#like yeah okay 'shop' doesn't NOT track but no fucking way would i have ever landed there myself
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i'm having a lot of fun with duolingo italian because it's like word that is basically latin but italianly, french but to the left, oh hey greek! you love to see it, absolute bottom of the false friend option list but sure i guess, WILDEST LEFT FIELD SHIT YOU'VE EVER SEEN, back to latin,
#you'd think#given just how much english has borrowed from italian#that i would have osmosised more actual italian#but my main takeaway from the past couple of weeks#is that i could not in fact have osmosised *less* italian#the sum total of the italian i have osmosised is jack fucking shit#as it turns out#anyway#this post brought to you by 'gli uccelli'#which ultimately unsurprisingly does of course come from latin#just in a way that's not quite phonologically transparent enough for me#(and both my extremely limited memory of my extremely limited latin and my highly vibes-based sense of latin > italian sound changes)#to connect to anything that would point me even vaguely in the right direction#it does have a step up on 'colazione' and 'ciotola' though#in that the latin > italian journey didn't *also* involve a fairly significant amount of semantic drift#'absolute bottom of the false friend option list but sure i guess' is 'negozio' btw#like yeah okay 'shop' doesn't NOT track but no fucking way would i have ever landed there myself
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OLD FOLKS HOME ↪ age gap hcs
the people you love & the shit they do that reminds you of the dreaded Gap (tm).
characters included: leon kennedy, chris redfield, jill valentine, claire redfield, rebecca chambers
no warnings to speak of. remember kids, if you're gonna date people in their 30s and 40s, you're gonna have different cultural contexts and, most likely, different senses of humor.
Leon is eight levels of irony deep. He started doing Old Guy Shit just to mess with you, and now it's all come full circle.
It turns out he actually likes watching the weather channel. He’s monitoring storms that are miles and miles away from you, pointing out the feeder bands like it’s some kind of sporting event.
He's genuinely invested in Ice Road Truckers. He asks you to TiVo it for him when he's gone. You do not have TiVo. In fact, you're pretty sure no one still has TiVo.
Or you were, until Leon once again committed to the bit and got TiVo.
Really, genuinely annoying about old movies, actors, and directors.
”What do you mean you don’t know who Robert Redford is? The Candidate? Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid? C’mon. He was even in an episode of The Twilight Zone. You’ll know him when you see him.”
At least you get movie dates out of it.
Movie dates that he will pepper with trivia about the film, by the way. You don't need the commentary track. He is the commentary.
I'm so, so sorry about this. 🤪 is his favorite emoji. I know. I'm sorry.
Chris cannot fucking hear. To be honest, I think most of them have some degree of hearing loss - but Chris in particular seems to have very subjective hearing loss.
Yes, you were just having a full-fledged conversation. No, he didn’t hear you ask him to take out the trash. He didn’t forget, he just didn’t hear you. Sorry, you were standing on his right - come on, you know that’s his bad side.
Explains basic technology to you because he’s not sure if you know what it is. Then, in the same breath, crams in so many military acronyms he may as well be reciting the alphabet. Does not explain the acronyms.
Like, yeah, Chris. I know what a landline is. Dial-up internet, too. Now, what the fuck is an ORE?
Have you ever gotten ‘ok’ in response to a nude? You’re about to. Completely demoralizing, by the way.
He didn't know you wanted him to compose a poem dedicated to your beauty, okay? He tries to get better, but winds up sending shit like 'wow 👍'
Does the dad thing where he insists he's not interested in watching what's on TV and then stands with his hands on his hips in the middle of the living room, enthralled by the show.
Jill does not understand your music. She will not make an attempt to understand your music. If you see her tapping her foot to the beat, no you do not. She is not interested in expanding her musical horizons.
She only bought you tickets to that concert because she knew you would love it. She only went with you because you’re cute when you’re so into this stuff. She only bought that t-shirt because it would be a good souvenir, and eventually, a good grease rag.
Generalized distrust of social media. Do not show her a tiktok. She will ignore the video and lecture you about data safety. Jill, please. Just watch the fucking cat video.
And then she turns around and opts in to literally everything on the McDonald's app.
If there’s a rewards program, she’s in. Already sold. Didn’t even read the fine print. All that shit she was telling you about how you need to be more careful is right out the window for some free fries.
Anything for the thrill of a good deal. If she had more time on her hands, she would be couponing.
Buys in bulk. No, it doesn't matter if the two of you could not physically eat that much rice. It's cheaper to buy it like this. It's fine. It's good for you.
Gotta stock up on non-perishables, too. You gotta be prepared in case something happens. "Better to have it and not need it than to need it and not have it."
Claire cannot stop shopping from QVC. She's in the kitchen with David. It Takes Two with Mary and Sandra? Wrong. It actually takes three. Mary, Sandra, and Claire.
Infomercials have got her by the throat. You have so many gadgets and gizmos around your home that are just collecting dust.
Gets wine drunk and goes online shopping. Legitimately does not remember what she’s bought.
Absolutely will not let you open the packages. (“Some of this stuff could be for you, you know.” “Claire, last time it was a 10,000 count package of googly eyes.” “And I used all 10,000. You still haven’t found them all.”)
Uses every piece of technology until it’s about to fall apart. Absolutely not interested in having the latest and greatest. She’s one of those people who insists that as long as her phone can make calls and send texts, she doesn’t need a new one.
Speaking of texts. Somehow, she got it into her head that a read receipt is equivalent to a reply. She doesn't get what the problem is. You know she saw your text. Why does she have to reply?
Genuinely doesn't mean anything malicious by it - but also, if you did that to her, you would never hear the end of it.
Rebecca legitimately has facebook humor. They all have some degree of facebook humor, but she's got it the worst.
Will blow up your notifications tagging you in shit that is just straight up not funny. I’m talking full on tagging you with “😂😂😂”
Unironically sent you a minion meme once.
It's not that she's disconnected. She teaches undergrads. She knows what’s in, even if it’s only from the periphery. It’s just that she doesn’t care. She has no interest in keeping up with trends just for the sake of it. She’s so used to being the youngest person in the room and having to keep up expectations that she just absolutely does not care anymore. She's glad she's not one of the kids anymore.
If it made her laugh it made her laugh, her enjoyment isn’t shackled by feelings of shame!!
If you have a group chat on any platform with your friends please invite her. She's just happy to be included. She'll make a discord if she has to, and she'll brag about it to her students.
Yeah, she says pupper and doggo. She does. Look at her.
#resident evil headcanons#resident evil x reader#leon kennedy x reader#chris redfield x reader#jill valentine x reader#claire redfield x reader#rebecca chambers x reader#resident evil fanfic#resident evil#leon kennedy
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Omg omg what about Ross’ reaction finding out that you are pregnant? That man is going to be the death of me 😭😭😭
omg omg omg okay 😭😭
i've already mentioned that you find out you're pregnant with april a week before your wedding. everything is already so stressful and chaotic. every single last minute change and finalisation is happening all at once and you haven't even had the time to breathe until you put your foot down and take the evening off just to relax a bit.
it's anything but relaxing though.
you see the notification pop up while you're scrolling through reels--your period tracking app reminding you to log your period in. it's innocent enough, you know you've forgotten to log it in in the past and received similar notifications but this one makes you sit up.
ross, next to you, also sits up in confusion.
"you alright?"
"yeah, uh... ross. fuck!" you swear so softly that he barely even hears it at first but the way your face goes pale alerts him. "fuck, two weeks!"
"what's two weeks? everything alright? you're scaring me babe!"
you wag the phone screen in front of him as if that's instantly going to clue him in but the confusion on his face remains the same.
"my period! it's two weeks late, it's... shit."
"o...kay?" he takes a deep breath and turns you towards him. "let's not jump to conclusions okay? do you think it could be the wedding stress?"
you wrack your brain to see if this explanation fits. to remember if you did indeed have your period and forgot about it in the middle of all the chaos. but absolutely nothing comes to mind. until... until another memory resurges.
both of you returning home drunk from your respective bachelor parties, coincidentally at the same time. sloppily fucking each other in the living room. and you can't remember if you used any protection.
"ross..." you squeeze your eyes shut as more of the memory plays in front of you. "remember the night of my hen do?"
he doesn't need to answer it because he pales visibly and curses softly under his breath.
"okay. okay here's what we will do, alright? just... i don't know, just lie down and i'll run to the shop and pick up a few tests if you want. how does that sound?"
he says all of it so quickly that you barely have the time to understand but you nod frantically and watch him run out the room.
---
twenty minutes later, he's back home--slightly out of breath and wide eyed but there's unmistakable excitement on his face. and something that suspiciously looks like... hope.
"ross..."
"i know, i know," he says, "we don't know yet but... fuck, okay! just take the test, okay? let's do that first."
and so you do. you do your business and keep the three tests on the counter, trying not to look at them when you wash your hands and as you're setting the timer. when you open the bathroom door, ross is pacing outside.
"alright?"
you nod and then bury your face in his chest. "what if it's positive, do you want it to be positive?"
ross lifts your chin to make you look at him properly and then smiles softly. "do you want it to be positive? i would be honoured to have a baby with you, sweetheart. you already are my family. expanding it with you would be the greatest thing ever."
if you weren't already on the verge of tears, that would have done the job.
"hey..." he wipes them away softly. "i want this baby, love, but that doesn't mean you don't get a say in it. if you're not ready right now, we have the rest of our lives ahead of us, yeah?"
"i know... just," you sniffle, blinking the tears away, "i want--i want a baby with you so so badly. i'm just worried--"
"about the timing?"
"yeah... about that."
"we'll make it work, love. if... if this is really happening," his voice sounds thick with emotion and his eyes shine brightly, "if we are really having a baby, i'll do everything possible to make it easier on you."
you nod, letting yourself feel just a smidge of excitement at the prospect of it.
"and if it's negative?"
"then we can start trying whenever you want." he grins and steals a quick kiss. "we can start trying right now. or on our honeymoon, or at the wedding. i reckon you'd look absolutely delicious in your dress, mrs macdonald."
"can't call me that just yet," you giggle and wipe away the rest of the tears.
"too late," he smiles, "i've called you that in my head for at least two years now."
you're about to respond when the timer goes off and you look at him, part petrified, part nervous, and entirely hopeful.
"let's look together?" he holds his hand out for you to grab and you take it gratefully.
ten seconds later when you look at the definitive plus signs on all three tests, you know your life is about to change for the best.
#✉️#♡: ross blurbs#dad!ross#the 1975#ross macdonald#ross macdonald x reader#ross macdonald x you#ross macdonald fluff
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Hello Hello!!! I'm the anon who gave the older sibling roommate thought! I was so happy you answered it and liked it that it made my day!!! I actually wanna change something and that being the "children" portion, I was writing with a female reader in mind but I really wanted to write for gn because there's too many female readers... So instead of the parents pressuring for children they're pressuring for spouses and if you so happen to get children, whether biological or adopted, they'd be so happy! But for now, baby steps baby steps (Oldersib!Reader is not having a good time).
I came here to the asks to send you some scenarios about the Oldersib!Reader since I'm not sure what the Submission thing is for ahahshajhahwh
*-*-*-*-*
Scara: *comes in dorm with a scowl on his face*
Reader: *peeking head out of the corner* Welcome home, Scara! Would you like to help me cook lunch or do you just wanna chill?? :D
Scara: *smiling* I'll help dw
*-*-*-*
Random Person: *looks at the Winner list of the contests and sees Kazu's name* Kazuha? Kazuha Kadehara?
Reader: *vibrating excitedly wanting to brag about Kazu* Yep! He's--
RP: *grumbles* He's such a know-it-all, his poems are just trying so hard, how the judges even understood it is beyond me he must've just slapped random words together and paid his way in.
Reader:
Reader: *dead serious* I will throw hands with you--
Kazu: *hiding behind a corner* 0////0
*-*-*-*
Kazu: *explaining his poem*
Reader: *doesn't know anything about it but is fully supportive*
Reader: Amazing. Show stopping. Wonderful--
*-*-*-*
Random Person: Why do you guys bring shades everywhere?
Kazuscara: *points to happy bean Reader*
Reader: *perks up upon seeing Kazuscara* Kazu!! Scara!!! :DDDD *radiating smile*
RP: AAA!! MY EYES!!!
Kazuscara: *slowly puts on shades*
*-*-*-*-*
Reader: *calmly* Friend, could you tell me why you're so upset at Scara?
Friend: ?!?!?! Reader! He literally fucked up my phone!! It has too many viruses at this point I can't even use it!
Reader: *instantly* Nonsense, Scara is an angel.
Scara: *from behind Reader smugly smirking at Friend* Yeah, Friend. I'm an angel~
*-*-*-*
Kazu takes Reader to a cat cafe and watches in delight as the cats instantly clings to Reader who is seriously sitting still and proper, eyes focus on cats. They are covered in cats. The cats cry out in despair when Reader eventually has to leave.
*-*-*-*-*
Reader: I don't understand why people don't like Scara? He's a funny person!
Scara: *from behind shuffling his bloodied knuckles behind him* Yeah, I'm fucking hilarious
*-*-*-*
Kazu: *curiously* Have you ever had a phase?
Reader: *blank eyed stare*
Reader: The past is the past
*-*-*-*
Scara: *stops dead in his tracks when he gets inside Reader's room*
Reader: Wassup?
Scara: That-- What the fuck is that?!
Reader: *looks at their wall* ?? My to-do lists, calendar, and motivational posters???
Scara: No that's a fucking mental torture room you call room
Reader: *slightly offended* It can't be that bad
Kazu: *passing by and sees Reader's room* What kind of madman lives here?
Reader:
Reader: Okay maybe it is kinda overboard
Reader's room is literally like Miyuki Shirogane's from Kaguya-sama: Love is War room. How on earth Reader can sleep there nobody knows, in fact there is more academic work than there are CLOTHES. Upon finding that out, kazuscara eagerly drag Reader to go clothing shopping and pays for everything much to the protests of Reader which only quiets when they point out it's a thank you gift for everything they've done for them.
*-*-*-*
Despite Reader looking like a golden retriever by energy and being a lovable Himbo/Bimbo/Thembo they appear to be, Reader is startlingly perceptive, intelligent, and particularly harsh when it comes to academic work. But with all the stress they've accumulated it's going to impact them negatively so they need an outlet. At first it was to motherhen other people but it didn't do much so they did physical activity (you can choose whatever kind but I'm partial to them doing archery (can you see how much Kaguya-sama is impacting me rn??)) So they're quite strong.
When someone is actually harassing Kazu because he looks like an easy target (oh how wrong they were) and it's starting to piss of Reader because they've tried to diffuse the situation but the harasser is adamant on making Kazu's life in this moment hell and Reader just--
They just calmly watch the harasser spit curses at them but when the harasser touches on Kazu's old friend who died with no regard at how serious the issue is, Reader just fucking decks them with no hesitation. It doesn't matter the gender of the harasser or the gender of Reader, all that matters is that the fucker blamed Toma for his own death and that Kazu just attracted stupidity wherever.
And Kazu is frozen in shock at seeing Reader being genuinely angry, Reader isn't shouting or screaming but instead is eerily calm but holy fuck they genuinely look terrifying.
The harasser is bubbling words that they're going to tell on the dean, tell teachers, tell literally everyone but Reader only mockingly smiles at them and says, "Go on, tell them. They won't believe you. But go on, go try, but know this, whatever misplaced justice you think you're owed is bullshit and frankly? Disgusting."
Then Reader drags a quiet Kazu away from the scene and back into their dorm. Reader calms down and apologizes at Kazu but he just asks what would happen next, Reader shrugs and just says, "Nobody would believe them. And they aren't well liked so there's nothing we can do."
Kazu just agrees and smiles when Reader says they should cook up something fancy because their mood was soiled by the harasser. While he helps Reader he's actually thinking of ways to make sure the lesson... Sticks.
Scara is forever salty that Kazu was the first one to see Reader angry.
*-*-*-*-*
Reader: *stressed beyond hell*
Kazu: Is something the matter Reader??
Reader: My parents are setting me up on a blind date, I said to them I didn't want to but they told me to just try but I just--
Scara: *eyetwitching* You want us to crash your date?
Reader: Please.
Kazu: *unreadable smile* Don't worry, Reader. We'll help.
*-*-*-*
Kazu: Just to be sure, you're open for relationships, right?
Reader: Hm? Oh yeah, I just don't wanna do it rn since I'm busy with studying and I don't wanna date someone only to neglect them because I'm focus on my studies, it's not fair to me but especially to them
Scara: What if they're willing?
Reader: Now that just makes me more guilty! Someone whose willing to be pushed aside as second priority needs to prioritize themselves! Besides, they also have their own lives, nobody could center their entire life on someone else, it's unfair and terrifying.
(Oh Reader, if only you knew)
Scara: So when exactly are you open to pursue a relationship.
Reader: I'll pursue a relationship when I graduate school or when I find a job. My parents are stressed as all hell because I'm focusing on my studies and career and I'm not bringing home a date which??? I don't understand them. At this point with all their nagging I'm getting adverse with finding a relationship
Kazu: Good to know. Good to know
*-*-*-*-*
If Kazu and Scara could kill Reader's parents, they probably would.
Anyway I did all of this while at my online class so, ahahahha.
Anyway, I hope you enjoy them ( ╹▽╹ )!! Again, love your work HAJSHSJAJJAJA. Have a nice day, stay safe, and take care of yourself!!! ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️
:O !!! All of these scenarios are very good. I’m happy I can read all of them!! Kazuscara are a funny duo when they’re both pining for the same person. The shenanigans that can possibly ensue… Thank you again for sharing, anon!!!
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Ivarello (Modern!Ivar x reader) Chapter 1
Moodboard by @quantumlocked310
Ivarello’s masterpost here
A/N: This is my entry for @deans-ch-ch-cherrypie 500 Followers Fairy Tale Challenge. It's a retelling of Cinderella. Congrats again, darling 💖
A huge thank you to @mrsalwayswrite, who's a great beta reader and an even greater cheerleader 😂
A massive thank you to @quantumlocked310, @vikingstrash and @serasvictoria. Thank you for agreeing to collaborate and for sharing your talent with me. Your moodboards are beyond amazing 🤩
In this story, Sigurd is alive. Ragnar and Aslaug are dead, but Lagertha didn't kill her. I took a lot of liberties with the show, I hope you won't mind.
Unlike the tale, there will be no magic involved. Not everything will be realistic, however. It's a fayritale, after all!
Let me know if you want to be tagged 😊
Summary: Orphaned five years ago, Ivar and his brothers have been living with Lagertha ever since. Now 16 years old, he wants to attend Harald's traditional Midsummer party, but obstacles stand in his way.
Warnings: description of car crash; orphaned kids; Sigurd being Sigurd; OOC characters.
Words: 1806
Additional note: I'm afraid I'll disappoint some of you. No more newspapers... The articles defined the setting of the story. From now on, it'll be a regular fic.
Hope you enjoy it nevertheless 🙂
🛡⚔️🛡
June 2021
Ivar yawns, rubbing his eyes, when he suddenly hears the front door open. The next moment, Ubbe shouts, "Hey baby bro, we're home!"
Slightly confused, Ivar looks at the time on his computer. Stunned, he blinks repeatedly, shakes his head and checks the time again, now looking at his watch. "Guess I lost track of time," he mumbles as he realizes it's really 5:30 pm. He clears his throat. "I'm coming!"
Yawning once more, he wheels to the kitchen. Hvitserk waves at him with one hand as Ubbe greets him with a grin and Sigurd... Well, Sigurd ignores him, as usual.
"Hello boys!" Lagertha smiles as she also enters the kitchen. "Did you go to the beach this afternoon?" It's a rethorical question, since sand can be seen on the tanned skin of his brothers, shirtless and wearing only swimming shorts.
When she looks down at him, her smile becomes softer. "Ivar, you seem tired. Did you work all day long?"
He nods, glad that for once she called him by his first name and not by one of those stupid nicknames that she likes but that make his skin crawl.
"Yep," he shrugs without smiling back, "I made good progress. The new version of your website is almost done. It could probably be online by the end of the week."
His stepmom flashes him a beaming smile. "Great, thanks!"
The conversation then moves on to the subject that everyone in Kattegat has been talking about for the last few days: the midsummer party thrown by their neighbor Harald Hårfager. Every June, it is Kattegat's not-to-be-missed event, to which every resident hopes to be invited.
Lagertha is invited every year, yet rarely attends; his brothers wouldn't miss it, not in a million years; Ivar never went.
He listens with half an ear as his brothers prattle on about the upcoming party, while taking a seat at the large, wooden kitchen table on which Lagertha has just put cakes and drinks.
"What are you going to wear?"
"Do you think Marit will attend this year?"
"Hopefully the music will be better than last year."
"Can't be as bad! What was the name of that reggae band?"
For a fleeting moment, Ivar entertains the thought of attending as well. Not that he's dying to, but… Sometimes, he feels a little bit like Cinderella in this house.
Don't get him wrong, it's not that bad.
First, his stepmom is not–
Wait, wait, wait, is Lagertha technically his stepmom? He's not sure. After all, she wasn't when his parents were alive, she was just his father's first wife. Anyway, she may be his guardian now, but he sees her as his stepmom and he honestly doesn’t give a shit if it's a little weird.
Where was he? Oh yes, Cinderella.
So obviously, Lagertha is not a wicked, haughty and abusive stepmom like this Lady Tremaine of the fairytale.
Actually, even if it pisses him off to admit it, she's pretty nice, patient and composed. Does he love her? Let's not exaggerate – he doesn't. She may love him though, which is a little bit uncanny, if he's being honest. He was the favorite son of her nemesis. Shouldn't she hate him? He would, if the situation was reversed.
The truth is, when he was younger, he tried, he really tried to hate her, blaming her for everything and anything. When too much pain prevented him from sleeping, he let his imagination run wild. There, bound to his bed of suffering, he could see Lagertha cutting the brakes on his mother's car, causing her crash, causing her death.
Of course, even then, he knew deep down that Lagertha had not killed his mother; that the story he told himself was just the product of his endless nights of insomnia. But what can he say? He needed this. Because blaming Lagertha rather than admitting that his beloved mother was at fault – by being distracted, or by falling asleep, he'll never know – was easier for the heartbroken boy he was.
Anyway... So yes, Lagertha is definitely not an evil stepmother like Cinderella's.
Also, he doesn't sleep on a sorry garret, on a wretched straw bed either.
Actually, he has a very large room on the main floor, with a king-size memory foam bed, a walk-in – well, a wheel-in for his case – closet and his own, huge bathroom, fully equipped for his special needs.
Sure, the bathroom and the dressing room were already there when his parents were alive; however, the memory foam mattress had been Lagertha's idea.
Anyway... So yes, he can't exactly complain about his sleeping conditions, unlike Cinderella.
And obviously, he's not forced into servitude.
Actually, one might think so, but no, he's not. Sure, sometimes he works for his stepmom, like today. But so do his brothers. When she had taken them in, she was a powerful businesswoman, working twelve to fourteen hours a day. Once she had become their guardian, she had rearranged her working time and learned to delegate; but even so, she had often run out of time. Therefore, it had seemed normal to them – yes, even to him – to help her out, each of them according to their skills and abilities.
So, while Hvitserk almost always does the grocery shopping, while Sigurd vacuums and does the laundry, while Ubbe mows the lawn and trim the bushes, he, Ivar, runs her company's website and sometimes even does the accounting. And since he loves computers and numbers, it's not exactly a problem.
Anyway... So yes, he's not a slave in this house. Unlike Cinderella.
So, yes, to sum it up, he can't really complain and he's by far not Cinderella. And he knows it.
But... Yes, there's a but...
Sometimes, he feels trapped, as poor Cinderella must have felt.
Sometimes he feels like a spectator of a life he doesn't belong to.
Sure, he doesn't have to be homeschooled – but gods, he's glad he is. The reasons for him to be continuously bullied by classmates are endless. The simplest ones being: he is a cripple, an orphan, the son of a dead mob boss, the smartest one in the whole damn school, let alone his class. Take your pick. It's no fun, no fun at all. Being home alone is preferable to that alternative.
Therefore, barely leaving the house except for medical appointments, he has no friends. He doesn't do sports either – obviously – and yeah, he lives a lonely life, filled with video games and Netflix series. And he's okay with that. Well, most of the time.
Sure, his brothers, or at least Ubbe and Hvitserk, always try to include him as much as possible. But the truth is that because of his legs, there are many, many things he just can't do.
And the other truth, the less pleasant one, is that he partially did that to himself. He cut himself off from a world that hurt him, yet he still misses this world sometimes. At times, he blames himself. Because his life, honestly, is hardly what you would call a life, is it? Not when you're sixteen.
That's why sometimes, like now, he feels this longing, almost a need, to live. To really, truly, fully live. And that's why, for a brief moment, lulled by the light chitchat of his brothers, he considers attending Harald's midsummer party.
But he knows better. This life is not for him, never has been, never will be.
And so, shaking his head, he chases the thought away and, placing his hands on his push rims, he's about to leave the kitchen while the incessant babbling of his brothers goes on.
"I can't wait."
"Don't tell me! As every year, the most beautiful girls of Kattegat will be there."
"Remember that burger food truck? Best burgers ever!"
"I've heard Y/N would be attending this year."
"There'll be booze and girls! Sounds like Valh–"
Wait. His mind goes blank.
Fuck.
What? Did he hear right?
As he replays his brother's words in his head, it's like there's an earthquake happening inside of him.
Fuck.
He stops breathing. Blinks, then clamps his eyes shut.
Fuck.
When he finally manages to draw air into his lungs, he swallows loudly before asking in a weird, high-pitched voice, his heart pounding in his chest, "What– What did you say, brother?"
Hvitserk turns his head toward him and shrugs. "I just said there'll be boo–"
"No, not you!" Ivar snaps at his brother, pointing his pointer finger at Ubbe. "You, what did you fucking say?" Out of the corner of his eye, he can see Lagertha frowning – 'no curse words in this house, boys'– and even if he barely contains an eye roll, he still mouths a quick 'sorry' at her before rewording his question, impatience coursing through him. "What did you say, dear brother? Who did you say would attend?"
Stunned, Ubbe looks at him with wide eyes. "Y/N? I said Y/N would come. That's what I heard anyway. She's Harald's niece. She was here once, right? Remember her, baby bro, huh?"
But Ivar is no longer listening, the blood draining from his face. Y/N... Y/N... Fuck. Finally. Fucking finally. After so long... He may see you again. Wow.
I'll go! I'll fucking go!
He barely contains the words, suddenly acutely aware of the deafening silence in the room, his brothers shamelessly staring at him.
With her brows furrowed and her lips turned downward in a slight frown, Lagertha takes two steps forwards before crouching down in front of him. "Are you all right, sweetie? You're a little pale."
He barely hears when Sigurd giggles, "A little pale? He's greener than an alien!"
Lagertha shoots Sigurd a dirty look and then gently cups Ivar's cheek. "Do you know her, Ivar? Do you know Y/N?"
Overwhelmed, self-conscious, freaked out, caught off-guard, he doesn't know how to respond. Should he tell the truth? Should he lie? His brothers will mock him, for sure. What is the point of telling the truth? What good would it do? On the other hand, he could really use some advice. Yeah. Sure. Advice from Sigurd. Just the thought of it is enough to make him sick. Fuck, what is he going to do?
Rushed words are out of his mouth before he can even gather his thoughts. "No. No. I don't. I mean, yes, I think I do but–" He's being pathetic and he hates it. So after a sharp intake of breath, he shakes his head and eventually replies in a flat, calm voice, the white lie rolling off his tongue. "I know her, but I thought Ubbe was talking about someone else. Sorry."
With these words, he hastily leaves the room, his eyes riveted on his knees, his heart still drumming in his chest.
Y/N. Fuck.
🛡⚔️🛡
Ivar's taglist: @waiting4inspiration @honestsycrets @lisinfleur @saldelys @gearhead66 @inforapound @readsalot73 @milkkygirls @xbellaxcarolinax @shannygoatgruff @zuxiezendler @hecohansen31 @lonewolf471 @fuckindiva @tgrrose @didiintheblog @peachyboneless @pieces-by-me @funmadnessandbadassvikings @ethereallysimple @destynelseclipsa @cocovikings23 @xceafh @mrsalwayswrite @deans-ch-ch-cherrypie @pomegranates-and-blood @jadelynlace @grimeundglow @quantumlocked310 @alexhandersen-marcoilsoe-fandom
Ivarello's taglist: @not-another-viking-fanfic-blog @hashimily @prepare4trouble @supernaturalvikingwhore @funmadnessandbadassvikings
#ivar#modern ivar#modern!ivar#modern-ivar#modern ivar x reader#modern!ivar x reader#ivar x reader#ivar the boneless#ivar ragnarsson#ivar imagine#ivar fic#ivar fanfic#ivar fanfiction#ivar vikings#vikings ivar#cherrypie’s500#fairytale retelling#ivarello
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I just wanted to be a swan
pairing: bang chan x reader
genre: angst, fluff, but mostly angst
warnings: low self-esteem, body hate/dislike, eating disorders, swearing, food, insecurities, arguing DONT READ IF YOU DON'T FEEL COMFORTABLE WITH IT!
wc: 2.003
note: so this scenario has been going through my head for quite a while now, and I tried writing it by myself lol. Hope it's good ;) I've also sent a request to @channienet about the same topic, so make sure to check her interpretation out as well! enjoy!
summary: Due to Chan's heavy working schedule, spending time alone was a thing you couldn't quite befriend with, especially after you've noticed some changes you have gone through. There is a to change it, but it isn't quite... let's say healthy. How will Chan react, after he finds out? Will he even care? (dude I'm shit at writing summary lol)
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Taking a bath was normally something that should be considered relaxing or calming. You've always enjoyed letting the hot water surround your body whilst taking all the dirt and negativity off that you have collected during stressful days at work.
But lately, taking a bath wasn't as enjoyable anymore as it once was. Chris has been working a lot lately, due to the kingdom stage and their nearing comeback. He has been spending more and more time at the company, working on producing new tracks for him and the kids, often staying at the dorms because they were closer to the studio than the apartment you shared. So you were left alone, by yourself.
Even though you wished he would be by your side while you were falling asleep, you couldn't be mad at him. You knew what his work meant to that boy and you would never tell him to stop doing what he loves just so you could spend some time together.
But being alone also meant that you had to kill the boredom somehow and, thanks to Felix's Brownie and Cookie recipes, you had the perfect thing to do in the meantime. Baking and eating delicious desserts.
You were just stepping out of the bathtub, grabbing the towel you had prepared, and drying yourself with it. Once your body was half-dried, you turned around to hang the towel back at the hanger, so it could dry properly.
And at that moment, you knew, you've fucked up. You couldn't avoid looking at your wet, naked body in the hot, steamy mirror near the hangers.
You always hated looking at it, but thanks to the sweets you had been eating lately, looking at yourself only made you feel sicker than it ever did.
You couldn't tear your gaze off the excess of flesh around your tummy and thighs and the stretch marks, that decored your boobs only seemed to scream "Look at me!". You slowly turned around and saw the tiger stripes creeping up your bum and the undersides of your arms.
'Fucking disgusting', that little voice in your head sneered.
'How could I let this come this far?', you thought. At this point, you were somehow happy Chris wasn't here, knowing he would be disgusted with how you've changed.
You've always felt a bit insecure by his side, knowing you could catch up with neither his attractiveness nor his muscular godlike body. But seeing yourself like this destroyed every little self-esteem you had left in your cells.
-
It has been nearly two months since 'the incident' in the bathroom and you couldn't shake that feeling of disgusts off. Not even for one second.
You only wanted to try a one-week detox diet that was blowing up all over social media, hoping you could lose a little bit of weight, so you would be back to normal. But seeing the numbers on the scale dropping so unbelievably quickly only made you realize that you could look even better than you thought you could.
You kept on following the diet and restricting everything that wasn't included, not noticing that restricting also damaged your mind.
One time, Han and Felix asked you if you wanted to have lunch with them and the others, but fear crept up you back as soon as you thought about the food they would have ordered, knowing that you would only gain weight again if you didn't follow the rules.
So you stayed home, keeping yourself isolated from your friends and most importantly, Chan.
You were lying on my bed, scrolling through Tumblr when Chris' Caller ID showed up and your phone started to ring. You sighed lowly, not wanting to talk to him.
Over the past few months, you stopped showing up at the studio, being afraid the boys would notice the changes your body went through, thanks to the diet. You were happy about it, knowing that you were losing weight, but you haven't reached my goal. You were afraid, they would judge you the way you did when you looked at yourself.
"Chris?"
"y/n? Han just told me that you weren't coming over. Are you okay? Y-" Chris's muffled voice appeared and you felt instant regret deep in your guts, knowing how much fun you guys had when you spent time together back in the days.
"Yeah, I'm okay Channie, don't worry. I just feel a little sleepy. I'll come next time. Promise" You tried your best to sound optimistic or at least not too sad, hoping Chris would believe your lie. "Okay," he mumbled, "I love you, baby girl".
-
You knew you were in big troubled the second Chris opened the fridge, seeing no food in there.
He randomly decided to stay over the weekend, saying that he missed you. You weren't ready for this, knowing that you couldn't hide the signs of the 'passion' you had developed in time.
"Why is there no food?" You fumbled with the arms of Chris sweater you were wearing while looking at the ground. "I've forgotten to go grocery shopping" You answered.
"But there is nothing in there, y/n. Nothing" He walked over and took hold of your cold hands while looking you straight in the eyes.
"Why is there no food?" Chris asked again.
"I just told you I forgot to go grocery shopping, Chan. Relax" You snapped back, getting anxious about the fact that he could notice something.
You were nearing your goal, even though you knew that you could never be satisfied with how you looked. He couldn't just come over and ruin all the progress you've made after being not here for so long. He doesn't have the right to do this.
"Don't fuck around, y/n. You always have at least some butter in your house. Where is the butter? Where is Ramen? You must have some food here!"
Your body started to shake as you heard his voice rise, keeping your gaze low, not daring to look him in the eyes right now. He was right.
You always had something at home, so you could quickly cook something when you were hungry. But you didn't saw a point in keeping food at home if you wouldn't eat it anyway. It would just rot.
"Y/n look at me" he whispered, after realizing that you were trembling. Chris gently grabbed your chin to make you look up at him. You were expecting to see anger, but the only thing you saw in his brown orbs was sadness.
You started to tear up after you noticed it, knowing that he put one and one together. You missing out on lunch with the boys, you not showing up at the studio to bring him food and spend with him there, listening to his tracks, you not having any food at home. It was obvious, but you still hoped he wouldn't notice.
Chris slowly took you in his arms, noticing how your figure felt smaller and bonier than before. It made him sick, knowing what you did to yourself. 'Why would my girl do something like this?' he thought 'how could my little princess torture herself this much?' But he couldn't find a 'because'.
In his eyes, you were the best thing that happened to him. You were the prettiest girl on earth. Warm tears were running down his pale cheeks, dropping to the floor.
He couldn't stop blaming himself for what you did. Maybe if he would have been there, he could have stopped you. Maybe if-
"Channie?" You quietly asked, looking up at his tear-stained cheeks. "Channie why are you crying? We can go to the store and grab something if you want. You don't-"
"Why have you been doing this to yourself, y/n?"
"What do you mean?"
"Why haven't you been eating"
Well, shit.
"What are you talking about, Channie?"
"Don't fucking lie to me, it's too obvious for you to do so. Why haven't you been eating?"
"I... I, I'm pressured Chan" You answered, knowing that he wouldn't believe you if you would tell him otherwise. Telling him the truth was the only option at this point, even though you didn't want to.
"Pressured?"
"Yes"
"Princess, I don't understand what you mean by that"
You shook your head and let go of him, before walking over to the couch and sitting down with a low sigh. "Maybe you shouldn't understand," I said.
"Jesus, y/n" I heard him mutter under his breath. He walked over and sat on the floor, in front of you, looking at you with a scared expression.
"Please tell me what's in that pretty little head of yours. I can see that you have lost weight, but I don't understand why. I mean, you are the prettiest human I have ever seen in my whole life, why would you do something like that?"
"Why do you even care? It's not like you here anyway" you simply said, grabbing your phone, trying to ignore him.
After he noticed your intentions, he quickly took your phone out of your hands, placing it on the coffee table behind him.
"Hey! Give me my phone back, you dump a-"
"Fucking stop it, y/n. Stop ignoring me. I care for you because I love you! You are my everything and I know I haven't been home lately, but at least I tried making time for you and inviting you to the studio", he said, "but you never came! Don't act like it's only my fault we haven't seen each other."
You looked at him with wide eyes, shaking your head. He was right, it was also your fault. And you hated the fact that he was right. "I-"
"Please y/n, please stop turning away from me and closing up. I-I know it's not easy to open up, but I'm here for you. I'll always be."
"Well, I... I couldn't, no, I can't feel happy when I look like this, Channie. I mean, look at you, look at your perfect body and your perfect personality and your perfect everything! I don't fit in. I don't fit in, because I am the ugly duck surrounded by beautiful swans. I just... wanted to be a beautiful swan, Channie."
That's it. You've made it. You've told him what was going through your mind all the time.
He slowly pulled you off the couch, into his lap. He could feel your seat humps against his thighs, how bony and strong they were. Chris shook his head in disbelieve, another wave of sadness crushing over him.
"You are perfect, baby girl. You are perfect in every single way. You always were the most beautiful swan I have ever seen in my entire life. I love everything about you, y/n. I love how your thighs wiggle whenever you run towards me when we meet, I love how curves look in that dress I brought you a year ago, I love how your stretch marks are decorating your body like silverish paint. I don't want you to change for me, because you are perfect the way you are. Jesus, even Hyunjin said you are even prettier than himself, and that means a lot. Please don't hurt yourself like this, princess. You are destroying yourself"
He took hold of your hands and kissed your palm.
"I promise I'll stop working so much, so I can spend more time with my beautiful girlfriend, but please... stop hurting yourself" he whispered, searching for any signs of discomfort in your eyes. But you just set in his lap and listened to him.
"Hyunjin thinks I'm prettier than him?" you asked awkwardly.
Chris chuckled and nodded "Is this the only thing that got stuck in your pretty little head?" He asked.
You smiled a bit, leaning your forehead against his while closing your eyes. "I'll try to get better, Chris" you whispered.
It wouldn't be an easy journey going back to 'normal. Once the hole is there, digging is difficult. But it is possible, especially if someones helping you.
#bang chan imagines#bang chan angst#bang chan fluff#bang chan images#skz imagines#skz chan#skz angst#stray kids x reader#bang chan x reader#bang chan x you#stray kids angst#stray kids imagines#stray kids fanfic#bangchan fanfic#fanfic#x you#x reader
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hi hello i am feeling very angsty so: rhodeytony ft tony's worrying lack of interest in avoiding getting kidnapped and his bodyguard rhodes' increasing stress levels to save a boss that doesn't want to be saved (and, if the flutter in his heart should be anything to go by - should not be his boss anymore). bodyguard to lovers??
Rhodey is a good bodyguard. Hell, he’s the best.
That was why Pepper Potts hired him, after all. He’s not easy to fool, can follow anyone with a dogged determination that nearly defies human nature. He’s had successful stories before with glowing reviews from multiple people from all different threatened backgrounds.
(Including at least three world leaders and a pope.)
Tony Stark is...new. Well, nearly new. He’s a businessman, which isn’t anything out of the ordinary for Rhodey to deal with.
…except Tony’s highly eclectic, a billionaire, and purposely makes his behavior as erratic as possible.
It’s fun. What can Rhodey say? He loves a challenge, and Tony is about as challenging as they come.
-
When he first starts, Tony tries every trick in the book. Rhodey still sticks to him, although he does leave some distance. Tony tries to make him uncomfortable by bringing just about everyone who looks home, and all Rhodey says is, “you gonna feed them cereal when they wake up? Because that’s all you have in your pantry right now, and you don’t pay me to do the shopping.”
Tony scowls at that, and then changes his strategy.
-
It’s an odd strategy.
Tony decides he will just make Rhodey his friend, starting with the nickname of “Rhodey.”
“That’s stupid,” Rhodey says, because he can already tell it will stick.
“Not my problem, just my solution,” Tony grins. “Now come on, we’re getting burgers.”
They’re at a sit-down restaurant. One of Tony’s favorites, actually. Rhodey is not sure why he’s sitting down across from the man with the most influence in the world, but he is.
“So, what’s new with you? Who are you?” Tony asks. “Pepper sent me your file. You’re from Philly, right?”
“Oh my god, you sound weird when you say it like that,” Rhodey says, deciding against formality as he basically tells Tony Stark that he sounds weird and shouldn’t say “Philly.”
“Oh what, is that not what the locals call it?”
“I’m going to take you there and they’re going to beat you up.”
“Not the worst Sunday night I’ve ever had,” Tony mentions. “Hey, look at the menu. I don’t want you to flounder when the waitress shows up and you know fuck-all about what they have to offer.”
“Okay asshole, any recommendations?”
“The banana milkshake and bacon-burger.”
Rhodey looks at the menu.
He does end up with the bacon-burger, but chooses strawberry for his flavor of milkshake.
“You traitor.”
“Oh am I? Well then let me tell Pepper that you stole the last good pen she had then-”
Tony flings a fry at him, and Rhodey laughs.
-
Here’s a concerning thing: Tony has a very “c’est la vie” approach about kidnapping.
Like he genuinely doesn’t really give a shit if he knows what’s going on, or even if he doesn’t.
Rhodey was eagle-eyed and chased a van three fucking blocks and caught up to the driver, wherein he punched his lights out and got Tony out. His hands were bound in zip-ties and his suit was rumpled, but Tony just blinked at him.
“You think you broke a racing record with that?”
“Are you okay? Are you hurt? Did they take anything?”
Rhodey’s all over Tony, checking for any injuries, any stolen wallets or watches, and thank god everything is there. (Not that Tony would really care if anything was stolen, save for his sunglasses. He spends far too much on those, in Rhodey’s opinion.)
“Okay geez,” Tony says, batting Rhodey’s hands away. “I’m fine. These people were amateurs. Shit, I’m running late for my consultation meeting, aren’t I?”
“You just got kidnapped,” Rhodey says, tone rife with disbelief. “You just got taken and your concern is with the consultation meeting?”
“Well I figured that you were going to come by or I’d be gone a lot longer, but now that I’m not? Yeah. Yeah, I am concerned with the consultation meeting. It’s a tech start-up company, only not that shitty Silicon-nice-guy start-up. It’s a more inclusive thing. I don’t know, I read their little ‘about’ section on their website. Which needs work. But that’s besides the point.”
Rhodey just follows, dumb in disbelief.
The few rare times that previous clients have been kidnapped or even attempted, they’ve needed a day to recuperate at minimum. They were shaken up, and usually beefed up the security for the rest of time after it. They also scheduled therapy appointments.
Tony treated this like it was a traffic jam and he was only running five minutes behind.
-
The second time it happens when Rhodey’s there, it lasts a little longer.
Rhodey has to admit, he maybe did some...under-the-radar looks. The FBI wasn’t moving fast enough, and the legal channels weren’t up to snuff. And besides, Tony did say that he could use Jarvis if he really wanted to.
(Turns out they both went to MIT at the same time, and Tony had been that obnoxiously short guy in his econ class that rarely showed up, but when he did he showed up in a suspiciously nice outfit.)
It was a weekend. Rhodey had gone away for two seconds to get a drink for Tony and then he was gone.
It was...bad.
The problem is this:
Tony definitely doesn’t need to be kidnapped as often as he is. He has so many inventions that can prevent that, he’s sold quite a few of them to the military.
But for some fucking reason, he doesn’t want to be saved. No, he’s content just going along with what’s happening, even though everyone else around him wants him back. Needs him back.
He finds him bruised and tied up to a shitty folding chair.
“Hey darling,” Tony says, lips a bloody red. “Can you believe this chair? I would’ve thought they would at least have gotten something a tad nicer. I am their best-dressed guest, after all.”
Rhodey looks over the torn shirt and the pants that have all but been shredded. His shoes are battered and stained beyond repair.
“Don’t,” Rhodey says. He sounds tired. He is tired. “Don’t do this.”
“Don’t do what, get kidnapped? I hardly try,” Tony snaps. “Or do I just have a sign on my back that you didn’t know was there?”
“You know I was in the Air Force,” Rhodey snaps back. “I got high enough clearance that I was one of the guys who got to see what brand new toy you sent our way. I know you could use any of those, shit, you probably tested it out, so you would know.”
“And your point?” Tony asks. “What, you’re saying I should know better? Saying you know better than me?”
“You know what? Yeah, yeah I am saying that,” Rhodey yells as he’s untying him. “I am fucking saying that I know more than you because you couldn’t give less of a shit if you tried about your own well-being! You were kidnapped and I’ve been running myself ragged trying to get you back, and you just don’t care!”
Tony stares at him. Really stares at him.
“Let’s go home.”
Nothing else is said in the car ride home. Tony can’t even look at Rhodey.
They go home, where Pepper greets Tony with a hug and makes him swear not to leave again, and Tony says “I promise,” only they both know that he’s lying.
But they’re not calling him out on it yet. No, not tonight.
-
Rhodey stays. Technically he doesn’t have to. Jarvis is the most advanced artificial intelligence system in the world. Hell, he’s the only one that’s even in his league, but Rhodey just...feels better staying.
And Tony’s mansion is a gargantuan structure with about twenty different rooms to choose from, so Rhodey gets a nice view and tries to go to bed.
He’s never gotten enough sleep. He knows he never would. That’s why the army loved him: he could be up at any hour and he’d be fine. That’s why his dad called him the bane of his existence in a loving manner: Rhodey would be up at four in the morning filling out the crossword before anyone else could.
He’s up at four a.m. making breakfast.
Tony’s pantry is still shit, but it looks like Pepper went shopping for him or had someone else do it, because he actually has eggs and juice and actual food instead of the odd pickle jar or way-too-old yogurt.
“You’re...up,” Tony says.
Rhodey turns around.
“Sorry. I, um. Stayed.”
“It’s fine,” Tony says awkwardly. “What are you making?”
“Omelet.”
“I always mess those up,” he says. “Either too much cheese or I forget I’m cooking it.”
“You want one?”
“You gonna make me one?”
“Accidentally cracked one too many eggs, so yes. You want onions and spinach in yours?”
“Sure,” Tony says. “What are you doing up?”
“Always bad at sleeping,” Rhodey answers. “Can never really stay asleep for too long.”
“Forget to take your melatonin gummies?” Tony answers, grinning.
Rhodey can see a bruise on his collarbone.
“You sleep okay?”
“No, but I rarely ever do,” Tony says. “Especially after yesterday’s fiasco.”
“You mean the whole weekend,” Rhodey says, putting the rest of the eggs into the pan. “Can’t imagine that was fun.”
“Oh come on, it was a ball,” Tony answers sarcastically. “They let me play cops-and-robbers and I was given pizza. Clearly it was a fantastic time.”
Rhodey stares at Tony.
“You know in the contract that I had you sign it specifically states that you have to let me help you, right?”
“It says you have to rescue me regardless of feelings or previous obligations,” Tony says.
“Rescuing you doesn’t just mean I chase after vans and track you down in an abandoned warehouse, it means that I rescue you from those situations before they can happen. But I can only do that if you agree that you won’t get kidnapped,” he says.
“And what, I want to?” Tony asks. “Do I say that?”
“You don’t have to,” Rhodey says, flipping the omelet over. “You never think you’re worth rescuing it because you think you’re never going to be good enough and I think you think that you owe me for giving a shit.”
Tony looks at him.
“You’re really honest.”
“I try to be.”
“I love that about you.”
Rhodey’s hand shakes slightly as he moves the omelet a bit in the pan. He hopes Tony doesn’t notice.
“Well I would love it if you stopped being kidnapped.”
“Aye aye, Colonel Rhodes,” Tony says, saluting. Rhodey rolls his eyes.
“Oh my god, do not.”
“What, am I not supposed to thank our armed services for making this country safe?” he mocks, standing up. “For going above and beyond the call of patriotism and helping keep Americans everywhere safe?”
Rhodey threatens to eat his omelet when he breaks into singing the national anthem.
-
There’s an...understanding.
Tony starts taking up training with Happy and almost agrees to regular training with Rhodey until Rhodey wants him to get up at six and do some workouts, and he yells “No!” after one workout session.
Rhodey pointedly pretends like he’s not staring at Tony’s chest when he lifts up his shirt to wipe away the sweat.
“Come on Rhodey my darling, let’s do breakfast.”
Tony dragging him to breakfasts, lunches, and dinners. It’s...nice. Rhodey ignores it when Tony waggles his eyebrows as he takes the check and calls him “darling, honey, baby,” and he lets him because it sounds nice.
He doesn’t say anything to Tony. No, you can’t date your boss. It’s unprofessional as hell and Tony probably is just doing it because Rhodey’s in close proximity and they have a good banter going.
-
The next time that Tony has an attempted kidnapping, Rhodey is there.
He’s there, and he’s being taken away, dragged from Tony, and Tony for the first time looks terrified.
Rhodey tries to struggle, tries to do anything, because Tony has to get away, and he...
He’s knocked unconscious.
-
When he wakes up, his head hurts worse than it ever has, and for a moment he’s pissed at Tony because he forgets that he’s been kidnapped and there’s no control over the thermostat because the room is hot as all get out.
And then he sees Tony across from him, and he’s never seen Tony angry.
“I’m sorry,” Tony says, voice shaking. “I’ll get us out of here. I promise. I’m sorry.”
“Not your fault we have assholes take us,” Rhodey says. “But god I would kill for some air conditioning.”
Tony smiles a bit at that.
-
Here’s a problem: you cannot give Tony Stark anything if you want him to not escape. Either that or he has to be unconscious because he’s a stubborn son of a bitch.
And they used actual handcuffs to keep him there. God, what a joke.
Tony learned how to break out of handcuffs when he was twenty and chained to a bedpost on accident. (Long story.)
This is nothing.
But the problem is that Rhodey’s here. His bodyguard who really shouldn’t be putting his life on the line for someone as shitty as Tony, but here they are, and he has to get him out.
“Follow my lead,” Tony whispers.
“Well of course I will, who else has as much experience being kidnapped as you?” Rhodey mutters.
“Okay is now going to be the time where you sass me? You’re here too. I could leave you.”
“You’re not gonna do that, Pepper would make you come back.”
“No she wouldn’t.”
“Yeah she would!”
“Not after I tell her that you used the last of her salad dressing.”
“Shit.”
Tony snorts, looking at the room. They don’t have security cameras, which is just...questionable. Oh my god, he got kidnapped by amateurs.
He’s kind of embarrassed.
Rhodey gets free, and they’re both headed towards a door, and Rhodey picks up a stray part of a metal pole, and Tony cannot lie and say he’s not intrigued by that.
Not saying he hopes Rhodey gets to use it.
He’s just curious how he’ll utilize it.
-
They get to just. Walk out. They fucking walk out. What kind of people did they get kidnapped from? It can’t be that easy, can it?
It can’t be...
It is.
Okay sure Tony is driving in a hotwired car and they’re being shot at, but all things considered that’s not the worst thing. And the truck is probably considered stolen anyways, and once Tony makes it to the highway, it’s not like they’ll be able to follow without making it onto national news, not that they haven’t already.
Pepper’s very effective at getting things to trend on national news when she wants to.
-
Rhodey is sitting on a beach chair. He shouldn’t be, and he also shouldn’t be drinking a mimosa because it’s four p.m. and definitely the morning, but he figures since he got kidnapped he’s allowed at least one mimosa.
“So. Your first kidnapping?” Tony asks. “All things considered, yours went well. I think next time we should go to Wendy’s or something, I was starving-”
“I’m just. I’m glad we’re okay,” Rhodey says. “But yeah. Maybe next time. If there is a next time. I’m going to I think make you hold hands with me so that you don’t get napped by terrible, shitty people.”
“You could’ve just asked to hold my hand, we didn’t need to be kidnapped together,” Tony says.
“Hm, is that a breach of contract?” Rhodey teases.
“Only if Pepper decides to enforce it, and she won’t because you’re the first bodyguard to have an actual success story with me,” Tony says. “So. I’m thinking maybe we skip the kidnapping next time and go straight for dinner.”
“Oh thank god, I thought you were gonna say a fast food restaurant.”
“I still could, you don’t know,” Tony grins, winking. “What if our first date is to Burger King? What are you gonna do?”
“Be mad that I still like you,” Rhodey grumbles.
Tony cackles, dropping a kiss onto his hand.
“Do you think I should get another bodyguard or will dragging you away during a party be too awkward for them?”
“...I’ll think about it.”
(They don’t get a new bodyguard.
No matter how much the other security complains that Rhodey’s the only one who knows where Tony is at all times, and they can’t exactly ask them if they’re busy doing...things.
Rhodey finds it hilarious.)
#longer night than usual for me which meant more time to work on this beauty#this has been in my inbox for months#so my apologies#but uhhhh i still did it! which is good#lovelyirony writes#rhodeytony#ironhusbands#rhfe#rhodey#tony stark#pepper potts#rhodey is in love and so is tony and they're both so LAME about it#tony doesn't really care about being kidnapped#meant to make this more angsty but was not feeling it
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SAVE ME | KTH (12)
Summary: You were determined to kill yourself, but what would happen when instead of ending your life, you ended up summoning the devil of death?
Alternatively:
The Devil: I’m here to ruin you, I’m here to save you.
Genre: Demon au, e2l, angst, fluff, roommate au
Pairing: Devil!Taehyung x Doctor!Reader
Word Count: 2.4k
Warnings: stabbing, blood, evil Taehyung is back, mention of pedophilia.
SERIES: CHAPTER 11 | CHAPTER 13
*****THIS IS UNEDITED. SORRY.
When Taehyung kissed you, he felt hot, drunk, and happy.
These feelings were the opposite of what you felt.
"Ugh," you pulled away from the kiss when you couldn't bear the taste of his mouth anymore.
You could literally feel the remnant of his blood on your own lips. It had a metallic taste and it was disgusting.
"Is something wrong?" Taehyung enquired, brows furrowed because of confusion.
He still felt like he was floating in the air. He had never felt something this strong before.
"N-Nothing," you answered, losing the courage to tell him that you hated the taste of blood.
You didn't want to offend him, didn't want him to think that you did not enjoy the kiss.
You did.
And that's what scared you the most.
Where did the two of you stand after this? What did this mean exactly? Did he kiss you because he liked you? Or did he do it just to give into one of his capital vices?
"Are you sure?" Taehyung blurted out, his voice was soft that it made your heart skip a beat.
Why did he have that look on his face? Why was he staring at you as if he wanted to crash his lips against yours again?
"Yeah," your eyes were roaming around, obviously avoiding his hot gaze. "It's getting late. We should head home,"
It was rude to walk away without waiting for his response. You knew this well. But what were you supposed to do when all that was clouding your mind was perplexity?
The ignorant part of you wanted to think that Taehyung was attracted to you, but the rational part of you was saying that only a fool would think that the devil was capable of liking someone.
Devil.
He was the devil and you shouldn't be fooled.
"Wait—" Taehyung ran after you, his hand immediately found its way to your wrist.
Taehyung swore he could feel the loud beat of your pulse.
"D-Did you not like it?" He whispered, voice so small you were certain he was either afraid or hurt.
"Didn't like what?" You were pretending as though you had no idea what he was talking about.
Taehyung's heart dropped. Judging your answer, he already knew what you felt.
"I was talking about the kiss," it was like he didn't get the hint that you didn't want to talk about it.
"It's fine if you hate it." The laugh he let out was breathy.
You tried to look at his face. He was already staring at you, his golden eyes screamed something you couldn't quite decipher.
"Just..." His grip on your wrist loosened, like he was ready to let you go, which was a clear juxtaposition of what he said after losing contact with your skin.
"Don't avoid me because of it." His smile was sad. "I don't want things to be awkward between us because of a mere peck on the lips."
And there was your answer.
"Right," you smirked before walking away, totally ignoring his groans as he told you to wait for him.
You were walking too fast, like you were doing exactly what he asked you not to do: avoid him.
Yes. You were planning on ignoring Taehyung. Actually, you were doing it now. You also did it yesterday and the day before that.
You were keeping track. Fourteen.
You had been avoiding the devil of death for straight two weeks now.
[4:23pm] you: I'm gonna be home late. Don't wait for me. Don't pick me up. I brought my car.
Even your text message felt like a dismissal. Taehyung frowned upon reading it. You were talking to him in a formal way. No smiley face or whatever.
He scoffed and tossed his phone onto the couch.
He didn't know if he had done something wrong for you to act like this. It was apparent that you didn't want to see him. You always brought him with you to the hospital, but ever since the kiss happened, you made sure to leave home at six in the morning and only be back at eleven in the evening.
There were also nights when you chose to sleep at the on-call room of Cornelia Hospital.
The devil didn't dare to bother you even though he missed you. This was because he was following the advice of PD-nim, his virtual assistant.
"Hey, PD-nim," Taehyung called after retrieving his phone. He needed advice again since it was obvious that giving you space wouldn't do the trick.
He just felt like you were growing more distant to him as day passed.
"What to do when someone is avoiding you?"
PD-nim responded in a heartbeat.
"You should give them space, Master V."
Taehyung clenched his jaw. PD-nim was full of shit. He knew how to address the devil with the nickname he set for himself, but the virtual assistant couldn't give proper solution to his master's problem.
"But it's not working!"
PD-nim took a few second to respond after that.
"Well," the assistant seemed hesitant. "Have you tried giving them flowers? Speaking of which, did you know that 64% percent of men buy flowers, while only 36% percent of women buy flowers for Valentine's Day—"
"PD-nim," Taehyung said through gritted teeth, making the assistant stop. "Can you shut the fuck up?"
"Okay," PD-nim's answer was instant again.
Taehyung sighed, as he gently stroked his chin.
"So flowers, huh?" He mumbled to himself.
Maybe he could try to give you red roses? Or tulips? Would you like daisies?
"PD-nim," Taehyung was decided. He would buy you some floras. "Where is the nearest flower shop from my apartment?"
There was no answer.
Taehyung facepalmed. He forgot how sensitive PD-nim was.
"Fine. You can speak again."
"Magic Flower Shop is four hundred meters away from your apartment,"
The devil switched off his phone and then he went his way to the shop PD-nim had suggested.
It wasn't so bad. The place was decorated mostly with pastel pink ornaments.
Taehyung roamed around the place. There were so many flowers that he didn't know what to pick. He was pondering whether to buy ready-made bouquet or to customize one. He had a lot of time to kill after all.
He didn't like staying in your apartment because loneliness was only consuming him.
"Sunflowers or lilies?" Taehyung licked his bottom lip, skimming his choices.
In the end, Taehyung decided to just ask the flower shop owner to help him. Unfortunately, the owner said she was busy with some pre-orders so she couldn't help Taehyung.
On the bright side, the owner told him that her daughter was willing to help. The latter was a florist. She knew what the devil needed, but she didn't look please to render service.
"What are you staring at!?" The mentioned florist hissed.
"You don't seem very friendly," Taehyung observed, pouting his lips and turning to look at the array of flowers in front of him instead.
The florist sneered in response.
Taehyung hummed, "are you perhaps having relationship problems?" He was talking like PD-nim. This was what his assistant said when Taehyung was acting as if he hated the world.
PD-nim was right. Taehyung was problematic that time. He didn't know what to do with you.
"What is it to you?" The florist snorted once again, causing Taehyung to roll his eyes.
"You're right. It's none of my business so I don't understand why you're diverting your anger towards me," he was losing his patience. "I am your customer. You should be treating me like one."
He had enough bullshit to deal with. He didn't deserve to deal with a rude mortal like this one.
"You're right. I'm sorry," the florist mumbled, embarrassed. She also lowered her voice a little so that her mother couldn't hear her. "I'm just pissed coz my mom won't allow me to leave this shit hole."
Taehyung was surprised when the florist opened up. Huh. People were really something else. They would only treat you right if you showed them that you should be treated right.
Kindness was not an unspoken rule. This was probably the reason why people instantly fell in love with someone who showed them basic act of kindness.
They couldn't distinguish the different between romantic interest from respect and kindness.
"Wow," Taehyung shook his head in disbelief, the corner of his mouth turning up. "This is a shit hole for you? I see that you have high standards."
This flower shop already looked cool.
"First of all, my standards are not high. You are just judgmental," the florist crossed her arms. "You look like an ahjussi so I think by now you should know that just because your so-called standard doesn't live up with the standard of other people, you already have the right to assume what is and what is not."
The florist paused for a while just to swallow thickly.
"This place is a shit hole because I am always stuck here! I don't even have time to see my boyfriend!"
"You have a boyfriend?" Taehyung parted his mouth in shock.
The florist gasped. She had said so many things, yet all that mattered to Taehyung was the boyfriend thing?
Unbelievable.
"What's the problem? You think I'm not pretty enough to have a boyfriend!?"
"First of all, you're assuming facts." Taehyung mimicked the voice of the florist. "Since you look like a kid, I assume that my reaction is understandable."
"I'm not a kid!" The florist gaped at Taehyung. "I'm fifteen years old!"
The devil chuckled upon hearing that.
"So I'm right after all. You are a kid. I understand now why your mother won't allow you to meet your so-called boyfriend," he was still mimicking how the florist acted a few breaths ago.
"How old is he, anyway? That punk better be fifteen too."
"And what if he's older?" The florist challenged.
Taehyung's eyes darkened.
"Then I'll beat him up and report him to the police. Pedophile shit."
The florist looked like the cat got her tongue, causing to Taehyung wiggle his brows in contempt.
"You should breakup with him, kid. I'm serious. I won't have any choice but to tell your mom about this if you—"
"Don't please!" The florist cut him off. She looked startled, tears filling her eyes. "I know he's older than me but he loves me! He said he loves me! We are running away tonight! Please!"
Taehyung was beyond shocked to hear this revelation. This kid knew nothing. She should be stopped.
The devil didn't care if she hated him. She left him with no choice.
Taehyung rushed towards the exit. He spotted the shop owner outside of this store. It looked like she was talking to someone over the phone.
"No!" The florist's lips trembled. She pulled Taehyung's arm, forcing him to look at her.
"Don't tell her!" The girl cried.
Taehyung was about to say something, he was also about to pull his arm away from the child; however, he was too weak to do that.
Suddenly, he was coughing blood.
"Ahjussi!" The florist tried to comfort Taehyung, but the latter shook his head.
No one could help him. This was not happening because he was sick or whatever.
Taehyung knew this was the effect of trying to do good things.
He was the devil. He was supposed to tempt human beings to give into the darkness.
Either that or he would continue to suffer.
Taehyung chose the former option.
He couldn't suffer anymore. He was not stupid. He was aware that he would die if he still played the role of a hero.
He couldn’t do good things anymore. He couldn't be someone who he was not.
"H-Hey, kid?" Taehyung puked. His head was spinning and he felt like his body was burning.
He could even feel his horns threatening to show.
"Y-You....wanna get...o-out of this..." Taehyung panted. "Shit hole, right?"
"Yah, ahjussi!" The girl cried. "How could you think about that right now? You're hurt."
She was sobbing. She appeared feisty but she was just a soft person.
It was a shame that he had to corrupt her mind.
"You won't get away..." Taehyung inhaled deeply.
His head wasn't spinning anymore. It still hurt but it was tolerable now. This was because he was starting to tempt the florist.
Angry people, scared people...These were the type of people who were easy to corrupt.
"Unless we get rid of your mom first,"
"W-What are you saying?" Fear crossed her face; she took a step away from Taehyung.
The devil only smirked.
"Your mother doesn't love you. She doesn't want you to be happy. She's taking you away from the only person who really loves you..."
The florist was shaking her head as the devil fed her with lies.
"I-I can't...that's not—" She trailed off. She wanted to say that Taehyung was lying, yet she couldn't.
Her young love was poisoning her mind.
She didn't know what was true and what was made up.
"Come on, sweetheart." Taehyung took a step closer to her, reaching for the knife the florist used to cut the stem of the flowers.
"You just have to stab her on the stomach. She's going to get hurt but she's not gonna die." He was handing her the weapon. "Just one stab. It will buy you time. You can run away while I take her to the hospital."
Taehyung stopped talking when the girl pursed her lips.
Silence engulfed them.
Seconds later, the girl took the knife.
"I'll do it." She said.
Taehyung's grin grew wider.
"That's a good girl."
The florist was decided. She gripped the handle of the knife tighter as she ran towards her mom.
She was close.
But someone stopped her—you stopped her.
"Yeji-ah?" The shop owner called the name of her daughter, her brows were knitted together when she saw how you snatched the knife away from Yeji.
"What's happening?" And of course the mother was confused.
Taehyung fucked up, that's what.
The devil knew this too. He knew he fucked up just by looking at you through the big window of the store.
You saw.
You saw what happened. You knew that Taehyung tempted this poor little girl.
He couldn't be wrong. The glare you were giving Taehyung could attest to that.
Again, you saw.
After almost a year of living with him, you finally saw.
No. You didn't see Kim Taehyung. What you saw was the....
devil.
#kim taehyung#ficswithluv#taehyung fanfic#bts taehyung#taehyung angst#taehyung fluff#taehyung series#taehyung roommate au#taehyung roommate#devil taehyung#demon taehyung#taehyung devil au#taehyung writing
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The Wolf Among Us
Bigby x OC
Summary: Sonya Blaze, A.K.A. Hell Rider, is a half fable, half mundy girl who comes to Fabletown to learn more about her side of the folktales. She works alongside Sheriff Bigby Wolf's as his newest partner and together they strive to find out who's behind the unexpected murders in Fabletown.
TW: Mentions of death, gore/blood, alcohol, smoking, drugs, sex implications, suicide, guns and ofc language.
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Chapter 14: Jersey Devil
They walked down the hall to the sound of shouting. “And you didn’t want to tell me what you were into, either!!”, they hear Beast yell.
“With good reason. Look what happened.”, Beauty argues.
“So that’s back on me now? I thought we agreed that was settled.”, said Beast.
Sonya looked over at Bigby, “What’s going on with them?” Bigby sighs. “When I went to the Open Arms, I found Beauty at the front desk and when we were about to open Crane’s room, Beast showed up. Wasn’t listening to a word. We fought and that was that.”
“Jesus… he’s completely different from what I imagined him to be.”, she says.
“You said it was settled. That doesn’t mean I have to agree to it.”, Beauty said, as they walked up to the door. “And when were you going to tell me? Or were you going to keep that a secret too?”, Beast asked.
“You know what it was. You know what was going on, Beast. I had to get a job, and you wouldn’t have it. Don’t make it into something it wasn’t.”, Beauty harshly whispered. The two outside awkwardly glanced at before Bigby knocked on the door.
The door swings open a bit to reveal an irritated Beast. “Oh. What do you want?”, Beast asked, his mood even more sour. “You called, right?”, Bigby asked. “Or, uh….was it Beauty?”
“Why would I call you?”, Beast sneered. Sonya rolled her eyes. ‘He’s definitely different from Disney’s version…’ Bigby frowned. “Listen, I’ve had a shitty night…”
“You think you’re the only one?”, Beast asked. “And we really don’t wanna deal with the runaround. Snow said you called and wanted to talk to us.”, Bigby adds. “Well, I didn’t call. Must have been Beauty. She’s been….surprising me a lot lately.”, Beast says, looking down.
“Can we just-”
“So have you, Bigby. Yet, with all the sneaking around and secrets, somehow, I’m still the bad guy in this. I’ve had to hear about it all night long from her.”, Beast said. He glared at Sonya as well. “You too. You had no reason to lie to me.”
Sonya gave him an unimpressed look. “I dunno if you've noticed but we’re not marriage counselors.”
Beast wanted to retaliate but Beauty cut him off. “Who is it?”
“Can you just let us in.”, Sonya sighed. “Let’s not get into busting down doors today, okay?”, Bigby asks, with arched eyebrows, Beast growls a sigh and slams the door shut.
Bigby and Sonya looked at each other before the door was yanked open again. “It’s your pals. Bigby and Sonya.”, Beast mocked.
Beauty gave them an apologetic smile. “Hi guys. Please excuse us for just a minute?” She walks over to Beast. “Can I talk to you in private?”
“Yes. Let’s.”, Beast said, leading them into a room and shutting the door. Sonya shakes her head. “Hm. I guess I really do have the smallest apartment in the Woodlands.”, Bigby mutters. “At least yours isn’t cramped. I still think its unfair.”, she muttered.
There was a large couch and two chairs set around a table in the middle of the room. Behind the couch was a fireplace with vases on top of it.
There was a shelf with books and fancy objects on it. There was also a large portrait painting of Beauty and Beast back in the Homelands.
“They actually look happy…”, Sonya mutters and looks up at the ceiling and sees a beautiful chandelier. “Wonder what the electric bill is for that thing?”, Bigby mutters. He walks over a white urn with blue roses designs around it, tapping it with his knuckles. Sonya’s eyes widened. “Stop it. It looks antique.”
They turn to Beast and Beauty as they walk out of the room. “Sorry, it’s been a long night.”, Beauty apologizes.
“Yeah, you know what they say. Centuries of marriage come with centuries of baggage.”, Beast said, making Sonya cross her arms. “I gotta say, your place…it looks, uh…expensive.”, Bigby says as he looks around. “What do you mean by that?” Beast asked, offended.
“Beast!”, Beauty says in a warning tone. “No, really, I wanna know. What are you trying to say, huh?”, Beast asked.
“Aren’t you guys having money problems? Cause it doesn't look like you’re suffering.”, Sonya said, getting in front of Beast. “Is this something about that loan you took out? From the Crooked Man?”, Bigby asked Beauty.
“I didn’t know what else to do, so–”
“We should deal with this on our own. Bigby and Sonya are just going to complicate things.”, Beast says to Beauty. “I called them here, and I want to see if they can help us out. Why are you being like this?”, Beauty asked, tired.
“I’m just trying to do what’s best for us.”, Beast says.
“If she wanted to help you guys earn more money, what’s the harm? Y’all are obviously in some type of trouble, so what is it? Either it’s the money, or it’s something else.”, Sonya asked.
The married couple glanced at each other before looking back at them. “I gotta know one thing, first. What if we did have something to say about the Crooked Man? What if we talk, and neither of you get him and all this comes back on us? We’d be risking a lot. We’ve seen what happens when you cross the Crooked Man.”, Beast said.
Sonya frowned. “Y’all are in danger. You two need to tell us what we need to know so we can help.”, she said, tiredly.
“But if you’d rather deal with this on your own…”, Bigby started. “No, please...”, Beauty pleads. “Then tell us what the fuck is going on! You’re in so much debt? Look around you. This isn’t the way people short on cash live.”, Bigby yelled, pointing at the room.
“Look, we’re used to a certain kind of….lifestyle, okay? We couldn’t just give that up.” Beast replied. “We never meant for it to get like this. It’s just that…we had nowhere else to turn. And we got in over our heads.” said Beauty.
“Sometimes you have to think for your needs rather than your wants. Y’all would rather choose riches and starve if it meant y’all could live the way you used to.”, Sonya says, shaking her head.
"There’s not a lot of work out there. Who would we be if we just lived like…”, Beast started to say but their phone suddenly rang.
Sonya and Bigby turn to look at it while Beauty and Beast hold each other in fear. The phone rings until it goes to voicemail.
“Hi there! You’ve reached Beauty…
and Beast
and we’re out doing something fabulous.”
“Uh, let me just, uh….”, Beast walks towards the phone but Sonya gives him a fixed look. “We’re not done here.”, Bigby said.
“A day at the beach?
skiing the slopes?
We can’t come to the phone right now, so leave a message at the beep and we will get to you as…..humanly possible!”
The recording finishes and a deep gravelly voice comes through the speaker, angry and aggressive. “That fucking message... I’m gonna come down there and bash your heads in with that machine if I have to call again and hear that fucking message one more time! I’ve been doing this long enough to know that if you had the cash, you’d have paid by now. So consider yourselves outta warnings. The Crooked Man’s gonna get his. One way or—”
“Fuck this….”, Bigby said as he goes to pick up the phone but the phone already hung up. “Shit.”, he mutters and he sets the phone back down. Sonya turned to the couple. “All we care about is how can we find the Crooked Man? Who do we talk to? Where do we go?”
Beauty and Beast look at each other for a moment as they hold each other. “The Lucky Pawn. That’s where I borrowed the money. The Crooked Man’s behind that place.”, Beauty whimpered. “I’d overheard people talking to Jersey about loans before. So….when I needed money….that’s where I went. I didn’t know what to do.”
“Wait, who do you deal with?”, Bigby asked. “Jersey. You know, the Jersey Devil?”, Beauty said. “Jersey Devil…?”, Sonya asks. “Oh, yeah…", Bigby said. "That slimy prick…..didn’t realize he was back on this side of the river.”
“And those Tweedles were always going in and out, probably dropping off a loan payment they squeezed out of some poor Fable. But never the Crooked Man. Mainly it’s just regular Fables. I can see now that it was a mistake, but….I’m not the only one who goes there, y'know. I saw the Woodsman’s axe there just the other day. It was in a display case.”, Beauty said, making Bigby and Sonya glance at each other in shock.
“I guess he’s hit hard times, too. There’s a lot of that going around. I can’t imagine he has a lot of marketable skills.”, Beast said.
“Sometimes….Fables just don’t have anywhere else to go.” Beauty said. “Fucking Bloody Mary must go through there. She had Woody’s axe last night. Tried to chop my damn head off with it!” Bigby growled.
“Maybe if you two go there you can….sort some things out.”, Beauty said. “I guess we’ll go check out the Lucky Pawn.”, Sonya sighed.
“If we can’t track down the Crooked Man there, maybe we can make enough noise that the Crooked Man will come find us.”, Bigby suggested. “Hold on, Bigby, don’t go there. Sounds like you two are just going to get Beauty in trouble.” Beast says.
He sat down on the couch. “You know that butcher shop? The Cut Above? It’s the place on Tubman Street. Same block as the Baker and the candlestick maker. Well, I’ve been delivering packages from there for a while. The thing is….it’s for the Crooked Man. And….I don’t think it’s meat in the packages. You gotta understand, I needed work.”
“You have to believe us.”, Beauty begged. “Did you ever deliver to the Crooked Man? Can you give us an address?”, Sonya asked.
"No. I delivered to places all over town. But never to the man himself. It never seems to be heading to the same place. But it always comes out of the butcher shop.“, Beast replied.
"How did you get involved with this?”, Bigby asked.
“Johann, the butcher, called. He had a problem with the refrigeration unit one night. But when I finished, it was your pal, Mary, who showed up to pay me. She said I was reliable, she liked that, and….it’s the only thing I’ve been able to pick up. And it’s still not enough. I don’t want Beauty to have to work. Especially not where she was.”. Beast says, looking down.
“It’s Mary you deal with? Bloody Mary is there?”, Sonya asked. “No, Johann is the one who hands over the packages. You know, day to day. But I’ve seen her around there. She, uh…gets under my skin, you know? I…I try to avoid her…but I don’t need to tell you two what she’s like.” Beast said.
“You’re damn right you don’t. I don’t need a run down on her reputation. If Mary works outta there, Sonya and I need to look into it…”, Bigby said.
Beauty walks over to Beast and places her hand over his. “I just wanted to provide for Beauty. Give her the kind of life she deserves.”, Beast said. “We shouldn’t have to live like this. Scraping to get by.” said Beauty.
“None of us should.”, Beast says, getting up. “We were royalty once. We were accustomed to a certain lifestyle. All we want is to make this place feel a little bit like home. You two wouldn’t understand, Bigby.”
“I don’t need to understand. It’s not my fucking job to understand. My job is to keep Fabletown safe.”, Bigby addressed.
“There’s also other Fables out there who are worse off than you two. Have you ever thought about that? I’m pretty sure lots of fables would love to have almost everything you have in here.”, Sonya said to them.
Beast sighs. “So….where are you going? If this all goes sideways, I’d like to know where it’s coming from.”
Sonya and Bigby glance at each other. “I’m down for whatever.”, she says. Bigby nods. “We’ll go to the Lucky Pawn. There’s too much going on there to ignore. We’ll have a word or two with Jersey.”, Bigby said.
“You know, guys, once you two show your face there, word is going to get out. There may be nothing left to see if you go to the butcher shop after.”, Beast said.
“We’ll keep that in mind.”, Sonya said as Bigby walks to the door and opens it. Sonya exits and he follows her.
“Wait….I don’t know what you two are planning to do when you find the Crooked Man, but is there any way you two could….help us out?”, Beast asked, following to ask. They pause.
“What do you mean?”, Sonya asks. “Well, maybe you two can make this all just….go away.”, Beast suggested. “We would really appreciate it.”, Beauty adds.
“You’re asking us to kill him, aren’t you? Is that what you think we do?”, Bigby asked them, getting angry. “No! Of course not.”, Beauty shakes her head.
“I don’t know how you’d get that idea. We just….we know that the Crooked Man is dangerous. To all of Fabletown.”, Beast said.
“I just wanna know something. Even if it came to that…. which at this point, it would be self defense after everything he’s put us through, what would y’all say? How would you feel? Would you be afraid? Relieved?”, Sonya asked, making them look at her. “Because if we do, end him… I don’t wanna hear that y’all are afraid that y’all would be next.”, she says, making them look down.
“If you’re not doing anything remotely similar to the Crooked man, you have nothing to worry about. We’re gonna do our job.”, she says and turns away. “Lucky for you, that might just solve your problems anyway.”, she said, walking away.
“Thank you, guys.” Beauty calls out after them. “I’m sure you guys will do the right thing.”, Beast adds. Bigby and Sonya ride the elevator down to the lobby.
The Lucky Pawn
Sonya and Bigby looked at the rickety old building before walking in. “It’s dirty.”, they hear.
“No it’s not.”
They look over to see Toad arguing with Jack as he tries to trade in a familiar brown coat. “It looks like you slept in it. In a pile of garbage.”, Jack argues as he looks at the cloak.
“Jack, why are you– I’ve seen you take a torn purse for a tenner!”, Toad shouted. “Yeah, but I also got her phone number. I don’t want your phone number.”, Jack said, shaking his head and he looked over to see them walking towards him.
“Here we go...”, he sighed. “What?”, Toad asked and turns around to see Sonya and Bigby. “This is a surprise.”, Toad said.
“We’re just here for information. It’s about the murders.”, Bigby rolls his eyes. “This’ll take two minutes and I’ll be out your way.”, Toad said.
“I’m not taking the coat.”, Jack repeats. “But it’s magic.”, Toad said. "So?“, Jack asked, shrugging. "And it’d be covering a check I already wrote.”, Toad says.
“Okay, well….that sounds like a you problem to me.” said Jack. “Yeah, it is! And so I came here to sell it off!”, Toad shouts. Sonya sighed and noticed the coat, her eyes widened. “Isn't that Faith's coat?”
“It was Faith’s coat.”, Toad says. “Look, you left it in my place, what’d you expect me to do?”
“Yes, I think the oft-cited statute of finders keepers clearly states that it’s his now, Miss Sonya.” Jack said, smirking. Sonya clenches her jaw and gives Bigby a look. He only sighed through his nose.
“So what’s it gonna be?”, Toad asked Jack again. “I don’t know what to tell ya. See if Cindy needs a coat, I don’t know.”, Jack said and Toad let out a frustrated sigh.
He turns to the other two. “This is to pay for those bloody glamours, you know. You and your blinkered rules. If the witches didn’t charge so fuckin’ much…I wouldn’t have to be in here, dealing with this nonsense."
Sonya frowned and crossed her arms, “What happened to the money I gave you?” Toad looked down. “Please don’t tell me you spent it on some new car accessory.”, Bigby says, frowning.
"What are you even complainin’ to them, for?”, Jack asked. “I guess I don’t know.”, Toad said, shrugging. “I don’t know what you’re gettin’ so steamed about….it shouldn’t be that big of a shock that I’m not going to take an ass-hair coat.”, Jack shook his head.
“No, I guess it shouldn’t be….since this whole bleedin’ operation’s just a set-up for one of his shady fuckin’ loans.”, Toad shouts in anger, making Jack’s eyes widen, as he glances at Bigby and Sonya. “Ix-nay on the oan-lays. Okay, og-fray?”, Jack whispered to him. “I mean, what kind of a game are you runnin’ here?”, Toad asked.
“Toad–”
“You turn down peoples’ stuff so you can peddle his shit?”, Toad asked. “We know who you’re talking about.”, Bigby said, crossing his arms. “Um, Og-Fray?”, he asked, pointing at Toad.
“The Crooked Man. Right? This is his place. Those are his loans.”, Sonya said, also crossing her arms. Toad smiles mischievously and grabs the coat. “Well, I’ll leave you to your business….I’m sure you’ll have a lot to talk about.”
“Good luck with that glamour, Toad.”, Jack sneers as Toad starts to walk away. “Fuck off.”, Toad shouts at him. “Leave the coat.”, Bigby ordered firmly.
“How the hell do you expect me to get a glamour, then?”, Toad asked, throwing the coat down on the floor. “It’s not like I’ve got a lot of options, you know. It’s just tough, is all.“
“Just do what I fuckin’ say, alright?”, Bigby said, getting irritated. “Leave the coat. Find another way.”
“Fine! I’m leaving…but I’m taking the coat with me!”, Toad said, angrily. Sonya sighed, pulling the wad of cash from her pocket. Bigby looked at her. “Where the hell did you get that?”
She gave him a guilty smile and handed it to Toad. “However much it costs, its worth it, Toad. Just go get your glamour, if not for you then do it for T.J. Please.”, she said, exasperated. Toad sighs and snatches the wad before leaving. Jack smiles and waves. “Have a good day.”
“He really grows in ya.”, Jack said, smiling. Bigby and Sonya face him, making him frightened. "Look, I work here sometimes for the extra cash. It’s something stable. You know, between more….entrepreneurial bouts. And…before either of you ask, I’ve never seen the Crooked Man in here. Neither hide nor hair, and all that. In fact, as far as I can tell, he’s never even actually stepped foot in here.“, Jack explained.
"But Bloody Mary works for him. And the last time we saw her, she had the Woodsman’s axe.”, Bigby said, leaning on the counter, glaring at Jack. “So?”, Jack asked, nervously. “So, the last time anybody else saw that axe….it was here.”, Sonya said.
“We’d never take something like that.”, Jack said. “Bullshit.”, Sonya says, surprising Jack. “Is this really why you two came down here?”, Jack asked, nervously. “We’ll be asking the questions here, Jack.”, Bigby said, shutting him up. “Okay. Fine. Fire away.”, Jack said.
“Where’s your boss? Why isn’t he here?”, Bigby asked. “I don’t know?”, Jack says. “You know something, so where is he?”, Sonya asked.
“I dunno, I don’t keep tabs on him. He’s probably out getting shit faced and eating cows right now. Listen, I gotta start closing up shop, so, uh–”, Jack said as he walked out from behind the counter.
“Close? It’s the middle of the day.”, Bigby pointed out. "What can I say, Jersey likes to run at odd hours. And, really, he’d be the one to talk to, so….can’t you two just swing by later. It really wouldn’t be good for me if he sees your faces when he walks in. So, uh…“, Jack said .
"What else can you tell us about Jersey Devil?” Bigby asked. “Just that he’s a fuckin’ psycho and I like to stay out of his way. I typically work when he’s not here. But I can call you when he comes back, alright?”, Jack says.
"Jack, shut up.”, Sonya said. “If the Jersey Devil isn’t here to answer our questions….it also means he isn’t here to get in our way. So, we’re gonna take a look around…as long as we’ve got the elbow room.”
“Alright. Don’t let me get in your way.”, Jack said, locking up. “We won’t.”, Bigby said, walking over to a different side of the room.
Bigby walked up to a small statue of the Headless Horseman that was on the far left of the room. “The Headless Horseman? Isn’t this Crane’s?”, Bigby asked. “Maybe? I don’t know.”, Jack shrugged.
Bigby rolled his eyes, walked next to the table and saw a familiar dagger. “This is Prince Lawrence’s dagger. Who sold this?”, he says, catching Sonya's attention.
“I don’t know.”, Jack repeated, shrugging. “Who would have done that? One of the Tweedles….”, Sonya mumbled. “Whoever did it, must’ve needed the money bad. Which shouldn’t come as a total shock. You guys don’t know how hard most of us have it….do you?", Jack asks.
"Yeah? If you had our job, you wouldn’t get out of bed.”, Bigby growled. “It was a rhetorical question….but sure, fine.”, Jack rolled his eyes.
"At least you aren't dead.", Sonya says as she looks through all of the significant objects in the display cases. Nothing out of the ordinary. Bigby walks over to a display that caught his eyes. Cleaving Axe.
Previous owner: The Woodsman
Ensorcelled by Druids
His chest rumbled with a growl as he turned to Jack. “I thought you said you’d never take something like this.", Bigby growls. Sonya looks up to see Bigby storm over to Jack angrily.
“Um….um, what?” Jack stammered, nervously. “Jack?”, Bigby asked. “Uh, yeah?”, Jack replied, nervously again.
“When was Mary here?” Bigby asked him, raising an eyebrow. “When was who here?” Jack said. Sonya rolled her eyes. "Please don't play dumb."
“Bloody Mary. Because the axe was here….but it’s gone. And she had it. So she was here.”, Bigby said.
“I don’t know anything about that.”, Jack said, stepping back. “I don’t. Really.”
Bigby pulls up the little hatch table, and stalks over to Jack like a predator. “I mean, I don’t work every day, so….and even when I do work, I just try and keep my head down.”, Jack rambles.
Sonya crosses her arms. "You'd be no better than Georgie. Looking away because you got your cut and don't care about innocent people getting hurt. It's bullshit."
Bigby growled loudly, making Jack flinch. "Okay, okay! It was Mary, she took it, okay. That’s all I know!”, Jack exclaimed.
“That’s all you know? You don’t know she almost fucking killed me with it last night!?”, Bigby snarled. “No, no, I had no goddamned idea! She sometimes comes in to pick up shit. Sometimes it’s for her….”, Jack said.
“You know where she lives? Where she took it?”, Sonya asked. “I don’t know where that crazy chick lives, and I don’t wanna know.”, Jack said, shaking his head.
“Well, for your sake, you better think of something to tell us.”, Bigby growled. “That’s all I can tell you. I’m being straight here! I’m just part-time. I mean, it’s Jersey who’s the one who’s into this stuff! He’s one of the Crooked Man’s boys, okay? And it’d be great if he was here to tell you all this, but he’s not, so just–”, Jack was cut off by two extra voices from outside.
"Shit....“, Sonya mutters. "Jersey, don’t give me that shit. What the fuck is the point of havin’ a system if you’re just gonna–”
“It’s not my fuckin’ system.”
“But you’re the guy who makes sure that–”
“I’m the guy that keeps shit in order and that’s it, Woody.”
Bigby ducks down and Sonya ducks behind another display case, watching as Woody and another man walk in the building and see the gate was pulled down. “Who closed the fucking gate? Jack?”, Jersey called, irritated.
He pulls up the gate, revealing himself clearly. He was a balding, gingered man with a thick mustache. He turns to face Woody. “If you love your axe so fuckin’ much, why’d you pawn it in the first fuckin’ place, huh?”
“I didn’t pawn it, asshole. It was stolen from my apartment. And Gren said that he saw it here. Now tell me where it is right fuckin’ now.”, Woody demanded.
Sonya and Bigby, reveal themselves, walking over to the two arguing men.
“Whatcha guys arguing about?", Sonya asked with a smile. Jersey jumps looking behind him and rolls his eyes. “God. And these fuckin’ guys, too?”
“Bigby? Sonya? What are you–”, Woody started to ask but Jersey cuts him off as he looks at Jack. “Is his axe even here?”, he asked. “Nope. It isn’t.”, Jack shook his head.
“Just like I said, it’s not here. Happy?”, Jersey asks and walks over to Sonya and Bigby. “So tell me what you two are here for, or get the fuck out."
"Uh….they wanted to know where–”
“Actually, you know what, I don’t care what they wanted.”, Jersey said, interrupting Jack, smirking.
Sonya rolls her eyes. "Such a salesman." Bigby walked up. “You work with the Crooked Man.”, he said firmly. “And until we give you permission…you’re not gonna do anything but answer our questions.”
Jersey glanced at Bigby's arm. “How’s your arm, Sheriff? Bloody Mary leaves a bit of a sting, don’t she?”
He turned to Jack. “Jack, did you know that as of this very morning, Bigby's joined the Crooked Man’s obedience school for wayward fucking creatures? He’s already passed his first class. You see….the Sheriff and the Deputy had, who they stupidly thought was the murderer….been chasing him for fuckin’ days, right? But the Crooked Man snapped his bony fingers….and these two handed him over just…like…that.”
“I’m, uh, just gonna, uh…let you three…you know….”, Jack said, backing away and leaving.
“The Crooked Man appreciated that.”, Jersey said, making them glare at him. “Tell us everything you know right now about the murders, and the Crooked Man.”, Bigby ordered.
“Are you kidding me! It was here. It was right fuckin’ here! What’d you do with it!?”, Woody shouted as he got in Jersey’s face. “How the fuck do I know?”, Jersey asked.
“Listen, you bald little dipshit, you’re gonna–”, Woody started to threaten, grasping Jersey by his shirt but Jersey punches Woody in the stomach. Woody groans and growled at him. “You piece of shit.” Wood throws a punch, making Jersey retaliate.
Bigby moved Sonya out of the way and got in between them, shoving them away from each other. “Back it up, Jersey. You’re dealing with us, now.”, Bigby said, facing Jersey as he gets in front of Woody.
“I didn’t expect to see you upright. Still looking for whoever killed them hookers or are you done chasing your tail?”, Jersey asked.
“Where’s my axe! Who’d you give it to!”, Woody yelled. “You follow me here all the way from Battery fucking Park…just so I can prove to you that your axe isn’t here…and you think I’m gonna take another inch of abuse-”, Jersey started fussing.
“Hey! Back off and settle down!” Bigby ordered. “Oh what the fuck are you gonna do? You talk big, but I don’t think you got the stones to back it up.”, Jersey said to Bigby as he punched Bigby in the side where he was injured.
“Bigby!”, Sonya exclaimed, watching him double over in pain. “Still a little sore, are we?” Jersey asked Bigby. “Why should Mary get all the fun? You ain’t so tough.”
Sonya silently walks behind him as he continues to put Bigby down. “Ya know what? I’m just gonna handle you myself….and I won’t need no silver bullets.”
Sonya grabbed him and slammed him against the glass display cases. He yells in pain as she grabs his head and slams it against the case.
“Motherfucker!”, he grumbles as she slams his head against it again and the glass breaks and his face hits the crystal ball.
She grimaced as she pulled his head back, seeing pieces of the crystal ball impaled in his face. “What the hell are you doing?”, Woody yells, pulling her off of Jersey. “This is my fucking fight!”
“Get your hands off of her!”, Bigby yelled, snatching Sonya away. “Dog, you got a lotta nerve–”, Woody shouted but a strange noise made them look over to see a tall, skeletal creature. It almost looked like a skinwalker. Sonya's eyes widened. "That's Jersey…?", she whispered.
He roars at them, making their eyes widen. Woody charges at him but Jersey simply smacks him to the side and starts to charge at Bigby and Sonya but Woody holds on to Jersey’s arm and pulls him down.
Jersey gets on top of Woody and starts to claw at him repeatedly. Bigby runs up to them and punt kicks Jersey over the glass counter and knocks him towards the back and hits a closet.
Bigby changed to his first form, cracking his neck as he stood in a defensive stance. “Aww, protecting your girlie friend….too bad you couldn’t protect those whores.”, Jersey said, tauntingly as he climbed up on the counter. “Go on, try to stop me!”
He jumps off the table and charges towards them but Bigby raises his clawed hand and shoves his claw into Jersey, slamming him down on the floor.
“Fucking stay down!”, Bigby snarled. Woody gets up and looks at the open, broken closet and sees his axe. “There she is!”, he said, satisfied.
Sonya and Bigby kicked Jersey to the floor and ran over to him, as he landed near the front door. They grabbed the gates and slammed it down on the back of his neck.
Jersey screams as they pull it up then start to slam it back down but Jersey grabs it and shoves it up. He starts to claw at them but they jump away from his attacks.
Bigby punches Jersey in the face repeatedly before Jersey lowers his head and tries to shove his horns into Bigby. Bigby dodges Jersey's horns and grabs one, tugging it out of Jersey’s head then shoves it into his stomach. Jersey screams in pain then shoves Bigby against the display case.
Bigby groans in pain as Jersey jumps in front of him then shoves one of his clawed hands into Bigby’s injured arm. Bigby yells in pain. “Fucker!"
Jersey shoves his claw deeper into Bigby’s arm and Sonya jumps on Jersey’s back, lighting her hands on fire and burning his neck. Jersey screams out in pain, pulling his claw out of Bigby.
Sonya increased her heat, nearly gagging at the burnt smell before she's pulled off of Jersey's back and slammed onto the floor. Sonya's eyes widened as her breath was knocked out of her.
"Hey asshole. I found her.”, Woody announces before slamming his axe down into Jersey’s head. Jersey lets out a shriek of pain and he slaps Woody to the side and tries to pull the axe out.
Bigby looks next to him and picks up an anvil, raises it above his head then slammed it down on Jersey, knocking him down on the floor.
Bigby pushes the anvil to the side, reverting back to his human form and helps Sonya stand. She looks at his arm. “You okay?”, she asked. “More or less. You?”, he said, shrugging. "More or less.", she smiled, catching her breath.
Woody walks over to Jersey, yanking his axe out of Jersey’s head. He hovers the axe over Jersey’s neck and he looks up at Bigby and nods. Bigby squats down next to Jersey. “So…..wanna try again?”
“You can’t find the Crooked Man. No one can. There’s no address, no place….he lives in the bends and forks of tree roots….behind the sun….in the….shadows.”, Jersey says. “You know more so tell us.”, Sonya ordered.
“The door to his house….it bounces around. Never in one spot. You’ll never find it. Even Crane had to use the Magic Mirror….that fuckin’ guy. Mirror, Mirror…fuckin’ shit…”, Jersey grumbles. “Okay, that’s Crane’s way….how do you contact him?”, Bigby asked him.
“I don’t. He uses couriers for everything. Ravens, goblins, the fuckin’ Tweedles…whatever. I go in when I’m taken there. You don’t know anything….about anything, do you? What do you have? Nothin’. That useless bitch, Snow White, and a broken fuckin’ mirror….no fuckin’ friends. And no clue about who is really runnin’ this town.”, Jersey said.
Sonya grabs his arm, sizzling his wrist and watching him struggle in pain. "You're going round and round with our question. You and everyone we've met up 'til now have said the exact same thing. We're asking questions for a reason. So answer them." She lets go. “Now, where did you hear that the mirror got broken?”
“Oh. That. Gossip flies fast. We’re like a sewing circle. It doesn’t matter what you fuckin’ do, you’re not gonna get him. You two wanna knock on his fuckin’ door and see what happens? Fine. Crane had the Mirror. Bloody Mary had Crane. So take your fucking wrecking crew act to the butcher shop.”, Jersey says.
“The Cut Above.”, Bigby mutters, remembering Beast's words. “And if we can find the mirror piece there, we can find the Crooked Man.”
“That’s her spot. That’s where all the magic happens….”, Jersey says as Woody backs away and takes his axe away from his neck. Jersey begins to crawl back. “Now leave me so I can find me some aspirin.”, he says, only to fall face down on the floor.
“Will Mary be there?”, Bigby asked Jersey. “You want me to draw you a picture? I don’t fucking know….you got what you want, now get the fuck outta here….”, Jersey ordered.
Sonya sighed, glancing at Bigby as he glanced at her before starting to leave. Jersey speaks up again. “Hey…Sheriff….Deputy."
Both of them stop, hearing Jersey out. "Those girls are still dead….and there’s nothin’ you two can do to bring them back. And I don’t know what they did, but I do know this… if they’re dead, it’s cause the Crooked Man wanted them dead. That’s all it takes. So you can roar, smash the place up. Shit, you can wail on me all you want, but what good is it gonna do ya? Cause he ain’t in your town. You’re in his.”
Bigby growls lowly, turns around and kicks Jersey in the face, making him yell in pain. “Just shut the fuck up, will ya?”, Bigby said, turning back around, and leading Sonya and Woody out of the shop.
Bigby pulls out a cigarette, making Sonya turn away. “Got a smoke?”, Woody asked him. Bigby lights his cigarette and hands it to Woody, before lighting another one up for himself. “Thanks.”, Woody said, taking a drag. “Shitty brand.”
Bigby side eyed him. “You’re welcome.” Sonya waved her hand to dispel the smoke.
“I’m not gonna lie, I was having trouble deciding which one of you to hit with this thing.” Woody said to Bigby. Sonya gaped at Woody, making Bigby shake his head. Bigby drops the cigarette and squishes it under his shoe.
Sonya waved a cab down and waited as it came up. She climbs in first, waiting on Bigby. Bigby starts to follow suit but Woody calls him. “Jersey was wrong, you know.”
“About what?”, Bigby asked.
“About those girls. There is somethin’ you two can do about it. You can get the fucker who did it. Ain’t that the plan?”, Woody asked.
“You're damn right it is.”, Bigby says, smiling. “Alright. Well….go do it, then.”, Woody says before he starts walking away. Bigby stands outside the cab, looking at the retreating man. “Hey Woody.”
Woody stops, keeping his back faced toward the other man. “Yeah?”
“I’ll see you around, alright?”, Bigby said. Woody turns his head to look at Bigby over his shoulder. “Yeah, I’ll see ya.”, he says and finally walks away. Bigby looks down for a moment then he climbs in the cab, sighing softly.
Sonya smiled at him. "You guys have such great teamwork. You'd think you'd wanna stop fighting each other."
"That's practically all I wanna do. But sometimes he makes it hard to get along with him.", Bigby mutters. She nodded. "He is pretty difficult to deal with… ", she mumbles, sleepily.
He noticed and sat up a bit. "You can sleep, y'know. It'll be a bit of a while before we get there." She yawned and nodded. "I think I will..."
She let her eyes close and seconds later, she's out. He smiles, leaning his head back against his seat. He jumps a bit to feel a little weight leaning on him and sees Sonya leaning against him, sound asleep.
He stares at her for a moment then relaxes as she snuggles into him a bit. He felt light. She didn't wake up and pull away as if he were something disgusting. She was the opposite of anyone that even remotely showed him any kindness.
She always seemed so comfortable with him. Never tiptoeing around him or doing things for him out of fear or pity.
She never made him feel like a ticking time bomb and even defended him countless of times. It made his heart swell in a strange way he's never felt before but it made him comfortable enough to accept it.
#my art#poc oc#my oc#bigby wolf#twau bigby#bigby x reader#artists on tumblr#bigby imagine#digital art#art#sheriff bigby#bigby#bigby wolf fanfic#bigby wolf imagine#bigby x fem reader#bigby x chubby reader#big bad wolf#the woodlands#beast#beauty and the beast#x reader#bigby wolf x reader#x reader fanfiction#bigby x oc#black oc#black girl#bigby x black reader
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There's superstition...
After the torture sentence that I aplied to myself by thinking that this post could be a good idea, I fucking have the information about this... this... twisted story. Not all the information though, because if I search for more info about this I will surely need to go to the Cuckoo's nest.
Oh Martina, you're exaggerating. No, I'm not (well yeah, kinda). This was so confusing to understand and organize. Believe I was in the bathroom seconds ago saying "Okay, 1970 Cozy and Jeff going to Detroit. 1971 and 1972 Stevie.."
The most important thing about Superstition's back story and theories about Cozy's playing on it, is the ☆Timelines.☆ Because in the end everything revolves around 1970-71 and 72 to ever consider Cozy in Superstition so let's start.
[Jeff Beck and Cozy Powell going to Motown Studios in Detroit, 1970-71]
They both travelled to the States to do some Motown covers for the upcoming album with only covers but they never released it. They released Rough and Ready inestead but I'll leave the man explains that to you himself:
"My producer, Mickie Most, said, 'We have to make an album.' I talked Mickie into going to Motown, the Hitsville house. It was one of the last sessions there. I was so privileged. We were more like tourists, kids in a candy shop. I took Cozy [Cozy Powell] and I said, 'I gotta go to Motown, and you’re coming as well.' (Cozy: *gets scared and excited*) It wasn't a request. What the hell was I doing taking a rock drummer, with two huge Ludwig bass drums, into Motown? They hated us right away. They didn’t want to know. But we loved it there, and they sensed it after a few hours. The first day, when Cozy sat behind the Motown drum kit and started playing like the Meters, they all went, 'Oh!' (Motown people: Heeey... That's pretty good!) and came flooding back to the studio. It was James Jamerson on bass that day — no rhythm guitar — and Earl Van Dyke on keyboards. That was it, a stripped-down thing. They kept saying, 'Where are the dots?' [sheet music] I said, 'There ain’t no dots.'
When Cozy started playing, it was great. James was locking up with Cozy’s drum pattern. Then I looked around — Cozy was wheeling the drum kit out of the studio. They’re going berserk. He has moved the sacred Motown drum kit out of the studio and wheeled this stupid double kit of Ludwigs in. The studio tech came up to me and said, 'Didn’t you guys come in here for the Motown sound?' Yeah. 'Well, it just went out the door.' [Laughs] "
Jeff Beck, Rolling Stone.
I just love when Jeff refers to Cozy's drum kit as stupid, fancy or whatever in a derogatory way... just because it was sparkling red jsjdjfkgkgl.
We have here, Cozy's side of the events:
"You may as well start off with both feet on the most obscure thing I've ever done. I've got a copy of it, a tape.
It never got the test pressing stage. We went to Motown in Detroit with the idea of Jeff recording an album of all the Motown hits, basically as an instrumental album. He wanted to use a lot of the Motown session players. At that time I'd just joined him, 1969 I think, and his original idea was to find a drummer first. Found me, went down to the audition, got the job, next thing I know (Jeff: You're coming with me. Cozy: ...the fuck?) we're going to Motown to do this album. We did 'Reach out I'll Be There', 'Losing You', things like that. In the end we did about 7 or 8 tracks of which the backing tracks were done.
Jeff plays rhythm guitar, he hadn't actually put the lead on and for some reason he wasn't happy with what he heard or with Micky Most or whatever. It never ever saw the light of day."
Cozy Powell, interview with Joe Gessin
This is all important because this wouldn't be the first time that Jeff and Cozy travelled to the States together.
[JBGroup going to Electric Lady in New York, May 1972]
This is where the party begins and when the timelines confusion comes in.
So, Jeff Beck Group's second album is recorded in January of 1972 at TMI Studios in Memphis. Talking Book was RELEASED in October of 1972 so we don't know how exactly when it was recorded.
But anyway, the thing is that Jeff and his gang released the album in May but before that Stevie and Jeff were kicking the idea of some session works with Jeff for Talking Book so when they released the album in May, they had no obligations left so Jeff took his gang to Electric Lady in New York.
Jeff recorded some guitar tracks and the gang was just observing and occasionally adding ideas. They wanted Stevie to write a song for the next album (which it doesn't exist).
This is where the party begins part 2:
There is this story of Jeff playing the drums for a laugh, noodling around while Stevie was writing over it. It seems like Jeff did something that inspired Stevie but here's the guy again:
"One day I was sitting at the drum kit, which I love to play when nobody's around, doing this beat. Stevie came kinda boogieing into the studio: 'Don't stop.' 'Ah, c'mon, Stevie,' I can't play the drums.' Then the lick came out: 'Superstition.'"
Jeff Beck, Jeff Beck: Crazy Fingers.
I really doubt that is Jeff's playing in the record. What I don't doubt is that maybe Stevie played the drums but since they had Cozy around and Stevie liked Cozy's beat and most importantly he was a drummer (I'm not saying that Stevie is not a drummer, I'm just saying that Cozy is a full drummer while Stevie plays a lot of things). This is where the previous Cozy post about this comes in. They where trying different things so I really believe that at some point of that day Cozy sat down on the drum kit and did a take.
And there's a proof that Cozy was there and worked with Stevie, actually there are two: The only two existents pictures of Stevie Jeff and Cozy were taken in 1972.
"Stevie Wonder is one of these man who walks around singing all day, tapping out rhythms... well, the man IS music. When I worked with him -which was very briefly- he'd come in with this idea in his head and he'd say 'Hey, hey, play this man!' and he'd start tapping something out"
Cozy Powell, Rhythm magazine 1987.
And theres another Cozy quote but is not complete because I found it on pinterest (so sorry) but it's understandable as well.
"He'd tapping out the table. You'd watch and start tapping along with him and he'd get excited and say 'Yeah, yeah, yeah... now try this on the hit-hat, man, try this.. ' After five minutes you'd have come up with something and then perhaps you'd do a little bit more or a little bit less of it, and if he really liked it he'd start dancing around and laughing and waving his arms about. Then he'd leap on to the keyboards and start playing. It was all very energetic, good stuff and really easy to do. You weren't aware it was work."
Cozy Powell, unknown article.
I feel that Stevie's energetic attitude and passion for music hit him deeply, I can see that by the way that the quotes are written. Cozy just loved Stevie.
So yeah, Cozy said that he did some takes for Superstition when Stevie finally wrote it down. In the case that I'm mistaken and it was Stevie who played the drums... it should have been over some Cozy's track because there's no way that Stevie could imitate his Crashing-Cymbal sound or either his drum rolls. Stevie can of course, but not will the same touch, because of the simple reason that one person is different from another.
But I still believe that it IS Cozy's take, i really do and the most important question here is: if Cozy was not who played the drums on Superstition... Why he would lie about it? He had no reason to do it so there must be some truth in his words.
And we need to remember that Superstition was originally planned for Jeff Beck Group so if it was for Jeff Beck Group, they would need Jeff's drummer which was Cozy. So I wouldn't be surprised if Stevie asked Cozy to do some takes.
And when Superstition was finally out, it was by Stevie Wonder using Cozy's take. The reason of why Stevie released it was because Motown said that it was such a great song for giving it away. Also Jeff was busy with Jeff Beck Group's break up for working on the song.
The reason of why Stevie was enlisted as the drummer is not clear, it seems like a Motown move.
So yeah, this is story, well half of it. The shit was so long with a lot of details that I didn't need for this.
I believe that it was Cozy's take, for a lot of reasons. Not because I like him (Well i do like him but the truth is the truth). Maybe it was Stevie with a Cozy guide, we don't know... and we never will.
(Unless we kidnap Jeff Beck and ask him)
#omg Martina get a grip#what the actual fuck?#what is this? the new testament or something??????#but good unnecessary stuff to know...#I know that It was Cozy... i just know#long post#cozy powell#jeff beck#jeff beck group#stevie wonder#superstition
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About You || VII
Gif by: giuliacommissions (please check her out if you’d like to commission her for gifs and other work 💞)
PAIRING: Wanda Maximoff x Fem!Reader/OFC
Summary: Wanda had never known loss like she has until she lost Pietro. It’s debilitating. She can’t eat, can’t sleep, can’t even leave her house. Life is fading fast, and she’s not sure if she even wants to hang on. Enter you, a stranger that reconnects her to the daily things that makes life beautiful.
Warnings: Deals with loss & grief and the spectrum of emotions and depression that comes with it. Please note there is no glorification in any of this. Loss, grief, and depression are nothing beautiful. Also, please don’t hesitate or reach out for help if you are in a dark place. Love you, lovelies 💘
Genre: Angst & Romance
NOTE: #feelings
PART I || PART II || PART III || PART IV || PART V || PART VI
PART VII of X
Count: 1379
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"So, are you dating now?"
"No, we're friends," Wanda says as she fiddles with the salt and pepper shakers at the counter while Steve preps lunch.
"Friends don't kiss," Steve points out.
"They can sometimes," Wanda shrugs.
"Not like that," he grins, while Wanda jabs her tongue to the inside of her cheek.
Steve put down the knife, eyeing Wanda, and put his hand on her head to rub it gently.
"I can't help but be a little worried. You've been in a real bad place for a year, and I don't think I can handle another spiral from you," Steve stops rubbing Wanda's head and gives her a small, sad smile. "You know, death isn't the only way to lose someone. She's a wonderful gal; I hope you can appreciate the beauty of someone belonging with you."
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That night, Wanda lay in her bed with you, just enjoying the quiet of the evening.
Cuddling has perhaps become her favorite pastime.
"It's almost been three months," you say into the quiet.
"Has it?" Wanda murmurs.
You're lying on your side, elbow onto the pillow as you're propped up on it, looking down at her.
Your fingers drag a soft line down her arm, goosebumps trailing.
"Do you still think about dying?" You ask her.
Wanda bites her tongue when she feels you lay down comfortably next to her, your head in the crook of her neck and shoulder, your lips sending tingles down her spine as they're pressed against on her shoulder. Invisible shapes are being drawn on her arm as you hold her.
She tells you the truth.
"Not at all."
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"C'mon, just give it a try!"
"No," Wanda deadpans. "Do you not remember the last blind date you set me on? That was awful."
"Hey, that was years ago in university. I didn't know any better!" Pietro defends himself.
"She was straight," Wanda glares at him.
"Okay, I admit, that was my bad. But I checked that this time!" Pietro holds his hands up and smiles.
"No thanks," Wanda shakes her head. "Does she even want to meet me?"
"Well," Pietro hums.
"Pietro!" Wanda frowns at him.
"She's doesn't not want to."
"No, that's just setting me up for humiliation," Wanda shakes her head.
"Oh, come on," Pietro whined, "I've been talking you up for a whole year!"
"And her response is she doesn't not want to see me? Yeah, no."
"But I even gave her something to give you," Pietro said casually.
"What did you give her?"
"Your yearbook."
Wanda stops in her tracks and sighs.
"Not that I care, but why would you give her that?" She says in disbelief.
"You should go on a date with her and find out," Pietro smirks.
Wanda pauses and turns to her brother. "Just face it, I'm going to die alone. With a cat."
Pietro laughs, pulling Wanda into a hug, and he messes up her hair.
"Perhaps you can tease about those things with me since I know how wonderful you are, but remember you'll actually have to say things to others to be understood."
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"Can I ask you something?"
You turned your head to Wanda, who's fiddling with the ends of her shirt.
You open your arms, and Wanda's head falls onto your lap. You put her arm around her as you look back at the TV.
You hum.
"Did you...ever look for your brother after?" Wanda asks.
You trace the ridges of her elbow, fingers trailing down her arm until your hand is over hers.
"No," you admit. "What was there really to say to someone who abandoned you?"
Wanda was silent, but you could tell her eyes were downcasted as she frowned. You lifted your finger to trace her eyebrow, down the side of her face until your fingers rested against her jawline.
"I wasn't always alone, you know," you say with a light smile.
Steve's words of exclusivity pop in her head and Wanda frowns even more while you laugh.
"Relax, he was just a friend. I worked with him for a bit."
Wanda nods, hesitating before asking, "What was he like?"
"Real annoying," you huff, and Wanda lets out a chuckle.
"He acted like he was my big brother all the time. Always up in my business, always making sure I ate, always finding me when I was down," you started with an eye roll, your words becoming softer by the end.
"What happened to him?" Wanda asks.
You look down her, a sad smile.
"Somethings are just not meant to last forever. People can come and go," you tell her.
Wanda turns, so she's facing your stomach as she slightly looks up at you through the side of her eye.
Wanda understands, she really does, she understands better than anyone.
But there's a part of her that wishes that she could tell you that she would never go if she could control the universe.
But instead, she settles for, "I'm here, and I want to stay."
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Wanda stared at your hand as the two of you went grocery shopping together.
Let's hold hands.
Please hold my hand.
Can we hold hands?
Wanda went through various ways of asking in her head.
You strolled leisurely, holding both bags, and Wanda took a deep breath.
"Can I hold a bag?" She asks, and you smile at her and pass one of the bags to her.
Wanda holds it in her other hand, leaving her left hand free, but you don't seem to catch the hint.
"It's a really nice day, isn't it?"
Not nice enough, Wanda thinks.
By the time you make it home, you start making lunch right away while Wanda watches on the counter.
Her fingers feel the smooth edges, but she can't help but wish it was the ridges of your hand.
Wanda is well aware she's starting to depend on you, albeit a little reluctantly. But you gave her a feeling she couldn't fully describe.
She found herself wondering things she hadn't wondered about before.
What if she had asked for your hand?
How would it feel to give a kiss instead of only receiving them?
It made Wanda grimace at her own feelings of cowardice, but still, she looked at you, and the feelings of wanting grew.
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"So, it's been three months," you say as you stand at the door.
Wanda is all sorts of confused.
"I told you everything would be okay in three months," you half-joke, but you're holding your bag, and Wanda can't focus on anything.
"Um," you stumble, "I think I have everything, but if you find something of mine, just shoot me a text."
Why? Wanda wonders. Why don't you just stay?
A mix of Pietro's words of saying things to be understood and Steve's words of exclusivity haunt her again.
"O...kay," you drag out when Wanda doesn't answer. "I hope we can still hang out even if there's no reason to meet up now. Text me, alright?"
You turn around to open the door, knowing Wanda doesn't like goodbyes, but it's like the sight of you leaving springs Wanda to life.
She storms over, coming up behind you as she slams her hand on the door and pushes it shut.
Her eyes are watering as she hisses at you, "Everything is only okay because of you!"
Fuck asking for the hand, Wanda decides she'll just take it.
"I gave life a second chance for you!" She tells you as she pushes the bag of your shoulder, pulling you closer to her.
How awful it is, she thinks, when tears are running down your face.
She's salacious, she thinks, as Wanda presses her lips to yours with no warning, deciding that she quite likes giving kisses. Her hands slide under your shirt, feeling the bare skin there, and she likes the feeling of it a lot more than the kitchen counter.
She knows she's being selfish when she pulls you into her bedroom, holding you close while her lips brush against yours.
"So take responsibility and stay with me," Wanda pitifully whispers, her hand shaking as she holds onto you.
It's both painful and lovely to see you choke on a laugh as you cry happily and nod.
PART VIII
#mm: my fics#series: about you#wanda maximoff#wanda maximoff x OFC#wanda maximoff x you#wanda maximoff x reader#Wanda Maximoff Imagine#scarlet witch x reader#scarlet witch imagine#Avengers reader insert#avengers au#avengers imagine#Marvel reader insert#modern avengers au
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I am finally here with Good Omens prompts!! Okay, so let me know if you don't like this and I can try again, but I D E S I R E more crowley sickfic content :) maybe he has a fever and doesn't even realize because mortal stuff is so foreign to him that he can't figure out why his head hurts and he's dizzy until Aziraphale points it out? :)
HELL YEAH I CAN!! I need more Crowley sickfic in this fandom so hear is this fic! I had an idea in mind for this prompt and somehow, my keyboard decided to take a different one and run with it but I hope you like it!
When Crowley showed up late, it was fashionable, if a bit unusual for a lunch date with his – with the angel. A lunch appointment. A casual meet-up, maybe.
They had made reservations at the Ritz for 8:00 sharp, and according to Crowley’s mobile, it was 8:20 when he came sauntering in to sit across from Aziraphale.
The angel had ordered an appetizer and was picking at it nervously before his eyes settled on Crowley, and in an instant, the tension left him. “Oh, there you are, dear, I was about to get worried!”Crowley rolls his eyes, which was utterly pointless with his dark shades covering the demonic things, but Crowley knew the message got across just the same. Aziraphale seems to understand him some way or another these days.“Mn, yeah, no reason to be worried,” he waved his hand dismissively. “Lost track of a bit of a nap, that’s all.” Which was not necessarily true, but also was not a lie.Crowley, of course, being a demon could lie. In fact, he might say he could do it rather well considering that he had kept hell off his tail for, oh, ‘round six thousand years until the Armageddon’t became a thing. But while he could lie well enough to the uninterested party-and he’ll certainly did not care about him on any deeply personal level-he couldn’t bring himself to lie to the angel.So yes, he had indeed overslept a bit in what could be considered a nap. The only bit that was anything of note was that he didn’t actually mean to take a nap in the first place. He had been stalking through his flat, inspecting his plants when he had felt a bone-deep tired start to set in.He sat only for a second on a bench more concrete than comfort, and suddenly he had slept a little over a day. Crowley just wanted to sleep at least a thousand more, he felt so exhausted.
But leaving that out wasn’t really lying after all.
Aziraphale sighed. “I never did understand the appeal but, well,” he gestured to the food in front of him, “I suppose to each their own, my dear. I’m just glad you decided to wake up this century!”
Crowley could tell the angel was trying to settle any weird feelings with the jest, but somehow his mind was just a little… drifty. But he was pretty certain a smirk would do the trick, as it usually did when he wasn’t sure how to respond anyway.
Thank someone for sunglasses.
It did indeed do the trick, and Aziraphale smiled, easily settling down easily into the pattern they had managed for so long. He began with some small talk about his shop and the customers he had scared off, and even explained the newest novel he had found himself immersed in.
On the other hand, Crowley felt completely lost in what he was supposed to be doing. It was all he could take to try and make the right noises, or look like he was paying attention to the angel (which was a skill he had mastered, letting him talk about books for ages that Crowley couldn’t care less about if it weren’t important to Aziraphale).
He didn’t even notice the waiter ready to take their order until Aziraphale cleared his throat pointedly, murmuring a soft, “Crowley, dear?”
“Oh, just some wine, really. Whatever you’d recommend,” Crowley grumbles, waving off the waiter. He was hoping that since he usually didn’t eat much anyways, it didn’t seem off, but the truth was the thought of even trying anything made his stomach turn. It was confusing to say the least.
Something was wrong, Crowley thought, and the worried looks Aziraphale was constantly giving him when the angel thought he wasn’t looking only confirmed as much. The dinner seemed to pass by in somewhat of a fog. He felt absolutely miserable, but not in any way he was used to. He wasn’t upset but he still felt like absolute shit. It was all he could do to keep himself awake and mostly alert, giving the occasional one word answer whenever Aziraphale trailed off in a way he was clearly meant to respond to.
It was when a dull ache set in behind his eyes that things truly got out of hand. Even his own voice started to feel like it was drilling into his head, and the shining lights of the restaurant made him wish to by somewhere, anywhere else. Like his bed, or Aziraphale’s couch.
It was a relief when Aziraphale was finished. He was delighted with the meal as always, but there was something of a worried tone in his voice as he praised the food. Even then, he didn’t say anything about it. For all of Crowley’s going too fast, Aziraphale knew by now that something a little too caring or personal before the demon was ready, and he would be scared off.
Sometimes he was annoyed at the angel’s caution around him, like he were a not-quite-tamed animal. Other times, Crowley was grateful for it. Right now, Crowley couldn’t decide, because his brain felt like it was being baked and pounded into mush at the same time.
“Shall we go then?” Aziraphale asks, straightening out his jacket.
“I was gonna pay the bill, angel,” Crowley grumbles. Even if he was being rather awful company - not that he was the best anyways, Aziraphale really deserved better for h- well, for somewhere’s sake – he could at least give him that much.
Aziraphale shook his head, eyes crinkling in the way they did when he found something particularly peculiar, or even perhaps silly. “Oh, really Crowley,” he huffed. It was much more endearing than exasperated. “I believe I’ll manage this one time. But maybe you could, well, give me a lift?”
If it wouldn’t hurt his head so much, Crowley would have laughed. Instead, he smiled, just a little bit. Because the angel was still so shy, and never mind how he felt, he wasn’t about to say no when Aziraphale so rarely outright asked him something like that. “’Course I will,” Crowley said, willing away the strange urge to shiver.
He was rewarded with the sight of Aziraphale smiling brightly at him as he stood up. Crowley stood to join him.
And oh, fuck.
The restaurant was suddenly spinning. Crowley shook, feeling chilled and far, far weaker than he should. His vision was being encroached by darkness, and he stumbled weakly back, catching himself on the table with a clamber.
Nosey eyes were quickly miracled away and Aziraphale was by his side. “Crowley? Crowley, what is it, are you hurt?”
“Angel, I don’t know what’s happening, I feel awful, I’m scared,” Crowley says. Except he didn’t, and instead, all that came out was “Nnghh.”
Another wave of vertigo overcame him and when he blinked away his spotty vision, they were in the bookshop, Aziraphale immediately beginning to pace with nervousness that practically rolled off him.
Crowley sits himself down on the couch – if one could call nearly falling onto it without any sense of gracefulness sitting – and puts his hand to his head. It was hot. His body, however, felt freezing, and he curled up back into the fabric, trying to conserve his warmth as he shivers.
Aziraphale approaches him, still fidgeting anxiously. “Please tell me what’s wrong, dear. You’re frightening me,” he asks softly.
“Angel, I-“ Crowley doesn’t know what to say. He doesn’t know what’s happening, and what if he’s going to discorporate? Or worse? It would be more than inconvenient, what with hell wanting his blood and all, there was no way he’d make a quick return topside. That is, if he ever managed it. He didn’t want to leave his angel. Not when they finally had a real chance.
Before he realized he was even doing it, Aziraphale had taken off his glasses, setting them down gently, and had begun to wipe away his tears. Crowley’s eyes were blown completely yellow, without a white bit to be seen; a sure sign of his distress. Crowley leaned into his hand, a somewhat strangled whimper escaping his throat. Aziraphale shushed him softly, and Crowley managed to find his voice.
“I don’t know why, Aziraphale.” The tearful tremble was still thick in his speech, although later he would never admit to being so emotional.
The angel looks troubled by this. “Can you tell me what you’re feeling then?” Crowley nods slowly.
“I’m… tired. Everything hurts, angel, can’t think straight… my head hurts. And it’s bloody freezing in here,” he complained, his body shuddering to prove his point.
Aziraphale’s face pinched further. “It’s warm here, my dear… you’re, well, rather feverish, it seems.” Crowley stares at him blankly. It was most certainly not warm although his forehead was delightfully cooled by the angel’s hands still resting on his face. When it was clear that he wasn’t getting the point, Aziraphale spoke again. “Crowley, I believe you might be sick,” he states carefully.
He blinks. “Demons don’t get sick, angel,” Crowley says.
Maybe, just maybe, Aziraphale was onto something. He certainly felt ill, after all. But it wasn’t supposed to happen like this, getting sick was something… human. And Crowley could tell, even now, weak and pitiful as he felt, he was still very much a demon.
“Perhaps, but we’ve spent all this time around them, well… it could be possible, couldn’t it?” Aziraphale ponders. “Unless you have a better idea?” His eyebrow is raised in a way that looks innocent, but holds a challenge to it, almost daring Crowley to disagree.
He just shrugs. “Guess so.” He hadn’t been around anything holy enough to worry and if this was what being sick was like then… well, that was that. Crowley couldn’t bring himself to do any more than just accept it.
Pushing himself up with his arms off of the couch, he takes a clumsy step forward, feeling horribly dizzy again. He stumbles, but instead of falling, he’s steadied by a soft pair of hands. “Dear, what are you doing?” Aziraphale asks. “You’re in no state to be walking around like that.”
“Gotta get home, ‘Zzzira,” Crowley explains. He’s leaning on Aziraphale quite heavily, letting his eyes close to stop the room from spinning. His stomach had started to spin with it. “Just need a bit of ressst,” he hisses, forgetting to stop the odd way he speaks, although he hardly notices it.
“Oh, Crowley,” murmurs Aziraphale, his voice unbearably tender. “I can just make you a bed here. I would be far too worried to let you go off alone when you can hardly walk.”
Crowley tries to argue his case, but all that comes out is stammers, and so when the angel sweeps him off his feet (literally, figuratively he had managed that 6,000 or so years before) he doesn’t struggle. Instead, he moans at the disorienting feeling, pressing his face into Aziraphale’s shoulder. He holds Crowley tighter.
Crowley was too light, too easy for the angel to carry.
Aziraphale sets him down on the bed – sheets, predictably in a familiar tartan pattern. Immediately, Crowley pulls the blankets around him, grateful to the warmth they provide. His shivering subsides from full body shudders to just a slight bit of shakiness. Aziraphale leaves but is back just as quickly with a cool glass of water and a few white pills.
“Take these,” he instructs, guiding Crowley into a sitting position. When did it get so hard to do that? His confusion must have shown on his face. “Your fever is rising quite a bit dear, you might not be feeling better any time soon, but this should help,” explains Aziraphale.
Crowley considers this and takes the pills with the water before laying back. His eyes feel heavy.
Someone is tucking him in, and it must be Aziraphale, and his hair is being stroked. Crowley mummers softly, “Please stay,” as he begins to drift off.
He thinks he hears a response of “Of course, my love,” from his angel, but maybe that’s just the fever talking
#good omens#good omens whump#Ineffable Husbands#otp: ineffable#Crowley whump#anthony j crowley#good omens fic#sickfic#sick crowley#good omens fanfiction#whump#hurt comfort#hurt crowley
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I've had a prompt rolling around in my brain the past couple of days, I keep thinking of Holden's car breaking down in the rain, and he has to make his way to a payphone, and he calls Bill, because he doesn't know who else to call. I keep thinking about Bill being worried he'll get sick because he's soaking wet. Sorry if this is disjointed sending asks gives me anxiety >>
Nothing to worry about at all, hon. This makes perfect sense to me! Here you go, hope you enjoy 💕
Holden’s father had instilled a healthy respect for car maintenance in him from a young age, and he considers himself a responsible person when it comes to his possessions; but some things just can’t be foreseen. There were no warning signs, no little lights popping up on his dash to tell him that something was wrong, but still, as his car sputters out on the side of the road, he figures this is somehow his fault.
It’s late evening on a Friday, the ragged conclusion of a long week out of state on consult. It’s no more than a thirty minute drive between the airport and his apartment, but his little Nova, which up until this very moment had been trustworthy and faithful, couldn’t make it that far. On top of everything else, it’s raining. Not a mist or a drizzle, but a deluge that rolls from the rumbling sky in unrelenting gusts that don’t appear to be stopping anytime soon.
As the engine clicks and dies on the gravel shoulder of the road, Holden leans his forehead against the steering wheel to brace back a wave of tearful dismay. Not only does he usually leave car repair up to knowledgeable professionals, but he’d also been looking forward to crawling into his own bed after an arduous week spent tracking down a pedophile and murderer.
A rift of anger rises up from his sudden despair, and he leans back to strike the wheel with the heel of his hand.
“Fuck!” The curse chokes from his throat, punctuating the steady drum of rain against the metal exterior of the car.
He breathes heavily into the silence for a long moment until the initial rush of panic and alarm fades. He tries to think clearly about his options. He should call someone. But who? It’s much too late for shops to be open, and he doesn’t want to call the police department and create a scene. He could call a cab, but that might take awhile. And before he can pursue any of those options, he has to find a phone to even call from first.
Holden rubs his tired eyes, and scans the street.
He knows where he is. Just think … Payphone. The corner of Mission Street and Jackson Road. Two blocks away.
“Fuck.” Holden says, aloud, again.
He’s exhausted, and he doesn’t want to walk two blocks in the pouring down rain; but what other choice does he have?
Gathering his collar up around his neck, Holden draws in a deep breath, and shoulders his way out of the vehicle. The rain is coming down so hard that he’s almost instantly soaked, his hair drenched and plastered to his head, his trench coat barely concealing his shivering body from the biting gust of cold wind and stinging droplets.
For a moment, he thinks about climbing back into his car and waiting it out, but he doesn’t want to face the possibility of the rainstorm persisting through the night. Putting his head down, he trudges away from his car in the direction of Jackson Road.
The shoulder of the street is washed out in the rain, creating a treacherous obstacle course of sliding gravel, loosened rocks, miry sludge, and muddy puddles, two of which he manages to step directly into. It’s difficult to see with his eyes squinting shut against the driving rain and the scarce streetlamps lining this particular strip of deserted asphalt.
If his car had broken down just two blocks later, he would have been in a much better position. There’s a tavern and gas station at the intersection along with the payphone, some sign of civilization that this forested stretch of road where he’s abandoned is absent of.
Holden clenches his jaw and drags his coat more tightly around himself as a fresh clench of frustration seizes his chest. Part of him wants to sit down on the side of the road just to rest his trembling legs, but he pushes on, determined to get to the payphone in as little time as possible.
Eventually, he approaches Jackson Road, a darkened street of shops with only the neon blow of the tavern sign smudged against the black sky in rain-drizzled reds and greens to light the way. Across the street, the gas station with two sad pumps is illuminated by a few overhead lights that attract more insects than people at this time of night. The phone booth stands like a beacon at the corner of the intersection, interior lit by a single, bare bulb.
Holden rushes to the payphone, relief washing through his chest. The sliding door protests on rusty, jammed hinges as he grabs the handle, and it takes a few forceful pulls to get it open far enough for him to slip inside.
The steady, cold patter of rain on his cheeks cuts off abruptly as he stumbles into the glass enclosure. Bracing a hand against one wall, he draws in a shuddering breath and tries to subdue the bone-deep, chilled shiver running through his body.
His relief lasts bare seconds. Now what?
Turning to the pay phone, Holden tucks his hand in his pocket to search for coins. As he sorts out the quarters, he bites anxiously at his lower lip. The booth has no telephone book, and he doesn’t know any numbers for a cab off the top of his head. Nervously jostling the quarters in his hand, he glances down at his watch.
10:35. Christ, it’s late.
Holden presses his eyes shut as a solution rises in the back of his mind. He can feel rain dripping from his hair and sluicing down his cheeks, absorbing through his clothes to chill his skin. His belly shudders from deep inside and his feet hurt, cold and miserable from the long walk in the storm. He’s stranded, and he doesn’t have any other choice.
Shoving aside his nerves, Holden feeds the quarters into the narrow slot and listens to them fall to the bottom with a metallic clatter. He picks up the phone, and slowly dials the number he knows by heart.
As he listens to the shrill ring of the phone, he feels a sudden wave of emotion crawl up the back of his throat. He’s thinking rapidly and all at once: Please pick up. Please don’t be mad. Please help me. And finally: Well, this is just fucking pathetic, isn’t it?
The phone rings six times, and he thinks about hanging up. He could call the operator and get a cab service. He could call the police and they would be more than happy to send someone out - it’s their job after all. His anxiety is about to overwhelm him when the repetitive tone cuts off, and the line rustles with movement.
“Hello?” Bill’s voice is muted and raspy with confusion.
“Bill.” Holden says, pressing his eyes shut. His cheeks flush with heat that competes with the chill of the rain.
“Holden?” Bill’s sleepy confusion quickly breaks out into concern. “Are you okay?”
“Yes, I’m sorry it’s late. I didn’t know who else to call.”
“What’s going on?”
“I, um … I just got back into town, and my car broke down, if you can believe it.” Holden says, a nervous chuckle rising from the back of his throat.
“Oh, man, talk about shit luck. Are you okay?”
“I’m fine. I just …”
“Where are you?”
“Well, my car broke down back on Ellis, but I’m at the payphone at Mission and Jackson.”
“Shit, it’s raining cats and dogs. I hope you didn’t walk all that way.”
“How else would I have gotten here?”
“Jesus, you must be freezing.” Bill says, his tone taking on a note of worry. “Stay inside. I’m on my way.”
“Thanks. And I’m really sorry about this. I know it’s late and it’s an inconvenience and-”
“Don’t worry about it. Now the sooner we get off here the sooner I can come pick you up.”
“Right.”
“Okay, stay put. I’ll be there in about fifteen minutes.”
“Okay. Thanks, Bill.”
“Yep.” Bill says, quickly, before hanging up.
Holden puts the phone down, and leans back against the cold glass partition. Relief surges through his chest at the prospect of not having to walk one more foot in the rain, but despite Bill’s eagerness to help, he’s still anxious. Ever since Atlanta, they’ve been walking around on egg-shells with each other. Holden doesn’t want to intrude on Bill’s privacy as he goes through his divorce, and Bill seems too focused on his own problems and work to regard Holden’s tenuous grasp on his panic disorder. He’d never wanted to be a nuisance or create problems he couldn’t solve on his own. He’d never wanted to be babysat, or for anyone to think he needed supervision - but apparently he had; and now he’s facilitating yet another situation that Bill is required to pull him out of. He wants to pick the phone back up and call just to say “You’re not mad about this, are you?” But Bill has probably already left the house.
Drenched and shivering, Holden cowers in the phone booth for the next fifteen minutes until he sees Bill’s car through the smudged pane of glass.
Bill pulls up at the curb, and climbs out of the car. Rain dampens his hair and the shoulders of his trench coat as he pulls a blanket out of the passenger’s seat and carries it across the sidewalk to where Holden is slipping out of the booth.
“Thanks for coming.” Holden says, blinking against the surge of rain. “You brought me a blanket?”
“Yeah. Jesus, look at you.” Bill says, his brow pinching with worry as he unfurls the blanket.
Lowering his head, Holden revels in quiet disbelief as Bill drapes the blanket around his shoulders, and draws it closed at his chest.
“Come on, you’re going to catch a cold.” Bill says, his hand bracing against the middle of Holden’s back to lead him towards the car.
Holden quietly lets Bill guide him to the passenger’s side and hold the door open for him. Slipping into the vehicle, Holden lets out a shuddering sigh of relief at the warm air blasting from the dashboard vents.
Bill jogs around the hood of the car, and climbs behind the wheel. When he pulls the door shut behind him, the interior falls into silence except for their muted, heavy breathing, and the quiet sound of Holden’s teeth shivering against one another.
“You okay?” Bill asks.
“Yeah.” Holden whispers, his voice unsteady with a chilled tremor.
He slips his eyelids open to peek across the car at Bill. His face is illuminated in the pale light from the dashboard, rain-slick lips pursed into a grim line of worry, his usually perfectly combed hair flattened with the rain. He doesn’t look angry.
“I’m really sorry about this.” Holden whispers, drawing the blanket tighter around his shoulders. “It’s so late-”
“I said not to worry about it.” Bill says, firmly but gently. “Frankly, I’d be more upset if I found out later that this happened and you didn’t call me.”
Holden glances back down at his lap where his numb fingers are white-knuckled around the blanket. It has that foreign smell of someone else’s house lightly concealed by the ashy sting of cigarettes. Abruptly, he feels like crying again.
“Are you sure you’re okay?” Bill asks.
Holden nods, pressing his eyes shut. “I’m just really tired.”
“Okay, let’s get you home.”
Holden turns his face toward the window where the storm outside continues to rage. The car softly lurches into motion as a tear stings the corner of his eye. He lifts his chin against his cheek to let the emotion absorb into the soft microfiber of the blanket along with the rain. It takes him just as long the drive back to his apartment for him to realize that he isn’t just overwrought or extremely tired, but relieved - as if he’s been holding his breath since Atlanta, waiting for everything to spill over between them, waiting for Bill’s disapproval to come crashing down on his fragile shoulders. It hasn’t come, and apparently it never will; he’s been shadowboxing with lying ghosts.
At his apartment, Bill shuts off the engine, and climbs out of the car. Holden steps out onto the street on the other side, letting the blanket slide from his shoulders.
“I’ll walk you in.” Bill says.
“You don’t have to do that.”
Bill circles around the car, his expression determined and unwavering. He waves a finger at the drooping blanket. “Come on, put that back on.”
“It’s yours, I don’t want to take it.”
“You know how long that thing has been sitting in my closet for?” Bill asks, pulling the blanket back up around Holden’s neck. He nods toward the building. “Come on, the blanket is the least of my worries. I don’t want you getting sick.”
Holden doesn’t protest again as Bill leads them across the street to the lobby. He punches in the door code with cold, shivering fingers that he quickly sticks back underneath the blanket when the door unlocks.
In the elevator, neither of them say a word, but Bill’s hand is tucked loosely against Holden’s lower back. It’s not grabbing or forceful, just resting there almost protectively. When Holden closes his eyes, he can feel the weight of it more than the bone-chilled shivers running all the way to the core of his body.
Holden leads the way to his door, and drags his keys out of pocket with numb fingers.
“You should get out of those wet clothes right away.” Bill says, quietly.
Holden nods. “I will.”
“Good. The last thing we need is you catching a cold or pneumonia.”
“Yeah.” Holden mutters, jiggling his key in the lock.
“Hey,” Bill says, touching his elbow.
Holden glances up from the lock, and Bill’s eyes are soft in the low light of the corridor, worried and unaccusing.
“We need you.” He says, “So take care of yourself, okay?”
Holden’s throat tightens, and he nods. Shrugging his shoulders to indicate the blanket, he says, “I’ll get this back to you on Monday.”
“Sure. Keep it if you want.”
Holden frowns softly as Bill gives him a pat on the back, and moves past him back in the direction of the elevator.
“Let me know if you need a ride to work on Monday.” He says.
“Thanks, I will.”
“Okay, see you then.”
Holden stands with his key in the lock as he watches Bill amble down the hall back towards the elevator. A slight smile tugs at his mouth.
When Bill is out of sight, he gets the door open, and slips into his apartment with a sigh of relief.
First, he drapes the blanket over the arm of the couch, and takes off his wet clothes. When he’s in clean, dry pajamas, he goes into the kitchen to boil water for tea, and as the kettle warms, shuffles into the living room where the discarded blanket is lying. Picking it up, momentarily holds it to his nose, and closes his eyes as he inhales the lingering, warm smell underneath the rain. If he washes it, that scent will be gone.
Carrying the blanket into his bedroom, Holden uses clothespins to hang it from the curtain rod to dry. Faint light from the streetlamp filters through the microfiber, casting a soft, pinkish glow across his room. The cold in his bones is almost entirely melted away, and he feels warm again.
#bill x holden#mindhunter#my writing#I also realized this may be the first fic i've written where bill doesn't smoke at all#groundbreaking!!!#ashtheironbat
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Trust - Yvette Short Story
(a continuation of Empathy)
"The largest cell in the human body is the female egg while the smallest is the male sperm. Now, I..."
I sigh boredly, my ears automatically tuning out the professor's blabbering. I have decided to return back to medical school after the whole assassin versus demon thing. It was an interesting experience to go through and a definite wake-up call for me. Seeing Wrath and her troupe protecting people from demons reminded me of the reason why I had joined medical school; which is to save lives.
Oh please MC, the last push to go back is because of Yvette's interest in biology too.
Speaking of her, it has been more than two weeks since that fight between Wrath and her happened. Things eventually go back to the way they used to be; with no more demons to chase after me, no more powerful assassins to protect my weak ass; no more chaos. I should be happy that I don't have to live in fear anymore.
But somehow, that feeling just never comes.
Instead, I'm stuck with a longingness in my chest, for a certain green-haired girl that has probably forgotten about me. Her gorgeous features ingrained in my memory, there is never a time when her face doesn't pop up in my head.
I doubt Yvette's gonna bother you anymore after getting what she wants. You can go back to your normal life now. Wrath's previous words sink in my head, and I release another breath of defeat.
"You okay?" Serena, my classmate, asks. "You've sighed like fifty times today."
I sigh again. "I'm just...tired. The class is so dry."
"I know, but what do you expect from studying in a medical school?" Serena offers an apologetic smile. "Just hang on for a few more hours."
"Ugh, I can't wait to graduate."
"Feeling's mutual."
When the bell rings to signal the end of school, I mutter a quiet 'yes' before packing my stuff into my bag. Saying a quick 'bye' to Serena, I head back to my dorm.
Being in medical school means there's a need to understand rich content from a heap of thick textbooks, so I'm required to lock myself up in my room and revise daily. Tedious, but it will be worth it in the end.
As I inch closer to my dormitory, a dark trail of green catches my attention. Out of curiosity, I follow the path.
It leads me through a narrow and dimmed alley, taking me further and further away from the sunlit pavement. I take a right turn, stopping in my tracks when I reach a dead end. The strange trail discontinues too, with no other traces in sight.
I decide to examine the green goo, racking my brain for answers as to what has caused this. A faint memory resurfaces, causing the blood in my veins to run cold.
Could it be...?
My stomach churns sickly at the first thought that comes to my mind.
Demon's blood.
"But how?" I mumble to myself, so deep in consideration that I don't realise that I'm not alone anymore.
Heavy footsteps can be heard behind me, and I turn to be met with two strangers. They block the only pathway, leaving no available space to escape.
"Uh, can I help the both of you?" I ask, apparently talking to the walls since they refuse to reply.
A smile spread across their faces; too wide for me to feel comfortable in their presence.
They start to approach me.
"Stop right there!"
They do as I say, still wearing that abnormally large smile. Their eyelids begin to stretch out, revealing huge eyeballs that threaten to pop out. Thin, green veins emerge into sight, spreading far and wide on every inch of skin. Saliva dripping down their mouths, they let out a loud, aggressive growl.
Ah shit, here we go again.
I yell for help when one of them dashes towards me, shoving me hard. Tumbling backwards, my head hits the wall.
Pain penetrates my head like a bullet; darkness engulfs my vision.
~~~
I wake up to the feeling of a soft mattress underneath me. Lifting my hand to my forehead, I feel the material of gauze bandage.
Wha-what happened? Where am I?
"I told you to bring her here, not break her fucking head!" a female voice booms, the familiarity of it igniting every muscle in me.
It's her.
My body snaps up, the quick motion causing a spike of pain to pierce through my head. I gasp, my hand instinctively flying to the back of my head.
The mattress sinks as two warm, gloved hands hold my shoulders to guide me back to the bed. "You need to rest MC."
Obliging, my head rests on the soft pillow again. The tension between my brows leaves and I slowly open my eyes. Air leaves my lungs as my vision clears.
It's none other than the girl that has been running through my mind for the past two weeks.
Yvette.
Seeing her in real life sure relieves the yearning feeling in my heart, and the pain in my head slowly dissipates. I don't hold back a wide grin.
"I...thought I'd never see you again," I speak, a little out of breath.
She smiles endearingly, shrugging. "I thought so too. But here we are."
I stay silent, taking the moment to admire the view before me. The girl's healing from her encounter with Wrath, which is a good sign. A cut on her lip and a square bandage on the right side of her head are still visible, but other than that, Yvette is beautiful as ever.
A cough breaks me out of my trance, and the green-haired girl's not looking at me anymore. A hint of pink colours her tanned cheeks.
Oh my god, she's so cute. Wait, stop it MC, you're making things awkward!
"Sorry, um, It's great that you're healing well."
"Yeah. Now it's your turn." Yvette offers a sympathetic smile. "Sorry about your head. I couldn't contact you or find you at the bike shop. So I sent them to search for you."
"Well, my phone broke after the whole incident, and I've decided to go back to medical school," I explain, sputtering the next sentence unintentionally. "I thought you wouldn't need me after you got the charm."
Yvette blinks at me. "You'd think so lowly of me?"
"No! As in...I thought you would forget about me eventually."
"I would never. Especially when you've helped me immensely."
It's my turn to blink blankly. "I didn't do much though. I was like a damsel in distress."
Yvette strokes my hair out of the way, offering a lingering look that makes my heart do somersaults. "You defended me when no one else would."
"I had to! You looked close to death when you were on the gr-"
"You helped drag the time while I was catching my breath!" the girl defends her ego, in which I roll my eyes amusedly.
"Sure Yvette, whatever you say."
She lets out a laugh, one that sounds so melodic and lovely that it makes the temperature in the room warmer. It is surely a tune that I would love to hear everyday.
"Do you want anything? Water or some snacks?"
"A glass of water sounds nice."
Yvette turns her attention to the regretful-looking demon who pushed me previously. "You heard her. Get me a glass of water. Now."
The demon straightens his posture and nods his head, quickly leaving the room.
"Do demons actually have feelings?"
"Of course. Remember? I'm a demon too," Yvette reminds, a sad smile settling on her face.
Way to go MC. You just made your crush sad.
"Right, I should just keep my mouth shut. Or you could just throw me out now."
A teasing smile returns on Yvette. "I could never get rid of a cutie like you," she teases, pinching my cheek lightly.
I fluster.
"Wa-err," the demon utters, his quiet entrance startling me.
Indifferent, Yvette takes the glass and shoos him. She then aids me in sitting up as I drink my water. The domestic gesture warms my heart.
She's not that horrible person Wrath have described to me. In fact, Yvette's caring nature reminds me of a kind doctor who takes care of her patients dutifully.
"Thanks doc," I playfully comment. "I could get used to this."
"Taking advantage are we?"
I smile innocently. "Just a little."
The woman reciprocates the smile and puts away the glass once I'm done. I shift myself so that I can lean on the bedframe, and Yvette does the same as well, our shoulders brushing against each other.
"How's school so far?"
I update Yvette on the modules I'm currently taking and the upcoming tests I have, not failing to mention that much memory power is needed to survive medical school.
"If you like, I can tutor you," the girl offers.
"Really? That'll help a lot."
I hand my new phone to Yvette for her to enter her number. This reminds me of the first time I successfully asked a girl for her number; the experience both nerve-racking and exhilarating.
We then move on to more serious topics; of the reason why she needed my charm.
"That...I can't tell you. I've agreed to keep this deal with the demons strictly confidential," Yvette explains with a frown. "But I can assure you that your charm will help me greatly."
Hopefully my charm isn't some key to demon domination, or the troupe will come for my head. But Yvette said that it will benefit her, so maybe...it will get rid of the demon essence in her?
Yvette's deepening frown brings me back to reality. Her eyes are studying me, wary of any change of emotions. "Look MC, I'd love to give you an explanation, but-"
"I understand," I cut off the girl, offering a reassuring smile and daring to hold her gloved hand. "I trust you."
Silence fills the air. The girl gazes at me, her eyes a mixture of wonder and vulnerability.
At times like these, where the girl is just silent, I wish I could know what she's thinking about. What she thinks of me. Her impression of me.
"You do?" she asks, tone full of uncertainty.
I ponder.
Do I? Yvette's an intelligent person, and I trust that everything she does, is for a logical reason.
The only concern I have is the intensity of it; of how easily I let myself to trust someone I don't know well; someone with intentions that I have no clue about. It might be to my demise, or benefit; whichever rules out the other.
Returning the gaze, I see myself in Yvette's emerald eyes. The sight of white bandage around my head reminds me that the girl has been nothing but kind to me.
...I'll take my chances.
"I do."
Yvette releases a breath, as if she has been holding it for a while. She interlocks our fingers together, sparking a connection between us. A smile tugs on her lips and her eyes are bright with gratitude and hope.
"I'll make sure that it won't die down."
We spend the rest of the day bantering happily.
#yvette swm#yvette holte#yvette sin with me#greed sin with me#sin with me#lovestruck#lovestruck short story#lovestruck imagines#yES I MANAGED TO PUT READ MORE AND LINKS ON POSTS ON THE APP AFTER SO MUCH RESEARCH T-T
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Stray mafia ♜ They spy on you [Maknae Like]
° Genre || ??
° Group || Straykids
° Warnings || Slight violence \\ slight swearing
Hyunjin:
He didn't try to spy on you honestly but you said you were to get a pretzel while you were in the mall, Hyunjin became a bit anxious after 10 minutes no pretzel or you in sight he prayed it was just a long line while walking through the sea of people headed to the nearest pretzel station.
On his way speed walking nearly knocking people over as he grew more anxious to find you he happened to pass a store looking inside but then moving onward , however soon quickly back tracking as he seen a familar person, you were in there, it seemed like you'd stopped on your way back to talk to a male friend that is ,if you ever went to get a pretzel at all ,
but it confused Hyunjin as to why you were holding a child the most. "Our little girl is doing great." He heard which alarmed him the most, you and this male shared a child? Hyunjin tilted his head but realized he was in plain sight so he quickly stepped behind a poster board doing his best to listen so focused that he didn't notice a child in front of him.
"what're you doing sir?" Hyunjin looked down sheepishly smiling before hardening up "Beat it." He gritted but his voice came out a little to loud making him snap his head in your direction to see if you'd heard
"Hyunjin, hi what're you doing?" You smiled walking out with the child in your arms He tried not to look guilty clearing his throat and rolling his shoulders back "Looking for you and your pretzel, I didn't know they sold children too."
"I'll explain later, right now come meet Edwin, my friend." Hyunjin smiled then nodded excepting your offer while You turned and headed back into the store his smile disappeared once your back was to him and he followed you scowling at the male growling deeply to himself.
Jisung:
You were going out with your father, a mafia man himself, and your mother, his respected wife, your family wanted to celebrate your parents wedding anniversary so of course your presence was important you wanted Jisung to come along but he was sent out on an overseas assignment so he wouldn't be back for a while or so you thought, Truth was Jisung wanted to surprise you and your parents and make a grand entrance that screamed I'm the best future son in law and fiance ever but traffic wasn't on his side and he made it there late.
He parked around the dark corner so he'd be unseen once he was out of the car he was headed around the corner but stopped at the sound of familiar laughter he peaked just to be sure and yes, it was you.
He squinted as he seen a male infront of you almost blocking you completely, "where are their parents this is their dinner,right?" He whispered to himself he quickly dipped back around the corner and leaned against the wall so you couldn't see him, "I'll see you around Nathan, that's it right?"
Jisung could sense the smile on your face as he mimicked you silently "Uh yes but wait, I want to give you something." He heard Footsteps making him peak again furrowing is brows as the male approached you closer, this was enough. "Oh no please, no gifts." You chuckled "It's just my number." The male grinned making you look at him bewildered "I'm eng-"
"Please explain why she would want her number in your phone as the last person you talked to before you mysteriously came up missing?" Jisung's voice rang through the air. In a flash he had stepped in front of you pushing Nathan backwards making him stumble a bit , you didn't even try to intervene just standing back knowing he'd keep you behind him in case things got too ugly.
"Was that a threat towards a mafia member? You got a lot of damn nerve boy." Jisung's usual squirrel smile was now sinister and devious "I'd like to see how many nerves you have." Jisung challenged as Nathan approached him directly his beer woven into his breath reached Jisung's nose
"Tell me boy, what does-" The sounds of electricity sprang in the air along with pained yells and grunts temporarily before you heard a heard thud what was obviously a body hitting the pavement from your experience around your father.
You stepped from behind your fiance instantly shrieking before covering it with your hand "What did you do?!" You gasped , Jisung shrugged pulling a small metal button that looked like a simple magnet as he twirled it with his thumb and index finger
"This, this little baby is a shock magnet, I call it the nerve wrecker because it sends 12 bolts of electricity threw your body, I attached it to the side of his neck" You were completely stuck, just shocked, ironically, "Sorry I was late, traffic." He finished.
"It's okay , my parents knew if you did make it back in time it'd probably be too late. " Your eyes still trained on the male lying infront of you "Is he...?"
"Don't know and definitely don't care, let's go inside so I can apologize to your folks." He said happily making you smile at him as he took you back inside the restaurant.
Felix:
All you were doing was going to get some flowers for your green house that Felix surprised you with just to keep you busy taking care of the plants while he was away since he knew you admired plants especially pretty ones.
You were originally supposed to go with Felix to pick out a wide variety of flowers, it was going to be your couple thing for the day but you got tired of waiting so you left by yourself, completely by yourself against his wishes for you, Felix wanted you to at least have one person who could protect you come along but you denied that authority today when you went out back to 'check on your plants' but actually were headed to a taxi that you told to park in an Ally outside of your backyard gates you had a key made to get in and out that way, surprised no men were out back today but didn't question why, you just went.
Felix was not filled with joy upon hearing you weren't anywhere in the home "What do you mean they had to leave, and go where exactly?" Felix was intrigued , "They said they was going to check on their plants, I went to see if they needed anything to eat or drink but once I got there I couldn't find them. I had the others check everywhere in the house-"
"I'll find them, you order my car around for me." Was all Felix ordered before hanging up. He leaned back in his chair of the office pulling out his phone opening a hidden home camera app that you didn't know about,
"Now Clever one let's see where you've gotten to." Felix looked at every camera individually before he found you heading out the back, he tried to think of why you'd sneak away until he remembered you mentioned getting flowers today but he told you to wait "Floral shop up east, I pray you're there and not elsewhere." He sighed to himself as he got up grabbing his suits jacket and heading off to you.
It took twenty five minutes but his car made it to the floral shop, "Park on the opposite side of the street." He ordered his driver in a low voice as he looked out the tinted window trying to spot you and soon he did "Got ya little birdy." He smirked letting out a deep chuckle that stopped in it's tracks once he saw a male personally handing you a potted flower bouquet, he noticed the males hand stayed on top of yours as you held the plant he spoke to you,
"Smooth." Felix mumbled getting out of the vehicle suddenly making a few cars come to a screeching stop, people yelled to him angrily but he didn't care he crossed the street and headed inside the shop where he hoped you'd be, the bell to the shop rang revealing a new costumer, Felix.
Your eyes grew wide but soon a smile graced your lips "Felix, look I got new lilies."
"I thought I requested you wait for me." He completely ignored your announcement stuffing his hands in his pants pockets you groaned "You were taking too long."
"Doesn't mean you couldn't take someone with you." He shrugged not caring about your excuses "I don't want a bodyguard, Lix." You sighed forgetting the young worker was there "Still should've took one." He deadpanned , you knew you weren't winning this one right now so you'd wait til you both were home "I'm leaving." You stated firmly thanking the man again before taking the plant and walking past Felix "Wait in the car across the street."
"I'll take a cab." You declined making Felix turn to you and grip your forearm yanking you closely "Just how bad do you want the argument to be, the car is across the street, go." He said through gritted teeth, you scowled at him snatching your arm away "Fine but just know that after this there is no longer an argument to have." You said walking out.
Felix poked the inside of his cheek with his tongue as he watched you Cross the street and get into the car he heard a scoff from behind him making him turn around to see the salesman going back behind the counter
"I'm sorry, is there something you'd like to voice?" The boy just rollef his eyes "You think you can just talk to a woman, anyone, how you want?"
"It isn't a matter of what I think I can do it's what I know I can," Felix confirmed inching closer to the counter as he looked at the boy's name tag "Jared." clearly the young man didn't notice
"Yeah because you're just some big bad-" Was all the young man could get out before he let out a muffled cry in pain, Felix bit the inside of his cheek as Forced the man's face down down against the glass counter smashing his face into it roughly surely smudging the glass,
"I don't give two fucks if you were the president or emperor, you better watch how you talk to me, understand?" The boy tried to nod but Felix's grip was too strong on his neck so he muffled an mhm , "Good because I don't want to be the one giving you flowers, at your burriel site." Felix Spat.
A few whimpers of pain and fear left Jared's lips as Felix kept him against the counter for a few more seconds before letting him up and back away, Jared shot up losing his balance and fell back into a few vases, Felix smirked at him as he backed up towards the entrance door Leaving Jared shaking in fear, his eyes dilated terrified and pants probably soaked,
"You better clean this up I wouldn't want you to lose your job when you just got a new favorite costumer. " He could see Jared gulp thickly making Him Chuckle loudly as he walked out the floral shop.
-
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Make some requests for your favorite Rookie idols or their group, they can be any kind but NO smut ❤ ~ WR:Le
#stray kids scenarios#stray kids reactions#stray kids#kpop scenarios#kpop#fanfiction#kpop reactions#stray kids smut#neweraidols#bang chan#kim woojin#lee know#minho#seo changbin#hwang hyunjin#han jisung#lee felix#kim seungmin#yang jeongin#kpop smut#stray kids fluff#hyunjin scenarios#jisung scenarios#felix scenarios#mafia au#stray mafia#kpop soft hours#stray kids hyunjin#stray kids felix#stray kids jisung
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Late Night Louisiana Pt. 6
Summary: It’s late 19th century, Y/N moves to Louisiana to learn more about vampires. But what happens when she finds one likely creature of the night at Porterhollow Cemetery?
LNL Masterlist
Pairing: Vampire!bucky x reader
A/N: Next chap will be better! Promise! Love y’all 😘
We walked into the bookshop and Tobias smiled at me, he kept his eyes solely on me. "Well good morning! You know you don't work today right?" He said. He leaned more to his right, his attention on Bucky. "I'll be with you in a second, sir."
"Oh, I'm actually with her." Bucky replied.
Tobias gave me a confused look. "This is a friend from Texas! Tobias this is Bucky. Bucky this is Tobias."
"You never mentioned a friend from Texas visiting."
"I didn't? That's funny. Really funny. I must've forgotten." I laugh and let out a sigh, looking to the floor, not know what else to say and hoping to God Tobias doesn’t find my behavior suspicious at all.
"I'm surprised she never told you. We've been planning this for quite some time." Bucky smiled, glancing between Tob and I.
The sound of the door made all of our heads turn. It was Steve. He always came in to hang out with us when he wasn’t busy building structures and painting.
He walked in with a dirty white tank, his hair disheveled, biceps glistening from the sweat. He was definitely a sight to see. He was like a painting you could stare at endlessly. He was art.
"Hey Y/N. I was hopin I'd see ya here." His lips curved upwards as he stared at me. He leaned on the counter. "Steve, meet Y/N's friend from Texas." Tobias gestured to Bucky. Steve's eyes lingered on me a few seconds longer before his eyes shifted to Bucky.
"I'm Bucky."
"Steve. Y/N's best friend." They shook hands. It was almost an arm wrestling contest. No doubt Bucky would win due to his many abilities. They shook hands for at least half a minute, silently, veins protruding from the both of their arms. "Kinda funny, she never mentioned you." Steve said.
Shit... he’s onto us
"That is funny, she never mentioned you either." Bucky let out a chuckle. Well...
"So how long you in town?" Steve asked.
"I actually am moving in with her." Bucky looked at me and winked, my eyes widened.
what the actual fuck
He turned his focus back to Steve. "Yeah. She was talking about how lonely she was in the letters and I proposed the idea of comin down here to live with her. Keep her company. Cause I gotta look out for my best girl, don't I, Y/N?"
"Yep." I sway back and forth awkwardly
"Oh." Steve mumbled.
"Well, I have to get back to work. I'll see you later, Y/N." Steve was out of the shop within the blink of an eye.
"So what did you come in here for?" Tobias asked seconds later after the front door slammed.
"I need that marine book. Bucky has never seen a walrus before. I want to show him a drawing of one."
"Oh okay. Well help yourself."
I took Bucky's hand in mine and went toward the bookshelf that had the book I was looking for.
"Wait, are you looking for "Starks Amazing Finds" because Steve bought it yesterday."
I stop in my tracks and turn to look at Tobias.
"What do you mean he bought it yesterday? I was in here all day yesterday, he never came in."
"Well during the evening when you were freaking out about going to the cemetery to find that dumb vampire, he came in and bought it. You were out back hyperventilating and smoking a cig."
"You're still obsessed with that vampire, I see." Bucky said with a smirk. I glare at him. "No! Why does everybody think I am obsessed with him? I'm not!"
"But you are." Tobias mumbled.
"Can a woman not be fascinated by something so extraordinary? Without getting HELL for it?" I exclaimed. I was very tempted to chuck books at Tob’s face.
"He's extraordinary, now is he?" Bucky propped his elbow on the counter, his chin resting in the palm of his hand as he looked at me, clearly amused with the conversation. He's very full of himself if I must say.
"Did you ever find the man with the fangs? Or did you turn right around once you made it to the gates?" Tobias asked as he stacked a few books on the right side of the counter. "I went. I was terrified, I will not lie. But he, um, he never showed. He could just be a myth. I could've just wasted my time. Searching for a child's tale, I guess."
“He’s definitely real, if he wasn’t we wouldn’t find the drunkards in the alleyways every week. Maybe he’s just a sissy. Doesn’t want to come out. Doesn’t want to found.” Tobias said.
"What if he's scared of what other people will think? What if he doesn't want to be judged by the people of the town? What if he wants to meet you but he just doesn't know how to approach you, how to not scare you? What if he wants to be normal again?" Bucky was breathing heavy, he looked deep into my eyes.
"I am sorry, that was uncalled for. I apologize for my manners, Tobias." He smiled at Tob before heading out the door. I look to Tobias who was thoroughly confused. "He had a long trip last night, didn't sleep well." I said.
"Is he..." Tobias pointed to his head. I let out a laugh.
"No. He's not. He's perfectly sane. He's just sleep deprived and probably really hungry. I have to go. I'll see you tomorrow, Tob." I lean over the counter to kiss his cheek and leave.
I look all around but don't see him anywhere, There weren't many establishments here so it's not like it could be hard to find him. I mean it's not like this is New York! This is small little hick town. It's not incredibly small but it's also not big. So it really shouldn't be hard to find him.
But it was.
I checked the shop, the cafe, the voodoo queen's shop, the tailor, and the motel.
I walk out of the tavern and spot him across the road at the lake. I let out a sigh of frustration and of relief.
I sprint across the road and as I got closer I saw him sitting in the sand, he was scooping up sand, watching the grains slip through his fingers.
I sat down next to him, staring at the water as it inched closer to our bodies and then pulled away. "I'm sorry." He put his head down. As if he were ashamed.
"Sorry for what? You did nothing wrong."
"I acted a fool. I embarrassed you in front of your friend."
"Hey, you didn't embarrass me. And you did not act a fool. You were justified in the way you reacted to that. I should be the one apologizing, I was only saying that to come up with something. I couldn't tell him I met you. Don’t take anything he says about you to heart."
"You're really kind to me. Why?"
"Because everyone needs kindness in their life. Even the ones that are labeled monsters. And I want you to know that you're not a monster in my eyes."
"Then what am I?"
"You're an extraordinary man." I bump his shoulder with mine and giggle.
"I guess I am." He grinned.
"You are."
He scooted closer to me. My body completely froze. Blood ran cold, my mind ran a million miles.
He started leaning in. His eyes trained on my lips.
His hand came up to my cheek. “Wreck.” I squeaked.
“No.” I mumbled. He pulled away and kept his eyes on the sand, he nodded. “I thought— I am terribly sorry, Y/N.” He looked up after a moment.
“It’s okay. Really. Not your fault.”
“It is, I just put you into a really uncomfortable situation. Are you feeling all over-ish? I really am sorry.” He held my hand. “No. Really, Wreck. It’s fine.”
I wasn’t even uncomfortable I was just really confused, I don’t even know how to feel about this vampire. I’ve been seeking him for quite awhile, I finally find him and he tries to kiss me, and in no way am I complaining. Because I am not.
This just doesn’t happen just everyday, ya know.
“No. This is my first day back into the world and I embarrass you in front of your friend and then I try to—”
The best way to shut up a handsome man is to kiss him. There are better uses for the mouth... if you know what I mean.
#bucky x reader#bucky au#bucky barnes au#bucky barnes mini series#bucky barnes x reader#vampire!bucky x reader#bucky barnes fic#late night louisiana#vampireau#vampire!bucky#vampire!au#bucky x y/n#bucky barnes
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