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scorched-sunrise · 25 days

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TIMING: Recent LOCATION: Fable Blades PARTIES: Ophelia (@scorched-sunrise) & Daiyu (@bountyhaunter) SUMMARY: Opie meets Daiyu in the weapons shop, who assumes the nymph is a hunter after finding out that Rhett is her father. CONTENT WARNINGS: none!

—

The hunt wasn’t going well, and each day that passed without finding her father and those god damned fae was another that made her more despondent than the last. She needed a pick-me-up. Today, that came in the form of a visit to Fable Blades—a shop that carried some of Rhett’s creations, operated by a warden that she’d met a couple of times already through her father. Stepping through the door was, just as before, an unpleasant experience, but one that she pushed through with intent. Chet, the aforementioned retired warden, lifted his head from the blade he was polishing at the desk to greet the customer, grinning when he realized who it was.

“Ahh, Ophelia! Good to see you again,” he greeted her cheerfully. He didn’t know, she realized. Of course he didn’t know, who would have told him? Rhett wasn’t exactly the easiest person to keep tabs on, even in the best of times. He seemed to recognize the lack of fire in her eyes and cocked his head to the side, adjusting the cap on his head. “You all right, lass?”

Ophelia scoffed, dragging a hand over her face as she approached the counter. “Been better,” she said. “Rhett’s missing.”

“Oh… well, I’m sure he’ll turn up! He always does,” Chet offered, giving an unsure smile. Ophelia didn’t really want to talk about it so she just nodded tiredly, leaning on the counter and pointing at the recurve bows that hung on the wall above their heads.

“Wanted to check some of those out, actually…” The shop owner brightened and reached for a hook to get them down with.

“Any in particular?” Ophelia stared at them for a moment, then shrugged.

“Whichever you think would fit me best.” Chet nodded thoughtfully, sizing her up before turning to pull down two bows.

“These oughta be the proper weight n’ length, judgin’ by your stature, but go ahead n’ give ‘em a fiddle. See if it feels good.” The nymph did as she was told, picking up the first bow from the counter and turning back toward the front of the store, just in time to see someone else walk in. A pretty young woman that had her straightening her spine just a little, gaze following the stranger as she walked confidently up to the counter as well. Ophelia tried not to stare, taking a step to the side to give the woman more room but keeping her ears perked as she lifted the bow and mimed drawing an arrow.

—

The knives she’d gotten from Rhett (for free, mind you!) had become favorites quite easily. They sat nicely in her hands, had wonderfully constructed blades and did their job well. Which was to say, they were good for close combat and also for slicing apples in nice bite-size pieces. She was versatile like that, when it came to weapons.

She’d recently come into a nice amount of money after having successfully wrapped up a hunt and so there was an opportunity to splurge. Though she suspected that Rhett had gone with the wind as he’d seemed intent to, Daiyu had remembered his words of advice and thus, found her way to Fable Blades. She wasn’t sure yet what she was looking for, but she figured she’d get another piece of the warden she’d met before they were all sold out and acquaint herself with the people behind the shop. It was good to have connections. She wasn’t the best at building bridges, but she wouldn’t be herself if she’d stop trying.

As she entered the store she was faced with a gruff man, a younger woman holding a bow and a glorious array of weapons. She held up her hands playfully, “Don’t use me for your target practice, yeah?”

She recognized the man vaguely from The 3 Daggers, which was a good thing if he had also seen her there. Daiyu approached the counter, leaning her elbows on it so she was leaning in a little closer. “Good afternoon,” she said, starting off more polite than was usual for her. “Heard this was a solid place to go to find some pieces from Rhett? Got a few knives off him and they’re awesome, so you know.” A grin. “Would be more than down to get my hands on something else. Do you have anything for me?”

—

Ophelia’s lips quirked into a small smile, her gaze dropping to her feet and her neck warming with mild embarrassment. “Wouldn't dream of it,” she responded, slowly letting the string move back into its starting position. She was about to draw again when she heard the woman's next words, and damn near choked on her spit. She wheeled around, her gaze jumping from the stranger to Chet. The old warden wore an expression that told her several things: familiarity. He knew this woman, if only in passing. Concern. He seemed worried that a fight might be about to happen, but she wasn't sure if that was because of the mention of her father, or because this woman was a hunter. Lastly, a dash of awkwardness as he let his gaze flit quickly over to Opie. She widened her eyes at him, silently telling him to answer the question. The man cleared his throat, putting on his best customer service voice and delivering it with a smile.

“Of course! My best client, that one-eyed bastard. Stocked me up with lots of quality pieces. Ah, here…” He motioned for her to follow him farther down the counter to a glass case. “These are all his.” A small sign sat atop it that claimed “created by a local artisan”. There were knives, swords, axes, and even a couple of spears. On the wall behind the case were three maces and a spiked flail—he'd gotten creative at one point, it seemed.

Ophelia was watching the interaction with keen interest, sidling up beside the woman once Chet was finished speaking. “You know Rhett?” she asked casually, letting her gaze drop from the woman's face to instead stare at the pieces of weaponry her father had crafted. “Have you… heard from him recently?”

—

She followed the other without complaint or argument, which to Daiyu was proof that she was plenty capable of listening to what others had to say as long as they were reasonable. Hungry eyes took in the various weapons. She’d attempted to fight with a sword before, but it took a kind of practice and technique that hadn’t come as quickly to her as she’d like. She liked her mother’s dao, though, if only because it was one of a kind beautiful — but she’d never dared to use it.

And so the swords were ignored in favor of the knives and axes, as she was very much equipped to handle those. Swords just seemed inconvenient for fighting beasts, didn’t they? “Neat,” she said, leaning in to observe the handiwork. She felt a dull sort of sadness that the man who’d made them wasn’t here — the craftsmanship was great, and she wanted to see him make an axe. Maybe the warden behind the counter could offer her something like that, though.

She was about to ask to hold one of the axes when the other person in the store addressed her. Daiyu turned her head towards her. “I mean, yeah, a little,” she said, leaning an elbow on the counter. “He made some knives for me a while back. He said he was leaving town, though, so haven’t seem him since. Pity. His knives rock. You know him too?”

—

Her expression fell, because of course this person hadn’t heard anything of him since he’d left the town. It was what she should have expected, but that didn’t make it hurt any less. At any rate, it seemed like the relationship had been brief, so at least it wasn’t a lot of lost ground. “Oh… that’s cool. Um, yeah, he’s…” Ophelia wondered for a moment if she should be honest with this woman, but Chet was there, she figured… it’d look weird if she lied. Also it’d make her stomach hurt. Besides, odds are this stranger was another hunter if Rhett had made knives for her, and she was shopping here. Obviously not a warden, or… or maybe she was just really good at acting casual. Better use the get-out-of-jail-free card, just in case.

“He’s my dad,” she finished, plucking at the bowstring in her hands. “Went… missing, as you’re obviously aware. Still, uh. Still looking.” Giving a shrug, she tried to throw on a lopsided smile. “But I mean, he goes missing all the time. He’s kind of a nomad like that. Probably nothing to worry about.” She pressed her lips into a thin line, glancing at one of the axes in the glass case. “... he told me about that one while he was making it. It’s iron, but it’s got that silver inlaying, too. Not just on the surface, but throughout, like veins of the stuff.” A real two-for-one kind of weapon, she thought. Good for killing fae and shifters. That’s what dad had said. “Pretty sick, if you ask me.” Her gaze flitted back up to meet the stranger’s and she smirked, moving the bow to one hand and holding the other out between them. “I’m Ophelia. Or… Opie. Or whatever!”

—

She watched the other battle with something going on within her mind and Daiyu wasn’t sure what to do. And so she just waited, her attention sliding towards some of the knives out of politeness and in the name of her own comfort, but her focus mostly on the strange girl. She just wasn’t very good with emotions, neither her own or those of others. As the other finally spoke those words, she looked up fully. “Oh.” Beat. “Shit. I’m sorry. I didn’t – well, I just thought he went off somewhere.” Her dad? She hadn’t thought that old gruff man would have had a daughter, but then there were all kinds of people out there who were dads who didn’t seem the type. “Didn’t know he had a kid.” To be fair, they’d met twice. Daiyu hadn’t even told him she’d had a dog (which was the same, in her mind).

She smiled vaguely. “Yeah, it’s a good knife. Better than most. It really is sick. Pity he’s ditched town. You reckon he’s just doing his nomad shit?” Obviously not, even someone with as little insight as Daiyu could gather that. She plucked at one of the loose strands hanging around her face. “I’m Daiyu.” Her smile grew a little. There was something exciting about meeting hunters her age, wasn’t there? And there was no reason not to think that Ophelia wasn’t a warden like her dad. “Neat to meet you. So what’s the bow for?”

—

Why had she lied? Her stomach was aching from it, and she sucked in a sharp breath as they shook hands and Daiyu introduced herself. “Um… truth be told, no. I don't really think that. I was just trying to be, you know… not weird.” Ophelia's brow furrowed and voice lowered, despite them being the only customers at the moment. “He got taken by a group of fae. I'm trying to hunt them down. Which… is what the bow is for.” If she found them, if her father was still alive (and even if he wasn't), there was no way she was going to be able to take them all out in hand-to-hand combat. She'd have to down a few from a distance first with iron-tipped arrows.

Glancing back down at the weapon in her hands, and then over to Chet (who was giving them a bit of privacy, it seemed), the nymph tightened her grip on it. “Have you… do you have experience with bows? I've never actually fired one before. Could use some, um.. you know! Tips or whatever.” Which she could absolutely get from Chet, he'd made the damn thing after all. But she'd rather it come from the person standing in front of her… nothing against Chet, but he wasn't as easy on the eyes.

—

Daiyu wasn’t very well equipped to deal with situations like these. She was all shoulder punches and finger guns, laughing shit away and not addressing elephants in the room, even if they were sitting on your chest. But this stranger just said, straight up, that her father might have been kidnapped by fae. And Daiyu blinked at her for a moment. “Oh.” Another beat, again. “Shit.” She should add more words to her arsenal. “That’s fucked up. Like, seriously.” She wasn’t sure how she’d feel if her dad was kidnapped. She’d probably be antsy, waiting for news that he’d died — and then feel a sickening type of relief. “You got any idea where they’re at?” Because hunting was something Daiyu knew. Even if she was pretty shit at hunting fae.

She was a little surprised that the other didn’t know how to shoot a bow. Had her father not taught her? Bows were awesome, after all. Quiet and precise. But Daiyu didn’t think about it for too long — she liked being the person in the room who knew more, if not most. It was a rare thing for her. “I could show you, yeah! That’s cool. I mean, you gotta get these bastards, right?” For all she’d known about Rhett, she didn’t like the thought of him having been kidnapped. Seemed a little unfair, considering he was pretty much a grandpa. (That would mean that Ophelia had kids … she wasn’t sure if she did. She’d ask, later. Or never.) “Maybe not in this shop though, huh?”

—

“There’s an aos sí up in the mountains where they’re from. They took him—” From there. Could she say that? Saying that a warden had been at an aos sí would beg a lot more questions that she didn’t feel prepared to answer right now. Better to speak only vague truths and just deal with the wave of nausea… she’d be honest with Daiyu once they knew each other better! Yeah. That was an okay plan. “—He was there, for a while. Then they took him away… I don’t know in what direction. I’ve been scouring the mountains for signs of them, but it was hard going with winter on full blast…” It’d be easier now that spring weather was around the corner, but that also meant that tracks had been long since lost. She was hoping for a bit of luck, at this point.

Ophelia’s face actually brightened as she smiled at Daiyu’s agreement, giving an enthusiastic nod of her head. “Yeah! I don’t think Chet would appreciate that, much.” She turned to look at him again, beckoning him over and fishing out a wad of cash. She reached over the counter and pressed it into the old, retired warden’s hands, her eyes flashing with renewed hope and a sense of vengeance. “I’ll take the bow, and as many iron-tipped arrows as you can fit into a quiver.” She glanced back over her shoulder at Daiyu and her grin widened. “What d’you want of my dad’s, there? I’m sure Chet would be willing to part with it at a discount for a family friend.” Chet, for his part, only looked put out for a moment before sighing and nodding his head. From the messy wad of bills she’d shoved into his palm to the calm, confident insistence that he’d take a small monetary loss for the sake of someone she liked, he couldn’t help but imagine his old friend standing there by his daughter, communicating through her. “God help us if ya should find ‘im,” he said aloud in a soft voice, smirking and turning away to go gather the arrows. “Aye, as she says… pick what ya like, lass. Will give it at a fair price. More than fair.”

#. thread ;#. with ; daiyu volkova #. commonalities ;

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dialovers-translations · 3 years

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DIABOLIK LOVERS MORE, MORE BLOOD Vol. 5: Mukami Yuma [Track 1]

Original title: 贈り物

Source: Diabolik Lovers More, More Blood Vol. 5 Mukami Yuma [CD not owned by me]

Audio: Here

Seiyuu: Tatsuhisa Suzuki

Translator’s note: Oh how the tables have turnedーー Since most of the CDs have the guy be in charge of rewinding time, it was nice to see Yuma give it to the MC in this one, only to have it come back to bite him in the ass a few minutes later. I love how she actually did not hesitate to use it at all, even though he warned her not to. We stan a sly, cunning MC in this household, haha.

Track 1 ll Track 2 ll Track 3 ll Track 4 ll Track 5 + Epilogue

→ LIKE MY TRANSLATIONS? SUPPORT ME ON KO-FI!

Track 1: A Gift

Yuma enters the room.

“...Oh! Sow!”

You turn your head.

“Ya were in my room? Perfect timin’ I got this nifty lil’ thing, so I wanted to show ya!”

You ask him what he received.

“This was delivered from Karlheinz.”

*Cling*

You tilt your head to the side.

“Ah. It’s an hourglass. Never received somethin’ like this before.”

*Flip*

“Accordin’ to the card that came with it, it’s addressed to both of us... But why did he give us this? I don’t really get it, but he might be givin’ us his blessings!”

You smile, noting he seems happy.

“Haha. Well, yeah. It’s a gift from the man I look up to, ‘course I’m happy. It’s actually been on my mind this whole time. Our relationship ruined the future that man wished for, right? No matter what anyone may say, no way in hell I’m givin’ ya up still. But...Somewhere deep inside my heart, I felt as if I disappointed him. That I failed to live up to his expectations, ya could say.”

You comfort Yuma.

“However, when I consider he’s still congratulatin’ us now like this, I feel very grateful.”

You nod.

“Well, that’s all just part of my own imagination tho. I honestly don’t know what truly goes on in that man’s mind just from readin’ this card.”

You point out there’s something on the back of the card as well.

“Oh! The back? ...Hm?”

*Flip*

“Oh...You’re right, there’s an additional note. Uhm...Let’s see...Ah!? Is this for real!?”

You ask Yuma what is written on there.

“Seems like this isn’t just a regular hourglass. It’s a model from the Demon World which can rewind time if ya flip it over. It runs on magic so there’s only a set amount of times ya can use it but...He gave us quite the dangerous toy, huh?”

You sigh.

“Good point. All of his gifts are always a lil’ over-the-top. Just look at the elaborate decoration on this thing. Ya can just tell it’s no ordinary hourglass. This kinda fancy stuff doesn’t fit me.”

You note it’s pretty.

“What? You like it?”

You nod.

“I’ll give it to ya then. Here ya go.”

*Cling*

You seem hesitant, asking once more if he is sure.

“Yeah. I’d be a waste of a treasure on me, so it’d probably be best if ya hold onto it instead. Ya know...Pretty things like that.”

*Cling*

“Yeah! Don’t ya dare lose it! Ah! Also, be careful not to flip it over, ‘kay? Apparently time will rewind after all.”

You promise to be careful.

“Haah...Will ya actually be cautious? You’re still as much of a klutz and airhead per usual so I’m worried.”

You protest, puffing out your cheeks.

“Nah, ya definitely are. That part of ya hasn’t changed one bit since we met. For example, ya thoughtlessly ate my precious Sugar-chan back when ya had only just arrived at this manor, right? Do ya remember?”

You tell him you could never forgot.

“Heh. At first ya were shittin’ yer pants ‘round us, but afterwards you’d just casually eat our food. Not sure if you’re an airhead, or just shameless.”

You reminisce about memories.

“Hoh! Now that ya mention it, that happened as well! That was when I sucked too much of yer blood and ya collapsed, right?”

You nod.

“Ya were makin’ a long face over at the infirmary, so I had no other choice but to put Sugar-chan between my teeth like this...”

Yuma bites down on a sugar cube before leaning in and kissing you.

“Mmh...Nn...”

*Smooch*

“...Hm~ And fed it to ya mouth-to-mouth, right? I remember, don’t worry.”

You get flustered, making a fuss.

“Hehe...Right, right! Ya made the exact same baffled expression, I had no idea if it actually felt good or not! ...Oh! I remember feedin’ ya tomatoes as well! I just forced those inside yer mouth tho.”

You scold him for doing that.

“...Aah? Ya still gonna complain ‘bout that now? I fed ya my tomatoes, so don’t be whinin’ ‘bout any discomfort. Actually, weren’t ya to blame back then ‘cause ya upset me by givin’ me the silent treatment? It was basically yer punishment.”

You frown.

“For some reason...Lookin’ back on all those memories, I really fed ya the whole time, huh?”

You giggle, nothing how he likes to take care of others.

“Haah? I’m a carin’ guy (1)?”

You remind him of that one time he nursed you back to health.

“Aah...Yeah, that happened too. Guess I can’t prove ya wrong then. Ya mean that one time ya broke a fever, right? Ya were stumblin’ ‘round the hallway with yer face bright red. It’d be bad if ya had died on us back then, so I had no other choice but to cook up some stew. I actually made it ‘cause I was cravin’ some as well tho. It wasn’t for ya. Didn’t I tell ya back then as well? Yet ya kept on complainin’ ‘bout the size of the ingredients with that cocky attitude of yers.”

You try and explain yourself.

“Ya might have not said it with that many words but I could tell by the look on yer face! ...You’ve been kinda fragile ever since we met, huh? Oh! You’ve always been weak to my fangs as well.”

You protest.

“No? Don’t ya remember? You’d make that ecstatic expression from the second I latched onto ya. And in the end, you’d come beggin’ for my fangs yerself.”

You deny it.

“Nah, I’m not wrong. Just admit it. Ya are weak to my fangs. Ever since we met and ‘course, to this day.”

You pout.

“Take for example that one time I sucked ya by the window? Ya were makin’ a shameless expression even tho someone could have easily spotted us.”

You flush bright red.

“Heh! How’s that? Can’t deny it, can ya? You’re weak to my fangs!”

You shake your head.

“You’re damn persistent, just admit it already...”

You refuse.

“Che...I’ve given ya this much proof and ya still won’t acknowledge it? Ya can be surprisingly stubborn at times, huh?”

Yuma walks over to take a seat on the bed.

*Thud*

“...’Kay, as you wish. Let’s fight it out then.”

You tilt your head to the side, clearly confused.

“Yeah. ...Well, take a seat over here for starters. I’ll explain it to ya.”

You take a seat next to Yuma.

“Listen up. I said ‘a fight’, but we won’t be throwin’ fists. I’ll continue suckin yer blood like usual. However, if ya end up beggin’ for them yerself at any given point, ya have to admit that you’re weak to my fangs.”

Your eyes widen in shock.

“...Don’t seem so surprised. If ya really aren’t weak to them like ya claim to be, ya can easily endure as much, no?”

You ask him how long you have to endure it.

“The time limit? ...Geez, ya sure are cocky. Let’s see...How does one week sound to ya? If ya beg to have yer blood sucked within the time frame, it’s yer loss. If ya endure it, ya win.”

You agree with the rules.

“Heh. Ya think ya can manage for that long? In that case, let’s get this challenge started right away.”

*Rustle rustle*

“Pretty sure just bein’ honest and acknowledgin’ it would be the easy way out tho. You’ll only end up sufferin’ more if ya drag it out.”

*Rustle*

“After all...I’ll make sure to torment ya plenty, you’ll be cravin’ me so badly, it’ll make ya go crazy. ...I’ll start by plungin’ my fangs in this nape of yers and suckin’ yer blood.”

Yuma bites you.

*Sluuuuurp*

“Haahn...”

*Sluuuuurp*

“Haah...Heh. You’re already cryin’ out sweetly.”

*Rustle*

“I’m holdin’ back a lil’ more than usual, but seems like you’re already feelin’ good? However, this is child’s play to ya, isn’t it? Then get yerself together. ...Heh. This is only the very beginnin’. I told ya, didn’t I? That I’d toy with ya to my heart’s content. ...That bein’ said, bite marks really look great on ya.”

He runs his fingertips across.

“Hm? Does it hurt when I touch them? But bein’ stimulated that way makes ya ache as well, doesn’t it?”

You shake your head.

“Don’t think ya can deny it. Even if ya do, yer body tells me you’re enjoyin’ it. Mmh...”

*Smooch*

You flinch.

“...See? You’re enjoyin’ this after all, aren’t ya? ...Ah, speakin’ of which...Ya liked this too, didn’t ya?”

*Smooch*

“Hehehe...You’re givin’ me some pretty interestin’ reactions. I’ve turned you into quite the slut if ya get excited just from havin’ yer ear kissed.”

*Rustle*

“In the end...Yer body is no match for the pleasure. Say...Ya want more, don’t ya? Then just say so. ...It’s easy, isn’t it?”

You refuse.

“You’re a stubborn one, huh? Then...How ‘bout this?”

*Smooch*

“...Heh. How’s that? Yer whole body should be tinglin’ all over just from a few bites here and there.”

¨Rustle rustle*

“Hehe. Judgin’ by the look on yer face, you’re really feelin’ it. Seems like ya can’t give a proper reply either. If I were to suck ya one more time, you’ll...”

*Cling*

“...Haah!? The fuck...? Whatcha gonna do with the hourglass?”

You tilt the hourglass to the side.

“...Ah! You! Don’t tell me...!”

*Tick tock - Tick tock - Tick tock - Tick tock*

“...Uwaah!?”

ーーー

“...Ah!? ...What happened just now...!?”

Yuma looks around.

“Wha...!? Ya used the hourglass just now, didn’t ya!? So...Time has rewinded!?”

You blink in confusion.

“Why does the person who used it look so damn puzzled!? This feeling...We’ve definitely gone back in time! ...Ugh. Yer clothes don’t look disheveled anymore, nor do ya have any bite marks. Which means...We’ve really rewinded to before I sucked yer blood...”

You grin.

“Fuck...Ya brought us back right as things were gettin’ good too! Ughー! I was literally one hair away from pushin’ ya over the edge! ...Hm? Actually...Was that yer goal? Did ya use the hourglass ‘cause ya knew ya were ‘bout to lose our bet?”

You admit it.

“Tsk. Look at ya bein’ all sly. I didn’t expect ya to pull that sorta trick. I shouldn’t have thoughtlessly handed it to ya. Well, whatever. Let’s start over from zero. I’ll suck ya relentlessly this time, so ya won’t even have the time to think ‘bout usin’ that lil’ hourglass of yers...”

*Rustle*

“Now I won’t stop even if ya beg me to.”

You quickly make a run for it.

“...Ah!? Oi...! Where are ya goin’...!? Don’t ya dare think ya can get away! Hold it...!!”

Yuma chases after you.

ーー TO BE CONTINUED ーー

Translation notes

(1) 世話好き or ‘sewa-zuki’ is used to refer to someone who finds enjoyment in helping others out, or looking after them.

#diabolik lovers #dialovers #yuma mukami #diabolik lovers translation #diabolik lovers more more blood #diabolik lovers drama cd #drama cd

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bloodredx · 2 years

Text

His cigarette burnt out right as he reached his destination, a little bakery by the name of “Somethin’ Sweet.” The sign swayed gently in the wind, the curly font of the message board confirming that fact, not that he had any doubts. He tapped out the last of the ashes and tossed the butt into a cigarette disposal, one that he had a hunch was put in for him. Or he was being full of himself, didn’t matter much. He swung open the door once he confirmed the sign in the window had in fact been flipped to read “open.” Immediately he was hit with the warm scents of spices and sugar, all freshly baked and ready for the taking. His stomach growled, begging for a taste.

Everything was mostly quiet, save for the ringing of a bell as he opened the door, Bones figured the worst of the morning rush had made itself scarce once the sun finished rising, but there were a few people sipping coffee and chewing on muffins, seated daintily in the cast metal furniture, painted flat white to stick out against the pale lavender décor, all almost too saccharine for him, but given the purpose of a bakery suited it just as well. No one behind the counter, so he set the crate upon it, ignoring the casual glances from the other patrons.

It took but a moment for the owner to poke her head out from the back, face serious at first, but then breaking into a wide smile after seeing who was there. “Well, drown me like a rat, izzat ya, Bones? Ain’t believin’ ya would come triffle here after so long.”

“The one and only.” He smiled as she hurried around the far side of the counter, arms stretched wide for a hug. He opened his own in response, pulling her in tight and kissing her cheeks. “How ya been, Tish?”

“Oh, ya know, tit for tat and all that. Ain’t nothin’ goin’ on ‘round here that ya’ll wouldn’t’ve heard before ya got here.” The wrinkles around her eyes pulled tight as she laughed, strands of jet black hair poking out from the sides of her headband in all directions.

“Busy mornin’?”

“Mmhmm, been ripped up here two sides down like a hurricane, but hey, can’t complain. That’s all coin in the coffer, yeah?”

“Just how ya like it, ma’am.” He confirmed softly.

Tish rested her hands on her hips, lips curling with unbridled sass. “Now, I take it this ain’t just a social visit, takes ya too much time to cross all that water. So ya either here to steal somethin’ from me, or ya actually did what I asked. And judgin’ from that box now dirtyin’ my counter, I hope it is, for your sake.”

“Ya paintin’ me dirty, there, Tish.” He raised his brow, laughing along. “Although… if ya’ve got somethin’ that ain’t fit for sellin’, I’ll happily dispose of it for ya.”

“No kiddin’, ya’d like that, wouldn’t ya?” Her hand grabbed his wrist, pulling him into the back room, but not so fast he couldn’t grab his delivery first.

“Well, I ain’t picky. Not when it comes to anything ya laid your hands on.”

“No, ya ain’t. And ya’d eat your way right through my whole stock if I let ya have your way.”

“Hey!” He protested thoroughly. “That was one time, and it ain’t all of it. Nowhere near close.”

She turned to face him once they were back into the kitchen far enough, taking the box from his arms. “Sure, but at least ya have the decency to make up for it. Thanks, dearie.”

Bones offered a soft hello to the other employees as he passed by them, watching loosely as they rolled dough and mixed fillings. “Ain’t no issue for ya, ma’am.”

#Bones #mage #Necromancer #Tish #bakery #food #smoking #dialogue #nanowrimo 2021 #nanowrimo #bloodredx writes #writers on tumblr

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 5 years

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Subterfuge

Part 8/finale in Getaway Series

Warnings: nonconsensual sex (vaginal ntercourse, violence), angst, general assholery.

This is dark!(nomad)Steve and explicit. 18+ only. PLEASE HEED THE WARNINGS. I mean it, I’m not gonna tell you again.

Summary: The reader makes her move.

Note: Alright, so this is the final part of this series and I’m shocked that I’ve finished it bc I was struggling boo. But here ya go. I hope you all are ready and I dunno if you’ll like it, but this is the end.

Anyways, let me know what you think as always with a reblog and/or some feedback. Love ya <3

...

You watched your mother as she set the casserole dish in the middle of the table. She hadn’t said much to you since your arrival. She avoided it as she distracted herself with the family dinner. Your sister sat across from you, she meant to say something but had yet to find the gull.

Your father was the only who was unfazed by your presence. Never the talkative type, he at least looked away from his book for more than two seconds to acknowledge you. He greeted you with a hug and asked after your day.

The tension of thoughts unspoken kept you silent too. You waited at the table and resisted the habitual urge to take your phone out. That would only be a reminder. Of how terribly everything could go. Your last hope were the texts you quickly erased upon reading. The emails deleted within minutes of receiving them.

Tony Stark had a plan and it all hinged on you. And Steve. Agents were in place to descend on your apartment the moment you sent the code word but their target had been absent for almost five days. Just like his presence, it made you anxious. He had been away for longer before. You should be relieved to be free of him, but you knew it was only temporary.

Your mother served everyone before she sat. You twirled your fork but even the savoury aroma of her family recipe couldn’t rile your appetite. You may not know when Steve would show up next, but you knew the end was imminent. All you had to do was send the word. One word and he was done.

“So, honey,” Your mother’s voice was hesitant. “How have you been?”

“Working,” You replied. “You know, the same old.”

The sound of cutlery against the plates filled the silence that followed.

“And how’s Nick?” Gia asked suddenly. You looked up to her grin and narrowed your eyes.

“I wouldn’t know,” You said.

“Gia,” Your mom warned.

“Oh come on, the last time we saw her, her ex was tryna fight her new boytoy.” Gia trilled. “Our family can be dramatic but that was--”

“He’s not--Nick is just...Nick.” You interjected. “Jesus, I came here to be with all of you and you’re treating me like some...pariah. Should I have worn a scarlet letter for our dinner?”

“We’re worried,” Your mother intoned. “We don’t know this Nick very well and after what happened with Ethan--”

“Ethan hates me. He has every right to.” You snarled. “What do you want me to say? He was right, I’m a slut.”

“Language,” Your mother reproached.

“I’m an adult! I’ll use whatever language suited to the situation.” You dropped your fork and crossed your arms. “Why aren’t you saying anything to Gia as she dates a man nearly two decades older than her, hmm?”

“We love you, we just want to make sure you’re okay,” Your mother protested.

“Then leave her alone,” Your father spoke up as he swallowed a mouthful of casserole. “Pete’s sake, she’s told you a dozen times. Let her make her own mistakes. Judgin’ her’s not gonna do her any favours.”

You blinked and looked to your dad as he leaned back in his chair.

“This Nick boy causes any trouble, I’ll deal with him myself.” He shook his head. “Just like I dealt with Ethan.”

“What?” You lifted a brow. “What does that mean?”

“I had a talk with him after the barbecue. Told him to leave you alone. He’s angry. Hurt. But I told him it’s no sense hounding you and making you both more miserable than you already are.” He sighed. “It will pass. All of it.” He looked to your mother pointedly. “So let it pass and be nice.”

You mother sniffed and stared at the table. Gia glared at you over her plate and you tapped your fingers along the wood. You nodded and slowly stood.

“I’m not hungry.” You said. “Besides, I didn’t come here to eat. I came here to spend time with you. I thought, stupidly, that we could be friendly.” You stepped out from between the chair and table. “I love you. All of you. I just think I need some time.”

“Honey,” Your mother stood, “Please--”

“I’ve got work tomorrow,” You neared her and forced your arms around her. “I’ll see you.”

You let go of her and patted your sister’s arm as she sulked in her chair. Your father stood and hugged you in turn. He clung to you a moment before he held you at arm’s length. His wrinkles deepened as he considered you.

“Take care of yourself, kiddo,” He said.

“I’ll try, dad,” You slowly parted from him and his hand fell from your shoulder. “Bye.”

You grabbed your coat and jacket at the door and looked back into the dining room. Your dad watched as you opened the door and disappeared out onto the street. Well, there wasn’t as much at stake as you thought.

‘Dear Mom, Dad, Gia, or whoever finds this letter,

If I'm missing or dead, I want this to be a record of why. If this man gets the best of me, I want there to be a chance that someone might get him.’

Your hand hovered over the paper as you thought. The small book light lit your words as you sat in the dark. The mattress was lumpy, its time on the floor had worsened its springs. You flicked your pen against your lip and bit the cap. Slowly, you pressed the ballpoint to the paper again.

‘It happened up north, on vacation with my friends, Kaya, Camile, Milani, and Corette, as well as my sister, Gia. They do not know what happened but they can confirm that they left me alone for several hours to visit the beach. During which I was accosted and assaulted by the fugitive known as Steve Rogers. He was bleeding and left me bleeding in turn.

I returned at the end of the week to the apartment I shared with my boyfriend, Ethan. For a few weeks, my life was the same as it was. But then he appeared again, broke into my apartment, and assaulted both me and Ethan. He made Ethan watch as he raped me and this led to the end of that relationship.

Thereafter, living on my own and without witness, I was visited almost weekly by Steve Rogers. He introduced himself to those I knew as Nick and coerced me into hiding his identity. If you capture him, you will find footage of at least one of his assaults on his phone. You will also find that he once more assaulted Ethan at one of my family’s events.

You will also note my correspondence with Stark Industries. They can provide you with a full transcript as I have erased all evidence on my end to keep myself safe. If they have failed to aid me in capturing the fugitive, then this letter will be of use to you. I only hope that he is caught before he can do this to someone else.

In the event that this letter is read, I want my family to know that I love them. I am sorry I didn’t tell them the truth but it was for their own safety.’

You leaned back against the pillow and re-read the letter. You shivered and folded it up carefully. Your last testament. All that would remain of you should this all go to shit. You got up and tucked folded the paper up so that it fit behind the upholstery of your jewelry box. When Steve arrived, you’d text your mother your hiding spot. You only prayed Steve didn’t discover it first.

It was your day off. You didn’t sleep and so you showered and dressed early. Unsure of when the bell would toll, you determined to make what could be your last day to yourself entirely self-indulgent.

You spent an hour in the bookstore. It was ages since you visited the familiar aisles, browsed old titles and new. You still hadn’t read the last haul of books you’d taken home with you. You weren’t sure you ever would but the smell of paperback comforted you. It reminded you of a time before; the alphabetized spines were the only order in your chaotic life.

You paid for a collection of Poe’s stories and made your way to the cafe next door. Many of the bookstore’s patrons ended up here. It was bustling that day but many took their coffee to go. You ordered a tea and sat in the corner, a round-backed armchair with another beside it. Empty.

It was easy to feel lonely these days. With a secret you couldn’t share with anyone; a torment you faced on your own. You left your tea to cool on the small table between the chairs and opened the book. Many of these tales you’d read before but each time you read them, they felt new again, though the sense of horror was nothing compared to that you faced outside the pages.

“You fancy me mad. Madmen know nothing. But you should have seen me. You should have seen how wisely I proceeded –with what caution –with what foresight –with what dissimulation I went to work!”

You began to slump in your chair as you read the descent into madness, the almost inhuman insanity did not seem so fantastical anymore. Perhaps, Poe’s horror wasn’t fictional, but a reflection of the depths of humanity. Of how low one could sink when their soul is corrupted.

A shadow moved beside you and a cup was placed next to yours. The book fell closed around your finger as you let it rest in your lap. You stared over at your villain. Steve sat down heavily and smirked over at you.

“Is this what you do with your free time?” He asked as he ran his hands along his thighs, smoothing the wrinkles from the worn denim.

You pulled your finger from the pages without marking your place and set the small volume behind your cup. You took your tea and sipped as you looked around the cafe. “It’s what I’m doing today.”

“It’s been a while,” He remarked as he picked up his own cup and cradled it just above his lap. “Do you think this will save you?”

You turned and squinted at him. You drank again. The tea was lukewarm and acidic. “Save me?”

“All these people,” He glanced around. “Do you think that will stop me?”

“I know it won’t,” You replied and took another gulp before setting aside the dregs to cool entirely. “So what are you waiting for?”

He laughed and raised his mug to his lips. He drank the dark coffee and placed his mug next to yours. “You don’t give up, do you?”

“And neither do you,” You countered.

“I don’t,” He said as he leaned over the arm of his chair. “And let me assure you, I’ve dealt with people far more formidable than you, girl.”

You nodded. This was what he did. He enjoyed it; taunting you. “I’m sure you have.” You examined the lines of your palm. You itched to grab your phone but could not make it so obvious. “Where have you been, anyway?”

“Doing my valiant duty. Saving the people who need saving.” He said smugly. “You know, the ones I was outlawed from helping. This world seems to have forgotten that without me, they’d be in ruins.”

“Is that how you make it okay in your head?” You looked at him. “Hmm? This?”

“This is what I’m owed. You. A single life for the millions I’ve saved.” He reached over and touched your arm, his fingers danced along your shoulder. “I’m fucking hard already.” He pulled away and pushed himself to his feet. “Meet me in the mens’.”

He turned and strutted away as you watched him. His broad shoulders disappeared down the narrow hallway that led to the facilities. You sighed and grabbed the book of horror stories from the table.

You stared at the cover, the silhouette of a raven. A bad omen; a harbinger of warfare, of death. You grabbed your purse and replaced the book on the table. You didn’t need horror stories; you were living one of your own.

The walk along the hallway seemed longer than six steps. The clinking and steaming of the cafe kitchen disguised your footsteps. You passed the ladies’ and stopped in front of the mens’. You didn’t knock but stepped inside with resignation.

Was this the climax of your story? How then should the denouement bring you lower?

Steve reached over your head and pushed the door closed as you entered. His hand slipped down and turned the lock with a loud click. He grabbed your arm and yanked you away from the door as he turned you to face the small sink. You dropped your purse as you gripped the porcelain.

You looked in the mirror at yourself as he let go and hastily undid his fly. “Come on,” He tugged your shirt up and grabbed the waist of your jeans.

You flicked open your fly as he shoved your pants past your ass. The heat of his body surrounded you. You looked up. Your eyes weren’t yours. They were dark and haunted. Your features were marred by shadows. You felt hollow as his hand brushed against you and he pushed your shoulders forward.

You closed your eyes as he entered you. It hurt. You were dry and he was impatient. It took him a few thrusts to reach his limit. His hand went to the back of your neck as you shuddered and grasped the sides of the sink. He crushed your hips against the porcelain as his hushed grunts floated above you.

“Fuck,” He swore as he slipped his hand around your front. He felt between your folds and rubbed your clit. “I should’ve come yesterday.”

You bit your lip as you hung your head forward. You kept your eyes shut as each thrust came harder than the last. The cold porcelain grew slick beneath your palms. You slid forward, your face closer to the mirror. His hand crept around your neck and your back arched as his fingers tightened at your throat.

Your breath whisked from you as the sounds of the cafe crept in beneath the door. You felt yourself slicken around his cock. Your body worked against you. His flesh slapped loudly against your ass. You couldn’t stifle the heat as it flowed through you.

You gasped as he sped up. Your hands slipped as his left your neck. He caught your arms and held them back as he fucked you.

“Open your eyes.” He growled. You shook your head and he jolted into you painfully and stopped. “I said open your eyes, girl.”

Your jaw set and you slowly opened your eyes. His blue eyes were cavernous as they stared back at you in the mirror. He began to move again. Your body rebelled and continued its ascent. You breathed through your nose, trying to muffle your pleasure as he ripped it from your flesh. You squeaked and trembled as you came. He watched, pleased at your surrender.

He pulled you away from the sink. He dropped your arms and wrapped his around your middle as he rutted into you. You reached back to touch his thighs, pleading wordlessly for him to slow down as each thrust sent a ripple through you.

He jerked against you and spasmed as he threw his head back. He hissed as he came and rocked his hips slowly as he spilled inside you. You were weak as he released you and you stumbled forward as he pulled out.

He chuckled as you caught yourself on the sink and his cum dripped down onto your panties and jeans. He edged you out of his way as he grabbed a paper towel and turned the faucet. You took some toilet paper and turned away from him as he cleaned himself up. You tried to do the same but still felt dirty when you were done.

“I’ll be out there,” He said as he zipped his fly up. “There’s an alarm on the fire escape so let’s not play games.”

“Alright,” You grumbled if only to get him to leave.

The locked clicked and the door opened and closed. You wiped off your panties and jeans as best as you could and pulled them up. You locked the door and grabbed your purse off the tile. You dug around and found your phone buried in the mess.

You leaned against the wall as you typed in the single word. You stared at it as your thumb hovered over ‘send’. Once it went through, you had less than an hour before agents descended on your apartment. You sent the second, the one for your mother and shoved your phone away.

However this ended, Steve would no longer be your personal scourge.

The car ride was silent. It always was with him. It was better that way. The only words he had for you were cruel. You kept your eyes forward and watched the road through the windshield. Play it cool. This was the hardest part. The anxiety. The impatience. For your doom or his.

Your building was a spectre against the grey sky. A storm was moving in. You got out and he followed. The usual smack on your ass. You pulled out your keys as he pushed himself against you. He was hard again.

“We’ll have some fun on your day off,” He teased as you unlocked the door. “Better than your books.”

You stayed quiet. He didn’t expect an answer. He knew you wouldn’t. This routine had become too familiar. Too rehearsed. Too easy.

You led him up the stairs. With each, your heart beat just a little quicker. The keys jingled in your hand and you realized your were shaking. You stopped in front of your door to gather yourself and find the right key on the ring. He leaned against the wall and ran a finger down your side.

“You’re...excited,” He mused. “I can hear your heart racing.”

You looked over at him, the key poised just before the lock. “You can?”

“Yeah. I hear a lot, you know? Your heart, the blood flowing through your veins, your breath before it rises,” He smirked and you slid the key into the bolt and turned. “Serum gave me a lot more than muscles, didn’t it?”

He flicked your chin playfully and drew away. You held back your retort and stepped inside. Your apartment was as you left it, not a single speck of dust missing. You blinked as you entered the small living room. A furtive glance to the windows.

Did they get your message? Were they really coming?

Steve walked around the room as he stretched his arms above him. You watched him as he strolled around the small space. He neared the window and looked out, his figure a wraith against the grim sky. He twisted the plastic rod and the blinds closed.

He turned back to you and his hands went to his hips. That classic stance you’d seen on posters. Captain America. The saviour of the world. He laughed.

“You’re heart is still going,” He slowly inched across the room. “Faster now. Fuck, you’re gonna have a fit, girl.”

You swallowed, your mouth dry as you gripped your purse. You looked down and saw your phone through the open zipper. You couldn’t just pull it out and check. You hadn’t felt a vibration.

He neared, his shoes decisive against the hardwood. He was like a hawk circling. You looked up and backed away as he came closer.

“You really think Tony Stark would believe some small town girl?” Steve grinned and your chest clenched. “Hmm? You think you’re some spy with your code words and your covert messages? Your plan to have them storm your pathetic apartment?”

Your lips parted in shock as if you’d been slapped. No… Your flesh turned to stone as you met the wall and pressed yourself to it.

“I’ve faced real spies. Let me tell you, Hydra was a lot more intimidating but I tossed them on their asses. But you, you think you can bring me down?” He chuckled as his hand came up to grip your chin. “What do you think I could do to you?”

Tears rose along your lower lids and your lip trembled. You should’ve known. It was too easy. Another trick. A bug on your phone; your computer, too. He knew it all and you were too desperate to think. Stupid.

“Think of what I’ve already done,” He leaned in so that his nose was almost touching yours. “Of what I’m going to do now.” He pressed his forehead to yours. “It’s over, girl. Just like you wanted it.”

He pulled away, his hands balled as he glared down at you. His chest rose and fell as his jaw ticked. You wiped away the tears before they could fall and sniffed. You stood straight as you looked back at him defiantly.

“Fine,” You declared. “Then end it.”

You were stunned as his fist met your jaw. Your stumbled back and your head hit the wall. You slid down slowly as your legs turned to jelly and the room faded slowly before your eyes. You gripped your pounding skull as the strength drained from you. You looked up at Steve as he loomed over you and your vision swam with stars.

“You really thought you could get away from me?” He knelt as your eyes began to roll back, his voice floated in your ears and into the void.

When you awoke, the world was moving. When you awoke, you were shocked. Were you really alive or was this the purgatory you’d always denied? Your head lolled and you stared at the driver of the car. No, you were still painfully alive.

Steve’s features were limned in sunlight. It was either a new day or a new place. His blue eyes bore into the winding highway ahead. Your jaw ached terribly and your head felt like it was full of cement. You babbled weakly.

Your hands were tied together. Your ankles too. The seat belt was buckled around you and kept you from sliding down the seat.

“I really thought I might’ve killed you,” He said. “I hit you a bit harder than I meant to.”

You grumbled. No words would come.

“That’d be too easy. I’ve been too easy on you and you didn’t appreciate it at all. I let you stay in your shit hole apartment, let you see your family, let you live your life when it’s not your life. It’s mine.” The steering wheel groaned as he gripped it tighter. “You’re mine.”

You mumbled and felt the sting of tears as the world closed in on you.

“It’s all over now, girl,” Your eyes closed again. “You don’t even know how good you had it.”

His words were scribbled across your dreams as you sank back into unconsciousness. You dozed and woke at intervals. He allowed you a drink of water from a bottle and a piss on the side of the road. You barely recalled the stops as your world was clouded in shock and pain.

You were shaken awake for the last time. Your door was open and Steve felt along your jaw roughly.

“It’s not broken.” He stated and unbuckled the seat belt. “See, another thing to be thankful for.”

“Steve,” You rasped. “Please…”

“Please, shut up,” He spat and pulled you out of the car. “Come on, hop, bunny.”

He tugged you forward and you were forced to hop on your bound feet. There was a farmhouse just ahead; long-abandoned and slanted. The fields were overgrown with weeds. This was where he’d leave you.

“Just get it over with,” Your words were clumsy through your swollen jaw.

He didn’t reply and continued to drag you towards the barn. He slid the door open enough to angle you through. He led you to the corner where a pile of rotted boards rested. He let go of you and you wobbled on your feet as he began to move the rubble.

Beneath was a small hatch. This was tornado country. These vaults were built decades ago to keep families safe when the sirens sounded. Except the hatch was more than the usual wooden door; it was metal, shiny and new, a bolt on its face.

He took a key out and unlocked the hatch. He turned and bent to pick you up. He slung you over his shoulder and your head spun. He slowly carried you down the steps. He put you back on your feet and you wavered.

The light from above lit the shadows. There were shelves along the far wall, illegible packets and cans lined the middle shelf. A bed sat a foot from the shelves against the wall; a metal frame with a thin mattress. A toilet was attached to the wall along with a small sink. A single lightbulb hung from the ceiling.

Steve untied your hands and your feet. He stood and shoved you towards the middle of the room. You caught yourself on the bed frame and turned back.

“Welcome home,” His smile was sinister in the dim.

“No,” You gasped and neared him. He pushed you back easily and you fell on your ass. “Please, don’t do this. Just kill me, please.”

“Kill you? I never wanted that,” He scoffed and turned to set his foot on the bottom step. “Don’t worry, I’ll be back to check on you. Now and then.”

He started to climb the steps and you got up unsteadily. As he reached the top, you grabbed onto the stairs and tried to come up after him.

“I’ll throw you back down,” He warned as he pulled on the steps and slowly raised them. You clung to them as he tried to wriggle them away from you. “You’ll be worse off if I break something.”

“Steve, you can’t--” Slivers embedded in your skin as he yanked the steps free from you and raised them up after him.

“Now, now, girl,” He knelt and looked through the hatch at you. “Is there anything I can’t do?” He slowly lifted the door as he spoke. “Don’t you worry, I’ll keep an eye on the family for you.” He taunted as he slowly closed the door, the light draining away inch by inch. “Be good and I’ll let you know.”

He dropped the door entirely and it clanged shut. The lock turned and you were left in darkness. Tears rolled down your eyes and light sparked in your blurred vision. The light bulb crackled to life above you, a small beacon in the pit. You could hear him moving the boards back onto the hatch.

You turned blindly and fell onto the bed. You were poked by the corner of a familiar shape. You sat up and grabbed the book from atop the thin blanket. The silhouette of the raven shone beneath the wire. The book fell open as your sight came clearer through the tears. The world clearer through the dark. The scraping and steps above faded away.

“Then silence, and stillness, and night were the universe.”

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stubborn-beast · 4 years

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Good Hands | 1

“Iron Ridge Veterinary Practice, what can I do for you today…?”

Valkyrie barely had time to hide her laughter behind her hand when Pepper rolled her eyes, natural smile becoming forced.

“No, Mrs. Johnson, Dr. Lee isn’t here any longer… No, I don’t believe he plans on coming out of retirement to see Mr. Kittles… I can assure you that our current veterinarian, Dr. Carbonell is perfectly capable –“

Pepper’s fingers began to fly over the keyboard as she talked, Valkyrie putting the file folder she’d been holding back onto the counter before turning to walk back down the hall. A familiar, muted scent caught her attention as she rounded the corner and stepped into the open doorway of the break room.

“Tash, whatcha doin’?”

The Omega looked up from the coffee pot and gave Valkyrie a pretty smile, inviting the Beta to approach and lean against the counter. She eyed the teal scrubs Natasha was wearing with interest, only to raise her gaze and see the exhaustion on the Omega’s face.

“Isn’t it obvious?”

“I s’pose. Makin’ enough for me, too?”

“Of course, Val. And Tony. We all know what happened last time.”

Both women shuddered before laughing, filling their mugs and sipping before becoming aware of their boss by the sugary scent of the Omega as he whipped into the room.

“Coffee? You’re both brilliant. We’ll need it for the seven neuters I have on the schedule –“

“Seven?!” Valkyrie squawked, jumping as Natasha pinched her shoulder. The redhead ran a hand through her hair and leveled a look at Tony.

“- can’t forget the nail trim on Logan’s dog –“

“God, why couldn’t I forget that?”

“- oh, and we’ll probably have to see Mr. Kittles, judgin’ from the phone call Pep was takin’ a minute ago.”

Tony groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose between two fingers. Mrs. Johnson cared greatly for her large orange tabby, Mr. Kittles, and also for digging her nose into everyone else’s business. The town gossip had a penchant for focusing on Tony, the newest resident to arrive and an Omega with no Alpha to speak of.

“Alright, bottoms up then, ladies. Let’s get to work.”

Tony raised his mug to them both, waiting for them to return the gesture, before chugging the fresh coffee.

Both girls laughed as he sputtered around the hot liquid and stalked to the front of the building to talk the schedule with Pepper.

What he wasn’t expecting to see when he reached the reception desk was a tall body of broad muscles in tight jeans and shirt fit to burst at the seams.

Holy sh-

He stood, speechless, staring at the blond bombshell in front of him as he was bent, resting on the counter and conversing with Pepper.

“ – she’s due any day now, so I’d like’ta have an on-call situation scheduled –“

“No problem, Mr. Rogers. We will gladly help out in any way we can. Dr. Carbonell makes house calls, just as Dr. Lee did.”

Pepper pointedly looked towards Tony, who was prompted to close his mouth and quit looking like an idiot.

“Well… s’long as my Bessy is in good hands…”

Innuendo.

“I can assure you,” Pepper answered, her smile too smug as she glanced at the other Omega and saw the blush creeping into his face as he finally pulled his eyes from the tall Alpha, “Our Dr. Carbonell has very skilled hands, the best in the field.”

“Uh… right, thank you for that, Pepper,” Tony said, trying to scrape the last of his pride off of the floor as he approached the taller man with a hand extended.

“Dr. Carbonell, at your service.” He really hoped his hands weren’t as sweaty as he suspected. Hopefully, tall-blond-and-handsome would just think he had washed his hands.

“Lovely t’meet ya, Doc. I’m Steve Rogers,” he drawled and Tony just about melted, feeling the warm, thick digits wrapping around his hand to return his welcome gesture. “I own Iron Ranch offa East Lake.”

“I’ve driven by there. It’s beautiful.”

“Thank ya.”

Tony thought he spotted a bit of heat crawling up the rancher’s neck, but he chalked it up to a lack of sleep and the caffeine kicking in.

“You’re welcome. I’m sure I can help with… Bessy, was it? When the time comes for her to give birth.” He’d only done a handful of cow births in his career, but he felt confident enough in his abilities. The smile Steve gave him was megawatt and Tony felt his heart skip slightly in his chest.

Jesus, he really needed to lay off of the caffeine.

“I’m sure ya can, Doc. I’ll be sure ta give th’office a call when comes time,” he said, bobbing his head and rocking slightly on the heels of his boots.

Who knew I had a thing for cowboy boots?

“Well, the office closes at seven during the week and five on weekends, but here-“ Tony reached over the desk and tore a post-it from the stack near Pepper. The redhead’s eyes widened as she watched the interaction with curiosity and a secret smile tugging at the corners of her lips. “- this is the emergency number to my phone, directly. I know births don’t follow a schedule, and a house call might work best in this circumstance. Call whenever there’s an emergency and I’ll be there.”

Tony turned around, having had the moment of jotting his number down to compose himself, and smiled as he passed off the bright orange slip to the Alpha. From past experience, Tony was used to turning around and catching the remains of leering glances whenever Alphas were able to sneak a peak at him. He was pleasantly surprised to see nothing but eye contact – damn, those were some baby blues - and that grin.

“Thank ya ‘gain, Doc. Y’all will be hearin’ from me soon, I s’pect.”

“Oh, we’ll be happy to help,” Valkyrie piped up from the hallway entrance, drawing the trio’s attention to where she and Natasha were standing and watching the interaction.

Now it was Tony’s turn to feel heat creeping up his neck as he shot both women a look.

“Yes, well-“ Tony began, struggling for words as he slowly turned back to face the tall rancher, when the bell above their front door dinged and a shorter Beta filed through with a wave of one hand and an enormous dog leashed in the other.

“Doc, sorry I’m late! Stuck behind a horse and buggy – who knew those things were still around?”

Pepper was laughing and rolling her eyes as she stood up from behind the desk, holding out a clipboard to the newest arrival.

“Mr. Barton, pleasure to see you again. Here’s the paperwork for Bones you need to fill out for his procedure.”

“Right, two less eggs in the basket for you, mister!”

Laughter sounded from Valkyrie and Natasha, while Tony merely shook his head and caught sight of the redness creeping up Steve’s neck as he inched towards his escape. He caught eyes with Tony and the Omega thought he saw his smile soften just a little bit.

“See y’all later,” he said with a wave as he awkwardly slipped out the front door. Tony raised his hand in a wave as well before turning back towards Clint and crouching down to the massive height of the dog pulling towards him.

“Bones, huh? We’re going to get you all fixed up and find you a good home with a big yard, children to ride you, and toys to slobber on, hmm?”

Tony scratched under the mastiff’s jowls and cooed at him, allowing the dog to lick over his hands before straightening back up.

“Yeah, this one’s a real lover. But most of the big ones are, right?”

Clint waggled his eyebrows towards Tony before nodding his head to the door Steve had just gone through. The Omega laughed and shook his head, waving a hand as he turned on his heel and walked towards the hallway.

“I’ll have to take your word for it, Clint. Val and Tasha will take Bones from you, won’t you ladies?”

Valkyrie let out an unattractive sound as the massive dog jumped up onto her and knocked her flat. Natasha made sure to pat the dog on the head while Pepper waved Clint out.

“So… Steve sure had some long eye contact with Tony,” Natasha mentioned, taking the paperwork from Clint’s clipboard and shooting a look to Pepper. The other redhead smirked and shrugged a slim shoulder, her pastel pink scrubs shifting with the motion.

“I think it’s safe to say it’s not the last we’ll see of Mr. Rogers,” Pepper said with humor in her tone. Natasha smiled as she tapped her fingers on the paperwork and watched Valkyrie get dragged down the hallway.

“I agree.”

“Maybe he’ll bring his ranch hand with him next time?”

Natasha shot Pepper a look and her lips formed a serious line as she fought the urge to blush.

“I think you’re meddling, Ms. Potts.”

The receptionist’s laughter followed Natasha as she retreated down the hallway.

#good hands #good hands fic #small town avengers #marvel fic #marvel universe #mcu #stony #alpha!steve rogers #omega!tony #rancher!steve #veterinarian!tony #beta!valkyrie #omega!natasha #omega!pepper #alpha!bucky #steve x tony #marvel au #beta!clint #my writing

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davidhesseauthor-blog · 6 years

Photo

The Melon Farm

Finally The Conclusion To - The Goat-Man And Why Some People Shouldn’t Be Allowed To Spawn

Otis Melon was bent over a rabbit hutch, feeding about one hundred rabbits. He stood up and turned as Zippy Doo and Max Fly approached. He was a bulky, barrel-chested man of about 30 years of age, hunched over with a broad forehead and pallid chalk-like pitted skin. Red blotches on his cheeks contrasted with the patchwork of blue colored veins that crisscrossed along the length of his orbicular nose. His close-set eyes were shaded by thick bristling eyebrows. Protruding out of his long, stringy, nut-brown hair over each ear, were what appeared to be two huge bumps that easily could be mistaken for horns especially at a distance.

Otis “Melonhead” Melon - An Alabama Savant

His hair was plastered against his face by rivulets of muddy sweat that ran down his cheeks. He was wearing a filthy pair of blue jeans and his brown shoes were coated in fresh cow biscuits. His white sweat stained t-shirt had an Auburn University logo printed in navy and orange on the pocket where a half-empty package of RedMan Chewing Tobacco poked out. Next to him stood an attractive, elderly woman with long gray hair braided in one long braid that trailed down the center of her back to the middle of her posterior. She was wearing a light blue cotton dress, a blue and white apron, and a pair of pink muck boots adorned with pictures of Mickey Mouse and Donald Duck.

Otis nodded and grinned as Max and Zippy Doo approached, exposing brown stained teeth.

Zippy turned to Max and whispered, “He does have kind of a putrid essence to him, doesn’t he? He smells like the outhouse door on a shrimp boat.”

“What can I do for you boys?” Otis asked as he picked at his nose and wiped his hand on the leg of his filthy coveralls.

“Are you Otis Melon?” Max asked.

“That’s right. And this is my mama, Bernice Melon.”

Bernice “Mama” Melom

“I’m Max Fly and this is my partner, Zippy Doo. We are private investigators looking into alleged sightings of a monster that some believe to be the long sought-after Goat-Man. May we ask you a few questions?”

“Go right ahead just so long as you don’t wake my rabbits.”

“Okay, Max replied, looking at the herd of rabbits milling around inside the hutch.“A couple of boys said they saw someone that resembled you climbing up the mountain to play with a herd of goats. By any chance, could that have been you?”

“You must be referring to that Cooter Johnson and Fim Fudge. I saw ol’ Cooter and Fim up there watching me. What I do is none of their business. I stared back until those ol’ boys disappeared like a cork on a fishin’ line.”

“Don’t you pay no attention to what those two boys say. They are so dumb, they don’t know sheep shit from cottonseed,” Bernice Melon interjected. “They dropped out of the eighth grade and have been sittin’ around like a couple of bumps on a log ever since. If stupid could fly, both those boys would be jets.”

“I see,” Max replied, shaking his head. “Otis, by any chance, do you own a goat suit?”

“I do. My mama made me one, didn’t you, mama? If y’all wanna see it, you’ll have to ask Shirley Smelley over in Slap Ankle. She lives on Watermelon Road, ‘bout 5 miles from here across the Black Gnat River jist ‘fore you git to Hog Jaw. She’s slightly burned out, but still smokin’ hot,” Otis said with what could pass as a leer. “I lent it to her to wear for the fall Yell-Off in Lick Lizard next week.”

“What’s a Yell-Off?” Zippy asked as he picked a wet piece of cow biscuit off his pant cuff.

“That’s where all them folks with a big mouth try to yell-off louder than Chief Shinbone the old Creek Indian Chief did back in the day. Stella Blitzki won it last year. Shirley thought it was rigged ‘cause ol’ Hayward Connor was doin’ the judgin’ and everyone knows Hayward is sweet on Shirley; has been since they was attending Lick Lizard Elementary School. Haywood won’t be doin’ no judgin’ this year. He’s holed up in the Farquhar Cattle Ranch on a work-release program. He don’t get released until next year so Shirley thinks she has the best chance of winning that trophy from Stella this year plus the grand prize, a $10 gift certificate from the Lord of The Fries Restaurant over in Devil’s Holler.”

“Chief Shinbone?” Zippy asked. He was beginning to find it difficult to follow Otis’s train of thought.

“The Chief was a Creek Indian back in the 1800’s,” Bernice interjected. “He lived in what folks now call Shinbone Valley. They claim he could yell so loud folks all the way in Fort Payne could hear him. Claim he had one brown eye and blue eye.”

“Yeah, he weren’t no cigar store Indian, that’s for sure,” Otis said, between bites of his sandwich.

“What do you have in that sandwich, Otis?” Zippy asked.

“Oh, it’s somethin’ my mama makes special for me. It’s goat cheese and coyote meat covered in coon fat gravy.”

“Otis here ain’t no Goat-Man,” Bernice continued, “If anything he’s a Rabbit-Man.

Otis has a photographic memory and in some incomprehensible way he must have picked up the secrets of sequential numbering all by hisself. It’s so beautiful, so precise. His mind shines with a light from another world.”

“What shines from another world?” Zippy asked while scraping more fresh cow biscuit from the bottom of his Cole Hahn loafer while still eyeing Otis’ sandwich.

“His mind. He’s been studying the Fibonacci sequence. That’s where every number is the sum of the preceding two. Somewhere he got his hands on Leonardo Pisano Fibonacci’s book, who is also known as Leonard of Pisa, by Papa John and Luigi Petrocelli, the proprietor of Luigi’s Pizza Parlor and Disco over in Slap Ankle. The name of the book is Liber Abaci. Have you read it? It is a fascinating read, by the way.

Otis watches his rabbits breed. It appeals to his sense of mathematical order. He even has an understanding of axonometry.”

“Axo…? Zippy stuttered.

Max lifted his hand and said, “Never mind Zip.”

Bernice pointed at Otis who sat with a concentrated expression next to the rabbit hutch still eating his sandwich and said, “See? He’s about to say something grown-up wise. Go ahead, Otis, say something.”

“Did you know that rabbits are naturally social and live in groups, Mr. Fly?” Otis said.

“No I don’t. I guess that one slipped by me.”

“They are and rabbits reach sexual maturity after one month and their gestation period is one month. After reaching sexual maturity, female rabbits give birth every month. I know’d ‘cause I watched them.

A female rabbit gives birth to one male rabbit and one female rabbit.

If you put a male and female rabbit in a hutch, how many pairs of rabbits can be produced from that pair in a year if each month each pair begets a new pair and the rabbits don’t die?”

“I don’t know, but that’s fascinating, Otis,” Zippy replied, flicking more fresh cow biscuit from his pant cuff.

“Otis surely isn’t this Goat-Man or monster you are looking for,” Bernice continued. “Otis is a savant, a genius! When he finishes his chores which consist of shoveling cow biscuits and milking goats, he documents these rabbits breeding and using the Fibonacci sequence, he predicts how many rabbits he will have by the end of the year. Every year now for the last ten years he has been exactly right, ‘cept the time a couple of coyotes got into the hutch and ate half the herd. That were a bad year, weren’t it, Otis?”

“It was mama, but I got them coyotes, didn’t I?”

“You sure did son.

How many farmers in rural Alabama know of the Fibonacci sequence, Mr. Fly? Not many. In fact, not many people in the United States know of Leonardo Pisano Fibonacci.”

Leonardo Fibonacci A.K.A. Leonardo D’Pisa - Famous Mathematician

“I think we should be going now,” Max replied, grabbing Zippy Doo by the arm and dragging him away from the rabbit hutch. Thank you for your time.”

“Did you see that black and white rabbit, Max? She is real cute.”

“How do you know it’s a she, Zip.”

Otis accompanied them around the barn to their car, only Otis didn’t bother to navigate around the piles of cow biscuits.

“That’s mighty nice,” Otis said pointing in the direction of the Flymobile and Max’s rifle. “Where’d you get that thing?”

“It’s a Pre-64 Model 1970 Winchester. A collector’s item.”

“I was talking about your car. It sure is ugly What kind is it?”

“It’s a 1958 Oldsmobile 98 Jetaway with Hydra-Matic drive and a 394 cubic inch engine. It’s got electric windows.”

“Nice. Does it have air?”

“Only in the tires,” Zippy replied. “Let’s go, Max. It’s getting late.”

Otis waved as they drove down the dirt road back to highway 24 heading back to Burnt Corn. They heard Cletus yell out, “Y’all drive safe now, ya yeah?” Francis the coon dog didn’t move. He was either sleeping or passed out.

“How much did you pay for that Winchester Rifle, Max?” Zippy asked.

“A little over two grand. As I said, it’s a collector’s gun. Every year it has gone up in price.”

“Where do you store an expensive rifle like that when you aren’t using it?”

“I keep it in a Kade Realtree double-sided foam padded rifle case made of a durable 1200D waterproof material that protects it against rain and wet conditions. The case is specifically designed for scoped rifles.

CX901RC Kade Realtree Xtra Scoped Rifle Case

“Sweet, man, I might have to get one,” Zippy replied.

“You don’t have a rifle, Zip, but they do have a nice case that would fit your .357 Smith and Wesson revolver. Check it out at iadconcepts.com. They have a complete line of ammo bags as well.”

As they pulled onto highway 84 a few miles out of Burnt Corn, Zippy said, “We did it, Max, we solved that Goat-Man mystery, didn’t we?”

“Not so fast, Zippy. We solved this sighting of what was thought to be the Goat-Man. There very well could be a real Goat-Man out there someplace terrorizing innocent people; people just like the folks in Devil’s Holler and Burnt Corn Alabama. We don’t know. We just don’t know. We will have to continue to stay alert for any sightings reported from around the world and periodically check in with Liz Tureen, the Daily Gazette’s investigative reporter. She’s connected to all the news services. But this is what we do, Zip, we are here to protect the good people of Burnt Corn and the neighboring towns here in Alabama.

“I’m hungry,” Zippy said. “Let’s stop at that new eatin’ place that opened in Ankle Scratch. Its called the Smut Eye Grocery, Bait and Fine Dining place. They were advertising on the inside wall of that porta-potty that’s located alongside the highway at the new Burnt Corn Mall and Auto Auction. Wanda said she stopped in one day when nature gave her a call and she couldn’t make it to the office. She said they make a shrimp flavored crack at the Smut Eye that’s to die for.”

Shrimp Flavored Crack - Smut Eye Grocery, Bait & Fine Dining’s Weekly Special

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thelastspeecher · 7 years

Text

Stan Pines, Farmhand - Chapter 8: Crushed

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10 Chapter 11 Chapter 12 Chapter 13 Chapter 14 Chapter 15 Chapter 16 AO3

I decided to post this during my weird hour break between my two morning classes. And I was editing it even as I was putting it into AO3. This chapter has been tweaked a lot. I’ve delayed writing most of this chapter and posting it bc the last scene (which my beta described as cheesy and cute) makes me very nervous for...reasons. You’ll understand why when you read it. But the next chapter, that one is the point of no return.

Anyways, in this chapter, no one is straight and it snows.

September 8, 1972

The phone picked up on the second ring.

“Lute, somethin’ just happened,” Stan said without preamble. Lute sighed.

“Stan, it’s 3 am.”

“Yeah. So?”

“So…never mind, what’s goin’ on?” Lute said idly.

“I just got home.”

“Geez, where were ya? None of the bars in Gumption stay open past one.”

“I was at someone else’s house.”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” Lute said. He now sounded wide awake. “Someone else’s house? Ya can’t mean that-”

“I got laid, man,” Stan whispered, trying to not be overheard by anyone else in the house.

Even though Sally and Mearl are both asleep.

“Nice. Was it that girl, Alyssa?”

“No.”

“Then who?”

“Some biker.”

“Some biker?!”

“Yes. His name’s Jimmy Snakes.”

“Wait. His name?”

“…Yeah.”

“Oh, Lord.” Lute paused. “Wait, there ain’t any bikers in Gumption. At least, none with houses.”

“I wasn’t at his house.”

“Who’s house were ya- never mind. I don’t want to know. Seems to me like this is the sorta thing I could be an accessory to if I know too much.”

“Lute…”

“That’s a interestin’ way to come out,” Lute said.

“What?”

“Yer callin’ me to tell me yer a homosexual, right?”

“No!”

“Stan,” Lute started.

“I’m not homosexual,” Stan protested. There was a sigh over the phone.

“Ya just called to tell me about yer one-night stand with another man,” Lute said in a patient, but slightly irritated voice. “There’s nothin’ wrong with bein’ a homosexual.”

“I’m not, though!” Stan insisted. “I like girls and guys. That’s- that’s not what a homosexual is, is it?” There was a long silence. “Uh, Lute?”

“I heard this word a couple times at school,” Lute said slowly. “Well, it ain’t the most acceptin’ school in the world, but that don’t mean we don’t get all sorts of God’s children here. And a couple of ‘em have used this word to talk ‘bout themselves. ‘Bisexual’.” Stan mouthed the word to himself.

“What does it mean?”

“The folks what use it, they’ve had girlfriends and boyfriends ‘fore. Now, I can’t tell ya how to feel or what words to call yourself, but it seems like that might fit ya.”

“There’s- there’s a word?”

“Yep.” A weight Stan hadn’t known he was carrying lifted from his shoulders.

“There’s a word,” he repeated quietly.

“Yup,” Lute said, tiredness beginning to seep into his voice. “Look, I’d love to chat more with ya, but I’ve got an exam in the mornin’. So I just have one more question fer ya.”

“Yeah?”

“While you were with bikers, ya didn’t get any tattoos you’ll regret later, did ya?”

-----

April 1, 1973

The phone picked up on the first ring.

“Hi, this is Sharon speaking, who’s calling?”

“Angie’s fam’ly,” Ma McGucket replied. “Can we talk to her?”

“Ugh. Yeah, sure.” Sharon covered the mouthpiece, but Stan and Ma and Pa McGucket could hear her talking to Angie. “McBucket, it’s for you.” Angie sighed, softly enough that Stan could barely make out the sound of resignation.

“Thanks, Sharon.”

“Yeah, whatever, just take the damn phone already so that I can go to class.” There was shuffling over the line.

“Hello?” Angie said hesitantly.

“Happy birthday, baby girl!” Ma McGucket said.

“Can’t believe yer finally an adult, junebug,” Pa McGucket added on.

“Yeah, all the things they already said,” Stan said.

“Y’all called me?!” Angie said happily. “Ya didn’t need to!”

“Of course we did! It’s yer birthday,” Ma McGucket said.

“What’s up with yer roommate?” Stan asked. “She seemed like a bi- uh…” Stan trailed off as he caught Ma McGucket’s look. “A…bit mean,” he finished weakly.

“Sharon? We ain’t gettin’ along very well,” Angie replied. “I’m thinkin’ I’ll need to look fer a new roommate soon.”

“That’s a shame,” Pa McGucket said. “Why?”

“Don’t rightly know,” Angie said. Pa McGucket checked his watch.

“Shoot! I got to get goin’. Sorry, junebug.”

“It’s okay, Pa.”

“I have to do some stuff fer my teachin’ job,” Ma McGucket added.

“Bye, Ma, Pa,” Angie said.

“Bye, sweetie. Happy birthday.”

“So I guess it’s just you and me, Stan,” Angie said. Stan turned the phone off speaker and put it up to his ear.

“Yep. Nice to hear you soundin’ normal again, by the way.”

“Whattaya mean?”

“Last coupla times we’ve called, you haven’t sounded like yourself,” Stan said. Angie scoffed.

“Yeah, right.”

“I figured out what it was. You’ve been droppin’ yer accent at school, haven’t ya?”

“What?! No, I would never do that! I’m proud to be southern,” Angie said defensively.

“Don’t bother lying to me,” Stan said. Angie huffed.

“Fine. Yer right. It’s just- there’s so many snooty rich folks here, and they kept messin’ with me ‘cause of my accent. It was the only way to get ‘em off my back.”

“And that’s why you’ve been actin’ so weird at college?”

“Part of it, yeah.”

“Is the other part the reason yer roommate hates you?”

“I don’t know why Sharon decided to-”

“Angie, seriously. Yer not a good liar. So what’s the real reason you’re gonna need to get a new roommate?” Stan asked. “You guys got along really well at first.” Angie hesitated. “C’mon, you can tell me.”

“I sometimes forget that my folks ain’t most people,” she said softly. “That they’re more acceptin’ and understandin’ than the average person.”

“What are ya gettin’ at?”

“Sharon saw me kissin’ a girl and blew her gasket,” Angie said in a rush. Stan’s jaw dropped.

“Whoa whoa whoa. You kissed a girl?”

“…Yes.”

“Why?”

“‘Cause I could? And Hannah’s so pretty. And smart. She’s in my chemistry class, y’know.”

“Are you dating?”

“We haven’t really moved past the initial kiss,” Angie said awkwardly. “Sharon walked into the room and yelled at us, so that kind of ruined the mood.”

“That is a hell of a mood killer.”

“But maybe it’s a good thing that Sharon saw. I mean, I don’t want a roommate like Sharon, who hates folks what aren’t the usual kind of person. And this way, I can get an apartment or somethin’. Maybe with that person who I met last semester.”

“Marley?”

“Yeah! The only downside of roomin’ with Marley is that they sometimes smell like spiders.”

“Still usin’ ‘they’, huh?”

“I’m too nervous to ask if Marley’s a boy or girl!” Angie said insistently.

“Hey, I ain’t judgin’ ya.”

“Don’t know if I believe that.”

“Anyways, are ya excited to come home for the summer?��

“Yes! Bein’ ‘round all these snooty folks is so drainin’. I’m ready to come back to Gumption.”

“Good. I mean, it’s not like I’ve missed ya or anything, but it’ll be nice to have ya back,” Stan said gruffly. Angie laughed.

“Yer a funny man, Stanley Pines. Don’t bother tryin’ to hide it, I know yer a softie.” There was some noise on her end. “Oh! That’s Hannah, at the door. I should get it.”

“Do that. Take her on a nice date or somethin’, too.”

“Stan!”

“Hey, I’m just tryin’ to help ya out. Bye, Angie.”

“Bye, Stan.”

-----

November 18, 1973

Loud knocking on his door woke Stan up.

“Who is it?” he grumbled sleepily.

“Angie.”

“Why?”

“I’ve got a lot of Gucklings out here that all want to see the new foal, an’ I want to see her, too,” Angie replied. Stan sat up.

What’s a Guckling? Wait, that’s what the McGuckets call their kids, right?

“All right, all right, gimme a sec,” Stan replied, fumbling out of bed and pulling on the clothes he’d worn yesterday. He opened the door, and as she’d said, Angie was standing in the hallway, surrounded by a small crowd of young McGuckets.

“Howdy, Stan!” the Gucklings said, more or less together. Stan squinted at them.

“Did ya practice that?”

“That ain’t important,” the oldest of the Gucklings, a girl with red hair and glasses too large for her face said. “What’s important is that there’s a filly what we haven’t seen yet.”

“Yeah, okay, come on then. Follow me.” The Gucklings cheered as they followed him outside. On the way to the barn, multiple children got close enough to Stan that they stepped on the backs of his heels. The fourth time this happened, Angie intervened.

“Gucklings, ya know the rules. Don’t nip at folks’ feet. It ain’t proper.”

“We’re just excited ‘bout seein’ the lil horsie is all,” the oldest Guckling, who had apparently been chosen as their spokesperson, said.

“Heatherbelle, it don’t matter,” Angie said firmly. “Take a step back.”

“No point,” Stan said. He opened the barn door. “We’re here.” The Gucklings poured into the barn eagerly.

“Gucklings, don’t crowd ‘round the foal, okay?” Angie called. “‘Member, be nice to the animals!” She winced as one of her cousins knocked over a pitchfork. “Stan, ya might want to go-”

“On it,” Stan said, already moving through the crowd of children to the stall where Daisy and her foal were. He stopped in front of it. “Okay, first off, some rules. No one goes in the stall except fer me and Angie.”

“Aww,” the Gucklings whined.

“Second, don’t make any loud noises.” Stan beckoned Angie over. She moved carefully amidst the sea of small children, picking up a few and setting them down. Once Angie had joined him in front of the stall, Stan resumed talking. “Third, I don’t want to hear people smack-talkin’ what I named the foal.”

“What did ya name it?” one of the younger McGuckets, a blonde girl named Gidget, asked.

“Staniel.”

“Staniel?” Angie asked.

“Yeah. What’s wrong with the name?”

“Fer one thing, I thought it was a filly.”

“So? I was there when she was born, I get to name it. Your fam’ly’s rules,” Stan said stubbornly. Angie sighed.

“Fair enough. A horse givin’ birth ain’t the nicest thing in the world to watch, after all.”

“Auntie Angie, when do we get to see the filly?” Layla asked.

“Right now,” Stan replied, opening the door to the stall. He and Angie blocked the Gucklings from entering. The Gucklings cooed at the sight of Daisy and the new foal.

“Stan, ya didn’t mention she was a perlino,” Angie said softly. Stan looked at her. She was gazing at Daisy and Staniel with wide, adoring eyes.

“What’s a perlino?”

“The kind of colorin’ Staniel has,” Angie replied, moving into the stall and stroking her horse.

“I’ve been callin’ it a reverse palomino,” Stan said. Angie shook her head.

“Stan, ya really don’t know much ‘bout horses.” She wrapped an arm around Daisy’s neck and kissed her. “Good work, girl. She’s beautiful,” she whispered to her horse. Daisy nickered in response. Stan smiled faintly at Angie’s kind-heartedness.

“Checkin’ on yer grandchild, huh?” a voice interrupted. Stan and Angie turned. At some point, Lute had joined the Gucklings still crowding around the stall. Angie frowned.

“Grandchild? Whattaya mean, Lute?”

“Well, Staniel over there is Hardtack and Daisy’s foal.”

“So?”

“Hardtack is Stan’s, Daisy is yours. Therefore, Staniel’s yer grandchild,” Lute explained. Angie rolled her eyes.

“Ya don’t know what yer talkin’ ‘bout, Lute.”

“Sure I do.”

“I think ya just got bucked offa Tuesday a few too many times,” Angie said dismissively, returning to the front of the stall and punching Lute on the arm. She and Lute walked away. The Gucklings followed them.

Stan watched them leave, a warm feeling spreading throughout his chest.

-----

December 13, 1973

Stan grumbled in frustration as he tried on the cowboy hat he’d gotten for his 18th birthday from the McGuckets. He huffed at his reflection, dissatisfied.

This ain’t working. Lute appeared in the mirror behind him.

“Hey! The bathroom’s ocupado, McGucket.”

“Ya know what yer doin’, right?” Lute said, ignoring him. Stan sighed.

“What?”

“Yer puttin’ blankets on the horse ‘til ya can’t tell it’s ugly no more.”

“Oh, so now I’m ugly?”

“It’s a sayin’, Stan. It means yer tryin’ to cover up somethin’ so that folks can’t see it. In this case, it’s yer red hair.”

“What’s yer point?” Stan asked tiredly.

“Ya don’t like havin’ red hair, fair enough. You’d rather have yer brown hair again.”

“Yeah…”

“I can help ya.”

“Really?” Stan turned, so that he was no longer talking to Lute’s reflection. “And how exactly are ya gonna do that? Even those damn geniuses we’re related to couldn’t figure somethin’ out.” Lute grinned. He held up a razor.

“Just got to use this on yer hair.” Stan clamped his hands down over his head.

“No. Uh-uh. You are not gonna shave me!”

“Oh, come on! It’ll solve the problem! Yer hair’ll grow back brown.” Lute got a pensive look on his face. “Unless Ford’s weird concoction was strong enough to make ya a redhead fer life.”

“No shaving! It’ll wash out, Ford said so. Now, get outta the bathroom, I gotta take a piss.” Stan shoved the much smaller McGucket out of the room and closed the door. He looked at his redheaded reflection.

It’s not that bad, is it? He picked up the cowboy hat, which Lute had knocked onto the floor at some point during their conversation. Stan carefully put it on. Nope. It’s worse. He slammed his head onto the bathroom counter and groaned loudly.

“The razor’s still in there, if ya want to use it!” Lute shouted through the bathroom door.

“Go away, Lute!”

“Fine.” Stan listened carefully, making sure he heard Lute walk away. Once Lute was actually gone, he sighed heavily.

“It’s pointless. There’s no fixin’ it ‘fore Angie gets back,” he told himself.

Why do I care about getting my hair back to normal before she gets back? No, I know why. It’s because my stupid knucklehead of a heart decided to make me have a crush on someone who probably only thinks of me as a brother. Because I turned her down once already! He groaned and slammed his head down on the counter again. God, is this how Angie felt? This is awful! No wonder she acted so weird around me!

“If only the people who would be willing to talk to me about girls weren’t related to her,” Stan muttered. “There’s no point in callin’ Ford…he doesn’t understand girls at all. I have to decide on my own what to do ‘bout this.”

Should I make a move?

-----

December 15, 1973

Stan turned up the radio, drumming his fingers against the steering wheel to the beat. He was almost to Little Rock, and Angie’s plane would be landing at the airport there any minute now. A grin spread across his face.

God, it’s been only two weeks, but it feels like forever since I’ve seen her. He could picture her perfectly: the bright caramel-colored hair, the sparkle in her intelligent blue eyes, her innate gracefulness, and her boundless enthusiasm and energy. Last time we heard from her, she was nervous about her finals. Hope they went well. He hummed along with the radio eagerly. Can’t wait to see her face again, give her a hug, walk around the farm, sit down and chat. Stan had a sudden image of sitting on the pasture fence, Angie next to him. He had an arm wrapped around her shoulders, and they both leaned in…

Stan suddenly jerked the steering wheel roughly, swerving the Stanleymobile. He regained control of the car, panting slightly. He checked his mirrors.

No one else is on this road. Good. He swallowed. Chill, Stanley. Don’t think about how pretty she is, or the way her eyes light up when she starts talking about salamanders, or her cute voice that she hates so much. He groaned. Shit.

-----

January 3, 1974

“Stan, could ya help me out?” Angie asked, opening the front door.

“Uh, I s’pose. Whattaya need help with?” Stan asked, getting up from the couch. Angie blew a stray strand of hair out of her face.

“I’m s’posed to take down the mistletoe, but I’m too darn short to reach the one on the porch.”

“Comin’.”

“Thanks. And please hurry, would ya? It’s cold out here!”

Stan joined Angie on the porch. The screen door slammed shut behind him. Their breath misted into clouds in the wintry night. Angie shivered, hugging herself in an attempt to stay warm. Stan couldn’t help but notice the way her eyes glimmered in the dim porch light, and how her hair seemed to catch the crisp moonlight just beyond the porch lamp’s reach.

“It ain’t that cold,” Stan said idly, stuffing his hands into his pockets. Angie rolled her eyes. “There ain’t even snow on the ground! And durin’ the holidays!”

“That’s how it is some years. We don’t always have a white Christmas.”

“So, where is it?” Stan asked finally, after a few moments of silence.

“Where is what?”

“The mistletoe.”

“Oh, right. It’s over there.” Angie pointed at a bunch of mistletoe, dangling from the eaves. He walked over to it.

“Hmm.”

�� “What?”

“I can get it down,” he said slowly. “But it’d be a shame.”

“Why?” Angie asked, joining him underneath the mistletoe.

“I didn’t see anyone kiss under it. Takin’ it down now would be a waste.” Angie looked at him suspiciously.

“What are ya gettin’ at?”

“I’m gettin’ at this.” Stan moved closer toward her. Instinctively, picking up on his body language and a subconscious desire of her own, Angie leaned in as well, and they met in the middle.

As they kissed, the first snow began to fall.

#I'm gonna scream this chapter makes me so nervous #Stanley McGucket AU #Stanley Pines #Gravity Falls OC #Gravity Falls #fanfiction #Stan Pines Farmhand #my writing #my stuff #speecher speaks

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