#i would give away my 2 ribs and eyesight for them
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Two guys learn to communicate over 5 seasons
or, the jmart triptych. Bonus under the cut:
they deserve all the hugs and so does every tma fan
#jonmartin#jmart#the magnus archives#tma#jonathan sims#martin blackwood#the archivist#tma fanart#magpod#just some fluff that i slowly scribbled inbetween the inktobers and well back in september#i would give away my 2 ribs and eyesight for them#teaholding#fabric rustles#all the ship names man... all of them
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The Covenant: Sweet Dreams
Part One | Part Two
Chase Collins x Reader
Word Count: 1,931
Warning: contains physical intimacy and some mature language
Summary: You’ve been away for weeks and Chase has no problems Using to prove just how much he misses you.
It was cold and snowy outside, but the bed was cozy, the comforter wrapped around you thick. Added with a mattress with the right level of firmness and fluffy hotel pillows, and sleep came easy.
In one moment, you were curled on your side, drowsily watching the occasional flash of headlights that filtered in through the blinds. In the next, everything went black. The black was absolute, but not frightening. It was the kind of black that made you feel safe, like when you closed your eyes after a long day and shut everything else out.
Suddenly, you felt another presence in the dark and knew you were no longer alone. A crooning voice whispered in your ear. “Open those eyes for me, pet… there you go… that’s it.”
It took considerable effort but you manage to flutter your lids open like the sweet voice prompted. Something in that voice made it impossible to resist listening to it and you sighed in relief when you felt the voice’s fingers stroke your scalp in reward.
Gathering more strength now that your eyes were open, you turned your head toward the presence and saw that the fingers and the voice belonged to the same person. One that you knew. Knew very well, actually, seeing as how he was your boyfriend.
“Chase, what are you doing here?”
He smiled that signature smile of his. The one that always seemed so sweet at first glance, but masked the edge he normally tried to hide. “What? A guy can’t visit the love of his life?”
His words had you fully awake and you sat up, the darkness transitioning into the familiar view of your bedroom. “Wait. Are you real?” You peered around, your eyesight quickly adjusting. Saw your alarm clock on the nightstand. The piles of clothes that needed to be put away sitting on top of your desk.
He merely laid back on the bed and crossed his arms behind his head. “Well, not physically. But that doesn’t mean it’s not really me.”
You looked again and noticed how the edges of the room looked blurry, like someone had smudged the lines of the ceiling and floor. But everything else appeared perfect and you had definitely felt Chase touching you just now…
“So it’s a dream then,” you concluded. You smacked his chest with the back of your hand after a moment. “You promised to stop being so reckless with your powers, you idiot.”
“This isn’t reckless. I haven’t seen you in two weeks. That qualifies this dreamscape as an emergency in my book.”
He was right about that part. It had been weeks since you’d last seen one another. You had been traveling for research related to your master’s degree program and wouldn’t be flying home for another few days. In hind sight, that fact alone should’ve been enough for you to realize this was taking place in a dream space.
“As much as I love hearing that you miss me, this doesn’t count as an emergency, Chase.” He pouted, resting his head on your lap so he could rub his face into your thighs. “But since you’ve already went and done it… I happy you’re here.”
“Good. That means I can move to the next phase of my plan,” he murmured under his breath as if accidently thinking out loud. Which was a lie, of course. Chase was so self-aware that he never said anything by accident. If he said it out loud, it was because he wanted you to you hear him.
“Next phase?” you asked, playing along with his game.
“Well, you see—I think best if I just show you.” He picked up his head to press a kiss to your covered thigh, making sure to make eye contact with you. There was no mistaking the heat in his eyes.
His kisses moved upward to your hip. To your stomach. To your ribs. To your neck. Until he finally reached your mouth. He kept it very chaste, opting to press a fleeting closed-lip kiss to the side of your mouth. Butterflies fluttered in your stomach and you shivered.
He pulled back, holding your face securely in his hands. “What do you say, hmn? Shall we continue?”
Before you could consciously think about it, your head was nodding up and down. The mood instantly changed from sweet touches to hungry intent. Black started leeching from the pupil to completely cover both of Chase’s eyes and you knew you were in for it.
You saw was the flash of his fire rimmed eyes and suddenly you were laid flat out on your back. The sheets were cool against your naked skin, bared completely nude for Chase’s own viewing pleasure. A blindfold took away your vision, leaving you in darkness once again. Unlike when you were trying to fall asleep, you were now hyper-alert for any sounds or touches in order to compensate for the loss.
Next, your arms were pulled up above your head. A quick test proved that your wrists were wrapped in sooth silk, likely conjured by your boyfriend, and bound to your headboard; your arms wouldn’t be moving until Chase allowed it. Your heart was already hammering in your chest and nothing had even happened yet.
He parted your legs so that he could position himself in between them. He spread them into a wide ‘v’ and spanked one of your thighs. “Keep them open, okay? Otherwise they get tied up too.”
He moved up your body to hover over your chest and you made sure not to move your legs. Chase demanded obedience and he was petty enough to leave you tied up, and untouched, if you didn’t follow the rules.
He leaned down to take one of your nipples into his mouth, his warm breath raising goosebumps around the area. The touch seemed even more sensual now that you couldn’t see it coming. He alternated between strong sucks and playful flicks of his tongue. Not wanting to leave the other out, his hand crept up to grasp the bud with his fingers, stroking it masterfully until it hardened into a peak.
You sighed in bliss, the thread connecting your sensitive nipples to your sex lighting up. He wasn’t satisfied though.
“I know you’re louder than that. Come on, let me hear you,” he said pinching your nipple. The pinch made you squirm and he followed it with a drawn-out lick to ease the pain.
The familiar duality of hard-soft treatment got you to release your first moan of the night and even though you couldn’t confirm it, you just knew that Chase had a smug grin on his face. “Louder,” he insisted darkly. The rumble of his voice combined with his sinful touches had you mewling, your back arching to keep his mouth on you.
“That’s more like it,” he purred.
With a parting lick, he detached himself completely and you had no idea what he would do next—your hearing no help since your heavy moaning drowned out every other sound. He left you in suspense for a few minutes, your body wound tight, and it wasn’t until you shifted your legs that he made his move.
“Uh uh uh,” he tsked in a sing-song voice. “What did I say? And I thought you were going to be good for me.”
“I do,” you breathed. “I promise I want to be good!”
His nails dug in to the flesh of your thighs, forcefully, his fingers gripping tight enough to leave marks. More silk wrapped around your ankles and it yanked so that you were forced into a split. It wasn’t the max limit of your flexibility, but it was enough to feel a stretching sensation in your muscles.
Without warning, he cupped you in his hand which had you bucking your hips. You were already slick and he coated his fingers, running them over you to make you even more slick while you trembled. Once he was content, he pulled away again and you grunted, restless on the bed.
“Patience, pet. I’m thinking.”
His gaze was laser focused on your sex as he stroked near your groin. He wasn’t sure whether to continue using his hands or if he should switch to his mouth. He was watering for a taste of you, but you really hadn’t earned that treat…
Oh well, he sighed. It couldn’t be helped. You needed to be taught a lesson. Besides, he knew you would look even better once you were a writhing mess.
He curled his fingers and pumped you once. Caught by surprise, you moaned lewdly, your hips canting to follow his movements.
“Here’s what’s going to happen—you’re going count every pump I give you until you get to fifteen. Then, if I want, I’ll use my mouth. Deal?”
It sounded like a trap. There was no way it wasn’t. Being stroked instead of spanked? Chase was a text book definition of a smooth talker who could sell ice to Eskimos. As good as the offer sounded, you knew it couldn’t be as easy as it seemed. Having no choice but to accept, you nodded.
He pumped again, slowly and with a tantalizing stroke at the end that had you straining against the silk bonds. And then he pressed his thumb down on a sensitive spot of nerves and made harsh, tight circles.
“One,” you gasped, lightning streaking through you. If it was that good after only one, there was no way you were get to fifteen without cumming. And that would be all the excuse he needed to deliver a harder punishment. You were definitely in trouble.
He went to touch you again when you were interrupted by a distant knock. Chase went deadly still and you turned towards the sound, still blindfolded. Another knock sounded, louder than the first time.
The restraints holding your limbs disappeared, followed quickly by the blindfold. All around, your bedroom was slipping away piece by piece and faster every second until just the bed remained. Confused, you faced Chase only to see him trembling in fury.
“Dammit,” he snarled. Then it all went blank.
Blinking your eyes, you found yourself back in the hotel room. A bit disoriented, you were awake enough to hear more knocking coming from down the hall. You heard a door open and a heated flurry of hushed whispers as the person knocking was presumably admitted into their room. The door slammed shut and then all was quiet again.
You picked up the clock from the bedside table and groaned in disappointment when it read 2:46 AM. Unfortunately, it would be while before you were able to fall back asleep now that you were wide awake. Down sides of being a particular sleeper.
And not only would you be unable to go back to sleep immediately, you were now left turned on with no boyfriend to finish you off. Your only consolation was that Chase was just as frustrated as you. Perhaps even more so.
It wasn’t often he wore his emotions clearly, especially in the bedroom, but his expletive more than gave him away, his parting snarl still echoing in your ears. He was pissed at being denied. Served him right for using his powers irresponsibly like that.
You amused yourself by imagining that he’d get so worked up, he’d call to finish what he started. A highly unlikely, but very intriguing fantasy. But then your phone lit up from where it peeked out under the covers to announce an incoming call.
You smirked in the darkness.
Looked like your fantasy might not be as unlikely as you thought.
_______________
My first time writing for Chase! Was it alright? Thanks to @dhampiravidi for agreeing that he’s a kinky one. And thanks to anyone who reads!
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A guiding hand
Royai week day 2 - Serene
(let’s collectively ignore how late I am posting this ok thaaaanks)
Summary:
“She expected Roy to follow up with a flirty comment or joke; that was usually how this type of conversation went. Instead, after a moment, he let out a sight. When he spoke again, his voice had a melancholic tone to it.
"That right there is the one sight that I really miss. ” ”
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The Colonel and his Lieutenant share a late-night conversation.
(Blind!Roy)
Words: 2489
Tags: Blind Roy Mustang, Fluff and Angst, Late Night Conversations, Established Relationship, Canon Compliant
read on aot
“They had left their windows wide open, letting in a soft breeze to relieve them from the heavy summer heat. The curtains were rising and falling without a sound, fluttering in the air like ghosts. Even the streets around the house were quiet at that hour; the only thing that broke the stillness of the night was Riza's voice.
"As for Senator Harn's wife, she was wearing a very elegant apricot-colored dress. With her signature high hairdo, of course.”
Their blankets had long been kicked away to the bottom of the bed in a messy pile. Roy was lying on his back, facing to the ceiling, one hand playing idly with a lock of Riza's hair.
"Apricot?" His eyebrows furrowed slightly. "That's the yellow with a touch of pink, right?”
"That was pretty much it, yes." Riza was lying on her side, her head against her hand, elbow propped up on the pillow. The room was covered in shadows, but the flickering lights from the window on the street allowed her to see the outline of Roy's face.
"And you said Harn had a royal blue jacket...That must have made for an odd contrast.”
Riza smirked. "Yes, that's what several people seemed to think. It looked as if the General and his wife had not consulted with one another before coming to the gala.”
A sly smile spread across Roy’s face. "Ha! And you just know the rumors about their marriage are already flying high. It's sort of ironic, considering how Harn is constantly babbling to the Parliament about the “traditional family” and the “sanctity of marriage” and whatnot." His hand came to lightly circle Riza's wrist, his thumb tapping the back of her hand. "I’m sure you now understand how crucial fashion is in Central. It's not just a matter of taste: it's inherently political.”
"Sure," she answered, unconvinced. "Anyway. The Harns didn't capture the guests' attention that long, since the buffet was brought shortly after.”
Roy hummed appreciated. "And that was a good one. I've rarely tasted crab this delicious.”
"Yes, and they must have put as much effort into the presentation as in the cooking, because the set-up was magnificent. Everything was served on glittering silver plates, which reflected the glow of the chandeliers. On each table, the dishes were arranged in a sort of pyramid, culminating with the piece of meat or seafood. It looked extremely fragile, like...like some sort of house of cards, or crystal architecture, defying gravity - but they all stood the evening without crashing down. It was breathtaking.”
This had become the most constant part of their day. Almost every night, as they lay in bed before going to sleep, Riza would describe to Roy a long list of the things he hadn’t been able to see during the day. When they had first started this habit, as they were working on the the reconstruction of Ishval, Riza's descriptions had been much more pragmatic, like a mission report: which building seemed in need of repair? Which tribal leader looked unsatisfied during their morning meeting? She did her best to give him this information as the day went by, but there were always important details that she missed.
As the years had passed and the two had distanced themselves from the military, Riza's description had slowly become more lyrical. She began to tell him about beautiful sights that he was missing – a particularly colorful sunset, or the way the city lights looked at night. As time went by, she started to enjoy these conversations and more more, and they became increasingly long. It got to the point where, as Riza saw something pretty during the day, she found herself immediately thinking of the way she would describe it to Roy later at night.
"You should try to write a book," he had told her once. "You're so good at this - I can picture in my mind everything that you're telling me about like I was seeing it."
"It wouldn't be the same," she had answered, shaking her head. "I like hearing your reactions."
He had arched his eyebrows, smirking. "And yet you scold me every time I interrupt you.”
"Stop being overdramatic,” she had retorted. “Now let me continue." They had left it at that.
Sometimes Riza would rest her head on his chest as she went on with her stories. This was what Roy preferred. Ever since losing his eyesight, he had grown much fonder of physical contact, even casual, with her - after all, it was the surest way he could know that she was by his side. But Riza liked to remain slightly further, just next to him, so that she would be able to observe him during their late-night conversation. His face would take on such a special expression at those times, almost peaceful, or...serene.
Serene. That would have been the last word anyone would have chosen to describe Roy under normal circumstances. Despite his reputation as a slacker, he was a man that was constantly busy thinking about one thing or another, pondering, planning his next ploy – or his next date with a certain Lieutenant. His eyes in particular had always betrayed the constant working of his mind: they were restless, always darting around the room to study the people they were talking to, noticing details in their postures, noting suspicious movements out of the corner of his eye.
And, Riza knew it well, even the moments of rest didn’t bring Roy much serenity. More often than not, his sleep was plagued by violent nightmares that would wake him screaming in the middle of the night - or at least, that tensed and distorted his expression as he slept.
This had not changed since the Promised Day. But since Roy’s fight in the underground of Central, his blind eyes had lost their piercing look and had taken on a milky appearance. In the first few weeks, Riza had hated meeting that blank stare - it reminded her too much of what his eyes used to look like, as well as symbolizing her failure as a bodyguard.
But eventually, she had come to see a certain beauty in them, and in the calmness they brought to Roy's expression. He was still as expressive as ever, with his trademark crooked smile and taunting eyebrows. But in the evening, when they were alone together, his face truly relaxed. As Riza described the day's events to him, he would focus entirely on her voice, letting his mind recreate the image she was painting. His eyebrows would loosen and his forehead became smooth, free of its usual furrow; his mouth would fall half-open. At this particular moment, Roy took on a serene expression that Riza had never seen on him before, and she never got tired of looking at it.
"I need to tell you, unfortunately," Riza broke the silence that had settled, "that you were not the best-dressed man at the reception.”
Roy propped himself up on his elbows, frowning with surprise. So much for serenity.
"What? Who was?”
“You’re not going to be happy about this,” Riza said, trying to hide the small smile in her voice. "But Colonel Birks made quite an impression. He wore a rather daring suit, made of a black fabric from which red velvet patterns stood out.”
Roy huffed with indignation. "Velvet! Nonsense. He obviously can’t stop pushing the boundaries of extravagance – and of bad taste.”
"I don't know," Riza said evasively. “I thought it was pretty elegant…and I wasn't the only one.”
Roy ran a hand through his hair, ruffling it. "Outdressing the president should be considered insubordination," he muttered under his breath. "I'll call Ms. Zhao tomorrow. I need something more avant-garde for the next gala. Maybe with some silk mixed in with a cotton suit?”
He lay down again on the bed and raised his arm, inviting her to come closer. Riza moved to nestle up against him, putting her head on his shoulder, a hand on his chest. Roy wrapped an arm around her waist and buried his nose in her hair. Whenever he did that, his breaths would tickle Riza's neck, making her giggle; she would always pretend to be annoyed but it, but they both knew better.
After a moment, Roy tucked some of her hair away from her face. He brought his lips close to her ear. "Tell me again what you were wearing."
Riza felt a shiver go down her spine. That deep voice that Roy used when he whispered always got a reaction out of her, no matter what cliché or silly thing he would say.
A wry smile crossed her lips. "At this point, you know my wardrobe better than I do, Roy. ”
"I know," he answered, unabashed. "But I like hearing you describe it."
Riza chuckled. “Well,” she began, “I was wearing the flowy emerald green skirt that Rebecca got me for Christmas, a brown leather belt, and my white blouse. The one with the embroidery on the collar. ”
He hummed in appreciation. "With your golden high heels, I'm guessing."
"With my golden high heels," she nodded, "because even though my feet are killing by the end of the night when I wear them, they do really go well with that skirt." Her hand started to play with the ring that Roy wore as a necklace. "I didn't put much makeup on because of how humid the weather was. But I did wear my bright red lipstick."
She felt his cheeky smile even before he spoke. "I can recognize it by taste, now."
If they weren’t pressed so close together, she would have dug her elbow into his ribs. She rolled her eyes instead. "I also had my gold bracelet to go with the shoes, and the earrings you bought me to complete it all. What else...my hair was in a bun, and, of course, I had my necklace."
She expected Roy to follow up with a flirty comment or a joke; that was usually how this type of conversation went. Instead, after a moment, he let out a sight. When he spoke, his voice had a melancholic tone to it.
"That right there is the one sight that I really miss. ”
Riza felt her smile drop. A lump appeared in her throat. Roy rarely complained about his blindness; even in the months following the Promised Day, he had adapted to his new lifestyle with impressive resilience. At first, it seemed as if his disability had affected his Lieutenant, plagued by guilt, more than himself. Still, Riza knew that he must have carried a lot of silent regrets through the years. There was so much Roy had had to give up, so many compromises he had had to reluctantly accept on his plan to reform Amestris – and on his personal life.
Riza disentangled herself gently from his grasp and straighten up, half sitting, to observe him. One of his arms was folded under his head, and he still seemed to be looking at the ceiling - but of course, that was just an impression. She ran a hand through his hair, brushing them away from his face. He smiled slightly at her touch, but she didn't need to see the pupils of his eyes to know that his heart wasn't in it.
She didn't like seeing him like this. With thoses cloudy eyes, melancholy turned his serene expression into a confused one - like he was a child that got lost and couldn't look for his way home.
Riza laid down again and rested her head on the pillow, her face turned toward Roy. She started to gently stroke his arm. "At least, you can keep in your mind the image of what I – and you – looked like in the prime of our youth," she said after a moment in a playful tone, trying to comfort him. "You won't need to see us get all old and wrinkled.”
To her surprise, Roy's face saddened further.
"Don't say that. Beautiful women are like fine wine, they only get better with age - that's what Chris used to say. I always wanted to see how you would look as you grew old.”
Riza raised her eyebrow, surprised. "Really?" she answered in spite of herself.
He nodded. "Not everyone ages gracefully, of course. But I know that wrinkles would look flattering on you; you have such elegant features. And silvery hair never fails to give this distinguished look - at least on women," he added, running a hand through his hair, suddenly self-conscious. His eyebrows furrowed. "Do I already have grey hair?"
Riza felt her shoulders relax. "You're almost completely bald by now, Roy."
He winced. "Please don't joke with that. I don't know what I would do if this were to happen.
Riza simply smiled, and they fell back into a comfortable silence. She watched Roy’s chest rise and fall with his breathing, lulled by the calm rhythm.
"You know, I always wished I could see you grow old, also because it would have meant that we made it."
Riza felt her breath catch in her throat.
She reached up and placed her hand on his cheek, hoping her touch could tell him what her words couldn’t.
“We did make it, Roy.” Now of all time, she wished he could see her face.
"I know," he said. He took her hand and brought it to his lips, pressing a light kiss against her knuckles. "I know."
Riza propped herself up on her elbow. She close her fingers around his, and squeezed firmly.
"Listen. We'll just do like with everything else. When my hair turns grey, I'll describe it to you. And as for the wrinkles," she placed his hand on her face, "you can see that for yourself."
Roy made a small smile. For the first time, he turned to face her, placing the tip of his fingers on both sides of her face. That was something he never tired of doing. Before he had lost his sight, he had always been able to read her like a book, understanding the meaning behind even the most subtle of her facial expressions. Now, he could do it in a much more literal sense, by tracing the surface of her body, reading the lines on her skin as if they were words written in braille.
"And when my face is so wrinkled it's unrecognizable,” she continued, "you will know the story behind each one of them.” She injected a smile into her voice. “The ones I already have on my forehead, for example, come from the stress of having spent so many years asking you to do your paperwork.”
His fingers brushed her forehead, and he smiled, abashed. "And you're all the more beautiful for it, my dear." He reached toward her and, guided by his hands, placed a light kiss on her head. “I can’t wait to see the rest.” ”
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My sweet, sweet mesh’la
For my darling wife, a dash of a story that I hope makes it’s way to her saga. @beskarberry
I really, really love Tra’laar and Mando.
These events are post-Imperial base sabotage. Our clan of three have successfully blown up an Imperial bio-test facility, and have made off with a haul of new weapons and a handful of stolen beskar ingots. Tra'laar has had her own set of pauldrons forged, much to Mando's insistence of 'the more beskar to protect you, the better'.
Among other developments, Tra'laar is now a few months with child in this short cut.
"...Y'know, while I like the scary, yet excruiciatingly hot armorer down in these sewers, I'm still not following why you want me to come down here." Tra'laar's and Mando's steps echoed in the empty pipes under Navarro, their voices the only other noise present beyond the weak clang of a hammer on beskar in the distance.
"It's a surprise."
"You are aware your 'surprises' aren't usually as surprising as you want them to be, right? I can read you like a steel-lined book, silly. You sure it has nothing to do with me being preggers now?" She smiled slyly, poking Mando in the ribs to try to get a reaction out of him after exaggeratingly rubbing her hands on her slightly bumping belly.
"-Oof-. It's a surpise, mesh'la!" He turned his helmet slightly to look at her, nodding his head, the dark visor hiding his sheepish grin underneath. That was exactly the reason for them coming back to see the Armorer: To prepare for a youngling.
Tra'laar contented herself with mocking his nod with her own sassy head-bob, lifting her faceplate and sticking her tongue out as they came to the entrance of the Armorer's forge room. The sound and smell of fresh beskar and forge-smoke were a welcome change from the sulfur-enriched air of Nevarro. Mando tapped the side of his bracer against the inside of the archway, announcing their arrival to his old A'lor with a harmonious chime.
Finishing hammering a breastplate, she set her hammer and tongs down on the forge as she turned to face the duo in her domain. "I've been expecting you two since I heard rumors of a new youngling joining your clan. Have you made a decision on whether you want a weapon, or armor?"
Mando turned to face Tra'laar, who's face was cocked slightly at the Armorer. "Well, what would you pick between the two, mesh'la?"
"For who, me? A dagger, of course! But you already know I have like thirty on me at any given time, with more to spare on the Crest. Is this some sort of present or something?"
He chuckled lightly, shaking his head. "Not for you, for our youngling when they're of age."
"OH. Isn't it a little early to be thinking of outfitting them for battle? I'm all for making sure they know how to kick ass as soon as they know more than 2 words, but they aren't even-"
"It is never too early to prepare for the unknown. As you've found from your travels with your riduur, and undoubtedly found out yourself with your new armor, it is well worth the preparation. A dagger it will be, etched with your clan crest." She walked towards the duo, holding her hands out to each of them. "Now, hand me the pauldron of your non-dominant hand."
Mando unclasped his left pauldron from his body, handing it gently to his old Alor. "For our future youngling, I pledge this pauldron to protect them, and to give them strength." He glanced over at Tra'laar, pointing at her left shoulder.
"Y'know, it never gets old finding out about all these rituals and shit right in the moment, chrome-dome." She unclasped her left pauldron as well, handing it to the Armorer. All three stood there in silence for a few moments, the Armorer and Mando focused intently on Tra'laar's masked face.
Mando leaned over to his partner, whispering, "A few words from the to-be buirs is customary to this ritual."
"YEAH, no, I'm thinking! I figured as much as soon as you started on yours!" She pushed his hulking frame back to his spot, bringing her hand to her mask in thought. "Alright, I 'pledge' my pauldron to our future youngling so that they can kick ass and take names, and look badass while doing so! That work?" She put her hands to her hips, giving Mando a sarcastic tilt of her head.
"So it shall be. A dagger of the clan Mudhorn, forged for the new youngling, so that they may have strength to protect themselves, and to look 'badass'." She turned and walked back to the forge, setting the pauldrons in a crucible to melt them down. "This will take not but a night. You may retire to the barracks, and it will be ready in the morning for you to take."
"Thank you." Nodding his head as he thanked her, he grabbed Tra'laar by her hand and led her out of the forge room, his feet hardly containing his joy as they turned the corner of the archway. As soon as they were out of eyesight of the Armorer, he turned to face his riduur and grabbed both of her hands, bringing them up between them. "My mesh'la, my love, I can't express how much this means to me. How much I love you, how excited I am for our youngling." Pressing his helmet to her mask, he wrapped his arms around her, Tra'laar giggling at his sudden excitement in the depths of his old home.
She pushed him away slightly so she could open up her mask, smiling at her husband. "You silly can of worms, I told you I knew what was up! You've been giddy for DAYS in the crest. You could have just told me! You can't keep not telling me about these rituals and putting me on the spot!" She put her hands on his shoulders, admiring the curve of his now armorless left shoulder, feeling his warmth and muscles as he ran his hands up and down her sides. "You're like a puppy! You can't stop moving!"
"Only because I'm so in LOVE with you, mesh'la!" He moved his hands to her back, bringing her in close to hug her against his body. "Words just, they can't come close to how I'm feeling right now. So full of pride, happiness, love, I-"
"Well if words are so hard for you, then let's hurry on up to those barracks and find other ways for you to show how much you appreciate and love me!" She grabbed his hands and put them to his sides, slowly backing away towards where she thought the barracks were and breaking into a sprint. "Race ya there!"
Mando watched in adoration as she tore off, shaking his head as he looked at her figure disappearing into the dimly light hallway...
...in the wrong direction.
"My sweet, sweet mesh'la."
You'd seen many beautiful daggers in your life time. Hell, you'd seen them since you were old enough to talk, most of them in windows of stores, and some of the most gorgeous ones you'd seen carved by artisans on the streets. Your first one was rusty but trusty, but this dagger, made specifically for your youngling of your clan, was the most painstakingly detailed item in existence in the galaxy.
Curved in such a way that it always reflected light along it's edge, it was elegant, menacing, and jaw-dropping. As soon as the Armorer had taken it out of it's sheath, your breath caught in your throat. Some how, some way, this dagger wasn't just a dagger...it was part of you. Part of your accomplishments, your history; No, not just your history. Your clan's history. Your husband's history. Both of your essences were there, somehow, and you knew it.
You hesitated to pick it up, but as you did, you couldn't describe the pride that flowed through your veins. This wasn't just a dagger to be a dagger, it was something so much more.
"The name of this weapon shall be Kar'ta. In basic, it means 'heart'. From both of you, you gave your love and hearts for this youngling, and thus this blade shall sing your starsong, Tra'laar, to the universe when they wield it."
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Our Black Hearts Part 2 (F!Reader x Jack "Whiskey" Daniels)
Summary: You decide it's time to come clean to Jack about the man he's after
W/C: 2k
Warnings: None for this chapter I think, but please tell me if I missed something
Spotify
Part 1
You loved working the towns garden. The feeling of warm dirt in your hands, the feeling of accomplishment watching something go from seedling to edible vegetable in the span of just a few weeks. Hell, sometimes you even relished in the ache in your back after a long day. It let you know you were alive.
It was while you planted a new crop of carrots that you rehearsed what you were going to say to Jack when you saw him next. Hello, I hope you don’t kill me for not telling you as soon as I was sure, but I know who killed your wife, and I think I know where to find him, or at least how to find people who know where he would be. We good?
You frowned as you dug into the earth, unable to escape the guilt gnawing at your insides like a parasite. You know you should’ve told him the first morning, when you woke up encased in his arms. But the way the pale pre-dawn light played on his skin distracted you. Then he woke up and he really distracted you. Then a week passed, and you still hadn’t summoned up the courage to tell him, despite several more rendezvous with him. You knew it would be worse the longer you waited, a somehow larger betrayal.
Of course, you could just lie, tell him you weren’t sure, but that wasn’t in your nature. You hated to lie, and you were fucking terrible at it. You had been since childhood, unable to hide your secrets from the scrutinizing gaze of your mother. Now, every time you tried to lie, you remembered the sharp blow to the back of your head you would receive, and instead you chose to just avoid the truth.
Straightening your back, you turned your gaze toward the cloudless blue sky. It was nearing midday, the hottest and most dangerous hours to be outside would soon be upon you. Already people had sequestered themselves inside, the only ones who couldn’t were those patrolling the perimeter of the town. Large sheets of rusted metal had been erected along the perimeter; the only protection afforded to those who protected the town. It had once struck you as deeply unfair, but now you knew it was necessary. Too many stories of towns being attacked at the suns highest point had reached your ears, chilled you to the bone.
“Chase,” the use of your nickname snapped you out of your thoughts. You glanced behind you and saw Sparkie, the middle-aged man who oversaw the gardens waving to you. “Come inside before you get crispy.”
You obliged, abandoning your shovel in the dusty earth. It was only a couple degrees cooler inside the garden house but being in the shade made all the difference. The garden house was arguably the dirtiest building in the whole town, boot prints and stray tools littered the cracked tile floor, the entire thing smelt of fertilizer and no number of open windows could get rid of the stench. You sat yourself down on a plastic crate and turned your attention to the window.
In the distance you could see the perimeter wall of Deepwell, a single speck of a figure under the small metal sheet. No stupid hat, so it couldn’t have been Jack. You had learnt that he was assigned as a guardsman for the town, replacing the guard who had been brutally gunned down in a raid a month before he had arrived. At the thought of that, the image of the dead guard flashed in your mind – shot so many times in the face no one could identify them until a headcount of surviving guards had been taken. Her name had been Lydia, you found out later, and you hadn’t said more than three words to her.
~
A shrill whistle sounded in the distance, signalling it was safe to be in direct sunlight again. Jack stepped out from the small perimeter shelter and adjusted the grip on his rifle. He had learnt protocols during his first day of what was done directly after Midday. First, he had to make sure no one was trying to breach his appointed section of wall. Most days there was nothing, occasionally a pack of wild dogs or boar would be gathered drawn by the smell of living creatures. Once he had found a Skulker, barely clinging to life, sent crazy by sun and hunger and dehydration. Parts of her skin had melted away from time spent in the Toxic Plains, leaving shiny white bone. That had been an easy kill – a single bullet between the eyes before she had even realised he was there.
There was nothing today, only the ever-present patches dead earth and haze of heat on the horizon. Jack adjusted his dark glasses, traded a year back for a half blunt knife. They had become one of his most prized possessions, a saviour for his eyesight.
The next hour passed quietly on the outside of the wall. A single mutt had appeared briefly in the distance, Jack kept his gun trained on the creature until it had slinked away, disappearing over the horizon. He could’ve shot it, sent word to the fetchers about fresh meat, but the dog wasn’t worth the bullet. Its ribs and pelvis had stuck out from its body, more skin and bones than anything edible.
Sweat was beading down the back of his neck and dampening his shirt when relief finally arrived. His replacement was a burly teenager, arms criss-crossed with scars from a childhood spent living in the lawless no-mans-lands. Jack tipped his hat and handed the shotgun to the kid.
“Happy watchin’,” he said with an easy grin. The kid grunted in response, turning to face the vast nothing in front of them.
It was mid-afternoon, early enough for the water troughs to be devoid of most people and late enough that the water wouldn’t be boiling hot anymore. The troughs were close to the well for which the town was named, though the well was just a hole in the ground fenced off by frayed rope. It was the towns only source of clean water, so deep underground it took almost five minutes for it to be pumped up.
The troughs were worked by just one woman, who Jack thought probably had the worst job in the whole town. Keeping the troughs filled and clean, making sure the stores were stocked with enough for the townspeople to clean themselves with. Not to mention having to wash the clothes of anyone who asked. Jack avoided asking for as long as he could, only going to her when the stench became too much for him to be able to deal with on his own.
Today, fortunately, his clothes weren’t an issue. He stripped down, folding his clothes neatly before easing himself into one of the troughs. He dunked his head under the warm water, scrubbing at his scalp with his fingers. He didn’t have the luxury of soap today, having worn through his last bar before he could find a suitable trade for a replacement. Jack didn’t mind though – sometimes the water itself was enough to feel clean.
“Jack,” Chase was standing at the foot of his trough, hands on her hips. Well this is a nice surprise Jack thought as he sat up, pushing his wet hair back. Her face was shiny with sweat and streaked with dirt that seemed to attach itself to any available bit of skin.
“Hello, Doll.” He had taken to calling her that, preferring it to Chase. At least, he preferred it when he was trying to seduce her.
“I need to talk to you,” she said, and Jack’s blood ran instantly cold.
“You’re not – you know?” He gestured to her stomach. Chase looked down, confused, before realization dawned on her face.
“It’s been a week, Jack, Maker help me! No. Didn’t you learn anything about how babies are actually made when you were married?” Chase raised an incredulous brow at him. Jack shrugged. “I have a book on that, you should give it a read.”
Jack rubbed at his legs with a scrap piece of cloth, knowing he was not going to read that book. “So, what’d ya need, doll? Come to take another ride?” Chase rolled her eyes.
“No. I need to talk to you-” Chase hesitated, looking conflicted. “Look, just don’t hate me, please.” Jack sat forward, suddenly intrigued.
“Well, don’t leave me hangin’ in suspense,” Jack said.
“I know who killed your wife. I can find him.”
Jack’s ears rang for a moment, he wasn’t sure he heard correctly. “You . . .”
“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner,” Chase crouched down next to the trough as she spoke, her eyes imploring him to understand. “I wasn’t sure it was him; I thought he was dead! But – but it’s too much of a coincidence.”
“Who is he? How do you know?” Jack tried to keep the pain out of his voice. How long has she known, he wondered, and not told him?
Chase at least had the decency to look ashamed. “He’s – his name is Elijah. He’s missing an eye because ten years ago I stabbed him, thought I killed him too. I tried to kill him!”
“Chase, who is he to you? Are you sure you can find him?”
“I can find him. I still have connections with his old crowd, someone there will know where he is.” Chase rubbed her face, somehow smearing on even more dirt. “If I tell you who he is . . . just don’t hold it against me, okay?”
“No promises,” Jack said.
“He’s my brother. Womb brother, actually.”
“You tried to kill your brother?” Jack was too shocked to feel angry. He was an only child, but from what he knew, the bond between siblings was one of the strongest, especially those bonded in the womb.
“You’ve met him,” Chase shrugged helplessly, “he’s – look I’m not gonna pretend that I deserve understanding for keeping this from you. But now I know he’s alive . . .” she trailed off, chewing on the inside of her cheek.
“Tell me where to find him.” Jack said.
“No, you need me.” Chase shook her head. “You won’t get far without me, I promise you that.”
Jack scoffed at her. “Don’t underestimate me.”
“I’m not, I’m being realistic. You don’t know Elijah like I do. He’s paranoid, delusional, he thinks he’s a fucking god. You won’t get within ten feet of him without someone blowing your brains out. If you’re serious about this revenge thing, you need me.”
Jack pushed himself out of the trough and began to dry off quickly in the sun. Still naked, he turned to face Chase, arms crossed over his chest. “And just why are you so damn insistent on comin’ with me? You could tell me what you know, I could hire any number of mercs who could get the job done better than you, and you wouldn’t have to get your hands dirty . . . well dirtier than they already are.”
Chase took a deep breath, evidently to calm herself down. “I need to make sure what I started is finished. Someone has to kill Elijah, and I won’t be able to sleep until I know he’s dead.”
The look on her face told Jack she was completely serious. He considered for a few moments, pulling his clothes back on. If everything she said was true, he would need her help, to find Elijah, to get close enough to kill him. But –
“If you tried to kill him, how can you get close without you getting your head blown off?” Jack combed his fingers through his hair and secured it with his hat.
“He doesn’t know it was me. It’s a long story but you just have to trust me.”
Jack considered the woman standing in front of him. Of course, he didn’t trust her – it was stupid to trust anybody. But it was his only chance, he was beginning to realise, and she’d have to come along whether he wanted it or not. Which given his current mood regarding her keeping this from him, he did not.
“Alright, get your shit ready. I’m leaving at dusk.”
Tagging: @sharkbait77 @quica-quica-quica <3 <3
#jack whiskey daniels#jack daniels x f!reader#kingsmen golden circle#jack daniels au#post apocalyptic
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I don’t want to hurt you (bucky x reader)
Part 1 \\ Part 2 \\ Part 3
Part 4 A different HYDRA
Word count: 2382
Warnings: sexual assault,cursing, gruseom deaths:),semi naked,
ATTENTION: THIS COULD TRIGGER SOMEONE and for personal reasons I am not going to be writing it in full detail the delicate subject, if you wanna keep on reading though just not that bit imma put asterisks when it begins and ends, there is no problem, I understand completely.
You felt a hand being placed on your cheek, smudging away something liquidy that had dripped down your cheek. Before you could open your eyes, the warmth of the hand quickly vanished and a hard punch hit your cheekbone followed quickly by another punch only this time on your temple. Now you realized what that liquid was and you shot your eyes open.
At first everything was blurry, a strong light shining over you but after few seconds your eyesight got used to it and your eyes darted around for wherever the fuck you were. That’s when you noticed a tall man standing in front of you, wearing a military camouflage suit with a very irritating smirk on his face. He lowered his head, slowly reaching your level of hight since you were strapped on a chair ”Добро пожаловать, милая, или, лучше сказать, хладнокровный убийца, Гидре.(welcome sweetheart or should i say cold blooded murderer, to HYDRA)” he whispered in your ear. You shook your head and rattled your chains just to see if they were really firm and they just rattled. You shook your body until you stopped dead in your tracks. You swallowed, hard, and lifted your head slowly to look around the room you were in.
You were not in a room. You were in the middle of a gigantic open space, surrounded by footbridges and staircases that led to thousands of cells, more like cages, but they were all empty. All of their prisoners, or soldiers were standing right infront of you. They were staring at your bloody and bruised body as if they were enjoying it, as if you were on display for them. You looked down and saw your pants had been ripped ( idk like now they’ve become shorts) and you were only in a sports bra, leaving your skinny but muscular body showing.
You were not ashamed of your body(bc you are perfect and yes i'm talking to you, not Y/N in my story, YOU and you are just perfect just the way u are, please never change, please<3) but the thing that worried you the most was that you were completely covered in blood, some wasn’t even yours but most of it was yours and it was gushing out from deep cuts that were everywhere. Your whole body ached and breathing was becoming very hard. You looked back at the whole crowd that was standing in front of you, searching for someone you recognized. I mean you were at hydra. You scanned the crowd and then made eye contact with the all-in-black dude you had tried to kill, holding a cloth on his neck.”So I did hit him after all” you mumbled under your breath.
You were tired of being at the center of attention and were starting to want some answers. The man wearing the camouflage suit was standing behind you, this was your chance so you turn your chair facing him and you kick his shin. He groans in pain and leans over his leg and you knock him out cold using your head against his. You stand up on the chair and sat back down with force causing the chair to break.
You did that so quickly that by the time you were standing up, ready to fight the whole crowd was still looking at you with wide eyes. You smirk and crack your neck, ready to bring down other guards(damn, your cool as fuck) You squint your eyes trying to see any guards coming your way and lock eyes with the soldier you had tried to kill. His eyes were full of worry but at the same time his expression was cold, you were lost in those steel blue eyes but before you knew it s man grabbed your arms. You immediately reacted and jumped backwards on top of his shoulders. You punched his face a few times until you cracked his neck and he fell to the floor. you jumped off him before he hit the ground and searched for any guns or knives you could use since they had taken everything away from you but unfortunately you found nothing.
In the meantime the crowd of people started running in all directions, seizing the opportunity to escape this damn place. You were still under their control so that thought didn’t come to your mind. From all the chaos you started running towards the man you had killed. You ran up to him and you both started throwing punches and kicks (idk imagine your fight scene however you want :)) until you jumped on his back and swung yourself backwards making you both fall down. He hit his head and you took this chance to get on top of him with both of your knees on his sides, holding his metal arm with one of your hands and the other one was gripping his throat, your grip tightening by the second. He was trying in every way to move but your position was holding him unbelievably still. He was knocked out cold for sure but that wasn’t enough for you. You wanted him dead. Just a little bit more and he would’ve died but someone elbowed harshly your neck, pain once again flooding everywhere.
It distracted you so your grasp loosened as the man took a long and loud breath. You were about to choke whoever dared stopping you but someone pulled your hair, dragging you away from the man laying on the floor. You quickly turned your body around making the person holding your hair release his grip. You punched him in the chin, knocking him out dead. You were surrounded but that wasn’t going to stop you ,hell no. You took down 6 soldiers quickly but then a dozen charged towards you, making you stumble on the ground. They were all punching and kicking you senseless until one of them stuck a syringe in your arm and injected something in you, making you dizzy. “Great, here we go again.” you sated, locking eye contact with the man you wanna kill so bad. His eyes were filled with fear and something else you couldn’t quite understand: Then it all went black, again.
**
You woke up with someone slapping you. Your eyes shot open as your reflexes kicked in and you shot your arm up only to be stopped by some leather straps. You groaned in annoyance and started looking around. You were in an oddly familiar room but it wasn’t quite the same. Then it hit you, you were surrounded by the same machines from your HYDRA. You breathing quickened until a man stepped in the room. ”Well soldier, it was about time you woke up.” he started. “You injured many of my most trained men, how did you do that?”he went on, your heart beating faster by the second. He started walking towards you and you spoke up,”(How long)сколько”. He snickered, “два месяца (two months)”. Fuck. He gotta be lying, you can’t have been out for 2 months, that's impossible but the way he looked at you told you otherwise. He was getting a bit too close though. ”запусти машины, я буду наслаждаться этим (start the machines, i'm gonna enjoy this).” he said with a calm expression which was not reassuring. A scientist pressed a big red button and electricity started running in your body again, only this time it was way stronger and blood was actually escaping your stained skin. You were shaking violently, screaming at the top of your lungs even though nobody could hear you. Your chest rising and lowering at an unimaginable pace. Just to add a bit of spice, some needles were injected in your muscles and shot something in your body making you numb but at the same time the pain became even more unbearable. The pain increased painfully slowly until it all came to a halt. The machines detached from your sensitive skin and you opened your eyes slowly, caching your breath. You were shacking uncontrollably and feared what the man was going to do to you next and just to your fucking luck the man was staing right infront of you with a grin on his face.
TW
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As he stepped closer to you, you tried moving your arms but they were firmly strapped to your sides, he leaned over you and mumbled in your ear “Such a beautiful lady, with amazing skills, who wouldn’t fall for that?”he said tucking your hair back. “убирайся от меня (get the fuck away from me)” you warned him with an intimidating cold voice “ or I swear to god your gonna regret this, im gonna break every single bone in your body, watching you suffer and slowly rip your organs out of your body, painfully slow, starting from your eyes and ending with your heart all while you’re still alive.” you spoke up not liking one bit the position you found yourself in.
He grinned to the feistiness you had in you. He then started touching your body, in places you never wanted anyone to touch, though many already had. Tears were starting to develop in the brim of your eyes but you wouldn’t let them fall. Hell no, you wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of that. You had to stay strong, I mean it was soon all gonna end.
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It all came to an end as he stopped and nodded towards the scientist. He got up and stared at you, mesmerized by your beauty. The maschines started whirring and the electricity ran through your veins once again. but this time after the stress your body had gone through you weren’t sure if you could take the pain much longer. You were trembling when after, god knows how many hours later some guards untied you and carried you to a small cell. Your body was exhausted and needed a break but you knew that you didn’t have much time before they came back for you in the morning. You crawled in a ball against the wall and concentrated on your breathing, it was very shaky and you could only take short breaths because of your neck and rib bruises, which were probably internal too. You obviously couldn’t sleep, not after all that you had done, it would all come back so you concentrated on the sounds that could be heard outside your cell.
After a few minutes you heard gunshots and screaming, someone’s here. You stood up as quickly as possible looking around yourself to find anything you could use to protect yourself with and to your luck you found an old and rusty crowbar, but that'll do just fine. You picked it up and placed both hands on it, ready to harm anyone that came too close to you. You heard footsteps coming closer to you and a man with an oddly familiar voice screaming stuff like “mercy”, “please”, “she’s in here” and someone started firing bullets to your door with a gun, after a bunch of shots someone kicked the door off its hinges. You squinted your eyes slightly, not used to the light that was coming in the cell. A tall blonde man entered your room, he had a shield in his right hand and a helmet on his head. You tightened your grip on the crowbar showing the man that you were not afraid to use it. He took a step forward which was confusing for you because he surely knew who you were but he still wasn’t showing any sign of being scared. ”Listen, Y/n I’m Steve, we’re gonna get out of here alright?” he asked with an oddly calm voice, offering his hand out: You didn’t know if to trust him or not, for all you knew people kept trying to torture you. Your brain didn’t trust this guy at all, but you had a feeling that he was surely gonna bring you somewhere better than this. You nodded slightly as you walked towards him, as soon as your hands touched you weren’t really sure if you made the right choice, never trusting anyone was the best way to go wasn’t it?
You feared your choice was the biggest mistake you've ever made. The man grabbed you and twisted you around, your body so weak you winced in pain, and he injected something in your neck.Your body started to feel numb, starting from your toes, up your legs, to the muscle of your neck, till your eyes. You fought to keep your eyes open, this was not happening again. You crouched on the ground and spun yourself in a circle with your leg straight, making the man,who called himself Steve, fall to the ground, you picked yourself up and punched him in the face, hard, making his face bleed.
All of a sudden you collapsed on the ground, an indescribable pain flooded in your chest and neck, it must have been the liquid he injected in you earlier. You were trembling and you couldn’t breathe.
**********************************************
You sat on the floor with your fists on your chest, you weren’t gonna leave this place without a fight and you were not going to leave with some stranger. He stood up quickly and your eyelids started to feel heavy, he walked towards you as you lied down on the ground, shaking violently again. “What the fuck did you put in me?” you murmured with a menacing tone. You closed your eyes, not having enough energy to keep them open anymore and you slipped in unconsciousness.
Part 5
I know, they inject lots of stuff lol. But i couldn’t think of a better way to do it. This is a long one to make up for the last one which was pretty short. I hope you like it ! If you wanna be tagged, just ask :)
Elle
@vicmc624
#bucky barnes#buckyxreader#bucky#bucky buchanan#buckyxhydrareader#hydrareader#hydrasoldier#hydra#steverogers#cap#torture#buckyfight#fighting#marvel
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Southbound ch 1/ ch 2
After the Cullens leave her behind, Bella is left to pick up the pieces by herself. A year after her eighteenth birthday, a split second decision lands her in her truck, running far away from everything she has ever known. She decides to go south. What will she find in San Angelo, Texas?
One day I’m going to have to admit to my demise. The casket will be small and the rain will be pouring like it does everyday there. Charlie’s eyes will puff up like abandoned birthday party balloons in the desert heat-- and I will not be there to dry them. The church parking lot is gonna look like a high school reunion. A maze of junkers that never quite made it out of Forks, the high heels of my former friends swapped out for rain boots.
After a tearless goodbye from a pastor I never met and school acquaintances I never spoke to, the purple haze of my childhood bedroom will be packed into brown cardboard boxes. Like I didn’t live there at all. As if my mark on the world only existed in our-- my meadow.
I could feel the curl of dandelion weeds at my back pocket but refused to move an inch. His ochre eyes were spun as thick as honey as he laid beside my body. There was a gleam of something I couldn’t place in the part of his lips, but I returned the smile with my own. The press of cold flesh spread through my neck, down my spine, through my toes and into the mush under his shoes.
In the small blink of my lashes his form disappeared into the air.
The bed of wildflowers around me turned to ash before I could reach for him. All I could smell was nothing like the forest and everything like a bonfire left wild. The flames crawled towards me, my body refusing to budge in its wake. My head screamed to just MOVE.
My eyes opened to a blurry mass of nothing. Tears rolling down my cheeks, their path as uncertain as my whereabouts as I raised up on my elbows. They dried before I could wipe them away.
The pads of my fingers found the line of ancient stitching on the bench seat like a security blanket. My rapidly blinking eyes rolled around the cab in an untraceable pattern. The windows were clear and still, the leather beneath my backside warm to the touch. I could see my reflection in the silver lining the dashboard, the dark blanche underneath my eyelids clenched at my tired heart
There were no flowers. No meadow. No him.
Sitting up completely, I let out a breath I didn’t know I was carrying. The rushed exhale through my cracked lips brought my lungs to the dip of my ribs-- the familiar ache pulling the back of my skull taut.
Outside, the swell of Texas sun rises just beyond a gathering of trees. I can’t remember how I got here, the smell of asphalt long gone. Instead a dirt road lined my eyesight. It gave far too little clue to my immediate surroundings. Above me the sky was as clear as the south gets and the ground solid like beaten down gravel-- but no road signs. No mile markers.
I can’t even see behind the horizon.
The air in the cab became overcrowded with my fear, the push and pull of breath fogging up the chilled glass. I feel like a child left behind in a supermarket. Unreadable ques leading me farther and farther into the swamp of confusion.
My tires sat flat against the path, just beside it, as if I had just turned off to get some shut-eye. But why here? The middle of absolute nowhere? Had I learned nothing from the nomad with the hair like my forest fire?
My hand twisted the ignition before I could stray to the silver scar on my right wrist. It’s memory glinting in the corner of my mind.
All I can get out is the sputter of the motor, a failed attempt to rise the slumbering beast.
Another hard turn returns with the same groan.
I could feel the sweat start to slide down the expanse of my back in a winding trail. The salt water seeping into the flannel pushed up around my hips in a faux blanket. My palms slid around the wheel-- the leather close to splitting.
Me too, baby. Me too.
The door handle started to whisper to me. A stupid notion to leave the steel barrier hung onto the interior in flashing chrome.
I should've taken that damn cell phone Charlie tried to buy me last year. I could’ve at least called a tow. Maybe found out where in the hell I was-- but no. Who did I need to call back then? A boy who could pick out my heartbeat in a sea of a hundred exhausted teenagers? The press of my scent to his senses would’ve said everything I need to say anyway.
But now, no almost-not-quite-humans with super hearing as far as I could see.
The rusted-out Chevy felt more and more like a cage by the minute. A rushed push of the door frame threw my feet to the red dirt. A careful hand skimmed along the side of the truck as I followed the structure to the bed in a half-creep.
My ears were hypersensitive to the billow of wind blowing through the tops of the oak trees. The motion reminded me of the run on Edwar-- the creature’s back through the forest. Normally unwatchable to my dull eyes, but on his back I could see the restlessness of the air, the ever moving flight of dragonflies and underground wonders. Well up until I had the urge to puke.
I couldn’t say the sight of the wavering treeline didn’t give me the same feeling.
My entire body jumped nearly out of my skin at the sound of metal slapping something solid. My back clenched, the hair on the back of my nape sent sky-high.
“Down girl, it’s alright, no need to get all bug-eyed on me now.” A man’s voice came from a few feet behind me. My mind raced with the decision to face him or not. To see the person who would finally take me out. Or to lay down and leave the world not knowing the monster’s face.
A rough hand on my shoulder stops my thoughts in their measly tracks.
“You know,” A deep breath let out just behind me bounced off the metal of the truck back into my ear, “I don’t know many people that stray over to these parts real often. You must not be from around here, miss.” His hand turned my body to face him, the packed dirt underneath my sneakers scuffing into the silent air. My body felt as though it was under a spell. A rabbit held under the jaws of a coyote.
His smile caught me off guard.
It was no show off teeth, carnivore-sharp grin. It was a gentle pull of lips. A soft rose blush underneath the skin. The rest of his face was shadowed by the brim of a worn leather cowboy hat, his eyes masked slightly by it. Dragging my eyes down, I could almost feel the cotton of his button-up. It looked lovingly washed, as if it was worn for decades and not weeks. His Wranglers were in the same predicament. A smudge of what looked like motor oil stained into the crease of his knee, a rip could be easily seen by his ankles. And on his feet-- matching cowboy boots. The spurs had the same metal of his belt buckle in a vintage way, I could almost see him buying them as a set in some small town in the middle of Mexico.
“Sweetheart I know I’m good lookin’ and all but I did ask you a question a lil’ while ago…” He trailed off, his mouth set in a teasing upturn.
My eyes went wide, the fear lifting off my shoulders oddly by his tone. “I… Yes. You could say I’m not from around here.” The sentence tumbled out with a small thought of protecting myself. Keeping myself alive was first-- even if the apparent cowboy held himself like warm butter, quirked and sweet.
His brow lifted.
“You’re as closed off as a heifer in the dry season ya know that?”
His hand left my shoulder and held themselves up in mock surrender before placing them on his belt. His hip made contact with the side of the truck while starring me up and down. His eyes dragged up my fingers to my shoulder up to my lips and nose. My chest constricted with self consciousness.
The man in front of me rivaled every human boy I’ve ever met-- well man I’ve ever met. His legs, drawn out with a long line of denim, his shoulders square and broad. He looked older than He was, if anything he reminded me of Jasper.
The wavy blond hair peeking out of his hat, curling around his laid back collar. The stone corners of his shaded jaw. The slightly tanned skin, made from working fields I didn’t need to see. Even the fullness of his lips reminded me of the veteran vampire.
When his eyes landed on my own I realized-- he was waiting for me to speak again.
With a deep breath through the nose I managed to start, “I’ve been traveling from Fo-- the Pacific Northwest for a couple months. I got into Texas not too long ago.” A simple nod from his covered head prompted me to keep going, not commenting on my change of location. “I was just north of Lubbock last night. I woke up in my truck not long ago, but I’m not too sure where I am to be honest.” A low breath left my throat when I finished.
His stature straightened and I could now see how truly tall he was. He towered over me by a foot, almost. His mouth opened in a toothy smile and my brain clicked.
“Oh my god is this your land? I’m so sorry I didn’t know this was private land, my truck won’t start and I--” My ramble was suddenly cut off by a guttural laugh.
“Missy! You act like imma gonna what? You think imma skin your hide for wonderin’ onto this piece of dirt? C’mon now. Lemme getchu you somethin’ before you fall over dead.”
His back turned to me almost too fast. His form started to trek across to the treeline, his boots leaving indiscernible footprints into the rocky ground. I started to run to catch up and then stopped myself. Why would I follow this man? Did I have no self preservation? I didn’t even know him, no beachy waves or shiny belt buckle would be worth maybe dying over!
“Are you comin’ or what missy? I need to call my brother about your truck, so we gotta go to the house. It’s not far I promise.”, he yelled from the treeline, somehow persuading me to inch forward, heel to toe, towards him. My brain lost in the end, my pace quickening until I was right on his tail.
His neck turned to look me dead in the face, the shadow from his hat casting over the both of us for a moment. It was the most serious look I had seen on him in our short time together. It was almost soldier-like.
“I never asked.”
My eyebrows pinched together. “Asked what?”
“Your name, darlin’.” His face broke, smiling in a childish way, making it look like the simplest thing in the word.
My thoughts of self preservation long gone, I responded, “...Bella.”
His smile widened.
“Peter. Peter Whitlock.”
#bella x jasper#jasper/bella#jasper x bella#southbound#writing#mine#twilight#thetwilightsaga#jasper hale#jasper whitlock#jasper cullen#peter whitlock#peter twilight#twilight fanfic#twilight fanfiction#fanfiction#my writing
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GF - Where the Crop Circles Grow ch.5
Summary: When things get out of hand at the Pines’ family farm, Ford asks an old college buddy to assist investigating anomalies and Stan hires a farmhand. Who knew asking for help would actually get you somewhere?
For @lemonfodrizzleart. Part of her Farmer AU and featuring her OC, Jackie Asante.
Ao3 link here.
ch.4 - ch.6
~~~~~~~~~~
Jackie was folding laundry on the porch to enjoy the nice weather. Soft, fluffy, warm towels made the farmhand feel proud of her work (the towels were kinda scratchy and stiff when she first came a month ago). Her eyes averted from her folding up ahead to her boss, who was chopping woods on an old tree stump.
His shirt was almost completely unbuttoned to help his sweaty body cool down. A golden chain just barely grazed his thick chest hair, showcased by the created V. His stance was strong and his arms tightened his muscles as he swung the axe down on a sorry piece of wood. Occasionally he had to bend over to place a new log on the tree stump, giving Jackie a very pleasant view through his jeans. After a few minutes of Stan’s show and of Jackie not getting anything done, her hands frozen on a towel in her lap, Stan stopped his work and turned away from the sun as he wiped his forehead dry of sparkling sweat; Jackie barely looked away in time and if it wasn’t for Stan’s eyesight adjusting to the lack of sunshine, he might have caught his admirer.
Fiddleford came out with a glass of sweet tea in his hand and breathed in the wonderful late-afternoon air. He noticed at once that something was slightly out of the ordinary, and one look at Jackie’s glossy eyes and Stan’s half-exposed body as he picked up the lumber told the Tennessian everything he needed to know. The second Stan entered the house to put the logs where they belonged, Fiddleford gently elbowed Jackie as he stood next to her rocking chair. “Well, kettle my corn, somebody’s in love.”
Jackie rolled her eyes and smiled smugly up at her friend. “Yeah, right. Stan’s just a cool guy. It’s not like I lie awake at night thinking about him.”
~~~~~~~~~~
Jackie laid on her back, staring up at the ceiling, tucked into her bed with one arm draped over her chest, and her eyes wide with energy. She could feel a rock being plunged into her stomach as it dawned on her that Fiddleford might have been right. “Uh, oh.”
~~~~~~~~~~
Stan was whittling a small piece of wood in his hands as he sat on the porch, rocking in his chair. The sounds of laughter made him glance up from his work and he smiled to see Jackie and Tate playing. It was a basic game of tag, but they were both laughing joyfully and Tate was grinning like it was the best day of his life. For a few minutes Jackie purposely went slow, but then she sped up, caught Tate in her arms, and plopped down on the ground to tickle his ribs. Tate squirmed and squealed as Jackie laughed alongside him, hers less force than the boy’s.
Stan smiled and watched them from the corner of his eye as he whistled a tiny tree; Tate seemed to enjoy the toy train he had made for him, so he was secretly working on tracks and trees and houses and people so the kid could build a village for the train to ride around. It was something entertaining for Stan to do in his free time and he knew it would make a good birthday gift or a present for the holidays. As he worked and watched Jackie play with Tate, his thoughts reverted back to his feelings for the farm-woman.
Was it wrong for him to be crazy for his employee? Probably, but who cares? They hardly had a boss-worker relationship; if anything it was a firm friendship that just came so easily it was like they had known each other for years. With Jackie, it was just so easy, but that didn’t mean it was predictable; Jackie was spontaneous, passionate, and different, everything Stan valued in a person. Not only was she a hard worker, but she was really smart, creative, the best cook he had ever met, and really really beautiful. Anyone would get a crush on her, so why should he? For the time, Stan was content that a woman as amazing as her would never have a crush on him, not in a million years, so with any luck his little crush on her will die and no one important will get their feelings hurt.
~~~~~~~~~~
In the middle of May Stan and Ford told Fiddleford and Jackie about a hoedown that took place at the end of May to mark the beginning of summer. It was hosted in a huge barn and everyone pitched in to help with the food and there was music and dancing and everyone had a great time; word on the street was that it even beat the Northwests’ annual fancy shindig. So the weak of the party Jackie was excused from work on the farm so she could spend more time in the kitchen, meaning Ford and Fiddleford had to pitch in and save their investigations on the unicorns for another time.
It wasn’t a fancy party, but people usually dressed up a little bit, almost like going to church. Ford went for his blue t-shirt with green flannel and clean jeans and he polished his black shoes that clicked on wood beautifully. Fiddleford went for a more casual army-green floral shirt, a favorite from back at Backupsmore, and he put Tate in a red short-sleeved button-up. Stan opted for clean jeans and a light-merlot button-up, but Jackie was perfectly happy to wear a plain white dress that went down to her knees and came with noodle straps. She decorated the outfits with black heels to match her curly hair, which she somehow managed to control without losing its breath-taking fullness.
Stan found himself staring for a creepy amount of time, but she was too busy trying to get her food together to notice. The Diablo was packed full with food so Stan and Jackie drove in that car while Ford, Fiddleford, and Tate rode in the newly repaired blue truck. The large barn sat a few yards from a huge lake and at the top of a hill, a smaller barn filled with hay to the side and a white fence establishing the boundaries of the property. Already the barn was busting with music and laughter and vehicles and even two horses stood outside the party. Stan and Ford helped Jackie with the food while Fiddleford held Tate’s hand and had his banjo over his shoulder, and they entered.
The newcomers awed at the hustle and bustle. On a stage a bass, an acoustic guitar, a cello, a harmonica, and some spoons were being played by some townsfolk. Many more were dancing in the wide open space care-free. Kids Tate’s age were holding hands and swinging, Toby Determined was doing a lonely tap-dance, that dweeb Durland was spinning a lady too fast and making her cross-eyed, and Ma and Pa from Dusk 2 Dawn were holding each other as they danced. Most people were doing a big group dance together, but some were over at the long tables filled with good food.
Susan was stirring hot apple cider and spooning mugs full for people, Manly Dave had brought his family recipe of Cages Full of Meat, and there were platters and bowls filled with delicious ham, turkey, cobblers and pies of every berry and fruit that existed, green beans, collared greens, salad, macaroni salad, potato salad, sweet potatoes with marshmallows, fried okra, smoked ribs, smoked pork, boiled peanuts, jugs full of moonshine, and barrels full of taffy and candy. Jackie happily added her Lemon Meringue pie, grilled chicken, fried chicken, boiled potatoes, yeast rolls with cinnamon butter, cranberry sauce, spinach dip and crackers, and a huge pot filled with jambalaya made with Cajun sausage, onions, bell peppers, tomatoes, and rice. All that food could feed three New York Cities, let alone little Gravity Falls, but with all the dancing and activity going on the food was happily accepted and the night was off to a wonderful start.
Jackie happily chatted with Susan at the long tables while the men dispersed. Fiddleford was invited to play with the others on stage, Ford began to play chess with some of the old men in the back of the barn, and Stan happily took Tate out on the dancefloor and let him stand on his boots to lead.
The sun was soon gone but the night was lit up by not only the huge light fixtures in the barn, but the strings of lights on the walls, and rustic exposed lightbulbs at the door, and the little lights on the grass to highlight the walkway from the party to the rides home. Fireflies buzzed around as well; a few kids left the loud party to play among the bugs and let the flickering lights crawl into their outstretched hands.
As the moon got higher and higher into the sky, the part continued to be very enjoyable. While Tate was busy making quick friends with Tyler Cutebiker, Stan dragged his twin out on the dancefloor and made him dance. Fiddleford took a break from playing his banjo and somehow ended up dancing with Susan. Jackie happily danced alone by the tables and enjoyed the blissful music. As much fun as the party was, her energy was running out and she could do with some quiet. She decided to go outside and watch the kids play.
Out in the cool late-spring air Jackie breathed peacefully as she watched the children run around, but soon she wanted to be alone and explore her new surroundings. That smaller barn was a ways away, so she slipped into the shadows and ventured towards it. Jackie quietly slid the door open and smiled to find a single lantern hanging on the wall and the barn filled to the brim with blocks of hay. It smelled clean here and it was quiet and lovely, so Jackie made her way to a wall and sat on two blocks of hay, taking off her heels to rub her sore feet. No blisters, thank goodness, but standing and dancing for so long will make your feet ache.
In the silence and with nothing better to do, Jackie resumed her thought about Stan. Was it wrong for her to fall for her employer? Probably, but who cares? They hardly had a boss-worker relationship; if anything it was a firm friendship that just came so easily it was like they had known each other for years. Stan was just so easy to talk to, so comfortable to be around, but that didn’t mean he was predictable; Stan was spontaneous, passionate, and different, everything Jackie valued in a person. Not only was he a hard worker, but he was clever, considerate, a true-blue family man, and really really beautiful. Anyone would get a crush on Stanley Pines, so why should she? But Jackie could swallow that a man as amazing as him would never have a crush on her, not in a million years, so with any luck her little crush on him will die and no one important will get their feelings hurt.
The door opened slowly, still managing to make Jackie jump a little, but she smiled and relaxed at seeing Stan at the entrance.
He had been having a lot of fun at the party, but he had planned on dragging Jackie out to dance, having noticed that no one had danced with her (she must have danced with at least of one of handsome guys here and Stan just didn’t see it, there’s no way a girl that pretty had resorted to wall-hugging all night) and he planned to fix that, but he soon noticed that Jackie was nowhere to be found. Checking to make sure she didn’t get eaten by a mountain lion, Stan exited the big barn and watched the kids for a minute before guessing she was in the smaller barn away from the crowds and noise. He smiled when he saw he was correct and leaned against the doorway. “Hey, whatcha doin’ over here?”
Jackie shrugged casually. “Just needed some alone time.”
Stan nodded and drastically changed his plans to give her what she needed. He let his arm fall from the doorway and said, “Gotcha, okay, I’ll see you…”
“No,” Jackie said too quickly and felt herself go red with embarrassment. “I-I mean, I can be alone with you.” She quickly explained and then swallowed nervously. That didn’t make any sense, she wasn’t making any sense! But the way this guy made her feel didn’t make sense, either.
Stan saw her nervousness and smiled at it; the best dating advice Ma had ever given him was to never a date someone who wasn’t nervous around you; if they’re nervous that means they like you. He made a mental note to not put up too much of a brave front and then he entered the barn and closed the door behind him. “Whatever you want, sweetheart.”
Jackie smiled, not as nervous now, and watched as Stan plopped himself down on the hay-coated floor, resting an arm next to where Jackie sat. He popped his neck and yawned, comfortable and relaxed, one leg bent up and the other laying flat. He turned his head to look up at Jackie, resting his square jaw on his knuckles, and asked, “So whatcha thinkin’ about?”
Jackie leaned forward so her elbows her on her knees and one hand was just under her chin. “I was thinking how this has got to be one of the best parties I’ve ever been to.”
Stan snorted. “Really? Guess it ain’t so bad. I’ve never missed a single one. Great graduation celebration or a ‘welcome home’ event for college students. One year Ford n’ I snuck out n’ went over to the lake to swim, but Shermie caught us n’ tried to pull us out, but we dragged him in n’ we all got in trouble for it.” He chuckled.
Jackie giggled along with him and commented, “I’ve actually never been to a lake. I’ve visited a beach, but not a lake yet.”
“We’ll fix that.” Stan said. “The beach, though, huh? Always wanted to see one. Where else’ve you been?”
“Everywhere.” Jackie said. “I was a bit of a traveler before stopping here. Never been outside the country.”
“What was your favorite place?”
“New Orleans.” Jackie answered quickly. “They had the most delicious beignets and seafood and the jazz was beautiful, and the ocean was so beautiful. I really liked southern California, too, the beach was amazing and I made a lot of Hispanic friends there.”
“Any reason why you left?” Stan asked; with such good friends and great places, the farmer couldn’t help but wonder why didn’t she stay.
“Too busy and loud.” Jackie said. “I love the occasional crowds, but I wanted some place quieter and easier to find work, so that’s why I came up here.”
“Well, I’m glad you did.” Stan said earnestly, in such a deep, meaningful tone that it made Jackie’s face hot again and she looked away as she gently shook her head.
“You give me too much credit, Stan…”
“No, Jackie, I mean it.” Stan swallowed nervously, making his Adam’s apple bobble, and he went on with his eyes on the beautiful girl above him. “I’m not just butterin’ you up, I think you’re real pretty, n’ I mean it when I say you’re probably the best thing that ever happened to our place. Even without your killer cookin’ n’ extra help, I’m just really happy you’re around. I don’t know how I can make it up to you, but I’ll think of somethin’.” He had carefully worded his compliment so Jackie could take it as a friend making a friend feel good if that was all she wanted, but he had meant it as so much more and wanted it to be so much more, so it was all up to Jackie now.
She noticed the nervous look in his soft brown eyes and smiled. Was there a possibility, a teeny tiny possibility, that he liked her the same way she liked him. She could be dead wrong, she could lose everything she had worked for the last few weeks and everything she had grown to love. Goodbye, Dot. Goodbye, Tate. Goodbye Pines farm filled with some of the best people she had ever met. But she took a gamble, tried to ease her nerves as discreetly as possible, and she said quietly, “You could kiss me.”
Stan’s eyes grew to the size of dinner plates and his brown eyes sparkled adorably. Jackie bit her lip to keep from laughing at the look on his face, her heart relaxing and her nerves settling as she realized how much he wanted to kiss her. His grin was the last thing she saw before he stretched up and she leaned down and they met for a soft kiss.
The amount of sparks that flew only through lips touching was unbelievable. As a strong hand cupped Jackie’s cheek and a smaller hand landed on the back of Stan’s head, the kiss deepened and it only got better. Holy Moses, it was far better than anything Jackie could have imagined in her head, all those night daydreaming about this moment, and more, and it was better and full of more bliss than she thought it would be. She was putty at Stan’s touch, and as another arm wrapped around her waist and the kiss included it’s fair share of tongue, Jackie slid down from her little seat until she was sitting on the ground beside Stan.
Warm chuckles of pure joy leaked from their lips and for a while it was nothing more than hugs and kisses, but it was everything. Stan was blown away that such a beautiful woman wanted to hold him and kiss him, of all people, and he knew better than to question a good thing. His heart was roaring like a lion in his chest, his face was warm despite the goosebumps on his arms, and while he was beyond grateful for just a kiss he wondered if he was lucky enough for more.
They separated for air and Jackie rested her head on the cushion of Stan’s arm, his free hand on her knee. Stan’s cheeks and ears were rosy pink, his five o-clock shadow unable to hide how the girl in his arms made him feel. Jackie smiled at him, unable to believe she was so lucky, and put a hand over his heart to enjoy his heartbeat, but then she slowly unbuttoned his shirt a little to let his chest hair be showcased by a proud V. At the same time, Stan’s hand slowly went down her bent leg, closer and closer to her hip, pushing her white dress up. With a gleam in their eyes and one sure smirk, they both knew what they wanted.
(If you want smut, CLICK HERE! If you’re not comfortable with that, then keep reading.)
~~~~~~~~~~
There were still some stragglers at the party, mostly drunk men singing their hearts out, but Ford and Fiddleford were ready to go. Tate was asleep so Fiddleford gently tucked him in his car seat as Ford looked around for Jackie and Stan. It wasn’t a big deal to leave without them, they had brought two cars, but still. Curiosity had grasped his mind and he generally wondered where they were. Fiddleford cleared his throat and suggested, “Maybe we should go ahead home, Fordsie.”
“I suppose so,” Ford said casually and nodded in agreement. “But if they get arrested for trespassing, I’m not… SWEET LORD!” Ford put a six-fingered hand over his mouth to stop his screaming, but his other hand was pointing at the couple who had hoped they could emerge from the shadows undetected, but that clearly wasn’t going to work out.
They were covered in hay. Both Jackie’s long black hair and Stan’s brown mullet were frizzled and out of control, like someone had shaken their hair wildly. Or grabbed it tightly. Jackie’s white dress was missing, but she held Stan’s button up around herself tightly to preserve what little dignity she had left. Stan, shirtless, had a dopey grin on his face with hazy eyes, like he was sleepwalking. While Stan was oblivious to his twin’s scream, Jackie’s face was scarlet with embarrassment and she rubbed the back of her neck as she gritted her teeth.
Poor Ford was a mumbling mess. “B-B-B-But… you… you two… you… and you…”
Fiddleford patted his shoulder and instructed gently, “Stanford, get in the truck.”
“B-B-B-B-But…”
“I know, I know, just get in. Leave ‘em be.” Fiddleford guided his best friend into the car and even closed the door for him. While Ford buried his head in his hands to try to collect himself, Fiddleford gave the happy couple a thumbs up before entering his vehicle and heading home.
Jackie wanted to disappear and never reappear.
Stan, however, was far too busy repeating a single thought in his head to even register what was going on in front of him. “I’m gonna marry her.”
#GF#fanfiction#gravity falls#gravity falls au#farmer au#jackie asante#stan pines#jackiestan#gift#oh lord send me to hell...#thank you so much for reading!#more to come!
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life (you only get one of them): chapter 2
-my zindagi na milengi dobara au
/
Summary: in college, Steve, Sam and Bucky made a promise. 3 weeks, 3 activities, 3 boys and the country of Spain. 15 years later, Sam is getting married and its time for them to make good on that promise, to give him the send-off of the century. But between Sam’s conflicted feelings over his engagement, unresolved tension that threatens to break up the trio; Bucky’s secret agenda and Steve’s workaholic tendencies - it definitely promises to be a trip they’ll never forget
part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 4 | part 5 | part 6 | part 7 | part 8 | part 9 | part 10
/
Costa Brava. The first leg of their journey.
Sam leans against the side of the wall - watching the announcements to see when Steve’s plane was going to land
The crisp air is a stark contrast to the sweltering heat from Mumbai - and Sam finally feels like he can breathe again
(a small part of him thinks that has nothing to do with the location and everything to do with the company, but now isn’t the time to dwell on such thoughts)
Hands wrap him from behind, lifting him up the ground and spinning him around
He turns so that he can hug Steve properly - leaning up and rubbing his fist against Steve’s head until he yelps
“Its good to see you man,” Sam says - once Steve has pushed himself out of the chokehold that Sam had him in, “you really need to stop disappearing like this”
Steve rubs the back of his neck self consciously, “I’m here now aren’t I? So what’s this I hear that you’re getting married? I swear that you and Natasha just became official”
“About 6 months ago, but I wouldn’t expect you to know that,” Sam jabs an elbow that Steve narrowly misses - and they stand on the side of the road to flag down a cab, “but yeah it was all a bit surreal. Wasn’t too planned but it is what it is right?”
Steve looks at him quizzically - but before he can voice his thoughts, a car skids in front of them and their conversation is lost in favour of dragging up highschool spanish in order to communicate where they need to go
The ride to the hotel is uneventful, both men content to enjoy the other’s company in silence
“Hey,” Steve says once they reach the hotel, “I have this super important call that I have to get on - would you mind checking in for me while I grab this real quick?”
“Yeah - sure,” Sam says, but Steve isn’t around to here it - pushing his passport against his chest and making his way across to the nearest table
“Well, thats a reassuring look for the rest of the trip,” Bucky says from behind him - and Sam throws the first thing in his hand (which turns out to be Steve’s passport) in fright
“When did you get here bhenchod?” Sam says, throwing an arm around him and wheeling his stuff towards to the reception desk, “I thought you were taking a later flight?”
“I got an upgrade,” Bucky replies, “thought I’d see if I could travel with you and Mr. Business over there. But I overestimated, got here too early”
Bucky grips Sam’s chin, and turns him around to the rest of the reception, waving at a couple of girls who giggle in response, “and let me tell you birdbrain, it was the best decision of my life”
“The girls here,” Bucky whistles, “are absolutely gorgeous. Bellissimo - thats spanish for beautiful by the way, all over. And the men too”
He rubs his hands together, “I’m going to enjoy this holiday”
“ ‘s not a holiday,” Sam says half heartedly, “its supposed to be my bachelor’s party”
“No doubt no doubt,” Bucky murmers, but he’s already moving away from Sam and towards a girl with rouge lips who’s eyeing him surreptitiously from across the hall
/
They’re on the beach when Steve sees him - and he swears that his heart arrests in his chest
He’s brought his laptop with him, ignoring Bucky’s ribbing in favour of placing bids on an advantageous stock - and he looks up just in time to see him pass them by; chasing after what looks like a volleyball
He’s absolutely gorgeous, lean muscles that ripple with sweat and dressed in a pair of swim shorts that cling to his thighs - and when he bends down, Steve has the strangest urge to bounce a quarter off his ass
He has gorgeous locks that Steve desperately wants to run his hand through, and a smile as dazzling as the sun
Steve swears for a second that he’s fallen completely in love - and then Bucky ruins it by whistling
“Now that is exactly why I came on this godawful trip,” Bucky says lowly, “I would not mind getting lost in those eyes”
Steve feels himself getting angry despite himself, “Back off Bucky - I saw him first”
Bucky pulls down his sunglasses and glares at Steve mockingly, “what are we - kids in middle school? It’s all about speed Stevie boy”
He steps up and brushes his sand all over Steve’s laptop, “watch and learn”
and Steve watches as Bucky waltzes over to the possible love of his life, tapping his shoulder and dazzling him with a smile that Steve can personally attest has made many a men and women drop their trousers instantly in college
He watches them interact for a couple of seconds before slamming down his laptop and stalking back to the hotel - leaving Sam with a terse “I’m going up to my room”
/
Tony’s looking for his volleyball with little avail when someone taps his shoulder - and he whirls around to meet a man with startling blue eyes and a gorgeous smile
“Can I help you?” Tony asks and the man holds out his hand, “I’m Bucky”
“Nice to meet you Bucky,” Tony says, before taking a step back, “if you don’t mind - I have a ball that I’m looking for”
Bucky reaches out and grabs his forearm, “So my friend Stevie back there,” he thumbs towards the Adonis on the beach-chair who looks a bit like he wants to murder Bucky, “has a ickle crush on you and my absolute favourite past-time is to egg him on. Would you mind hanging out for a couple of minutes, let me rile him up?”
Tony looks over Bucky’s shoulder - chuckling when Steve meets his eye for a second and then looks back down, “your friend’s sending you death rays with his eyes - you sure its just him thats got a crush on me?”
Bucky’s cheeks heat unexpectedly, and Tony has to admit - its kinda cute
“It’s a bit complicated,” Bucky says, “but the gist of it is that Steve may bury me right here in Costa Brava if I may a move on another person that he’s got eyes on”
“Well we wouldn’t want that,” Tony says seriously, “you’re far too pretty to be buried six feet under. Besides, I think your friend has been sufficiently annoyed - looks like he’s leaving”
Bucky turns around just as Tony spots his ball behind the trash can, and he bends down to grab his ball
He looks up just in time to catch Bucky checking out his ass, and inwardly Tony preens
“Well,” he says, “I better be going - since I got my ball and your Steve is no longer around. It was nice to meet you Bucky”
Bucky smiles, “and it was real nice meeting you doll”
Bucky winks and walks away, and Tony waits until he’s out of eyesight to thumb open his phone and flip through his emails
Deep sea diving with Sam Wilson, Bucky Barnes and Steve Rogers - 21st April to 29th April
The next couple of days were going to be really interesting
tbc
//
tagging: @icarustarks, @spiderrpcrker, @veronicasummersfelton, @allthingsmarvel100, @starkrogerrs, @imposter-human, @anthonyed, @rxmanoff, @talesofsuspenses, @acastleintheair
#stevetony#superhusbands#steve/tony#my writing#zindagi na milengi dobara au#bollywood but make it gay#mixed!tony stark#italian!tony stark#desi!tony stark#desi!steve rogers#fem!rhodey
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this is the end {chapter two}
summary / things couldn’t get worse than this. but, they did. the chapter in which everything in your life goes wrong.
warnings / cult, kidnap, actual foRCED cannibalism (if that’s too much it’s under the first break and ends after the second break!), stalking, death, angst, angst, angST, not much peter this chapter, swearing. idk bad stuff man. i use the word silence a million times just call it motif. didn’t proof read.
word count / 2015
notes / wow this is hard to write. PLEASE read my disclaimer. sorry there’s not much peter. this is filler. coolio. this will be like the last chapter that only focuses on what they’re doing to u, i promise this will get momentum
disclaimer / please don’t support or romanticize the abuse in this fic! this is something i’m simply writing to help me deal with trauma and/or my mental health to try to give it a positive spin. i apologize if it is dark, i needed an outlet. :))
-
the white cotton stuck to your skin with the water, leaving your breath to moisturize the air as you gasped. you lifted your chained hands as far as you could, trying to brush the hair that clung to your face. you looked at the cracked porcelain of the lonely bathtub, nausea going to your throat as you saw how your blood mixed in with the ice and the water. your cough was scratchy, burning your throat further as you leaned over, gagging, water spilling up.
“son of a bitch.” you let your head fall towards your chest as tears formed in your eyes again; the sob that left your throat stung almost as bad as the cold. you knew you could get out of this. you weren’t chained to the tub, and they weren’t holding a gun to your head if you dared to move an inch. they wanted you to move, to see if you really could fight the way your personality said you could after what you’d endured. you wanted to lift yourself, heave your body up and make your fragile knees bend, but you didn’t know how to do that without making them shatter. you didn’t know how to breathe without your ribs piercing your lungs. they were killing you and every day you felt your soul disconnecting from your body.
the metal of the handcuffs on your wrists clanged against the tub as you tried to push yourself up. ice pressed against a gash on your stomach (that you didn’t know you had) through the fabric of your dress, evoking a short scream from you. your body racked with sobs that hurt you so much more and you grit your teeth as you continued to try to get up. your body sunk down, trauma holding your bones back.
“god dammit,” the words came out like a desperate prayer and you slammed your hands into the side of the vat. “god fucking dammit!” you were sobbing harder, your cuts pruning along with your skin, but your energy to fight had completely vanished. you knew you’d be in there until someone came for you, and you knew when they grabbed you out it would be a whole lot worse; so you might as well try to enjoy getting clean.
—————
your eyes widened, head shaking rapidly. you jerked your body against the hands holding you, tears welling through your disgust. “no, no, no.” your body thrashed as your eyes stayed trained on the plate in front of you. “no.” it was simple, white ceramic with a silver fork and knife on each of its sides. the white was splotched with red- blood. you gagged slightly, the smell reaching your nose. “fucking no!” you twisted yourself, almost moving out of their grasp. you desperately attempted to stumble away, not caring what kind of beating you would face, but they pushed you forward.
“you have to become accustomed to it,” one of them started as they moved to shove you into the chair. “the queen should have no limits, no weakness.” once you were sat, they were clamping your shoulders. you pressed against the wood of the chair enough to try to tip it, but they simply brought you back up.
“please,” the word was croaked- choppy and sickly and raw. “don’t make me do this, i’ll be good. i promise i’ll be good.” you didn’t typically beg them, and you felt as if any integrity you held was gone. but you’d also never had what you could only assume was a human kidney (you remember peter telling you the shapes of organs one time while you studied for biology, which caused you to tell him he sounded like a serial killer.) in front of you on a fucking plate.
there was silence around you. typically, you would’ve begged for silence. a moment without their heavy breathing or the sound of your pain, but now it was just eerie. they watched you and waited and when you refused to move for the cutlery, they did it themselves. and, for some reason beyond them, you didn’t seem to enjoy it nearly as much as you did when your mother would feed you as a baby.
—————
his fingers traced your arm, nails forming a temporary tattoo.
5, 4, 3, 2, 1
he was vile to you. they all were. your temples ached as he pierced your skin with what could only be described as his claws.
1, 2, 3, 4, 5
“i missed you, pretty girl.” a scowl found its way on your face at the name they’d all become accustomed to calling you- although it was a name only peter should call you. and, quite frankly, his praises of longing for you go unnoticed at the fact you can’t remember which one he is.
you have about thirteen comebacks to each of his phrases of want, but you’d learned that silence was the biggest killer to them.
1
your eyes filled with tears (like they always did) when his hands slid under your top, which didn’t cover much to begin with.
2
“but now it’s just you and me,” the animation of his voice was scratchy to you and you wanted nothing more than to rip the voice box out of his mask.
3
you continued to count in your head, eyesight trained on the wall in front of you rather than the situation presented in front of you.
4
your eyelids started to hang heavy. you were tired. of all of this. you were tired of pretending you were okay.
5
maybe if you fell asleep, this would go quicker. maybe, if you slept well enough, you wouldn’t even remember he was here.
—————
you watched as they set up the camera, feet burning against the cold cement. since that day of exhaustion, the feeling had been perpetual. you wanted to care about how you looked if you knew the world was going to see you (or was that another lie?), but it was the least of your concerns.
‘how did the phrase go? if peter couldn’t handle you at your ugly state during your kidnap, he didn’t deserve you at your best. something like that,’ you thought as they moved you to the middle mark for the perfect angle.
you were certain the recording was trivial. some dumb black market snuff film type shit that honestly no one would end up watching, but more time in front of the camera meant less alone time with them. peter had sworn that you deserved stardom, so maybe this was it.
your eyes darted from the man in front of you to the one who pressed the button on the camera (a riveting job, honestly) and then forward, to the lens.
you didn’t pay much attention as they droned on about you until your loves name got mentioned. your head snapped quickly, eyes widened and gaze afraid.
“and, peter parker, this ones for you.” his head tilted towards you and you became fascinated with the way the inside of your bottom lip tasted.
you shook your head slightly hoping peter would understand you desperately meant this wasn’t about him. you didn’t speak up though. silence was key.
he continued to talk about you, about your glory, and your hands, and your lips, and the way your face felt when they’d hold onto you.
that’s when you realized the smell. you hoped it hadn’t shown on your face, but it probably had. poker had never been your strong suit. and then you were scanning the room again and they could tell and you knew that they wanted this and that they wanted you to know something was up and they wanted to record you finding out and your stomach started to fucking churn.
a sob left your throat as a light you didn’t know existed shined behind you. there had been a curtain between you and the wall that had now been moved and you saw it. the reminiscence of a series of girls who looked somewhat like you.
“oh my, god.” it was a quiet prayer for a being you couldn’t say you believed in as you stared at the heads with hair just like yours, eyes a shade so close to your own. “oh my fucking god.” you were louder this time, your knees wobbling as you struggled to keep your balance.
you couldn’t see their faces but you imagined the men around you were smiling. you didn’t recognize the tears falling until they hit the ground but you ignored it, disgust covering your features as you turned from the girls to the man who had been talking.
“what the fuck have you done?” your voice was raw. you were furious, you were sick, you were sorry. sorry for the people who’d never be able to go home.
“don’t worry, sweetheart, they didn’t come close to you.” you lifted your chained hands to your mouth, retching out a sob.
“you’re- you’re all monsters.” you felt vacant. you felt empty. you felt useless. they had died because of you. they had died because they looked like you.
“oh my god.” you repeated yourself, sobs wracking your body as you were recorded by the long forgotten camera.
“oh, sweetheart, no reason to cry.” he moved towards you, placing a hand on your head, tangling his fingers through your hair. and, you realized, this was the first time you’d truly wanted to kill someone.
you continued to cry, not following the urge to do any harm to him as you stood in your spot.
“did we go too far?” your mind screamed yes. yes you’re evil and you’re bad and i hate you all. yes you went too fucking far. but you stayed unspeaking.
“what do you want, pretty girl?” your eye twitched. you felt it. you felt the physical change in you. you turned your head, eyes meeting the eyes of his mask and you smiled faintly.
“do you really want to know?” your voice was sweet, sickly, and he moved his hand from your hair to your shoulder.
“of course.” your smiled turned to a scowl as you raised your hands to place them atop his own, fingers digging into his hands.
“i want to rip the skin from your fucking hands so you never had the fucking luxury of touching me or those girls.” you moved your hands to his throat, but none of the other men moved to his rescue.
“and then?” you simultaneously leaned into him and brought his head to you, where your nose was against the nose of his mask. “then, i want to blow my brains against the fucking wall.” even though your words came through gritted teeth, each of them were over enunciated.
you shoved him away by his neck, continuing to stand tall as you did so. “and, unfortunately for me, i plan to get what i want.”
your gaze finally found the camera lens again and you let out a small breath of realization. your hands were shaking. you knew there were the girls behind you, and the man you’d been threatening was gasping for breath now. maybe you looked like the monster.
you looked down at your hands, teeth slightly chattering, and you could only imagine how peter felt. he probably hated you. this was your fault. this was your fucking fault. all of it.
your mouth parted slightly and you gulped. “i-” nothing else came out and you bit your lip again, shutting your eyes as tight as you could.
you wanted to sob. to fall apart. to break. but, you had just made a commitment to your captors. you were going to give them hell, and then find your way there. you just hoped peter would understand.
the camera turned off and you let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding in.
unbeknownst to you, peter was sat at the tv with wide, glossy eyes, praying you’d get out of there as soon as possible. just not in the way you planned.
-
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tag list: @greenteavee @jacksnoodlez99 @sarahalkhalifaa @lilsxtan @honeymarvel @awaywithtime @5secondsofpeterparker
#peter parker#peter parker x reader#spiderman#spiderman x reader#spiderman x you#spiderman angst#peter parker angst#mcu#marvel#tom holland#tom holland x reader#tom holland angst#peter parker fluff#peter parker x you#marvel cinematic universe#this is SO DARK IM SORRY#TBH I WOULDVE DROPPED THIS IF THERE WERENT REQUESTS#COPING WEIRD#THANKS
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Older Members: Reaction to Daughter Defending Themselves
Hello my little beans,
This has been in drafts for a while and I think this is actually an awesome idea. I am going to only be doing realistically possible members...so no ‘99 - ‘00 line. Eventually...but not right now. So as you requested I will do Taeil - Jungwoo. I hope you like it and remember to request more if you would like. Also, thank you. I love that you love out blog so much.
Love,
~J
P.S. Since most of the members aren’t super old, I’m not going to make the child like 15 or 16, I’m going to be more realistic with this one and make some of the included members who happen to be younger, have younger kids...if that makes sense (some will have ‘special’ case tho [i.e. adoption, etc.]).
______________
LEE TAEYONG (Had daughter when he was 17 - Single Father - 7 years)
You were literally sitting there, playing angry birds. You had been waiting for your dad to come back from the car. He was in eyesight but he was on the phone with Uncle Yuta so he had to step away so you wouldn’t hear. He sat and watched you from the driver's seat, but he was still too far away for what was about to happen.
“Hey, little girl.” a man said as he sat next to you. You looked back to see your dad freeze and just stare at you and the man. You turned back to the man with a smile, not wanting to be rude. “Hello, sir.” You said and returned to your game. “I have this really cute puppy in my car if you want to come see.” He said and you shook your head no. “Oh why not?” He asked as he pouted. “Because you’re a stranger...and you’re smelly.” you mumbled. Before you knew it, your phone was snatched from your hands. “Hey!” You yelled and the man took off. “Come and catch me, little girl!” He yelled and you hopped down from the bench. You began to run and try to get your phone back. “You as-” You began screaming, yet strong arms picked you up. “Hey little lady.” Your dad said holding you tightly. “I hope you weren’t going to say what I think you were going to say.” He said as he began walking to the car with you in his arms. “But...he took my phone!” You said pointing to the man. “Yeah, I know. I can get you a new one. There are unlimited phones, but only one of you.”
___________
MOON TAEIL (Acquired daughter when older sister passed after an accident - Single Father [”uncle”] - 13 years)
You both went to the arcade for the day because of the good report you got from school. You took the advantage at this chance to just forget the compound and focus on right now. Even though he was technically an uncle...he was your dad. Your real father had disappeared after your mom passed, so Taeil was all you had left. You were going to ask him today if you could call him dad, so today was a day that would stay in your memory; no matter the outcome.
“You are so gonna lose at air hockey!” He said pushing your shoulder as you both walked into the air-conditioned arcade. “Yeah, sure old man.” You sneered playfully. He held his chest with a fake hurt expression written on his face. “The last one to the air hockey section buys lunch!” You said starting to run through the semi-empty arcade. “I’m the only one who brought money!” He laughed and chased after you. You make it first and are waiting patiently with your hands on your hips. “Oh my gosh, you act just like your mother.” He said ruffling your hair and taking a place at the other end of the table. You smile to yourself and fix your hair. He inserts a token and you both play 2 rounds before you go to the racing games. “Hey, can I ask you something?” You said, getting ready for rejection. “Yeah...but can I go to the bathroom first?” He asked and you nodded. “Of course. I’ll just wait here.” You said and he nodded, running off.
“...y/n...?” Someone questions. You turn around looking for the source. It was a man around Taeil’s age. “May I help you?” You asked, pausing the game. “I just have been looking for you for so long,” he said walking over and bringing you in for a hug. “it’s me...your dad? Don’t you remember me?” He asked as he held you in his arms and looked down at you. “D-dad?” You questioned. “I have waited so long to hear you say that.” He smiled holding you close again. “Let’s go get some food and catch up!” He said grabbing your wrist and pulling you away. “Wait...no.” You said, coming back to your senses. “No. Let go!” You said hitting his wrist. But he regripped your arms and pulled with all his might. “Stop! Come on. You’re coming with me.” He said pulling harder. “No. Dad!” You screamed for help. “What?” Two people asked at the same time. You looked back and saw Taeil standing there. With one final tug from you, you were free from your father and running into the arms of Taeil. He held you and put you behind him. “Get the hell out of here.” Taeil seethed, looking at the man who claimed you as his own. “Not without her.” He said trying to come closer. You gripped onto Taeil. “Don’t make me go.” You squeezed your eyes shut. “You’re not leaving.” He comforted you, bringing you in his arms. “Leave. Before I get someone down here to make you leave like I did the last time you tried showing up in her life. She wants to find you? That’s different. But I’m not going to allow you to come in her life when you were the one who walked away in the first place.” Taeil said and the sorry man just gave up.
“You okay?” He asked and you nodded, making sure the man already left. “Yeah.” You mumbled. “Okay, good...” he said ruffling your hair and pinching your cheek slightly. “When you were calling for ‘dad’...did you mean me?” He asked and you nodded after a moment. “If you don’t like that, I won’t call you th-” “I would be honored if you would.” He said and you just looked at him and smiled. You hugged him tightly. “Thanks, dad.”
___________
SEO JOHNNY (Mom was going to put you up for adoption if he didn’t take you - Single Father - 8 years)
You waited outside of your dance studio that had become a second home outside of the compound. Your phone rang and you quickly answered it seeing as it was your dad. “Hey, dad.” You cheered. “Hey, baby. I’m going to be a couple minutes late. I’m on my way, I’m just stuck in traffic.” He said. “Alright. I’ll wait right here.” You cheered. “Okay.” He said and you hung up.
You pop your earbuds in and just listen to random music until someone ripped your earbud out. You look up and the man suddenly slapped you. He grabbed you as your phone fell to the ground. You start kicking and screaming. He was still running for a while until you realized that you could easily take this dude down. You start laying your knees into his ribs. He gripped your thighs so you couldn’t move your legs. You put your mouth close to his neck and bit down hard. He screamed, dropping you and grabbing his neck. He tried kicking you so you wouldn’t move, but you were quicker than he was. You got up and ran as fast as your little legs could take you back to where you were supposed to be picked up. You couldn’t help the tears roll down your face as you heard the steps of the man behind you.
You got back to the studio to see your dad looking around as he held your phone. “Dad!” You screamed getting his attention. He saw you and began to run towards you. “Car. Now.” He yelled and you ran past him and to the car. You got in the passenger’s seat, and curled up, not wanting to see your dad get violent. You grabbed his phone and called your bestest friend, Chenle. He answered. “Yes, hyun-” “Le le.” You cried. “Oh, y/n...what’s wrong sweetpea?” You stayed on the phone until your dad got in the car with your phone in hand.
He began driving, rubbing your back lightly to calm you down. “I am so proud of you y/n. You did what I taught you and you didn’t give up.”
___________
NAKAMOTO YUTA (Adopted - Single Father - 14 years) [this one will be a little different]
You haunted his dreams and every waking moment. Your screams for help ringing in his ears. You both were having fun, he turns back and he’s hit with something over the head. He watches as a group of men drag you away from him as he lies helplessly on the ground. Your inner child shone through as you yelled for ‘daddy’, trying to call for Yuta and the feeling of safeness he brought with him. “Please...get up!” You cried as they tied a scarf around your eyes.
You were thrown in a car, continuously hit until you passed out from crying too hard. You woke up, wishing they put a bullet through your head already. They had reverted you to your younger self again; the you at the orphanage. You became quiet, docile, and childlike. You only spoke small sentences to the men who came in every hour or so. You just wanted your dad at this point, and he just wanted you home again. Most people from Seoul flew into Osaka to help him stay on his feet.
Yet, when the men realized you really weren’t going to say anything, they decided to give you back.
Yuta sat at the large meeting table with everyone sitting around him. “You just have to be at your A gam-” Taeyong was cut off by one of Yuta’s henchmen running in with a phone. “It’s y/n.” he said and Yuta just snatched the phone away from him. “Y/n...hello?” he called, holding onto the small electrical device. “Dad?” You asked and Yuta fell back into his seat, the tears coming into his eyes. “Are you okay?” Was all that came out of his mouth. “Yes-I have to go they’re coming.” You said and there was a whoosh on the other side of the phone. Your screams were the only thing that was heard. “No! Don’t touch her!” Yuta yelled, but he knew he couldn’t do anything. “Osaka bridge. 5 o’clock tonight. We’ll trade her for you.” Was all the man said before hanging up.
“We...can surprise attack them or something. You can’t just...go.” Taeyong tried reasoning with Yuta as they rolled up to the bridge. “No. I’m going to do this. They want me...and I...I just want y/n to be safe.” was all that Yuta said as he put the car in park. Everyone got out and waited at the car. They were parked at the bottom of the bridge, and they all watched the bridge in anticipation for the car that would bring you home again.
Eventually, the car rolled up, and men hopped out with you in their arms. You were still blindfolded and you looked broken...but alive. Yuta de-armed himself, putting his gun on the hood of his car. “We’ll get you,” Taeyong said, looking at Yuta then the rest of the men who could only agree with the head boss. “We’ll get you back and you guys will be a happy family again.” Taeyong said and Yuta just chuckled, nodding his head.
He looked back up to the bridge where you were awaiting your freedom for the exchange of his. He knew he wouldn’t be coming back...and Taeyong knew that too. Taeyong just didn’t want to admit it that Yuta was doing that voluntarily - by choice of his judgment. “Just...make sure she’s happy.” Yuta said and Taeyong could only nod in defeat.
Yuta walked up the bridge, savoring every step of freedom he had. Once halfway up the bridge, your blindfold was taken off. “Daddy!” You screamed and once you were released, you sprinted as fast as you could to Yuta who was savoring this as a bitter-sweet feeling.
You hobbled the last few steps, digging your face into his chest and sobbing for pure joy. “Are you okay?” He asked as he took your face in his hands. You smiled through the pain and just nodded as you were happy to be in his arms again.
The men motioned for Yuta to hurry up. “I want you to go to Taeyong and the other boys down there.” Yuta said pointing to the car at the bottom of the bridge. “But-” “I’ll be home soon. I’ll be okay.” He reassured you, but he didn’t say what home he’ll be going to. You just nodded, not realizing that this was it.
“Cheer up. I’ll come to see you soon.” He pinched your cheek softly. You nodded, hugging him one last time before running to the car.
Yuta watched as you got in the car and Taeyong drove away with you who would believe the world ended in happiness and rainbows. Yuta breathed in the last breath of freedom before he continued his walk of shame. Guns were drawn as he raised his arms in surrender. He walked close and eventually was in custody.
He was thrown in the car, without restraints or blindfold. The men felt bad for him; giving him one last taste of life before it was all over soon. He leaned his head against the window as he reminisced the best moments of life. When he first brought you home...when you called him dad for the first time...when you told him you loved him for the first time. He was just proud you survived this long...especially in a world like this where it seemed that nothing was fair.
Yet he remembered everything he didn’t do yet. He never said he loved you back...but he loved you with all his heart. He would never be able to walk you down the aisle...and he would never be able to comfort you after your first heartbreak.
He sighed, closing his eyes and smiling to himself while tears rolled down his face.
Yet, he didn’t know what to do because he knew that you would be sitting up all night waiting for him to get back.
...and he was never coming back...
__________
QIAN KUN (In a relationship where his S/O had a child from the previous relationship - Married - 11 years)
He thought you were fine. You were just in your room reading and listening to music. Your mom had gone to work for the day like usual and you were just chilling with your dad. Yet, you were acting really weird today so he let you have your space, getting ready to have a heart to heart with you in a little bit. He already had a drink and snack in hands, ready to leave the room with you after the talk and go make dinner with him; ready for when your mom when she came home.
He walked down the hallway, humming to himself before standing in front of your closed door. He stopped when he heard a muffled thud. “Get the fuck off of me.” He heard you struggle. He dropped the snack and kicked the door in. He saw you struggling on the bed with a man in a mask. Your dad didn’t waste time in walking over; but before he reached the both of you, you had kneed the man in the no-no area and he groaned, slapping you roughly. You gasped and Kun grabbed the man by the hair. He pulled the man up and you got up with him. “Fuck.” The man sighed as soon as he was met with Kun’s angry expression.
“Why is she so strong? I’ve been trying to get her out of this damn bed for like...5 minutes now.” The man struggled to get to you as you stood in a cocky stance on your bed. “Because she’s my daughter.” Kun said before headbutting the man. The man dropped to the ground. Your dad made sure the man was knocked out cold before he clutched his own forehead. “I haven’t done that in years.” He said as you hopped off the bed. “That was so cool.” You pointed to your dad and the man at the same time. “Yeah, for you maybe.” Kun chuckled as you both stared at the brawny man who laid on the ground unconscious. “5 minutes?” Kun questioned you after a moment of silence and you nodded. “The rock flew through the window and I already knew I wouldn’t be able to get to you in time. I gripped onto my headboard and got ready. He was really strong too.” You sighed, rubbing your wrists where the man had pulled on you.
“Well, I’m proud of you.” Your dad said as he put an arm around your shoulder and pulled you closer - laying a kiss on your forehead. “But now...” He sighed looking at the man and then the broken window and broken glass. “How are we going to explain this to your mother?”
(KUN. IS. THE. ULTIMATE. DAD. DON’T FIGHT ME ON THIS)
__________
KIM DOYOUNG (Had daughter when he was 16 - Single Father - 6 years)
“I’m gonna find you.” Doyoung cooed, looking around a corner as he followed the sound of your giggling. “And when I do you’re gonna meet the tickle monster.” He said and you laughed. You rounded the corner of the playground that was full of other kids. “Catch me if you can.” You called as you hid with your back to the wall.
Doyoung crept next to the wall where you were hiding behind. Yet, when he turned to scare you, you were missing from your place. He looked around for a split second as a slight panic set in over his mind...before a loud groan was heard throughout the play area. Doyoung ran and saw you looking down at the man who was cupping his manhood from any further violation and pain. Your dad swept you up into his arms, straightening your clothes out and planting a kiss on your forehead. “You okay, princess?” He asked. “I’ll be okay.” The man said from the ground. You and your dad slowly looked at each other, and then to the ground where the mean man laid.
Doyoung rolled his eyes as he carried you away from the man and back to the car. “You did that to the man?” He asked, and you just nodded as you had a look of guilt on your face - expecting to get yelled at for hurting someone. All that came was your dad's open palm. You looked up at him with a confused expression. He just smiled at your solemn expression “High touch?”
TEN (Adoption - Single - 14 years [ he is more of an older brother than a dad honestly])
“So...what are we getting for dinner?” He asked from the other side of the couch. “I don’t know. You’re the adult. Think of something.” You snarked back. He groaned, throwing his head back on the couch. “But...that’s too much work.” He said and you chuckled. “You’re the girl here. Why aren’t you in the kitchen making food?” He asked, and that sent you flying from the couch. “Excuse me?” You stood with your hands at your waist. He smiled. “I was joking, but while you’re up, can you run down to the chicken place and pick up the usual? I would...but you’re already up.” He said. You rolled your eyes, walking around the couch but not before flicking his forehead violently.
“Hey!” He said rubbing his forehead. You stuck your tongue out at him as you slipped your shoes on. “I’ll be back.” You said throwing on one of his sweatshirts and walking out of the house.
You walked down the semi-dark street as you daydreamed by yourself. You stepped next to an alley, and the next thing you remember was opening your eyes in the back of a car being driven by people you didn’t know.
You tried brushing the hair out of your face, but your hands were bound. “You’ve got to be kidding me.” You whined. It was already completely dark outside. “Is she awake?” The driver asked. “Yeah, boss.” A man next to you said. “Oh, well you just told me all I need to know.” You scoffed. “My dad will beat all of your asses by the time he finds you.” You confidently said. “And how will he find you, if we already have your phone?” The man asked. “No need to be asking questions.” And your cocky tone was met with a harsh slap. You turned yourself upside down in the seat and kicked the driver with one fight and the other man with the other.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
You walked in to see Ten still in the position as when you left 6 hours ago. “Hello?!” You screamed, flailing your handcuff bound wrist and bloody wrist. He turned over and looked at your deteriorated state. “Where were you?! Men captured me and drove me halfway to Busan! I saved...myself!” You yelled. “Oh...” He said looking at you up and down. “I was waiting for my chicken.” He said and you rolled your eyes, stomping to your room. You slammed the door but still heard him. “So that’s a no for the chicken?”
________
JUNG JAEHYUN (Adopted you because your father wasn’t in the picture when he first your mom - Married - 14 years)
You and your dad had actually gotten into a fight the morning you had left for school. He wanted you to wear a sweater, but you wanted to leave and putting on a sweater would take up your time. Then you called him immature so he called you a brat. It ended up with you walking yourself to school.
You were now walking yourself home because you told your dad you didn’t want him to drive you. That was a bad idea and you realized that as soon as you noticed the car following you. You began to walk quickly but as you did that, it cut you off on a corner, and a man with a knife hopped out. “Come with us.” He grabbed your upper arm that would have been protected by a sweatshirt. “No. Let go.” You said hitting the mans hand. He looked at the man in the driver's seat as he nodded. He pulled you hard but once he realized you weren’t going anywhere, he cut your arm and hopped back in the van. You decided to be a smart ass as you took out your phone and took a picture of the license plate. The van broke hard and started reversing.
You put your phone away and you began sprinting. Your lungs were on fire and begging for you to stop, but you cut across parks and other people’s lawns as you ended up on your front porch. You kicked the door in and ran into the kitchen where your mother was preparing dinner. “Mom.” You cried, burying your head in her chest. “Y/N! What happened to your arm?!” She asked holding you and examining your opened arm. “Where’s dad?” You sobbed, just wanting him to protect you. “In the shower. What. Happened.” She continued. You heard tires screech in front of the house. You left her and went to close the front door that hinges were now splayed across the living room floor. You saw the same van drive off, but you still barricaded yourself against the broken door.
You clutched your injured arm, your school shirt now stained red. Your mom ran in, yelling: “Jae! Emergency!” She screamed up the stairs. You heard a door slam and footsteps coming down the hall. “Give me your arm.” Your mom said as she held a damp cloth. You whimpered, shaking your head and turning your body away from her. Your dad came down the steps with damp hair and a bulge on his hip (ON HIS HIP LADIES, CALM DOWN, THIS IS AN EMERGENCY SITUATION. FOCUS.). “What’s wrong? What’s going on?” He asked jumping the last few steps and landing crouched in front of you.
“She came in with a cut up arm, and she was asking for you.” Your mom shrugged, moving the hair from your face. He took his gun off his hip and set it down next to him. “What happened baby, you have to tell us.” He said gently grabbing your hand so he could see your arm. “I...I was walking home. And-and these men cut me off. Then a guy, he hopped out.” You took a breath. “And he tried to-he tried to get me in the van. I wouldn’t go so he cut me.” You said finally getting enough courage to look at the wound. When you saw it still gushing, you couldn’t take your eyes away. “Don’t look at that.” Your dad said as he gently brought your attention to his face instead.
“Do you remember what the men looked like?” he asked and you nodded your head. “I also got a pic-picture of the license plate.” You said and he smiled. “Good job.” He pinched your cheek lightly. “We need to get this disinfected.” Your mom said motioning to your arm. You hugged your arm to your chest more, shaking your head. “Come on. We have to.” Jae said standing up. He motioned a hand out to you and you slowly accepted it. He pulled you up and lead you to the downstairs bathroom.
You sat on the counter as he took out stuff to fix you up. Before he could even begin, you wrapped your non-messed up arm around him and hugged him. He gladly accepted the hug. “What’s this for?” He asked you curiously. “Earlier. I’m sorry I’m a brat, and I called you immature...and I broke the door.” You sighed. “Just thank-you for caring.” You said and he chuckled. “You’re not a brat. We both said stuff that was mean. So I apologize too.” He said pinching your cheek. “And even though you’re older; you’re still my little girl. I would care about you even if you didn’t want me too.”
___________
Dong Sicheng (Winwin) (Had daughter when he was 16 - Single Father - 6 years)
You were picked up by uncle Kun and uncle Yangyang. Your dad was doing something important so he couldn't come himself to pick you up from school. You knew it was serious because he usually never leaves you to come home with anyone but him. “Are you hungry?” Uncle Yangyang asked and you nodded your head quickly with a huge smile on your face. Kun held candy out in front of you while Yangyang held a juice box. “Thank you!” You happily said as you took them both in each hand.
You all walked to the park where your dad would be meeting you guys. “Don’t step on the cracks!” You scolded your uncle Kun. “Yeah, Kun. Don’t step on the cracks!” Yangyang helped you. “I’m sorry, y/n.” Kun pinched your cheek quickly. He looked up to Yangyang where he hit him on the back of the head. “You just need to shut up.” He said and you laughed at the two men fighting. Yet, they were fighting too much to realize that a man had come by and swept you up in their arms.
As they ran down the alley, you remember what your daddy had told you. “Aim for the eyes.” You whispered and turned towards the man while still staying in his arms. You brought your hands up and push on the man's eyes. He gargled, smacking your hands away. Yet, he pushed you off of him as he tumbled holding his eye sockets. He tumbled and hit his head on the ground, passing out completely.
“Then after...wait for an uncle or me to come get you. We won’t be far from you. But you have to stay put.”
You groaned as you stood up, being covered in some dirt and mud from falling into a puddle. You hid your hands in your sweatshirt and looked down the alley to see no one. The man started groaning and tossing in his sleep as you got scared. Your eyes quickly filling with tears. “Uncle! Daddy!” You cried, wanting to be at the park already. Your snacks were now long gone and you were scared. The more you called for someone, the more the man woke up. Then before you knew it, you saw your dad coming down one way and your uncles coming down the other. You didn’t know who to run to, but you were brought out of your trance when the mean man pinned your small body against the brick of the building. You screamed from the suddenness and you just saw the man being pulled off by your uncle Kun. Your dad picked you up, and you let the tears flow.
You grip onto your dad’s shoulders and didn’t look at anything else. “It’s okay baby.” He hushed. You heard groans from the man and obvious punches and kicks. Your dad fumbled for something on his hip. “No. It’s okay. Don-don’t hurt people.” You said holding his face with your small hands. He sighed, wiping your rosy cheeks of tears. “It will be quick. He won’t feel anything.” He said and you began crying again, diving back into the familiar shoulder. You felt your dad lean closer as the familiar sound of the gun cocked itself back.
“Sing for me, sweetheart.”
__________
KIM JUNGWOO (Had daughter when he was 16 - Married - 5 years)
You and your father are the pride of the family’s cuteness. You got all your cuteness from him. Your mother says you got everything from your dad. Your cuteness, innocence, pure heart and your stubbornness. You and your dad are usually inseparable and whenever one of your uncles need to unwind, they’ll go to you to play and let go f their stress; believing that this world was still full of innocence and peace. You were a prime example of it. Yet, you were still stubborn. If you didn’t wanna hear something, you flipped your hair and walked the other direction. Yet, it would get to you later on and become a cry baby.
“Cry baby! Cry baby!” The older boys taunted you on the playground. “Am not!” You screamed back. “Yes you are, go cry to your daddy or something. This place is only for the best kids.” He said and pulled your hair. Your eyes pooled with tears and you ran away from the prk. You totally left your mom and dad sitting on the bench while you cried your eyes out. When you finally stopped and looked around and realised you were a long way from the park.
As if someone read your mind, someone touched your shoulder. You looked back to see a woman. “Sweetie, are you lost?” She asked, and you nodded as you rubbed your eyes. “Here, how about you hop in my car and we could go back to the park?” She asked and you nodded. You followed inside her car and you sat up front.
You drove a little bit and you noticed you had passed the park. “Wait...how did you know I was at the park?” You asked and she smirked. She reached below her seat and pulled out a gun, pointing it at you. Yet, you grabbed the gun and pointed it right back at her. She was definetley taken by surprise at your actions. “Take. Me. Back. Now.” You said and she rolled her eyes.
“Huh...I wonder what would happen if I pressed this button.” You said, already knowing that your dad called it a ‘trigger���. “Okay okay fine.” she said screeching to the side of the road. She snatched the gun from your hands, and threw it in the backseat. You crossed your arms and cocked an eyebrow. “Go and tell your Daddy that Diana is waiting for him.” She said. “Yeah sure whatever.” You replied.
“Just get out brat.” She said and you got out, running in the direction of the park. You eventually got to your parents where you told your dad the message. “Wait, you acted like that and she still let you go? Surprising. Good job baby girl.” He pinched your cheek, and was met with an abrupt slap to the back of the head by your mom. “If she continues to act like you, she’s gonna get herself killed.”
#nct#nct 127#nct mafia au#nct doyoung#nct jaehyun#nct johnny#nct kun#nct sicheng#nct taeil#nct ten#nct winwin#nct yuta#nct jungwoo#nct taeyong#nct drabbles#nct mafia#nct 2018#nct writing#kpop angst#kpop mafia au#mafia au#nct reactions#neo culture technology#angst#nctmafia#nct reaction#nct u#nct quotes#nct timestamp
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Tunnel
Prompts:
(1) @honey-bee-fangirl Nick is really really badly injured, really ill and weak and bedridden, Sabrina kissing Nick’s forehead, and Sabrina saying I love you; and
(2) @whcczes Prompt #24 “that was, by far, the stupidest thing you’ve ever done.”
Her whole body was hurting. She might have been bleeding from a gash on her stomach, but she wasn’t sure. Her eyesight was getting blurry and the smoke was filling up her lungs rapidly. She needed to get them out of here.
She struggles to carry Nicholas, his arm slung on her shoulder, a dead weight on her side. She doesn’t stop trudging on the path. They have gotten so far away from the battle. The war between heaven and hell was waging on in the depths of the fiery pits of hell, but nothing really registered in her head other than the fact that Nicholas was so near now beside her, that she could feel his warmth seeping thru his blood-soaked clothes. She needed to get him out of here. Fast.
The ground shook and the walls were starting to cave in. There was so much dust and soot in the air. She was having a hard time breathing. The entrance was getting closer, but her consciousness was waning, closing in. If they don’t get out of there now, they were never leaving hell.
It seems like the light at the end of the tunnel was getting brighter and she could almost imagine tasting fresh air, she could almost imagine seeing Nicholas cradling her face, healthy, safe, and smiling, with an amused smile, laughing at her worry. Telling her it was going to be alright. ‘God Please, Satan, Lilith, Jesus Christ. Whoever is there. Please let it be alright’, she thinks.
She drags every inch of strength left in her bones and carries on. She doesn’t see the ceiling collapse and come down just right in front of them and she loses her balance. They both fall on the ground. She doesn’t notice her knees start bleeding. She doesn’t waste a minute and scrambles up to his side, she tries to keep her tears at bay, but she chokes.
“Nick. Nicholas. Nicholas! Wake up please! We need to get out of here. Wake up.”
She chokes on her tears, his eyes are closed, he doesn’t move a muscle. There was blood running down his head and she desperately tries to wipe it away but the blood flows thoroughly. He was deathly pale. She panics for a minute and tries to feel for a pulse. It was weak, but it was there. She breathes a small sigh of relief.
She realizes there was no way out anymore. The exit was blocked by debris, most of which were bigger than her. There was no way she can get past that. The cave was getting darker now, she knows she is left with no choice.
She gently cradles his head to her chest. Presses a kiss on his forehead. Prays to the Gods that her powers would work. She closes her eyes and visualizes the pool of magic within her. The well was almost empty. There was nothing much to draw. She concentrates harder. The transportation spell was easy if she needed to transport herself. But it was trickier with an unconscious person. If she didn’t have enough magic left, the transportation spell could take hold of her, but not on Nicholas. Initially, she didn’t want to take the risk. But if they stay longer, the less likely they were to escape.
She focuses her mind and draws deep, she feels the murmuring of her power on her skin and with a hoarse voice, she shouts, “Lanuae. Magicae.”
She doesn’t remember to whom she prays for, Satan was clearly dead. They had no Gods. But she remembers praying hard. Her vision spins and the last thing she remembers is being engulfed by cool blinding light, Nicholas in her arms, her grip iron tight around him. She was not letting him go this time.
---
She wakes up feeling warm, bright sunlight streaming down the room. The walls that greeted her were yellow and cheery, and she could smell cinnamon. A sign of protection. A safe haven.
She closes her eyes again and remembers that she was having a dream. They were attending the ball at Baxter High, she was swaying to the music, head on Nicholas’ shoulders. Her eyes cast away to Harvey and Roz’s direction. She remembers smiling, closing her eyes with content, and leaning further into Nick.
She remembers thinking how terribly sad and poignant was it to say goodbye to a person you knew so well like the back of your hand? How can leaving a relationship that was a great imprint on your soul, be okay? The truth was, it wasn’t okay. The love she and Harvey shared was the most – innocent and young, that she will ever know. That time when they had it, it was perfect. It was hard to accept the other truth in life – people change. The things you feel before will not always be the same things you feel now. And that was okay.
Day by day, you learn that there are matters in life that you know you cannot give up. Other matters, you must know because your soul seeks it. There are relationships in life you will learn to outgrow, while some you realize you will grow old with. She loved Harvey. That never really changed. It was just a situation where they both learned that they had exceed each other.
But love was not something you learn to quantify. Love was just that. An unexplainable feeling that takes over your soul. A compulsion that makes you reach to another, maybe in search for a home. She gave a piece of her heart to Harvey. And now she knows, she was giving away a distinct piece of her heart to Nicholas too.
How do you explain an unfamiliar love that exceeds a love that is first and pure? How does she even begin?
She feels Nick disengage from the dance, feels him stare at her, a silent burning question in his eyes. She knows the question. She knows, he wonders constantly about the need to surpass Harvey. When will he leave his shadow?
She feels speechless in front of his unwavering stare. She didn’t know how to answer him then. For the first time, she felt afraid. How can she contain all the love overflowing from his soul?
-
She hears a crash downstairs and reluctantly she opens her eyes. Wait. Nicholas. She recalls him in her arms. The Mines. Escape. Transportation Spell.
She jolts out of her reverie and she feels a chill run down her spine. Where was she? Where was Nick? She stands hurriedly and ignores the pounding pain in her head and runs down the spiral staircase. “Nicholas! Nick!”, she shouts.
She reaches the end of the stairwell and sees a surprised Auntie Hilda balancing a tray full of dark porridge and mandrake juice.
“Sabrina! You’re awake! My dear, oh my goodness dear.” Auntie Hilda engulfs her in a tight hug. The bowl of porridge clatters unattended on the floor. They hug and cry, but she wastes no time and asks, “Auntie, I was – I was with Nicholas. I tried to teleport us both back – but, but, I, I don’t know what happened. He might be in the tunnel. How long have I been asleep? Where is Nicholas?”
Hilda smiles slowly and places her hand on Sabrina’s cheek, “Hush now baby girl, Nicholas is here. He’s safe. I was just taking this porridge to him.”
Immense relief courses through her. She didn’t know how, but she found herself on the floor. Strength sapped. Her knees weak. He was alive. He was here. He was here. The spell worked. She saved him. Dear God. She feels her tears pool from her eyes. She’s been crying a lot these days. She doesn’t normally stray away from feelings of sadness, but since Nicholas left, there were days when the sorrow was unbearable.
“Where is he, Auntie?”, she asks.
Hilda takes her to the corner room on the second floor. When she opens the door, Sabrina stays rooted on the spot for a moment, but then she takes the first step and rushes by his side. She sees Nicholas on the bed, his eyes closed, (she doesn’t remember the last time she’s seen those eyes open), his forehead was bandaged up, a cut from his left eye down marred his cheek. She could see bruises on his arms, his chest. She knows his right leg was broken. She saw how mangled it was the first time she found him.
She kneels beside him and picks up his hand, and cries.
She found Nicholas in the ninth circle of hell, injured, weak, and on the verge of imminent death. He was in the middle of the frozen lake. The 4th round, Judecca. He did not recognize her or anything for that matter. When she tried to talk to him, he would stare at her face blankly, eyes empty, no light. She remembers pulling him in her arms and promising to take him back home.
But where was home? She was sure Nicholas knew the answer to her question. She needed to hear him say it again. She needed Nicholas to wake up. She knows the answer now too. She needs to tell him that her home was him. And she was his home now. She needed to tell him so many things.
She stays beside him and waits.
----
He stirs and he knows he is somewhere safe. The sheets were warm, and a breeze was coming in. He knows he is safe because there was no breeze in hell. He struggles to open his eyes, his whole-body hurts, and he can’t feel his right leg. His throat was parched. His ears disoriented from the empty ringing. But he feels grateful. It’s been so long since he’s felt anything other than excruciating pain. Hell was no joke. The torture was beyond imagination. He’s never going back again.
He feels something heavy beside his arm and he tries to turn his head sideways. A soft sleeping face. White platinum tresses. Sabrina.
He struggles to keep his emotions in check, he feels his throat close up, his eyes water, a heavy sense of need flooding his chest. He thought he would never see her again. Good God.
He winces when he tries to lift his right hand to pull her in. His ribs were apparently also broken. But he doesn’t give up. She doesn’t stir. When he’s gathered her in his arms, he breathes a sigh of relief. He kissed the top of her head. He imagined this one too many times while he was in Hell. When he felt the burning pain of Satan, imprinting on his soul, he thought only of one thing. Sabrina.
Sabrina in his arms. Sabrina smiling, laughing. Sabrina running. Kissing.
He realizes that he is alive and safe now, yet he still thinks of the same thing.
He closes his eyes to sleep.
---
When he wakes up the second time, he finds her still there. Awake.
“It’s been a while, Spellman.”, he says. His voice was hoarse from lack of use.
Her face crumples up and she has a ridiculous smile on her face, tears falling on her cheeks. She tries to clear her throat and with snob, she says, “Nicholas Scratch, that was, by far, the stupidest thing you’ve ever done.”
He takes her within his arms. And he laughs, “I love you, Sabrina.”
She takes a deep unhurried breath, decides and says, “I love you, Nick.”
#nicholas scratch#nick scratch#nick x sabrina#sabrina and nick#sabrina spellman#Sabrina fan fiction#the chilling tales of sabrina#nabrina#nickbrina#caos#caos2#caos fanfiction#caos fandom#caos fic#gavin leatherwood#kiernan shipka#aldoriginal#I DONT KNOW I TRIED THIS PROMPT COZ IT SEEMED FUN BUT I MADE IT INTO A CRYFEST
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The Right Thing (pt 3 of 3)
Wreck it Ralph AU
4274 words
Content warnings: drugs/addiction, discussion of overdose/death, brief/mild sensuality
Characters: Turbo, Make-it Mavis, mentions of Maribo ( @nijimarii‘s OC )
Premise: Mavis is released from the hospital following an incident that she remembers little about. Her best friend, however, knows exactly what happened... and has a hard-to-hear idea on how to prevent it all from happening again.
>Part 1< >Part 2<
Leaving the hospital was a headache. Literally and figuratively. Alongside the dull, throbbing pain in her head, the process was a numb, nauseating blur of things Mavis was not in the mood for.
When she woke for the second time, it was to the sensation of a nurse laying another blanket over her. She was asked how she felt, and some weird trivial questions to test her lucidity. After some prodding, she answered honestly, and told the nurse her head and stomach hurt, that her eyesight was stained a faint blue, and that her brain felt full of dead ends.
The nurse brought her some generic hospital food to help settle her belly. She ate it quietly while Turbo pretended to sleep in his chair. He was not fooling her -- if he was not snoring, he was not asleep. Still, he would not respond to anything she said until the nurse came to let her know it was time to go home.
It was only as they were leaving that Fix-it Felix showed up, breathless and overjoyed to see her alive and well. He went in for a hug, but Turbo shoved him in the chest, which she quietly thanked him for. Having a guard dog against unwanted physical contact was pretty nice in general, but she felt particularly weak to defend herself that night. The arm around her shoulders as they walked out may have been a possessive one, but she found that comforting in its own right.
Felix apologized right away, of course, but proceeded to follow the two of them out of the game, yakking incessantly. He went on and on about how worried they were (at which point Turbo reminded him to speak for himself), about how sorry he was that he was absent, about how important the job he took was, how he would otherwise have never left her alone -- well, not alone, he says, since Turbo was there and kept her company which he was so, so grateful for.
By the time Turbo and Mavis made it to the Turbo Time port and bid him goodnight, he had wasted all of his conversation time apologizing and thanking. Mavis could still hear him calling out insistent requests for her to come see him the next day as she rode the cord train with Turbo.
Turbo was pissed. She could tell that much. From the train to his trailer, he said nothing, only grunting now and then in response to her conversation attempts. That much was typical. But there was something a bit off about his bad mood. It was a silent treatment, but it was not quite the cold shoulder. He kept close to her, hardly letting her stray from his touch, even as he unlocked his trailer door. It led Mavis to wonder if he really was mad at her, or if it was some other uncharted territory.
She did not feel ready for it, whatever it was.
Once they were inside, and it was time to go to bed for real, she elected to sleep on the couch, to give each of them some space. She lied and told him that she was still feeling nauseous, and did not think she could handle his inevitable tossing and turning. He did not argue.
So the two of them settled into their respective nests and listened to the deafening, heavy, quivering silence.
Mavis had thrown her smock and jeans to the floor, bunching herself up in the blankets that she kept at his place. They were starting to take on the scent of his home, which pleased her. Turbo’s trailer was the site of her deepest, easiest sleeps. Even so, there was a discomfort keeping her awake that grew from annoying to unnerving. A chill still radiated from her very core, one that blankets could not remedy. Her code had not quite stabilized completely, and it felt too light, too fragile, as if it would blow away at any moment and whisk her away into nothingness.
She had heard the springs of Turbo’s mattress squeaking in protest, but no snoring. Clearly, he was not having any more luck than her. Thoughts of his warm bed filled her mind and beckoned her seductively, but she still had to wonder what she would be in for if she joined him.
It did not take very long for her to decide that she needed a remedy for her chilling state more than anything else.
She stood in the darkness, stepping over messes that she knew by heart as she crossed to his bed. There was brief hesitation as she reached its edge. Turbo was facing away from her in a tense, unhappy ball, but she could tell he would not turn her away. It did not have to be a big deal, she told herself. So she tried not to make it one.
Slowly, she sat and slipped her bare legs down into the covers. The warmth was heavenly, like settling into a hot bath. Turbo’s bed was barely big enough for two sprites of their size, so even lying on her back, her side was pressed up against him. It took everything she had to restrain herself against clinging to him. Unusually high body heat aside, the sensation of his code in contact with hers held her down like an anchor. In that side of her body, she felt more secure, more relaxed, less afraid of spontaneously disappearing.
Turbo did not react at all to her joining him. He was still giving off that weird energy. She did not like it, but… at the same time, questions were coming into her head. Just how much had he seen that night? Just how much did he help her?
What, exactly, had her careless mistake put him through?
The questions gnawed at her nearly as hard as the cold. Uncharted territory be damned, she had to know what was in his head. What she put there.
“T…” she said softly and cautiously.
He grunted tiredly.
After considering her words carefully for a moment, she asked slowly, “Were you… the one who took me to the hospital?”
At first, he was quiet, but a single, humorless chuckle escaped him eventually. “Nah,” he sighed. “Nah, Mav, I wasn’t even there.”
She frowned at the ceiling, unsure of which alternative would have been better. “‘Kay, well…” she said, “who found me?”
“Found ya?”
“Found me nearly corrupting,” she clarified.
He was quiet long enough for her to sort of dread the answer, but his reply was not an answer at all. He just asked quietly, “How much do you actually remember about tonight?”
Mavis fidgeted with the hem of her shirt under the covers. Tempting another headache, she scoured her mind. “I mean… not all that much,” she mumbled as vague images began to resurface. “I was hangin’ out in my camp, and dug up some old Spells I’d been savin’.”
“Y’took more than one, didn’t ya?” he asked bluntly.
“Uh…” she squinted, rubbing her brow. “I think… two.”
“Why?” he breathed harshly.
She pondered. “‘Cause…”
Because she wanted to feel something.
“C’mon, man, I dunno. Do I need a reason? I just wanted to,” she half-lied.
Amazingly, Turbo did not fight her on that. But she could feel some awful energy radiating off of him, more of that off-key anger. He did not prompt her to continue, but she did anyway, just to fill the silence.
“But, uh… Y’know, at first, it was the usual Spell experience, and I was havin’ a grand ol’ time. Everythin’ was goin’ fine. But… after a while, I guess I got hit with a bad trip. I like… sorta got lost n’ wandered…”
Wandered until she found herself on an endless chess board, busy with crowds of chess pieces that all moved in their proper, respective patterns. She was the only one with a real body, the only one with no set path. She could not find her brush. She could not fly. She could only try not to trip as the squares on the floor shuddered and bumped against her feet. Rage swelled in her chest, threatening to burst her ribs apart. It needed to stop. It all needed to break.
That was when a little pawn approached her…
Curling up a bit against the uncomfortable memory, she gave the truth a wide berth. “I don’t… really know where I ended up, but… I just remember bein’ pissed. Real pissed. And uh… panicking. Then… wakin’ up n’ seein’ you.”
Turbo remained silent for a little while again, every now and then drawing in a breath to speak but not following through. Eventually, he gave another long sigh. “Look, Mav… I ain’t exactly told ya the whole story. I might’ve… glossed over some things. D’you wanna know what really happened?”
Mavis’ heart stuttered. “Uh… yeah. I’d say so.”
“It ain’t pretty.”
“I figured. Tell me, anyway.”
Twisting awkwardly on the cramped mattress, he rolled onto his back. She could see one of his fingers tapping against his chest as he chose his words. “The thing is… yeah, y’did almost corrupt. But it wasn’t exactly from an overdose. It wasn’t… entirely your fault.”
There was a quiet rumbling deep in his chest, and his voice deepened with spite. “It was that freakin’ sorry excuse for a Surge Protector. Game Central’s finest. He… shocked ya.”
Mavis considered that. “...Seriously?”
“Yup. He knew y’were high, too. He was just too much a limp-dicked wuss to try anythin’ other than killin’ ya on the spot.”
Mavis knew he was exaggerating. He never liked Surge. Neither did she, but all the same, she knew how docile the man was by nature. He was no killer. But she also knew there was little point arguing with Turbo’s biased views on things. Besides, what did she care about defending Surge’s honor? He did use excessive force on her. The only question was…
“Why? What’d I do to get him so riled up?”
Turbo breathed deeply for a second, and begrudgingly answered, “Y’kinda… attacked someone.”
She looked at him. “What? Y’mean… attacked, attacked?”
“Yeah.”
“Was it…” she wondered cautiously, “...anyone I know?”
Turbo sighed. “...Yeah. It was, uh… that little…” he made vague, small gestures, “the lil’ orange potato sack with a hat.”
Mavis felt her heart yanked downwards. She halfway propped up for a second. “Maribo?”
“Yeah, her.”
“Is she okay?”
Turbo glanced at her, brow raised. “Yeah, she’s fine. Cool your jets.”
She dropped onto her back again, letting that sink in. Maribo was by no means her friend, but Mavis did thoroughly enjoy pestering and toying with her. She liked her, in her own peculiar way. The thought of Maribo actually being afraid of her was an upsetting one, but she would have every reason to be scared, after that. Thinking of how small she was, Mavis was amazed she did not have Maribo’s death on her hands. Just the thought of it was haunting.
“Huh…” Mavis breathed. “‘Kay… so… what’d I do to her?”
She felt Turbo shrug next to her. “Not much. Y’just choked her a bit.”
“Yikes,” she hissed. “I guess it could be worse, but still, yikes. I could break her neck with one hand.”
Turbo grumbled. “Uh huh. That’s pretty much what the Blue Blunder used as an excuse to zap ya.”
“He’s right, though, ain’t he?”
His stern gaze turned on her. “Y’really oughtta be more pissed about this. He nearly killed ya.”
Her hands lifted a bit. “Yeah, but he didn’t. He’s just crap at his job. Whatever.”
Turbo groaned deep in his throat. “‘Kay, fine. Leave me to be the only one pissed about a guy who’s supposed to protect us giving absolutely zero bits about your safety. Someone’s gotta see somethin’ wrong with you almost dyin’ at the hands of a cop. Guess it’s gonna be me, as usual, the only guy ever smart enough to focus on the real issues. Y’know, some days I get tired a’ bein’ the voice a’ reason for the entire freakin’ arcade.”
“I know, sugar,” she said flatly, tuning out his rant.
He went on for a little while, but Mavis’ mind was just clouded with the fact that she almost killed someone… someone she liked, on top of that. How was she even supposed to move forward after that? What would be the first step to take? How could she deal with the issue as quickly, as easily, and most effectively as possible?
Turbo speaking directly to her snapped her out of it. “Mav.”
“Huh?”
“Are ya still worryin’ about what’s-her-face?”
“I’m not worried,” she lied.
Turbo paused, and she knew he could see right through her. After deliberating for a minute, he said, “She’s fine. Believe me. I saw her.”
She looked at him. “Really?”
“Yeah,” he shrugged. “When you were unconscious, she came to have a peek at ya. Seemed perfectly alive to me. She’s just got bruises n’ she sounds like an old man.”
At that, Mavis could not help but snicker a bit. It felt good to laugh, even for a couple seconds. Settling down, she asked, “What’d she say to you?”
Turbo’s gaze wandered low as he thought. “Not much, but…” he mumbled, “if it makes ya feel any better, I let her know y’didn’t mean it. Had to explain to her what buffs were n’ everythin’.”
“Oh, great,” Mavis rubbed her forehead. “Great, thanks, T. Now she’s gonna think I’m some junkie loser.”
“Hmm. Maybe,” he said. “But are ya tellin’ me you’d rather she think of ya as a violent maniac?”
She sighed. “No. But ‘scuse me if I ain’t a fan a’ sprites thinkin’ I got a buff problem.”
There was something about his silence next to her that was concerning. He seemed to almost hold his breath, as if he was keeping words trapped in his lungs. She did not want to assume. Of all sprites, Turbo had to have been the one to know she was not an addict… right?
“Mavis,” he said lowly, and the lack of a nickname unsettled her. “You n’ me… We gotta talk.”
“...We are talkin’,” she told the ceiling.
“...About buffs.”
Her belly churned. “What’s there to talk about?” she asked, hostility creeping into her voice.
Automatically, his tone matched hers. “About how to never have a repeat incident a’ tonight.”
“Nope,” she chirped, rolling to leave the bed, but Turbo hooked an arm over her belly and pulled her back down. She began to protest, but he had rolled onto his side to face her, and his warmth radiated even deeper along that side of her body. It was just sedating enough to keep her there, but she refused to look at him. She just looked out into the darkness of his trailer, as if she would scurry off into it the moment he let her go.
“Will ya cool your jets for just a second,” he hissed, waiting a moment before loosening his grip on her and carefully stroking his thumb against her waist. She tried to focus on that sensation as he continued, his voice calmer. “Mav, I ain’t here to slap labels on ya or accuse ya of nothin’. I just got one point to make, n’ I’ll keep it short n’ sweet.”
“So do it.”
“Y’gotta quit takin’ buffs alone.”
“No.”
“Good,” he nodded, “this is good. We got that first ‘no’ outta the way.”
She merely groaned a bit.
He sighed. “Mavis, I ain’t thrilled to be talkin’ about this either. But I ain’t sayin’ you got a problem or an addiction or whatever. I ain’t even sayin’ you gotta quit takin’ buffs entirely. ‘Cause, hey, I like ‘em too, n’ it’s more fun doin’ ‘em together. But, like… y’gotta have someone to spot ya. Keep ya from overdoin’ it n’ gettin’ yourself in a freakin’ mess.”
“This was a freak incident,” she grumbled. “Up until tonight, I’ve flown solo just fine.”
“‘Kay, maybe that’s true, I dunno. But what I do know is… I mean…” his fingers squeezed into her waist a bit. “Y’slept through the worst a’ tonight. Y’don’t get how real it all was. It really, really almost happened, Mav. I... sat in that hospital waitin’ room for ages... waitin’ to hear if you’d survive the night. Even with a bunch a’ nurses helpin’ ya… everythin’ just hung on luck. You’re just… Y’know, you’re the luckiest n’ unluckiest sprite I know.”
As he spoke, Mavis’ defensiveness slowly softened, replaced by a grave, cold guilt. Imagining what it would have felt like if she had switched places with him… made her afraid of what she really had put him through. And now, he was actually opening up about it, so… it had to have been a big deal.
“So, what I’m gettin’ at is…” he shrugged. “Yeah, maybe this ain’t happened before. But it only took one time to put ya on death’s doorstep. If it ever happens a second time… who’s to say you’ll be so lucky again?”
Mavis stared into the darkness. “...I probably won’t,” she agreed softly, sadly, begrudgingly.
Turbo was quiet for a long time. She wondered if he was waiting for something, but she felt caught between her pride, her pain, and her heart.
For one thing, no one could tell her what to do, on principle. She could make her own decisions, good or bad.
For another, sometimes doing buffs alone was a more comfortable way for her to deal with some really ugly pain, the sort that no one else could ever see in her. Buffs worked faster than pleasant company. Buffs would never judge her. They would just take the pain away, and for once, she could enjoy being alone without the silence crashing down on her.
The thought of losing that option was sort of terrifying on its own.
Struggling with herself, she breathed ruefully, “Y’know I love risk-taking.”
“I know,” he whispered, more calmly than she expected.
There was a long, heavy, pregnant pause, but eventually, Turbo shifted. He scooted even closer to her, his arm bending as he squeezed her tightly against him. Behind her ear, she felt his breath for a moment before he nuzzled himself between her neck and the pillow, burying his face. He waited, his grip unrelenting.
Fumbling, Mavis prompted him softly, “...T?”
His voice low, hot, and muffled against her neck, he muttered, “Do I really gotta spell it out for ya that I don’t want ya to die?”
With that, her heart blew all other arguments out of the water.
Chest burning, she shakily took hold of his arm and squeezed. “No. No, I know…”
“So stop takin’ buffs alone,” he insisted softly. “...Please.”
Mavis turned her face to the ceiling again. She fought the uncertainty that she could actually do it. She told herself to at least try… but then decided that trying was not enough. She had to do it, and she could do anything. She was Make-it-freakin’-Mavis, and she did not have a buff problem.
“Alright,” she sighed. “I will.”
Turbo paused, but within seconds, he leaned in to find a firm grip on her and flipped her against his body as he rolled on his back, ending with her lying on top of him. Wide-eyed, a bit disoriented, Mavis said with a half-smile, “What the hell, T?”
“Ya gotta look me in the eye n’ say that,” he explained. “And a’course, y’gotta take the sacred vow.”
Between their faces, he held out his pinky finger. He watched her expectantly, not quite smiling yet.
“Is that really necessary?” she smirked, nodding at his hand.
“Oh, damn right it is, ‘cause I really wanna believe ya on this, Cherry Bomb,” he nodded briskly. “And don’t act like you didn’t start the tradition.”
A small laugh blew from her nose. Trying to ignore how daunting the promise she was about to make was, she just thought about how glad she was that his bad mood was letting up even a little bit. So, she complied. Looking right into his glowing yellow eyes, she locked her pinky over his. “No more buffs alone. Promise. Okay?”
“...Okay,” he released her hand, finally showing a bit of a satisfied smile.
Mavis made no movement to get off of him. This was the most contact she had with him all night, and it felt fantastic. She settled down, resting her chin on her crossed hands over his bare chest, and let his heat glow deep into her belly. But it was still not enough. Every inch of her left untouched still had that cold, ghostly quivering beneath her skin. It was not until she felt Turbo’s fingers in her hair that she realized she had been dissociating.
She perked up, and found him watching her contentedly, a peculiar look in his eye.
Mouth twitching into a smile, Mavis asked, “What’re you lookin’ at?”
“Hmm. I’unno,” he hummed, lightly scratching the back of her head. “Your eyes are finally dark again.”
Oh. Mavis was not sure why that in particular made her face flush with heat, but it sure did. Her gaze jumped away, and she chuckled sheepishly. “Yeah, well,” she muttered, “you’re still pretty blindin’ there, Bright Eyes.”
His chest hopped with a short laugh. “C’mon, the glow’s a courtesy. They’re free torches for when you’re lost in my--”
Almost before she realized it, Mavis had pulled herself up to kiss him. Just once at first, soft and chaste, but enough to catch him off guard. When she pulled back to check his reaction, he looked at her with raised brows and a hint of a smile. “...Hey,” he purred.
“Hey--” she cut herself off by kissing him again. She could hardly restrain herself. All she wanted was contact. All she wanted was to feel something good after the numbness and anxiety of the whole night. Propping up against the pillows, she caressed his hair while he held her waist gently. He needed to touch her more. It just was not enough.
She kept her forehead against his once the kiss broke. Her eyes were closed, but she could tell by his voice that he was smiling a bit. “Someone’s in a mood, all of a sudden.”
“Yeah,” she breathed. “I need you.”
With that, she sat up, straddling his lap. He watched her from the pillows with confused eyes, but they widened when she tossed her shirt off over her head. She was just about to dive right back in, but the concerned look on Turbo’s face stopped her.
“Uh,” he said as gently as he could, “no offense, babe, but, y’know, I ain’t exactly in the mood to fool around.”
Mavis sat there on his hips, really feeling how cold the air outside the blankets was on her bare skin. She felt her face heat up again and her gaze wandered. It was not the rejection that was embarrassing, as that was not her real desire in the first place. It was the fact that she had to take plan B to get what she needed… communicating. Always with the communicating.
“No, I know,” she said quietly, twisting her finger. “I ain’t, either.”
“...Uh huh. Then...”
“Just-- Can you just--” she stammered, carefully grabbing his hands and bringing them to her hips, “just, like… touch me. Like… plain ol’ touchin’. I, uh… still feel kinda off in my code, n’ it’s weird n’ gross n’ drivin’ me crazy, so…”
After sizing her up for a second, he sat up. “Alright, if you insist,” he said with a grin. “Where?”
She swallowed. “...Everywhere.”
“Hmm!”
So he began running his big, warm hands all over her body, pressing hard per her instructions. Resting her elbows over his shoulders, Mavis tried to let everything go. Every stress from the last twenty-four hours was not allowed to exist in that moment. The spiraling thoughts that drove her to use the Spells. The deeply upsetting hallucinations. The hospital stay. The anxieties over the promise she made. The guilt, fear, and shame over what she had done to Maribo, what she had done to Turbo… banished. All that was left was the heat of skin-on-skin contact, and the motion of his code against hers, like a massage reaching deep inside and soothing the aches in her binary.
At a certain point, Turbo’s hands snaked slowly up her back, and suddenly, she was crushed against his torso. He hugged her so tightly to his body that she could feel her bones creak. Holding onto his shoulders, she mumbled, “Uh…”
Against the curve of her neck, he simply muttered, “Don’t make it weird.”
She saw little to argue with there. Slowly, she wrapped her arms around him as well, settling into his shape, exhaling all the fear of her code blowing away into nothing. Something else swelled in her chest, and he squeezed her tight enough for it to float out.
“T…”
“Hm?”
“Uh… thanks… for bein’ there… for me. At the hospital.”
“...Yeah,” he whispered. “Don’t mention it.”
“And-- and for bein’ here,” she added. “With me. Right now.”
Turbo considered that, and responded only with a single, quick kiss on her neck.
It would still be some time before either of them fell asleep, and when they did, they would have no more than a couple of hours before having to part again. But in those hours, Mavis would sleep soundly, deeply, dreamlessly, kept warm, safe, and secure, held down by the weight of her anchor.
She would not let him down again.
Hopefully.
#wreck it ralph#turbo#make it mavis#maribo#the shitgoblins#fanfiction#au#oc#it gets shitgoblins shippy so watch out
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CAOS 2 thoughts/reactions/spoilers I guess?
That was at least 50% stressful nonsense, so much so I attempted to spoil myself for the end after about 2 eps because I could not continue watching if Blackwood was going to get even slightly away with it. Which he sort of did but I’m ok with him being on the run for drama in season 3 as long as it means Zelda is well and truly done with his ass. I can’t take a third season of Zelda being weirdly dickmatized by this dude. (I did like how she explicitly was like “I’m not in love with him, I just want power and maybe an occasional dicking and whipping,” which is valid, but c’mon, Zelda, you didn’t seriously believe he really would ever share power with you, did you? That was somewhat unbelievable as a character move and made her seem pretty dumb/naive.)
Other shit I wasn’t wild about
The compulsory heterosexuality that underlies so much of the witchcraft in this world that’s sort of being dismantled but not quickly or explicitly enough for me, really. There will be great moments like Lilith’s speeches or Zelda and Prudence teaming up against Blackwood but then also a continued overall focus on heterosexual romance. How often do these women have to learn that the straight men around them are 150% garbage and not worthy of them until they get their male asses in order?
Relatedly, the continued absence of any f/f romance and the fact that Ambrose lost his male lover and got a female one instead (pansexuality is all well and good but, weird optics when he’s still the only really openly, detailed-ly LGB character in any sense beyond “yeah sure I’ll do an orgy with the same sex”) and the fact that the extremely gay Dorian Gray turned out to be rather evil (or at least a dark shade of traitorous gay, which is always side-eye-worthy if it doesn’t get developed further in future eps)
Shit I liked:
Nick/Sabrina, overall. He’s a messy dumbass but he’s mostly just there to look hot and prop her story and agency up so I’m okay with it for what it is.
The handling of Harvey/Roz and the Harvey/Roz/Sabrina triangle. I always like seeing teen romance being handled with a modicum of emotional maturity and a lack of jealousy, and this was good on those fronts. I’d prefer Harvey and Sabrina to stay broken up for good but I won’t be surprised if they end up back together anyway eventually.
Most of Prudence’s overall story. Frustrating as hell to watch her be continually desperate for Blackwood’s love but they finally acknowledged it wasn’t worth it at the end and I like the idea of her and Ambrose teaming up to get his ass and save the twins.
Hilda getting a bit more development, killing people for Zelda, and a getting a surprisingly nice offbeat but sweet midlife romance with what’s his face the incubus
God!Sabrina was visually very cool to me with the explicitly Jesus-esque and saintly imagery in the church, the Weird Sisters’ emotional reaction to her in that role, etc. Not wild about her just magically curing Roz’s eyesight but eh, it sort of came back to bite her in the ass?
I love a good “fuck it, let’s kill God” storyline, so I completely dug the HDM-esque storyline there for the last ep. I’d really like a more explicit exploration of what Jesus and the Abrahamic God are in this world, though, since they appear to really exist--is Jesus just another witch/magic user? Is the Abrahamic God just another fallen angel setting himself up as a deity a la HDM? If so, can we please kill him too?
Lilith, like Zelda, had a messy road to “actually, fuck men”-ville. Sort of reminded me of an abusive relationship and finally being able to escape Lucifer by the end? I’d like this independence and antimale attitude to stick around and not just be a passing fad on her way back to some sort of “proper” heterosexuality again. Michelle killed it, though, as always, and her crowning herself (and crying watching the play of her life, and using her rib to make Adam) made me actually quite emotional.
I’m not trans, but I thought Theo’s story was handled about as well as you’d dare expect from a melodramatic teen drama. I liked mandrake!Sabrina’s patronization of him being called out for what it was and also how his midseason prophetic vision shit was all about dysphoria but in a thematically appropriate way? Idk.
What I want in the next season:
Seeing what Lilith is up to in hell, preferably still in Michelle Gomez’s body. (Can we get both Mary Wardwell on Earth and Lilith using the body of Mary in hell for maximum Michelle content?) Seeing her interact with other women somehow (ideally Zelda as her new high priestess).
Zelda and Hilda working to reestablish a coven and church (FOR LILITH???!) and hopefully reform the shit out of it. I’d absolutely love to see witchcraft move away from explicit monotheistic-ish religion/worship and into a more free will type thing, or at least go way more polytheism. You have fucking magic, babes, you don’t need to worship various demons playing dress-up as gods, especially with Lucifer currently imprisoned. (What are the other covens going to do, like....do they even know Lucifer is currently out of service? Could be interesting.) I also want to see what Dorcas and Agatha are like without Prudence and just in general what the remnants of the coven do and how they work with Zelda.
No more Blackwood/Zelda unless it’s her literally killing him. Just. Enough. Give Zelda someone truly worthy of her thirst. (Preferably a woman, ideally Lilith, but u kno.)
Blackwood fucking dying in some appropriately painful and ignominious way. Yeah, sure, Richard is hot, but he’s a fascist fuck who’s had his run of it. We need catharsis.
Sabrina and co doing cool shit in hell I guess en route to finding Nick. Ideally, them killing Lucifer for good, but I’m assuming he’ll somehow get out of Nick’s body and continue to be an antagonist, especially since IIRC there’s also gonna be a season 4.
Some sort of f/f romance. Sabrina exploring it would be cool, and of course my holy grail is Zelda doing gay-ass shit, but at this point I’ll take just about anyone.
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Not Good Enough Part 2/3 (Steve Rogers x Reader)
Part 1 ; Part 3
Warnings: Extreme Sadness, Swearing
Ft: No one new?
Summary: You have always been in love with the man Steve Rogers. But Steve has feelings for someone else along with you. Steve is confused about how he feels, but will he choose you?
A/N: Since you all liked the first part, I decided to write a part 2. I don’t know if it is gonna be the ending you want, but I feel like it is the ending that spoke to me the most. Requests are still open for all fandoms on my page, and I am currently working on a K-Pop one since many wanted one as well. Let me know what you think of Not Good Enough, pls. I love hearing from your guys. <3
“She is waking up.” You hear someone speak with dread. You open your eyes to see a bright light above your head. You instantly close your eyes and swear under your breath.
“Get Tony!” You hear a different voice state in a hurried matter. You open your eyes as memories came flooding in. You look around to see you are in a laboratory kind of room. No one is present in the room. You try to bring your hands to your face when you feel resistance and a sound of metal on metal.
“Y/N?” You turn to look at the door. You see Tony there looking relieved and worried at the same time.
“Tony? How did I-” He cuts you off from your train of thought. There was no way you should be alive after a fall like that. Even your super healing can’t fix that.
“Sam caught you just in time. He saved you.” Tony states as he looks you over. You sigh, as you lean your head back against the headboard of the hospital bed.
“Everyone was arrested right?” You ask Tony, who sighs. You feel a dip in your bed, and you look over to see him nod his head.
“Yes. Steve and Bucky are criminals still. Natasha is too.” Tony tells you and you sigh as the handcuffs make sense.
“You gave me the serum to turn off my powers, didn’t you?” You ask Tony and he nods his head.
“Yeah. Now we have to move you to the cells with everyone else. I am not allowed down there.” Tony explains to you as men come in. You nod your head, not fighting back. “I am really glad you are okay.” Tony confesses as the men handcuff your hands behind your back. The position you are in feels so unfamiliar to you.
“I am glad you are too.” You tell him sincerely before a collar is placed around your neck that will shock you if you try anything. Tony gives you a wary smile as the guards guide you out.
When you get to the other cells, you see Scott, Barton, Wanda, and Sam as you pass. “You are alright?” Clint asks you and you nod your head. The guards push you forward making you stumble. “Hey!” Barton yells hitting the wall of his cell. You give him a look, as you find your footing, to stop. He backs off and goes to sit on his bed.
“Keep moving.” The guard tells you and you oblige. You pass by Sam’s cell and smile at him. He nods his head at you as you are pushed to go forward. Your cell is right next to Wanda’s cell. She looked miserable in her cell, looking as if the life is drained out of her. She is in a straight jacket along with a collar much like yours. You just wanted to save her from this miserable fate, but you just manage a smile at her. She smiles back at you sadly.
“How many times do we have to tell you to move?” The other guard states pushing you roughly into the cell. You stumble and then trip on the lift that is at the entrance of your cell. You fall face forward, unable to catch yourself due to the handcuffs.
“HEY!” You hear Sam, Scott and Clint’s voices yell as they bang on the glass. The guard pulls you up by the handcuffs, as you were just laid on the floor due to your weakness from the recovery of your injuries to your chest.
“Better tell your friends to be quiet if you don’t want them to be hurt.” The first guard tells you. You glare at the guards before opening your mouth to speak.
“It’s okay guys.” You yell before looking at the guards. “They aren’t worth it. They are just douche bags.” You state spitting a little as you insulted them. They hiss in disgust before jabbing you in the ribs with their baton. You cry out in pain as the other guard releases you from your handcuffs.
“Unnatural crazy bitch.” The guard scoffs pushing you into your cell making you fall again. The doors close before you can do anything. The guards press a button, and you freeze as the shock is delivered through your collar. You cry out in pain as the guards laugh walking away.
You sigh as the pain is over with. You sit on your bed, and lean your head against the wall that Wanda is on the other side of. You think that you might as well have died if you are stuck here for the rest of your life. Suffering. Not ever being able to see the light of day.
~
It’s been 2 days now, and you were starting to go crazy. You felt as if you had no control. You are laying in your bed when a blast is heard from across the prison cell area. You get up and look out your cell. You smile as you see Steve standing there, but your smile quickly disappears as you see Sharon. “Ready to be free?” Steve asks looking from one cell to the other.
“Ready as ever.” Sam states before Sharon presses a button on her tablet. The cell doors open, and instantly Steve is by your side.
“You are okay?” Steve asks looking you over.
“I will be a bit better if these collars are off.” You state gesturing to the collars.
“Right. Sharon?” Steve asks Sharon. Sharon nods her head and presses another button. The collar falls to the ground and you feel as if you can breath again. “You can’t believe how worried I’ve been.” Steve pulls you into a hug, and you see Sharon glare at you.
“I am okay. I am sorry for scaring you.” You apologize as you pull away from the hug. You smile at Steve who gives you a sad smile. “I see you took my advice about the love thing.” You gesture to Sharon, and he smiles at you. He opens his mouth to say something, but Sharon interrupts you both.
“We need to go now!” Sharon states coming up to you guys. You nod your head at Sharon before walking towards the opening. You are about to jump onto the plane, but you look behind you as you hear no one. You see Sharon give Steve a passionate kiss, and your heartbreaks to a million pieces.
“Y/N! We have to go!” Sam yells at you. You turn around to see Sam with his hand outstretched. You take his hand and he pulls you up with ease. You see that Natasha is piloting the ship by herself, so you get to the co pilot’s seat.
“Need some help?” You ask her taking the controls for the guns. She smiles over at you and nods her head.
“Good to see you alive.” Natasha goes back to the controls.
“Would’ve been as miserable as death.” You state before you hear Steve yell for you to go. You turn around to see everyone on the plane before pressing the button to close the hanger. Natasha takes off, using the stealth mode on the plane when you all have lost the planes following you guys.
~
You guys landed at a safe house, you left everyone to go shower. You didn’t want to see Sharon and Steve be all lovey dovey as it made your heart weak. Natasha had told you that Bucky had to go under in Wakanda because of the episodes. T’Challa thinks they can help with solving the episodes with the tech they have.
After you washed the filth from the past couple days, you get dressed gingerly. You are still sore from the airport fight, and from the prison. Looking in the full length mirror in the room, you observe where you were shot. You ran your fingers along the still tender skin slowly. “I wanted to comeback that day.” You look through the mirror to see Steve leaning on the door frame. You pull your shirt down before running your fingers through your Y/H/C Y/H/T.
“I am glad you didn’t.” You state before looking at yourself and avoiding Steve’s eyesight.
“I thought you died, and I grieved like you did.” Steve confesses as he takes a few steps into the room. “I was ordering for Bucky to turn around, but he refused. We never got to see Sam catch you.” Steve states and you sigh turning around angrily.
“Why are you here, Steve? Shouldn’t you be with Sharon?” You ask with anger, though your heart was just broken. Not angry, but just sadness.
“Y/N, I did have feelings for you. I understand if you hate me now, but-” You groan running your hands through your hair.
“I can’t hate you! Don’t you get that?” You yell out as frustrated tears escape. You wipe them away before taking a few steps towards Steve. “I get it. I wasn’t good enough.” He is about to speak, but you cut him off with a glare. “I just need you to say it to my face.”
“Y/N I can’t-” You cut him off with a finger resting on his lips. You remove your finger before locking eyes with him.
“If you ever cared for me, you will do this. I will be able to move on if you do this. I can be happy, and maybe we can be friends.” You had a hard time saying that last part, but you went on. “Now say it. Look me in the eyes and tell me that I wasn’t good enough.”
Steve takes a shaky breath as he locks eyes with you. The eyes you once fell in love with. They use to be filled with so much hope, confidence and happiness. One look from him would just make you feel at home. Make you feel safe in world where love and safety were never in the same sentence.
“Y/N,” He takes a breath as you brace yourself for your home to be crumbled to pieces. For that safety to be gone forever. His eyes that meant so much to you, went cold. No emotion on his face. “You weren’t good enough for me.” You wince at the words, but nod your head. With that he leaves the room, and closes the door behind him.
Your chest hurt. It burned, physically burned in your chest. It felt as if the flames that were apart of you were eating you up from inside. You just stood there staring at the door where the person-no-where your home, left you. Now those eyes that you fell in love with, would remind you, forever, that you will not be good enough.
@alexfayer @lovely-geek @deaniebean @owhatshername1 @littlet-holmes @jackie-houston @roxytheimmortal @savemesteeb @princess-of-skaia @tbetz0341 @astrid345 @lisssays @mdgrdians @grungebeachbum @importanttimemachinenerd @thegothicdancer @vogueworthy-barnes @koizorahana @nerdgirljen @theazm10 @marvelswinchester @katykyll @loricwizardbluetoastedcake @kaliforniacoastalteens @wantonmeep @the-x-button @abigaildiangelo @janepetersonxxx @notunlimited @star-arm-and-shield
#civil war#avengers imagines#avengers x reader#avengers#steve rogers x reader#steve rogers imagine#steve rogers#bucky barnes imagine#bucky x reader#bucky#sam wilson x reader#sam wilson imagine#sam wilson#ant man x reader#ant man imagine#captain america x reader#captain america imagine#captain america#tony stark imagine#tony stark x reader#tony stark#angst
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