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ghulehthezombiequeen · 5 months

Text

little sunshine. - Angeleyes

cardinal copia x sister of sin!reader part 3.

masterlist. / little sunshine masterlist.

tag list: @gothicwonderlust, @siouxbauhaus

a/n: i finally added a masterlist so yippee that's cool also if u want to be added to the taglist lmk and i'll gladly add u :D

warnings/things to note: female reader, potentially autistic Copia (it just comes naturally i'm sorry), secret relationships, possibly suggestive undertones?? idk bro i just write

enjoy <3

word count: 1,517 words.

A few weeks had passed since your first date with Copia. Not much has happened since then, which was fine with you. However, the fact that you were no longer watching the little ones made you a bit lonely in the ministry library. There were a few perks to working in the library, though. A couple groups of Siblings would normally come in every so often to gossip about any and everything, which you didn't mind overhearing. And they were glad to share with you! You were so likeable by everyone, so kind and generous, so witty and hilarious.

When they finally had to leave for their classes, you decided to pop a random record into the player. What type of records did the ghouls like to collect? You decided to investigate that later as you settled on an ABBA collector's edition vinyl. You studied the sleeve before pulling out the disk, noticing that it'd been played multiple times before.

You were organizing a shelf of books near the corner where your desk was, humming along to the song Angeleyes. You were so focused on your task that you didn't hear the door open, nor the footsteps approaching you.

"Ah, A-Angeleyes, huh? I... Personally, I love that song."

You knew that stutter from anywhere.

You turned around and smiled widely as your eyes were greeted by Copia. Instantly your mood boosted by at least 50 percent. "Oh! Hi, Cardi! What brings you here?" You chirped happily, now trying to multitask talking to him and sorting the books.

"Oh, uh... S-Sister, I just wanted to say that I- I....... I don't know. I just wanted to say hello..." he chuckled nervously at himself. "I'm not very good at this."

Oh, he was trying to flirt with you! Copia was never the best at it before, but now after the night in the gardens with you, every time he got a glance at you made his heart skip a beat. "I... erm... I want you to know that I missed you, a-and, um... I am so happy right now."

Was he... shy? That's adorable.

"Aw, you're so sweet, Cardi! You have a big heart, y'know?" you tittered at his shyness, watching his body language. Wait... was he hiding something behind his back? Odd.

"Whatcha hiding over there?" You asked in a sing-song voice, pretending to peek at what he was hiding behind his back.

Copia's face turned pink as you brought yourself closer to him. "I... w-well, uh... erm... oh, what the hell. Here, for you..." He revealed a white rose, holding it out for you to take. "It's my favorite flower... a-and I wanted to give it to my beautiful girl," he said bashfully, rubbing the back of his neck with his free hand.

Your heart started to melt right then and there. How did Copia know your love language was receiving gifts? You felt even more special when he said that white roses were his favorite, and he was giving one to you! You gasped, taking the rose stem delicately in your fingers. "Oh, you didn't! You're so kind!"

Why did this gift feel different? Other guys have given you the same exact thing sometimes, but this felt more important than those gifts. Were you genuinely catching feelings for this silly rat man? This caused you to blush.

Copia chuckled a bit. "Oh, I did... because you deserve it. You're the sweetest girl I know, and you deserve a gift."

He looked into your eyes and smiled. "Ah, it's just a rose from the gardens, it's not the most valuable thing. But it's a part of me that I want to give you and keep forever... j-just like you." He swallowed after he spoke, mentally cursing himself for stuttering towards the end. Satanas below, why did it have to be so difficult to talk to you?!

You hummed in contentment, placing a gentle hand to his cheek. "If you get any sweeter, I might have to go to a dentist and get checked for cavities!" you teased, moving your hand to press a light kiss on his cheek.

"Ohhh, Sorella..." he mumbled something in Italian that you couldn't quite hear well, but you saw him fiddling with his thumbs. You made him flustered. Cute!

"Well, now I have to get you something, so it's fair!" you pouted as you stared at the white rose in your hand, admiring its beauty.

"E-Eh?! N-No, no, no! Per favore, n-no need to get me anything! Just seeing the smile on your face is all I need." he said quickly, feeling terrible at the thought of you cutting your precious time out to get him something in exchange for a rose.

You felt a little bad but decided to let it go for the time being. "Alright, then..."

"I-If anything, I'm not good enough for you, Sister... the rose should have been good enough." he mumbled quietly, thinking that he didn't deserve her; he'll always try his best for sure, but you... you were perfection.

That put a cheeky smile on your face, and you let out a small giggle. "Oh, I'm gonna put this on my desk, I'll be right back." You turned on your heel and walked to your desk, moving a stack of papers so that your vase with the single white rose sparkled in the sunlight.

Copia watched you, resisting the urge to reach out and pull you back to him, to hold you in his arms. He felt his heart beating so hard against his chest he thought it may explode. He wanted to lean in and kiss your perfect, pouty lips just like that night in the garden.

He was so caught up in his thoughts that he spoke out loud accidentally, "...Why are you so perfect?"

"Mm, I dunno. I just am." you shrugged, a playful smirk on your face. It was cute that he didn't even notice he'd said those words out loud until your reply, which made him bury his face in his hands and coaxing a chuckle out of you.

He let out a flustered grumble. "Y-You know I think you're more than perfect. I- I can't find the right word for it yet, but... y-you're like an infernal goddess. I can't help but admire you. Satanas, you're truly a gift from below, I swear to it."

You tilted your head, so it rested on your own shoulder, smirking at him and pulling him into an embrace. You also took this opportunity to stare into those beautiful, mismatched eyes of his. "You fell madly in love with me already, huh Cardi?" you giggled as he started to snake his hands around your waist, pulling you in just a bit closer.

"Ehh... maybe just a little." he chuckled, lifting his hand to show you the little space in between his thumb and index finger.

You raised an eyebrow at that.

He widened the space the more you stared. "...Maybe just a little more than a little?" he chuckled sheepishly.

You kept your eyebrow raised.

"Ah! Okay, fine! Maybe a lot. Maybe- Maybe you should- uh... something. I... I forgot."

You both laughed at this, pulling each other closer.

"We're supposed to be keeping us a secret, y'know..." you reminded, smiling at him. He grinned innocently, pulling away slowly and looking around to make sure no one was watching the two of you.

"Okay, okay, you caught me. I love you tons, contento? But you are right, this isn't the best idea to do this in public. But... if it were under the circumstances of it being 'just us'... would I get a hug? M-Maybe even a kiss?"

"Hmm..." You pretended to think, just to spite him. Of course, you already knew the answer. "Under the circumstances of it being just us... whatever would we do?" "Oh, I know! What about... your room, 8pm tonight. I'll bring a bag and stay over?" you asked in a mischievous tone, your smirk still evident on your face.

Copia's face flushed a bright crimson at what you were implying. Did you want to-- with him?!?! Was he even that lucky?! Copia's mouth hung open for a second before sputtering a response. "Wha- I- you- me- we- uhh... erm... I- yes! Okay! Okie dokie... good, good...."

You laughed at his adorable reaction, pulling away from him to go back to work. "Y'know, the Siblings were talking about you earlier. They said you keep pet rats. Some couldn't believe it. But it got me thinking, and I want to see for myself if the rumor is true!"

"I- wha? Oh! Yes, o-of course!" he cleared his throat (and his thoughts), nodding. "W-Well, um... I guess I'll see you tonight then, Sister." He tried playing it cool, but everyone could tell how excited and nervous he was to see you tonight. You! Tonight! In his room! His mind was racing a mile a second as he spun around and scurried away to his room, resisting the urge to kiss you goodbye.

As for the rumor, well. That was true.

~~~ previous chapter. | next chapter.

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a-small-batch-of-dragons · 7 months

Text

Code Words | Execution

Read on Ao3 Masterlist

Warnings: gaslighting, manipulation

Pairings: none

Word Count: 5140

Roman takes a deep breath and glances at Janus. Janus looks at the door in front of them, his hands folded behind his back, before sliding his gaze to Roman's. They share a look.

You can change your mind, he can almost hear Janus saying, it's not too late.

He hopes the set of his jaw and the way his shoulders push back ever so slightly say I'm ready.

A moment later, Janus nods sharply and takes a step back. Roman faces the door, squares his shoulders, and knocks.

"Come in?"

He pushes the door open and Janus catches it behind him as they walk inside. This office isn't anywhere near as big or as nice as Virgil's but enough to make the hairs on the back of his neck stand at attention as they approach the big wooden desk in the middle. The briefing agent looks up from the paperwork he's doing, garish orange tie enough to make Roman grimace as his face splits into a half-almost-smile.

"Roman," the agent says and it's enough to make the angry beast in his gut start to snarl, "and…Janus, if I'm not mistaken."

You know damn fucking well who he is, you asshole, don't even try and pretend you don't.

"What can I do for the both of you?"

Janus sits down smoothly, crossing one leg over the other and folding his hands atop his knee. His face is already a mask, perfectly impassive. It's not quite Deceit, which is great, but Roman's pretty sure the boiling rage in him would be enough to keep the worst of the fear at bay even if it were Deceit sitting right next to him. He sits down too and glowers at the agent.

"I don't see any reason for that," the agent chides—just him, not Janus— "why don't you try using your words instead?"

Roman grits his teeth. "My mission. The one where I was supposed to be Janus's safety. You didn't brief me properly."

The agent frowns. "Which mission are you referring to?"

"Which mission—the one I was just on. The one you briefed me for!"

"I didn't brief you for any mission with another agent."

That much is fucking clear. "The one where you told me there was a new up-and-coming gang member that needed to be stopped. The one where you sent me to the Bastion corner of the city. That one? The one I just got back from? The one that your name is on?"

"It would have started several years ago," Janus cuts in smoothly, a steely contrast to Roman's own snapping words, "that may be why you're struggling to recall it."

"Of course, Agent," the agent says, almost saccharine enough to make Roman gag, "thank you for your help. I must admit, I'm…curious as to your presence here."

"Well, you've assigned Roman here as my safety," Janus says in a pleasantly-unpleasant way, "and he's brought a few concerns to my attention."

Something in the agent's expression flickers before he makes an exaggerated oh sound, smiling at Janus and then looking at Roman. "Ah, I see. You believe the mission I gave to Roman was supposed to be a safety mission for you."

"Yeah," Roman mutters, "glad you finally caught up."

His tone cools rapidly. "You're mistaken. Roman was not assigned to be your safety."

For the first time, he sees Janus's expression twitch. "Excuse me?"

"Roman was given a mission to investigate one of the branch heads for the distribution center in the Bastion quarter. You were not his intended target."

Wait, what? No. No, that can't be right. That's—that's impossible.

"That's a lie," Roman says, staring at the agent, "that's—that's not true."

"It is," the agent sighs, like he's some disappointed parent who now has to clean up after a disobedient child, "and I'm truly sorry he's dragged you into this, Agent."

"You're lying," Roman spits out, gripping the arms of the chair so tightly his knuckles turn white, "you—you confirmed that it was Deceit! I reported back to you immediately and you said that was my target?"

"Did I?"

"Yes!"

In response, the agent sighs, motioning to Janus to give him a moment, before turning to his computer. He clicks a few things, navigating to something, clearly, before the printer in the corner whirs and a sheet of paper comes out. The agent stands up and walks over, picking it up and examining it before holding it out to Roman.

Roman grabs it, eyes darting over its surface, eyes widening when he sees it's a transcript of his report the night after the bridge incident.

P: Sighted target on north side of bridge. Alias: Deceit. Confirm target?

O: Check mission brief, does target align with description?

P: Confirmed. Target aligns with description.

O: Proceed.

"How could I have seen him?" the agent asks, sitting back down. "You were the one who said he lined up with the mission brief."

"That's because he did, he—he—he was…"

Roman trails off into silence. He racks his brain.

Why can't I remember the brief?

The agent slides another piece of paper across the desk to him and he snatches it up, getting another few pages in the process. His eyes scan over the description—six to six four, pale skin, distinctive markings on one side of the face, gloves—and he looks at the photo attached to it.

His eyes widen.

Another man stares back at him. It's not Janus. It is, however, someone else who fits that description.

"But that—that's not—I've never seen this person before."

"I'm beginning to realize the extent of this mission failure now, yes."

"I didn't fail!"

The agent raises an eyebrow. "You just admitted you'd never seen that man before, hadn't you?"

"Yes, but—"

"If you were on mission for the past several years, as you've claimed, and you've never seen your target before…" The agent spreads his hands and leans back a little bit in his chair. "Then I would love to hear what you consider that if it's not a mission failure."

Roman just stares numbly at the photograph. This is impossible. This is—this is absolutely impossible. There's no way—there's no way he was convincing himself for years that he had the wrong target.

"I reported to you several times," he says, but to his horror, he sounds more like a whining child than another agent telling this fucker what he did wrong, "and each time, I made note of who I was pursuing. You never—you never corrected me or flagged it ever again, even when I sent photos and video surveillance!"

"You never made those reports to me. I only received audio from you."

"Then why would you have put me so close to him? If he really wasn't my target, why take that risk?"

"Were you stationed particularly close to him?"

Yes, he was, wasn't he? It seemed like everywhere he went, he ran into Deceit, even when he went—

Despite his fiery conviction, something dangerously close to doubt starts to creep into the back of his mind.

He'd always go over the bridge. Because that's where he'd seen Janus—Deceit. He'd make sure his routes took him far enough away that the apartment wasn't at risk of being found. Several times it had taken him days to get all the way back because he'd gone out so far.

"Where were you stationed?" the agent asks, snapping Roman back to the present.

"Bastion quarter."

The agent drums his fingers on his desk. The silent so that means…? hangs in the air like a dirty rag. He looks back down at the mission brief.

"Someone else should have told me, then," he tries, and now he really sounds like a child, "if I really was chasing after the wrong target, then why didn't someone else tell me?"

The agent interlaces his fingers, his sleeve sliding down slightly to expose the edges of a tattoo curling up from his wrist. He gives Roman that horrible, awful patronizing look and blatantly chooses his words carefully. "Well, Roman, as is common in a lot of young agents, you tend to assume a baseline correctness when conducting your investigations. It is likely that, given the amount of confidence you communicated in your correspondence with others here at the Agency, that they assumed you had already verified the target's identity beyond a reasonable doubt."

"Are you blaming me for this?"

"Now, now, let's watch that tone." The agent doesn't even fucking move. "No one else has the opportunities you have in the field to make the observations for you, Roman. You have to be the one to relay that information back here. In doing so, you construct the version of the world you want your handlers to see."

"It's not like they're incapable of looking outside!"

"You were trained by Logan, were you not?"

"Yeah, I was, so what?"

The agent hums. "I'll have to have a word with him."

Roman frowns. "Why the hell would you need to talk to Logan?"

"Your behavior, for one," the agent says, the condescension and scorn audible even though the tone remains infuriatingly light, "the language, for another, and your tendency to interrupt. It's almost a wonder Logan's allowed you to continue to act this…way so far into your training."

Logan's proud of me, you asshole. Logan's proud of me and he loves me and he's so fucking pissed at you.

But even as he thinks that, a voice in his head whispers what if he's right? What then? Will Logan still be proud of you then?

"Now," the agent continues as Roman stews, "if I could finish without any more interruptions?"

A begrudging part of Roman makes himself nod.

"Mm. In describing your perceived target, you made both yourself and your handlers believe you had indeed found the right target. As such, as is common with field agents who lack the sophistication and humility that comes with experience, any information that threatens that pre-existing conclusion is either dismissed or altered in such a way that it fits the incorrect narrative." The agent nods to him. "You yourself admitted that you were stationed in Bastion quarter, that you were the one who confirmed the target against the brief, and that you couldn't remember the brief without being shown it again."

No. No, no, no—this can't—this can't be real. This can't be real, this has to be a lie, this has to be—no—no, no, no—

"Even if all of that were true," he hears Janus say through muffled ears, "you still would have had the knowledge that my mission with the gang was still ongoing, correct?"

"The handlers would have communicated your mission at the same time, that's correct."

"Were you privy to my mission as well?"

"I had some baseline knowledge of its existence, yes."

"Could you tell me what you knew?"

The agent chuckles. "I don't think Roman here has the clearance for that."

"Clearance differences with regards to this set of missions have been temporarily suspended by order of Psych."

"Ah, but if the basis of the investigation is found to be faulty…" The agent taps the side of his nose. "Best you don't put things in my head that weren't there to begin with, hm?"

Out of the corner of his eye, he can see Janus's jaw work. "Regardless of that, Agency protocol would have dictated that all handlers be aware of other agents working in the area. My mission, regardless of clearance for its contents, would have been flagged. As such, there are protocols to be abided by."

"I'm aware of that, yes. And we're discussing this because…?"

"There are safety measures that must be implemented to prevent agent-on-agent violence. Code phrases, contingency plans, all of which need to be followed and known by all agents operating in the same area." Janus indicates Roman. "Roman was never given any such codes."

"Roman was stationed in the Bastion quarter."

"And my mission's parameters included the Bastion quarter."

The agent laughs. "Agent, if we started prepping every agent that might overlap with someone else, they'd be so full of codes and secret handshakes there wouldn't be any room left in there for mission intel. Besides, as well you know, having anyone else know who you are on a mission that deep undercover is just another potential weak point to be exploited. Given the…"

And here, Roman swears he can see the open disdain in the agent's face.

"…proven capabilities of Roman, do you really think having him prepped with codes would've helped at all?"

Say yes. Just say yes. Please, for the love of god, say it would've helped. Say anything. Say anything. Literally fucking everything. Don't leave me alone here.

But Janus turns to glance at him and his heart shatters when he sees the doubt flickering on Janus's features too.

The fire in his chest starts to burn again. The papers crinkle in his hands as they close into fists.

"So you didn't feel it necessary to give Roman the codes?"

The agent laughs again. He never stops fucking laughing. Is this fucking funny to him? "Roman is a rookie agent sent out on his first easy big mission that he's somehow managed to fail. Why would I have given him a code of any kind?"

And he laughs again.

And he keeps laughing.

And laughing.

Roman's out of the chair before he realizes his body's moving. He's lunging across the table and he doesn't give a shit who this is, what the fuck he's doing, what the fuck he's about to do, all he cares about is that he's staring at him and laughing at him and he's still fucking laughing!

Something catches him bodily around the middle and forces him back, knocking over the chair. He's pinned against the wall, still clutching the papers, still snarling at the agent laughing at him from behind the desk.

"Roman! Roman, stop!" A hand catches his flailing wrist and presses it against the wall. "Roman, stop! Stop!"

The agent, still laughing, reaches for the phone on his desk. "Security? Yes, I have a rogue agent in my office. He's clearly suffered a psychotic break of some sort or has some dangerous emotional immaturity. Yes, please, as soon as you can, thank you."

Roman struggles against Janus's grip but Janus is bigger and stronger and more experienced than he is and it's like fighting iron bars. He snarls and spits and nearly foams at the mouth as the agent stands up, hands in his pockets, grinning at him.

"You're a liar," he screams, "you're a liar! You lied! You're lying!"

"Roman, you have to stop," Janus pleads, his voice urgent, "just—just stop, you're going to make it worse—"

"I'm afraid that's all he's good for," the agent drawls, his teeth gleaming as he laughs and laughs, ringing in Roman's head like a siren, "ruining things and making them worse."

The doors burst open. Four heavily armed security officers walk in, followed by Director Virgil. Roman freezes, the pit in his stomach dropping as the agent steps around the desk, holding out his hand for Director Virgil to shake.

"Director," he says, "my apologies for the disturbance, you didn't have to come."

"I was in the area, figured I'd come and see what the problem was."

The agent nods at Roman, still held by Janus against the wall. "Delusional, I'm afraid. Spitting paranoia, all sorts of leaps in logic that border nonsensical…poor thing."

Director Virgil nods, humming thoughtfully. "Would this have anything to do with the mission he was just sent on?"

"Unfortunately, yes. He's failed to find his actual target and put one of our other agents in harm's way because of it." The agent crosses his arms and adopts a painful pitying expression. "I don't think he really knows what's real anymore."

"Which mission?"

"The brief is—"

"Roman has it," Janus says quietly, not meeting Roman's gaze.

Director Virgil walks over. A lump grows in Roman's throat and he looks down at the floor. He feels Director Virgil take his wrist in one hand and pry the papers loose with the other. He hears rustling as he looks through the papers.

"I see."

He collects the papers in one hand and walks to the desk, stacking them neatly and tucking them under his arm. Roman watches from under his eyelashes as Director Virgil nods to the security officers by the door.

"Take him."

The officers nod and seize the agent, his orange tie flapping as he squawks and flails.

***

"I don't want to fight," Roman says as he sits in front of the Director, looking down at the fancy pen on his desk, "I don't—I really don't want to make a scene. I just want to ask him why he didn't brief me like he should have."

"Are you sure?" The Director leans forward, steepling his fingers. "We can keep the proceedings under-wraps, restrict them to only who's absolutely necessary."

"If…for security reasons, I think that's fine, but don't…" He takes a deep breath. "Don't just do it for me. Janus—"

"I want to see him dragged along the street," Janus remarks calmly, "but I've been called petty in the past."

The Director chuckles and even Roman cracks a smile. Janus smiles too and reaches over to pat his arm.

"You're allowed to want bad things to happen to people who hurt you, you know."

"I know, I know, I just—I know what it feels like to have everyone laugh and scorn you. I don't want anyone else to have to feel that because of me."

Janus narrows his eyes, but there's a playfulness there Roman recognizes. "I think you're too noble for this line of work."

"No."

The Director laughs again as Janus ruffles Roman's hair. "Alright. I'll arrange a private conversation for you—Janus, would you like to be present as well?"

"Yes, I would."

"Okay, that can be arranged." He turns one of his monitors around so they can see what's on the screen. "So, this is what we have officially on file, just so you know what sort of charges we're looking at leveling. Extreme negligence, that's one—depending on how he chooses to argue his defense. Then we've also got."

"That's not him."

The Director pauses, glancing at Roman. "What was that, sorry?"

Roman frowns. "The person who briefed me, that's not him."

"That's who's in the system, is that—is that the right number?"

"No, I know—all the file information is right, but that's not…" He squints closer. "No, that's not the person I spoke to. I swear I'm not making this up, I promise—"

"It's okay, sweetie," Janus says, "we believe you."

"Can you describe the person you did speak to?"

There's no judgment in the Director's voice—he believes him too—and Roman takes a deep breath. "His jaw was more pronounced, square, almost. His forehead was bigger. His eyebrows were thinner, though, and kind of came almost, like, at the edges of his face, if that makes sense? He didn't have any piercings, or anything, uh, but it looked like he was wearing a bit of makeup. Especially on one side of his face, like all over here."

He closes his eyes, trying to picture the person who briefed him a bit more clearly.

"He had a tattoo. On his hand. It—I saw it when his sleeve rode up. It was like—" he points to the outside of his wrist, up the side of his hand— "right here."

Beside him, Janus inhales sharply. "What did the tattoo look like?"

"It was sort of, um—it had this—can I draw it instead?"

The Director slides a notepad and one of the fancy pens over to him and he starts drawing. A weird, almost abstract flowering vine, mostly thick black lines with a few dots here and there. He can feel Janus looking over his shoulder as he works and he slides the pad over so he doesn't have to crane as far.

"That's it," he says, putting the pen down, "that's kind of what it looked like."

Janus stares at it for a long moment. Then he looks up at the Director. "File path C:\\1432\9-78-4652\Subjects."

"Do you have, like, a bunch of those memorized," Roman mutters as the Director starts typing, "or is that one special?"

Janus just looks at him and winks.

"This it?"

"Yeah, that's it. Uh, third one down—yes, right there. Open that one."

The Director opens the folder and pictures of a man fill the screen. Roman's eyes widen. "That's him. That's who I spoke to."

"And this is the tattoo," the Director asks, pointing to a picture of the man's hand and wrist where a tattoo is visible, "right here?"

Janus holds up Roman's drawing from the notepad. It's almost an exact match. The Director whistles lowly.

"You've got great eyes, kid."

"Thanks—thank you."

"That's Michael. He's one of their top informants," Janus says, putting the pad down. "I only caught a few meetings with him here and there. He's been running stuff for them for decades."

"And he was the one who briefed me," Roman whispers as horror dawns, "oh, God—"

"Hey," the Director says gently, "stay with us, kid."

"Sorry."

"Don't apologize, sweetie, it's okay. This is…" Janus lets out a breath. "This is bad."

"Very." The Director taps his fingers on the mouse. "If he's managed to get this far under our noses, he's gonna smell it if we go to flush him out to obviously."

"So we just need a clandestine way to march Security to his office," Janus says drily, "that'll be easy enough."

"We could use me."

Both of them turn to stare at Roman. He swallows.

"If…if I burst in on him and go at him the same way I tried to go at you…he'd probably call Security to come deal with me."

"I'm not leaving you alone in a room with Michael," Janus says firmly.

"So you come with me. It's part of the investigation, we go and try and figure out why he fucked up. I get mad, try and attack him, you stop me long enough for him to call Security, and then they're there and they can take him."

Janus looks at him for a long moment, mulling it over. He looks down, then at the Director. "It could work."

Roman turns to look at the Director, who's still watching him closely. After a long moment of silence, he sits up and gestures at the screen again.

"If this really is the person you spoke to, then he's highly dangerous. There's a very high chance he makes both of you and tries to get away."

"I know, sir."

"It'll only be you and Janus in there. There's no guarantees outside of that. If we have anybody within a few floors, he'll notice and he'll know something's up, that we're onto him. You'll have to hold your own until he calls for Security himself."

Roman glances at Janus. "I trust him."

He can see the way that hits Janus from the rush of breath that leaves him. He looks back at the Director. The Director squints.

"What was all that bullshit about not being brave yesterday?"

He shrugs. The Director shakes his head slightly and sits up, transitioning to mission mode.

"This," he says, pointing at the screen, "is good. It's really good. But it won't be enough to really make it stick. Try and grab any sort of evidence from his office without being caught: papers on his desk, stuff on a shelf, even a pen or something else that might hold a data chip. If you think you can mic up safely, mic up. Get everything you can out of him."

They nod in unison. The Director smiles and sits back in his chair.

"Well. Let's go catch ourselves a mole."

***

"Wha—me?" Michael splutters, his orange tie flapping as he squawks, "what—what are you doing? Unhand me!"

"Taking out the trash," Janus says conversationally as he helps Roman up, "nice tattoo, by the way."

Michael looks down at his wrist, his eyes going wide, just in time to see a security officer slap him in heavy restraining cuffs and wrestle his arms behind his back. His face contorts in rage and he spits at Janus. "You're a fucking lying bastard!"

"I picked the name Deceit, Michael, I wasn't exactly trying to hide it."

"I'll admit," Director Virgil says as he looks over the papers again, "you've certainly made a mess, but I think you'll be much more suited to a lead-lined cell, don't you?"

"You're all going to burn for this," Michael yells, thrashing against the guards, "we'll fucking torch this shithole to the earth!"

"Is he always this vicious?"

"No," Janus sighs, "but always this dramatic, yes."

Michael's eyes dart around wildly, trying to figure some way out of this—which there won't be, not for this bastard—and his eyes land on Roman. Janus instinctively tightens his grip on Roman's shoulder as Michael's lips peel back in a sneer.

"You think you've won," he spits, venom and vitriol alike dripping from every word, "you're just a spoiled little child! You think that this is over? You're nothing, you hear me? Nothing! I had to spoon-feed you until you weren't useless anymore! You'll see! You'll all see!"

Roman looks up slowly. His face is blank but his eyes are burning. He stares right at Michael and Janus watches a hardened criminal flinch.

"Now who's delusional?"

"Take him," Director Virgil says and the guards begin to drag a screaming Michael from the room. He walks over and places a hand on Roman's shoulder. "Are you alright, kid?"

"Yeah," Roman says softly, "I'm…I'm okay."

Through the still-open door, Remus, Logan, and Patton walk through. Logan gives a nod to the Director and Janus as he walks straight to Roman, holding his arms out as Roman gratefully drops into them. Janus keeps a hold of him just long enough to make sure he won't fall over before turning to narrow his eyes suspiciously at Remus.

"Why do you look so happy?"

"We just caught a major security breach and a class-A bastard, shouldn't I look happy?"

"He tripped him as we walked past," Logan says drily, patting the back of Roman's head.

"Ah, that makes sense."

"Dear one," Logan says softly as Remus pulls him in for a hug of his own, "shh, it's alright. You can cry if you want to."

"S-sorry, I'm just—I think I'm just really tired."

"That's perfectly reasonable, kiddo," Patton says kindly as the Director hums in agreement, "you've just been through something very stressful."

Roman sniffles a little from inside Logan's arms and nods.

"So," Janus says, Remus's arm still slung over his shoulders, "what's next?"

"Well, we need to find out what all he knows and what he's managed to track back to the gang." Director Virgil looks at the papers again. "These transmission logs are a good start—thank you, Roman for grabbing them—but we need specifics. Odds are he won't have used only one method for transmitting."

"Oh, I'll get it out of him," Remus says darkly, "don't you worry your pretty little Director head."

Janus frowns. "You?"

"Oh, I volunteered."

Roman wriggles and Logan lets him go, one hand still on his shoulder. "Is that…allowed?"

"Remus has not been on-mission for a considerable length of time," Patton says lightly, "he was not affiliated with either of your missions, and has a remarkable predisposition for enhanced intelligence gathering."

Roman eyes Patton warily. "You're scary."

"Yes," Director Virgil mutters, "yes, he is."

Patton smiles. "You don't have to be scared of me, kiddo."

"If you say so."

Patton winks and addresses all of them. "Well, I will need to do another debrief with all of you—to address the incident that just happened and to conclude the investigation—but that can wait until tomorrow after you've all gotten a good rest. After that, well…"

He looks over at Director Virgil.

"I'd say some vacation time for Janus and Roman is in order, wouldn't you?"

The Director huffs. "You both could retire after all this shit and I wouldn't blame you. Don't, though."

"Vacation time sounds nice," comes Roman's quiet voice, "and, uh, some therapy does to."

Janus laughs, as do the rest of them, and Roman's face curls up into a little smile.

***

Six months later:

There's a knock on Roman's door.

"One second!"

He turns off his laptop and walks over to the door, peeking through the peephole and swinging it open.

"Hey, Logan."

"Good morning, little one," Logan smiles, "are you about ready to go?"

"Yeah, let me just put my shoes on."

Logan waits patiently just outside the door as Roman grabs a coat, his shoes, his phone, ID, wallet—yep, that's everything. He turns off the lights and closes the door, taking Logan's hand and letting him pull him in for a quick hug.

"I watched the show you suggested," he says as they start to walk toward the front, "you were right, it is quite fascinating."

"I thought you'd like the bit about the types of horror—especially with the examples?"

"Yes, yes, of course—their discussion on panopticonsequence as its own subgenre was intriguing. I have to ask, did you think at all about how what it is we do affects that?"

"A little bit?" They walk down the stairs, past the foyer and the metal detectors. "Mostly I was really into how they described the interpretations changing over time."

"I see."

They push open the doors into the warm sunlight. The air is still cool this early in the morning, the edges of the sky still turning blue as the clouds begin to lighten. A breeze ripples through Roman's hair and he tugs his jacket a little closer as Logan looks around the courtyard.

"Ah, there they are."

Sure enough, when he looks in the direction Logan indicates, he sees Janus and Remus standing near the base of one of the big trees, talking amongst themselves. They turn as he and Logan get closer, Janus smiling and holding out an arm.

"Hello, sweetie," he says softly, taking Roman's hand and giving it a squeeze, "it's good to see you."

"It's good to see you too."

"Come on," Remus says, "this place is only a ten-minute walk."

He slings an arm around Roman's shoulders as the four of them walk down the street, leaves drifting down around them. Remus grins and leans down.

"So, it all started on my first night in the Initiate dorms, when I noticed the person on the bunk under me looked a little too dehydrated."

Janus snorts. "You dropped a water balloon filled with green slime onto me while I was sleeping, you menace."

"Semantics."

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#dragonbabbles #sanders sides #roman sanders #roman angst #roman sanders angst #remus sanders #sympathetic remus #virgil sanders #patton sanders #logan sanders #deceit sanders #janus sanders #sympathetic deceit #fic

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skylarstark4826 · 3 months

Text

Just the Boy: Draco and Ginny's Story

Sitting in a corner of The Three Broomsticks drinking a butterbeer was a very red Ginny Weasley. Due to the encounter with Malfoy near the Shrieking shack and the revelation about Harry and Hermione, every visible part of her body, not just her hair, was red due to anger. No one dared to sit anywhere within 20 feet from her. No one except a blond Slytherin wearing a smug look.

"Hello there, Weasley," Draco drawled. "Broke up with Potter already?" The Slytherin took a seat in front of Ginny.

"Go. Away. Malfoy," Ginny said with eyes closed. She was a second away from hexing Draco into next week. To add fuel to her anger, Draco started laughing.

"You really thought Potter loved you, didn't you, Weasley?" Draco laughed even louder to make sure everyone can hear him laughing at the redhead. Draco knew he was risking his safety but he loved making fun of the youngest Weasley. She had fire in her, and Draco found that amusing.

To everyone's surprise, Ginny also started laughing. Draco, not to be outdone, kept a smirk in place.

"Malfoy, between the two of us, you're more pathetic," Ginny gave him a pointed look. "Harry loves me and the feeling is mutual. In your case, you're running after Granger, and she hates you. You are the loser."

Draco was momentarily stunned, the smirk was wiped off his face. Ginny was the one who was smirking; the tables have been turned. Trained as a Malfoy, he easily gained his composure and gave Ginny another smug look. Leaning forward, he reached for Ginny. Holding her chin between his right thumb and index finger, he jerked her face gently upwards.

"I love a good chase, Weasley, but nothing serious. I don't have anything to prove. You do," Draco said moving his face towards Ginny.

Draco may have looked calm and cool on the outside but he really was having an internal conflict. He couldn't believe how soft her skin was. Her lips were red and full looking so inviting. He refused to acknowledge that thought. He was a Malfoy and the things he was thinking and feeling were nothing but infuriation towards the redhead, he thought, trying to convince himself. He kept his eyes focused on her eyes, willing her to fight back, before he did anything he would regret.

Ginny's heart started palpitating. She could feel his breath touch her cheeks. She tried to move away from him but his hand kept her head firmly as it was. She couldn't move.

"I will prove it to you, Malfoy," she said breathily.

Draco let go of her instantly and took a deep silent breath. One more minute of holding her and looking at her would have made him snog her senseless. He convinced himself that the lack of someone to snog, and the fight with Hermione was clouding his mind. He couldn't be thinking of snogging a Weasley. He stood up, gave Ginny one more smug look, and left. It was time for him to hunt a girl, any girl, to satiate his need.

Ginny couldn't understand it. How could she let Malfoy touch her and leave her speechless? How could he intimidated her into not fighting back? Cursing herself, she promised to get revenge.

By dinner time, Ginny entered the great hall with a mischievous glint in her eyes. She has a plan, one that would definitely help her get her revenge on Hermione and Draco. All she had to do was send death glares towards Harry Potter's direction.

Ginny's plan appeared to be working because soon after, she saw Harry moving towards her.

"Gin," Harry said.

"Go away before I hex you," she hissed to scare him even more.

"Please, Gin. I'm really sorry," he offered her the beautiful red rose and Ginny looked him straight in the eyes.

"Really, Harry? A rose? Real smooth," Ginny thought. If she was not aiming for something else, a rose would not be enough to make her forgive be him. But for now, Ginny decided that a rose made it look like Harry and she were romantically involved.

Ginny pretended to sigh, "I'll forgive you in one condition."

"What is it?" Harry asked enthusiastically thinking that he was off the hook.

"Kiss me."

Harry's eyes widened the same as everyone who heard her. Ginny was feeling sorry for the guy but she needed this. She also knew that she would probably hear from her brother regarding this matter.

"W-What?" he stammered. Poor bloke.

"I said kiss me and I'll forgive you," she stated plainly. "I'm sorry, Harry. You're partly at fault anyway," Ginny thought. She still felt even guiltier as seconds passed.

"But Gin -"

"Your choice, Harry," she looked at her food again and pretended to snob him. "Just do it, Harry," Ginny thought.

While Harry was weighing his options, Ginny focused her attention on none other than Draco Malfoy. She caught him staring at her and she stared him down. This was her revenge, showing that she was in fact in a better relationship with Harry than Draco was with Hermione.

"If you're not going to do it then stay away from me," she told him when she realized that Harry still needed a little push.

Harry sighed. He held Ginny's shoulder and made her face him. He decided to do it, Ginny knew. Slowly, he leaned towards her and their lips touched. Ginny raised her head a little to put some pressure on their kiss and withdraw moments later.

She smiled at Harry, "You're forgiven."

Ginny kept the smile on her face before glancing towards the Slytherin table. Draco kept a blank look on his face. He couldn't let Ginny think that she one-upped him. More importantly, he couldn't let the emotions he was feeling slip out. His blood was boiling. He wanted to curse Harry, make him bleed, send him flying and more, when he saw him leaning to kiss Ginny up until now. He couldn't believe he was feeling those things that he decided to leave the Great hall to go to the Hospital wing. Maybe the redhead put a love spell or potion on him, he thought.

When she saw him stood up to leave, Ginny smiled even more brightly. She was satisfied with how this night turned out. She knew that she would have to talk to Harry soon but that could wait. Tonight, she deserved to sleep well.

Christmas vacation finally arrived. Ginny was truly sad that Harry decided to stay in Hogwarts but she respected his decision. Besides, Ginny must make the best out of her vacation just as she was sure that Harry and everyone else staying in Hogwarts would.

She was so excited that she finished packing early and boarded the train before anyone else. Once she reached her compartment, she decided to make herself comfortable and took a book out of her bag. She would just read until Luna and Colin arrived, she decided.

However, she could not focus. A certain blond keeps popping into her mind. Nothing eventful had happened after the incident in the Great hall. She hardly saw Draco after that. She also didn't see Hermione around that much, not that she was interested in fighting her still. In fact, she decided to not mind her and focus on the Slytherin prince as she was sure that he was more likely to attack her in one way or another. However, days have passed and it seemed that the blond was not interested anymore. Ginny didn't want to think about why that thought made her heart ache. It was not like she wanted Draco's attention. She kept telling herself that she was just feeling bored without his antics.

She was pulled back to reality when the compartment door opened. Sure, she expected a blond to come inside now that students appeared to be boarding the train. But she expected Luna or Colin, not Draco Malfoy. Once he entered the compartment, Draco locked the door and went for empty seat next to Ginny. Ginny moved towards the window putting as much distance as she could between her and Draco. Her heart was racing because of their close proximity.

"What are you doing here, Malfoy?"

Draco's heart was also racing and this frightened him. After the visit from the Hospital wing and he was sure that he was not under any spell or potion, he decided to stay away from Ginny for a while. He snogged girls from his house to make sure that his physical needs were fulfilled before he even attempted to face her again. Today, he thought that whatever confusion he might have had before were probably gone; that's why he decided to see her.

He was wrong, Draco realized. Locking the door was an impulse based on how beautiful Ginny looked when he saw her. She was staring at him with large brown orbs looking so innocent yet fierce. She was still wearing her uniform but Draco could still see the curves of her body, could imagine the softness of her skin, and the scent of her fiery red hair.

Swallowing a lump in his throat, he went to join her in her seat. Her movement away from him was like a slap to his face and all the nice thoughts he had about her earlier flew out the window.

"I decided to grace you with my wonderful presence," Draco replied as answer to her question.

"I suggest you go now, Malfoy. I don't want my friends seeing me with you and getting the wrong idea," Ginny said angrily.

She kept her eyes trained on the space between his eyebrows. She knew that if she looked at him, she would be distracted by his beautiful grey eyes, start imagining what it would be like to run her hands through his hair, and wonder what it would be like to feel his lips on her – a situation she would sometimes find herself in during the past few days.

"You're friends aren't coming. I told them I would be seating in this compartment and they didn't even try to fight," Draco sneered.

"Why would you do that?!" Ginny almost shouted.

"Because I wanted to. And a Malfoy always gets what he wants," Draco said as he positioned his body that he was almost trapping her into the corner.

Ginny didn't like the feeling of being trapped. She tried to keep her back straight and stood her ground. "What exactly do you want?"

It was a question that Draco could not answer easily. He wanted her. That much he was sure of after he realized that the feelings he had grew even more after he didn't see her for days. But that was a shame to his family and to his house and he couldn't afford that. He could just imagine what his father would do to him if he found out.

A sudden jolt of the train, signaling that it was about to leave, sent him flying and he landed on top of Ginny. He was directly on top of her that he could feel their bodies touching. Even with layers of clothes in between them, he felt hot as if they were directly touching. Ginny was feeling the same way.

Grey met brown. Maybe it was their close proximity, or maybe it was the way Ginny parted her lips that moment, or maybe it was totally something else, Draco didn't really care as he leaned down to kiss her.

Ginny gasped the moment their lips made contact. Draco Malfoy was kissing her and she couldn't believe how soft his lips were against hers. The kiss they were sharing was sweet, something that she didn't expect from Draco, and she kissed him back.

Draco pulled back for moment to say, "You. I want you." Then, he kissed her again. This time it was more urgent. Ginny didn't have time to process what was happening. But her body responded back, kissing him with just as much passion.

They pulled apart when air became a necessity. They both shared a dazed look. Ginny's eyes grew wide and Draco jumped away from her.

"What the hell was that?" Ginny asked breathless as she sat up and moved away from Draco as well.

Putting up a façade, Draco replied, "That was you showing me how much you want me."

"I want you?! You're the one who said you want me!" Ginny's face was turning red from embarrassment and anger. She was mad at him and at herself. She couldn't believe what she just did.

"I did say that. I want your body, Weaslette. You're not that bad. That's all," Draco leered, "But you, you appear to feel something else for me."

The only way Draco could save his face that he could think of was to put the pressure on her so he leaned even closer.

"Get out, Malfoy," Ginny said not looking at him. Draco moved closer.

"What is it, Weaslette? Can't deny it now, can you?"

"Get out!" Ginny shouted, tears were brimming on her eyes.

Seeing her seconds from crying, Draco silently cursed himself. He stood up and left without a word. He went straight to the loo to splash water on his face and clear his head.

When he looked up and saw himself in the mirror, Draco punched the wall directly below it.

"Damn it, Draco! You probably ruined your one chance at happiness…" he whispered to himself.

Ginny enjoyed her Christmas vacation by playing quidditch with her brothers, reading books, and enjoying her mum's cooking. However, she never did forget what happened between her and Draco in the small compartment of the Hogwarts Express. It kept her sleepless for many nights and some nights she had to cry herself to sleep. She hated herself for even thinking about him.

Ginny also dreaded this day – the day she'd have to return to Hogwarts. She was not ready for any encounter she might have with a certain Slytherin. The fate seemed to be working on her favor because the train was already on its way to Hogwarts and she was already in the comfort of her compartment shared with Luna and Colin and there was still no Draco. It was going to be a peaceful ride, or so she thought.

As the train neared Hogwarts, she decided to change into her school robes earlier than the rest and headed towards the loo. It was the moment of opportunity Draco, who was waiting a few compartments away from Ginny's, was waiting for. He leaned on the right wall beside the door as he waited for Ginny to come out.

Ginny, wearing her school robes, did not bother to look around as she headed towards her compartment that it nearly gave her a heart attack when someone grabbed her arm. Not someone – Draco Malfoy was the one who grabbed her arm. Damn!

"Let go of me, Malfoy!" she hissed.

"Just hear me out, Weaslette. Please," Draco's pleading eyes bore into her. She never expected to get that look from him… ever.

"I don't want to talk to you," Ginny yanked her arm away from him and took a step forward.

Draco pulled her back to him, made a sudden turn, and trapped Ginny between him and the wall. He wanted to kiss her right there and then but stopped himself.

"What happened last ti—"

Ginny tried to cut him off, "Shut u—"

Draco shut her up with a kiss instead.

"If you don't listen, I'm going to snog you senseless. I wouldn't care if anyone sees us."

Ginny had to swallow a lump in her throat. She was stunned and trembling due to that kiss.

"Look, I regret what I did last time."

She felt like she was slapped in the face a million times. Tears started to form in the corner of her eyes. Draco couldn't have said anything more hurtful.

Realizing that she misunderstood what he said, Draco held her face gently in his hands.

"I didn't mean it like that, Ginny. I meant after. I was a total git. I enjoyed every moment of that kissed, Ginny," Draco looked her in the eyes and tried to convey the truth in what he was saying.

"Just give me a chance. Give us a chance," Draco pleaded.

"Why should I?" she replied blandly fighting to keep the tears from flowing. She never thought he could hurt her this much. Why was he playing with her feelings just like this?

He leaned closer to her, his nose almost touching hers, and breathed in her scent that was haunting him in his sleep.

"Because what we shared was incredible. Admit it. And it wasn't purely physical."

Ginny gave an imperceptible nod.

"Just a chance, Ginny," he whispered.

Before Ginny could embarrass herself even more, she pushed him with as much strength that she could muster.

"I'll think about it," she said in a barely audible voice as she made a run for her compartment.

That was enough to make Draco Malfoy grin.

"Hermione, sit with me," Draco offered Hermione when she was next to the Slytherin table.

He heard the news last night while he was busy thinking of the passionate red head in Gryffindor tower. He had completely forgotten about the internal conflict in their house but this was different. Hermione does not need any more pain than she was probably already feeling.

"What do you think you're doing?" Pansy Parkinson whispered at Draco when she sat beside him.

Hermione was taking her time to walk towards them. She shot Draco a questioning look.

"She needs to be here," Draco looked at Hermione and she knew that he was helping her. "She's one of us. Let's forget what happened before," he told everyone in their table.

Hermione sat beside him and told him quietly, "I owe you."

"Don't mind it."

This exchange was not lost on the two seething Gryffindors a couple of tables away from them. Draco glanced at Ginny and saw the hatred in her eyes. Damn! He was going to suffer for this.

The announcement of the Goodhearts arrival finished and everyone left the great hall. When Draco saw Ginny leave the hall, he quickly followed her. He reached her in a deserted hallway near the library.

"Wait, Ginny!"

She spun around and faced him. "You want a chance, Malfoy? You running after Granger the moment we returned to school definitely tells me that you really want that chance."

The contempt and sarcasm on her voice was not lost on Draco. He ran a hand through his hair and sighed.

"I can explain. It's not what you think. Meet me at the Astronomy tower later," se said in a rushed voice as he caught sight of Potter and Weasley behind Ginny.

"Malfoy! Get away from my sister!" Ron shouted while preparing his wand for a battle.

Choosing not to fight, Draco gave Ginny one last begging look before he turned around and left.

It was already past midnight when Ginny arrived at the Astronomy tower.

"I thought you would never come," Malfoy said, hiding from the shadows, near the mysteriously dented wall.

"I didn't want to but I decided to come here just to get this over with. Tomorrow, I don't want you to talk to me," Ginny replied firmly.

Draco still wearing his school robes, took in Ginny's appearance. She was wearing jeans and a plain white fitted shirt, finally showing the curves her school robes usually hid.

"You look beautiful," Draco walked towards her until only a foot of distance separated the two of them.

"Flattery will lead you nowhere, Malfoy," Ginny didn't step away. She was tired of letting Malfoy control the situation. "Get to the point."

Draco let out a soft chuckle. He would have to do a better job of making her believe him. In the meantime, he had to explain his actions. He knew what was at stake and he couldn't to lose her.

"This week would be hell for Hermione. She can't afford to have a feud with her house. I was just trying to help," Draco took a step back to give both of them space. He wasn't sure he could control himself from pouncing on her.

"What do you mean?" Ginny's eyebrows shot up. She was expecting some lame excuse like wanting to make her jealous or something close to that.

"The Goodhearts are Hermione's parents. I can't say anything more about it but trust me, they're not good news for Hermione. She's suffered greatly from them already. I don't want them to have another reason to torture her. Nobody deserves that."

Ginny saw the pained look on his face as he said those words. She had the feeling that Draco was talking from experience. Her heart softened for him. She knew, somewhere behind the cool exterior, a better person was hiding.

"I understand. I just have one question for you, Draco," she said his name softly as if tasting it for the first time and finding it sweet.

Draco's eyes grew wide from hearing her say his name for the first time. It was music to his ears.

"What do you want?"

The intensity in Ginny's voice, posture, and eyes told him that this is the one question that he must not fail. And he knew he wouldn't. He knew the answer to that question from the bottom of his heart.

"You," Draco beamed.

"Good answer," Ginny replied, pulling Draco's face towards her. The moment their lips met felt perfect to the both of them.

#drinny #draco x ginny #draco malfoy #ginny weasley #Drinny #Draco and Ginny #Draco x Ginny #Draco/Ginny #Draco Malfoy #Ginny Weasley #Werewolf!Draco #Vampire!Ginny #gryffindor!draco #gryffindor!ginny

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motownfiction · 7 months

Text

observer

Charlie is the observer.

He might be Sadie and Sam’s kid brother, and they might include him in a lot more stuff than your typical siblings would. That’s the nature of growing up with a brother and sister as sweet as Sadie and Sam. But Charlie knew he’d never really be part of the group. For one thing, he’s a Cancer, not a Pisces. For another, he’s two years younger than the rest of them, two years behind, two years sprinting to catch up to the cool kids to almost no avail.

One night at Abby’s from behind her cherry Coke, Lucy tells Charlie that they are not the cool kids. She says they’re actually the opposite.

Charlie stabs the bottom of his vanilla milkshake with his straw.

“How can you not be the cool kids if you’re having sex?” he asks.

Lucy laughs.

“Not all of us are,” she says, and Charlie sees her glance at Will from the corner of her eye. “And, you know, come on. Just because you’re having sex doesn’t mean you’re cool.”

“How would you know?”

“Charles, look at me. I know everything.”

Charlie laughs a little. He’s pretty sure he could argue with that, but Lucy has that glare in her eye – the one that makes her look a little like a bull. She gets that look every time she feels challenged or like she might be wrong about something. Charlie’s noticed. He hasn’t had much of another choice. If he wants to be anywhere near in with them, he has to know them like they know themselves. He has to watch.

“Anyway, we’re not the cool kids,” Lucy says. “The cool kids are … well, actually, I don’t know what the hell they’re doing. There’s this part of me that assumes they just live at the mall. Take showers in the fountain, eat at the food court, sleep … well, there’s a part of me that assumes they’re vampires, so they probably don’t sleep at all. But I know it’s not that. It can’t be as innocent as that.”

“Then how do you know it’s cool?” Charlie asks.

Lucy shrugs.

“Well, if we’re pretending like I don’t know everything,” she says, “then I guess it’s just a feeling. I mean, if they weren’t the cool kids, they wouldn’t get away with acting like assholes, people wouldn’t smile every time they walk into the room, and they wouldn’t be the ones wearing sashes and tiaras at every dance. Not that I want that for myself. Just … the cool kids don’t know all the words to ‘Bus Stop’ by The Hollies, and they certainly don’t dance around to it in a diner on a Friday night.”

Charlie follows Lucy’s gaze toward Abby’s ice cream tubs, where Sam is dancing and pulling a reluctant Will and Daniel into the fray. Sadie claps from the sidelines, never once taking her eyes off Daniel. Charlie knows how wide his grin must be.

He ate lunch alone again today. Third day in a row. He usually eats lunch with Carrie, Katie, and Lola, but Carrie’s been out sick since Wednesday. And when Carrie’s not there, it just doesn’t feel right to crash Katie and Lola’s party. They’ve practically got their own language.

Charlie can play jazz piano classics in his head.

He watches as Sam puts more money in the jukebox. He hears Abby yelling from the kitchen, warning Sam that if he plays “Take a Letter, Maria” again, she’ll ban him from the restaurant until he dies. Naturally, Sam loads up that very song, and naturally, Abby smiles at him. Sam says something about haunting the place before dancing to the chorus. Charlie knows his smile is even bigger now.

Lucy says they’re not the cool kids, and maybe she’s right. But did anyone worthwhile ever want to be? The coolest kids are the ones who were never born to be teenagers, whose adolescence is a purgatory they can look back on with poetic profundity. Charlie already imagines his memories as distant ones. He can’t wait until the day when it’s true.

Until then, he’ll keep watching them like a movie in his head. Something like Godard, he thinks. Maybe Truffaut.

The coolest kids he’ll ever know.

(part of @nosebleedclub september challenge -- day xxii!)

#drabble #writeblr #ch: charlie doyle #ch: lucy callaghan #year: 1983

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kandadiff · 1 year

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Van Der Wulff : Hawaii part 3

At the hospital the trio described Xaviers incident as him trying to jump into a construction site where an ex girlfriend threw his phone and ran right into one of the sharp pieces of metal. Whether the doctor believe them or not she didn't seem to care much. It was late and the bags under her eyes showed that her long shift was nearing its end and with it, the care for random patients.

Once she was out of the room, Tatianna closed the door and placed her hand over her chest. Her eyes flickered from Xavier, who was leaned against the hotel bed, the pain killers taking effect. Then her eyes settled on Damien.

One thing no one could accuse Tatiana of, was hiding her feelings. If looks could kill - she'd be a serial murderer. "Are we going to leave?" she asked the obvious. "That little witch certainly made it clear-" her eyes went back to Xavier before once again settling on Damien. "That she doesn't want us here anymore. and frankly, You know I can only tolerate brat behavior for so long. Especially one who is so quick with a knife."

"Why should we leave?" Damien shook his head. "I paid for these tickets. She wouldn't even be here without me! Instead, wasting her time on that old man. Its sad actually, and im not leaving because she's throws a tantrum."

Tatiana sucked in a shaky breath, her jaw tightening. "You call that a tantrum? She didn't throw a cup at you, she hurt him. Our friend! Do you remember that? Or is your mind just set on her pus-"

"No I completely forgot Tatiana." He says sarcastically. "she is a fucking brat. she always has been but lets not pretend it was only her. If she didn't do that then I fully know Robin would have killed him." Xavier laughed and nodded, clearly high on whatever strong painkillers he was given. "She knew exactly what she was doing, she saw what Robin was doing and she stopped him. Do I like how she did it? No. But" he shrugged then looked at Xavier. "He hit one of her own. Something was going to happen to him."

Tatianna looked at Xavier and was about to speak when the dark-haired boy spoke first.

"You know I did it, T." Xavier says threw glassy hazel eyes. "I don't- I love her and I'm scared to loose her. Shawn had proof - she broke it. She still loves me. I know it." He turns his face to Xavier. "She stopped robin from killing me but she can't do that again or I will retaliate. Understand?"

"You're in pain." Damien said brushing the ramblings off. "So ill let that go. But you hurt her like this in any way and you'll immediately regret it."

"Why did you hit her?" Tatiana sighs "Thats not okay!"

"I think... I think there is someone else and you" he looked at Damien. "Invited my biggest competition. Why? because she's right. You like drama because you're lonely and drama is the only love you know. Look at the girl you love, she does whatever she wants and you let her. It's pathetic. I am not going to be like that. Sometimes Arianna needs guidance. Maybe you should do it- she learned. Maybe your girl is doomed look at her fucked up life. Maybe if you did what I did she wouldn't be sucking some 50 year old dick."

In a rage, Damien rushed toward Xavier pressing his finger into his stitched up wound. Xavier winced and yelped as the pain cut through the blissful haze of the painkillers. "Shut the fuck up!" he hissed at him. "You don't understand anything about anything! You raise your fucking hand at Arianna or any of the girls in funhouse one more fucking time I will fuck you up and I will get away with anything I do! you know who my fucking father is!"

Tatiana pushed Damien off of Xavier. "We aren't going to get anywhere by fighting! We need to cool down! Damien maybe you should get us a hotel room. Take Faye."

Faye who was sitting in the corner waiting paitently and a little scared watching the fight, stood up. Damien grabbed his jacket and stormed out the room. Faye quickly following him, once they were both out of earshot and Tatiana closed the door she smacked Xavier across the face. Her nails leaving slight scratch marks into his cheek. He pouted.

"Ow."

"You deserved that you fucking asshole! Now your going to take two more pills and your going to fall the fuck asleep! No more fighting!"

Imani set the table while Edward cooked. Draven woke up you, Hoodie, Katya and Austin and explained what happened when you stormed off. Robin and I made ourselves scares spending the entire morning by the pool purposely avoiding everyone else in the warm water.

"You need to stop." Robin scolded me. The way he was relaxing on the floating raft was a stark contrast to how he really felt. I knew he was nervous, the way he 'casually' fiddled with the football and was sipping on the iced tea in his hand was he tells. He had to stop playing with the necklace around his neck. "You're smoking all my cigarettes. You're not allowed to die before me and that includes cancer."

I put my phone down and sighed. Through the night, Damien had called me twice and the time I called him back we just shouted angrily at each other and I turned my phone off. I was about to check it when he intreuppted me. He was right, just this morning I went through half a pack. I sighed and smiled at him. "I'm just nervous, what if she doesn't forgive me? I might have overreacted."

"You didn't." He said and I laughed. He tossed the ball away and his hand went back to his necklace.

"Neither did you." I said smiling at him.

"She'll forgive you. You did it with the best intentions. Thats what counts right?"

"What did dad used to say?" I said plunging into the hazy memories. "'The road to hell is paved with good intentions'."

Robin gave me a strange look then gave a small smile. "Thats the first time you called him dad in....years." My smiled faded and I tried to study his face. I was about to apologize but he shook his head. "I guess he is 'dad' again." We both looked at each other for a moment, remembering our promise to joker. The promise that stayed hidden for now.

"Guys." It was Imani. "Foods done, come eat."

Robin and i took our times drying ourselves and I put on a loose dress while he just out on shorts and we went inside where everyone was sitting at the kitchen table full of breakfast foods.

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wkemeup · 3 years

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Sunrise (8)

summary: After an explosion takes his arm and his only sense of belonging, Bucky is content to live out the rest of his days in the hollow comfort of the dark. This is, until Sam drags him down to the local VA and he meets you. (Modern AU) pairings: bucky x reader chapter word count: 5.3k warnings: sweet happy beautiful bucky, a unpleasant reminder of the past, whiplash of emotion, the angst I warned you about 🧡 series masterlist / series playlist

Bucky wasn’t quite sure how to hold onto this feeling without suffocating it.

It had been nearly a year since he’d felt even an ounce of the relief like what washed through his body when you walked through the door. All it took was a single smile from across the room, the soft brush of your hair over your fingers as you nervously tucked it behind your ear, and he was gone.

Enough for his cheeks to ache from smiling. Enough for his stomach to twist and knot from laughter. Enough for the wrinkles by his eyes to draw long and pronounced— the physical embodiment of joy upon his face.

He wasn’t walking on eggshells, waiting for the carpet to be dragged out from under his feet, for the paralyzing darkness of an empty void to consume him whole. The shadows weren’t lingering in his wake, itching to clench their claws into his spine and drag him away from the one thing that finally drew light back into his life.

For the first time since he stepped back on American soil, Bucky Barnes was happy. Truly and honest to God, happy.

“So! What do you think?” your voice called to him, breaking the trance he’d been in.

“Hmm?” Bucky blinked a few times to adjust to his surroundings. You were laughing at him, a hand over your lips in an effort to muffle the sound. Behind you, a woman directed a pointed stare in your direction despite the busy chatter inside Luciana’s.

“The book, Bucky,” you grinned, tapping on the edge of the binding.

He glanced down. The Invisible Life of Addie LaRue sat propped in his right hand, the clip you’d given him the first day of book club nestled in at the center to keep the pages open. Truthfully, he hadn’t read a single word of it since he sat down with you an hour ago. His attention had been better kept watching how you tugged your lower lip between your teeth in concentration, how your eyes widened at a particularly suspenseful part of your chapter, how you clicked your nails against the coffee mug in perfect rhythm with the café music.

“It’s good,” he said, though you pouted at him.

“Bucky you’ve been on the same page for twenty minutes!”

Busted. He shrugged, a laugh in his breath.

“Guess there were better things to look at.”

Your lips parted for a second, caught off guard, before you settled back into your seat. Your hands wrung out in front of you, eyes darting down the floor. It wasn’t easy to make you flustered, but damn if it was Bucky’s favorite feeling in the world.

“Don’t insult my books like that, Barnes,” you teased, lingering smile upon your face.

“Wouldn’t call it an insult,” he said simply. “There’s not much that can hold a candle when you’re around.”

The stun didn’t leave your face for a few seconds. You stared at him, then glanced around the room nervously as if he’d said something incredibly intimate. He couldn’t remember the last time this came so easy to him – the flirting, the charm. It was something he’d thrived on before the war and now, it seemed you brought that side out of him again.

“You’re a charmer today,” you observed, laughing through the nervous energy. “What’s gotten into you?”

“Nothing.” Bucky shrugged, reaching across the table to break off a piece of your pastry and plopped it into his mouth. “I’m happy. Can I be happy?”

You nodded quickly, almost a little too enthusiastically, with a smile so wide on your face he wondered if it were possible for it to touch your ears.

“Yeah. Yeah, you can be happy.” The words left your lips almost breathlessly. You were looking at him like he was the goddamn sun and damn if that didn’t tug straight at his heart. “I like you happy.”

“I like me happy, too,” Bucky chuckled. He glanced up at the clock. “Come on, we should head over to the VA.”

You downed the rest of your coffee in a single chug and set the cup on the counter. Luciana waved at you as you moved towards the exit, Bucky in tow, and she winked at him as he passed by. He nodded, offering her a tight-lipped smile as he stepped out into the cool Autumn air. Your hand naturally slipped into his and you tugged him along the sidewalk.

“Promise me you’ll actually pay attention to Steve’s spiel instead of staring at me the whole time,” you teased him as you walked over the crosswalk, nudging his side.

Steve was giving a presentation at the VA for the open house; explaining the benefits, the groups, different opportunities, and the respite rooms. It was a big deal apparently and helped to bring a lot of former soldiers into the fold. It was one of your favorite days because there was usually an increase of members at book club for a few weeks after.

“No guarantees,” Bucky replied, face as even as he could manage it. That was, until you swatted his chest and he burst into laughter, drawing the attention of a group of teenagers who eyed him as they walked by. Their lingering stare meant nothing to him when he stood at your side.

When you reached the VA, you pushed open the door, considering his hand was otherwise occupied, and led him inside. There were dozens of people in the lobby, certainly more than he’d ever seen inside. Men and women were mingling around the tables, some sitting on the couches, with paper plates of cheese and crackers from the grocery store.

Tony stumbled by carrying about four boxes filled with cookies, barely keeping his balance.

“I could use a little help, kid!” he called, eyeing you as he frantically made his way to the kitchen.

“Coming, Tony!” You turned to Bucky, smile still present on your face as you ran a hand along his arm in comforting sweeps. “Will you be alright?”

“Yeah, I’m good. Go.”

Maybe if he looked close enough, he might have seen a well of pride on your face, but you didn’t give him the chance before you leaned up and pressed a kiss straight to his lips— no cares for the crowd in the room or the fact that Sam and Steve were lingering around the VA somewhere. Bucky couldn’t find it in himself to worry about the stares because, hell, maybe he wanted people to know you were the woman he had the privilege of kissing.

“Go,” Bucky said again, pulling away from you reluctantly as a clanging could be heard from the kitchen, followed by an aggravated moan which could have only belonged to Tony Stark. You pouted, stealing one last kiss before bolting down the hall and out of sight.

Bucky spent a few extra seconds staring down the end of the empty hallway before he turned back to the room. The crowd didn’t bother him as much as it might have a few months earlier. He didn’t feel the same rush of anxiety in his veins as he felt on busy streets, but it didn’t mean he was explicitly comfortable either.

So, he kept to the outskirts of the room, standing along the wall and observing quietly from the corners.

The event seemed to be going well. He’d spotted Steve mingling with a group of older guys with long white beards and biker jackets, laughing as they told him about their adventures biking cross country. Sam found his way over to the couch beside a few of the guests who had busied themselves with the food instead and even found a way to get them talking to one another. Bucky kept his hand pressed into his pocket, a semblance of a smile on his face as he watched Sam pick a chip of the plate of the woman he was talking to without reservation.

It was a good place. A respite. Just like Sam had told him it would be. Bucky found a sense of normalcy in this building he couldn’t have hoped to find out in the real world alone— a belonging – and he knew a lot of that had to do with you.

He was just about to head down to the kitchen to see if you needed any help when he heard a voice that ran like ice through his veins. What it had said was indistinguishable, but Bucky could recognize the thick grovel of the tone almost anywhere. Slowly, he glanced over his shoulder, trying to remain as small as possible, as he spotted Jack Rollins emerging from the entrance.

With slicked jet-black hair, hardened angular lines upon his face, and a permanent scowl etching down on his features, Jack Rollins was not a man Bucky ever wanted to see again. He spoke with the two men in his wake, gesturing to a woman who was standing quietly by herself, reading the flyers on the bulletin board, as if he were stalking prey.

Bucky’s heart was thunderous as he took a step back. His black slammed against the wall, catching the breath in his lungs. His fingertips brushed over the chill of the pealing wallpaper, trying to find his grounding before Rollins noticed he was there. But luck was never so kind to him.

It only took one scan of the room before Rollin’s eyes landed on Bucky. He stilled, just as surprised to see him, but then, something dark twisted upon his features.

“Sergeant Barnes!” he called over the crowd, a jeering sort of laugh in his voice.

Bucky gritted his teeth, forcing himself to meet Rollins in the eye. “Jack.”

“Been over a year, man. How you been?” Rollins was conversational only in statement. His tone was near threatening, his men following behind him like a shadow. Dark eyes trailed down along the empty sleeve on Bucky’s side, a smile rising on his face.

Bucky tried to pretend as though he didn’t notice. “Recovering. You?”

“Yeah, I bet you are.” Rollins chuckled. Then, he puffed his chest up. “I’ve been working for the private sector.”

That didn’t surprise him. Rollins always had an affinity for the darkest parts of the job overseas. He took too much pleasure in the use of his weapon, paid no mind to the destruction left behind in his wake. Rollins was exactly the sort of man the military hoped to produce; follow chain of command without question, find purpose in your mission, execute without remorse. Seemed he found more of the same when he returned home. Only this time for a bigger paycheck.

Bucky could still picture him dressed in army camouflage with the weight of near forty pounds of combat gear on his back, finger always on the trigger. It felt a bit like that now, Bucky realized, as Rollins narrowed his eyes as if he were going in for the kill.

“You know, Barnes,” Rollins shrugged, exchanging a snide grin with his friends, “I’m a little surprised you’d even show your face around here after what happened. Takes guts.”

Bucky swallowed as though there weren’t blades in his throat. He tried not to let the hitch in his breath show or how his stomach dropped about ten feet below the surface. Instead, he pressed his lips together into a thin line, holding Rollins’ stare as if he were made of stone.

“You should leave,” Bucky said, his voice low enough to break gravel.

“Me?” Rollins mocked, laughing as he turned to his friends. Then, facing Bucky again as a darkness clouded over his features. “That's rich, coming from you.”

Bucky held his breath. He tried to draw on images of you sitting across from him at Luciana’s, how you smiled at him, how you made him feel like he didn’t carry such a heavy weight upon his back. He pictured you curled up next to him in your bed, imprints of the pillow on your cheeks and the covers pulled up tight to your chin. He imagined how your hand felt in his, how it brushed along his back, how your lips felt on his cheek, on his mouth.

But those pictures started to fade the longer Rollins stared at him, that devilish smirk upon his face as he ran a hand along his jawline, cracking his knuckles against the bone. Those comforting images of you sunk into the darkness, pulled from him somewhere far beyond where he could reach and suddenly, he felt like he was standing on a pillar at the center of the ocean, nothing but violent waves surrounding him for miles. Alone.

“I mean, what the fuck are you doing here, Barnes?” Rollins jeered, picking up a cookie from the table, inspecting it for a moment before he tossed it back on the platter. It crumbled on impact. “You think you even deserve to step foot in this building after what you did?”

“It didn’t go down like you think,” Bucky shot back, his voice uneven, wavering, as if he didn’t quite believe it himself.

He tried to repeat the words that Sam had worked to instill in him again and again for months after he came home. They never seemed to stick until the last few weeks but now – now they felt as far away as ever.

I did everything I could.

Some things are outside of my control.

It wasn’t my fault.

He wasn’t sure he believed that with Jack Rollins circling around him like a vulture, amused by the distress quickly forming against Bucky’s features.

From across the room, Sam stood up from his place on the couch, a hand gesturing over to Steve as he caught sight of Rollins. Bucky retreated in his stance, feeling as though Rollins was towering over him, his chest caving in. Rollin smirked, teeth bared and ready to strike.

With venom like precision, Rollins spat, “You’re the reason half our unit is dead, asshole.”

It hit like a sucker punch to the gut, made him stumbled back a few paces as if he were clocked in the chest. The initial blow only lasted for a few seconds before the overwhelming sense of shame seeped back into his veins, slipping through his blood like muddied waters and stealing away the careful, steady progress he’d made.

Then, a lingering acceptance as it cleared him to the surface.

A numbness took over, casting back to the shadows inside his mind. It was what he’d been waiting for since the day he’d stepped foot off that plane – for someone to confirm all the destruction and self-loathing he’d felt since that day.

Rollins was right.

I could have saved them.

I could have prevented all of it.

It was my fault.

He’d been foolish to convince himself otherwise.

“Hey!” Sam barked, jutting out in front of Bucky and shoving a hand to the middle of Rollin’s chest as he attempted to draw closer. “What the fuck is your problem, man?”

“My problem? My problem is you’re letting just about anyone walk through those doors!” Rollins shouted, pointing an accusatory finger at Bucky. “Your buddy here is responsible for eight of our own coming home in caskets!”

Bucky flinched, visibly recoiling as if something had burned him, and it seemed to be the reaction Rollins was looking for because a snide grin slid up along his cheeks.

Steve was suddenly on his left, a hand pressed to his shoulder. He was whispering something in his ear, but he couldn’t quite hear him. He could hardly make out what Sam was shouting as he attempted to push Rollins towards the door. A crowd was gathering – standing in watch to observe the shame of a soldier who should have burned in the desert with his friends.

“What’s going on?”

Bucky’s heart dropped at the sound of your voice as you appeared on his right. He didn’t know how long you’d been there or what you heard, but it was the first time he ever regretted allowing himself the luxury of your presence, of your warmth and kindness. You should have been an anchor beside him, but he could feel the rope slipping from his grip, letting him sink down into the ocean or float high into the clouds – somewhere far away from where you were.

You ran your hand along his arm, trying to thread an ounce of comfort back into his body, but he was rigid as stone. The touch was paralyzing. It was a reminder of his emptiness, of his ill attempt to be worthy of your affection. You seemed to notice as you stared up at him, worry filling your eyes.

“Ah, so you’ve got a girl now, too?” Rollins sneered towards Bucky, shoving Sam aside.

“Leave her out of this,” Bucky warned, his voice returning to him only in your defense. He stepped out in front of you, shielding you from Rollins’ gaze.

It only seemed to amuse him more. “Tell me, sweetheart. What’s it like? I mean, can he even get the job done? You wanna try being with a real man again?”

It was Sam that roared in response. “Watch your fucking mouth!”

Your hand rested on Bucky’s shoulder blades as if you were trying to ease him but he felt like he was on fire. Rollins shoved Sam aside to get a better look at you, a predator going in for the kill.

Rollins’ cold eyes stared directly into yours and Bucky felt his breathing stop.

“Did you know half of our unit died under his watch?”

Everything became white noise after that. Bucky didn’t dare turn to look at your reaction, nor could he hear Sam’s defense or Steve’s angry shouts as Rollins continued his taunts. He didn’t know how it happened, but suddenly, Rollins was on the floor. Sam was shaking his hand out, holding his fist against his chest.

Rollins stumbled his way back to his feet with a vengeance, folding his hands into fists as he charged at Sam.

“Get him out of here!” Steve’s muffled voice called to you as the crowd began to swarm in. Former soldiers joining the chaos, cheering or barreling fists. A man bumped into Bucky’s shoulder, but there was no trace of a reaction on his face. He was empty. He was numb.

Bucky could vaguely feel your hand as you slipped it into his pocket, drawing his own to intertwine between your fingers and you tugged him down the hall. He knew better than to look over his shoulder at the mess he was leaving behind.

***

You took Bucky into the empty library, quickly closing the door behind you to muffle the sound of the shouting down the hall. Bucky stood at the head of the couch, his eyes downcast.

“Are you alright?” You knew there was no good answer. It was a foolish question. And still -- you asked.

Your hands slid along Bucky’s chest, up to his shoulders to try and draw some of the tension away, and for the first time, he recoiled under your touch. Your hands quickly dropped down to your sides as you took a few steps back, hands held tightly in front of you. A flash of remorse covered his features as he looked at you, but then the stone swept back in its place and hardened the softened edges you adored. You pushed aside the splinter inside your chest.

“Who was that guy anyway? He seems like a real piece of work.” You laughed, though it was tense and forced. Bucky didn’t so much as crack a smile.

It was silent for a moment. The only sound coming from the low hum of the radiator in the corner of the room. Bucky’s gaze was fixated on the carpet, staring at the years’ faded stains and the dust bunnies at the foot of the couch. A terrible aching tugging down on his lips, on his eyes, on his cheeks, and he barely resembled the man who had teased you over coffee at Luciana’s just an hour earlier.

“He was right, though.”

You swallowed, daring to ask, “what do you mean?”

“I'm the reason half my unit is dead,” Bucky replied flatly. When he looked at you again, you found his eyes were red, his lips swollen from chewing on the edges. His right hand had indents in his palm from where he’d dug his nails into the skin. Your stomach lurched.

“Oh, Bucky.” Your heart broke at the sight of him. “That... That can’t be true.”

He didn’t say anything, but the grit in his teeth was enough to tell you that he believed it. You’d only seen glimpses of how the war had touched him, how it cast shadows over the man he’d been before he stepped on that plane and adorned the uniform, but now – now, it felt like those shadows had consumed him whole. He couldn’t so much as see the soft rise of the sun over his shoulder. He was too swept up in the embrace of darkness. The light couldn’t touch him where he stood shielded by night.

“Why don’t we go to my place?” you offered, inching a step closer. When he didn’t retreat, you gathered his hand into your own. While he didn’t pull away again, you could feel the reluctance in his grip, the rigidity in his stance. “I can make dinner and we'll throw on a movie, okay? Let’s just get out of here.”

Your right hand slid along the side of his face, cupping at his cheek. He usually leaned into the touch, pressed a kiss to the inside of your palm. Instead, the most he could force out was a tight-lipped smile that did not touch his eyes. You could practically feel how hard he was clenching his jaw, the muscle tired and aching. Still, he nodded.

As you led him out the back exit of the VA, you glanced behind you to see Rollins sitting on the floor, nursing a bloody nose as a police officer stood over him, jotting down notes as he spoke with Steve. Sam caught your eye for a second, nodding in your direction. A relief washed through you and you tugged Bucky outside before anyone could notice him slip out.

It was silent the whole walk to your apartment. It wasn’t entirely unusual, but it was the first time the air carried a lingering sense of discomfort in it. You wondered what was going on in Bucky’s head, how badly he’d construed whatever Rollins had said to him, even before you arrived. Sam had told you of Bucky’s self-destructive habit of carrying guilt far heavier than he could carry, guilt that didn’t belong to him. He seemed to welcome it like it was made for him. He didn’t mind if it ripped him apart and left him broken and empty when it was done. He seemed to think it was what he deserved.

You squeezed his hand, hoping it might draw back a sense of comfort, but he kept his eyes forward on the empty streets ahead. His hand was little more than limp in your hold.

***

Bucky was just on the edge of sleep when it began to creep up on him. Slow at first, and then, sudden, in violent flashes.

Sweltering heat. The low rumble of a jeep. An infectious laugh on his left and the cold compress of a gun in his hands. A sudden stop.

Bucky gritted his teeth, trying to turn away from the images attempting to draw him under, to sweep him beyond the current, to drown him in the darkest parts of the depth. But the riptide caught hold of his leg and forced him underwater.

Heavy equipment on his back. Sand under his feet. The sun blinding in his eyes.

He swallowed, but his throat was lined in rust. It burned. He couldn’t breathe.

A reflection over a valley. Someone shouting. Screaming. Warning. Frantic.

The kid. Get to the kid!

Then – the heat of a fire scorching his skin. Ringing in his ears. Muffled. Agonizing silence. Blood on the sand, on his shoes, dripping down his side and soaking into his uniform.

Pain. So much pain. So much pain. So much—

Bucky’s eyes shot open. He sucked in a breath of air and it came in short and shallow, barely filling his lungs, and he was panting for more. He swung his legs over the side of the bed, gasping for breath until he took enough in that the dizziness started to subside. His forehead was lined in sweat, his right hand shaking uncontrollably as he gripped at the sheets.

It was as mild as it’s ever been – the nightmares. Usually, he woke up screaming, his voice so raw it ached until morning. He thrashed and kicked and drew blood until something finally jarred him awake. He’d broken the lamp beside his bed four times in the weeks after he came home. It was violent and messy, and it was a damn miracle he’d only felt a sliver of it tonight.

But it had been so long since he had one. He almost thought they had finally released him from their hold before Rollins showed up. For a while, they let him be happy. He should have known better than to expect it to last.

The mattress dipped slightly behind him and with a sharp hilt, Bucky suddenly remembered where he was.

He turned over his shoulder to find you laying on the bed beside him, hair cast up and around you against the pillow, eyes closed, the steady rhythm of your breaths indicating you were still fast asleep. He stilled for a moment, watching the gentle rise and fall of your chest, the light scrunch in your nose.

You’d tried so hard to get him to smile the whole evening after what happened at the VA. Constant touches to his cheeks, along his arm, playing absentmindedly with his hand. You made him dinner and curled up against him as you put on a movie that you were certain would turn his mood around, but he remained stoic and cold until you finally resigned to the bedroom.

He could tell how exhausted you were. Even reaching for his hand, there was a helplessness in your grasp, but you’d begged him to stay, insisting you didn’t want him to be alone after what happened at the VA. You held him tight to your chest, told him over and over again that you didn’t care what Rollins said, you knew he was a good man and that was all that mattered.

Bucky wanted so badly to believe that.

But here you were – so beautiful, a light, something good in his life he didn’t deserve.

Sam would kill him for giving into those thoughts again, but all he had in his head was violence and agony and there you were – so peaceful and soft and kind. He'd taint you with all the mess threatening to break through his seams. He’d hurt you. He'd break you. You couldn’t hold him together no matter how hard you tried. He didn’t deserve such kindness. Today reminded him of that.

Bucky leaned in and pressed a short kiss to your temple. It was feather light and still, you sighed in your sleep. He tried not to notice when the corners of your lips curved up into a smile.

Then, he crept out of the room, stealing one last look at you as you turned onto your side, arms crossed over your chest protectively. Something tugged inside his chest, begging him to stay. He could feel it pushing him back toward the bed, to your embrace and the comfort it brought, but he turned his back. He ignored his every instinct to return to your side and dragged his feet of the bedroom instead.

Despite his reluctance, he found himself lingering on the photograph in your hallway of the Air Force pilot; sandy blonde hair, a tight-lipped smile, features that made him look younger than he probably was. A pang of jealousy wretched into his stomach at the sight of this nameless man. Shame quickly followed.

You never spoke of the man in the photo – the nameless Air Force pilot who stood at your side in front of your parents. The way you pressed out a smile despite your tears, the position of your stance angled closer to the pilot as if to preserve your last remaining moments together, made Bucky question what had happened to this man. This was clearly a man you had loved. Might still love.

Bucky didn’t dare allow himself to wonder if he had ever measured up. He supposed now he would not get the chance.

Bucky let out a sigh as he turned away from the picture. He made it all the way to the door before he heard the squeak of the floor boards behind him.

“Bucky?”

Sleep was still etched in your voice. You yawned as you folded your arms, squinting at him to adjust to the dim light in the kitchen. Bucky clenched his jaw, reluctantly turning to face you.

“It’s the middle of the night,” you said, eyes flickering to the clock above the stove. It was then you must have noticed the jacket draped over his shoulders, boots on his feet, hand begrudgingly releasing the door knob. Your face fell. “Where are you going?”

He didn’t know what to say. Was there an easy way to break your heart? Was there any excuse that could allow both of you to walk away from this unharmed? There was no good answer, but his silence certainly was worse.

“Bucky?” you tried again and he could hear the inflection of concern etched into your tone. You took a step closer to him and he held himself firm. He was stone now. It was what he had to be.

“I’m sorry,” he muttered out, voice low, though he met your eye. “I can’t do this.”

If you were still half asleep a moment ago, you weren’t anymore. Your eyes widened, lips parting. Your arms fell down to your sides.

“What... What are you talking about?” you exhaled, barely above a whisper. He could hear the hurt in your voice, the confusion, and he hated himself for it. You stepped closer, reaching out for his hand. “Please, just come back to bed. You look like you haven't slept for—”

Bucky pulled his hand away the moment you touched his fingers. It forced a hitch in your breath, a step back. You hadn’t expected him to recoil from you like that. Two times in the same day. You were losing him, the realization clear in your eyes. He was slipping and he would not take the tether as you threw it to him.

“This is about what that man said at the VA, isn’t it?” you asked timidly, your lip quivering. You shook your head, trying to hold back tears though Bucky could practically hear the tension from the lump in your throat. “He was... he was just being cruel. I don’t believe a word of it. And neither does Sam or Steve – the people that love you, Bucky. Don’t give in into him. Don’t let him win.”

Bucky didn’t say anything, rendering his reaction colder than you deserved.

You reached out for him again, a habit, though you pulled your hand back to your chest before you could touch him. It was shaking.

“Honey, please,” you tried again, unwilling to give up on him like you should. “Come get some rest and maybe you’ll feel better in the morning. Just... don’t go. Don’t be alone with this.”

You were begging. He could hear it in your voice. The desperation. And still—Bucky offered you nothing in return.

He sank so far inside himself you couldn’t reach beyond the cliffside to offer your hand. All it took was a single push. He was already standing so close to the edge. Rollins had set a hand on his back, like an old friend, like an enemy, and shoved. Bucky didn’t even try to catch his fall.

“Whatever this is...” Bucky murmured and eyes focused down at the tile, unable to look at you as he broke your heart, “it’s over.”

His heart was splintering as he said it and still, he turned and left without another word. He didn’t wait for your response, didn’t wait to see whether his cruelty had ended in tears, and closed the door behind him. You didn’t attempt to follow.

You’d understand eventually, he convinced himself. Even a woman as compassionate and loving as you couldn't possibly love a man so broken, with jagged edges and open wounds, with shards of glass embedded inside him and poison in his touch. Empty and hollow. Broken.

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes

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percabethfeelsfandom · 3 years

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Writing Prompt AU: Childhood Best Friends to Lovers

PART 6: Age 18

“California is pretty far away,” Percy says softly into the night as Annabeth lays on the rooftop by his side. He hears her shift so that she can look at him, and he mirrors her, looking at his reflection in her pale eyes.

“2914.9 miles,” she answers.

“You really had to choose the farthest college from me didn’t you?”

Annabeth snorts and shakes her head.

“Yes Percy, I chose it purely because it’s the furthest from you in particular.” He pouts and pushes himself up on an elbow so he can look down at her.

“Why are you leaving me?”

“I’m not just leaving you Perce, I’m leaving everyone else as well. My Dad, my brothers, Thals, Grover...not just you.” Her face shifts and he sees sadness replace her joking smirk.

“Yeah but I’m special...I’m your favourite.” Percy is half-joking but he wishes with all his heart that the first part of his sentence is true, that he is in fact special to Annabeth. Special in the same way that Annabeth is special to him.

“Don’t let Thals hear that,” Annabeth says, rolling her eyes but Percy leans in closer, poking her repeatedly until she’s laughing.

“You’re only saying that because it’s true.”

“Shut up.” Percy notices how she doesn’t deny it and it brings a smile to his face.

“I’m going to miss you.” His heart gives an uncomfortable squeeze as his voice softens and his smile drops. Annabeth gives him a sad look and pokes his chest trying to get him to look at her properly.

“Don’t get all sappy on me now Seaweed Brain, we’ve still got summer.”

“And then you leave and forget me, and find a cool Perry Johnson to be your new best friend.” He says and dramatically throws his head back, pressing the back of his hand to his forehead like he’s about to faint.

Annabeth groans and pushes him away so he falls back on the blanket they’ve laid out. The other two aren’t due to arrive for another hour, but Percy has been spending so much time at Annabeth’s house already, that it made no sense to go back to his last night, so he stayed over and helped set up the apartment rooftop for their sleepover under the stars.

He thinks they’ve done a pretty good job for the two of them, there’s an array of pillows, blankets and sheets all over the floor, and plenty of snacks to last them through the night. A couple of years ago, way back when they were younger, Mr Chase set up fairy lights along the edge of the roof, so they’re not in complete darkness, not that New York can ever be truly dark. The lights illuminate Annabeth’s features as Percy turns his head to her, she looks like a goddess and Percy swallows deeply when she returns his stare.

“What are you looking at?”

Percy shrugs and sits up so he can rearrange snacks that don’t need rearranging to hide his blush at being caught.

“Oh, I nearly forgot! Can you sign this, you never did?” Annabeth says changing the subject and tugs on his arm so he can come back and sit with her.

He looks at her confused until she brings out her yearbook. Their school emblem shines on the front cover, and she places it in his lap, pressing herself to his side, so she can flip the pages, looking for an empty space to write. On the back, there’s an entire blank page and she smooths the paper down and hands him a marker.

“All yours.” She says and watches him expectantly.

“Are you going to watch me write in it?” He twirls the pen uneasily and rubs the back of his neck, slightly uncomfortable under her intense gaze.

Annabeth huffs. “Do you want me to leave?”

“Can you?” He asks half-jokingly.

“You’re such an idiot. Fine. I’ll go check if there’s anything we forgot downstairs. Do you want anything?” He grins as she shakes her head, pretending to be annoyed.

“Anything blue.”

“Of course,” she mutters and gets up, using his shoulder to steady herself. He leans into the touch and tries to ignore the way his body misses her warmth when she leaves.

When she leaves Percy flips back to the front, reliving their senior year, one page at a time. He skips past the photos of the people in his grade and goes straight to the events. It starts with homecoming, and there’s a photo of Percy, Annabeth, Grover and Thalia all dressed in black suits. Percy smiles fondly at the close-up photo of Thalia and Annabeth posing together, in matching suits and corsets. Since Thalia broke up with Luke, she’s reintegrated back into the group with no issue, and it’s like she never left.

He turns the page, skipping through the other homecoming photos, and pauses at the one of him and Annabeth. It’s a candid, and even though he’s already seen it, his heart still stutters, because in the photo she’s fixing his hair in the photo right before the official photos like she always does, and Percy can’t help but think about how much they look like a couple.

He keeps turning through the pages, trying to find more photos of their group. They’re not a very social group, preferring to hang out with each other than go to school events, but they’re at all the major ones.

There are small snippets of them at the football games, student fairs and pep rallies, it’s not till the end where there are photos that focus more on students not part of clubs that he sees more pictures of his friends.

There’s one of them all laying on their back enjoying the sun looking up at clouds the way they used to when they were kids (completely unaware that someone is taking photos of them). There’s even a photo of Grover with Thalia on his shoulder as she tries to climb a tree with toilet paper in her hand from prank day. The next one is a blurry photo of Percy completely wrapped in toilet paper and chasing Annabeth.

Moments from their senior year have been captured and immortalised in these pages, and Percy’s heart heaves at the thought of leaving this all behind or watching people leave.

Tears start to prick at his eyes as he reaches the graduation and prom photos. There’s a huge shot of his entire grade, a choice of a few students throwing their caps up. In the corner on the page before the prom photos, there's a small snapshot of the four of them, their arms thrown around each other, heads pressed together. He remembers this moment vividly. All of their names are relatively close together in the roll, so as soon as they were announced, he had bolted straight to Grover, who had bolted to Thalia, who had bolted to Annabeth, and they had all ended up screaming and jumping into each other's arms.

He’s going to miss this.

He finally comes to the prom photos, and he’s not surprised when his breath catches in his throat when he sees Annabeth in her prom dress again. It’s a deep blue, the colour of the sky above his head, and it makes his stomach flutter each time he sees it. In the photo, she’s posing with Thalia again, but she’s mid-laugh and Percy would be lying if he said it wasn’t one of his favourite photos of her. He has copies of photos from the night on his computer, but the ones taken at the venue are better quality, it’s almost like he’s back there in the moment.

Thalia had come with a date, once again wearing a tight-fitting suit, a girl on her arm and Grover had brought Juniper, his girlfriend. Percy and Annabeth had agreed to go together, just because it was easier.

“Platonically,” he remembers telling Grover. He remembers Grover laughing and shaking his head.

“There is nothing platonic about you two but okay. Have fun, Perce.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

Grover had never explained what he meant and it still haunted Percy.

There isn’t a photo of the two of them at prom together, at least not in the yearbook, but he asked for a favour from a friend in the yearbook committee and has the photos that didn’t make it on a USB drive back home. His favourite is his wallpaper, and it’s of him and Annabeth dancing their heads bent close together. It’s not obvious it’s them two but he can recognise her blonde hair anywhere. That’s another moment he holds close, them dancing and swaying to a song they don’t recognise, whispering to each other in the night. He’d almost told her that night. Told her everything, about what he felt, about how he would always feel, but when she let go, he realised that he didn’t want to risk losing what they had. It was too precious to him.

Percy finally reaches the page that Annabeth initially brought him to and he uncaps the pen, tapping the back of it against the page a couple of times trying to think of a message. It’s not an accident that he didn’t write in Annabeth’s yearbook. When they were all doing it, Percy had purposefully avoided her because he knew that what he had to say to her couldn’t be said like this.

He sighs as he begins a doodle instead. A little owl because he knows that they’re her favourite, and a dolphin because they’re his. His mind is still blank at what to write to her, but he knows she’s not going to let him get away with not doing it this time.

He hears footsteps coming up the staircase and he writes the first thing that comes to his mind. The only thing that never leaves his mind when he’s around Annabeth. It’s not a long message so he’s finishing it just as Annabeth sits back down. He slams the book shut and chucks it behind him so that she can’t immediately read it. She notices and raises an eyebrow.

“Read it later. It’s embarrassing,” he says sheepishly. She laughs and hands him a bag of sour blue candy stripes. He tears open the package and starts eating as he hears other footsteps. Grover and Thalia appear in the doorway, holding pillows and even more bags of snacks.

“Let’s get this party started!” Thalia exclaims and drops her stuff unceremoniously on top of Percy, burying him under the wright. Everyone laughs at him as he sputters his way out.

Thalia plugs in some music and Annabeth helps pull Percy to his feet, and they start the feast of snacks. Grover helps Percy set up a projector for their movie and it’s nearing midnight when they finally settle on Disney’s Hercules.

As always Grover falls asleep halfway through the movie, murmuring about how his tummy hurts in his sleep. They take group selfies with him, and Percy grabs the marker next to Annabeth’s yearbook so that he can draw on Grover’s face. He’s holding back giggles with Thalia as they pose next to him and Annabeth takes a photo of them.

He pulls both girls close to him when he falls back and squeezes their shoulders.

“I can’t believe my favourite girls are leaving me to deal with this idiot,” he says and nods to Grover who has started snoring. Thalia scoffs and pushes his face so that he lets go of her. He gives in but doesn’t take his arm off Annabeth, and he swears that Annabeth cuddles just a bit closer to him.

“We’re not dying, Percy, we’re just moving to the West Coast,” Thalia says as she opens a can of coke and Percy briefly remembers how he first met Annabeth and how she had protected him from Nancy. He exchanges a look with her and sees that she’s already smiling at him, knowing exactly what he’s thinking.

“Betrayal. That’s what this is,” he says and squeezes Annabeth’s shoulder again. She threads their hands together and Percy tries not to react and turn to her again.

Thalia catches his eye and smirks at their interlocked hands.

She stands up and brushes her pants.

“I need to go pee, do you two need anything from downstairs?”

They both shake their heads and she nods before carefully stepping over a sleeping Grover and leaves the two of them.

Percy and Annabeth stay like that, leaning on each other, hands interlocked and Percy wishes he could freeze this exact moment.

“Did you write something?” Annabeth asks softly as she pulls away from him, but doesn’t let go of his hand. Percy nods tightly and she smiles as she reaches across from him and grabs the yearbook from their makeshift table. She skips straight to the back and opens to his page. She gave him an entire page to write on, but there’s only one sentence in the middle and two small doodles. She stares at it for a moment, rereading it before she looks up.

“You’re my number one,” Annabeth reads, holding the yearbook open at his page, “What does that mean?”

Percy swallows, suddenly terrified. There’s no time like now to tell her, and he has no real doubts about loving her, but with her unflinching gaze on him like this, it’s hard not to be nervous. He tries not to overthink and takes a deep breath, speaking the truth that he’s kept under wraps for years.

“There’s only one meaning, Wise Girl, what else could it mean?” He says with a shrug and reaches for her hand. She lets him take it. “My Mom once said that people who have a big heart have a lot of love in them to share, but they’ll always have their number one, and that’s you. That’s been you for years, my entire life probably.”

He takes another breath and waits for Annabeth to respond. When she doesn’t he continues, suddenly full of words. “You’re the one for me. The only one that I could ever want. The one I put before everything. You’re my-”

“Do you mean that?” Her face is full of doubt and Percy brings their joined hands up so he can press his lips to the back of her hand.

“Of course,” he breathes, and pulls her closer. He’s barely breathing when she puts the yearbook down for a moment. They stay frozen like that, pressed against each other, foreheads touching and breath mingling.

“I think I was made for loving you,” he whispers and carefully pushes her hair back.

The smile she gives him is one to rival the sun that is going to rise in a few hours.

“If that’s so, then I was made for loving you just as much.”

She kisses him, and he almost forgets his name. He brings his hands up to cup face and bring her closer and she smiles against his lips and-

“Seriously? You two couldn’t wait until after I was asleep. Jeez.”

Annabeth jerks away from him and they both stare at Thalia who is giving them a tired look from the rooftop doorway. Percy can’t help it and starts laughing, shortly after Annabeth joins and falls onto his chest, laughing too hard to keep herself up. Eventually, Thalia sits back down and bites her lip trying not to laugh, but the more she tries to keep it in the funnier it gets.

By then all three of them are laughing so hard their stomach hurts and Grover stirs awake.

“What’s going on?”

“This,” Annabeth says and proudly holds up her hand that is still firmly clasped in Percy’s hand.

Grover blinks sleepily at it and shrugs like it’s not a big deal.

“About freaking time,” he says and lays back down.

Percy and Annabeth look at each other again and he smiles at her before leaning in and pressing a quick kiss to her mouth.

“It was worth the wait.”

PART 1

PART 2

PART 3

PART 4

PART 5

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youvebeenlivingfictional · 3 years

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The Long Con Part Five

Previous Part | Masterlist | Next Part Pairing: Marcus Pike x Reader Rating: T Notes: I hope y’all had a good week! 💕 Warnings: This is almost purely fluff. There’s some angst in there, but it’s just, like...A speck. And it’s covered over by fluff. Also I’ve never been to Austin, I did a lot of Googling for this bit, so if any of it is inaccurate, I’m sorry!! It seems like such a cool town and I don’t wanna do it a disservice! Lastly, I linked the museum and the art pieces mentioned in the chapter at the end of the chapter, under the tags. Summary: You’d stayed behind to get ready— but you didn’t know what exactly what you were be getting ready for.

While you and Marcus would be helping Marnie and the family out with wedding prep during the week, they didn’t have anything in particular scheduled for that day. After he’d had his breakfast, Marcus had showered, gotten dressed, and left to get the car that he’d rented for two of you to use that week. You’d stayed behind to get ready— but you didn’t know what exactly what you were be getting ready for. “I wanna show you around while we’ve got some time,” Marcus had told you between stealing sips of your coffee (which were solely permitted because the two of you were pretending to be together - if this had been under any other circumstance, he would not have gotten away with a single sip. His parents had found it adorable. You had found it a loss of coffee).

You dressed in casual clothing, things that you knew you’d have no trouble walking around in for the day. Marcus honked twice once he was outside in the rental, and you bid quick goodbyes to his family.

-- “So,” Marcus glanced over at you from behind the dark lenses of his aviator sunglasses, “We have a few options-- well, we’ve got a ton, but, I was thinking we could take a tour of the Capitol building, and check out the Harry Ransom Center -- it’s this massive archive and library. There are a few places we could hit for lunch, and then… I don’t know, the Lady Bird Johnson Wildflower Center? And I thought we could finish with the Blanton Museum of Art?... Or is that, like, a no, since we’re both kinda around art all the time?” You watched him for a few moments, stunned. He’d clearly gone out of his way to think about what you’d like to do -- places that he knew and that you would like. He wanted you to have fun, and time out of the house - away from his family. Marcus was taking you out and about like… Like he probably would a real girlfriend. “That all sounds really awesome,” You admitted softly. Marcus grinned at you, and you settled back in your seat, facing forward again. -- Conversation came as easily as it had when you were in D.C. Marcus dropped the odd fact about Austin now and again (though it was nothing near his panicked post-flight info-dump), pointed out his old haunts, told you about his and Marnie’s childhoods. Even without his family around, you found that the two of you kept close. You reached for one another’s hands; Marcus drew you into his side when you were in crowded places; even when there was plenty of room, Marcus’ hand was on your shoulder, or your back. The contact was comforting; it didn’t feel forced. You found yourselves strolling through the Blanton with your fingers intertwined, speaking in hushed tones so as not to disturb the patrons around you. It was where the two of you wound up spending most of your day, discussing Fogel’s Conflict and Kern’s The Adoration of the Magi and Dorigny’s Diana of the Hunt. When you drifted into the Klimt pieces on loan from the Belvedere Museum in Vienna, and the two of you stopped in front of The Kiss, Marcus cupped your chin and leaned down, pecking the corner of your lips. You couldn’t help the stupid grin that took over your face, and you leaned into him, turning your head and hiding your face in his shoulder.

He just curled an arm around you, smoothing a thumb along your side as you let your sheepishness run its course. You turned your head as it ebbed away, finally, taking in the intertwined lovers, robed in gold and adorned with flowers.

“Okay, this… Is stupidly cool,” You admitted, looking around. “I was a little worried that you were going to stop at ‘stupid’.” “No!” You laughed, “I’ve never been anywhere like this.” Marcus had brought you to a bar with an arcade in Southern Congress for dinner. The two of you had ordered dinner and were looking for a few games to play before the food arrived. “They’ve got a little bit of everything. Pinball, Pac-man, Tron, Skeeball,” Marcus listed off. “Galaga?” “They’ve got Galaga.” “Perfect.” Marcus was exceptional at Pac-man and pinball, but you learned that you had the upper hand when it came to air hockey. You managed to play two games of it (both of which you won) before the food came. “Today has all been insanely awesome,” You told him after you’d polished off your pizza, “Thank you. I mean-- Seriously, you didn’t have to do this.” “I didn’t want you feeling like we were stuck at my family’s place all week, and...I mean I know we’re down here for Marnie, but you said you’d never been to Austin. I didn’t want you to miss out on seeing the city.” You and Marcus shared a smile before he added, “The whole day has been insanely awesome, huh?” “Yeah.” “Even in the kitchen?” “You mean when you were drinking my coffee? ‘Cause that put you on thin ice, mister.” “Right before that,” He corrected. The smile he was giving you was two parts bashfulness and one part coy. You folded one arm on the table, pillowing your chin on your other hand. “...Yeah, I’d include that. As first kisses go, it was…” You nodded a little, eyeing Marcus from under your lashes, “It was very...Very nice.” “‘Very nice’?” Marcus repeated, “I guess that’s not the worst review I’ve ever gotten.” “Don’t get all huffy,” You chuckled, ”I mean it, it was… I forgot what being kissed like that even felt like.” “What do you mean?” “I mean that...Was my first kiss in two years.” “Two-- How is that possible?” Marcus’ brow furrowed. You rolled your eyes a little bit, glancing away from Marcus as embarrassment swirled in your stomach. “The last person was my ex-fiancé. After that fell apart…” You shrugged, “I haven’t dated since.” You felt Marcus lean a little closer to get a better look at you. “Did you give up on finding someone?” “Not on purpose. I think I just...Built up some walls that I had torn down really quickly with them. And I built those walls up double. I prioritized work-- the devil I knew, you know.” “No dates, nothing?” “Nope.” “How many people did you turn down?” “What makes you think I turned anyone down?” Marcus tipped his head to the side, giving you a slight once-over as he muttered, “C’mon.” You shook your head, letting out a quiet, embarrassed laugh. “Well, how long after your engagement broke did you wait to date?” You asked. Marcus’ lips pressed into a thin, contemplative line before he admitted, “Five months.” “What made you get back out there? I mean… How’d you know you were ready?” “I wasn’t, but I was worried that if I waited until I was, the woman that had asked me out wouldn’t be available when I got there. I took a leap. It wasn’t a good leap, but it was a leap,” he chuckled, “And it made me remember that dating can suck and putting myself out there could be scary, but… Ultimately, it’s worth it.” You and Marcus regarded one another quietly for a moment. You couldn't even imagine what he was thinking. You couldn't understand how he was still so open to finding love when he'd been hurt the way he had. That sort of loss had only made you want to recede; it seemed to make Marcus even more determined to find love. Frankly, it was a wonder that he hadn't yet— he was the kindest man you'd ever met. You lowered your eyes to your empty plate as you realized that you were staring. It was easy to get caught up in his warm eyes; you’d found it happening more often lately, and it certainly suited the purposes of the lie you were playing up around his family. But there was something about all of it— his gaze, his smile, everything that the two of you had done today — it stirred up twinges or remorse. Lately you’d found yourself wondering if there ever could’ve been something real between the two of you, if you’d met under different circumstances. That was a very dangerous line of thought.

“If you’re finished with your food, we can go play some more air hockey.” You smiled at the offer, glancing back up at him as you asked, “I didn’t kick your ass enough the first time?” “Oh-- I was just warming up.” “Clocking all of my moves?” “Exactly.” “We’ll see about that.” (You beat him three more times.) (You let him win once.)

You flicked off the light before getting into bed, tucking yourself in beside Marcus. He yawned and mumbled, “G’night.” “Goodnight, what?” Marcus let out an exaggerated sigh, “Goodnight, supreme air hockey winner.” “Thank you.” “Mhm.” “I don’t ask for much.” “I know.” “Just that you steer clear of my coffee—” “Uh huh.” “And address me by my proper title.” You glanced over as you felt Marcus shift in the bed. Your breath caught in your throat as his arm wound around your middle, his hand dangling against your side as he rested his forehead against your shoulder. “Sleep,” He urged in a mumble, “Oh supreme one.” You settled down, resting one of your hands atop Marcus’ arm. It was a warm, comforting weight; a sweet touch that you could, if you weren’t careful, find yourself getting used to. “‘Oh supreme one’,” You repeated quietly, peering up at the ceiling, “I could get used to that.” Tag list: @hufflepuffing-all-day-long ; @spideysimpossiblegirl ; @blueeyesatnight ; @elen-aranel ; @yespolkadotkitty ; @artsymaddie ; @phoenixhalliwell ; @lunaserenade ; @winniedaboo ; @empress-palpat1ne ; @randomness501 ; @nutmeg-20 ; @leonieb ; @the-feckless-wonder ; @lou-la-lou ; @captain-jebi ; @supernaturalgirl ; @naturenebula21 ; @evelynseventyr ; @giselatropicana ; @heatherbel ; @marydjarin ; @annathewitch ; @absurdthirst ; @hnt-escape ; @writingletterstothefire ; @misswriter ; @bison-writes

Museums & Art Work

The Blanton Museum of Art

Fogel’s Conflict

Kern’s The Adoration of the Magi

Dorigny’s Diana of the Hunt The Belvedere Museum

Klimt’s The Kiss

#The Long Con #marcus pike imagine #marcus pike x reader #Marcus Pike x You #Marcus Pike/Reader #Marcus Pike/You #Marcus Pike fic

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jungshookz · 3 years

Text

🧦 stocking stuffers: yoongi’s being annoying as per usual

stocking stuffers are basically the holiday equivalent of teeny tidbits :D i just wanted to give you guys a little something to tide you over while you’re waiting for the second drabble! also yes that is a sock emoji there was no stocking emoji sUE ME

this started off at five hundred words and quickly spiralled into two thousand words but it’s not good enough to stand alone as a proper drabble so i’m counting it as a puny stocking stuffer drabble

pairing; demon!yoongi x y/n

genre; sfw for the most part but there are some suggestive themes because this is demon!yoongi after all <3

what to expect; “ooh, i love it when you get mouthy with me... it turns me on.”

wordcount; 2.3k

»»————-　🎄 ————-««

“i don’t even know why we’re decorating this stupid thing. we’re going to be throwing it out by the end of the month.” yoongi grumbles, tossing a handful of fake snow onto the tree a little too aggressively before shoving his hand back into the bag

this sucks

when he woke up this morning you told him that you guys would be spending the entire day decorating the apartment for christmas and his morning wood immediately deflated

in fact he’s pretty sure his penis might’ve shrivelled up and died at your words

it doesn’t make any sense

you’re like.,., 25% demon!

you’re supposed to hate christmas because it’s literally the day of christ, but here you are, wearing what has to be the ugliest sweater he’s ever seen in his entire life (it lights up. what kind of a sweater lights up?!) while happily hanging baubles on this poor tree that should be out in nature and definitely not in this apartment

“oh, cut it out, you grouch.” you scowl playfully, already fully aware as to why yoongi’s so grumpy today, “decorating is fun! and our presents are going to look so pretty under the tree-”

“y/n?” jungkook pokes his head out from the kitchen and you turn to look at him, “i’m gonna need you to help out with the gingerbread house. construction isn’t going great. there’s frosting everywhere and i ate most of the m&ms. and one of the gingerbread men is missing a head because i got hungry.”

“are you seri- i asked you to do one thing, kook-” you frown, jungkook smiling sheepishly before not so subtly popping an m&m into his mouth, “get back in the kitchen! i’ll join you in a second.”

jungkook pops back into the kitchen and you let out a hopeless little sigh before slowly turning to look at yoongi

he pauses right as he’s about to sprinkle some more snow onto the branches and narrows his eyes at you, “…why are you looking at me like that?”

“will you finish decorating the tree while i help jungkook?” you turn to look at yoongi before pushing your bottom lip out in a pleading little pout, “please?”

“what?? no way!” yoongi scowls, immediately dropping the bag of fake snow onto the floor with a thump, “the only reason why i agreed to do this was because it’s more bearable when we do it together- i’m not decorating this tree alone, that’s just pathetic-”

“aw, c’mon-”

“i’ll just wait for you to finish with the gingerbread house and then we’ll continue with the tree-”

“but we have to follow my schedule!” you whine, grabbing your notepad off the couch before pointing at the next thing on your list, “see? 1:00 to 2:00 - decorate the tree. 2:00 to 2:30 - hang the lights out on the balcony- and it’s already 1:30, yoon-”

“for the love of-” yoongi huffs, “okay, fine! fine, i’ll- i’ll decorate the damn tree alone.” yoongi snatches the box of baubles from you but the faintest of smiles twitches at his mouth when you lean in to squish an appreciative kiss to his cheek

the thought of completely burning the tree down while you’re gone briefly flits through his mind but he squashes that thought quickly

he’ll be good for you

he can behave!

»»————-　🎄 ————-««

“don’t eat the gum drops, i’ll be right-” you step out of the kitchen and your eyes widen to the size of saucers when you see yoongi floating in mid-air, carefully wrapping the christmas lights around the tree, “yoongi!” you hiss quietly, hurrying over to him before reaching up and wrapping your fingers around his ankle, “yoongi, what the hell are you doing-?!”

“i’m wrapping the damn tree in these lights and we don’t have a ladder-” yoongi wobbles a little when you give him another harsh yank and he glances down to see you looking warily at the kitchen door

heh

you’re... anxious.

he can feel wafting it in the air and it smells so good

maybe he can have a little bit of fun with this…

“so use a chair or something! yoongi, i thought we agreed that if jungkook was here that you wouldn’t do anything non-humany-!” you jump when yoongi suddenly drops the pile of lights into your arms before lying back and folding his arms behind his head

oh god

he’s not going to get down anytime soon

also the only reason why you haven’t told jungkook about the fact that yoongi is most definitely not from this world is because he would pass out from complete and utter petrification

you don’t know how he’s going to be able to handle a spawn of satan when the man is scared of fruit flies!!!!

you’re planning to keep everything a secret until the day you die

(you’re also hoping that the day you pop one of yoongi’s babies out that it doesn’t come out with tiny red horns on its head because you feel like jungkook wouldn’t take that very lightly)

“down. now!” you snap, bending down to set the lights down on the ground so you can go and follow yoongi, “i’m serious, yoongi!”

“oh, relax.” yoongi sighs, “he’s in the kitchen, we’re in the living room…” you frown disapprovingly when he tilts his head back so that his face is right in front of yours before flashing you a grin, “now, why don’t you wipe that frown off your face and give me a kiss?” he purses his lips obnoxiously and squawks when you shovE your face into his hand

hey!

rude!!

“i’m not going to give you anything until you get down-”

“aw, but decorating the apartment would be so much easier if you just let me do my thing!” yoongi pushes himself all the way up so that he’s next to the ceiling fan, “i can even do some much needed dusting while i’m up here!”

“min yoongi, if you don’t get down right now-” you hop up onto the couch and reach up to grab his foot onLY for yoongi to pull his legs up and cross them, “you know exactly what you’re doing, you sadistic freak-”

“ooh, i love it when you get mouthy with me,” yoongi wiggles his eyebrows, chuckling to himself when you start hopping up and down to try to get closer to him, “it turns me on.”

“that means nothing to me because you get turned on by everything-” you grumble, your fingers barely brushing over his ankle as you keep trying to grab him, “like that one time you were watching me eat ice cream-”

“uhhhh, excuse me-” yoongi scoffs, rolling his eyes, “there was white cream dripping down your chin. obviously i got turned on-”

“hey, if you come down now, i promise to do that thing that you said you wanted to do…” you offer, looking up at yoongi with wide eyes before clasping your hands together, “c’mon… isn’t that a good deal?”

yoongi shakes his head and sticks his tongue out at you, “nice try, you scammer. i’m not falling for that again-”

your shoulders immediately drop and you watch helplessly as he floats over so that he’s near the kitchen door

you really wished that inheriting some of yoongi’s aura gave you the power to float as well

all it gave you was the ability to sometimes make your eyes go black

suRE your stamina in bed has improved significantly and you can keep your engine running from sunset to sunrise but that’s not as cool as FLOATING in mid-air

“do not.” you shoot yoongi a glare when he makes a motion to open the kitchen door

“what if i…” yoongi grins, pretending to knock against the door, “oh, look at your face! you don’t like that, do you? you poor, helpless little thing...” he coos, rolling over onto his back with a laugh

oh god

you haTE THIS

“you know i-” your heart practically drops out of your ass when the door suddenly swinGs open and jungkook steps out with frosting all over his hands

“okay, i know you said not to touch anything, but one of the walls were starting to droop so i thought i’d reinforce it with a little more frosting, buT i squeezed too hard and the bag exploded-”

you swallow thickly when yoongi lowers himself a little all while maintaining strong eye contact with you, propping his chin up on his palm before the corners of his mouth turn up in a grin

you ball your hands into tight fists when yoongi blinks and his pupils turn into thin red slits

great! now his creepy demon eyes are out!

okay

you know what?

it’s fine

relax!

you know he’s taunting you on purpose but it’s not like he’s actually going to do anything-

“DON’T-!” you jump off the couch when yoongi wiggles his fingers directly above jungkook’s head, a couple tendrils of his hair starting to float upwards

“okay, jeez!” jungkook raises both hands in defence before scoffing lightly, “i said i’d offer to help clean up but since you obviously don’t want my help then maybe you can get yoongi to help-“ jungkook pauses, glancing over by the tree, “hey, where’d he go? i heard his voice like a second before i came out-”

“he’s dead!” you blurt out, jungkook’s eyes widening immediately

(improvisation has never been one of your strong suits)

yoongi lies down on his back before crossing his arms over his chest and closing his eyes, all while floating mere inches above jungkook’s head

“i mean… he’s… dead-finitely in the washroom.” you correct yourself, trying to hide the complete and utter angeR on your face when yoongi peels open one eye before turning his head and blowing a silent kiss at you, “because he… had to pee. like any other normal human being does when their bladder is full.”

“that was a very... non-human being way to answer a question.” jungkook snorts, “what’s wrong with you?”

“i just... don’t want you to get your grubby frosting hands anywhere!” you clear your throat, letting out a sheepish chuckle before rushing over to jungkook, “why don’t you start cleaning up and i’ll join you in a sec?”

“but my hands are still covered in frosting-”

“uh-huh, sounds good!” you slap your hands down on jungkook’s shoulders before spinning him around and practically shoVing him back into the kitchen

you close the door before looking up so you can grab yoongi by the collar and pull him-

yoongi is… no longer there.

the christmas lights on the tree flicker before buzzing out

okay

so he wants to play games, does he?

“yoongi?” you spin around quickly before walking forwards cautiously, carefully inspecting every inch of the room for any sign of your nightmare of a boyfriend

you jump in surprise when a bauble suddenly falls off the tree and bounces on the floor before rolling over to your feet

“you think you’re so funny, don’t you?” you mumble, bending down to pick it up before gently placing it down on the coffee table

i’m fucking hilarious, baby. i like to think that’s part of the reason as to why you love me so much.

“what the-!” you jolt at the sound of yoongi’s voice suddenly echoing in your head

the last time he was in your head like this was when you summoned him for the first time which was definitely a while ago

you forgot how weird it was to hear his voice inside your head

“i certainly don’t love you right now, i can say that for sure.” you grumble, “it’s safe to say that i actually hate you right now-”

you look really sexy when you’re mad at me. why don’t you meet me in the bathroom for a quickie? jungkook will never know. i’ll even cover your mouth with my hand so he won’t hear anything.

you look over quickly when the door to the guest bathroom suddenly creaks open

ahA

“yeah, i’ll meet you in the bathroom... to kick your ass-” you storm over, kicking the door open only to see that there’s no one in there, “and then when i’m done kicking your ass, i’m gonna kick your ass again-”

ooh, are we finally experimenting with pain now? i can definitely get into that. i can use your bobby pins as makeshift nipple clamps.

“you are infuriating!” you snap, placing your hands on your hips and looking up at the ceiling

you know that being playful is just part of yoongi’s nature but good GOD

sometimes you just want to strangle him

and not in the kinky way

at this point it looks like you’re going to have to pull out what might be the most predictable trick in your book but you’re desperate here

you need to sort this out before jungkook comes out to see you talking to yourself like a crazy person

yeah, that’s right. keep thinking about how annoying i am and how much that pisses you off. angry sex is super hot.

“oh yeah?” you stroll towards the middle of the living room, taking your time to do so, “you think so?”

hell yeah. i want you to be on top, too. i love the view.

“i’ll do... whatever you want me to do...” you trail off, eyes flickering around the room for any sign of movement, “but if you don’t come out in the next five seconds, it’s just going to be you and your hand for the next five days- oh-!”

it’s only a second later that you’re suddenly being pummelled into from behind

you definitely would’ve fallen face first onto the floor if it wasn’t for yoongi wrapping his arms around your waist from behind, “finally! there you are-”

“depriving me of sex during the holidays??” yoongi whines, digging his fingers into your waist, “now look who’s being the asshole-”

see??

oldest trick in the book but it still works like a charm :’)

christmas with cee 2020 masterlist

691 notes · View notes

so-writing · 3 years

Text

Sugar, Honey, Ice and Tea - Matthew Tkachuk (2)

All parts in the master list

Matthew didn’t come back to the room the two of you were supposed to be sharing to get any of his things before practice started. You got dressed and slowly made your way to the rink, expecting him to be as much of a handful that evening as he was during the morning skate.

“You really like to start shit, huh?”

“What?”

The same assistant you’d shit on Matt with the day before laughed before shaking his head and patting you on the shoulder, “Tkachuk basically demanded a room reassignment. Sutter pretty much told him to grow a pair and get the fuck over it. He’s not happy and it is showing.”

He waved his hand toward the ice and you looked up just in time to see Matthew shoot a puck directly into the glass, causing it to explode in a million shards and cover both the seats positioned near it and the ice.

“Tkachuk!”

You winced at how harsh the sound of his name came out of the coach’s mouth, “get off the ice! Cool down! Now!”

Matthew skated quickly toward the bench and hurried down the tunnel, not bothering to give either of you a glance.

“You’re going to have to fix whatever is going on between the two of you. He can’t do this tomorrow during the game.”

You knew he was right. You knew that despite how shitty Matthew acted toward you, you needed to be the bigger person and talk—apologize—to him for whatever he needed. He needed to get out of his head and you unfortunately had to be the one to help him.

“I know,” you whined, “but I don’t want to!”

“What even is the problem with you guys? I know I haven’t been here long but I’ve picked up on the disconnect that you have with him alone.”

“He’s never liked me. I don’t know what I did.”

“That sucks, but you better figure it out and squash it. This is bleak but if it comes down to your or him, your ass is out and you know it.”

The thought hadn’t even occurred to you. You’d been uncool with Matthew for such a long time that you thought it was something that would just exist in the background but not actually matter.

It was naive and quite frankly stupid of you to not consider what might happen if the tension between yourself and Matthew escalated. You were a casual, easily replaceable assistant to the coaching staff and he was the heart and the future leader of the team. He wasn’t going anywhere.

But, if you didn’t get it together, you were going somewhere and that was right out the fucking door and into the unemployment line.

You got back to the room first, showering quickly and settling yourself into the corner of the room with your laptop on your knees so that you could catch up on some work. The goal was to stay completely out of Matthew’s way.

The plan was to start slow. You would tuck yourself away until he was willing to tolerate you and then, slowly, you’d apologize and try to create a relationship between you that was civil and wouldn’t cost you your job.

The door opened about an hour after you returned.

“Fuck,” you watched from where you sat as Matthew ran both hands over his face and through his curls, “this is going to fucking suck.”

You said nothing and he didn’t notice you sitting in the corner on your laptop. He must have assumed you weren’t back yet, because he stripped his shirt off in the middle of the room and tossed it to the floor.

His joggers and boxers followed suit. It was obvious that he had no idea you were in the room and you should have looked away as soon as he removed his shirt but he was a man getting naked in front of you and you were a woman with needs and as much as you hated him, you couldn’t deny that he was fucking hot.

“Holy shit!”

Matthew turned to make his way to the bathroom to shower and just happened to meet your eyes on the way.

“What the fuck?! You’re here, why didn’t you fucking say something?!”

Your cheeks burned red as you watched him stumble around the hotel room, trying and failing to cover his body.

“Sorry, sorry,” you rushed out, “I didn’t want to bother you. I wanted to leave you alone, I didn’t know you would-”

“So you’re a bitch and a fucking creep! Lucky me!”

He cut you off before hurrying to the bathroom, slamming the door hard behind him.

Shutting off your laptop, you ignored your nightly skincare routine and desire to brush your teeth as you hauled your ass into bed. You definitely weren’t planning to be awake when he came out of the shower.

The clock on the side table read 2:46AM. Rolling over, you realized the other side of the bed was vacant and your stomach shot up into your throat. Matthew was going to talk to the guys about what happened and you were definitely getting fired.

Soft snores pulled you out of your thoughts and you leaned over the side of the bed to see Matthew Tkachuk passed out on the floor with a blanket far too small for his body covering him.

He hated you that much that he would rather sleep on the cold, hard, nasty hotel room floor than in a bed with you. You didn’t blame him, but that didn’t mean it didn’t hurt your feelings just a little bit.

“Matt,” you gently nudged his shoulder, “Matt, wake up.”

“Hmm?”

He rolled around a little bit before finally waking up and the neutral expression on his face turned sour as soon as he recognized you.

“Fucking, what?”

“Get in bed. You can’t sleep on this floor, it’s going to fuck with your back. You can’t do it.”

“I’m not getting into bed with you.”

Fine. Fucking fine. You suppress the urge to roll your eyes and think about how much you like your job and the benefits and the salary.

“I’ll sleep on the floor, I don’t mind. You need to get all the rest you can.”

“Fine,” he huffed and waited for you to get out of bed before taking his place opposite the one you’d been in.

The floor was cold and Matthew took the blanket he’d been using to bed with him so you were left with nothing but what you were wearing and an entirely too flat to be any kind of comfortable pillow.

Sleep never came and when his alarm went off in the morning, you closed your eyes and pretended as he stepped around you, making more noise than necessary and slamming the door closed too hard as he headed down to team breakfast.

You immediately jumped up as soon as Matthew was gone and headed for a shower. As soon as the water heated up, you hopped in and hauled your ass to the ground. Pulling your knees up to your chin, you began to cry.

Fuck, you hated crying, especially at work but last night had been awful. It was obvious now that you and Matthew would never strike up a civil relationship and maybe it was for the best that you find another job.

#Matthew Tkachuk #Matthew Tkachuk imagine #matt tkachuk #hockey imagine #nhl imagine

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heliads · 3 years

Text

What We Are

You’ve hated Draco Malfoy from the moment you met him at the Sorting Ceremony all those years ago. However, you have the strangest feeling that things are changing between the two of you- like just maybe, you like him more than you thought.

masterlist

You are eleven years old, small and swallowed up by the dark cloth of your school robes. You’re filling through the main aisle of the Great Hall, surrounded by a cluster of other anxious first years. Four long tables stretch down the room, two on each side of the hall and each filled with chattering students. Four banners hang at the end of the hall- ruby, emerald, gold, sapphire. One for each house. You’ve been briefed on the houses and their qualities by a newly formed friend, one Hermione Granger, but you’re still nervous. You don’t entirely know which one you belong to, although you have an inkling as to which one should be avoided.

Professor McGonagall begins listing off the names one at a time, and the subsequent first-years file up to her, place the worn Sorting Hat on their head, and receive their assigned House. After a while, your name is eventually called, and you make your way to the front. The Sorting Hat considers for a time, then a smile crawls across its weathered fabric features. “SLYTHERIN!” The word is shouted across the hall, and you feel a sinking pit yawn open in your stomach. Slytherin? That was the one house you were supposed to avoid.

You make brief eye contact with your new friend Hermione, who looks about as stricken as you feel, before settling into a place at the Slytherin table. The emerald-clad students around you clap you on the back, issuing congratulations, but you still feel uneasy. Wouldn’t it have been better to go to Ravenclaw, where all the smartest students belonged? Or brave Gryffindor, or dedicated Hufflepuff? Anywhere would be better than ambitious, cunning, snakelike Slytherin.

A boy seated one space down looks at you, taking in your glum expression. He has striking platinum blond hair, and appears to be a first year just like yourself. “Don’t look so upset. You got into the best house there is, you know. All of the students who go to Slytherin end up being the greatest lot here.” For some reason, the condescendingly arrogant tone of the boy gets to you, and you shoot back a haughty reply. “If all Slytherin students are like you, I don’t fancy staying here at all.” The boy’s expression changes into a glare, and he glowers at you for the rest of the dinner.

That boy would turn out to be Draco Malfoy, Slytherin House’s most famous elitist. The two of you would hate each other ever since that night, and that feeling of utter loathing would continue for years. You’re now far older than you had been as a wee little first year, and so is Draco, but your attitude towards him hasn’t changed a bit. He’s just so conceited, so full of himself- and you’re no better, you know that, but at least you try to hide it.

However, you were lucky enough to score yourself a bunch of friends who knew exactly why you hated Draco, and happened to feel the exact same way. Hermione had been your best friend ever since that first day on the Hogwarts Express, and you had introduced yourself to Harry and Ron around the same time she did. Now the four of you were a regular fixture on the grounds, and you wouldn’t change it for anything, even a few of the haughtier Slytherins (read: Draco Malfoy) made sure to mention that one of their house shouldn’t be mixing with the Gryffindors.

However, you didn’t really care what they thought. Yes, you were a Slytherin, and that meant a good many things: pride, ambition, and a thick skin in terms of others doubting you. So you became even better friends with Harry, Ron, and Hermione just to spite them. You often found yourself with them at the Quidditch games, walking across the grounds, sneaking out of your dormitory late at night for a couple of misadventures, or now, with you and Hermione studying together at a table out in a corner of a stone hall.

One of the problems of being a Slytherin friend of three Gryffindors is that they could never go back to your common room to study with you, and you certainly weren’t allowed into their common room. Fred and George had offered to sneak you in loads of times, and you technically had been there before under Harry’s invisibility cloak, but for right now, you and Hermione were content to stay away from the roaring fires and plush red armchairs of the Gryffindor common room to work on a particularly gruesome Potions essay. You both wanted to finish it early, Hermione especially so she could then go teach it to Harry and Ron, so you stayed out of the lion’s dorm until you were adequately prepared.

Hermione sighs at the paper in front of her, wrinkling her brow in consternation. “Honestly, what does all of this even mean? I swear, Professor Snape’s directions get worse and worse with every assignment.” You nod fervently. “This prompt makes no sense, and I’ve been staring at it for the last fifteen minutes.” You drum your fingers on the table, thinking, then stand up. “I’m going to get that Potions primer from the library. You know, the one we were reading earlier? I thought I saw some similar wording in one of the chapters, and at any rate, I need an excuse to go stretch my legs. I’ll be back in a bit.”

Hermione waves goodbye as you head off down the stone corridors. The walk towards the library takes you across the courtyard, and you’re glad for the refreshing bite of the wind, even if it leaves your cheeks raw from the chill. You traipse inside the halls once more, twisting around corners until you reach the library, and gratefully slip through the doors to reach the towering bookcases crowding the room.

You stride purposefully through the shelves until you come to the row you’re looking for at last. Your eyes scan the titles in front of you, and you think you’re almost at the book until a familiar figure steps into the space right next to you. You don’t even have to look up to recognize him. You’ve seen his unwanted presence too many times for a case of mistaken identity.

Draco speaks first. “I’m surprised to see you, L/N. I didn’t think reading was one of your strong suits.” You raise an eyebrow, still perusing the books on the shelf. “Those are strong words coming from somebody who hit his peak academic performance as a weasel in the fourth year.” Draco rolls his eyes. “Ferret, not a weasel.” You look over at him at last, but can’t help a small grin. “Does it really matter? It was still a small animal, and it was still you.”

Draco heaves some dramatic and egotistical sigh, but folds his arms over his chest and stays put. He’s not looking for books, just standing there. In fact, his eyes keep flickering over to the corner of the library, near the door. You straighten up, following his gaze in confusion. “What are you doing?” You ask him, still trying to figure out what he’s looking at with such unease. “You don’t usually go out of your way to enjoy my company and you also keep staring at the door.”

Draco starts to mutter something about how not all of the library belongs to you, but you cut him off with a gasp of delight. “You’re hiding from Pansy Parkinson! She’s over there looking for you, and you’re trying to make sure she can’t see you by hiding behind all the bookshelves!” You laugh, and then start to raise your voice, as if you’re about to call her over. Instantly, Draco leans over you, pushing you against the bookcase and holding his wand against your throat.

“Don’t say a word.” His voice is cool and low. A teasing grin flickers across your lips, and you push his wand away with one finger. “What, you going to hex me, Malfoy? In the middle of the library? I think that would draw your favorite girl over here more than anything.” Draco just stares daggers at you, breath coming harshly in his chest. He stares there, unmoving, until you jerk your chin towards the doors. “Pansy’s gone. Now can you please let go of me?”

Draco waits a moment just to spite you, and then releases his grip on your wrist. You snatch your hand away from him with an air of disgust, and grab your potions book off of the shelf. “Never do that again.” You hiss at him, and stalk away. Who does he think he is, that lout? You’re still storming over the incident the whole way back to the table, and barely notice that Harry and Ron have joined you until you throw yourself back into your seat.

Hermione looks up at your abrupt arrival. “What’s wrong, Y/N?” You heave a sigh of irritation. “Draco Malfoy, that’s what’s wrong. I ran into that lowlife in the library. I just can’t stand him.” Harry nods knowingly, but Ron, who appears to be in an even worse mood than you, rolls his eyes. “Oh, stop complaining. You’re a Slytherin, he isn’t as bad to you.” This is entirely the wrong thing to say, and you know you should just ignore him but you’re still fired up from the confrontation in the library.

“Are you saying that Malfoy’s not as mean to me because I’m from his house?” Ron nods, ignoring Hermione pointedly shaking her head at him in an attempt to get him to stay quiet. “Yeah, I am. You keep pretending like he’s such a jerk to you, but you don’t have it half as bad as the rest of us. Honestly, you need to stop making such a big deal out of nothing.” You know you’re overreacting, but you can’t take Ron’s griping, not today. You stand up, slamming your books shut and sweeping your parchment and quills into your bag.

“In that case, I suppose you don’t need my nothing when it comes to your potions essay. Good luck figuring that out.” You glance over at Hermione. “I’m sorry to leave in a rush, but I should be on my way. Swing by later if you need help.” Hermione says her chagrined goodbyes, and as you stalk away from the table, you can hear her laying into Ron already. The sound brings a smile to your face.

You’re still fuming over Draco and Ron and the god-awful Potions essay the next day, and your irritation must show because Pansy takes advantage of the opportunity to cross paths with you as you’re walking through the halls. She’s chattering with a group of her friends in the courtyard, and as you hurry past, you hear her call something out to you. “Oh look, there’s Y/N. You know, she looks surprisingly proud for someone who’s father is a mudblood-lover. Maybe she’s alright with it.”

Your footsteps slow, and you turn back to face Pansy. You know that this is just what she wants, but you’ve got a burning feeling in the back of your head that tells you that if you let one more person walk all over you you’ll never be able to deal with yourself again. You eye Pansy coolly. “What was that, Parkinson?” Pansy smirks, victorious. “I heard a rumor that your father was getting a little too close to some Muggles. That would certainly tarnish your reputation, wouldn’t it? And here I was, thinking that the L/Ns were an upstanding wizarding family, but I guess not. It looks like-”

You feel like you’re a couple of seconds away from punching Pansy right in her arrogantly prissy face, but before you can try to argue yourself out of violence another boy steps up beside you. You groan inwardly when you realize it’s Draco. Great, another person to make fun of you, because this day wasn’t going badly enough already. However, he doesn’t join in the laughter. In fact, he shoots a glare at Pansy. “Amazing, Parkinson. Did you finally realize that your own family was so low that you had to make up rumors to get anywhere? Although, you might want to stay away from the Muggle story. I think it might be a little too true on your end.”

Pansy’s face blanches, and she starts stammering something about how that couldn’t possibly be true and she has no idea what Draco’s talking about. You stare at Draco in amazement, and he turns back to you. “Let’s go. I don’t feel like wasting any more of our time.” With that, the two of you strut away across the courtyard, leaving Pansy behind to make up excuses to her group of friends.

Only when you’re out of hearing distance from Pansy do you finally let yourself relax. You look over at Draco, unable to stop yourself from laughing. “What was that about? Is it really true about Pansy’s family?” Draco, surprisingly, is grinning as well. “I don’t know, but she didn’t seem like she could deny it.” The two of you carry on in hilarity for a while, but then you turn to him, grin slipping away from your face. “Why did you do that?” Draco frowns. “Do what?” You gesture idly behind you with your hand. “Defend me against Parkinson. I would have thought you’d join in instead of having my back.”

Draco shrugs, looking down the hallway. “We’re supposed to be enemies, aren’t we? I don’t feel like having my rival limited by false rumors. It would lower me too.” You look at him askance. “You publicly insulted Pansy Parkinson just because you think that me being called names hurts you as well?” Draco shrugs. “Why did you think I did it?” You sigh, furrowing your brow. “I don’t know.”

Even after you and Draco turn down separate hallways, you find yourself still thinking about him. Why would he defend you? It makes no sense. You even think back to that moment in the library, and realize that he wasn’t really as cruel as you had thought. All he had done then was exchange the usual retorts, although those had the same joking tinge as always. And wasn’t it strange that of all the places to hide, he had chosen your aisle? It could have just been a coincidence, or maybe he was seeking you out intentionally.

You’re not sure how you feel about this. You’ve grown so used to thinking of Draco as an enemy, someone to be hated, that you don’t quite know what to do when he is nice to you. You find your eyes flickering his way in the common room, or your gaze constantly catching on his silhouette as he walks past you in the halls. You usually never spend this much time thinking about him, but now, he seems to be everywhere.

One night, you can’t focus on your homework. Between the smoky atmosphere of the Slytherin common room or the mind-twisting Transfiguration tasks McGonagall’s set for you, you just can’t seem to get your thoughts in order. Eventually, you close up your books and decide to head to the Astronomy Tower. The cool night air will clear your head, and you’ll still technically be doing homework because you’ll be studying the stars.

You’re grateful for the still emptiness of the tower. You prop your arms up against the stone edge of the balcony, letting your shoulders slump as you consider the dizzying drop to the grounds below. You tilt your head up slightly, letting the wind trace patterns against your skin. You’re just beginning to feel peaceful once again when you hear the door to the Astronomy Tower open and a figure joins you on the turret. You sigh inwardly when you recognize the familiar shock of white-blond hair. Of course- Draco always goes to the Astronomy Tower as a place to unwind. Then you’re surprised as to why that fact popped so readily into your head, and how you even knew that in the first place.

Draco’s steps falter for a second when he realizes he’s not alone. You start to move away from the balcony. “Here, I’ll go. You can have the tower to yourself.” You turn around to find yourself caught in Draco’s gaze, those storm grey eyes pinning you in place. Draco shakes his head just slightly, and his voice echoes across the stone room. “No, don’t go. It’s alright.” You hesitate for a moment, then turn back to the view before you. Your eyes follow the line of trees dotting the grounds, the twisting snakes of rivers that feed into the Black Lake.

After a moment, Draco joins you at the balcony. He leans up against the stone, just a few inches away from you. You both stand there in silence, unable to say a word. At last, Draco turns to you. “What are we?” You return his gaze, slightly confused. “What?” Draco looks away for just a second, and then his eyes return to you. “When we first met, we hated each other. We’ve been rivals for years, and now-” He breaks off. “I don’t think we dislike each other anymore. I don’t think we have for a while.” You stay silent for a second, taking in his words. Then you nod.

“There’s something else, isn’t there? It isn’t just me?” For a moment, you think you’ve gone too far, spoken too rashly. Draco stares at you, then he leans forward and kisses you. When he breaks away, panic and regret flash through his eyes when you don’t say anything. He starts to move away, but you step towards him and kiss him again. This time, he doesn’t break away, not immediately. His hand slides up to the small of your back, the stone of the balcony cool against your legs.

You can still feel his hand on your waist when he breaks away. You look away, sure you’ve made some mistake that you’ll regret in the morning, but then his fingers are lightly pressed against your cheek, guiding you back to look at him again. He looks less sure of anything than you’ve ever seen him, but all of a sudden that doubt is replaced by a calm determination. “This is right. This is what we were supposed to be.” You nod quietly, letting your hesitation break free with a smile. He’s right, isn’t he? No matter how it felt to win all the arguments or competitions with him, this moment right now feels far better than anything before it. This is what you always wanted, and what he wants as well.

#draco malfoy #draco malfoy imagine #draco malfoy x reader #draco malfoy imagines #draco malfoy oneshot #harry potter #harry potter imagine #harry potter x reader #harry potter imagines #harry potter oneshot #harry potter draco #harry potter draco malfoy #harry potter draco malfoy imagine #draco #draco imagine #draco x reader #draco imagines #draco oneshot

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thunder-at-dawn · 3 years

Text

Hidden Book, Hidden Giggles

word count: 2,448

summary: tommy has a plan, and gets his brother involved. things are going very well, and wilbur is very proud of himself...until the plan fails.

it’s currently 3:30 in the morning when i’m typing this, so i’m not typing a proper intro OR spellchecking this until later. no beta we die like wilbur does in this fic /j anyway buckle up because i was VERY mean to wilbur in this one

warning: this is a sfw tickle fic! don’t read if that makes you uncomfortable :]

Tommy had a great idea.

Well, in his opinion, it was great.

And that idea...was to fuck with Techno all day.

Of course, Tommy fucked with people all the time. He was Tommy, that’s what he would do. However, tonight, Tommy felt like being a little bit more of an annoying little shit than he normally was.

Naturally, he went to Wilbur for help. His plan that he had come up with relied on the power of teamwork. Wilbur agreed to help out, reluctant at first. However, nothing was wrong with a little extra amusement that was provided by Techno slowly losing his cool. Both of them had also convinced Phil to help with the plan, which Wilbur had no idea how he managed to get him on bored.

The plan was very simple, but very effective. The three of them would each steal something from Techno that night, and then continuously hide it from him around the house all day. While Techno had gone outside to practice his swordsmanship, they each snagged an item from his room. Wilbur grabbed the book that Techno was currently reading, Tommy took his crown, and Phil stole his reading glasses. When Techno came back inside after hours of practice, he was too worn out to suspect a thing.

The next morning, the first thing Wilbur did when he woke up was to check and make sure that Techno hadn’t already foiled his plans. He let out a happy sigh of relief to see that the book was still where he had hidden it: in a small cabinet drawer inside his closet. He had opened it to a random page to take up less vertical space, and it was the perfect size to be stowed away.

Things continued like normal. Wilbur got dressed, headed downstairs, said hello to Phil and Tommy, and started prepping breakfast for himself. Not much was happening in their household today. He had planned to stay home, and as far as he was aware, Phil and Techno planned to do the same. Tommy had plans to spend the night at Tubbo’s place, but it wasn’t until the evening that he had to leave. As he cracked an egg over the frying pan on the stove, Techno came shuffling into the room.

“Morning, Techno!” Phil greeted as he took a sip from his mug of coffee. Techno nodded in response, heading straight for the cabinet and pulling out a box of wheat cereal. He flipped the box over, squinting and reading through the words on the back, before walking over to Tommy, who was sitting at the table and eating a sugary cereal of some sort.

The young teen looked up, an eyebrow raising. “...What?” He asked with a mouthful of cereal and milk.

“Tommy, I need you to read the contents of this box of cereal for me.” Techno told him.

“Can’t you just...do it yourself?” Tommy questioned.

“Normally, I would, but I can’t find my reading glasses anywhere.” Techno sighed with annoyance. “I can barely make out anything on this box.”

“Do you know where you last left them?” Phil asked Techno.

“I swore I left them in their case on my nightstand, but when I woke up this morning, they weren’t inside.” He explained.

“That’s...weird. Very, very strange.” Tommy said, pretending not to know the truth. Wilbur could feel his heart beating fast as he caught Techno staring at him out of the corner of his eye, but huffed out a quick sigh of relief when Techno only said good morning to him, and nothing more. As Tommy read out the statistics labeled on the cereal box, he silently hoped to himself that he and the other two would be able to keep their acts up all day.

After breakfast, Wilbur headed into his room, both to relax and to keep guard. He grabbed his guitar, closed the door, and sat cross legged on the his bed, starting to play. He had a couple of ideas for songs, and would play around with the notes that he strummed. His family would peek open the door and visit, chatting briefly. Techno even walked by and chatted with him, still not suspecting anything.

After a few hours of playing and relaxing, he opened the door, leaving the room to get a snack. As he made his way down the stairs and to the kitchen, he found Tommy hunched over one of the counters.

“Hey, Tommy! What’s up?” Wilbur asked, stepping closer and opening the door to the fridge.

Tommy looked up, smiling as he saw his older brother. It looked like he was...out of breath? A bit strange, but Wilbur didn’t question. “Ah, Wilbur! Hey. How’s your part of the plan going?”

“Great.” Wilbur smirked as he pulled an apple out from the drawer in the refrigerator. “Technoblade came by, we had a nice little chat about swordfighting, and he hasn’t questioned anything from me since.” He said to Tommy, closing the refrigerator door now.

“What about you? How are things going?” He turned away to pick at the sticker on the apple and awaited Tommy’s response, but didn’t get one. He looked up, curious. “...Tommy?”

“Yeah...about that...Techno, um, got the crown back.”

“What? How?”

“I...he walked in on me trying it on in the mirror.” Tommy huffed, embarrassed.

“...Oh my god.” Wilbur couldn’t help but chuckle a bit at the silliness of this situation.

“I- I didn’t let him take it away from me so easily, though!” Tommy reassured, a pink tint on his face. “I ran around the room to get it away from him, but he managed to nag it. Not without me putting up a fight, I would never hand it over to him. Did you not hear me yelling at him and telling him how he would never get it back? We were pretty fuckin’ loud!”

“Mm, no.” Wilbur shrugged. “I had my door closed and was playing guitar, so I didn’t hear you guys.”

“Wow, okay.” Tommy blinked in surprise. “Well, he’s onto you next, so good luck. You’ll need it.”

“...Alright, thanks.” Wilbur shrugged as the two of them headed out of the kitchen.

Wilbur went back upstairs, apple in hand as he closed the door behind him. Instead of playing the guitar this time, he went ahead and put a music disc into the jukebox. The beats of pigstep played throughout the room as Wilbur sat on his bed, opening up a spare notebook, which had sporadic notes about possible song lyrics. He jotted down his ideas, nodding his head to the beat of the music. Probably about fifteen minutes had passed when he heard a knock on his door.

“Come in!” He called out. Opening the door was Phil, who, like Tommy earlier, looked like he was out of breath. It was quite strange, Wilbur thought.

“Wilbur, hey mate.” His father greeted him. “So, would it be okay if you were the one to drop Tommy off at Tubbo’s later?”

“What? Yeah, that’s fine.” Wilbur nodded. “What, did something happen?”

“Yeah, I’m just...” Phil paused, looking left and right, as if he was being secretive. “I’m just a little worn out.” He said, putting his hand on the doorknob, about to close the door shut with no further explanation.

However, before Phil could close the door, he was stopped by a hand wrapping around his own. Looking up, he saw Techno intensely glaring at him.

“Keep the door open, Phil. I’d like to talk to my brother.” Techno said politely. Phil chuckled softly (and, by the sound of it, a bit nervously), nodding as he walked away, leaving the two alone. Wilbur looked up as Techno entered the room and closed the door behind him. What made Wilbur feel especially uneasy, however, was that he was wearing his reading glasses.

“...Techno.”

“Wilbur.”

“You...I see you found your glasses.” Wilbur said, feeling nervous already.

“Indeed I did.” Techno nodded, walking over and turning off the jukebox. “And you won’t believe where I found them.”

“Oh, really? Where?”

“They were in Phil’s nightstand cabinet. Turns out, he had stolen them from me. Just like Tommy had stolen my crown.” He said, making direct eye contact with Wilbur. “Now, the one last thing I’m missing is my book, and I was wondering if you had any clue where it was.”

“...Nope.” Wilbur looked down at his notebook.

“Oh, don’t play dumb with me, Wilbur.” Techno rolled his eyes. “I know you took it.”

“I didn’t! Seriously!” Wilbur said, the nervousness setting in and becoming evident in his voice. “You can check my entire bookshelf, man. It’s not gonna be there.”

And that’s exactly what Techno did. He made a beeline for Wilbur’s bookshelf, scanning through each and every book. Pulling a few off of the shelf to investigate further, he went through the full thing as Wilbur simply hummed to himself and wrote down more lyrics.

“See? Exactly what I told you, it’s not there.” Wilbur said a bit smugly, proud that he was currently in the right. Techno huffed, starting to dig through other various things in Wilbur’s room, but not anywhere near the closet. At one point, Wilbur felt his heart fill with fear as Techno opened the closet door, but he only looked in there briefly, and didn’t do a full fledged look through, simply closing the closet door afterwards.

“...This is taking too long.” Techno grumbled.

“I’m telling you, I don’t have your book.” Wilbur lied. “You’re not going to find it in here.”

“You know what? Alright. It didn’t have to come to this, but you’re being stubborn.” In a swift movement, he grabbed Wilbur’s notebook and pen, tossing them to the side, then quickly grabbed Wilbur by the shoulders, lightly pushing him down and then grabbing his wrists, holding them above his head. Wilbur gasped in surprise, snapping his head up and looking at his brother.

“Now, Wilbur. Tommy refused to give me my crown, and Phil wouldn’t tell me where my glasses were. So, now, I’m going to use a strategy that I used on both of them, and it worked on both of them.” Techno explained calmly.

With that, Wilbur simply scoffed, a smirk on his face. “Oh yeah? And what would that be?” He asked, acting confident.

“Hmm...acting cocky now, are we? I’m not sure if you want to act that way right now, Wilbur.” Techno moved so that he was now sitting next to Wilbur on the bed as he laid down, and held his two hands above him with only one of his own. Wilbur did his best to relax, but the feeling of not knowing what his brother had planned was making him nervous. He stayed calm though...until he suddenly felt a hand squeezing at his right hip.

Wilbur inhaled sharply, giggling lightly and attempting to shift away from the hand. “T-TeHECHno! Whahat are you dohohoihing?!”

“Well, what does it look like I’m doing?” The piglin asked.

“Y-You’re squhuehehezing my hihihip.”

“Squeezing? That’s weird. The answer is that I’m tickling you, that’s supposed to tickle.” Techno muttered. “But, apparently, that’s not what you think, so I need to change that.” As he started clawing at Wilbur’s stomach, his eyes widened, and giggling turned into laughter.

“WA-WAHAIT- Wahahaihit! TehehechnOHOHO!” Wilbur started to squirm around, bringing his knees towards himself as an attempt to protect himself.

“Yes?” He asked, eyeing his brother.

“Yohohou’re- aHA- TeHEHechnoHO-!”

“Unable to form coherent sentences, are we? Well, I need you to speak if you’re going to tell me where the book is.”

“I dohon’t hAHAve ihihit!”

“Hmm...I don’t believe you.” Techno pushed up the bottom of Wilbur’s sweater so that his stomach was now exposed, and gripped at Wilbur’s wrists once again, holding them above his head. He shook his head so that his braid fell over his shoulder, then lowered his head slightly and put his plan into motion. Wilbur squeaked, laughing softly as he felt the tips of Techno’s hair lightly brush over his bare skin.

“This is your last chance, Wilbur. Tell me where my book is, and I won’t be nice anymore.” He said, the smallest of smirks on his face.

“Ihi’m tehelling yohou...I dohon’t hahave ihit.” Wilbur giggled, taking a moment to catch his breath.

“Heh...it’s your funeral.” Techno shrugged. He let go off Wilbur’s wrists, and immediately shot his hands down into the armpits. Wilbur’s eyes shot open, his arms flew down to his sides, and he quickly burst into loud, boisterous cackles.

“NAHAHAHAHA- TEHEHECHNOHOHO!! YOHOHOU DIHIHIHICK- AHAHAHAAA!!”

“Maybe if you had told me where my book was, we wouldn’t be in this situation.” Techno said, speeding up the speed of his scribbling. Wilbur kicked his legs, laughing hysterically.

“IHIHI DOHO- NOHOHOHAHAHA!!”

“Don’t what? I can’t understand what you’re saying.” He said, acting oblivious. He continued for as long as he chose too, until Wilbur quickly screamed out his name, tears in the corners of his eyes.

“TEHEHEHE- TEHEHECHNOHOHO- AHAHALRIHIHIGHT! IHIHIHIT’S IHIHIN THE CAHABNIHIEHET!!” He yelled through his laughter.

“Which cabinet? You have plenty of cabinets,

Wilbur.” Techno asked, leaning down and taking a breath before blowing a raspberry on his stomach. Wilbur let out a scream louder tan be ever had before, hysterical cackling spewing out of his mouth.

“IHIHIN THE CLOHOHOHOSEHEHET!!! NOHOHOW PLEHEHEHEHEAHAHASE, STOHOHOP IHIHIHIT- EHEHEHEHAHAHAHA-!”

At Wilbur’s request, Techno pulled his hands away, standing up and opening the closet door, shuffling through the cabinet drawers until he found what he was looking for. He grabbed the book, sat back down on the bed, looking at it for a moment, then groaned.

“...Wilbur.”

“Yehehes?”

“This wasn’t the page I left my book on, Wilbur.”

“Oh. Wehehell, how the fuhuhuhuck wahahas I suhuppohohossed tohoho knohohohow thAHAHAHA- TEHEHEHECHNOHOHO- WAHAHAHAHAIT, IHIHI’M SOHOHOHOREEHEHEEY-!” Wilbur shrieked as he felt a raspberry to his side, throwing his head back onto the bed.

“PLEHEHEAHAHASE TEHEHECHNOHOHO!! MEHEHEHRCY, HAHAHAVE MEHEHEHERCEHEHEY!!!” He pleased, tears streaming down his face.

“You’re asking for mercy? Well, now I know what to do when I need you to shut up.” Techno chuckled softly, standing up and heading out of the bedroom. “Oh, and I’ll see if Phil can drive Tommy to Tubbo’s for you. You’re way too tired and giggly to be able to focus on the road.”

Wilbur stared at the ceiling once Techno left, using the wool of his sweater to wipe away some of his tears. He needed time to catch his breath, and to plot how he would get revenge on his twin.

And how he would enjoy getting that revenge as much as he enjoyed this experience just now. However, he would never say that out loud.

#dawn writes #lee!wilbur #ler!techno #c!wilbur #c!techno #dsmp tickle #i am so tired gn #also this was partially a gift for river. river if ur reading this ily /p #🧨 wilbur: the bad guy #🗡 technoblade: the blood god

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showrunnerihardlyknowher · 3 years

Note

You know how we have pet costumes? Give Jacob one, make him a cute space cowboy😈😈😈

WE'RE BACK BABY

Please enjoy this little ficlet (that was actually my 3rd attempt to write a fluffy ficlet for this universe because all the other ones kept becoming future chapters lmao)

“This is humiliating. I look like sheriff Woody or something.”

“Aw, I was thinking more like John Wayne Gacy, you know?”

“The...the clown serial killer…?”

Angie pursed her lips. “Wait, who was the cowboy guy in all the old movies? Like, before Clint Eastwood and whatever.”

“That’s John Wayne. Not John Wayne Gacy,” Jacob tugged at the sleeves of his costume and readjusted his cowhide vest. “And I don’t feel anywhere near as cool as him right now.”

She rolled her eyes and crinkled her nose. “That’s because you’re not cool. You’re a grown man playing dress up with a kindergartener.”

“So are you.”

Angie straightened her Native American headpiece and threw one of her braided pigtails behind her. “Yeah, but I know it’s stupid, so therefore I’m doing it ironically which makes me cool.”

Jacob sighed heavily but didn’t argue further, instead tugging his cowboy hat down further to shield his face that burned with embarrassment. Being forced into having playdates with his captor’s coworker was nothing new. He had spent plenty of time being Mibao’s sole playmate aboard the ship, doing the best he could to keep the six year girl entertained and not too psychologically damaged. Being the youngest in a sibling group of only boys, he was a bit rusty when it came to knowing anything about kids. Thankfully, Mibao was more than happy to take him by the hand and show up all the “fun” things she used to either do back home or what she would now do with her “kitty”.

Today’s game of choice was dress up. Every day felt like dress up when it came to the girl’s ever expanding wardrobe; she was always dressed in an obnoxiously puffy and sparkling princess dress fashioned with ribbons and bows galore and always with a matching crown. Fine, no big deal, he could slap a tiara on his head and call it a day, he’d worn worse at the few fraternity parties he attended during college. Nope, not good enough. Mibao had a very specific game she wanted to play which involved him wearing a cowboy costume of all things. A very realistic and detailed cowboy costume, assless chaps and spurs and all. Again, he could...handle it for the most part. The only thing that really bothered him about it was all the coos and giggles he received from both his and Mibao’s captors when he finally came out in his new outfit.

And he knew for a fact they took many, many pictures of him.

It didn’t end there, Mibao still had more requests. Angie needed to join in as well and she was required to be an “indian princess” to partake. Naturally, she was more than happy to agree if it meant getting a break from the absolute nightmare of a captor she had been saddled with. So, now Jacob had to deal with the fact that she would have to watch him play pretend in this ridiculous getup. He could never catch a break with her, it seemed, she always had to catch him when he was in the middle of doing something cringe worthy. She didn’t even look half as uncomfortable as him and she was literally wearing half as much clothing.

Or maybe that was exactly why she was so comfortable as she sauntered up to him, making a finger pistol to tip his hat away from his face. “Cheer up, partner,” she teased. “I think it makes you look cute.”

“I think it makes me look like Owen Wilson from the museum movie,” Jacob replied, hoping the shadow of the brim hid his reddening cheeks.

“Oh my God, you are a tiny little twink cowboy, huh?”

“I’d rather be the gladiator guy.”

“You wish you could pull off being the gladiator guy.”

A rebuttal was on the tip of his tongue when Mibao made her appearance from behind the monitor where she had been changing. This time instead of her usual princess attire, she was dressed...pretty much the same, only this time she had a tiny pair or iridescent fairy wings attached to the back. What a fairy had to do with cowboys and indians, he hadn’t the faintest idea. She stopped when she saw the two of them and stuck out her tongue in childish disgust.

“Eww, stop kissing!” She scolded. “You can kiss the princess later, Jake, it’s time to play!”

Jacob had never been more grateful in his life that the creatures idly watching them couldn’t understand English because he just might have died if they heard. He could feel the heat radiating from his nape to his cheeks, putting his hands up in defense like it could keep Angie away from him.

“Wh-no! We weren’t, we weren’t kissing, Reagan, w-we-!”

Angie only cackled, her amusement stemming more from Jacob’s panicked response than the actual accusation of giving him a kiss. “Yeah, cowboy, you can kiss me later.” She winked and nudged him with her elbow as she walked past to where Mibao was waiting.

He groaned, tugging the hat down as far as it would go even if that meant obscuring his vision somewhat. That was totally fine, he didn’t want to look at anyone right now and he did not want to be perceived either. The child was leading them back over to her designated play area scattered with art supplies and stuffed toys for where they’ll play their game of make believe. Angie was already sitting on her knees by the time he shuffled over and beckoned him with a sly smile to come take a seat on the ground next to her. Jacob obliged, but refused to give her the satisfaction of seeing his beet red face.

As soon as they were settled, Mibao immediately launched into the exposition of the scene they would be putting on, including their roles and superpowers (that only she had because she was a magical fairy queen). Jacob was only half listening; the kid usually forgot half of her own rules in the middle of playing anyways because she wanted to change the story and it wasn’t that hard to follow her game of make believe. Instead, he kept side-eying Angie, who was side-eying him back, and every time they made eye contact she would smile and bump his shoulder with hers.

This was going to be a long playdate.

The lab door slid open as Talan walked in, peeling off his bloodied gloves to dispose of them in Ylva’s waste bin. “I need my human back.”

“Aw, why? They’re all having a ball together!” Ylva frowned, gesturing to the miniature trio on her desk. Well, the smallest one and Talan’s pet seemed like they were having a good time, namely at the expense of the other human in a hat. They all seemed to stop at the interruption, his human fixing him with a sneer that he was tempted to match.

“What the fuck is it wearing?” He asked, ignoring all the little protests he got when he grabbed it and plucked the stupid looking feather thing of its head. “I thought you said it’s not nice to torment the humans.”

Edix scoffed at him, though his annoyance was more from Talan being in his general vicinity than anything. “It’s not torment. They were having fun.”

Talan did not look convinced in the slightest, his eyes sweeping over the pup who was pouting at him for taking away its playmate and the other who froze any time he breathed in its direction. Like owner, like pet, he assumed as it seemed to unconsciously inch closer to where Edix’s hand was resting for a better sense of security. Pathetic. At least his pet had a bit more self respect and wasn’t afraid to try and stab him in the hand with his own tools. Of course, it got a sharp flick to the stomach to knock it off, but he could appreciate the gumption.

Talan rolled his eyes. “Yeah, looks like a real party. So sad to have missed it.”

“Like you’ve ever been to a party to know what it looks like.”

“Says the one that only hangs out with plants.”

“Okay,” Ylva interjected, rising from her chair and scooping up her adorable little human. “You’re right, we should probably wrap this up, Mibao’s going to need a nap soon and she likes to fight her naps when she’s excited.”

That was all the excuse Talan needed to dip out without a formal goodbye, though it didn’t escape the corner of his eye how Edix’s human took a half step forward when he left, almost like it wanted to say something. Even if it did, he wouldn’t have cared. As quickly as he had intruded, Talan disappeared back down the main hall of the fauna department to return to his lab.

Edix stood up as well and tucked the data pad he had been keeping busy with under his arm to keep his hands free. He couldn’t help but smile at seeing how much closer his little pet was standing to him, even if it wasn’t by much, even though it was caused by Talan of all bastards. A win was a win in his book. The hand the human had been partly hiding behind curled easily around it to lift it up, immediately cradling it to his chest as usual. It squirmed for a moment but settled quick enough, a clear sign it was also ready to go back to the lab it was accustomed to. For a social species, the little one always seemed so drained after any playdate Ylva arranged for their pets. Fine by him, it usually meant his human was much more quiet and well behaved once it was back in the solitude of Edix’s company, making for an easier work day.

He used his finger to tilt back the wide brimmed hat it had been using to hide its sweet little face a majority of the playdate, earning him a surprised squeak. With the way its baby cheeks were turning an adorable shade of pink, Edix had a fairly good guess as to why it was trying to avoid everyone’s line of sight. Damn, he should have had Ylva take more pictures, this was way too cute for him. It reached up to quickly pull its shield back down and Edix let it with a laugh, cooing as he tugged at its little vest instead which only made it wriggle in distress. Overdramatic little thing.

“Can I keep this costume?” He asked as he followed behind Ylva who was preparing to put her own pup down for a nap. In reality, it meant she was going to have to play with it for at least another half an hour because, much like him, she was a sucker when it came to her human wanting to play. The difference being that Mibao wanted to do anything from coloring to singing to continuing its game of make believe while Edix’s pet always wanted to play chase.

Ylva smiled and shrugged. “Sure, I mean, it’s not like it’s going to fit the baby. It was printed for its measurements specifically, anyways.” Mibao was proving to be difficult in its refusal to relinquish the shiny wings Ylva had designed at its request, something that Ylva quickly made a game out of by setting her pup on the desk and letting it squeal and run while her hands chased after it. That would tire the kid out in no time. She looked back at his human and giggled. “I don’t think it likes it very much, though.”

Oh yeah, that was obvious from the get go, but it didn’t change the fact that it was way too precious for its own good in this type of outfit. Edix actually quite liked the contrast of the dark brown against its pale skin, even more given the fact that it matched the color of its doe eyes perfectly. It was much more appealing than that splotchy green jacket it was inexplicably attached to. He had a feeling it was going to try and strip out of this outfit as soon as it was back in Edix’s lab, provided he gave it its normal suit and jacket to change into. But...maybe he didn’t have to offer it its spare set of clothes right away. Maybe it would just have to hang around in its little boots and hat for a couple hours longer while he finished up his latest report that was just so important to get done. And maybe he would get constantly distracted by how cute it looked while it was definitely pouting at him for not taking off its costume that it took a little longer than usual to finish his work, which meant it spent even longer pouting under its hat.

Decisions, decisions.

Edix waved his hand dismissively. “It’ll learn to love it.”

“Oh, Eddie, don’t be mean to it,” Ylva laughed, not that seemed bothered by the idea of his pet keeping the outfit on for an extended period of time beyond the playdate. “But send pictures if you do.”

#ask #anon #my writing #g/t writing #g/t fluff #g/t ocs #g/t #giant/tiny #gianttiny #macro/micro #gt #please enjoy ficlet mommy buy for u #ive missed them so much #now we just gotta finish chapter 3 and we're really rockin n rollin #also yes angie likes teasing jacob for obviously having a crush on her #and ALSO YES i forgot angie has short hair so we're gonna pretend its because shes been in captivity for so long that it just grew out #and thats how she could braid it #talan simps rejoice for he is here #unfortunately

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jean-kayak · 3 years

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Black babies are invading my ig with their cute chubby selves! It gave me an idea of Y/N watching after her baby neice/nephew for the day and when she comes to see her bf at his practice, he just loses it when the baby smiles at him.

I think Bokuto, Suna, Daichi, and Aone would be perfect for some head cannons of meeting their gf’s cute relative (Aone deserves love and I think an adorable child smiling at him would make his day)

A/N: Anon, I am so sorry this is late, but here it is, and this request was really cute, I hope you like it!

🦉 Your niece had been bugging you to go to one of your boyfriend's practices after watching one game and you told her that Bokuto played

🦉 Once school ended, you met your sister so that you could take her to the gym

🦉She walks next to you excitedly, bouncing with every step as she holds your hand tightly

🦉You can tell she's getting antsier when she hears the voices and the sounds of the ball getting louder

🦉But as soon as you walk her to the door, she gets shy and hides behind your leg

🦉"Come on, sweetie, don't be shy now." You pick her up, sitting her on your hip as you walk into the gym, her head resting on your neck

🦉"Baby!" you hear Bokuto yell, running over towards you with his arms out, but his excitement is turned into confusion as he gets closer

🦉"And a kid?" he asks, and you chuckle softly as you walk towards him

🦉 You introduce her to him, and he waves his hand at her, as he hunches his shoulders trying to make himself seem smaller

🦉"This is my boyfriend, he's the one who plays volleyball." You see her perk up at your words, and she's slowly lifting her head up

🦉"Hey, pretty girl," he says, softly, stepping a little close. "You wanna learn how to play volleyball?"

🦉She nods her head excitedly, and Bokuto gladly takes her from your arms before jogging over to the other side of the gym to grab a ball

🦉He spends all of practice showing her how to pass, set, and hit the ball, and you watch them with a fond smile as they practice in the corner of the gym

🦉During water breaks, he puts her on his shoulders and has Akaashi set a ball so that she can hit it

🦉It doesn't really go anywhere, but he cheers for her anyway, bringing her down so that he can hold her in his arm while his other one is flailing wildly before he gives her a high five

🦉They literally have to drag him back to practice, and after that she always makes you bring her to practices

🦊The whole Inarizaki team is confused when a little boy comes running into the gym

🦊And when Suna sees you running in after him, he quick to make his way over to the kid and scoop him up in his arms

🦊"You look like you're on a mission, bud. What're you doin'?" The boy giggles before he looks at you over his shoulder

🦊"I'm trynna hide from my Auntie," he responds, and Suna glances over his shoulder seeing you walk closer and he turns back to him

🦊"I know a perfect hiding spot." You watch Suna start to jog away from you, and you watch him walk to the ball cart, and he tells your nephew something before putting him in it

🦊Your nephew laughs wildly, and you can hear Suna tell him that if he doesn't hide then you're going to find him

🦊You watch your nephew bury himself under the balls, and you walk over to him

🦊"I'm sorry. He got away from me," you tell him and he shrugs

🦊 "It's cool. Better than practicing."

🦊Your nephew pops out from under the balls, saying that you found him and Suna quickly grabs him before making his way to the other side of the gym

🦊You roll your eyes but follow him anyway, and Suna spends the rest of practice playing with your nephew

🦊"Aren't yer gonna practice?" Atsumu asks him, and Suna looks between him and your nephew

🦊"Uh, can't you see that I'm busy?"

🦊Suna continues to find hiding spots for your nephew to go, sometimes hiding next to him as you pretend you can't hear them talking

🦊If you're busy doing something, Suna will sit him on his lap while he's on the bleachers and feed him some food that he had leftover

🦊Your nephew's bummed when you tell him that he has to go, but Suna crouches down and tells him that they could always play again

🦊The boy practically tackles him to the ground with a hug before running towards the doors, and Suna kisses you on the forehead before you run out to follow him

🏅He's helping set up the net when notices a little boy peeking his head into the gym

🏅He frowns before he walks towards him, crouching down a little way in front of him so that he doesn't scare him. "Hey, kiddo, you looking for someone?"

🏅The boy looks at him with a slightly scared looked until his eyes widen. "Do you play volleyball?" he asks, pointing to his knee pads

🏅And Daichi smiles as he stands. "Sure do," he answers, walking towards the boy, whose eyes light up

🏅"You wanna learn how to play?" he asks, picking up the kid in his arms, and he nods eagerly, making Daichi chuckle

🏅He still doesn't know who the kid belongs to, so he steps outside of the gym, looking around to see if he can see anyone

🏅"Daichi! Oh, thank God!" He turns to see you running up to him, putting your hands on your knees to catch your breath when you get to him

🏅"I didn't actually think he knew where the gym was," you say before you stand up straight, taking another deep breath. "He was so excited he started running here."

🏅His eyes widen. "This is your kid?" he asks, baffled, and you quickly wave your hands

🏅"Oh, no. This is my nephew." Daichi takes a deep breath before the kid starts bouncing in his arms

🏅"I wanna learn how to play!" he says, excitedly, and when you try to oppose, Daichi stops you

🏅"It's fine, we still have some time before Coach gets here."

🏅He brings your nephew back into the gym and grabs a ball before walking onto the court

🏅You sit down on the floor near the doors, watching Daichi show him the basics of passing before he has him try it on his own

🏅Even after practice is over, Daichi stays to play with your nephew some more, showing him how to hit

🏅Your nephew is ecstatic, cheering loudly whenever he does something right or when he makes good contact with the ball

🏅Your nephew ends up falling asleep on Daichi shoulder, having enough excitement for today, and Daichi walks over to you

🏅"Sorry about him," you say, and Daichi shakes his head

🏅"Don't worry about it. I had fun. He makes practice more entertaining. You can always bring him back."

🏅"I just might because I know that he's going to wanna come back."

🏅He hands him to you, and your nephew wakes up momentarily to tell him that he thinks Daichi is the coolest volleyball player in the world, and Daichi rubs his hand over his hair as he gives him a fond look

🍓Aone has a surprised look on his face when he sees you walk in with a little girl in your arms

🍓He's a little hesitant to walk over to you because he's been known to scare kids in the past, and he freezes when you walk closer to him

🍓You tell him that she's your niece, and she was spending time with you so you thought you'd bring her to one of your boyfriend's practices

🍓And he's more than shocked when she's more than willing to go to him

🍓He tenses up when he's holding her, feeling like if he moves the wrong way he might hurt her

🍓But he can't help the smile that appears on his face when she starts talking his ear off, her hands continually touching his face, which you tell him something that she does to everybody

🍓He gives her back to you when he has to go practice, and you sit with her on the floor so that she can watch

🍓She watches with wide eyes, opting to stand for most of the practices, and gasping loudly when Aone gets a block

🍓She cheers loudly every time Aone gets a block even after you've told her that she has to stay quiet

🍓"Seems like you've got a huge fan," Futakuchi teases, and Aone can't stop the heat from rising to his cheeks

🍓Aone usually doesn't smile after winning a point, opting for going for his usually stoic face, but every time he hears your niece's cheers, he smiles, and it shocks the whole team

🍓After practice is over, she runs over to him, holding her arms out, and he carefully picks her up

🍓She explains how she thought all of his blocks were cool, emphasizing them with different sound effects, doing the same thing with his hits also

🍓You can't help but sneak your phone out of your pocket and take a picture of the fond look on his face as he listens to your niece's enthusiastic rambling

🍓She doesn't want to leave when you tell her it's time to go, and Aone offers to walk you home after he finishes cleaning up the gym

🍓She's back in his arms as you walk home, eventually talking herself to sleep, her head buried in his neck

🍓And he smiles softly as his heart swells

#haikyuu headcanons #haikyuu!! headcanons #hq headcanons #hq!! headcanons #aone takanobu headcanons #daichi sawamura headcanons #suna rintarou headcanons #bokuto koutarou headcanons #haikyuu #haikyuu!!#hq #hq!!

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