#i wanted to do laundry today but that was just too much fuckin stress
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Did some apartment unfucking
Done in a very stressed hour and a half
But it is done.
#speculation nation#the bedroom is a front i just shoved a bunch of shit in a box and into corners so that it wasnt visible from the door#Actual bedroom unfuckening will be done later. i do want to get it genuine clean. just not now.#it really is kind of crazy having less shit Everywhere. it's good though. it's very good.#i have a killer kind of headache tho 😭#contemplating buying delivery as a reward for getting this done...#i wanted to do laundry today but that was just too much fuckin stress#oh yeah. the showing did happen but it was brief & i overheard the guide say that this unit isnt available anymore#and they sent me the lease in the email!!!#i read thru it and it's overall the same as before. aside from internet being included too. and also rent going up lol#god. rent next year will be an entire 50% more than when i first moved in. these market price increases are Insane.#but yeah i still have to actually sign it. i need to chill some first tho. and try to get rid of this fucking headache.#too much stress. too much focus. my brain does not like it lol
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Bluelock Cuddling headcanons
ft. Isagi, Chigiri, and Kunigami
Request: none
A/N: one of my racehorses won a race today so here’s a little gift to celebrate my good mood!
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Yoichi Isagi
the respectful kind
his favorite is half-cuddle — him on his back, you curled up into his side, head on his chest. Does his arm fall asleep? Absolutely. Will he stop? Never.
make his heart wobble any time you look up and about how much you like this — spending time with him, being close like this, knowing he cares about your opinion enough to ask so frequently for it.
Isagi is the kind that likes to cuddle the nights before a stressful thing. He gets to talk out his troubles and generally feel better about whatever anxieties he's got. Also, he genuinely seeks your life advice. He talks through his problems, that's who he is, and with you like this it feels like such a private time of vulnerability.
You habitually play with one another's fingers and hands. Usually it's sweet, but sometimes it devolves into thumb wars, arm wrestling, and even all out tickle battles. Sometimes he even lets you win
If he's lucky he can get you to fall asleep before he does. Reason? He likes watching you doze on him. Something about you falling asleep to the dip and rise of his chest makes him all giddy and humble at the same time.
Inevitably someone walks in on you two only to be greeted with the terror-inducing glare he pins them down with. Wake you up and they are not long for this world.
Hyoma Chigiri
the timid kind
go-to is the traditional spoon. It means you don't have to look at him and whatever embarrassment he's gotta be showing while being this close to you.
As time goes on, he starts to get almost too comfortable with it. On the phone? Playing a game? Fuckin' doing laundry? Doesn't matter. When he's lying on any bed or couch, there is a distinct bubble of space, and if you invade the bubble, you're within striking distance. His arms are nearly as fast as his legs. Chigiri will latch onto you, will pull you in, and will interrupt whatever it is you wanted to do so he can spoon you.
Rub his hand or intertwine fingers while he's got an arm draped over you and he is GONE
There have been times when he's pushed you away, and though it makes sense — he's always been the kind to close himself off, turn vile and harsh when he's hurting — it breaks you. When you're both ready to reconcile, somehow it ends with your back to his chest, his legs mixed with yours, and his warm hand holding you snug to his body.
Also likes this position because it lets him nuzzle in right on the wispy hairs at the bottom of your neck or the big vein on the side.
Turn the tables on him by flipping over in his grip and facing him head-on. It's also a nice way to get even closer to him when you've had a bad day. A kind of haven can be found in nestling under his chin. He's alright with this — it means you can't see his face and the obvious love-sick tint to his eyes.
Rensuke Kunigami
the kind that doesn't know his own strength
best likes the space-saver, aka, one person laying on top of the other. Boy doesn't care which of you is on top. He likes supporting your body or you supporting his — something about being the other person's strength makes the back of his head tingle.
first time he lays on you, he doesn't check his weight at all, just flops down. Immediately thinks he's broken you when you squeak. After that he's almost too wary about hurting you. Am I too heavy? Can you breathe okay? Do I need to get up? You can get on top if you want. Relax Kunigami, just don't fall from orbit and you'll be fine.
Icing on the cake is when you play with his hair. Dude could be angry as an ox, ready to rip someone in half, and two minutes of your fingers in his hair has him fighting to stay awake and spend time with you. What was he angry about again?
One time you fell asleep on his chest, all blissed out and comfy, only to wake up in a shiny puddle of your own drool. You were, understandably, mortified, but the embarrassment turns to affection when he casually disregards the whole thing: it's just a shirt, it'll dry.
You figured you repaid the favor when several weeks later he was one on top of you, head burrowed unceremoniously into your stomach, arms underneath your back, refusing to look up or speak. The reason revealed itself when he finally met your eyes.
Tears. Tiny sniffs too. Four words: I failed my team. That was all he said before digging his face back into your skin. It took time, and a lot of encouragement, but he did eventually snap out of the funk and even apologized for messing up your clothes. It'll dry, you said, and you shared a little snicker.
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Omg okay uh... Nasty stalker Bakugou breaking in to his darling's home only for them to come home early to see their yandere in their room, laying in their bed. Bakugou's surprised but smug, deciding now's a better time than ever to take them away
Titled “Bakugou coming to terms with the fact he’s a nasty, nasty man.”
Prelude - this is trash. I am trash. I’ve been stuck for a bit with requests and getting motivation to write, but I’m trying to work through it and so we have this. ANEEWAYZ Anon, this is an awesome request and made me p hornee, 10/10
Prompt - at the toP
Pairing - Bakugou X Reader
Warnings - NSFW, non con, cunnilingous. No penetration. Bakugou got a HUGE scent kink lol sorry
Music - no <3
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Bakugou was disgusted with himself.
Here he was, a good looking male, and he was spending his free time breaking into a woman’s apartment for the hundredth time. Is it even considered “breaking and entering” if he had a key? It was a stolen key, and Bakugou knew he would still be thrown into jail if the object of his affections ever found out just how often he chose to “visit” without permission.
Yet he couldn’t stop himself from coming back.
Turning the (stolen) key in the lock, the blonde pushed the door open, glancing towards the neighboring apartment doors before he stepped inside. It would be no good if your neighbors saw him sneaking in - they might ask you about your “new man,” and you’d get suspicious.
Bakugou wiped his shoes on the welcome mat, quietly slipping them off and placing them on the bottom shelf of your shoe rack. He knew it was stupid, but he liked to pretend that he was coming home from work, about to slip into bed with you and feel you in his arms as you kissed him hello. Unfortunately, the reality had you still at work, making and serving fancy coffee at the little cafe you worked in, and Bakugou was nothing more than a creep, fantazing about a woman that had done little more than take his order.
Did you even know he existed? Bakugou thought you might; he did come to the cafe every Wednesday morning, sat in the chair that allowed him to see the staff as they worked. It would be hard to miss his presence, considering the scene he had caused on one of his coffee runs. A man had bumped into you as you were placing Bakugou’s coffee on the table, causing you to spill it everywhere (including on Bakugou’s lap, which had fuckin’ hurt, the liquid being hotter than the surface of the sun). Before you could even take a breath to apologize, Bakugou was on his feet, verbally attacking the man that had stumbled into you.
He really ripped into the stranger, not hesitating to use every insult he knew to demean the man for jostling you. Bakugou knew his personality was abrasive and that he had a short temper, but seeing someone touch you so casually and cause you an unnecessary hardship had him angrier than normal. By the time Bakugou was done yelling, the man was beet red, sweating, apologizing profusely to both Bakugou and you for causing any inconvenience.
The look you had given Bakugou as the man left made his heart squeeze. Your eyes were blazing, fists clenched as you stared the blonde down, mouth set in a way that made your lips jut out in a frown.
“Sir, there was no reason to yell at that poor man. It was an honest mistake that I could’ve easily handled.”
Bakugou was shocked.
“Yeah, a fucking “mistake” alright. Motherfucker didn’t even think to apologize before I said anything.”
“I don’t need a white knight. Sit down and leave it be, or else I’ll have no problem kicking you out.”
You had been so bossy and confident, Bakugou reluctantly sat down, grumbling about his burnt junk while you went to grab napkins to clean up the spill.
From then on, the blonde watched you like a hawk, enjoying the way you chewed out rude customers or made crude jokes with your coworkers when you thought no one was listening. He was hooked, baited by your personality into learning more about you. However, he knew that you probably wanted nothing to do with him, knew that you would probably laugh in his face if he asked for your number.
So he resorted to this.
As humiliating as it was, as wrong as he knew it to be, Bakugou enjoyed being in your apartment. Everything smelled like you, he was able to figure out your favorite snacks and dishes, got to see what you liked to read.
The first few times he followed you home from the cafe, he told himself he was doing it for your own safety. You had such a smart mouth, lots of customers had been miffed by the way you called attention to their rudeness. It wouldn’t take much for one of them to follow you home, try to put their hands on you.
When it slowly evolved into the man breaking into your apartment, Bakugou told himself that it was just out of curiosity, even though deep down he was aware of a more sinister reason.
Even when the man went looking for your underwear drawer, he denied the action to himself, refused to think about what it meant or think about it for more than a few seconds. He refused to hold himself accountable for his feelings, nor for his actions.
He was swimming in a sea of denial, letting his impulses and desires guide him.
Consequences? That word wasn’t in his vocabulary when it came to his dealings with you.
What could the repercussions be? You were never home when he visited, you never knew he had been there, you never noticed him at work, never even acknowledged his existence. There had been no sign that you were aware of him following you home, following you to the store, following you to the mall.
At this point, Bakugou was resigned to the fact that you would probably never notice him.
And if you did, so what? He easily had the means to take you away, keep you from ever revealing his “hobby” to the world (the more the man thought about it, the more the idea appealed).
Consequences be damned, Bakugou Katsuki did what he wanted to.
That’s why he allowed himself to go through your closet, look at your clothes and imagine you wearing them. He looked through your shoes, admiring your choices in fashion. He looked through your bathroom, noting what soaps you used and the skincare that littered the counter, the color of your toothbrush and the perfume that you saved for special occasions.
Bakugou’s favorite thing to do in your apartment was also the most shameful.
It had started after a bad day, when he was already frustrated and heated. He had stormed into your apartment, and was too worked up to find the space as calming as it usually was. Bakugou had stomped towards your bedroom, wanted to bury his face in your pillows and breathe in your scent, forget about the stress of life. When he had tripped over the pile of dirty clothes in the doorway, he almost had a fit before realizing that the light blue lace on the top of the pile were your dirty panties.
His brain whispered that it was a good idea, so he acted upon his impulses and snatched them, proceeding to climb onto your bed and jack off.
Now it was a regular occurrence, him rooting through your laundry basket to find your latest pair. You were good about your laundry, so sometimes he had to settle for picking through your underwear drawer, which was notably less satisfying. Bakugou couldn’t figure out why until he thought about it for a second, coming to a riveting conclusion as he pressed your panties close to his face.
He liked the smell of you.
The man didn’t get to think about it further than that, already too worked up to do anything but pull his cock free, press your panties to his face, and fist his cock like it was the last time he’d ever get to touch himself.
Some days he would use your panties to stroke himself, bring himself to orgasm thinking about you and your body and the things he’d like to do to it. Other day’s he’d bunch your panties in his fist and press them against his face while he laid down on your bed, and he’d jerk himself off while taking in your scent.
Recently, he’d taken to spreading your panties on one of your pillows, before burying his nose into the fabric. He’d lay on his stomach and pump his cock, imagining that you were actually there, that his nose was buried in your pussy. Sometimes he’d get so lost in the fantasy that he’d start humping the bed, caught up in the smells assaulting his senses, the sensation of the bedspread dragging along his swollen cock.
Today was one of those days where he was keyed up and just wanted to get off, bask in the cradle of your scent as he did so.
So the second he entered your apartment, he was beelining for your bedroom, cock already half-hard in his pants. He was delighted to see that your laundry basket seemed fuller than yesterday, meaning that there was a fresh pair of panties that you had discarded there this morning.
He wanted to pat himself on the back for his observational skills when a quick search brought him anew pair of your dirty panties. As he headed to the bed, unbuckling his belt with one hand, he noticed that these were new, a pale pink fabric that was impossibly softer then your other pairs. Bakugou knew he wouldn’t be long today, felt like he was bursting already.
It took hardly any time to get himself situated, the movements easy and familiar after having done this dozens of times already. He let his hips drop to the bed, bringing his hands up to clutch at the pillow he had laid your panties on, imagining it to be the softness of your legs he was burying his fingers into. Bakugou buried his face into the crotch, breathing deeply through his nose as he slowly started to work his hips, the friction on his cock feeling delicious.
Bakugou was so worked up, so immersed in his fantasy that the clattering sound of dropped objects almost made him yelp, the blonde man turning his head to the side to glare at whatever had made the noise. He was so close, wanted to tip over the edge of orgasmic bliss and lie there with his face pressed to your panties for a bit before he had to clean up. How dare your neighbors thump on the wall, cause something to fall while he was busy masturbating on your bed.
His breath stuttered as his eyes settled on your figure, frozen in the doorway.
His hips stopped moving.
You shouldn’t have been home this early.
——
There was a man on your bed.
There was an attractive man on your bed, you noted as he turned his head towards you.
There was an attractive man on your bed, sniffing your panties. You could see the pink fabric strewn across your pillow, right where the man had previously had his face. Had he been… sniffing your underwear?
If you could’ve managed not to drop your phone and keys in shock at seeing a strange man on your bed, you would be able to dial 911 before he could get up. As it stood, you were frozen in shock.
Thankfully, the man was too, doing nothing but blinking and breathing heavily.
“Who the fuck are you?” You were always one to speak your mind, but in this situation, you wished you were able to act with more tact. The man blinked at you slowly, reaching his hand underneath him to - “Oh my god, your dick is out.”
“No shit, Sherlock.” His gruff voice responded.
“I don’t know who your are, but you need to get out. Get out now or I’m calling the police.”
The man grunted as he tucked his still-hard dick back into his pants, slowly rising to his knees, moving towards the edge of the bed.
“Hey! I said you need to fucking leave. I’m - I’m gonna - “ You snatched your phone off the floor, watching the man freeze as you held it up. “- call the police. Get out of my apartment.”
“Calm the fuck down, what the fuck d’ya think I’m doing, huh dumbass?” He held his hands up, carefully stepping off your bed. “I gotta move past you to get to the damn door, idiot.”
You wanted to smack yourself. The man had a point. He seemed to be gearing to leave, trying to appear non-threatening as he inched towards you and the bedroom door. It occurred to you that you should move to the side so he wouldn’t touch you while he exited your bedroom. You hoped he couldn’t see the way your hand shook holding your phone. You put up a tough front, but that didn’t mean you didn’t feel fear
“Okay, hurry up then.”
The blonde man nodded, lowering his hands as he began walking normally, watching you move to the side of the door.
You tried to memorize his face, make sure you’d be able to describe him to the police later after you were safely alone in your apartment, door locked and reinforced with a chair-
The man tackled you to the floor, his hands wrapping around the back of your head to cushion it against the hardwood. He had taken advantage of your rambling thoughts, using your distracted state to strike when he had slunk closer in the guise of reaching the door.
You acted on instinct, immediately trying to knee the man the second you caught your breath, reaching up to claw at his face. You were in the process of going for his eyes, intending to dig in until he was screaming, but the next thing you knew you were being lifted into the air, given a giant bear hug that trapped your arms against your sides.
“Let me go! Let me go!!” You shrieked, uselessly kicking your legs against his shins. He had you pressed to his chest in a crushing hug, and the angle offered you no leverage to inflict any damage.
“Fuck, knew you were a feisty little shit. You smell so goddamn good.” He had his face buried in your hair, and you could feel the rise of his chest as he inhaled deeply.
You were thrown on the bed, the man immobilizing you by sitting on your abdomen before you had the chance to even sit up. With a gleeful grin, he started pulling at your shirt, ripping it over your head with ease. He ignored your ear-splitting “No!” As he did the same to your bra, his calloused hands warm where they met your skin. You hit at his sides, but he hardly reacted.
Rearranging himself so he was facing your feet, the man began working on your pants, laughing as you kicked and squirmed.
“See, this is why I fuckin’ like you so much. Got so much fight in you, won’t go down without a little bit of work.”
Your pants were removed, then your panties, which you saw the man shove in his pants pocket. It was impossible to stop him when he turned back to your head, taking his own shirt off in the process. No wonder he was hard to fight, he was incredibly ripped, fit in every sense of the word.
The man grabbed your shirt and stuffed it in your mouth, wrapping the sleeves around your head and using them to tie the fabric firmly into a makeshift gag, effectively muffling your cursing.
As you reached up to pull it off, the man manhandled you again. He scooted back and grabbed your arms, placing them under his knees, locking his feet together into a butterfly stretch. He bent your lower half over, your knees almost touching your chest as he scooted closer, lifting your head up so he could lay it gently on his feet.
You were essentially folded in half, the man trapping your arms with his legs, your butt resting against his naked chest, his face above your exposed pussy. No matter how your thrashed or wiggled, you couldn’t break free. The man knew how to completely immobilize someone within seconds, and it scared you to no end.
You were screaming behind the gag, throat starting to hurt as you refused to quit fighting, no matter how futile it was. The man pressed his face down to your pussy, wrapping an arm around your waist to hike you up closer to his face as he inhaled, making you yell profanities behind the gag. What he was doing was gross, scary; blood was starting to rush to your head and you were so tense you thought you might blackout.
Amidst your panicked breathing, you noticed the man had paused, was staring down at you while he himself breathed heavily. You wished he wouldn’t - each breath he exhaled sent a warm puff of air across your pussy, causing your body to involuntarily clench.
“If you’d stop making so much goddamn noise, I might not have to be so rough. I get it though, you don’t know me. ‘M Bakugou.” He offered, red eyes boring into your skull. You seethed, before spitting out a “Fuck you.”. It was muffled, but the man understood your meaning, chuckling darkly. “Yeah yeah, we might get to doing that shit later.”
You yelled, only to gasp as the man suddenly buried his face into your pussy, nose pressing against your clit. He started licking immediately, warm tongue wet and textured against your slit.
It felt good.
You didn’t want it to.
The hand that wasn’t wrapped around your waist was fumbling against your back, between you and Bakugou. You were too focused on what was happening to your cunt to realize that the blonde was taking his dick out again, tenderly massaging the drooling head as he breathed in your pungent scent.
Bakugou was in heaven, lapping at your juices and inhaling your natural musk. He wished he could stay here forever, holding you close as he made the both of you feel good.
He groaned into your pussy, fisting his cock faster as he plunged his warm tongue inside your hole, wiggling the muscle and scraping at your walls. You twitched, your hips trying to rock back to chase the sensation even though your mind was screaming for them to still. Bakugou brought his tongue out, before thrusting is back in, essentially fucking you with his wet tongue.
It was humiliating, terrifying as you watched him, his red eyes slitted and clouded with lust as he drank in your scared whimpers, the man liking when your eyes squeezed shut when he did something with his tongue that you found particularly pleasurable. With a lewd squelch, the man stopped tongue-fucking you, moving to flick at your clit with the muscle, rubbing it back and forth in an agonizingly good motion.
With a muffled wail, you came.
Bakugou sped up the hand around his length, pumping himself furiously as he lapped at you through your orgasm, making you writhe with pleasure. He moaned as he reached his own orgasm, warm cum shooting from his cock to paint your back.
It was only when you started to squirm from oversensitivity did Bakugou stop mouthing at your pussy. He laid his head against your thigh, still huffing and nuzzling at your pussy like a dog trying to scent.
You felt so disgusting.
Trying to kick at Bakugou was useless in this position, especially with how weak you were from orgasming but you still tried your best before his hands gripped your thighs tightly.
“Don’t get fuckin’ testy with me now.” He leaned closer, smiling at you darkly. “You don’t gotta worry, imma fuck you real good before I take your ass home.”
#yandere#yandere bakugo katsuki#yandere boku no hero academia#yandere oneshot#yandere bakugou#yandere bakugo x reader#bakugou katsuki#yanderebakugou#bakugou x reader#bakugou#yandere katsuki#bnha bakugo katsuki#katsuki bakugo x reader#bnha#tw noncon#i'm so sad#I am a sad human
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shut in [4]
Summary: When your high profile mission goes terribly wrong, you’re forced to hide in a safehouse with a man you’ve never met before. With seemingly nowhere else to go, you’re forced to work together to figure out who is trying to have you assassinated before it’s too late. (Sam Wilson x Reader, Hitman AU)
Warnings: cursing, threats
Word count: 3.7k
A/N: greetings everyone!! how are we all doing? i have nothing to say here tbh so anyway stan sam wilson being a lil shit whenever possible.
i also appreciate feedback so if you would like to, please consider dropping me an ask or comment ly guys!! also if you want to be on the taglist, it’s mentioned at the bottom of the chapter.
here’s my ko-fi if you’d like to support my writing <333
Previous Part || Shut In Masterlist
“I’ll keep an eye out.”
“Alright, thank you.”
You hung up the call, trudging back to the house, discarding the battery along the way.
The air had a chill to it and there was an occasional breeze that went past, rustling leaves providing an eerily comforting background score. The temperature tended to rise as the day went on but nights were especially cold due to the abundance of trees.
Even though the stress of the situation you were in constantly consumed all your waking thoughts, you still found the time to appreciate how beautiful your surroundings were.
The last few days were barely memorable. Sam and you tended to stay out of each other's way unless your meal time coincided or you watched the local news together. The schedule had worked out favourably.
He wasn’t very hard to live with.
Most of the time.
His commentary and small jokes were never-ending but were not as unwelcome as you initially thought. It brought some much needed light into your otherwise dreary day. When it came to figuring out how to do laundry due to your now extended stay or whose turn it was to do it, things got a bit messy but were resolved quickly.
He used to disappear often for hours on end. You never concerned yourself with going after him to find out where he went, figuring that unless he was hatching a plot that led to your demise, he was entitled to his own privacy. He’d return a while later, calmer than when he left.
It was fine. Nothing to write home about. Neither of you were dead yet.
“What are you doing on the bed?” You were reconsidering your last thought when you walked into the bedroom to resume your self-interrupted sleep, only to find him face down on the sheets. “It’s my day today.”
“Just give me some time. I’ll be out of here soon enough.” His voice was muffled as he spoke into the sheets.
“You can take all the time you need tomorrow when it’s your turn.” You swatted at his legs, earning a grunt of chagrin from him.
“Go eat some soup and maybe you’ll calm down,” he fired back, unmoving.
“Today’s not soup day. Which you would know if you paid attention to our schedule. That we made. Together. The same schedule which says it’s my turn today.”
He groaned, shoving his face deeper into the pillow. “My back’s killing me. Just give me a few.”
“Why, what’d you do?” you asked curiously, letting go of his leg.
“Combat training. Took a few beatings, fucked up my spine.”
“Does it hurt a lot?”
“It comes and goes.” Sam finally rolled onto his back, giving you a view of his face. His bone structure was amazing, even from quite possibly the ugliest angle you could have over him. “You should’ve seen the other guy.”
You just stared at him as he linked his arms behind his neck, elevating his head to look at you. He had a small stubble that was starting to grow longer. You wondered if he would shave it. He looked good regardless.
“How’s your beloved?”
“Huh?”
“The person you keep sneaking around to talk to on the phone. I’m not your dad, y’know. You can talk to them inside the house, ‘m not gonna ground you,” he quipped, a small, teasing smile on his face.
“He’s not my lover. Just... an acquaintance.” You felt the awkwardness starting to set in after you trailed off. “Anyway since you’re awake, we need to talk.”
“‘Bout what?”
“What happened that day. We’ve been avoiding it but we need to figure out what went wrong. Or at least a clue.”
“Okay,” Sam agreed, wincing as he sat up straight. “How do you want to do it?”
“Just talk me through how you got put on this mission and what exactly happened that day, I guess.” You took a place on the bed, leaning backward on your hand for support.
He nodded, delaying for a second to collect his thoughts before beginning.
“So basically-”
The sun was particularly relentless that day.
The ringing bell above the door of his favourite coffee shop was a welcoming sound. The barista smiled at him in greeting, asking if he wanted his usual to go.
His park bench was empty as it always was. Sam liked to think of it as a small gift from the universe; the fact that it was perpetually unoccupied.
He liked to sit there and watch people’s day go by. His iced coffee-
“I don’t really require that much detail.”
“Patience. I’m getting there.”
It was arguably one of the most peaceful days he had had in awhile, and he was hoping to keep the streak going. Nothing seemed like it would phase him, not even the phone ringing, drawing his attention away from the scene in front of him. Caller ID didn’t trace who it was.
“Hello?”
“Wilson.”
Sam gripped the cup so hard he thought it might spill over onto his jeans.
“I told you not to call me, Ransone.”
“But honey we had such a good time last night,” he faux cooed, “You know I have needs-”
“I’m not getting involved in your stupid organisation, Vincent. I told you I’m done,” Sam broke in, not wanting to waste time listening to his stupid dramatics.
“Listen here, Wilson.” The swift change in his tone was looming, threatening. “You’re done when I say you’re done-”
“Wanna bet?” Sam took a sip of his coffee. “I thought we made it clear in Detroit that we’re done. Honey.”
He added the last part out of pure spite just to get a rise out of him. Much to his glee it seemed to work as Ransone let out a deep exhale before continuing.
“That was before we found out there’s a mole in my gang. I want you to kill him.”
“This is way below my pay grade. Have one of your interns do it. Your shitty murder warehouse hasn’t seen much action in a while.”
“This is Pierce we’re talking about. If he’s working for another organisation, his ass is going to be so guarded, these kids couldn’t wouldn’t even get past the gate. Besides, you know my murder warehouse is for special guests only-”
“Man, it must suck real hard to be you right now,” Sam didn’t wait for him to complete his sentence. He finished the last bit of the drink he had left, gathering his things before standing up. “Find someone else. I’m out.”
“You might want to reconsider that. We found him.”
He stopped in his tracks.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Sam said steadily, grip on the phone tightening.
“I think you do, though. Had us fooled for a while there, thinking he’s dead. A little more research, some cash into the right pockets and boom! There he is, clear as day.”
Sam felt a chill go up his spine.
“He doesn’t know we know. We’re just keeping an eye on him for now.”
“If you even fucking think of touching him-” his fists were balled up, struggling to keep his anger from rising.
“Oh, don’t worry, I won’t.” Ransone laughed. “I’ll just have one of my interns do it.”
“Don’t fuck with me, Ransone. It’s not somethi-”
“Do this hit and I’ll leave him alone,” Ransone interjected. “You’ve worked so hard to pull him from our radar, Sammy. It would be a shame if it all went to waste.”
Sam’s jaw clenched. Suddenly the day didn’t seem as bright as it was a few minutes ago.
“I’ll text you the details. You tend to leave me on read so I thought I’d make it more fun. Do you want the confetti with the message or the lasers-”
Sam just hung up the call, feet firmly rooted in his spot. He had no idea what he was going to do.
The notification of a new text alerted him. Pierce’s address along with the exact timeline of when he’d be home.
It was across the country. If he botched the mission on purpose, Ransone wouldn't be able to find him for a few days at least, much less reach him. He could go on the run-
‘Do it or he dies.’
His train of thought was interrupted by a picture that made his blood boil.
Especially when it exploded with the stupid confetti effect.
“Okay, basically he threatened you with something to go do the hit.” You didn’t ask him what exactly he was threatening him with and Sam didn’t really elaborate.
“Yeah. Didn’t leave me with much of a choice. He’s batshit fuckin’ crazy anyway, I knew he’d do whatever he felt like.”
“So you ended up going.”
Pierce didn’t seem to get many visitors. Not that anyone could be blamed, this guy was one of the biggest pieces of shit Sam had had the misfortune of meeting.
Over the two days he had staked out in front of the mansion to find out if this guy had as much security as Ransone had boasted of, Sam had come to the conclusive truth that no, he very much did not. He had a standard home security system which was lacklustre compared to the rest of the house.
Maybe he just assumed that being a senior member of the mob would garner some fear to his name. Dumbass.
He found the tall shrubbery surrounding the property to be out of the line of sight of the camera, and climbing it wasn't very hard. He landed softly on the manicured lawn, adjusting his gloves and checking his surroundings before pulling his gun that was secured in the waistband of his pants.
He removed the safety, keeping it close to him as he stalked through the front yard.
The red car parked at the side earned an eye roll from him. If he had one, there was no doubt there’d be more. He just had to find a basement or garage.
Walking around the house, he kept close to the wall, searching for any opening to the basement.
It didn’t take long before he found a set of stairs to the exterior entrance of the basement. He checked to see if anyone was around before making his way down them. The lock was unsurprisingly easy to pick.
The basement was mostly dark save for a few strategic lights placed to highlight the magnificence of his several race cars. The man was moved slower than the second coming of Jesus. The cars just seemed like an overcompensation.
The switchboard was not difficult to find. He pulled open the cover, glancing at the switches before turning all of them off, plunging the whole basement into darkness. If his security system was as outdated as Pierce was, it would have turned off along with the rest of the house.
“Oh, that’s why the cameras weren't working when I showed up.” Bits that seemed amiss were beginning to place itself together the more his story progressed. “I assume you entered the house through the window on the side?”
“Sure did.”
Your guess was right. He’s the reason why it was ajar by the time you arrived.
As soon as he entered he had his gun raised. Scanning the room as he went past, his senses were dialed up to eleven. If he was really under the protection of Serpentine, they were doing a terrible job. He had gotten in completely unscathed.
As he made his way deeper into the house, the sound of some movie playing became louder. But he had cut off the power supply to the house.
His eyebrows pulled together tightly into a frown, he made his way down the hall towards the sound. No one was in the dining or living room he canvassed.
Finally, Pierce’s silhouette became clearer. He appeared to just be sitting there idly while a smaller screen played in front of him. It wasn’t a TV, just an iPad.
If Pierce was asleep it would just make the job easier. Gun raised, Sam made his way into the room silently.
Pierce was still. Sam raised the gun, taking a step closer.
A floorboard creaked.
He immediately cringed, shoulders tensed as he came to an immediate stop. It seemed like forever as he waited for Pierce to wake up, to brandish a gun and try and defend himself.
He didn’t.
Taking a step to the side, Sam moved diagonally. Each one was slow. Ready for any sudden movements from his end.
He finally stopped in front of Pierce.
A bullet hole in his forehead. Eyes open. Chest still.
He was dead.
“Fuckin’ hell,” Sam breathed out, lowering his gun. Pierce’s glassy eyes stared blankly ahead. He didn’t look like had been dead for too long.
A soft thud in another room made his head snap up. It was in the same direction from where he came.
He silently moved backwards to the corner of the room, hoping that the darkness was enough of a disguise as he saw someone stalking down the hallway.
“And that’s when you come in. Thought you were comin’ back to make sure he was dead.”
“I had just got there. Saw that everything was off, and just assumed it was a power outage.”
“What about you? How’d you end up there?” Sam had his legs crossed, leaning forward to listen to you.
“Ransone told me that there was a spy who was sending information out for nearly two years. Needed him gone and he wasn’t sure if his other agent would show up-” you mentioned to him- “I guess that’s you. Told me I had an opening at 8pm. When I got there, the CCTV was off. Found the window open so I just used that.”
You were replaying your memory, step by step to remember what exactly you had seen.
“Heard the movie playing, found no one when I went down the hall. I saw the car keys on the island, which came in handy later. Entered the room, pushed his head with the gun and he just slumped over like a damn rag doll. That’s when you made your grand entrance.”
“Got one chance to make an impression. Had to make sure I looked cool, emergin’ from the shadows and whatnot.”
“It doesn’t make sense though.”
“Ouch. Thought it was pretty legit, actu-”
“No, no-” you waved him off. “Not your entrance. The henchmen thing.”
He paused, mulling over what you said. “If he was working for Serpentine, he would have been more careful. Why did they show up after he’s dead?”
“I don’t think they work for Serpentine. If Pierce was giving them information, they wouldn’t kill him.” You had good reason to be confident about that. You thought you did, from previous assessments.
“Unless they were scared that he’d switch again,” Sam suggested. You looked up from your fidgeting fingers to him. “Didn’t want any of their secrets going back to Ransone. They got to him before we did.”
“Why’d they shoot at us then? If they killed him and left, why’d they wait for us to show up? Why did they try to kill us?”
“I think we’re ignoring the important thing here,” he paused. You looked at him expectantly, prodding him on. “How did they know we were coming? They should have killed him and disappeared but they expected us.”
You tilted your head. “Are you saying-”
“There might be more.”
“Pierce might not have been the only one,” you finished. “There are more spies.”
“Tipped ‘em off. Told them we were going to be there.”
“And killing us was just to poke Ransone with a stick,” you murmured, eyes downcast, fidgeting with your fingers again. “But that just seems random. It doesn’t make sense.”
“None of this makes sense, sweetheart.” Sam scoffed, leaning back again.
“We’re missing something. There’s something wrong.” You looked at him. “If it’s just a random attack, why did they release our face to the whole fuckin’ country? Why are they specifically targeting us?”
“Finishing what they started. Covering all their tracks from that day. If we’re not dead, we’re a liability.”
“What if it’s not Serpentine at all? What if it’s another gang?”
“Serpentine has the most motive.”
“We don’t know that.”
He looked at you incredulously. “I think there’s substantial evidence to suggest they fuckin’ hate us. Besides, they’d want me dead specifically.”
“Why?” you inquired, eyes narrowing.
He opened his mouth like he was going to explain but closed it a second later, leaving you guessing.
“Fine, but it doesn’t mean they’re the only ones who do.” You made a point to ask him later or at least conduct your own research into it.
“Okay,” he said, shifting to lean on his elbows, “who else could it be? If Pierce was working for Serpentine and Ransone found out, sends someone to kill him, it’s essentially an attack on one of their own members. I’d say that's a pretty good motive.”
“I don’t know. Hydra doesn’t like us either. There’s Ten Rings too. But Serpentine just doesn’t work out.”
“How are you sure?” he asked. “You a spy for them too?”
You rolled your eyes at him as he raised his eyebrow. “It doesn’t make sense. What if we’re missing something? Did we go through everything?”
“I just went through my entire story down to the most irrelevant details. Twice. Nothing’s missing on my end.” He pushed himself off the bed, taking a long stretch before looking back at you.
“I think we should do it again. Just to make sure.” You rotated your torso to look at him. “We can figure it out-”
“You’re going to lose your mind if you keep at this any longer for today. Take a break.”
“I can’t take this lightly. Everyone’s out there looking for us and there is no one we can trust-”
“And going through our stories for the third time today is going to solve that how?” He had his hands crossed over his chest like a stern parent.
“I’m sorry but our faces are probably plastered in every damn police precinct in the country,” you snapped, “And I think that us remembering something some stupid detail might actually help rather than, I don’t know, taking naps and eating sandwiches. So no, I’m not going to drop it. Because I actually want to get out of here.”
You didn’t mean to sound so angry with him. He had told you everything twice already and patiently answered questions that you had. You didn’t think he was lying. You had no way of knowing but you hoped that some sort of allegiance was being formed between you both.
There was silence for a minute, leaving enough time for the guilt to creep in when he didn’t fire back. It’s what you expected.
“I’m not asking you to drop it. I’m saying take a break,” he said calmly. “You’re thinkin’ enough for the both of us anyway.”
You let out a small exhale, forcing the edge to retreat from your voice.
“I’ll be back in a while.” With that he turned around and left the room. A few minutes later you heard the backdoor open and shut.
Great.
You massaged your throbbing temples, eyes closed. He was right. Your mind wasn’t clear and you had been at this for hours. You wouldn’t be able to think critically.
Or at all.
You dropped back on the bed, grabbing a pillow and pressing it to your face. The coolness of the fabric felt nice.
You just let out a sigh, turning to your side to hopefully get some sleep.
_____
You woke up what seemed like hours later to a dark room.
It took your eyes a while to adjust stepping out into the hallway illuminated by the light in the kitchen.
“Hey,” Sam’s voice rang out. “Made you a sandwich.”
You rubbed your eyes groggily, looking where he was pointing. Sure enough, there was a sandwich on the table. He sat at the seat adjacent to it.
“Thank you.” You contemplated sitting next to him for dinner. It would be a first.
In the end you just grabbed your plate, giving him a half smile before making your way to the couch. You settled on sitting on the floor instead, leaning your back against the foot of the sofa.
The TV was already halfway through playing Megamind so you just let it continue, mindlessly chewing on the bread. As far as peanut butter sandwiches go, it wasn’t all that bad.
“Wilson,” you called out sheepishly, eyes not leaving the movie. “I’m sorry for snapping at you. It wasn’t right.”
“It’s okay.”
How he let go of it so easily was beyond you. The sandwich was surprising too, but you took it, not wanting to change his mind. He couldn’t have poisoned it. You had checked his stuff.
You sat in silence for the rest of the movie. Your mind kept slipping in and out of thought but it was a comfortable atmosphere you found yourself in.
After the credits started rolling, you went to leave your plate in the sink. Sam brushed past you, grabbing the blanket at the foot of the couch, launching himself onto the cushions.
“What are you doing?” you asked, puzzled as he snuggled in.
“Going to sleep?” He tilted his head to look at you.
“Use the bed.”
“It’s your turn today.”
“Your back’s fucked up. I’ll take the couch.”
He didn’t budge.
“Go on.” You mentioned to the room with a shrug of your shoulder.
“You’re not going to let me argue, are you?”
You pressed your lips into a straight line to hide a smile, shaking your head lightly.
“Well, okay.” He let out a small noise as he got up. “Guess I’m sleeping business class tonight.”
Sam walked past you, careful not to bump into you. You swapped places with him, making your way to the couch, readjusting the blanket that was haphazardly left there.
“Y/N.” You peered at him from the corner of your eye, only to fully turn when you caught his gaze. “I appreciate it.”
You just nodded, tossing the blanket over yourself as he switched off the light.
Next part
#sam x reader#sam wilson x reader#mcu fic#sam fic#sam wilson fic#sam wilson fluff#sam wilson angst#sam wilson series#falcon#falcon x reader#the falcon x reader#hitman!sam wilson#hitman!au#shut in fic#marvel fic#marvel#mcu#sam wilson#the falcon#sam wilson fanfiction#marvel imagine#marvel fanfiction#sam wilson imagine#sam imagine
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wherever i’m going -- i’m taking you with me.
roman godfrey x reader
summary: you run through roman’s dreams nightly, but this time it’s different. this time it’s an omen where you dawn a white dress with blood pouring for your mouth, your body ripped to shred. and this time peter sees it too.
word count: 3.5k
a/n: kinda short for me, i hope that’s ok! got a couple of other stories in the works tho. but, i really hope you enjoy!
“I gotta run,” You said as you stood from the couch in the Godfrey’s sitting room.
Roman let out a childish groan as he deflated into the stiff cushions, lanky limbs melting across the furniture like a Dali clock.
“No, you don’t. At least stay for one more episode?”
“I promised I’d have dinner with my mom before she has to go in to work graveyard tonight.” You reply, gathering your discarded sweater and shoes and redressing in them.
“Come on,” Roman practically whines, reaching out with his foot to hook you around the back of your knee, “One more episode.”
You turn to give him a reprimanding look, a look that was utterly ineffective as a smile threatened to form on your lips.
“Shelley, can you please call him off?” You look over your shoulder toward the younger Godfrey, holed up in an armchair with a grin.
“He’s not used to hearing no.” She typed out and you snort.
“Some help you are!” Shelley just giggled.
“Yeah,” Roman pushed himself up with a grunt, quickly snaking his arms around your waist, “I’m not used to hearing no. Let’s not start today, yeah?”
You looked down at him, his chin resting against your abdomen while he gazed up at you with his most convincing puppy eyes.
You move your hands to hold his cheeks, squeezing them together causing his lips to pout, “Everyone’s right, you are a brat.”
You lean down and peck his pursed mouth, “Walk me to my car?”
Roman gives a heavy sigh in defeat, collapsing back into the couch for a moment before begrudgingly getting up, making the movement seem like a great effort.
“You owe me,” He responds in a grumble.
“Oh, of course,” You reply dramatically as you walk over and give Shelley a chaste kiss to the forehead in goodbye.
Roman waits for you by the door for you to finish your farewells with his sister, then leads you outside.
At your car, you toss your bag through the open window into the passenger seat, then lean against the door to look up at Roman.
“I think you should just move in here, you’re over enough.” He comments, placing his hands on your hips.
“I’m sure our mother’s would love that,” You counter swiftly.
“Fuck my mom,” Roman says, “And yours, well she could finally travel like she’s always wanted.”
“So what? I’m just the dead weight holding her back?”
“Oh c’mon, you know I didn’t mean it like that.” Roman sighs, moving closer to you.
You stay quiet, letting him squirm a bit. You knew he meant nothing by his comment, nothing more than a desperate search for you to agree to his offer.
“I would, but I’d only be giving into your spoiled-rich-boy complex. I can’t do that. I have to be the one to teach you hard work and perseverance. I want you to turn out to be a well rounded young man.”
The scowl that overtook Roman’s face made you burst into giggles.
“Fuck that, and you for saying it.”
“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” You say, giggles dying down as you lean up to give him a kiss. A longer one to appease him, “I’ll call you later, OK?”
“OK,” Roman says breathlessly to your lips, “Love you.”
“Love you, too.” And you pulled away from him.
Parting from Roman was always a five minute process, or longer. Because he would kiss you deeper, and beg for one more, and whisper sweet words and begs for you to stay, trying your resolve each and every time. Tonight was no different. You finally left the Godfrey grounds seven minutes later with swollen lips and the beginning of a love bite on your neck.
You ran through a field of grass and wildflowers. Looking over your shoulder with a wide smile and echoing giggles.
“Catch me! Faster! Before I fall! Catch me, Roman!” Your voice carried far and wide.
The dress you adorned was white, gauzy, and thin. Roman could see the hazy outline of your body beneath the fabric, your soft curves shining through as the sun basked you in it’s buttery glow. The world was saturated in warm tones and smelled like fresh laundry on his skin.
“Please, Ro! Catch me! I’m going to trip!” Your melodic voice begged, as you remained just out of arm's length.
Roman ran as fast as he could, panting and heaving as he tried to keep up with your light feet. His fingers would dust the fabric of your dress, feel the fibers and loose threads on his nails, but he could never get close enough to wrap you his grasp and capture you. He tumbled through the tall grass and felt a distinct tightness in his chest of yearning and fear. He just wanted to reach you.
As he continued the chase, Roman’s legs began to feel utterly heavy and stiff. A smattering of pins and needles danced under his skin and began to numb his extremities. It felt like he was pushing through water and running through sand. When he looked down to his feet, suddenly he was. He was encased in thick slimy sand and he could barely move.
“Roman?” Your voice was far away and trembling.
Roman snapped his head back up to look at you, still in your field of wildflowers and fragile gown.
“Roman, please, it’s going to happen…” You were suddenly crying, your face streaked with tears that left unforgiving wet trails over your delicate skin.
“I won’t! I won’t!” Roman calls, trying to dig himself from the swallowing sand.
“Baby… it hurts,” You whimper and groan and Roman watches as you reach down to clutch your stomach. Your crisp white dress now swathed with red.
A long, jagged cut marred your abdomen, blood pouring out of you like rushing water.
“No!” Roman screams, chanting the word until his throat was thick and hoarse.
You hiccup, and heavy currents of dark crimson drip past your lips. Your sputtering as the blood splatters your once spotless face, freckling your draining cheeks as a new outpour of blood furthers to ruin your dress.
Roman claws at the sand sucking him under, the little particles cutting into his fingers like shards of glass as he continues his tireless efforts to escape.
He watches as you stare at the blood in question, trying to push it back into your jutting abdomen wound fruitlessly, only managing to push more out.
“Stay right there, I’m coming! I’m coming!” Roman shouts, but the sand has sucked him down despite his best efforts and is up to his chin. The sun was so bright now, it was beginning to blinding him.
“No, you’re not.” You say with blood painted lips, teeth slimy with cardinal colors and sickly browns.
Roman tries to shout again, only for the sand to begin to enter his mouth and fill his lungs, before it engulfs him completely.
Roman shot awake, slick with sweat and an intense weighing heat covering every inch of his body.
His eyes stung with unshed tears as he scrambled to reach his phone on his nightstand. It told him it was just after two in the morning before he dials your number.
With his trembling hand to his ear, he listens to the incessant ring and waits for you to answer.
But the phone just rings, and rings and rings. And Roman swallows down the bile that raises in his throat as he gets your voicemail.
He calls back immediately, listening to the endless tone with shallow breaths. Once more, he gets your voicemail.
“Fuck!” Roman shouts, his voice carrying in the silent bedroom.
He starts to kick away his blankets and press your contact once more, when his phone buzzes. He doesn’t hesitate to answer.
“Hello? Baby?” Roman gasps.
“No, it’s uh, it’s me.” The voice on the other end isn’t yours, but Peter’s.
“Peter, dear fucking -- did you have it? Did you see her?” Roman asks, his voice frenzied.
“Yeah, I… I needed to call and see if she was with you. But I guess not.”
And Roman starts to hyperventilate. He tries to gulp in as much air as he can, but his lungs are tight and constricted with tears and terror.
“Peter, she’s next. No, no, no, no, no! Fuck! This isn’t happening, this can’t be happening!” Sobs wracked his body as Peter did his best to calm him.
“Hey, hey! Calm down, alright? She’s probably just fine.”
Probably, probably, probably.
But not definitely.
Roman’s mind began to churn out pictures of your pretty little face on the news next to Brooke Bluebell and Lisa Willoughby. A newscaster reciting your name mournfully and telling the world that you were the latest victim of this horrific animal prowling after young girls in a sleepy Pennsylvania town.
“She’s not answering, Peter! She’s not fucking answering her phone. She’s not -- fuck!” Roman could barely get the words out.
Your face in print, the ink smudging and transferring to the pads of Roman’s fingers from the amount of times he strokes your still features. Perfect and frozen in time. The headline saying something about another teen dead. Another beautiful girl with so much potential… torn from the world and limb from limb.
“Calm down, Roman! We need to find her, OK? I’m sure she’s just asleep and didn’t hear her phone. Let’s find her before we have a fuckin’ melt down, yeah?”
“Yeah, yeah, Ok, yeah.” Roman nods, running a tense hand through his hair.
“So, why don’t you sit tight and I’ll go over to her house and bring her to you?”
“No!” Roman shouts, “No! I’m going, she needs me.”
Roman stands from his bed and rushes around his room to gather any discarded clothing he could find crumpled on the ground or splayed over the back of a chair.
“Roman, let’s just think about this for a minute. You’re worried, stressed out of your mind, you’re not thinking straight. You’re gonna fuckin’ crash your car if you drive like this.” Peter tries to reason.
Roman scoffs, “I’m fine.”
“No, you’re really not,” Peter lets out a humorless chuckle.
“Yeah, y’know what? You’re right, I’m fucking not,” Roman spits.
He’s running down the stairs in a mismatched outfit in a search for his car keys, “I’ll be fine when I see she’s OK.”
Roman hangs up his phone before Peter can argue anymore.
When Roman gets to your house, he doesn't waste time knocking. He just picks up the trick rock in the front flowerpot to retrieve the spar key from inside it, and storms into your house. He barely remembers to shut the door behind him.
“(Y/N)! Baby!” Roman calls, searching around for any signs of disturbance or foul play.
He bounds up your staircase, frantically calling for you all the while. When he reaches your bedroom, he plows his way through the door without ceremony. His grip warping the thin gold plated knob, fingers molding into the cheap tin with worried fury.
You shot up from your mattress when Roman burst in with a shriek, clutching your chest as Roman stood dumbfounded in your doorway.
“Jesus Christ, Roman! What the hell? You just about gave me a heart attack! Fuck,” You let out a loud breath and fell against your pillows, sucking in calming breaths, “What is wrong with you?”
Overwhelming relief rushed through Roman’s viens as he watched you, annoyed and disgruntled in a sea of sheets and blankets from his entrance.
“Oh my God,” Tears sprang back to his eyes as Roman quickly closed the short distance between himself and your bed and vined his arms around you.
He blanketed you in his body, crushing you to the mattress as he sobbed into your neck.
“Whoa, hey, Ro? Baby? What happened? What’s going on?” You asked, anger turning quickly to worry as you moved to wrap your arms around his shaking shoulders.
His forearms press into the base of your neck and the hollow of your back uncomfortably, arching you into him in an awkward position. But the pain only served as a reminder to Roman that you were real. You’re here and you’re breathing and your bones clash with his and your breath fogs his brain. He couldn’t speak, all he could do was inhale your clean scent and the pattern of your heartbeat.
“Roman, you’re scaring me. What the hell is going on?” You tried again.
“Just stay right here. Be safe,” He hushed, nuzzling closer to you, pressing his cold nose to your clavicle.
A distinct prick of worry and fear made itself known in your gut, but you tried your best to subdue it.
For now.
“Alright, but please just tell me you’re OK?” You whisper, gripping the back of his shoulders tightly.
“Yeah. And so are you.”
You woke the next morning with a stabbing pain in your side and with stiff limbs. The sun had peeked over Roman’s head and cast onto your tired lids. Your hands were still tangled in his hair, resting loosely on the nape of his neck, having stopped combing through brunet strands sometime around dawn when sleep finally took you back under.
You tried to shift your weight around to alleviate the discomfort, but a small voice stopped you.
“Don’t get up,” Came Roman’s throaty plea.
“I wasn’t, just getting comfortable. M’back hurts.”
Roman doesn’t reply, just moves his arm from where it had been digging into your muscles and moves onto his side so you can too. His other arm stays firmly coiled around your shoulders.
You sigh in relaxed pleasure as you stretch out the kink in your back and are able to snuggle back into Roman with no pain.
“Thank you,” You mutter and kiss the hollow of his throat before you begin to drift off again.
His warmth, his soft pine cologne, the weight of his arms around you, the safety he offered, it was hard to stay awake all while under the thick cloud of blankets and early morning heat. Roman began to drag his fingers gently up and down your spine, helping to lull you back into sleep. That was until you remembered that Roman hadn’t just snuck in the night before to sleep next to you. You two hadn’t fucked and smoked and passed out in each other’s arms. He had come storming into your bedroom last night with crazed glazed eyes, looking like he’d seen a ghost, or something worse. So, you blink away any residual urge for slumber.
“What happened last night?” You asked, running your nose along his thrumming pulse.
“Don’t worry ‘bout it,” Roman moves his palm up to cup the back of your skull, “We’ll talk about it when you wake up.”
You wiggle away from his embrace far enough to see his face. He looked pensive and worried. His sweet lips chapped and gnawed raw.
“I don’t want to wait, Ro. You really freaked me out last night.” You lean further back, “Was it Olivia? Did she do something?”
“No, no,” Roman sighs, “Not this time. It wasn’t her.”
“Then what was it?”
Roman ran the tip of his tongue over his cracked lips and sniffs loudly. He makes a scene to look anywhere but your eyes. He looked scared, and Roman never looked scared. Angry? Interested? Annoyed? Curious? Yes, but never scared.
“Ro? What is it? You're freaking me.” You reach for his hand that is resting on your hip and wrap it in your own.
His jaw flexes and swivels, his bottom teeth jutting out before he finally sighs, “You were in my dream last night…”
“And?”
“Peter had the dream, too.”
It felt like the wind had been knocked from your lungs. You knew Roman could feel your hand tighten around his own, because he pushed your face back to press into his chest.
“But it’s OK. It’s going to be alright. I have you, I have you, I have you,” He chants, slipping his long calf around your legs to further his point.
“Peter saw me, too?” You asked, voice quivering with uncertainty.
“Yeah, baby. He did.”
“And it was the same dream?”
Roman took a long pause that told you more than his words ever could.
“Did you see it, too? Did it get me?”
You can feel Roman shutter against you. Like someone had poured ice water down his back.
“No, we didn’t. It wasn’t there. It was just… it wasn’t pretty, I’ll spare you the details but it wasn’t fucking pretty. It freaked us out.”
“Oh God,” You muttered, your mind moving a mile a minute, “Oh my God. I’m next.”
“No.” Roman says, an animalistic roar from deep in his chest, his arms working to pull you even closer, “No. Nothing is going to happen to you. I won’t let it.”
“What if something happens that you can’t stop? Or you’re not there? Or I’m alone? Or, or, fuck! I don’t know!” You gasp, your heart palpating in your chest.
You had never been faced with your own mortality before. You had never had a near death experience or even anything close to one. You sometimes felt embarrassed when your peers would talk about terrifying advantentures they had embarked on that almost ended fatally but they triphumpanlty survived. Or activities they foolishly starred in and swore they saw their lives flash before their eyes. The stories were likely embellished, but you still felt square. You weren’t an adrenaline junkie, you didn’t even like carnival rides. You liked knowing you’d wake the next day, safe and sound with two feet planted firmly on the ground. This feeling of possible and even probable death by crazed werewolf made your vision blur and bile coat your tongue.
There wasn’t enough air in the world to satisfy your thirsty lungs.
“Hey, hey, stop!” Roman said sternly, his voice working to break through your wave of panic, “Nothing is going to happen, OK? Nothing. I will do whatever possible to keep you safe. I don’t care what it takes.”
“Ro --” Tears had begun to fall from your eyes without your knowledge, and his name came from your lips weak and whimpered.
“I have you, I’ve got you. I am going to be with you 24-fucking-7 until we kill this thing. I am not going to leave your side until I have a fucking Vargulf head in the trophy room.” He reassures.
“How can you be with me when you are going off to kill it?”
“Then I’m gonna lock you in Shelley’s room and make you stay put until I’m back. We aren’t taking any chances with this.”
You pull back once more to look at him with glazed eyes; his face pink from sleep and tears.
“You’ll stay at the house until we kill this thing, alright? I don’t care what Olivia or anyone else says, you’ll stay with me.”
“What if it comes here anyway? What if it hurts my mom? Oh my God, Roman, my mom!” Your blubbering again.
“Fuck it, she can come, too. We’ll make something up, have Peter forge some documents from the city that say you guys have to get out of this house, then I’ll offer up guest bedrooms. We’ll figure it out.” He replies, smoothing your hair against your head.
“Do you really think it’ll work?”
Roman sighs, “I mean if it doesn’t I could, y’know, persuade her.”
“Roman, no.”
You knew Roman would never do anything to hurt your beloved mother, but the thought of him using his eye-thing on her made your stomach twist.
“I would and I will if I have to. I’ll do what I have to to keep you safe. That’s just how it is.”
He was your protector. Your warrior. Fuck Peter, fuck his mother and Destiny. Fuck anyone who told him this wasn’t his fight, that he should bow out and let the Rumanecks handle this. Because now it definitely was. Now, he was to be the one who saved the town and you and Peter and Letha and Shelley. He was to be the one who cut off the head of this wolf or ripped it apart with his bare hands to keep his loved ones safe. He was strong, he was the warrior.
“OK.” You surrendered to his declarations of safety and tried to let his presence lull you.
You’d have to pack some things in a few hours, help come up with a lie to convince your mother, then move into the Godfrey mansion and hope it’s walls were enough to shuck this black omen from your soul.
“I got you, I promise I do.” Roman hushes, placing a delicate kiss to your forehead.
Your burrow deeper into his embrace and refuse to tell him about the dream you’d had the night before. The dream about spitting your teeth into his hands and running your tongue over your coppery gums. You needed to call Destiny or Peter’s mom to get the prognosis on if it meant anything. If it was just unsettling or apart of whatever Roman and Peter were seeing at night. For now, all you could hope was that it was the former, and Roman’s energy was enough to heal your fearful heart.
hi (-: i hope you enjoyed! if you did, i’d love to hear from you <3
#roman godfrey x reader#roman godfrey imagine#roman godfrey imagines#roman godfrey x you#roman godfrey reader insert#roman godfrey fanfic#roman godfrey fanfiction#bill skarsgård x reader#bill skarsgard x reader#bill skarsgard imagine#bill skarsgård imagine#bill skarsgård fanfiction#hemlock grove fanfic#hemlock grove fanfiction#hemlock grove imagines#hemlock grove imagine#stevesharrlngtonswrites
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hi i’m really fuckin stressed i just moved into my uni residence yesterday and i’m trying and failing to organise my room and my parents called because my uni fees are way higher than they should be and we don’t know why so i need to find out what’s going on and i need to do laundry but i can’t do it without a student card and i don’t have it yet and tomorrow i need to buy a bus card bc i have to go to ikea but without a student card i can’t get student discount and i need to get a printer but idk how to set it up bc my parents helped my sisters move into their unis but bc of covid they can’t help me so i need to figure it out on my own and i’m trying to meet new people but now i think they think i’m just annoying and needy and i really need to make friends and i’m worried that my best friend at home is depressed again and there’s nothing i can do about it from all the way over here and i miss him and i miss all of my friends back home and i miss my parents and my pets and i need to fucking get up bc it’s almost 1am and i need to clean my pot and pan and plates and jug and spatula so i can cook tomorrow bc i only had 2 meals today and one of them was cup noodles and the other was a bun from the supermarket and also i bought a toaster bc i thought i needed one but turns out i don’t even need one bc there’s a communal one so that was a waste of money and i can’t even return it bc i opened it and the only bread i could get is fucking massive so i was gonna freeze half of it but i forgot to buy ziplock bags and i also forgot to buy a lock for the communal fridge and cups and kitchen scissors and shower soaps and conditioner bc i’m still using tiny hotel ones that r basically empty and fuck i forgot to take my antibiotics yesterday do i take two today to make up for it or is that bad and i need to go wash my pots now but i wanna wait until it’s later so that no one sees me because for some reason i think that washing shit in the communal sink is embarrassing even tho i know it shouldn’t be and no one gives a shit and also i don’t wanna bc it’s fucking summer and it’s boiling so i’m in my pyjamas which is like a playsuit type thing so i gotta wear a jacket over it if i go outside so i don’t accidentally nip slip but then i sweat so much and i’m already boiling bc the rooms don’t have ac but i have a fan but i couldn’t clean it properly bc i don’t have a screwdriver so there’s still gross dust clumps on it amd it’s probably making the room grosser and i just want to fucking cry but i’ve cried too many times this week i should be happy i should be excited this is what i’ve been looking forward to for the last year of my life but it’s just so much and i’m so overwhelmed and i need to sort my room out bc the clutter is making me more stressed but i need to sleep bc i’m sleep deprived and i don’t know what the fuck i’m doing with my life
#what the fuck is wrong with me#ngl tho typing that out felt v cathartic#is that the right word ??#i don’t even fucking know#is this the first non streamer related post i’ve made ?? probably but whatever#might lose follows for posting pErSoNaL shit but oh fucking well#bc even tho i get excited when i have follows or likes or reblogs it’s literally just ppl following a blog for updates and clips#which is fair enough#but i should stop kidding myself that ppl care about me or anything besides screenshotting and screen recording#lmao that sounds depressing#if i posted the same shit just without writing anything but the corpse tags they would do the exactly same like without any input#but i like to convince myself otherwise :)#fuck this shit#long post but i don’t fucking know how to add the cut so too fucking bad#time to sort my shit out bc i just procrastinated by typing this out#bex rambles#is this even a ramble it’s definitely a ramble but it’s more of a rant#bex rants#there we go that’s more accurate#personal
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OSRR: 2640
it is so fucking hot in here i am roasting in my skin. the heater can't be closed, and it can't be covered, so the window is open above it for the time being. joel has the brain cell, so he was the one who said "just do this" and opened the window. what would i do without him.
the heat, unfortunately, goes off and on intermittently, and i can't predict when it'll come on.
i miss my air conditioner. my room. my bed. my fan.
alas.
i cannot return until i am tested.
i worked from home today, and i need to send out emails in the morning to do the same about tomorrow, and i need to make a decision about where i'll be and what i'm gonna do about this week. i'm also flat broke, and i won't get paid for another ten days or so, so i need to keep driving to a minimum until i get paid, then i'll be able to fill my bank account again and not have to worry about it.
that is, until december.
i'm not going to be able to afford anything. ever again.
i need to get those scholarship applications done. if i don't and if i don't get anything, i can't go to school next semester. and that'll fuck with my schedule and throw it off by another two years. which is not something i want to happen.
i don't wanna need to ask for money. i hate that i've dug myself into this goddamn hole in the first place. i never should've gone to disney. i'd still have money to pay my bills for january if i hadn't. and probably december, too. fuck. why did i spend so much money. what did i even buy. why are pins so goddamn expensive. i hate capitalism.
i'm so stressed. jesus christ.
and i don't know what to do about it, and i don't know what i can do about it.
i need a better job. i need a less chaotic schedule. i need a full degree in something useful. i need to go back twelve years and tell myself a shitload of stuff. maybe if i started therapy earlier i'd have a better grasp on it earlier so i wouldn't still be going for a bachelor's degree ten years into my academic career. maybe i wouldn't be so financially fucked for the rest of my goddamn existence.
maybe i wouldn't have a headache right now.
god i hate this.
i'm a little miserable right now.
i need someone to leave me three hundred thousand dollars. please. i beg of you. i just. i hate this. if i didn't have so much fucking debt hanging over my head like a sword i'd be much less stressed. i wouldn't have a million bills to pay each month. i wouldn't have anxiety attacks about thinking about student loan payments. i'm just. fucking. i'm a mess.
i'm so stressed out.
and this isn't even about my day. which was also stressful but i was more tired than anything. i met with students to varying degrees of success. we got longhorn for dinner, which i needed to pick up because i was the one who wasn't sick, but i double masked and washed my hands like seven times so i didn't even slightly breathe on the guy who brought out the food. im just. im so stressed about so many things and i just want to fuckin like. sit in a bookstore for six hours. eat a cupcake. buy some books. im just.
dead here.
i also watched naruto while i did my laundry. worth it.
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Bad Day?
TV SHOW GODLESS
COUPLE WHITEY WINN X READER
RATING ADORABLE
REQUESTED :
Could you please do whitey winn fic about him being really tired after working and him and his s/o cuddle (akrosndianfiqndoandian I feel like whitey winn would be a little spoon idk why-)
I stood over the kitchen sink washing up dishes and Cutlery hearing it clatter and splash in the warm water as I did, having to hurry for these last bits as it would be warm much longer. Looking out the small wooden window the light of various coloured glass bottles lined on the windowsill to reflect sweet pleasent light in mornings as the sun rise. But now the sun was setting and was hidden away the other side of the house, the town of labelle darkening as slowly but surely the sun slips below the desert horizon. Suddenly the door opened and I looked over in shock to the wooden door facing out towards town, the small lanky figure in the doorway holding open the door. His boots stepping up onto the wooden floor out of the dusty desert dirt, the boots speckled with some dust, dirt and mud from walks, scuffed slightly from riding his horse, they clacked a little where the tall soul and heel of the boots met the wooden planked floor. His pants tight to his skinny legs tucked into his boots tightly, the pants hugged his non existent curves up to his crotch and hips, them hugging the curves of his butt rather closely. His two gun belts sat posied on his hips crossing over his fly. His once white button down concealed by his grey jumper the glint of his deputy badge on his pocket. His neck sun tanned and covered with thick layers of dirt and dust to stubborn now to remove without a wire brush and patients, his lip and chin graced with messy stubble. His eyes scanned the room momentarily from under the brim of his hat that pulled his loose blonde waves back away from him.
"Good evening Mr Winn" I smiled sweetly to him, he made no response to me he simply stepped inside more shutting the door slipping his hat off putting it squarely on the coat hook beside the door above the brown leather jacket he didn't take today. He stepped over to the bed and went face first into it. "Bad day?" I asked
"I can't even begin to explain to ya darlin'" he mumbled his face in his pillow
"Bullshit?' I asked and he nodded "okay" I smiled going over and forcing him up to his feet not difficult as I think I've had sadles that weight more then whitey does soaking wet. I wrapped his arms around my waist his fingers interwining with his own at the small of my back his head laid on mine where he didn't actually want to stand on his own "how about I put on a little cassarol, Run you a nice hot bath, you can tell me all about it, then a nice Early night?" I suggest "hey? That sound good?"
He nodded and mumbled something incoherent into my hair so I smiled giving his nose a little kiss letting him sit back in the bed as I went to heat up some cassarol and put the water on for him to have a bath. As they both simmered I sat beside him moving his head to my shoulder
"So? You Wanna tell me about it?" I smiled
"Bill headed off about nine to go see his children, then had some boys in the bar kickin' up a fuss 'bout nothin'" he explained "then dam leapold came in the office whinin' 'bout the fuckin' kids in his shop again, and I told him for the nineth fuckin' time this week there ain't shit I can do 'bout it, he's got that much of a soddin' problem talk to there Mamma's" he explained "then all this dam mr ward business, been lookin' after him all day, dam ladies can't get enough of him. Then bill came back ridin' my ass 'bout somethin' I don't even know what I think he just had an ass" he explained "then I cleaned up and came on home to ya y/n"
"Aww whitey, my poor baby" I said kissing his head playing with his hair a moment before the water was done so I dragged out the tub and filled it up letting it cool a moment "come on whitey, you gonna cane have your bath?"
He sighed and got up taking off his gun belts wrapping them around the bed post, he kicked off his boots across the room then pulling off his jumper and somehow his shirt in one tug throwing them towards the laundry he rubbed his eyes as he came over checking the water
"Do I have to?" He asks
"When did you last bathe whitey?'
"Few days ago..." He lied
"Whitey Winn don't you dare lie to me, it was last week you dirty bugger now go on else no cuddles" I warn him gathering up his various things
"Fine" he sighed pealing his pants off him and climbing into the bath, he let out a rather happy sigh the moment he sat in the hot steamy water
"That better?" I asked
"Umm" he nods his eyes closed a little
"Good boy," I smiled taking what was left of the hot water and filling my Bucket grabbing as much cleaner as I could to wash his clothes from today "I think you work to much" I said
"I've always worked this much" he answered as he actually began to wash
"Yes but maybe that's not a good thing" I explain "whitey you've been working your little butt off as long as I've known you, maybe you won't be so tried and stressed if you just slowed down ever once and awhile"
"I know y/n, it just ain't that easy darlin'"
"Whitey I'm not asking the world, I just ask you slow down a little, you work too much you'll end up working your dam self into the ground" I explain hanging up his pants as I was done washing them leaving them on the clothes horse to dry by the fire for tomorrow "you'll keep working and working and before you know it you'll look up and they'll be shoveling the dirt on you" I laughed
"I can't slow down y/n I'm the deputy, and with bill wonderin' off and all" he explained "it's all I've worked for my whole life"
"Alright, when you're sheriff then? Will you slow down then?" I asked
"Y/n I'll be sherrifs of labelle I can't slow down or back off like bill does I couldn't leave my deputy to that, let alone if I'd even have one with the boys around here" he explained as he was all done so he climbed out the bath got dry and sat on the bed in his cosy PJs
"Then when whitey? Not now, now then so... When?"
"I don't know y/n," he says I sighed finishing up with his clothes and leaving them by the fire giving him a little dinner and sitting beside him
"Whitey... I just worry about you, you're working yourself way to hard." I told him as he finished up his food as he was very hungry so I took the bowel back to the sink "if you don't slow down... You might not find time for other things"
"Other things?" He asked
"Whitey you've been labelle's deputy as long as I remember." I laughed leaning on the sink "if you don't slow down you'll end up like bill whitey. Distant, distracted, tried, working day after day until they dig you a grave" I explain "that's not what you want, is it?"
"Of course not y/n" he says getting up to hold my hands
"But if you keep working so hard, and being so tried all the time then, you won't have time for the... Other things. You know" I smiled "kisses, and cuddles, and long walks by the river" I encouraged between kisses "or even little ones of our own?"
"Of course I want all that darlin', I wouldn't have married ya if I didn't. Just... A little more. Then I'll slow down a little I promise, and we can get workin' on our little family" he smiled kissing my lips softly and sweetly
"When?"
"Until bill retires. I'll slow down until then I promise" he says kissing my head "now I was promised a cuddle"
"Alright" I smiled getting changed into my nightie as he got tucked up in bed so I turned out the light and climbed in beside him into our little bed "we should probably invest in a bigger bed"
"Why?" He asks
"I don't know how well we'll do making babies in this crappy thing" I laughed
"True, maybe we should... Move house? Somewhere bigger. With sperate rooms so that whitey jr won't hear us makin' his little sister" he suggested
"Maybe" I smiled
"Y/n..."
"Yes Whitey?"
"Could ya... Do that thing ya do for me sometimes, when I'm tired?" He asks "since I had a bad day and all?"
"Alright" I giggled moving my hand towards his
"Ohh no, not that darlin'" he laughs grabbing my wrist
"Oh sorry" I blushed
"It's okay, I meant the other thing"
"Of course whitey" I smiled kissing his lips gently he smiled as I did when we pulled away he turned to face the wall and I went close to him nuzzling in his skin wrapping my arms around his chest kissing his shoulder, I wrapped my legs up with his own gently spooning him, I could see his smile and his cosy he was. Whitey always liked to be a little spoon when he's sleepy or it's been a rough day or so.
"Goodnight darlin'" he yawned
"Goodnight whitey" I smiled pulling him closer "love ya" I Whispered in his ear
"Love ya too" he smiled
#tbs#thomas sangster#whitey winn#whitey#whitey winn imagines#godless imagine#godless netflix#godless whitey winn imagine#thomasbrodiesangster
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Failing | Obi Wan Kenobi
request; "“making them laugh when they’re upset” with obi wan kenobi please?? AND LISTEN JACK, you’re going to pass your exam with flying colors okay??? no need to stress too much over it because I KNOW you have that test in the bag! so claim that shit and relax a bit for yourself. you always got my support and love jack" // @thenlookatyourphones
notes; I failed my maths exam 🥴 looks like all that panickin wasn't over nothin, uh, gender neutral reader
There had been a disturbance in the Force for a while, and at first, Obi Wan had put it down to the stress of the upcoming results of some test that you needed to do; but today was the worst by far, he had not been able to sleep, choosing to stay up with you and your anxiety and doing his best to help you through it.
But then the results came through, and you were heartbroken to find out that you were just one grade away from passing; deeply upset by the news, you shut yourself off from Obi Wan, snuggled up in your living room listening to music and stressing yourself out far past the point of return. But it didn't take long for Obi Wan to disturb you and your worry, flicking the hood of his robe down as he walked into the room.
He sat beside you, letting you shift so that you were sat across the chair, your legs dangling over one arm, your back pressed against the other as Obi Wan held you close and tightly.
"I'm sorry the results weren't what you wanted," he started, "really, I am so sorry, (y/n), my love."
You shook your head, snuggling into him and resting your head against his chest, letting him keep an arm around you as you let out a heavy sigh. "All that effort... all that stress... and I feel like a fucking failure, Obi..."
"You're not," Obi Wan replied gently, "you're not a failure... you're a pain in my ass at times, but you're not a failure."
You chuckled softly, nodding and staying snug against his chest, resting your feet against the wall as you closed your eyes. "I feel like one..."
"Do you remember when I was a Padawan?" He asked softly, his voice a tender thunder from the back of his throat, laced with empathetic concern and the smallest hint of a smile. "And you were still an apprentice, and we went down to that little lake?"
"Was that the time you tripped on your own boots and fell over?" You giggled, holding and biting back an even worse laugh, one that would have wrecked through the room and ripped through the air.
Obi Wan nodded, a small chuckle coming from his chest, down by his lungs as he allowed the small vibrations to echo through your body as he allowed a smile to run onto his lips. "I was trying to keep up with you, and I fell right into the dirt."
"Qui Gon was so mad when you tracked mud through the temple," you snorted, grinning and shifting to get just that little bit closer, daring to nudge him gently with your elbow. "I had to fuckin' help you scrub your robes all night..."
"You loved it, really," he grumbled playfully. "Spending that night with me in the laundry room, no one around to see us."
You shifted again, this time straddling his waist as you ran a hand down his chest before reaching up to gently stroke the coarse hairs of his beard, smiling at how it tickled the pads of your fingertips. "I miss those days..."
"I know," Obi Wan admitted. "But now I've got you all to myself, and I'd like nothing more than to... relive some of those memories with you. Even the ones like that time when you were helping me practice with my lightsaber and you jumped into my arms because you heard a bark."
You rolled your eyes, chuckling and laughing along; if anyone knew how to make you feel better when you were upset and stressed and anxious, it was certainly Obi Wan. If there was anyone who could make you laugh when you were upset, it was almost certainly going to be him, and for that, you were thankful, and always would be.
tags; @befreebehappya012 @bellobi @cadyulie @frosted-starlight @galactic-magick @guns-n-marvel @punkpascal @princess-of-fuckup @spnfanboy777 @snips-n-skyguy0501 @theamazingschneiderman
#obi wan x reader#obi wan x you#obi wan x y/n#obi wan imagine#obi wan one shot#obi wan oneshot#obi wan fanfic#obi wan fanfiction#obi wan fluff#obi wan fic#obi wan#obi wan kenobi x y/n#obi wan kenobi x reader#obi wan kenobi x you#obi wan kenobi imagine#obi wan kenobi oneshot#obi wan kenobi one shot#obi wan kenobi fanfic#obi wan kenobi fluff#obi wan kenobi fic#obi wan kenobi fanfiction#obi wan kenobi#ewan mcgregor imagine#ewan mcgregor x reader#ewan mcgregor#mlem writes
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DUMPLING ch 22
She awoke to the sound of bird song and the pleasant warmth of the sun shining through the glass of the window. Beneath the blankets and her dress, her ribs only vaguely hurt as she took in a big breath. Her sick bed had been set onto a window sill overlooking one of the gardens at her request. Though Yaesha would move her back closer to the fire at night as he worried the cold would slow her healing.
A little over a week of recovery had dulled the pain greatly and her bruises had all but healed. Most of the wyvern attack was a blur to her and she could only recall the day’s events vaguely. She did remember the smoke man, however. Despite her dread of it, he had since failed to materialized, though she spent many sleepless nights wondering if she had wholly imagined him. Having been told that she had hit her head pretty hard, jumbled thoughts, recall difficulties, and false memories were to be expected. At least that was so according to Yaesha, the royal physician, and Sawyer, a human healer to whom he was guardian. Sawyer was tall for a woman and kept her hair cropped short and wore trousers and tunics rather than dresses or skirts. In fact, had she not been in possession of a distinctly feminine voice, Nenani might have mistaken her for a man entirely.
“You try sewing up a giant’s wound in a petticoat and bodice,” the human woman replied when Nenani had asked about her choice of wardrobe. “Better yet, try to wash it afterwards. Unlike Yaesha, I actually do my own laundry. Much easier to clean blood from black shirts and leather tunics and trousers. I’m a healer, gal, not a homemaker.”
Her answer felt well practiced, but her tone was amiable and blasé about the frank nature of her work. Yaesha was treating the twenty something giants who had sustained various forms of injury, including Bart. His arms had wickedly painful looking scraps where the wyvern’s claws had caught him as well as a bruised cheek. Gjerk was there was well with a black eye and torn ear that needed sewing back up. Both were discharged mere hours after coming in and none of them were permitted to see here, much to their frustration.
As Yaesha went about his work treating the injured Vhassalans, Sawyer was beset upon Nenani at the behest of many anxious giants. Lolly among them as she was the one who had fetched her from Maevis.
“Not a clue why he thought he knew how to treat a human,” Sawyer said as she wiped blood from Nenani’s face with a damp cloth where her bottom lip had split. “He must be in shock. Poor guy looked like he was gonna faint. Barnaby must be in pieces. They always get that way when one or the other is stressed or hurt. Them two are precious when they get that way, but really. Maevis knows there is an order ‘round here. Should have brought you straight to me.”
Nenani was not much well in the way to carry the conversation, but tried to add in when she could.
“They’re friends,” she added, trying to quell the dizziness she was feeling. The room would not stop spinning. “It’s good to have someone who cares...”
Sawyer laughed, dipping the cloth back into a bucket of water. “I’ll second that. Don’t know what I’d be without Yaesha. Aside from dead. He was the one who found me y’know. Saved my ass, brought me back here and let me heal up and offered to let me be his tag along since I was a trained healer.”
“What happened?” Nenani asked, wincing when the wet cloth was brought over to her shoulder to wipe away dirt from a nasty gash in her shoulder.
“Got careless,” Sawyer replied, carefully cleaning Nenani’s many scrapes clean of grime. “Got caught. Almost ended up as someone’s dinner. Yaesha was being his nosey self and stopped ‘em from gutting me like a lipper. He traded them a remedy for piles in exchange for me. Now, no more talking. I need to clean all this blood and muck off and see what I’m working with...”
Sawyer was not like any woman that Nenani had ever known and she had a strange ability to distract those being treated with stories so they were not even aware of her treating their wounds. So when she had to perform a movement that would be particularly painful, the patient would be too enraptured by the story to notice until the pain hit. Not being able to anticipate the pain made the whole ordeal that much more tolerable.
As her injuries were serious enough to warrant prolonged observation, she was only able to receive visitors after the first three days. Yaesha wanted to make sure she had pulled through the worst of it. But apparently, three days was far too long for many.
“Farris is beyond cross with me,” he said to Sawyer as she changed the bandages on Nenani’s leg. It was only the second day and Nenani was still suffering from a horrendous headache and barely aware of anything yet thanks to the medicines she had been given which had sedative properties. Though they were peaking softly, their voices felt like claws inside her brain. “He’s tried to barge in here three times today. I don’t know how many other ways there are to phrase ‘She has a concussion. She needs rest. Go away!’ Besides, he should be resting that damn leg!”
“He’s scared for her,” Sawyer answered as she tucked Nenani’s bandaged leg back under the covers. “She looked like death when they brought her in. Mumbling about shadows or some such thing...”
Yaesha first had her bed set up in his private office so he could keep an eye on her. Sawyer assured him, that she was capable of doing it on her own, but Yaesha insisted. “I do not doubt your skill in the least. I am merely being cautious.”
“You’re being nosy,” she countered.
Yaesha’s office in many ways reminded Nenani of the spice pantry. Tall shelves filled with incomprehensible knick knacks and books and jars. So many jars. Some were filled with innocuous items like river stones or dried leaves. Others were filled with persevered animals, suspended in discolored fluid. Hanging from the ceiling, suspended from ropes tie to the rafters, was a full skeleton of a whale. The main room of the infirmary was a long hall filled with cots and at its center was a long hearth, not too dissimilar from that in the kitchen. A young maid tended the fire most of the day and assisted Yaesha with the more menial tasks such as cleaning and tending to the daily needs of the injured. Most who had sustain injuries from the attack had been released and allowed to either return to their duties or allowed to recuperate in their own rooms. Those who remained, including Nenani, had sustained some form of head trauma and required careful and close observation for a time.
Though she had been happy when Sawyer assured her that no one from kitchen was present among the worse hurt, she could not help the anxious need to see for herself.
“Scrapes and scratches,” Sawyer told her. “They’re all walking around fine.”
It was the morning of her third day that Farris was finally allowed to see Nenani and she could hear Yaesha instructing the kitchen master he only had a few minutes and to not tire her out. Her anxiety leaped when Farris walked into the room. Or rather, as he limped into the room. His right hand was bandaged as was his right leg and he clearly favored it.
“You are hurt...” she said with concern. She could not help but feel as though Sawyer had lied.
He chuckled, shaking his head. “Yer sittin’ there looking like a mauled rabbit and worryin’ ‘bout me?” Farris grinned, his good humor inflated by his very palpable relief to see her sitting up and most certainly not dead. Her head, arms, and legs had all been bandaged and her right cheek was heavily bruised. He took a chair and eased into it, wincing only a little as he lowered himself into it. “Ya really are one lucky lil’ buggar, Dumplin’.”
“Is anyone else is hurt?” she asked, voice hoarse. She was very thirsty, but was under orders not to drink anything unless under Sawyer’s observation. They were still concerned about possible internal bleeding and the best she had been given was a damp piece of cloth to chew on so her mouth would not dry out.
“Nothin’ to fret over. A’course ya wouldn’t know it by their bellyachin’” he said her. “Cuts and a few bite marks. A torn ear. The kitchens are a right mess, though. They’re still surveyin’ the damage.”
“What happened to the monster?” she asked, forgetting the name for the enormous winged lizard.
“Maevis bunt it t’cinders,” he replied with a vindictive satisfaction in his words. “Nothing left of the fucker but charred bones.”
Memories and fragments of the passed few days flickered in her head, but she was unable to piece anything together and it hurt to try.
“Maevis,” she mumbled. She could hear his voice in her head, chanting something and apologizing to her and he was...crying? “Is he…?”
“Yer magician’s just fine, lass. Got a nice bite mark on an arm fer all ‘is trouble, but he’ll live,” Farris told her. He raised his hand as though to reach out to her, but stopped and settled for placing his hand at the end of her bed. “He saved ya from that thing, lil’un. Came out of fuckin’ no where and grabbed ya up from it before it could gets its teeth around ya.”
“I don’t remember...” she said weakly, putting a hand her head.
“Don’t tire yerself out none, lass,” He said softly. He eyes were tired and she could see he had not been sleeping well. “Sawyer’s gonna take good care of ya fer me, alright? Get some rest.”
She nodded, feeling the weight of sleep beginning to drag at her mind and by the time Farris was at the door, she was asleep.
………………………………………………...
“It’ll leave a scar,” Sawyer was saying, wrapping the spent bandages around her hand and surveying Nenani’s shoulder. Her smock was pulled down to reveal a six inch long gash starting from the top of her shoulder and traveling down towards her heart. Black thread stitched the wound closed and for as alarming of a sight it was, it was healed. Yaesha loomed over his companion, squinting into his spectacles to study the wound for himself. “Hm. Yes, I have to agree. But your clothes will hide it nicely, so don’t fret.”
Sawyer pulled out a small pair of sheers from her bag and then from her front pocket, a small bottle of amber liquid.
“What’s that?” Nenani asked of the small bottle.
“Whiskey,” Sawyer grinned. “Keral’s whiskey to be precise.”
She looked at Sawyer in surprise and seeming to read her thoughts, the healer laughed loudly. “No, it’s not for drinking!”
To show her, Sawyer pulled the stop from the little bottle and poured the fluid onto the sheers, allowing the access to drip onto a wad of cloth. The smell was unpleasant and made Nenani scrunch her nose in disgust. She had never liked the smell of alcohol, but this was nothing like the yeasty smelling ale that they drank in the kitchens. This was pungent and smokey and medicinal.
“I clean all my tools like this,” Sawyer explained. “Or I boil them. Helps keep away infections.”
“It just doesn’t smell very pleasant,” Yaesha added, observing her with a disapproving eye. “I wish you would use something else...”
“But it works!” Sawyer grinned, bringing the little bottle to her lips and swallowing the small bit remaining. She grimaced as it hit her throat. “Ugh. I like it better watered down a bit. Hoo-boy! It’s strong.”
She wiped the excess whiskey from the sheers and then wiped the dampened cloth across the area on and around Nenani’s wound. Above them, Yaesha sighed.
“My dear,” Yaesha pleaded, rubbing his temple. “Please refrain from your indulgences until after you’ve removed the sutures.”
“Yes, mother,” Sawyer replied failing to suppress her gleeful smile. Seeing Nenani’s bewildered expression, Sawyer winked. “Let’s get you unwrapped and back to the kitchen, huh? Those boys have been biting at the bit waitin’ for you to be released.”
Nenani smiled gratefully and nodded. In no time, her stitched were gone as well as her bandages. Her less serious scrapes and cuts had scabbed over and the bruise on her cheek was fading, though it still hurt for her to put any pressure on it. They began gathering some medicines for her to take with her to ease the remaining pains.
“This will help if you start to feel dizzy,” Yaesha said, using a dropper to fill a small bottle with a faint greenish liquid. He held the tiny glass container delicately between two bony fingers, squinting hard to make sure to deposit the correct amount. “Farris is familiar with this recipe so he will be able to brew more should you deplete this ration, but if the dizziness persists, he is to bring you straight to me. Fair warning, he does not brew his with honey, so it will be much less palatable.”
Yaesha was an older Vhasshalan, but his long hair was still a dark black with only a few strands of gray near his temples. He may have even been tall for a giant, but it was near impossible to really tell as he stooped over so much. He wore robes much like Maevis, but instead of maroon, Yaesha’s robes were a deep purple. He possessed a long hawkish nose and small, dull gray eyes.
“Sawyer is preparing some tonic of Valerian blossoms for you as well,” he said, glancing at her meaningfully. “To help you sleep more peacefully.”
“Will it really help?” she asked, recalling the nightmare she had just that morning.
“It will make you sleep deeper,” the physician replied. “Which will keep you from dreaming, but should also keep you from experiencing nightmares. It is potent, so use only a drop just before sleep.”
Her memory was slowly piecing itself back together and she had a much clearer picture of what had happened that day. But with it also came the nightmares. Most nights of her recovery, she saw him. The smoke fillings her vision, tendrils of black curling around her, and red eyes staring at her from the skull of a stag. A flash of a sword…
The sound of someone knocking interrupted her thoughts and both her and Yaesha turned to look at the office door.
“Enter,” Yaesha said and the door creaked open and a blue coated ranger stepped inside. “Oh! Keral, what brings you in? I’m just finishing up here if you’d like…”
“It’s the squeaker there I’m lookin’ fer, actually,” Keral said, stepping inside. His clothes were clean and his hair and beard combed, looking very different from the last time they had met.
“Oh? I was under the impression Yale was coming to fetch her,” Yaesha replied, bemused and a little suspicious.
“Oh, he very well may be. I just have some questions to ask the lil’un first. Just some lose ends to tie up. Won’t take long.”
“Oh. Oh, well...I suppose that is alright.”
“Alone. If you don’t mind.”
Yaesha eyed the ranger. “Alone?”
Keral’s careful composure faltered and he stared at the physician, incredulous. “What? I ain’t gonna do anythin’. Yer lookin’ at me like I’m gonna eat her!”
Yaesha hummed to himself and then nodded. He seemed satisfied enough. “Very well. I’ll see to my other patients then.”
The older Vhasshalan left, closing the door behind him. Keral stared at the door and shook his head, muttering under his breath. With a sigh, he turned to Nenani. “How’s ya noggin’, sweetling?”
“Hurts,” she answered honestly.
“Aye,” Keral replied with a faint grin. “Suppose ya got a good crack from that lizard, eh?”
The ranger grabbed the chair that Yaesha had been sitting in and fell into it with a lazy crash. He looked fatigued. Leaning back, he set his hands on his lap and regarded Nenani with a serious expression. “So, remember when we had the tea party in the library a bit ago? Maevis was helpin’ me look fer somethin’...”
She nodded.
“Well, understand me here, lass. I’ve got all these puzzle pieces I’m tryin’ to put together and I’ve been feelin’ like I’ve been chasing shadows for months lookin’ fer this thing. And until that little party, I didn’t know what – or who – I might be lookin’ fer.” He paused, sitting up in the chair and leaning forward to rent his elbow on his knees. “And then Maevis got a good look at that big ol’ lizard up close. He said there was somethin’ off about it that he didn’t much care fer. Gave ‘im the willies. Not sure what it was, but he says he felt somethin’ that mornin’ before it showed up too. Some sort of magic and it wasn’t ‘cause ‘a no wyvern.”
Unease settle in her belly like a lead rock.
“Magic?” she asked. “Like...the smoke mage Barnaby mentioned?”
He nodded, the edge of his mouth quirking into a smirk.
“Barnaby gave me a piece to m’ puzzle that day. Meeves gave me another this morning,” Keral lifted a gloved hand and pointed at her. “And I’m bettin’ ye might just have one fer me too, sweetling.”
“Me?” she asked. He didn’t say anything, merely watched her expectantly and the weight of that stare was enormous. The smell of the hearth in the other room brought the memories back easily now. Smoke filled her lungs and the stag skull mask flashed in her mind. Red eyes looking down at her as a dark blade rose…
For her time in recovery she had managed to cling to the idea that they were all manifestations of her nightmares. But she knew it wasn’t true. And more so, she understood that to remain silent was not the path to take. This was not a pile off some dusty bones of a long dead person chanting nonsense at her. That man had been real and corporeal and dangerous. And yet, their words had been the same...
The river runs uphill to the dying songs of the fall of fools and Kings that tear flesh from bone and the crown from the mountain. Water runs red with fire and shall rise when the old blood runs new. The flesh taken will be paid in blood and the dead walls will rise with gold...
“Nenani,” Keral’s voice broke her from her thoughts. “Maevis said you were covered in that magic he sensed. It was all over ya like mud. Now, I know ya saw somethin’ none of us did. I need ya to tell me. Tell me true, lass. Was he here?”
“I wasn’t trying to keep it a secret,” she told him. “I wasn’t even sure if it had happened for real or if hitting my head so hard messed my brain up...”
Keral did not say anything and merely watched her with interest.
“I... I saw it...him. The smoke mage...”
Keral’s expression did not change, but somehow his eyes looked that much more intense. “Ye did?”
Nenani nodded, alarmed at how her hands were trembling. “He was in the kitchens when the...the way..wavey..”
“Wyvern.”
“Wyvern,” she echoed looking at her hands. “He came out of the hearth and...there was smoke. And he was made of smoke. And then he wasn’t...”
He seemed to be staring beyond her, focusing on something far off as though mentally putting his puzzle pieces together. He seemed dissatisfied. “Did he say anythin’ to ya? Anythin’ at all?”
“He did,” she replied uneasily. “...kind of.”
“Tell me,” Keral said, his voice more gentle that the predatory look in his eyes would suggest. “Anything ye can recall. I need ya t’ tell me.”
“He was saying that prophecy,” Nenani said, wringing her hands. “About the Gold King. But he didn’t say anything else. Just that. And then he...he tried to...”
“...kill you?” She looked up and Keral was a lot closer than he had been. He was standing, looming over her and she was surprised to find herself suddenly afraid of him. There was a dangerous look to his eyes and she shrank back on instinct. She nodded, eyes blurred with sudden tears. Her throat hurt and her chest heaved.
“I’m sorry,” she said. “I’m sorry for not saying anything before...”
“Ya haven’t seen ‘im since?”
“No.”
Keral drew in a long breath, setting himself back into the seat and crossing his arms. For several long moments, he did not say anything as he became engrossed with his own thought processes. When his eyes focused on Nenani once more, his steely eyes softened and he chuckled.
“Ah, now. Don’t be givin’ me that look. Yer in no trouble, sweetling,” he said. “Didn’t mean to scare ya none. Just frustrated is all.”
“Do you think he’ll come back?” she asked him.
“Oh, I’m sure of it,” he replied and seeing the mounting horror on Nenani’s face, he waved a palliative hand. “Now, now. Don’t start that up. I’m sure ya have nothin’ to be frettin’ over.”
She balked at him. “Keral, he tried to kill me! With a sword!”
He nodded, conceding the point. “Aye, but I don’t think ya were ‘is true target.”
“You...you don’t?” she asked, a fluttering in her chest.
He shook his head. “Nah, I don’t. S’why I’m sure he’ll be back and my intentions are t’be ready when he does.”
“Why would he attack me then?”
“Simple. Ye were a witness. He probably thought the wyvern would be a nice distraction while he got inside castle grounds all sneaky like. Most certainly wasn’t expected a wee squeaker to give him away so quickly. Mages get like that, y’know. All hubris and overconfidence. Almost always their downfall. That and they’re usually right cowards when their magic fails ‘em.” He paused, considering. “An’ ya said he was chantin’ the Gold Prophecy?”
“Yeah.”
“Sounds like a right pompous twit,” She could almost see the proverbial ball bounce around Keral’s mind and he grinned smugly, an excited and nearly predatory glee in his face. “He won’t be gettin’ another chance like that, I can promise ye. Now that Maevis’s got a good feel fer the bastard’s magic, I’ll be able to track ‘im better and this trekkin’ all over creation can fuckin’ end.” He paused to nod at her. “So don’t ye be worryin’ none about ‘im, eh? He won’t be gettin’ anywhere near this castle now that I’ve got ‘is scent. And best know Farris’d have my arse fer curtains if somethin’ were to happen to ya when I could’a done something ‘bout it.”
He reached out to her and lightly pinched at her arm, teasing. “Ye just gave me the last piece ‘a the puzzle, lass. I thank ya.”
“I did?” she asked.
Kera stood with a renewed sense of purpose and direction. He snorted as he strode towards the door, glancing over his shoulder at her. “I think Maevis was right about old bumblin’ Bertol’s prophecies, after all. Those words are dangerous when lunatics start belivin’ they’re all about them.”
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Sorry about this rant. I wrote this early on today, saved it to go do something, then never got back to it. I’m posting it because I hate deleting after wasting time writing it.
In case you are wondering, the day did not get better. I ended up cutting brush (something “useful”) instead of going to the woods. The flies would have gotten me either way....
So you wanna know what kind of day it is?
It’s a day where after just three hours of sleep you start discovering new things you need to worry about, things start breaking, and even tiny things go wrong. All the bites, injuries, and other physical aggravations are, um, aggravated. You discover that the power company cutting trees near powerlines did some damage, which isn’t technically “a problem” but is upsetting. Even your pets are in a grumpy mood. And then, when you try to call the one person you have to vent to, they are too busy to talk today, but you end up discovering new reasons to worry.
Obviously the thing to do now is to take a walk in the woods and temporarily escape all the troubles.....
Except the deer flies are swarming. Step out of the house and get eaten alive.
***sigh***
I’d wish I’d stayed in bed if I had the luxury of actually doing that.
No, seriously, anyone that can spend a day being non-functional I envy. It must be lovely to know you have someone that will check you are still alive and temporarily take on some of your responsibilities if you are starting to crack.
Even in the old days, I never got to stay in bed all day when I was sick. If you want to eat, you’d have to go get it. If you can stand to do something, you’d do it. If you were really bad off you could rest, but the only way you did that all day was if you were at death’s door. It’s just the way we always were. We’d help each other, but everyone expected to keep going until we dropped. You do as much as you can take, and you push it as far as you can.
The day after a wreck that gave me a concussion, broken ribs, and smashed elbows I was home alone, but I didn’t rest. I spent my day feeling horrible, but still, gently as I could, unloading a trailer full of stuff that had been in the wrecked pickup, cooking a meal, dragging a small boat up the driveway, and so forth. No one was making me do it, but I knew these things needed doing, and technically I could. Resting felt lazy and neglecting what needed doing, and that’s knowing that my folks would be back that evening.
But now there are no folks to get things done if I can’t. What I don’t do doesn’t get done. Back then, of course, the idea of staying in bed for emotional reasons would have been unthinkable.
The family wasn’t cruel or anything, but emotional difficulties were supposed to be ignored or contained before they got in the way of doing things. You can get over it if you just want to, you don’t have to be weak, there isn’t anything wrong with you but you aren’t trying hard enough, there is no point in giving in to your feelings... I don’t mean you couldn’t cry or rage. You could express them, but that was it. Express but don’t indulge. You didn’t have to fake being happy, but you also couldn’t stop.
I guess they were always ashamed if me, quitely, unspoken, a sad regret and exasperation with me. Oh, generally I was always a “keep going” person too, but that was with physical stuff. Chores to do, difficult tasks, problems to solve... Social things were different.
Stuff happened in kindergarten. Bad stuff. And school proved total hell. I changed in several ways, dramatically and suddenly. Critically, I’d been a fearless extrovert and and I became a frightened introvert almost overnight.
Yeah, nowadays parents would probably see my changes as something to be concerned about. They would wonder what had happened to me. But back then it was assumed to be just a shyness phase. I was being over sensitive and needed to tough up. “Obviously” I would if I just wanted to.
So I ended up the one member of the family that didn’t just “get over” emotionally upsetting things as easily as I could injuries or illnesses. I could always push past fear or pain when the problem was physical, and I’m still great at that. Anxiety around peopling, however, could stop me. I have the distinction of being the first member of my family in generations to not graduate college, but not because of any lack of intellectual capacity. My stress around people, humans being FAR more dangerous than any rattlesnake, should have been something I could defeat, but instead it defeated me.
You know, I’d sometimes say how pathetic and weak I’d been because I’d let myself be broken in elementary school. Mom would roll her eyes and say I’d never broken in my life. I could never get her to understand we were talking about different things. She was talking about my willingness to go against the crowd and defy those in power. She was thinking of the me that goes fearless when guns point at me, who insisted on giving a speech/rant about how the school system must change (did it? Hardly) instead of the expected Valedictorian glop, and nearly took on a cop for kicking a cat.
Those are the easy things. The big things. If it involves something I consider morally and ethically wrong, if it involves abuse or bullies, if it involves anyone so much as attempting to force to compromise my beliefs I forget to be afraid. Defiance and resistance are almost intoxicating actually. To confront an enemy and refuse to yield to their threats or violence can make you feel strong, even as they erode you physically. TBH, I wonder how much of what allows people to become martyrs is just the brain going “FUCK YOU” to a force that wants them to reshape their soul.
You know, it’s probably good I’m broke and live in a town of less than 500 people. I’d probably have gotten myself killed at a protest by now.
The smaller things get me. The normal things. The things others shrug off or never even notice. Send me against an army, but don’t send me into a store with no customers and an eager salesperson ready to “help”!
So as far as I am concerned I am the coward, the weak and broken one, the one that knows she should let nothing stop her but then fails. The fact I am unfliching with things others fear means nothing when things that hardly bother “normal” people terrify me.
Anyway, to get back to the point, emotionally screwy as I am, I have always tried to keep going.
Relentlessly bullied in school I’d still get up every damn morning and go to that hell hole. Once a year I’d have a sort of “break down” day in the spring, and I’d run off into to the woods and hide long enough to miss the beginning of classes. When I did that my parents never made me go, and we wouldn’t really talk about it. I’d just help Pop out in the shop the rest the day, and it would be back to school the next day with a note saying I’d been sick.
And I guess that was my equivalent of staying in bed. Well, except with out the bed or getting to not do anything. Because no matter how miserable I felt I had to get up and be useful.
Back then if I honestly couldn’t do something it would still get done. Mom or Pop would take care of my chores if I was too sick or hurt, if my ingrained sense of responsibility would allow me to let them. Theoretically, if I could shut off my instinct to do, and ignore the family expectation that I try to do, I could have stayed in bed. It’s the beauty of having people that love you.
But now I’m alone. I have to get up or the animals don’t get fed. I have a multitude if things that need repairing or taking care of, including living in a literally collapsing house (the House of Usher I call it) I have to cook my meals and do my laundry amd wash my dishes and....I really hate doing those things. Well, Iove the animals, but the rest is either overwhelming and complex or boring and tedious. No one will help me.
So now I spend a lot of time fantasizing about staying in bed all day. I dream about having someone just honestly care and offer a hand they don’t pull back when I reach for it. I daydreamed one day about someone checking on me, amd finding me sick they insist I go to bed while they feed the animals and fix me soup. I started sobbing when I thought about it, a fantasy as unrealistic for me as trying to imagine imagine how you will soend your fortune when you win the lottery.
The people that have a cushion of love, be they friends or family, don’t fuckin’ know how lucky they are. I understand, because once upon a time I had people that loved me too. Just because we tried never to use that cushion doesn’t mean it wasn’t comforting to know it was there.
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A Little Ass and A Lotta Sass Chapter 32: We're Back...Home That Is, and We're at the Mercy of a Tiny Tyrant...
Our little girl. She was precious, and perfect. Her eyes held me captive, and her hair drew Negan’s hand like it was magnetized. I didn’t notice when Laura faded away, or when the doctor followed after cleaning me up following the exit of the placenta, and making sure that I was safe from infection and giving me a few stitches for a slight tearing that occurred.
Alone with her, allowing her to finally have her first meal, I watched in awe as she suckled the milk my body provided. How could I love someone so completely and effortlessly? Negan’s hand cradled her tiny head, smiling down at the two of us as our daughter drank her fill. We didn’t speak, I wasn’t sure I could, but the silence was reverent. This little girl held us captive and we couldn’t break the spell.
When she seemed finished, I held her up and repeated the burping procedure I’d perfected with my baby sister. Negan watched, clearly learning what to do, because I could see he was twitching with the need to hold her again. She gave a delicate burp and I smiled at her, with her little spit up, her tiny lips pursed.
“Here, Daddy,” I whispered, wiping her mouth with the slip of sheet that the doctor had given me for my modesty, and smiling as his huge hands dwarfed her small body. He was a natural. Holding her tiny head so carefully, and tucking her close against him. “She’s beautiful.”
His smile was breathtaking, as were his eyes, shining with unshed tears. “Of course she is, look at her mommy.” I smirked, thinking that right about now her mommy looked like she’d been to war and lost. “God, Callie, how can something this tiny fucking be real?”
I chuckled, “she didn’t feel so damn tiny when she was forcing her way out of me.” His chuckle was quiet as she’d drifted off. “So?”
And he knew the most important question we had to answer today. Which name was the right one?
While we’d waited for our tiny precious girl to appear, Negan and I had tried to find just the right name for her (or him). He’d been sure that our baby would be ALL me, so he wanted red themed names with green tinges. And I’d been absolutely fucking certain that our baby would be a miniature of him, boy or girl, and so I’d given the very opposite. I wanted gothic darkness with a hint of his hazel eyes that could change on a whim. And here she was a little of both of us.
We settled, finally, on her name as Dr. Carson came back and told us that if I felt well enough I could go back to our apartment. I honestly don’t know how long we’d been in the infirmary. How long the three of us were wrapped up together.
Our little princess. Negan’s precious bundle. Rick Grimes’ first grandchild. She needed a name that was as powerful as the two most dominant men in my life. Or at least made me think of their power, their convictions for their people. And most certainly that suited her tiny, captivating being.
And so, we named her Kiara Jade. Negan insisted that she should go by her middle name, since the name came from the color of my eyes. And I wanted her to be called by her first, because that’s how we picked it. It was actually settled by the women who guarded us, who would not hesitate to keep Negan and I safe, and now she was included. And that’s how our little girl became KJ, to them at least.
To be fair, only those outside our threesome used her name or initials at all. To us, she was ‘Princess’, ‘Angel’, and the one I used most ‘Pooh Bear’.
Back in our own apartment, Negan was fast learning that our little one was quite the demanding ruler. And yes, she ruled our home with a far heavier hand than I’d ever thought to. She demanded her food. She expected no hesitation in the delivery of her wants, which aside from food were the absolute necessity to be clean and dry at all times. She’d allow no hesitation in being bathed, diapered, fed, or cuddled. She expected both Daddy and Mommy to come to heel with her every whim. And for a newborn, she sure had a lot of whims.
First off, Kiara Jade did NOT like our sleeping schedule. At all. She also wasn’t fond of the bassinet. Or our bedroom. Or being put down. She expected to be held, coddled, rocked, and complimented. And if she was denied, then NO ONE would get any rest. And I mean NO ONE.
Negan, after the very first diaper that he’d changed (after the very first of hers that I did), realized that baby’s poop bears a horrifying resemblance to mustard, pudding, or as he was gagging, vomit. And he was absolutely flabbergasted by getting it out of all of her nooks and crannies.
“How the hell does someone so fucking small make this much fucking shit?” He asked, having procured a clothespin from the marketplace or laundry. And yes, he had the damn thing on his nose. Such a fucking baby, I swear. “And how the holy hell are you supposed to fucking clean it all out of her little fucking wrinkles?”
I’d laugh, because honest to fucking God he was killing me. “Just keep wiping until the last wipe you use comes out without anymore on it.” I advised as I made our dinner.
He took the task seriously. So seriously that I was waiting for him to give in to temptation and just fucking shower with her every diaper change. He hadn’t thought of it yet, but I felt sure that soon he’d figure it out.
Once he called the situation taken care of, and boy did he look like he’d had to run through a field of Agent Orange to get to the end, he’d act like he’d just fucking cured the plague. And she’d be cradled in his arms and his nose clip would be set aside and the baby talk would begin.
“Look at Daddy’s little princess.” He’d coo, and I’d roll my eyes. If only the Saviors and rest of the Sanctuary could see their fearful leader now. “Isn’t she just the tiniest, widdlest, thing in the whole fuckin’ world?”
Yes, Negan said the word ‘widdlest’. And yes, it was ridiculous. I’d watch him, walking around the room, rocking her in his arms as he treated her like the most precious thing in the world. And no, I wasn’t jealous. I felt the exact same way about her.
We tried, and I kept insisting on trying to lay her down while we ate. And she’d scream as though we’d tossed her ass out to the walkers to defend herself alone. After a few minutes, Negan and I would glance at one another in challenge, who would break? We both did at different attempts, but he broke more often. Pushover.
“She’ll never get used to being laid down, Negan.” I’d argue, as he ate with one arm and held her in the other. “And if she doesn’t get used to being in her bassinet, or her crib, then guess how long that six weeks is going to extend?” It was my last stand. And yes, I was using his absolute fucking NEED to have me sooner than later that I was bargaining on.
At first he acted like he could live with a few extra days or weeks even. But as the weeks stretched out, and she was STILL not having the alone time she needed, and WE needed for our own sanity, he started to hold out longer. And longer. And longer. Until, like a fucking miracle, she allowed herself to be put down in her bassinet with only a few moments of tantrum before she quieted, resigning herself to her fate.
I was smug. Abso-fucking-lutely I was smug. Negan was a natural at many parts of parenthood, but he’d forgotten that I had actual fucking experience.
He grew jealous of my breastfeeding her. NOT for the reason most people would assume, or the onesie she wore most often would infer. Actually he was jealous because he COULDN’T feed her. I couldn’t pump my milk, so he couldn’t bottle feed her, and he felt left out. Until I came up with a compromise. I’d be the cow, he could be the burper. That way we both got to cuddle her and participate in her mealtimes.
After the initial adjustment period of figuring out her patterns, then shoehorning her into a schedule, we actually managed to sleep. Before we knew it, she was sleeping mostly through the night, and she slept in the bassinet that she’d fucking detested on first contact. Once she crashed, so did we. Curling together, as tight as possible without breaking our six week rule, exhausted from our tiny terror’s rule we’d pass out.
Since we couldn’t actually have freaky deaky fun times, mornings became just as fucking irritating as they’d been before we came together. I’m sure that there was some form of intimacy we could try, but I wasn’t sure I was ready to know how fucked up my nether regions were after Kiara ripped free. What if it was damaged? What if I was loosey goosey? What if Negan took a look or a touch and thought ‘ew, not doing that again’?
And since I wasn’t ready for him to touch me, he abstained from any attempt I initiated to pleasure him. He martyred his own fucking pleasure, forgetting I’m pretty damn sure how fucking much I enjoyed it, because I wouldn’t let him reciprocate. And let me tell you, between the few too little hours of rest, the stress he had at juggling our family life and his role as the leader in our community, and NO fucking sexual release, we were both about as pleasant as one could imagine.
Clearly, all that stockpile of orgasms and penetration we’d tried ahead of time wasn’t fucking working. Not even a little bit. I lost track of time, honestly, and had no fucking clue how close to the end of our six weeks we were. Negan had too, apparently, because Dr. Carson and to remind HIM that Jade and I had a six week check up the next morning.
Negan’s eyes met mine over our dinner. Shit. I knew that look. That dark gaze, that lip licking. Fuck. Like truly, fuck, because I was fucked. Damn it. I wondered how to fucking ask the good doctor to be sure that I wasn’t destroyed and disgusting down there. Without my absolutely fucking raging at the bit husband hearing. Just fucking great.
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Death of a Bachelor
(Erik Killmonger POV)
Word Count: 3.4k
Warnings: sSmutSs, fuckboyness
A/N: Possible new series? So hear me out, this was inspired by the movie Alfie, the Michael Caine version is the only one I seen. But Erik is going to experience four, maybe five women, each very different from the next. He’s having fun with them but at some point he’s going to have to tighten up on some of his ways, whether it’s with a lucky lady from the five, or by his damn self. I also just wanted to do a smut since I haven’t in a minute and no one is gettin any in my series’ (also I may have some residual hormones that I can’t work out right now because nature doesn’t want me to have any pleasure this week, so I’m getting it out here). The one time my mama asks me what I’m writing about and it’s THIS, smh. First POV of a character, so hopefully his spirit comes across here.
I swear God had a sense of humor making a nigga like me. The average man woulda been shot his on brains out with the bullshit I have had to deal with in my life. I’m not goin into all my childhood shit right now, that psychology and repressed emotions bull never rocked with me for real. Nah, I’m talkin bout my life right here, right now. People just won’t leave me the hell alone!
So boom, it’s like this. I like to take care of myself. I do my cardio every Monday, Wednesday, Saturday. That can be runnin, boxin, some P90X or whatever the fuck to keep me on my toes. I do weight training Tuesday, Thursday, Friday, doublin up when I feel like it with my cardio days; lightwork, you feel me? All that to say ya boy is stacked. You couldn’t put no more muscle on this 6’0 frame if you tried, took a damn long time but I finally got my shit filled out right.
And I’m proud of my shit, gotta double back by the mirror every so often just to catch myself lookin. I ain’t narcissistic or nothin, but fuck you if you think I should be humble, I earned this.
I say all that to say it’s funny how people think they entitled to your time just because you give em some dick every other visit. Females will tell you different, but they just as thirsty as niggas these days. I go out the gym, fresh from a shower in my wife beater and sweats, right? I got my shades on cuz I’m not tryna socialize, just get my protein powder and jet.
What they do? Stare at me walkin past the produce section, holdin they bananas in a daze, fuckin me with they eyes! On one hand, I’m cool with it, like I said I work for this body to be admired. Bitches love feelin on my stomach and chest while I dig them out, clawing my back when my shit too deep for em. But then I say good morning, and they ass wanna look at me funky and go about they business! Like I bothered them with some eye fuckin! Bitch if you don’t go on somewhere witcho thirsty ass! Maybe my approach is off, but fuck that, I know what you were thinkin bout, and that don’t require much introduction to get to.
That’s a good sign for me though, cuz I know they gon run off to they little friends talking bout, “Girl, this fine ass nigga said Hi to me at the grocery store today. Bitch, I hope I see him again, I might have to fuck him right on the tomatoes!” I know them! They act proud, but they don’t wanna come off hoeish.
Lemme see you be a hoe! I cannot stress that enough! There’s an artform to it though, don’t go comin up on me, rubbin my ass and whisperin in my ear (depends on the location and time of day though for that). Shit, come up to me and say hi for once! Being the aggressor gets tired after a while. See, when a baby girl come up to me, smilin all confident and shit like she holdin the meanin to life between her legs, askin me who I am and what she wants, NIGGA! You ain’t said nothin but a word, ma!
That’s how I got involved with this one girl, Venice, like that town in Italy. She a real cute redbone, bout 5’5 wears these red bottom heels everyday (at least she has em one whenever I see her...never takes em off). She work as a paralegal, so she gotta wear blazers, skirts, or pantsuits, which I don’t always find sexiest but the way she gets em tailored to her body, whew man, it’s almost porno levels of ridiculous but that’s just cuz how thicc she is. Bitch can’t help it!
I go to this deli shop on lunch sometimes and she was in line with her phone glued to her eyeballs, so I knew she wasn’t wantin to be fucked around with. I respect a woman’s boundaries, you ain’t gotta tell me twice to go the fuck on somewhere. But tell me why when I’m pickin up pastrami on rye, ready to smash that thing I hear her behind me talkin bout, “I took you as more of a footlong type of guy.” If that ain’t no damn innuendo I don’t know what the fuck is. I’m lookin at her like she gotta be jokin, but damn her with that fuckin smile. She smelt good too, like coconut and fresh laundry, she was clean clean. She tried to hide her lil joke talmbout “I meant you so look like you workout, your meal just don’t match the appetite I envisioned.” So I ask her if she been envisioning in more ways than one and that got her cackling real quick, touchin on me like we old classmates reuniting. Long story short, we exchanged numbers and I get a text at the end of the day askin me to pull up to her job and next thing I know, we fuckin on her desk. She loud as fuck too. The building seemed like it was cleared out but damn, the police coulda been called for all she was doin. The pussy was fire though, almost had me losin my shit. She keeps it clean, except for some hair across the top of her pussy like a toupee. She likes to ride it though, that probably has to do with her profession, wantin power over people. Soon as she start cummin though, she a damsel in distress needin her Superman to finish things off.
So I been fuckin with her for a little over a month now. It’s real causal, we meet more after dark than in the daytime. It’s fun, I ain’t had to jackoff too much cuz she seems to work with my shit like circadian rhythm or whatever. Soon as I felt my shit gettin hard, my phone light up.
Tonight wasn’t no different. I was working out late that night, finishing a couple of miles on the treadmill when a notification interrupts my music. I look at my phone and it’s a picture of her hand spreading her pussy lips out. Damn, purple and pink were my favorite colors. I had to hit the emergency stop so I didn’t bust my face on the machine. I let her know I would be there in a hour, she says to make it 30 minutes.
This is when I have a problem with her, she think she run me! If I tell her I can’t come today, she says she can help with that. I tell her I’m tired, she say I don’t have to do shit but lay there. I was outta town once, and she still not satisfied until I get her on FaceTime so she can see me jackoff while she play with herself. If it didn’t turn me on so damn much, I’d drop her for good.
So, after I shower and start heading to my car, she text me with this address I don’t know. When I Googled, it led me to some condo on the other side of town. I asked her what this was about and the bitch left me on read. Fuck outta here with that shit. I ain’t Scooby Doo, and I don’t feel like solvin mysteries. Fuck I look like?!
But my dumbass follows the scent of hot n ready pussy soon as it pops up, so I go and whatever. Place look like the fuckin Powerpuff Girls live here, doin the absolute most for one woman to be livin in by herself.
When I go knockin on her front door, it just opens on its own like a haunted house. I peek in, bout to call her lame ass for tellin me an address I don’t know about, tryna get a Black man killed, I hear her voice.
“Come on in, baby.”
I stepped my ass in there real slow, checkin my peripherals until I saw her sittin on the couch in some see through robe lookin at her fireplace. I coulda busted concrete with the hard on I got lookin at her. Those titties, nigga, sittin up under her chin practically, just overflowin she so big.
“What’re you standin there like you seen a ghost. Come sit like you got some kind of sense.”
“What you got the front door open like that for?” I asked her, sittin next to her.
“I knew you were coming by. I don’t feel like getting up if I don’t have to.” She takes a bottle of Hennessy from the table in front of us and pours two glasses, handing me one of em.
I take a sip, nursing my drink. “You tryna be a pillow princess tonight or sumthin? Wantin me to do all the work?” I asked her. I couldnt help but reach out to feel that ass through her robe but she smacked my hand.
“Not like that, Erik! I want you to finish that drink, and maybe another. I want to be entertained a little more than usual tonight.” She knocked back her drink quicker than a jackrabbit on a date. She set her drink down, scooching over closer to me. I couldn’t keep my eyes off them damn titties! She started rubbin the inner part of my leg and I took the Henny down, you feel me!
She poured me another drink and started talkin all general about my day and shit. I wasn’t giving her nothin but one word answers cuz I was startin to get a lil lit off of the drink and she kept playin in my hair, kissin my neck and shit. I was tired of tellin her to chill out with alldat cuz I damn sure was ready to teach her ass some fuckin manners.
So I grab her thigh and pull her big ass over my lap, giving them cheeks a Jaws of Life-ass squeeze. I heard her gasp from my strength, she love that shit.
“Erik, hang on-” She try and say but I ain’t wantin to hear her mouth. I slip my hand in her panties and started washing my hands, her shit was like a faucet with that drip. I knew she was ready, think she playin with somebody.
“Fuck a ‘hang on’. Hang on these nuts, what you finna do.” I was bout to be in my element! Pussy poolin and I was finna dive, my nigga! Next thing I know my hair gettin pulled and yanked backward, hurt like a muthafucka.
“Damn Venice! What the fu-”
She took my hand and licked them off all slow. I felt her tongue dancing on my fingertips before she pinned my hand back.
“I really, really, love it when you’re rude, Erik. I do! But when I tell you to hold on, you say ‘yes ma’am’, remember?”
She pullin that dominance shit again. I ain’t on no punk shit, let the record show. But if this moves things along, then, “Yes ma’am.”
Then the damn doorbell rings! “Finally!” Venice gets up for the door, walkin all fast.
“Who the fuck are you expectin?” I’m gettin loud with her cuz I didn’t sign up for none of this shit. I was supposed to soak my wood and dip, she be extra but this on some other shit.
She turns around and puts her a finger to her mouth at me before opening the door. Some blonde girl comes through the door sayin Hi and huggin Venice like this a tea party. So, I’m sittin on the couch waiting for them to finish and her to leave, but Venice walks Jennifer Lawrence lookin clown into the living room.
“Erik, this is-”
“I don’t need to know her name, I need to know when she leavin.” I’m heated! My dick gettin soft by the minute, but Venice and her friend is unphased.
Venice starts playin in her hair and they start gigglin. “She’s here to keep us company. She’s fun, I think you both would do well with each other.”
Nigga, when she said this, I wondered if she spiked my damn drink or some bullshit. “I don’t associate with white folks Venice, stop wastin my time so we can do what I came over for.”
“That’s why Abbigayle is here! She wanted to meet you and-”
“You tellin bitches about me? Talkin behind my back?! I ain’t a damn gossip topic, fuck is your problem! I don’t fuck white bitches either, so you can just step ABBA!” I was ready to pack my happy ass up and go. Too many females on this planet to be strung up on one dummy.
“ERIK! I’m not going to be interrupted again! You’re making me lose my patience, that isn’t going to go over well for you. Be nice!”
I said already I ain’t no punk, right? And I meant that shit. But I ain’t never one to fuck up a good time, fuckin is fuckin, so let’s just see what happens. “Yes ma’am.”
Venice liked that, she instantly walked all slow and sexy over to me tellin me good job and shit, kissin on me. For a second I forgot about Abracadabra but then I feel an extra pair of hands at my lap and I see her unbuttoning my pants. Venice tooks my face back to look at her; she is really fuckin beautiful, I can’t even lie on that. Her lips felt like when you ain’t had Starburst in a while, and the first one in the line is a Pink or a Red, nigga her lips juicy as fuck and I didn’t want her to stop puttin em on me.
So we makin out on the couch and Abacus got my dick out and starts lickin and kissin my shit like it’s a damn bomb pop. That’s cute and all if I rock with you, but if I don’t know you like that? You just playin, show me what the hell that mouf do so I can hae somethin to talk to the homies bout later.
Venice gets off the couch and sits across the room in a chair, leaving her leg over the arm so her legs are spread out. I finally was gettin hard again, poor Abilify probably thought I was gettin there from her hen peckin round my shaft. Nah, I couldn’t hold back seeing Venice sittin there like she ain’t give an entire fuck that some random bitch was suckin my dick! Like, she ain’t been shy about what she likes in the bedroom but fuck, this was some new shit she pullin out on me.
When Venice took off her bra to let them titties hang on her stomach, I was about to lose my damn patience. I look down and Albuquerque and decide she needs some instruction on what to do when you got dick in your mouth.
“Open ya mouth up.” I told her, pulling her hair back to hold it behind her head. Soon as she does I pump my dick all into the back of her throat. She start hittin that gag reflex just right and then I let her breathe while she coughs and wipes her mascara down. I look over at Venice who has a slick smile on her face, nodding at me to continue. When Abomasnow started bobbin on my dick again, she was two handin my shit right? Venice brought a real lazy ass to this party. So I popped her face tellin her to take it deep. White girl was a trooper, I give her that. She barely got it halfway in before she started to gag, so I held her down just to make sure she wasn’t playing.
Lookin over at Venice, now she all relaxed, panties to the side with two fingers diggin herself out. She was bitin her lip tryin not to cum, she bet not either. With her full attenion I let her friend breathe again before I made her face my playground, fuckin the shit outta her throat. I tried my best to imagine it being Venice’s pussy like she probably wish her fingers were me. I couldn’t take no damn more.
I pulled out of Arby’s and strolled my ass on over to Venice, ready or not. Venice wasn’t fightin though as I picked her up under them thick ass legs while she held onto my shoulders. I guided her onto my Johnson and slid right in that bitch like it was nothin. She was so damn wet for me, and her face said it all that she was finally gettin what we came there to do. Venice pussy reminded me of when you just sat down after bein up on your feet all day and you feel like your heart is beatin in your soles when you get them propped up but it’s so damn better than gettin back up again. Venice knew how to tease me, and that shit was torture, but fuck if that release ain’t sweeter for it. Kissin on her lips while she breathin on me kept me goin, so I put her down turned her around by the fireplace. I picked her leg up and back and got right back in that pussy. This was my favorite position, cuz she felt tighter from behind, and she screamed louder too. Singing my name out like a gospel, cussin me out so much it almost hurt my feelins. Almost.
I almost forgot about her friend, til I felt a ticklin on my balls and there was Abscess tryna feel a part of this too, lickin my nuts and Venice’s pussy when I was slammin too hard in them cheeks. It was whatever though, cuz not a damn thing was bringing me out of her til I was through.
While I’m holdin Venice’s titties bouncin round, I felt myself gettin close, but that wasn’t happenin here, not like that. So I pull out of Venice, almost kickin Albany in the face and take her chair spot.
“Lemme fuck them titties real quick.” Venice gets between my legs and wraps them tig ol bitties round me, holdin them in place. Ma had my dick CREAMY, I didn’t even notice til then, she was cummin harder than a muthafucka. Venice friend helped keep her hair back, encouraging her with some “Go girl, get that cock baby!” type of Bring It On like nonsense. This ain’t no damn pep rally, fuck is you doin? Me and Venice were in our own damn world anyway, watchin her tongue hang out to catch my tip when it poke from her cleavage made me mad. She knew what the fuck to do, and I can’t stand it! Nigga, that nut was so long and hard, it could break steel, but it painted her face like a damn masterpiece, stickin on her eyelashes and shit. What the fuck she get for makin me work so damn hard.
With all that, her friend was pretty chill by the outcome. “Damn, Venice, you weren’t lying at all. Shits real!” givin Venice a high five while I pulled my pants up and she wiped her face.
“Right? Told you! Ok guys, I have to get some rest so just see yourselves out. We should do this again!”
I just knew she wasn’t talkin to me, but she really was walkin up her steps to her room like we were her employees clockin out.
I asked her, “Aye, Venice! This how you treat guests in your house!”
“You ain’t gotta go home, Erik, but you have got to get the hell outta here before my husband gets home.” Venice said with a flick of her wrist. Bossy ass bitch!
Me and Abbreviate walk outside and I just had to ask her somethin for what just happened. “Do y’all do this a lot?”
She just shrugs. “Sometimes, but I don’t say yes to every invitation. You just sounded too promising.”
I nodded, confused as hell, but flattered. “Right. And how y’all know each other?”
“I’m a colleague. Worked on a case together and got a little closer than necessary. Been a good friend since. Take care of yourself, Erik.” She gets in her car and that was that on that.
When I head to my whip, I get a text notification. I just knew it was Venice asking me to come back or at least a thank you. But no this time it was my other situation, Genesis.
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Colossus and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day
Pairing: Colossus x Reader
Summary: Colossus finally asks reader out on a date, but Murphy’s Law kicks in. (Anything that can go wrong, will go wrong.)
Warnings: none i think? embarrassment? frustration? Language probably
a/n- this is so fuckin long I’m sorry. The “read more” only works on desktop for some fucking reason. Feedback is always appreciated! thanks for reading!
Colossus didn't expect to develop a massive crush on his co-worker and fellow x -man, y/n, but here he was. It had taken months for him to work up the nerve to ask you on a date. Not to mention constant badgering from Wade and lots of encouragement and advice from others- who were actually helpful.
Now that the day of the date was actually here, he was more nervous than ever- and it was only morning.
He had planned the date to the tee. What could possibly go wrong? He made the reservation at the restaurant in advance, called the florist to pre- order flowers, made sure his shoes were shined, and that his pristine, white dress shirt was in the wash. Speaking of, he should probably go put his load of clothes in the dryer.
Colossus wandered to the laundry room and opened the washer.
“What the- Boze moj.” he said, bewildered.
Pink. all of this whites were pink. Not like a ‘oh you could pass that as a pink shirt’ but a ‘that got washed with red and it looks gross’ pink. He dug around only to find Wade’s suit mixed in with his laundry.
“Wade!” he exclaimed and stomped off to go find him.
Wade’s “brunch”, or leftover pizza and Cheetos at 11:00 am, was suddenly interrupted by a very angry Colossus.
He grabbed Wade by the throat and lifted him in the air.
“Why is this-” he threw his suit on the ground. “In my laundry?!”
Wade tried to speak, but Colossus’s grip was too fight, so Wade tapped out and Colossus finally let go.
Wade hit the floor with a loud “thunk”, gasping for air.
“All of my white clothes are ruined! Including the shirt I was going to wear when I go out with y/n tonight!”
“Sorry big guy. I didn’t look what was in there, I need my suit washed for the mission tonight. Besides, I bet you’d look great in pink.” Wade said, hurrying off before he could choke him out again.
Colossus took deep breaths and counted to 10, trying to calm down. He would have to deal with this later, his other responsibilities awaited him. Besides, It was only a minor setback, he could wear something else that was just as nice.
The next few hours passed pretty quickly, he had classes to teach, the daily training session, and other teacher duties.
The second he sat down for his break, his phone rang. It was the florist
“Hello?”
“Hello Mr. Rasputin? This is Ray’s Florist and Greenhouse. We are calling to tell you that your order is ready for pick up.”
“Uh, But I ordered delivery.”
“I’m sorry Sir, but we no longer deliver to your selected address.”
Colossus let out a heavy sigh and put his head in his hand. Of course they wouldn’t come to the ‘freak house.’
“That is fine. I will be there to get it.” He said, and abruptly hung up.
It was unlike him to be rude like that, but he was beyond frustrated. First his laundry, and now the flowers. These things, piled on top of his usual daily stress load, was overwhelming: even to the levelheaded Piotr Rasputin.
If he left now- and hurried- he would be back in time. So much for his break.
.
He returned home with a beautiful bouquet of flowers and they better be beautiful for that price.
No, he shouldn’t think like that. He was happy to support local business and even more happy to see you smile.
It was almost time for the date. Colossus was still stressed and nervous. Butterflies already fluttering in his stomach. Surely things would go smoothly from now on.
Since most of his whites got ruined, he opted for a royal blue button up, black slacks, Dockers and a tie? No. The tie was too much. The restaurant was nice, but not super duper, tie-worthy nice. He rolled his sleeves up to his elbows, checked everything one last time. This was it. Time to meet up. The butterflies in his tummy were doing somersaults.
He grabbed the flowers and headed towards your room. He was nearly there when a student rounded the corner and ran right into him, crushing the bouquet.
“Mr. Rasputin! I-I’m so sorry. Oh my god...” the student rambled on, but Colossus tuned them out, trying to come to terms with the day he's been having. He felt like how those flowers looked; Crushed. He just wanted today to be perfect; for it to be as stress free as possible. So much for that.
“Just.. go on. don't worry about it.” His voice was surprisingly calm.
The student scurried off while Colossus debated what to do with the flowers. He didn't want to show up empty handed and he was already running behind a bit so, he opted to just get on with it.
.
You heard the knock on your door. It was time for your date. You opened the door to reveal a very frazzled- looking Colossus, but the sight of the man always brought a smile to your face.
Speaking of faces, the expression on Piotr’s was priceless. He was practically stunned.
“Hello, y/n. You look amazing.” He said, unable to hide his smile.
You felt your cheeks flush.
“Thank you. You look very handsome yourself.”
He looked down at his shoes and rubbed the back of his neck nervously.
“Thank you, y/n.” He paused. “These are for you.” He said and held out the crushed bunch of flowers. “I am sorry they are not perfect, I had a run with someone in the hall.”
“Oh I think they’re beautiful! Thank you.” You said taking the flowers and giving his arm a reassuring squeeze. “Let me put them in some water, okay? I’ll be right back.”
You returned to the door and, like the gentleman he is, Colossus held out his arm, needless to say, you gladly took it. You were going to jump at any opportunity to feel those muscles.
.
The evening was going very well, so far anyways. The two of you had just ordered your food. Colossus ordered spaghetti, nothing wrong with that right?
The waitress came around the corner with a huge streaming plate of spaghetti in one hand, and your dish in the other. She went to put Colossus’s dish on the table, just as she was setting it down, someone behind her bumped her elbow hard enough for the spaghetti to spill out of the bowl and right into Colossus's lap.
‘Great, just perfect.’ He angrily thought to himself. ‘How embarrassing.’
The waitress was profusely apologizing, the other restaurant patrons stared, poor Piotr couldn't catch a break. .
He went to the bathroom to clean up while they made him more spaghetti. The whole meal ended up being on the house, which neither you nor Colossus were complaining about.
After the evening Colossus had, you suggested a relaxing walk in the park. it was almost dark, so there wouldn't be a lot of people there. He happily obliged.
The Park was nice and empty, no people, no distractions, just you and Colossus.
“I had fun tonight Piotr, thank you for talking me out.”
“It is my pleasure, y/n. although, I am sorry things did not turn out exactly perfect.”
“Piotr, listen to me.” You said and proceeded to climb up on the park bench so you could be-almost- face to face with him. You balanced yourself by taking hold of his shoulders. He went stiff at your touch. boor baby, he’s nervous.
”Don’t apologize for anything. I came on this date because I really like you, and if things don't go as planned, that's perfectly okay. And you know something, it was perfect to me because, you tried so hard to make it that way. I know about Wade putting his suit in the wash, I know about the flowers, the spaghetti, and all the extra stress you put on yourself. Its incredibly sweet of you to try and make this perfect. so, thank you.”
You rendered him speechless. It was adorable
you just now realized how close you were to him. Your eyes flickered down to his lips, then back up to his eyes. Since you were feeling bold, you leaned in until your lips touched his in a feather light kiss.
He was a bit taken back by your actions, but he wasn't complaining one bit.
And then he started to kiss you back and whoo boy was it nice. His hands held onto your waist, while his lips molded into yours. The kiss was so soft and sweet you felt like your heart was going to burst.
You two reluctantly pulled away from each other, opting for an awkward silence.
“That was nice.” Colossus finally said.
“I agree.” you said as you hopped down off the park bench.
Colossus offered you his arm and, once again, you gladly took it.
As it turns out, maybe today wasn't so Terrible, Horrible, No Good, or Very Bad after all.
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Tags: @chromecutie @sunstainer @evelyn120700 @nightriver99 @iamwarrenspeace @this-that-and-every-thing-else @hsk-puma @bungeewabbit @pianomad @lesbianstarkx
#colossus#Piotr rasputin#colossus x reader#piotr rasputin x reader#colossus reader insert#piotr rasputin reader insert#colossus imagine#colossus oneshot#MCU!Colossus#mine#My writing#kacceywrites
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OSRR: 2283
i did a bunch of work today. kinda exhausted.
i attended and took notes in class, i cleaned my room and went through my wardrobe to get rid of stuff in the first real clothing purge of the last like five years, and then i did all of the assignments that were due for earth science before 6pm, which was weird for me bc i usually do them after everything else during the day. but i had time, so i did them early. i also listened to two sections of math lecture, so i can do homework for that section tomorrow, and maybe get a head start on the rest of my exhaustive list of homework for each day of the rest of the semester. quite literally, i made a list. numbered it, put in all of my assignments and when i'd do them, so i have it all laid out in front of me so i can keep to the schedule, because if i fall behind any more i will not finish the semester. but i have to, and i have to have something to show to my professor tomorrow to let her know i'm not giving up, but that instead it's my mental inertia that is really preventing me from being productive. mental inertia is what i'm calling my brain's unwillingness to do a single fuckin thing on any given day. because of the definition and practical understanding of inertia, it means though that if i want it to move, i have to move it myself. i have to push it. because that's really what i'm dealing with - an unwilling blob of disaster that has a decent ability to function if it ever gets off its ass. so i need the motivation to push that blob until it starts sliding. lots of principles of physics here: inertia, forces, static and kinetic friction. yknow, the drill.
anyway, i'm proud of myself for today, even though it feels like i missed doing stuff. breaking things down into specific details helps me, so having a day-by-day calendar that goes line by line telling me what i need to do on a given day will help me push my dumbass brain into gear. it's a variation, i suppose, on the block method of task organization andrew tells his clients about. sticky notes worked for a semester. a detailed planner worked really well for a semester. so now, straight-up pads of paper will have to work for the rest of the semester. i need to rotate my methods so i don't get complacent and ignore things, like i can easily do if things are uniform and are exactly the same. which is why a list is easier i guess, because yes it's all supposed to look the same, but it's a different visual thing than a wall of brightly-colored sticky notes that end up blending into the faded yellow wall. which is a problem i have. so. i'd like to go back to the planner thing, but that also worked best when i was on campus and not stuck at home for school stuff.
also i talked to joel a little bit today. sort of a normal interaction: he asked me if i wanted to fight, i begged for death, he said no, i said why, he gave some bullshit answer, then we changed the topic. kinda funny tbh, that's sort of our way of checking in on each other. it allows me to actually tell him how i'm feeling, and while he doesn't give up much information himself, a lot of it is supporting me and my nonsense and buffoonery as i simply exist as a ball of Anxiety™ that stress-cleans and vibrates in place as i contemplate the tasks i must complete. today was an anxiety day, so i told him. [it's nice to tell someone things about my emotional state and for them to take me and what i say at face value instead of trying to break me down into pieces of "drama" and "not drama," because that's what my mom does. if i feel too much, her first response is "what's real and what's drama," or "you're being dramatic," or some other equally bullshit gaslighting of my emotional state that's fuckin fragile in the first place. like, listen linda. "what's real" all of it. "what's drama" none of it, you moldy peach pit. i feel what i feel, and you are not allowed to tell me that what i'm feeling isn't real, so shut your mouth and sit the fuck down, you melted stick of unsalted butter.] but yeah. joel actually listens and i love the shit out of him for it.
and lastly, i watched a christmas movie. by myself. before thanksgiving. but. in my defense, it was about a struggling writer at a writing conference who ends up repeatedly unknowingly bumping into the keynote speaker, a published author of whom she happens to be a fangirl in increasingly embarrassing situations at first. and then they're paired as writing buddies for the conference, and he gives her pointers and they banter and work together and it's just really cute and the Drama occurs when he's trying to tell her he's the author but she keeps rushing to go somewhere and it's the keynote and the author walks in and it's HIM. THE DRAMA. THE BETRAYAL. THE YEARNING. and then he comes to her dad's house and surprises her on christmas day with a letter from a publisher bc her revised copy of her manuscript was really good bc of all the help he gave her and the experiences they shared and all the good stuff and she said it was basically a happy ever after, to which he replied, "i guess it is." and then she says, "so kiss me already," and points to the mistletoe above them and it's SO CUTE AND SWEET AND I ALMOST CRIED.
but anyway, i feel like a hypocrite because christmas!! shouldn't!! happen!! before!! thanksgiving!! that's!! a!! rule!! and i HATE IT when people put up christmas decorations in early november, but at this point i'm accepting that it's something that gives people joy so i really shouldn't step on that. it's just. learning to accept that people enjoy certain things and i should encourage them instead of rag on them for it. i'm not perfect. i'm still learning. and i want to be a kinder person to people, more loving and accepting and supportive, and i'm slowly overcoming my own hatred of things as i grow and distance myself further from the shit that made me this way. i'm learning! if i make a mistake please tell me gently, because i want to be better but i also have RSD and i WILL shut down and tear myself down forever if i am told harshly bc that's just how i am. i'm trying to get over it a little at a time by accepting things as time goes on, but in the meantime i need help. so that's all, i guess.
thanks for reading and for caring, i love you guys and i hope you're enjoying things that being you joy, even if other people give you shit for it. i will do my best to support you!
also if you're in the US and are of voting age and are registered and haven't already voted, GO VOTE TOMORROW. some states have same-day registration, so bring an ID and go register if you need to. this election will determine our futures - i know so many of us are in circumstances that would be harmed if we had another four years of the racist orange peel in office now, so i know many others who may straight-up die because of it. we need protections. we need to have our rights protected. we need to have our lives protected. and we can't do that with the damaged candy corn in office for any longer. he'a already fucked with us enough. we can't afford any more of it. now i'm just angry ranting. please, go vote for joe biden. politics is like public transit: if there's no train going exactly where you need to go, you don't just not get on the train. you take the one that gets you the closest, and work your way from there. that's joe biden. and, if biden does indeed win, our fights aren't over. we have people we need to protect from the conservatives and racists and white supremacists that exist goddamn everywhere. we need to keep reminding people that it's our responsibility to take care of one another in every way we can. there's a laundry list of things that needs to be fixed; unfortunately they won't happen all at once. so we have to keep fighting, no matter who's in office. VOTE.
VOTE.
#molly rambles#operation srr#osrr#2000s#2200s#sunshine boy#vote#vote for biden#settle for biden#seriously#thank u
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Just venting, don’t have to read
My sister is startin to stress me out... (long vent below if you really want to read it I guess)
I have ONE drawer (the bottom one) and a little corner between the sink and the wall in my bathroom to store things while she and her boyfriend have 3 drawers, a cupboard, and the rest of the counter in the bathroom (where they don’t even try to be orderly and neat so I have to neaten it up every night just so I have enough counter space to put things)
PLANTS ARE EVERYWHERE. She’s taken over the porch and keeps buying new plants just about every Sunday (one of her days off) while she is supposed to be finding a new place to live with her boyfriend
Her boyfriend has admitted to using MY MOUTHWASH instead of one of the TWO BOTTLES they share.
Her boyfriend has repeatedly gone into MY BEDROOM while I’m not home under the guise of turning off the light (right beside the door) but goes to my bed to grab the reversible octopus to put it in an angry face (idk what else he’s touched)
I had to move my lotions and skin products to MY BEDROOM just to keep them from using them (I had asked them not to use it before a time or two, but they used the fact I had borrowed a bit of theirs once to justify them using mine more than once or twice)
OH YEAH. Apparently some of my stuff wound up in one of their drawers, so instead of moving my stuff to the ONE DRAWER I HAVE she dumped all her tampons over my stuff. Didn’t try to defend herself or anything, just said “Well some of your stuff was in my drawer so I figured it would be alright if I put some of my stuff into yours.”
Her boyfriend now EXPECTS me to heat him up a little pizza anytime he is off of work and I am home, solely because I was kind enough to offer a few times if I saw him. And he’s stopped bothering to thank me for doing so unless I mention something about it.
I have asked her for FOUR MONTHS to help me set up a hair appointment because my hair had gotten long enough to start causing me a lot of dysphoria, but she only did so TODAY when I asked her the name of the place. She put two and two together and realized I was probably going to set it up myself or have someone else help me with it (I’ve never set up an appointment so I don’t know how to do it, don’t know the name of the place, or the number to the place).
She and her boyfriend make ZERO effort or attempt to use my pronouns (he/him) or even refer to me with “masculine identifiers.” The only time they seem to bother remembering is when they’re making some sort of under the radar joke about it or trying to “catch me slipping” since I’ve only just come out this year and am also getting used to being referred to as male.
I have to be quiet at night or else they “don’t get enough sleep” but they can get ready in the morning as loudly as they want even though they get up hours before I do and know I’m sleeping.
I had an intense breakdown (sobbing, hopelessness, distress, etc) a month ago because one of my dogs got sick again (diarrhea everywhere) and I was worried he’d taken a turn for the worse again and I’d have high vet bills to worry about again. I had to take all three dogs out so he could use the bathroom without me having to clean it up from everything and I spent 1.5 hours cleaning and breaking down. When she woke up and saw me sobbing in my room, I told her what happened and that I was very upset. All she told me was that I would have to bring the dogs back in as soon as I could because they’ll bark and could wake her and her boyfriend up where they wouldn’t get 3 MORE HOURS OF SLEEP.
The shed my mom cleaned out for me and started putting drywall up so I could make it my retreat or “creative studio” where I wouldn’t be bothered has practically been claimed by her and her boyfriend. They put a treadmill in the shed, their yoga stuff, their workout stuff, and even BUILT A PULL UP BAR OFF THE SIDE without my permission (they went to my mom and convinced her that they needed to use the shed for their stuff and didn’t even bother to make sure I’d be okay with it)
They expect my mom to cook them breakfast and MAKE THEM A MEAL for lunch despite her doing everything else in the house. (cleaning, her laundry, THEIR LAUNDRY, dinner, taking care of the horses, helping me with the dogs since she wakes up earlier and can put them out for me, taking care of the chickens, baking whatever dessert thing they dump on her to make, going to the gym {we’ll fuckin get to that} a few times a week, the vegetable garden tending, mowing the lawn, taking care of her trees and shrubs outside, and so much more I don’t even know about) They even get upset if she is out later during a shopping trip (I’ll get to that in a moment) and isn’t there to prepare dinner when they get home.
My sister is training for a marathon so won’t drive my mom to the gym on Sundays and Tuesdays (her days off) so my mom can’t go to the gym as often as she would like. Won’t even offer later in the day when she comes back.
They won’t even drive my mom around to do errands or grocery shopping. My mom used to ask her to drive her around to do one or two close by errands, but she guilt tripped my mom everytime so my mom is worried to ask for a ride in case it’s “too much errands” or “taking up her day off” or “putting too much pressure or something on her” (after her run she’ll literally just do a bit of yoga and workout then just sit in her room all day and that is coming from me who sits around in his room all day)
My dad recently passed, so my mom is kinda struggling for money right now, so what do they do? If they pick her up something from the store she forgot (even if it is FOR THEM) they tell her the price they paid and have her pay it back most of the time.
Today, ONE HOUR before my mom would usually start cooking dinner (she’s had something defrosting all day expecting them to come home for dinner) they tell her that they found this new trail they want to run on a few hours away so they won’t be staying for dinner and they won’t be home tonight. My mom was so angry about the short notice about it that she couldn’t even be angry anymore and just sat and stewed in her anger.
Since my dad passed away A FEW MONTHS AGO they’ve been getting bolder and it really feels like they are trying to push my mom and I out so they can stay here. My sister tried insisting on teaching my mom to drive, but didn’t give her many if any practice, but another sister of mine has been having mom drive every time they go out so she can be comfortable behind the wheel and get her license. My mom has a hard time seeing fault in any of her kids and probably hasn’t realized most of what’s going on around her because she’s been kept so busy. I’ve been forcing her to accept more “rent” money since I live with her and eat her food, started doing my own laundry (22 year old and couldn’t do laundry, I know terrible), offer to help in any way I can, insist on getting her things if she has sat down and needs something, put in the effort to clean up after myself if I use something in the kitchen, and buy her things she currently can’t afford the luxury of without letting her pay me back. But it feels like they are just using her and trying to take over the house slowly while my mom is down so she’ll become dependent on them and not want/be able to let them leave. I don’t know what to do about it except start being loud and show disapproval in what ways I can. I’m just so stressed about this whole thing and don’t know how to help or do anything about it...
#shay speaks#PERSONAL#misgendering mention?#family member death mention#stress#unfairness#negativity#honestly so fucking pissed about one of the later things because of you know what it is if you read#vent#personal life
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