stomach muscles. It’s not that she hasn’t seen him without a shirt by the pool but this time it’s different.

Fred has a wide grin on his face as her hands begin to wander over his body, starting on his chest before sliding around to his back. Eventually they stop, tugging on the roots of his hair and one knee bends. The two of them are locked in a staring match, eyes never faltering. His hand finds the back of her thigh and gently runs up it, cupping her ass in the process.

“You know I hear you at night” he says and a blush immediately hits her cheek and turning her head away slightly. “No need to be embarrassed it’s hot.” He ducks down his tongue tracing the valley of her breasts, the spot where your lips were mere moments ago. You wonder if he can taste you on his tongue.

“I kind of want to make those sounds come out of you first” his fingers begin to trail up the inside of her thigh and her head falls back. His thick fingers begin stroking over her clothed core and you almost see her entrance quiver at the touch as he pops his head up to look at her face. “What do you say you let me pull those filthy moans from you first, and then we let him join?”

Undoing your belt, the buckle landing on the floor captures her attention. Her bright blue eyes find yours and you desperately tried to plead with her to not let that happen. You can’t imagine having to helplessly watch. Before she has a chance to read your face his fingers press further into her clothed core and a breathy "yes" falls from her lips.

You stand there button and zipper undone but completely frozen. You can see the smirk hit his face as her eyes flutter closed as he sinks his teeth into her collarbone. Your pants slip out your grasp and end up on the floor in a pile around your ankles, staring as his fingers slip under the lace and slowly work her open.

“You should go sit Auston” his head nods to the chair in the corner. “We’ll let you know when we want you.”

You have never wanted to throw Fred against a wall until that moment, and if it wasn’t for Katie’s moan you would have. Stepping out of your jeans you walk over to the chair, a perfect angle for you see everything he does to her.

Pulling his fingers out, he lifts her hips and drags the white lace down her legs. Her hands trail down his chest, gently digging in to his hip.

“Like what you see baby” he asks unclasping her bra.

She doesn’t muster a response, instead pulling her bottom lip through her teeth and giving him a slight nod. He slowly slides his fingers inside of her scissoring her open. You see the two digits curl upward and start to slide in and out. Immediately you can tell she is soaked from the sounds coming between her legs.

His fingers slide in and out with ease, his mouth quickly finding her breast. Her breathing gets deeper and Fred continues to suck and swirl her breast in his mouth.

Her first one always takes a bit of work, but once she had one the second always quickly follows. Tonight is no different, Fred could go faster, and she likely would have gotten there by now, instead he is relishing in every moan, groaning when she grinds her hips down on his digits.

Glancing to the clock it’s been well over 15 minutes of you watching his fingers slide in and out. 15 minutes of her moaning. 15 minutes of you being painfully hard watching everything unfold. 15 minutes until her breathing switches.

You want to be mad at Fred still for making you sit in the corner like a kid on time out, but that hitch in her throat catches your attention and his. He doesn’t stop, continuing his slow but firm pace as she continues to pant his name more erratically. Her knuckles on the duvet are white from clenching it so hard, and finally you see her pussy flutter.

Even from a few feet away it is glorious to watch. Walls contracting around his fingers, white spilling around his digits, curse words tumbling off her lips. In that moment it didn’t matter she hadn’t looked to you for ages, she hadn’t muttered your name. Seeing that, knowing her veins were flooded with euphoria, nothing seems to matter to you anymore.

And once her legs stop trembling that feeling doesn’t leave. You watch Fred’s fingers increase their speed searching for her second orgasm. When this all started you were very uneasy almost nauseous but now your dick is twitching in your boxers and all you want is to watch her have another. To watch her fall apart again.

Her fingers release the handful of the duvet and find his hair firmly gripping his red roots. His thumb connects to her clit and begins to harshly press circles into it. Sensing her second orgasm is near you shifted to the edge of your seat, wanting the best view possible.

And then it happens, her second one in a matter of minutes. Her legs trembled as he fucks his fingers in and out of her. The only sound is her breathlessly moaning his name. Even though it wasn’t your name it sent a fire through you.

Just as you reach for the elastic of your boxers, Fred pulls back. You stop thinking maybe this is your moment, finally you can join. Instead he pulls his pants and boxers off in one quick motion.

Katie’s eyes go wide at the sight before her. The look you are used to seeing on woman’s faces when they first meet Fred’s cock, sometimes they still have that look on the third or fourth time. And it’s not that you are small by any means, you are very long

Fred is also long, but he is incredibly thick.

Some women are shocked when they see Fred, others are scared. But not Katie. Katie looks excited about what awaits her. She quickly flips him onto his back with a giggle and begins to adjust herself between his thighs when he calls her up whispering something in her ear.

Glancing over to you with a smirk she nods slightly at whatever he whispers in her ear. She turns and adjusts herself sitting on his chest facing you as she begins to stroke over his shaft. Your eyes are locked on her dripping cunt; you can see some of the juices that have collected slowly falling onto Fred’s chest. Katie gives Fred a few more tugs before dropping her mouth down to him.

Slowly she runs her tongue up his shaft a few times before swirling her tongue around his throbbing tip, lapping up some of the precum that has oozed out. You can feel her magnificent mouth as if it’s on you even though its feet away. “Wanted to make sure you had the best view man” Fred mumbles but you can’t see him, Katie’s body blocking his face.

With a mischievous wink she wraps her mouth around him and your eyes almost roll to the back of your head. She begins to slowly bob on him, using her hand to help with what she can’t fit. As she becomes acquainted with his size she begins to bring her mouth lower taking more and more of him in. Her deep blue eyes never leaving yours.

Fred’s hands grip her hips and he begins to moan out her name.

“Fuck man” Fred groans directing that statement to you.

“Yeah she’s unbelievable with her mouth” you chuckle. “But just wait until you bury yourself in her man, her walls are like magic.”

“Fuck, can’t wait” he groans as she has taken his entire length. His hips buck up a few times thrusting further into her mouth causing her to gag. You have never felt so jealous watching Katie choke on your friends dick while her fingernails scraped down his inner thighs, just like she had done so many times with you.

All you can imagine is how fucking good it will be with her lips are finally on you. Your throbbing dick, oozing with precum. You are almost positive the second she touches you; you will come undone but you don’t care. Instead of anger you feel excitement and quickly pull your boxers off. Her eyes go wide seeing you sitting in the chair, cock painfully hair and waiting for her.

Nodding your eyes down to your dick in a “you want this” kind of way she smiles around him. His moans have turned into groans, and his breathing getting louder and you can tell he is getting close. He mumbles in Danish to her and she just hums in response and you almost lose yourself in the moment.

You think he is about to finish and shoot ribbon after ribbon down her throat. When that happens you know it will be your window to join in while he recovers. But instead he pulls her off gently tossing her onto the bed.

She lands beside him with an “umph” on her hands and knees and Fred is quickly behind her. Spreading her cheeks apart his eyes level with her glistening slick that has collected between her legs. He dives in mouth cleaning the juices that remain on her thighs before connecting to her folds.

Her head falls back, her long hair resting low on her back. Once his mouth connects to her entrance and his tongue slowly flicks inside her eyes snap shut and her breathing deepens. Every time he presses in further her entire body jolts forward before she finally can’t support herself and falls to her elbows.

“Katie baby” you say surprised your voice doesn’t crack. “Open your eyes for me.”

A deep seeded chuckle falls from the man behind her and she whimpers in response. You can tell she is close, and the closer she gets the harder it is for her to keep her eyes open. But she tries. His nose will press in a little further and her eyes will flutter shut. He pulls back and they open wide.

“I’m gonna cum” she barely manages to whisper before her head lands on the mattress and Fred groans behind her. You bring your eyes to her core and see some of her juices spilling around his mouth, as strangled moans get caught in her throat.

“God you taste like heaven” Fred pulls back wiping his face clean of the liquid coating his beard. His index finger slowly rubs over her entrance and she shudders at the touch.

“Please” she whimpers her body jolting forward trying to have a few moments of relief.

“What do you want baby?” Fred smirks continuing to stroke over her core and she tries to squirm from his touch. For the first time in twenty minutes you feel some anger hearing him call her that. You call her baby. And he knows it.

“I need a minute” she squirms as he starts to slowly press two fingers back inside her core.

“You sure baby?” he pumps his thick digits a few more times. “I hear you with him” his fingers dipping out of your view “doesn’t sound like he gives you a minute.”

He pulls his fingers out and climbs off the bed pulling her with him by her hips. Once at the edge he bends one knee onto the bed, his tip pressing at her core. Fred looks up and gives you a wink and he guides himself in.

“Ungh” she groans as he slides inside her walls very slowly pressing his length inside her. Her mouth opens into a silent “O” her scream getting caught in her lungs. Watching her get stretched by your best friend almost makes you explode all over your chest. Your hand wraps around your length and you begin to stroke yourself, using your thumb to spread around the precum that has been oozing out.

“Fuck you’re so big-it’s too much” she groans pulling away.

“I’m not even halfway in yet” he says smugness rolling off his tongue. You shake your head and you can see the tears pricking her eyes. His hands fists her hips and he continues to guide himself in, further stretching her walls around his length and her eyes close shut.

Finally her ass hits his pelvis and he stops fully seethed in her warmth. He gives her a moment to adjust, rolling his hips slowly but not pulling back. You watch her eyes slowly flutter open, blinking back the few tears that are stinging her eyes.

With a sharp inhale she pulls forward slightly. Fred picks up on her movements and slowly pulls back before the two of them close the gap with their bodies. You continue to tug on yourself, fully engaged in the scene in front of you.

“Fuck” she hisses and Fred stops for a moment. “No don’t stop” she whimpers turning her head to look back at him.

With a dark grin he snaps his hips slowly rocking in and out of her. “You’re so fuckin tight-fuck you feel so good” his voice is low and husky, but it makes her whimper again. He pulls her back onto his cock. Harder and deeper than before. Reaching in front of her she clenches around the duvet her eyes slowly find yours.

“Freddie” she moans and your hand stops. Your blood boils at how his name sounds coming off her lips. It sounds good, too good.

Upon hearing his names Fred reaches forward to grab her by the neck pulling her up against his sweaty chest. He doesn’t tighten his hand on her neck instead using it to hold her in place as he continues to thrust in and out of her.

“Oh Freddie right there” she moans her breath ragged as his cock slides in and out of her dripping pussy. He sinks his teeth into her shoulder, but looks to you through his lashes. You think it’s your time to join; it’s been the two of them for almost an hour. Standing up the chair slides on the floor and Katie’s open at the sound. With every step you take to the bed Fred’s eyes follow you.

His hand slides down from her neck to her nipple and he pulls it through his fingers. Katie gasps while his teeth sink into the flesh on her neck. “What do you think baby” he mumbles sucking a hickey against her neck. “Think it’s his turn yet” he thrusts his hips and her head falls back against his shoulder “I thought we were still having fun.”

“Yes” she groans. Looking at her face you can immediately tell she is barely hanging on, her orgasm hovering on the edge.

“Yes what baby” he runs his tongue over the marks that he has left behind, the marks that litter her collarbone.

“We’re still having fun Fred” she groans when his teeth harshly bite her neck. Fred eyes over to the chair in the corner but you don’t move glaring into his dark brown eyes. He can’t be fucking serious you think to yourself.

It has never been like this. Neither one of you has spent more than five minutes with a woman when the other was there, always sharing equally. But every woman up until this point has made an effort for both of you.

Emily stopped giving Fred a blowjob and walked over to you to pull you to the bed. She whispered in your ear how she wanted you to shove your fingers in her while she blew your best friend. And Sarah had the two of you lying on your backs beside one another and she would spend a few minutes riding one of you before switching to the other. But Katie is different; she is making zero effort to include you, as if she doesn’t even want you there.

His entire hand cups her breast and he continues to forcefully pound into her, her entire body jerking forward with each thrust. His eyes narrow and he pushes her forward so she lands on her hands, her mouth inches from your length.

You think you’ve won, that he has caved but instead he brings a hand up connecting it to her ass. You hear the sound echo through the room, her yelp almost immediately after while the skin of her ass ripples at the contact. You move closer and he brings his hand back slapping the same spot as before, her skin immediately turning red. When her body jolts forward her nose hits your shaft and you moan loudly finally getting some contact.

He soothes over the reddening skin a few times before connecting his hand to it again. The pistoning of his dick has her body jolting forward, each thrust firm and hitting her deep. The burning of her skin makes the tears start to fall down her cheeks. Your hand reaches for her face, your thumb wiping the few tears away.

She whimpers out a soft “please” and you aren’t even sure who she is talking to.

“I’ll stop if you tell him we’re still having fun baby” he says smugly slowing his pace but still driving into her cervix every time. Your eyes snap up and are met with 2 blown pupils. “Tell him it’s not his turn yet.”

Your eyes narrow at his words and you just shake your head. Pure rage coursing through your veins and you are tempted to push him off of her as he snaps his hips once more. Grinning he connects his hand to her ass one more time.

“I mean we both know she can take it, you’ve given her worse” she whimpers at his dominance tone as he aggressively drives into her. “Such. A. Little. Slut” Each word is accompanied by a forceful thrust and he finishes the sentence with another firm slap of the ass.

“Aus” she barely manages to whimper. Her barely audible voice captures your attention and you soothingly rub your thumb over her jaw. “Please” she whimpers practically begging you to stop.

The desperation in her voice is more than you can take. You know the longer you stand there the more he will punish her. It’s agitating how his dominance over Katie keeps you frozen to the sidelines. Keeping your eyes locked on his you take a few steps backwards. There is an arrogance plastered on his face knowing he won. His hand strokes over the red marks covering her ass while he resumes his fast pace once again.

The way her brow furrowed as he hits her deep, her mouth falls open with disbelief, you find yourself bubbling with envy. Katie’s makeup is a mess, mascara running down her cheeks lipstick smeared. Beads of sweat roll down Fred chest while Katie’s moans get louder. Each of his thrusts is accompanied by a moan.

“I can’t” she whines falling further into the bed, her cheek hitting the mattress as her back arches more for him.

Hearing the pleading in her voice, her incoherent sounds, it’s normally all it takes for you to come undone. Finally you notice Fred getting sloppy in his thrusts but he keeps going sensing she is close. She begs him to finish that she can’t handle it but he gives her a couple deep thrusts causing her to squirt all over his cock.

You look away as she screams out, unable to focus. That sound and sight is something you used to relish in, but you have never been so disappointed to see it happen. Disappointed it’s not you. Disappointed she doesn’t want it to be you.

You hear him mumble in Danish behind her before his hips still having spilled in the condom. You are so agitated you can’t even think of your throbbing erection.

He pulls out and falls onto his back pulling her into his chest. They are both breathless and clammy with sweat as he gently rubs a hand over her arm. He begins talking softly in her ear, you only picking up bits and pieces. You hear him ask if she is okay, if she needs anything as he brushes his lips against her temple lightly, Katie only moaning in response.

Stalking off to the bathroom you run a cloth under the tap. Once in the bedroom you toss the towel at Fred, landing at his chest. You see the look on his face but don’t bother to wait any longer, bitterly walking to your dresser and pull out a t-shirt for Katie.

Turning around you almost walk directly into Fred’s body. Gripping your elbow he holds you in place “you okay man” he asks.

“Yeah fine” you reply harshly. Glancing around to Katie she is lying on her back, completely fucked out. A slight moan falls from her lips as you see her breathing begin to steady.

“I’m really sorry man” he turns his attention to Katie at her moan “I don’t know what happened –“ he trails off knowing he overstepped.

“I said it’s fine Fred” you refuse to meet his gaze.

“Tony come on man” he tries to reason “I’m really sorry” he is cut off by a whimper leaving Katie as she rolls onto her side.

“I gotta” you run your hand through your hair. “There’s nothing to worry about. I gotta take care of her, have a good night man.”

He releases your elbow but doesn’t move watching you walk over to Katie bending down in front of her at the side of the bed. You run your hand through her hair, brushing her hair behind her ears. Fred lingers by your dresser for a little bit watching the exchange between you too.

“Hey Kat” you smile when you catch a glimpse of her bright blue eyes.

“Hey” she mumbles groggily, eyes heavy and struggling to stay open.

“Sit up for a sec” she reluctantly obliges and you pull your shirt over her head placing a soft kiss to her forehead. When she loses her energy and falls into the bed you notice Fred has slipped out of the room.

In the shower cold water rolls down your back as you run through tonight. You run through the last 9 months at that, every interaction with Katie. You want to be mad at Fred, but you can’t.

He had no idea how you felt about her. Yes you spend time with her, but you’ve spent time like this with women back in Toronto not meaning anything. There was a girl you kept in contact with for almost two seasons, hanging out with, bringing her to games. You brought her to a team party and even flew her down to Arizona for a few days but it never evolved into anything, he would have no way of knowing Katie was different to you. He actually asked about her a few weeks back and you said you aren’t anything serious.

It wasn’t a complete lie, Katie not looking for anything serious. But you mostly said it because he was wondering why she was blatantly flirting with him. It was more of a way for you to put him at ease over that situation because he was confused by it.

You spend way too much time in there, retracing every moment with Katie. You remember the day in the vintage clothing store, sunsets on your roof or the mornings laughing in bed. You remember the couple days she spent in Toronto. You woke up at 4am to no blankets only to find her in the living room standing at your oversized window wrapped in your duvet watching the snow fall. It was the first time in almost 4 years she had seen snow.

But then you remember why she was there, in Toronto. You only invited her because of Y/N. You had an amazing couple days with Katie, but only because you couldn’t stop thinking of Y/N. Wrapping your hand around your throbbing cock, you know you have to deal with it before bed. You think of Y/N and what she is doing back in Toronto as you tug on yourself. Hand wrapped around your cock you pump it before finally feeling your sticky warmth spill out and onto your hand.

Stepping into your bedroom you see Katie’s hair barely visible under the duvet and pillows. Carlos and Felix have migrated in to the room, and are curled up around her. There is a glass of water and a bottle of Advil on her bedside table that wasn’t there before, and the clothes that once littered the floor are in the hamper.

Fred.

“Hey” you say walking into the kitchen after a run a few days later.

“Hey” Fred pops his head around from the stove. “Hungry?”

You nod slightly and he gets a plate ready for you while you pour some water. You and him have talked over the past few days, played some video games and basically acted as if that night didn’t happen. Neither of you broaching the topic yet and because of that there is still some tension.

“I haven’t seen Katie around the past few days” he says bringing some eggs to his mouth.

You clear your throat taking a small sip of water “yeah I haven’t talked to her since” your eyes dart around the kitchen slightly. Taking an exhale you continue “the uh morning after.”

“We should talk about that night –“

“No Fred we don’t have to-“

“Auston seriously…just….I am sorry for how everything played out. I was in a mood and took complete control. But I shouldn’t have done that” his breathing gets uneasy for a moment and he trails off “it shouldn’t have happened like that. And if you’re upset it should be at me, not at her. Katie didn’t do anything. I’m the one that -”

“Fred” you interject turning to look at him. “I’m not upset about that. Like it sucked having to sit and watch but whatever not a big deal.”

“Kay ‘cause it feels weird. Like I can tell something is bugging you.”

“It’s nothing; I just don’t think Katie and I are going to see each other anymore.” Fred immediately stops eating setting his fork down to look at you. “We just want different things” you further explain.

“What?” he asks awkwardly.

“I liked her man” you finally admit to him and you can see him take in a deep exhale his eyes going wide. “But she doesn’t want to be anything more than –“

“Wait, why the fuck did you let me sleep with her if you like her?”

“After she hit on you and teeks I didn’t talk to her for a bit. When we finally did talk she told me she didn’t see anything more than what we have. I thought I was fine with it, you know she is a great girl so I thought I could be around her, keep doing what we’re doing. But then she kissed you.. I just can’t be around her feeling like I do knowing she doesn’t want more. It’s not your fault, has nothing to do with you.”

“Okay but why did you say yes if you felt that way?”

“It was glaringly obvious she wanted to do it” you laugh. “Besides figured might as well go out with a bang.”

“I feel like a big bag of shit” Fred groans clearing both your plates.

“Seriously Fred it’s not a big deal, it’s over and time to move on” you bring your hand to his shoulder and give him a light tap “I’m sure you’ll make it up somehow.”

Throwing his head back with a slight chuckle you give him a shove towards the sliding door, heading out to the pool.

#If he's lucky I'll let him join #auston matthews #auston matthews smut #Auston Matthews Fic #frederik andersen #frederik andersen fic #frederik andersen smut #Freddie Andersen Fic #Freddie Andersen #Freddie Andersen Smut #toronto maple leafs #Toronto Maple Leafs Fic #Toronto Maple Leafs Smut #nhl fic #nhl smut

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thestuffedalligator · 4 years

Text

On a small farm outside of a small town in Canada, a horde of four-hundred thirteenth-century Mongol soldiers on horseback rode out through a hole in time and space.

One of them had a thick leather glove, on which a golden eagle perched. Its handler reached up, slipped the little hood off the eagle’s head, and flicked his wrist. It took off, caught a thermal, soared in a lazy arc, dove, spread its talons forward, and then hit a window with a thunk.

Daniel DiSebastian, who was fifteen and on the other side of the window, stared. The eagle had managed to sink its talons into the mesh of the window screen before it stunned itself. It was hanging upside down. Over it, Dan saw a horde of four-hundred thirteenth-century Mongol soldiers standing in formation in his neighbour’s field.

He stared for a moment longer. Curiosity won over self-preservation, and he walked out onto the porch of the house for a better view.

There was a ripping noise, the sound of panicked flapping, and something huge and tawny swooped low over Dan’s head. He ducked and only just managed to see the golden eagle fly in a wide circle back towards the horde of waiting soldiers. He heard a distant shout. Then two-hundred-and-forty of the soldiers drew their bows and fired into the air, creating a screaming cloud of arrows that blotted out the sun before raining down in a lethal shower.

Eighty-seven of these arrows hit Dan.

Dan died instantly.

He got better. When he did, the horde was already gone.

Eleven months later, Dan was mostly sure that whatever had happened that day eleven months ago had not, in fact, happened.

He was very happy to accept that it hadn’t happened until he walked into a Tim Hortons for a coffee and a donut and walked out to find a golden eagle perched on the sign for the drive-through.

Dan blinked. The eagle blinked. It took off with a heavy thump of wings, and Dan noticed the four-hundred thirteenth-century Mongol soldiers on horseback in the parking lot.

There was a whistling noise. Dan was hit by one-hundred-and-seventy-nine-arrows.

Dan died instantly.

He got better. The horde was gone again. One of them had stolen his donut.

It was already dark when Dan and Cameron Burnaby walked out of the theatre.

“God, what a bad movie,” she laughed. Her breath came out in puffs of vapour in the November air.

“Like not even so bad it’s good,” Dan said. “It’s so bad it goes all around the world and crosses back into bad.”

“It’s supposed to be the last one, right?”

“That’s what I heard?”

Another puff of laughter. “Hope,” Cameron Burnaby said, grinning. “That’s what you hope.”

A huge bird took off from the sign over the theatre. Cameron Burnaby oohed at the sight and watched as it flew away.

Dan looked at her. This was nice. It was slow, but it was nice. It was nevertheless slightly spoiled by the little anxious voice that banged around in his hindbrain. It had been a year since his last attack. It was bound to happen eventually, and he had no idea how to bring it up in conversation. ‘So, I see you like the Mongolian beef and broccoli. Speaking of Mongolia, have I ever told you that I’ve been killed by Mongols four times?’

He had to tell her. But maybe he didn’t. Maybe they were done. It had been a whole year. Maybe killing him four times was enough for them. Surely killing somebody once was enough for most people, right?

Cameron Burnaby turned back at him and grinned. “So!” she said. “Was it the worst horror movie you’ve ever seen?”

He shook himself out of a vision of archers on horseback. “Nope, not even,” he said, walking forward again. “There was this one movie that came out last year. It’s about a guy who kidnaps tourists and turns them into walruses, it’s amazingly—”

Dan slipped on the ice. His leg flew up from underneath him. He felt sudden weightlessness and there was a crack as he landed on the sidewalk.

Everything hurt. Stars flashed across his vision. They faded to reveal the face of Cameron Burnaby, mittens clasped over her mouth. “Are you okay?” she asked.

No, Dan thought. “Yep,” Dan groaned. He pulled himself up onto his elbows. “Trust me, I’ve had worse.”

Cameron Burnaby offered him a hand. He took it, she pulled him up to his feet, and the two were suddenly standing much closer than he had expected.

Dan swallowed. He was suddenly aware of a thousand tiny details. The snowflakes that hung in her hair. The freckles on her nose. The shape of her lips. The terror in her eyes which were looking at something just over and past his shoulder.

He was briefly aware of seventeen arrows hitting the back of his skull.

Dan died instantly.

He got better. Cameron Burnaby was retching in the snow.

“What the fuck was that?!” she finally said, wiping the corner of her mouth with a mitten.

Dan considered a variety of responses. He decided that they all sounded stupid. He settled for the only one he knew was accurate. “A horde of four-hundred thirteenth-century Mongol soldiers,” he sighed.

“They – you—” She gestured wildly. “Your face.”

Dan winced and eased himself onto the sidewalk. “I didn’t want you to see that,” he said.

There was a pause. “Has this happened before?” Cameron Burnaby asked.

Dan thought. “Yeah,” he said. “Five times, counting this one.”

“So this is just a thing that happens.”

“It – yeah,” he said. “I think so. It is.”

Cameron Burnaby nodded. “Oh. Okay.”

Another pause. A car drove past. Cameron Burnaby stood up. “I’m going to go.”

Dan nodded. “Right,” he said. “Some other time?”

There was no answer. Dan closed his eyes. He laid down on the sidewalk and listened to the crunch of snow under boots until they died away. Snowflakes landed on his face, tiny pinpricks of cold which stung and faded almost instantly as they melted.

There was a thump. Dan opened his eyes and looked over. There was a golden eagle standing there, twisting its head to glare at Dan.

Dan glared back. “I hate you,” he said. “I really, deeply hate you.”

The eagle, apparently satisfied with the answer, took off.

Another two-hundred-and-forty arrows sprouted from the sky.

Dan died instantly.

He got better. Physically, at least.

Dan had made the account because it had been five years since his date with Cameron Burnaby.

He looked it over again. The picture wasn’t great – he had tried several different angles and decided that he just didn’t have any good angles – but he was at least a little proud of the summary. Bi fella seeking someone to run from these time-travelling Mongol hordes with. Is that a metaphor? Contact me now to find out. Likes: coffee shops, people watching, history podcasts, dislikes: horses, arrows, people on horses with arrows, the CW show Arrow.

It was a long and glorious joke. Just like him.

He closed the app when he reached his car. He needed to drive. He didn’t have a specific location in mind. He just needed to drive somewhere. Anywhere.

Sometimes on drives like this, he’d drown out his thoughts with gory history podcasts. This time he let his mind wander.

Here he was. Daniel DiSebastian, twenty-four, killed by time-travelling Mongols twelve times. The butt of some cosmic running gag. Living in a cheap, empty condo in the city.

He turned a corner. Even the streets were empty this late at night.

Supposed to be empty. Dan turned onto the highway and was faced with a horde of four-hundred thirteenth-century Mongol soldiers.

The car squealed to a stop. Dan stared. He’d studied – or at least, he’d listened to a few podcasts about the Mongols. They could pull back the string of a one-hundred-and-sixty-pound bow twelve times a minute and could carry one-hundred-and-fifty arrows in a quiver.

A part of his brain wondered what they could do to a 2004 Chrysler Sebring.

The rest of his brain said: Fuck it.

What happened next happened very quickly. Dan heard the engine scream as he floored the gas. He heard one-hundred-and-twelve arrows drum on the roof of the car. He saw another twelve as they punched through the windshield. Through the web of cracks he thought he saw movement, saw the cavalry part like a sea.

Then he was in the middle of the horde. Horses and men and spears were tangled around him, a whirlwind of screams and smells. He felt the car lurch as it ran over something. A few bodies threw themselves onto the hood of the car and were thrown off. Something landed with a thump on his roof.

And then he was on the other side.

The car screamed through the dark until it found its way back to the parking lot of his condo. Dan parked quickly, threw open a door, ran out, and retched onto the asphalt.

“Who’s the joke now!” he screamed between gags. “I’M DANIEL MOTHERFUCKING DISEBASTIAN!”

The parking lot echoed his name. His breath was ragged, and his throat burned. He felt his heartbeat slow to the point that he could make out individual beats, and then he noticed the arrow stuck in his sternum.

He touched it gingerly. “Oh fuck,” he hissed. He tried to pull it out. “Fuck me, seriously.”

Something went thump behind him. Dan turned. A thirteenth-century Mongol soldier had let go of the roof of his car.

He was holding a curved knife.

Dan died slowly.

It was, he decided, a lot worse than dying instantly.

So here he was. Daniel DiSebastian, twenty-four, lying on the asphalt, killed by time-travelling Mongols thirteen times. He stared up at the sky, trying to see stars through the haze of the city.

His phone buzzed in his pocket. A profile picture of a man with a beard and a tattooed feather on his neck had sent him a message.

I’ll bite. Is it a metaphor?

Dan looked at the profile picture. He looked up at the sky. He wiggled his thumbs in thought before he tapped out a response. That’s a great question.

Their first date was that Saturday.

They went to an old book shop. They bought each other a book. Theo had bought Dan a copy of The Song of Achilles, and Dan had almost managed not to laugh, and promised Theo that he’d explain the joke later.

They walked out of the shop together.

The sun was blotted out.

Dan died instantly.

He woke to the sound of running feet.

Panic started to seize up in his chest – oh god they were here they wanted to crush their enemies and see them driven before them and hear the lamentations of the women – when he heard the shrieking giggle.

Panic paused. Mongols didn’t giggle. Did they? No, not as far as he knew. So it wasn’t Mongols. Who giggles? Kids?

The kids across the hall. Of his apartment. Yes. This was fine.

Adrenaline sizzled on contact with relief and boiled into seething indignation. “Somebody’s daddy should have been castrated,” he muttered.

Theo twisted beside him. “It’s like, eleven in the morning, babe.”

Dan glared at the stucco surface of the ceiling. “Fine,” he said. “They get a pass. This time.”

Theo snorted. He turned his phone of with a click, and he rolled to wrap his arm over Dan’s chest. “Don’t get maaad at them,” he said, nuzzling his chin into Dan’s neck.

“I’ll get as maaad as I want,” Dan said, the whine of the defeated.

An hour later, Dan pulled on his pants. “Remind me what we need again?”

“No, I’ll go with you,” Theo said. “I can’t trust you to buy groceries anymore.”

“Rude.”

“Rude and true. We still have fifteen bags of Tostitos.”

Dan sighed. “Is that just going to be a thing now?” he asked. “The Tostitos Incident?”

“I already have your tombstone planned. ‘Here Lies Daniel DiSebastian. He Once Bought Twenty Bags of Tostitos Chips By Accident.” Theo wiggled his fingers in the air to draw quotation marks around the words ‘By Accident.’ “We Don’t Know How It Happened Either.”

Dan wrinkled his nose. “Yeah, it’ll look great next to yours. ‘Here Lies Theodore Oliveira, Stung By Bees Forty-Five Times Specifically On The Crotch.”

“Now hold on.”

“We Don’t Know How It Happened, But We Can Guess!”

Theo shook his head. “Cool,” he said. “Cool, cool, cool. So because I learned a thing about Cleopatra, I’m the guy who wants a vibrator made of bees.”

Dan shrugged as he pulled his coat on. “I mean, you seemed pretty keen about it.”

“Fuck you, Tostitos.”

“Mm. Love you too, Cleo.”

When they were in the parking lot, Theo said, “You know I love you too, right?”

Dan looked over. “Yes?” he said. “We’ve been living together for a year, babe.”

“I know, I know. It’s just—”

“If you didn’t then I’m shit at reading signals.”

Theo grinned. “Yeah, your Bi-dar is total garbage.”

“I can’t connect to the Bi-Fi.”

“You need some…” Theo grimaced. “Bi-focals? To see who’s attracted to you?”

“That was terrible, Theo.”

“Yeah, but you’ll get bi.”

Dan snorted. “Jesus Christ. Anyways. You were saying?”

Theo shrugged. “I dunno. I said fuck you, and you said love you, and…” He blew the air out of his cheeks. “This is the longest I’ve been in a relationship, and I think I know what’s normal for us? But sometimes I’m not sure I know.”

Dan laughed, grabbed the lapels of Theo’s jacket, pulled him down and kissed him. “Fuck, I don’t know either. But I haven’t been normal in years, Theo. This is a ‘not normal’ I can take.”

Theo smiled. “How’re you feeling today, by the way?”

“Good!” Dan grinned. “I’m feeling good.”

There was a thump. Dan looked over and saw a golden eagle take off from the tailgate of a parked truck.

“Actually, hold that thought,” he said, taking a couple steps back.

Two-hundred-and-thirty-nine arrows came screaming out of the sky.

Dan died instantly.

He got better. He heard Theo asking if he was okay.

“Please tell me you saved the donuts,” he muttered.

There was a pause. “Y’know, you keep saying that, and I’ve never actually seen them steal anything from you.”

Dan screwed open an eye to glare. It didn’t last. Theo was squatting on the pavement next to him with his chin in his hand and a smile crinkling the corners of his mouth, and goddammit, he was cute.

He tried anyways. “Excuse you, how many times have you been killed by thirteenth-century Mongol soldiers?”

Theo shrugged. “Exactly zero,” he admitted. “But I’ve seen you get killed by thirteenth-century Mongol soldiers three times now, and I have the benefit of watching what they do while you’re out of it.”

“Oh, what, so someone else stole that donut? Some asshole was like, ‘Oh dope, a dead kid and a donut, yoink!’”

Theo grinned. “I’ve seen weirder things happen.”

Dan stared up at the sky. “Y’know what?” he said. “Totally fair.”

Dan got up and lived.

At least until eight months later. But he’d get better.

#narrativia #fantasy #writing #fantasy writing #absurdism #posting an old story because #look #i've had a bad day #i just want to post a story i know is good

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bnha-scenerios-imagines · 4 years

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So, I was hoping you could do this scenario idea I had! It's where Iida's girlfriend always wants to do cute things together, like go out and watch the stars and cuddle in each other's rooms, but obviously he never agrees cause that's breaking the rules. So he slowly is forced to watch as he loses her to someone else do does want to do those things and break a few small rules for her. Preferably Bakugou, since their opposites. It's just an idea but I hope you like it! Thank you so much!

Iida + Bakugou

“Come on Iida Tenya! Please! There is supposed to be a meteor shower tonight can’t we watch it out on the roof?” You followed your boyfriend down the hallway, holding his arm as you tried to convince him to watch the beautiful shower that was due to happen, “it won’t be long! I can get us up on the roof no biggie and even get you to your room before anyone notices-“

“That is breaking a rule, (Name)! We can’t leave our rooms past curfew. That is an hour and a half after it.” His voice was filled with a tone that you knew you couldn’t fight. You always called it the No-Tone. There was no use fighting it.

“Okay..” you sighed, letting go of his arm to slow down, your eyes catching your pink haired friend. You darted down the hallway, linking arms with her as you whispered, “Do you want to see some Meteors?”

Her grin was all you needed to already know that at least someone was willing to join you on a fun night out. It wouldn’t be romantic but at least you wouldn’t be staring at the sky alone.

“I’ll invite the boys!”

“Perfect! The more the merrier!”

“where’s your boyfriend?” Bakugou asked, holding out a blanket Mina had brought with her to you. “Shouldn’t he be here?”

“He didn’t want to break curfew,” You responded, your smile twitched slightly, your eyes filling with some kind of sadness as you took the blanket from your grasp. “Thank you for coming though I know you tend to sleep early-“

“I used to watch meteor showers when I was a kid. I would have stayed up anyways. Besides,” he sat next to you, looking up just in time to watch one shoot across the black sky. “It’s better with those you’re close too,”

“So you like us?” Your smile grew, becoming more genuine as you looked up to watch about a dozen more shoot by. “You’re not so bad when you’re not yelling at Midoriya,”

His hand hit your shoulder playfully, not hard enough to hurt but not soft enough to show that he thought you were weak. A small smile growing on his lips when he heard you stifle a laugh, your head tilting down to look at him, still grinning.

The rest of the group joined you guys, Mina coming in to bump into your side as she gasped in awe at the lights above her.

—

“Girls and boys are not allowed in each other’s rooms unless there are more than four people (Name),” Iida said when you showed up at his door, holding a bag of food in your grip. You wanted to see if you could convince him to let you in but his eyes were already telling. Though this time he looked slightly apologetic so maybe- “We can work on homework the common room though!”

Your eyes lit up at that suggestion. You had barely seen each other all week. Even if he wouldn’t let you hang out alone in his room as long as you could spend a few hours with him!

“Sure-“

“We just have to finish in the next 15 minutes or so since that’s when curfew will be-“ he looked down at his watch, keeping in mind of time and when you both should be back. You two had 30 minutes.

“Ah.. don’t worry then.” You sighed sadly. As much as you wanted to spend time with him you know you’d just make it downstairs and then the two of you wouldn’t even get some alone time. You had looked into the common room and it had been filled with most of your friends.. you were better off just waiting until the weekend. “We don’t have much time. Let’s schedule for the weekend instead.”

“Okay, thank you for understanding,” he smiled, closing the door on you while you stepped back, signalling that you were just going to head back to your own dorm.

You shouldn’t be so upset, you thought to yourself. You rejected his offer. But.. you just wished he would let you hang out with him alone. In an intimate area. You didn’t have to kiss or anything you just wanted to hang out, cuddle or hold hands at least!

“Oi, what are you doing up here?” Bakugou asked, steeping into the elevator. He stood next to you, watching the elevators close as he waited for your response.

“I was just talking with Iida,” you spoke, your eyes meeting his briefly, forming a small smile before you looked back down at your feet.

“I’m surprised that rules-are-the-law kid let you in,”

Your bitter laugh told him otherwise.

“He didn’t.” You gripped the bag harder, your eyebrows furrowing in frustration.

“Then.. want to come to mine?” His voice was filled with confidence, looking at you with his hands shoved on his pockets.

Your head snapped upwards, looking at him as if he had said something absolutely crazy. He was slightly taken back by your response. Had the request really been so uncalled for.

“Yes. Actually, I’d really like that,” spending time with a friend right now was the perfect remedy for your less-than-kind-thoughts you’ve been having.

He pressed the button to the common floor again, watching the light turn off before pressing floor 4. His movements quick and he had to tell himself to calm down. His heart shouldn’t be beating this quickly. You had just accepted his invitation as a friend, nothing more.

“I hope you like Beef stew,” You said as you stepped out of the elevator, following him to his room. Your mood already feeling slightly better upon having someone to talk to.

“It better be fuckin’ spicy,” He commented, opening the door to his room and entering it. You followed close behind, taking a good look at his room as you shut the door behind you. Responding in a monotone voice,

“It has a little spice to it but Iida doesn’t care for it to be crazy spicy. So I made it sort of tame, honestly it was my first time cooking for him.. I had hoped to share it” your eyes continued to wonder around his room, taking in every piece of it. You had never been in it but it was very simple. Truthfully, you had almost expected it to have more of a Bakugou vibe to it. It was way more tame.

“Wait you made it?” He looked back at you, taking a seat on the floor. You joined him, slowly taking the large container out of the bag.

“Yeah! Here,” you handed him a bowl and chopsticks. Eagerly grabbing one for yourself as you carefully filled your bowl with the ingredients. “He says that store bought tastes like shit and he’d rather puke it up than have to swollow that stuff down,” you took a bite out of one of the pieces, humming happily upon feeling the heat of it. It wasn’t half bad! “My words not his,”

“I figured. I don’t think he even knows some swear words”

“There have been some close calls,” you said back, smiling when you saw his eyes widen. You could already feel your ego grow.

“This isn’t half bad. Not as spicy as I would have liked but.. not bad.”

“Well I do try,” you winked at him.

The rest of the night was spent with the two of you chatting. You didn’t think you could have had this much fun with bakugou. You had spoken with him a few times since the last time you all hung out and he seemed like a pretty funny person, his snarky comebacks were actually somewhat endearing.

It was exactly what you needed to get your thoughts back in order.

—

“Hey (Name),” Bakugou greeted as you stepped into the elevator. He had been hoping to meet up with you since the last week you had all hung out. Immediately though he could see your stiffened form. “You’re upset,” he stared boldly.

“Iida said he couldn’t have lunch with me since he had some student council business to take care of,” you let out a long sigh, “I get that he’s busy but this is the sixth time this week, not including the week before.”

“Momo has been sitting with the girls all week,” he stated, your head nodding sadly at hearing this.

“I know.. I just don’t understand..”

“So eat lunch with me,” his mind wandered to a nice place he could take you. He knew this ramen shop that was fairly cheap so he could pay for the two of you without you feeling too guilty, “I was going to go out so I wouldn’t have to deal with Mina yelling at me to make her lunch anyways.”

“Really! Where were you thinking?”

“There’s this ramen shop close to my-“

“Ramen! I’m in!” The elevator door opened and you stepped out, eager at the chance to finally get away from the school and do something fun, “I’ll meet you at the doors at 12 then!”

He didn’t think he could wait for the clock to turn to 12.

—

“Hey Iida!” You greeted happily, walking past him to Bakugou who sat not too far away from your boyfriend. Your hand was holding something in it as you held it up to Bakugou “check it out!”

“How the fuck did you manage to get it?” He asked, his eyes scanning the book in front of you. It was a book detailing All Might in all of his years, even secrets of his past.

“(Name).. what is that?” Iida questioned, stepping forward to see what you were showing Bakugou. The other male glaring up at him.

“Ah! Iida! It’s a book that’s all about All Might! It came out just the other day. Bakugou and I had been talking about wanted to read it!”

“Oh- I see.” His eyes trailed to look at Bakugous cold ones. Your voice rattling on about it while the two boys glared are each other.

Since when had you and Bakugou gotten so close?

“-and there’s a movie that they released with the book all about All Might! I bought a digital copy so we’re going to watch it! Right Bakugou?”

“Right.” He responded with a smirk, a hand reaching out to grab the book from your hands. “Thanks for letting me lend the book from you, I know how much you hate when people take your shit”

“It’s fine since it’s you,” your voice was sweet, smiling happily before turning to Iida “oh! Do you have more Student council things to do today? Or can we have lunch?”

“I’m sorry (Name)-“ he spoke with an apologetic voice “but-“

“Then eat lunch with me (Name). I made extra Tantanmen last night.”

“Tantanmen is spicy. (Name) doesn’t like spicy food-“

“Actually Bakugou got me really into it! I’m in. Save me a bowl of Tantanmen Bakugou!” With that the school bell rang and you all quickly went to your seats, a small smile on your face.

Why was Iida so frustrated with that?

—

He stretched his arms out, his back cracking as he did so. It was the first time he had gotten all of his work finished in a decent time. It wasn’t just homework but there were a few things he wanted to finish for himself before he wanted to call you up. He eyed the clock. If he called you now the two of you could hang out for an hour and a half before curfew.

He pressed on your icon, sending a message your way as he cleaned up his papers, putting his work in the rightful place. You were usually so quick to respond. He was surprised you hadn’t answered by the time his hand touched the papers.

You hadn’t seen the text until an hour later, hitting Bakugou in the shoulder as you answered Iida. You couldn’t lie to him and would rather get a lecture about leaving then about lying.

“Take a picture with me!” You threw your arm around his neck, taking a picture of the two of you before he could complain. You sent that to Iida explaining that you and Bakugou were out to do some shopping.

A second later you received a paragraph from him, laughing at how quick he sent it you just apologized and told him you’d leave soon even though you weren’t going too.

“Is that Iida?” Bakugou asked when you shoved the phone into your pocket. Moving to stand next to him while the two of you thumbed through different jackets.

“Yeah, he’s upset we snuck out,” you pulled out a black jacket, holding it up to him so you could see if it looked ok. “Maybe we should get you a red one? You could wear a black shirt underneath it so it’s kinda be like your hero costume... maybe add green gloves?”

“You’re thinking too much about the colour scheme, black is fine. It’ll be cold when we go hiking,” he unzipped the jacket in your hand, feeling the fabric on the inside. “This one is perfect. Now let’s find yours,” he moved to leave this section but your hand stopped him, still sifting through the jackets in front of you.

“Black would look good on you. You should chose black too,” he commented, his hand releasing your arm as he picked out a jacket that looked pretty much exactly like his. The black was slightly lighter and the sleeves had a hole where you could fit your thumbs.

“If we’re going to match let’s go back to where we were and get the exact same one. Usually Mens is cheaper anyways.” You picked out a copy of his jacket, slipping it onto your shoulders. Before turning to face him, “well?”

“Perfect,” he commented, his eyes looking you over as he nodded his head. “It’ll keep you warm,”

“Then this one!” You took it off of your shoulders, putting it back on the hanger. You held it, happy with your purchase. “We should start heading back-“

“If you’re worried about your boyfriend I’ll deal with his screaming,” he walked alongside you, tilting his head to the side as he spoke, “I don’t care. Besides, you still need boots,”

You grinned, bumping your shoulder into his. You couldn’t even feel your phone vibrate with a message from Iida.

—

“Where are you two headed?” Iida asked, he had just gotten back from his morning run when he saw you and Bakugou dressed up. He decided to ignore the fact that you were wearing the same jacket as him.

“Why do you wanna know-“

“Suki’s mom invited me to go hiking with them for the weekend!” You grinned happily, gripping your backpack tighter. “Don’t you remember?” You tilted your head, “I told you a few weeks ago? Back when we had lunch together,”

“Ah, yes no I remember,” he lied, “sorry I didn’t realize that it was this weekend. I hope you have fun,” he spoke quietly, turning to leave the two of you. When... when did you start calling Bakugou by his first time and when did you start getting so close with Bakugou’s family? You hadn’t even met his own.

Bakugou pressed his gloved hand to the small of your back, breaking you out of your trance. He hated just how quickly Iida seemed to bring out your mood. You were excited just one second ago to go on this trip with his family.. now you were saddened to see how little you were in Iida’s mind.

“Come on. My mom will be outside waiting for us. She’s been dying to see you again,” that seemed to perk you up, smiling up at him again.

“Really?”

“Yeah that bitch has been on my ass since you said yes to coming with us. She wants you to come over for dinner more often,”

You scoffed, hitting Bakugou with your elbow. You were so used to hearing Bakugou cuss his mom out but it always felt wrong everytime you heard him say it. You never corrected him though. You could see how he could think that, his mom was intense and crazy, just like him.

“Then let’s head out!”

—

You texted Iida, inviting him to watch a movie with you. You already expected him to say no so you didn’t bother to mention that you and Bakugou had intended to watch it together.

You had expressed interest in the horror movie once during a conversation with Bakugou. He was quick to rent it. He offered to watch it with you the next day the two of you had a night free so you could stay up late.

He didn’t think he had seen you so excited since the last time you two had hung out.

“If you get scared you can hang onto me,” you joked, leaning against the arm of the couch as he sat next to you, doing the same.

“As if,” he scoffed, pressing his foot against your leg, kicking it as he reached for the remote. “This isn’t even that scary.”

“Don’t say anything until you watch it! It’s actually pretty interesting! I think you’ll like it!” You slapped his ankle. Taking a sip of your soda you leaned back.

“Thank you,” you said when he pressed play, the pictures flashing on the screen in front of you.

“What?” He asked, confused about why you had just thanked him for kicking you but when he looked closely he could see your facial features soften.

“For watching this movie with me, thank you.” Your eyes darted to look at your phone, typing a quick reply before putting it back in your pocket. “He said no”

“Well I don’t think a law abiding student like him would be able to watch something like this anyways. His small fragil mind would explode at the even suggestion of a woman’s shoulder sliding out of a shirt, much less watching her have her head ripped off” he reached over, resting his arm around your shoulder, “so fuck him. Let’s just watch this movie.”

You smiled, nodding as you leaned your head back on his arm, reaching over to eat a handful of popcorn as the movie continued. Tonight would be fun. He’d make sure of it.

—

You knew this had to be done. The two of you had been growing apart. Anytime you tried to reach out he’d refuse to do anything. You knew he was busy. He had so much on his plate but, you two hadn’t spoken in a month. Any text from you was responded with silence or a short text back.

It was done between you two. You were too tired of having to constantly tell him that you wanted to spend time together, that you wanted to be a couple.

If he didn’t want to be then you wouldn’t make him.

“Iida.. I think we’re done.” You spoke quietly, looking at him in the eyes. You could feel his body stiffen, his eyes looking off to the side.

“(N-Name) i dont want to end us-“

“Iida. You’re too busy for me,” you sighed, raising a hand to rub your neck, trying to sooth the tension in it. “I don’t want to end on a bad note. So let’s just make this mutual, you’re too busy for a relationship so I won’t tie you down.”

What could he say? He knew you were right. You weren’t happy.. he had known that for a long time but he still didn’t want to let you go. But here you were.

“Okay,” he whispered back, holding a hand out for you to take, he wasn’t sure what else he was supposed to do in a situation like this. “Let’s stay friends then,”

“Yes,” you held his hand, shaking it as if it was a business transaction. You had to hold back a lump in your throat as you thought about the fact this was about as physical he had been. “I wish you well Iida,” you turned around, leaving his room.

Iida followed you, stepping out briefly to watch you leave. His own throat running dry when he sat Bakugou leaning against the elevator door so it wouldn’t close. His hands slipping out of his pockets as you sped up. Your arms wrapped around him, gripping his shirt. Bakugou looked up at him as he pulled you into the elevator, glaring at Iida as the doors shut on the two of you.

—

It hurt to see you grow so close to Bakugou, his heart falling everytime you called his name sweetly instead of his own, his hands raising to rub his eyes.

“Suki! Are you busy tonight?” Your voice crossed the classroom despite you tried to keep it quiet so you could speak with him only. Bakugou’s head looked up.

“I’ve got some homework to finish-“ He tilted his head back, his eyes glaring into Iida’s “as long as you’re not loud you can come work on it with me.”

He knew why he had done that. It was a jab at him for not meeting your needs. It was Bakugou’s way of showing off how much better he was for you. He was what you needed. What you deserved. He ducked his head, his eyes looking down at his homework as he heard your quiet voice once again.

“Thank you Katsuki, thank you.”

#bnha #boku no hero academia #mha #my hero academia #x reader #katsuki bakugou x reader #bakougo x reader #bakugou x reader #katsuki x reader #tenya iida x reader #iida x reader

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ggukkiedae · 3 years

Text

❝𝕀𝕟 𝕋𝕙𝕖 𝕊𝕠𝕠𝕡❞

𝚗𝚘𝚝𝚎𝚜:

⇢ Episodes 3-4

𝚛𝚎𝚖𝚒𝚗𝚍𝚎𝚛𝚜:

⇢ conversations written in italics are spoken in english. requests and feedback are highly appreciated!

⇢ script form (name: lines) are the interviews

EPISODE 3

she was shown tucked under her purple blanket still sleeping while the others were starting to wake up

while jin makes his way to the upper house’s kitchen, she slowly gets up and checks her phone

“11? already?”

the next cut you see is of her in lounge shorts and a big shirt instead of her pajama set waddling her way to yoongi and attaching herself to his side

“oppas,” she wrapped her arms around his waist, tucking herself under his arm, “how do you guys have so much energy right now”

“aigoo, our makdungie just woke up,” seokjin cooed while hoseok just squished her cheeks in an attempt to help her regain her senses

“wake yourself up, princess, then come help me with ingredients” “okay”

she helps yoongi with the vegetables, him making sure to take the onions away from her

she was giggling with hoseok at yoongi’s face when he was cutting up onions

hoseok had her in a back hug with his chin on her head while yoongi stirred the ingredients together. her job, despite being the best cook in bangtan, was adding the cheese

miya: i’m actually pretty good with meals, but if i don’t cook alone, the oppas usually make me do the minimum. something about it being dangerous?

the older members passed her off to jungkook as soon as he got there

aaaaand the two maknaes disappeared

a clip of them talking while walking towards everyone else played. their conversation was hushed, though, and the background music just played over it. the subtitles read “maknaes are quiet in the morning”

she headed over to the grass in front of the main house where she started doing stretches. she did basic stretches then went on to a few more advanced ones

namjoon saw her from a distance

“yoon-ah, are you okay over there?” “i’m okay!”

after her stretches she just ended up lying on the grass and scrolling through her phone

eventually she just plays music and puts her phone in a safe spot then entered the trampoline

she shook her head amusedly when she saw jungkook, taehyung, and hoseok jogging past her

she starts hopping around the trampoline to build up momentum and, next thing you know, she’s practicing different gymnastics tricks

you don’t see her for a while

she’s next shown in the main house sitting next to yoongi, excitedly bouncing in place while opening a box

“i can make makeup! oppa, look!”

the editors replayed the clip, emphasizing on how all four boys in the room turned to her

she excitedly took stuff out and started setting up while animatedly telling the boys about everything she could grab a hold of

yoongi was just nodding and humming in response every now and then while the other three did the same but while doing their own activities

until she eventually became way too focused to talk

around the time jungkook and taehyung are boxing each other, she turned to jimin

“oppa, sit still!”

and she places something on his lips with a grin. it was lip gloss with pink glitters

“ooooh it looks nice” jimin poked at his lips while checking his face in his phone

“i should sell these,” she laughed and closed the containers

then she heads off somewhere with the box holding all the cosmetics

the next clip of her is when it’s raining. she’s sitting on the roofed area of the deck on the boathouse with her guitar and a notebook. she’s just mindlessly playing the guitar while watching the rain

miya: there was something calming about watching the rain hit the water… i guess i just don’t see it too often nowadays. not much in the past few years, actually

she’s next seen when yoongi stops by to bring her with him over to come with him to get his recording equipment

“we’re making a theme song?” “looks like it.”

she just laughs and follows him after setting her guitar and notebook down in her room

she’s in giggles when namjoon’s recording “in the soop” and hoseok’s kinda just coddling her and laughing with her

she’s lying down on the floor while jungkook was building toys. hoseok comes in and tosses them both a pair of sweatpants and calls them for food. she could smell the food when she opened the door.

“pajeoooooooooon!”

she comes running to the tarp and shouting excitedly. the older members laugh fondly

you can see her and jungkook cheers makgeolli a few times on the side

she smiles at taehyung when they’re telling him he can flip the pajeon next “oppa fighting!”

the steam from the soup goes towards her face and she scrunches up her nose “it’s so humid wait”

she applauds when taehyung successfully flipped the pajeon and when jungkook did the same

“can i cook beef tomorrow?” and yoongi just looks at her “you and me in the kitchen tomorrow” and she just sits back with a satisfied smile

they’re all singing and she’s giggling on the side “you guys sound like drunk ahjussis”

somehow she’s curled up on hoseok’s lap all giggly and he looks at her “our makdungie is tipsy from the looks of it”

EPISODE 4

at the start of the episode you can see her curled up in yoongi’s side and playing a game on her phone

“how much makgeolli did hobi sneak you to make you tipsy?” “honestly, oppa, i don’t know”

the next you see her, she and jungkook are in his room, a bottle of soju between them, and just talking

“you know, i didn’t expect that we’d be this close at first”

yoonmi laughed at his statement “neither did i. you came and were kinda scary”

“it was completely new to me having a girl around,” he defended himself while pouring them another shot each, “but i found my best friend that way”

they clinked their shot glasses together and downed their current shots

“it’s a little funny, isn’t it?” she asked him

“what is?” “the fact that we became best friends. most guys your age at the time would have found it weird hanging out with a little girl”

he scoffed “i’m different! besides, i think it’s because the hyungs said it takes a while to get close to you, and i wanted to be the fastest”

she poured them their next shots “your competitive streak never died down”

they took their shots and sat in silence for a little bit just letting their music play from jungkook’s phone

the captions read “the two maknaes are communicating through the silence” while they just sat there and drank their soju

“hey, have i ever thanked you?” she asked all of a sudden

he raised an eyebrow at her, “for what?”

“everything,” she laughed, “taking care of me, being on my side, being someone i can talk to”

“many times, yeah,” he chuckled “you do the same thing for me, anyway. that’s why we’re best friends, remember?”

“then why do you always toss me around like a doll” “you look like a doll, face it”

she laughed while pouring them the last of the soju

“cheers to best friends and being bangtan’s maknaes,” she held her shot glass up “sleepover today?”

he laughed and clinked their glasses again “sleepover any time”

miya: ggukoo oppa, we’ve been friends since we were kids. we grew up together, so i guess we understand each other a lot? sometimes we have deep talks, sometimes we sit in silence. sometimes we fight, and sometimes we team up against the other oppas.

jungkook: i think people don’t understand that mimi and i have a deeper kind of dynamic rather than just the childish image we usually have together on screen. us talking like this is something we do a lot, and it brings us both a lot of comfort. clarity, too

then there’s a mini montage of them talking, but their words are muted and music played over them. there are bits of them laughing, drinking, and maybe letting out a tear or two before they just got into jungkook’s bed to go to sleep

when taehyung goes to the boathouse to sail his rc boat, he checks on them. the editors put a clip of jungkook and yoonmi sleeping with the caption “maknae siblings are tired from talking until 4am”

a while passes, and there’s a clip of jungkook sitting up in bed, yawning and rubbing the back of his head. he looks around the room a little before shaking yoonmi awake

“hmm?” “come with me to the main house” “okay”

the scene cuts and you next see them in the main house, jungkook working on his glider with yoonmi lying down next to him, her head on his lap and still half-asleep while namjoon and jungkook talk

“sleep late, yoon-ah?” “ggukoo oppa and i stayed up until four i think”

her mumbling was slightly incoherent, though and namjoon just laughed and patted her head

when he gives up on the glider, his hand rests on yoonmi’s head, lightly massaging for a bit before transferring her head to namjoon’s lap and heading to cook

“joonie oppa?” “hmm?” “are you reading?” “yeah, why?” “could you read out loud?”

namjoon’s just reading stuff out loud while she’s listening intently to every word

namjoon and taehyung headed up to the upper house first while she sat by the kitchen and waited for jungkook to finish what he was cooking

she opened her mouth as he turned around, just in time for him to pop a piece into her mouth “let’s go”

she settled into taehyung’s side and slowly began to eat after thanking the older members for the food. yoongi chuckled at her sleepy demeanor

“you’re taking a while to wake up today, princess” “ggukoo oppa and i had soju before sleeping”

“i like the melon,” she noted, making taehyung grin at her and nuzzle his forehead against the top of her head

she took over drying the dishes for namjoon and kissed him on the cheek “stay safe on the way back, oppa” “you, too”

she ended up cleaning up with jimin, humming a little song. she was telling him about the dream she had where they all performed live again. once they finished, she went off to sit with hoseok and read while he customized his shoes

“oppa, if it turns out good, you’re going to have to make one for me, too!” “ooooh matching shoes? you’ve got it”

jimin came and started customizing his shoes as well after briefly petting her hair

she went inside so jimin could use her chair and sat next to taehyung who pulled her into his lap. he rested his chin on her shoulder while she read

when it came to packing up, she was muttering to herself while folding things into her carrier “should i have done more? i feel like i was too boring… oh well”

jimin walked into her room and leaned against the door frame

“need help, aegi?” “... yes, please” he helped her carry the bag with her clothes and the bag with her recording and producing equipment while she carried her guitar out

she ended up playing a vr game with jungkook where they had to break boxes to the rhythm of songs

there was a lot of giggling and laughter while they tried to distract each other with jimin on her side and taehyung on jungkook’s side

“ggukoo oppa’s cheating!” “uh huh, get your revenge later, let’s eat first”

she pouted at seokjin’s words but took of the vr goggles and skipped outside

“thank you for the food!” and she digs into her jjapaguri

she laughed at the reactions part until hoseok turned to her “why are you laughing? you can’t hide it the most!”

“only to you guys! but to everyone else, i can fake it”

she put her bags and guitar into the car yoongi drove and was surprised when yoongi told her to her to get in shotgun. she did and saw seokjin walking towards them and the car in front driving off

“pretend you’re asleep, princess”

she quickly closed her eyes and faced yoongi, struggling to hold in her laughter when she hear seokjin trying to open the door

she just lost it when yoongi drove off

#yoonmi.inthesoop #bts 8th member #bts female member #bts female addition #miya #yoonmi #kim yoonmi

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iridescent-petrichor · 3 years

Text

we’ll meet again, chapter five

Pairing: Peter Maximoff x Reader

Warnings: i dont think so?

Words: 1.7K

Previous Chapter - Next Chapter

You’d never been on the run from the cops before, and you hated every second of it. It had been only a week since the incident, but you couldn’t take any more of it.

You collapsed in an alley, exhaustion overtaking you. It was a dangerous place to sleep, but you were too tired to care. You were so tired that you almost didn’t hear the footsteps approaching you. Blinking a couple times, you looked up and saw two men walking towards you. Sitting up straighter, you furrowed your brows together. They didn’t seem like threats.

They stopped a couple feet in front of you.

“Hello. My name is Charles Xavier. I understand that you’ve caused a bit of a fire recently.” The man in a wheelchair extended his hand for you to shake. You didn’t take it.

“How did you find me?” They must be cops, or maybe they’re higher up. Government agents maybe? What if you get sent to the Pentagon just like-

“We’re not cops.” You blinked, focusing back on the men in front of you. “I found you through Cerebro – a device Hank designed that helps me connect to other mutants in the world.” He gestures to the man – Hank – who was standing next to him.

“Other… mutants?” Your mind instantly went to Peter. If they found you, they could’ve tracked him down too considering how careless he is with his powers.

“I can help you control your powers. You seem like you need it.” He glanced down, and only then did you notice the fire leaking out of your palms. You jumped, standing stiffly as the fire instantly disappearing before you looked back up at the men.

“You promise?” He nodded, extending his hand once more. You shook it, making the decision final.

He turned in his wheelchair, heading out of the alley and down the street. Hank gave you one last look to make sure you were following before he joined Charles Xavier.

They stopped at a car, motioning for you to get in. You hesitated for a moment, briefly thinking about how stupid of an idea this was if these two were scammers of some kind, before you climbed in the backseat.

Fuck it.

The school was massive to say the least. Giant strings of ivy fell from the roof down the building. It was one of the most beautiful things you’d ever seen. You stepped out of the car, unable to contain the shock on your face.

“Welcome to Xavier’s School for Gifted Youngsters.” Hank smiled, appearing next to you.

“Wow.” You muttered, smiling wide.

“Come, let’s show you the inside.” Charles was already heading towards the entrance. You glanced between him and Hank before following him inside.

The inside was just as grand as the outside, and just as devoid of people. You looked from the chandelier to the giant staircase, and finally back to Hank.

“Didn’t you say this was a school?”

He nodded. “It used to be.”

“What happened to everyone?”

He looked to the ground, not responding. When you glanced at Charles, you realized that you likely wouldn’t be getting an answer out of either of them for a while.

“Want the grand tour?” Hank asked, changing the subject, smiling when you nodded enthusiastically.

Maybe being a mutant wasn’t so bad after all.

The news of the fire had been eating away at Peter for the next couple weeks, every possibility of what could’ve happened to her stewing in his mind.

Finally, he gave in to his impulse, wishing his mom a quick goodbye before speeding off to the location of where the fire had been. He knew she wouldn’t be there, but it was the only lead on her that he had.

It didn’t take long for him to arrive in New York, and he contemplated trying to find that guy that helped his dad break out of the Pentagon for a moment.

No, I have to stay focused.

He glanced around the crowd on the off chance she’d be nearby. No such luck. He sighed, leaning against a wall for a moment to gather his thoughts.

How are you gonna find one girl in a massive city like this?

“Are you sure you’ll be able to get the school back up and running?” You asked, watching Charles wheel over to Cerebro with Hank by your side.

You were wearing sleek gloves made from a mixture of materials Hank had been working with. The three of you quickly acknowledged that before you got your powers under control, you would need to keep them from surfacing at the wrong moment, and after quite a few tests, he determined that your power often came from your hands. They were comforting; it made you feel like you had more control already.

“Yes.” He said simply, now placing the helmet over his head. Hank left your side to join Charles, messing with the controls that you knew better than to even try to understand.

“Is there anything I can do to help?” You asked after a moment of silence. You felt so useless standing there off to the side.

They paused, looking between each other for a moment. “You could… get groceries? Hank suggested lamely.

Awesome.

“Unfortunately there is nothing for you to do in here, maybe it is best that you get out of the mansion for some time today.” Charles said, not looking towards you. He certainly explained it better than Hank would’ve.

You sighed, nodding. “Okay fine, but I’m taking your wallet.” Charles laughed as you turned on your heel and walked from the room.

Peter had been in New York for a couple days, calling his mom using spare change at some phone booths around the city to let her know he won’t be home for a while. He managed to call every day, but he could tell she was getting increasingly frustrated whenever he said he wasn’t going home yet.

Today, though, he promised her that he would head home. It was a stupid idea anyway, looking for you here.

When he hung up, he let out a long sigh, leaning against the phone booth. All of the hope that he brought to New York had dwindled out painfully. That’s when he could’ve sworn he saw a glimpse of you walking down the street.

It jolted him back into reality, barely refraining from using his powers to run over there in case it wasn’t actually you.

Then, weaving through the crowd, he saw you. You was walking on the opposite side of the street, facing away from him, but it was unmistakably you. He broke out in a grin, running to you as fast as he could.

In their defense, it was a nice day outside.

You took a deep breath, keeping your bag of groceries close to yourself as you weaved between people to get back home.

Home.

Smiling to yourself, you thought about how welcoming Charles and Hank were. The idea of restarting the mutant school excited you, giving you a small skip in your step.

You were so lost in your thoughts you didn’t notice the person run in front of you until you knocked into them.

“Oh!” You backed up. “I’m so…” You apology died on your tongue when you saw who it was.

“Hey.” In an instant, you were closer to the building, out of the way of the impatient crowd.

“Peter.” You brought your hand up to his face as if to make sure he was actually there. “What are you-”

“I saw the news. Quite the fire you started, Y/N.” He was grinning from ear to ear, and it was so contagious.

“Hey, at least I didn’t break a ‘dangerous mutant’ out of the Pentagon.” You matched his smile, unable to contain your happiness from seeing him.

“How’d you even know that was me? I’m sure there’s plenty of very attractive silver-haired mutants out there.” You laughed loudly. God, it was nice just being in his presence again.

“Yeah, I’m sure.”

“So, where you headed?” He asked, moving away from you to walk in the direction you were originally heading.

“I’ve actually been staying with some mutants,” you had to jog to catch up to him, smiling when you noticed he slowed down to match your pace.

“That’s cool.” He nodded, shoving his hands in his pockets. The conversation was easy; it was always so easy with Peter.

“You should stay with us.” You looked up at him, frowning when he laughed shortly.

“I was actually gonna ask you that.” You tilted your head in confusion. “When I saw the news, I couldn’t stop thinking about it. After a while I figured what the hell, I should check on my best friend. Make sure she has a place to stay. And if you didn’t I would’ve let you stay at my place – well my mom’s place. But she’d probably be fine if you holed up in the basement with me, y’know? You were always there all the time anyway, so-”

“Pete.” You spoke, cutting off his rambling. He paused for a moment, before speaking again.

“I was just worried.”

“I get it. But I’m fine. Trust me.” You grabbed his hand, giving it a squeeze before letting go.

“You sure?” He finally looked up from the ground, staring at you. “Cause I can’t protect you all the time if I’m all the way in DC.”

“I promise.” You said, giving him a smile as one final reassurance. He seemed to relax a bit, leaning closer to you.

“Okay, good, cause I kinda have to get home.”

“What?”

“I know, I’m sorry.” He groaned, putting an arm around your shoulder and pulling you into him. “I’ve kinda been here for more than a couple of days and my mom is getting more upset by the day and I kinda just promised her that I would be heading home like, now, so…”

“Will we ever get to actually hang out again?” You frowned, laying your head on his shoulder.

“I’m sure we’ll find a way.” You nodded, pulling him into a hug before the two of you said your goodbyes.

As quick as he came, he was gone. You bit your lip, holding back tears that threatened to spill down your face. Saying goodbye to him was always the hardest part.

When you got back to the mansion you set the groceries down in the kitchen, cursing to yourself when you realized you forgot entirely to mention to Peter where you’d been staying.

You marched up the stairs to your bedroom, not bothering to tell the boys you were home. Charles could find out easily, anyway.

#peter maximoff imagine #peter maximoff x reader

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littlenighttales · 2 years

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The two children sat in silence for awhile, staring at each other awkwardly. They couldn’t help but feel so familiar with one another, despite them having no memory of one another. Waves gently pushed them along the lake as Six spoke up, “what made you come back for me? You don’t even know me.” Mono shrugged in response. “You grabbed me from the bridge...” he awkwardly responded, “after you saved me,” Six pointed out.

“It just felt right,” the boy clarified. He wasn’t really wanting to bring up his friends right now. He didn’t have the ability to save them, but it still stayed in his mind. He cleared his head of the thought as best he could, “so... umm... what’s your name?” Mono asked, cocking his head. She rolled up her sleeve, showing a mark. A scar of a weird symbol he didn’t recognize. His confusion was apparent, even through the bag. All he knew is it looked like it hurt. “Six. What’s yours?”

“Mono.”

Introductions were out of the way, albeit with the bagged boy being a bit shy about it. They didn’t have much time to talk before the door they were riding on crashed gently into the shore, though neither of them had much to say anyway. Distant apartment buildings shifted towards them ever so slightly as they landed on the beach.

Mono rushing quickly up the sandy shore, Six in one hand, the other hand reaching out to a shadow. “What are you doing?” Six asked him. He rubbed his eyes. “You didn’t see them?” Six just shook her head. Maybe it was the excitement from earlier, or the lack of sleep. Six tugged along at him, taking them closer to a light shining in the darkness, illuminating a door into the city. The first thing they saw in the dilapidated building was a suit hanging from a television just one floor above them. The roof was gone. Mono could feel his stomach drop as he paused at the sight momentarily, speedily walking through the room just in case. Across the street was a diner, similarly full of clothes sitting where the people should be. The city was dead, just as it was when they left. They’d known something the tower did had long since caused the residents of this place to just vanish. Whatever it was wouldn’t stop unless they stopped it. They had to treat this building as a puzzle, it seemed. The duo progressed far enough to find another door, closed but broken. They could see an exit through the cracks. Mono went in first, a nearby television flickering to life and emitting that familiar sound. “Nothing to be afraid of. Nothing to be afraid of,” he repeated internally as he covered his ears and approached, putting his hand on it to tune the signal. The next thing he knew, he was in the hall, walking to a door briefly before being yanked back out. Part of him was relieved. No long arm, no creepy drawings. Six helped him up, the two climbing out of the window and landing on a dumpster before crossing the street, following Six behind a dumpster to get behind the fence towering over them. They were in a school playground, though it still felt less than joyful.

“It’s not abandoned,” Six warned, kicking a ball over to her friend “they’re all in class… for now…”

A short ball game before climbing up a bedsheet into the second floor’s window. Pictures were scattered across the walls, trash on the ground, and a smoking trash can. The far end of the hall was a portrait with glowing eyes- lights shining through the dark. They’d avoid traps and solve puzzles together, eventually being flanked by living porcelain. A locker trapping Mono beneath it for a moment as Six struggled- he chased them down in a futile rescue attempt, five of them grabbing Six and running, lifting a rope ladder behind them to ensure a successful kidnapping. Begging for her safe return did nothing to incite their mercy. All that did was make him angry. Angrier still when he cracked the head of the next bully he saw. He stood over its remains, fuming in rage, before progressing again. He wouldn’t leave until he found his friend again. Just getting to the second floor meant sneaking by a snake necked teacher and outrunning a gang of her thuggish students after a mostly successful diversion. He’d have to outrun and hide from the same teacher in the library above, ever so determined to punish him for the previous interruption. With the coast cleared, he progressed once more, solving a short puzzle with the answer written down nearby, then proceeding into the cafeteria. A handful of the evil children were up to no good in the kitchen. Mono interrupted, picking up a metal spoon and slamming it on the head of the nearest one. Center strikes and wide swings destroyed them all- sparing a hollow head from the last to let him sneak by a small army of the cloned porcelain would let him blend in for just a few moments.

The relative peace was never meant to last. Another encounter with the twisted neck teacher in a classroom place full of various organs in jars. Though with no attention, it was still unpleasant to see her. He’d take some comfort in furiously striking down more of her possessed minions with a hammer through the halls, eventually coming to the bathroom at the end. Six was hanging from her feet above- two of the captors taunting from below. Mono slammed the hammer down to provoke them into rushing him. The first was dealt a blow to the head, crumbling into fragments instantly. The second tackled him- wrestling momentarily on the floor, gaining and losing the upper hand against one another. Eventually, Mono had enough of an advantage to simply bash it’s head into the tiled floor, doing so until it stopped moving. Lifting himself to his feet and grabbing his hammer, he bashed the plank holding the rope Six was tied to in with three strikes. She dropped to the floor, momentarily lifeless. With concern, Mono leaned over his friend protectively, shaking her gently. She looked dazed and confused before taking his hand to help her to her feet. A small sign of trust. “I… thought you were going to leave me…” she admitted. Mono shook his head, almost on the verge of tears. “No! You’re my best friend!”

“Best friend…” Six contemplated the meaning of this. Why? What has she done deserving of this? She didn’t know. She couldn’t understand it- especially considering it had been but a few hours since they met.. They were reunited, at least. That’s what mattered most. She’d follow his lead until they found one more of the little nightmares. Piano music played down the hall. Mono snuck for a hammer. Six approached the figure from behind. As Mono turned around, Six leapt onto the glass figure, attacking with the fury of a t drenched house cat. It was finished. All that was left now was to get out of here. They almost managed to do so without incident- the teacher only alerted to them by the loud creak of the opening hatch to the vents. Her neck seemed to stretch forever as she chased them through, nearly chomping down onto Mono’s coat a number of times. “Faster, faster, faster!” the boy rushed as he looked back. Just a few seconds later, he’d lose his footing and begin to slide, falling into a dumpster below. The teacher looked around, searching for an eternal few seconds before retreating back. Rain began to hit the ground gently. They were safe from all but the elements for now.

#little nighttales #little nightmares 2 #ln2 au #i didn’t #do #proofreading #but still #wanted #to give #this thing #ln2 spoilers

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sleepymccoy · 5 years

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Crowley and Aziraphale are absolutely adorably nauseating with each other in public, once they can be, but they’re also drama queens who enjoy that they can be rude to each other and fight without ruining things. So I posit that there are many times that their interactions have been mistaken as two strangers about to throw hands in the street

It was just another day at work. Phil was packaging up the slice of cake ordered by a man who was wearing sunglasses in mid winter and working on remembering the slightly convoluted sandwich order he’d just been given,

The customer who’d ordered the cake stood resting on the edge of the counter, waiting quietly as he stared at his phone. The bloke who’d spent an entire minute detailing his sandwich was still at the register, putting his wallet back together.

“Hey,” cake man said, “you dropped your- is this a fob watch?”

Phil glanced up curiously, watching in amusement as, sure enough, cake man was holding a gold fob watch and smirking at sandwich man.

“Oh, thank you,” sandwich man sad politely, holding his hand out to reclaim it.

Cake man grinned, studying the fob watch. “I haven’t seen one of these in decades!”

Phil put the slice on the counter and muttered, “there ya go,” hoping to stop what was a needlessly rude interaction from being his problem.

“I’ll have it back, thank you,” sandwich man said tersely.

“What century do you think this is?”

Phil sighed and started working on the sandwich.

“I am perfectly aware of what century it is, of course,”

“Of course,” cake man mocked.

“You’re one to talk,” sandwich man snapped. “Dressed like you woke up in a gutter three days ago and decided not to do anything about it.”

Phil finished the sandwich while cake man gaped at sandwich man in offence. He hoped they would leave before he had to do anything. Conflict resolution wasn’t his strong suit.

“I’m- how dare you-” Cake man said vaguely. Sandwich man took the moment and snatched his fob watch back.

Phil put the sandwich on the counter too, giving sandwich man a polite smile. Cake man picked up both bags. “Sorry, that’s his order,’ Phil interrupted reluctantly.

“We’re together,” cake man said absently. They began to walk out together. “I curate this look, this takes effort,” cake man said.

Sandwich man bristled. “You clearly have no idea how much effort it takes to keep a fob watch in good condition in this era, no one knows how to fix it. I’ve had to learn clock working!”

“I can’t take full steps in these pants,” cake man complained. He opened the door and held it open, kicking a leg out to his hip as if to prove he couldn’t move it much. He was more flexible in those pants than Phil was naked. “I’ve sacrificed the ability to walk!”

“You’ve never had the ability to walk, dear. I do like you in slim pants, though.” The door shut, cutting them off, although Phil, quite bemused, saw them continuing to squabble as they walked off.

Sammy checked the street before crossing, of course, but it was a pedestrain stirp so she didn’t check with much focus. No cars, so she walked. She passed a nice looking man in a cream coat who smiled at her warmly. Very warmly. She threw him half a smile and hoped he wouldn’t try to talk to her.

As they passed a black car, old looking, came roaring around the corner, brakes screeching. The man pushed her hastily off the road and out of the way.

Sammy took a breath, feeling very much like she was made of electricity. She turned quickly, terrified of seeing the kind man mangled by the car.

No, he was fine. He was standing in the middle of the pedestrian crossing, the bumper of the car barely an inch from his knees, glaring daggers at the driver.

The window of the car wound down slowly, the sound long and awkward in the street. A man in sunglasses leant out. “Watch where you’re going!” He yelled.

The pale man bristled. “Well, perhaps if you didn’t drive like such a maniac there wouldn’t be a risk!”

A slender arm slipped out of the window, waving dramatically at the man in the street, who was still bravely glaring at him. “My driving is not the problem here, you didn’t even look before you crossed.”

Sammy’s saviour fixed his jacket and frowned. “I assure you, I looked, you’re just going so very far over the limit-”

“You didn’t look,” the man in the car interrupted. “I saw you, strolling about, not a care-”

“I looked,” the cream coat man snapped. “It’s your speed and- and trajectory that is so unknowable and erratic that-”

The man in the car began to climb out through his window, his body shaking with anger as he did. “I am in perfect control of this car,” he said, sitting in the window frame and leaning around to rest one hand on the windscreen. “But there’s not much that can be done for men who just waltz across the street without thinking!”

Cream coat leaned onto the bonnet and shouted, “I am perfectly safe, you nearly hit that young lady, though!” He waved a hand vaguely at Sammy. Sunglasses looked at her, then back to cream coat.

“Phooey,” he dismissed.

The man on the street swelled for a moment, then deflated and said a casual, cheerful, “Oh!”

“What?”

“Do you feel like pho for lunch?”

The man slipped his sunglasses down his nose and studied the other. He shrugged. “Sure,” he agreed. He clambered out the window and stood in the street. “Want me to pick some up, or go out?”

“Let’s go somewhere.”

Sunglasses nodded and got back into his car.

“But I do need to check on the lady you nearly maimed,” cream coat said smugly. Sunglasses groaned loudly and slipped in dramatic exasperation in his seat.

The kind man walked up to Sammy and smiled. “Are you hurt?” He asked.

“I’m fine, thank you,” Sammy muttered.

“I wouldn’t’ve hit her!” Came a loud yell from the car. The man was leaning out the window again. “You listening? I wouldn’t’ve hit her, I’ve never hit anyone.”

Cream coat smiled at her again, then his face went into a sudden frown as he returned to the car. “Oh, we both know that’s-”

“You were distracting me!” Shouted sunglasses. His arm was waving very wildly again. “Talking about love and all that bullshit, that was your fault.”

“My fault?” Repeated the man in the coat. He slipped into the passenger seat with practiced ease. “You’re mad,” he snapped.

The car roared to life and drove both of them off.

Sammy shook her head and went on with her day.

Agatha was sitting on the bench, waiting politely for the bus when a black Bentley sidled up a few doors down and parked. She watched it curiously, it reminded her of her father’s boss’s car, and she hadn’t seen the like in a while.

As she watched the windows wound down, changing the deep, hidden thud of music to a loud rock song she didn’t recognise. The music got louder, then a man in all black slipped out of the car and climbed on the roof, laying there with his arms hanging off the edge of the car.

Agatha pursed her lips, unimpressed with his rudeness.

A window banged open across the street. “Would you turn that racket off!” Shouted someone. Agatha turned her head slowly to see a man dressed in a nice waistcoat leaning out of the window to Mr. Fell’s bookshop. Agatha had never been inside the shop, but as it was currently closed she had to assume this was Mr. Fell.

The rude man didn’t even look, he just flipped Mr. Fell off.

Agatha gaped, her sympathy entirely with Mr. Fell until a moment later when he threw a stapler out his window, directly at the car.

It fell short and sat rather pathetically in the road.

The rude man sat up and pointed at Mr. Fell. “Vandal!” He cried dramatically. Despite herself, Agatha had to agree with him.

“Oh!” Mr. Fell shouted. “I’m trying to work, turn it off!”

“No!”

Mr. Fell disappeared from the window, only to walk out his front door a moment later, looking like a perfect picture of righteous anger. Agatha began to search through her bag to find her mobile in case she had to call the police.

“Would you at least sit inside the car to muffle that horrible sound,” Mr. Fell asked, shouting over the loud music as he approached the car.

The rude man swung his legs off the side of the car, sitting on the roof and facing Mr. Fell. “That’s the Beastie Boys, they get me,” he said, hitting himself in the chest emotionally.

Mr. Fell scoffed inaudibly, his expression derisive enough, and reached between the rude man’s legs and through the open window.

“Hey!” The rude man snapped. His legs flew in wild directions then, in an action Agatha did not follow, he threw himself off the car and was standing next to Mr. Fell, whacking his arms lightly. “Hey, you don’t know what you’re doing, you’ll break it!”

The music stopped.

“Maybe,” Mr. Fell said, still reaching into the car. “Best drive away to stay safe,” he advised.

The rude man pulled Mr. Fell’s arm out of the car. “What’re you even doing?” He asked. Mr. Fell wrenched his arm out of the rude man’s grip. “My taxes, it’s fiddly work and I need to concent-”

“Taxes?” The rude man interrupted loudly. He leaned against the car dramatically, hands in his hair. “You cancelled dinner for taxes?”

“I have to do them.”

The rude man dropped his hands and looked at Mr. Fell sadly. “You did them last year.”

“It’s a yearly thing, Crowley.”

“Ughhh how long are you going to be?”

Mr. Fell’s posture changed slightly. He leaned in to speak a bit more quietly. Agatha’s hearing was pristine, especially for her age, so she caught the softer tones. “Not too long, how about I come over to yours tomorrow?”

“Mine?”

“Yes.”

They leaned closer and spoke more quietly for a time, out of even Agatha’s hearing. She put her phone away and pointedly looked away as they briefly kissed each other. The youth these days, ridiculous.

The rude man returned to his car and drove off. Mr. Fell watched him until he rounded the corner out of sight, then turned and addressed Agatha. “I apologise, he’s a menace,” he said politely.

Agatha smiled weakly, glad it was all over. Mr. Fell picked up his stapler and returned to his shop.

#sleepy writes #im endlessly entertained by bastard!azirahale #good omens #crowley #aziraphale #ineffable husbands #post apocalypse and az just fucking lets loose #finally gives as good as hes given #throws a stapler at the bentley #ya know that sorta shit lol

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babylooneytoonz · 4 years

Text

Blood Trails [ Pt. 8]

Chapter Summary : Bucky and Y/N share some moments that are somewhat intimate. Is Y/N beginning to fall for the metal handed Avenger?

Warnings : Fluff , Fake marriage, Bucky Barnes being cute

Masterlist

You woke up early the next morning; or rather, even before the sun had fully made its appearance. The sky was still a faint hue of orange and blue, and the birds sat on the window of your room, singing to themselves in a warm melody. At least the New Year was joyous for someone. The truth was, you could say that you had hardly slept last night; you kept tossing and turning uncomfortably all through the night. Your mind wouldn't stop racing as thousands of thoughts flooded your brain. You didn't know what to expect on your first undercover mission. It didn't make it easier given the fact that you were supposed to stay with James Buchanan Barnes, pretending to be married to him. To add to your misery, you glared at the fake pregnant belly that was laying in front of you on your dressing table, and you didn't understand why you had to even wear that and what was the point of it. You groaned inwardly thinking about what Tony had casually said to you when you had asked him what the need was for all of this. People don't usually suspect a pregnant couple that have moved to the countryside to raise their family, he said to you.

"So this is it, huh?" You frowned, sitting back against the passenger seat of the mini truck that had been provided to you and Bucky as a part of your mission , a look of discomfort spread out evenly over your face. Your elbow rested against the wide open window, while James was sitting next to you, driving. You were already dressed and ready in a bright yellow sundress, your fake baby belly already strapped up to you underneath all these layers of clothes, making you be in your undercover mode already even though it was a 3 hour ride. Your name was Sarah Walsh, while he was supposed to be Steven Walsh, your husband.

"What do we expect once we're there?" You raised an eyebrow, but almost bit your lip when he didn't give you a response. When you turned to your left to look at him, you noticed that Bucky wasn't really there, and was probably lost in his own thoughts. You sighed lowly to yourself, and almost turned away from him, when he suddenly took a sharp right turn, almost causing you to stumble towards him, and had you not grabbed the window, you would have bumped hard into his side.

"Sorry about that," Bucky mumbled in a low voice, finally breaking from whatever thoughts that he was in and you nodded, immediately straightening your dress. You were told that all your belongings had already been shipped over to the house, and all the two of you had to do was pretend.

"James, are you alright?" You questioned.

"Yeah, I am. Just thinking out loud."

"About what, if you don't mind me asking?" You asked, not wanting to pry, but the curiousity inside you overpowering your will to stay quiet.

"I was just thinking about how Tony put a lot of responsibility on you. I tried to convince him to send Wanda with me, or maybe just Clint," he craned his neck so he could eye you while his hands rested against the steering wheel.

You gulped, flicking your eyes from him to the slowing traffic in front of you as the mini truck came to a halt at the traffic signal. You nodded, letting your gaze travel to your hands that were nervously fiddling with the fabric of your loose sundress, "You all did a lot for me. Tony, you, the other Avengers. I was HYDRA, I was made to be a monster, and you all treated me like I was a human, that I was just lost, and was back home. I really am okay with all this, James."

"You sure?" he turned towards you briefly, his hands still on the steering wheel; when he lifted one hand off it and placed it on the gears, changing it so your mini truck could move forward again.

"I'm just a little weirded out, is what. Especially pretending to be fake pregnant. You have to make a pregnancy look believable. I can put in a watermelon in there, but people can still find out that I'm faking it." You sighed, looking down at the fake belly and scrunching up your nose in an annoyed manner as Bucky kept watching you, a look of what you could only decipher as amusement in his eyes. "What?"

"Nothing, you just said watermelon, it was just funny."

Bucky smiled to himself and he quickly pressed his lips shut, running his hand through the back of his hair sheepishly. He was amazed how he was smiling so much, when he never smiled, except for when he was with Sasha. Soon, a comfortable silence surrounded you, lulling you into a slumber as you sat back more comfortably and let your head fall back, your eyes drowsy and heavy.

By the time the mini truck turned into the residential colony in New Jersey, you had already fallen asleep, your head resting against the now rolled up window. Your chest heaved up and down in a relaxed symphony, and a part inside Bucky didn't want to wake you up, you looked so peaceful and soft. A part of him, the part that still felt the same for you like he had felt five years back; wanted to stay there and keep staring at you, not in a creepy way, but in a way you study a still painting, or a nice scenery. You admire it, trying to capture it with the lenses of your eyes, that is what Bucky wanted to do, but unfortunately, he had to wake you up, for he had already pulled the vehicle into the driveway of the cottage that was going to be your new home for the next few days.

The sudden loss of motion caused you to flutter your eyes open, and Bucky couldn't even get the chance to wake you up. When he saw that you were waking up, he quickly turned his head away, masking away the fact that he had been staring at you. "Well, Mrs. Walsh, looks like we are home, our home for the next few days. You ready?" He gave you a weak smile, and you instantly nodded.

You hesitantly lifted your hand, placing it on his hand; that was on the gears, almost leaning forward so you were face level with him. If anyone would see the two of you from outside, it would appear as though the two of you were about to kiss, "Ready as ever, Mr. Walsh."

╞═════𖠁𐂃𖠁═════╡

"Where should I put the swing, Mrs. Walsh?" the man with the packers and movers asked you, pointing towards a lush white garden swing set in one of the trucks parked in front of your cottage. It was a sweet little three bedroom cottage, white walls, white picket fence, flower pots hanging from little hooks on the front porch, dark red roof, and a garden where you could spend your time outdoors, just gardening.

"Yes please, can you dismantle it right here? My husband will set it out later, thank you!" You let him know, and crossed your arms over your fake bump, watching as your husband walked through the gravel path in the garden that led up to your front porch, holding a massive cardboard box, that was big enough to be blocking his view. You couldn't help but glance at him; especially his thick, strong arms and how effortless this whole act looked on him, and you were sure he wasn't even feeling the weight of the box. He was wearing a tight v neck tshirt with the sleeve on his flesh arm rolled up till his elbow, "Incoming, watch out." He announced as he disappeared into the house, and you just smiled, shaking your head.

You were about to turn away, and make your way to where two men were pulling out a grey leather couch from the truck when your eyesight fell on the cottage on the opposite side of the street. The door was partially open, and a woman, who seemed to be in her forties, stood leaning by the door, a curious expression plastered on her face as she watched the unloading of your stuff.

Your mind was already observing, watching her carefully, noticing tiniest details about her and her house, so you could talk to Bucky about later when Bucky's voice pulled you out of your momentary distraction, "Hey, doll, I've set up the boxes, can you come take a look?" He casually placed his warm gloved palm, that hid the metal from public eye, against your arm, his thumb moving in an up and down comforting motion for a bit. You didn't know why but the unintentional casual touch caused a sudden heat to pool up in your insides, and you pressed your lips together, not wanting to embarrass yourself by letting out a sound. You nodded, bringing yourself closer to him so you were now facing him as you placed your hand on Bucky's chest, playing your part as you could feel the woman's piercing gaze on you.

"Well, honey, your nine o'clock, what do you think about her?" The minute you asked Bucky, his gaze travelled to where the woman was standing, and he quickly swiped over the surroundings with his observant eyes before fixing his gaze on you. You stiffened when you felt his hand hold you from the low of your back; as he slowly pulled you closer, so now the two of you were standing almost pressed to each other, "Well, I can see a garage. And I can see a car, that is covered in dust. This means they hardly use it."

"Maybe they prefer to walk," your hand that was earlier on his chest slowly travelled upwards, coming to rest against the side of his face, your fingers now cupping his cheek while your thumb grazed tenderly against his mild stubble. "What else do you see?"

"The garden is unkempt. The hedgerows are growing and I can see a whole lot of weeds."

You nodded, blinking in acknowledgement at your fake husband's words when he started speaking again.

"Well, I see her walking towards us, and she is coming in..пять.. четыре.. три.. два.. один.."

"Excuse me? Hi?"

You turned around at the voice, a faint blush causing your cheeks to appear redder than a tomato. You didn't know why you suddenly felt so heated up, but if you had to guess, it would be because the sudden way you had turned around, and were now standing, with your back pressed to Bucky, you could almost feel his.. well, tools. It was awkward and you could feel Bucky tense behind you, maybe just as embarassed as you were.

"Well, I am sorry but I couldn't help but come and introduce myself. I live right next door! Oh, look at me! I am so silly! I'm Yvonne, and I live just right across the street. Welcome to the neighborhood!"

"It's lovely to meet you Yvonne," you gave her another soft, yet inviting smile, slowly using this subtle distraction to take a step away from him. Reflexively, as you moved away, Bucky's arm came to wrap around your waist and pull you closer so this time your side was pressed to him, "I'm Sarah, and this is my husband, Steven."

"Aww, don't you two just look adorable.. just like a newly married couple.." She smiled, her eyes flicking you to Bucky, and then back at you, before her gaze lowered down to your bump and she started smiling wide in excitement, "And with a little one on the way. You're glowing! So.. boy or a girl? When are you due? Oh my god I am blabbering."

You threw your head back, letting out a forced chuckle through the back of your throat, the back of your head coming to rest against Bucky's chest, whose palm now rested against your fake bump. "Well we wanted to keep it a surprise, my husband does, actually. Don't you, honey?" You nudged your elbow playfully against Bucky's abs.

"Mhm, we just want to get surprised," he nodded back, pressing his lips to the back of your head.

Just then, a male voice from the woman's house reached your ears; that caused all three of you to turn towards the woman's house as she began explaining, "Well, that's my call to leave. my husband's lazy arse finally woke up. In case the two of you need any help settling down, please feel free to call me over anytime, I would be happy to show you around. Sarah, I was wondering if you were doing anything special for dinner today?"

"Uh, we were just planning to prop open some wine, well I'd be sticking to sparkling water, put on a movie on Netflix and run a movie marathon," you grinned, only to get an understanding look back from her as she nodded, running her hand aimlessly through her blonde locks.

"Would you like to have dinner with us? We'd love to get to know you guys. After all, we're neighbours now. And I'm just so excited to get to know you."

You turned towards Bucky, and he gave you a look that you just understood. There wouldn't be a better opportunity for the two of you to look around and bug their home.

"Well, what do you say, doll? I think it will be good for you and our little stinker to get out of the house. And we'll get to know our lovely neighbours," Bucky smirked pointing towards your stomach and you just pushed your elbow into him in a teasing, playful way.

"Aren't the two of you the cutest? I wish my husband tried to show atleast half of how much he is into me, you're a lucky one Sarah, your man doesn't seem to shy away from showing the world who owns his heart."

Unknowingly, you bit your lip, letting your tongue out so you were licking your lower lip, almost giving Bucky a side smirk. Ten points to James Buchanan Barnes for his tremendous acting.

╞═════𖠁𐂃𖠁═════╡

It was almost lunch time; and you being the sweetest little fake wife someone could find, you had prepared the best lunch; some good old mac and cheese. You had laid out the table already, when Bucky stepped out of the shower, leaving a faint fragrance of musk and cinnamon all over the house and he walked into the dining room.

"You made Mac n cheese?" He smirked, as he grabbed himself a plate, tossing a junk load of it into his plate.

"What's a good wife if she doesn't just cook?" You smirked back at him, and knowing well aware that since the curtains of your house were drawn open, so it was a likely probability that your neighbors were probably spying on you from somewhere you ran your palm over your fake bump, stroking circles against it as you lowered yourself next to him.

"Well darling, do you think people are going to buy this? Or are we actually trying too hard?"

"What do you mean, doll?" He dug his fork into his plate, rolling it slightly and brought it up to his lips, taking a bit, and almost nodding to himself in appreciation, licking his lips.

"Well Bucky, the act. You and me." You did a motion with your index finger between the two of you, "this."

"Trust me, we are doing just fine. We're naturals." A cough shot out of Bucky's mouth, and he immediately grabbed a glass of water, chugging it down, pulling his gaze away.

"Oh you're the one that's a natural, this is all new to me."

"Well, in my defense, working in the line we do, I've had a lot of experience going undercover," grabbing a napkin, he wiped the corner of his mouth, and almost stood up, his empty plate in his hand when he threw out his hand towards your plate and you shook your head, playfully smacking his palm away with yours.

"I don't need anyone to wash my plate for me, Barnes. Though thank you for offering," you shook your head as you pushed back your chair so you could stand up, reaching out for your own plate. The two of you walked side by side until the two of you were standing in front of the sink, and he just scratching the side of his face, mumbling in a low voice," that fucking rich millionaire ass plans a whole mission, but misses on a dishwasher."

You just chuckled to yourself listening to the man's not so silent grumbling under his breath, snatching his plate from his hand before he could pull it away.

"Are you telling me, the high and mighty Winter Soldier, doesn't know how to scrub a plate clean?"

He rolled his eyes, snatching his plate from your hand again, as he squatted some liquid dish washing soap onto the plate, and began scrubbing it, " I know how to scrub dirty dishes, but with all of those high tech gadgets and shit Stark has the place equipped with, I don't remember the last time I scrubbed a fucking plate."

You almost rolled your eyes, watching from the corner of your eye as he reached for your plate too and squatted some soap onto it, both his flesh and his metal hand covered in foam as he leant against the counter, scrubbing. There was something oddly intimate about standing in a kitchen with a man who was your fake husband and the two of you were doing the dishes, well technically, he was; you were only wiping the plates once he was done and stacking them aside.

╞═════𖠁𐂃𖠁═════╡

Do I look okay? God, I'm tired of wearing this fake bump." You looked at yourself for probably the fifth time in the full body mirror in the master bedroom. You were dressed in a baby blue jumpsuit; while James sat against the edge of the bed, wearing a casual white tshirt, a navy blue leather jacket, and ripped jeans. His short cropped hair, that you had always seen with not a single strand out of place, were messily stacked over his head, and he didn't seem to mind.

"Come on Johanna, you look beautiful. But I'm really getting impatient. Can we please leave?"

"Someone's pretty excited to see Yvonne," you drawled in a teasing manner, watching Bucky give you an irritated look as you grabbed your heels and sat down next to him to wear those.

"I am not. I'm not into older women."

You opened your mouth, ready to say something mindlessly, but at the right time, you clamped your mouth shut. It wasn't your place to judge, or to wonder what kind of women he was into.

"Come on, let's go."

The two of you stood up, and you aimlessly ran your fingers through your hair, messing them up slightly. You pulled out the bottle of wine that you had picked out to give them, and the two of you, arm in arm, stepped out while Bucky locked the front door while you waited, next to him, shuffling the weight of your body from one foot to another.

Within the next few minutes, the four of you were seated in Yvonne's dining room, and the room was filled with a mindless chatter, where one of them would crack a joke, and the four of you will laugh in response to it. You would momentarily find yourself turning towards James, glaring at him secretly, or kicking him underneath the table; and he knew that you were just pissed off having to drink water while the rest of them were having white wine.

"So, lovebirds, how did you guys spent New Year's Eve?" Yvonne asked, raising her eyebrow lightly and at the same time bringing her glass of wine to her lips as she took a sip. You almost opened your mouth, ready to come up with something quickly, when you felt Bucky's hand on your thigh, underneath the table that caused you to freeze, almost splutter out the water you were drinking.

"Well, doll, do you want to tell them or should I?" Bucky winked playfully, leaning towards you slightly, and you couldn't help but bask in his mild but endearing fragrance of musk and lemon. You motioned with your hand to go ahead, and sat back more comfortably, your fingers stroking over your fake bump, to make it look more realistic.

"Well we spend our New Years on the floor of our newly renovated bathroom, back in Manhattan, while she wretched her insides out, all my effort of cooking up a nice dinner going down the toilet."

You turned towards him, your eyes narrowed, smacking your lips together as you gave him a fake smile. Inwardly, you couldn't help but wonder how he was being so spontaneous, but then of course, he would know, right? He had a daughter.

"Well darling, I wouldn't have ruined your New Year's Dinner if I wasn't pregnant with this one in the first place now wouldn't I?" You deadpanned, pointing with your index finger at your belly.

"I'm not complaining, doll. I'm just being honest."

"Yeah, well. It wouldn't have happened had you decided to keep your cock in your pants."

You didn't miss the way Bucky's eyes almost widened upon listening to your words, and his jaw almost dropped, and for the first time, he didn't know what to say. It was like he had been pulled back in time, when you were pregnant with Sasha, and the two of you used to bicker like an old, married couple. You didn't miss how the edge of his lips curved, just faint enough, but you noticed that he was smiling, looking down at his hands.

"The food is lovely, Yvonne," you immediately changed the topic, grabbing the napkin as you wiped the edges of your lips.

"Well, you haven't even tried the dessert yet," Samuel arched his body forward, his elbows resting against the table.

Slowly, you turned towards Bucky, giving him a knowing look with your eyes, placing your palm on his thigh, before standing up.

"Yvonne, do you mind if I use your restroom? The baby's playing soccer with my bladder."

"Sure, hon. Just take that hallway. Third door to the right."

You nodded, stepping away as you pretended to waddle into the hallway; the sounds of their voices slipping away the further you walked into the house. Very discreetly, you slid your hand into your purse, pulling out the tiny bugs that you started placing around the house. You reached the third door just like Yvonne had told you but instead of entering it, you walked further down the hallway until you were at the end of it.

"This must be the master bedroom," you mumbled to yourself as you stepped into it, as quietly and discreetly as you could, locking the door behind you as you glanced at the four postered bed in the middle of the well furnished room. You ran up to the cabinet, falling to your knees, letting your hand underneath the cabinet as you quickly placed a bug there as well.

Standing back up to your feet, you smashed your palms contentedly against each other, and absentmindedly, you eyes started raking over the room, taking in the pictures on the walls. Nothing seemed to look out of place, and this only worsened that red signal that was blinking at the back of your mind, that this couple was definitely up to something; something neither you nor Bucky had a clue about.

You were about to step out of the bedroom, when suddenly, you caught a glimpse of someone just outside the window from the corner of your eye. When you looked at the window, whoever that was, was already gone, leaving behind a feeling of nervousness and confusion inside you.

Had someone seen you bugging the house?

╞═════𖠁𐂃𖠁═════╡

Bucky Barnes Permanent Taglist :

@really-dont-forget-it @thepeakygurl @all-art-is-quite-useless @baumarvel @janajjj @chipilerendi @nyotamalfoy @skittychat @allidoiswritewritewrite @jessyballet @x0xchristine @evansgirl7 @laisbeltrans @thegayseance @marie1115 @supraveng @booty-ass-hoe @1-800wildluna

Want to be added to the Taglist? Pls fill up a form on the link here. 💗

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #james buchanan barnes x reader #james buchanan bucky barnes #james buchanan barnes #winter soldier #winter soldier x reader #winter solider imagine #bucky barnes x you

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platonicteenwolf · 4 years

Text

Wolf Moon (S1E1) Part IV

Teen Wolf x Reader Series Rewrite

A/N: Hey! Thank you all for the positive feedback! Sorry the schedule has been so slow, I’ve just recently started my last year of school so there’s a lot going on for me. I appreciate all of your patience!

They/Them Pronouns Version

He/Him Pronouns Version

Next Part / Masterlist

Warnings: none

Scott comes out of the bathroom with a towel wrapped around his waist when someone walks into his room.

“Is this a party or a date?”

Scott jumps, startled. His Mom has the car keys held out in her hand.

“Maybe both.”

He reaches for the keys, but she pulls back.

“And her name is?”

“Allison.”

She hands him the keys.

“We don’t need to have a talk do we?”

“Mom, I’m not having the safe sex talk with you.”

“Oh, oh my god, no I meant about keeping the tank full. Give me those back.”

“Are you serious?”

“You bet your ass I’m serious. I am not going to be on some reality show with a sixteen year-old pregnant girl.”

—————

Scott pulls up to the curb outside Allison’s house. Drumming his fingers on the steering wheel in anticipation, the front door of the house opens and Allison steps out. Looking absolutely stunning under the glow of the streetlights, she approaches the car while pushing a strand of hair from her eyes.

Suddenly realizing he’s still in the car with his mouth hanging open, Scott scrambles to get out and open the door for her.

Driving, Scott and Allison sit in silence. Absolute and agonizing silence.

“Is it okay if I turn on the radio?”

“Uh, yes. But you can’t,” she gives him a confused look as he continues, “Sorry, it’s broken. We’ve been meaning to get it fixed.”

“No worries. You mind if I put on some music anyways?”

Now it’s Scott’s turn to give a confused look. But Allison has her phone out. She turns the volume up and puts it on speaker.

“Nice taste in music.”

“What? You think all girls listen to is Lady Gaga?”

“I listen to Lady Gaga,” Scott mutters.

She does a double take. He’s serious. And she laughs.

“So do I.”

She puts her hand over his on the middle console, their fingers intertwining. Scott tries to hide his smile to play it cool. But he can’t. For just a moment, everything is absolutely perfect.

—————

Teenagers jam the outside of the house by the pool. Some already drunk, some high. Scott and Allison walk through the crowd. But Scott pauses when he hears a dog barking. A huge Rottweiler in the yard next door just beyond a chain link fence. And it’s barking at Derek.

He stands behind the fire pit, staring straight at Scott. But then he shoots a look at the Rottweiler. The dog stops barking instantly. Eyes locked on the animal, Derek gives an almost imperceptible nod. Tail between its legs, the Rottweiler submissively lowers to a sitting position. Satisfied, Derek turns back to a surprised Scott.

“You okay?” Allison asks.

“What? Oh... Yeah. Fine.”

When he looks back, Derek is gone. Movement catches his eye and he glances up to the roof of the pool house where a shadowy figure seems to disappear just past the chimney. Scott steps back, trying to see if he actually did just witness Derek leaping twenty feet off the ground. But there’s nothing there.

Allison then holds her hand out to Scott. Letting his fear go, he takes her hand with a smile. In the crowd, they start dancing. As they come closer and closer, as Allison starts to smile back at him, the usually timid Scott begins to let go.

His hands reach around her waist with the other teens pushing them closer. Bodies pressed against each other, her cheek brushes lightly against his.

Then through the crowd, Scott notices Lydia dancing with Jackson, grinding close to him, her fingers wrapped around the back of his neck. She presses her lips to Jackson’s locking him in a passionate kiss. As he eagerly kisses her back, sliding his hands down past her waist, Lydia opens her eyes and looks right at Scott.

Staring at him as Jackson goes at her neck. Unused to the attention of one beautiful girl, much less two, Scott finds himself dumbstruck until the bodies of the dancing teens push together to leave him alone with Allison again.

As Scott peers into her eyes, he realizes they’re about to kiss. Then the music begins driving almost like the quickening of a heartbeat. Scott’s heartbeat. The sounds around him intensify. His fingers clench back, veins at the surface of his hands as he presses against the fabric of Allison’s shirt. His upper lip pulls up momentarily to reveal a sharpened incisor.

Lights glaring in his eyes, Scott’s breathing tightens, sweat at his temples. He steps back, pulling away from her.

“Sorry... I... I’ll be right back.”

“Are you okay?” She asks for the second time tonight.

But he hurries past her and into the house.

—————

“Yo, Scott, you good?”

Hearing Stiles’s voice I look over and see Scott stumbling through the house, hand holding his head in pain.

As he makes his way towards where I’m at by the bathroom I try to get his attention.

“Scott? You all right?”

But he doesn’t answer, continuing to push through the crowd. I look towards Stiles searching for an explanation but all I got was a worried look. Is this the full moon? Is Scott about to turn into a werewolf?

—————

Finally, shoving past everyone, Scott charges out the front door. When he turns the corner, he glances up to the sky where the full moon shines brilliantly in the night.

Gasps now starting to sound like animalistic growls, he reaches his mother’s car. Just getting the keys from his pocket seems an almost colossal effort.

A second later, the car tears away from the curb as Allison comes out of Lydia’s house, looking around. No idea where Scott is.

“Allison.” She turns to see Derek coming toward her.

“I’m a friend of Scott’s. My name’s Derek.” He steps under the street light his deep black eyes, strangely hypnotic.

—————

Scott stumbles into his darkened bedroom, slamming the door shut and flipping the lock. Sweat at his brow, Scott charges into the bathroom. He flips the cold water knob on the shower, letting it pour over him. And then he notices something... his fingernails. Seeming to tear free, bone-like claws pushing them out from the tips.

Terrified, he stumbles out and to the mirror where he wipes away the steam to reveal rapidly growing fangs and two glowing, yellow eyes staring back at him.

—————

I stand in the upstairs hallway of the McCall house as Stiles pounds on the door of Scott’s room.

“Scott, it’s me.”

“Go away!”

Scott voice was laced with panic. I could only imagine what was going on out there. Footsteps could be heard inside the room and suddenly Scott had unlocked the door but only allowed it to open an inch.

“Scott, let us in,” Stiles urges.

“Come on dude we can help! Whatever it is.”

“No!” Eyes burning yellow, he stays hidden behind the door, face shrouded in darkness as Stiles tries to peer through.

“Listen, you have to find Allison.”

Remember seeing her when Stiles and I were running out of the house I reassure Scott, “She’s fine. I saw her get a ride. She’s totally fine.”

“No, I think I know who it is.” I could hear the pain in his voice as he continued talking.

I know Stiles could hear it too because he kept pushing the door open harder.

“Just let us and we can talk.”

“It’s Derek. Derek Hale’s the werewolf. He’s the one who bit me. He’s the one who killed the girl in the woods.”

Wait- Derek? But he’s.. “Scott... Derek’s the one who drove Allison from the party,” I say.

The weight of realization falling on him, Scott slams the door shut, locking it.

Realizing he can’t get in Stiles starts to bang on the door more urgently.

“Scott! Scott, wait--“

—————

Through the open bedroom window, Scott launches himself out from the second story. The full moon looming in the sky behind him, his hands slam down on the wet pavement.

Now, Scott’s crouched figure slowly draws up to reveal he’s no longer struggling against the transformation. He’s given into it.

Not a hulking beast but a leaner, more human monster. Both powerfully muscular and strangely seductive with gleaming yellow eyes, incisors reformed into fangs, ears tapered to points over thickened, wilder hair and fingernails grown to razor sharp claws.

The sixteen year-old boy is gone. Scott is now a werewolf, charging down the driveway and then suddenly up, leaping to the branch of one tree, hurtling to the next and then finally into the dark of the woods. In search of Allison and the danger she faces.

—————

Down winding roads and through twisting paths, flashes of moonlight briefly illuminate the outline of a figure moving impossibly fast.

At the tree-shrouded entrance to the Beacon Hills Preserve, Derek’s black Dodge Challenger sits in the parking lot.

Scott leaps down, landing right on the roof of the car. He peers through the windshield to see the vehicle is empty and then leaps off in search of its owner.

Charging out from the shadows, Scott lands on a moonlit fallen tree. Clawed hands resting on the dead trunk, his breath comes out in steamy gasps. His crouched and silhouetted body twists around, trying to catch a scent in the air.

—————

Stiles’s jeep skids to a halt just outside Allison’s darkened house. A second later, he’s scrambled out of the drivers seat and heading towards the steps to ringing the bell as I follow in hot pursuit.

Stiles‘ pounding on the door, finally stops when lights come on inside. The door clicks open and Mrs. Argent looks at us, confused.

“Hi,” Stiles starts, “We’re friends of Allison’s and this is going to sound kind of crazy. Actually really crazy. Actually crazy doesn’t even begin to--“

As his rambling continues on I cut him off to explain. “We’re looking for Allison.”

After giving me a warm smile, Mrs. Argent turns back inside and calls Allison from her room.

Stiles opens his mouth to speak again but then stops, Allison walks out of her room facing us from the banister. Wait, so if she’s fine then...

As a distant howl can be heard, Stiles and I turns to the sound, a look of understanding shared between us. It’s not Allison Derek was after.

It’s Scott.

—————

Racing into a clearing, Scott slows, looking up to find an unexpected and very strange sight-- a jacket.

It’s Allison’s. The jacket she was wearing at the party, now used to lure him here.

Something moves in the shadows. Scott whirls around, launching himself up as Derek comes out of the darkness and drags him back to the ground. They almost look like dogs grappling as they go up and then slam back down to the leaves and brush below them.

Derek holds him down, one hand wrapped around Scott’s throat. He’s unchanged in the full moon, except for a strange blue tint to his eyes.

“Where is she?” Scott’s voice is deeper, strangely demonic.

“She’s safe. From you.”

“What did you do?“

“Quiet,” His voice comes like a knife into Scott’s head, making him wince. Derek glances up to the woods around them, listening. “It’s too late.”

Scott’s yellow eyes flick left and right as if he senses something else in the woods as well.

“They’re already here,” Derek turns back to Scott, a hint of fear in his eyes. “Run.”

A second later Derek is on his feet, moving so fast he’s almost a blur. Scott barely has time to react when something comes soaring out of the darkness.

An arrow lands in the trunk of a nearby tree. The bolt explodes with a brilliant flash. Scott stumbles back, yellow eyes blinking furiously. Something about the flash has perfectly compromised his vision. When he looks up, Derek is gone. In his place, three figures emerge from the shadows. Silhouettes at first, they approach with purpose.

They look like hunters. One carries a Remington pistol grip shotgun. Another chambers a round in a Glock 21 handgun. The third and obvious leader of the pack, wields a much stranger weapon, a crossbow. Steel-tipped bolt pulled back and ready to fire.

Practically blinded, Scott can barely see a thing. Until his eyes focus on the determined face of the Leader, raising the crossbow to fire again. Scott tries to turn and run, but the arrow soars, tearing through the darkness and right into Scott’s forearm, pinning it to a tree.

As Scott howls in pain, the leader lowers the crossbow, allowing himself the slightest of satisfied smiles. Turning towards the other hunters he orders,

“Take him...”

The first Hunter comes forward, but then a large figure comes barreling towards him. Clawed hands grab the first Hunter by the back of his jacket and hurl him into the air, easily tossing him into the second Hunter.

The Leader retreats back, calmly and quickly redrawing his crossbow as Derek tears out of the shadows toward Scott. In one swift motion he snaps the shaft of the arrow in Scott’s arm and pulls him free.

“Go!” Derek shouts.

Scott charges forward, racing out of the clearing and back into the woods with Derek right behind him.

A shotgun blast fires just over their heads followed by a volley of gunfire.

“Faster!”

But Scott eventually slows and underneath his damp hair, his face has returned to normal. He’s back in human form. He staggers to a stop in the woods, gasping for breath.

When he looks up, Derek steps out of the darkness to face him. He doesn’t breathe hard at all, seemingly in perfect control of his abilities.

“Who were they?”

“Hunters. The kind who’ve been hunting us for centuries.”

Suddenly, the severity of the situation hits Scott. His anger level spikes as he realizes this is all Derek’s doing. “Us? You mean you. You did this to me!”

“Is it that bad, Scott? That you can see better, hear more clearly, move faster than any human could ever hope? You’ve been given something most people would kill for. The bite is a gift.”

“I don’t want it.”

“You will. And you’re going to need me if you want to learn to control it. You and me Scott. We’re brothers now.”

—————

The morning sun beating down on an empty tree-shrouded road. As Stiles and I drive down the highway, I notice Scott walking down the middle of the street.

Rolling down the window, I call his name, trying to get his attention.

“Scott? Are you okay? We’ve been driving all over looking for you.”

Exhausted, Scott slowly turns towards us as Stiles slows down next to him.

“You guys were right. About all of it.” As I clamber into the back-seat so Scott can sit in the front, Stiles tosses a jacket towards the wolf since he’s still only clad in pajamas. “You know what actually worries me most?”

Stiles scoffs and turns towards his best friend, briefly taking his eyes off the road.

“If you say Allison, I’m going to punch you in the head.”

“She probably hates me now,” Scott retorts.

Looking up at Scott from where I’m sitting in the back, I could tell he genuinely cared for this girl.

“I doubt she hates you dude. You should probably apologize though for ditching her the other night and come up with an explanation why.”

Butting in, Stiles adds on to my suggestion.

“Yeah or just tell her the truth and revel in the awesomeness of the fact that you’re a freaking werewolf.” Scott gives him a sideways glare, head still hanging low with disdain. “Okay, bad idea. We’ll get through this. If I have to, I’ll chain you up myself on full moon nights and feed you live mice. I had a boa once. I can do it.”

And finally, the tiniest smile is coaxed out of Scott.

—————

Waiting on a bench outside school, Scott jumps to his feet when he sees Allison come out the double doors.

“What happened to you last night? You left me stranded at the party.”

“I know and I’m sorry. I really am. But just trust me on this... I had a really good reason.”

“Did you get sick?”

“I definitely had an attack of something.”

Exasperated with his lack of answers, Allison asks, “Am I going to get an explanation?”

“For now... could you find it in your heart to just trust me?”

“Am I going to regret this?”

“Probably.” Scott takes a steps closer to her. “So are we agreeing on yes to a second chance?”

“Definitely yes.”

Then, just as it looks like they’re about to kiss, a horn beeps. An SUV pulling up to the front of the school.

“That’s my Dad,” Allison explains, “I better go.”

Scott nods, turning to head back. But then he pauses, head tilting up with an intake of breath. He’s caught a familiar scent. Glancing back, he sees Allison’s father. The face is instantly recognizable. It’s the man with the crossbow. The leader of the hunters.

He throws Scott a friendly smile, clearly not recognizing the boy as his prey from last night.

With the full weight of realization hitting Scott, the father of the girl he loves is also now his sworn enemy, his face clouds with dread, darkness surrounding him.

END OF EP 1

—————

Tag List: @linkpk88 @mochminnie @im-a-stranger-thing

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elysianrey · 3 years

Text

let me take your coat (and this weight off your shoulders)

He first notices her after his Thursday afternoon therapy session with Dr. Raynor.

His brain begins to automatically profile her as it does with most people he interacts with these days. Short. At least 5’3”. Petite frame. Shoulder length, brown hair. Soft features. Brown eyes. Mid 30s. Jittery legs. Twisting fingers.

Old habits die hard, he supposes.

She’s sitting in the waiting area of the mental health facility, eyes briefly meeting as his footsteps fall past her chair on his way out of the office.

She looks familiar.

Her eyes echo the same sentiment of recognition, which causes an uneasy feeling to creep into the pit of his stomach. His fingers tighten around the small leather notebook in his jacket pocket. The moment is broken as he shifts his attention back to the polished flooring.

His gloved hand pushes the door open, leaving the brunette woman alone.

He spends the evening rifling through the pages of his notebook. His mind shuffles through the faces like an old film roll. Then he hits replay after his initial check.

Again.

He combs his fingers through his hair as he leans against the wall of his apartment. He lets out a small sigh of relief.

No connections to her are in the book.

It becomes a habit for him every Thursday.

Leave Dr. Raynor’s office. Walk through the lobby. Make eye contact with the brunette woman, whom he still can’t seem to place. Consider acknowledging her with a grin. Decide against it. Look down at the ground. Leave the facility.

He realizes he’s capable of acting more- human? Normal? Like an actual functioning adult in the twenty-first century. Dr. Raynor kindly reminds him of it every session, and yet, the creeping feeling of self-doubt never fails to get the better of him.

Yesterday.

Today.

And probably tomorrow.

She’s not in the waiting area the following Thursday.

His feet pick up their pace to exit the facility that day, seeing as he has no real reason to take his time. His chest twinges in disappointment, despite having no good reason to. He doesn’t even know her name. In fact, the only real thing he knows about her is that she meets with a therapist on Thursday afternoons. Like him.

Which meant she was working through some stuff. Like him.

As he approaches the door, his eyes focused on the ground, the force of a body slamming into him nearly knocks him on his ass. His hands instinctively rise to steady the person apparently in a rush today. Then his breath catches upon realizing who is standing between his outstretched arms.

Her eyes are red-rimmed, cheeks puffy, and when she lifts her head to apologize, she suddenly begins to aggressively wipe away the tears streaming down her cheeks. Embarrassment mixing with the despair she is clearly experiencing.

He stammers. “I—are you ok—?”

Before he can finish his question, she pulls back and cuts him off. “I’m so sorry—I really have to—“

She stumbles around him and disappears past the receptionist and down the hall without another word, leaving him feeling confused and concerned all at the same time.

He spends the next week worrying about her.

It’s better than worrying about his own demons.

Strangely, it gives his brain a small sense of relief.

Dr. Raynor has to reschedule for Friday.

He leaves flowers at the receptionist desk and tells them they’re for the brunette woman who comes in at 3.

He hopes she gets them.

She’s approaching him before he has the chance to register her appearance in the lobby. Her small, yet self-assured frame blocks his exit to the double doors. She’s speaking and he immediately picks up that she uses her hands to get her point across.

“Hi. I just want to apologize for what happened a couple weeks ago. I hope I didn’t cause too much damage to—,” her right hand does a sweeping motion across his chest. “Anyway... my name is Jane. Jane Foster.” The woman extends her hand, eyes finally meeting his directly.

She’s nervous. Hesitant.

He takes it in his gloved, vibranium hand and gives it a gentle shake. “James. And don’t worry about it.” She smiles and he returns the effort out of politeness.

She drops his hand and brushes a loose piece of hair behind her ear. “Well, it was nice to meet you James. I better head—“ She finishes her sentence by pointing in the opposite direction, toward the hallway of therapist offices.

He gives her a nod, stepping out of her way. Jane starts past him and before she can get too far, the words slip out of his mouth.

“Would you want to maybe grab a drink sometime?” James can’t help but inwardly cringe at the awkward bluntness in the question, however there’s no going back now.

Jane turns and bites down on her lower lip. “Yeah,” she replies. “Yeah that would be nice.”

James sits on his makeshift bed in his apartment living room, scrolling through the contacts on his phone list. Sam. Shuri. Dr. Raynor. Clint. His apartment manager.

And now Jane Foster.

Dr. Raynor wasn’t kidding when she chastised him for only having ten contacts. At least he had added one name to his list.

They were meeting tonight at 8 pm. She suggested a small, trendy downtown bar that had a bizarre name he couldn’t prounounce. He wonders if this date was going to be like all the others.

Fake. Stiff. Unbearable.

A small part of him tries to insist that Jane is different. Sure, he can’t logically reason how he knows this, yet he can’t shake the feeling she is different in some way to the other women he’s met since his return.

He’s right.

She’s unlike anyone woman he’s ever met in the twenty-first century.

It’s not hard to get Jane talking about herself, and once he does, he spends nearly the rest of the evening listening to her talk about her work with space.

He learns she’s an astrophysicist and she’s in New York working at the Simons Foundation. She disappeared during The Blip too and now she’s trying to make up for the 5 years she lost. Jane’s passion for learning more about the universe captivates him. She shares some of the theories she has about other universes that may exist and he’s left in awe as she paints pictures into his mind of periwinkle planets, alien lifeforms, and methods of possibly meeting them.

She doesn’t get the chance to ask him many questions, which is a relief.

Her laughter is light, the alcohol clearly easing the weight of the world that she wears like a prisoner around her shoulders. He doesn’t know what she was like before whatever shit got to her, but he enjoys seeing Jane this way. Carefree.

He asks if he can see her again.

She says yes.

She texts him about an upcoming Celestial event. A telescope will allow you to see Saturn’s rings and moons all night if the sky is clear.

He buys a telescope and sets it up on the roof of his apartment building and spends hours watching Saturn from his point on Earth. It makes him feel like a small speck in comparison to everything beyond this planet. He wants to find out more of what this life has to offer before it’s too late and it reminds him of his effort of making amends for his past sins.

Clearly he still has a lot of work to do.

She admits that she did some digging and she knows who he really is on their third date. He supposes he’s not too surprised at her inquisitiveness, but her declaration suddenly makes him feel entirely exposed and vulnerable.

They’re sitting in the corner of a quiet coffee shop and James eyes the nearest exit because his chest is contracting and the air is not meeting his lungs like it should. His heart hammers in his chest as hard as his metal fist did against the cryogenic cage Hyrda imprisoned him in time and time again.

“I have a friend who is pretty skilled at finding out about people,” she continues lowly, toying at the ceramic coffee cup. “I just—didn’t feel right lying to you about it. You looked familiar when I saw you in Dr. Raynor’s office that first day.”

He tries to relax the muscles in his neck and shoulders. “No, I understand. So I guess you know I’m pretty messed up then?” He had never personally seen his own file, however it wasn’t hard to imagine what it contained.

Jane let out a breathy laugh, as if she couldn’t quite believe what he said. “Aren’t we all, James?”

The weather is nice enough to start meeting in Central Park and they begin taking strolls around the park during her lunch breaks every day. They play a game where he gets to ask her a question about her past and then she gets to ask him a question about his past and they have to answer honestly. Maybe it’s reminiscent of his meetings with Dr. Raynor, yet James is willing to open up because Jane is too, and he recognizes it’s not easy for either of them.

Sometimes they only get through one question, the memories being too painful, and in those moments, their fingers tentatively find the others. It’s reassuring, this insignificant brush of skin against glove, and James suddenly wishes he wasn’t wearing the gloves. It’s been too long since he’s felt the touch of another against his bare skin.

He decides to take the right one off when he’s with her. James makes sure he’s standing on her left side for their walks and his heart flips in his chest when she unexpectedly intertwines her fingers with his. She gives him a squeeze and he returns it, an actual smile ghosting the corners of his lips.

Maybe his eyes are playing tricks on him or maybe it’s just the sun, but he swears he sees a faint blush creeping up her fair cheeks.

She invites him over to the apartment the foundation is paying rent for after her therapy session. Jane insists that she is more than capable of making something for the both of them that tops the usual take out they have a habit of settling for when they hang out together. So he can’t help but let out a chuckle and a teasing comment when he walks into a smoking kitchen and the fire alarm beeping wildly while a flustered Jane is scrambling to turn off the oven where a blackened chicken resides.

They end up ordering their usual take out.

At the end of their sushi dinner, Jane sets her empty container on the coffee table in front of them and leans back into the armchair, tucking her feet beneath her. She’s oddly quiet and he stares from his spot across on the couch. Her brown eyes gaze distantly out the wall-length windows, her brilliant brain lost in thought.

He doesn’t mind the silence, of course, yet he feels a tug to pull her back from wherever she’s gone off to. “Do you ever dance?”

Her lips curve upward. “Only if you count when I’m by myself and I have the radio blaring.”

James smiles at the mental image of a goofy Jane, throwing her arms and legs about in no particular rhythm. “Back in the 40s, I was known around the town for my swing dancing moves,” he informs her casually with a cock of his eyebrow.

She laughs, shooting him a mock expression of awe. “James Buchanan Barnes, I had no idea you were such a man of many talents.”

He nonchalantly shrugs and then practically bounces off the couch, extending his concealed, left hand to her. “It’s time you learn a move or two today, Ms. Foster.”

They rearrange some of Jane’s furniture around to make an adequate amount of space that won’t end in destruction. He begins by teaching her the basic steps, leading her slowly through each one until she insists she’s ready to go on to the next. He finds it ironic that out of all the damage Hydra did to his brain, he can still remember one of his favorite weekend activities from when he was a young man. Well, he’s still pretty young compared to his friends who were with him at the time.

If he’s being honest, Jane was born with two left feet, but she is determined to try regardless of her uncoordinated legs. By the end of the night, he gives her the name of a song to play on her Bluetooth speakers and they’re dancing away, Jane doing her best to keep up with the beat and James laughing every time she steps on his feet again.

He’s convinced he could stay in this moment forever.

She surprises him by taking them to a jazz and swing dance club.

He swears he’s in love with her by the end of the evening.

He kisses her for the first time when they’re standing on the doorstep of her apartment.

James is leaving Dr. Raynor’s office, ready to get as far away as possible from the head spinning forest wallpaper he’s stuck in front of every session when her words stop him in his tracks.

“You’re helping her, you know.”

He’s never said her name when they discuss her in his sessions. He assumed Jane saw Dr. Raynor too, seeing as she was connected to the superhero world, yet she’s never told him and he’s never asked.

He looks over his shoulder at the older woman, his hand still on the doorknob. “Actually, I think it’s the other way around.”

He has not made love to someone since before he was drafted into the war so when an evening of drinking and card games turns into take off one article of clothing every time you lose a game, James begins to sweat. He has a feeling he knows where this is leading when she’s seated on top of him, clad in only her undergarments, her hips grinding into his mercilessly.

It turns out she’s not a very good card player.

His mouth is connected to her neck, breathing a trail of wet kisses up to her ear where he bites down softly on the tip of her earlobe and she lets out a tiny whimper that nearly ends him then and there.

Her hands wander under the hem of his long-sleeved shirt and he freezes when she starts to tug the material upward. She senses his apparent discomfort and stops, looking down at him.

She’s picked up on the fact that he’s sensitive about the metal arm. “Sorry,” she whispers. “If you don’t want to take it off that’s—“

He knows he’s ready. He knows it’s time to stop living in fear about what others will think of the hideous seam binding the vibranium to flesh. “No, I do. Just give me a second.”

He sits up and she shifts off of him, unsure of his next move. It takes her by surprise when he sweeps her off the ground in a single motion, carrying her to the bedroom and placing her carefully on the mattress. His hands go to either side of the hem of his shirt and he tugs it off, standing bare chested before her, his silver dog tags resting against the rise and fall of his heavy breathing.

She stares, drinking him all in. The defined muscle. The trail of dark hair leading below the waistband of his underwear. The scars from years of battling ‘the enemy.’ Then finally, his metal arm, the leather glove still secure on his left hand. Jane rises to her knees, taking both of his hands and tugging him closer to which he does not oblige.

He wants her desperately. Wants to put his mouth all over her. Wants to hear her say his name. Wants to feel every inch of her on his skin.

“May I?” she asks, glancing down, fingers ghosting his skin. He nods and suddenly she’s running her fingers over his chest and her fingers sear, burning him, making him feel more alive than he’s felt in the past 80 years.

He allows her to touch every inch of him, noting how she studies the outer workings of his arm in true Jane-fashion, and when she decides to replace her fingers with her lips instead upon reaching the seam of his shoulder and arm, he lets out a moan. James is certain this woman will be the end of him.

He loses himself in her in more than one way that night. When she takes him, he begs her to call him ‘Bucky’ because he’s tired of acting like the name of a man he never had been in the first place.

He falls asleep that night to the memory of her voice whimpering ‘Bucky,’ ‘Bucky,’ ‘Bucky’ as if it were a prayer on her lips.

There are no nightmares.

Dr. Raynor comments on his unusual openness at their next session.

She doesn’t even have to threaten him with the notebook that day.

“Vulnerability is the essence of connection and connection is the essence of existence.” - Leo Christopher

Longing.

Rusted.

Seventeen.

Daybreak.

Furnace.

Nine.

Benign.

Homecoming.

One.

Freight car.

The string of phrases are weaving their way into his skull and he’s trapped. There’s no escape from their cruel entrapment. He must obey. He was engineered to carry out the missions. No, he doesn’t want to obey. Fight back. Fighting makes it worse. Fighting means pain until he can fight no longer.

Obey. Must obey. The mission. See that it’s carried out to completion. No witnesses. No survivors.

Bucky jolts awake in her bed, beads of sweat pooling across his brow. He’s gasping for breath and everything that’s touching him only makes his heart beat faster. He yanks the blankets off of him and sinks down against the wall facing the bed, trying to take in his surroundings and focus on what’s real. Hydra can no longer control him. He is no longer their puppet.

He pulls on the dog tags around his neck, using them as something to stabilize his unstable mind. His eyes slide open and he sees her sitting up in bed, watching him silently, her brow twisted in concern.

“Just a bad dream,” he comments quietly, inhaling through his nose, pausing, and exhaling through his mouth.

She remains unmoving for a moment.

“I get them too. Sometimes it feels like the aether is still inside me. Controlling my mind. Forcing me to bend to its wishes.” He’s only heard bits and pieces of her time on Asgard, Thor and Loki’s home planet. It’s still strange to think about the life that exists beyond Earth.

He wants to tell her more about Hydra, but he doesn’t.

“Think I’m going to stay down here for a little longer. Is it weird that I find the floor softer than the bed?”

“We all have our ways of coping,” she muses with a half smile.

He wonders what hers happen to be.

They spend many nights together watching the starry sky from his apartment rooftop. Jane sits between his arms, pointing out the major constellations, sharing ancient stories of how they got their names.

Bucky listens to her words, her voice, drift through the close space they occupy. His eyes grow heavy with tiredness, his chin resting on the crown of her head.

He could listen to her talk about space until the end of time.

“Are you ever going to answer him?” Jane inquires casually, settling down beside him on the couch. She grabs a blanket and tosses it over their legs.

She doesn’t have to say his name to know whose she’s referring to. His name appears on his phone screen nearly every day. “Maybe,” he responds indifferently.

Jane gives him a look that tells him she’s not going to let this one go. “He’s clearly worried about you. How hard would it be just to update him about how things are going?”

He wants to answer with ‘nearly impossible,’ however he has a feeling she won’t drop it if he lets the words slip.

“Just think about it, okay?” Jane must have picked up on the fact it was going to be a losing battle.

He nods.

“You sent the flowers that day in the office, didn’t you?” Her breath catches sharply when he bites down on her inner thigh, then immediately tends to the bite with his lips, moving them closer and closer to his objective.

“Yes,” he reveals, that day in the office, far from what he’s currently fixated on. She whimpers his name once he finds his source.

He can’t remember the last name he’s felt this angry. Bucky paces back and forth in his apartment, trying to calm down, trying to think rationally.

She’s leaving.

She’s going back to London.

Her work in New York was only temporary and she has no choice but to go home to continue her research with her colleagues.

The time he assumed they had left together has vanished. She promises they will keep in touch. She’s only a phone call away.

It’s not the same though.

It’s not the same.

“You’ve helped, you know,” she murmurs, nestled cozily in his arms. Her fingers play with his dog tags while he stares at shadows on her ceiling bedroom, trying with all his might to will her to stay if he just never lets her out of his grasp.

His eyebrows knit together. “Helped create more problems in your life?” he teases and she retaliates by giving the dog tags a tug.

“When I came back to New York, all I wanted was to be able to talk to someone about the shit life has thrown at me. That’s part of the reason I started seeing Dr. Raynor,” she admits, nuzzling deeper into his hold. “You listened and you cared, Bucky. I don’t know what I’m going to do in London without someone who actually gets it.”

He wonders the same thing.

On the day she leaves, he finally decides to text Sam back.

She was right.

Sam was worried about him.

He chooses honesty over the typical response of ‘I’m fine’ for once.

I’ve had better days, he writes. He’ll tell Sam more about it when they see each other again.

It’s a Thursday afternoon when he sees him sitting in the chair next to her old spot.

He’s about his height (Bucky’s taller, of course). Black hair, cut close to his head. Brown eyes. And a smug smile that makes him want to punch it right off his face with his metal fist.

Sam rises from his seat and goes in for a hug. “Long time, no see, grandpa,” he jokes, pulling back and poking him in the chest.

Bucky rolls his eyes, a grin breaking across his face. “Yeah, yeah. Missed you too,” he says, pushing him away and starting toward the doors.

“You’ve got a lot of explaining to do. But it might have to wait until after we take care of business,” Sam states, trailing after him.

He wants to protest. Sam’s the last one he wants to talk about the events of the past few months with, but he’s got no one else left.

Bucky figures he’ll have to settle for him.

For now.

#jane foster x bucky barnes #bucky and jane #winterphysics #james bucky barnes #Bucky Barnes #jane foster #my trashy fic #I have no good explanation #but I am pretty proud of it #both of my bbs need a hug

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writers-craft · 3 years

Text

The Pit of Love

story i wrote for my creative writing class, not gonna re-read it, just gonna post it here because why not

Judith French looked at herself in the rear-view mirror. She looked a mess. Her eyes were red and puffy, for she had been crying just moments prior, and her mascara was smeared down to her cheeks, but her hair still looked nice. A few strands were poking out here and there, and it was damp from the water, but her bun stayed intact, despite all that occurred. And crying only emphasized the blueness in her eyes. It was like looking into the ocean, Len always told her. Blood was leaking from her leg—the one that met with the glass—and the inside of her once blue dress was now stained with blood while the outside had darkened with mud. Her bare feet, one on top of the other, had specks of the lake’s bottoms stuck to them. Heavens, she looked a mess. Evelyn Johnson would surely have a mouthful to say if she saw Judith’s appearance, or maybe this would be the one thing to make her go silent. Keith once said the woman would die talking.

“Where are we going?” she asked the driver, but it was not the driver who looked at her. It was his passenger, the man with the gun, but he spoke no words.

It was a Tuesday, Judith French knew, when she realized she utterly despised her husband. Leonard French worked as a travelling salesman. And he enjoyed buying and selling so much, he did it during his free time too. He often came home to Stony Point with a completely different vehicle from the one he left with. Upon her crash, Judith French briefly wondered what his reaction might be when he learned his precious Volkswagen Sedan was currently sinking to the bottom of the lake. He wanted to sell it to Thomas Richfield, a neighbor two houses over.

Neither the driver nor his friend seemed eager to speak to her, so she opted to look out the window instead. They were going so fast it was difficult to see anything but the blur of the grass. It had gotten so long and green this past month, due to all the rain. She could see cows, too, which meant they were nearing Maxwell’s farm. Evelyn Johnson tried to convince everyone last Christmas that Rey Maxwell killed his wife, who coincidentally was also named Judith, but the people of Stony Point knew Judith Maxwell had been sick for years. It was her time.

Judith French looked to the man who sat between her and Keith and glanced down at his watch. Out of the three of them, the driver, the man with the gun, and the one beside her, the one beside her was the biggest and the nicest of them all. He had been the one who helped her out of the lake. He noticed she was looking at his watch and twisted his arm to give her a better view. His watch told her it was a quarter till six. Len would be expecting his dinner on the kitchen table, but his dinner was at the bottom of the lake with his precious Volkswagen.

She nodded her thanks to the man and went back to looking out the window. They were about to drive past the covered bridge. That awful covered bridge. It was red, or at least it had been before the paint had chipped off. It was mostly brown now, and really quite broken. Most of the wood had been broken apart, leaving gaps all around the bridge. The gaps had mostly been boarded up, though, except for the ones too high to fall from. The roof had gaps in it too, but Stony Point did not bother repairing the holes on the roof. Evelyn Johnson claimed her father was mugged as a boy, but it was during a time when Indians and bandits ran wild. She told Judith French the story the night they met, then several other times after, but assured her that the bridge was safe now.

The children at Stony Point High School called the pit beneath the bridge the Pit of Love. Teens would spend most weekends hanging out underneath it. Len said he and Patty Lesley kissed several times under the bridge senior year. Patty Lesley was now Patty Brown and she worked as a middle school teacher. He assured his wife they only kissed in the pit, and nothing more.

Three men had recently died in the Pit of Love. The first was a stranger. Like Len, he was a traveling salesman. It happened while it was raining, no one saw him. They found his car a few miles from the bridge with its gas tank on empty and his keys still in the ignition with a few empty liquor bottles in the passenger’s seat. Keith said he must have lost his footing stumbling drunk and fell through one of the gaps. A young couple visiting the pit found him early the next morning.

It certainly was the topic of discussion for a while in Stony Point. Evelyn Johnson enjoyed talking about it, at least. She said the man committed suicide. She claimed his wife wanted to divorce him and he was so distraught he flung himself off the bridge. But people soon got bored of talking about the dead man. They moved on to the next craze, which was the high school’s undefeated football team.

And then Patrick Walter Mathews Jr., high school senior and football champ, was found dead at the bottom of the pit shortly after. She remembered the day exactly, because she and Keith were at a motel the afternoon the boy’s body was found. It was the day when she accidentally smeared lipstick on Keith’s jacket, and Harriett soon after insisted Keith eat lunch at home.

Keith again labeled the death as an unfortunate accident. The whole town followed the Mathews’ to town hall and demanded they repair the gaps in the bridge. And the next day Rey Maxwell and his boys hammred in thick pieces of wood over all the gaps, the ones they could reach. Evelyn Johnson, of course, praised Rey Maxwell’s actions, claiming she always knew he was a good man, and who would ever think such a man could murder his own wife?

Len had been away when all the chaos occurred, even with the salesman. He said he met the travelling salesman at a conference once. At parties he spoke of him as if it were his brother. Judith French knew his real brother died in Normandy in ’44. He raised his glass to the dead man, and everyone followed suit. For the young football star, he offered his condolences for the boy— “Kid had a damn good arm,” he said to Patrick Walter Mathews Sr.—and then Evelyn Johnson pulled out her bible and said a prayer for both man and boy. Everyone bowed their heads and listened to her prayer, except for Judith French. She looked out the window and watched a little blue car speed pass her home.

“Where are we going?” Judith French repeated her words when they drove over the bridge. They rumbled a bit as the tires hit the wooden bridge surface.

The driver, the boy, glanced briefly at her through the mirror. She saw all of them fully after she escaped the sinking Volkswagen and had made it onto dry land. They were all dressed in nice suits. The driver, the boy, was leaning against his vehicle, shiny, black and long—Len would be able to recognize the type, but Judith French did not bother memorizing vehicle like her husband. He was a boy of about seventeen and small for his age. The man who sat beside him now stood in front of him then like he was his guard. The boy whispered something to him and the man with the gun handed him a cigarette from his inside pocket and lit it for him. The man who was currently seated beside Judith French was beside her; he had helped her reach dry land after the crash.

No one said anything again. Keith attempted to, but the dirty handkerchief around his mouth prevented him from saying anything audible. She took a good look at him. He still had not buttoned his shirt since they last parted, half an hour ago. His white undershirt was now stained with his blood. He was sweaty too. He seemed to have a desperation in his eyes, and she wondered if she would die with him, but more importantly she wondered if she wanted to die with him.

She cleared her throat and turned back to the boy: “You’re quite popular here at Stony Point, you know,” she began. The boy did not look up, but she noticed his ears twitch. She heard Keith mumble something again. “You had us all believing those two men were to blame for their own deaths. I’m astonished, really. None of us ever thought anyone here at Stony Point could murdered.” Keith mumbled something again; she suspected he wanted her stop. “But, then there’s the third man in question. You got sloppy with him, didn’t you?”

The man in the passenger’s seat pulled out his gun and pointed it at her. Keith, at that point, was frantic. The man in between Judith French and Keith had to forcibly hold him down to prevent him from tackling the man with the gun. But the bullet in his stomach soon wore him out and he rested his head on the window and shut his eyes.

The boy chuckled and urged the man to lower his gun. “It’s refreshing to be around someone like you again,” said the boy. It was the first time she had heard him speak. His voice was deeper than she expected it to be, and a lot warmer.

“Someone like me?”

“You know, someone who tries to get to the bottom of things. Someone who cares. Someone good.”

She shook her head. “I’m… I’m not good.”

And he glanced up at her again, lingering a bit longer than last time. His eyes were blue, like hers, but his were lighter.

The third man was found dead in the Pit of Love three weeks ago with a bloodied bullet in his head. Like the salesman, a group of teens found him. She was with Keith when he got the call. Harriett and the boys were at her mothers and Len would not be back until that Tuesday, so they had the weekend to be together. He was not planning on working that night, but Judith urged him to take the call, in case it was Harriett.

She had a strange feeling that Harriett, or Len, would burst through the bedroom door at see them. Keith assured her they were safe, but the presence of Harriett or Len did not scare her; it thrilled her. She wanted them to see. She wanted to get caught.

Keith left quickly, and Judith French did not see him again until the following week. Harriett and the boys delayed their return a week, at Keith’s insistence, and Len arrived home the next day. Evelyn Johnson said there was a serial killer on the loose, and everyone believed her. The police blocked the Pit of Love with yellow tape and had a few officers on guard night and day.

No one knew who the third man was, like the salesman at the beginning. He had no identification on him, nor did his killer leave enough of his face to identify it with, but a woman one town over reported her husband missing shortly after the body was found. She identified the clothing on the corpse to be what she last saw her husband wearing.

The whole town was hysterical, including Len. He cancelled his next two business trips to stay and protect his helpless housewife. Harriett and the boys arrived again soon too. Keith said Harriett was growing suspicious. Judith French had mistakenly left her lipstick in one of her drawers. Keith tried to convince Harriett French it was her lipstick, but Harriet and Judith French did not wear the same colored lipstick.

She met Keith each time it was his shift at the Pit of Love. The officers with him would often give them space, turn their heads and pretend their superior was not with the local travel salesman’s wife. Most of the men on the force knew, but during dinner parties and other town functions, they would act oblivious. Judith French wondered if Keith kept their love affairs quiet, too; an unspoken rule between men and the women they betray their wives with. Judith always wondered if Evelyn Johnson was faithful to Rodger. Rodger Johnson went on business trips into Hughes every few months. Keith later told her that he went there to be with prostitutes. He got in trouble with the Hughes police once and Keith had to go bail him out.

She parked the Volkswagen out of sight, hidden behind bushes and a large ad for Chesterfield cigarettes and met Keith under the bridge. The pit was full of old cigarette butts and broken beer bottles, among other things. There was a sitting area made of old tires and boards of wood painted a faded red, most likely the wood from the bridge. Keith laid his jacket down on it to prevent splinters. And they were quiet, like always. The only sound was the occasional car driving over them. When Keith finished, Judith French fixed up her dress and smoothed out her hair, which was hardly disheveled. Then Keith kissed her goodbye and then she drove to the market.

She saw Mrs. Mathews there. Her hair was down, and she had no lipstick, but she seemed in pleasant spirits, despite everything. Judith French talked to her about her youngest, Carol, who would be singing at some recital later in the month, and her middle, Peter, her last boy, who was thinking about trying out for the high school baseball team. They talked as if her eldest had not been murdered a few months ago. And then Mrs. Mathews asked when she and Len were planning on starting their family, and she laughed and told her hopefully soon, like she always did.

It was on her way home when a sudden burst of emotion filled her, and she had to stop and pull over to collect herself. She sat, her forehead against the steering wheel, bawling her eyes out for no other reason than to get the emotion out. She let the tears fall freely, before drying her eyes and continuing her route home. She imagined Len probably listening to the radio or on the phone talking his way into a new sale, whether it be for business or for pleasure. She took a few deep breaths before continuing her drive home.

The boy’s vehicle appeared so quickly; she hardly saw it at first. She kept taking quick peaks at her rearview mirror, attempting to wipe away the smeared mascara. It was on the fourth or fifth wipe when she looked up and noticed the vehicle about to crash into her. She honked, then swerved quickly and drove into the lake. Her car door would not open, so she had to break the window glass with her heel and crawl out. She cut her leg on shuttered glass on her way out. The boy’s vehicle had stopped and reversed as she was climbing out, and the man in the back hurried to her before the vehicle had gone into a complete stop. She wondered if he was the one who persuaded the boy to stop, or if the boy had stopped on his own account.

She remembered yelling at the boy for his reckless driving. The man beside him grabbed his gun, but the boy stopped him from using it. She fell silent at the sight of it and dropped to her knees, her leg stinging as it collided with rocks and dirt, but she did not stay in that position for long. The man who helped her out of the lake, gently guided her back on her feet.

She caught sight of Keith, gagged and bloodied, as he walked her to the vehicle. Keith was leaning on the window, a bloodied handprint beside him, clutching the open wound on his stomach. For a moment she thought him dead until he turned his head to look at her. His eyes popped open and he tried to mutter something. The man with the gun, who had taken his seat in the passenger’s side by then, reached in the back to hit him. The force of the blow made Keith’s head it against the window hard.

The boy did not stop the car again until the sun, now an assortment of reds and yellows, was merging in with the mountains in the distance. They were in a field far away from Stony Point. No cars were in sight. Judith French watched as boy and his guard exited the vehicle and rummaged around the back trunk. They removed a few items, then the man with the gun opened the door on Keith’s side. Keith, too weak to sit up on his own, fell onto the man. The man kicked him away. The boy opened Judith’s side. He held a larger gun than the other man, but instead of pointing it at her, he held it to his side and offered her his hand. She took it.

There was chill in the air. She stepped onto grass that prickled the bottoms of her bare feet. The other man managed to lift Keith up off the ground. He stood as tall as he could, but the wound on his stomach forced him in a hunching position.

The boy let go of Judith French’s hand and lifted up his gun—Len showed her a similar gun in a photograph before they were married. He had called it a Tom gun, she thought. She felt strong hands on her shoulder and she turned to see the larger man holding her steady. The boy aimed the gun at Keith, and he shuffled a few inches backwards, then started mumbling something underneath his mask but he was quickly silence by the bullets passing through his head. He was now on the ground, no longer murmuring. She felt her heart sink as the boy shifted his focus onto her. The man holding her gently guided her next to Keith’s corpse. The boy again lifted his Tom gun.

“How did you kill the first two?” she asked.

The boy did not answer.

“Poison, wasn’t it? I’d use poison,” she said, “or something else to make it seem like an accident. But I think you’re like me.”

He lowered the Tom gun slightly and smiled. “How so?”

“You want to get caught,” she said.

#story #writing #creative writing #short story #fiction #fictional writing #oc #own characters #this was a year ago so I’d just cringe at the writing

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parasympathic · 3 years

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ൠ - random headcanon

If the kitchen is the heart of a household, Monty wonders sometimes what the one in Endine’s Headquarters says about any of them. There’s a memory that rests against the bottom cupboards, his back pressed against the wood and Athena resting against his shoulders, a bottle half finished between them and talking about dreams that feel just a little too far out of reach. He aches to think about it now, because he thinks he’s getting everything he wanted and she’s gotten none of it. And he doesn’t know what to thank or what to blame for that, if it’s the product of all of those quietly held ambitions or an absence of hers, or maybe he just got lucky, but it leaves him faintly guilty for it.

He finds too many shelves bare when he returns from Italy, so the second day back sees him in the kitchen with bags of groceries on the counter, restocking boxes of cereal that they always seem to burn through fastest when there are so many children under their roof. Enough of their pictures pinned to the refrigerator with alphabet magnets, crayon drawing of the building he stands in, stick drawings of friends or family, of mythical creatures that several of them can craft just out of will and illusion. It’s the same kind of magic that he’s sure makes Osun and Frankie such a popular subject, but he’s sure their personalities have just as much to do with it, because the picture he can find of himself, he’s a tall, stiff figure next to Athena.

It’s there that two of the younger kids find him, still putting away milk and eggs on the middle shelf. Selina isn’t quite a teenager yet, still a few months away, and the little brother who trails at her heels is behind her by a few years and more than a foot of height. It’s still for his sake that she asks Monty to hold out a wrist. The bracelet is gray and blue and black, colors twined together and framing the tacky white beads that spell out his name. It still makes Monty smile warmly, trying to catch the wide and hopeful gaze of the boy hiding just behind her. A familiar shyness that he’s been slow to step past the bounds of. He’s a telekinetic and she’s a telepath, both of their parents dead, and Endine HQ is the most stable home they’ve had since.

“He wanted to give it to you before you left, but...” She shrugs, and he can fill the rest in for himself; he came over later and left earlier than he has in years past.

“Thank you, Kyle,” he says. “I love it.” A smile to match the wealth of gratitude in his voice, and he holds his hand out to shake in a mockery of formality, something more playful to skim past how much he can relate to the discomfort of having someone touch him without permission. But it surprises him when he pushes forward to hug one of his legs instead.

It leaves Monty hesitating for a brief moment before his hand settles on the top of his head, smiling at the words even if it’s his fault they’re a week delayed. “Merry Christmas Dr. Monty.”

Often enough the kitchen smells like coffee, even if he thinks it’s rarely the kind that Emil would approve of. The steady drip of it filling a pot that might help keep him going through all the work he still has to get through, up too late and here too early, half the morning already spent in his office trying to sort out where Sentinels would be best placed when he isn’t sure exactly what the Institute’s next move is. Only that a single threat seems enough of a reason to ask Dietrich for a favor when he comes down for breakfast. Stealing a familiar seat next to him before asking if he wouldn’t mind spending a little more time at the Voodoo on its busier nights. It isn’t anything official because it can’t be, not without overstepping in two directions.

But at some point he gave Monty his loyalty and sometime he wonders if he’s walking a familiar line between utilizing and using him for that. It still gives him pause when there’s only a single detail he clarifies, still looking down at his cereal and his face a familiar, unreadable mask that some days he still struggles to see past. “That’s where Emil Pavone works, right?”

If it cuts right to the heart of it, he doesn’t feel the intrusive press of someone else’s thoughts so he doesn’t really know what to make of it. “Yes?”

He nods his head, but whatever mystery that solves for him, he doesn’t share, and Monty feels a sinking in his stomach. “So mostly weekends?”

“Yes,” Monty tells him. “Thank you.” And there’s little that follows, but it’s only after he takes his coffee and walks away that he feels the warm flush spreading through his frame, the kind he imagines would absolutely thrill Emil. Feeling his skin turning red from his ears down, and for a moment all he can feel is mortified, remembering a library in Valerian’s Headquarters and he drinks his coffee a little more quickly like it’s ever served him at all in erasing embarrassment.

Another week finds him in a similar position if not a different hour of the day, a game promised to Dev that’s slipped through the cracks, and she’s been quick to remind him of. Aware how quickly she can turn petty when she feels like she’s being ignored, but he doesn’t think that’s what follows the words she drops while she waits at the kitchen counter with him. “You don’t sleep here anymore,” she says, and Monty imagines it’s just as much to fill the silence when patience has never been one of her virtues. He leans his lower back against the counter, lifting a brow at her and waiting for anything else to follow, but it never does.

They’re words he honestly expected long before now, a shift in habits that he was sure didn’t go unnoticed. And he knows there’s a question in there somewhere, but he doesn’t volunteer the answer, and that shouldn’t be surprising to any of them by now. “No, I don’t.”

Her lips press together into a thin line, some measure of frustration looking back at him that he would find funnier if he weren’t always wary about anyone getting too close to something personal. And there is little that’s more personal than where he’s been sleeping and who he’s been sleeping with, but if that’s the question she’s trying to circle around to, it’s not the one she finally gives. “With the timing, I thought it might be because of... you know...”

It doesn’t surprise him that she doesn’t find it easy to say. It surprises him more than he does. “The Institute?”

“Yes, that.” There is a noticeable tension the second the word is out in the open, and he can’t blame her for it, but he does regret the discomfort it causes her. It’s a strange sort of guilt, all of Emil’s reminders that there are people around him who would understand suddenly left front and center in his thoughts. And if he still feels certain it wouldn’t help him any to keep talking through it, he wonders if it wouldn’t have helped her or her brother. “You know Dom thinks it’s about him? That we’re too much for you to deal with on top of everything else. I think you’re just off playing the stoic hero.” She pauses briefly, looking down at the counter. “I had... dreams. After. Is that what’s happening to you?”

For a moment he feels colder, he feels worse, because she’s worried, and if she’s not entirely wrong, she’s far from right. He had those dreams, he had those moments where he woke up and couldn’t remember where he was, but he doesn’t think he’s had any since he told Emil he forgave him. Either way he doesn’t want to admit any of it, but he wants to leave her alone in this even less. “I had a few,” he admits after a long moment before clarifying what he thinks is more important. “But that’s not why. And it’s not any of you either. What did you dream about?”

She rolls her eyes, breath escaping in a small huff. “I was asking about you, Monty.”

“And I was asking about you.” He offers a tight smile before the coffee goes off, and if there is more he could offer, that’s the only thing that he does. A warm cup that he presses into her hands before following her out of the room with an easy dismissal of her concerns. “Thank you. But you don’t need to.” And if he stops short of saying I’m fine, he thinks right now, he is.

A few nights later leaves him and Dom at the island counter, the younger man looking a familiar mixture of stubborn and penitent, pained and frustrated, wincing against the cold compress Monty presses against his face and taking refuge in the open carton of ice cream in front of him. “You said you would stop,” he chastises. His voice not quite as gentle as he’d like it to be when his own frustration is too close to the surface, pulling him away from a quiet and comfortable evening at home and back out to the Pit to pick up the child who swore he’d stop going.

“I know, I just-” He frowns down at his ice cream like it might have answers for him, and Monty isn’t sure if he’s grateful or annoyed that he eventually skips over familiar excuses. “Are you going to tell Athena?”

“I don’t know,” Monty tells him honestly. And maybe he should, maybe it was what he should have done the first time, but he softens slightly at the hope that looks up at him, a violence he knows better than anyone is born from something lost, something helpless. “Not tonight.” A sigh escapes him afterwards, gaze skimming over Dom and all of his fresh bruises before it skates past him to the fridge where children’s pictures hang, his coffee maker sitting on the counter. The half empty bottle that’s been stashed away higher out of reach and thinking briefly that they’re running low on cereal again before his attention returns to the man in front of him. And if he still can’t tell what their kitchen says about the heart of Endine, he hopes it’s some version of family.

#answered;#asks;#hc;

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dorksndisasters · 3 years

Text

Session 2

[[<PREV]] | [[NEXT>]]

Let’s pretend I didn’t almost forget about this, ok? Cool? Good stuff.

episode 4 went up on patreon.com/scmalarky, if you want ahead!

players involved: Siana, Ophibwynn, Carric, Uriel

“Should we – we should take this back to the city. Right?” Ophibwynn asks, pausing in the act of cleaning her new golden flute.

Carric shrugs. “I guess?”

“But why?” Uriel sighs. “They’ve already lost it, we could just... make it stay lost?”

“No!” Ophibwynn shakes her head. “No, we’re definitely taking it back. We can’t just keep it all.”

“Oh?” Carric raises an eyebrow, glancing at the flute in Ophibwynn’s hands.

“Finder’s fee,” Ophibwynn replies, after a pause.

Carric laughs. “Alright.”

They find a handcart and load the rest of the stolen goods onto it, and pile Siana in on the top of it all, since she hasn’t yet woken up.

“How long does that mushroom effect last?” Ophi nods at Siana.

“Uhhh...” Carric shrugs. “She’ll be fine. Probably.”

“Alright...”

“Come on,” Uriel says, stalking out of the camp. “If I do not get to keep everything, I would at least like to be in a proper bed tonight.”

Carric and Ophi share a glance and, between them, create a magic sending that will pull the cart for them.

When they arrive at the citadel, the gates are closed and Rarder, the human in charge of the guards at the gate, is leaning over the wall atop it.

“Any chance you can let us in?” Carric calls up.

“Depends,” Rarder yells back down. “What’s that you’ve got there?”

“The... missing items?” Ophi says. “We found the bandits that had stolen them.”

Rarder whistles, sounding impressed. “Well.” He turns to yell – roar, maybe, is the better word – down to whoever’s below to open the gate.

He meets them inside and glances over the group, gaze resting on Siana’s sleeping form for a moment. “You’d best take all that over to Captain Aewyth. Annan, you show ‘em the way.”

One of his guards – a human, tanned skin, blonde hair tied back in a ponytail – nods to Rarder as she steps up to the group. “This way.”

They follow her away from the gate.

“So,” Annan says, seeming to relax as they get further from Rarder’s watchful gaze. “Bandits, huh? How did you find them?”

“I took-”

“We found a map,” Carric says quickly, talking over Uriel. “And we thought we’d check it out.”

Annan nods, glancing at Uriel. “Where was it?”

“Out in the woods. Not too far off the path, honestly. Nice little clearing.”

Annan nods again, and the whisper of a frown passes across her face, too quickly for the group to notice.

She leads them to a local command post which, despite the late hour, is still fairly busy with guards coming and going.

“Can we leave – oh, Siana! You’re awake.” Carric looks back to see her sitting up, still fairly groggy.

Annan whistles over a guard. “Keep an eye on this cart until Aewyth works out what needs doing, alright?”

She walks into the building without waiting, and the four hurry in after her.

Annan leads them past the first two doors – one of which is slightly ajar, and sounds of training can be heard coming through it – and to a closed door just off the main hallway. She raps her knuckles against it, and the conversation behind it halts.

“Yes?”

“Rarder sent me,” Annan says, opening the door. “This group found the stolen items.”

“Send them in.”

Annan opens the door and lets the group file in past her.

The office is mostly neat. The desk is not quite covered in small piles of loose notes and empty cups. There‘s a long table along one side with a couple of plants and a small shelf of books on it, upon which a kobold sits, practically bouncing with badly restrained energy.

A magelight hovers in the corner next to the covered window, which seems to be the only source of light in the room. It’s dim, casting a comforting sort of glow.

Annan doesn’t wait to be dismissed before she’s closed the door and left them there.

“So. You found the stolen goods?” Aewyth scans the group.

“Yeah.” Ophi nods. “They were, um, just... outside the city...?

Carric and Uriel engaged in a minor tussle, in which Carric is victorious and holds out the map.

“Found this,” she says, and passes it over. “But we brought them back in, they’re in a cart just outside.”

The kobold shifts to sitting cross-legged, leaning forward with his hands on his ankles, studying the group with unabashed curiosity.

“Who are you?” Carric asks.

“Bituin,” he replies, grinning.

“You don’t... need to pay him any attention,” Aewyth says.

“Wrong, you should pay me lots of attention. I know things.”

“Yeah?” Carric smiles. “What do you know? Anything interesting happen recently?”

Bituin hesitates, appearing to think. “Oh!” He smacks his tail off the table beside him. “Yeah! There was someone new in the city last night. They came in near the waygate, but not through it. That interesting?”

“Did you see them?”

“Yeah, they were all dark ‘n’ mysterious! Wearing a cloak that reached the ground, I couldn’t see their feet at all.”

“Bituin.” Aewyth casts him a slightly tired look.

He giggles and pulls back against the wall.

“I am. sorry about him.” She rubs her fingers against the bridge of her nose. “Tell me – was the Hanging of the Empress amongst the stolen items?”

“The Hanging... I don’t think so.” Ophi shakes her head.

Siana sits upon the floor and pulls out a bag of runemarks. “It wasn’t, but if I just...” She passes them from hand to hand and then pools them across the floor.

The others move back, giving her space to work.

Bituin rocks forward onto his knees and peers down, and his eyes seem to glow briefly before he blinks.

“It’s... it’s the reason everything was stolen,” Siana says. “It’s long gone.”

Aewyth leans back in her chair, sighing. “Right. Thank you. I... will pass that on. And get everything back to its original owners.”

“Ok, uh – we'll... be at the Knave and Cauldron? I guess?”

Ophi winces. “I am so late for my shift.” She turns to hurry from the room and the building.

The other three follow her, Siana hurriedly picking up her runes and piling them back into their pouch.

They’re partway across the square in front of the command post when Bituin comes running after them.

“You dropped this!” He holds out a note to them.

“Thanks?” Carric takes it. “I don’t think we did, but – he's gone.”

Bituin has darted off down a side street, disappearing in an instant.

She unfolds the note and squints at the elegant writing.

This is the last of the items from Malpha that we need you to acquire. Once this is completed, we no longer require your services; your reward is on its way. Keep out of sight, and await any further orders.

It is unsigned, but the front of the note is addressed to “Aelfswild”.

“That’s... that’s the guy we bought the gems from,” Carric says. “Right?”

“Think so.” Siana shrugs. “It doesn’t say who it’s from?”

“No.” Carric passes the note to Uriel, who inspects it closely.

“Well, he might be at the Knave and Cauldron,” Ophi says, all but running ahead of them. “So come on!”

The sun is mostly set by the time they arrive.

Aldehrt, the owner of the inn, grunts at them as they arrive, and gestures Ophi to the small stage.

She dives up there, shedding her bag and coat on the way, and stumble to a halt at the seat, pulling out her carrot flute to start up a jaunty tune.

“Do you know Aelfswild?” Siana asks. “He was in here last night, with an elf.”

Aldehrt frowns. “You think I know everyone that comes in here?”

“Well-” Siana starts.

“I don’t, alright? Don’t know the name.”

“Maybe we could jog your memory?” Uriel asks, before Carric can quiet her. She’s spinning a knife between her fingers, and her tarantula is sitting on her shoulder.

“She doesn’t - she doesn’t mean that,” Carric says, pushing Uriel’s hand down. “But do you know someone who might know where to find him?”

Aldehrt narrows his eyes, drawing his shoulders up like he’s squaring for a fight.

Ophi, from the stage, bleeds a little bit of magic into her flute playing, and a calming sensation takes over the room.

“Bondua,” Aldehrt says, still a little gruff. “He’s not here tonight, but he knows everyone.”

“Thank you,” Carric replies. “Appreciated.”

She pulls Uriel with her and Siana to a table out of the way. “So.”

Siana pulls out her runes again, placing the note on the table and tipping them over it. “Looks like this is from an elf sorcerer.”

“Not from here, I’m guessing. Not if everything’s going out of town.”

Siana nods and tosses her runes again, but doesn’t get anything new.

As Ophi finishes her shift, she talks to a few of the regulars, asking some questions. When she sits down with the group, a tray of drinks in hand, she announces that the Hanging of the Empress – a tapestry depicting one of the Elder Gods in their high form – was formerly displayed in the Scriptorium, before it was stolen.

The group decide to head there in the morning, and proceed to down their drinks and find their rooms to crash in.

Over breakfast, the four decide to put together disguises and fake their way into the Scriptorium as religious personages from out of town.

The Scriptorium is an imposing building. It’s taller than the others around it, and built of heavy stone blocks, without any kind of intricate moulding or design.

Siana stares up at the slanted roof and thinks about climbing up there to see across the city.

Ophi tugs her attention back to the door of the Scriptorium as they reach it, and Carric knocks.

The doors are closed; it’s early, maybe even too early.

Carric knocks again, and Uriel gleefully calls out, “Open up, or we’ll kill you!”

“No we won’t,” Carric hisses.

Uriel shrugs.

The door opens, just a crack, and Uriel brightens up.

“See? I knew it would work!”

“Can I... help you?” The kobold squints up at them and pulls back into the shadow of the door, out of the soft morning light.

“We’d like to talk with... with whoever’s in charge,” Carric says. “Important matters.”

“And you are?”

“Visiting dignitaries?” Ophi suggests. “I mean – we're. From a religious branch. Out of town.”

“Yes,” Siana says, her eyes still on the roof. “We’d like to talk things over. About the heights we can reach.”

The kobold squints at them and hums. “You two.” He points at Carric and Uriel. “You can come in.”

“What did we do?” Ophi looks affronted.

“Limited visitors,” the kobold replies. “I’m sure you understand.”

Carric glances back and shrugs at Ophi and Siana as she follows Uriel and the kobold in.

Ophi tries to follow, but gets the door shut in her face. “Huh.” She turns to Siana. “So... what should we do?”

“I can climb it.” Siana was still staring up at the roof.

“I think... I think that might make it worse.” Ophi crouches to pick up Gordon. “But if we can get Gordon through a window, maybe he can help. Somehow.”

Siana nods and circles around the corner of the building and into the slim alley. “Here, pass him over.” She looks up at a window, a little above the low building next to them.

Ophi passes over the rabbit and steps back as Siana scales the side of the building with relative ease.

She sets Gordon on the window ledge while she jimmies the window open, and leans in to drop the rabbit onto the floor.

“Alright,” Siana murmurs, as she drops back to the ground. “He’s in.”

Ophi nods. “Back to the inn?”

Siana glances up at the roof again, and sighs. “Alright.”

Inside the Scriptorium, Carric and Uriel are led through tall, straight corridors with only a few off shooting paths.

He knocks at an unadorned door and waits for the person inside to call him to enter. “I have visiting dignitaries. They’re like to speak to you.”

“Let them in, then.”

As they enter, Gordon comes hopping down the corridor, and Carric crouches to pick him up. Her own familiar, a wren, hops down her arm to greet Gordon, and something seems to pass between the two of them.

All the grandiose austerity of the scriptorium comes to a head in this room, which seems too large for the person sitting behind the slab of a desk.

She seems young. Lightly tanned skin, round glasses, auburn hair that almost impossibly fades to purple at the ends. She’s already watching them as they enter the room. There’s only a few things on the desk that she could have been paying attention to before they entered, but it isn’t clear which held her attention.

“Visiting dignitaries? We weren’t informed of any visitors coming our way.” She doesn’t stand up to greet them.

“Surprise visit,” Carric replies, smiling. “You are...?”

“Autag. I run the manuscriptorium. That will be all.” She flicks long fingers in the kobold’s direction.

The kobold leaves them, closing the door in his wake.

“We’re investigating the thefts,” Carric says. “I believe the Hanging of the Empress was taken from here?”

Autag stiffens, almost imperceptibly. She spreads out her fingers, like she’s merely stretching them. “Where did you hear that?”

“Aewyth,” Uriel says, and Autag almost frowns. “We managed to find some of the stolen goods on our way into the city. I am sorry that the hanging wasn’t amongst them.”

“I suspect it is long gone. It has been two weeks, after all.”

Carric clears her throat. “Have you any clues? About how it might have been taken.”

Distaste flashes across Autag’s face. “I suspect an inside job. There was a kobold who was more interested in it than his work.”

“What happened to him?”

“He disappeared, not long after the Hanging was stolen. I should have known. He was hired as a favour to someone, but he wasn’t quite so particular about the job as I was told.” She lets out a chuckle. “Well; he wasn’t particular about the job I gave him.”

“Do you remember who asked you to hire him?” Uriel is stalking the room, studying the edges of it like she’ll find something out of place.

“... No.” Autag watches her, face carefully blank.

Carric closes her eyes, focusing. Her familiar stands on her shoulder and whistles an odd, fluting tune.

Its eyes glow, its feathers darkening into a swirling sort of implacable void as her patron speaks through it.

“Į̵̪͚͚͈͙̦̝̓̀̐͌ ̸̡̢̮̯̖̙͌̎̑̃̌̊́́͛͌̿͐͠͠͠à̶̡̧̭̣̮̥̠̠̲͉̥̘́̉̋̚m̸̧̘͚̜͍̰̭̳̼͔͌̌̈́͑̏̔̊͘ͅ ̷̨̛̥͉͇͖̉̅͂̄̎͋͗͜l̵͓̇͐̋í̵̧̦̭̠͍͚̲͕̙͍͇̕͜ͅs̷̢̧̭̠͚̖͙͈̱̹͍̤̝͍̋̐͘͝t̶̳̯̪́̿̈̒̑̑̏̈́̀̕͝ȩ̵̛̰̞̣̭̤̝̫͉̞̜̺͆̍͌̋̍̋̓̔́͋͒͝͝ͅͅn̵̡̧̳̝̪̭̪̬̰̾̀́̚ì̷̢̻̩̜̬̹n̸̢̛͇̝̺̯̗̱͍͙͓̍͆́̀͂̚g̴̟̳̞̖̪͉̙̦̭̱̮̤̈́̒͛̓̉̎͌̚͘.”

“Can you tell me who hired this kobold?” Carric asks.

Autag is watching, curious.

The wren tilts its head, and after a pause, “T̴̨̧̞̬̭̲̯̣̰̥̲̙͒̇̌̉̎̂̈́̎̇͛̂͋̍ĥ̸̞̻̣̬͚̟̝̟̞̩̈́͂͂͘͜e̶̜̓̓́́̀̉i̸̹̬̗̙͎̳͉̙̫̞̹̐̇̄̈́́̽̊́̒͌͗ͅr̵̠͔͇͗ ̷̡̡̢̡̨̘͚̬̬̠̹͕̞̂̀̒̅̽̾͋̏̓̕̕͝ņ̷̘̜̥͎͈̟̰̈̂̄ą̶̛̖̼̫̫̦̳̗͈̓̋̎̈͑͒̈́̓̈͘m̵̯͓͔͈̰̘̤̖̝̙̜͉̾̉̌̓̓̇̀̃̀̀͘͠ě̶̢̨͉̠̳̭̝͚͖̻̫̓̆̌͐̋̒͗̀̿͑̕͝͝ ̸̬̭̻̦̥̱̿͆͌̈̾̅͂̕̕͝ȉ̵͙̜̣͈̯̰͚͎̍͋̒̇̂̊̐̕ͅͅs̶̡̡̢͉͇͙̝̞͚͚̦̿̌͋̈̄́̆̀̔͋̅̈́̐͝ͅ ̴̢̛͉̠̟͎͇̒̍̐̏̿̅͂̂͑̒̐̄Ǐ̷̩̗͓̗̲̫̰̜͍̜̪̹́͊̀̄͋͆̓̐̇̽̏͝͝l̴̡̧̬̘̰̲͎̝̖̬̖̥̙̂̿́̓̋̀̽̎͛͜͝r̵̛͖͈̭̝̱͕͚̟͎͎͚͆͛̀̌̋̅̿́̔̓͗̀̎͠ͅǫ̵͖̹̝̦̗̮̱̤̦̤̦̥̟̫͐͂̍̉̀̋̀̉̄̊̽̊m̷̡̳̟̞̬̞̬̳͚̻͈̖͛͛̊̄͒͜͝ͅĭ̵̢͈̮̻̖͍͓̲̟̱̫̇̓̋͂̂̍͒̃̓̃.”

Gordon shifts like he wants down.

“Nothing more?” Carric asks, relaxing her arms.

Gordon drops onto the ground and lollops over to where Uriel is trailing the room.

“Ouch.” Carric presses a hand to her head. “Ok. Thank you.”

The wren whistles again, and returns to normal.

“Uriel.”

Uriel puts down the heavy paperweight – a solid orb of wood – and looks over. “What?”

“We should find the others.” Carric turns to Autag. “Thank you. Are you hiring? To cover the loss of Driany?”

“Are you looking for a job?” Autag’s lip curls. “No. There are no openings.”

“Alright. Thanks.” Carric hefts Gordon back into her arms, and nudges Uriel towards the door. “We’ll not take up any more of your time.”

Autag watches them leave, inscrutable.

They find Ophibwynn and Siana in the Knave and Cauldron; Ophibwynn brightens up considerably as she sees Gordon in Carric’s arms.

“I have an idea,” she says, and takes Gordon back.

Gordon is almost instantly lined with an unearthly glow, becoming less a rabbit and more a rabbit shaped window into the void, much like Carric’s bird had done.

“Where can we find Bondua?”

Uriel almost scoffs, but she falls silent when Carric raises a hand to stop her.

“W̸̨̛̪̠̠̽̄̔͌̌͒̌͐i̴̳̣̍͊̋̾ẗ̴͔̦̫͉̦̖̘̪̯́h̸̙̤̖̹̫͆̌̀͗̈́̃̐́̅̚i̸̧͚̟̼̔n̶̤̤͖̝̥̟̭̞̻̩͇̍̽͆̿ ̷̭̠̬͖͔̘̬̙̠͎́́t̴͎͕͚̠̺̙̘̜̹͔̯̻̯̳̐͑̊̍̒̉̓̎̓̽̓ͅh̶̙̲̠͕̮͛͆͆́̂̐͒̐̑ȩ̸̡̡͖̤͍̦̭̱͚̣̭̿̿̏̈͐̎̇͌͜͜͠ͅ ̷̡̛̰̮̣̱̟̋̎͆͠w̸̛͉͌̚ą̶̰̩̟̘̦̞̭͉͖̪͈̐́̎͌̒͑̅̀͋͝l̷̡̧̡̘̲͈̭͚̳̠̀͑͋͊̊̊̿̑̌̋̅͑̆͠l̸̛̙̦̦͌͆́͛̏̌̅̕s̷̫̀͑͊̓͂̈́͊͆ ̵̡̢͕̹̰̺̱͖̦̀̀̂̽̚o̴̡̤͍̪̥͚͈͓͔̻̔̊f̵̺͒̿͋̊̇̑̊̎͆ ̴̱͓͍́̆̃̊́̍̽̅͂t̵̠̗̪̲̥͖͍͇̮͈͌h̸̙̜̮̗̫̯̥̭͙͉͈͈̫͉̎̒̇̌̚e̷͎̹̻̻͝ ̸̡͕̞̞͚̣̙͕̬͍̟̺̈́̀͜͜S̴̺̖̜̜͇̅̌̌̌̽͐͒̆̈́̈̀͠e̴͇͎̬̊͊̌͂̓͋̒̓͑ř̴̨̧͖̤̗͙͎̻̽͐̀̓̒̒̔̏̕͝ͅp̵̨̪̙̳̟̼̗͍̱͔̺͛̇͌̓̔̚e̴͈̮̤̭̘͉̗̤͙̝̩̫̎̔̎̒̀̔͊͌̃͂͐͘n̴̡̛͙̐̂́́̽̽͋̋̐͠͝͠ͅt̷̡̖̦̲͚͔̲̤̯̲̯̻̫̄̏̽͗̓͛̑̀͆̈́̂͋͑ͅ ̵̢̞̪̜̈̓̇̎́̑̀͒̒͌̚͘͠I̶̫̬͍͉̎̅͒̂̈̋̿̈́͆́̈n̶̪̲̱͈͎̙̙͇̻̟͇̪͋̅̐̌͗̇̋̾̈̎͐̿̃̾͜n̴̨̡̢̛̛̤̥͕̝͍̮̎̍̈́͐̔͆̓́̿̊̋.”

“Is that a... wise way to find out?” Siana asks.

“Thank you.” Ophibwynn strokes Gordon’s ears.

“We’ve already made the deals with them,” Carric says. “So we might as well use what we’ve got, you know?”

“The Serpent Inn...” Ophi frowns. “Aldehrt, do you know it?”

He’s walking past their table as she asks. “Sure. It’s in Highlamp. Will you be back for your shift tonight?”

“Probably?” Ophi shrugs. “We... might be onto something here.”

Aldehrt grunts. “Alright.”

Uriel looks up as the rest stand and make their way towards the door. “We just got here!”

“And now we’re going somewhere else. Come on. There’s another inn with drinks at the end of it.”

Uriel stands, grumbling, and follows.

The Serpent Inn is a strange place. They say it was built by an elf in the early days of the stabilised waygate, as either a peace offering or a levelling of the field. It still has those marks of elvish creation, most notably the spells laid like carvings into the woodwork that allow everyone to know each other’s names from the minute they walk past the threshold. Those same spells also prevent offensive magic from being used within the walls.

Elfgild – the current owner, a half-orc – is working on pulling the magic from the walls, but until then, the spells remains.

It is almost noon; the inn is quiet, but for Elfgild behind the bar, and two patrons sitting at a low table in front of one of the arched windows. These are Bondua, an elf, and Coirpre, a half-elf. They’re deep in conversation as the group come closer.

“You really think I can get in, this time?” Coirpre is asking. He seems younger, in attitude and face. Middling brown skin, amber eyes, glasses that half conceal the glyph mark burnt into his skin. His hair is almost amber, shaved close on the sides and swept back on the top.

“Of course,” Bondua replies. His skin is almost ashen grey, his hair piled on the top of his head in a bun of coils, leaving his long ears free to move. “I truly think the Scriptorium is the place you should be.”

“Oh, good luck getting in there, mate,” Carric says, dropping into a seat. “They aren’t hiring.”

Coirpre’s face falls. “Oh.”

Bondua frowns. “Where did you get that information?”

“From Autag. Talked to her this morning.”

“I - uh, I should be going.” Coirpre gets to his feet. “Thank you. I think.”

“Any time, little one.” Bondua smiles almost fondly at Coirpre. There’s something just slightly threatening behind it, like a spider eyeing a fly.

“Let’s get drinks,” Ophi says, attempting to catch Elfgild’s notice.

“What can I do for you?” Bondua sketches his gaze over the four of them as they shuffle seats about.

“We were hoping you could tell us about this,” Carric pulls the note from her pocket and passes it across the table.

He takes it, examines it. “Since none of you are Aelfswild, I do have to wonder where you picked this up.”

“Handed to us by mistake. Do you know who it’s from?”

Bondua shakes his head, accepting one of the drinks that Elfgild brings over.

“Look, we just want to return it to Aelfswild. Seems important, right?” Carric takes a tankard and drinks first.

Bondua hums. “I think I can get it to him, if you like.”

“We’d rather meet him ourselves,” Ophi says.

“Do you know where to find him?” Carric asks, as she casts the smallest truth spell she can, trying to avoid detection.

“I don’t know where he stays. But I know someone who does.”

“T̶̺̣̰̑̋̉̌͛̍r̷̡͐͋̆̎͋̿̃̐̿̐̈u̵̡̱̪̟̟̖̼͉͖͍͇̮̺͂̍̋̈̉̆̂̾t̷̡͕͖̼̜̟͍͉́͊̑̊̍́̕͜ͅh̴̢̧̨̺͙̪͇̹̝̼̩̬̝̮̾̍̃̏͛.”

“Can you... get them to meet us?”

“Why are you trying to get Coirpre into the Scriptorium?” Uriel asks, leaning over. “Did you help to steal-”

“Nothing like that.” Bondua laughs. “I simply think it would be... prudent to have a man on the inside.”

“T̶̺̣̰̑̋̉̌͛̍r̷̡͐͋̆̎͋̿̃̐̿̐̈u̵̡̱̪̟̟̖̼͉͖͍͇̮̺͂̍̋̈̉̆̂̾t̷̡͕͖̼̜̟͍͉́͊̑̊̍́̕͜ͅh̴̢̧̨̺͙̪͇̹̝̼̩̬̝̮̾̍̃̏͛.”

Bondua stands. “I will send for my friend, shall I?”

“Please.”

As Bondua leaves, the group lean in.

“Ok,” Opih says. “What else did you find out in the Scriptorium?”

Carric and Uriel fill them in as they wait for Bondua to return.

They’re eating, when Bondua arrives with Annan in tow, and drinking a little heavily.

There are more patrons now, the place filling up as the afternoon draws on. The influx of names as each one crossed the threshold takes some getting used to, but after a while it becomes easier to tune out. The drinking helps a little.

Annan tenses as she crosses the threshold, whipping her head around to stare at the group.

“Oh, it’s you!” Uriel grins. “Hello again.”

“... Hi.” Annan slips into a seat beside them. “Bondua said you wanted to meet Aelfswild.”

“How do you know him?” Ophi pushes a tankard over to Annan.

“Old friends,” she replies, taking it up.

“And you can take us to see him?” Ophi smiles, leaning back against the chair, head lolling slightly onto Siana.

“... Sure. It’ll have to wait until I’ve finished my shift.”

“Ugh, night shift.” Ophi wrinkles her nose. “The worst.”

Annan laughs, slightly awkwardly. “As long as it pays, right?”

Ophibwynn hums, taking out her current flute and beginning to play half notes.

“In the morning?” Carric asks. “The Knave and Cauldron?”

Annan shakes her head. “The market between Orchard and Crystalfane.”

“Alright.”

Annan glances at Bondua, who smiles cryptically at her. “I’d best be going.”

“Tell your boss not to be such a hardass,” Ophi mumbles past her flute.

Annan laughs, and leaves them to it.

“You won’t be playing your shift tonight, will you?” Siana asks Ophibwynn.

“I can play it here,” says Ophi, and returns to shakily playing her flute.

#dnd #homebrew #campaign

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