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adrinktostopyourthirst · 3 months

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Bucky Barnes | Rebellion Series | Caution

Part one of the Rebellion Series

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Plot: By some miracle, you get saved from the consequences of your own actions. You’re reluctant to join a supposedly good cause. What happens when the good cause is not so legal? And what - or who - is your soft spot?

Warnings: Angst, fluff (?) and mentions of sex.

Words: 34OO

You have started shaking again. With every tremble of your body, the restraints around your legs and arms seem to tighten and you shudder even more at the awful memory of that feeling. It took weeks for the shaking to stop. Weeks of being locked up into this modern dungeon until you were nothing but silence and numbness.

You knew the rebellion could end in death, knew the consequences would be catastrophic, but at least you’d stood for something, fought for something. And you would choose death any day over the endless silence of this prison. You know for a fact that you’re surrounded by an ocean, but no matter how hard you listen, you cannot hear the wild sea crash. Can only hear the low hum of the air being circulated through your metal cell.

And today, approximately three months after the start of your sentence in the most secured prison on the planet, you have started shaking again. It can hardly be because today of all days, your brain has decided to make you go completely insane. That would be too random. Which means–

Your head snaps to the window, spotting the other cells. Empty. This floor is reserved just for you alone. Because apparently you’re too dangerous to interact with anyone. They even got machines bringing you your daily sustenance. An empty floor like every other day, yet something seems different. Something’s off.

A metal door flies through the middle of the circular space connecting all of the cells and you stiffen. You look at the ground again, keeping completely still. Maybe they don’t know that you’re here. Oh God, oh God, oh God. No, they can’t get to you. Not again.

The destruction clangs through your body and you tremble violently, curling up as much as you can and staring hard at the floor. The cold metal ground blurs with images of the rebellion. The things you gave up, the energy your summoned and wasted, the people you lost. The blood, and pain, and screams and– and– and…

“She’s in there. Grab her and then we get out of here.”

“Steve, I–”

“And hurry up, we don’t have much time!”

Two combat boots step into your vision and the stomps echo in your head, booming you back to reality. But not quite. Your eyes vibrate with fear and you swallow the nails in your throat. Then a pair of knees appear in front of you and a black gloved hand reaches forward. It hesitates, then retreats. As if choosing not to touch you. Wise choice.

“Hey.” The voice is low. And smooth as liquor.

But you don’t look up, focusing on trying not to tremble more and taking the firm contraptions wrapped around your shins and forearms as the protection they now are. Maybe this is another nightmare. It’s different from the ones you usually have, but black gloves… They had black gloves, too. And those firm boots. They may have kicked you in the stomach with those boots once. You don’t remember.

“I’m here to get you out,” the voice speaks again and you can only listen to the tone of voice, the way it sends a shockwave through your body and lessens the violent trembles. “Look up for me.”

You ignore him and focus on your breathing.

“Is she coming?” That first voice. Impatient. Panting.

The male before you turns to the centre of the floor and gives a frustrated sigh, “She’s pretty out of it.”

Before waiting for the other man to respond, he turns back to you and studies you. Even though you don’t see him, his stare burns right through the flimsy clothes they put on you. He lets out a soft sigh and flips out a knife from the holster at his waist, still kneeling before you. You stiffen, preparing yourself for the sting at your throat as they finally decide to get rid of you, but he tries his best not to touch any bare skin as he saws through the materials binding you together.

The relief of pressure from your skin make you feel so uneasy, you nearly throw up, but a gentle hand covers your arm and you finally look up. Warm, dark blue eyes connect with yours. Below heavy brows and above the faintest cluster of freckles. His mouth is soft and pillowy and his bone structure is otherworldly symmetrical.

“It’s okay,” he tells you gently and offers you a smile that you can tell doesn’t come to him naturally. “Can you walk?”

He pulls you to a stand with a firm, but comfortable grip and you instantly stumble on your feet at the weight suddenly put on them. One arm flies around your waist and hoists you into his side as he catches your fall.

“Okay, okay,” he grunts with a gentle laugh. “I got you. Let’s get the fuck out of here, alright?”

Your throat feels like sandpaper as you hobble along with the wall of a male dragging you along, “Who are you?”

He spares you a brief glance and smiles once more, following ‘Steve’ out of the building and onto an air craft that is way too loud. “Bucky. We’re here to help you. Or I suppose you’re here to help us, little rebel.”

…

Steve gives Bucky a knowing glare, only breaking it by daring a glance at your bedroom door which you have been effectively hiding behind for weeks now. “You know I can’t go in there, Bucky.”

“You know I won’t let you,” Bucky answers drily with a shrug. As opposed to his best friend, Bucky hasn’t stopped staring at your door.

“You’re not even hiding your possessiveness when it comes to her,” Steve breathes through a laugh. That makes Bucky finally look at his friend.

“I’m not possessive,” he says matter-of-factly. He’s not even offended, just practical. “I’m protective. The last thing she needs is all of the nosy people in this tower swirling around her when she doesn’t trust a single soul.”

“Has she started to trust you?”

Bucky has to keep from wincing at Steve’s question, and he clears his throat. “Sure,” he lies.

If Steve caught the lie, he didn’t let on. It was as much of a dismissal as he was going to get. After watching his best friend walk off to do captain things, Bucky braces himself to step into your room. He has no hope that his interaction with you will be any different than the previous ones.

“Another day of convincing me to be your weapon?” you nearly snarl when he walks into your room.

If Bucky is entirely honest, he thought you would have turned into this damaged girl that would morph into a wild animal as you worked through what had been done to you. He didn’t really expect this perseverance and defiance from the woman he saved from that prison. But he supposes he should have seen that question coming. It wasn’t his best work; starting that day he saved you with all of the things you could be doing for them. Why they had saved you. Simply for their own gain. Or that is how you understood it, at least…

He has never been good with words. That has always been Steve’s thing. Bucky was reliable physically and he paid attention. He never had to use many words to make his point. Yet you keep asking these questions – rhetorical, he thinks – and you keep giving him this penetrating stare until he answers. Which is a sure way to make him fuck up, because how do people do that? Bring sensible thoughts into words and make it make sense?

Especially when the woman asking said questions is so damned… pretty.

“It’s time for you to get out of this room,” he tells you plainly. It seems the tactic of ignoring your questions is effective. It only took him six days to figure that one out.

He strides over to cross the room, not sparing you another glance in your chair in the corner, and rips open the curtains. The cat-like hiss coming from you has Bucky nearly biting back a smile. He turns and watches you stand from your chair, stalking over to him with your chin high and a scowl on your face. He raises an eyebrow with amused intrigue.

“And what, exactly, will I be doing outside of my room?” you ask.

He dips down slightly, but you keep the proximity. “Whatever you want. I don’t care.”

“If you don’t care, why hunt me out of my room?”

He shrugs, “Captain’s orders.” He isn’t entirely lying.

“Why isn’t the captain telling me himself?”

Bucky smirks and leans even closer, making you feel his minty breath fan over your face. “Because I’m the only one who isn’t scared of you.”

You snort at that and roll your eyes before breaking away from him. “I’ll get dressed.”

Bucky tries his hardest not to look too stunned as you retreat into the bathroom. A deep sigh leaves his lips as he paces through your room in wait for you to get ready. It takes a whole lot of effort to muster a smirk when it comes to his interactions with you.

“F.R.I.D.A.Y.?” he asks quietly.

Just as quietly, the house responds, “Yes, Sergeant Barnes?”

“Has she asked for anything from you? To contact friends or family, or other information?”

“No, she hasn’t.”

“Does she have anyone left?” he tries, chewing his lip as he dreads the answer.

“Not that we’re aware. Mr. Stark had me run a background check, but she seems alone. No sign of anyone missing or deceased. No sign of a network at all.”

Bucky doesn’t know why that feels worse in his chest and he swallows. “Alright, thank you.”

A few moments later, you step out of the shower and find Bucky lounging in the chair he found you in, leafing through one of your books. Just as you’re about to check whether he has gotten his hands on one of your smuttier books, your eyes snag on the clothes laid out for you on the bed.

You pause long enough to make Bucky look up from the book. “Did you… Did you seriously pick out this underwear for me?”

Bucky eyes the lace panties dangling from your fingers and shrugs with a smirk. A smirk had never looked so enticing, but you sharpen your stare on him. “Do you prefer the grey, cotton ones in the back of the closet?”

You grit your teeth and scowl at him again, before morphing your mouth into a vindictive smile. “Why? Don’t you?”

His eyes dance at that. “Wouldn’t make a difference to me.”

And it’s the way he said it, with so much casual amusement and… promise. Heat rises to your face and you duck your head down. Snatching the clothes from the bed, you retreat back into the bathroom to get dressed.

…

The rest of your conversations had been purely functional as Bucky lead you down into the building where Steve was waiting. Bucky rolled his eyes at his friend’s horrible attempt at hiding his surprise. Steve hadn’t seen you since the day they came to save you, he must have never expected Bucky to be successful in his retrieval.

Bucky also hadn’t missed the meaningful look Steve then gave him that indicated he tucked away some valuable information. The information being that if they ever needed to get you to do something, Bucky is the way to get you to do it. Why? Steve seemed to have his theories and Bucky didn’t like it one bit.

However, for now he doesn’t care. Instead, he sticks by you after you reluctantly agreed to join Steve on a walk.

Strolling down the path through the surrounding woods, Bucky catches himself bracing for a fight every time Steve gets a little too close to you. He doesn’t like it. The last time he was this sensitive to proximity, he had just ran from Hydra. He’s seen other traumatised people before, but this feels different. And instead of listening to your and Steve’s conversation, he tries to figure out what it is. He supposes it’s because you have no survival instinct. In the few videos he’s seen of your rebellion and the encounters he has had with you the past weeks, you see danger or conflict and run straight toward it. Nothing scared or cautious about you. It sets his nerves on edge.

Bucky is well aware of what Steve is telling you and he has to refrain from rolling his eyes at the careful way Steve tries to coax you into their plan, when earlier that week they had not been nearly as careful as they calculated how to get you involved. But even Bucky had to admit that they needed you – specifically, everyone who would follow you into the grave. When Stark had shown him the videos, he was perplexed as to how you got such a huge following when what you fought for was so terribly dangerous. But one look at those sharp eyes and one deep command from you, and Bucky had seen it. That unwavering will and that brilliant brain that was always calculating. Steve could learn a few tricks from you on being a strong leader. And considering Bucky wildly admires his old friend, that is saying something.

They need you. Bucky knows it, too. They need not just someone with great leadership skills and a loyal following, but someone that does it out of empathy for the people mistreated by the system. Because that is who they’re going to be fighting – the system.

Again.

…

“You haven’t said anything about what Steve told you,” Bucky says on your walk back to your room. The offer to escort you back to your room hadn’t been entirely selfless.

“I need to think about it,” you murmur, deep in thought.

Bucky suppresses his sigh of sympathy. They are asking you to join a cause you were so passionate about, and that after failing so miserably last time. He can barely imagine the things you must have witnessed and endured with your last upraise. How you had gotten so influential that the government decided to treat you like you were a super-human and punished you accordingly. You had been put in the same prison as Wanda. Wanda. That is how powerful you were.

“It can’t be easy to revisit everything after all that’s happened,” he resigns and you blink from your thoughts to raise your eyes to his face. You study him and it takes all of Bucky’s might not to shift under your assessing gaze.

Then you speak up, “I’ve always done the right thing. Steve knows I can’t walk away from it…”

Bucky smiles at that. “Just like him.”

Your eyes narrow at that comment, but Bucky finds no venom in the look. You continue, “Sacrificing my life for the cause was never an issue. But to lead others into that same fate again?” The guilt had eaten you alive. All those people that had gotten arrested, split up from loved ones, hurt– worse…

Bucky interrupts your thoughts before they get a hold on you by clearing his throat. “Tonight, we have dinner with everyone. You’re welcome to join if you’d like.” Your heavy stare on him makes him quickly add, “Don’t give me that look. There will be no talk of overthrowing the government. Just dress fancy.”

The snort of a laugh that comes from you feels lighter to Bucky than he’d like to admit. And to ease the tension, he forces another smirk to his face. You narrow your eyes again warily, “What.”

He shrugs, turning to leave you alone at your door. Then he winks. “Let me know if you need me to pick out some underwear for you.” And then he’s gone.

Bucky hangs onto that cockiness all the way until dinner, where the entire group has showed up. Even Thor said he’d show up for a drink. Barton flew in from his family home to join the group as well. He remembers a time when he’d felt more than uncomfortable around this group of people. But so much has changed. They all saw him as a great asset to the team and even relied on him more and more to supervise the missions. He’s at home with them now. Heart swelling with affection, he listens to his friends – his family – laugh in the kitchen while they pour the drinks.

And then all of their faces turn into one direction, some of them pulling taut, few of them giving warm, comforting smiles. Bucky follows their gaze and it is like someone punched him in the gut, air whooshing out of his body. He doesn’t really know why – other than the obvious fact that you look ravishing of course. But he looks at you and clears his throat to welcome you to the group.

Natasha beats him to it though and it has Bucky’s hackles rising. She shoots him a knowing smile and then he backs off. His pride wounded like a cat booped on the nose. Natasha is good at it, charming people until they feel comfortable. Or take their pants off. But there’s an easy smile on your face – one Bucky knows is at least slightly forced – and you blend in with the crowd easily.

Suddenly, Sam’s at his side. “I know what you’re thinking,” he grumbles with his eyes on you and Natasha, followed by a swig of his beer bottle. “Those two together can only mean trouble.”

Bucky can only grunt in agreement.

…

“What on Earth are you talking about?” Natasha drawls with a guilty smile.

Barton shakes his head. “The poor schmuck didn’t stand a chance. There is no way you could have taken him if you hadn’t slept with him the night before.”

Natasha shrugs. “Look, a girl has her needs. He met them and the next day he met his fate.”

“Really, Nat?” Steve nearly cringes and Bucky reins in his laugh. “The guy’s moral compass was straight from hell and you decided to sleep with him?”

Natasha barely manages to open her mouth before you decide to pitch in, raising a glass to her. “I get it. Terrible morals do add a little spice in the bedroom.”

Nat clinks her glass with yours and mutters a ‘she gets it’, but Bucky’s eyes are searing through your skin. He doesn’t know why he’s surprised at such outrageous claims coming out of your mouth. There is nothing innocent about you. Good, yes. Innocent? No. Yet perhaps it isn’t ‘surprise’ that is warming his body from the inside out.

Conversation flows easily between the Avengers and the food Tony had made easily beats the Brooklyn comfort food Bucky usually seeks out. Cheeks turn rosy from the drinks, voices get louder, lights get dimmer. Bucky has to really look to be sure what he’s seeing. You, relaxed and happy. Such a stark contrast to the woman he found in the prison. No wonder you’re so good with people. People make you good.

He can barely manage his smirk however, when he notices the strain in your body to keep from looking at him. Why you are so adamant to avoid him, he can’t really tell. But this is now your weak spot, so he cannot help but tuck the info away for later.

The night carries on and everyone switches places, catching up on endless memories and adventures and being surprisingly considerate to include you in most conversations. Bucky ends up at the head of the table, you on the seat closest to him, both listening to Sam. You listen closely and Bucky can only assume you have some relief from being actively distracted from him. And being the arrogant bastard he knows he can be, he ‘accidentally’ brushes a knuckle over the back of your hand that’s resting on the table. He watches you stiffen and swallow, but like a true rebel, you show no other sign that it affected you.

A few more stunts like that had Bucky pressing his knee to your thigh under the table and it takes everything not to pull away from it. So you gaslight yourself to let the touch ground you. To absorb his warmth and relax even more into the touch. And if you guess it correctly, the way you respond to Bucky’s touch is not what he expected… So you find yourself having the upper hand again.

And if you’re going to join these people in their cause, what’s a little game with your menace of a saviour?

#oh my fucking god #im doing it #im posting a slow burn #with buckys pov for crying out loud #i am terribly sorry for being gone for so goddamn long im a busy woman #BUT quality over quantity amirite?#enjoy my lovelies and please let me know what you think #feedback does genuinely make me post quicker (i cant help it)#rebellion series #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes x reader #writing #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes oneshot #series

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capn-twitchery · 2 months

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submitted by @viric-dreams

sorry ockham the “please don’t explode yourself” telegram didn’t work, twitch is gonna explode even more now just to prove a point

#submission #i am so slow at art today my god #cackling at the telegram tho GHFKVGH only appropriate reaction to knowing twitch and hearing about The Explosive Event #fred draws #twitch emojis #inquiries #viric-dreams

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livelovecaliforniadreams · 4 months

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I Am All In Rewatch - Episode 1x14 (Part 2)

And this one it required a little it required another layer where it was sort of like, now you have to show that you're interested, that you really want her, but you know, be a little bit secretive about it, so it's not so super obvious and it doesn't turn her off. And and uh, that's what I enjoyed about it. It It was that sort of banter, that going back and forth. I mean he would go from dismissive to kind of relaxed and accepting to a little bit of a smile, like just like that, and then move in for a kiss and get interrupted and and then take you know, I liked that hit of beer I took when she left. I was like, jeez, I need a drink. I almost kissed her. It's like almost and denied again. I mean that's the second or third time he's been denied by an annoying town member...The universe conspiring against me. [The chemistry is so palpable. It's just so cool. And are you feeling that when you're acting those scenes, almost like you get pumped up by it? What does that feel like when you're just ping ponging and having those scenes? What is that like?] It feels great? It's fun it yeah, it feels like a couple of tennis players playing a nice point, you know, just like hitting the ball, hitting shots, hitting shots. But I think it's because I think that relationship works. And this is this is what is dawning on me a little bit here as I watched these episodes, is that Lorelai's a very rebellious personality. She just is and that's why we love her because she's unpredictable and she's rebellious and you never know what's going to come out of her mouth, but you know it's going to be something funny, or it's going to be something a little bit of reverend and that kind of a thing. And she does it in the in the in the beginning the dinner scene again, which I thought was just brilliant hysterical...When she encounters me, she's encountering somebody who is even more rebellious and more irreverence, so it almost makes her look and feel lighter. it's a good it's a good chemistry because I'm a sort of a darker, heavier presence, but still rebellious and irreverent with a heart not like her. She's got a heart for everybody. I've got a heart for her and Rory, and that's pretty much about it, you know. So I'm very limited in how I can use my heart. So it's like, you know, the chemistry is that she's going to be able to focus her heart maybe on me in a romantic way, and that she will open up my heart so I can lighten up and love other people as well as her. So I think that's the the sort of yang yin and the yang of it. -Scott

Um, but you know, it was just more of the tension, the sexual tension that was playing out. It's kind of the dance that they do before the consummation end. And that she convinced him to do it, and that she right, that was pretty major and it's such an excuse for them to spend all this time together. Had he not felt a certain depth of feeling for her, there's no way he would have agreed to that. And she handled it, uh, with real finesse. She was very careful about it, even to the point where she said, well, we're not going to paint over that that order that your father scribbled down. We'll do it the right way. So yeah, he was just like, man, I just want to kiss her. I just want to kiss her. I just want to kiss her. I just want to kiss her. I mean, he wants to kiss us so bad it pisses him off. That's probably why he's cranky all the time. You know, it's like he just wants to plant one on her. Man, he wants her. It's getting pretty good. Yeah, so we saw, you know, we saw, we got to see other parts of the diner in some detail and even talk about some of the things that were up on the shelves that he was in no way, shape or form going to give in on and getting rid of them at her request. There was no way. It was like, I'm I'm gonna let you do this painting thing, but you know, you're not going to change me completely. So it was like pretty much telling her, we get into a relationship, I'm willing to sort of compromise with you, but not 100%. So he's his own man. He's his own guy, you know, and he's i think entering a relationship or potentially in any relationship, you've got to establish the ground rules that yeah, I'll meet you halfway, but that's it, you know. So he's a he's a hardass. He wants her, but he's a hard ass for sure. He's as strong as she is. He's as tough as she is. I think she yeah, I think she likes the fact that he's never going to change and that she can't change him very much, you know, that's the that's this, that's how I approached it. I wanted him to be a rock of Gibraltar. He's got to be the rock he can't break ever. -Scott

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joansblondells · 2 years

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hellcheer + textposts (pt 8/?)

#hellcheer #eddissy #pt 8 back in business #sorry for being the laziest cow in the northern hemisphere I am constantly making these and never posting them my camera roll is a warzone #shoutout tumblr user pearlyjaw I SEE YOU I love u I cherish u #shoutout the insane influx of incredible new hellcheer fics on ao3 the past few days ??? something gorgeous in the waters over here lately #shoutout jason carver for being so fun to bully #shoutout joe quinns despicably gooey eyes #and shoutout chrissy cunningham for never doing anything wrong in your life ever I know this and I love you #eddie munson #chrissy cunningham #jason carver #gareth stranger things #god bless him and his tboy swag #hc tp #modern jason joins a tiktok hype house you know it #actually tries to join but they won’t let him in because his little transitions are shite and he’s only got 56 followers #several of which are eddies alts he keeps remaking to harass jason in comments of his slow mo thirst traps #💘#op

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uhbasicallyjustmilex · 7 months

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oh my god oh my god oh my GODDDDDD i can’t BELIEVE i found these on my little rainy october thrift shop wander this morning. like, one would have been more MORE enough. but both?? at once??? i am quite simply floating and may never touch back down to earth

#obviously given that it was second hand i don’t know if alex’s autograph is legit #but from my (untrained and overly hopeful) eye it looks very much like it could be???#anyone who’s more expert in these things feel free to weigh in!!#and the photo book #aghhhhhhhhh #i have been wanting to get my hands on a copy for AGES #there’s something so special and atmospheric about matt’s photography that i’m just obsessed with #and to be able to actually look at them in physicality all together like that is truly something else #i also love that it’s designed like a passport obviously because of the whole album concept #but also because it truly does feel like a little glimpse into their world when they were making it #god what am i meant to do with the rest of my day after this??? 😭#(put the humbug album on and look through the photo book of course. and maybe even a little fic writing if my heart rate slows enough)#god bless whoever donated these and whatever luck allowed me to find them today 💜💜💜#i was in need of a bit of a pick me up and by god did this go above and beyond #sorry for how nonsensical all of this has probably been #i’m just #i’m feeling a lot rn 😭#arctic monkeys #alex turner #lulu posts

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miutonium · 24 days

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Commission for @cryingchemicals 💗💗💗

Aahhhh I'm so happy I get to paint Utonium again and wahsgwkahqka I'm just so happy that there's other Utonium Shippers out there waghhhhh 😭😭😭😭💗💗💗 thank you so much for trusting me with ur ship 🥺🥺🥺💗

#god i missed doing renders like this aaaa i lowkey hate how slow I am at times but also like its pretty complicated too so theres that 🥲#but waghhh school really kicked my ass 😭😭😭 so sorry for making u wait this long Pachi 🥺🥺🥺#Grace is such a cutie for him yesss I love me a smart pairing 💗#selfship #selfshipping #selfship art #self insert oc #selfship commission #commission art #professor utonium #ppg professor

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betweenblackberrybranches · 1 year

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Automaton au

Chapter 1: Lost and found

They call it the age of man. It really isn’t. The creatures of old didn’t vanish, they just left the more densely populated areas. Most people didn’t realize that and the scholars and wizards proclaiming the victory of humankind, in the name of the king, certainly do not correct the assumptions of the general public. Stories from the wilder parts of the country are often put off as old tales in the safety of the capital and the surrounding cities and villages. But leaving the safety of the “developed” lands, people still fear and respected the things in the woods. Here the mediator between the Nature and the Humans is still a very much-needed profession. Witches had a bad reputation in the big cities for a long time. Apart from their knowledge in potion brewing, often only rivalled by alchemists, they are generally frowned upon as charlatans, their magic, connected to nature, seen as archaic compared to the sleek and modern magic of wizards. People do not like to be reminded of the outside, of the creatures roaming.

You sigh as you tuck in the silver broche holding your scarf, a sign of your profession, just as much as the much more obvious broad brimmed felted sun hat, you had rolled up and put away earlier. Your mother had gone ahead to look for a carriage that could take you at least somewhat in the direction you were traveling in. Looking at the flowers next to the dirt road you walk slowly basking in the spring sun, fidgeting with a small stone you had picked up on the way. You feel nervous as you step on the muddy square of the small city, filled with different carts and carriages, the amount of people already threatening to overwhelm you. your mother, outgoing as she is, already made friends with a guy sitting on a carriage filled with various goods, Talking to him while scratching the donkeys already harnessed to pull the cart. She waves as you approach quickly telling you his name and various other facts about him you do not think you will be able to remember. He is willing to let you travel on the back of the cart for a small price. You study his bearded face riddled with crowfeet and his warmly smiling eyes. Well at least he seems trustworthy you think as you thank him for his kindness and sit down in the back while your mother sits in the front, still talking with him about some kind of political topic. As the wagon lazily rumbles over the uneven roads, you take out the letter you had looked at so much the last few weeks, studying it again, as if its meaning could suddenly make sense to you.

[With sadness, we have to inform you that the great wizard Aspodious has passed.

He died soundly in his sleep, which the doctor on sight attributed to his great age.

As you are his relatives, we would like to convey our deepest condolences to your family.

The following page is a copy of his will. The Village chief of Worthwood has been informed and will help you with further inquiries.

Wizard association of the wizard tower. Capital, year 27 of king Gorm the kind, season of last light.]

You grimace at the page, cursing the harsh winter that first hindered the poor currier from delivering this message to the small village you lived in and then making it impossible to travel to the capital at all. It had been so bad the currier himself had to stay with one of the families who had room in their barn because the way back would have been as much as a death sentence, by spring the guy was promised to one of their daughters, Anne, if you remember correctly, they were quite the cute couple actually. You had seen them from time to time in the winter, her eyes had nothing but him in them and he couldn’t stop talking about how strong and good at hunting in the snow she was. A small smile crept on your face. At least some good had come of all of this.

When you had arrived in the capital your granduncle had been buried for a long time, all you could do was lay flowers on his grave and talking to his associates. Not that you actually wanted to attend his funeral on the account of all the wizards that surely littered the occasion.

Looking at the second page of the letter your face immediately scrunches back into a displeased expression.

[As I am old now I look back on my life, I wish I had spent more time with my family as estranged as most of you are from me.

I have not seen my nephew often for a long time, he always struck me as a bright boy though, he and my departed brothers wife I may leave 10 000 gold coins each.

My nephews’ son is a less bright one, followed by misfortune, as it seems. I leave him my small house in the outskirts of Worthwood. I hope this will lead to the foolish boy finally settling down.

I thank my niece for visiting me now and then, showing respect for my research and keeping me company when I was sickly in bed, as happens more often, now that I am old. To her I will leave half of my fortune and my best wishes.

My nieces’ child I have not seen since they were rather small, though they send me their best wishes every time their mother visited. To them I leave everything in my small house in worthwood, 5 000 gold coins and the family curse.

To the Wizard tower I leave half of my fortune, in memory of my happy life from apprenticeship under my late master, to the upper ranks of wizard kind.

Follow my wishes as stated in this document. Grand wizard Aspodius. Capital, year 27 of king Gorm the kind, season of first harvest.]

Trailing the lines repeatedly, you stare at the stamp, marking the piece of paper as an official document. He left you the family curse.

Leaning back, you look at the sky peeking through the canopy of the trees lining the road, shadows and light trailing over your face slowly. “This is such a mess…”you mutter. A family curse, most times, is the curse of a bloodline. The cursed one usually gets a vision at some point detailing who in the family will receive it next, and this vision is, after an old custom only revealed after their death.

Lightly bunching up the fabric of your long sleeve, you peer at the deep red marks that had suddenly appeared on your right Arm last winter. At that time you had thought it a rash of some sort and treated it accordingly, generously applying soothing salves of your own making. Now it is somewhat obvious that they are not, they look just too similar to a rather big handprint adorned by sharp tips. As if someone had grabbed you. There was another handprint in the middle of your chest, around where your heart would be.

You did not know the details of the curse and your mother had refused to tell you anything about it. “In due time” she had said. It felt rather violating, having something happen to you but not being told anything about it. Your father had only tried to cheer you up, but couldn’t offer any information either. The family of your mother was rather secretive, both Witches of old and wizards and even nobles littering their ranks, though most of them long dead. Your mother did not like talking of them.

When you were small you had wanted to know more of your mothers family. She seldom told you about them, and when she did, it was rarely more than their names, which had long since slipped your mind.

Wondering which one of your ancestors was responsible for the curse and what exactly it entails, you hover your hands over your chest, rocking slightly back and forth, as you often do when deep in thoughts.

You travel with the old man and his cart for two days, camping under the stars at night. On the morning of the third day you arrive at his destination and part ways. Before you say your goodbyes, he draws you a small map, pointing out the village of Worthwood only laying a few crossroads over, behind some hills.

It still takes you a sizable amount of time getting there, not wanting to exhaust yourself too much you rest at the roadside multiple times eating the rest of the bread and cheese you had brought on this journey. In the late evening, you enter worthwood, barely more than 14 little cottages and bigger farmhouses and barns cluttering a small vale surrounded by the outskirts of the deep forests, only visible because of the rather bright light of the full moon. You remember this place, nothing seems to has changed since the summer you spent here when you were about 5 years old. Which is quite the feat considering the closeness to the woods, making visits of creatures of old an event of high probability. Their witch must be quite skilled, you think as you follow your mother towards the centre of the vale, maybe the witch would be willing to share some of their wisdom with you.

Luckily, in the house of the village chief, the light is still burning, when you get there and your mother goes in to talk to him about your arrival. You staying outside, the usual anxiety already welling up just thinking of just going in a strangers house and interrupting their evening.

Your cousin will probably come here a few weeks later, knowing him he probably has some sort of dubious undertaking to take care of, so you had all the time you wanted to look through the things granduncle Aspodius had left to you. Twiddling your thumbs, you look out into the dark of night, leaning back against the house. Well it’s not like you need anything, the 5 000 gold they had handed to you in the capital are more than enough.

He probably only left it to you because he felt bad for you, but you won’t complain, it was rather nice receiving multiple years salaries of a high guard all at once. Especially because you did not make much money, mostly being paid in useful items and food.

As you stare at the treeline in the distance, you squint feeling like something is moving. A shiver goes down your spine. Something is definitely there, but does not approach further than the beginning of the barren fields. Probably a ward and an offering at the beginning of the woods to keep the old ones out but still satisfied. Well at least that is what you would have used to secure this location, you think as your mother finally emerges from the chiefs house.

Exhausted, you and your mother finally open the door to the small farmhouse after lazily strolling the rest of the way in almost complete darkness. As inconspicuous as the outside is, the inside is furnished lavishly.

Neither of you has the energy to look at it closer though as you plop down on the sitting area around the fireplace and immediately fall into a deep slumber.

You dream, it’s one of those dreams where you know that it’s not real, but it still instils a bone chilling feeling in you.

You lay in a meadow, as disembodied hands forcefully hold you down, burning your skin. Above you, the blood red sky is adorned by both Moon and Sun, casting their overbearing light, as you thrash your arms and legs to get free. You hear a sickening array of cracks and flesh tearing. There is no air in your lounges, only blood.

Waking up you take a sharp breath, hands lunging to your chest and try to slowly calming yourself down, slumping over and holding yourself. Looking up, you see a Cup of tea your mother had left there with a little note on the dark wooden table next to the sitting area.

[I will go to the village chief again to talk about the house, please start going through the things in there and make a list of everything you want and while you are at it try cleaning a little. Mom.]

You smile as you look at the small flower she had scribbled on the note the icy afterimage of your dream slowly fading in the dusty warm morning light falling through thin curtains. You take a sip of the tea. It is ice cold and bitter, but you still down it in one swoop.

Still groggy you find the bucket your mother had brought over from the small well and quickly splash your face with a little water. Braiding your hair back to keep it out of your face, you start working.

You soon realize how dirty the inside of this house truly is. Before you had been tired and marvelling at the fine furniture and other trinkets but now in the daylight the thick layer of dust all but sparkles in the light shining through the spotty windows. After a short search you find a storage room, grabbing a rag and starting to widdle over some of the most prominent surfaces. Now and then you take out your notebook and write down a description of a weird Stone or some tincture that still seems potent when you open it. You do not think that you want any of the furniture, bringing it home would be too much of a hassle, even though you truly love the dark green couch in front of the fireplace, never having seen a couch like it before, claws for feet and wooden carvings of plants and beasts around the back.

Going through the rooms you scratch down a few notes until you stop in a short corridor that had been concealed behind a partition you had slightly shoved to the side to have a closer look. The only thing of note here is a barred off door, definitely ominous but also pretty intriguing, you think to yourself as you shove the little leather bound notebook and pen into one of your pockets. Carefully you lift the thick piece of wood out of its holding places on both sides of the door and prop it up against the wall. Opening the door towards the inside of the room you scan its contents, Old furniture, Dusty crates, some broken parts of a distilling mechanism, nothing of note. Your eyes fall on something toppled over on the floor behind the door after realizing that you can’t open it further. You shriek as you see a leg poking out. Nothing happens. Obviously nothing happens, if there was someone in here they’d be long dead… but finding a corpse wasn’t high on the list of things you had imagined finding in these walls. Warily you take a peak around the corner letting out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding as you notice it’s only a wooden puppet. A naked, strangely big wooden puppet, but a wooden puppet none the less. Kneeling down beside it to look at it closer, you talk to it softly, trying to swallow down the creeping feeling of seeing something human shaped, limp on the flow.

“Hello there, big guy, what are you doing here?”

Sadly the puppet seems to be somewhat broken, missing an arm below the elbow joint, its legs surface splintering strongly and having parts missing. The blue coat of paint is partly scraped off, a deep colour peeking out beneath. The craftsmanship still seems astonishing.

You roll it over to look at its face, a lightly coloured crescent shape filling up half of it. A wide toothy grin and somehow even more wide glass eyes forming a slightly unsettling expression. A Moon, you deduct. Your eyes sparkle as you realize what this is, looking at the connections of the joints and the flat stone surface on a diamond shape in the middle of its chest. Its an old automaton. Nowadays they are more sleek, more refined, but their structure hasn’t changed that much overall. This is certainly a find! Automatons are mostly used for labour these days but it is not unthinkable to find them in entertainment, some nobles even keep them to care for their children. You prop it up and carry it out of the room almost loosing balance when one of its legs momentary gets stuck in the doorframe. Now in the light of a room with actual windows you sit down again to inspect the lifeless wooden body. Most types of automaton have to be filled with magic to a certain extent to come to life. The stone in the centre of its chest acting as its energy reserve. Now it is a darker greyish colour but if magic is inserted it should begin to glow. You always had a fascination with these constructs. You smile, remembering walking all the way to the next city to look at the automatons brought in by the circus or take a peek at the ones in the red light district, respectfully of course. Expectantly you cup the wooden face looking at the fine mechanisms, peeking out under the movable face plate, that probably make it possible for different expressions to be formed. This I such a fine work. Standing up you look back into the storage room searching for any clothing that might belong to the automaton but find nothing. Weird, normally if they are made to resemble the human shape, more or less, they also come with clothes to keep it more… reserved. Looking back at the body on the floor, you ponder; What would it sound like when it is animated? How would it move? It looks quite nimble… Was it an entertainer? You trail your fingers over the enormous hand.

It is obviously broken now, but would it still work if you started it up? You don’t think they can feel pain the same way living things can… at least that’s what you read in a book you once got your hands on, so the missing arm shouldn’t be a big problem.

Is it a good idea to wake a thing locked away in a small storage without knowing if it even works properly? If there is a good reason its locked away? No. Will you do it? Yes. The intrigue is just too much.

You hoover your hand idly over the stone square on its chest wiggling your fingers lightly, drawing out your magic like a happily bubbling spring. It flows directly into the stone, beginning to shimmer in a swirl of a rich yellow and blue as your whole body tingles warmly. A low humming emerging from the torso of the automaton alerts you to your magic working. Drawing back your hand, you sit in front of the body and wait.

A stirring noise and sudden movement startles you and you fall backwards, trying to escape the collision with an arm shooting up in an energetic stretch. Laying on your back like a tortious, you hear a cheerful voice.

“OH! Hello there, you!!! Who are you, little friend? Are you allowed in here? Oh Oh no, where is my arm? That is new, I used to have more arm. the grand wizard will be mad, so mad! He hates repairing me”

The automaton seems rather anxious, pointing at you with the stump of the missing arm.

A large hand drags you up carefully and sets you on your feet, but doesn’t let you go. Looking up the automaton had completely changed colour from a deep blue to a bright yellow; the moon face had become a sun, through triangles peeking out of its sides, forming stylized Sunbeams. You stare in awe. It stares back with a wild smile.

“Oh, well I need an answer or you will have to be expelled! Oh yes, oh yes, Grand wizard Aspodius is very particular about who is allowed in his house after all! And I think you were the one who broke my arm! There is no one here but you, and it certainly was not me! That’s aaawwwwfully rude!”

You gawk dumbfounded as the automaton drags you a few long strides and softly pushes you out of the front door.

“Well I am sure he will be back in a few hours, so if you want to talk to him you should come back when he is home! Good bye little friend!”

He rotates his head to an inhuman degree and waves while closing the door.

From the inside you hear a sigh and then a squeaking.

“OH.. OH no its so messy in here. How is it so messy? Clean up, clean up!”

Quietly you try to open the door again but find it locked. Well great.

---

Your mother still laughs after you two walked all the way back, your face is beet red by now.

Cryptic as ever she had refused to say anything about the automaton even though the knowing look she exchanged with the chief had clued you in that she very much had something to say about this.

“I am surprised you don’t remember him. You were running after him nonstop when you were small, Don’t be surprised, he can be a little… overwhelming.”

She smiles encouragingly before knocking on the door.

The Automaton opens the door. A white apron hastily tied multiple times around it.

“OH! Its you! What a nice visit, but your uncle is not here right now!”

“Hello Attendant. I would appreciate if you would let us in and we could talk for a little.”

Your mother does not wait for an answer and pushes straight-ahead into the living space, dragging you behind her.

“Oho the little friend from earlier! I must say I have quite a bone to pick with you, yes I do!”

The automaton …. The attendant wags his finger at you disapprovingly.

You cringe slightly, you definitely do not like being treated as a kid.

Your mother looks around the Room, beaming. “Ah Attendant you did quite a good job, cleaning the place up in the time it took them to get me…” She turns to look at him and creases her face slightly “Why are you naked under the apron?”

“Ah, Well when I woke up I couldn’t find any of my clothing….” A panicked expression flying over the Attendants face as he pulls the apron tighter around himself. “So this troublemaker belongs to you? I thought they were a lowlife of some sort, my apologies.”

He all but hurls himself into an elegant bow that somehow transitions into a handstand.

You giggle, enjoying the silliness as your mother sits down on the couch.

“Would you two sit down too?” Your mother asked in the way that meant it was an order. Both you and him immediately plop down on either side of her. Everyone who knows your mother, knows not to get on her bad side, as nice and caring as she is, when she is angry her cruelness is only rivalled by the most abhorrent tyrants of old.

“Listen Attendant,” She speaks calmly after a short pause “You must have been out of commission for a while… When was Aspodius here the last time?”

The Attendants rays, that had been turning since he sat down stopped suddenly and then started to turn in the other direction.

“Ah … he is staying here right now! He just left this morning to gather some medical herbs in the woods. Yes,yes!”

You look at your mother, as she lets out a strained huff.

“The village chief said that my uncle hasn’t been here for about 12 or so years… He suddenly left one summer and never returned, only sending some money for repairs on the house”

The Rays of the automaton retract into his head only peeking out a little bit as he stares at your mother with horror.

“What? No! that doesn’t…” His hands press into the couch cushions until you hear a ripping noise. His distress is rather clear and you stand up suddenly, wanting to help, to do something.

Your mother shoots you a look. “Please go through Aspodius’ clothing maybe there is something in there that fits our friend here, was rather big large when he was young afterall” You nod walking away in the direction of the Bedroom. she wants to talk to him without you there, you won’t interfere.

The Closet is heavy but old, the only reason that moths haven’t gorged on the fine fabrics inside is the enchantment on the wood itself, keeping away unwanted critters. You pull out a jacket that looks big enough to cover a sizable amount of the attendant. It has a nice Blue and orange chequered pattern on the wide bodice and poufy sleeves striped in two shades of orange. There are pants of the same design with wide legs. Wizards often wear bright colours in outrageous pattern combinations, and your granduncle had been the most wizardly wizard you had ever laid your eyes on, even though you don’t remember anything else about him. For a second you think of keeping this fun looking clothing for yourself, but it is the biggest size available and this would probably just barely fit the big frame of the Attendant. You sigh and walk back towards the main room were your mother still talks to the automaton in a hushed tone, but barely keeping down. Catching what your mother is saying you stop dead in your tracks almost loosing grip on the fabric you are holding.

“Don’t be like that! The curse will run its course, you will not be able to stop it just like that…. He obviously asked us to come here to find something to do with the curse…..No I don’t know more… why? Oh no you won’t I know you have something to do with it. Don’t you get too close to them, I’m watching you!....Yea of course”

Having heard enough to twist the metaphorical knife into your chest you huff slightly as your hand reaches towards the curse markings on your body. It still bothers you incredibly, that your mother won’t tell you anything about the curse, even if her own knowledge in it is lacking, you still want her to. It can’t be that bad considering the ripe age your great uncle reached, without major problems; it is probably not connected to your life-force. You absentmindedly chew on your lip, a bad habit of yours, before you take a few loud steps and enter the room.

You just want to get out of this situation.

“I’m back, found something that might fit. I will go outside for a little, getting some water and whatever I can find in the garden that we can use for dinner!”

Hurriedly you exit the building and step into the garden outback. Making yourself think of anything else but the curse. You try to empty your head by looking at the plants. Considering how long this garden had to be not attended to by the Attendant it was still quite nice, though you immediately realize that you won’t find anything to eat this early in spring. Squatting down you look at some yellow and purple crocuses sprouting out of the patchy grass.

“There you are beansprout!”

The Attendants voice appears eerily close to your ear. You swirl around, catching yourself from falling by propping yourself up with your hands on the wet ground, ending up sitting like a frog about to leap. All you can manage to bring out, a surprised “Ah” looking up at him. He now wears the clothing you brought him instead of the apron, one of the sleeves flopping around while he gestures to wave.

He chuckles softly, creaking slightly like a loose floorboard.

“I did not recognize you at all! Last time I saw you, you were this small!” He pinched his fingers together.

“Well that’s fine I don’t even remember meeting you before.” You mumble and immediately regret as you see his face slightly drooping. “Ah sorry…” You tag on way to late and look away embraced.

“Well it’s fine! Yea, fine! Little friend. We can just become friends again!”

He bows down and offers you his intact hand, his rays turning slowly. You grab it

“Pleased to meet you, Mister Attendant.” You say in your most refined haughty voice, wiggling your head slightly, imitating the nobles from the big cities.

“The pleasure is all mine!” You could swear the grin on his face widened even more as he curtsies.

____

So here is the first chapter! This is from an early draft were Y/N and the Attendant had met before, Y/Ns family had a bigger role in the story and there was a curse... i changed quite a bit around for the comic part of the au maybe ill write more if i have the time and then they would be like different timelines of the same au

#dca x reader #daycare attendant #fnaf sun #sun x reader #sundrop #fnaf sb #my writing #automaton au #sorry i am really shy about my writing #i first wrote this with a she/her reader but then changed it at some point so if there is still the wrong pronouns somewhere im sorry #its slow on the upstart #takes a while untill sun actually shows up #i mean i originally wrote this just for me so its really selfindulgent #it be like that #god im nervous about showing you all this

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pralinesims · 11 months

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youtube

OH MY GODDD

#holy shit this is amazing? oh my god!!! the MV is sick #I am overwhelmed omg this is seriously so??? different and good #SLOW IT DOWN MAKE IT BOUNCYYY #never a disappointment!#random #ateez

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sunsafewriting · 1 year

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Do A Flip - chapter 4 excerpt (full chapter will be finished and uploaded soon).

Lilith.

“— so Bea and I are gonna get a place together,” Ava concludes happily, moving her little figurine four places and handing Camila literally all of her money, because Camila now owns both blue hotels. “Which is cool, right?”

It’s actually fucking ridiculous, but no one at the table will say so. Even Lilith, because Shannon, Mary, and Camila are all glaring at her, like she can’t be trusted to keep her mouth shut. Which she can, thank you very much.

If Ava and Beatrice want to escalate their bullshit, that’s their business. As long as Lilith is never expected to set foot inside their apartment, then Lilith will continue her reluctant detente with Ava. No matter what Shannon says, it is a detente unless Lilith actually hits Ava. Threatening her doesn’t count.

And — fine. Lilith can admit that Ava’s not the worst person out there, She’s too energetic and too annoying and has such a bad sense of humour that Lilith has taken to just walking away if she so much as starts to look vaguely amused, but Ava’s not as irresponsible as Lilith first took her for. She shows up for the kid, and she shows up for Beatrice. And so Lilith has begrudgingly afforded Ava a spot on the list of people she’ll actually spend time around. Only if her company is diluted by the presence of others, of course; Lilith’s not going to do anything crazy, like hang out with her one-on-one.

“That is very cool,” Camila replies, adding Ava’s cash to the small mountain already piled up in front of her.

Ava takes two fifties from Beatrice’s stash — utterly blatant in her cheating, utterly unbothered by it. “It’s a loan, Bea. I’ll pay you back.”

“I’m sure.”

“Anyway, it’ll suck that we won’t be neighbours anymore,” Ava says to Camila, “but I can come visit. And you can come over to our place whenever.”

Somehow, Shannon must actually see the words just make sure you knock form in Lilith’s mind, because she nudges Mary, who kicks Lilith under the table.

“Are you staying in the area?” Shannon asks smoothly.

“Everything’s here, like Bea’s uni and St Michael’s, so we’re gonna try.”

“I talked to the landlord about keeping our apartment, but he wants to turn it into an AirBnB,” Beatrice adds, with no small amount of judgement in her voice.

Lilith has already heard Beatrice’s lecture about rental policies and tenant protection. Ava has, too. At least they were all in the car together at the time, which meant that Lilith wasn’t subjected to that look Ava gets on her face when Beatrice really starts in on a tangent about something.

“It’s a shit market,” Mary agrees. “You’ve got to know someone.”

There’s a general grumbling of agreement.

Lilith sighs. “I know someone,” she admits. If her mother could see Lilith now, offering something without getting anything in return — not even a signed agreement preventing Ava from practically sitting in Beatrice’s lap when they do movie nights — she’d disown her. “Neil from my Thursday class is going back to the States, so he needs someone to take over his lease. His street is close to the kid. And your stupid bar.”

All of them turn to her.

She shrugs, uncomfortable, then bails, going back to the kitchen to pour herself another drink. At least Mary keeps good gin here.

Because no good deed goes unpunished, Ava follows after her, smiling entirely too much like someone who thinks Lilith is being nice to her, and not enough like someone who appreciates that Lilith was only trying to avoid having to listen to Ava complain.

“You could really set that up?” Ava asks.

“Yes.”

Neil has never said no to Lilith. But then, that’s a power she has over most people. It’s probably something to do with being tall and hot and smart and accomplished.

“That would be very, very awesome of you.”

“Mm.”

Ava, with unprecedented audacity, takes the bottle of gin right out of Lilith’s hands.

“What are you —”

“Hush. You’ll like it,” she says, grabbing a few other things from the cupboard and carefully pouring it all into the cup.

Lilith allows this, even if only because Ava’s confidence in her bartending could stand to be taken down a peg — Beatrice has been brainwashed by Ava’s outfits; there’s no way her drinks are that good, if you’re not distracted by the low-cut tops — and Lilith is giving herself a freebie to be a bit mean.

Ava finishes mixing her elaborate nonsense and hands the cup back to Lilith, watching her expectantly.

Lilith takes a sip.

It’s really fucking excellent, and she’s not fast enough to stop pleasant surprise from showing on her face.

“Ha!” Ava crows, smacking her hand against the countertop. “You like it. And you like me.”

“I don’t like you,” Lilith bites back. “I like Beatrice. And Diego.”

Beatrice is always going to be a sister to her, in the way that Lilith understands sisters: as people whose stupidity you tolerate because a part of you is contingent on their presence in your life; people who understand you, sometimes too much. And Diego — well, one time, he’d let her trick Ava into leaning against wet paint, and she’d returned the favour by letting him tell her about underground turtles, so that’s something.

But Ava is undeterred. “They’re my favourite people, so you liking them means that I like you. Too bad.”

Lilith takes another sip of her drink. It doesn’t miraculously drop in quality, and Ava remains regrettably gleeful. “I could squash you.”

“I know.”

Lilith hates how certain Ava seems that she won’t.

Here's the link to the earlier chapters if you're interested: https://archiveofourown.org/works/43728831

#on god i am going to reply to the comments on ch4 as they made my life im just slow #anyway thanks to everyone who is reading !#the new chap is 13.4k now rip so that's why it's taking so mf long #and yet i still didn't manage to fit any plot in #sunsafewriting #avatrice

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