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welllpthisishappening · 2 years

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Claire Montgomery is so, so, so normal. Totally normal. Run-of-the-mill, even. Middle-of-the-road, she’s an average median of wholly acceptable with a good job and attainable goals and a distinct lack of drive to reach above any of the totally normal expectations for her totally normal life. Or, she was. For a very long time, in fact. And then, as all the stories require, someone showed up and grinned and her stomach did its required swoop and now she’s standing in someone else’s kitchen while a bunch of crazy people who don’t realize they’re crazy argue over the most effective way of bestowing godparent titles upon one another.

And if she was freaking out a little bit, who could blame her, really?

————

Word Count: just over 4k AN: Back at it! Still filling prompts by writing longer fills for prompts and let’s act surprised while also allowing me to be a little proud of myself. This one is for @singersdd who asked for 25 from this post with Blue Line next-gen. This was loads of fun to write, so thanks for having me write it!

————

“And yet, that’s not the strangest thing that’s happened to me today.”

Lying was never really her strong suit. In that she was absolute and complete garbage at it, really. Strained vocal cords coupled with the inherent instinct to stare at her shoes whenever her mouth moved around incorrect syllables was something of a flashing neon sign broadcasting her deceit. Although that specific set of syllables carried with it an equally inherent sense of premeditated evil, and she wasn’t really all that keen on that idea, either.

Her right shoelaces were coming undone.

And Claire Montgomery had never thought the word keen once before in her entire life.

Wasn’t even aware it was part of her vocabulary, honestly.

Until this specific moment.

Standing in the kitchen of an apartment that was surprisingly comfortable despite the number of books stacked haphazardly on various shelves, surrounded by people who kept sending less-than-covert glances through the air around her left ear and directly above her head. At least they were all equally bad at things. Separate and slightly different things, but things all the same.

That had to count for something. Because it was moments like these that Claire wished for a different sort of sign than the one that made it all too clear she was incapable of telling a lie. Like some sort of gender-swapped, never-been-a-puppet Pinocchio. Being Pinocchio would suggest a fantastical home life, though. Filled with talking crickets and heavy-handed lessons in morality and that scene on Pleasure Island had been traumatizing to watch when she was six, so it shouldn’t be quite so awful to think about right now, except—

She’d had a completely normal childhood, goddamnit.

Statistically acceptable, perfectly within the confines of what the US census expected of its families, based on decades of data and trends. No siblings, but parents who loved her despite often not being big fans of each other, and, so, yeah, maybe, the split weekends and packed bags were kind of a drag when she was ten, but—No, no, no, she was not doing this. Not falling into rabbit holes and black holes and other assorted holes to fantastical and fictional places. Claire was a normal person with a normal past and normal memories and if her inability to tell a lie stemmed from several decades spent striving for perfection and perfectly-packed suitcases, then so bet it. She was fine. Great, even.

Even as it was becoming increasingly clear that they all expected her to participate in their nonsense.

That kept happening. Had happened. Ad nauseam. For years.

She had a designated position in the pick-up hockey games now. Not to mention the memory of faded bruises, the product of questionably legal checks and arguments over where, exactly, the blue line was. That made her part of the active roster. Or so she had been told—over and over, like that was a normal thing to say and they all thought it was normal and Matt’s life was Claire’s life and vice versa, a closet full of shoes they both regularly kicked off, and there was something about his sneakers resting on top of her flats that sent a thrill up her spine, and she was freaking out over nothing.

She needed a real sign. To inform all the people around her that they were all patently insane. They were the strange ones. They were the statistical anomaly.

Before they started all of this.

She’d use block letters. And glitter glue. On the sign. No one doubted anything with glitter glue on it. It took real patience to trace letters with glitter glue. Serious work went into that.

Maybe some of her syllables weren’t quite the lie she wanted them to be.

“Seriously,” Claire said, pulling her gaze away from the table covered in dolls only to briefly wonder if Pinocchio ever went through puberty post-human transformation. Her voice cracked. She licked her lips. Roland crossed his arms. From his spot on the counter. So many members of the active roster liked to sit on the counter. Of various brownstones, houses, and apartments. She couldn’t wrap her mind around it.

Totally normal childhood.

Peggy’s answering smile felt too large for the space and the number of dolls it contained, barely pulling her all-too-obvious stare aware from Matt’s before she said, “Ok, well, Claire is a great big, giant liar who lies, but we’re all going to ignore that to talk about the rules of the match.” Letting her shoulders slump was not an open admission of defeat, but it felt like one. Matt’s chin pressed into the bit of her where her neck met those drooped shoulders, playoff scruff scraping lightly against skin, and shivering was worse than lying, but Claire was beyond controlling whatever it was her body was doing at that point.

Matt kissed behind her ear.

She elbowed him.

“Match suggests this is a singular competition,” he said without pulling away from her, and Lizzie didn’t bother rolling her eyes. Rolled her whole head instead, one hand resting on the swell of her stomach while her feet found the edge of the chair nearest her—despite the fact that it was occupied by more team-branded merchandise and curls that were clearly genetic, and Chris hadn’t said so much as a word yet, but his gaze pinballed between Henry and the phone in his hand. Facetime!Leo Nolan, wearing what appeared to be a full baseball uniform and slightly uneven eye black, shrugged without an ounce of subtlety, just twisted lips and flitting eyes as if he could glance up toward the middle-aged man above him and accurately read the temperature of the room.

Claire briefly considered melting. Directly into the floor. Through it, if possible.

Her—God, boyfriend was such a lame word. Lacking, really. Nine letters could not possibly hope to contain the sort of sentiment that twisted through her with alarming regularity, because she really was convinced about the genetic predisposition of those with Vankald or Jones in their last name to produce children with frustratingly curly hair.

Claire traced the lines of ink on Matt’s wrist. And took a deep breath.

His arm didn’t move from its spot around her waist.

Totally normal childhood.

“Please,” Lizzie huffed, “don’t insult our competition like that. Obviously, there’s more than one challenge. You think we’d let you all godparent without a full inventory of your potential skills?”

Another phone in the kitchen clicked its tongue. She had no idea who was holding it. Or where Taylor was that he couldn’t be here, but she assumed it was something business-related and required him to wear a perfectly fitted suit. “Mar was the one who said match!” Matt’s arm tightened. Slightly. Enough for Claire to notice. To file away. For her own personal records. “Singular. No plural involved.” The ends of Henry’s mouth tilted up as he murmured, “And seemingly no correct grammar, either.” “He didn’t graduate college,” Chris reasoned, flipping a wrist so Lizzie could low-five him. Without looking. As if they were all simply aware of the rules and expectations and Claire’s parents were both only children, too. Fine, fine, fine. She was used to this.

Matt flipped his brother off.

Used to that, too.

“Plus,” Roland added, “there’s precedent for this. Twice over.”

Claire blinked. Felt her jaw drop, and that was worse than her shoulders. A condemnation that, without a shadow of a doubt, proved her non’ness—that her inclusion in this unit with its collective and repetitive last names and mutual hyphens and glances borne of a lifetime she only passably understood, but maybe, possibly, sort of, wanted, with a force that sometimes made her chest ache, was still a decided work in progress.

No wonder they had never asked her before.

“Wait, wait, you’ve done this before?” More shrugging. More tongue clicking from various phones. Another kiss pressed behind her ear. “Twice,” Chris answered, “but this is my first time, too. So, we’ll get through this together, huh, CM?” He thrust the hand not resting on what Claire could only assume were Lizzie’s slightly swollen ankles over the expanse of creepy kitchen table. “What’dya say? Partners?”

A chorus of wholly expected boos rained down upon them, cries of unholy alliance and absolutely goddamn not, both of which were equally par for the course—particularly amongst a group of next-generation family-by-choice who apparently staged regular competitions to grant godparent status when absolutely none of them went to church with any sort of regularity.

“Henry’s kids,” Peggy explained. “Lu wasn’t a baby when he and Ella got married, and we were all really bad at diapering dolls, but—” Something cracked when Lizzie jerked her hands up, both Roland and Claire leaning forward. “Hey, hey, I refute that! I was super at it and I have been a super godparent. Lu thinks I am categorically awesome.”

“Because you guys get gelato every time you’re in the city.” “Ok, Serendipity girl.” “Is that an insult?” “Only to how much I’ve spent there on you in the last decade,” Roland mumbled. Spinning heads would have been more acceptable if she were, in fact, a puppet. Or had been a puppet at some point. As it was, Claire’s consciousness seemed to wobble around her skull, bouncing from nerve-endings to synapses and back again, soft misfires and ineffective connections, and before that first Christmas at the brownstone, she wasn’t aware people were capable of eating that much Chinese food in a singular sitting. Or procuring that much tinsel for one, singular tree.

She’d started ordering boxes off Amazon. When it was on sale, sometimes. Or whenever she saw it. Just to… help out, or whatever. Keep the stock full. That was polite.

“You guys are all atrocious storytellers,” Henry said, fond exasperation in those syllables and letters and the crinkles directly surrounding the edges of his upturned mouth. He smiled at Claire, too. Everyone always smiled at her. “Ella and I have each gotten to pick a godparent. She’d already picked her business partner before I even showed up and she was mean to me at my book signing, but—”

Another voice cried from the back of the apartment, “I can hear you!”

Henry’s crinkles got deeper. Challenging Thomas Edison for anything had not really been on Claire’s to-do list that afternoon, but she was apparently growing more patently insane by the moment, and the ease of Ella’s arm curling around Henry’s shoulders when she perched on his lap, was as admirable as it was nauseating. Several members of the active roster made sure to gag their disapproval.

“So, Ella had her option already, but this was my recently-acquired paternal right, and I made the cretins—” More boos. More swearing. More curses to eternal damnation. “—Work for it. A series of challenges with us as judges for the honor to shape our kid’s mind and dessert-prone pallet. Same when Harper was born. Tay takes her to the Museum of Natural History on the reg, though, so I think he’s beating Lizzie. By default.”

A whoop of victory. Two middle fingers. An overprotective husband whose feet landed silently on linoleum when he slid off the counter. More fingers. Prolonged groaning. Increasingly aggressive trash talk. The telltale sounds of baseballs hitting the back of a batting cage in some city in some location in the continental United States. Claire was starting to suspect the dolls were watching her. Judging. Wondering what the hell she was doing there.

Pick-up positions were one thing. This was—

This felt permanent. More than a jacket. But she’d never had that jacket, had never even been offered that jacket, which wasn’t a condemnation, per se, was more likely a wholly understandable and repetitive instance of forgetting because she worked for the team and the truth had been a poorly hidden secret and occasionally ignored fact, only there had been so much glitter and a name that wasn’t hers, but may be hers at some point if they kept mixing shoes and compromising on toothpaste choices and—

“Deep breaths, Monty.”

She closed her eyes. Leaned back. Breathed in the feel of him, which was, she knew, biologically impossible, but there was something so consistently solid and dependable about arms with so much on them. As if those marks she could trace by memory now existed solely to embrace their own longevity, not to spurn change so much as mark it. Celebrate it, even. In glorious technicolor.

“Did Henry say on the reg?” Laughter warmed the side of her neck. Slunk under her skin and into her bloodstream, mixing with those ever-present feelings and increasingly substantial wants. “He did, yeah. Because he’s old. And he thinks antiquated slang will somehow make us forget that.” “How confident are you in your doll-diapering ability?”

“Exceedingly, but my real talent lies in holding, swaying, and getting to fall asleep. Some might even suggest I am something of a baby whisperer.”

“No one would suggest that,” Ella objected, distributing dolls like that was totally normal. Maybe for her. Maybe for them.

Maybe for this family.

Every nerve ending in Claire’s brain appeared to be exploding. With the effort of counteracting the suddenly inescapable image of her—whatever title, really, it didn’t matter, just that she was fairly positive even the idea of Matt holding a baby might be her inevitable and immediate undoing.

“Anyway,” Henry continued, “Rol and Lizzie are apparently incapable of making other friends or interacting with the outside world, so—” He paused for the interlude of various sounds, that time. Leo might have been in the batting cage. Claire suddenly felt better about her chances. “Also, they’re equally over competitive idiots with no concept of imagination, and therefore are once again stealing from their elders and betters and I think it’s lazy.” “You want to win more than anyone old man,” Chris pointed out.

Henry winked. “Ready, set, go.”

***

Chaos descended upon the kitchen. The living room, too. In every corner, really. By the time Matt was declared the unequivocal winner (with a full-size, customized, championship belt that contained more rhinestones than any such thing should and Roland's pronouncement of, “Creativity reigns supreme!”) Henry and Ella’s apartment resembled a ransacked Babies “R” Us. Sofa cushions littered the floor. Decorative pillows were strewn across the hallway, the consequences of sabotage attempts during the baby-proofed obstacle course. Tiny skates half-laced wobbled in various locations. Half-full bottles lined the counters. Smiles lined the faces, even as they disparaged Matt and his talent and his newly-gained title.

Before reminding him that his one-timer from the circle was nearly impossible to stop on the power play, so he should really consider shooting more if he didn’t want to be effectively disowned by the lot of them.

He flipped them off.

Before kissing his sister on the cheek, and his cousin on the forehead, staging an intricate handshake with Roland and hugging his brother for half a second longer than normal.

They were one win away from the Eastern Conference Finals, after all.

***

“You wanna talk about it, then?”

Kicking her shoes off, Claire’s flats hit a pair of brightly-colored sneakers in the hallway closet that did not belong to her. He was leaning against the door when she spun around, all expectation and readiness, that championship hanging from his shoulder like it belonged there. Like it wasn’t the most ridiculous thing she’d ever seen.

It wasn’t.

Not really.

“You’re an awful liar, Monty,” Matt pressed, “it’d be ridiculously cute if it wasn’t also so obvious.” “Cute how, exactly?” “Scrunching your nose is a massive tell. Like you’ve got to prime yourself for whatever it is you’re about to say and try to sell.” “I’m not selling you anything.” “No? Tell me what the weirdest thing you saw today was, then.” “Technically it happened yesterday.” He lifted his eyebrows. That was genetic, too. Light kept reflecting off the rhinestones. She couldn’t begin to imagine how much that belt cost.

She supposed formerly professional athletes could afford something like that. Families like the Mills-Locksley-Vankald-Jones-Nolans could rationalize it with ease.

Totally normal childhood.

“They nominated a new president.” No eyebrow change. They remained precisely the same height. A few blinks, though. Slow and measured, as if processing those entirely truthful words required a specific sort of movement. “Who? America? The Player’s Association?”

“That’s your one-two, seriously? Do those two things even go together?” “Monty.” “I mean—ok, well, she’s not a president, really, but that’s what everyone in front office calls her, which actually, that feels kind of mean now that I think about it? Mostly, she’s just usually the one who sends the group text and the updates, but—” Babbling was a product of bubbling nerves, fizzy lifting drink rising in the back of her throat and threatening to leave Claire levitating in their shared entryway. With no way of coming back down. She took a deep breath, adding, “Toni is a very nice lady with consistently incredible hair who I’ve had approximately four conversations with, only one of which has ever lasted more than six stilted minutes and happened yesterday.” “Centered around?” “Her new job as the newly-elected whatever-the-right-term is for the wives and girlfriends. She asked me what size jacket I wanted.” More blinking. Crossed arms. A slightly tilted head. The sort of smile that made her stumble back. Stronger than any energy-efficient, LED light bulb their HOA required them to purchase. Brighter than rhinestones. Stronger than glitter.

“For the conference finals. If—when I mean, she’s just trying to be prepared. They make them, y’know? Customize the names and numbers and there was a lot of glitter involved.”

“Right.” “I told her small would probably work.” “Yuh-huh.” “It wasn’t weird, at all. It was—well like I said, there was a lot of glitter.”

“You love glitter.” Her throat was collapsing. Swallowing back her agreement and ignoring the precise way Matt said that particular sentence, like it was the most obvious thing in the world and it was and would be and she couldn’t stop her eyes from darting back toward that stupid, sparkling belt. It weighed a surprising amount. When she held it in the Uber. “Nose scrunch.” She hated him. She did not. She was a mess of contradictions and mixed-up shoe collections, want and worry and—

Loneliness wasn’t like a jacket for Claire. Was never so heavy, because her life had been normal. Loneliness was not denim-made. Had always been more like a cape, which felt a bit more mythical and slightly less depressing when she was growing up, flittering and fluttering in winds that constantly seemed to shift, no real regularity to the movement or the whims of those who influenced it. Sometimes it twisted around her. Sometimes it drifted behind, tugging at her while she did her best to keep walking. Sometimes it draped itself over her, dragging on the ground as it felt to her feet.

And sometimes, every so often, it flew away completely—simply couldn’t hold on against the force of this ridiculous metaphor, because Claire had always been as happy as anyone expected her to be. Smiled in the backseat of every car with her requisite perfectly packed suitcase, the opposite of trouble and problems and there were already enough problems. For everyone else. She refused to be another one.

So, she regularly ignored the invisible clothing and wrapped herself, instead, with the guarantee that everything was as it should be, perfectly normal and entirely acceptable and nothing outside the realm of exactly what she deserved. What anyone else would get.

All of it was normal. She was normal. She was—

Going to wear a glitter-covered jean jacket with JONES emblazoned on the back.

“You don’t have to,” Matt said softly, and her eyes dropped. Back toward her lie-prone feet, but that made it clear when he moved into her space. As if he weren’t perpetually there. “If you don’t want to.” “But?” “No buts.” “Liar, liar, pants on fire.” “Burning pants would be an unmitigated tragedy. You like my pants.” “Maybe not a total tragedy if it also meant there were no pants currently.”

He kissed her nose. Post-scrunch. She’d never lie about Matt’s pants. “What’s the election process like for this particular role? Do people actually vote? Does she have other duties aside from jacket sizing and distribution? Jerseys should factor in at some point, right?” “I’ve never been asked, so—” Claire shrugged. “I wouldn’t know.”

“Is that shitty? It feels shitty. Should I say something to someone?” “Absolutely not, no. I think they forgot, really. Which is—it’s fine. I wasn’t gunning for it, and they’re all nice people. Smile and wave and everything. Just I’ve got a job with the team, so they think of that first before they consider relationship monikers. Toni heard us talking about the godparent competition in the locker room, though. That’s super weird, you know that, right? Other families don’t do that.” Matt nodded. “Ok, good, good, but she heard and I think it all clicked. That we’re a very real couple, which makes me a very real wife or girlfriend who warranted a jacket.” “Why the freakout, then?” “Don’t be mean.” “Monty.” She sighed. “No one’s ever asked before. It felt… I don’t know, very official, I guess. All at once.” “We live together.” “I know.”

“For years.” “I’ve been here.” “I’m stupid in love with you.” “What do you think the statistical probability of you passing on those curls would be to any potential progeny?” “More if you don’t ever use the word progeny again.”

“I love you, too,” Claire said, “and I’m sorry my inability to put a diaper on a doll ruined my chances of godparent’dom. I didn’t realize I’d be competing until we got there. Once Leo and Tay made it clear they’d bought their own dolls.” “They didn’t. Ella sent those to them.” “Oh my God, seriously?” Glancing up ensured that the lights were not flickering. They were high-efficiency LED bulbs, for God’s sake. But, still. Something sharpened and sparked in Matt’s gaze, not frustration, but that hint of an edge that she knew always came before a game and a scrum and a rush up the ice, because he was so ridiculously fast on the ice, and maybe her metaphors weren't as contradictory as she once suspected.

Determined, that was the word.

Outracing the wind.

Straight back to her.

Over and over, again and again. Ad nauseam. The light returned. Lips turned and curled and spread into another smile that left Claire’s heart skipping and her pulse racing and her palms resting flat against his chest. Directly above color that she couldn’t see, but knew was there. Maybe, she thought, that was the crux. Knowing. Matt took a deep breath.

“All in, Monty.” He’d said it before. More than once. During playoff runs and after parent visits, holiday schedules and late-night Duane Reade runs because they’d been on the west coast for a week and someone left their toothpaste in the San Jose Marriott with the good coffee in the lobby.

“All in.” Doubt didn’t flicker. Didn’t creep into his gaze or the thud of his admittedly impressive resting heart rate, a steady rhythm beneath her that felt like settling into something and everything and Claire pushed up on her toes. Still smiling when their mouths met, parted lips gave way to quickly panted breaths, muttered promises and discarded belts, shoes that missed the mark of the half-open closet until they were moving down the hall with an impatience that was almost impressive.

Dropping onto the couch together, they were all limbs and avoiding knees, over-used muscles from a postseason that wasn’t quite over yet. His tongue traced her lower lip. Her back arched. There were sounds and words, syllables that suddenly meant more and lingered longer, as if they were the same as the touches of roaming fingers and tilted heads, desperate for less space and fewer clothes, and the worry didn’t disappear. Lifetime lessons could not be unlearned in a moment of restless kissing on the couch. But it could pause, for a moment.

Could give this moment a chance to stretch, until it felt like the only thing that mattered. Until it became something new and collective and entirely their own.

A brand-new sort of normal.

So, it made total sense to ask, slightly breathless, with only Matt’s arm keeping Claire from falling off the couch, “What’s the earliest you think we can start feeding this kid dessert and bringing them to culturally significant locations across the city?” She heard his smile. Felt his arm tighten.

“Two years, give or take, for the dessert. But I’ve already got ideas about locations. There’s a whole list on my phone.” “Right, right, of course, there is, makes sense.” Matt hummed against her hair, another deep breath, and she knew his eyes were closed. “It absolutely does.”

#blue line one shots #the quest to make laura write again #i can't even tag this with fandom stuff #this is entirely self-indulgent next-gen blue line fic #(i really loved writing this)

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prongsandhisfoot · 1 year

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i was reminded today that i once made a playlist of songs related to prongsfoot in some way and i don’t think i’ve ever actually?? listened to it, but i’m going to listen to it for the first time! and try to remember my reasoning...

1. keep away - lou reed

i genuinely don’t remember this song. may 6, 2022...yeah, no recollection. my best guess is i was reading pioneers for the second or third time and made some parallels with the lyrics. reading the lyrics now, i kind of see it? in a more ironic/lying way...i’ll probably delete it, though it’s a very fun song tbh, so i’m glad i re-listened to it!

2. thick as thieves - the jam

this one is pretty obvious. i could just copy and paste the whole song lol, but that’s a little too much, so i’ll just paste the first few verses! second half is just as prongsfoot-y though. for similarly clear reasons.

Times were so tough, but not as tough as they are now We were so close and nothing came between us, and the world No personal situations Thick as thieves us, we'd stick together for all time And we meant it but it turns out just for a while We stole, the friendship that bound us together

We stole from the schools and their libraries We stole from the drugs that sent us to sleep We stole from the drink that made us sick We stole anything that we couldn't keep And it was enough, we didn't have to spoil anything And always be as thick as thieves

Like a perfect stranger, you came into my life Then like the perfect lone ranger, you rode away, rode away Rode away, rode away

3. pale blue eyes - vu

i genuinely annotated a copy of this song in the book i have of lou reed’s lyrics from the perspective of prongsfoot. something was wrong with me but also, i was right. this one is a bit (lot) more metaphorical than #2, hence my annotations lol, so i’ll just paste the most obvious bit:

It was good what we did yesterday And I’d do it once again The fact that you are married Only proves you’re my best friend But it's truly, truly a sin

as for the eponymous “linger on, your pale blue eyes,” i wrote in the book that it represents sirius losing his memories of james while in azkaban--aka him lingering on james while alone for a decade lol, and his memories of james changing. according to what i wrote, “pale” represents how he’s losing his memories (i.e. they’re losing color; paling) and “blue eyes” represents the same exact thing--or more specifically, how he’s remembering incorrectly, since james’s eyes are hazel (and sirius’s are grey). this is so funny and terrible

edit: i almost forgot the other pretty clear verse??

Thought of you as my mountaintop Thought of you as my peak Thought of you as everything I've had, but couldn't keep I've had, but couldn't keep

4. i’m sticking with you - vu

another fairly very obvious one (this song is literally james and sirius in the levicorpus flashback scene lmao). the clearest parts:

Anything that you might do I'm gonna do too

and then

But with you by my side I can do anything When we swing We hang past right and wrong

I'll do anything for you Anything you want me to

5. red right ankle - the decembrists

this one is literally since a prongsfoot fic i have bookmarked is named after this song and inspired by it lmaoo

here’s the first two verses:

This is the story of your red right ankle And how it came to meet your leg And how the muscle, bone, and sinews tangled And how the skin was softly shed

And how it whispered, "Oh, adhere to me For we are bound by symmetry And whatever differences our lives have been We together make a limb" This is the story of your red right ankle

“oh, adhere to me // for we are bound by symmetry / and whatever differences out lives have been // we together make a limb” tbh that’s all i care to include, the rest is just for context lol.

adhere to me <-> i’m sticking with you lmaooo

6. black and gold - sam sparro

this is the most cringy of them all. i promise it’s not just because of the title that this is here. it’s still cringy either way but still. tbh someone needs to give this to the jegulus fandom they’d eat it up. the “black and gold” at the very least

'Cause if you're not really here Then the stars don't even matter Now I'm filled to the top with fear That it's all just a bunch of matter

Cause if you're not really here I don't want to be either I wanna be next to you Black and gold, black and gold, black and gold

also this part, which this fic comes from. (it’s not exactly a favorite fic of mine but it is a readable prongsfoot fic, which is rare enough for me to call a fic with a “misunderstandings” plot readable)

I look up into the night sky And see a thousand eyes staring back And all around these golden beacons I see nothing but black

7. barracuda - john cale

tbh i could explain every line & verse as prongsfoot-y but some are less obvious and some are more obvious so i’ll just do what i’ve been doing and paste the most obvious lol

Barracuda, barracuda Won't you lay down your life to me? Won't you love me barracuda? If you always need to bring out the worst in me

and then, of course

The ocean will have us all The ocean will have us all

and finally (think of this in reference to poa lol)

Dead forest with the moon arising Smiling at you out of reach

8. supplier! - crisaunt

this is...not exactly my type of song?? to be honest i don’t even know the prongsfoot reference but i do remember adding it...i just don’t have a clue why

9. what’s good (the thesis) - lou reed

this is what made me remember this playlist!

Life's like a mayonnaise soda And life's like space without room And life's like bacon and ice cream That's what life's like without you

Life's like forever becoming But life's forever dealing in hurt Now life's like death without living That's what life's like without you

and then

What's good is life without living What good's this lion that barks You loved a life others throw away nightly It's not fair, not fair at all

pretty simple!

the verdict: i’m taking off keep away, black and gold, and supplier. now it’s a 6-song, 22 minute playlist, lol. i doubt anyone’s read this far but if you have--suggestions?

#prongsfoot #way too long of a post #cringy playlists

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chardwoman69 · 2 years

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Toys and tools Explain Childhood Self-Concept and Personality Growth

Dear Friend, Do an individual remember being some sort of kid along with the toys you accustomed to enjoy with? It is a known reality, that the things you are introduced to as a kid, mold your childhood self-concept plus develop the growth of your personality. You can find this specific to be genuine inside psychological behavior of a child. A new major contributor to be able to this developing component has a whole lot to do along with them your little one plays with. With regard to example, if a person provide a 7-year-old youngster a puzzle, he or she has to think about exactly where the pieces go in order to draw out a picture. Or perhaps, you may give your child constructive blocks to assemble. Is actually called pictorial mindset. This allows the mind associated with your child in order to develop in strategies and creativity. Consequently , a puzzle or even building blocks would certainly be a great toy of alternative for your kid to relate with. Now, if you give the child something fewer creative and additional destructive such as an everlasting black sharpie marker, expect the artistic behavior to bounce out and locate images all over typically the walls of your current house. Although, in your child it may come across as being enjoyment artwork, it defines more of a destructive conduct due to the fact the conclusion result is destroyed home dï¿½cor. Seglar toys are the great example intended for enhancing your baby's self-concept. The reason is because your child can produce the mind-set of an engineer and since long as an individual praise him or even her for the operate they have carried out, their self-concept raises. Your role being a parent has a new lot regarding the growth of the child. When a person participate together whilst they discover their toys, it specifies leadership, mentoring, and even group therapy. The developmental scenario for child's personality is founded on typically the first 30 days from birth. The development of his or her character is reflected within the first 90 days into fact. Your kids toys through the day they will are born reflects the behavior these people have until the working day they depart. svezzamento neonato is important due to the fact the toys they will grow up having fun with can be typically the very toys they will play with all through life, just over a different scale regarding fulfillment. A fine method to helping your kids childhood self-concept and brain productivity aside by physical toys, is usually reading them kid's books. Children's training books help develop the particular brainwaves of cleverness. It also helps build your child's vocabulary. In combination with verbal dictation, showing your kid the images inside the book will help range up their imaginative side with their particular illustrative parts regarding the brain. In addition, it helps increase memory space span and retention. It is solely centered on repetition. The particular more exercise you provide to your own kid, the better off they can be. This will be why them your current child plays using has a great deal to do using the self-concept and even personality growth regarding up to the very first 12 years regarding life. Chalkboards will be good to help educate your children in a young age. Digital toys that reflect education, or toys that give kid's some thing to think about and increase they're thought process is what you might like to look into. Little Einstein has recently been a popular doll kids play along with in the current marketplace. Instructing your kid how in order to play the cello at an early age can help develop certain key elements to increasing their or her self-concept in addition to his or her personality progress. The action numbers you allow your children to play along with will also contains a positive or bad effect on your kid's because of the influence of which toy may or may not possess on your child. Musical instruments, disciplines and crafts, and even, or games and even puzzles are perfect toys towards your youngster started or in to something to keep their or her mind occupied enough in order to build on their talents and young small children and children. Provide your child an exciting and exciting gadget to play using and watch them produce their personality plus character into someone brilliant and brilliant, that someone could be just just like you.

#svezzamento

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bruhhhh-huhhhhh · 2 years

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Uhhh so I saw that you did matchups?? I’ve never really gotten one before because I’m always too late, but, I was wondering if I could get one. If I am too late then please ignore this <3

This is for the DSMP btw, platonic or romantic. I don’t really mind :)

Appearance: I have short black hair, brown eyes, freckles, slightly above average height. (Im Australian btw)

How my personality is: I’m a pretty quiet person around people I don’t know well , but an annoying little shit around my closest friends. I’m an INFJ if that says anything. I’m low key kinda sensitive but insult other people as well??? But I bounce back with another insult pretty quickly.

My strong subjects are English and literature, my downfalls are maths and science. I’m somehow in top classes for basically everything (idk how, I failed all my tests).

I wouldn’t say I’m clingy, but I kind of am. But my love language is gift giving or quality time. Im touch starved but don’t really like physical contact that much because I tend to freeze up. I have an ego that started off as a joke, but i don’t think it’s a joke anymore.

Hobbies: reading online or physical books (yet I’m a slow reader when I’m not reading online??), writing, sleeping, eating, watching movies (preferably marvel but I’m ok with most movies), I don’t have the attention span to finish an entire series, playing with my cats, cycling, learning about history :)

Dislikes: I can’t stand people who just can’t let small things go or hold grudges over something so stupid, and I really dislike people who can’t take jokes

Fun facts abt myself: I have four cats, I’m bi, and I like eating Ben and Jerry’s ice cream

Well, today's your lucky day because you got you're request in right before I closed matchups!

I match you (platonically) with...

Ranboo!

He's also really good at English, so you two thrive together when it comes to that, but you have to go to Techno or Phil for math and science

When Tommy "insults" you, you bounce back with one for him so fast that Ranboo gets whiplash

Will give you high fives, and maybe a hug if you initiate it

Is also sensitive. You two will watch a sad movie and cry for an hour afterwards

He’s gonna bring you his favorite books (according to the memory book) and have you read them so you two can discuss what you thought was good and what you thought wasn’t

He might go over sometimes just to play with the cats

Can you blame him? They’re cats!

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fatetwist · 2 years

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introducing… MAISON WILLIAMS.

(ZENDAYA, 24, SHE/HER) Have you seen [MAISON WILLIAMS] around Faerune? They’re a [FAMILIAR] who [REMAINS NEUTRAL ABOUT] the Seelie Court. People have heard they’re [INTELLIGENT, RELAXED, WITTY] but can also be [NON-COMMITTAL, SKEPTICAL, FRANK]. We’ll see where they fall when the revolution arrives, but until then they can be found working as a [HISTORY PROFESSOR] and looking for [MARTHA WILLIAMS], her [SIBLING].

FULL NAME: maison mona williams

NICKNAMES: maisie

FACECLAIM: zendaya

BIRTHDATE: january 10th, 1996

SPECIES: familiar (american short hair (black cat))

IDENTITY: cis fem, she/her

ORIENTATION: pansexual

OCCUPATION: history professor

BIRTHPLACE: faerune, feywild

RESIDENCE: faerune, feywild

maison grew up in faerune with her two siblings, all a product of a witch and her familiar. her parents shared with her everything they knew about familiars, and her father tutored her. maison always showed above-average intelligence, even from a young age and she ended up grasping her studies with ease and little effort, much to the surprise of her siblings and parents. while the others would still be studying, maison would have long since absorbed the lesson and moved on to trying to take apart a precious piece of machinery, for example. because of this, her father learned to piece together extra work for maison to do to keep her busy.

while martha was quite sweet and excitable and mackenzie the definitions of a hard worker, maison tended to fall more on the line of simply floating on doing whatever she liked. she didn’t seem to care much for anything, her school work was a bore and she spent her remaining time flying through thousands of pages of a book in mere minutes, bothering those around her with fun facts she’d learned and her brain had hung on to. it wasn’t until she was older that she learned she had what could be referred to as an eidetic memory, or a photographic memory, and a ridiculously high iq.

though these things were a blessing, they were also a curse. it meant that more often than not maison was just bored. it led to her having the reputation of being unkind and disinterested, whereas in reality her mind was jumping from one subject to the next to appease itself. she landed a position as a professor and though her colleagues might think her unqualified, spending a minute in a room with her during a lecture would prove otherwise.

because of maison’s know-it-all personality and interests that deviate from those typical of her age range, she’s never quite had friends which leaves her to be a bit awkward. she doesn’t mind – or, at least she refuses to show that it affects her.

#faeruneintro #maison ; intro.

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phrynewrites · 2 years

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a concept: after the musical week where they land in the middle jasmine makes a deal with bosco that if they’re top performers the next week then bosco can be as much of a menace as they want (and jasmine not so subtly saying maybe this time she’ll give in)

Oh Jasmine absolutely makes this kind of deal and fully thinks she’s shaking hands with the devil (and getting her knuckles kissed by the devil which is a whole new memory) when later during breaks, she sees Bosco over there with their notebook, frantically scribbling as though they’ll lose the thought if they don’t immediately get it written down.

Jasmine’s joking that Bosco sure has a bunch of pent up menace thoughts, before getting back to the most serious little western dance you ever did see

#fun fact the little black book is all of the memories they’re having that have flooded back to them #and they’re not actually writing a list of pent up sex stuff like jasmine thinks #they’re writing down all these soft gentle memories that are coming back to them #and when jasmine figures this out next week when they do end up on top and she’s like well well well #if that’s what’ll motivate you babycakes #how about you meet me at 9? my apartment? give me some time to stretch so I can still walk in the morning #and Bosco’s like how about we get dinner instead?#like turns out they’re all soft because while practicing they just had all these soft little memories #because they are from Montana and all of these western dance rehearsals were not only bringing them back to their childhood #but also back to another past life in which they were clearly the farm hand in love with the farmer’s pretty daughter #and you can see where this is going #jasmine actually finds it quite sweet that Bosco is giving up their menace opportunities to divulge about these softer memories #and also their childhood and their horses and their home #ofc before giving into a few menace tendencies followed by some bits of softness of course of course #but like the paps catch them out at dinner holding hands across the table and really neither of them care to comment on the speculation #lest it ruin the moment together you know?#jasmine lets Bosco keep their menace card for later though fjdkfkf #asks answered #for anon #jasco past life au

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erodasfishtacos · 3 years

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*CHICAGO*

i write for free - so if you would like to support my work, you can donate here. (plus my bday is today!!!!!!! 🎂)

if you liked please reblog, recommended, like, and come talk to me about it!

——

The public didn’t know that some of the pictures that are posted of Harry that are tagged and credited to the on tour photographers were actually taken by his wife.

For example, after Chicago, the picture of Harry in the tub - completely bare and worn down from his show, you actually think the photographer took that?

No, that was snapped with YN’s iPhone, like some of the other pictures he’s posted.

Just like the one where he’s asleep on the hotel bed in a robe in Paris with all of his stuff splayed around him - allegedly taken by helene. ***

But no, it had been his wife, they had just taken a shower together and she had stayed in for a bit longer to shave her legs - when she had come out and seen him passed out.

She had to tug a bit at the robe so he wasn’t exposed and make it x-rated, then she pulled out her phone and snapped the picture - sending it to Jeff with a teasing caption.

yn: It’s exhausting being a popstar

And just like that, it appears on his Instagram for fans to go crazy over.

Or what about the snapshot of his tank that had his famous slogan embroidered into the side of the white fabric. ***

His wedding band reflecting in the flash of the light, a subtle glance at his rippled muscle below the attire as they work on his hair.

“Mm, I’m gonna save this for a lonely night,” YN jokes as she tucks her phone away.

Harry’s hand comes to cup her jaw, looking down at her where she’s sat on the floor, “Y’so fuckin’ pretty, y’know that?”

YN’s eyelids flutter a bit as she glances away from his intense gazes - he still gives her butterflies.

“Don’t get shy on me, baby. Can I not tell m’wife how gorgeous she is?” He asks, bring her hand up to kiss the back of it, “Look s’good with tha’ ring on.”

And the one that made fans go crazy.

On a warm evening, in a hotel room between venues in Italy, where they had been lounging around all day.

YN in just a thin gauzy dress that accentuated the fact she wasn’t wearing a bra and Harry just in the trousers he’d worn to get them coffee earlier that morning.

“You just took a picture of me! It’s my turn,” YN giggles, getting on her knees on the old squeaky couch and snatching the camera off of him.

“I took a picture because y’tits look nice in tha’ dress. I can see y’nipples and it’s turnin’ me on,” Harry defends, holding up his book as she snaps it.

“H, c’mon,” She pouts but squeaks when Harry tugs her into him, dropping the book and the camera as he adjusts her on his lap.

“Gonna let me take a picture of y’all nice and fucked out, darling?” He rasps, ignoring her pout and hiking her dress up her hips.

And it’s happened throughout the years, so many pictures that were littered over the internet where just uncredited snapshots from YN.

Just like the one from 2013, they were on tour, and Harry was supposed to be recording for the next album after soundcheck and before the concert. ***

Instead, after soundcheck, Harry and YN had snuck off to a little meadow and lake to have a swim. He had shimmied down to his briefs and waded in.

YN stood back, snapping a picture of him and his friend as the complained about how freezing cold it was.

“Baby, c’mon. Come get in!” Harry had shouted back to his girlfriend on the dry land, “I need some warmth, s’freezing!”

YN grimaces, just in Harry’s shirt and a pair of yoga shorts, dipping her toe in and shaking her head - “I’ll enjoy from here!”

“Please, bug,” He pouts, motioning for her to come in.

She does after a moment, squealing at the temperature before quickly finding her way into Harry’s arms.

“Only have fun on tour when y’with me,” He had murmured into her ear before he dunked her underwater and they play fought until their stomachs hurt from laughing.

And then came the notorious picture that had gotten a million likes in thirteen minutes, oh, the chicago ice bath.

Harry had been achey since tour had begun, constantly complaining about his back and ankles from the shows.

“Baby, just rub m’back a lil’ longer please?” He had whimpered the night before, the tour bus bed did not help him much at all.

When his trainer had recommended an ice bath immediately after the show - YN had made sure to arrange it despite his protests.

After exiting the stage in his black and lilac outfit, he’d been lured into the bathroom with a promise of sex but instead was a steel tub filled with ice water.

Jeff, Lambert, Tommy - everyone was watching on in amusement as he adamantly tried to deny that it would help and the peer pressure wasn’t make him anymore convinced.

“Alright, everyone out,” YN had finally tittered, shooing out the circus before closing the door for privacy.

She helps strip her husband out of his close as he looks at her reproachfully, “You promised me sex.”

“After,” YN assures him, kissing his puffy lips and asking softly, “Just try it, if it doesn’t work - you don’t have to do it again.”

He grumbles a bit, muttering, ��Don’t look at m’bits, they’re gonna shrivel up.”

YN giggles, “As if I haven’t seen your bits in every shape and form.”

As he slips in, YN has to snap a picture of his eyes wide and lips pursed at the shock of the freezing water cooling down his hot, sticky skin.

“Holy fucking shit,” Harry hisses, lowering self until he’s sat - his nipples instantly hardening and he’s breathing roughly out of his nose.

“Five minutes, I’ll set the timer,” YN says, setting it on her phone before sitting down next to the tub as he tries to relax.

“Baby, fuck. Reminds me of that really cold lake in Boston, ‘member?” He squeezes his eyes shut and reaches until YN intertwines their hands.

“Yeah, that wasn’t as cold as that one time you convince me to skinny dip with you on the coast of france.”

“Oh yeah, that one was really fucking cold too,” Harry murmurs, keeping his eyes closed and steadying his breathing.

(During WWA tour - ***)

“Harry, are you insane? Anyone could see us? Paul could walk out or the boys. I’m not-“

She’s cut off when Harry shucks off his swimsuit bottoms, his skin’s glowing in the moonlight and the light waves lapping at the shore are soothing.

YN swallows harshly, tries not to stare at how handsome and overwhelming beautiful he is as he turns to step towards the water.

She looks over her shoulder nervously before stepping out of her one-piece, he waits for her at the shoreline.

“Y’so so stunnin’,” Harry tells her, thumbing at the soft curve of her breast and leaning in for a soft kiss when he feed her shake.

“You could have anyone,” YN whispers against his lips, “Every girl on this earth wants you like this. I’m just some girl from before all this,” she motions to the extravagant bungalow they’re staying at.

“I don’t know why y’think tha’s bad. I want t’experience all this with you, m’first love and m’only love. I’m going to marry y’soon, you know tha’?” He replies, lips tracing the curve of her neck.

“You better,” She giggles, hands going to his shoulder as he sucks a mark into the thin skin.

He pulls back with a frown, “M’not jokin’, I don’t care that we’re young - M’gonna do it.”

“I can’t wait,” YN kisses his jutted out lip, squealing when he tugs her into the water and the chilled waves crash against her hips, “H, it’s so cold.”

“M’gonna keep y’warm, hush up,” He titters, pulling her into his chest until her breasts are smushed against his strong pecs and his arms are around her shoulder, “Love experiencing this w’you, everythin’ w’you.”

YN is brought back from her daydream by her husband wiping his finger under her eyelid, “Darling, wha’ is it?”

She hadn’t realized she had teared up thinking of the fond memory, “I want to go back to that bungalow. We had such a good time. I…I just love you.”

His wife chuckles like she’s pathetic for crying about it but he leans out of the tub, cupping her jaw and pulling her in for a hard kiss.

“Don’t be embarrassed, flower,” There was no teasing in his voice, it was sincere, “If anyone should be embarrassed - I’m the one who travels around the world t’sing love songs ‘bout you.”

Their lips join again, his tongue finding its way into her mouth when Jeff, Lambert, and Tommy barge through the door.

“Jesus Christ, only you could be trying to get some while sat in an ice bath,” Jeff scoffs with a smile but instantly knows they’ve fucked up.

“Get out, the fuck?” Harry sits up, “Don’t interrupt me and m’wife. Get out!”

They stumble out and just then the alarm goes off.

YN helps him out, tucking him into a towel and helping him dry off - his head tucked into her neck and hand on her belly - massaging.

“Do you feel any better?” She hums while getting some stray droplets on the nape of his neck as he nuzzles into her warm skin.

“Mm,” He agrees drowsily, hand slipping under her shirt for more heat and she jumps at his icey touch, “Want t’sleep.”

And when they get to the hotel, YN logs onto his Instagram and uploads the ice bath pictures with nobody knowing the story behind it.

Hope you enjoyed!

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violettelueur · 3 years

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— FUSHIGURO MEGUMI + GOJO SATORU + RYŌMEN SUKUNA + NANAMI KENTO || THEIR S/O FALLING ASLEEP ON TOP OF THEM

↳ featuring : fushiguro megumi + gojo satoru + ryomen sukuna + nanami kento from jujutsu kaisen

↳ warnings : grammar issues

↳ form : headcanons

↳ published : 01 february

↳ pronouns : non specified in headcanon

↳ request : So I think my ask got eaten... ((honestly.. i have bad luck and even on my own blog eats my asks when I'm testing themes 😂)) Can I please request Head canons for Gojo, Sukuna, Fushiguro and Nanami? Their SO falls asleep on top of them? Their S/O has mentioned that thwy have a hard time falling asleep cause they dont usually feel safe? their S/O says they fell asleep cause they feel safe amd protected when they're together? - 🌼

↳ barista’s notes : guys...today was just a whole day of pain. first it was the recent jujutsu kaisen manga chapter and now the new attack on titan episode......gabi can die......ʕ ꈍᴥꈍʔ but moving on from that, i hope you enjoy your cup of classic black coffee (jujutsu kaisen request!) and come again soon ʕ￫ᴥ￩　ʔ

In the beginning, he would be surprised when you suddenly fall asleep on top of him because he is used to him being in the position that you are in.

And when you inform him that you feel safe in his arms when you sleep since you have a hard time beforehand, Fushiguro will blush profusely while looking to the side to hide his face from you.

Fushuguro at first is really hesitant to wrap his arms around your body since he isn’t used to physical touch - even when it’s just the both of you alone - but over time he gets comfortable and just naturally places his arms around you.

He really loves to admire your face at first before beginning to play with your hair because he loves it when you do the same thing when he is on top of you.

While he is holding you, he will either be on his phone scrolling through articles to find out ways to help you sleep when he is not there or reading a book that he was reading to you before you fell asleep.

Fushiguro loves holding your hand when you sleep on top of him - he really finds it a little amusing on how tight you hold his hand despite your relaxed state like you don’t want him to move away from you.

When he needs to go somewhere, like the bathroom or to get a drink, he will summon his divine dog to keep you company - it will lay its head on top of yours.

If you washed your hair that day, he really likes the scent it gives off and will lightly place his nose on top of your head to be comforted by the smell.

Sometimes, Fushiguro will fall asleep with you because with you on top of him, he gets a constant supply of warmth and that leads him to relax extremely quickly.

Overall, Fushiguro is really surprised at this action of yours in the beginning but really begins to appreciate it since that means you really trust him a lot and he is glad that he can take care of you in some way since you do the same with him when he gets beat up quite a bit.

When you fall asleep on top of him, Gojo will find that extremely adorable and just continues to hold you in his arms without a single question.

When you tell him that you feel safe in his arms and that you recently have been having trouble sleeping, Gojo will look at you with glassy eyes while thinking ‘they’re so cute’ in his head.

When it comes to the night and both of you are finished for the day, Gojo will already be in bed with his arms wide open the second you enter his dorm because he invited you.

Gojo loves to leave a few pecks on your face, especially your forehead while stroking your cheek because he thinks you are adorable in his arms - especially the size difference between you and him.

Gojo will always take a few photos of you while you are sleeping since he just wants to keep this into memory.

He will always want you to nap during work and use that as an excuse on why he can’t go to meetings or why you are late.

If someone wakes you up due to him not going to an important meeting, he will get angry at the person since it is rare that you two get to spend some time together.

Before you fell asleep, you and Gojo were probably talking about how your futures looked. For example, a family, marriage (if you ain’t already married) and maybe some future dates/vacations to help you with nightmares if you get some.

If he has to do paperwork that he left last minute, he will make you sit on his lap with your arms around his neck and your head tucked in the crook of his neck since he wants you to feel safe at all times.

Overall, Gojo is really welcoming to the idea of you sleeping on top of him since this is a time where he is allowed to see you vulnerable due to you contrasting attitude in Jujutsu Tech - this time he has with you his most favourite and that fact you rely on him to feel safe makes his ego skyrocket.

For the fun of it, I would say he would push you off...but Imma be nice.

When you first fall asleep on top of him, Sukuna would look at you with an annoyed look while grumbling on how heavy you feel - when in reality you are as light as a feather to him, he’s just being a bitc-

When you tell him that you made him feel safe in his arms, Sukuna would be confused and look at you like you are stupid - because why would you feel safe with the King of Curses.

He will try to push you off at first, but slowly and reluctantly will tightly wrap his arms around you while looking down onto your face with a nonchalant expression displayed on his.

If he feels like you are going to move again, his arms will tighten around you to keep you still - if you are somehow awake, he will say “did I ask you to move?” in like a light threatening tone.

Sukuna will have his hands under your shirt since he wants to feel your skin against his since that’s what is used to when you both finished - assuming you didn’t do it.

When you are sleeping, he will stroke your hair and call you foolish at the same time since he does jokingly mutter that he can kill you right there but for some reason, he doesn’t want to.

Sometimes, he will place a hand on your chest to feel your heart-beating (if he can) - this ain’t the thing you’re thinking, your heart isn’t going to get ripped out - it’s weirdly comforting to him.

If he wants you to wake up, he will move some of your hair and bite your neck since why not….he now wants to be worshipped since your time is up.

Overall, if Sukuna really and truly loves you, he will allow you to lay yourself on top of him for the rare comfort that you will get - even though he calls you foolish for you feeling safe with him, he has a sense of pride to that since he knows that you belong to him and him only.

When you fall asleep on top of Nanami for the first time, he will grumble for a moment before beginning to admire you.

When you inform him that you had a hard time sleeping lately and that you feel safe in his arms, Nanami will pat your head and tell you that you can do it anytime when you need to - which will be every day.

Nanami just wants you to get a full night's rest and doesn’t want you to feel tired throughout the day, but he doesn’t tell you that he loves the feeling of you in his arms.

Nanami loves to leave at least one forehead kiss on your before running his hand up and down your back to comfort you while you are in a slumber.

This is one of the reasons why Nanami doesn’t want to do overtime. He knows that you are either going to stay up since you feel really unsafe or you will try to sleep but you will struggle to.

Like Fushiguro, Nanami is probably reading a book he was reading to you before you fell asleep - I said this before and I will again, his voice really is suited for audiobooks, it’s really soothing.

If you need to sleep during the day - due to him doing overtime - he will allow you to sleep on top of him but away from the public eye since he doesn’t want anyone waking you up, especially Gojo.

During these times when you sleep in the school, he will drape his blazer over you since you both are not in your usual bedroom where the blanket is ready - he wants you to be warm.

If you fall asleep on him on the couch, he doesn’t have the heart to move you both since you look so peaceful but will in like 2-5 hours since he feels like you need to sleep somewhere more appropriate.

Overall, Nanami is the type that will grumble in the beginning but really enjoys times like this with you since he doesn’t have to worry about curses and other things Jujutsu related - all he has to worry is about you feeling safe in his arms.

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thesunicarusfellfor · 3 years

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THE FUCKIN YANDERE GODS OMFG AWOOGA YOU DID SUCH A GOOD JOB THE FIC IS GOOD AS HELL!!!!

Is there any chance youd write a part 2 in the future? Its absolutely cool if you dont want to but WOW this concept? Solid gold (no pun intended)

I honestly love how people reacted to this story. It was so fun to write and became my most popular story to date. I'm such a sucker for the gods and mortals forbidden romance trope is just chefs kiss. Also, puns are always intended. Hand em over.

This chapter doesn't really involve the reader much, it's kinda more of a filler but I want this story to become a series, which means shorter chapters to separate the story. This is just simply a lore filler chapter.

TW: Mention of amnesia, memories being altered

Send me a message via inbox if you wanna be added to a general or series tag list. Make sure to turn off anon, please.

Mortal of Gold (Yandere!C!Techno x GN!Shy!Reader x Yandere!C!Philza) Part 2

It was quiet, for once, but there was a soft wind blowing through the curtain-covered doorway that prevented most light from seeping through. Two figures stood in the other corner of the room, staring into the bronze bowl filled with liquid, watching the destruction they caused spread across the village of L'Manberg with darkened eyes narrowed into glares.

"They deserved it..." Philza murmured, likely to Chat who was resting on his striped hat, giving the odd little squawk or chirp every so often. He gave a sigh and popped a piece of bread he tore off into his mouth, giving a small piece to his whining bird afterwards.

"I don't think the mortals have ever seen you lash out at them in person... Usually, you just send your crows to destroy their crops when they annoy you." Techno chuckled softly as he stole a piece of bread from Philza which caused him to give an annoyed scoff and bat his hand away, "But-"

"YOU SUMMONED 10 WITHERS?" A voice boomed through the palace, causing Phil and Techno to sigh and back away from the dish displaying their destruction proudly, "AND KIDNAPPED A MORTAL?"

The blond rubbed his face and Techno took off his glasses while they both walked out the door. Walking down the polished quartz stairs, the two gods quickly came into eye contact with the source of the voice, as well as a few other visitors.

"You're just mad because we tried to kill your high priest, XD, don't pretend like you follow the rules either." Technoblade sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose before putting his glasses back on, "And the mortal is none of your concern. We just did something about it, unlike you fawning from a distance over your mushroom boy."

Despite the cracked mask covering the god's face, everyone around him knew he was irked from Techno's statement. The three other gods behind him snickered into their hands until DreamXD snapped his head in their direction, the thin golden ring halos around his head gained a red glow to them.

The two brunets behind him immediately snapped their mouths shut, but the blond kept snickering away to himself, causing him to get smacked upside the head by one of XD's floating hands before he turned and stormed out the door.

"Ow! Bloody dickhead!" The blond groaned and rubbed the side of his head. The God of Mischief and Determination, Tommyinnit, scowled in the direction of the maniacal god before turning back to his father and Techno, "Ay Dad. Didn't take you for the destructive type! I hear you pulled a Techno and wiped out a village with Withers!"

"Yeah! The explosions shook the entire Upperlands!" Tubbo, the God of Bees and Chess, cheered a bit as his bee buzzed around him, getting specs of pollen in his fluffy hair and decorating his small horns.

Chuckling to himself, the God of Music and Insanity looked behind him at the sandy ground covered in a faint black fog, "XD was throwin' a tantrum. It was honestly the funniest thing to watch," Wilbur adjusted with the guitar on his back, "So where's the little mortal you kidnapped?"

"They're under a sleeping spell at the moment while the amnesia spell sets in," Phil gave each of his sons a brief hug as a greeting, "Then we'll have to alter their memory so they don't panic, but they'll have to stay up here permanently, their mind could be shattered if they do return to the mortal world."

"Shattered?" Tommy repeated, reeling back slightly as Wilbur summoned a leather book in his hand, opening it and scanning through the words, "That sounds like a pretty violent backlash..."

Phil and Techno avoided Wilbur's suspicious glare as subtly as possible, pretending not to see it, "Well... Remember, they're a mortal. Plus the strain of their home being destroyed, getting robbed, then getting kidnapped by gods and being brought to the Upperlands... Who wouldn't go absolutely mental? Then if they see the remains of their old village, it could undo all the magic that was placed upon them."

"Makes sense to me!" Tubbo chirped, his small goat ears wiggling as he held Chat in his hands, "Can we at least see them now and visit them when they wake up?"

Techno tensed up a bit but realized quickly that two of the three of the gods visiting them were too young to consider dating, and the third one was married to a human that he was trying to turn into a merling. "I... Suppose so. Just don't be too loud or the spell will break."

Tommy rolled his eyes dramatically, but the feathers behind his ears ruffled slightly to give away his excitement. Although, he was much better at hiding it than Chat, Tubbo's bee TC (Twitch Chat if you're wondering), and Tubbo, despite the fact that Chat actively visited (Y/n). Wilbur didn't seem to care much, but there was a hint of curiosity in his eyes. Or that was his insanity kicking in.

The avian nodded and began leading his biological and adopted sons through Techno's palace, Chat chirping away in his mind. 'Gods, that bird doesn't shut up...' Phil rolled his eyes up to the sky for a moment before smiling a bit to himself, 'Better than everything being dead silent I suppose...'

"In here. Now shut up. The spell won't work twice in a row." Techno hissed quietly before moving aside the crimson satin curtains to allow his old friend's sons into his rarely touched bedroom. The quartz room was kept dark via similarly coloured curtains blocking the majority of the light from coming into the room, while still allowing enough so they could see. A canopy bed stood proudly in the center of the room with golden posts and pure white chiffon silk curtains swaying lightly with the blowing winds.

Phil and Techno couldn't help but smile softly to themselves at the thought of seeing you again, even if you were asleep and, at the moment, void of memories and personality. Techno led the way inside and gently hooked his fingers around the fabric and moved it aside to let the younger gods see the mortal they had saved from the cruelties of the Earth.

The three gods carefully took their time studying you, trying to find what had their father and the anarchist totally entranced. Their eyes carefully took the time to study your soft (h/l) (h/c) hair, your beautiful (s/t) skin, and your silk robes that were ombre from red to white, accented with the very golden accessories that the high priest had tried to steal. (They used magic to put you in the new outfit. They're yanderes not creeps.)

"Oh... They truly are stunning. Are you sure they're a mortal?" Tubbo frowned for a moment, straightening up and pulling Chat away from your motionless figure so the crow would stop trying to peck at your jewellery.

"What do you mean?" Wilbur frowned at the younger god, his adopted brother. This had also caught the attention of the other gods

"I mean... Don't think they're a mortal, or at least they weren't born one..."

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michelle-is-writing · 3 years

Text

A Proposition, Nikki Sixx

GIF not mine

Word count: 2.6k~

Every child has a dream, or at least, that’s what everyone says.

Growing up, I never had a true dream that was set in stone. Upon seeing everyone else around me plan for the future, I didn’t really know what to do. I had always been told that an idea of what I wanted to do would come to me eventually, and going by the fact that I lived my life by going with the flow of everything, I believed this.

Now that I’m in my twenties, I’m not mad at the fact that I’m a waitress. I chose to take a break year after high school which then turned into three long years of traveling around the US with my ultimate destination goal being the beautiful city of angels. Although, despite its magical name, Los Angeles is far from the city of angels. It‘s the city of drop-outs, failed artists, breakthrough-seeking musicians, and in my case, people who live life without a plan.

Sure, paychecks are low and the apartments are crappy, but I enjoy my life. I have fun, and I have friends. A majority of the customers who come into the diner I work at are nice as well. Although, four young men who always come in after their shows are my favorites.

These four are definitely unique in their own little ways, and yet, they all seem to get along with each other in their starting band. The goofiest and loudest one of the group would have to be the drummer, Tommy. On the other hand, the quiet one who always minds his own business is the main guitarist, Mick. The flirty one would have to the singer, Vince. Lastly, the smart ass one is the bass guitarist, Nikki, who can also be a bit flirty too.

Now, Nikki is the one I actually enjoy the most. When he’s not with the rest of his group, he’ll still come in and see me, which usually leads to us sharing many conversations that distract me from my work. He always comes in with the same order, and each time, I bring it to him with the same line always falling from his smiling lips in response. “Thanks, babe,” He’ll say, making me smile in return, but push my feelings down farther. I know Nikki is a rockstar player - hell, they all are - and that’s I why I can’t let myself continue falling for him.

“Hey, boys,” I greet the usual four as they walk through the diner doors, tiredness written all over their face alongside smeared black eyeshadow and face paint. They look like they played in a back alley way - not a bar.

“Hey, (Y/n),” they all respond in unison, sitting in their usual booth toward the back. They’ve been here so many times that they don’t even need to look through the menu. Actually, they’ve been here so many times that they don’t even need to tell me what they want. I already know what items on the menu they like and don’t like - but really, the boys will eat anything.

Without wasting any time, I head over to their table with my pen and order book in hand. “What will it be today?” I ask them, ready to write down everything from memory. Tommy will want pancakes, Mick will want an omelet, Vince will want a burger, and Nikki will want a Jack and Coke - although, I’ve never actually seen him drink the soda.

“Actually, we have a proposition for you, (Y/n),” I hear Mick say, making me look up from my pen and pad with a bit of confusion. Sure, I’ve shared many conversations with the four, but they’ve never actually offered me anything. Of course, Vince has offered plenty of things to me in his own way, but that’s besides the point.

“Oh, yeah?” I ask, ready for some funny joke they’re about to tell me. “And what could that be?”

“We want you to be apart of our band,” Tommy states, making me look at him with wide eyes. Immediately, he retracts his statement. “Not like an instrument player or anything!” He reiterates, “but we know that we’ll need someone to make sure we don’t fuck things up too bad when we’re on the road and stuff.”

At his comment, I let out a small laugh. “You guys couldn’t pay me enough,” I tell them, shaking my head. In response, Nikki chuckles. He knows what I’m saying is the truth.

“But we would though! We would pay you a lot!” Tommy quickly states, Vince nodding in agreement.

“How do I know that? I’ve never even seen you guys play,” I point out, “besides, what happens if your band flops and I can’t come back here to work so I have to turn to... I don’t know - stripping?”

“I’d pay for you,” Vince announces, causing me to look at him with a curved eyebrow. Although, before I can do anything to him, Mick beats me to it and smacks him in the back of the head.

“Ignore this jackass,” Nikki speaks up, giving a little sigh afterward. “We’re actually pretty good, so I wouldn’t say that you’re taking a catastrophic chance doing this,” he tells me, making me stop for a second and think. Nikki is always very genuine and truthful whenever we talk to each other - he never sugar-coats anything, and he surely doesn’t lie to make himself or anyone around him seem better than they actually are. He might actually be telling the truth.

“Show me,” I finally state, smirking as I raise my pen and pad back up to write down their order. “I’ll be over tomorrow after three - and you don’t have to tell me where you guys live,” I tell them, “I hear about your ‘legendary’ parties all the time in here.”

At that, Nikki breaks into a small smile, his dark eyes looking at me with the same gaze they always hold when he’s here. “We’ll be eagerly awaiting your arrival, babe,” he tells me, causing my heart to practically skip a beat. I guess the whole “babe” thing isn’t just limited to when I take his orders.

Smiling back at him, I turn my eyes to the rest of the guys before speaking up. “Now, do you guys want your usual today?”

The rest of my shift is filled with other diners walking in and wanting their orders right away - the usual. Although, I would be lying if I said I wasn’t looking forward to hearing the guys play. In fact, I could barely focus while working the rest of my hours. The possibility of having a higher paying job than what I’m working now is fantastic, and being able to do that job with guys that I actually like is another bonus. Plus, getting to see Nikki on a daily basis might not be such a bad thing.

With a full nights rest and more comfortable clothes on, I head over to the guys apartment and stop in front of their door before knocking. Looking around the hallway, I feel myself begin to feel a little creeped out. The hallways itself is slightly dim, and it’s not like the guys’ dirty door isn’t helping the abandoned-theme the apartment complex is giving.

Thankfully, it isn’t long before a familiar blond is opening the door, the smile on his face dropping almost as soon as he sees me. “What happened to the cute waitress uniform?” He asks, making me sarcastically smile as I flip the finger at him. Vince just can’t hold himself back for one day, can he?

“Move, asshole,” I hear Nikki’s familiar voice say as his head of crazy black hair pops up behind Vince. “Stop berating her and let her in for fuck’s sake.”

With that, Vince is nearly pushed to the side which then frees up the doorway for a short second until Nikki steps onto the spot where Vince once stood. “It’s good to see you, beautiful,” he greets with a smile, causing me to smile back at him with burning cheeks. It may be hypocritical to feel flattered by Nikki’s comments and not Vince’s suggestions, but Nikki’s always been sweet and never sexual unlike the currently pouting blonde.

“Are you just going to stand there and eye-fuck her or are you going to let her in, Nikki?” Mick yells from the back of the room, standing off to the side a bit. In response, Nikki’s smile turns strained as his eyes fall closed. I don’t have to be a mindreader to know that Nikki is currently planning Mick’s death in his head.

Smiling back at him, I step into the messy apartment, but not before kissing Nikki’s cheek. “It’s good to see you too, handsome,” I tell him, flashing him a smile before walking further into the living room. Although, I have to admit that seeing the big smile form on Nikki’s face added a little extra pump in my step.

“Okay,” I murmur, turning toward the boys. I watch as they all move to stand around their instruments, the dirt covered carpet beneath them providing a makeshift stage for them. “Show me what you got!” I cheer, grinning as I clap my hands beneath my chin. I know these boys are good when it comes to their music. The stories I hear about the infamous Mötley Crüe are endless and crazy, and as they start to play their music, I come to the realization that soon I’ll be witnessing those crazy and endless stories myself.

With my clothes and essential things packed, I quit my job at the diner and start working for the boys. Every night is entertaining, but it’s not always bad. Vince has only started one fight in the two weeks we’ve been on the road and that wasn’t hard to stop once the venue owner grabbed him and the man fighting. The only other problem is the guys incessant attempts to throw shit out the windows from their hotel rooms, but Doc usually takes care of that for me. However, things can’t always remain calm.

Tonight was definitely a crazy night, but it turned even crazier after the show when the guys decided to go to the bar for a couple drinks. I went with them, and as I went to go get a drink for myself, a guy next to me decided to get a little too friendly with me. Despite me telling him no several times, his actions never halted, and as he grabbed me by my arms, I found myself overwhelmed by all the possible ways to get out of his grip.

Thankfully, he let go without me having to do anything, but at the same time, it was Nikki going up behind him and smashing his empty beer bottle against his head that made him get off me. The creepy guys friends didn’t appreciate that, and soon everyone in the bar was fighting. I managed to get the guys out before they could add to the already growing chaos, but Nikki had been punched a few times before I could do anything about it.

“You know, I can remember you guys giving me this job with the responsibility of keeping you guys from doing stupid shit,” I point out, placing the bag of ice next to Nikki’s jaw as it starts to turn blue. “But it seems as if I’m just picking up the pieces after you guys fuck up.”

Nikki doesn’t laugh thanks to his currently swelling jaw, but he does smile and look up at me. “I couldn’t let that guy put his hands on my girl,” he murmurs, taking the ice in his hand as I move back to my first aid bag. Whereas nothing physical has happened between us in these two weeks, the tension has grown and it’s been pretty miserable.

“Your girl?” I ask, turning back with an alcohol pad for his split eyebrow. He hisses as I clean it, but remains quiet nonetheless. “I thought I was just the girl who you guys hired to be a full time babysitter,” I wouldn’t say I’m angry because nothing has occurred between us, but I am definitely growing impatient.

A small laugh escapes his mouth at that. “Your much more than that,” he explains, “I’m glad you’re the one doing this job, though,” Nikki murmurs, his mouth barely moving as he tries to avoid moving his jaw. Turning away to grab a few butterfly bandages for his cut, I feel his eyes linger on me until I turn back to him to which his eyes quickly flicker back up to mine. “I don’t think I would tolerate anyone else telling me what to do,”

Smiling, I begin working on Nikki’s eyebrow as he continues speaking. “I’m being serious - I don’t listen to what anyone tells me,” He continues on, causing me to nod in agreement. “You know, you could tell me to do anything and I would do it without giving it a second thought,” Nikki further confesses, his voice turning into more of a whisper than the deep octave it carried mere seconds ago.

Slowly, my hands come to a halt before I pull them away from Nikki’s face and to my sides. Keeping my eyes on Nikki’s, I keep expecting him to say ‘just joking’ or something to that extent, but instead, he stays quiet as his eyes stare back at mine and his smile remains on his lips. In that moment, various thoughts fill my brain.

Is this why Nikki has always been sweet and kind to me? Because he’s attracted to me for me and not my body? If he wanted me for something he can simply pluck from one of the groupies, then he would’ve given up a long time ago. I met the boys around a year ago, and out of that year, I’ve been working alongside with them for a very short amount of time. Granted, if Nikki wanted me for sex or something quick, then he would’ve tried a long time ago - and he would’ve tried something a little more risqué rather than an almost romantic admission.

“If I asked you to do anything, you’d just do it? No questions asked?” I reiterate, “You’re not joking are you?”

“No, actually. I’m being completely serious,” he tells me, his face matching the tone of his voice. “I’m not high or drunk either, if that’s what you’re wondering. I wanted to do this tonight - well, not with me getting into a fight right before, but I wanted to tell you that I... I really like you, and I have ever since you worked in the diner.”

With that, I find myself looking down with blushing cheeks and my lips in between my teeth. “In your state,” I begin, looking back up at him, “would it be too much to ask you for a kiss?” I ask, crossing my arms with a smile.

“Babe, I wouldn’t mind if you’d ask for more,” he chides, making me laugh before he connects our lips together. Without even thinking about it, I move my hand up to rest on his face and accidentally cause him to wince from the new pressure on his jaw. Immediately, I pull away to apologize, but Nikki beats me to it.

“I’m fine,” he assures me, pulling me close to him with his arms wrapped securely around my waist. With very little space between us, Nikki smiles at me, and for once, I can smile back with the reassurance that his flirting isn’t just empty words. “As long as I have you, I will be... more than fine, to be honest,” Nikki promises, pressing one more kiss to my lips before giving a small hum. “My girl~”

#nikki sixx x reader #nikki sixx imagine #Nikki sixx imagines #motley crue x reader #motley crue #motley crue imagine #tommy lee x reader #Nikki sixx #Tommy lee imagine #Tommy Lee imagines #Douglas booth x reader #Douglas booth imagine #Douglas booth imagines #the dirt imagines #the dirt x reader #the dirt imagine

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eskelbigbang · 3 years

Text

Eskel Big Bang 2021 Masterpost

Here are all the fics and art made this year for the Eskel Big Bang. Congratulations on the hard work, everyone!

AO3 collection || #ebb works tag || #ebb art tag || #ebb fic tag

Below the cut is a full list of all EBB works:

Uprooted (T, No Pairing, 12k) by @rachofspades, art by @drachedraws

When a nondescript notice begging for a witcher's aid catches Eskel's attention on his way back to Kaer Morhen for the winter, he finds himself drawn in by his own curiosity despite his initial reservations. Once he arrives, it quickly becomes apparent that there's something more sinister going on than typical monster attacks, and he's determined to figure out what it is. Fic || Art (1) (2)

These Clay Hands (T, Eskel/Jaskier, 4.7k) by @aalizazareth, art by @hobbart-art

Eskel is a shy pottery instructor who meets Jaskier during one of his lessons. The two hit it off. Fic || Art

The Empty Safe Job (M, Eskel/Geralt/Jaskier, 18k) by @iboughtaplant, art by @gods-no-longer-tread-here

A team of thieves with complicated pasts take down the rich and powerful to help those that get left out from justice. Their latest job should be simple, but an unexpected adversary has Eskel confronting his past. Sometimes bad guys make the best good guys. Fic || Art

the broken vines are an open door (M, Eskel & Geralt & Yennefer, 5.2k) by @trissmarrygoals, art by @flyingyarn

Traveling through Aedirn with his newly acquired child surprise, Eskel stumbles upon a dead body - and with it, a mystery. Fic || Art

With you I'll never be alone (T, Eskel/Geralt, 5.8k) by @dat-carovieh, art by @mondfuchs

From their first meeting, through their whole long life Geralt and Eskel have always been there to comfort each other when one of them got hurt. --- Or five times Geralt and Eskel comfort each other through some kind of hurt and one time they're just comfortable. Fic || Art

Eskel Has A Good Day (G, Eskel & Wolf Witchers, 9.3k) by @gods-no-longer-tread-here, art by @phoenixandjacob

The Wolves (and bard) of Kaer Morhen go on a vacation to the coast, and have a good day. Fic || Art (1) (2)

Tu Me Manques. (T, Eskel/Jaskier, 8k) by @etcorsolus, art by @cvbeebop

In which, Eskel meets a bard who calms him. Body, mind, and soul. Story title is how the French say 'I miss you.' The more literal translation is 'You are missing from me.' Fic || Art

Little Red (M, Eskel/Lambert, 6.1k) by @miahclone, art by @llwynbleidd

Eskel helps Lambert while he's recovering from a serious injury. To distract him from the pain, Eskel tells stories of past hunts. Fic || Art

Constellations (M, Eskel/Geralt, 7.2k) by @dredshirtroberts, art by @dat-carovieh

Eskel loves Geralt but their soulmarks don't match - he'd know. They're witchers, and scars are their business. As he joins Geralt in retirement, Eskel figures whatever he can get with the other witcher will be enough. He might get a little bit more than he thought he was bargaining for, but Eskel's never passed up a good deal. Fic || Art (1) (2)

Trial By Fire (Eskel and Aza's Wild Ride) (E, Eskel/OFC, 11k) by @janzoo, art by @liaonyxrayne

When Eskel rescues his succubus acquaintance from witch hunters, their reunion becomes something more as they're drawn into the hunters' plot. What can they do against a twisted idealist and the danger he presents to witchers and non-humans? Fic || Art

Pardon Me While I Burst Into Flames (E, Eskel/Jaskier, 29k) by @ghostinthelibrarywrites, art by @wolfgeralt

When Eskel is hired to kill an incubus who ruined a noble wedding, he finds that his target is far from a bloodthirsty beast, a too-pretty court bard. Eskel spares Jaskier and they go their separate ways, with Eskel expecting never to see the incubus again. But Jaskier has other ideas. Fic || Art

I Could Eat the World Raw (E, Eskel/Jaskier, 7k) by @buttercupsanddandelions, art by @gods-no-longer-tread-here

“This is Eskel.” He pushes him slightly forward, “And he just had his conduit moment.” After becoming a mage, Eskel finds that he's been soul-bound to a little lordling. Fic || Art

Something we bury (M, Eskel/Geralt, 10k) by @heartoferebor, art by @craftgamerzz

“Where’s Eskel?” Ciri asks Geralt, frowning a little. “He went out to do more hunting and gather some potion ingredients. Should be back any moment,” Geralt reassures her. “Ah. Good.” She hesitates a little before deciding to forge right ahead with her next question. She’s asked everyone else in the keep, of course she’ll have to ask Geralt, too. “About his scars…” * Ciri wants to know where Eskel's scars came from, so she decides to ask everyone at the keep about them. Except, they all seem to have different stories... Fic || Art

Lord What Fools These Witchers Be (T, Aiden/Eskel, 21k) by @jayofolympus and @frenchkey, art by aviixrc

When Lambert brings Aiden to winter with him in Kaer Morhen, Eskel is catapulted straight into his own personal hell. It would be easier if he didn’t like the Cat. Instead, he finds himself falling head over heels for his brother’s boyfriend and trying to hide it from a pack of nosy Witchers. If only Aiden would stop flirting with him... Fic || Art (1) (2)

A Moment of Comfort (M, Eskel/OC) by @merpancake

An attack at a brothel begins with blood and carnage, but Eskel finds an unexpected peace in the arms of Cenna. As their paths continue to cross, Eskel carries that same peace within him on his journey through monsters and men. Art

Toussaint's Finest (M, Eskel/Geralt, 9.1k) by @kate-river, art by @justhereforeskel

Eskel is still roaming the Continent. But in recent years the Path has become harder and harder. Eskel has made it a habit to come by Corvo Bianco around vintage and this year's events might change a few things in his life forever. Fic || Art

Beneath the Shadow and the Soul (E, Eskel/Geralt/Jaskier, 32k) by @vix-spes, art by @buffskierights

Eskel had the strange feeling that everything was going to change when he passed through Dol Blathanna one year on his way back to Kaer Morhen for winter. He had been passing through a town and, instead of running away from him, someone had exclaimed “You’re a Witcher,” and proceeded to sing at him. He just hadn't realised how much of an impact it would have on him. Fic || Art

Daughter of Fire (T, Eskel/Geralt/Jaskier, 4.9k) by @kittynannygaming, art by @zmezagain

Witchers are sterile, that's a fact. No female human can bear their child. Well, the keyword here is 'human' and a succubus is very not human. And Eskel now has a sweet 7 years old daughter. Fic || Art

Break It Recklessly (E, Eskel/Geralt/Jaskier, 22k) by @anonymousblueberry, art by @nol-nol

From teenage tearaways to successful adults, Geralt and Eskel have always been inseparable. To the extent that when Geralt accepts a wedding invite with Eskel as his plus one, there’s the assumption that they have finally sorted their shit out and got together, forcing them to keep up the facade or cause chaos for the happy couple. What follows is a crash course in emotions, dating, and working out that love can burn long and slow for a very long time. Fic || Art

The Question (M, Eskel/Istredd, 40k) by @eskelchopchop, art by @stars-in-my-damn-eyes

Eskel's in Ohio when Yennefer calls. He’s reluctant to pick up; he’s still not over Geralt, and he's got zero desire to chat with Geralt's new lover. Turns out Yen isn’t his lover anymore, and this isn’t about Geralt. It’s about witcher’s work. Yennefer owns Portal, one of New York City's most popular gay clubs. A Post-Conjunction Entity (PCE) is hunting her clientele, leaving a string of withered corpses in its wake. The police are doing jackshit. Will Eskel come back to a city full of bad memories and take a job off the books to stop it? He'll sure as hell try. Along the way, he’ll cross paths with Istredd, a man with sorcerer’s eyes and a painful past of his own. If Eskel doesn't work fast enough, they both might become the PCE's next victims. Fic || Art

Is It Cold In The Water? (E, Eskel/Jaskier, 12k) by @jennyloggins, art by @jerry-of-rivia

His horse is tied to a branch a few trees out, and that’s where Eskel heads to grab his water skein, taking a deep drink and soothe his dry throat. Patting his horse’s backside affectionately on his way past her, Eskel feigns a stern voice to say, “Zuzanna, keep watch for me.” Her tail twitches as if to swat him away. Fic || Art

Everything I Want (I Can Find in You) by @eyesofshinigami, art by @phoenixandjacob

Eskel didn't think he'd ever see Jaskier again, sure the Cat witcher was only looking for a night of fun. But then he keeps showing up, taking Eskel to bed and leaving him little presents. It takes Eskel a bit, but eventually he realizes that maybe, just maybe, Jaskier means it when he says he wants to keep him. Or Eskel doesn't think he deserves nice things and Jaskier is determined to show him otherwise. Fic || Art

One Stop Shop; Tattoo's Piercings, And Love (M, Eskel/Jaskier/Lambert, 7.4k) by @jesheckah, art by @moondrunkart

When Eskel fumbles an invitation at a party to come into his tattoo shop, Jaskier and he move towards an explosive love. How many tattoo sessions does it take for the heart to know what it wants? Fic || Art

Entanglement (and other words for a mess) (E, Eskel/Geralt/Jaskier, 31k) by @violaceum-vitellina-viridis, art by @merpancake

Eskel has a hundred marks on his body, but a soulmark isn't one of them. Fic || Art

Beneath Each Other's Bones (E, Eskel/Geralt, 7.6k) by @pressedinthepages, art by @drachedraws

Winter at Kaer Morhen can be brutal. But Eskel and Geralt find warmth in each other in an effort to stave off the cold. Fic || Art (1) (2)

#9fe2bf on the Shore (T, Eskel/Jaskier, 4.5k) by @buffskierights, art by @phoenixandjacob

The sea roars with a vengeance, something angering the waves even as the stars shine brightly overhead in the clear night sky. If Eskel were a poet he’d say it almost sounded like a wail of mourning, the way the whitewater crashes upon the night black sand and the gathering foam, the sea frothing furiously. But Eskel’s always hated his poetry lessons so being a poet is firmly off the table. Fic || Art

lion in the wolf's den (T, Coen/Eskel, 5k) by @patchwork-doublet, art by @justhereforeskel

eskel is nervous being around ciri, afraid things will go south like they did last time. Fic || Art

Sugar Baby Blues (E, Eskel/Jaskier, 24k) by adevinecomedy, art by @pastelrune

Jaskier’s mind slipped back to a night several months ago when he was all worked up but had nowhere to go and a mountain of school work to get through. How it was just so much easier to log onto a camming website and watch someone perform seemingly just for him. The gorgeous, confident man on the other side of the screen had been so accommodating, even though Jaskier had been shy and hadn’t typed much into the chat. Modern au where Eskel is a Cam boy and runs into a bit of a financial bind. Enter Jaskier who just might be the answer to all his woes. Fic || Art

Winter Comfort (T, Eskel/Jaskier, 10k) by @myidlehand, art by @liaonyxrayne

Jaskier comes to Kaer Morhen to spend some time with Eskel, after briefly meeting him in the fall. And while both of them seem delighted to see each other again, Eskel starts to shy away from Jaskier's comments and flirting. It doesn't take a genius to see Eskel is having body image issue. Jaskier aims to help him through it. Fic || Art

The Subtle Knife (M, Eskel/Jaskier, 26k) by @major-trouble, art by @cylin-aka-ankamo

There's an assassin haunting the Continent. No one knows their name, everyone - that is, everyone in the know - calls them The Specter. If you want a rival out of the way, a political opponent disposed of, or a strategic target taken out, contacting The Specter gets the job done. For a price, of course. There's an art to subtlety, after all, and it wouldn't do to risk the attention of law enforcement. So there's no obvious cause, no knife to the back, and the deaths aren't usually remarked upon. The Kaer Morhen Agency, however, has noticed. One of their agents has been hired to protect potential victims, people scared that they've been targeted. And they have reason to worry. When Eskel's first assignment winds up dead of no discernible cause, it starts him on a search for the elusive Specter, hoping against hope to track down the assassin before they're hired again. Setting a trap for a ghost is something Witchers are used to. Setting one for a trained killer may prove beyond them. Fic || Art

No Funny Business (M, Eskel/Jaskier, 11k) by goldendaydreams, art by @nanero11

Eskel had long given up on finding his soulmate, his soulmark nothing but scar tissue from a house fire he’d survived as a child. Knowing that most people wait for their perfect someone, their destiny, didn’t stop him from falling in love with Jaskier, the nurse he met after a hunt gone wrong. Fic || Art

Stronger Than My Storm (E, Eskel/Geralt) by @rawrkinjd, art by @nol-nol

Eskel and Geralt were friends from the very beginning. They added the benefits later. It was another way to offer comfort and companionship when the rest of the world closed in around them, and Eskel was content with it for years. Until he wakes up one day and realises it’s become something more. He touches Geralt’s silver hair, wreathed in a halo of yellow sunlight, and allows himself to feel the cracks spreading through his heart. Witchers can’t love each other. It would only lead to suffering. Eskel realises he must weather the storm inside or let Geralt go forever. Fic || Art

Full of Life (T, Eskel/Jaskier, 6.3k) by @sternenstaub28, art by @llwynbleidd

When Eskel gets hired to solve the case of people disappearing in town, she didn’t know she’d find a friend and maybe even something more. or Beauty and strength don't necessarily make your life easier, a companion and love however do. Fic || Art

choices are the hinges of destiny (T, Eskel/Geralt, 7.5k) by @lutes-and-dandelions, art by @cassandrasartworld

After rescuing a fae from the clutches of death, they repay Eskel by helping him make a choice. -oOo- A story about what would have happened if Eskel had claimed his child of surprise. Fic || Art

Eskel Vs The Continent (And His Feelings) (M, No Pairing, 47k) by @chibitabathasloves, art by @zmezagain

Eskel decides he needs to leave Kaer Morhen after the fight with the Hunt. Where will it take him? And will he be able to face his feelings he desperately tries to ignore. Fic || Art

lookin' to the sky to save me (T, Eskel/Geralt, 10k) by @torynickles, art by @trissmarrygoals

Geralt slides his hand from Eskel’s shoulder to his back. And then. Then he keeps moving it, outwards, away from Eskel’s torso, where there should be nothing but air, but— “What the fuck?” he chokes, because he can still feel Geralt’s hand, sensation where there should be none. He shakes his head wildly, twisting his arm to reach for his own back. His fingers connect to something, but—it’s not his body, it can’t be his body, even though he can feel himself touching it. Because he’s made up of skin and flesh, bone and muscle, and this thing has all of those, but— It’s covered in sticky, damp feathers. Fic || Art

A Fine Night at the Faire (M, Eskel/Geralt/Jaskier, 12k) by Elensule, art by @liaonyxrayne

Eskel has been hurt by the world and hides for refuge in his little goat farm. He's found no reason to look for love, or much of anything else. But encouragement from his brother sends him to an unfamiliar locale; the renfaire! Maybe stepping out of his comfort zone was just what he needed. Fic || Art

#eskel big bang #eskel #witcher eskel #the witcher #the witcher eskel #the witcher 3 #tw3 #jaskel #geraskel #geskel #eskel x geralt #geralt x eskel #eskel x jaskier #jaskier x eskel #ebb works #eskel fanfic #eskel fanart #eskel/geralt/jaskier

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iguessweallcrazyithinktho · 4 years

Text

Chris Evans masterlist

Chris Evans HC

Going on a road trip with Chris and kiddos (headcannon)

Being married to Chris Evans would include(headcannon)

Chris Evans Imagines

imagine chris seeing you with a kid

imagine chris talking about the day you got married

imagine:chris broke up with you before you could tell him your pregnant

imagine:you and chris divorced and have two kids together/maybe it not to late to get back together

imagine chris talking about your twins

imagine chris seeing you for the first time

Imagine Chris seeing you with a kid after 2 years of being broken up (fluff)

Imagine Chris seeing you in a beautiful dress at an award show

Imagine your son thinking your so beautiful and he doesn’t want Chris to see you

Imagine Chris finding out his 3 year old has a boyfriend

Imagine your kids finding out that Chris is captain America

Imagine Chris being your neighbor and you wondering why didn’t put on pants.

Imagine Chris feeling like he failed as a father

Imagine Chris watching you play with his niece and nephew and he can’t help wonder how amazing you would be as a mom

Imagine Chris and your son telling the paparazzi no pictures

Imagine your son regret eating Wasabi

Imagine telling Chris that you want to make him a daddy on father’s day ~ smut

Chris Evans prompts

mamas boy 9&58

make me 48

i can’t keep kissing stranger and pretending their you 1,14&33

i forgive you 11

please marry me 32

hey just breath 29&10

92 and 84( smut)

76 and 91 ( angst, smut, fluff)

4 and 99(sad)

15 and 85(slightly angst, fluff)

quarantine proposal(fluff)

big fight (angst, fluff), breath with me (fluff)

shoulder pain(fluff)

thirsty tweet reveal (fluff)

he’s okay (angst, fluff, daddy Chris), period(fluff)

54&56(smut)

50,54,59(smut)

68&72(smut)

68,69,72(smut)

31,50,72(smut)

16,40(fluff)

Chris Evans:

exes to lover

8 letter

haters

accident happen how you think we …

heart eyes

daddy little fan

build a bear v teddy bear

baby love

falling like the stars

all way by your side

i will always protect you

rain can’t ruin the fun

give me nickname

your not a real fan

don’t touch her

im sorry

will you be there

i love you just the way you are

little valentine

best valentine day ever

admire your beauty

kick ass boyfriend

you and chris in quarantine

focus on my breathing

panic attack

sweater wearing dorks

i’m not good enough for you

moving to boston

beautiful in his eyes

have each other

strong mama

jealous chris

wear a longer skirt next time

i’m bored

that hurt my feelings

animal crossing

A place to sit ( smut)

Hot model (fluff, slightly smut)

Beautiful in his eyes ( fluff)

What!(angst, fluff)

Love me (smut)

Please forgive me(angst, fluff)

Bikini fun(smut, slight fluff)

Brazilian girl(smut)

Window (smut)

Hands(smut)

Dad’s friend (smut)

Chris Evans Fluff:

Not worth it || angst

You are the reason || fluff

Plane cancellation || fluff

Skype call || fluff

Back off, he’s mine || fluff, light Angst

Everything okay || fluff, light Angst

Social anxiety || fluff

Workout or dance party || fluff

Chris Evans Smut:

Fuck it || smut

Quick quiet sex || smut

Stuck with u || smut

Tapes || smut

His fingers are accurate || smut

Wild wet dream || smut

CEO barber || smut

Language || smut

Such a good mouth || smut

One bed || smut

Not so innocent maid || smut

Bathtub || smut

Daddy Chris:

Princess Chris ( fluff, daddy Chris)

Dance with me ( fluff, daddy Chris)

cuddle and kisses ( fluff, daddy Chris)

Late night protection (fluff, daddy Chris)

No kissing mama ( fluff, daddy Chris)

Helping daddy (fluff, daddy Chris)

Junk food convinced (fluff, daddy Chris)

3 month old talker( fluff, daddy Chris)

Twins ( fluff, daddy Chris)

Workout distraction (fluff, daddy Chris)

Reading a book (fluff, daddy Andy)

She’s growing up too fast (fluff, daddy Chris)

Little sister love (fluff, daddy Chris)

Shuts that out (fluff, daddy Andy)

Finally princesses (fluff, daddy Chris)

Busted (fluff, daddy Chris)

Bubbles (fluff, daddy Chris)

Not little anymore (fluff, daddy Chris)

New best friend (fluff, daddy Chris)

Skin to skin (fluff, daddy Chris)

Hungry baby, no (fluff, daddy Chris)

Peas (fluff, daddy Chris)

What are you doing Papa(fluff,daddy Chris)

Meeting little brother(fluff, daddy Chris)

Quarantine with kiddos(fluff, daddy Chris)

Mother’s day || dad! Chris

Memories || dad! Chris

Winnie the Pooh ||dad! Chris

Puppies || dad! Chris

Shy || dad! Chris

Bring us together || dad! Chris

Curly hair || dad! Chris

Quarantine baby || dad! Chris

Strawberries || dad! Chris

Bake a cake || dad! Chris

Sugar party || dad! Chris

Cuddles || dad! Chris

Morning with the Evans || dad! Chris

Disneyland || dad! Chris

FaceTime || dad! Chris

Pool day || dad! Chris

Big hands || dad! Chris

Not food || dad! Chris

Chris Evans oneshots:

Target - you lied and told Chris that you and your daughter weren’t going to target. He catches you both ~ Fluff

Double trouble maker - your twins break something and hide behind you, even though Chris isn’t mad ~ Fluff

Birthday special - Summary: it’s Chris’s birthday and since you both are still in quarantine, you want to give him a little show at home ~ smut

legal | Request : you wrote some dad figure!tom x teen actress!reader, can i get one with Chris Evans? maybe reader has been emancipated for awhile now n despite the fact that she’s been raising herself for a long time now, she still needs that parently guidance and maybe chris gives her that??? i hope that’s ok!! -🌙 ~ Fluff

Twins - I have a request, I was wondering if u can do a request, where the reader is African American and he and Chris are expecting towns, but they revel the news to Chris’s parents and your parents and also both of y’all grandparents?? ~ Fluff

Work this out - Can I request chris or henry tried to work through there divorce but end up with cute moments working it out ~ fluff

Princess - your Andy princess ~ smut

Surprise - I had another idea, what if Chris was being interviewed and you and your guys daughter who’s 4, came and surprised him, but once your daughter saw Chris she runs up to him and yells daddy!! - Fluff

Fort - Summary: it’s a rainy day and you, Chris, and your son build a fort ~ Fluff

Slobbery kisses - Chris wakes up to sloppy kisses by his baby ~ Fluff

Can’t sleep without you - Hi! can I request something where Chris and the reader had an argument and Chris goes to sleep in the couch, but in the middle of the night, the reader go to sleep with him there? Thanks! ~ slightly Angst, Fluff

Make up - Just after that quick one about fighting and sleeping separately could you do a quick imagine on the make up sex pls :)) ty ~ smut, Fluff

Tough guy -Can I ask for an imagine about the reader fighting with her husband Chris, about his family and the fight ending in rough sex? ❤ ~ kinda dark, smut

Giraffe slippers - Chris can’t get over your son’s giraffe slippers ~ Fluff

Switzerland - Summary: you, Chris and your son go on vacation to beautiful Switzerland ~ Fluff

Velvet - I found these prompts. They’re perfect ~ Fluff, implied smut

I’m scared, but I love you - Can u make where on how will cevans admit to a girl that he likes (or falling for) her and the girl is scared bc of the risk of dating him (privacy, fame, hate) and chris tells her he’s scared too but he’s willing to take a risk bc he can’t afford to see u w/ anyone else ~ Fluff

Interviewer - Summary: your a black interviewer and Chris couldn’t keep his eyes off of you. - smut, Fluff

Red dress - Request: After the oscars or whatever awards with Chris Evans, reader wearing a really sexy dress and even sexier lingerie ~ Fluff, implied smut

Softy -Request: Imagine Chris when he has a baby 🥺 I can honestly imagine how in love he’s gonna be in the delivery room getting handed his child. That man seriously makes my heart melt ~ Fluff

Who are you? - Request: can i request an image where chris comes back from filming and has a beautiful beard, but his baby daughter didn’t recognize him ~ Fluff

Empty theater - Request: you and chris go to the theaters and find out you two are the only one in the showing. You’re pretty invested into the movie and Chris is just horny 3000. He’s tryna fool around and you disregard him until he grabs your hand and puts it on his crotch and says in that insanely attractive Boston accent, “feel how hah’d you got me??” shweaty🤤 ~ smut

What moving in with Chris is like ~ Fluff

Long hair lover - Request: Can you write an imagine where Chris came back from filming red sea diving resort and his baby daughter is crazy in love with his long hair? ~ Fluff

Mean girl - Request: Hi, can you write one where the reader runs into a mean girl from school at supermarket and the girl start to brag for just saw Chris Evans. She doesn’t know that the reader is his wife, so the the mean girl has a little surprise when Chris find his wife at the line or something. ~ Fluff, slightly angst

Episode - Request: Hey are you taking request? I’m dark skinned chocolate and I’d love for Chris to comfort reader during a depressive episode. She’s the life of the party and she’s a new actress, not popular but she met Chris through mutual friends and he’s realized she’s been isolating herself lately, so he stops by her apt. to check in on her. She feels like she’s losing her mind. You can add smut. 😉 reader usually feels better after an episode buts its a serious battle and having support helps tremendously.😊 ~ Fluff, smut

Romantic day - Request: So Chris was asked in an interview if he ever had anyone do anything romantic for him and he had a hard time remembering. Can you write a fic where his girlfriend does something romantic for him? Like on a tooth rotting level of fluff. ~ fluff

Piglet - your daughter dress up as piglet from Winnie the Pooh ~ fluff

Bathroom and mirror - Request: Hey, I was wondering if I could request being at a party with Chris and he goes to the bathroom and you follow only for him to lift you on to the sink and eat your 🐱 then bend you over and fuck you hard watching you in the mirror ~ smut

Pink ribbon - Request: Okay but like I had this imagine in my head, like Chris is recording a video of his babygirl which is two months and he’s recording a video to help people with wants happening in the world to make then smile and then you hear a “grrr” and he’s like yes my daughter did learn how to growl before speaking thanks to dodger ! And he’s like so in love with the cutest bean to ever live ! And wife!reader be like watching this as she growls,dodger being proud! -🥺💕 ~ Fluff

Migraine - Request: Take as much time as you need 😜. I was about reader working at home on quarantine and she has this migraine so Chris takes care of her?? Could be a drabble, hc, blurb, whatever you wanna make of it ~ Fluff

Childhood bedroom - Request: Reader and Chris having sex in Chris’s childhood room when they visit his parents for a holiday (whichever you want) and Scott walking in on them ~ smut

Boomerang - Request: Can I request Chris Evans x Reader age gap where its her 10 high school reunion and back in high school she was over weight and was teased for it. Now she isnt and is engaged to Chris, but at the reunion she gets told by like an ex boyfriend an ex friend that Chris will leave her if she gets her weight back. Chris over hears this and is upset by it. Also could they make a remark like she is gaining weight again but she is pregnant like three months with a tiny bump (Maybe smut) Thank you ~ Angst, smut

Period - Request: can you do one abt chris when his girl is on her period ~ Fluff

4am car ride - Summary: at 4 in the morning Chris wakes you up to go on a car ride ~ Fluff

No Oscars - Request: Concept: reader consoling chris after he comes back from the oscars without any wins ~ Angst, fluff

Morning with the Evans - Summary: morning with 6 kiddos, 4 going to school. ~ Fluff

Wanna help? - Request: Hi there! What about Chris is in his bed reading a book as his wife were doing her routine of moisturizing her body and he start staring at her and she asks if he want to do the job for her. ~ smut

Mommy isn’t hot she’s warm

Message therapist - Request: I’m a massage therapist. I would love to see a wondering with CE and a therapist. She gets a one in a lifetime opportunity to massage the one and only, he sees her small stature and does not think she’ll be able to help him, but he is pleasantly surprised. He takes one look at her, and get simplicity and naturalness intrigues and consumes him. He’s on a mission to make her his, she’s wary. She’s wary because of her past and of what his intentions are. And doesn’t trust him right away. @creae7881 ~ Fluff

America’s ass - Summary: you make Chris celebrate that ass on its birthday `~ Fluff

Mechanic - Request: Hi! Wondering if you could make a story where Chris falls for a girl that’s a mechanic. I’ve been looking to pictures of the car Downey gifted him. She can be the one who built it. Thanks ~ @arabescapr ~ Fluff

Angry at you - Summary: Chris has to do some work and his daughter wants to play, but he can’t. She doesn’t like that. ~ Fluff

Virgin till married - Request: Hey! I really love your five and am a huge fan of your writing! Is there a way you could write a Chris fanfic in which the reader is a virgin and wants to save herself for marriage and it’s their honeymoon and she is gonna have sex for the first time with husband Chris.😙❤ It can be fluff and smut. Thank you! ~ smut

Secretly - Request: I have a request for Chris. Where the reader is a beautiful black plus-size woman and she and Chris are secretly dating, and one day they are spotted out and Chris panics and he has an interview and the interviewer asked him “who’s this girl u were spotted with” and Chris says I don’t know he personally she’s just a fan, and the reader watches the interview and gets heartbroken so she blocks him and changing a the locks to her house, and Chris finds out that she watched the interview. For the plus size request for Chris. I have to send another ask for same request because I didn’t have enough room to finish, but the reader starts avoiding and ignoring Chris, and Chris tries to get the reader to talk to him by showing up at her work, or bringing her flowers or her favorite food but she declines until one day she gets home and he’s on her doorstep and she starts walking by him ignoring him and he asks her just to talk to him please. Can there be a happy ending. ~ @briannab1234 ~ Angst, Fluff

After the show - Request: I’m sort of obsessed with the idea an anon sent in about the reader being a singer and her performing on stage and then him getting her home! I don’t know if you’re doing that already but if not can I request it for Chris Evans pleaseee ~ smut

Midnight return ~ Fluff, dad! Chris

You+me=perfect - Request: Hi! Just discovered your blog a few weeks ago and fell in love with your writing. I know requests are closed, but when you have time, could you do one where Chris and Reader (age gap) like each other and they know and everybody knows but when Reader makes a move he rejects her because since he wants a family he thinks reader is not ready for that. Please happy ending, 2020 is already too stressful :)~ Angst, Fluff

Your producing ice? - Request:Writing idea? Yk that game that Chris played with Jimmy Fallon where they poured the ice water down each other’s pants. Yeah yeah yeah. Just imagine going to give Chris a bj in the dressing room or something and there’s ice In his pants -🥺 but confused ~ smut, Fluff

Wine and sunset - Summary: you and Chris have been together for 3 years and now you got married to him. You both are on your honeymoon. He can’t help but keep his hands off of you. ~ smut, Fluff

No kissing ~ fluff,dad! Chris

At last I see the light - Request: Hi, can you please write Chris Evans x reader when he’s on the Graham Show and the other guest is a singer he have a crush on, she perform a song she recorded for the ‘We Love Disney’s album and he’s just in admiration please? ~ Fluff

Another princess?! - Summary: your pregnant and you and Chris finally figure out the gender of your baby. ~ Fluff

#chris evans #chris evans x reader #submission #Chris Evans imagines #Chris Evans x female reader #chris evans x plus size reader #chris Evans smut #dad!chris evans #Chris Evans x ofc

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wiypt-writes · 3 years

Text

Murder, He Wrote

Part 6.

Summary: Ransom and you attend a wake for his great-nanna Wanetta, with the rest of his family. The knives are out, and they’re sharp…

Warnings: Bad language words. MATURE (NSFW 18+) NON-CON situation, kidnap, violence. DO NOT READ IF ANY OF THOSE TRIGGER… READER DISCRETION IS ADVISED. YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED!!!!

Pairing: DARK! Ransom Drysdale x Reader

A/N: So here it is, the penultimate chapter to this series! One more to go post this, plus an epilogue. I can’t believe it’s almost over…

Word Count: 9.5k (oops)

READ THE WARNINGS!!!! This is a DARK Series… don’t @ us if you can’t follow simple instructions and end up with butt-hurt. And if you’re under 18…get off my blog.

Disclaimer: This is a pure work of fiction and by writing it does NOT mean I agree with or condone the acts contained within. This fiction is classified as 18+. Please respect this and do not read if you are underage. I do not own any characters in this series bar reader and any other OCs that may or may not be mentioned. By reading beyond this point you understand and accept the terms of this disclaimer.

Murder, He Wrote Masterlist // Main Masterlist.

Part 5

You'd managed to get through Christmas fairly well. The days leading up, Ransom had been a little suspiciously sneaky but you didn't give it a second thought, really. Things between you and your captor were more than amicable, they were pleasant. But, despite the cohabitation and this new found demeanour in him, Ransom wasn't above reminding you that you were still under his eye. And under his eye you were indeed, all day long. He watched you as you read, as you cooked, as you wrote in your journal. Oddly, not once showing interest in your musings but working away on his own.

Christmas morning, the two of you had spent a few lazy hours in bed, Ransom waking you with kisses over your bare skin, stripped down and tired from the evening before where he worked you over until you couldn't move, crying out his name near midnight, his breathless, tired voice telling you 'Merry Christmas' before he slept. After an easy egg and toast breakfast, the two of you were sitting around the lounge, the fire burning, the tree lit, soft music played in the background, watching a fresh layer of snow falling outside. You were reading Dickens' holiday classic, aloud while Ransom sat next to you, idling running a long index finger over your neck in slow and soft, up and down strokes, listening to you. Suddenly he'd stopped and removed the book from your hands.

"I have something for you," he said, a slight eagerness to his tone. He slipped away for a brief moment, pulling a box, intricately wrapped, clearly not by himself, from under the tree. You'd never noticed it there, not once and you wondered when he'd put it there or if he'd hidden it in the very spot this whole time.

The red leather box sat heavy in your hand as you read the gold inscription on the top. With an unsteady breath, you lifted the hinged lid and hitched your breath at what sat inside. A white gold necklace, with two interlocking rings in a signature Cartier design glistened back at you. The screw motifs which were set in ideal oval shaped rings studded with diamonds that twinkled in the light sat snuggly inside against black velvet.

You were stunned. The gesture far too expensive and in your mind inappropriate. But you also thought it was absolutely gorgeous, and you wondered how he'd come up with such an expensive idea. You'd not mentioned anything of the sort in your time together, in fact, you hadn't had jewellery on bar your ball studs in your ears now.

You looked up from the delicate piece and your eyes met expectant ones. "It's beautiful," you spoke softly. "Thank you."

"Let me put it on you," he sat next you whilst taking the box from your hands. He gently pulled it away from the box and unclasped it, settling it around your neck as you moved your hair out of the way, thin tendrils framing your face. Your robe slipped off your shoulder and you felt his soft lips against your skin, down your neck and along your shoulder. "Let me see you," he spoke softly.

You turned in his direction and you saw the way he admired the way the piece sat across your chest, the silk robe you were wearing over your barely-there nightgown gaping open. As his eyes blatantly roved down between the valley of your breasts your own flicked across his casual, lazy-Christmas morning form, his broad chest and shoulders clad in a white thermal, sweats hung low on his hips.

"Perfect," he whispered, leaning towards you.

You were not a bought woman, no; you were his victim, his roommate, his co-habitant, his lover, his partner, his... Oh for Christ's sake you could go on with the labels that did or didn't make sense, were mutual or not, had or didn't carry the weight of a proper explanation. Right now, you were going through the motions and emotions.

"I like it, a lot, thank you again," you replied as his lips grew closer to yours. "I've never had such an expensive gift before."

His lips ghosted over yours, "There's plenty more where that came from, Sweetheart."

The implication of his words had hit you like a freight train as you realised just how many more ‘occasions’ he was planning on the pair of you spending together. New Year, Easter, Spring Break, your birthday, his birthday, summer, Memorial Day. It sparked so many conflicting opinions within you that you were glad of the distraction when he moved, his fingers delicate as he undid the ties of your robe and led you down on the rug before his lips had traced a path down your body and soon he’d had you crying his name, sheer bliss coursing through your veins.

Later that day, you'd made dinner for him, a reminder of how Christmas used to be when Wanetta and his Grandmother shared the festivities. After the quiet meal, he had expected you to join him for a shower, no doubt as pay back for him going down on you earlier. When you'd respectfully declined stating you needed to wash the dishes, he sneered and sulked off. You'd made sure that when he was gone long enough, you were able to get things set up for your gift. Now was the time to show Ransom how gifts of meaning and purpose were to be given and hopefully received. Not that it was going to make a blind bit of difference to your situation, not in the grand scheme of things anyway. You'd finished cleaning and putting everything away and headed into the lounge where you stoked the fire and then made your way back into the kitchen for your supplies. The hot cocoa burning hot, the slices of bread, tongs and a small serving of butter, complete with freshly blended cinnamon sugar. You knew he would come find you when you were not waiting in the bedroom for him. If Ransom Drysdale was anything, it was a creature of expectation and habit. You'd heard him coming down the stairs, that one spot with a creak carrying his footfall. You straightened up your things, setting up the tongs and tray of treats nicely before covering them with a cloth napkin, standing between the coffee table and the fireplace, and waited on baited breath for the tirade you thought was coming. He had turned the corner, his face stern with evident hard lines, his bare chest on display, hair still wet from the shower. You could smell him as he entered the doorway, that scent that you'd soon come to realize made you heady and needy. You waved him over, a hunt of excitement to your tone, "come on, come sit." “I don’t want to sit, Sweetheart, I want you like I had you before dinner. Crying my name with you under me.” He stood just inside the doorway, with his arms folded across his chest, sweats hung low on his hips. He wore no shirt just to entice you, but you weren't giving in so easily. "I'll say your name as many times as you want, but first, I need to give you my gift." You chose then to look at him with big eyes, sincere yet seductive.

It was a stare off between the two of you, he not budging and you popping your hip out to one side as you folded your arms over your chest. He had his fun, now you wanted to enjoy something and gift giving brought you joy.

Like a child told to apologize for hitting another, he hung his head and sulked over. You could tell it pained him to obey your request. But you again saw through his facade. You knew this meant far more to him than anything he'd ever received.

But he'd never tell you that. Not that you thought anyway. “Oh stop being so you, Ransom, for just five minutes.” You snorted exasperatedly at his petulant nature. “It’s Christmas.” With a roll of his eyes that would make any toddler jealous, he took to his knees sitting on his heels. With a smirk, you joined him, pressing a gentle kiss to his cheek, "Merry Christmas, Ransom." You pulled the napkin off the tray revealing the contents of your gift. His eyes moved over the tray, first seeing the mugs of cocoa, topped with whipped cream that was beginning to melt into the warm liquid. The tongs, the bread, the small pinch bowls of cinnamon sugar and the soft butter. With his mind occupied, you managed to grab a throw and wrap it around the two of you. He blinked, and you could see that he was fighting the smirk that was threatening to cross his handsome face. “Toast?” He finally asked and you nodded, smiling. "I couldn't go get you something, not that it mattered, so this was the next best thing." A flicker of something darkened his face, and for a moment you thought you saw regret flash in his eyes, just like the day he had marked your face but as soon as it had appeared it was gone. "Just enjoy it, even if you can't say anything about it, just...." you shrugged, "remember." That night, after the toast with cinnamon butter and cocoa from scratch were shared, he had his way with you, delightfully slow, once more by the fire, you again crying out his name and he yours, over and over again. By the time he finished, you were both boneless and breathless, his body covering yours until he rolled over and the two of you slept by the fire, wrapped up in each other's arms, the heavy throw around your naked bodies.

Christmas had been nice. Maybe, somewhat enjoyable, you'd admitted to yourself. Of course, the wrench of not seeing your family had weighed like a stone in your gut, compounded by the fact that thanks to the lie you’d been forced to tell Blanc, they thought this was your choice. That you were staying away from them because you wanted to, when nothing could be further from the truth. You missed your mom and dad goofing around over presents, still trying to tell your now well grown-up sister and you Santa had been. You ached for the usual family politics that manifested when your uncles and aunts descended for dinner. You longed for your sister to be complaining about how fat she was going to get…

"We have to go," Ransom’s deep baritone caught you completely off guard, making you jump as you stood staring out of the large French windows over the garden from the master suite.

“Oh, okay,” you nodded, taking a deep breath to centre yourself, your heart racing at the speed of light from your fright. You took a glance at yourself in the mirror above the fireplace and found yourself wishing you’d done a better job at covering up the ugly scab and green bruising on your face.

You followed Ransom in his tan coat, pin striped slacks and a black cashmere sweater as he strode from the room. You felt nervous, anxious, scared. This was the first time you were leaving the house in two months. He led you to the garage where you started walking to the SUV he'd taken you in but he stopped you short, calling out to you, "not this time, Sweetheart." He stood at the passenger door to his vintage BMW. You swallowed and walked towards the door he was holding open for you. Wordlessly, you sank into the passenger seat and reached for your belt. Pulling it across your lap, you adjusted the pencil skirt and blouse you'd tucked into so as not to wrinkle it, your soft black peacoat bluky in your seat. The car roared to life, throbbing beneath you, the hum of the engine might, in other circumstances, have excited you. But now, the only thing filling you was dread. The first time you’re out of your "castle", and it's to go to a wake, for Wanetta Thrombey.

Go figure. ***** The silence in the car was stifling. Every so often Ransom stole a glance at Y/N to find her simply staring out of the window, at one stage reaching up to wipe her eye. He didn’t say anything, but he wasn’t an idiot. Over Christmas he’d caught her numerous time completely zoned out, as if she was somewhere else, just like she had been moments before they had left. And whilst she’d done her best to keep her tears and attitude at bay, she’d been clipped with him a number of times which he’d simply let slide and instead of reminding her about her attitude, he’d pressed her to tell him what was wrong. She’d quietly admitted that she missed her family, something Ransom simply couldn’t understand, so in the spirit of their recent candid openness, he’d asked her bluntly why she needed them so much when he gave her everything she could possibly ever want. At that she had snorted, and taken great pains to explain to him that just because he failed to understand something didn’t make it any less valid of a feeling to someone else and then she’d deftly changed the subject, and he’d allowed the conversation to steer elsewhere.

And now, the first time she’d been anywhere but the inside of his house and strictly the garden for months, they were headed to spend time with his shit-head family. The irony was staggering when you considered it. He eased his beloved beemer onto the main road and pushed his foot down on the gas, weaving himself in and out of the light traffic obnoxiously fast. But he wasn’t known for his patience, he had somewhere to be and in his mind; the faster he got there the faster he could leave, keen to spend as little time with his family as possible. About halfway into the journey, Ransom felt that familiar cold feeling in his stomach as he pulled off the freeway and on to one of the smaller roads. He could drive this journey with his eyes closed but it was the first time he’d been back to the mansion since... well, since IT had all gone down. The more he thought about it, the more agitated he could feel himself getting, his hands gripping the steering wheel of the car with a force that made his knuckles white. He was jolted however, with the feeling of a hand on his arm and his head turned slightly to see Y/N looking at him. She didn’t say anything, and no sooner had he registered her touch she moved her hand dropping it back into her lap, eyes focussed downwards as his turned back to the road. He swallowed, that familiar and uncomfortable feeling of remorse once more washing over him. Despite everything he had done to her, she was still voluntarily lending him comfort.

Ten minutes later, he swung up the tree-lined driveway, his heart pounding in his chest. His jaw set hard as the mansion came into view, and low and behold his mother, standing on the front steps, a cigarette between her fingers as she exasperatedly texted on her phone. A meek voice came from the seat beside him, "its going to be okay." But he couldn't decipher if she were talking to him or herself. He cut the engine, his hands still on the wheel as he sighed and hung his head, before he turned to her. “I don’t need to warn you about trying anything do I?” He asked, ignoring her effort to placate him. "No," she replied quietly. “Good.” He reached out and gently gripped her chin between his thumb and finger, pressing as soft kiss to her lips, the action as much for him as it was for the benefit of his mother who was watching the pair of them. “Come on, let’s get this over with.” He gracefully unfolded himself from the driver’s side, shutting the door behind him and strode to the front of his car, waiting for Y/N to catch up. Her face was set, an expression he’d seen countless times before when she’d been fearful and acting under duress. He watched as she took a deep breath and drew back her shoulders whilst he reached for her hand. Obediently, she took it and together they strode towards the large wooden door, his mother watching them as they approached "You're late," Linda scoffed.

He paid her no mind and pulled Y/N along his side. “I’m sure Nanna won’t mind too much, you know, on account of her being dead.” He retorted sardonically.

You stood by his side, your eyes watching Linda and she turned her attention to you, her eyes narrowing a little, a strange expression on her features, almost as if she was sussing you out. But, as her eyes flicked to your injured cheek before they darted to Ransom who still had a possessive grip around your hand you realised with horror it wasn’t you she was suspicious of. It was the bruise on your face, more so how it had gotten there.

You cleared your throat. “Funny thing,” you gestured to it and her eyes snapped to yours, “too much Scotch and I tripped. Face first into the corner of my vanity."

Okay, so it wasn’t a complete lie…but you still felt sick to your stomach at how quickly you’d jumped to his defence.

“Sure.” Linda arched an eyebrow.

“What exactly are you getting at, Mother?” Ransom looked at her, his jaw set and Linda rolled her eyes, taking a drag of her cigarette.

“Nothing really, I just find it extremely odd that you get an interview with this girl to clear your name and she ends up in your bed, only after she’s done a complete hatchet job on all of us first.” She dropped her cigarette end to the floor before she looked at him shrewdly.

“For which she published an apology.” Ransom’s voice was flat and carried an undertone of annoyance to which Linda paid no attention.

“Because you’re really the type to forgive and forget so easily.” She scoffed as Ransom gave a dramatic sigh as his mother continued, her head now turning to you. “You know, I could hardly believe it when Blanc told us you were with him, and then I saw you with my own eyes and now here you are again…“

“What do you mean, when Blanc told you?” Ransom frowned as his hand contracted almost painfully around yours, a warning no doubt to remain silent. His mother had hit the nail on the head, proving that she knew her son a lot better than you, and no doubt he, had bothered to give her credit for.

“Her disappearance was all over the news, more so because they’d linked it to that god-awful cretin of an actor, Lucas Lee.” She turned back to look at him. “But, no sooner had they done that he was cleared thanks to a cast-iron alibi and low and behold, a few weeks later Blanc turns up.” Linda raised her brows, her gaze fixed on Ransom. “I told him where to find you-“

“Gee, thanks.” Ransom drawled and she glared at him, before he rolled his eyes and gestured with his hand for her to continue.

“And obviously he did as he came back a day or so later, saying that to his surprise you-“ her eyes flicked to yours then and you swallowed “-were seemingly there, of your own accord.”

“I erm,” you fumbled on your words and felt Ransom let go of your hand, his palm warm as it now rested between your shoulder blades. Taking a deep breath, you steeled yourself for another lie, one that this time you’d spun before and you shrugged, licking your lips. “I'll tell you the same thing I told him. I came to realize that despite my scathing feature, Ransom intrigued me. I wanted to get to know him more. One thing led to another and I figured if we kept our relationship quiet for a while, I'd save myself the spit on my face from my family and people like you.”

“People like me?” Linda arched a brow, her lips quirking up at one side. “

“I didn’t mean…” You shook your head, quickly taking a deep breath. “Sorry, that was rude.”

“A tad, but I’ve had worse.” Linda’s eyes twinkled with something that looked like amusement as she reached into her pocket for her packet of cigarettes. “But, what I don’t understand is, why let your family believe you were missing, dead even?”

“I, well, I was under a lot of pressure at work, and everything just got too much and needed to escape, from everything. Ransom told me to stay with him for a while to get some head space and I didn’t mean to cause anyone any hurt or upset and-“

You stopped dead as you felt Ransom curl his hand round the back of your neck, giving a squeeze in warning. You were rambling.

“You don’t have to explain yourself, Sweetheart,” his voice was softly spoken as he pressed a kiss to your temple. “it’s none of her business.”

Linda looked at you for a moment, before she turned to her son and shrugged, popping another cigarette into her mouth. “I’ve long since given up trying to understand anything you did.”

“Well, like the judge said,” Ransom moved, his hand now on the base of your spine as he turned and guided you to the large door of the house, “not of sound mind.”

In the spacious drawing room, the rest of the family was gathered around. There were no others at the wake, Wanetta having outlived everyone she knew. You knew Ransom would offer no introductions, but that wasn’t an issue, you knew everyone anyway from your extensive research into this fucked up family. The fire burned in the background, and Ransom’s father, Richard, lounged in an arm-chair, a young woman who you presumed to be the au-pair Ransom talked about with disdain, perched on his lap. Walt was perched in another arm-chair, his wife Donna stood behind him, clutching a half drunk glass of wine, their son Jacob absent from the room. Marta and Meg were perched on the couch with Joni flitting about, a crunch from a carrot stick heard from across the room. You walked in and immediately felt the daggers in your skin as all eyes turned towards you. The knives were out and you swallowed, adjusting your sleeve, feeling Ransom's presence behind you.

“Here…” you felt Ransom’s hands gently pulling on the shoulders of your coat and he slipped it from your body, gently pressing another kiss to your cheek. You turned to look at him, offering him a small smile before he moved to hang the coat up on the stand at the far side of the room.

“Y/N, right?” Marta was the first one to speak as she stood up, and you nodded, not bothering to ask how she knew your name. It was a given she’d have read the article, and it was also a given thanks to the conversation moment’s ago with Linda, that the rest of the family had also been briefed on the fact you were ‘with’ Ransom. What clearly hadn’t’ been anticipated from the not-so-covert surprised glances that were being shared, was that he would have brought you today. “Can I get you a drink?” She continued and you smiled.

“Please, erm, a wine would be great.”

“Red or white?”

“She prefers white.” Ransom spoke and Marta’s eyes darted to his. You instantly felt his entire body language stiffen and you turned to him, the distaste evident on his face, his entire aura radiating utter disdain and bitterness.

Marta simply took a deep breath, her expression flat, but her eyes fierce as they remained in a silent stand-off.

“Can’t she speak for herself?” Meg scoffed and Ransom pulled his eyes away from Marta, turning his glare to his cousin.

“Is explaining what a lady prefers to drink considered sexist as well now or…”

“He’s right,” You jumped in quickly, smiling at Marta. “White is great, thanks.”

Marta nodded.

“Hugh?” She looked at Ransom and you blinked at the use of that name and then realised, of course, she’d once upon a time been the help. That said, you knew she was saying it simply because she wanted to, not that her status required it and there was an amused look on Ransom’s face as he turned to her.

“Beer.”

You rolled your eyes to yourself at his lack of manners, but from the expression on Marta’s face she’d been expecting it, and to be honest, you weren’t sure why you hadn’t been. Her lips curled into a sarcastic grin as she turned and headed out.

“You should try it, Donna. It’s got camomile and lavender in. I swear by it.” Your ears then picking up on a conversation between Walt, Donna and Joni and you turned your head towards them, Ransom’s arm curled round your waist, hand resting heavy on your hip. Joni bit down on the carrot stick she was holding with a flourish of her hands. “It’s my favourite thing FLAM have done.”

"You know, I'm surprised you didn't go under given you're no longer receiving Dad's money.” Walt interjected and Joni rolled her eyes.

“Shows how much attention you pay, Walt. When I released that new line of bath-bombs and candles, sales, like literally, went through the roof.”

“Bath-bombs?” Walt frowned.

“Yeah, they’re like little cakes if you will of dried soap and fragranced that you drop into a-“

“I know what they are.” Walt rolled his eyes as Marta appeared, handing you your drink which you took with a thanks. “I was commenting on the fact you said you’d launched a new line.”

“Oh, yeah.” Joni munched her carrot stick some more. “I got the idea from Gwyneth Paltrow when she released that candle scented like her vagina.” At that you choked on your drink and hastily avoided looking at anyone in the room as various groans and loud protests from the males hit your ears.

At that point Linda walked back into the room and sat down in a chair not far from where you were sat and she smoothed down her trousers before she peered up at Ransom.

“How’s the book coming along?” She asked, peering from over the top of her wine glass as she sipped from it.

“Fine.” Ransoms shrugged. “Few little blocks here and there but I’ll work through them. Granddad always told me sometimes it pays to take a step back and pause, ideas often come when you’re not expecting them.”

Linda smiled, and you were pleased to see that, for once, it appeared genuine, as if she was actually looking at her son with something more than ambivalence. And then, the moment was ruined as Meg burst out laughing.

“You’re writing a book? What’s it called? ‘Ransom’s Guide To Being An Asshole’?” She snorted and Ransom took a deep breath.

“Eat shit.”

“Original.” Meg replied drily rolling her eyes, “you know, I'm jealous of all the people that haven't met you.” She stated as her eyes turned to you. “Seriously, what the fuck do you see in him? Why on earth anyone would ever want to be in the same room with him, let alone share his bed is completely beyond me.”

“Tell me, Meg, when was the last time you got laid?” Ransom turned to her, a smirk on his face. “And your dildo doesn’t count.” “Fuck you, you fucking prick.” Meg seethed before she turned to look at you, her face angry. “You know, it must be serious if he’s bringing you here; he normally just keeps his fuck buddies on speed dial.”

“And throws the money on the mattress.” Walt mumbled.

At that, Ransom tensed and he turned his face towards his Uncle, his nostrils flaring. But before he had time to answer back, Richard let out a derisive snort and Ransom instead turned his head to his father.

“You’d know all about that, wouldn’t you?” Ransom shot back, “Tell me, how much do you pay the barely legal whore sat on your lap?”

“You little shit.” Richard spat as the poor woman in question shifted uncomfortably, her mouth falling open as the insult Ransom had shot at her registered.

You stood stock still, a warm and uncomfortable feeling washing over you as the family continued to bicker. You could feel a headache coming; this was becoming too much for you to cope with.

“Oh for God’s sake.” Linda groaned, almost lazily from her spot on the chair. “Is it too much to ask that one of our family deaths goes by without starting another feud?”

"Oh that's rich, coming from you!” Richard, turned to her. Linda met her ex-husband’s glare with a completely blank expression on her face, before she scoffed.

“Why are you wearing those ridiculous glasses?” She demanded, referring to the spectacles that adorned Richard’s face, the style being something you would attribute to Harry Potter.

“So I can see.”

“You never needed glasses in the entire thirty-four years we were married.” She scoffed.

“I did.” Richard shrugged, a snarky grin curling at one side of his mouth and you instantly recognised that expression as being one Ransom sported a lot. “Just preferred it when I couldn’t see your face.”

Linda’s mouth dropped open and you felt yourself bristle as you took a breath.

“Are you actually gonna let your dad say that to your mom?” You glanced up at Ransom. His head turned slowly towards you and the expression of anger on his face at being called out made your blood run cold. You recoiled a little and your eyes immediately darted to the floor.

“Sorry.” You whispered.

"This is fun," Jacob snickered as he, from out of nowhere, waltzed into the room and took a seat in the corner of the bay window, never once looking up from his phone. “Ransom once more manages to spark an argument.”

“Y/N meet Jacob, the poster child for the pro-choice movement.” Ransom gestured to the teenager in front of you who merely rolled his eyes as both Walt and Donna began to yell and hurl insults back at Ransom.

“Says the guy whose birth certificate is an apology letter from the condom factory.” The teen mumbled back.

“Ooh, good one, which one of your alt-right, KKK loving buddies did you learn that from?” Ransom quipped, and in a quick change of decorum, the room erupted with slander and jabs being shouted and tossed about, most of the commotion being pointed at Ransom.

It was a cacophony of noise and sound, which infiltrated your head, making your brain buzz and crackle like the wick of a dynamite stick and it was too much. After months of quiet with no one to listen or talk to bar Ransom, it was overwhelming and you felt sick.

“If you’ll excuse me, I need some air.” You mumbled, seizing the chance, as he was distracted.

You made your way into the hallway where you stood, your back leaning against the dark wooden panelling, taking huge gasps of air. Your chest hurt, your head was spinning and your legs burned but those deep breaths didn’t help. Your hand slapped against your chest, hoping to ebb the sting. Soon, lightheaded, and with a slight spin to the space around you, you felt a cool hand on your shoulder through your blouse. Your head turned and you saw a sweet pair of eyes looking at you with worry.

“Let’s get you some real air, come on,” it was Marta, coming to your aide.

She took you outside, to a covered patio, with wicker furniture and heating lamps. The rush of cold air hit your flushed skin and a different sting erupted through your lungs as the bite of winter’s breath filled you.

“Here.” The young woman handed you a tartan blanket, which you took with a grateful look, still not quite able to form any words. She helped you sit down on one of the chairs and made sure the blanket was snug around your shoulders as she took a seat opposite you.

“They’re a little overwhelming, but you get used to it,” she rubbed a small hand up and down your back.

You just looked at her, your eyes watering as you came down from your panic. You had no desire to get used to it, to any of it, but as per anything in this fucked up situation, you were no doubt going to have to, like it or not.

The breaths you took became longer, deeper, the peak of panic now steadying out leaving you feeling shaky and exposed.

“I’m sorry, that was…”

“You don’t have to apologise. With what’s happening inside, this is normal.” Marta softly smiled with a chuckle. “I’d be worried if they weren’t screaming at each other.”

“Can I ask you something?” You looked at her, speaking softly.

“Of course.” She replied, just as hushed.

“Why did you do it? Have everyone over? You don’t owe them anything.”

The former nurse rubbed her palms on her pants, “well, it’s what Wanetta wanted. She sorta came with the house and it was her last wish, for the family to come together. I think she thought after everything that happened something might have changed?” Marta shook her head at the audacity of the sound of it. “She didn’t say much more, but Allan had given me her will and that’s all it read. Things would remain the same but she wanted them here after she was cremated, for a final goodbye.”

“I admire her optimism.” You stated flatly and Marta laughed before she gave a heavy sigh, a sad smile on her face.

“Well, she loved them, not that any of them cared, not in years. The only one I ever noticed take mind of her out of want and not duty was Ransom.” She kept her eyes on yours as she spoke, genuine care coming from the sound of her. “But that was before…when he…with Harlan.”

You glanced away, not totally surprised but still a little shocked so to speak that someone else had noticed there was a little shred of humanity buried underneath all his asshole bravado. You leaned forward on your thighs, elbows resting there as your hands wrung together, a nervous habit you’d recently developed.

“Can I ask YOU something?” Marta wondered. You nodded, your stomach knotting, hoping I wasn’t what you suddenly thought it could be. “You’ve spent time with Ransom. I read your article and your apology. Do you believe all of this? The not of sound mind?” Her eyes were sorrowful but held a glare of contempt at the circumstance.

“Uh…” you started but the opening of the patio door caught both of your attentions and the man in question stepped outside, your coat in his hands.

“I was worried,” he stated, opening your coat for you as you automatically stood to receive the gesture. You had no doubt his worry was genuine, but whether it was for you or what you may or may not have revealed was another question.

“I needed some air,” you admitted, “Marta came to my rescue.”

“One man alone can be pretty dumb sometimes, but for real bona fide stupidity there ain't nothing can beat teamwork.” Ransom quipped in reference to the chaos of the family being together, chaos he narcissistically enjoyed partaking in.

You looked up at those daring blue eyes, “Mark Twain.”

He quirked a brow in agreement before his eyes flicked to Marta and then back to you. “Was I interrupting something, Sweetheart?”

There it was, that warning tone in his voice. You were on thin ice. You stuffed your hands into your peacoat pocket and shook your head.

“No.” You cleared your throat as you held his gaze. “Like I said, I just needed some air.”

As he stood there, his eyes searching hers he took a deep breath as she gazed back up at him, fear simmering within those deep globes. Ransom reached out, pulling her to him, dropping a kiss to the top of her head. “As long as that’s all it was.”

Recognising his comment for what it was, half concern and half warning, she nodded against his chest. Without so much as another glance at Marta, he turned, his arm looped possessively over her shoulders as he led her back inside. He walked slowly down the hallway, stooping slightly to speak into her ear. “From now on, you don’t leave my sight, you got that?”

“Yeah, okay.” She whispered and nodded.

“Good girl,” he smiled, tipping her face up with on finger under her chin, planting a soft kiss on her lips.

*****

The next hour or so passed reasonably uneventfully. Ransom was careful to keep as much distance between him, Y/N and the rest of the assholes in the room as possible. When the buffet was served, he watched as she picked at the plate of food she had selected, not eating a terrible amount. She’d gone in on herself again, and he found himself a little disappointed if truth be told.

“We’ll leave soon.” He turned to her and she looked at him, “you’ve behaved today, I’m impressed.”

At that she rolled her eyes. “Is going back to that fucking house supposed to be a reward or something?”

At that Ransom felt a surge of anger and he glared at her, the nerve in his jaw twitching. “Don’t push me, sweetheart.” His voice was low, and a growl but to his surprise, instead of recoiling at his outward hostility and warning she simply sat up straight, her shoulders squaring and met him with a filthy look of her own.

“Fuck you.” She spat.

“Oh we already played that game.” His lip curled back in a snarl. “Several times.”

“Trouble in paradise?” Walt leaned forward a little to pick up something off one of the plates on the table by Ransom and he took a breath, his eyes still trained on Y/N before he turned to his uncle.

“Are you not dead yet?”

“Do you have to talk to everyone like that?” Joni sighed. “God, Ransom.”

“Well I thought the guys who bust his leg might have caught up with him by now, no such luck.” Ransom shrugged.

“Listen here you little shit,” Walt leaned over the table, but no sooner had he done that he suddenly began coughing on whatever food he had in his mouth.

“I’m listening.” Ransom quipped as Walt continued to splutter, Donna hastily hitting him on the back.

Jacob, who wasn’t even looking at the table, too engrossed in his phone, then spoke. “What did you eat, Dad? Wasn’t anything he gave you was it? I mean he did kill Grandpa so I wouldn’t put it past him to poison you either.”

A deadly silence spread across the room as Ransom took a deep breath, his eyes fixed on his cousin, his hand clenching into fists. Besides him, Y/N let out a shaky breath and her head turned to look at him but he didn’t meet her eyes. Instead he leaned back in his chair and when he spoke next, his voice was icy.

“Not of sound mind.”

“Yeah, we heard. Loaf of bullshit if you ask me, but then again an expensive lawyer can get you off most things these days.” Walt snarled.

“Enough!” Linda yelled, her hand smacking on the table. “Jesus fucking Christ.”

Besides him, Y/N had begun to tremble, and Ransom glanced at her to see she was taking deep breaths, her chest heaving, face stony as she stared at the wall opposite, where a picture of his Nanna Wanetta was hung.

“Oh shut up Linda!” Walt turned to her. “Everyone here knows he’s guilty as sin, even you! Why the fuck he’s even here is beyond me. And as for you...” He turned to Y/N and she gave a start, her eyes flicking to him. “You might as well quit while you’re ahead as there ain’t no gold to be digging for. She got it all.” He pointed his fork at Marta and then that was it. Y/N let out a hell of frustration, standing up that quickly her chair tumbled to the ground behind her, the plate clattering to the floor by her feet.

“You think I’m with him for his money?” He glared at Walt, the entire room silent as all eyes focussed on her. “Jesus Christ, you have no idea. I’m with him because I have-“

At that Ransom’s hand shot out and curled round her wrist, his grip tight in warning and she jerked away from him, glaring down at him with a fire in her eyes he hadn’t seen in a long time.

“The whole lot of you are fucked in the head.” She tapped her temple with her forefinger. “I’ve never seen anything like this in my entire life. You’re nothing but a bunch of self-entitled, narcissistic assholes. After everything you've been through, you can’t even find it in your cold dead hearts to come together honour a member of your family that died without reducing the entire event to some kind of sick, twisted game of one-upmanship. Each and every one of you are all about yourselves, and what you can do to out accomplish the other. As far as I’m concerned each one of you can fuck off and die. You disgust me."

She took a deep breath, running her hands over her face before she turned on her heel and stormed from the room.

Ransom blinked, watched her leave, a slam of the door behind her. He stood there for a brief moment, processing what had just happened. He looked back to his family with a smug shrug and at that he headed quickly after Y/N, his mother's obnoxious and loudly over dramatic gasp bouncing off his back as he too slammed the front door.

****

It was your turn to stand there and act like a petulant child as you leaned against the hood of the Beemer, cares and all fucks be damned. You were tired, you were angry and God damn down right fed up with this entire family and their bullshit. You didn't even make eye contact with him as Ransom as he approached the car. You simply moved to your door, slipped in as he did and waited for him to start the car. You felt his eyes in him, heard him open his mouth to say something but rather he just took in a breath and started the engine. You sat there, your arms crossed over your chest, knees at an angle, pointed towards your door, away from him.

A rumble of a chuckle escaped his chest, "Oh Sweetheart, that was really something."

"Just drive," you spat out, turning your head to him in annoyance. Now he didn't find you amusing, this new air of confidence about you. He cleared his throat and looked at you with a stern gaze.

"Careful, Y/N," he warned, pulling around the drive to the long road before the main. You didn't care. You raised your brows as if you were silently emphasizing your demand, it was not a request, even in the slightest.

The bare trees and snow covered ground began flying by your window, clearly Ransom laying the pedal to the floor as you shook your head.

"What the hell was even the point of going today? It was blatantly obvious that they didn’t want you there, and you didn’t want to be there. If you wanted to mourn Wanetta, we could have done it from the confines of the prison you like to keep me in. Or was this just another shitty way for you to torture me? Huh? Was that amusing to you, Hugh, making me spend an afternoon with your fucked up family, whom you hate, when you’re keeping me from mine? God, you really are a twisted son of a bitch.”

Your tirade set his skin on fire, you could see the tinge of red flushing his skin as he white knuckled the wheel, his hand on the gear shift squeezing the hell out of it as you spoke. Then very quickly you felt your body lurch forward as he slammed on the breaks. "What the fuck did you just say?"

“What, are you deaf?” You blazed. “I asked why we were there? I mean I thought we were going to pay respects to your Great-Nanna, because stupid me actually believed that you felt something, you know, some kind of sorrow that she was gone, and I actually felt sorry for you at first when we got in there, and they were unloading all their vile little opinions and digging in at you and-“

"Now you listen to me you little bitch," he spat, cutting you off. "I didn’t ask for, nor do I need your pity. I don’t care what my family say to me, or think about me. And I certainly don’t care what they think or say about you”

“Oh my god, you are…” You shook your head, looking out of the window, taking a deep breath. “This isn’t pity, Ransom.”

“No, because that’s what it sounds like.” He seethed, his hands curling round the steering wheel.

“Of course it does.” You scoffed. “Because that’s probably all you’ve ever felt towards anyone else isn’t it? Pity, because they’re never going to be as good as you, or have the things you have. Well you might be rich in money terms but fuck, in everything else you’re a pauper. Have you ever truly empathised with someone? Like have even once fully understood what someone else feels? Their sorrow, their happiness, their joy?”

“What the fuck are you getting at?”

You sighed, considering your options. You knew what you wanted to tell him-that the fact he wasn’t loved as a child left him incapable of the simple emotions normal people met, but he was calling you out. And now, it was play it soft or rip it off like a band-aid…

And despite the feeling of foreboding washing over you, you chose the latter. You were tired of playing his mind games, tired of this whole situation. And whatever fucked up punishment he was going to inflict on you, well, it couldn’t be worse than anything he’d already done, you’d take it.

“You don't know how to be happy, or how to love Ransom, because you've never seen it. You've never experienced it. You just breeze through life thinking you can take what you want when you want, and it doesn't work like that.”

“You’re starting to really piss me off. If I wanted a therapy session, I’d pay for one.” He snarled, “Shut the fuck up.”

“See, this is what I mean!” You sighed, pinching the bridge of your nose. “You just asked me to elaborate, so I did, and know because I’m saying something that you don’t like or don’t wanna hear, you’re resorting to being an asshole. Every time I think I’m getting through to you, I…” You fell silent, swallowing as he glared at you, nostrils flaring and you took a deep sigh, knowing that this was pointless. “You know what, forget it. I shouldn’t-“

“No, you clearly got something to say, so go on. Say it.”

“What, so you can punish me when we get back for pissing you off some more?”

At that his face faltered and he took a deep breath, hanging his head. When he raised it again to look at you, his face was softer and he looked out of the windscreen, licking his lips. “I’m not…gonna punish you, okay.”

“How do I know?” You whispered, shaking your head. “How can I trust that you’re not just gonna lock me back in that damned basement and come down when you want to fuck me and-“ “Because I’m not!” His voice rose. “I don’t want you down there anymore. So I’ll ask again, you think you know so much about how to love,” he framed the word with his fingers, "then tell me what you think it means.”

“Fine, you wanna know…I’ll tell you. It's going on dates, it’s fun, its surprising, it’s feeling like you can’t breathe if the person you are in love with leaves you. It’s not about owning them or breaking them or how much you buy a person or throwing money at them, it’s showing them you know how they are, that you understand what they appreciate and what they need and what they want, a lot of times without being told.” You took a deep breath, watching his face, his expression never faltering. “Love is something that can't always be explained. It's that feeling of family, of having your person. Someone your heart and soul changes for, grows with. Love is a mother's hug or kiss goodnight, a father's ball landing in your mitt with a joyful laugh and smile. Love isn't forced or taken. It's given and received. It's...."

"Fresh hot cocoa on a rainy day when you have nothing left in a world that hates you,” he spoke softly, and when you realized what he'd said it stopped your thoughts cold. Did that mean what you thought it meant? That he loved you?

You were lost for words, but before you could protest and tell him he was wrong, he sighed and looked at you.

“You asked me before why I brought you today. That’s why. Because they hate me. And you make me feel fucking safe around those pieces of shit.” Your breath caught in your throat whilst your mind raced for how to respond. The tension and suspense filled the air about the two of you. You stared at him, his eyes soft, expectant, darting over your features with a bouncing worry. The reaction time between his words and your next move was merely a minute but you had quickly found a way to capitalize on this moment. You threw your belt off and kicked your heels off in the process, moving over the gear shift and the centre console into his lap, the center seam of your skirt tearing as you straddled him. "Wha...." his words were cut off by your lips on his, your palms over his softly shaven face, fingertips sliding into the hair behind his ears. Immediately, your tongue slipped deep inside his mouth, lolling around with his. His hands found your waist and gave you a squeeze. You came to your knees as best you could in the small space and continued to kiss him while trying to inch your skirt higher. He'd guessed what you were trying to do and you felt his hands move from your waist to the tops of your thighs, fingers trailing down quickly to the hem of your skirt, lifting it to above the curve of your ass where it bunched. He didn’t ask or question your sudden burst of confidence or seeming desire, just as you’d banked on, instead he was quite happy to go with it, as usual always ready to fuck you any which way he could. Your hands trailed over the soft material of his sweater and down to the end of it, where it met the top of his slacks. You lifted the clothing slightly to ghost over his skin causing him to flinch before your finger tips found the button and zip of his flies. That maddeningly smug smirk spread across his face and your lips crashed back to his, a furious clash of teeth and tongue, your hands still fumbling with his pants. He was half hard before you even got him free, no doubt from the heated exchange the two of you had to get to here. As you palmed his girth in your hand, your brain switched from playing him to wanton need, a basic primal instinct of desperation to release the toxic stress your body held. His big hand and thick fingers trailed over your hip, your ass, down your thigh and finally cupped your heat and a deep ferrral growl emitted from his chest as he'd realized you'd worn nothing under that skirt. He dipped two fingers inside you straight away and you cried out, "fuck" as your body bent back away from him, keening at the feeling. “Fuck, baby, you’ve had nothing on under here all day?” His fingers curled inside of you and you groaned, your head rolling back as your hips pushed forward, thrusting against his hand. You couldn't use your words, you looked down at him with your pupils blown and your bottom lip between your teeth. You gave him a squeeze instead and he quickly lurched you into the steering wheel with his chest, his fingers falling away and both hands tearing your blouse open, buttons flying that will never be found. His nose tucked between the valley of your breasts and he inhaled between your fleshy mounds, his tongue dipping against the underside of your thin bra. His hands each palming an ass cheek and squeezing so hard, it delightfully stung. With what little space the two of you had to move, Ransom pulled you down into his lap, the need to feel you wrapped around him dangerously feral. It took no time for that single motion to get his head then every inch of his shaft deep inside you. "Fuck, you feel so fucking good," he ground out. He didn't care the mess she would make or the way he'd cum so hard he'd leak out of her, no, he wanted to fuck her senseless and that's exactly what he'd do. His heels cemented themselves into the footwell of the car as his hips jutted upward, her body curling in on him. “Harder, please Ransom.” Her voice croaked as she begged him and with a growl that was animalistic his hips picked up their pace as he rutted up into her quickly and harshly. His mouth devoured the tops of her breasts, nipping at her nipples through the material of the lace that covered them while her fingers scratched at the back of his neck, tugging at his hair. In contrast to the cold winter conditions outside, the air inside his beloved car was now hot, fast steaming up the windows, drops of condensation trickling down towards the door sill a perfect mirror image of the sweat that was now sliding down the hollow of her throat and beading on his brow. He could feel her walls begin to squeeze him tighter and tighter with each thrust. His hands curled round her hips, pulling her down onto him as he leaned back, raising his ass off the seat slightly, spearing up into her as deep as he could. "Ransom," you started to shake senselessly, you were crashing fast and hard and there was no slowing down. "Fuck, baby, just like that," you'd heard him say over the blood that rushed to your ears, deafening you, as you came, gripping him like a vice. Your body gave way as your hands sought purchase to ground yourself from entirely collapsing, finding the lapel of his camel coat, white knuckling it with one hand while the other slapped against the damp window which felt like melting ice against your heated palm. A noise burst from your mouth, a half scream, half choked wail, a sound you weren’t sure you’d ever made before and you opened your eyes to see Ransom’s icy blue’s locked onto yours, his bottom lip clamped between his teeth. His voracious pace continued until the end when he came with a primal growl, his hips raising off the seat far enough to jolt your head against the roof of the car. You felt him fill you, the warmth of his seed settling deep inside, and then some. The air was heavy with the sound of panting as the pair of you came down from the intensity of the moment, The both of you desperately trying to breathe despite the humidity. Your hands curled over Ransom's shoulders as he sagged back in the seat, his hands smoothing up the outside of your thighs. You swallowed hard as his eyes focused on yours. You leaned forward and kissed him slowly, softly, his mouth and body languidly responding. Pulling back slightly, you kept your forehead pressed to his, and took a deep breath before you went straight in for the kill, the reason you’d instigated this entire fuck, to capitalise once more on a seeming chink in his armour. "You said you feel safe with me." He stilled underneath you, his hands gentle as they now rest on your hips and his eyes locked onto yours, widening as he realised his admission. "Do you want me to feel safe with you? To trust you?" You continued, not giving him a moment to deny it. He nodded slowly in reply. "Prove it," you stated. "How?" His voice was croaky as he cleared his throat, a slight frown furrowed his brow. "I want to see my family again." He looked at you, and you kept your eyes locked on his, a challenge to him to make good on his word, gambling on him actually wanting you to trust him as he had taken great pains to demonstrate through various means over the past few weeks. This was it, the moment where you would find out exactly what he truly wanted- someone to love and trust him, or someone to fear and obey him. He let out a slow breath through his nose and his eyes flicked over your shoulder before they returned to yours and he gave you an almost imperceptible nod. But a nod nonetheless. “Okay.”

**** Part 7

#murder he wrote #dark ransom drysdale #dark ransom drysdale x reader #dark ransom x reader #dark ransom drysdale x you #ransom drysdale #ransom drysdale x reader #ransom drysdale x you #ransom drysdale fic #knives out #chris evans #chris evans characters #reader insert #dark fic

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staticscreenwriting · 3 years

Text

Love like the movies // Bucky Barnes

One - When Harry met Sally

Synopsis: This is a story of boy meets girl. The boy, Bucky Barnes, finds himself thrown into a world that seems so different from everything he’s ever known. Growing up, Bucky had not a doubt in his mind that his undeniable charm and his gorgeous smile would one day help him find the one. Now he realizes there’s so much more to romancing women, especially those from the 21st century. The girl, (Y/N) knows entirely too much about rom-coms and is quite particular about the way she eats her popcorn. Bucky meets (Y/N) a few months after returning to NYC. He knows almost immediately that becoming her friend is inevitable. This is a story of boy meets girl. This is not a love story. This is a story about love. (Bucky Barnes x female!Reader // a few spoilers for EP1 of TFATWS)

[additional note: I am German. Sometimes I get the tense wrong or make mistakes. I am useless when it comes to punctuation. Go easy on me, please.]

“ Now in the movies they make it look so perfect And in the background they're always playing the right song And in the ending there's always a resolution But real life is more than just two hours long “

Some Avett Brothers song sounds from the little radio that sits on the corner of the counter. Thick drops of rain pearl against the window, racing each other down the glass before meeting up eventually and becoming one with each other.

(Y/N) refills the last of the mustard bottles, setting it on the counter next to the others. It’s a quiet night at the diner. The kitchen’s been closed for an hour now and usually, that’s when people stop coming in. While the Little Blue Diner is known for their hot dogs and burgers, neither their coffee nor their cold sandwiches are gonna win any prizes any time soon.

And yet …

Sure enough, as her eyes lift towards the figure slouched down in the corner booth, his gloved hand is already outstretched, signaling his desire for yet another refill.

A mixture between a chuckle and a scoff tumbles from her lips at the thought of him wanting more of the slightly burned liquid. If there’s one thing (Y/N) can admit to being bad at, it’s brewing coffee. Where there should be a rich brown color, hers usually ends up with an inky black hue and instead of leaving a hint of warm caramelization on your tongue hers just tastes bitter. It doesn’t seem to face the man in the corner though. Not even a little bit. To say this worries her is a bit of an understatement. No one in their right mind would take 7 refills of her witch's brew.

“ You okay, my dude ? “ (Y/N) inquires as she steps up to his table, coffee pot in hand.

The man doesn’t look up at her. He doesn’t have to. She’s acutely aware of the character currently occupying the corner booth. It’s a face she knows like the back of her hand. One that’s been staring at her from books and documentaries, one she’s been greeted by every time her dad took her with him to the Smithsonian. Though they do not dare look up at her, she’s so awfully familiar with the bright blue shade of his eyes, he might as well be a long-time friend.

“ I’m fine. “

Of all the lies in the world, “I’m fine” must be the most unbelievable one and yet the one told most often. No one who’s actually fine ever says those words. Those two words are reserved for the lonely and broken only. It’s like getting “I’m not fine at all” tattooed across your goddamn forehead.

“ Sure you are, that’s why you’re having the 7th refill of my god awful coffee. “

“ ‘s not that bad. “

“ Sure, if you’re into licking charcoal it’s probably not that bad. “

It’s just a split of a second, a fraction of a moment, but (Y/N) is sure she can see the corner of his lips lifting slightly. It falls back into the stoic scowl immediately but it was there. For a teeny tiny moment, there was the shadow of a smirk on his face and that’s a success in her book.

“ Either way, here’s how we’re gonna do this. I’ll give you one last refill, after that, I’m cutting you off, my friend. I know I’m a waitress and it’s my job to bring you what you want but I do not fancy watching you suffer a caffeine-induced heart attack in this very diner. I am not equipped to handle a situation like that and quite honestly they don’t pay me enough to deal with that either. “

His eyes are still trained on the scratched-up white linoleum table but ever so faintly he nods his head in silent agreement.

As promised, she pours him one last cup of coffee. A brew so dark it could rival the bubbling goo of a tar pit.

“ Enjoy your last cup of the night, Mr. Barnes. “

It’s then, as she’s just about to walk back behind the counter, as those words leave her lips, that he looks up for the first time since he’s walked in.

His eyes are the exact shade of blue she’s so familiar with but there’s something else about them. An infinite sadness haunts every spec of blue. Where she thought there would be a sparkle of adventure, a hint of mischief, there is just loneliness. This is not the man she’s read about in museums, heard about in stories. This man right here is completely and utterly lost.

“ I - I uh — “

He clears his throat, once, twice, then nervously brushes his hand across his face.

“ I can go if you don’t want me here. “

“ Huh? “

“ I asked if you want me to leave. “

As those words escape him, his eyes seem to grow even more devastated. They glimmer with memories of a time long gone and a future uncertain. Shine with hurt and fear.

“ Why would I ask you to leave? “

Bucky shrugs his shoulders in a way to make it look nonchalantly. It’s hard to seem casual though when you seem to carry the weight of the entire world on your shoulders.

“ People who recognize me usually aren’t so keen on having me around. I don’t know if you’ve heard but I’m uh — I’m not people’s favorite person. “

It’s a sad thought, (Y/N) realizes, to be constantly bound to a past that is yours but never really belongs to you. To be forever linked with the horrible actions of a version of yourself you had no control over. And no matter how hard you try to set it all right and to repent for your wrongdoings, to some people it will never be enough.

“ No, you don’t have to leave, “ (Y/N) reassures before sliding into the booth opposite him. “ I don’t know you because of — because of what happened. I know you first and foremost as Sergeant Barnes, former officer of the 107th Infantry Regiment, part of the Howling Commandos, and best friend and brother to Steve Rogers. Everything else that’s — none of my business really. “

Bucky lifts his eyes off of the table again and while the sadness is still there, something else lingers for a moment. Curiosity, intrigue maybe, or just relief.

“ Wow. Didn’t think I’d run into someone reciting my life to me. Huh. “

“ My dad used to be a curator at the Smithsonian. He was in charge of the Captain America exhibition. I’ve seen your face a million times, visiting him at work. I gotta say though, you look way more approachable and friendly on the picture they put up. “

This time, it’s more than a fleeting moment, this time she’s sure about it, this time he lets out an actual chuckle.

“ I was a lot younger then, okay? Cut an old man some slack. “

“ Oh, you pulling the old man card now? “

“ Is it working? “ he asks, eyebrows raised in question.

“ Not really. “

“ Ah, what a shame.”

Silence settles upon them again like a thick duvet filled with feathers, it’s not uncomfortable but it’s smothering anyway.

“ Do you wanna talk about it? Your sour mood, I mean.”

Bucky shrugs again “I have a therapist.”

“ Does she make you draw your feelings? “

He smiles again at that question. His smile, (Y/N) thinks, ain’t the worst thing she’s ever seen. She wouldn’t mind seeing it more often.

“ No. Why? “

“ Mine did. She stopped pretty quickly though, I guess my drawings were too detailed and gory for her.”

“ Huh. “

“ Mmmh.”

After another sip of coffee, one he takes without grimacing, without showing any sign of disgust for the burnt brew, Bucky speaks up again.

“ Mine thinks I’m lying to her. “

“ Are you ?”

“ Well yeah, but she doesn’t need to know that.”

“ Maybe telling her the truth would help you. “ (Y/N) suggests only to be met with a determined head shake No from Bucky.

The notification sound of a phone pulls them from their conversation and at the sight of the name on the display, Bucky lets an “oh shit” slip from his lips.

“ Don’t you sound excited about getting texts from your friends, “ (Y/N) jokes

“ I had a date last night. That’s her. “

“ Since she’s texting you I assume it went well. “

Bucky grimaces at her words, slightly shaking his head in disagreement.

“ No? “

“ I mean, I had fun and it went well — at first. She’s really sweet. But then we started talking and I may have run. “

“ Ran where? “

“ Away. “

“ Away as in you left. “

“ Mm-mmh”

“ Just like that? “

“ Yup. “

“ Why? “

He throws up his arms in frustration and shakes his head again as if to gather all his thoughts and rattle them neatly back into place.

“ I don’t know, okay? I haven’t been on a date since the 1940s. Everything I know about women and dating and romance seems antiquated. I’m overwhelmed and confused and I just don’t wanna do anything wrong.”

“ Dude, you ran from your date without any explanation. How much worse could you have handled it? “

“ Yeah well, hindsight is 20/20. “

While his words try to sound light and nonchalant, his shoulders tense and his whole demeanor seems to shift back into the gloomy state he’s been in since he entered the diner. Like a big cloud that’s following him around, casting shadows at all times and hardly allowing any light to shine through.

“ Look, I don’t think any of us know what the heck we’re doing half the time. Like, trust me I know what I’m talking about. Online dating means I have to choose between men who think posing with a dead fish will make me want to sleep with them, men who think knowing obscure Star Wars facts can replace having an actual personality, and men who send me pictures of their … privates without me ever giving any indication of wanting to see those. So yeah — dating can really s - be frustrating. “

Bucky regards her for a second, the right corner of his lips pulled into a lazy lopsided smirk.

“ Did you just censor yourself because you don’t wanna swear around me ?”

“ Maybe, but that’s beside the point. The point is, we’re all just human and in the end, we’re all just looking for someone to like us the way we are, all quirks and issues and baggage included. I know women might seem intimidating but really all we want is to be loved and appreciated. And not the over-the-top build-you-a-house, the notebook kind of love. More like the Harry and Sally kind.“

(Y/N) can almost see the gears working inside Bucky’s brain, the desperate attempt to make any sense of all the words and phrases she’s just thrown at him. A jumbled mess of pop culture references swirls through his head like a swarm of bees, chaotic and messy.

“ I have no idea what you just said. “

“ When Harry met Sally? “

Bucky just shrugs and shakes his head.

“ You’ve never seen it? “

“ I’ve been a bit preoccupied with being blipped away into oblivion for the last 5 years. So I haven’t really had the time to get into movies yet. “

This time it’s the gears in her own head that start turning.

“ What are you doing Friday night ? “ she asks, biting her lip in nervous anticipation.

“ I — I don’t know. “

That’s a bit of a lie, really. He does know. It’s the same thing he does pretty much every other day. He gets some takeout, brings it home, sits down in front of the tv, tries to get lost in whatever show they put on, fails at doing so, reads a few pages of a book, lays down to sleep, and then wakes up a little while later to yet another nightmare, tangled up in sweaty sheets, heart racing.

(Y/N) doesn’t need to know any of that though. He doesn’t tell his therapist so why would he tell a random stranger.

“ Well, don’t make any plans. We’re gonna kill 2 birds with 1 stone. “

“ We are? “

“ Yeah. Trust me on this one. “

“ I don’t even know you. “

“ Sure you do. “ (Y/N) says and taps the tag pinned to her baby blue polo shirt with the diner’s logo on the back. “ I’m the one who serves you just enough coffee to keep you happy but not have you die a painful and honestly mildly embarrassing death. “

Every part of him screams at him to say no. To stay away from her the way he does from most other people, even Sam. To get up and get out and not cause any more damage than he already has in other people’s life. But then he remembers his therapist's words, he remembers Leah’s face full of confusion and disappointment, he remembers the empty feeling in his chest. That feeling of pure and utter loneliness.

“ Alright, Friday works for me, (Y/N). “

“ Perfect, Bucky. “

“ Bring a jacket. “

The address and “Bring a jacket” that’s all she’s texted him. No explanation, no plan, nothing.

Bucks leans against the streetlamp, hands stuffed deep into the pockets of his leather jacket. Anxiety is washing through his system like tidal waves on a stormy ocean. This whole being spontaneous thing was much easier back in the 40s. When his shoulders weren’t so heavy with guilt. When he didn’t have to constantly face the consequences of his actions. Consequences of a past he can never quite outrun no matter how far he goes and how hard he tries.

Maybe this is good, he has to remind himself. Getting out of his comfort zone, if that even exists for him. Opening himself up to new opportunities. Maybe even make a friend. (Y/N) seem nice enough, if a bit peculiar.

His shrink would be proud of him. Getting out there, talking to people, being approachable. This must for sure earn him some kind of gold star equivalent in her notebook.

“ Hey there, Mr. Grumpyface. “

(Y/N)'s voice cuts through the chilly New York night like headlights through thick fog. She strolls towards him, lips pulled into a big bright smile. Leading up to tonight he’s spent quite a lot of time wondering if this is some kind of project for her, if maybe she sees him as a sort of charity case. Something to earn her karma points. It wouldn’t be the first time. But the genuine joy radiating from her face lets those worries melt away instantly.

Maybe, Bucky thinks, she really just thinks he’ll make a good friend. And maybe he can.

“ Hi, (Y/N). “

“ You brought a jacket” she points out, pinching the black leather between her fingers. Her nails are painted in various shades of red, each finger a different hue.

“ I did. You told me to. “

“ And you listened! “

“ Why wouldn’t I ? “ Bucky inquires, a look of confusion settling on his face.

“ You wouldn’t believe how many men think wearing a jacket when it’s cold out somehow clashes with their need to demonstrate their masculinity. “

“ Wow. “ he exclaims.

“ Yeah. So anyway, you ready to go up? “

She nods her head towards the house across the street. It’s a slim multiple-story brick building with rusty fire escapes. It looks like a residential lot, not much else that could give away (Y/N)’s plan for the rest of the night.

“ Up? “

“ Mm-mh. “ (Y/N) nods and motions towards the top of the building. “ to the roof. “

“ The roof? You’re not planning to push me off or anything, right? I don’t usually spend time with strangers on rooftops. “ he tells her, a smirk lifting the sides of his lips.

She grants him a smile in return. One of those that you try so hard to suppress but despite your best efforts they find their way onto your face anyway. Because some smiles demand to be smiled. And her smile is pretty cute, he thinks, it deserves to be seen.

“ Foiled again, damn Bucky. I’m a waitress with a useless degree in literature and creative writing but assassinating you was exactly what I had planned for tonight. Couldn’t let me have that one, huh? “

“ Sorry to spoil all the fun. “

She softly bumps her shoulder against his right side as she passes him and crosses the street. Her red skirt flutters around her knees like a ribbon of fire, bright and warm and —

“ You coming, grumpy ?”

“ Yeah uh — yeah sure. “

The walk upstairs is filled with chatter from her and nodding from Bucky. It’s been like this most of the time since — well since he’s really back. Other people usually do the talking and Bucky listens. It works most of the time. Works with Yori. Sometimes though, sometimes it doesn’t. He can see people getting frustrated with him. Hell his own therapist does and she knows the baggage he has to carry around.

This is different though, (Y/N) doesn’t seem to mind much. She’s a waterfall of words and topics and doesn’t seem to get bored or annoyed with him. It’s nice.

A heavy iron door swings open as they reach the top of the building and as soon as they step out onto the rooftop balcony they get engulfed in an ocean of lights. They’re strung from one end of the roof to the other and back again. Next to the door, a little makeshift bar is set up, and a guy in a Star Wars shirt hands out beers to people.

Multicolored deck chairs and beanbags are haphazardly placed across the entire roof, all pointing towards the corner furthest away from the door where a big white sheet hangs spanned between two poles.

“ Sooo you gonna tell me what we’re doing here? “ Bucky asks again as (Y/N) steers him towards a cluster of chairs in the back.

“ Some peeps I went to university with, set up movie screenings here every once in a while. I could pull some strings and got to choose the movie. “

“ We’re gonna watch a movie? “

“ Not just any movie, “ she exclaims and drops down onto one of the plastic deck chairs that looks like it used to be bright pink once but is now but a bleached blush colour from being exposed to the sun too much. “ We’re watching when Harry met Sally. “

Bucky slumps down on the chair next to her, a blue one with white daisy patterns.

“ Me not knowing this movie really does bother you, huh? “

“ It’s a classic, might as well start with this one. And anyway, maybe this can help you get back into the dating game. Ya know, help you understand modern romance. “

“ You think so? “

She shrugs and starts fumbling around in her bag, “ I dunno. It might. And if it doesn’t at least you’ll spend your time watching a good movie and get to experience the blessing of my company. Ah-ha! There you go “

Her hand reaches out holding a bag of M&Ms.

“ I brought snacks. “

More and more people start occupying the chairs and bean bags and a few minutes later a guy steps up in front of the sheet. He’s wearing a shirt with a black and white bird pattern, huge glasses with a brown frame, and jeans that don’t cover his ankles. He’s tall and lanky and his hair is so messy, Bucky wonders if it’s intentional or if he just hasn’t brushed it in a while.

“ Hi guys, I’m Andrew. For those of you who don’t know me, I live in apartment 2B and I just wanna say thank you for showing up and welcome you to our movie night under the stars. A few days ago we received a special request from one of our good friends and because she let me stay on her couch for several months back during our college days and I still owe her for that I couldn’t reject her request. So thanks to Miss (Y/N) over there in the pink chair you now get to spend the next 90 minutes watching Meg Ryan fall in love with Mike Wazowski. Enjoy. “

As he steps away from the sheet, the lights are turned off and the MGM logo pops up on the screen.

“ Trust me, Bucky. This one’s so good.” (Y/N) assures before throwing some M&Ms into her mouth, now entirely focused on the movie.

It takes a while for Bucky to relax. Being around so many people and not having any fear of what’s lurking around the corner is still very new. Letting go is never as easy as it sounds. Eventually though, his nerves settle down a little and as the movie progresses, he finds himself relaxing more and more. Something he hasn’t done in a long time. Not since Wakanda.

Exactly 46 minutes into the movie, (Y/N) lets her eyes wander to her left where Bucky, until now, sat slumped into his seat. Still perpetually grumpy but more chilled out and relaxed than she’s seen him before. Until now. A moaning Meg Ryan visible making him uncomfortable.

“ You okay, grumpy? “

He doesn’t grant her a real answer, just scoffs and rolls his eyes. There’s a smile though, she’s sure. Somewhere hidden there is another smile.

“ So, what did we learn today? “

Bucky looks at (Y/N) who has her arms wrapped tightly around her middle shielding herself from the chilly night air. The movie night has ended a while ago and the two of them are slowly strolling along the New York City streets on the way back to (Y/N)’s apartment.

“ To take your own advice and dress warmer for a movie night? “

(Y/N) chuckles. “ No, grumpy. I meant the movie. “

He shrugs at her question. Quite honestly he hasn’t learned anything new. Nothing about the movie seemed in any way revolutionary to him nor does he see any benefit for himself and his dating life going forward. But the way she looks at him right now, expecting something grand not from him really but some beautiful consequences to her ideas, that makes him reconsider. Sure he could tell her that it was just a silly little movie about people falling in love but that would no doubt hurt her, even a tiny little bit. And if there’s anything Bucky has enough of, it’s hurting others.

“ I guess that men and women really can not be friends. “

“ Noooo! No. Is that really what you took from this movie? “

“ That’s literally what happened. “

“ Okay first of all it works, look at us! We’re friends! Second of all, that’s not what the movie is really about. It’s about love and vulnerability. It’s about overcoming all the tiny things that can work against you and your relationship. Like distance and timing and egotism. It’s about hiding who you are because really opening up to someone, being your authentic true self with all your faults and imperfections, that makes you vulnerable. And being vulnerable is fucking scary. But love is worth it anyway. That’s what the movie is about. “

As Bucky noticed before, some smiles demand to be smiled. They need to be smiled because they’re important and they mean something. The one gracing his face now, that’s one of those. One of those you remember because you feel them all the way in your heart.

“ You think we’re friends? “

“ Oh, are we — are we not? “

“ No. I — no, we are! I’d like to be friends. “

(Y/N) abruptly stops in her tracks, turns towards him, and holds out her hand. “ To friendship.”

“ We’re shaking hands on it? What is this, a business deal? “

“ You know what, yeah now that you mention it that’s pretty lame. “ (Y/N) agrees, balling her hand into a fist “ how about a fist bump, bro? “

Bucky reluctantly knocks his right hand against hers before continuing his walk down the street. “You call me bro again I’m canceling the friendship. “

“ Alright. Noted. “

“ So have you talked to the girl again? “

“ Hmm? “

“ The one you went on a date with? “

“ Oh, Leah. Uh — no.”

“ Why not? “

Bucky throws her a look. One that says “are you kidding me?”. One that says “ you know why.”

“ Cause I ran out. That’s embarrassing. She’s gonna think I’m insane. She’s never gonna wanna see me again. “

“ I sincerely doubt that. You just gotta say sorry. I know in Love Story — that’s a novel and also a movie from the 70s — they say that ‘Love means never having to say you’re sorry but that’s a load of bull. Just say sorry and ask her for a do-over. “

“ And then what? We play a rematch of battleships and talk about my trauma? “

“ Well, what did you do on dates in the 40s? “

That time, his youth, that seems like a different life altogether now. So much happened between then and now and the man he is now, has no relation to the boy he was then. Sometimes looking back hurts, makes it painfully obvious what he’s lost. But sometimes, like tonight, he can feel a hint of fondness coursing through him at the thought of times long gone.

“ Dancing, mostly.”

“ Like, ballroom dancing? “

“ Swing. “

“ You swing dance? “

“ I did. “

(Y/N) regards him through squinted eyes “ really? “

“ You don’t believe me? “

“ I don’t know. You don’t strike me as a dancer. “

Not a second later, Bucky’s gloved hand grabs onto her’s and twirls her towards him then away from him and back in.

“ You twirled me! “

“ Mm-mh.”

“ I’ve never been twirled. That’s so fun. “

It’s like autopilot taking over as Bucky holds onto her, twirling her again then pulling her in and swaying them in a circle. It’s not swing dancing, not even close but there’s no music either, and anyway, his dancing days are over. But sometimes you gotta make a point and if that means slow dancing in the middle of an empty street then that’s that.

The night wraps them in a blanket of comfort and intimacy as the stars and the New York skyline try to outshine each other. It’s a moment so peaceful, Bucky can’t remember the last time his heart felt so light, his mind felt so at ease, his entire being got to let go and just be alive and in the moment.

And then the shine of headlights rips them from their moment and makes them jump back onto the sidewalk.

“ Get off the road you fucking morons! “

“ Gotta love the big city folk. “

“ Yup. “

“ Hey, Bucky.”

“ What? “

“ You really can dance.”

“ Told you. “

“ Can I tell you a secret? “

“ Sure. “

“ I can’t dance for shit. “

“ That so? “

“ Yup. Which means you gotta teach me. “

“ Absolutely not.”

“ Oh, 100%! “

“ We’ll see about that.”

There are nights you try to forget. Nights that you wish to never ever remember. Ones that break you. That beat you down and leave you bruised and battered.

Then there are nights like this one that you want to hold onto for just a little bit longer. Those that fill you with joy and an immeasurable thirst for life. The ones that make you feel grateful to be alive right here and now.

The inevitable end of the night creeps closer as they arrive at (Y/N)’s front door. Neither of them really want to say goodnight but both know there’s no use in delaying it.

“ I hope you didn’t hate the movie too much, “ (Y/N) speaks up, leaning against the front door of her apartment complex.

“ No. It was fun! Although I still don’t know who Mike Wazulsky is. “

“ Mike Wazowski, he’s — you know what? That’s a conversation for another time. “

“ Alright, if you say so. “

“ Thanks for walking me home. “

“ Oh, yeah no need to thank me. It’s the right thing to do. “

For a moment they just stand and smile, trying to cherish the last few moments of this night.

“ We should do this more often. “ Bucky suggests, surprising even himself.

“ For sure. I still have so many movies to show you. “

“ Can’t wait. “

A slight sense of awkwardness falls over them as neither of them knows what to do. Go for a hug? Shakes hands? Wave goodbye?

“ I uh — I should go. “

“ Yeah, of course. Have a good night, Bucky.”

“ You too, (Y/N).”

“ Oh and Bucky? “

“ Yes? “

“ Give Leah a call. “

Bucky nods his head before turning around and walking back into the night.

As he takes the way back to his own home, there are only two things on Bucky’s mind: the vulnerability of falling in love and the question of who the hell Mike Wazowski was.

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