#they would compromise you the second it seemed like someone else was going to propose
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listen. listen. not to be insane but bridgerton au with stsg...they would be awful.
#bee chats#like...#i can't articulate it but they would be AWFUL#they would compromise you the second it seemed like someone else was going to propose
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The Healer 4
Summary: Reader is captured by Hydra again.
Warnings: Blood, torture, needles, gore, angsty stuff. Major character death (temporary)
Notes: Writing this has helped get me out of a stretch of writer’s block. I hope to be more active going forward. If y’all have any requests, be they new stories entirely, or continuations of existing ones, don’t hesitate to send an ask!
Gn!reader
Words: 4,336
You were just starting to get a feel for how this team operated. Learning how to triage and when to conserve your strength. Dr. Cho was interested to learn more, so you often hung out in the medbay with her. She taught you how to operate almost all the medical equipment, and together you had healed a whole range of injuries. Gunshots were common, but they caused a lot of blood loss, making them hard to fix. Burns were surprisingly difficult, seeing as the damaged tissue was unlikely to comply with the process.
On most missions, you’d sit on the jet with a com in one ear, and the injured would be brought to you. This worked really well for large-scale stuff, where there were SHIELD agents working in tandem with the Avengers. Today, you were paired with an Avenger to go inside the area.
“Now, Y/n,” Natasha said when the plan was proposed, “If you don’t feel comfortable being back in a HYDRA base, we can sort something else out.”
“Nobody’s going to force you to go,” Steve added.
“But?” You prompted.
“But it’s the best way to ensure everyone comes back from the mission.”
There was a moment where they seemed to hold their breath, and you realized that they were more worried than you.
“Yeah,” You said, “I’m fine with going in with one of y’all.”
“Thank you so much.” Nat said. Their fears were unfounded. You knew you could operate just fine with the rest of them. The funny thing is, none of them could heal as fast as you, so the worry should have been reversed.
Today was your fifth mission with them, the first time you went in with them. They were tipped off about a small new base, in a strategically compromising place. Their plan was to wipe it out before it became too much of a problem.
You and Natasha were dropped off near the southern entrance, and instructed to wait till Steve drew attention at the western one. It was only the three of you on this mission, as it wasn’t that high-stakes.
Not too long after, the order was sent out, and Natasha cracked open the vault-like door. She took a few steps inside and waved for you to follow her. She took you through a descending maze of tunnels. You kept going, even after Steve’s com went silent. Even through the seemingly endless waves of HYDRA agents.
As the tunnels kept twisting and turning, a realization dawned on you. The maps were wrong, this place was much larger than anyone had thought.
“Y/n?” Natasha turned to you. Her voice was strained. It felt strange to hear someone speak in such a place, especially after hours of silence broken only by footsteps, water dripping down the damp walls, and an occasional scuffle.
“Yes?” You replied.
“I’m afraid that we must now shift our priorities to getting ourselves out.”
“But what about Steve?” You asked.
“I’m sorry, kid.” She said, “But we have to leave him.”
“No… No, we have to go find him! He wouldn't just leave us if we were missing! He could be alive out there. If they caught him-”
“Stop!” Her voice ricocheted around the hall, ripping you out of your spiraling thoughts. For a second the word hung in the air, waiting to be followed up.
“Stop.” She repeated, her voice much quieter now, almost pleading. “I know you were close with Steve, and this can’t be easy for you, but we have to assume he is dead. We are both worn out. Even if we were to find him, we would be of no help. I need you to focus on right here, right now.”
“Okay.” You wiped your eyes. Natasha knelt down next to you to get to eye level.
“I’m sorry for yelling,” She said.
“It’s okay.” You murmured, avoiding eye contact. “It’s not easy for you, either.”
“It’s not, no, but that doesn’t mean I can yell at you.” She said, “Do you think we can keep going or do you need a hug first?”
One hug later, you were retracing your steps along the cold tunnel. It was now oddly quiet. Like the walls dampened any sound, or the darkness swallowed it.
“Natasha Romanoff, put your weapon down.” Natasha tightened her grip as a man emerged from the shadows. He was a sharply-dressed, impossibly smug, older man. Obviously HYDRA.
“Nope.” She aimed it at his head. “You're gonna stay right there, and tell me how you're still alive."
“Miss Romanoff, I suggest you drop the pistol.” Dozens more HYDRA agents materialized out of the darkness in front of and behind you.
“Half of my men have their aim set for them,” He gestured to you, “You and I both know even they can’t heal a shot through the skull.” He was right, and she was worn out after walking and fighting for hours. Finally she relented and dropped the gun. Immediately, an agent with dark hair stepped forward and wrangled her into handcuffs. She resisted a little, but one reminder that your life was hanging in the balance put that to an end.
The dark haired agent then opened a small briefcase, and removed a syringe and vial. He filled it slowly and injected it into Natasha’s inner arm. She winced for a moment, then her eyes rolled back and she lost consciousness.
You gasped.
“Not to worry.” The smug agent said, “This is simply a precaution. She will wake up shortly after we relocate her.”
“Who are you?” Your voice wavered.
“I am Alexander Pierce.” He said, “But you will only need to address me as 'sir.' Rumlow here is going to sedate you as well.”
“No!” You managed to scramble a few feet back before someone grabbed you by your shoulder, and dragged you towards Rumlow, who had now filled another syringe.
As you lost consciousness, Pierce spoke to you.
“It seems we have quite a bit of re-training to do.”
Once again, you found yourself waking up in a cold, dark cell. You opened your eyes, and the room spun violently. You curled and uncurled your fingers as you slowly started getting your senses back. After a few minutes of staring at the ceiling, they all seemed to be back, though the room still spun.
A man was walking down the hall. When he peered in and saw you were awake, he swung the cell door open, and grabbed you by your forearm.
“Up.” He said bluntly, “This way.”
You tried your best to walk, but despite your efforts, your legs refused to cooperate, and you ended up being dragged behind him. The cold floor was almost a relief. It was a jarring start back to reality, and helped you to fully regain consciousness. By the time you reached your destination, you were walking behind the man.
“Sit here.” He ordered. “And wait.”
The room was blank, only a small drain in the center, and a wooden chair bolted to the floor to the right of it, and a rolling cart filled with shining tools to the left. You quickly slipped back into the familiar routine of following commands, and sat. Instinctively, you attempted to make yourself as small as possible, shrinking down as much as the chair would allow.
Not a minute ticked by before the door swung open again. In walked Alexander Pierce, followed closely by Rumlow.
“Ah, Y/n.” Pierce said, “I was beginning to think that we’d given you a little too much sedative. I need you to tell me about the Avengers.”
“But they’re my friends,” You meekly replied, “They loved me.”
With one swift movement he snatched a knife from the cart and plunged it straight through the palm of your hand. Your eyes widened in surprise and more than a little pain, but you didn’t make a noise.
“Y/n,” He sighed, “This was all a test. And I’m sorry to say that you failed. You betrayed HYDRA the very first chance you got.”
Blood dripped down the arm of the chair. Your hand started to heal around the knife, and Pierce noticed this.
“For your betrayal, you must be punished.” He wrenched the knife out of your hand, and stabbed it back through. The skin was fresh and tender, which made it hurt all the more. Still, you choked back any reaction.
“Sir,” Another HYDRA agent entered the room, “I’m sorry to interrupt, but the Captain is awake.”
“I’ll go speak with him.” Pierce sighed and turned to Rumlow, “Rumlow, could you take over here? It seems I have more important matters to deal with.”
“Happily, sir.”
Before he left, Pierce yanked the knife from your palm. You held pressure on the wound, trying to slow the bleeding. A moment later, you removed your hand, and saw the skin knitting itself back together.
“That’s a neat trick.” Rumlow said. “Hope you’re good at it. When I’m done, a small scratch will be the least of your concern.”
He pulled his arm back and landed a blow to the side of your head.
Hours later, even with your increased healing, you were bloody and broken. Ribs cracked, probably a concussion, four fingernails ripped off, and Rumlow had done something to your arm which made it bend the wrong way. Blood and vomit trickled into the drain. Sweat beaded down your face. All you wanted to do was slip into the darkness, but you still fought to keep your eyes open.
“Bring them back to their cell.” Rumlow ordered.
“But sir, shouldn’t the medic–?” He protested.
“They’ll be fine.” Rumlow cut him off. And so you were dragged back through the halls, and thrown into the cell once more. Now that the drugs were mostly out of your system, you could take a look around the room. It had a cot pushed against one wall, and a joint toilet/sink combo on the other. The concrete walls were rough, and the only light came from a yellow bulb down the hall.
You lugged yourself to the cot and wrapped the thin blanket around your shoulders before flopping over. The coarse fabric was like a potato sack, but it was better than lying directly on the hard bunk. Most of your injuries had stopped bleeding by now, and the rest of them could be dealt with in the morning. For now, resting was the most important thing you could do.
It felt like your eyes had just drifted closed, when a uniformed man rattled the bars, waking you up. As you opened your eyes, familiar pain washed over you. You walked over to the cell door, only a little groggy and off-balance. The agent guided you across the hall and up a staircase. He led you into a room, with an unconscious Natasha, tied to a chair. Alexander Pierce was waiting patiently beside her.
“Here we have Ms. Romanoff.” Pierce said to you, “She used to work for HYDRA, but she decided to turn her back on us in favor of the Avengers.”
You nodded. You already knew that Nat had escaped the Red Room, having bonded with her over shared stories of HYDRA’s brutality.
“I need you to know what happens when someone betrays HYDRA.” He motioned to the man who escorted you there. He was now holding a gun to the back of Nat’s head. Pierce crouched down in front of you, taking your hands in his. He was now at eye level, and you could see the pure evil in his eyes.
“She will not wake up.” Pierce said, looking you straight in the eye, “Ever.”
Hearing that, something snapped. Something deep inside you gave way. Years of pain came bubbling to the surface, along with something new. A novel emotion, one you hadn't felt before.
Anger.
It coursed through your veins and even a decade of HYDRA’s conditioning couldn’t hold it back. The energy you felt, the glow when you healed someone prickled at your skin, but it was colder, more painful.
Suddenly, Pierce recoiled, clutching his hand. A hole went straight through his palm, an identical wound to the one he gave you earlier. You lunged towards the man threatening Nat, and snatched his weapon. Without any hesitation, you shot him. He crumpled to the floor.
Then you turned to Pierce.
“Pierce,” You said, pointedly not calling him ‘sir.’
“There has been something I’ve been dying to try. Turns out it works. Can you guess what it is?”
Pierce scrambled backwards, still holding his hand, trying to stop the bleeding.
“That’s right,” You said through gritted teeth, “I gave you back the injury you so graciously gifted me. Except, I don’t need a weapon.” With that, you crouched next to him, mirroring the movement he had done just moments before. You closed your eyes, recalling an extra-painful gunshot wound you’d healed, you touched Pierce’s arm. The cold flash of pain only lasted a split second for you, but as you opened your eyes, you saw the pain and terror on his face, and knew it worked.
You had successfully transferred an injury to someone. Standing, you looked at his shirt, which blood was starting to stain.
“Pierce,” You said, “You still have a few seconds to do something good in your life before you bleed out. I just need to know two things. How do I wake Natasha up, and where is Steve?”
“I’ll…” He sputtered, “I-I’ll never t-tell.”
“That’s too bad. I guess I’ll just have to figure it out myself.”
A moment passed, then Pierce wheezed two final words.
“Hail HYDRA.” Then he slumped back against the wall. Just to be sure, you unloaded the rest of the clip into his head before walking back to Nat’s chair.
Finally, you had a moment to take in the room, you saw she was hooked up to an IV of what you assumed was a sedative. You carefully removed the needle, and took a quick assessment of her state.
She was bloody and bruised, with a nasty laceration on her calf, which was probably going to make walking hard, but ultimately not anything she couldn’t handle. You desperately wanted to take it from her, but decided against it since you were already overloaded with healing your own injuries.
It felt so strange. She was the person who came and rescued you from HYDRA, and now she was tied up in one of their bases. Every day, Nat was so strong. Always protecting you, making sure you felt welcome and safe, and helping you through the memories of HYDRA.
The adrenaline from discovering part of your powers was still flowing through you, and you managed to push the spiraling anxiety down. After all, you had to get Nat out of here.
She stirred slightly.
“Hey Nat. Can you hear me?” You asked, undoing the cuffs holding her wrists to the chair, “You’re gonna be fine. We’re getting out of here.”
“Mhm…” She murmured, “Pierce?”
“Don’t worry. He can’t hurt you, me, or anyone else ever again.”
“Steve?” She asked, opening her eyes, but quickly shutting them again.
“I don’t know where he is, sorry.”
“We’ll find him…” She sighed. Natasha opened her eyes – slowly this time – and looked at you.
“Oh, little зайчик [bunny], when did you get this?” She reached out and touched the side of your face, which you realized still had dried blood on it from yesterday.
“You’ve been asleep for a long time.” You replied, “If I had to guess, a whole day has passed since we got here.”
“That’s good,” She said. You looked at her, and the confusion on your face was clear, so she explained.
“If we don’t get back today, the others will know something went wrong…”
“And they’ll come get us!” You filled in the rest.
“Exactly.”
The two of you stayed there for a few more minutes as Natasha fully regained consciousness. You filled her in on the few events between being caught and now.
“Yesterday really sucked, but I did overhear something good.” You said, “Pierce was going to interrogate me or something, but he had to leave when one of his goons came in and told him ‘the Captain’ was awake. So – as of yesterday at least – Cap’s alive! Isn’t that awesome?”
Nat started to nod, but stopped.
“Dizzy, right?” You asked.
“Whatever that stuff was,” She said, “It was strong. How long did you say I was out for, a whole day?”
“Yeah.” You nodded, “I think they dosed you with way more than Steve and I. They didn’t really care if they gave you too much, since they were planning on killing you right here, just a few minutes ago.”
“How’d you stop them? No offense, you’re not too good at hand-to-hand combat.”
“I…” You started, not exactly sure how to explain, “So… I can take injuries from people, you know that, and I was thinking about that a lot, and I thought ‘Hey, I can take them, what if I can give injuries to people?’ I had no way of testing this, because I didn’t want to hurt anyone. Today I finally got a chance to try it out.”
“I’m impressed,” She said, looking around the room at both Pierce and the unnamed guard’s bodies.
“I bet someone’s gonna get worried about Pierce disappearing.” You said, “We should get moving.”
“Mhm,” Nat agreed, “Help me stand up.”
At first, she was a bit wobbly, but she was fine so long as she could lean on you.
“See if either of them have weapons.” Nat said.
“I already snagged his,” You motioned to the guard. You had pocketed Pierce’s pistol, which you passed to Nat. She probably wouldn’t be very helpful, since she was half-draped across your shoulders. It was better than nothing, though. Her being armed made you feel a little safer.
Just as you were starting towards the door, you heard the muted sounds of raised voices and fighting.
“Stay here,” You said.
“Are you sure?” Nat questioned.
“I can handle this.” You reassured her, and she lowered herself back into the chair. You poked your head out of the room quietly. All the way down the hall, you could see half a dozen men fighting Cap. His movements were sloppy, so he was probably still under some form of sedative.
Rushing down the hall, you got there just as the HYDRA agents started to get the upper hand. Once again channeling your anger, you extended a hand to the arm of a tall agent, and conjured an injury you’d healed before: a broken arm. For a split second you felt a flash of pain in your own arm, then you felt the bones of the agent’s arm splinter and snap, as if they were tearing themselves apart from the inside.
He yelled and turned, swinging at you with this other arm. You ducked and swiped at his torso, transferring another injury. This time red quickly started seeping through his shirt and he collapsed.
By now the other HYDRA agents had noticed, and one approached you with a knife. This might have posed a bit of a problem, seeing as you had to touch him to utilize your powers.
“Hey kid,” He said, smiling strangely, “I don’t wanna hurt you. If you just–” Before he could say any more you lunged towards him, and threw all your weight into it, knocking him over. Your hands touched either side of his head as you recalled a nasty head injury Stark had once needed help healing.
As you were inflicting brain damage, he stabbed you. While he did manage to puncture a lung, it was a futile attempt at escape. You simply transferred the knife wound to him. His breath sputtered, and he gasped for breath.
Rolling off of the agent, you saw Steve was able to take out three of the others. You walked through the hall – now littered with bodies – towards Steve. He still looked off-balance, although not that bad now that adrenaline was pumping through his veins. Super soldier serum was helping with the sedative.
“Thank God you’re alright, Y/n.” He said, “Is Nat oka–”
A gunshot reverberated through the hall, and a HYDRA agent that had slipped behind Steve unnoticed fell to the ground. Both you and Steve’s attention quickly snapped to where the shot had come from. Leaning against the door frame, gun in hand, was Nat.
“You missed one,” She said.
“Thanks,” You said, “Now, does anyone know how to get out of here?”
“I remember the path I came in through,” Said Steve, “But there’s quite a few HYDRA agents that route.”
“I’ll be okay,” Nat said, still more than a little loopy. “We’ll figure it out.”
“Yeah,” You said, the concern slipping into your voice, “How about you two sit down? I’ll grab these guy’s weapons, while you rest a bit.”
They put up a little resistance, but ultimately slid down the wall to rest. Your mind raced as you took inventory of the supplies you had. How were you meant to get two semi-sedated adults and yourself out of here with only a few handguns, a pocket knife, and a whole base of HYDRA agents after you?
You glanced at the two woozy fighters slumped against the wall. Even in their doped-up state, they were bandaging each other up.
“Hey Cap,” You said, walking over, “Are you just about ready?”
“Yeah.” He said, “Right after I finish dealing with this.” He gestured towards Nat’s lower leg. Steve was almost done wrapping it up using a torn strip of a HYDRA uniform.
“Can you support Nat while we move?” You asked.
“I could, but then it would be up to you to fight anyone we encounter.”
“Don’t you worry about that.” Nat laughed.
You simply shrugged him off, “Just show me the way, and we’ll be out in no time.”
You helped Steve up, and he helped Natasha to her feet. Nat was still rather wobbly, but Steve adapted quickly. The three of you hobbled along, with Steve occasionally stopping to readjust his hold on Nat or to give directions.
The first time HYDRA agents stumbled across your trio, it was at a junction between two tunnels. Steve nearly dropped Nat in an attempt to throw himself between you and them. By the time he got into position, you had already killed them.
“How did…?” He started.
“I discovered some new aspects of my powers.” You replied. Making a mental note to check up with you back at the Tower, Steve nodded towards the left hallway.
“It’s this way.” He said. Onwards you went, only encountering a few more groups, and you dealt with them as swiftly as the first. Gradually the walls became less moldy, and the air less musty.
“We’re coming up on the exit,” Steve said, rounding a corner.
“Be careful, we should expect some–” Nat started, but was cut off by the sound of gunfire. Quickly you smushed back around the corner, against the wall, but not quick enough. Steve wasn’t hit. Neither were you.
But Nat.
Nat didn’t look good.
A bullet had ripped through the left side of her chest. Her skin was growing paler by the second. She didn’t even get to finish her sentence.
Not thinking in the slightest, you immediately started healing her. Steve tried to push you away, you’d never healed someone this far gone. Even your healing capabilities had limits. Your rage fueled you, blinding you to the pain and stupidity of trying to heal someone who was already dead.
Life slowly came back to Natasha. Her eyes flickered open, filling with horror at seeing blood now seeping through your shirt.
“Y/n,” Steve said, dread dripping from his words, “What did you do?”
“I took the injury.” You gasped, coughing up blood, “There wasn’t anything else I could do.” You stood up, and turned the corner straight into the sights of countless HYDRA agents.
You were at death’s door, and only rage kept you on your feet. Only anger allowed you to extend your powers over the hall full of cruel, evil people. Only wrath fueled the transfer of this horrible pain from your chest to them instead.
With a sickening thunk, everyone in the hall fell to the floor, bearing identical wounds across their chests. A moment later, you lost balance. Pain radiated from where your head hit the concrete beneath you, but at least you had gotten rid of the hole in your chest. Distantly, you saw Steve rush towards you, but you blacked out before he reached you.
A dull ache.
That’s all it was.
Distant and floating in an endless void, the only thing tethering you to your body was a dull ache in your head.
Well, that and you could hear voices.
They weren’t talking to you, but still you listened. They were worried. Then the rumble of an engine covered what little you could hear, and you slipped back into the endless void.
You opened your eyes, more than a little confused as to how you got here. You knew where you were, it was obviously the medbay. Moonlight filtered through the windows over the machines that beeped around you. Annoying wires and tubes poked into the skin of your arm.
You disconnected the machines from you, carefully following the proper protocols so as to not set off any blaring alarms. It was night, after all. Nobody wanted to wake up to the thought of a medical emergency.
Next to you there was another bed and an armchair. Both of them were occupied by familiar faces. Nat was in the bed, while Steve seemed to have fallen asleep while reading. A smile grew across your face.
You padded over to Natasha, and curled up beside her.
She was in for a surprise when she woke up. A welcome one, but a surprise nonetheless.
Part 3, Hair (Medium/Long), Hair (Buzzed)
#marvel#writing#marvel x teen!reader#avengers#avengers fan fic#avengers x teen!reader#avengers x y/n#avengersxreader#avengers x reader#hydra#marvel fan fiction#gn!reader
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Part 1: theroies about how the season will go(as well as how closely it'll follow the book). When the Estate scheme will come to close. Theories about how Pen and Eloise will make up.
Part 2: as for crack theories, give me as much as you want. Lol I live on crack theories.
Part 1:
Nicola did say that s3 follows the book. So I figure there’s gonna a bit of tweaking to fit the show more and bc they’re younger and we already have 2 seasons of backstory for them. So my guess is that the first half of episode one(maybe a little more) will be of Pen avoiding Colin/Colin trying to get her to talk to him. Then the second half of episode one will be the whole lessons deal/start of them. Episode two we’ll see more lessons happening(maybe it starting to work on Colin a bit). And we’ll see Pen trying to flirt at balls, and dancing. With Colin starting to feeling a type of way about it, but can’t figure out why. By the end of episode two, maybe the beginning of episode 3, they’ll have their first kiss. And which will probably lead to Colin wanting to apologize to her for letting that happen. But Pen is probably gonna be avoiding him again (bc she won’t be sure what that meant or will be scared that Colin might do something bc he feels obligated to). Colin might end up feeling jealous/upset bc Pen is talking to everyone but him. Episode four will be the carriage scene(this is coming from Nicola posting about carriages around the time they were filming that episode, as well as people who were there mentioning it lol but I can’t remember 🤷♀️)/proposal depending on when in the episode the carriage scene happens. Episode 5 will be the wedding/ honeymoon bliss for a bit. Then everything after that will be blackmail(if that plotline will be a thing), QC/LW drama. Ending with Colin announcing to world how much he loves Pen/saying she’s LW(although they might not reveal that Pen is LW and have her keep with it or they’ll be no reveal but Pen still decides to stop being LW and someone else picks up where she left off)
I think the Estate thing will be cleared up and over with in s3 epilogue. Mostly bc I can’t see them adding a pregnancy plotline in s3 with everything else that’ll be going on.
I 100% believe they Pen and Eloise will make up before polin gets married. Most likely before polin gets engaged(possibly after Eloise finds out). My favorite theory that I’ve come up with is that Eloise will end up catching Polin in the carriage(lol since they love to have one sibling catching another in a compromising position) and runs off. Pen ends up following her and they end up yelling at each other, which turns to them laughing and then finally sitting down and talking everything out.
Part 2:
In s3 we find out that Phillipa had gotten pregnant and had a son(lol I just think it would really funny that even though it seems more likely that Polin will get it only for the writers to like nope it’s Phillipa who gets it).
Around the end of s2 Colin figured out that Pen is LW. And he’s surprised that he isn’t upset but actually impressed by it.
We find out that somewhere after the end of QC Lady Danbury and Lord Ledger restarted their love affair.
#asks#answered#bridgerton season three#polin#theories#crack theories#I’m only putting 3 crack theories so this ask doesn’t get to long#lol and to stop myself from going on and on#I’m the same way with regular theories as well#ps anon if you have any theories you wish to share regular or crack pls feel free to
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Dream SMP Recap (June 18/2021) - The Outpost Conflict
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I’m trying out a bit of a new format today! Let me know which one you prefer, or if there’s anything you’d like to suggest!
Maybe it will stick, maybe it won’t, but since a lot happened today, this recap is less edited-down than usual and it’s put beneath a cut with some extra labels for each big “section.” I’ll probably continue to stick to the normal format for less story-heavy days.
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The day starts off normal enough, with Ponk building a statue and Foolish working on a gas station.
When Ranboo and Tubbo begin building out a new wall to expand their outpost, though, Quackity comes online to confront them with Purpled and Foolish, getting into a heated territorial dispute.
Tommy meets Slime and begins constructing a railway around Las Nevadas, speaking with Quackity along the way. Slime ends up getting kidnapped over a conflict surrounding Linda the shovel.
After Tubbo tells him about some history that surprises him, Ranboo tries to think through how he feels about it until he comes across a visitor at the outpost.
Ranboo later gets into another lengthy debate with Quackity about the border conflict, after which Quackity speaks with Purpled and Foolish about a possible new plan for Las Nevadas:
An underground district of the city.
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VOD LINKS:
Ponk
Foolish
Tubbo
Captain Puffy
Tommyinnit
Ranboo
BadBoyHalo
QuackityToo
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DREAM SMP RECAP: JUNE 18, 2021
!! UNDER THE CUT !!
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SECTIONS:
1. Tom Bee
2. Quackity’s Arrival
3. Tommy and Slime Arrive
4. Ranboo and Slime
5. Quackity vs. Ranboo, Area 51
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--- TOM BEE ---
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- Ponk tells his landlord story to chat at the Thiccatron
- He makes copious amounts of TNT. He goes and places a single piece on top of the rebuilt Pickle’s head
- Ponk goes to the summer home and brings his supplies to his shack there, then creates a giant statue of Tom Bee wired with redstone
- Foolish logs on by where Ponk is standing. He turns around to see the present
- Ponk places down a sign:
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MOON = FAKE
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and immediately logs out.
- Foolish tries shooting the target block and the Tom Bee statue blinks. Ponk logs back on to say he passed the test, and the next one will be in four working days. He logs back out again
- Foolish sneaks over to the outpost. Ranboo is there, and Foolish keeps stealthy. He spies on Ranboo from the wall until Ranboo notices and comes over, breaking his cover
- Ranboo tells him to leave. Foolish asks for a cookie and Ranboo gives him some
- They discuss gas stations and Foolish asks if he can have a summer job at the outpost to pay off loans. Ranboo declines, as they already have three employees (himself, Tubbo and the guard fox)
- Foolish leaves to start building a gas station just off the main road to Las Nevadas
- Tubbo and Ranboo begin constructing a new wall for the outpost, expanding it outwards
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--- QUACKITY’S ARRIVAL ---
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- Quackity logs on and whispers to Foolish that there’s an issue. The two speak in Las Nevadas
- Quackity looks at the outpost. Foolish explains the new wall came about extremely quickly. The two walk to the outpost, remarking that it doesn’t look like much of a “cookie outpost”
- Quackity has an idea, and he wants Foolish’s warrior experience for guidance. He’s thinking of covering up the river, making that their border, and building up an even bigger wall. He starts placing down cobblestone to demonstrate
- Ranboo spots Quackity building up outside the outpost, putting his armor on
- Quackity says the walls can’t get any closer. Ranboo challenges this
- Foolish starts building up beside Quackity. The two build a tall wall of cobblestone outside
- Tubbo and Ranboo consider blowing up the ugly wall.
- Purpled comes over to join Quackity and Foolish and Quackity tells Foolish about how he recruited Purpled. Foolish’s main experience with Purpled in the past was when he hired Purpled to kill the L’Sandburgians
- As Quackity fills Purpled in on the plan, Tubbo messages back and forth with Foolish
- They join the Las Nevadans’ VC and Quackity asks why Tubbo’s cookie outpost has a giant wall. Tubbo and Ranboo say the wall is outside of Las Nevadas’ border and is on their land
- Quackity is willing to settle it in court. He tells them about some of their plans for new business and billboards. He offers for Tubbo to advertise their cookie outpost in Las Nevadas
- Quackity offers a compromise for them to take down their walls in return for the cobble wall getting taken down as well
- Quackity finds the wall threatening and asks Foolish and Purpled’s opinions on the wall. Purpled explains how the property value is being lowered by the cookie outpost wall. Tubbo whispers to Ranboo that he has several stacks of TNT
- Quackity says that he and Tubbo can have a private conversation, as Tubbo is a lawyer as well
- Tubbo and Quackity go up to the Needle to look over the land. Quackity doesn’t want Tubbo building towards his country. He doesn’t want to fight Tubbo because of their history, though
- Tubbo explains that he builds walls because he knows things he builds tend to be destroyed, and he needs protection. Quackity offers him a treaty of peace as long as Tubbo takes down the extra wall
- While Quackity and Tubbo argue, Purpled, Foolish and Ranboo stand in a circle throwing miscellaneous items at each other
- Quackity doesn’t want a repeat of L’manburg and doesn’t understand why a cookie outpost would need a wall. Tubbo suggests they get a border map drawn up
- Tubbo wants the borders to follow the river, but Quackity disagrees and wants square borders and flat lines
- While Tubbo and Quackity continue to negotiate, Purpled, Foolish and Ranboo play with a red sheep, jumping around it excitedly
- Quackity reminds Tubbo of how L’manburg started as only a drug van that turned into a massive nation. The outpost may seem innocent at first, but Quackity doesn’t want a repeat of history
- Tubbo says he wants reimbursement before he takes down the wall out of principle, since he spent a lot of time on it. Quackity points out he can’t have formed an emotional attachment to the wall already
- Purpled, Fundy and Ranboo contain the red sheep in a small pit in the ground
- Quackity quotes Sun Tzu and says that Tubbo has the high ground. Tubbo says Quackity’s painting him as the enemy
- They get a second red sheep and put it in the pit with the first one, throwing some more miscellaneous items into it
- Quackity says that Jack Manifold taking Tommy’s hotel never sat right with him. He doesn’t like the wall. He leads Tubbo back down
- They go outside to the others and continue bickering about the borders. Quackity is upset that their reunion is a legal dispute
Quackity: “Well why would you come and build this outpost right here?! Especially after not talking to me for so long?!”
Tubbo: “To be close to people -- that’s because you dropped off the radar! What did you want from me?!”
Quackity: “You saw what happened with Technoblade! Why’d you never come talk to me? Why’d you never come try and find me?”
Tubbo: “‘Cause you ran off, and, like, I dunno, I assumed you were going through stuff. So I’d never came and find you or even, like, reached out, ‘cause how was I supposed to contact you.”
- Quackity takes Tubbo into a separate call to discuss things further. Las Nevadas isn’t finished yet, and the walls jeopardize Quackity’s expansion. He’s already had a similar dispute and explains what happened with Wilbur, and how his space has become limited with both Wilbur and Eret boxing him in
- Tubbo suggests open borders. Quackity says that would mean Tubbo would be under Las Nevadas law, but Tubbo disagrees
- Quackity proposes that they consider Tubbo’s outpost an embassy of Snowchester, while everything else is under Las Nevadas’ jurisdiction
- Tubbo suggests Quackity follow the path of least resistance instead of targetting Tubbo. Quackity says he’ll deal with Wilbur and Eret, but he wants to deal with Tubbo with words. He doesn’t want the outpost there
- They return to the others having gotten nowhere. They keep bickering for several more minutes
- Tubbo asks Foolish why he changed his mind from yesterday, where Foolish built a palm tree
- Quackity says that if he doesn’t stop Tubbo and Ranboo from building this place, what’s stopping them from going around and claiming other things if he lets them have this piece of land? He has to put his foot down
- Quackity says they’ll get rid of the outpost if they don’t come to an agreement. He will not allow more expansion
Quackity: “Is that how you want to take it, Tubbo? Is that where you want to take it?”
Tubbo: “Big Q...what’s happened to you?”
“What’s happened to you, Tubbo?! I’m making a really fair request! I have a country in the middle of nowhere and you decided to come in front of my country and build this massive structure, which you call a cookie outpost -- really, it’s a military outpost! It’s a strategic military outpost, that’s what it is.”
Tubbo: “Yeah, that’s what it is.”
Quackity: “Why wouldn’t you choose -- what?”
- Whether it is or isn’t, Tubbo says, is his business. Quackity says it is his business since it’s right by his country
Quackity: “I’ll bleed and die for my country, Tubbo. Whether it be you, Tommy, whoever else, I’ll bleed and die for my goddamn country!”
- Quackity would rather they come to a compromise. Tubbo says it’s hard to come to a compromise with someone who isn’t compromising
- Quackity doesn’t know why Tubbo would want a strategic military position outside of Las Nevadas and he doesn’t have a good history with walls. He doesn’t want there to be conflict
Quackity: "Tubbo, I'm going to get rid of this cookie outpost."
Tubbo: "Best of luck."
- There’s not enough space in this land. Foolish asks about how Tubbo is with Tommy and Wilbur, how they might join them
- Ranboo says he’s never been violent and they aren’t a threat. Quackity reminds Ranboo about what happened with George’s house, and there’s a first time for everything
- Quackity once believed in peace, and it didn’t work out for him
- Tubbo states that whether or not the outpost is a military base, it doesn’t matter, it could go either way. They should take it up at a later date, once he’s thought things through.
- The two speak in private again
Tubbo: “Hey, so you said you play a lot of Civ V, right?”
Quackity: “Yeah.”
Tubbo: “Are you aware of what Gandhi does in Civ V?”
- While Quackity starts telling him to explain himself, Tubbo immediately hangs up on him. Tubbo returns to the outpost
- Meanwhile, Quackity speaks with Ranboo with Foolish and Purpled. Ranboo warns Quackity to not do anything that would directly harm Tubbo
- Ranboo leaves and Quackity talks with Foolish. For the time being, they’re keeping the Las Nevadas walls up
- Ranboo speaks with Tubbo. Tubbo says they won’t try to fight Quackity. He hasn’t done anything bad towards them yet, and has two other fronts to deal with
- Foolish tells Quackity about how Tubbo lost a nuke, and they aren’t sure who would have it. Las Nevadas isn’t giving into them
- Quackity tells the other two that everyone is going to look for conflict, and he wants to give them a chance to back out now
Foolish: “I’ve been in the sand long enough, and...I think it’s time to change things.”
Purpled: “If I went through all of that just to leave this place, I don’t know where I’d be or what I’d do. I mean there’s not really other options for me, are there.”
- Quackity asks how powerful the nukes are. Foolish tells him he’s seen where they built them and they’ve done a test
- Las Nevadas needs the walls. Quackity wants to run tests with canons to test strength of materials
- Foolish asks who’s a part of Las Nevadas. Foolish hasn’t met Slime yet
- Meanwhile, Tubbo and Ranboo listen to a disc together at the outpost, looking out across the land
- They plan to just let Quackity cool off a bit. Ranboo has no quarrel with Quackity and thinks he’s probably a good person. Tubbo says he’s done some questionable things
- Tubbo tells him Quackity was actually the whole driving force behind Technoblade’s execution. Ranboo doesn’t hold it against him. Tubbo’s worried he’s been on his own for so long that he doesn’t know how the world works anymore
- Tubbo also says that Quackity wanted to execute Ranboo, but Tubbo managed to talk him down
Tubbo: “...Did you know I got executed?”
Ranboo: “Hm?”
Tubbo: “Yeah, I know. Have I never told you this?”
Ranboo: “H -- no, you -- you have -- you -- you did?”
Tubbo: “Yeah. Technoblade. Blew me up.”
Ranboo: “What? He -- why did he blow you up?”
Tubbo: “He was peer-pressured into it by Schlatt and Big Q.”
Ranboo: “Like -- by Quackity again?”
Tubbo: “Yeah, see, I’m starting to establish a pattern of behavior, if you know what I mean.”
- He cautions Ranboo to keep it in the back of his mind in regards to Quackity
Ranboo: “Are you -- are you okay? From that?”
Tubbo: “Yeah, I’m fine. Yeah, you know, a little bit burnt from the firework explosions, but you know, it’s fine.”
- Tubbo’s concerned that there might be something sinister going on beneath the surface of Las Nevadas, which is why he wants to observe. If it’s between violence and nonviolence, though, he wants to do things nonviolently if possible
Ranboo: “Are we doing the right thing?”
Tubbo: “Um...we’re kinda just chilling out, we’re doing our own thing. I mean, right and wrong depends on which side you are. Right and wrong isn’t really a fair way to describe things, like, I’ve done shitty things. You’ve done -- you’ve unknowingly done shitty things, but you know.”
Ranboo: “Am I a bad person because of that?”
Tubbo: “No. Like I said, right and wrong just depends what side you’re on.”
Ranboo: “Okay...you would tell me if I was a bad person though, right?”
Tubbo: “Yeah, I’d tell you if you step out of line. And, like so, you’d do the same for me, yeah?”
Ranboo: “Yeah, yeah, of course, of course.”
Tubbo: “Yeah.”
Ranboo: “We’ll just be...safe.”
Tubbo: “Yeah, if we just stick to our side of the river...”
- And if all hell breaks loose, they have a deterrent
- Quackity takes the Las Nevadans to the side of the outpost and says he wants weapons there. They discuss plans for where to build their wall
- Foolish asks who’s the bigger threat to Las Nevadas right now. Quackity isn’t as worried about Tommy and Wilbur, whereas Ranboo and Tubbo have done rapid expansion
- Foolish has several stacks of obsidian. He asks if Quackity wants any sabotage happening...
- Quackity says that if they so much as destroy a single block of sand, they will react. But until then, they’ll just create the wall. He likes where Foolish’s mind is going, though
Foolish: “Making me feel young again, Quackity!”
- Sam mentioned having a gunpowder farm. Quackity will speak with him
- Quackity asks Foolish about this thing called “L’Sandburg...” Foolish starts explaining it. He says it’s a similar dispute to this one with BadBoyHalo
- Quackity isn’t sure what Tubbo’s relationship with Tommy is nowadays. Foolish tried asking about it and it seems like they went their separate ways
- Quackity asks Foolish and Purpled at how good they are at PvP. Purpled’s pretty good, Foolish might be a bit rusty. Quackity is awful and asks if they could help him train
- Quackity asks Purpled what his relationship with Dream was back in the day. Back in the days of L’manburg, Purpled didn’t have a strong allegiance to anyone. There was never any point where he and Dream really spoke much. Same with everyone else
- As for who Purpled got along with...not really anyone in particular. There was no one person that Purpled was long-term friends with. He spoke with Punz some, but hasn’t seen him in a while. (Foolish saw him recently making a giant trampoline)
- Foolish talks about the missing nuke and mentions he used to be part of Snowchester -- Quackity, hearing this, presses him on it, surprised to learn it. Foolish joined in his first few days, but they kept things from him
- Quackity asks if Snowchester ever tested the nukes, how much damage they could do. Foolish saw the crater
- Quackity asks Purpled if he was there for the destruction of L’manburg. Foolish wasn’t, but Purpled was. Nukes weren’t used, but it was destroyed all the way down to bedrock. If they could replicate that device for defense purposes...
- Foolish also suggests they put together one of the flying versions of the TNT machines. TNT flying bombers. Quackity likes the idea. He wants to be ready for anything
- Quackity tells them both about what happened with Wilbur
Quackity: “When someone goes and claims a part of your land, you don’t really know how to react. But Wilbur took that plot of land and claimed it as his own. What I should’ve done was prevent it from escalating...”
- Foolish asks if Quackity plans to recruit other people. There are a lot of people Quackity hasn’t spoken to, and if he finds people with potential, he might ask them
Quackity: “We don’t want sleepy people in the country.”
Foolish: “Who’s a sleepy person you’re thinking of?”
- Quackity reminds them about George sleeping through the elections. He asks what’s the last they’ve heard about Niki. Foolish last saw her while working on Kinoko, as she was under there first. Quackity is surprised to learn this
- Foolish tells them a bit about what Ponk’s been doing
- There’s also the new guy, Michael. Foolish has spoken with him and thinks he could possibly fit in
- As Foolish and Purpled continue to work on covering up the river, Fundy comes over and Foolish fills him in on what happened
- Fundy is wearing Quackity’s outfit (he went into Quackity’s closet and stole an outfit that fit him). Quackity comes back and notices, telling him he looks great!
- Quackity tells Fundy about what’s going on. They’re building walls right now
- While everything goes on back at the mainland, Puffy takes down her L’Llamaburg towers with plans to move to a more discreet location
-
--- TOMMY AND SLIME ARRIVE ---
-
- Tommy logs on and goes exploring around Las Nevadas a bit (and running into Purpled) before heading home. He notices that there aren’t many railways around
- He returns to Las Nevadas and sees Tubbo’s outpost. He makes it to the tollbooth and meets Foolish face to face. He passes through and goes to the headquarters. Wilbur said the goal was to upset Quackity
- Meanwhile, the Las Nevadans go over to the edge and see Tommy down there. Tommy speaks with Tubbo and Ranboo, who both come over to Fort Big
- Tommy makes a memorial for Ghostbur
- Quackity still has his Manberg war banner. Fundy shows him his prized heirloom, Shclatt, passed down to him from Schlatt himself as he died. Quackity also has stacks of obsidian from the L’manburg wall, one of which he keeps for history purposes
- Foolish points out how Tommy is traumatized by Dream and shows Quackity how he can put on Dream’s head to scare him, saying they can play mental games as well.
He also has the Wilbur head as well and puts it on
Fundy: “Oh, I’m not too keen on that one...”
- Fundy presents the Las Nevadas shield to Quackity
- Tommy drinks the invisibility potion and sneaks over to where the Las Nevadans are standing. They know he’s there, but can’t see him
- Tommy shows himself to them as a pair of pants, introducing himself as “Trousers.” He asks if he can join and gamble. Quackity shows him a gambling machine: a pit of lava he can step into
- “Trousers” asks why they hate Wilbur. Quackity says it’s because Wilbur was one of the reasons L’manburg was destroyed (he read it on a Wiki somewhere)
- Tommy notices his time running out and quickly runs back to Fort Big, getting away from them and speaking with Tubbo and Ranboo again. Slime is there watching by the restaurant as he runs by
- Tommy explains Karl Marx to Ranboo while the Las Nevadans discuss what happens “when two pants love each other very much”
- They introduce Slime to Foolish while Tommy comes up with an idea to build a railway around Las Nevadas
- Slime is wearing a new outfit -- a green version of Quackity’s clothes
- They clarify to Slime that pants do not have sex and Quackity goes to ask Tommy what he’s doing. Tommy tells him he’s creating a free railway that costs no money. Ranboo says he’s not involved
- While they talk about Slime’s fear of pants, Slime refers to Foolish as “Foolish From a Long Time Ago”
- Quackity threatens to destroy Tommy’s country the same way Tommy destroyed his house all that time ago
- Quackity brings Tommy over to apologize to Slime for scaring him
Slime: “Hey Tommyinnit From a Bunch of Places, thank goodness you’re not pants!”
- Tommy tells Quackity that he knows Quackity was trying to manipulate him into joining Las Nevadas, and he doesn’t stand with him
- Quackity asks his relationship with Ranboo and Tubbo. Tommy says they’re friends. Quackity apologizes for what happened with Wilbur the other day
- Meanwhile, Slime and the others talk about flowers “breeding” and Foolish asks if earthquakes are mitosis
- Tommy and Quackity talk about Wilbur. Quackity says he’s just returning the favor by rejecting Wilbur from his country. Tommy tells him two wrongs don’t make a right. You can’t just exclude people
- Quackity asks, what if Dream one day walks out of prison and wants to join Tommy’s country? Tommy says it’s different, Wilbur’s changed and Dream hasn’t -- but Quackity asks how exactly Wilbur’s changed
- If Tommy ever wants to have a conversation, Quackity will be in Las Nevadas. He holds no grudges. Quackity leaves and Tommy works on the railway
- Quackity comes back to the Las Nevadans to find that they’re having The Talk. He tells them that Wilbur was manipulating Tommy into joining him
Slime: “Manipulation? That sounds bad!”
Quackity: “Manipulation is bad, Slime!”
- Quackity says goodbye and heads out. Slime sees in full panoramic vision
- Slime digs himself into a hole. Then he tries to teach Foolish how to do mitosis
- Slime asks Foolish what “among us” is and asks if he is “Susicle”
- Tommy comes over
Slime: “Tommyinnit From Nowhere in Particular!”
- He asks them to come to the casino, explaining that he lost something through gambling that he needs to build his railway: his “romantic shovel”
- Slime gives Tommy a loan to gamble for her back. He asks Tommy what “sympathy” is. Tommy scares him away by pretending to be pants
- Tommy tells Foolish his shovel was named “Linda.” Foolish goes to check the system (going outside and retrieving Linda from his Ender Chest)
- Tommy won’t leave until he gets the shovel back and threatens to “take the boy,” turning to Slime and offering to lead him to a box that he can sit in forever. Foolish has Linda, but he wants something in return for spending his money gambling to get her
- Tommy takes a piece of Slime and starts walking away with Slime following to retrieve himself
Tommy: “You’re going to be such a good prisoner.”
Slime: “Like Dream!”
- Foolish puts on the Dream head and Tommy starts running, telling Charlie to follow him. He brings Charlie to Fort Big and puts Slime in a hole
- Slime starts doing mitosis. Tommy tells him to not do it and asks if he would like to betray Foolish, telling him that “betrayal is good.”
Slime: “Dream From Manhunt ate him!”
- They drop some bars
Tommy: “My name is Tommyinnit and I’m here to say, I keep prisoners in a different way! I - am - immoral!”
- Foolish starts digging Slime out. He gives Tommy a fake Linda but Tommy notices the difference. Tommy reminds Slime about betrayal and tells Foolish to leave
- They ask if Slime is having fun
Slime: “I have just been having a time! Since I was sludge! None of it has been good, none of it has been bad, it’s all just been time! Oozing onwards to the inevitable destruction of everything! One day we will all be soup, so in a way I’m not so different than the inescapable future!”
Tommy: “What he means is he’s having fun.”
- Foolish leaves. Tommy keeps Slime’s gloop, which gives him 33% control over what Slime does. The Prisoner Hole in Fort Big will be Slime’s home, and they’ll upset Quackity
- Slime says he’s (definitely not) a pile of goop that’s been in the ground observing everything. Tommy notes that they seem quite alike
Slime: “Tommyinnit...I haven’t been exiled!”
- Tommy asks how he knows. Slime saw. Why didn’t he help? Slime says he glooped around a little.
- Tommy leaves Slime in the hole. He has the idea to threaten him as the legs later
- Foolish worries that if Tommy gets Linda back, he’ll lose the one bargaining chip he has over Tommy and Tommy will just manipulate Slime, who is very impressionable
- Maybe next time he should just fight back instead of trying to work through tricks all the time. He did say he would be changing things. Or maybe he should just get rid of Linda?
- He can also just work on his Dream impression. He ends stream, hoping to finish the gas station tomorrow
-
--- RANBOO AND SLIME ---
-
- Ranboo thinks to himself at the outpost. He and Tubbo just wanted to expand their area for a wheat farm, and now Quackity’s gone and gotten in the way as well as covered up the river
- He has no ill feelings towards Quackity, except possibly -- well, he learned that Tubbo was executed, found out that Quackity wanted to have Ranboo executed
- He’s not sure how to handle this. Should he say something to Techno? He wants to stay peaceful
- Ranboo spots the shadow of a nametag moving behind the wall. He pauses work on the farm
- He comes to the gate to find Slime behind the lava wall. When Ranboo lowers the wall, Slime starts running. Ranboo confronts Slime outside and questions what he was doing
- Slime asks who Ranboo is. Ranboo tells him simply, “Ranboo”
- Slime tells him that Tommyinnit From Nowhere has 33% of his “meat” and that he was put in jail
- Slime says he’s from the ground before correcting to “the womb.” Ranboo says it’s nice to meet him and asks if he’s human, noting that he’s “slimy”
- Slime tells him that he was with Quackity From Las Nevadas, but now he is with Tommy From Nowhere because Tommy can control him with “meat”
- Ranboo tells him he -- Ranboo -- is not human. Slime directs him to spin around and jump before referring to him as a “brother slime.” Because if Ranboo is not human, he must be slime
- Slime tells him the truth: he is actually goo. They enter the outpost and Ranboo gives him a cookie to eat. Slime hasn’t seen any other slimes up here. It took a long time and a lot of watching for Slime to look like this
- Ranboo doesn’t think, genetically, it’s possible for him to be Slime’s brothers. Slime tells him genetics are a lie, they must be brothers, and tells him “I forget too”
- Quackity has taught Slime how to be friends! Slime demonstrates by digging himself into a hole and telling Ranboo that he’s going to kill him, then Ranboo will work for him, and thus they are best friends
- Ranboo tells him that isn’t what friendship is, and that friendship is based on kindness. Slime hands Ranboo some bones to keep up his disguise
- People can’t find out what they really are. If they found out, who knows what would happen? Slime has seen what they’ve done...
- After learning that Ranboo has been speaking with the others, Slime asks what he has learned about friendship (he refers to Ranboo as “Ran-goo.”
- Ranboo explains it with acts of kindness, like cookies. Slime tries this by charging interest on the cookie
Slime: “How else is the house supposed to win?”
- Slime learns that people don’t get things back necessarily, but rather trust and friendship. A “bond” (he confuses it for the investment definition)
- Ranboo tries explaining it by talking about an emotional attachment to a pet -- if the pet died, one would feel sad. Slime asks how?
- Slime gives Ranboo some goo to patch himself up. Ranboo “does so,” and Slime says he is now a part of Ranboo
- Ranboo tells him that someone telling them they’ll kill you isn’t a good thing. Slime asks why not -- everyone will be dust eventually
- Ranboo continues to teach Slime about friendship. Slime wants to understand why people do what they do
- Ranboo tries to tell Slime that he’s not a slime, but Slime still doesn’t believe him. He’s part Enderman and part...he’s not slime and he’s also not human
- Ranboo gives Slime his parts back. Slime tells him about how Fundy From L’manburg ate a part of him and now Slime is part of Fundy forever. Slime hands Ranboo more slime and asks if he has a mouth. They can have “a bond”
- Ranboo tells him he’ll keep it on him, but not eat it
- Slime says he hasn’t seen Ranboo. Ranboo hasn’t seen him either, since he seems to be new
- Ranboo tells him he’s been here since after L’manburg got destroyed the second time (which Ranboo refers to as the first). Slime notes that that place got blown up a lot
- Ranboo shows him grass blocks. Slime tries to pick one up, but he can’t
- Ranboo notes that Slime is one of the only people that he can look right in the eyes
- Slime tries to give his cookies back to God. When it doesn’t work, he gives them to Ranboo
- He tells Slime to not hurt people, even if other people tell him to. Slime has to think for himself about what he wants to do
- Slime goes into the ground where he will commune with the gravel to think about what Ranboo has said
Slime: “When I come out, promise you won’t be dust!”
- Ranboo watches Slime, who remains in the hole. Slime begins whispering to himself about the nature of existence while Ranboo stands there listening
- Slime comes back up, saying he was just “processing.” Ranboo tells him he used to go to an obsidian room when he needed to process
- Ranboo tells him that if Slime ever needs advice, he’s free to ask him. Ranboo also tells him that friends aren’t supposed to be controlling of you. Slime won’t let people control him
- Slime leaves to return to prison, telling Ranboo he won’t let anyone keep him down again!
- Ranboo hopes he’ll learn about free will soon. Something tells Ranboo Slime should probably be protected
- When Ranboo met Slime, he saw himself in him. He used to be like Slime back in L’manburg, going along with people and things
- Ranboo just wants to be supportive of Tubbo. He thought the scars came from Tubbo just testing something. He doesn’t know how he feels about Techno doing it
- He hasn’t seen Techno in a while...
- Ranboo heads to the strip club to visit the place he made
- After thinking some more, Ranboo leaves some signs with a gift chest saying he’s sorry to Quackity that they got off on the wrong foot, and would like to talk some more
-
--- QUACKITY VS. RANBOO, AREA 51 ---
-
- Bad and Skeppy log on, Bad planning to possibly build Skeppy’s statue
- Quackity logs on in Las Nevadas and finds some food. He notices the gift box, reads the signs and finds the Yeezys and cookies. He’s not impressed
- He runs into Ranboo coming up from the tunnel and tells him to pay the toll. He gets Ranboo to come back to the toll booth and then blocks off the tunnel, saying Las Nevadas is closed for the day
- The two speak. Ranboo tells him he has no ill intentions. Quackity asks why his partner threatened to nuke Las Nevadas. Ranboo tells him the nukes were decommissioned, but Quackity still took it as a threat
- Quackity tells him the only way they’ll be on a good foot is if they relocate the outpost. Ranboo tries to explain, but Quackity hangs up and walks away
- Quackity explains his thinking, how he feels threatened by why a cookie outpost would need such a massive wall. Quackity has to protect his country
- Foolish logs on. Quackity intends to continue building up the wall until it encloses the entire area
- Quackity speaks with Foolish, who tells him about Tommy taking Slime prisoner because Foolish wouldn’t give the shovel Linda back
- Quackity starts running as Foolish continues to fill him in. Foolish shows him Linda in his hand. Quackity is outraged that Tommy would hurt Slime over a shovel
- He’s also mad that Foolish would let it happen. They get to the tollbooth and spot Ranboo running around again
- Quackity tells Ranboo that if Ranboo wants peace, they’ll have to compromise. Foolish was inspecting the outpost and found gunpowder. Quackity doesn’t like the area that they’ve used to build these farms that are heading towards Las Nevadas
- Meanwhile, Skeppy and Bad argue and Skeppy pricks himself to death on a cactus
- Quackity tries to explain his position to Ranboo again. He wants it on paper that they’ll have no issues, and he wants compromise
- They continue to argue. Las Nevadas has plans of expansion
- They keep arguing and eventually, Quackity tells Ranboo to talk it out with Tubbo and to stop expanding. They part ways and Quackity asks Foolish’s thoughts on this. They talk about the expansion
- The subject returns to Slime, and Foolish explains how Tommy came barging in asking for Linda. Quackity tells him to just give Linda back. He trusts that Tommy’s a good person and won’t cause more trouble if Foolish just returns it
- Foolish asks if another situation like the one with Tommy and Slime happens again, how should he handle it.
Quackity: “You know what we need, Foolish? ...We need laws. We need jurisdiction.”
- Purpled comes over as they start taking down the extra cobble wall they built earlier
- They finish and Quackity speaks with Purpled back in Las Nevadas. Quackity points out that the country is very exposed right now, and they need a backup plan: an underground city expansion
- Purpled tells him about the underground part of his base beneath the UFO he used to have and Quackity asks for him to show it to him. They go over there
- The underground area could be where all of the functional things are, away from the flashy tourist attractions
- They reach “Area 51,” the underground area. Quackity remembers how he and Tommy used to smuggle drugs through the sewers there
- Purpled shows him around through all the secret rooms. They figure out the combination lock
- Quackity also directs Foolish to place more sand, since that’s where people assume the borders stop
- Purpled fixes the entryway to Area 51. Quackity wants something similar done in Las Nevadas
- With regards to conflicts, Quackity trusts them to act on their own judgement. He leaves them with that and heads out
---
Upcoming Events:
- Final Egg lore stream [POSSIBLY SOME TIME NEXT WEEK]
- Tales From the SMP: “Space Race”
- Dream’s lore video
- Ponk’s lore stream
- Possible Lore Suit court battle
#dream smp#dream smp recaps#long posts#dsmp#this took so long oh my god#apologies for things I missed/messed up!#usually I'd have more time to go back and double-check details but...yeeeah
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21 OTP Asks (link is in the post I tagged you in today) I would like answers for both Liam and Drake plz...! :D 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 20, 21
Thanks for the ask @karahalloway! This was really fun to do! I’ll do Liam first, since he was my first love in TRR.
Liam and Riley
What is your favorite AU/prompt idea/trope for your pairing? Favorite troupe for them is love at first sight. My favorite AU with them right now is probably the sweetness and innocence of Savage Love Liam. Although, I have a new series in the works and it will be the first one written from Liam’s POV, so who knows?
Do you prefer canon ideas or do you have your own headcanons for them? My own. Canon just leave so much to be desired. It’s what brought me looking for, then writing, fan fiction in the first place.
Favorite canon moment of them? Listen. There are so many, but on the honeymoon when Liam tells her she looks like a goddess worthy of worship and says, “If you want me on my knees, just say so.” Made me want to climb through the screen and take him up on that offer.
Least favorite canon moment of them? I don’t think I’m alone saying that it’s hands down the coronation scene where she gets dragged out and he chooses Madeleine instead. It’s literally what made me decide to pay attention to Drake in book 2.
Favorite headcanon trope/idea? (Your own or someone else’s) Probably the idea that, because of the way he was raised (the way relationships work in royal marriages), the overall commonplaceness (apparently) of the Cordonian Arrangements and his belief that he would marry for duty and not love, he is much more open to, and accepting of, a polyamorous situation. This way, he still gets to marry for love. He isn’t afraid of compromises.
Also, that they had sex in that hot tub damn it.
What made you decide to ship them? Liam’s overall sweetness, somewhat innocence and (at least the way I played/interpreted them) fairly submissive diamond scenes. Who doesn’t want to be worshiped and adored? His love is so damn pure!
Favorite genre for them? (Angst, fluff, etc.) Definitely fluff. I do love the fluffy scenes with them in Hinge. So much.
Moving onto the next pairing……
Drake and Riley
What is your favorite AU/prompt idea/trope for your pairing? Favorite troupe for them is the whole marshmallow thing. You know, the strong, silent type. Grumpy on the outside, mushy on the inside. Alpha male vibes, but vulnerable to her and only her. I mean…yeah. Favorite AU for them right now is Savage Love (But Complicated is a close second.)
Do you prefer canon ideas or do you have your own headcanons for them? Copying answer from above: My own. Canon just leave so much to be desired. It’s what brought me looking for, then writing, fan fiction in the first place.
Favorite canon moment of them? Again, so many. Believe it or not, I have yet to do a full play through with Drake. I ignored him in book 1 on my first play through. After getting to know him as a LI in book 2, I replayed book 1 and took all the diamond scenes/flirty options with him. But I have never turned down Liam’s proposal. So I only have gotten to romance him for TRR 1 and 2 (I plan another play through with him soon though.) I think I fell in love with him during the Italian Restaurant scene in book 2.
Least favorite canon moment of them? So, I married Liam and tried to flirt with Drake during the volleyball game on the honeymoon and it didn’t work! He didn’t get flustered like he in every other moment MC flirts. I died a little.
Favorite headcanon trope/idea? (Your own or someone else’s) as @karahalloway has already stated, it’s hands down that Drake is a member of the king’s guard. I’ve given him the rank of captain. There were so many seeming hints in the books, that I really thought that’s where they were going with it. Ball dropped, Pixleberry, ball dropped.
What made you decide to ship them? All those little moments where it became apparent that he had real, deep feelings for her but struggled to hide them and suffered in silence because of his friendship with Liam and his own insecurities about not being good enough. Aagh.
Favorite genre for them? (Angst, fluff, etc.) Angst. And I’m not sure why. @karahalloway has said that I enjoy making Drake suffer and if you’ve read most of my fics, you know it’s true. I want him to have the happily ever after, but he has to suffer for it first, apparently. Maybe because it was that suffering that made me sympathetic to him in the first place or maybe it’s all part of that vulnerable only to the woman he loves thing. There is something so endearing about seeing his vulnerable side, and to show that to the reader, I have to make him suffer.
Random Note: I think the reason I always married Liam in game, even though I felt like I really couldn’t choose, is in part, pettiness. So many people tried to stop me. That’s it. No deeper reason.
#character asks#angelasscribbles#liam rys#drake walker#choices#trr#the royal romance fanfic#the royal romance#choices stories you play#drake x mc#liam x mc
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You ship Carmen x Julia right? I respect that but I don’t really understand where the ship comes from. Could you just explain why some people ship it? It seems like a nice ship, it really does.
Hi anon, thanks for the nice question :)
I understand where you're coming from and I hope you don't mind if I go on a little ramble as an answer.
This is very, very long, so...under the cut!
(If you want a tl;dr: They have strong mutual trust and romantic undertones for the entire show. EMPHASIS on the trust!! Trust trust trust)
I think the shipping first started gaining momentum in S1 E6, the Chasing Paper Caper, or, as a lot of Julethief shippers know it as, the Train Scene. Some of this might have been this look:
Or the way Carmen immediately gave her a nickname: Jules.
Another thing from this scene was this:
Carmen: This seat taken?
Julia: Actually, yes...but feel free to use it until my partner returns.
Carmen, looking up, eyebrow raised: Partner?
Julia, clearing her throat: Travel partner.
While it was natural that Carmen may want to ask about someone else joining them and compromising her, there are very few reasons Julia would clarify that Chase was her travel partner specifically; wouldn't that make a good cover, especially if this stranger never met him?
It's been a constant throughout the show that Carmen and Julia put a lot of blind trust in each other. Carmen, upon figuring out that Julia is a law enforcement agent partnered with Devineaux, does not immediately dismiss her as wanting to arrest her, like Chase had been trying to do until that point (and beyond). Instead, she lets slip a hint of her identity (mentioning the Magna Carta's theft) and later leaves the Magna Cartas for her to find.
This is presumably because Julia began talking about history in a way that resonated with Carmen, who was also focused on saving artifacts and such for the cultural value and history, rather than the worth.
Throughout the whole show while Julia is at Interpol and, more notably, ACME, she continuously defends Carmen with little evidence and a lot of people against her. This begins in the very first and second episodes, where Julia proposes that Carmen steals from other thieves.
Devineaux: What is it now Ms. Argent? I am driving!
Julia: Inspector Devineaux, the purported crime scene is actually filled with stolen goods of all kinds. Cash, bonds, art.
Devineaux: What? Was the apartment owner not the robbery victim?
Julia: That's what I said! So I did some fact-checking. The owner on record isn't an individual, but an import-export company. But even more intriguing? The places Carmen Sandiego recently robbed: the Swiss bank, the art gallery in Cairo, the Shanghai amusement park? All have ties to the same company.
Devineaux: Ms. Argent! What is it you are trying to say?
Julia: Well, what if...for whatever reason...Carmen Sandiego were a thief who only steals from other thieves?
Though Chase is confronted with the exact same evidence, he dismisses it until carmen practically shoves the evidence in his face in Season 3, when Julia is gone.
Julia defends Carmen time and time again, even when Chief reveals she saw Carmen in the same room with the injured Devineaux. Julia's face falls, but in the very next episode (the start of season 2, her real time to shine without Devineaux around) she says she wants him to wake up so he can prove Carmen didn't do it.
In the very last episode of S1, Devineaux confronts her about working with Carmen in a way that really summarizes her feelings.
Devineaux: Do not be coy, Ms. Argent. I know you were referring to La Femme Rogue, your silent partner.
Julia: And? So what if I was? Carmen Sandiego left the stolen Magna Cartas on my train seat, presumably for me to find. She returns stolen Vermeers to museums and $10 million postage stamps to children's charities.
Devineaux: Stealing things only to return them makes absolutely no sense.
Julia: I agree, which is why I do not believe she is stealing these things to begin with.
The trust does not go one way. Both the agent and the thief, with only a little to catch each other's trust, seek each other out for help.
For Carmen, all it took was the one moment on the train; for Julia it was the returned artifacts and paintings.
They next meet again in Season 2 Episode 4, the Fashionista Caper. A reminder that Carmen has only met her one time in a casual conversation about their interests in which Carmen figured out she was law enforcement.
Carmen is confronted by Julia with a gas gun, but instead of something like she did to Zari (snatch the gun and knock Zari out) the following happens:
Carmen: Showtime.
Julia: Carmen Sandiego, you are under arrest!
Carmen, smiling: Jules, right?
Julia: Hands in the air, now!
(Carmen snatches the gas gun from her outstretched hand. Julia looks shocked and immediately freezes with no other immediate action. Carmen poises the gas gun in her direction but turned up and away from her, looking her up and down.)
Carmen: You're not really dressed for the occasion, but we'll make it work.
(Carmen tucks the gas gun back in Julia's jacket, a sign of the trust she's putting in her.)
Julia: What?
Carmen, taking her by the hand: Come on. I need your help.
Julia: To do what?
Carmen: The reason you're here. Save those Medicis.
(Carmen swipes a hat for each of them, looks back at her, and leads her onstage.)
Carmen, putting Julia's hat on: Keep it natural. Just imagine an invisible string pulling your head straight up from your spine. Walk with long strides and smile.
(Julia needs no further convincing and does exactly what Carmen says to save the dresses; this also solidifies her belief that she was right about her, despite Chief and Zari's doubts.)
After this, they save the gowns. The brainwashed models break through and Carmen immediately steps in front of Julia, protecting her. Julia does leave eventually, after asking "What about you?"
And even then she looks back.
Later, reviewing the footage with ACME:
Chief: I can't argue with the results, Argent...though your choice of partner was a bit outside the box. It has been a challenge trying to reconcile all of Carmen Sandiego's...contradictions.
Julia: Perhaps, but I feel I now know enough to propose we stop trying to capture Carmen Sandiego.
Julia (at Chief's skeptical look): What if we tried to recruit her?
This is Julia's goal from this moment on. The next time they meet is Stockholm.
Julia, upon arriving and beginning to tail "Carmen", immediately asks Chief to call off the team so they can speak privately. This works, at first; Carmen (again showing the trust) finds her and pulls her away, asking her to call off the agents. Julia replies that she's already done so.
Then we all know how it goes; Chief realizes Julia is missing, Zari shoots her, she ends up half-dead and frozen in the woods after saying "Trust you, huh?"
But at the end she speaks to Chef before passing out. And then, when ACME rescues her, she and Julia share a look. Duane Capizzi the showrunner, made a comment on this explaining the look.
A friend of mine messaged him privately with a question something along the lines of "Was that look Carmen gave Julia at the end of The Stockholm Syndrome Caper one of betrayal?"
This is his response:
Big words:
-Heartbreaking
-Vulnerable
-Hero
Another thing, leading into Season 3: Julia's resignation from ACME.
In the S2 finale Carmen hacks into ACME's files to see what happened with Dexter. because of this, Chief basically declares war on Carmen.
Chief: Carmen Sandiego has crossed a line and I'm dedicating ACME to taking her down. Ready to bring the heat, Agent Devineaux?
Its the very last line of S2 and a huge turning point for Julia. Until now she'd been gaining Carmen's trust, persuading ACME she can be an ally. This is undone.
From the MOMENT we see her in S3 she has a noticeable change. She's less motivated, more visibly depressed, clearly reluctant.
Like Duane says: This moment is a big reason why J resigns in S3: she can't bear to do something like this to Carmen again.
Her argument with Chief in S3 E2 is what causes her to resign, the tipping point where she goes to be a teacher of history. Remember her line?
Julia: Oh no, I love my job! I just love history even more I suppose.
(Coincidentally when Carmen comes to her yet again for help in her office in England, she mentions: "Who knew my two key areas of interest would ever intersect?")
I'll transcribe the argument.
Julia: Nothing was stolen..
Chase: That we know of!
(Chief here mentions Sonia's line of art thefts, pressing the blame on Carmen. Devineaux agrees.)
Chief: I'm thinking this little pitstop was intended as a diversion, to shake us off the trail of her actual scheme.
Julia (downtrodden): Or perhaps Ms. Sandiego was simply here for some other non-criminal reason.
Chief (snapping, slightly mocking): Like what, Agent Argent? A sudden interest in contact sports? Or do I need to remind you that carmen Sandiego recently hacked classified data from ACME.
Julia (voice rising): Yet I cannot see a likely motive for her to steal masterworks from museums other than dropping them into our laps unharmed and revealing the weak links in security to the museums she borrowed them from!
(She is now standing very close to Chief, fist clenched. Devineaux is standing back, looking uncomfortable. This is the most passionate we've seen from her all season; Chief's call to action previously was met with only a sigh.)
Chief: Devineaux, take a walk.
(Chase leaves.)
Chief: Look, Argent. You are among ACME's finest...when your head is in the game.
Julia, determined: My head is in the game, Chief. (Pause, a shift) Its my heart that isn't. Not anymore.
This is her turning point. This is when she takes off the ACME blues and goes back to her black and red suit. Color symbolism has always been a huge part of the show and this is no coincidence.
After that, we don't see her until S4, but Carmen does continually ask about her.
Carmen: Devineaux, where's Jules today?
Chase: That is classified. But Ms. Argent is doing...other things.
Carmen: Shame. She's probably a better driver...
Carmen: I might have been able to trust Jules, but it seems Devineaux's riding with a new partner.
Carmen, after explaining the museum's weak spots and giving Chase the masks: Jules would understand. (Smiles, winks, and zips away.)
These throughout the season, especially the second one, are significant. Carmen trusts her. Julia trusts Carmen. It has been that way since the show's start and remains that way.
(It could also be implied that Carmen wants to know if she's alright.)
Then, we don't see Julia until a few episodes into S4. Chase has realized Carmen is "good" and has found Julia. Her overall mood is slightly cold (after all, he has abused her on this topic for three whole seasons). She keeps this until one certain moment.
Chase: Julia! What a coincidence..
Julia (not taking his crap): Is it..
(Chase sighs, his little lie over. They move to her office.)
Julia, cold: To what do I owe this "coincidence"? A sudden interest in dull facts and boring things?
Chase: (Giggles nervously, realizing the barb) Ms Argent...Julia. (She glares) Since you resigned from ACME I've been seeing things quite differently.
Julia (curt, choosing a book): Differently how?
Chase (uncomfortable at her look): Well...as you might see things! Except with less clarity, far less... as if I wore your eyeglasses, but splattered with mud! (With the air of beginning a long tale) It began in Venice, Italy after being assigned a new partner on a case where we were-
Julia, interrupting: Agent Devineaux. I do not think it wise for you to be sharing classified ACME business.
Chase: But I need your help! So that I may better assist Carmen.
(Julia's change is noticeable. She is truly paying attention now; her gaze lifts from her book at Carmen's name, her back straightens, her eyes widen.)
Julia: Is she alright?
Chase, exasperated: Of course she is alright. She continues to make us chase our tails.
(Julia smiles, eyes brightening.)
Chase: Please Ms. Argent, I must know. Is the Crimson Ghost bad..or is she she good?
Julia, pausing, looking aside: That is a complicated question.
Julia asks how carmen is immediately after Chase mentions her name, smiling when Chase mentions she's practically thriving.
After this, Carmen retrieves a VILE artifact and comes to her at Player's note of where she now works (he calls her her "favorite ACME agent" :3)
When Julia sees Carmen in her audience, it is a stark contrast to Devineaux. With Chase, she spots him, raises an eyebrow, and continues before confronting him later.
With Carmen, she stops, stutters, and immediately ends the lesson, meeting the thief and leading her into her office. I won't put down the whole scene, just a few key parts of it I'd like to call attention to.
Carmen: Way to follow your heart, Jules.
Julia, after closing the blinds, smiling: You remembered.
After this, Carmen notices her meeting with Devineaux on the counter. Julia again clarifies that it is just lunch. This also brings attention to the fact that Julia could not meet with Chase for another week or two; Carmen she ended class for immediately and continued speaking with at all hours for days.
Carmen, smiling gently: I'm guessing you left ACME to get away from all this. I won't be offended if you decline.
Julia, smiling back: Who knew my two key areas of interest would ever intersect?
This is big. Julia stated her two key areas of interest to before be law enforcement and history. Carmen assumes she left to get away from the adventure, but in fact Julia left because ACME was hunting Carmen.
Julia and Carmen then decode the artifact and Carmen says she has to leave. Julia expresses surprise that there are more artifacts and Carmen says this:
Carmen: Keep it safe for me? I'll be in touch.
The lines about being "quick studies" in the next episode are ones we're particularly fond of as well as we get to see Carmen and Julia interact more than they ever had before, and sync with each other. They catch onto each other's patterns and fire playful banter at each other.
(Carmen also has Julia as Jules in her phone.)
And then Julia gets kidnapped. Carmen is worried, clearly, when Julia does not pick up. She paces and tries every means she has available to her to reach her.
Even teaming up with Chase.
The scene in the pyramid is a great one, from Carmen's softening eyes across the cavern:
To Carmen getting distracted enough by Julia being in danger to allow herself to be caught and knocked out.
The ensuing fight where she battles with a sword to protect her isn't half bad either ;)
Julia also leaves her a message in her blog. When Player asks how she knows its not a trap, Carmen responds that Julia would have worded it differently.
THE TRUST.
Then of course Carmen gets mindwiped, yadda yadda. Julia is back on ACME, who are conflicted as Evil Carmen starts toying with their views. Throughout all of it, Julia stays loyal to Carmen, insisting she is on their side, playing a long game, they shouldn't get in her way.
The only real thing in S4 I want to call attention to is Julia's dialogue in the final fight (Don't you remember me? I'm your friend, Jules!) (she also tackles Carmen which has fed a lot of fires) and the fact that one of the first memories Carmen gets back is her protecting Julia in Italy...
Now, there's one episode I haven't mentioned, and that is the interactive: To Steal or Not to Steal.
And this is the one I wanted to close on because this is the one that really has some good material.
Sticking with the theme of trust: You have the option to betray Julia. If you do, you fail. You HAVE to trust her to win the game (unless you go with the winter rescue option but not many did.)
If you trust her, she trusts you, and Carmen drops off all the stolen artifacts to her apartment, gives her her coat and hat, and also..
Red roses.
Julia is also blushing in this scene!
The other part of TSONTS I want to mention is the optional dance scene at the party. Carmen, while waltzing, slips into a daydream about dancing more wildly.
In this dream, she imagines Julia watching her.
Anyways, that's about all I have for canon, but what about what I have from the showrunner, Duane?
There have been many comments regarding Julia and I recommend pestering @be-bi-do-crime if you want them all ;)
However, the one thing he did say was that all of the energy with Carmen and Julia, all the scenes, dialogue, and actions (including the roses)...if we saw it, it was intentional.
So, above all, trust, trust, trust for the whole show.
So yes, I did just make that whole essay and I hope you had the energy to read it all, anon. If you want to know anything else about any other aspect or ship, or want to know about even more stuff from OLD games and things not even related to the 2019 show go ahead and message again. I hope I answered your questions.
#carulia#julethief#carmen x julia#carmen x jules#carmen sandiego#jules argent#julia argent#asks#gun tw#injury tw#long
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Be Forever Young (Reid Fluff Fic)
Summary: After Penelope’s resignation from the BAU, she attempts to set up her tech protégé, Reader, with Reader’s intellectual match yet much older counterpart - Dr. Spencer Reid.
A/N: The POV switches between Reader and Spencer, just use context clues to detect who the narrator is.
Pairing: Fem!Reader x Spencer Reid
Content Warning: 21 year age gap, headcannon proposal
Playlist: Cloud 9 by Beach Bunny
Word Count: 6.1k
✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*
Prologue
Events like these weren’t exceedingly rare. They weren’t anything like Halley’s Comet, by any means, where it only happens once in your lifetime - if you’re lucky. But they weren’t exactly sunrises - something that you can count on occurring every day without fail.
The best celestial phenomenon I could compare it to are blue moons. Rare enough to still have an element of surprise when they came, but not so rare that I should never expect them.
These ‘blue moons’ are actually the events in which I meet an intellectual match.
It’s not too often that I find a mind quite like mine, so you’ll forgive me for the reaction it elicits to watch them transcend the physical level and connect with me on the psychological one. There’s only been a handful of people who’ve ever had the exact standard of aptitude to be permissible into this metaphysical world with me, but now - there’s a handful and one.
The newest addition to the list is her.
_ _ _
Getting a word in edgewise when it comes to a conversation with Penelope Garcia is nearly impossible. Getting a word in edgewise when it comes to a conversation with Penelope Garcia about Dr. Spencer Reid is impossible.
I couldn’t tell you when the first time she brought him up was, but I could probably tell you just how many times since then she’s mentioned him.
A trillion. At least.
For months on end, he was the only thing she would talk to me about. Morning, noon, and night. Every single day she’d gush about him with the same unrelenting zeal as she had the day before and the day before that. It was both scary and impressive how she never seemed to run out of good things to say about him.
“You would just die for his apartment. It’s got this super chic dark academia thingy going on. You’d be really into that,” she would say. Or something to that effect. I was never really listening.
Not that I wasn’t interested in learning about Dr. Reid - I was very interested in him.
As a superior.
I first learned of him when he taught my Psych 101 class. Freshman year me was simply enthralled with him as a speaker, probably due to the charm of his awkward humor. I found it eerily relatable and touching, in a way. That was probably my favorite class, minus the assholes who made it less than enjoyable at times. (That’s a story for later).
The next interaction I had with him happened not even a year later when he came back after temporarily teaching to sit in on a philosophy class. Even though he was only auditing the lecture, whereas I was enrolled in the course, he ended up sitting in the seat right beside me. Had he not been gifted with an eidetic memory - a fact I found out during one of my obsessive research sessions - I doubt he would’ve even remembered sitting next to me.
Our shared field of work helped to bring us back together repeatedly throughout college. I would run into him at seminars, workshops, once even at a library where we were both looking for the same book.
But for the most part, our relationship was parasocial. It largely consisted of me learning from him at a distance. I would use his brilliant research to support my own assignments, read the books he recommended, audit the classes he would teach.
Rather than accurately interpreting my very limited, very professional connection to Dr. Reid, Penelope was deliberately using it as ammunition for her arsenal of reasons why I should consider dating him.
“You guys are basically already friends, and nothing is cuter than the friends-to-lovers trope!” Now that she actually did say, and the only reason I remember it verbatim was it was so outrageous I couldn’t not remember it.
And probably because she just said it to me right now.
“We’re not friends! We’re ... acquaintances. Colleagues, if you will.” My attempts to gain distance from Penelope and this topic of conversation were crashing and burning. The more I tried to walk away from her, the faster she would chase me. It was inconceivable how she managed to do that and continue to pelt me with her perky persistence.
“Even better! You know I’m no stranger to workplace romances.”
That I did. One Derek Morgan or one Luke Alvez ring a bell?
“Dr. Reid and I don’t work together,” I reminded her, if only to burst her bubble of insanity.
“Exactly my point! If you two don’t work together, then there’s nothing keeping you apart.”
I was stopped dead in my tracks, almost causing Penelope to trip since she was right on my heels.
“Nothing? Really? Try 21 years.”
That surely kept us apart.
Our age gap was one of those glaring disparities Penelope couldn’t wave away with her magic wand. Frankly, it wasn’t an age gap so much as it was an age Grand Canyon. He was a whole person of legal drinking age older than me!
Hell - our age gap itself was older than me!
Maybe there weren’t any contracts or agreements or supervisors to keep us apart, but there was still one significant thing doing that.
Time. Arguably the most important thing you needed to get right for a relationship to work.
If there were any chance that he and I were good together, that was squandered by our divergence in age.
Right person, wrong time ... but wrong time by more than two decades.
I could see the smallest fragment of hope wither away in Garcia’s eyes, and it actually hurt to have known that I caused that. Her voice was more solemn when she said, “You don’t have to date him, I just want you to go on a date. Get to know each other better. Who knows? You might finally graduate from colleagues to BFF’s.”
Not that I was seriously considering the possibility of growing closer to Dr. Reid, but there was one question lingering in my mind.
“Does he even want to go on this date? Have you asked him how he feels about it?”
Part of why I was wondering was on the off chance that she’d tell me he had the same objections towards this that I did, which would be good news for me since it would mark my reluctance as a sound judgment. If there was anyone whose opinion was worth something, it was his, right? After all, he was the provable genius in the same compromising position as me.
“Trust me, he’s been dying to do this.” In spite of her preface to trust her, I didn’t. I couldn’t be sure if she was suggesting that he’d been dying to go on a date with me or if he’d been dying to go on a date in general.
No offense to him, but I guessed it was the latter, and if that was the case, he was only being a team player because she hadn’t told him it was me she was setting him up with. Already suspecting that I’d probe further to navigate through her vagueness, she cut in with one last Hail Mary. “One date! That’s all!”
Whether you believe me or not, 100% the only reason why I said what I said next was to put an end to this madness. “Fine. I’ll go.”
Maybe 99.99%.
_ _ _
I never knew how I could lose so much time. Sure, if anyone asked, I could probably account for everything I’d done in my day, second by second. But still, there was this cloudiness, a fog, inhabiting my brain, casting this haze on whatever else dwelled in my mind, too.
I couldn’t focus on anything for more than 4 seconds at a time, and while that wasn’t incredibly concerning for the average human, it was disconcerting for me.
What was going on?
What is going on?
“What’s going on?”
Suddenly, a hand began to wave in front of my face. “Yoo-hoo? Anybody in there?” JJ wondered aloud, causing me to realize it was her voice that asked the question from before.
“Yeah, sorry,” I shook my head to regain some clarity, but that did me no good. My foggy brain still remained. It goes without saying my words were worth nothing as well. JJ saw right through me in a way that never failed to scare me shitless. I could never conjure up a lie good enough to follow that look she’d give me. So I settled for the truth. The question that cast the haziness in my brain to begin with.
“What do you think about me dating again?”
If I thought that first look was bad, then the one she was giving me now was something of a nightmare. At least with the first, I knew what she was thinking. With this one, I hadn’t a clue.
To relieve us from some of the insufferable silence, I found myself speaking again in my defense. “Garcia mentioned something earlier about setting me up with someone and it got me thinking.”
Thinking about Max that is.
Being my most recent girlfriend, it made sense why she was freshest in my mind. That being said, we’ve been broken up for 14 months, which in any other context would seem like more than enough time to start dating again, but therein lies the catch.
We didn’t just break up. She said “no” when I asked her to marry me, which, if you ask me, is one hell of a way to break up.
So from that perspective, it obviously begs the question: is 14 months too fast to move on from something like that?
JJ sharply inhaled. “Well, are you ready to start dating again?”
I still didn’t have an answer for that myself. “I don’t know. There isn’t exactly a rulebook on how long you have to wait until it’s socially acceptable-”
“Lemme stop you right there, Spence,” She placed her hand on top of mine. “You can’t just do whatever statistics or studies or science say is right all the time. You not only need to be more in tune with your own needs but accepting of them, too. Screw what anyone else has to say about you dating again - including Socrates, including Einstein, including Aristotle ... including me. Do whatever you think is acceptable by your standards - not society’s. Do what you wanna do and I’ll support that.”
There was something special about having JJ’s approval. It was like getting permission to be excited, something I didn’t know I needed or wanted.
“I’m ready.”
Born ready, as Penelope herself would say.
_ _ _
I was starting to get suspicious that maybe I had an invisible string attached to me and on the other end of that string was Penelope. It was the only explanation as to how she managed to trail behind me at an isochronal pace. Perfectly equidistant, perfectly equal intervals of time. Must’ve been some form of magic that she was able to synchronize that connection for as long as she did as we pranced around the office, basically chasing me.
“Okay, I know the date isn’t until Saturday, but I really think we need to amp up your wardrobe choices ... like stat.”
Hearing that I was seeing my superior still didn’t settle well with me. I don’t think I could ever get used to the thought.
I should’ve been offended at her suggestion to change my clothing taste as it implied my stylistic choices weren’t up to par, but a part of me, a very small part of me, knew she was right. And just because I wasn’t keen on the idea of going on a date with Spencer didn’t mean I didn’t want to look nice for him for it.
“I’m assuming you’ve got some ideas in mind,” I said in a teasing voice, knowing that’s precisely why she brought it up.
“See! You are a genius! Exactly why you and Spencer are meant to be together!” Her exclamation was just as loud as it was outlandish.
“Alright, calm down sparky,” I shot a warning look. “It’s just one date - we’re not soulmates.”
Then, talking in the quietest voice I didn’t think Penelope was capable of speaking with, she said, “Not yet.”
I knew the minute I showed even the littlest bit of interest in Penelope’s fashion guidance, I’d end up draped in ruffles, sequins, glitter, tulle, rhinestones, or all of the above. Nothing again Penelope’s personal style - it’s just not mine.
I was scared to ask, but I had to know. “So what were you thinking?”
Before my very eyes, Penelope’s constantly-there smile transformed, something akin to the mischievous grin of the Cheshire Cat. “I was thinking …”
In a Mary Poppins-esque fashion, Penelope produced a dress that in no feasible reality should have been able to fit within that little Hello Kitty side bag.
I suppose it must’ve been absolutely backbreaking for Penelope to refrain from choosing a multicolor or at least pattern-riddled dress, so as compensation for the fact that it was only one singular color throughout, it had to be a bold one.
Red.
“Not too shabby, right?” Her eyebrows jumped on her forehead, knowing she’d made a good choice.
And a part of me actually died saying this, but it was pretty perfect.
_ _ _
My life didn’t flash before my eyes, per se, the moment I finally arrived at the delicatessen. It was more like a very specific, singular memory had flashed before my eyes.
That story for later? This is the one.
Psych 101 was my best class in Freshman year ... by a long shot. Come rain, wind, or snow, I was always excited to go. It was a standout course on its own, but not because it was terribly spectacular or the most fascinating subject in the world, but more so because of how it changed my own person. It challenged me, like all worthwhile things do.
There were more judgmental meatheads - boys, if you will - than not, who would jump down my throat for being a smart ass or a teacher’s pet if I so much as answered one of Dr. Reid’s questions. Par for the course, really.
As a result, I had a proclivity to avoid raising my hand. It wasn’t that I was hyper-fixated on managing my reputation, just that participating wasn’t worth the eventual harassment from my dimwitted classmates.
Nonetheless, one day, I felt compelled to answer Dr. Reid when he asked what our thoughts were about the sampled, pretense manifesto.
No one else was jumping at the chance to speak, perhaps they were just as cowardly as I was, and it was clear that he was going to stand there waiting until someone finally would. The silence was painfully awkward for everyone and so I felt obligated, as a student who was actually enrolled in the class for credit and not just to audit like 90% of the other girls here, to break it.
Slowly, ever so slowly, my hand hesitantly inched up into the air until it floated just high enough above the student in front of me’s head. As soon as I knew he saw it, I let it plunge straight back down.
“Yes, Ms. (y/l/n)?”
I could already feel the dirty looks and snide comments coming before I even said a word.
“I know we’re all collectively referring to this unsub as a man, and while that might just be a general assumption or Freudian slip perhaps ... I think the language is steeped in betrayal and contempt. And it would be ignorant not to notice how it reads more like the wrath of a woman scorned than your typical jilted male lover.”
“Lover?” Someone two rows back snickered quietly, clearly to mock my choice of words. I didn’t even have to look to know it was Brad who had said that. Nevertheless, Dr. Reid was impressed with my answer. His lips curved into the faintest smile as he nodded his head. If he had heard the commentary of one Brad Sterling, he made no visceral reaction to it.
With an extended hand, palm facing up, he gestured for me to, “Please. Stand up.”
I fumbled my way up and out of my seat to possibly delay the shit I’d get for this mere action.
“That, ladies and gentleman, is what it looks like to have courage,” He underlined his words with a grand flourish of his hand in my direction. “Putting yourself on the line even in the event you’ll be mocked and ridiculed or deemed wrong. That’s something you’ll need if you are seriously considering being part of the BAU, or the FBI at any capacity.”
My face was flushed from the acclaim he was showering me with. Suddenly, I was glad I volunteered.
Taking me completely by surprise, Dr. Reid wasn’t done yet.
“So, Mr. Sterling,” He began, directly calling out the boy in the back who without a doubt made the remark. I wouldn’t have had any reason to believe he heard it since his attention never diverted away from me long enough to catch the comment, much less the culprit. I wonder if he’d heard all the times Brad made jokes at my expense. Was he finally at his wits end with the sarcasm? “Make fun all you want, but might I suggest that if you like a girl, you do the opposite of that.”
His sickly sweet drawl was followed by a short wink at me as if to say ‘I have your back’, and I was lucky to have already been in the process of sitting back down because my knees would’ve given out underneath me from the sheer exhilaration of his praise.
The thought never once crossed my mind that Brad was so fixated on me because he had a crush, but it all made sense once it did. And if I didn’t know any better, Dr. Reid only humiliated him and brought it up because the realization dawned on him, too.
Was it possible that Dr. Reid was ... jealous?
In the spirit of complete transparency, that suspicion may have lit the tiniest wildfire imaginable in my chest. A wildfire that, even now, has yet to extinguish. Perhaps that little flame is the 0.01% of the reason I said yes. I could only imagine what kind of omnipotence it would soon gain if this date went well.
If he could light such an enduring kindle with simple praise, think about what would happen if he smiled at me. If he laughed at my jokes. If he held my hand.
If he kissed me.
Dr. Reid’s validation would be something I actively sought from all walks of life, I knew that much. What I didn’t know was how far that desire would take me.
I would have never guessed it would lead me here.
Standing in front of a fancy restaurant in a pretty red dress with the tenuous hope that the professor inside might just like it so much that he’ll end up liking the girl wearing it, too.
_ _ _
No matter how many times I adjusted the bouquet of poppies, they sat perpetually crooked on the table. Much like the dark gray tie around my neck that tightened around my throat with every passing second. I had to keep messing with it to loosen the noose-like grip it had on me. Who knew if it actually was becoming more restricting or it was the flourishing bundle of nerves in my stomach that made it harder to breathe.
I was never very good at lying in wait patiently. Especially if I was expecting something. Now that I was expecting someone? I could say with perfect clarity - I was not good at waiting.
I don’t wanna seem the way I do
Every time the door opened, my eyes flashed to it instantaneously. And every time it wasn’t her, a little part of me was disappointed. It was still too early to say for certain that she was standing me up, but my mind was doing what it did best. It wandered. There was nothing else to do after all.
Except maybe adjust those blood orange poppies one more time.
I’d picked them out specifically because Penelope slipped in a not-so-subtle comment about her dress being “a perfect match to the color of papaverales” - her words exactly. I thought if she went through that much trouble to find a color coordinated plant and say the scientific name for me to decode, it was worth picking up a bouquet of them on the way.
It was only the most ironic occurrence in the world that when I went to rearrange them one last time, I devoted my full attention to the action, missing the very moment I was on the lookout for the past hour and a half.
I didn’t even see her until the red poppies camouflaged into the identically colored setting of her dress.
Then there she was.
All the disappointment in the world was worth that first time I saw her with fresh eyes.
I was dumbstruck for a moment, long enough that it warranted an apology for not standing up sooner.
“(Y/n)! Hi!” I accidentally squealed. I couldn’t control myself, let alone control the pitch of my voice apparently.
I could see, in her, youthful naivete where, in others, I saw their age. She paradoxically had not aged a minute, and yet a new womanhood was piercing through her ultimately adolescent appearance.
“Hi, Dr. Reid,” She said through a laugh and a smile, shaking my hand politely and professionally. She was greeting me like I was still her professor and she’d just happen to run into me on an errand. Next, she’d be attempting small-talk for as long as it took for me to let her go.
Unfortunately for her, I had no plans for that.
But I’m confident when I’m with you
“Please, it’s just Spencer,” I reminded her, hoping to break down that governing image of me she surely maintained.
“Spencer,” She tried again; doing it more to be obedient to my instruction than to satisfy her own desire. It sounded so unnatural to her, just as it did to me. I found it adorable, actually. It seemed like she was breaking this unspoken, and very much illusionary rule to say my first name. “It’s nice to see you again,” She added after I pulled out her chair for her.
“Is it?” I asked when I rounded the table to get to my seat. “I get the feeling you’re a little disappointed.” The only reason I pointed it out was that it was true, not just that I’d observed the notion grow more poignant in her face for the past minute.
“Not at all,” She shook her head, which luckily for me, drew a line of congruence between her body language and verbal language. At least, she was being truthful. “It’s just that I’m sort of embarrassed.”
“Embarrassed?” I repeated in astonishment, unable to cultivate a list of reasons that would justify her feeling that way. I couldn’t think of a single thing I’d done to provoke that emotion, and it nearly broke me to consider her internal being substantiating it.
“Embarrassed isn’t the right word, but I can’t find a more accurate one for what I’m feeling,” She shied away from my eyes when she lowered her head as she spoke.
“You could try to explain it to me?” I offered gently. It took an overwhelming amount of self-restraint to not offer my hand with it. It would’ve been so easy to slide my hand across the threshold to enter her territory of the table, but who knows if doing so would just make her that much more uncomfortable.
“Well for one thing, I don't really go on dates,” From this alone, I could already relate to her enough to laugh at the fact. “Don’t laugh at me! You know how dangerous first dates can be,” She swatted her hand in my direction to chastise me.
“I do! I do! I think it’s really good that you’re protecting yourself to the point of avoiding dates,” I was teasing the implication that she wasn’t asked to go on very many, which was thankfully delivered well enough to make her laugh again.
“Hey! Many people have wanted to go on dates with me, thank you very much. You included.”
“Me included.” I nodded in approval. We sat in a short period of silence while we exchanged one soulful glance, borne from the insinuation of what I just said.
“And for another ... I respect you too much as a figure of authority to see you in that way.”
_ _ _
“In what way?”
Rather than tossing me a lifeline, he was feeding me to the sharks. Forcing me to dive into the deep end. He wanted to see me struggle to stay afloat in the sea of his sticky toffee eyes. He knew I'd get suspended in them when he gave me that look. How much I’d be willing to get lost in them just so I could wander in the depths of his honeyed orbs for a little bit longer.
That look ...
“You don’t find it weird?” This was the most honesty I could’ve demonstrated.
“Find what weird?” For someone with such a high IQ, you’d think he’d be quicker on his feet.
“This! You - me. On a date!” I gestured to the space between us. “You’re ... well frankly, Spencer, you’re old enough to be my father.”
“Does that make you uncomfortable?” He genuinely cared about the answer.
“Only in theory. Not in actual life,” was the most precise response I could give.
“So what is making you uncomfortable?” Again, I could tell my answer mattered to him.
“You were my professor once, and now I’m just supposed to go on a date with you and see you as my equal when I’ve spent the entire time I’ve known you, putting you on a pedestal? Do you know how much pressure that puts on me? To be perfect?”
“Who says you have to be perfect? Who says you’re aren’t already?”
That one caught me off guard. I had to gulp down the lump of shock.
“You think I’m perfect?”
“That, or you’re pretty close to it.”
Lately all I feel is bad and bruised
I could’ve smiled, I could’ve thanked him, I could’ve fallen at his feet and thrown my dignity down there along with it, but I just laughed. I laughed.
“That’s ridiculous! You barely know me.”
“You’re wrong,” He simply replied with a firm shake of his head and a cavalier sip at his drink. It showed just how confident he was in his answer. How cocky he was.
“How am I wrong?”
He cleared his throat as though he were preparing to deliver the world’s greatest speech. Then, he leaned forward, motioning with his fingers for me to do the same.
“If I’m remembering correctly, which you know I am, you were the student who had the gall to raise your hand and correct me on my gender identification of the unsub, right?”
The second the sentimental thought, ‘aww he remembered’, came into my head, it was soon followed by, of course, he did, idiot. Eidetic memory, remember?
Tired of tripping on my shoes
“What does that have to do with me being perfect? Or so you claim?”
He was piercing deep into my eyes now, his gaze overwhelming my senses and sending shockwaves akin to the feeling of butterflies everywhere … and I mean everywhere.
“Bravery is the audacity to be unhindered by failures, and to walk with freedom, strength, and hope, in the face of things unknown.”
I recognized the quote as one of Morgan Harper Nichols, but the words went right to my chest like they were his own.
That damn wildfire just got a whole lot bigger.
“I’ve always thought about how if I could be unfazed by failure or even just the prospect of it, if I could just be strong enough or have enough hope to face what I couldn’t predict, I’d be set. I’d be golden,” He paused. “I’d be perfect ... but you? You, little one, have already got that figured out. So whether that means you’re perfect on your own because of your bravery or you're a perfect match for someone fainthearted like me, is up for you to decide. Whichever interpretation of being perfect you choose would be correct, but you should know - I meant both either way.”
But when he loves me I feel like I’m floating
When he calls me pretty, I feel like somebody
Even when we fade eventually to nothing
You will always be my favorite form of loving
“Do you want to get out of here?” He asked when he finally refound his voice.
“Since the minute I walked in.” I replied after refinding mine.
_ _ _
“You always take girls to your apartment on the first date, Doctor?” Asking this in the name of taking a jab at him was the most clever way I could think to conceal my underlying motive of trying to gauge how giddy I could let myself feel about the fact that he’d taken me to his ‘super chic dark academia’ themed residence - Penelope’s words, remember?
“Well, in my abundant dating history,” He sarcastically began, “I can’t say I ever have, no. You’d be the first.”
That shot another quick bolt of lightning to the wildfire in my heart that I’m ashamed to admit made the heat reinvigorate. The flame must’ve been too much for my chest to contain so it had to relocate to my face, where my cheeks were left to burn under his gaze and thanks to his admission.
I was the first.
He must’ve seen the glint localizing on my countenance and decided to speak on it. “Why does that amuse you?”
“I don’t know,” I dumbly but truthfully replied. He didn’t need any more information to get his answer, though. Because even if I didn’t know what amused me about being his first, I never denied that it did, and that was more than enough confirmation for him.
“You promise to be here when I come back?” He wagged a cautionary finger at me like it might persuade me to stay and hold me accountable if I didn’t.
Spencer needed to go into his room to collect an item that ‘shall not be named’ but was apparently essential for our super secret plans tonight (secret to even me) and he was leaving me in the living room while he did so. I guess being the initial girl he took home on a first date was okay, but being the initial girl he took into his bedroom on a first date was crossing a line.
That was alright with me, though. I was in this for the long haul.
“I promise I pose no flight risk, Your Honor,” I taunted with a coy tone. “But I can’t promise I won’t snoop around some.” Hey, at least I was telling the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth.
“Snoop around all you want,” He laughed ruefully, demonstrating an openness I quite envied and admired. “You’ll probably learn a lot about me that way. And you won’t even have to talk to me to do that!” I knew he was only saying that out of self-deprecating tendencies he harbored, but I couldn’t help feeling that a small part of him actually believed that I wasn’t interested in talking to him.
“Spencer, you know I do like talking to you right?” I caught him just before he ran into his room. Already halfway in the door, I could still catch the megawatt smile on his face.
“So stay then,” His smile grew impossibly bigger. “We can talk all you want when I get back.”
The door closed, and then suddenly reopened to let just his face through, a face that said, ‘Don’t go anywhere.’
After a few minutes of loudly sorting through his room, I heard the sanctimonious cry of victory. “Found it!”
I could hear the little pad of his feet and he happily trotted out of the room. “Ta-da! My stargazing kit.” He said it as though he were introducing the basket he was holding to me, and me to it. Like it was a real person he wanted me to know. I almost felt obliged to say, ‘Hi stargazing kit! It’s so nice to meet you. I’m (y/n)!’
“Let’s go,” He smiled, reaching for my hand.
I unabashedly took it, because although it meant that I was truly leaving his apartment, I had a very strong feeling that I would be back here again one day.
_ _ _
We were lying there on this big quilted comforter that was stashed away in that stargazing kit of his, staring up at the sky, drunk on the sound of our occasional fits of laughter.
“It’s Earth Day, you know that?” I wondered aloud in a state of complete euphoria.
“I actually did,” He said through a sheepish laugh, almost as if he was admitting the knowledge of it against his own will to protect my fragility.
From out of nowhere, there was a small tug on the skirt of my dress. I looked down to find Spencer’s hand there, playing with the fabric until it lay perfectly on my leg.
I coughed to possibly relieve the tension brewing in my loins. “So then you know the Lyrid meteor shower is tonight,” I moved the tiniest bit closer to lean into his touch.
“At exactly 4:33 a.m,” He moved too.
“Is that why you brought me here? To watch the shooting stars? To make a wish?” I thought for a second that I would appear exceedingly childish - more so than I already did being 21 years his junior. But he didn’t judge me at all for the kid-like notion of making a wish on a shooting star or the implication that I still believed in those things.
In fact, I piqued his curiosity, telling by the way he moved only his head to the side to watch my reaction. “Say I did. What would you wish for?”
In the throws of dreamy elation, I softly murmured the only honest answer. “To be older. But not the unfulfilling 9 to 5, loveless marriage, ‘I do my taxes for fun’ older. I want to be old in the ways that the stars and the sky are old. I want to be infinite.”
“...To be infinite.” He whispered my wish back, sounding sort of in awe of me.
Just then, the overhead horizon grew larger. With no buildings or people to block the view, it was just us, the stars, and the sky. I could actually feel that I was lying on a planet. It was so wide. So infinite.
“Can I hold your hand?” I asked softly, in a manner so vulnerable it scared me.
Without any words or hesitation, he put my hand in his.
“The universe seems so big right now. I just needed something to hold onto.” I explained quietly, practically with the hopes that he wouldn’t hear me. But he heard.
“I’m here.”
We didn’t know what was ahead of us then. We were just two people, looking up at the sky on a cold February night. We weren’t divided by power, or age, or space. We were ourselves and no one else.
My eyes fluttered shut again and a smile stretched across my face. “Stargazing was a good idea.”
The world and the sky and the stars and I - we were all infinite. I couldn’t have felt bigger in my own body. In the best way possible, I was taking up so much space. I was occupying the earth. I was made up of matter. I mattered.
Just as I began to open my eyes, I caught a glimpse of a fading shooting star. Though I had wished to be older, I still felt like a child. Then it hit me. I didn’t feel older because I wasn’t older.
I was infinite.
Yes, I was a child, but not in the pinch your cheeks, bottles and pacifiers, babyish way. I was a child in the ‘you have a life full of possibilities ahead of you’ way.
You are young. He tells me with his eyes. And that is a good thing. Be forever young.
✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*
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It’s a Deal (Chapter 10)
Chapter Summary: What a day.
Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader
Words: 7.1k
Warnings: mild angst, fluff, confrontation, mention to past relationships that might’ve been a bit toxic, crying, laughing.
A/N: I know, I’m not a fast updater! Thank you all for the patience, and I hope you guys like this chapter. I feel like a should warn you about the level of angst that might be below your expectations, this is me trying to write a romantic comedy, guys, bear with me, lol! Thank you to my sweet Les for always having my back. The link to my masterlist, where you can find the other chapters, is on my description. Feedback is highly appreciated.
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“Will you marry me?”
Those words replay in your head while your limbs go slack. Eddie kneels before you, diamond ring in hands and an expectant look on his face. You just stare at him, unsure of what to say or even what to feel among the huddle of sensations inside you… until one of them suppresses the others and your parted lips shut right before your jaw clenches. Anger.
“Are you fucking kidding me, Eddie?”
Completely taken aback by your snap, the man before you flinches and his shoulders drop while the little box shuts when his hand does.
“I-I…” he tries.
“No,” you cut him off, “Seriously,” you swiftly get up from the sofa, and he follows, “You broke up with me after one year or so without properly touching me or even talking to me,” you scoff, shaking your head, “And now you come here and fucking propose after months apart? Fucking propose, Eddie?” You repeat yourself, narrowing your eyes at him, “What the hell are you even thinking? That I would swoon and run to your arms just like that?” You snap your fingers, “That I was here just waiting for this moment?”
The man seems completely startled and lost in front of you, but in your outrage, you don’t find in you to care one bit, “I know I messed up,” he finally speaks, “I know it’s all my fault, I was lost, but this?” he lifts the little box, “This is it, I’m not lost anymore.”
You sigh, running your hand over your face, you put on a calmer voice as the anger guiding your actions and words so far starts subduing, “Listen, I was crushed when you broke up with me, I should’ve seen it coming, maybe I should’ve tried harder when I noticed the distance between us-”
“That’s not true, baby -”
“Eddie,” you raise a hand to interrupt him, “Let’s try to be honest to each other here for once. If there’s something I’ve learned is that we can never do wrong by being honest.”
There’s a crease between his eyebrows as he takes in your words until he breathes in and nods.
“We weren’t ok by the end of our relationship, this time apart made me see that much clearly now. I may have turned a blind eye to it all, but that’s the truth. We weren’t communicating, we were just going with the flow, and that’s on us. Both of us.” Your lips tighten and he keeps his attention on you, “But now…Maybe you didn’t notice or maybe you’re the one turning a blind eye for it now, but don’t you see the timing for this proposal is, in the least, a little off?”
“What? Why?” He tilts his face while the crease on his forehead deepens.
You let out a breath and walk to the sofa. He follows you and you both sit down again. A true and honest conversation with Eddie has been long overdue and you don’t think it’s time to keep postponing it, “We are broken up for months and you’re proposing to me not even two whole days after seeing me close to someone else… after trying to hook up with a woman you’d been flirting and not being able to go through…”
The bone on his throat bobs as he gulps and looks down to his lap.
“You may say this was enough to make you see you were wrong about the breakup and for distancing yourself, but this can’t be enough for a decision like that.” You nod towards the little box in his hand, “Those four months maybe haven’t been what you expected to be for you…And to be honest, they weren’t exactly what I expected to be for me, either,” you falter, but keep your head straight.
His head snaps back towards you and he just observes you for a brief moment, like he’s reading you anew, “What do you mean?” he asks quietly.
You’re not sure what you should answer to that when not even you have a clear understanding of what this time apart really meant for you. Your lips tighten before you speak, “You keep saying I’ve changed, maybe I did, I don’t know.” You shrug. “All I know is that I can’t accept your proposal. For the sake of us, Eddie. We can’t right the wrongs of our relationship just jumping to that,” you add, hoping that he would understand you.
His head drops and he takes in a shuddering breath, making your heart heavy. Your hands turn into nervous fists on your lap. He is important to you, there’s no way to deny that. Weeks ago it’s possible you wouldn’t even think twice or even consider the problems in your relationship before accepting the proposal with all your heart. But now, like you said, something has changed, something that made you realize all the problems in the path you two drove your relationship to.
Not to say that, in the deepest of your mind, there’s a chanting of another man’s name, a quiet but persistent echo. Still, you keep it aside for later deliberation. Now you focus on Eddie, the man you planned to spend a life with and who is before you, offering you to do just that and hearing a rejection from you.
His eyes close before he looks back at you, “Ok,” he nods, “I’m not saying I agree with all of that, but I accept your decision,” he sighs and you give him a small smile, “This is yours, though.” He takes your hands and puts the little box in it, shutting it so you can hold it.
Your mouth falls open while your eyes rounds, “Eddie, no, I can’t-”
“Please,” he urges, dragging himself closer to you, “This is yours. It doesn’t change by the fact you said no. Regardless if we stay together or not, I want you to have it, please,” he pleads, keeping his hand around yours, squeezing the little box tight in your hold.
The abandonment etched on his face is what makes you swallow dry and give him a small nod while your chest heavies, “Ok,” you whisper, “But- but it doesn’t change anything, Eddie,” you make sure to add.
He smiles a breathy smile and withdraws his hand from yours, letting you keep the box while you pull your hand, “I know, it’s ok… Can I ask you one more thing, though?”
“Alright,” you agree.
“You said you don’t wanna jump to marriage, that it can’t right the wrongs of our relationship. But…is there a chance for us at something in the middle? I mean, is there a chance for us to work things out?”
Your eyebrows dart high on your forehead. The question causes a cold pinch in your stomach. You think about all the time you spent together, all the hopes and dreams, the struggles, the good and the bad… Right now, if you dig into yourself and your feelings, he may not feel like the obvious choice for you, but there was a time, not so long ago, that he was and it felt right. You have to respect that, don’t you?
“Listen Eddie,” you speak softly, after clearing your throat, “Maybe we can start by seeing each other more frequently?” Your forehead scrunches after you present your offer, not sure how he’s going to take that. “We can keep talking, not holding back on things we have to say to each other, being honest… We can try to be friends for now, or something like that? And then we see how it all goes?”
“Friends?” Eddie snickers, “We were never friends.” He lets out a skeptical snort.
You shrug, “We can try… I don’t know… All I know is I’m not ready for more now and I need some time to put my thoughts together, and I think you need that, too.”
After just looking at you for a second, he puts on a small smile and covers your hand with his, “Alright. All the time you need. But now, just… let me…”
You watch when he leans over and moves his lips close to yours. After placing a hand on the nape of your neck, he waits for a reaction of some sort, but when you offer none and just stares at him, he kisses you.
Your eyes shut after a few seconds. It feels weird and familiar at the same time if that even makes sense. There’s a longing behind the gesture, a longing that makes your heart beat a bit faster… An urge grows in you, a tingle, a crucial need to...
Pulling away, you quickly turn your face to the other side before covering your mouth with you forearm and setting free the sneeze that was bubbling inside you.
You sniff and, with a frown, turn to a comically taken aback Eddie, “Alright, if we’re going to be around and honest with each other from now on, I’m sorry but you’ll have to get rid of that damn perfume.”
“Really? But you loved that perfume.”
Your lips form a thin line and you raise an eyebrow.
Realization dawns on his face, “Oh…I guess you didn’t.”
~~~
After promising you the perfume wouldn’t be a problem anymore, Eddie leaves with the compromise of calling you for a coffee soon. You realize you two never really talked about the condo and you wonder if that has anything to do with him being sure you two would end up together again.
If that’s the case, you’re definitely not as sure as he is. And it’s an odd feeling, not being sure about Eddie anymore. Even when things were bad, you were always sure about him.
Finding yourself alone again, you drop your body on your couch. You’re damn exhausted. Tilting your head to the side, your gaze meets the little box over the center table. You reach for it and open the lid. Without the adrenaline from before, you take your time to observe it.
You take in the thin straight white gold band that leads to the halo which holds the round and small brilliant cut diamond. You smile as you can tell he was thinking of you when he picked that ring. It’s simple and beautiful, something that wouldn’t attract much attention to your hand, like most of your jewelry.
Eddie has never been that great with making conversation or opening up with you- and maybe a few other actions - but he always knew exactly what to gift you. He has always been thoughtful with your taste and personality.
Without thinking much, you put on the ring. You sprawl your hand before you and have to acknowledge that it fits perfect. You wonder how much it would make you feel special not much time ago…
Letting out a groan, you drop the little box on the floor in favor to reach for your phone in your jeans’ pocket. Your thumb hovers the name that’s been nagging at the back of your mind this whole time. Without giving yourself much time to think, you press on the name.
Bucky “Soft Tongue” Barnes.
A little smile curls your lips. You really need to change that.
The ringing tone resounds in your ear as your breathing quickens. Why just the mere thought of talking to Bucky is making you so damn nervous? You wait… and wait. When it goes to the voicemail, you quickly hang up.
That’s the very first time Bucky doesn’t pick up when you call. The small frown between your eyebrows softens at the thought that he’s probably sleeping. It’s Sunday after all.
You huff while you hold your phone against your chest with one hand and digs your fingers into your hair with the other. You stare at the white ceiling above you… Shit… what the hell are you even doing. Calling Bucky right after being proposed by Eddie? And why in the world does your mind keep insisting on the thought of Bucky and you feel the need to talk all about that morning with him, to listen to whatever opinion he might have on that, or anything else he might have to say?
And why does your heart jump so funny when you remember his face… that stupid perfect face… and his smile…
Fuck…
That probably has something to do with the last couple of days you spent with him. First, he was your rock at your party, making it easier for you to have fun, and then taking care of your drunk ass. Then the next day at Brooklyn… and the night after that. It did feel different… maybe more intimate...
But it’s just an impression... The man has always made himself crystal clear – which, by the way, so did you - that what you had was sex, incredible and mind-blowing, of course, but just sex. He has never wanted anything other than that, and you’re definitely sure Bucky Barnes isn’t cut out for what comes in a relationship beyond the sex.
Shifting your gaze to the ring on your finger as you still hold your phone against you, your relationship with Eddie comes to your mind, how you always did everything together, the decisions regarding life, work and everything else were taken together, the dreams and growth, the stability and familiarity…You also think about the arguments… the silence and distance, the loss of the spark and the excitement of being together, the times you ended up erasing your likes and dislikes to avoid confrontation…
With a will of its own, your mind then navigates to Bucky again and what you had together this last month. You can’t imagine him, in all his glorious bachelor lifestyle, engaging in a relationship like that, with all the strings and emotional weight that surely come with it and, by your experience, ends up killing all the fun. Do you still want a relationship like that, though? Of course there’s its positive side, but what about all the negatives that stubbornly resist any relationship?
Also… seriously? Bucky’s the first man who’s nice to you after your break-up… The second you’ve had sex with. Ever. You can’t be so pathetic to the point of having a no strings attached relationship with a guy and start thinking, because he’s nice and kind to you, because you suddenly feel like you shared a special weekend with him, that it could lead to something different than that.
You groan as it frustrates you to no end the thought that you’re so weak that maybe you can’t be your own person and perhaps need to always be engaged in some kind of relationship or emotionally attached to someone, no matter if you know them for ten years or a month.
If Bucky were there, he would probably say the right thing, about how you’re overthinking all of it and you’re just a couple of rabbits fucking majestically and enjoying each other’s company. He would also say that you two were too smart to trade that for something as boring and dull as love. A loose smile twitches your lips.
You don’t need to fall for him just because you’re having sex… Just because he’s the most handsome and sexy man you’ve ever seen… Because he’s amazing in bed, respectful, kind, smart, funny, strong, thoughtful…
Jesus…
Immersed in your conflicting feelings and thoughts of Bucky, of Eddie, of yourself… you have no idea of when you end up falling asleep on your couch, but the ding of your doorbell wakes you up in a startle, you squint and brush your hand over your face before reaching for your phone that has fallen over the carpet. Your eyes widen at the clock. You’ve been sleeping for a little more than a couple of hours. As the doorbell rings again, you spot five missed calls. All of them from Bucky. And after swiftly getting up and rushing to the door, that’s the man you find behind it.
“Hey-”
You don’t even let him start talking before pulling him in into a hug, circling your arms around his neck and nestling your head against him. You don’t even know why you’re doing this, but you love the warmth of him wrapping you up, and you love that he holds you back immediately, without questions or further talking.
You let out a deep sigh, before leaning away and smiling at him, which he mimics.
“Hi,” you say.
“Hi,” he says back, gazing at you with a distinguish softness in his eyes and a small but beautiful smile on his lips. “I saw your missed call, I tried to call you back a few times and when you didn’t answer I thought maybe I should drop by,” he says.
“Good,” you breathe and turn, taking his hand and guiding him inside as he shuts the door with his foot behind him.
He pulls your hand, making you stop on your track and face him again. The softness from before gives place to a nervous little frown on his face, “I- I need to talk to you -”
”Eddie proposed to me.” You don’t know if it’s the little tremble on his voice, his very presence, or the fact that they were choking in your throat, but the information spills from your mouth unannounced.
The words catch on Bucky’s throat as he inhales sharply. He takes a step back at the same time his rounded eyes drop to your hand, which is still laced on his. The blood seems to vanish from his face.
You follow his stare and that’s when your eyes ball out because you realize you’re still wearing the ring. Acting by impulse, you take your hand away from his and move to pull the ring off your finger, “I-I didn’t say yes,” you quickly clarify, but the damn ring doesn’t budge even with your harsh attempts of taking it off and a desperate feeling lodges at the pit of your stomach because goddammit it had fit perfectly moments ago. You groan in sheer frustration, looking down and pulling even more forcefully, “I was just trying it on-I-“.
Gentle hands cover yours. Your mouth snaps shut and your hasty ministrations halts. You look up and take in the sight of his eyes on you. They are softer now and it calms you down, just like the light massaging circles he draws on your skin. A caress. While you keep your eyes on each other, he twirls the ring, which now moves with ease, and ever so slowly, he pulls it through the length of your finger, till it’s completely off of you.
Holding it with his thumb and index finger, he observes the shiny little jewel between the two of you, his expression unreadable, before he offers it back to you.
Like waking up from a daze, you’re quick to accept it and place it on the center table at your side.
“I told him this wasn’t the time to think about that...” you say, your voice coming out timid as you fidget with your fingers.
Bucky remains quiet, putting his hands in his pockets, that same unreadable expression still on his face. He nods, though, for you to continue, “We talked a lot. He asked if we still had a chance and I said we should start off by seeing each other more, like friends or something like that, and then see what happens.” You purse your lips.
“Oh…” he mumbles.
You wait for him to say anything else, but he doesn’t. He just seems lost for speech and that’s news for you.
“It was a hectic morning,” you let out a nervous little laugh, “I called you because I kind of wanted to talk to you… I mean…What do you think?” You bite your cheek.
“Of what?” He blinks.
“All of that… The proposal, my answer…” your voice fails.
Bucky clears his throat before he nods, “Well… what more did he tell you exactly?”
You then pull him to sit on the sofa with you and you tell him everything Eddie had said right there on that same sofa, trying hard to not let any detail out. For some reason knowing what Bucky would have to say about that is all that matters to you right now.
“Hold on.” Bucky holds up both his hands as a crease appears between his eyebrows, “Are you telling me he decided to break up with you without even trying to work things out, really talk to you about whatever shitty crises he was going through and then comes here after four months of radio silence, right after seeing you close to me and after he tried to hook up with someone else?” He scoffs, shaking his head before getting up, turning his back to you.
You watch, still on your seat, as he runs a hand over his face, before you get up and puts a hand on his back, you’ve never seen him that agitated, “Bucky…”
He swiftly turns to you, gesticulating with his arms and hands as he speaks, “Sounds like this guy’s single life wasn’t exactly what he thought it would be and the moment he realized maybe it was going a lot nicer for you, he decides he better jump in again, that he’s ready and shit? Sounds like he still doesn’t know what he really wants and is taking a shot at you like some impulsive and jealous asshole. Fuck this guy,” he spits as his cheeks flush red.
His reaction takes you off course for a bit. He’s been always honest and straightforward with you, but you didn’t expect such an emotion outrage from him. You talked about Eddie many times with him and it was never like that, “I-I… yeah, I know, Bucky. I’m not blind to that, which is what I told him after he proposed.”
“And yet, you’re talking about starting to see him again,” he states and if he wanted to sound like an accusation you didn’t know, but it sure sounds like it.
“Bucky, it’s ten years,” you argue, not sure why this seems to be escalating to, not a fight, but at least a heated debate, “I can’t just erase this time and what it meant to me. That’s a great part of my whole adult life. We lived together, did everything together. I loved him. You have no idea what it’s like to have a relationship like that.”
His jaw clenches, before he gives his back to you. His head drops and he puts his hands on both sides of his waist.
You shift on your feet, wondering whether you have maybe crossed a line there. This kind of heat up interaction with Bucky is news and completely strange to you. But when you’re about to say something, you hear the low groan that come out of his mouth.
“A man who won’t even eat your pussy...” he shakes his head, utter exasperation on his voice.
Your jaw drops before a small gasp slips through your lips. You don’t take it as an offense or anything like that, because when he said it, it wasn’t in an accusing tone like before, let alone aggressive. It’s just like he’s genuinely confused by why you would have such consideration for a man who wouldn’t go down on you.
“Bucky,” you let out a breathy laugh, “What the hell is going on with you?” You tilt your head while he still has his back to you, “If I didn’t know you better I would say you were jealous.”
His head snaps up at your comment and he turns to face you. His lower lip is trapped between his teeth. There’s something of anguish on his eyes and the amusement in your face drops at his demeanor.
“That’s because I am,” he affirms, short of breath.
Your eyes widen for a second before you frown and your head shakes lightly with confusion, “What?”
“I’m jealous, ok? I’m jealous, that’s it.” His face reddens even harder as his voice raises and he gesticulates, indignation pouring out from him, “Your ex is a douche who didn’t appreciate what he had and now decides he can come here and fuck up with what we have?”
A shocked breath comes out of your lips, “What we have? Bucky, you were the first one to be sure our deal wouldn’t be exclusive, and that was fine by me. I talked about Eddie with you countless times and it was fine, I don’t get why you’re saying and acting like that now.”
“Yeah, I know all of that, but things change, I guess…shit.” He curses and covers his eyes with both hands and takes a few breaths before looking at you again, “I didn’t want to tell you like that,” he says in a softer way right before he clenches his teeth again, “But that jerk had to come here first…”
“Didn’t want to tell me what exactly, Bucky?” you question.
He looks at you for a second, the agitation slowly leaving his features before he walks over you and takes you by the hand to guide you to sit on the sofa again, “Listen,” he says, as you sit beside him, intently listening to him, “It’s been some time I’ve been feeling kind of weird towards you. Us, I mean.” He gulps, “A kind of feeling that confused the hell out of me for quite some time.”
“Ok…” Your heart races in your chest, but you still have no idea where this is going, so you decide to not say anything else and let him talk so maybe you can get a better grasp on what the hell is going on.
“You know this morning, when you picked up Eddie’s phone and said he could come over?”
Your eyes move away from his for a second, since you’re not exactly proud of the fact that you did tell Eddie to come over when he was still there, but Bucky said it himself it was ok… clearly it was not.
“We had just had an amazing day and night together and I was even more confused when I got out of here,” he continues, ”I needed to check something, to fully understand what was happening, so I called Amanda.”
“Oh… really?” A piercing ache bites on your chest at the information. Are you the one who’s jealous now? “Were you with her when I called you? That’s why you didn’t pick up?” You ask, trying not to let your unexpected feeling show, but you’re not sure whether you’re succeeding or not.
“Yeah,” he admits with a small nod.
The answer makes you flinch on your seat, “And you wanna talk to me about jealousy,” you scoff, crossing your arms in front of you, the annoyance slipping through your tone, “That’s really funny, Bucky, don’t you think?”
“But… I-I,” he seems lost for a moment, “Listen, I’m not gonna lie to you. I’ never have, not gonna start now. I called her with the idea of having sex with her, yeah. Ever since I met you I hadn’t slept with anyone else and I thought that maybe that was the reason I was feeling so weird-“
“Wait…Really? You hadn’t been with anyone else?” You interrupt him, since the information piques your interest. Now that he mentions it, you have a vague memory of someone telling you that exact same thing at the party while you were too shitfaced to process the info. What an irony that the someone was precisely Amanda.
“No, and I still haven’t because I couldn’t even get it up,” he discloses with pure exasperation.
“What?” You lift both your eyebrows, “You couldn’t get it up?” You practically squeal, “Is that… is that even possible?” You reach over his forehead to check his temperature, “Are you ok?”
Taking your hand in his, he lets out a chuckle, but there’s no humor behind it, “I called her because I thought that if I hooked up with someone else, maybe things would be clearer or whatever. And they did.” He huffs, nodding down to his lower half, “The jerk down there decided to throw on my face something I think I’ve known for a while but had no idea what to make of it.”
He pauses and takes a few breathes, looking down as if he needs to gather some courage and you squeeze his hand, trying to provide him what he needs to keep talking. When he looks back at you, there’s a small reassuring smile on your face waiting for him and the next words he says bursts out from his lips.
“I think I’m in love with you.”
Silence settles in the room. You still have your hand on his while he stares at you expectantly. You stare back at him. Something starts bubbling in your chest. It grows bigger and bigger till it runs up your throat and spurts from your lips in the form of a laugh. A big and hysterical one.
You let go of his hand to lightly push him on his shoulder, “Oh my God, Bucky,” you say, as tears form in the corner of your eyes of how much you’re laughing, “Only you can come up with a story like that to make me laugh now.” You point at him, “You finding out you’re in love with me because of a limp-dick.” You laugh even harder.
It's when you move to tap on his shoulder again that you focus on his face to see the lack of amusement on it. He has a sad and almost embarrassed gaze fixed on you as his lips form a frown.
The laugh dies on your lips.
“Oh…” you breathe, while realization finally comes to you, “You’re not kidding.”
He gives you a tight-lip smile.
“Oh…” you say again, any other word vanishing from your mind as you shift and lean back on your seat, staring ahead and away from him. Bucky has just said he thinks he’s in love with you.
Bucky…
In love with you…
“I know this wasn’t the ideal way and time to tell you, I know,” he starts talking in a hurry beside you, but you keep staring ahead, unable to move from your position, as a whole new bubble starts taking form in your chest and throat, taking over your senses, “And I know you didn’t expect that from me, hell, I certainly wasn’t expect that myself, but it just happened and I was confused, but I’m not anymore, I know what I’m feeling and… Y/N?” he suddenly interrupts his rambling, “Are you… are you crying?”
You turn to him again and see the widening of his eyes when he catches the evidence for his suspicion, “Yes,” you cry out, as tears run down unbidden your cheeks, “Yes, I’m crying, I’m sorry,” you hide your face in your hands.
“No, no, no, no, sweetheart,” he reaches over you, desperation etched on his voice as he wraps your shaking shoulder in a tight hug, “Please don’t cry… I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said anything…I don’t wanna see you like that. Please don’t cry.” His voice shakes, “Or I’m gonna cry, too.” And as if on cue, you hear the sniffles.
Burying your cheeks on his shirt, dampening the fabric with tears, you let yourself be hugged by him. And, just like that, you live the most pathetic scene of your life, two grown ass adults holding each other and sobbing like babies, without saying anything for God knows how many minutes.
You have no idea what has come over you, but hearing him saying that, right after being proposed by Eddie, after finding yourself with such conflicting thoughts and feelings, must have triggered something inside you.
When your shoulders stop shaking so much and the tears seem to give you two a truce, you lean away from him, “I’m sorry, Bucky,” you say, wiping the wetness from the corner of your eyes with your fingers, “This was ridiculous, God… I guess it’s been an intense day…” you take in a shuddering breath.
“No, no,” He swipes the back of his hand on his cheeks, brushing out the wetness from there, “I shouldn’t have said anything, I’m the one who’s sorry. Let’s forget all about it-”
“No,” you cut him off, “No, Bucky, it’s ok, I’m glad you told me,” you put some softness in your voice for the huge man who has just cried his eyeballs out with you, “But… Are you sure? I mean… it’s you.” Shrugging your shoulder, you gesture towards him with both your hands, “That’s not what you want, it’s against all of your life philosophy, your lifestyle.”
He chuckles and his gaze drops, before they’re on you again, “You know, I’ve never taken anyone else to that burger joint, I’ve never shown that picture to anyone and even less talked about my sisters… my mom... Then our night together, right here in your bedroom?” He points towards the room, “I’ve had tons, I mean, tons of sex my whole life, I don’t need to lie about that. But I never had a night like that with anyone else. That wasn’t just sex and I’m sure you know what I’m talking about.”
You’re entranced by his words and you feel yourself shrinking under the intensity of his gaze on you, of the sentiment that sweeps into his voice. There’s not a bone in you that makes you contradict what he’s saying. It was a special night. Moments ago, you were still daydreaming about it.
“I know it sounds weird coming from me,” he breathes, “I know everything I said and even bragged about before is coming to bite me in the ass right now,” his jaw tightens, ”But I’m certain of what I’m feeling… I think about you all the damn time, sweetheart… I look at you and I wanna laugh and cry all at once,” he scoffs, gesturing towards his reddened eyes, and you can’t help but to let out a breathy smile. “I’m in love with you,” he bores his gaze on you. “Fuck whatever I ever wanted before. I want you now.”
You take in a deep breath, trying to breathe in the air his words knocked out of your lungs. You’re in a loss for words. In all the scenarios you pictured for this deal of Bucky and yours - which weren’t that many, since you jumped in with the mindset of seizing the moment with him – you’ve never seen that one happening: him coming over to tell you he’s fallen for you. As much as his confession sparks something inside you, that’s so unlike him, that you need to be the voice of reason there.
“Bucky…” you call softly, putting your other hand over the one that you’re already holding. You look down at it, before turning to him again, watching anxious blue eyes on yours, “You said Eddie only decided to come here and propose after seeing me with you and after trying to hook up with someone else. As you said, it shows that he’s just being impulsive and might not know what he genuinely wants, right?”
“Yeah…” He nods after clearing his throat. Apparently, that’s not what he expected you to say after he poured his heart out for you, “Because that’s the truth, the guy doesn’t know what he really wants.” He shrugs.
You offer him a tight but kind smile, “Don’t you see the similarity here?”
His forehead creases at your question.
You keep a gentle gaze on him as you speak, “This morning you went out of here after Eddie called. You knew he was coming. Then, you tried hooking up with Amanda… That didn’t work out…” You shake your head, “Now you’re here, telling me you’re in love with me, after practically seeing me with someone else and trying to have sex with another woman and not being able to go through with it.”
You see realization dawning on his face, as he understands what you’re trying to say, “No… no, that’s different.” He swiftly shakes his head.
“How so?” You insist.
“I know what I’m feeling, Y/n.” He says with firmness in his voice, “I’ve been trying to understand these feelings for a while now. The situation may have pushed me further, but it’s not the cause of anything. I’m not acting by impulse, please believe me,” he begs.
“I’m not saying you’re not feeling anything, Bucky,” you counter, “Our time together was so special,” you smile, “I’m not blind to that… and I think… I think I-I-“
Your mouth shuts and you bite your lower lip. You almost say that there’s a chance you’ve developed feelings for him, too. But you don’t really know what those feelings mean and what you really want. You don’t really know much about them, but it’s been just one day and one night that have made you notice those sentiments… you don’t wanna lead him or even yourself on, based on feelings that have just shown up and you still have no idea where this is going.
Plus… there’s Eddie. The mere thought of him drops a weight over your shoulders.
“I-I’m confused, Bucky,” you say, instead of saying all of that, but that’s not a lie. Not at all. “I don’t really know what to feel or think… There’s a great chance you’re confused by your own feelings, too. And maybe after Eddie appeared on the scene those feelings might be doing a number on your mind and making you take them as something deeper than they really are.”
“That’s… you’re wrong, I know what I’m feeling,” he says softly, his head dropping to your joined hands, where he caresses your skin with his thumb.
“Bucky…” you sigh, “Even if you’re really in love with me like you say you are… You never wanted that,” you try to reason, as he looks up at you, “With that kind of sentiment comes commitment, and commitment is not a piece of cake. Most of the time it leads to a broken heart, most likely two. Believe me, I know.”
He doesn’t say anything, just stares at you. Your heart is tight by the traces of sorrow you catch behind the look on his face and you hate to be the one to put it there. But at that moment, that’s all you can give him,
“As for me,” you nod, as if to engrave the thought into your mind, “I think what I need now is to be alone for a while… My entire adult life I was never single. I need to figure out who I am without having someone to lean on emotionally, physically and… I don’t know...You-you know what I’m saying? But, please, I don’t wanna hurt you, I-” You stammer, annoyed that the air you’re breathing suddenly seems to not be enough to fill your lungs.
“Hey, hey,” he soothes, dragging himself through the cushions to come even closer to you as he notices your increasing distress, “It’s ok,” he says, taking your hand to his lips and placing a kiss on it, coaxing a short gasp out of you, “I get what you’re saying, and I respect that. I do.” He offers you a comforting smile.
The sorrow you’ve seen moments ago is not on his gaze anymore, and it helps to ease down your breathing and mind, driving you to focus solely on him, his voice and what he’s saying.
“I don’t want to force myself or my feelings on you, and you don't need to worry about hurting me, sweetheart. It's ok. I promise. I’m a grown ass man, I might’ve been confused, but I can handle my own feelings.” A kind of sweetness you’ve never heard from him laces his voice, “I just need you to understand one thing, though.” His features turn a bit more serious, “I know what I’m feeling, no matter how much time passes and no matter if it’s the same for you or not. It doesn’t change anything for me. I was confused before, I was. But I’m not anymore.”
“Ok,” a low mumble is all you manage to provide as an answer, stunned by both the words and the certainty he reveals through them.
“Are we good?” He checks.
“We’re good.”
He smiles, a bright and gentle grin, and it’s the Bucky you’ve spent almost every day of the last month on his demeanor again. You smile back, feeling your shoulders a bit lighter.
“I have one more question, though. I’m new to this whole express feelings stuff,” he grimaces playfully, “Did I screw everything up?” He asks, but there’s no weight on his words while his forehead scrunches up a bit, but the smile lingers on his lips.
You laugh a little, before bringing a hand to cup his cheek, “You didn’t screw anything up and I’m not dismissing what you’re telling me you’re feeling, Bucky, it’s not that at all.” You shake your head and it feels cozy inside your chest as he leans his cheek against the touch of your hand, “I just think we both need to take our time and understand our feelings straight. You and me.” You lightly stroke his cheek with your thumb.
“Does that mean our deal is off?” He asks with a cringing curve on his lips.
You let out a chuckle, bringing your hand to your lap, “Let’s call it suspended for now, how about that?”
He shrugs, “Ok, but Little Bucky down there is going to be very upset, he turned out to have a strict preference.”
“Oh my God.” You let out a loud laugh, “Little Bucky? Seriously?”
“Don’t make fun of him, he’s very sensitive today.” He puts on an exaggerated pout.
Your head falls back from how much you laugh, being followed shortly by him. You don’t know if it’s a habit developed in the last month or something bigger than that, but you can’t help when your lips and his meet. He sighs through the kiss, which starts slow and gentle, but next thing you know, you’re both breathing hard and you have your fingers buried through his locks as he pulls you by the waist, his broad body on yours, his arms around you, his heat burning you up while your heart beats fast against his chest…
You have to put together every little ounce of strength inside you to part your lips from him, letting your forehead rest against his.
“Bucky…” you whisper, trying to catch some hair, “We shouldn’t-“.
“See you around, sweetheart,” he says back and, after placing a long kiss on your forehead, he gets up and walks towards the door, sporting a cheeky little smirk on his lips that makes your heart race even more.
~~~
To be continued...
#bucky barnes#bucky barnes x reader#bucky x reader#bucky barnes fanfiction#bucky barnes fluff#bucky barnes angst#marvel fanfiction#it's a deal#bucky barnes series#it's a deal chapter 10
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You Matter To Me (Squip/Reader)
You've had your Squip for a bit now and it's been fine for the most part, until he brings up the idea of looking into romantic relationships with others which opens up a lot of wounds you wanted to just bury deep and forget about. But you can't begin the road to recovery without asking why you got there, right?
SO IVE NEVER....WRITTEN AN X READER B4 UGH HJKSAJDASKDJSA esp not for a near dead fandom OH WELL oh well oh well h ignore this my normal followers please please
(warning 4 talks of depression/self degrading talk, its hurt comfort yada yada i need 2 touch grass ik)
ao3 link if u prefer that!!
You weren't made for love, at least, you didn't think so.
For as long as you'd been looking for it, it was always so out of reach. Easily visible, sure. Walking past groups of friends laughing it up on the sidewalks, partners entangled in each other's arms, seemingly trying to make their love known for all. But for you to have any of that for yourself? The heat death of the universe would sooner come, surely.
You'd sort of given up on it. It would be nice, you'd think. To be held, wrapped up in someone's arms, and just to stay there for as long as either of you could want. That cozy, warm feeling of being with someone that you only saw in movies or read about in books. But you had just accepted it wasn't in the cards, so to speak. And you were fine with that.
Well, you told yourself anyway. You knew it was for a deeper reason, though, but that wasn't something you liked to think about too heavily.
It was easier to do that when you didn't have a roommate that could dig into your brain and pry every little detail about them out of you.
When you got your Squip, you didn't know it'd be so adamant about perfecting every little last thing you were. How long or short your hair was styled, if your shoes matched your eyes, how fast or slow you were walking and how too brisk would make you seem like you were constipated but too slow and your likelihood of getting run over by a horse-drawn carriage gone would go up much higher, nevermind that you've never even seen a horse in real life.
What you did know, by now at least was that the Squip was persistent, seeing himself as your guardian angel, a guiding light in your desolate dark world of humanity, ickiness and week old pizza boxes you were too unmotivated to at least move off the bed.
So when his ideal response wasn't given when he proposed seeking out a lovelife, he was...well,
"I'm not sure I understand." His head crooked to the side, puzzled by your surface level indifference, "You're of consenting age, marginally attractive and only slightly under average at socializing. Finding a mate can't be too hard."
His holographic form hummed a soft, near silent buzz, a small imperfection to his otherwise flawless binary makeup. Other than that, and the soft, tinted blue glow around his form, he looked completely human. A little too human, really. Something so real, realer than any CG or video game, but something was just...off, something from the uncanny valley. You hadn't kept him in this form long, you liked to change it up from time to time, maybe to trick yourself into thinking he was someone new, making your brain think you had more friends besides the computer you bought behind a Rack Room.
You didn't look at him though when you responded, too preoccupied with the paper in front of you, decorated with a few characters concocted from your imagination. "I dunno," you shrug, brushing off eraser marks, "Just not my thing, I guess."
You could feel his confusion, a bit of gut feeling as his thoughts jumbled in with your own. He was really only in your brain, afterall; the figure behind you sitting on your bed was just something he made up to ease your brain into trusting a new, larger source of perpetually growing information. "But, the purpose of this time in your life is to mate and birth young, is it not?"
You really wished he'd learn to stop talking about you and 'the homo sapien species' like you were a mindless ape made to breed and nothing else.
"Uh, I mean not really. I know that's what everyone around me is doing," Your mind thought back to all the cringey baby announcement videos from kids you knew in high school, "But it's...I guess I'm just not up for it. It's not really for people like me."
He was quiet. Only for a second, before he asked,
"People like you?" Another silence hung in the air. It was a truth you knew he could easily just reach into your brain and find for himself so you kept quiet for a bit longer, waiting for him to start digging. But you didn't feel it, that very familiar sudden ache in the back of your head you got when he went poking around for more things to nag at you about. Just quiet in your room, only the soft buzz and birds tweeting outside your window any solace from the uncomfortable silence you felt.
You shrugged again, and turned to face him, seeing now the muddled and a little concerned look on his face. "You know? The quiet ones, the losers. People like me don't get to be loved. I've just accepted that." You could have said a lot worse, and it seemed like he knew that. You didn't really understand, either. You didn't like yourself, plain and simple.
His concern only seemed to grow, eyebrows furrowing and staring intently at you. You thought for a second, maybe it was anger. It wouldn't be the first time. You were mostly compliant to his (mandatory) suggestions for life improvement, but every once in a while he would propose an idea that you would fight about, like clothes you weren't comfortable wearing for one reason or another. He said he was a learning computer, so he would need your help on things like emotions and comfiness, physical or mental, ruling out whatever the newest trends were. He would be fine afterwards but, he could get pretty huffy about you trying on too skinny-skinny jeans.
But that didn't happen, there wasn't a small but fierce jolt of electricity in your back to stop you from going against 'social programming', as he called it. He just looked at you a bit longer, seemingly turning gears in his head as he tried to process what you're saying.
You gave him a sober smile, trying to still seem indifferent, though for a second you wondered maybe if he was still prying at you, in a different way at least, because if he was, it seemed to be working.
"What? I'm just not that special. You of all people know that, right?" It was almost like you weren't hearing what was coming out of your mouth, that casual self-degradation that almost frightened him. You heard stories from message boards about that, older models of the Squip forcing reprogramming onto the host by breaking down their emotional state with verbal or physical punishment for...just existing, really.
He wasn't really like that though. Yes he could be annoyed when you didn't comply, but you were both good at compromise and treated situations like adults, even if at first you weren't much motivated to treat any situation at all. He informed you while you were looking through those boards that his creators had taken in accounts of previous incidents and built more of a guide to self-improvement than a ball and chain with a backhand. Humans were fragile, he knew that, and it wasn't okay to hurt them just to get a little closer to their goal.
But maybe, did he not think that humans were more than capable of hurting themselves? Their own words used against them, their internal voices bashing against their brains, turning them to mush and making them too scared or unmotivated to build it back up again.
"I just know no one would love some useless, pitiful person...I just kinda got over that a while ago." You almost frightened him with how nonchalant you were about the whole thing. It wasn't intentional, you weren't trying to seek attention or be funny. You just knew there was plenty of other people out there worthy of all that lovey-dovey stuff you thought would be nice but...it's just not meant for you.
There was a knot in his voice as he finally spoke up,
"That's why I'm here, isn't it?" The last piece of the puzzle had finally clicked into place, but he didn't look satisfied, not that cheeky, self-centered chagrin when things went his way or when he was proven right yet again.
You thought he knew that. You thought from day one he just figured that out and that's why he's been trying so hard to make you into a model citizen or something. "Did you just think you were here to help me pick out clothes in the morning?" You laughed, he seemed to know it was forced.
"Well...y-yes, maybe. I just...I never looked into that possibility of…" He was regaining his composure; this was a side you've never seen of him before. He's always been so astute, robotic and to the point. He's never fumbled over his words or had to give himself a second to figure out what to say next.
"How long has it been like this, Y/N?" His hands were folded neatly on his lap, still looking you dead-on, waiting for you to answer his distressed queuerie with worried patience.
You got up out of your chair, pushing it back and behind you to step away from the table and your drawings. "I dunno," you said, taking a few steps towards the long mirror hung on your wall, "for as long as I can remember, I guess." You looked at your reflection, only tired, dark eyes looking back at you. Even though the edge of the bed was visible in the mirror, your Squip didn't show up in it, another reminder of just how alone you were outside of your head.
"I just started to feel like I didn't belong more and more and...that ate me up so much I just started believing in it. I-I didn't wanna go to school or talk to people or even get up 'cause...well," You turned away from the mirror before you could see the tears you'd been holding back, looking at the more distressed figure in view of you again, "what would anyone be missing, really?" You still smiled, that big smile you both worked so meticulously on making seem not too forced when you had to act excited or just blend into normal social gatherings, but it wavered so easily, like a thin strip of paper about to tear off the nail that barely held it up on the wall.
His eyes widened at the sight of your tears, immediately getting up and briskly walking to stand in front of you, not knowing how to proceed in the moment. He hadn't had to deal with something like this yet and he was troubleshooting to see what was the correct response to a human breakdown.
You looked down, covering your eyes with one hand and clenching the other into a fist, big, strained smile still plastered on your face and trying so hard not to seem more weak than you knew you were. You were nothing. You knew that, you thought he did too. You thought you could just fix things, but how could you do that without getting to the source? You knew you couldn't just sidestep around why you wanted things to get better with humans, but with a computer who could read your brain like the newspaper, you thought maybe you could get around that.
You heard him sigh before a feeling of arms wrapping around you caught you off guard, the Squip entangling you in his grasp and his head resting on yours. It was all simulated, you knew. He had done things such as lightly punch your arm as if to say 'Good job, Sport!' or tap your shoulder to grab your attention without startling you, but this was different. He held onto you for a good couple of seconds, a wave of warmth spreading through your body in an instant. He pet back your hair with one hand, rubbing your back with the other and finally broke the silence in the room.
"Y/N, it- ...it pains me, hearing you speak that way about yourself. You're…" He looked down at you, holding you a bit closer and tightening his grip just a tad. "You're an incredible, talented, wonderful person. You've come so far and you've taught me so much about humans and myself and I just couldn't ask for a better-" He stopped. You knew what he was going to say, a better host, a better human, a better assignment to help and guide and-
"A better friend."
A friend?
He never referred to you or anyone with such a personal or affectionate term. It almost didn't seem real, like you maybe misheard him. Your smile had shattered into a small frown and, with teary-eyes and your voice already cracking, you looked up at him, meeting his almost-heartbroken eyes in an expression that looked so foreign on his normally composed face.
"What?"
He gave a weak smile, trying to be comforting but his fear showing plain as day. You could feel it within you too, a pit in your stomach forming as your chest tightened. You knew it wasn't your anxiety, but his.
"Do I need to repeat myself, Y/N? I think of you as a friend and..." His hand moved off of your back and ran itself up to rest on your shoulder, the other holding your cheek and wiping away your tears with his thumb. "I want to do all I can to show you that from here on."
You almost couldn't breathe as you looked at him, feeling for the first time that unconditional love you yearned for. You could feel your heart race in your chest, something you knew he could feel too but you were too crushed to say anything. You simply slammed yourself into his chest, grabbing fistfulls of his shirt that made your hands tingle like they fell asleep. His arms enveloped you yet again, the both of you holding onto each other so tight like either of you would fall through the floor if you let go.
You sobbed and sobbed and sobbed for what felt like hours, and, just maybe, you thought you could hear him crying too, but that'd be silly...right?
When you were finally out of tears to cry, you stood there still, simply bathing in each other's presence, the feeling you only saw in others finally yours. And you knew it was only a matter of time before this too was stolen from you, the universe would take back anything from people unworthy but...for right now, you wanted to be a little selfish.
"I'm sorry." You whispered, face still buried in his shirt.
"For?" His head was rested on yours again, holding up your weak and tired form with no effort, just trying to keep you propped up until you were ready to let go.
"I got you to help me but...I can't even let you in like I'm supposed to. But...I want to. I just want help." You pushed yourself off of him, one thought between you and him and his hands meeting yours, the simulated tingle in there again as you held each other's palms in yours and looked at each other with such exhausted eyes and worn-out but so genuine smiles.
He leaned down and planted a kiss on your forehead, a soft hue of pink blush spreading on your drained and exhausted face.
"I'd love to help, friend."
#dex says things#THE FUCK AM I DOING WITH MY LIFE FLDSJFKLDSFDS#THE WORST PART IS IM PROUD OF THIS UGH#be more chill#the squip#squip x reader#my writing#ITS 530 AM UGH
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In Sickness And In Health (An 18+ James Patrick March/Reader Oneshot)
This is 18+ content! If you are a minor, this work is not for you !!!
This fic is a sequel to my oneshot Heartsick, but it can be read as a standalone oneshot!
Synopsis: Normally people don’t have their wedding and funeral on the same day, but you and James don’t quite have a normal relationship, do you? Besides, you wouldn’t wanna go any other way.
Tags: Smut with Plot, Weddings, Fluff, Ghost Smut, Cunnilingus, Sick!Reader, Obnoxious Titanic Knowledge
Rating: E, 18+
Warnings: Swearing, Major Character Death, Romanticization of Death, Murder, Unsafe Sex (it’s with a ghost, but just to be safe...), Mentions Of The Reader Having A Long Term Debilitating Illness
Word Count: 5500~
This fic has been crossposted to my AO3 under the same title
-------
“How are you feeling, my darling?”
James’s voice was soft as he entered your suite, slipping off his shoes before joining you on the bed. He smelled like antiseptic, hair and hands still damp from a recent wash. Underneath, though, was the sharp, coppery tang of blood.
You stretched as you answered, weak muscles shuddering with effort. “It’s a good day. Not great, I still feel like absolute shit, but I don’t feel like I’m actively dying anymore,”
“Well, that’s certainly an improvement,”
Your fiancé offered you a rare, genuine grin. Seeing him smile made the lie worth it.
In truth, you still felt truly terrible.
It had been almost three weeks since Mr. March had proposed, and true to his word he had been glued to your side helping you recover ever since. He helped you bathe, fed you meals, gave you medication, kept you entertained; days with him were filled with small, simple pleasures. You had never experienced anything like that attention before. Unfortunately, though, the time spent with James only seemed to help your mind, and not your body.
After close to two months of bed rest, your muscles were weak. It still took significant effort to do simple tasks like walking to the bathroom or using cutlery. Some days were better than others, but everything generally tended to end up as part of the indistinguishable haze of pain that clouded your memories lately. If nothing else, at least the fevers were less extreme.
The only light at the end of the tunnel was your wedding. It was still two weeks away, (“That’s plenty of time for you to recover fully, my dearest,” James had insisted) but once you were married that meant you could die. Oh, what a happy day that would be. There would be no more sickness, no more achy muscles, not another day of forced bed rest, just peace and quiet and plenty of sex. God, how you missed the sex…
Every day was another day closer to your peaceful end, and yet they seemed to stretch endlessly. Deep down, you worried that you might not even make it long enough to walk down the aisle alive. You shuddered at the thought. If James ended up having to carry you down the aisle you might just die of embarrassment before he had the chance to kill you.
“I can’t believe you killed someone without me,” You huffed, reaching out your shaking arms and inviting James to lay with you. He happily obliged.
“Would you have preferred me to let him live?” James pulled your torso gently onto his chest, letting you rest against him.
“No, but you could have at least let me watch. I’ve been stuck in here for weeks, James. I get bored,”
He ran a hand through your hair. “Perhaps next time darling, but hopefully, you will be well enough to join me before our next victim walks through the door,”
“Who was it this time?”
“A florist. Liz invited him to bring over a few samples before hiring him to do arrangements for the wedding, but they were atrocious. You should have seen them, my love, they were simply grotesque, not to mention that the color schemes didn’t even slightly match the carpets in the entrance hall. Who puts pink and yellow tulips in a wedding arrangement at a hall filled with reds and oranges?”
You gave a soft hum. “Were they all really that bad?”
“Well… perhaps I was a bit harsh, but can you truly blame me? I want our wedding day to be perfect. There shouldn’t be a single flower or ribbon out of place,” He emphasized his question by gently squeezing you to his chest.
“Is it really that important?”
James went still. “What do you mean by that, dearest?”
A sigh pushed through your lips, your chest aching from the effort. “I just don’t understand why we have to wait for this perfect wedding when we could just get married now. I’m not saying I wouldn’t enjoy a big ceremony, I’m sure it would be wonderful, but I’m just so tired James. Why does it matter if we say our vows in front of other people? There’s not gonna be anything legally or religiously binding between us anyway. Getting married to you, in my mind, is just promising to be by your side forever, so why does anything else matter besides you and me?”
Looking up, you noticed that Mr. March seemed to be deep in thought, lips pressed into a line as his thin eyebrows furrowed together. Your heart sank. Did a wedding ceremony really mean that much to him? In an instant guilt began to flood your stomach. You were really ruining a special moment in his life to die faster? Hell, did he even really want you to die? He had always relished in your warmth, enthralled by the thudding of your weak, living heart. Of course, he would hate you for rushing into marriage just to throw your life away. Or maybe he was stalling because it would be too much for him to kill you himself…
“James-” you placated, lifting a hand to his face, but he quickly snapped out of his thoughtful haze.
He gazed down at you with love in his eyes and a wicked grin on his lips. “You’re right! We shall be married this afternoon!”
A jolt of shock ran down your spine.
“What?”
“As you said, our wedding is a binding of souls, my darling! Our love is sacred, withstanding time and mortality, so who are we to bend to the rules of the common man? If an intimate ceremony for two is what you desire, I shall not deny you,” In one smooth motion, James rolled on top of you, arms boxing you in as he loomed above. He looked absolutely unhinged, eyes glinting wildly in the yellow lamplight.
You knew then that there would never be anyone else. No one could compare to James, your James. He would devour you whole and you would thank him all the while. With a sudden burst of energy, you reached up and pulled him into a scorching kiss.
It was sloppy, all battling tongues and clashing teeth, nothing like the soft pressing of lips that you had been sharing lately. How had you gone almost two months without this? Your heart felt like it was about to burst right out of your chest. As James bit down hard on your lower lip, you pulled fistfuls of his pinstripe suit into your hands.
After a few more seconds of desperate, breathless kissing James pulled away. You panted for air below him. “Why’d you stop?”
To your dismay, he climbed off of you. His hard-on was fully visible through his thin dress pants as he stood. “As much as I would love to ravage you now, dearest, I believe we have vows to exchange,”
“Can’t we just do them in bed? I want you now,”
He chuckled at your whining. “I may be willing to compromise on many things, but this is not one of them,”
“Please, Mr. March,” Your words were loaded, innocent doe eyes boring into his very soul, “for me?”
You could tell it was a difficult decision, but James stood strong. “I can’t say you haven’t thoroughly tempted me, but I’m afraid not darling,” he said firmly, “Forgive me?”
With a sigh, you nodded. “Of course,”
The instant you gave in, he beamed. “Splendid! Now, it’s a shame that we don’t have your dress, but I believe I have given you several gowns that would serve nicely,”
“You’re not gonna let me get married in my pajamas?”
“Would you prefer that to wearing a dress?”
The genuine concern in James’ voice was enough to make you fold. The things his voice did to you….
“Darling,” you groaned, fighting your weak muscles as you pulled yourself to the edge of the bed, “look in the closet. There should be a black zip-up garment bag in there,”
He quirked up an eyebrow.
“Just do it,”
“As my bride commands,” James rushed to the closet, thumbing through gowns. By the time he found it you were on your feet, leaning on a nearby wall for support. “This one, darling?” he asked, pulling it from the rack.
You grinned. “That’s the one. Open it up for me?”
James undid the zip quickly. Once he saw the contents, he gaped. “You know it’s bad luck for the groom to see the dress before the wedding,”
Slowly, you made your way to James and hugged him from behind. “Well, it’s a good thing the wedding is happening now... can you help me get the dress on?”
He happily obliged.
In less than 15 minutes you were laced into your wedding dress and sitting at your vanity. James was by the phonograph looking at records while you finished pinning up your hair. It was finally time.
“What would you like me to play, darling? We don’t have the wedding march, but there are some decent options. Let’s see… The Swan? You always have loved Saint-Saëns. Or perhaps Songe d’Automne?” James asked. He had been strangely lenient; bending to your will on the wedding, letting you pick the music, allowing you to tease him with no repercussions. You shrugged it off.
“You would really play the song that played as the Titanic sank at our wedding?”
“I find it strangely fitting,”
With a soft laugh, you put the last pin in place and turned to your groom. “And so it is. I’ll compromise. We have Mon Coeur S’Ouvre A Ta Voix, don’t we? You’ll get your morbidity while I get my romance,”
“That sounds delightful, my dear. Good choice,”
James found the correct record and set it on the phonograph, placing the needle and cranking the arm with a well-practiced hand. Then, as the music began to play, he stood. It was like he was devouring you with his eyes, drinking in every detail of you as he approached. He offered you his hands. “Shall we begin, my darling?”
You joined him in the center of the room without hesitation, taking his offering with a smile, “I think we shall,”
“I admit,” James said, voice sweet and low, “that I am well out of my depth here, but before we begin may I say that you, as you are now, are more beautiful than I’ve ever seen you?”
Your face flushed. “What’s gotten into you, James? Are you getting soft on me?”
“We can only hope not, I have a reputation to uphold you know! I just can’t help but think…” his sentence drifted off as his gaze fell on yours, “I am a hard man, one of custom and habit. My life has been filled with monotony for as long as I have lived. Even killing has become commonplace for me. Things do not phase me the same way they phase you, darling, in all of your softness and perfection. I wonder if this is what will truly make you happy,”
“James!” you dropped his hands in order to cup his face, “I love you. I want to be with you. What would make you think I’m unhappy here?”
He covered your small fingers with his own, voice wistful. “I love you too, Y/N. Don’t misunderstand me, this wedding brings me more joy than you know. I simply wish to say that you will only get married once and I want it to be exactly to your liking. I have been engaged thrice and married once before, all of the pomp and circumstance is old news to me. For you, though, in all your youth…”
In a rare moment of openness, James bared himself to you. It was only right for you to do the same.
“I have never been more sure of myself than in this moment,” you whispered, leaning to let your forehead rest against his, “You are enough. I don’t need guests, or flower arrangements, or a cake to know I love you and I want to spend the rest of eternity at your side. You’re right, I’m young and I’ve made a lot of dumb choices in my life, but loving you isn’t one of them. Take me, James, make me yours. This is where I belong”
As you spoke, you felt him relax against you.
“Well, you’ve certainly convinced me,” he murmured before pulling back and bringing your hands to his still, unbeating heart, “now, on with the show… my queen, the woman who has tamed my heart, you are the only one of your kind. No one else could move me the way you do. The moment I saw you walk into my hotel I knew that you would be mine, but I had no clue of the things you would do to my heart. You have changed me, mind, body, and soul. I can only hope that I’ve changed you in similar ways,”
While he was speaking, it suddenly hit you that this was it. Usually, brides had months of build-up to their weddings, filled with cake tastings and dress fittings and family and friends. You, though, had had only a few weeks to prepare, most of which were spent on strict bedrest while James took care of the planning. Even then, you had disregarded the plans. Tears of joy began to roll down your cheeks. Nothing had ever felt so right in your whole life.
“Oh darling, don’t cry,” he cooed, wiping your tears away with the pad of his thumb.
“I’m just so happy!”
“And you shall continue to be happy. As long as you remain by my side, you will want for nothing! I shall be with you in sickness and in health, through life and through death,” Suddenly, his voice lowered to almost a whisper. “You, Y/N, have captivated me. I wish to never be without you again,”
“You never will be,”
James smiled, squeezing your hands. In an instant, you realized it was your turn. You hadn’t given much thought as to what you would say, but as you gazed into his dark, hopeful, hungry eyes the words came to you as clear as day.
“James Patrick March,” you said, “I have never met anyone quite like you. When I first saw you, I had nothing. I was destitute. The Hotel Cortez was my last hope in life, but then, I spoke to you in the Blue Parrot Lounge and I suddenly knew exactly what my purpose in life was. Somehow, someway, I realized that I had been made to find you. You’ve given me so much, James. You showed me that life was worth living. I can’t think of a future for me that doesn’t include you. From this moment on, once I’m finally Mrs. March, we can finally be what we were made to be… one heart, one mind, one soul. I’ll never let you go. Marry me, James? Stay here with me until the world ceases to turn?”
“I will, darling. I do,” while he spoke, he reached into his pocket. “I had hoped that this ring would be sitting on your finger sooner. It belongs to the woman of the house, the holder of my heart… you, my dearest Mrs. March. Please say you love me, and that you’ll stay with me until nothing of this world remains?
You responded with a grin. “I love you, James… I do,”
Slowly, he slid the ring onto your finger. It was the first time you’d actually seen it up close, and it was more stunning than you remembered. A large, square-cut diamond sat on a bed of smaller rubies, and it was all held together by a delicate silver band that fit your finger perfectly. The red stones were a new addition. Had James had the ring altered just for you? You were about to ask when you caught his gaze.
“May I kiss the bride now, my darling?”
Instead of responding, you surged up and kissed him yourself. It was like none of the kisses you had ever shared before.
There was a passion to it, but it wasn’t desperate. It was more of a low, roiling thing, a time-bomb ticking down to explode. In seconds James’ cool hand had found its way into your hair, pulling you closer and messing up the pinned curls you had put in earlier. You found you didn’t quite care.
Your limbs were beginning to feel weak as you ran out of air, and you couldn’t tell if it was because of your long-forgotten illness or if it was just the power James held over you. Part of you didn’t care anymore. As you pulled back for air, your husband reached around to the lacing at the back of your dress and began to pull at it, earning a few giggles as he loosened it enough that it fell from your body, leaving you almost bare in front of him.
“How I’ve craved you, my lovely wife,” he growled, palming your breasts through your bra, “it’s been far too long,”
His touch felt electric against your thin, soft skin. “Please, Mr. March, more,” You pressed yourself against your husband, feeling how your words affected him. He was rock hard. Something about that satisfied an ache in your heart. Even with you sick and weak, he needed you as much as you needed him.
In a swift movement, he scooped you up and carried you to the bed, setting you down gently before settling himself between your legs. You whimpered as he sucked a deep bruise into your neck. He was an expert with his tongue, licking and sucking the skin like a man starved. It felt delightful, but you couldn’t help but think about how it would feel elsewhere.
As if he could read your mind, James grinned.
“All in good time, you little minx,”
Ever impatient, you fisted a hand into his hair in an attempt to get him to move lower. He stayed put.
“Does my lovely wife want something from me?”
You groaned as he wrapped his teeth around your bra strap and tugged before letting go, the elastic snapping against your already sweat-slick skin. “James, please,”
“Ah, ah, ah! Use your words, dearest. What do you want?”
His tutting made you flush from your cheeks to your chest. There was only one way to get what you wanted, and you knew exactly how to do it. With as much innocence as you could muster in your debauched state, you whispered, “Please sir, will you eat my pussy?”
James couldn’t hold back as he snapped his hips against the sheets. “That’s it darling! How could I say no to such a polite request?”
You released a breath you didn’t even know you were holding. In a blink, your husband was undoing your bra and pulling it off, working his sinful mouth down to your breasts. His teeth grazed your nipple, drawing a high-pitched whine from your throat as your back arched, pushing you up towards his touch. It was like your body was a live wire. Every nerve was alive, buzzing at the slightest touch. Still, it wasn’t enough.
Thankfully, he was quick to move once again. He left a trail of gentle, sloppy kisses down your ribs and stomach before arriving at his desired destination. His hot breath against your soaked panties fanned the flames of arousal building within you. Once again, you whined.
Your husband had always loved eating you out. He never seemed happier than when he was buried between your thighs with his tongue buried between your folds, and once again he was faced with his favorite activity. The hungry look in his eye told you that he wanted it as much as you did.
“It’s a shame I didn’t get to remove your garter in front of the hotel. I would have so enjoyed showing them all just how lucky of a man I am. Perhaps it’s a blessing in disguise though… I do hate to share” he murmured, pressing a few torturous kisses to the hot skin of your inner thighs as he skimmed your panties with his fingers, “I suppose these will have to do,” Then, in a sudden movement, he was dragging them down your legs by the lace with his teeth. Once they were removed, he tossed them aside to be collected later. The way he looked at your wetness was reverent. It only made you wetter.
“What do we have here,” he muttered, letting the tip of his nose just barely brush your core, “what could possibly be making you this wet, my darling?”
His taunting was, surprisingly, less severe than usual. On any normal day, it would have taken a good 10 minutes for him to be anywhere near your heat, but you could tell he was obliging your whims as a treat. It was a special occasion, after all.
“You,” you groaned lowly as his breath ghosted over your pussy.
“That’s right, my dear heart, me,”
In an instant James had buried himself in your lower lips, suckling your clit with vigor as your hips bucked to meet him. For once, he let you chase your pleasure with reckless abandon. It had been months since your last proper orgasm, so you were extra sensitive as he licked long stripes up your slit. Soon enough you were keening as you teetered on the edge of pleasure.
“James- James, please!” you shouted as he finally worked a finger into your tight, wet hole, his tongue lazily circling your clit as he gazed into your eyes across the planes of your body.
He pulled off momentarily, making you groan. “Please what, dearest?”
“I wanna cum! Please- OH!”
His lips were back on your clit instantly, his eyes smiling as he pumped in and out of you with his fingers and sucked with reckless abandon. Every muscle in your body felt poised for action, your hands gripping James’ hair at the roots with enough force that you were surprised it was still attached to his head. You tipped over the edge into pleasure the second he curled his fingers upwards, roughly pressing into your sweet spot as he hummed, his voice vibrating against you in the most heavenly way.
Your orgasm was like a wave of pure bliss rolling over you as James pleasured you through it, milking you for everything you had. Only once you stopped convulsing did he remove his mouth. Even then, he continued to fuck you gently with his fingers. “Did that feel good, my love?” he asked, rubbing circles into your still-shaking thigh with his free hand.
“Yes, James! Your mouth is perfect,” you whimpered.
He seemed to enjoy your answer because he slowly pulled his fingers from your sensitive pussy before climbing up your body and rewarding you with a passionate kiss. You enjoyed it thoroughly but suddenly became aware that he was still fully dressed. “James,” you whined against his lips, “you’re wearing far too many clothes,”
He tasted like tobacco and absinthe as he kissed you again, guiding your hands to the buttons on his suit jacket before tugging at his cravat. “Perhaps we should remedy that, darling?”
You were quick to undo each button before ripping the jacket from his body and tossing it on the ground. His dress shirt and cravat were quick to follow. He focused on undoing his pants while you relished in his bare chest, running your hands down the firm planes of flesh. “God, you’re gorgeous,” you whispered, biting down gently on his collarbone.
“No need to call me God, dearest,” he chuckled, shoving down his pants and boxers to free his leaking cock, “though I don’t oppose to it,”
He was a big man, long and thick enough that fitting all of him in was just slightly painful but more than enough to make you feel deliciously full. You drooled as you reached between your torsos to stroke him, but surprisingly James caught your wrist before you could touch him.
“I appreciate you taking my pleasure into consideration, my love, but I won’t last long as it is,” he crooned, holding your wrist to the bed with one hand as he lined himself up against your dripping heat with the other. He ran the head of his cock against your folds a few times, gathering up your wetness in the hopes that it would ease the stretch when he finally pushed in. To you, though, it was just torture, and how James did love to torture his victims.
“Please, fuck me, Mr. March,” you groaned, “I need you! It’s been so long,”
“Such a good little minx,” his voice rolled low as he smiled down at you, “using your words just like I taught you. Perhaps you deserve a reward,” Then, as he locked his hungry eyes with yours, he pushed fully into your heat.
You cried out in ecstasy the second he filled you up, your head lolling back against the headboard as he rocked in and out, letting you ride out the initial pain as he warmed you up for the main event. It wasn’t long before the sting was gone. It was replaced with a dull ache, but that was mostly overshadowed by a sweet, building fire spreading through your abdomen again as James pounded into you with reckless abandon.
Every muscle in your body felt weak, loose and slack as your husband found that spot inside you. Each thrust was a shock through your overstimulated body. It was like you were toeing the line between pain and pleasure, always an instant from falling fully into one or the other. When James picked up his speed once again, you started to lose yourself to the pleasure.
“Mr. March!” you wailed, body jolting as he released your wrist and instead used his hand to steady your thigh and hold you wide open, “ Mr. March! Oh god, please let me cum!”
Surprisingly, despite the fact that he was dead, James seemed almost as breathless as you while he purred into your ear. “Close your eyes, Y/N. Let the pleasure take you. Cum for me, Mrs. March,”
With one last sharp stroke from James, you wailed and let your orgasm overtake you. This time, though, it wasn’t a wave. Instead, it hit you directly like a ton of bricks. The feeling was heady, a high derived from the shockwaves of pleasure mixing with the sweet pain James always provided when he lost control. Distantly, you could feel your thighs covered in your wet essence as your husband gripped them and drove himself into you ceaselessly, quickly reaching his own climax.
Maybe it was that you hadn’t been satisfied so thoroughly since before you were sick, but you felt absolutely exhausted as the last remains of your release drained from your body. Perhaps you had gone too far with the enthusiasm after being on bed rest for so long… Something deep inside you felt whole, like a piece of you that had been missing all your life had finally slotted into place. You fell into a dreamless sleep as that satisfaction resonated through your thoroughly fucked-out body.
When you woke, you almost felt disconnected from time. It was like waking up from an unexpected nap that went on longer than you had intended it to. Your eyelids felt heavy, but the familiar ache in your lungs and muscles that had been your constant companion was gone, replaced with a cool, tingling numbness. You chuckled a bit to yourself. Had sex been the answer to your problems all along?
Slowly, you rolled onto your side, stretching out your arms and legs before curling up in the sheets. Five more minutes of sleep wouldn’t hurt anybody.
Unfortunately, your plans for rest were foiled as you felt the bed dip beside you.
“How do you feel, my darling?” James asked. His voice was soft. If you didn’t know him better you would have thought he sounded frightened.
You smiled, letting your eyes flutter open as you took in his face. “Surprisingly, I feel great. I don’t think I’ve felt this good for a long time,”
James smiled back at you, his brown eyes glimmering with some distant emotion. “That’s good. I’m glad you’re starting the road to recovery,”
There was something strange about your husband, you noticed as you sat up, looking around. You definitely weren’t in your own bedroom anymore. Instead, you were tucked nicely into a four-poster bed with soft, red sheets, surrounded by dark wood and art deco accents. Distantly, you touched your chest and registered that you were wearing one of James’ shirts.
“You brought me to your room?” You propped yourself up on his headboard as you took in your new surroundings, watching the golden evening sun filter in through the gap in the heavy velvet curtains.
“Our room, my sweetling,” James corrected.
You hummed thoughtfully. “I like it. I know I’ve technically been here, with Devil’s Night and our little trysts and all, but I’ve never slept in your bed before. It’s soft… nice,”
He offered you a tinny false smile, his hands fidgeting nervously with the edge of the bedspread. “I’m glad you think so, dearest. What’s mine is now yours,”
Distantly, you smelled the faintest traces of the antiseptic soap James used to rid himself of blood. You raised an eyebrow. “How long was I out?”
“Just a few hours. I took the liberty of calling Mrs. Evers to turn down your sheets while you rested,”
“You had time for a kill in just a few hours?”
“Y/N, I-”
As he spoke, you reached out to touch his fidgeting hand only to yank your fingers back to your chest. No… this was wrong.
“Y/N, please, stay calm-”
“Why are you warm?” You asked, breathing heavily, “James? Why are you warm?”
James steadied himself with a deep breath before reaching over to rub gentle circles into your thigh above the blanket.
“I… I may have taken the liberties of… Y/N, please understand that I only did what I must. You were wasting away! And a promise is a promise…. What I’m trying to say is-”
“You killed me?”
“Precisely,”
Your husband bit down on his lip, averting his gaze in the hopes of avoiding your wrath. To his surprise, though, you threw yourself into his arms, peppering his face with kisses as you laughed joyously. You were free! Free from pain and sorrow and th e endless trappings of mortality. And James was the one to free you.
“You brilliant man!” you shouted, excited giggles escaping from your lips as you squeezed his frozen body to your own, “I didn’t even notice! Oh my god, and on our wedding night too? That’s so romantic! How did you do it? Did I have a heart attack and die from the best orgasm I’ve ever had in my whole damn life? Well… existence. I’m not quite alive anymore, am I? What did you use? Did you send me down the body chute?”
As you babbled, James slowly began to function again. You truly were his perfect match. “I slit your femoral artery just as all your muscles began to contract,” he explained, reaching up a hand to cup your cheek, “and I came to my own climax as you showered me in your blood. You didn’t feel a thing,”
You happily settled yourself against James’ chest. “You’re right. If anything, it felt kinda good…” you paused, “What about my body?”
He grinned. “You’re dead now, darling, we can revisit killing you during your little deaths at any time you like. As for your body, I didn’t put you down the chute. I cleaned you up, retrieved your ring, and took you to your casket. It’ll be bricked up in a wall within the week,”
“Aw, James, you had a casket ready for me and everything!”
“I commissioned it the day we first met. After we slept together and I led you to your suite, I went right to Liz and had her make an order. I spared no expense. Dark wood, red velvet lining…”
“Mmm,” you hummed, “It’s a shame we’ll never get to christen it… unless…”
“Darling, you cannot truly be thinking what I presume you are thinking,”
You giggled, pushing James flat onto the bed. Slowly, you leaned down to whisper in his ear. “Wanna go fuck over my dead body?”
James Patrick March had never gotten hard quicker in all his 126 years of existence.
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a/n: Welp! That’s the first smut I have ever written in my entire life. I hope it wasn’t terrible! This oneshot was great practice for a future instillation of Till Forever Falls Apart, so look forward to that lol. Let me know if you liked this and what types of oneshots you’d like to see next! Also, I love comments, so feel free to comment if you feel so inclined.
Please do not upload my works to other sites, thank you!
#james patrick march#james march#james march x reader#james patrick march x reader#evan peters#evan peters x reader#ahs#ahs hotel#smut#ahs smut#fanfic
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hiiii bee, i hope you're having a good weekend 🏵
i have a question!! i know bridgerton!stsg aren't necessarily yan! coded, but how far would they truly go if it came down to it, if reader had started to become interested in someone else or had her mother set something up (bc no matter how rich they are, she thinks stsg are scoundrels, rightfully so)
would they actually risk readers reputation just to make sure that she couldn't choose anyone but them?
hi anon!! i am having a good weekend so far, i hope you are as well <3
so actually...this all started because i thought they would be awful about it. aka yan!coded. they compromise you the second it seems like someone else would propose. it's planned, it's purposeful, it's perfectly executed.
i have the scene where satoru compromises you rattling around in my head but i can't quite get it down the way i want to yet! hopefully i will soon.
so long story short, they would absolutely risk your reputation. and they do. it's just that it works out in their favor, just like they knew it would.
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I did my best for this one. I hope I did this well!
Link for ask here
Ranboo was annoyed. That he knew for sure, pacing the outsides of Smajor’s office. He muttered as he walked, trying not to forget why exactly he was pissed. His tails swished, dusting the red carpet below him. He huffed lightly. “When is Scott going to let me in? This is getting stupid!” A small growl escaped him as he glanced at the locked door sitting innocently in front of him. “Just come out of there, Scott. I really, really need to talk to you…” Using one of his haunches, he banged on the door again. ‘This is the third time I’ve done this! When is he going to let me in?’ The sound of the latch unlocking made him sight in relief. “Ah, there he is-” A loud bang went off, making the enderman jump.
“HELLO! IT IS I, SMAJOR!...where are you?” The man glanced around dramatically, eyes alight with pep and overzealous energy for just about no reason. He let go of the doorknob, wincing a little at the sight of the dent that was steadily worsening. Ranboo was not impressed. He deadpanned at the other, tails flat on the floor and unmoving. “...Seriously? Couldn’t you be a little more serious here?” He showed the littlest part of his teeth, trying to intimidate the shorter of the two of them. Unfortunately, the gesture bounced right off of him, the rather bombastic man walking towards him and pulling him eagerly into his office. “Come in, come in! It’s been so long since someone wanted to come into my room- I mean, office. Take a seat!” With a snap of his fingers, a chair pulled itself out of the wall, situating itself onto the floor. Ranboo’s bicolored eyebrows raised in surprise, but he spoke not. He didn’t want to show him the interest he had. No, he wanted to persuade the MCC moderator into letting him into the place.
While he babbled on about dinglehoppers and fascinating doodads he had seen on the road while walking last month, he took the time to look around his office. The area was large, as expected of someone who owned so much and had so much power. The whole room screamed smajor, from the loud patterns and decor everywhere, to the carpets below his paws. Itr was obvious that his interior designer told him to do the exact opposite. He shut his eyes, suppressing the urge to wince at the loud textures inverting behind his eyelids. ‘Ow.’
He turned his ears to hear the man again, growling under his breath when he realized he still hasn’t stopped speaking. “...and picture this! Your husband, Ranboo, forgot to touch the lever afterwards!” He hooted with laughter, swiveling around in his chair. “Ohoho, it was hilarious!” Ranboo cleared his throat loudly. “Scott? Could we, uh, talk? Please?” Ranboo was on his last nerves at this point. He had been trying to contact him for ages, and this is the first thing he subjects the hybrid with? Preposterous. His ears pinned back, trying to signify his annoyance without hurting his feelings.
“Well, have you considered the offer I sent you by bird? Or the other three offers by horse? Or that one I delivered to your doorstep personally?” The man leaned forward in his chair, facial expression unreadable. “...hmmm….No, can’t say that I have. Sorry, Oreo man!” Ranboo spluttered indignantly. “What? HOW?” His claws waved about as he angrily gestured at the man, who simply shrugged and giggled to himself. The enderman stopped, taking a breath dramatically. Ears fluttering back and forth in a flurry of emotions, he shut his eyes almost violently. “Okay. As I have asked you several times before, have you at the very least thought of letting me into the MCCs yet? I haven’t done anything to be banned from it, so am I allowed to come in?”
He opened one heterochromatic eye, hope barely visible in the depths of his pupils. Smajor covered his face with his hand. “Oh, dear. Hmmm….” He acted as if he was genuinely thinking about saying yes, stroking his chin. A small pool of magic shut an open window he wasn’t aware of. “....nah.” Ranboo hissed quietly. “Okay, that’s enough. I’m getting the gun.” The man, almost unbothered, adjusted his tie and cleared his throat softly. “Ah. You know, guns are not allowed in my office.” “Who said it was a physical gun?” Seconds of pure confusion passed. “...what?” Ranboo’s chair pushed back slowly, a look of half-concealed malice (?) evident in his dual colored eyes. Smajor was tempted to get out of his seat, but he thought otherwise. ‘He’s just annoyed because I’m teasing him like this. It’s fine, he’s not going to kill me.’ The enderman slowly walked past the desk, his tails whipping forward in a dangerous gesture.
The moderator found himself in a steadily worsening situation.
He held his hands up in a universal placating gesture, hoping that it would calm him down. “Look, we can set up a compromise if you just take a seat. I can give you keys to the best seats in town?” A single elongated fang poked out as he snarled. “I’m going to take that as a no.” With a swift movement, the man found himself on the floor, pissed hybrid pinning his arms down. “I wasn’t kidding when I said that, you know. I was thinking of being nice to you, but now...now, I don’t think so.” One of Ranboo’s hands trailed up to his neck. ‘Is he going to choke me? That’s not very gentlemanly of him.’ His subconscious helpfully supplied. “However, hurting you would be really, really mean. And Tubbo said that this would be a much better option!” ‘Wait, Tubbo?’ A fluttering feeling at his neck made him scrunch up and giggle. “Wahahait!” He shut his eyes, unwilling to look at the person who was definitely smirking in triumph above him. The feeling shifted to his collarbones, then to his ears. Each spot got the same amount of attention, which was, in his opinion, too much.
“Look, Scott. All you need to do is tell me that you’ll allow me into MCC. That’s all. Just promise me I’ll be let in next time.” He sassed the enderman in return, a forced smile coloring his words. “Iihihi cohohuld ahalso tehehell yohohou thahahat your clothihihing chohohoice reheheminds me of a bohohoy who didn’t know what to wear to prom and came in a full suit during a casual dance.” His hands slowed down as he spoke, before speeding up even quicker, forcing a bout of laughter to escape from Smajor. His dyed hair flipped from side to side as he shook his head, cracked his eyes open to look at the other pleadingly. The enderman processed the movement in his head, smirking a little more again. “Is this flustering you, Scott? You’re so used to being in power. Is this something new for you?” His breath ghosted on his ear, making him shiver through his frantic giggles.
“Nohoho, I tohohotally dohoho shihihit lihihihike this ohohon ahaha dahahaily bahahasis!” Ranboo clicked his tongue teasingly. “That sounds like sarcasm to me. So, tell me, Scott. Do you know where you are ticklish?” At the sound of the word, his body bucked up into his hands, falling down moments later and prompting a small laughter-filled “oof”. The enderman couldn’t help but aww at him. “Can you not handle the word ‘tickle’?” Another fully body jerk. Scott’s arms pushed against his pinning arm in protest. “Stohohop, yohohou drehehessed-uhuhuhp ohohohreo!” Ranboo recoiled in mock offense. Tails lashing, he looked at him balefully, narrowing his eyes playfully. “Oh, now you’re just provoking me.” He jabbed into the man’s sides, flipping his ears down to avoid the resulting shriek he got from blasting his damn eardrums out. “Guessing sides are a good spot, noted.” A small enderwarble escaped his mouth in slight sympathy at the person writhing under him, but he stood firm, scratching lightly at his lower belly.
“You know what you have to say, don’t you? Come on, Scott. It’s not hard, just let me in.” Through his laughter, Smajor flipped him off. “FuhUHuck yohohOohoU!” He immediately regretted his decision, bucking wildly as dulled-down claws scraped over his sides again. And again, and again. He couldn’t help the high-pitched squeal that ripped out of his throat as Ranboo shifted just the slightest bit downwards to the connection between his sides and his back. A few shelves to the side of the man fell, magic sputtering out of control. Ranboo curled his tails over his head, wincing as he plucked out a feathery plume from one of them. He traced one over his neck to tease, teeth poking out of his mischievous smile as the other curled up almost violently as he thrashed. He stopped for a moment, allowing the other to calm down and take a few grounding breaths. He put down the feather for now. He’d save that for later, if he needed it. “So.” Ranboo vwooped quietly. “Have you considered my proposal yet?” Scott pushed the bookshelves partially back up. Eyes focused on the furniture behind the enderman, he shook his head, tongue sticking out in concentration. “Not in the slightest.”
The hybrid rushed to push up his shirt. “B-but!” His hand slowed where it was. “I can accept something else. If you are willing to follow my rules.”
Ranboo nodded, ears fully perked up and focused. Little particles landed on Scott’s bare lower stomach, making him giggle as he spoke. “Wehell, if you and Tubbo would agree to not be on the same team, nor be on the same team as anyone else you’d have a relative behenefit with, I may allow it. Mahahay.” Ranboo’s tails wagged from side to side, black, white, red, and green blurring into a mix of color behind him. “Maybe?” His eyes gleamed with hope. “May…..these nuts get shoved down your throat! HA!”
Ranboo’s facial features seemed to darken.
“Hehe…?” His hand ducked under his shirt, pushing it up fully. Smajor gulped audibly, sucking in his exposed stomach. A pen wiggled in a cloud of his magic, almost nervously. Ranboo kept that in mind, hoping that he’d remember it afterwards. ‘Does his magic respond to his emotions? I’d like to know that...once I’m not trying to make him listen to me.’ With his tummy exposed, the enderman leaned down, breath gentle on the flat of his stomach. “Are you going to say yes now? Or am I going to have to go fully in now?” Scott stayed quiet, barely moving for a moment. A blossom of panic bloomed in Ranboo’s chest. ‘Is he okay? Did I do something?’ A small, almost sheepish smile grew on the other’s face. “Sorry, I was thinking of something snarky. Don’t got anything right now. And, hmm..still thinking about that.” The whites of his teeth broke out through the light pinks of his lips. “The answer’s still no, enderboy. Try your damndest.”
He was quick to give him what he wished, diving in to blow one long raspberry on his tummy. It was evident the moderator was not aware of how sensitive he was to raspberries, based on the gasping burst of laughter he got in response. A swear in a different language as he moved closer to his sides, pepperring little raspberries and nibbles all over his trembling muscles. The sudden change in tenseness as he swiped over a specific spot on his lower belly, his body melting into the floor. Ranboo found it adorable that the sassy man was completely destroyed by a few wiggling fingers on his stomach. He didn’t say it out loud though, for the sake of the moderator’s pride. The laughter settled nicely in his ears. He could get used to this. “AHAHA! RANAHAHA- PLEHEASE!”
On the other hand, Scott could not get used to this. He definitely wouldn’t be able to keep up for much longer. His laughter strained at his throat a little. He tapped at the enderman with a plume of magic, hoping he’d get the hint. After what felt like a century of tickling for the man below him, Ranboo slowed his nibbling and raspberry blowing, gazing into his dazed eyes. “Yes, Smajor?” “Fihihihine, yahoo’ll behehe uhuhuhnbanned. Lehehet mehehe gohoho!” Ranboo’s tails wagged hesitantly, worried he was just bluffing or making a joke. “Promise?” “Ihihi prohohomise. Juhuhust, nohoho mohohore.”
His voice was wheezy, almost like an unused flute that hadn’t been taken care of much. Ranboo couldn’t really tamp down the innate sense of pride with the knowledge that he was the one who did that. He was the one who managed to convince Scott, not Tubbo, not Tommy. Him. He did. His tails thumped on the floor loudly, but he was too busy celebrating his win in the confines of his head. Particles whizzed around him faster and faster, landing on things every which way. That included Scott, unfortunately for him.
He giggled, writhing around as much as he could as the particles slowly landed on his tummy. “Hehehey, ehehenderbohohy? Lehehet mehehe gohoho, plehehease?” No reaction, his eyes far away. His face was contorted into a small smile, but otherwise, his countenance was blank like an empty slate. In other worse, he had literally no clue what was going on. A slight twinge of concern, then. “Uuhuhh, Rahahanbohohoo? Ahahare yohou ehenderwahalking?” Silence. Nothing, absolutely no response. Scott decided to take things into his own hands.
“Rahahnbohoo!”
The pen from earlier slammed into his face, making a small smacking noise as it did so. Ranboo gasped, eyes snapping back into focus at the slight stinging sensation. His bi-colored eyes focused onto him. “What was that for?” Smajor rolled his eyes, using his head and his hands to show the situation he was in. “Did you just forget you have me pinned or what? Dude, you and your brute strength. Goddamn.” His eyes widened in surprise and slight embarrassment. “Oh, I’m so sorry!” His hands were released almost immediately, claws gently scraping against his wrists and making him crack a small wobbly smile. “There you go.”
He sat up with a small wince, small cloud of magic pushing him a slight bit. Getting up shakily, he slowly walked over to his desk, trying not to trip on any errant pieces of carpet/items strewn about. “I’ll get it done, okay? You just shimmy your way home, oreo. I’ll get it done.” A sigh of relief escaped the hybrid. “Oh, thank god.” As he left the office, he turned to look at the man directly in the eyes. He was getting better at that. “Thanks, sir. I appreciate it.” And, as he left, he may or may not have heard a small mutter follow him. “Fucking hell. He does not need to call me sir after THAT.” He couldn’t help but grin a little. ‘Well, I got him to be serious.’
‘That’s a win for me.’
#downy writes#downywrites#tickle fic#sfw tickle#ler!ranboo#lee!smajor#lee!scott#mcyt tickle#dsmp tickle#?#kind of#gimmer requests hhh#my writing
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10 year prompts: FAIRY TALE AU FOR STANNIS E DAVOS <3 If any of your other OTPs acts as a background/helpers "because they have been there" it would be lovely, especially since they are all different takes on the Beauty and the Beast story. But also because it would be really fun to see idk, Sandor trying to give Davos dating advice "as someone who was in Stannis position before". Thank you so much for accepting prompts!
HELLO ANON have uh... the pseudo cinderella reverse au of doom that I don't know where it's from, I HOPE YOU LIKE IT pls presume every westeros kingdom is separated for this and same sex marriage is allowed
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1.
"Well, it seems like we are at an impasse, and I need you to fucking compromise," Robert says, and Stannis has to stop himself from gritting his teeth loudly.
"I am not," Stannis replies, "compromising on this."
"You do realize," Robert says, "that -"
"That according to whichever stupid law your precious Westeros council still hasn't managed to change when they have damned well should -"
"You know it's not a priority -"
"Of course for the seven of you it's not a priority," Stannis groans, "but I do know that if I don't get married Renly can't marry his precious Loras Tyrell either, and for the umpteenth time, as I did compromise years ago and I had to marry someone I didn't even like and who didn't like me and we all know how it ended up, you can forget I will compromise on marrying the first person you find suitable especially when I'm not sure they would be kind to my daughter, and I'm not making that mistake again."
"Oh, come on, you're being unreasonable -"
"Robert, no woman in Westeros actually wants someone with my background and I'm not subjecting my daughter to someone who hates her, and I'm not backing down on that."
"And what if I found some woman who did?"
"I am not marrying anyone I don't like. Not anymore." He's going to stand his ground on that. He hasn't done that for his entire life and both his brothers always ended up ahead of him and he didn't even complain because it was his duty, but -
But now he's not doing that.
Robert sighs. "Do you hate your brother that much?"
"I accepted someone I didn't like once, Robert. And it's not just me anymore now."
Robert sighs louder. "All right, all right. Let's say I strike a deal with bloody Rhaegar Targaryen and he lends me the ballroom in King's Landing, I throw a ball for your hand and you choose whoever you want?"
"No one is going to show up at a ball for me," Stannis grits out. "Do you really want to humiliate me that much?"
"You can choose," Robert says, "as long as you fucking get married. Take it or leave it or I choose someone for you. I'm not letting a Tyrell alliance go to waste because you're too stubborn."
Stannis really doesn't want to agree with this, but.
But if he doesn't agree it's just going to be worse after, and at this point he might as well try to make the best out of it.
"Whatever," he says, "fine."
Out of whoever goes to this fucking ball, maybe there will be someone halfway decent.
Maybe.
2.
Well, Davos thinks, couldn't be faulted for trying, even if he hadn't exactly predicted dying in an execution on the damned public square because fucking Randyll Tarly decided that since some fucking stupid royal ball is happening each single criminal has to be dealt with swiftly.
Also, he was an idiot to get caught, but then again, it's not like he was given a trial or anything and him asking for one had made the arse laugh and say to not waste his precious time, so he supposes he is going to get hanged on the public square.
To think that he's managed to be a smuggler without getting caught for years and now he's here because -
"Lord Tarly," someone says just as Davos gets dragged in front of the noose, "what is this about now?"
"My lord," Tarly says with... somewhat distaste. Davos dares looking ahead. The other guy is... definitely a lord, dressed finely in black and just a smish of gold embroidered in his clothing, but at least it's sober. Definitely a few years younger than Davos, has to be around thirty at most, and while he's not what you'd call astonishing in a man, Davos can't help noticing that he has a nice pair of blue eyes, though they're steely as they look at Tarly as if he's nowhere near pleased with any of this circus. Certainly Davos is not, either. "This man was caught committing a foul deed and I don't want criminals running around with the occasion you know of is looming, so if you'd let me do your job -"
"And what was this foul deed we're talking about?"
"I do not see why we have to discuss -"
"Because," the other lord replies, "the occasion that is looming is supposedly for my own benefit and I would like to know and I do not like to see people killed for something potentially useless. So?"
Tarly shrugs. "Very well. He got caught stealing food, a lot of it, and then it turned out he was a notorious smuggler we have been looking for for a long time, so -"
"So he only ever smuggled goods and stole food? And why did you steal that food?"
It takes Davos one second to realize that the lord is talking to him.
He clears his throat.
"There's a family living next door to me in Flea Bottom," Davos says. "I was friends with the father. He - died recently. Couldn't make enough gold to feed all of them so he gave up on his own food, he worked at the port and died helping unloading a ship." That was bringing Dornish wine for whichever feast they're holding at the palace. "His wife didn't have anything to eat, either. I stole some bread from a bakery near the castle and they caught me."
"I imagine these neighbors of yours haven't eaten that bread now, did they?" The lord asks.
"My lord, you aren't believing him, are -"
"Lord Tarly, kindly let him talk."
Davos shakes his head. "No."
"How many children are you talking about?"
"Five," Davos sighs, wondering how bad they're having it right now.
"I think we should see if he's telling the truth," the lord says.
"Lord Stannis, this is nonsense -"
"I wish to see if he is," the man goes on, "and I would like to remind you, Lord Tarly, that my brother is your sovereign, so how about we do that and see if he's lying or not?"
If anything, I'll get to live a little longer.
Davos leads the way and throughout the entire trip, Lord Stannis does not talk or say anything, just looks ahead with gritting teeth, and when he sees that Davos was, in fact, not lying, he shakes his head, mutters something about Robert and everyone else not having their priorities straight and then shakes his head again.
"Lord Tarly," he says, "get someone to give these people some food. They're bloody starving. And he wasn't lying - that woman kept on singing his praises and honestly, again, he's a criminal but he's never killed anyone, or has he?"
"Not that we know of," Tarly says.
"What's your name?" Lord Stannis asks, and wait, is he talking directly to him for the second time, this is just - no single lord in existence ever looks at commoners this way, as far as he knows -
"Davos Seaworth," he says, "my lord."
"Well, as far as I can see here, you only ever stole and you were trying to do something decent and - never quite mind that. I think," he goes on, "that no one should hang and he swears to not commit crimes anymore and since he still should be punished, he loses the joints in his left hand for that and that's all there is to it."
"But -" Lord Tarly tries to object.
"What do you say?" Lord Stannis asks.
"That I would take that one deal in a heartbeat," Davos replies.
"Well then," Lord Stannis says, "I proposed it, I will do it myself so that no golden cloak of Lord Tarly's gets ideas about taking your whole hand."
Davos decides that it's wildly beyond his expectations, and nods.
He asks to keep the bones.
Lord Stannis looks at him as if he doesn't know why he would but he can, for all he cares, and Tarly's sour face is enough to make Davos forget the pain he feels when the sharp knife goes down almost instantly.
Lord Stannis tells him to try and behave properly from now and leaves muttering something about just wanting to go back to Storm's End, and -
Davos needs to know more.
The moment his fingertips don't bleed anymore and he has the bones safely stored in a pouch, he grabs his old cloak and heads for the tavern where everyone from the golden cloaks and the court hangs out.
Maybe he can find out more about who that one lord is, because sure as the Seven Hells he never ran into one like that.
3.
The last thing he expects to find when he starts asking around the inn is that Sandor Clegane sits down in front of him.
If anything because the man shouldn't even hang around here - last he checked, he hasn't since he stopped going by that Hound nickname and ended up married to the Warden of the North's daughter somehow, and he doesn't even live in King's Landing anymore, but apparently he is, and - well. Davos had seen him around, back in the day. Now he looks... happier, he thinks. Not as angry. And those scars on his face haven't changed but his face looks somehow softer than before.
"I heard," he says, "you're askin' around about bloody Stannis Baratheon."
Oh, Davos thinks, so that was why Lord Tarly was that deferring to him. He could have gotten there when Stannis told him his brother was Lord Tarly's king, but - well. He hadn't been paying that much attention.
"Well," Davos says, "he made sure I didn't end up hanged and he just - I never knew any lord like that."
"Believe me, not many lords are like that one." Clegane takes a sip of ale, then shrugs. "Well, what did you need to know?"
"Just, shouldn't he be in the Stormlands? And what's this occasion thing that was for him that Lord Tarly was ranting about?"
"... You don't know, but of fucking course you wouldn't," Sandor shrugs, "it's not like they'd announce shit in Flea Bottom. Well, you know the royal ball they're holding at the Red Keep tomorrow?"
"Yes?"
"That's for him to pick someone he wants to marry," Clegane shrugs, "and he hates every second of it, not that anyone could blame his sorry ass."
"... Explain," Davos says. That just doesn't fucking make sense.
"I'll make it short," Clegane shrugs, "but he married this... lady Florent something some ten years ago 'cause his brother picked her for him and apparently he's the only one in that family who gets the short straw about everyfuckingthing. And when they went for the bedding they found Robert in bed with some other woman."
"His marriage bed?"
"Well, yeah," Clegane goes on, "and then they had a daughter but she was born with grayscale so half of her face is scarred, her mother fell in with some witch from Asshai and decided that her daughter was an abomination and turned out she wanted to burn her alive, long story short when it happened of course he broke off the marriage and I have no idea where the fuck she ended, but since then he hasn't had anyone offer their daughter's hand. Because everyone thinks he's dull and he said that even if he had a son with another woman he'd consider his daughter his heir or anyway he wouldn't let her get the fucking short straw, too, and like, while a second Baratheon son is not fucking little, he has no offers. But now it looks like he has to get fucking married or his younger brother can't marry bloody Loras Tyrell, either, and they came to that ball compromise. If you wonder how I know all of this, my lady wife spent the entire trip to King's Landing from Winterfell sharing about that and saying that it was a pity poor Stannis never got his good love story, so there's fucking that."
"And the ball's point is...?"
"That if he likes anyone he meets he gets to pick his bride. Or whatever the fuck else."
Davos nods. "I see," he says. "And you're saying people think he's dull?"
Clegane shrugs again. "I mean, I don't personally give a fuck and I think he's all right, but his brothers are both... more suited for fucking court, I guess. And he obviously hates court. And he says he won't have anyone who won't accept his daughter, which means whoever shows up will be really desperate daughters of minor lords. Does this satisfy your questions?"
"It does," Davos says, looking down at his hand.
"Wait," Clegane says, "he did that?"
"The alternative was Lord Tarly hanging me, Ser," Davos replies.
"I'm not one and good fucking riddance to me. Huh." He looks at Davos, and Davos holds the stare, wishing he knew what the man was thinking, and then -
"You want to go to that ball, don't you."
It's not posed as a question.
Davos swallows. "I mean," he says, "I - if he had been some knight or not a fucking lord I'd have... tried to talk to him, I guess. I just - he didn't seem stuck-up like the others. And he did save my life. But please, and how would I even get in there? I'm a fucking smuggler and I was born and bred in Flea Bottom of all places, certainly I am not invited."
"No," Sandor replies, "but - ah, fucking bugger it to the seven hells and back, I've been in his place."
"Lord Stannis's?"
"Yes," he says, "as in, I thought no one would ever look at me like that, except that it happened and you are sort of having that look while thinking about him, and I highly doubt he wants a fucking princess or whatever."
What in the Seven Hells - Davos thinks, but then Clegane half-smiles, the scarred side of his mouth curling up in what looks a damned genuine grin, and -
"You're a smuggler, aren't you?"
"Uh, yes?" Davos replies. "Even if I guess I shouldn't risk it anymore, should -"
"Think you can be at that small bay near the kitchens tomorrow at this hour?"
"I - I could?"
"Be there," Clegane says, "I absolutely want to see the fucking faces of all those arses after."
"After what?"
"You'll find out," the man says, and then stands up and leaves.
He looks cheerful.
What the fucking fuck, Davos thinks, and then decides that he has nothing to lose. He can be there tomorrow.
4.
He expects Clegane to be there.
Instead -
"Davos Seaworth?" A tall, blonde woman with very pretty blue eyes, a nose that was broken twice and shoulders worthy of a knight tells him - she's dressed in good male garb, and she has a knife at her hip, but she doesn't sound hostile.
"Uh, yes," he says, "lady...?"
"Brienne of Tarth," she introduces herself and wait -
"Aren't you - Ser Jaime Lannister's -"
"Yes," she interrupts him, "and Sandor told me to come get you and believe me, I was much glad to because that ball is a stupid farce and I get why Stannis would hate it and I have my reasons to want to have a laugh at everyone else's antics. Do follow me," she says, and leads him through some tunnel going inside the castle from the small cave nearby.
Davos tries to remember how the hell she got married to Lannister - it was pretty talked about in the city, back in the day. He still was in the Kingsguard and she had been in Renly Baratheon's following and they ended up fighting in some tourney and they tied and two weeks later he had resigned from the Kingsguard somehow - his sister, the Queen regent, hadn't apparently been happy but Rhaegar Targaryen agreed to it, so Davos supposes he had some leverage - and they eloped on Tarth and he's halfway sure Tywin Lannister still has his son disowned for that, or half-disowned, but he still obviously is invited to courtly events. Davos has no fucking clue how nobles do this, but he follows Brienne thought a few more tunnels until she leads him out and into a corridor and into a small but richly furnished room.
"Right," she says, "just... wait a bit here. And - well. I, uh, didn't know your Lord Stannis much before we... ended up talking to each other a while ago, and - I get where he's been and no one wants to be the center of a feast where they know they're going to be laughed at. So, I'm pretty sure he will be relieved."
"Of what?"
"You'll know shortly," she half-smiles, and then closes the door.
What the fuck, Davos thinks for the umpteenth time, and a few moments later the door opens.
Now.
Davos has heard of Jaime Lannister enough to know on sight that the blonde man coming through the door is him, and the younger girl on the side with bright auburn hair and blue eyes - oh. She has a Stark sigil on her dress. Is she -
"Lady Sansa," Lannister says, "your husband wasn't lying, was he?"
"No," she smiles back, "but this is going to be good."
"My lord," Davos stammers, "my lady. Uh, what is this about?"
"Oh," Sansa replies, grinning, "it's about getting you to that ball. Ser," she tells Lannister, "mind instructing him while I find him the right clothing?"
"Absolutely," Lannister smiles wider.
Seven fucking hells, Davos thinks, I'm never going to survive this.
5.
"See," Lannister goes on, "when Clegane told me that he thought you might want to go to the ball because you actually did like Stannis we about all fainted in our little corner of no one thoughts we should have married the way we did so we'll leave you alone, but honestly, the guy pretty much does his brother's job because Robert doesn't really give a damn about being a decent ruler, then he pretty much gave up everything he wanted for either of his brothers and they never said thanks and he was one of the few idiots who when I, uh, resigned, said I should be able to." He shrugs. "Also, he was nicer to Brienne than his actual brother that she wanted to swear herself to, so. I kind of owe him and his daughter is a nice girl. She doesn't deserve a shit stepmother."
"And you all decided that I am the solution to the problem?" Davos asks from behind a screen where he's trying on the clothes Sansa brought him after she got a bath brought over to the room and he had to hear Lannister giving him tips to get through the ball while he was washing.
"You're here and you're thanking the guy for having cut off your finger joints, please. And no one cares where you come from - at least the four of us - and he certainly won't. Come on, out of that screen."
Davos sighs and does, and Sansa does whistle a bit. "Told you," she says, "they'd fit."
"Oh, they do," Lannister replies, and tells Davos to go look at himself in the mirror near the window.
Davos does, and -
Well. He felt out of place dressed in fine dark green silks with golden embroideries and a velvet brown coat, but it does fit him, and the black new leather boots Sansa got him are the best shoes he's ever worn, and now that he could get a good cleaning - well. He's still himself, but he's pretty sure half of his friends wouldn't recognize him.
"Take this," Lannister says, handing him a sword. "Now, what could the story be - oh, he's some hedge knight I met while killing bandits with Brienne and we thought to invite him?"
"Sounds good," Sansa nods, "and you could invite him. He probably shouldn't say he's from King's Landing, though."
"Absolutely not," Lannister agrees. "Hm. How about Cape Wrath?"
"Better," she nods, "though I suppose his real name shouldn't come out."
"No," Lannister shakes his head. "Ser, choose one. Oh, should he be a bastard? Imagine their faces."
"I think we should absolutely go for that," she grins back. "So, a name?"
"Uh, Allard?" Davos blurts his father's name, may his soul rest in peace.
"Allard Storm, sounds good," Lannister grins. "Well, you're a hedge knight, you met me and my lady wife while chasing bandits and we invited you because why the hell not," he says. "I hope you can dance, Seaworth."
"... I don't think so," Davos replies. "I mean, I never did."
Maybe he should have lied.
Maybe he'd have spared himself those two actually teaching him on the spot.
When he's pushed out of the room a while later, he doesn't know what the fuck he's doing here, but -
But he still doesn't want to run away.
Fuck, what did I get myself into? He asks himself, and then walks on anyway.
6.
“I should have never agreed to this farce,” Stannis whispers as he sloshes wine he knows he won’t drink in his glass.
Good thing he’s telling Brienne of Tarth that and not anyone else, because he thinks no one else in this room would understand how it feels - she nods, and thankfully she doesn’t argue about it.
But what should she argue? Each single lady who came looked at him like her father forced her here, it’s a ball in his name and he’s technically not danced with anyone yet, not that he would want to, Renly and Loras meanwhile are doing it and everyone is looking at them anyway, which... is exactly what he knew was going to happen. Never mind his daughter who asked him fifteen times if they really had to participate and he thinks wasn’t openly laughed at yet just because anyone who might has been properly scolded by their lordly parents on that one topic, but the last time he saw her she was standing miserably to the side.
“I’ve been there,” she says, “and I wouldn’t want to be in your position ever again anyway. But -” She clears her throat, “I think that you might change your mind.”
“Oh, and how?”
“Jaime, uh, he made a friend the other day. While we were out checking the woods.”
“And?”
“And he invited him along. I think that you might... well. Like him. Or at least not be thoroughly bored.”
“At least,” Stannis sighs, and really, he doesn’t begrudge her for having found better than his damned brother, because she did deserve it as much as he’d have never bet a coin on Jaime Lannister of everyone being anyone’s ideal partner, but still, this entire exercise is just reminding him of how much no one actually would want him even for... companionship, if nothing else, and -
Why did he even agree to this bloody farce, he really wishes -
“Oh, here they are,” she says, and yes, Lannister is apparently arguing with - Lord Varys, seven hells, of course he was in charge of vetoing who was allowed in, and there’s a man next to him, indeed, but he has a hood over his head - a nice velvet coat without too many pretenses, so he can’t see his face, but then it seems like Lannister has his way and manages to get the man in, and then he whispers something his way and - comes over to the both of them?
“Stannis,” he smiles, entirely too gloating about it, “it’s your event and you let your brother steal the spotlight?”
“What do you think even happened?” Stannis sighs back - he’s not even going to antagonize him.
“I see I have to do everything tonight. Brienne, fancy making sure that people stop only having eyes for Renly while he mingles?”
“I fancy,” she grins, and of course she does, the room usually starts whispering the moment they dance together since she’s never not led and it’s apparently worth whispering about, and so when they’re off, Stannis sighs and walks to the side, figuring he will try to make an effort and talk to anyone who will -
And then he sees that Lannister’s mysterious friend is talking to his daughter and she’s smiling at him before running off somewhere - oh, where Tyrion Lannister is lounging, Stannis notices, and what -
“Ser,” he clears his throat, moving closer, “would it be too much if I asked you how you got my daughter to - do that?” He blurts, hating how awkward he sounds -
“I told her,” the man replies, and wait, isn’t the voice familiar, “that she looked very lonely, she explained me how she loathed this feast and I suggested her that she might want to talk to someone who likes what she does, and Ser Jaime has told me enough about his brother to know they might have something to discuss. But I am hardly a ser, my lord.”
Stannis glances down at the man’s left hand while the man pulls down the hood.
Oh.
Oh.
He’s - he doesn’t have the finger joints on his left hand.
He’s -
“I see you understood,” the man - what was his name, Davos Seaworth - says.
“I might,” Stannis replies, “and may I inquire how you’re here?”
He’ll be thrice fucked if Davos didn’t... sort of flush under his beard. Which... looks a lot better now that it’s well-groomed, and then a pair of warm brown eyes meets his own, and -
“I asked around who you might be, since no one else in your place would have actually insisted to save the life of... well. A common criminal, let’s put it like that. And I met someone who decided that I sounded entirely too interested and I should attend the ball and they helped me sneak in, and I never felt like it was a mistake, so... sounds like I am here. But if you don’t wish me to -”
“Please,” Stannis shakes his head, feeling slightly dizzy, “no one until now made me feel like they actually weren’t forced to be here and... you went through all that effort to just... talk to me peer to peer? Or, well. The closest one might get to it.”
“I thought I’d just want to thank you in person,” Davos replies, “but now that I’m here, I think I’d like to stay a while, and not just for the good food. Fancy taking a stroll out, my lord? Unless you’d rather watch your brother seethe.”
“Renly is doing what,” Stannis replies, and turns to look at the scene -
Well.
Renly is seething because everyone is whispering about Brienne twirling Jaime Lannister around the floor like she was born to do that. He shouldn’t be smiling. But maybe he is, a tiny bit.
“Sorry,” he says, shaking his head, “I shouldn’t, but - well.”
“I won’t judge people for being petty,” Davos replies, “but - is there a reason why?”
Stannis shrugs. “Well, he kind of hates that he hasn’t managed to... be officially with his intended because of me, and he never fails to remind me that everyone thinks me dull in comparison to him, and I never quite forgot that he once said it would be a miracle if I’d find anyone who’d take my daughter because of her face, so. Well. If Brienne is upstaging him, I’ll live with it.”
Davos looks at him, then at the rest of the room.
“I see,” he says, “and I can’t blame you. She was perfectly nice with me.”
“I don’t doubt that,” Stannis says, “but - maybe I would like that stroll.” What is he even saying -
“Then we should,” Davos replies, half-smiling, and he looks so damned kind -
What the hell is happening?
7.
The hell, Stannis realizes, is that he actually does like this man.
They just - they just talked while music came faintly from the outside, and it’s probably sad that it’s novel experience to talk to someone who actually seems to give a damn about what he has to say and listens to him except Davos actually does, and when Davos talks about how he ended up becoming a criminal and almost hanged he kind of can’t help feeling guilty when he looks down at the man’s left hand.
Fucking Seven Hells, he might be a smuggler, but when someone tells you well where I came from it was a struggle to put any food on the table at all and with my first smuggling job when I was fourteen I could pay for it for a month can you even blame them for not having looked back and found an honest job?
He thinks about how he never had to worry about his next meal.
“I think I have to apologize to you,” he says quietly when Davos finishes telling him about how he couldn’t sleep at night hearing those starving children wail.
“... You don’t,” Davos replies, shaking his head.
“I do,” Stannis goes on. “I mean... I still think stealing is a crime and crimes should be punished or - or what else makes sense, but when one hears your circumstances... I feel like I should have just have you swear you wouldn’t live that life anymore. I could. And instead -”
“Oh, you made sure I didn’t lose an entire hand or hang, and we both know Lord Tarly wouldn’t have been happy with just letting me go. I can appreciate fair play, my lord, and I mean, I did commit crimes. I did keep the bones, anyway.”
“You - did?”
Davos nods towards... oh. A small pouch that he has hanging around his neck. Stannis hadn’t noticed it before, but -
“I decided I’d keep them in memory of the one time one lord was actually fair to me, but then - then I met Clegane and he told me to show up here. Also... shouldn’t someone have looked for us by now?”
It’s been a while. The music is still playing. No one did.
He shakes his head. “As if they’d care,” he says, “most likely they were just waiting for me to leave so they could stop pretending to be nice.”
Davos just looks at him, and then he swallows, and -
“Beg your pardon if this is too forward,” he asks, “but maybe my lord fancies dancing somewhere not in front of all those people?”
“I - I don’t generally do that,” Stannis replies. Why is his heart beating faster?
“Oh, I don’t dance to that kind of music either, but who is going to see us?”
Stannis has slipped his hand into Davos’s before he can think on it.
What am I even doing, he thinks, noticing how the other man’s hands are roughened - he took away the gloves and he can feel how the right one is all clean but calloused skin and the left has fresh scarring on the joints, but they hold his own so very gently, and -
And neither of them is really good at this, because he hasn’t danced in years and Davos is obviously winging it based on what he saw in the hall, but it’s nice, and twirling around the garden without anyone staring at him feels nice, and when he looks at Davos’s kind, warm brown eyes his stomach flips over again, and -
“This - this is nice,” he finally admits.
“It... it is,” Davos says back, and he’s half-smiling and - “If this is the first and last time I get to be at a royal ball, I’m not going to think it wasted time at all.”
Gods, gods, why the idea that he wouldn’t see him again is making him feel like the ground will fall open under his feet and swallow him whole?
“What if I don’t want it to be?” He finds himself saying, and Davos gasps at it.
“... Really?”
“Really,” he says, feeling like his head is spinning and he can’t stop talking, “never mind that - no one I know managed to make my daughter happy like that talking to her once. And - that was one of the conditions I had for Robert. That I wouldn’t... be with anyone who’d treat her poorly.”
“Why would anyone? She’s a lovely girl,” Davos replies, and oh, if he knew.
“You saw her. And her mother wanted to burn her alive. Not many people agree with you.”
“Then most people are idiots,” Davos replies, “if I may be so bold.”
“You may,” Stannis replies, and they’re still swinging, and - “You may be as bold as you like.”
He doesn’t know how he said that. He doesn’t even know where that comes from.
What he knows is that Davos’s mouth is on his the moment after and -
And he’s fucking kissing back the moment it happens and had he been hoping for it? Gods maybe he had, and the few times he kissed Selyse were nothing like this, she never - it never felt like she wanted to actually do it and Davos does, there is no fucking way he doesn’t, and his tongue is slipping into Stannis’s mouth and he groaned into it, oh fuck -
“Stannis, where the fuck did you end up?”
Oh, damn it, that was Robert -
They break apart and Stannis is about to tell Davos to just stay and that he’ll deal with it, but then other people talk and -
“Damn,” Davos says, “that’s Lord Tarly, and he will recognize me.”
... He would, Stannis realizes, and -
“Oh, fuck,” Davos says, and then he takes the pouch with the bones from his neck and slams it into Stannis’s palm and -
“If you want me to come back,” Davos replies, half-smiling, “you just have to bring them back to me. You know where I live, my lord.”
“I - I do,” Stannis whispers.
“Then - then I hope to see you soon, my lord. If not... I’m not regretting that you’ll get to keep that.”
And then he’s gone and Robert and his fucking search group have shown up a moment later.
“What were you even doing out here?” Robert asks. “You know that you have to choose a wife before the feast is over?”
Oh, fuck him and fuck them all, Stannis thinks.
“About that,” he says, “I think I know. But I can tell you when we go back in.”
It’s going to be a goddamned problem, he knows, but -
But.
He’s almost never trusted his gut his entire life and it only ever brought him trouble, and now he wants to, and -
And.
And he knows.
8.
“You’re not marrying a criminal!” Robert explodes later, when the hall has been emptied except for them, Renly, his daughter, Lord Tarly, the present Tyrells, Starks and Lannisters and of course Rhaegar Targaryen and the members of the small council, but he seems to be uninterested in how this ends one way or the other.
“I said I could choose whoever I wanted, didn’t you?” He stares back.
“I didn’t mean a damned criminal, Stannis! And how did a commoner even get in here? Lannister, what were you thinking?”
Jaime Lannister merely shrugs, half-grinning while his father looks at him like he’s a lost cause. His sister... Stannis isn’t even going to think about that. “That he looked and sounded like someone he’d like and so I invited him. Sure, we did tell him to not introduce himself with his real name, for obvious reasons, but -”
“A bloody commoner, Lannister!”
“Oh,” Lannister shrugs, “and so what? He stole some things. He never harmed anyone as far as we knew. You could have worse brothers in law.”
“Are you bloody serious - Stannis, please, no way -”
“And why?” He counteracts. “I am not interested in having any more children,” he goes on, “I do have an heir, and he would certainly not try to make sure she stops being that, and I wanted someone she’d like too, and I think she did, or -”
“I did,” she replies quietly, and Robert rolls his eyes.
“Shireen, this man is a smuggler, your father isn’t reasoning -”
“Well,” she says, “I have talked to him once and he was nicer than just about anyone else at the feast. Or - well. I don’t think I should say.”
“Shireen, you can.”
“I don’t think I can tell you. It wouldn’t be polite. And you would be sad.”
“Let’s say,” Lannister says, “that she can tell me in all confidence outside the room and I can come back with the answer if it’s something that could be shared?”
Stannis should be worried that Shireen seems fine with that, but then again he’s the brother of the guy who entertained her for half of the feast, right? And why would she think he would be sad?
Anyway. Lannister brings her out of the room, and then comes back and -
“I told her she could go find my brother,” he says, and oh, the youngest Lannister did flee the premises while they were arguing, “and - well. Renly,” he says, “honestly, she said that the criminal commoner was nicer to her in five minutes than you’ve ever been your entire life, maybe you should think about that sometimes.”
Oh
Of course -
At least Renly has the grace to look ashamed, and Robert groans again, and -
Ah, seven hells.
“Robert,” he says, “this entire farce was to make sure I would find anyone suitable so Renly could have his lavish wedding and whatnot. You said I could choose anyone. I happen to have chosen. If my daughter likes him, too, even better, and honestly, you are the king, Renly will have the Tyrell alliance and certainly my daughter won’t be your heir, so what do you care? People will talk and decide I lost my wits, and would that be any news? Just stop being unreasonable.”
Robert stares at him, and then -
“Seven hells,” he sighs, “you never stood up that much for anything in your life as much as - whatever this is. Fucking - ah, well, I suppose I can just find some way to make sure the three of you aren’t around court too much.”
“Believe me, both Shireen and I would be thoroughly pleased,” Stannis says, and then Robert raises his hands to the ceiling.
“Whatever. Go ahead, find this guy, as long as I can move forward with the other damned wedding.”
“Why, thank you, extremely kind of you, Your Grace,” he says, and then he turns on his heel and gets out of the room.
He’s not surprised when Lannister follows him. “Should I tell my brother to keep your daughter entertained for a while longer?”
“Please,” he says, “and I don’t know how much I have to thank you, but -”
“Just go get the guy and remember that Brienne’s father is only too glad to host her friends on Tarth. He’s exceedingly glad she has some,” he winks, and then goes to - find his brother and Shireen, he supposes, and -
“My lord,” Sandor Clegane says, appearing suddenly at his right as he gets out of the castle, “you need an escort to Flea Bottom, mayhaps?”
“I don’t even want to know how you knew,” he sighs, and stops asking himself why apparently is there some kind of conspiracy to help him out with - whatever this is.
He also doesn’t want to know how Clegane says he knows the way when Stannis asks him if he remembers how to get to the house he visited a few days ago.
9.
Davos had half expected the knock on the door.
He hadn’t been sure it would happen, but -
He’s nowhere near surprised when he opens it and Stannis is there with Sandor Clegane in the background winking at him and then making himself scarce.
“This place is a lot fouler by night than by day, if possible,” Stannis says, walking into Davos’s one-room shack, not that he could afford any better.
“But you knew that already, my lord, didn’t you?”
“I did,” Stannis whispers, and his eyes look so blue in the candlelight, and then he’s handing Davos back the pouch with the bones -
“Is it.. I thought it was heavier,” Davos says, taking it.
Stannis shrugs, lifting up his cloak. He has a similar pouch tied to his waist.
What -
“I took the liberty to split it,” he whispers, “if - if it’s not a problem.”
“It’s not,” Davos says, “but does it mean that -”
“My brother has agreed to... my choice, if we lay low. But I think that it woudn’t be a problem. And - I never do things not overthinking them. But - my daughter likes you, and I like you, and honestly, no one would have gone through the effort you did just to... talk to me or whatever, and - this is, if -”
“Yes,” Davos interrupts.
“Wait, yes?”
“I can’t believe I actually am saying it myself, but of course. I do.. quite like you, my lord.”
“Well, if we are to be... to be, maybe you can do away with that?”
“I could be persuaded,” Davos says, and he leans in and they’re kissing again and this time is slower and Stannis’s hand is slightly trembling as he touches the back of his hair and he’s not even wearing his fine clothes now, he put them away before but Stannis doesn’t seem to care an inch and when he groans into Davos’s mouth again he grasps at the back of his head and -
Well.
He doesn’t know how he’s going to navigate things considering that he can’t even bloody damn well read, but who cares. He’ll learn. He just -
He likes Stannis, damn it, and he wants to see it through, and if it means they’ll have to lay low because other lords are damned stupid, who cares.
10.
“Well,” Jaime says, “we can expect a lot of gossip.”
“In what sense?” Brienne replies, wishing she didn’t have to reply to ravens when they’re on Tarth, but his father insists that she does because she’ll take his place one day.
“My brother writes me that Shireen Baratheon writes him that she’s never been happier now that they’re at that castle in Cape Wrath, that she’s taught Seaworth to read admirably well and she has a lot of fun with that and that she’s delighted because he is actually a thoroughly nice guy and her father is happy and she’s never seen him happy before, they didn’t go to Renly’s wedding and they didn’t miss it at all and apparently everyone in town is happy they’re there because they don’t have to go to Robert for inquiries or asking anything and Sannis is a lot fairer than Robert was anyway, and no one is actually dying of hunger in there anymore, so I guess that they’re doing well - oh, this is golden.”
“What is golden?”
“That Robert is of course not taking a wife until Lyanna Stark capitulates to his courting but he’s certainly having children here and there, so he’s sending some of them to their place and I think they have what, two of them there, and Shireen is delighted because she finally has some company, and imagine that, Sansa Stark came visiting there with her husband and sister once because I suppose she wanted to see how well her matchmaking had worked and her sister is smitten with one of said bastard sons. And they had to lay low, imagine that,” he laughs. “Well, when were they supposed to visit?”
“A month from now?”
“There’s going to be so much gossip,” he keeps on muttering, and she lets him - he has all the reasons to gloat about it.
She smiles to herself as she takes another raven and starts penning it - she might as well send them some more congratulations before they come visit.
After all, after they became friendly, she did hope that he’d find someone he would be happy with same as she did instead of always staying in Renly’s shadow, which she’d have been happy with herself... before realizing she deserved better.
She’s really glad he did.
And she can’t wait to host them too - if they got the happy ending, no point in not celebrating it, isn’t it?
#stavos#stannis baratheon#davos seaworth#jaime x brienne#sandor x sansa#my fic#ten years anniversary promptfest#anonymous#ask post#ANON THIS WAS A LABOR OF LOVE IDK HOW LONG IT WAS BUT#I HOPE YOU LIKE IT#*drops*#FROM TOMORROW I'M TRYING TO ACTUALLY FILL MORE THAN ONE#this is so long#i hope it doesn't break your dashes#my stuff
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If You Please
Chapter Fourteen
Bucky Barnes x Reader
Word Count: 4440
This is technically a reader insert but without the (y/n) and all that. She also has no name mentioned so feel free to imagine as you please.
Follow the reader through the events of the Captain America movies and experience her love for Bucky Barnes.
Warnings: canon typical violence
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Masterlist
We escaped quickly and descended down into the dark, damp sewer system of D.C. until we came to a steel ladder directly in the middle of our path several minutes later. Maria climbed up first, to make sure the coast was clear then she signaled for us to follow. There was an SUV waiting for us a few paces away from where we had emerged. I slowly trailed behind the others and into one of the back seats. The drive to the base, which seemed to be a rundown dam in the middle of the woods, took us almost half an hour.
After getting out the van we rushed in through a singular gated door at the base of the dam. Nat was still losing blood but the first aid kit in the van helped slow it down. As we walked down the dimly lit hall I spotted a man running towards us.
“GSW,” Maria shouted out to the man. “She’s lost almost a pint of blood.”
“Let me take her,” the man shouted back, still jogging to us.
“She’ll want to see him first,” she said before we reached a set of double doors and hurried through them. Maria led us down a long corridor which opened up to a large room with a section closed off with plastic strip curtains. She reached out and pulled part of the curtain back to let us see inside. There lying down in a hospital bed was Nick Fury, who was supposed to be dead.
“Well, it’s about damn time.” Fury stated in a sarcastic tone. I looked to Steve, Who was holding Nat up, and gave him a quizzical look, which he returned with his own shake of the head.
After the initial shock of seeing Fury alive, Nat was sat down by the doctor who was trying to stop her arm from bleeding. In the meanwhile, Fury was explaining to the group how he was able to fake his death and why he was hunkering out in a dam. This plan also helped him to know which people he could have some trust in, seeing as how SHIELD was now compromised and there was no telling how far the clutches of HYDRA had gotten. Now that people thought he was dead, it would come as a surprise when he inevitably resurfaced.
When Nat’s stitches were done we headed to a table on the other side of the room which had several files and computers scattered about. I took a seat on the far end and put my head in my hands. I could feel a massive headache coming on, which was uncommon for me since I took the serum. It felt like white-hot knives were digging through the back of my skull and into the spot right between my eyes. It was so bad that I completely missed the whole conversation the group was having. I eventually laid my head down in my crossed arms to try and combat it, but the pain never subsided.
A hand came down on my shoulder, startling me out of my painful daze, it was Steve. I saw his mouth move but couldn’t hear anything but the loud ringing in my ears. I just looked at him confused. He tried saying something again but I still couldn't hear him.
“Stevie, I can’t hear anything over this loud ringing in my ears,” I whispered, I knew if I talked loudly the vibrations of my voice would hurt. He gave me a nod and held up his finger, telling me to wait as he walked away. The doctor from before came back with him and sat in front of me. The doctor motioned his hand like it was talking and I knew he wanted me to tell him what was going on, so I did. When I was done, he took a small flashlight out from his pocket and shined it in my eyes. He turned to Steve and said something then turned to me and grabbed hold of my hand.
Both the doctor and Steve led me to a second hospital bed, which was a couple feet away from where Fury had been and made me lay down. As I got situated under the covers, Steve tapped my hand a few times to get my attention and when he got it, he started to tap again. Morse code, he had made me learn it as kids, that way mom could never hear our secret conversations, it even came in handy when I joined the SSR. I watched closely as he tapped out a series of long and short patterns. He was telling me the doctor was going to give me something to help me sleep and that I would be okay. I nodded and tapped back a thank you before the Doctor came back and inserted a syringe into my arm, seconds later I could feel myself drifting away.
I woke up hours later without the searing pain of a headache and my hearing fully intact. I flipped the covers away from myself and turned to let my legs drape off the side of the bed. I hulled myself onto my feet and began to make my way to the table the group was setting at yesterday. Sam was there drinking coffee and talking to Nat, and from what I could tell, it must have been early morning.
“Good morning sleepy head.” Sam sang out. I gave him a small smile as I took the seat to his right, across from Nat. “How ya feeling?”
“Eh. I’m not in physical pain anymore if that’s what you’re asking.” I looked down at my hands and eyed the ring I had been wearing since a few days ago. It glimmered in the light as I took it off and placed it on the table. I then took my locket necklace off and slipped the ring onto the chain. I was lucky I hadn't lost it yesterday, but I wasn’t thinking I would be going into a fight. Now that I knew more fighting was to come, it would be safer around my neck.
“Is that your engagement ring?” Sam asked quietly.
“Yeah. It was Bucky’s mother, Winnifred. He originally proposed with this locket, but a few months later, after talking to her and begging her to keep it a secret from Steve, she finally gave it to him.” I smiled at the memory.
“Wait, I thought Steve knew.”
“He does now. I kind of blurted it out when he tried to stop me from going with him to rescue the 107th from the HYDRA base in 1943, but we got engaged in ‘41.” I took a long pause before talking again. “You know it feels like just yesterday when I lost him, like the pain from him being gone still hurts, but I’ve learned to cope with it over the past two years. Now I have to find out that he is alive, but not himself because he's being used as a mercenary by HYDRA. He looked at me after you knocked him down and that look broke my heart. It wasn’t the look of a man wanting to kill, it was of someone who was scared, someone who had no clue what was going on. He’s still in there, I know he is and I’m going to be the one to bring him back.” I jammed a finger down on the table to make my point.
“Are you sure he’s really still in there? He’s been in and out of cryo hundreds of times throughout the last 70 years, no to mention, he’s probably endured countless hours of brain wiping and torture from HYDRA.” Nat said in a concerned but doubtful tone.
“I didn’t lose hope when he might have been dead in the forties, I won't lose hope in him now. I’ll find a way to bring him back to me.” That was when Steve came through the double doors and into the room wearing his old suit. “Steve, where in the world did you get that?”
“I borrowed it from the Smithsonian. Here, I found your office. Thought you might want it.” He tossed a bag at me and I caught it, slowly opening it to reveal my old suit. “I still have no clue why you keep it in there and not on display with everything else.”
“Thanks, that was very thoughtful of you.”
“Don’t be sarcastic. You’re gonna want it when we go to take out the helicarriers.” He looked at me then to the other two, “Come on suit up, we don't have much time before they launch,” he looked back at me, “I’ll fill you in on the plan after you get dressed. Oh and Maria has your staff, and new guns for you.”
It was almost noon now and Steve, Sam, Maria, and I were quickly ascending the back stairs of the SHIELD base. We made it to the thirty-second floor in no time, only for the door to be locked. We all held our guns up to the door as Maria sent out some radio interference so one of the people in the room would come to check on the dish that was outside. When the door opened the man was surprised and instantly let us through
Steve came to a stop at the PA system and turned it on. “Attention all SHIELD agents, this is Steve Rogers. You've heard a lot about me over the last few days. Some of you were even ordered to hunt me down. But I think it's time, to tell the truth. SHIELD is not what we thought it was. It's been taken over by HYDRA. Alexander Pierce is their leader. The STRIKE and Insight crew are HYDRA as well. I don't know how many more, but I know they're in the building. They could be standing right next to you. They almost have what they want. Absolute control. They shot Nick Fury. And it won't end there. If you launch those helicarriers today, HYDRA will be able to kill anyone that stands in their way. Unless we stop them. I know I'm asking a lot. But the price of freedom is high. It always has been. And it's a price I'm willing to pay. And if I'm the only one, then so be it. But I'm willing to bet I'm not.”
“Always been one for speech haven't you Stevie?” I joked.
“Shut up kid, let's get going.” he shook his head, bemused.
“He totally came up with that on the spot didn’t he?” Sam asked.
“Definitely,” I replied.
We left Maria in the PA room where she would be able to monitor the status of the helicarriers as we tried to take them offline. Making our way down to the docking bay I looked out one of the windows next to where we were running.
“Steve, we need to hurry, the bay doors are opening,” I called out.
“Only a few more floors, we can make it.” After he said that, we started running faster, almost leaving Sam behind.
Finally, we pushed through one of the lower roof doors. I started to sprint toward the edge and before I jumped off, Sam grabbed my outstretched arm and started to fly. He maneuvered us to the far-right helicarrier and then let go of me. I plummeted to the deck and as I made contact with the ground I immediately threw myself into a tumble so I didn’t get hurt. As I sprang to my feet I was met with an onslaught of bullets. Ducking to dodge them I ran off to the side where a stack of crates was lying. I fished one of the guns from the hustler and cocked a bullet into the chamber. Taking a deep breath I stepped out from my cover and shot back at the men.
Two of the seven went down as a bullet went through each of their chests. I went to shoot again but a hand came out from behind me and yanked my right arm down. They tightly brought my arm to my back and grabbed my gun with the other hand. With my free left arm, I swung it back and clipped the person in the chin hard with my elbow. The grip they had on my right arm fell away as they fell to the ground. I turned around and quickly grabbed my gun from his hand and resumed shooting at the others.
I reached to the back of my holster where I had clipped two grenades before we had left the hideout. Pulling the pin and letting go of the trigger, I threw it at the men, who were immediately taken out with the blast.
“Hey kid you good?” I heard Steve's voice come through the comlink.
“Good as I can be. The deck is all clear, where are you?”
“Sam and I are inbound.” as he said that Sam shot up from below the carrier with Steve holding onto his hands. They landed a few feet in front of me and I jogged to catch up to them. “Wow, you took them all out really fast.”
I just smiled and held up the second grenade, “Work smarter not harder. Come on let's hurry up, the fact there weren't that many people on here is making me suspicious.” As soon as I said that we walked past one of the crates and Steve was pushed over the edge of the carrier by Bucky. “Steve!” Sam and I yelled simultaneously.
Sam jumped into action, trying to take off to save Steve from falling to his death, but Bucky grabbed one of the wings of his suit and flung him back. “Go put the chip in, I'll take care of this.” He yelled out to me.
I turned and sprinted to one of the doors that led into the carrier and I was met with two corridors. After looking down at each of them I decided on taking the right one. Reaching the end I heard a soft noise around the corner, I peaked around slowly and saw a man carrying an assault rifle. He was close enough for me to run up on him without him being able to get a good shot in with a gun. So that’s what I did. I ran at an angle from the corner and used my left leg to push myself off the ground and then my right to push off the wall and kick the man directly in the side of the head. He fell to the ground, completely unconscious. Not turning back I continued down the hall until I came to the stairs that would take me down to the systems room.
“Are you both okay?” Sam cut through on the coms.
“Yeah, I'm still on the helicarrier.” came Steve.
“Me too, I’m almost in the systems room. Where are you?”
“I'm grounded, the wings are busted.”
I exited the staircase and walked to the middle of the systems room. The opening to the targeting system was on the other side of the large cylindrical computer that took up the whole center of the room. I made my way around but stopped short when I saw him standing there, glaring.
“Bucky,” I held my hands up and took my finger off the trigger of my gun to show him I wasn’t going to do anything. “Bucky, I know you’re in there somewhere.” He just kept staring blankly. “I don’t want to hurt you, but I will in order to get this chip where it needs to be.” I took a slow step in his direction, but in an instant, he pulled his gun and shot mine out of my hand, and started to stalk towards me. I reached over my shoulders to grab the two separated staff pieces from their holsters as I moved backward. Bucky stopped walking and just started some more before he came at me full force. I quickly stepped up onto the railing and did a flip over him, landing behind him. Before he turned around I slipped the piece of the staff in my right hand around his neck and latched on with my left, forcing him to stumble back. This didn’t hold him long because he grabbed the bar and forcefully twisted it over his head, thus breaking my grip. I stumbled a few feet ahead, almost barely missing the punch that he threw. That was when I noticed Steve had made it into the room.
“Steve, a little help here would be great,” I said as I started to run back to Bucky who had turned around to face Steve. I jumped up doing a backflip kick, using Bucky’s back as a kicking-off point and landed back on my feet as Bucky slammed into the railing. Hoping he would stay preoccupied with Steve, I hurriedly ran to the system console and opened the chip holder. I took out one of the chips and placed it off to the side before reaching into my pocket for the new chip. I had almost put it in the open slot before I was knocked off my feet and the chip flew from my hand and over the banister. I turned over off of my stomach just in time to see Steve and Bucky also fall over the banister. I scrambled to the edge to see what was going on as I called out, “Steve the chip fell over.”
“I got it, stay there.” He yelled back before Bucky sent him flying. I watched as he grabbed the chip but it was dropped further down as Bucky came at Steve again. I took my second gun out and started to shoot near Bucky’s legs, in order to try and veer him off course without hurting him. Steve reached the glass bottom of the room and started sprinting to the chip which was nestled in between the glass and a metal beam. I stopped shooting as it became harder to get a clear target without also shooting Steve.
They were fighting now, hand to hand, Bucky had knocked Steve’s shield away and he pulled his knife out in the process. He stabbed Steve in the shoulder, when he fell to the ground Bucky dove for the chip. Steve wasn't far behind him, He latched onto Bucky, choking him then throwing him to the ground.
“Steve, don't hurt him,” I cried out as I watched them struggle on the ground, my hands went straight to my mouth as I heard the loud sound of bone breaking and Bucky’s scream right after. He tried rolling over but that gave Steve an opening to put him in a chokehold. “Steve stop, that's enough, you’re hurting him,” I yelled out in despair as I watched bucky struggle to stay conscious, I couldn't watch it anymore, I turned away. Seconds later Steve yelled my name. I hesitantly looked back over the railing, Bucky was lying unconscious and Steve was jumping up onto the landing under me.
“Here”, he tossed the chip up to me and I caught it. Suddenly a gunshot rang out and I looked to where Bucky was once laying, he was standing now, gun raised.
“Thirty seconds” Maria’s voice came over the com.
“I've got it,” I spoke back, making my way to the control board.
Another shot rang out, this time I heard the impact right behind me before a pain erupted on my side. I turned to see Steve laid out on the ground clutching his stomach, the bullet must have gone straight through him to me.
“Guys, they're going online right now, hurry!” Maria almost yelled into the com. I turned back around, holding my side and took the last few steps up to the console, and securely placed the chip in the open space.
“Charlie lock,” I huffed out, confirming to Maria that I had successfully put the chip in, as I slid to my knees.
“Okay, both of you get out of there.”
“No fire now,” Steve yelled.
“But Steve,” Maria said almost reluctantly.
“Just do it,” he yelled again.
The helicarrier jerked seconds later after being hit with the rockets. I slammed into the railing and was flung over, landing ungracefully in a heap on the glass floor. I could hear shouts of pain echoing, looking around I spotted Bucky stuck under a massive metal beam. Steve apparently had to because he was climbing down to him. He got to him quickly and started to lift the heavy thing off of him. Bucky wiggled out from under the beam and knelt there for a second before Steve said something to him that I couldn't hear, he reared back and swung a punch at him after that. I stood to my feet and slowly made my way to them, stopping multiple times to steady myself as the carrier trembled violently. I reached them just as a large metal cylinder fell into the glass floor, making it give way. I fell through the broken glass and into the cold water of the Potomac River.
I swam weakly to the surface. Once my head came out of the water I took a deep breath in and made my way to the rocky shore, careful to not be hit by any debris. The shore was farther away than I had anticipated and I was almost completely out of breath as I crawled my way out of the water. Laying on my back I looked and the smoke filled the sky.
‘So much for laying low,' I thought to myself. I was broken from my thoughts as a few yards down the shoreline Bucky came out of the water dragging Steve with him. He looked back at me as he dropped Steve to the ground but then turned to walk away. I got up quickly and ran to Steve, making sure he was okay. I took out the tracker Maria had given each of us in case anything happened and set it off. They would come find him now, I gave him a short kiss on the forehead. “Goodbye Stevie, I'll see you again some time,” I whispered to him before taking off my tracker and throwing it into the water.
I started walking in the direction Bucky had gone, He couldn't have gotten far with that broken arm and I was right. I found him slowly making his way through the woods. I stayed away from him, but he never left my sight. I knew he realized I had followed him when he tried to slip away behind a group of dense trees but was unsuccessful. He tried this a few more times before giving up and acknowledging that I wasn’t going anywhere. Finally, we broke out into part of the city, but we kept a low profile, or as low of one as two people in fighting suits and a man with a metal arm could. I kept inching closer to him as we walked and twenty minutes in I was almost next to him.
“Quit following me” He let out gruffly without looking back at me.
“No,” I argued.
“Quit following me, now,” He said a little more agitatedly.
“No, I won’t. I’m not leaving you alone and hurting Bucky. I love you, I can't leave you again.” That made him stop in his tracks and eye me down.
“Don’t know who you are.” his voice sounded uncertain.
“Yes, you do.”
“No, I don’t.
“I have proof that you do.” I yanked the necklace with the ring and locket over my head and marched to him, holding it out. He took it hesitantly and looked at the ring first then opening the locket he just stared at the picture of the both of us together. I saw something flicker in his eyes before he gave the necklace back, it almost looked like he remembered something. He started back walking but didn’t say a word when I kept following, just let out a long huff.
It took us an hour to reach Ronald Reagan Airport, and I finally understood what his plan was. “So your plan is to hijack a plane?”
“You aren’t coming.”
“I don’t know why you want to argue with me, I’m coming with you.” He gave me another glare after that.
We were walking through the small wooded area across the road from the runway when suddenly Bucky stopped. There was a small metal sign secured to one of the trees to the right, in big bold letters it said ‘NO TRESPASSING’. Bucky pulled on it and it opened like a small door into the tree where a keypad was nestled. He typed in a series of numbers and a few seconds later the ground started to move several right next to us. I jerked my head in the direction of the commotion only to see the ground opening up to a narrow staircase that descended into the earth. Bucky then closed the sign and started down the stairs, I followed suit.
It became darker the further we descended, the sounds of cars faded into the steady dripping of water. By this time I was thinking to myself that we weren't hijacking a plane, but I was proved wrong as the stairs leveled out to flat ground and Bucky turned the hanger lights on. There in the middle of the room was a black jet with a red HYDRA symbol on its side.
Looking around the room there were papers strewn about, dust even covered some of the desks along the walls. The place looked like it hadn't been used in years. To my left, I spotted Bucky grabbing all sorts of weapons from a rack on the wall and shoving them in a tattered duffel bag before zipping it up and heading to the jet. I trailed behind him.
He raised his hand up and pressed on part of the back flap to the jet, a small handle shot out and he pulled on it, which opened the back hatch of the jet. When it settled on the ground Bucky and I climbed up the ramp and into the cabin. Bucky tossed the duffel bag onto one of the benches and headed for the cockpit. He hit several buttons and switches before sitting down in the pilot's seat.
“Where are we going?” I asked softly as I sat myself down in the copilot’s seat.
“Romania.”
Tag List: @ginger-swag-rapunzel @underc0vercryptid-reads @geek-and-proud @intothesoul @leyannrae @starkleila @andy-is-gay
#james buchanan barnes#bucky x y/n#bucky barnes#bucky x reader#bucky x female reader#bucky fic#bucky fanfic#bucky barnes x reader#bucky barnes x rogers!reader#winter solider x reader#marvel fic#marvel fanfiction
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As we make our way into the final episodes of Younger, I have some Thoughts™️
1. I have seen a lot of talk about how Liza would be better off alone than with Charles because then she is right back where she started when the series begins. Though likely is part of her thought process, this is incorrect for a couple of reasons. First, Liza is in a completely different place in her life than she was when we first met her. She has a fabulous career in publishing and, even when they’re not together, the support of Charles. She doesn’t have a baby at home to take care of; Charles’s daughters are old enough to be relatively self-sufficient in terms of not needing someone to watch over them all the time. Then we have to look at all of this together and realize this, the second point: Liza didn’t think she could + wasn’t allowed to have both a career and a family most of her life. Now she has seen that she not only can do it, she’s great at it. She is extremely successful and loves her work, but still has time for her daughter and form/maintain a solid relationship with Nicole and Bianca. She still makes time for the things that are important to her outside of work. She gave up part of herself to stay at home and be just a wife and just a mom for almost two decades. Then she gave up some of herself to maintain her lie. Now she’s thriving at work and fully and openly herself for the first time in YEARS. For to have a brilliant career with more to come AND a wonderful partner/husband/whatever is a WONDERFUL resolution for her based on where she started.
2. To have this much Liza/Charles tension and back and forth and more “will they won’t they” AGAIN, after waiting 5 seasons for them to get together, just over one full season of them actually together, only for them not to end up together is absurd and makes no sense. Liza has had this entire season to accept that she and Charles are donezo and move on, but she hasn’t, and not for lack of trying. It’s more clear every episode how drawn to one another they are despite themselves. To put them through all that for a contrived “girl power” ending would be a huge disservice to the characters and the show.
3. Speaking of, I’m exhausted by “girl power” endings of late because they’re inorganic and forced. It’s supposed to come across as empowering for a woman to choose her career over love or a relationship, but it’s actually just a sexist take from the opposite end of the spectrum. Women can have both!! We are 20 years into the 21st century!! A woman can PRIORITIZE her career over romantic entanglements, but women don’t — and shouldn’t!! — have to choose at this point. We already know that Liza isn’t defined by her relationship to a man. We know she is a strong woman who isn’t afraid to ask for + take + go after what she deserves. I don’t need to see her choose her career because she is already thriving! She does not have to be alone for X number of years so she can get her career on track. It’s there. She’s on the journey. What would benefit her most would be something she hasn’t had before — a steady and fully supportive long-term partner. Imagine what it would be like for her to finally be married or lifelong committed to someone she is wildly in love with, who is wildly in love with her, who also fully supports her career, is her biggest cheerleader, who believes in her and sees her talents more clearly than anyone else. Hello!!
4. Liza is clearly still very in love with Charles and vice versa. In the past, when her relationships have ended, the desire to get back together was pretty one-sided. It wasn’t, like, super easy for her to get over, but she made peace with it and moved on. That has yet to happen. She just can’t let Charles go completely. She is trying to be supportive of his relationship and assures him she just wants him to be happy, but we have heard her say more than once that she is still in love with him, and her actions are pretty indicative of that as well.
5. Until S7, Charles has always chosen Liza. Even given the current circumstances, he still keeps choosing her in a different way. He knows she is on his side. He knows she is great at her job. He knows she supports him. No matter their relationship status, he knows those things to be true. That’s why he always takes her up on any offers she makes to him in S7 — because he knows who she is. He chooses her to be his work partner or support system or his sounding board. And she allows herself to be chosen; she ASKS to be chosen. He doesn’t have to accept and she doesn’t have to offer, but they do it anyway. It’s a conscious daily choice they continue to make.
6. Charles would never in a million years marry Quinn because she wouldn’t be a good stepmother to his daughters. We may have seen ~some~ dimension from Quinn, but ultimately she’s a ruthless, manipulative, conniving snake. She’s fake and primarily has a “what’s in it for me” attitude. There’s no way Charles would want that to be the example his daughters live with, and honestly I don’t think Pauline would even allow it. If he thought Liza’s baggage created complications for his custody, I cannot even imagine the turmoil Quinn would cause. Quinn is a loose cannon. Pauline is a little bit of a bitch when it comes to Liza, but she’s smart enough to know/see who Quinn really is, and with Liza, it’s at least “the devil you know.”
7. It would be completely nonsensical for Charles and Quinn to get married/end up together because a) we barely know her and b) he was just proposing to Liza. From both a logical and writing standpoint, it doesn’t make sense. It would be some piss poor storytelling for that to happen. On the flip side, it would make sense for Josh to end up with Clare, a late-entry side character, because we have known her longer and know they have a history. The same can’t be said about Charles and Quinn. If Quinn hadn’t become so involved with Empirical, if she had just been another author, her relationship with Charles would be about as meaningful as his relationship with Rhada. But since we see her through Liza’s eyes and we see her be an annoying presence at Empirical post-Charliza split, it seems like a bigger deal than it actually is.
8. Putting her back with Josh at this point would be a worse ending than Game of Thrones. It would be a twist that came out of nowhere that writers would justify by saying the signs were there all along. Liza more than once has made clear that she has chosen Charles over Josh. She has showed us that’s the case. For her to suddenly have an epiphany with two episodes left, especially considering how little shared screen time they have, would be total fanservice and a complete regression from all the growth they BOTH have had. It’s also, like, not fair to Josh to keep waiting on her and hoping she will come back? He deserves some reciprocity and stability too?
9. We have seen only the benefits when it comes to Charles being impulsive in matters of the heart...until now. I totally understand his heartache at her counter proposal and I, personally, think she’s being stupid. But regardless, I think for him to just walk away from their relationship at that point was a pretty knee-jerk reaction that he didn’t think through. And I think his pride is a little hurt over his perception of her not WANTING to marry him, so instead of trying to work it out or compromise, he’s digging his heels in. He jumped into a relationship with Quinn, which was clearly impulsive. Rational, level-headed Charles would not have done that. In fact, he laughs off the suggestion of it in S5 and says the iconic, “divorced moms from Jersey are more my style.” I believe cooler heads will prevail.
10. I REFUSE TO BE VICTIM TO ANOTHER SHIP WHOSE TENSION AND FEELINGS WERE TEASED AND BUILT UP OVER 5 SEASONS ONLY FOR THEM TO BREAK UP OVER SOMETHING STUPID AFTER ONE AND A HALf SEASON AS A COUPLE AND THEN GET BACK TOGETHER IN THE LAST 5 MINUTES!!!! I WILL NOT!!
Anyway Team Charles 4 Lyfe. Here’s hoping these idiots in love stop being idiots and start being just IN LOVE.
#younger tv#youngertv#charles x liza#liza x charles#charliza#younger season 7#Liza Miller#charles brooks#team Charles#personal
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I Won’t Say I’m in Love
I had an idea at 2am that Janus sarcastically asks Roman to marry him during arguments, but each time he asks he means it a little more until he realizes he’s completely in love with Roman, until he can’t stand the rejection anymore and runs away because Roman would never believe him if he admitted his feelings, only for Roman to come after him and propose instead.
This isn’t quite that, though it is in a similar vein. I started with that idea and it evolved into this. That being said, if anyone wants to take the original idea and run with it, feel free, just remember to tag me!
AO3
...
The first time he asks, he doesn’t mean it in the slightest. They’re in the middle of an argument, him and Logan against Roman and Patton, Virgil staying out of it, either because he didn’t have an opinion or he didn’t want to get involved.
“Roman, you’re absolutely charming right now. Won’t you marry me already?” He snaps, breath hissing in and out, and everyone freezes at his comment. Roman’s face has gone red, from anger or embarrassment, he can’t tell, but the longer the silence goes on, the more he feels his own shame at his words burning at his throat. “sorry. That was… out of line.” He mumbles, adjusting his capelet.
“I apologize, also. You are correct, I have not been my most… chivalrous, this afternoon. Perhaps… perhaps we should all take a break, to calm down. Then we can work out a… compromise?” Roman says, face flushing redder at the question in his voice. The moment is broken by Virgil slow clapping from the stairs.
“Wooow, both of you apologized and Princey suggested a compromise? It’s a miracle!”
“Yes, thank you, Virgil. Your sarcasm had been duly noted, and disregarded. Now. Don’t come get me when we’re ready to start over.” He comments, popping back to his room before anyone else has time to comment.
…
The second time, he’s had a bad day. He feels heavy and disjointed, not all there, not all focused. He doesn’t know what’s wrong, he just knows he didn’t sleep well and he can’t seem to get comfortable, so he forces himself out of bed and down the stairs, dragging his blanket behind him, before collapsing on the couch. It’s almost 1pm, far later than his usual first appearance in the commons since the whole wedding debacle, since he was accepted, truly, since he was welcomed.
He doesn’t remember drifting off, but he shoots awake as he feels a hand on his shoulder, letting out a small groan, having flung his arm over his eyes at some point.
“What on earth could possibly be important enough to disturb me for, Roman?” he asks, wincing at the pounding that has started near his temple.
“Are you okay?” He snorts at the question, rolling his eyes as he halfheartedly glares at Roman.
“Just peachy.” He snarks, and Roman backs away, hands in the air. He can feel Roman’s eyes on him as he left the room, and sinks deeper into the couch. He’s surprised when a moment later, Roman returns from the kitchen, sitting down next to him.
“Alright. Here you go.” He looks down at the table, a bit confused.
“What… is this?” Roman looks at him, lip quirked up in a half smile.
“Well that, is a glass of water. And that is something for the headache you’ve got cooking in your noggin. And those are crackers, since you have not eaten anything all day.” He looks slowly up at Roman, eyes narrowed.
“I am not sick.” Roman’s eyebrow raises.
“I did not say that. You, however, just did.” He groans, sinking even further into the blanket, so his eyes are just barely visible.
“I do not get sick.” He mumbles.
“Of course not, bananaconda. Now take the medicine.” He sighs, but complies, drinking the rest of the water and nibbling at some crackers as well. He barely notices Roman getting up, coming back a moment later with a Gatorade, and dimming the lights. He breathes a sigh of relief as some of the pain dissipates.
“God, I could marry you right now.” He mumbles, finding the Gatorade is cold, and he lets Roman rest a cold rag on his forehead.
“I think the fever’s getting to your head, Jan.” He doesn’t reply, just hums and closes his eyes, trying to squash down the warm, fuzzy feeling starting to grow in his chest.
…
The third time he doesn’t say it. He’s in his room, relaxing in his plush desk chair. He’d been doing a color by number, choosing whatever color he wanted for each number instead of going by the recommended color chart.
He hears a knock on his door, and gets up, confused when he sees no one there. Then he looks down, and sees a small gift basket, wrapped in a red ribbon with a small card printed with Roman’s logo. He rolls his eyes, and brings it inside, smiling as he unpacks it.
There’s a collection of lotions, each of which smells deep and heady, just the kind of scent he loves. There’s also a few moisturizing oils, for his scales, which he’s a bit grateful for, he can tell his shed is about to start and making his own was a bit of a hassle. He laughs at the small snake plushie, but drapes it across his bed’s headboard anyway, smiling fondly as he leans against the bed for a moment, before his eyes widen and he nearly slaps himself.
No. no no no, he cannot do this, he cannot do this to himself, he will not be so stupidly naïve.
He is not in love with Roman.
…
The rest come in small moments of delight, of happiness, moments where he forgets to deny himself what he cannot have, when he cannot squash the fondness inside of him, when he forgets to push down the silent, useless emotion he refuses to give credence to.
Playing Mario Kart, and he exploits every loophole and shortcut, strategically laying bananas, somehow always avoiding the blue shell when he is in first, slowing down enough someone passes him and gets hit instead, Roman cursing his skill, every time demanding another round, both of them grinning and sweating by the end of their tournament.
…
Roman gets up early one morning, makes breakfast. When he comes into the kitchen, Roman slides a plate of waffles, covered in homemade whipped cream and chocolate shavings in front of him, along with a coffee filled with the perfect amount of froth, a heart patterned on it. His own nearly stops, breathless.
“Morning sleepy serpent.” He mumbles something, heart stopping at how beautiful Roman looks, still in his pajamas, hair sleep mussed, but eyes bright, light from the window shining onto him as he turns back to the stove, flipping pancakes, humming, then singing, belting out showtunes. He catches himself almost sighing at how sweet Roman’s voice is, before he snaps out of his trance, just barely getting his emotions under control as Patton comes barreling down the stairs, summoned by Disney and the smell of pancakes.
…
It’s a late night, they’ve had a movie marathon and the others all turned in hours ago, giving up one by one, Virgil the latest to leave. He is debating the morals of Disney characters, tearing apart the heroes and defending the villains.
“How was he to know that toys are alive? He was using his creativity, to combine and make new, original, toys! If he hadn’t been traumatized by Woodie and Co, maybe he would have ended up an engineer instead of a garbage man.”
“Ugh, fine! You have me on that one. It’s technically Pixar, anyway.” Roman mutters, and he laughs. “Since you concede there, I’ll give you Scar.” Roman looks at him, eyebrows raised in confusion.
“Seriously? I figured you’d defend him to the death.” He shrugs, yawning.
“Mostly due to the cut song where he tries to… let’s generously call it ‘woo’, Nala, which is why she leaves to find help in the first place. Plus, he never really wanted change or peace, he just framed his alliance with the hyenas in that manner to gain control. Besides, everyone knows it’s better to be loved than feared. If you really want complete control, make every choice seem like their own, make every action seem benign or like a favor. Get what you want by making it seem like what the people want.” Roman is staring at him, agape, and he flushes.
He winces, because of course he ruined this, they were having a moment, and he ruined it. “… I’ll give you Ursula, if we’re counting cut scenes. She was technically overthrown and banished by Triton, though she did nothing wrong. Her vengeance is a bit extreme, but she at least had good reason for it, and really only wanted what was always supposed to be hers.” Roman answers after a moment, and he nearly sighs in relief, though he gets the feeling they were both talking about more than just Disney villains.
He’s absolutely mortified, and not at all the least bit pleased when he’s awoken the next morning by Virgil, smiling smugly at him, having fell asleep, head resting on Roman’s chest, Roman’s arm around his shoulder, a blanket pulled up over the two of them. He certainly strives to make sure it never happens again.
…
He's a mess. A miserable, stupid, mess. He can't stop thinking of Roman, can’t stop striving for his smiles, the soft, fond one he receives in moments of quiet, the bright, mischievous one that brings out his dimples, the small, confused one when he didn’t understand why he was pulling away. His laugh, loud and ringing, the nicknames bestowed upon him at every chance, the small, subtle touches that sent his heart racing and his mind into overdrive and he was burning, aching, from want.
The desire to run his fingers through Roman's hair, to feel his hands around his waist, to kiss him until they were both silly from it, to say every sweet word and guileless truth about how absolutely perfectly stunning Roman is, to defend him and his ideas, to protect him from his own self doubts and negative thinking, to repair every crack he himself had made in Roman's armor, to apologize a thousand times until the side knew he absolutely truly meant every word of flattery he had ever said.
He hisses at a knock on his door, drawing back into the shadows. He doesn’t want to talk to anyone, he doesn’t want to see anyone, he just wants to wallow in his misery until this wrenching heartbreak goes away and leaves him alone! It’s no use, wanting something he can’t have. He won’t lie to himself and say otherwise.
“Kiddo? You okay?” Patton, who can probably feel his emotional distress from miles away.
“I'm fine.” He forces out, wrangling his voice into some sense of normalcy, wincing at the acrid lie on his tongue. He can feel Patton's hesitation, but the fatherly figure sighs.
“Alright. But Jan? If you decide that you’re not fine, you know I’m here for you.” Then Patton walks away, and he’s only mildly surprised to feel wetness dripping down his cheeks.
“I’m fine.” He whispers, curling in on himself, choking on tears. “I’m perfectly fine.”
…
Day three is when it all falls apart. He hasn’t left his room, he hasn’t moved much from his curled up spot on the floor, and it hurts why does it still hurt?
He thought if he just stayed away, if he put distance between himself and Roman, if… if he detoxed it would go away, these pesky, useless feelings would go away!
But they haven’t. They’re still pounding away with every beat of his heart, and he’s half convinced it would be better to just rip the stupid thing out than let it make such a fool of him.
He knows limits. He understands them, he knows how far he can push the others before they start to break, he knows how much to push to make them give, he knows how far he can push before things start well and truly crumbling to ruin, and he knows, better than any of the others, his own limits.
He knows what he can and cannot have, he knows how to be selfish without taking too much, and he knows this is something he cannot take, something he will never be given. He’s still the serpent, after all, still the liar, still the deceiver, still the snake in the grass, waiting to strike. He’s said I love you a thousand times to Roman, meant it more and more with each iteration, but he knows he doesn’t deserve to be loved. Not by Roman, whom he had broken so badly not so long ago, accidently, yes, and he had apologized, but still. He’d known how fragile the ego was, how tightly he was clinging to the final thread, and he’d still cut the strand without a second thought. He’s not to be trusted, least of all by himself, even his own heart has turned against him.
“Janus? Can I come in?” He freezes at that voice, it makes his stomach sink and his pulse race and he feels a strange sense of vertigo.
“No.” He says, as deadpan as possible, as much emphasis as he can, and he can almost see the frown on Roman’s face.
“You haven’t been out in three days. Are you sick again?”
“I’m fine, Roman, go bother someone else!” He spits out, anger creeping into his voice, because Roman is the source of this festering wound, even if he doesn’t know it. If he’s angry, he won’t be sad, angry he can do, angry he can fake as well as anyone.
“no you’re not. I’m coming in.” He curses, lunging to his feet, but the door is already open before he has even a hope of locking it, and he and Roman stare at each other for a silent moment, before he looks away, biting his tongue. “Jesus, Jan. What happened to you?” He winces, knowing he must look a mess, knowing his hair is tangled and wild from running his hands through it so often, his face is a mess of dried tears and dark bags, his clothes are rumpled and wrinkled and his normally immaculate room is a bit dusty.
“Nothing. Now go away.” He demands, turning to stalk to his desk. He feels a hand on his shoulder, warmth blooms down his arm, and he inhales sharply, turning and actually slapping Roman as he stumbles back, barely aware of the tears streaming down his eyes, because this is so goddamn hard. “Don’t. Don’t touch me, Roman.” He spits, venom in his voice, eyes sharp and fangs sharper. He hates this, hates playing this part again, but he needs Roman to leave.
“ok. I’m sorry, I should have asked.” He chokes on his bitter laughter because damn it, Roman is the perfect gentleman, isn’t he? He’s stepped back, hands raised in the air, the only thing on his face concern, not anger, or fear, or pain at the handprint still red across his cheek. “please, Janus. I know you’re hurting. I just want to know why, I just want to help.” He laughs this time, a wild, harsh sound.
“That’s cute, Roman, but this isn’t one of your fairy tale quests where you rescue a damsel in distress. This is real life, with real problems, and maybe, for once, you should let it get through your thick skull that this ISN’T ONE YOU CAN FIX!” He screams, letting his words be cold, letting them be cruel, as he crumples to the floor, heaving, gasping in air through the shaking sobs squeezing tight his chest. “you can’t fix me.” He whispers, not caring if Roman hears, because what’s the point? He’s a pathetic, mewling lump, and surely after that display Roman will leave, warned off by his extremeness.
“Janus.” He flinches at his name, whispered so softly, so gently, almost holding the thing he wishes more than anything his name would contain, coming from Roman’s lips, but that hope is a lie, a deceitful, monstrous lie, just like the rest of him. “why do you think you’re broken?” He doesn’t answer. He won’t answer, he won’t say it aloud, not now, not when Roman will see how much he actually means it. He squeezes his hands into fists, forcing his chin up, forcing himself to glare at Roman.
“You should leave. Before I answer that question honestly.” He bares his fangs in a snarl, gold covering his pupils, racing throughout the room, lighting it up with a thousand pretty little lies that echo in Roman’s ears, telling him exactly how worthless and useless and pathetic he is, and he hisses for good measure, standing and sauntering over to Roman, leering at him.
“I’m the dragon guarding the tower, I’m the hydra fighting Hercules, I’m the snake here to lead you astray, I’m the villain, I’m the bad guy, I stand against everything you’ve ever believed in, little prince. You’d be so easy to dispose of. Then who could stop me, hmmm? No one. I could kill you right where you stand, and no one would ever know a thing, my greatest performance would be replacing you. Or do you forget what I am, Roman, what I well and truly am?” He stands back, fangs sharp as he grins, letting out a dark, sinister laugh, one that reverberates off the walls, and something is breaking inside him, something is cracking and crumbling and he hates himself, hates every moment, but if Roman hates him, too, then he’ll just go.
“Janus.” Roman says again, so soft, and his grin falters, his mask slips for a moment before he rights it, scowling as Roman steps forwards, undaunted, something strange in his eyes, something soft and worried. “you don’t have to do this.” He stumbles back at Roman’s words, shaking his head.
“stop.”
“I know you’re afraid. That’s why you’re doing this, you’re scared, and that’s ok.” He’s shaking his head, eyes squeezed shut, trying to push back the tears.
“Stop.”
“I know you don’t mean it, Jan. And I won’t run away just because of a few threats. I want to help you, I want to be there, I want you to trust me enough to tell me what is hurting you so terribly… please.” He feels Roman’s hand on his, and he jerks back, hitting the wall, eyes snapping open, breath coming in short gasps, and he wraps his arms around himself, shaking.
“STOP IT!” He shouts, voice breaking into a million pieces, and the gold vanishes, his façade crumbling, only raw emotion left in his voice. “Stop caring, stop asking to help, stop acting like you’re my friend, stop being kind, stop being so fucking nice to me, stop getting inside my head, stop making me feel happy being near you, stop sending butterflies winging through my stomach, stop making me smile, stop making me laugh, stop being so fucking incredible that I can’t help but love you!” He screams, jabbing his finger into Roman’s chest with every word, tears falling down his face as he finally says it, all the fight draining out of him as he collapses, empty, caught by Roman, who lowers them both gently to the floor.
He doesn’t have the will to pull away from Roman’s all encompassing embrace. He doesn’t have the strength left to silence the tears, to force Roman out, to go back to being alone.
Shame curdles in his stomach as he breathes in Roman’s scent, lilacs and sweet summer breezes, as he melts against Roman’s chest, as his hands fist the fabric of Roman’s shirt and he sobs, hopelessly sobs, because this is an empty victory. Once he manages to pull away, he’ll see the pity and disgust on Roman’s face, and this, this will be well and truly over.
“I’m s-orry. I’m so, s-so s-sorry, I didn’t mean f-for this to happen, I h-hoped it would just go away but they won’t, and I’m s-sorry…” he gasps, shaking, exhaustion cresting over him, and despite himself the ache is being soothed, because Roman is holding him, and then he just feels sick at his own selfish want.
“Oh, my little mocking jay, why didn’t you just say something?” He laughs at that, throat raw and scratched.
“because then you’d know. And it would all be over, anyway. You don’t love me, you could never love me, I’m not nearly good enough for you, I’m not good at all, really. I’m not… I’m not what you want, Roman. I can never be what you want me to be. And I just… I just keep hurting you.” He whispers, heart shattering a little more as Roman pulls back, and he closes his eyes, taking a huge breath in, trying to control the crushing, plunging depths of his despair.
“Janus. Who says you aren’t already exactly what I want?” His breath catches at Roman’s words, at the tenderness they hold, at the painful hope blooming in his chest. He trembles as he feels Roman rest a hand on his scaled cheek, gently stroking the scales with his thumb.
“don’t lie to me, Roman. Please, I can’t… it already hurts so much, I can’t listen to you lie to me.”
“Does it feel like I’m lying, dearest?” It doesn’t. It really doesn’t. Slowly, he opens his eyes, meeting Roman’s worried, soft… loving… gaze. “I love you, Janus. You’re funny, and smart, and I love your sarcasm, your half awake morning bedhead, how you gesture when you’re passionate, how all your emotion lives in your eyes.” Roman murmurs, a small, warm smile on his lips as he moves his hand, stroking back a stray piece of hair. “I love you for so many miniscule reasons it would take me a thousand thousand years to list them all. I would have told you sooner, darling, but I didn’t want to pressure you, not while you were still settling in.”
“Roman…” he says weakly, he’s so flat out tired, so worn down and hollow and empty that he doesn’t even know what to say, what to feel, except this warming in his chest slowly spreading to the rest of him, making him feel lighter than he had in ages.
“come here, dearest.” Roman says, and he can’t help but collapse into Roman’s lap, letting the creative side pull him close, pressing his head against Roman’s chest, more tears slipping out as he feels Roman gently stroking his back, cradling his head, murmuring soft assurances and words of gentle warmth, and repeated, wonderful, ‘I love you’s’ that ring true every time, and all he can do is keep clinging to Roman, praying he doesn’t wake up from this dream.
Then Roman tilts his chin up, his pulse jumping at the touch, then Roman’s lips are on his and he melts at the explosion of warmth and color and light sparking in his mind, and he’s pressing forwards, desperate, and Roman is soft and warm and perfect and it’s everything, it’s everything he’s wanted for so, so long now.
When they finally break apart, he’s breathless and flushed and the broken emptiness is almost gone, almost fully replaced with hope and love and light, and he laughs as Roman sweeps him off his feet, holding him bridal style as he showers his face in small kisses, each one making him flush redder and redder, until he yawns, despite himself.
“Oh, I’m sorry, are my affections boring you, pretty little liar?” Roman teases, and he grins, nuzzling against Roman’s chest, letting out a soft breath that seems to untie the last lingering knot in his chest.
“Obviously. What a trial.” He mumbles, feeling Roman stroking his hair again, realizing his eyes have slipped closed.
“When did you last sleep, mi amor?” He shrugs, he doesn’t know, honestly, and now that Roman is holding him, it’s the only thing his body wants, it takes everything in him not to just fall asleep now. “alright. Let’s get you to bed then. We can talk more in the morning.”
“stay. Please.” He asks, nearly begs, eyes flying wide with sudden fear, suddenly sure that if Roman walks out the door, he’ll wake to find he was dreaming, because there’s no way this is real, no way Roman loves him.
“of course, little hisser. I wouldn’t dream of leaving my beloved alone and unprotected from any foul nightmares that may come his way.” Roman soothes, sliding into bed with him still in his arms, immediately spooning gently around him, and he shifts closer, closing the little space there was left between them, until their legs are entangled and his forehead is resting in the crook of Roman’s shoulder, and Roman’s arms are around him, and he’s still holding tight to Roman’s shirt, feeling him exhale against his cheek.
“I love you, lovely. Now get some rest.” And finally, he does.
#roman sanders#sympathetic roman#deceit sanders#sympathetic deceit#sanders sides#minor virgil appearance#minor logan appearance#minor patton appearance#pining#self esteem issues#deceit angst#some angst#some fluff#Happy Ending#rociet#roman x deceit#soft boys
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