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blushing-concubus · 1 month ago

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Majors and Minors

Request: Yes

Info: Everyone is 18 or older. NRC, RSA, and, NBC are all actual collages. Litteraly just what majors and minors the I think twst cast would have.

Tw: None(?)

I will warn you; this is really long and these might get changed over time. I'm also treating NRC as a catch-all school that can easily clear the way for more advanced courses in specific fields later, weather that be on campus or out sourced.

Heartslabyul:

Riddle was going for a medical degree, but after his overblot and some consideration he made the switch to a general law degree, for now, but is considering where he wants his future to go along that path. He is going to keep himself CPR and first aid certified though.

Trey, in high school, was part of a dentistry vocational for a year, but had to leave for personal reasons. He's now studying Dentistry full time. He plants on becoming a dental nurse, rather than a dentist.

Cater has changed his degree once, in his first year he was going for a liberal arts degree, before switching to a Marketing major, and Broadcasting minor. He's pretty stuck on what he actually wants to do and feels like it's too late to follow any dreams he had when he was younger.

Ace, as of now, is undecided. I have made jokes about him dropping out and becoming a magician before, and I can genuinely see him doing that. So as of right now I don't actually have one for him.

Deuce is also undecided. There's a ton of options and it's pretty overwhelming for him, especially because he struggles academically. Despite that, I think he'd either end up with an Education or Engineering degree.

Savannaclaw:

Leona, for the longest time, did not pick a major and it was going to get him kicked out. He could've gone for a liberal arts degree, but decided to go for Humanities instead. He's really well suited to it in all honesty.

Ruggie is going for an Economics degree for a multitude of reasons (most of which are monetary), but I can definitely see him with something else, like a culinary arts degree, too. He's got a job lined up with Leona after graduation, but going more in depth on money management never hurts, right?

Jack is going for Sports Science, he's had a plan for years now and he isn't going to let anything stop him.

Octavinelle:

Azul is going for a Business degree, shocker. I don't feel like I really need to elaborate on that (but I will anyway), but I can see him with an economics degree instead. He's also minoring in food science. He's actively running a cafe on campus and his family has a restaurant back home that he will likely take over, and expand, when his mother and step-father retire.

Jade also is going for a business degree, again i don't feel like i need to elaborate on that. He's studying for a biology (Mycology) Minor. His family has something going on, but no one wants to acknowledge what. Out of the two of them Jade is likely to take over the actual business side of things and if not, bothering Azul forever is an option.

Floyd has changed his degree six times in two years, currently he's undecided. I can kinda see him going for a business/fine arts degree focused on fashion (specifically shoes). He doesn't struggle academically, but does struggle to focus and make long-term decisions. Jade and Azul are doing their best to.. encourage (?) guide (?) Him to a path he could stick to.

Scarabia:

Kalim is studying Business Management as a major and Linguistics as a minor. His family are pretty well-known merchants, and he is going to inherit that business, so equipping himself with those skills is a good decision. Even if most of the time he does find it extremely boring.

Jamil is also majoring in Business Management, mostly because of his position with Kalim. It's not something he particularly wants, so it's really out of obligation. He's taking Food Science and Fine Arts [Dance] as minors, which he actually enjoys.

Pomefiore:

Vil has a tight schedule both in and out of school. The degrees he's going for reflect that. He's double majoring in Marketing and Acting, and minoring in Business, Alchemy, and Cosmetology. His career as an actor is very important to him, but he knows that putting all his eggs in one basket isn't the smartest idea, thus his expanded options.

Rook is going for a Biology major, no one is shocked number two. He is also minoring in fine arts (poetry), and has an Archery scholarship that's paying for a good chunk of his tuition. He hasn't told anyone what he's going to do after graduation and most people are too afraid to ask.

Epel is majoring in Agriculture. When college is over he plans on maintaining and improving his family's farm. He currently doesn't have any minors in mind, but I can definitely see him with a fine arts (sculpture) minor.

Ignihyde:

Idia is double majoring in Engineering and computer operations. He doesn't have any minors, but dabbles in other subjects as a personal hobby. He also has an Esports scholarship, not that he needed it.

Ortho is also double majoring, but is going for cyber security and data analytics. He doesn't have any minors right now, either, and he's not officially part of any clubs or curriculars yet. He's trying to figure out his place, but also believes what ge was “made” for is all he can be.

Diasomnia:

Malleus is studying Magic theory and Application & Architecture, he also is taking magic history and world history as minors. He doesn't really need to be studying anything, so this is more of a desire to learn than anything.

Lilia is going for Magic history and World history. He should be getting a doctorate by this point, but we're not going to talk about that. He thinks it's good to refresh and gain new knowledge every now and again.

Silver is majoring in World History and minoring in Equine studies. Lilia has told him stories about the world as he grew up and he wants to learn more, even if he will likely spend all of his life in Briar Valley.

Sebek is undecided as of now, but I can see him majoring in Home Economics later, as odd as it sounds. He already takes pride in what is essentially home making, believing it to be what a knight should do, so taking it to the next step would make sense for him.

Ramshackle:

As a base like for Yuu [Reader] they’re going for a photography major (unless requested otherwise) and Grim is going for Magic theory and Application. Because they count as one whole student this counts as a double major. They are required to take remedial classes, because both of them lnow fuck all about this world apparently, and additional classes that focus on familiar training and care. Grim doesn't like that.

Crowley has “gifted” them a “full ride scholarship” as long as they world as his “errand boy.” In reality this is a deal NRC has always had, if a student is chosen by the mirror and cannot pay tuition at all then they are given the option to work for the school until graduation to pay for their place.

Royal Sword Academy

Niege I imagine takes his job as an actor just as seriously as Vil, but in a different way. He also has been shown to be a singer in some capacity. So he's double majoring in Acting and Music theory.

Che'nya… I don't know much about him, I don't know much about Niege either but I can at least guess with him. All I really have to go off of from Che'nya is his appearance and personality, and from that alone I think he'd be going for a Graphic Design degree with a minor in fashion design. I don't know why, but something about him makes me think he would make clothes.

Noble Bell College

Rollo is studying Magic Theory and Application, not because he likes it, but because he feels it'll further his goals to eradicate magic (he's a lunatic, someone punch him). He's also taking religious studies as a required course, but he's taking it seriously and made that his minor.

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vampiricgf · 1 day ago

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— Aime la Mémoire

Dectorating the home, meet cute, proposal || Leon Secret Santa || Gift for @lysa1201

leon kennedy x gn reader

synopsis: while decorating your tree this year, Leons got something besides the ornaments on his mind with memories of your relationship bubbling to the surface

word count: 4.1k

warnings: sfw, no reader description but they have hair long enough to stick out of a hat, mentions of past alcoholism, one off mention of sex but no descriptive content, nightmares, injury (no specifics), blood mention, flashback, meet cute, marriage proposal, Christmas themed

a/n: merry Christmas to everyone celebrating! I had so much fun participating in the secret santa event and thank you so much to @leonsecretsanta for putting this together for everyone <3 ^⁠_⁠^

“Oh look, this is the one you picked up for me in France!”

You beamed at him, cupping a little ornament of a glass ballerina in your hands the way they make those stylized cutesy animals hold things in movies. It was so objectively adorable it made his teeth ache from the sweetness. You routinely had that effect on him, so much so that if he were a more clueless man he probably would’ve made several panicked dental appointments in the beginning of your relationship. But of all things Leon isn’t clueless, he’s been acutely aware for a very long time regarding how you make him feel.

The ring box in his pocket feels like a lead ball. Or one of those tungsten cubes he’s seen pictures of online. Since you decided, hands on hips as you gazed at the empty space in front of the bay window of the house, today was the day to drag all the old boxes of Christmas decorations and the faux tree from the attic, he’d been sweating. Before, up in the dusty attic air with motes dancing through the slices of dim, yellowish light he could blame it on the exertion from lifting and pushing those brick heavy boxes. Now, however, he had no convenient explanation for why sweat was slicking his palms, making his shirt stick uncomfortably to his back and arms.

“You with me?”

He blinked at you a few times. “Oh- yeah, yeah, right here sweetheart. Do you want the hooks?”

He held out the box of ornament hooks, the hard clamshell packaging squeaking against his moist skin. It made him grimace, just barely, but it was enough of a reaction to make you frown, setting down the ornaments and rising from your multicolored tissue paper faux skirt on the hardwood floor.

“Lugging all this downstairs was a lot, are you sure you don’t need to rest for a little bit?” You came towards the couch but before you could start the nursemaid routine he grabbed your wrist, pulling you lightly until you crashed down on his lap. Getting situated was a little awkward, your giggles between huffed breaths making his heart run like a jackhammer against his ribs as you settled into straddling his lap. His hands easily, reflexively, found their home on your hips, kneading tiny circles into the fuzzy material of your pajama pants.

“Next thing I know you’re gonna tell me you’re putting me in a nursing home.”

You rolled your eyes scoffing, placing your hands against his jaw to cradle his face as you rested your forehead against his. He hoped the stubble he neglected to shave this morning didn’t scratch against your hands too much, prayed he didn’t have too much coffee on his breath. Since you came into the picture he hadn’t worried nearly as often about the scent of liquor on his breath.

It was a few days before Christmas, almost a decade ago now. He’d been drug out by colleagues yet again for some forced socialization and while he was grateful, of course, that they wanted him to enjoy himself if he was being entirely honest he would’ve much rather been nursing a drink a solitude than sitting in a bar with people he’d prefer to keep firmly separated into the “professional” category.

Christmas lighting always felt so… garish. Something that didn’t belong to him, didn’t belong in his life. There was never going to be some Hallmark, made for a TV moment where his heart swells five times in size with some shit like “the joy and magic of the season”. The best anyone like him could hope for is that there’d be a discount on booze for the holidays.

Once a few of those wet behind the ears agents had to call cabs to get home he decided it was time for some air. Again, it was a kind gesture and they’d have no way to know about his history with alcohol but goddamn was it a terrible idea to drag an off and on recovering alcoholic to a bar during the biggest drinking season of the year. Like some twisted joke. As the sticky, pockmarked door swung open to the night, a wall of arctic air hit him full force in the face, the kind that makes your lungs seize up for a second before they remember how to breathe in subzero oxygen. His boots, scuffed from snow and the residue of road salt, crunched against fresh powder and ice as he made his way to the sidewalk haloed in dim, rotten orange streetlights.

Bethesda is hardly a podunk town but thankfully it was fairly quiet in the streets despite the holiday season. He hadn’t driven, and honestly didn't want to bother with it since the hole in the wall they’d chosen actually wasn’t that far from his own place. They didn’t need to know just how frequently over the years his ass had been glued to one of those patchwork upholstery stools. A familiar itch was going haywire in the back of his throat, his hands trembling in his pockets but not the sort of shaking that can be blamed on the temperatures. Truthfully he hadn’t had a drop of liquor in his system for over a year now, but didn’t have the heart nor the masochism to tell his coworkers just how awkward being in that kind of setting would be for him.

It just wasn’t the sort of thing you spoke about to people you spent every waking minute keeping at arm's length.

While the building he lived in was hardly run down, it was definitely not… well kept. Which was fine, he didn’t need to live somewhere pretty or fancy. He’d survived with less, it was nice to just be comfortable and not in the piss freezing cold. As he trudged up the stairs, the flight that always cracked a little too much for comfort, he nearly collided full force with someone struggling to push a box at an upward angle.

“Oh shit, I’m sorry!” The voice, your voice, had been panicked and apologetic. It was a mild annoyance, but he’d live. Keeping one arm braced against the box you half turned, flashing him a guilty smile. Your hair was sticking out a little wildly from the knitted hat you had on, your eyes watery from the cold. Cute.

“Do you need a hand?” He asked, eyeing the box that was definitely larger than you distrustfully. With how slick the outside steps were you were lucky you hadn’t taken a nasty tumble down them yet.

“Oh my god, thank you, yes.” You spoke in a rush, like you were out of breath and he quickly gestured for you to step aside.

Honestly he forgot sometimes that for an ordinary person lifting anything over fifty pounds was a struggle. Now was not one of those times, not with the incredulous look you were giving him as he used his knees to give him the momentum to lift the cumbersome box, arms wrapped securely around it.

“How in the hell can you even lift that?” Your voice was cute too, giving him a little surge of bravado as he shrugged, hefting the box to get a better grip as you led the way to your unit.

“Forget that, what do you have in here, bricks?” He knew the joke was lame as soon as it came out but still, you gave him a little courtesy giggle and his grip nearly faltered, causing the box to slip and make a little tinkling noise from within. Clearly something glass or ceramic was inside.

“Worse, ornaments.” You said, shaking your head with a smile. “I don’t know why I insist to myself that I have to decorate, I mean, I live alone. But you know, holiday spirit and whatnot.” You shrugged, coming to a stop in front of one of the old, heavy wood doors. 304. Just a flight above him.

“Have you, uh, have you been here long? I mean, I live downstairs and I haven’t seen you around before.” Like he pays much attention to his neighbors anyway, but still, he definitely would’ve noticed you coming and going.

“Oh no, I moved in like a month ago. New job, you know how it is.” You smiled again as you pushed open the door, gesturing for him to follow.

God you had a nice smile, one of those warm ones that people always mention in books but that rarely exist in the real world. Following you in he tried his best to not gawk or seem like a creep looking around a little too hard, but naturally his eyes were drawn around the unit. You decorated nice for having moved in not long ago. From the little foyer he could see a cozy looking living room with throw blankets and books. The kitchen, although dim, was clearly done in the same vein; you liked comfort, obviously. It smelled nice too, something a little sugary and a little warm.

“Thank you so much for doing that.” You say as he sets the box down on your countertop. “Can I make you tea or anything? To say thank you.”

“Oh no, don’t worry about it. But I’m Leon, by the way.”

You tell him your name, neither of you yet aware that name would remain at the top of his list in the coming years.

“Well, thank you, again. I probably would’ve ended up sliding down the stairs and falling right on my ass without your help.” You laugh as you walk back to the door with him, smiling again before saying goodnight.

His eyes linger on the worn, rust flecked numbered plaque affixed to the door after you close it.

He came back to your door in less than a week. Record timing, not that he really kept count of all the times he’s embarrassed himself for a woman. Even so, you didn’t say anything other than welcoming him inside again. He learned quickly, after frequent visits, that you liked providing. There was never a time when you weren’t handing him a mug of some hot liquid, offering a snack, or making a meal and telling him to stay since he was already there. You also had a behemoth of a cat skulking around your place, nearly giving him a heart attack one night when it lept on the counter mid sentence as you two chatted about nothing in particular. Thank god he didn’t do something stupid like pull his firearm in the middle of your apartment, the one time his reflex didn’t kick in all these years.

Turns out the beast's name was Blueberry, or just Blue for short. He and Blue maintained a tenuous agreement for your sake in the beginning. Not that he was an unfriendly cat, just a bit of an odd one. Quiet, prone to scuttling around like a criminal. As long as he didn’t do anything like piss in his shoes, Leon was fine with a stalemate agreement.

It was a little over half a year of knowing you when Leon eventually spilled his guts. Honestly it’s still shocking he managed to hold out on you that long. Not that you ever needled him for details, you seemed to understand there were certain things about him and his life that were strange but you never pressed the issue. That night, some mid June evening when the weather was sweltering and cicadas droned endlessly in the background, he’d pounded on your door unceremoniously and some godforsaken hour of the night. Was it selfish? Yes. Was it idiotic? Also yes.

But god there was nothing in that moment he craved more than that specific brand of tenderness he’d come to associate with you.

After dragging his sorry ass inside, blubbering like a baby, he’d metaphorically up chucked his whole sad, sorry story to you in the middle of your living room as you rubbed his back. It was reckless, beyond stupid but what else was he supposed to do when he had relapsed yet again? Just another year of failure and disappointment. Of horror and all encompassing pain. And he couldn’t put it on Chris or Claire, not again. Not after everything. One thing you learn when struggling with any kind of addiction is that there is a limit to people's patience. And that you, as the addict, will exhaust it very, very quickly.

His eyes had burned, a combination of being absolutely loaded on liquor and from managing to cry his body weight in tears and snot (no easy feat for a man like him). But you hadn’t done anything he feared: not looked at him in disgust or judgement, hadn’t told him to leave. You silently went about making coffee to sober him up, getting blankets from the hall closet, and then told him to stay put as you rummaged around a still packed box shoved in the bottom of the closet before returning with clothing in your arms.

“Sorry, they’re an ex’s clothes actually but hopefully they fit. You should shower once you're a little less… unsteady, get changed. You can stay here tonight, I promise Blue won’t terrorize you on the couch.” You spoke softly, setting the bundle down on the couch beside him and taking the empty mug from his hands.

“You’re not- you aren’t even gonna ask any questions?”

“I don’t think you’re really in any shape to be answering if I did. And besides, it’ll all still be there in the morning, so we can talk about it then. If you want.” You added the addendum quickly, and his heart nearly broke apart in his chest like a cinder block hit with a chisel.

He wouldn’t blame you if you did demand more answers from him, fuck he just told you the worst nightmares of the world exist and have existed for a long, long time. Told you about his own gory encounters, though in not so many words. But still, any other person would either interrogate him or throw him out on his ass to sober up on his own, write him off as a crazed drunk.

But not you. You gave him coffee, clothes, you’re standing there telling him to stay and sleep it off.

“I don’t blame you if you don’t want anything to do with this. With me.” His voice had cracked but he didn’t have the energy to be embarrassed, not after the emotional whiplash he’d just gone through. This could’ve been something good for once, but of course he has to bungle it like everything else. His life is one big never ending cosmic joke and simultaneous tragedy.

“Stop it. Everyone’s got some shit they’re dragging around Leon, not just you. I’m telling you to stay not because I feel sorry for you or whatever, I want you to stay because we’re friends. We’re friends and I care about you.” Your voice was firm, the firmest he’d heard all this time and immediately he straightened up, a reflex from always being attuned to authority.

He doesn’t remember if he even thanked you for that, not that it matters. You’re not the type to hold tiny slights or impoliteness against anyone. But he does remember the conversation afterwards. Every painful detail.

Sure, you hadn’t pressured him and he was thankful for that but he knew it wasn’t right to leave as if everything were normal. That would’ve been worse than just telling you the truth, and he didn’t want to shoot himself in both feet when one was already bad enough. So, over breakfast that he felt guilty you made for him he told you the entire sob story, from beginning to end. You were owed that much, at least.

“So the real reason I don’t see you for gaps at a time is because you’re off somewhere getting shot at, attacked, and torn up because the government knows about literal flesh eating monsters but those monsters got out and now just anyone can make them if they’re insane enough? And it’s your problem to deal with it when they do? Christ alive.” Your voice had been equal parts awed, disgusted, and afraid. That was worse than anything so far, you feeling afraid made him feel sick to his stomach.

“Yeah, that's basically it.” He spoke into the glass of juice in his hand, hyperfocused on the film gathered along the sides of the glass, too ashamed to even look at you.

“Jesus Leon, did you really think I’d be mad at you? Even after hearing all that?” You grabbed for his hand, startling him enough to look at you sharply. “Listen, it’s okay. I mean it’s not, but this,” you gestured back and forth with the hand not holding his, “ between us is fine so please stop acting like you’re waiting for me to scream in your face.”

He's pretty sure he ended up accidentally doing his best impression of a fish after you spoke, mouth moving but no sound coming out. Were you altruistic or just idiotic? How could you sit there like any of what he told you was normal?

From then on you remained a mystery he couldn’t even begin to unravel. You never asked him point blank about any of it again, not even when he would be over and you’d catch sight of bruising, fresh scarring. Not even on one particularly brutal night when he’d popped stitches after Blue had decided to take a flying leap onto his chest from the highest point on the stairs which coincidentally, were directly above the couch he’d been laying on.

You kept that faintly bloodstained couch for years afterwards, stubbornly insisting it was nothing a little peroxide and borax couldn’t handle (it in fact couldn’t, but you said it was just an excuse to keep the blankets on the couch now rather than in the ottoman).

He loved that you were everything he wasn’t. Kind, patient, somehow always able to see something good even in the middle of some of the most god awful shit imaginable, and you were stubborn as hell which was oddly endearing. More and more he came to you, craved that patience and compassion almost as badly as he craved drinks sometimes but another positive effect of your presence was that slowly, inch by inch, those cravings lessened and the hand that had squeezed him so tightly since his life went to shit relaxed its grip.

He could almost fool himself, on nights when he felt so relaxed the edges of his vision would blur until the lights around your place resembled some fuzzy, abstract source, that he had managed to carve out an idyllic life for himself. Could pretend for a while that he was somebody that deserved the loving, beautiful partner, the comfort of a cat on his lap, warmth and happiness in a home.

As years passed he slowly had the realization that he wasn’t fooling himself, actually. The two of you had become interlocked pieces, you were such an important part of who he was that it was unimaginable that you weren’t always in his life. He would even end up placing you in memories sometimes, swearing up and down that you were present even though there was no way you could have been. It’s just a testament to how perfectly you melded into his life and he into yours.

Your first kiss had been in the middle of that kitchen, in your old apartment. The kiss itself hadn’t been shocking honestly, it was the ease with which he’d done it that surprised the hell out of him. You were talking about work after he’d once more helped you set up the seasonal decorations you insisted on every single year, he was helping you cook dinner while fending off the cat to keep him from chowing down on human food, when he’d just dipped down and kissed you. As if it were something you two did a million times; casual, easy.

It didn’t even register until he realized you had stopped talking, weren’t moving in front of the stove despite the bubbling pot on the burner, framed in the soft white lights he’d hung around the ceiling of the back hallway off from the kitchen. Your hand lingered on your mouth, index balanced delicately against the bottom lip as you gazed at him with wide eyes. Of course he rushed to fumble out an apology but you shook your head, getting on your tiptoes to place a chaste peck to his cheek. He’d flushed hot all over in response, suddenly extremely fidgety at having the affection returned.

“Good thing we’re already making dinner, normally I’d tell someone if they wanted to kiss me they should at least take me out first.”

Some might point to that and say it was the official start of your relationship, but Leon knew it wasn’t so easy to articulate a “beginning”, so to speak. The same might be said about the first time you technically slept together: you and him in the bedroom but it had hardly been anything romantic or sexual, no you kept watch over him as he thrashed and cried out in his sleep. He’d already fallen off the couch and you dragged him to the bedroom, insisting there was no way he’d be able to fall out of a bed and could at least get some better sleep in a more comfortable place. He didn’t know until much later that you’d been beside yourself all night, watching him like a hawk but unable to rouse him from his manufactured hell.

You could even say the real beginning was him managing to walk home at just the right time to bump into you on the stairs, lugging around a box of decorations.

The same box that he just brought down from the attic of the home he signed on two years ago, the house he’d specifically selected because it could accommodate another person. Because it could accommodate you. That was always the first thing in his mind when he’d looked at a few places, and took a few of the house tours. He knew it had to be spacious enough that there’d be no way you could hem and haw about moving in.

Your relationship wasn’t so much a straight line as it was a chaotic, messy zigzag but it was the only one he could ever imagine for himself. He wasn’t a man of much faith or particularly taken to belief, but sometimes, on nights when he gets in late and sees you passed out on the couch waiting for him or like this morning when you were all smiles and laughter setting up that gaudy fake tree he can almost believe that maybe it was some divine intervention, some act of god that night.

Crystal blue eyes open into yours, crows feet and smile lines patterning the skin, and his calloused hand slides around to the back of your neck, holding you firm in your position on his lap.

“I can’t imagine my life without you. I don’t know how I even lived without you.”

You smile softly, pressing a gentle, lingering kiss to his lips.

“Where's all this coming from?”

He offers his own smile in return, the stubble he had worried over now forgotten as your hands move from his jaw down his chest, tucking your head against the side of his neck as he stroked your hair.

“Call it the holiday spirit, or whatever.” You snort, press another kiss to his jugular before rising back up to look at him.

“Mhm, if you say so.” You reach over to run a hand through Blue’s fur, a little more silver flecked now as the years have passed, as the cat sleeps soundly next to you two on the couch. “I think we should take a break, the tree isn’t going anywhere. But I do think we should have hot chocolate, didn’t you grab some at the store?”

He watches as you get up, moving into the kitchen and tidying as you put mugs on the granite countertop, humming some nonsense holiday song while you look for the milk in the fridge.

The ring box feels less heavy, his skin less clammy. Why was he nervous to begin with?

It’ll always be you two and one curmudgeonly cat, framed in the hazy glow of Christmas lights. Only next year, that ring will glitter on your finger as you laugh at some cheesy romance movie together, as you rummage around in these same boxes for the ornaments he brings back like they’re your most treasured possessions.

He’s always coming back to you. Home to you, ornament from some far off place in hand and a syrupy sweet kiss on the cheek.

Because if his partner wants an ornament, they’re getting the ornament. Even if this one so happens to go on the finger, not a tree.

#leonsecretsanta2024 #leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy fluff #leon s kennedy #leon kennedy imagine #resident evil x reader #resident evil fluff

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writingquestionsanswered · 2 years ago

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do u have any sort of website that can tell me jobs in a small town? trying to write a story set in a small town but i cant come up with any ideas for jobs apart from the essential ones like police or hospital

Jobs in a Small Town

Government: mayor, city manager, city council member, city attorney, city clerk, code enforcement officer, customer service representative, finance director, fire chief/firefighter, paramedic, human resources manager, information technology department, librarian, municipal court clerk/administrator/judicial specialist/court security officer, parks and recreation director, planning and zoning director, police chief/officer or sheriff/deputy, public works director, utilities clerk, wastewater plant operator

Business: business owner/operator or employee (such as a clerk, receptionist, manager, or administrator) at a shop, restaurant, cafe, gas station, mechanic, tow truck, locksmith, landscaper/lawn care, handyman, florist, funeral home, pool cleaner, daycare center, grocery store, feed and pet store, car dealership, clothing boutique, ice cream parlor, liquor store, bar, nightclub, community theater, "big box store" (like Walmart), warehouse store (like Costco), movie theater, mini-golf course

Medical Services: hospital (administration, doctor, surgeon, nurse practitioner, nurse, nurse's aide, respiratory therapist, anesthesiologist, orderly, receptionist, lab worker, security, etc.) Doctor's office or urgent care (administration, doctor, nurse, nurse practitioner, receptionist, etc.) Dentist or orthodontist (administration, dentist/orthodontist, dental assistant, orthodontic assistant, receptionist, etc.) Nursing home/assisted living facility (administration, doctor, nurse, orderly, etc.)

Random: country club employee, dog walker, babysitter/nanny, home nurse, museum director/curator/specialist/employee, town archaeologist (if area is rich in history), industrial jobs (mining, factories/manufacturing, farming/crop production, fishing/fisheries), wedding coordinator, convention center director, attorney, judge, taxi driver, utility repair technician, railway worker, bus driver, school jobs (principal, teacher, teacher's aide, librarian, cafeteria worker, counselor, security officer, custodian), airport jobs (administrative, security, service provider/employee, airline worker, pilot, flight attendant, plane mechanic)

That's all I've got at the moment, but keep an eye on the comments in case others come up with ideas! :)

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rosedpetal · 6 months ago

Text

Like Father Like Daughter

Summary: Lloyd Hansen is a former CIA agent slash mercenary slash sociopath who gets off on the doing the most unspeakable things. When his high school sweetheart gets in a coma, he finds out she took from him more than just his heart and a promise ring.

Pairing: Dad!Lloyd x Daughter!Reader

Word count: 6.6k

Warnings: mentions of death, hospitals, murder, guns, violence, Lloyd being mean to his daughter (you), daddy issues dynamics, death of a parent.

Author's note: this is a repost.

Minors, do not interact.

Masterlist

You were growing to hate hospitals. The sterile smell, white walls, floors and ceilings, doctors and nurses wearing those annoying scrubs that made everything much more depressing.

You were growing to hate light colors.

Tired of reading, you took a sip of your water bottle, eyeing your mother's asleep form on the hospital bed. She was pale, with dark circles under her eyes and tubes everywhere. She was stable, but they had no idea when she would wake up.

Or if she would.

"She got lucky." The doctor said to your grandma, after explaining the after a car accident of that nature, your mother being alive was a miracle.

You didn't think of luck at all. Not when you got out of school earlier, seeing your grandpa in tears while he crushed your limbs in a hug, sobbing in your hair and repeating like a prayer that everything was gonna be okay.

Your sweet, cheerful and loud mother have been at such a state for so long. Two months in, and you could hear the nurses gossiping when they thought you were asleep cuddling your mother.

"Keeping this patient is useless. She's as good as dead".

You started to lose hope, but you couldn't give up. Your mother had to come back at some point.

She was the only person you could count in. Of course, your grandparents were great, but a child's place is with their parents. Or just your mother, in your case.

When you were younger you pried as much as you could, but she would refuse to tell you anything about your father, only telling you that he walked out on her before he even knew she was pregnant and she never heard of him since.

Somehow, you didn't believe her.

But after the accident that almost took your mother from you, you couldn't really care less about a father that you never knew.

And as the time passed by, all you did was pray that your grandparents didn't lose hope too. After all, the decision to keep the life support on was theirs.

"You can either tell me what the hell is going on or I can just gut you like a pig, which one is gonna be?" Lloyd grinned at one of his spies. The man had been working for him for years now, a record that was getting Lloyd uneasy.

He would have to kill him soon.

"I found something interesting, that's all." The man replied, and poured a generous dose of whiskey on one of the glasses that was by Lloyd's coffee table.

Lloyd looked at him, amused.

"I didn't realize you had a death wish, getting yourself comfortable with my Scotch and everything."

"It's not for me, Hansen. It's for you." Klaus replied, emotionless.

Lloyd sat up, getting tense. Klaus passed him the glass, and he almost gave in the impulse to use it to break the moron's skull.

"I'm gonna ask again, and if I don't get a straight answer my gun is gonna get friendly with your brains." Lloyd took the gun from the holster and aimed at the man's head.

"Your ex fiancée is in a coma".

Lloyd let a breath out.

"And that's all this fucking tension about? Why would I give a fuck about that bitch? It's been more than thirteen years-"

"She has a daughter about that age." Klaus cut the infuriated Lloyd. "She looks a lot like you. Blue eyes, dark hair. Same dental arch..."

The same motherfucking asshole smile. He wanted to complete, but kept his mouth shut. Lloyd was impulsive and unpredictable, and after working with him for long enough, anyone would get a taste of almost getting murdered by him on his multiple mood swings.

Lloyd's head tilted to side.

Oh fuck.

"So, you're saying that I'm stupid enough to get some bitch pregnant by accident?"

"You popped the question to her, thought."

"I was young and stupid."

"And now, you're just stupid."

"For the sake of our fake friendship I'm gonna let that slide. And why were you even sneaking into her shit, anyway?"

"I wasn't. Do you remember the bounty you collected two months ago on that senator's head?"

"How could I forget?" Lloyd rolled his eyes. "It was a hell of a car chase."

"Well, the senator driver's car crashed into hers."

...

Lloyd really loved irony. But not when it came to bite his ass back.

After Klaus showed him some pictures of you in the hospital your mother were in, not even him could deny. You looked exactly like him, but with long hair and without a mustache in your baby face.

"Fuuuuuck!" He threw the glass across the room, hitting the wall, and getting it smashed into million pieces.

His sneaky job almost got his daughter's mother killed, for fucks sake. How would he tell you that? Did he even want to face you?

Klaus kept quiet while Lloyd threw his tantrum. Then, he spoke:

"When am I taking you to her?"

Lloyd turned to face him, angry.

"I'm not gonna meet some brat just because I found out she came from my balls!"

He couldn't really care less about your mother. He loved her (or thought he did) and then it was over. It was okay, he got over it. But he was not about to meet a child he knew he never wanted.

And what benefit would he bring to your life, dragging you to his mess?

Lloyd made up his mind. He would just ignore your existence.

"In what room is she, again?"

"301, boss." Klaus replied, trying to hide the smirk on his face.

Lloyd rolled his eyes, but chose to ignore him nonetheless. He was neither soft nor wanted to be a dad, but he was a curious motherfucker. So, the next day, first thing after knowing you were out of school, he made Klaus take him to the hospital.

"I'm here to see my daughter. Her mom's on the room 301."

The receptionist, who was not really interested, just pointed directions and waved him off. When he got in front of the door, he almost chickened out.

Oh, come on, he was not to be afraid of some child.

Even if it was his.

So, he knocked on the door. He knew you'd be there. You've never left your mother's side after school hours, and your grandparents didn't mind indulging you.

He heard a soft "Come in!" and took a deep breath before finally turning the doorknob.

It was a lot to take in.

Your mom, the only woman he ever loved, looking small, pale and pathetic. It was nothing like the girl he knew in her teens, bubbly and all-smiles.

Then, he saw you. Looking at him wide-eyed, and how the blue in your irises were similar to his. Your dark brown hair, that would match his if he didn't dye it jet black. Your nose were your mother's: a cute button on your rosy face, as well as your pouty lips.

"Who are you? I think you are in the wrong room."

You inquired. He could tell you were afraid of him. Arms crossed on your chest, biting your upper lip nervously.

He cleared his throat.

"I'm... Your father." It surprised him how he didn't sound anything like his usually cocky self. Your eyebrows rose, and you scoffed.

"Went to buy a pack of cigarettes and never found your way back to my mom?" You sassed.

"That's not fair! First of all, I don't smoke. And second, I had no idea your mom was pregnant! I would chase her to hell if I did. She was the one that left, ended things and disappeared like I meant nothing!" Lloyd pointed his index finger to you, incredibly offended.

"Which makes me think what kind of fuck-up you are if she ran away from you, then." You retorted, and noticed his reddened face.

"What's with all this prejudice? I could be the nicest fucking person you know. Maybe I have an animal shelter, ever thought of that? What if I read to old people in asylums in my spare time?"

"Do you?"

"No, but that's not the point here, young lady."

"Do you know how do I know you are not the nicest person? You said a bad word." You pointed, lips curling upwards.

"You said it first!" He accused, and this time, you grinned.

Maybe your mom left him because he was a man child, after all?

Your smile faded. You looked at your mother, and she nothing about her changed. Not even her heartbeat. You thought that perhaps she would get an incentive having your so-called-father in the room after such a long time.

"What's your name?" Lloyd asked, and you huffed.

"Why are you still here?

"I'm not leaving until I get to know you. My name's Lloyd, by the way. Lloyd Hansen. What's your name?"

"Get out!" You let out an exasperated sigh, regretting it immediately. You've always been curious about who your father were, and now you had the chance to.

"Do you really want me to?"

The pout that formed on his lips almost made you laugh again. Okay, he was charming, you had to give him that. So, against your better judgement, you gave in.

"No, please stay."

Lloyd didn't know if it was the sad way you almost pleaded for him to not leave, but he felt like a magnet was pulling him towards you, and you got up of the chair, sitting on your mother's bed and pointing the chair to him.

He sat and started fidgeting with his fingers.

"I'm Y/N. I'm thirteen. I like to read, but I'm also lazy and my mom's always scolding me to study more. That's me in a nutshell." You finally said, feeling a little disappointed that you had nothing better to say.

"Sounds like a normal thirteen-year-old to me. Have you ever killed an animal?"

"Excuse me, what?"

"Just kidding!" Lloyd said, fast. He noticed the change in your demeanor, which meant that topic probably upset you. He'd make sure to find out about that later.

"Oh my god, have you?" Your jaw dropped, finally putting two and two together. "It's that why my mother left you? You are some kind of psycho that tortures animals?"

"I don't torture animals!" Just people, Lloyd thought. "It was an innocent question, okay?"

"Yeah, you sound really normal to me." You rolled your eyes. "Get the fuck out, Lloyd. Or I'm gonna call the cops on you, being my father or not, which I don't believe you are by the way."

"Okay, in case you haven't noticed, you look exactly like me and nothing like her."

"You're not the only man with blue eyes and dark hair in the world, Lloyd."

"I totally agree with you on that, and this is why I brought this!" Lloyd announced, taking a ziplock bag out of his pocket with a q-tip inside of it.

"What the hell is this?"

"Open your mouth, kiddo!" He grinned at you, getting closer with the q-tip between his index and thumb.

"I'm not giving you my DNA, you creep!"

"Okay, hard way it is." He sighed, almost sadly. "I love you."

Your jaw dropped again, and he took the opportunity to stick the q-tip in your tongue, collecting the saliva. Before you could shriek, he put it back in the ziplock.

"You fucking asshole!" You yelled. "I'm calling the security-"

"Keep your voice down." He warned you, and you whimpered at the sudden change on his behavior. Then, he got up and gave you a smile. "It was nice catching up with you, kiddo. Toodles!"

You were still stunned when he left.

Days went by, and you haven't seen Lloyd since. Part of you were angry at yourself for being disappointed by that, but you just shrugged it off and told yourself it was better that way.

And it was really surprising when your class was over and you saw him leaning against a black car with black windows, with sunglasses adorning his face. He had his arms crossed over his chest, a lollipop on his mouth and that fucking weird mustache still on his face.

"Ready to go home?" He asked, almost bored when you finally reached him.

"Are you insane? You look like a creep! You're gonna freak the other kids out, Lloyd!"

"Okay, I was expecting a nicer greeting from you. Haven't you missed me?"

"No." You lied. "I'm not going anywhere with you, you could be a child molester for all I know."

"All right, now you've really offended me." He threw the lollipop on the curb and took the sunglasses off. "Don't even joke about that, I'm not that kind of sicko. Get in the fucking car right now, and don't make a scene."

Gritting your teeth, you let him open the passenger door for you and got inside his car. It was probably really expensive, with nice leather seats and everything.

"My grandparents are gonna kill you." You stated when he got in the driver's seat and turned the engine on.

"They're not doing shit, kiddo. I paid a little visit to them earlier, and they agreed to let me take you with me for a little while. They didn't even fight, by the way." Then, he leaned closer, like telling you a secret. "I don't think they like you that much."

"Oh, you're insufferable! Did you threaten them? Did you hurt them? Lloyd, I swear to god-"

"I didn't do shit!" He snapped, gripping the steering wheel in his hands. "Your grandparents fucking owe me for screwing everything up for me, now keep your mouth shut and enjoy the ride!"

"What the hell do you mean by that?"

"Didn't I just tell you to shut up?"

"Fine!" You screamed in defeat. If he wanted you to stay quiet, you were going to give him the silent treatment. He turned the radio on, with a satisfied smile on his face.

Lloyd drove like a drunk teenager, getting angry honked at in a ridiculous amount of times in just a few minutes. If you were still on speaking terms with him, you would've scolded him for that.

It was when he ran the red light that your panic attack came. You started hyperventilating, feeling sweat in your palms, and you chest tightened at the dread that cursed through your veins.

He side-eyed you, noticing how you were grabbing the seat with white knuckles.

"Hey, kiddo, be nice to my car."

You didn't move, though. You closed your eyes, feeling your head starting to spin. Oh no. You were about to throw up.

"Hey, what the fuck is wrong with you? I told you to-"

He got cut off by the sight of the tears streaming down your face, and he slowed down. You finally felt your breath coming down to normal, and you sobbed.

Lloyd pulled over on the street, and you opened the door as fast as you could, just in time for you to vomit in the curb. He put his hand on your back and you stiffened, but calmed down when he stroke it gently.

"I'm sorry, kiddo." He felt like a dick. He realized you were probably terrified of cars now that your mother had been in an accident. You kept silent and finally closed the door, wiping your mouth with your sleeve.

He drove slower then, leaving town on the main road and approaching the countryside. When he entered a nice trail and stopped in front of a giant iron gate, you almost rolled your eyes. Of course this prick was rich.

The area looked lovely all the same. You could picture yourself leaning against the big oak tree while reading a book, a tire swing on the lowest branch.

Lloyd finally turn of the car, and turned to you.

"Before we go there let's just go over the basic rules. Not calling me daddy: it's Lloyd for you. Not testing my patience. Not sneaking into my things. And just so you know, I'm not above beating a child. It's better if you know your place by now.

You didn't spare him a second glance and got out of the car, adjusting your school bag on your shoulder. Why was he such an ass? It wasn't like you wanted to be there. You were perfect fine vegetating by the side of your vegetating mother.

You followed him inside, admiring the immaculate white floor, the tapestry and all that expensive shit that looked extremely nice. His grand foyer had two staircases, and a giant chandelier hang on top of it.

"The first room on the left is yours. Mine is on the right. Do not go into my room. Or any other rooms. If you get bored just take a nap or something." He clarified. You couldn't bite back the remarks anymore.

"So you just brought me here to patronize me?" You asked him in an angry tone.

"Patronize you? Oh, your mother raised a little feminist, didn't she? Bet you despise all men and all that bravado." He mocked you.

"No, you're actually the only man I despise, Lloyd. Don't worry. I'll stay out of your way, I don't feel like torturing myself by spending time willingly with you." You spat back and went upstairs on the left staircase. When you got in the midway he yelled at you:

"By the way, the kitchen is free and open 24/7. Don't go starving on me, kiddo!"

You gave him the could-shoulder and opened the first door on the left, looking wide-eyed at the interior.

There was a four-post bed, with luxurious tule canopy adorning with the purple comforter set. On both sides of the bed, twin nightstands that had the same royal-looking lampshades. In the center of the room, a fur round white rug, with a coffee table and two baby pink armchairs around it.

There was a vanity table that was also white on the corner, and the wall facing the bed had two doors. It was probably the closet and the bathroom.

On the other wall, two french windows that had beautiful creme colored curtains. The walls had a flowery wallpaper, and coming from the high ceiling a pending light.

"Pretty fucking awesome, right?"

You let out a shriek, holding your chest in your hand. When did he get behind you? Sweet Jesus.

"Don't I even get a "Thank you, Lloyd, for your kindness"? I did redecorate it, you know. I started doing it even before I got the lab results on your DNA."

You turned your head to him.

"Oh, yeah, about that. 99,9% your father. We still got a lot of catching up, don't we, daughter?"

"It's Y/N for you." You told him and put your bag on the bed, making an acquaintance with it. That mattress would surely be a problem when you'd have to get up to go school. "Where are my things, by the way? I need my stuff."

"Your grandma packed you a suitcase with your things. I threw your old laptop out, and bought you a new one. A new phone too. It's all set up for you. There are new toiletries in your bathroom, and I don't know if you wear makeup or not so I bought anyway and put in your vanity.

That was nice, but you didn't care.

"I want to see my mom."

"No, you don't. You're not spending the rest of your life by her side, that's not healthy."

Your face heated up in anger.

"You don't have a say in that! I want to see my mom! What if she wakes up and I'm not there?" You yelled, and he just scoffed.

"Then I take you to her the minute she does. Now suck it up and be nice for a change, will ya?"

He left and closed the door. You hid your face in the pillow and screamed, crying until your head hurt.

It was almost eight p.m. and Lloyd spend the rest of the afternoon in his office, yelling at people over the phone and doing boring paperwork for Carmichael.

It was a nice distraction, because he didn't knew what the hell he was going to do with you. He would not be parading you in public, he had too many enemies to pull a stunt like that.

Maybe bringing her here was a mistake, he sulked. But he couldn't just let you go, not now that his most trusted man insisted he took a paternity test and arranged a nice bedroom for you in his home.

He could send you away at any moment, thought. He'd never get attached to an insolent mini him just because she was cute and shit.

Oh no. Nope. Not going in that territory. It was foreign, dangerous and he couldn't go back once he got there.

When he looked at his watch he cursed. He'd had to make something for you to eat (and hire a cook).

Lloyd sighed when he reached the kitchen. It wasn't that he was a malfunctioning adult, but he couldn't cook if his life depended on it. He took no shame in admitting that he ate instant noodles when he wasn't dining at a nice restaurant, but he couldn't let you eat that crap everyday.

He googled an easy recipe. Thank God he'd made time to do the groceries, otherwise you two would have to go out to eat, which was a big no for him.

But he didn't know where his kitchenware was. Or what to cook. Or how to.

Okay, you'd survive with instant noodles tonight, he decided.

"What are you doing?"

"OH MY GOD!" Lloyd screamed, seeing your post-sleep face behind him. "Don't you ever sneak on me like that, I might end up shooting you, you little shit!"

You glared at him.

"Do you own a gun, Lloyd? Are you some mafia lord or something?" You pried, curiously.

"What I do is none of your business, and if someone asks you about me, you'll play dumb, which I suspect it won't be hard for you."

The harshness in his voice made you change the topic really quick.

"At least I'm not dumb enough to not know how to cook a meal. Now get out of my way while I make something for us to eat." You sassed at him and opened the fridge, looking for meat. You could feel his gaze burning into you, but paid no mind to him.

In thirty minutes, you had the meat seasoned and sitting nicely in the oven, while you made some salad.

Lloyd was sitting in one of the chairs by the counter, angry-texting someone.

"Dinner's ready!" you hummed, feeling your mouth watering at the smell. You got two plates in the cupboard and offered one to Lloyd, who gladly took it from you and started serving himself. You suspected he was quite hungry, but said nothing to spoil his sudden good mood.

After finishing your diner, you put the dishes away and soaked a sponge with water and detergent before scrubbing them, absent minded.

"When did you learn how to cook?" Lloyd asked you, too stubborn to compliment you.

"My mom taught me when I was tall enough to reach the oven and do the dishes. Told me I had to be independent and all."

"You two are pretty close, huh?"

"Well, she did raise me by herself."

"Okay, now you're just being an asshole."

That earned a grin from you.

Since it was Saturday, Lloyd decided that he would let you sleep until noon if you wanted to. He was reading his newspaper (okay, he was actually trying to solve the crosswords) while the maids mopped the floors and dusted the things.

He was surprised when he saw you dragging your little feet down the stairs, hair everywhere, yawning and wearing plaid pants with a black strap top.

"Slept well, kiddo?"

"Very." You replied, rubbing your eyes. "What are we doing today? And why do you have so many maids? Can I see my mom just for a while?

"Why do you ask so many questions?" Lloyd whined. "Thank God I wasn't around when you started to speak. Must've drove your mom out of her goddamn mind. Okay, how about we go shopping today? We can even have ice cream after, what do you think?"

"What about mom?"

"She's not going anywhere, is she?"

"Fuck you." You spat.

Lloyd was stunned. He tore his gaze from the newspaper to you, and before he could scold you, you were running back to your room.

"That's not very nice, kiddo!" He yelled. "Say that to me again and I promise you'll be regretting it!"

"Sir?" One of the maids, a middle-aged woman, hesitantly spoke to Lloyd. "The girl was crying."

Lloyd sighed. He knew you for less than a month and you were already being an annoyance. His patience was running thin, he didn't know how much more of you attitude he could take before snapping.

He knocked on your door, and heard you sniffling.

"Go away!"

"Okay, kiddo! I hope you're decent right now, because I'm coming in!" Lloyd announced before opening the door to you with your face buried in the pillow.

He sat on the bed, and you moved further from him when you felt the mattress sinking by your side.

"I'm sorry." That you are a little drama queen, he wanted to add. "Guess jokes about your mom are off limits, then?"

You said nothing, raising your middle finger to him with your face still on the pillow. He chuckled.

"So, we're even? Because I'm not having you talking back to me all the time, kiddo. At some point I'm gonna lose my shit and the moment that happens, I only hope for your sake that you're a good runner."

Your chest rose lightly, a sound of muffled laughter coming from you.

For a little while, things were good. Great, even. And that's how Lloyd sensed some shit would hit the fan at any moment.

Maybe you were too excited to finally have a father figure in your life, but you were actually happy for the first time after your mom's accident. Lloyd would have a chauffeur take you and pick you up from school, and you'd visit your mom once a week.

Your grandparents would go to Lloyd's house to see you and check on you (you learned later that it was their "arrangement" because Lloyd actually had something to hold over their heads).

You were eating chocolate ice cream while rocking softly in a bench swing Lloyd had people built for you with him on your side drinking his Scotch.

"I killed a cat once."

You said it so casually as if you were talking about the weather, and Lloyd choked so hard on his drink that you had to pat his back.

He stared at you with tears in his eyes, still coughing.

"Well, it was an accident. I was three or four? I don't remember. Mom had found a cute grey kitten and she sheltered him for a few days in our home. I was so excited to have a cat!" You hesitated a little, and frowned at the memory. "One day, mom was cooking dinner and I hugged the cat. Hard. I suffocated him, and when mom found us she lost her mind."

"She yanked my arm really hard and screamed so harshly at me that I still have flashes of that moment. I cried, because I had no idea what was happening, and I didn't realized I've killed it."

"We never talked about that again, but I think my grandparents found out what happened later, because I spent some time living with them after that. They weren't on speaking terms with mom, and when she got me back they would supervise us and shit."

Lloyd considered you for a while.

"I appreciate us bonding over this happy story, but why are you telling me this now?"

"Because now I realize why she reacted that way, and why she disappeared on you. When you asked me if I had ever killed an animal when we first met, it didn't cross my mind. But then, I had a feeling. Killing animals in childhood is a classical sign of psychopathy. Mom overreacted because she thought I was just like you, Lloyd."

You looked over Lloyd with a little grin on your face.

"Stop being cute, kiddo. And just so you know, I'm a sociopath, there's a little difference. I wasn't sure that was the reason your mom left me, maybe she finally realized I really was fucked in the head in an irredeemable way. I reached out to her only once, and your grandfather got in the way and told me to leave her alone. They told me a little while ago that they knew about the pregnancy and they wanted to keep you from having me around."

"Well, the effort didn't matter in the end, but okay."

"And the fact that I'm a sociopath doesn't bother you?"

You shrugged.

"Not really. You could be worse, it's not like you killed mom or something."

Lloyd tried to keep his cool. He was fucked.

You tiptoed the stairs, trying to make the smallest noise possible. Lloyd made you pinky promise him that you were going to stay in your room, but you were so hungry! And it didn't help you that he filled the kitchen with your favorite snacks.

You sighed in relief when you got some chips, a Ben & Jerry's cup and a bar of Hershey's. You hugged your food and when turned to go to your room, you screamed.

A man, about Lloyd's age, eyed you up and down, smirking.

"Damn, you're a bit young for him, aren't ya pretty thing?"

You cringed so hard at the way he said it, feeling disgusted. You just walked past him, trying to go back to your room as fast as possible, but he grabbed your arm, making you drop your snacks.

"Tell me, pretty girl... How old are you? Fifteen, fourteen... Wouldn't be my youngest, though."

You wanted to kill him with your bare hands. With renewed animosity, you kicked his groin as hard as you could, and he let go of you to hunch to his front, wailing.

Before you could react, you heart a gunshot. The man's head blew with the impact, his body dropping to the kitchen floor and staining the impeccable floors. You were so shocked that you couldn't move.

"Go hide behind that door. Don't come out until I go there, you hear me?" Lloyd asked, voice hushed. He was already dragging you to the pantry room and locking you there. "Stay fucking quiet, kiddo."

You heard more gunshots and some yelling, and you laid on the floor, hugging your head as best as you could, your heart hammering in your chest.

All of this lasted maybe five minutes, but it felt like fucking hours. You were beginning to imagine the worse. Maybe someone hurt Lloyd, and he wouldn't come to save you.

When you heart the lock of the door, you tried to drag yourself under a shelf, dropping everything.

Okay, you were screwed. You screeched when Lloyd's hand forced you on your feet, feeling so relieved that you hugged him.

He froze. And then, he explode:

"What the FUCK were you thinking? Coming out of your fucking room, knowing I had people over? Do you realize how dumb you were? Do you know what could happen to you if they realized you are my child?"

"I didn't know..." you tried to defend yourself.

"I TOLD YOU! I fucking told you Y/N, don't come out of your room when there's people over. They could be armed and they could kill you! You-" he interrupted himself, trying to find words to say. "You're grounded! For the rest of your life!"

"I already apologized!" you cried out, annoyed.

He took a deep breath.

"So what? You still could've get yourself killed!" He started raising his voice again. "If you get yourself killed, what the fuck am I supposed to do, huh? Ever thought about that?"

Oh. You just realized it wasn't about you disobeying him (or making he kill so many people).

He cared about you.

"Maybe I would finally be in peace, without you nagging at me every fucking hour." You defied, chin up.

He sighed. And somehow, you knew you were in deep trouble. You swerved from him, his fingers barely grazing on your skin.

You let out a little scream while you ran from him, who was chasing you like a madman. You got in the nearest room and locked the door, breaking in a fit of hysterical laughter.

You were so fucked right now.

"You fucking brat! Open the fucking door right now so I get to beat the shit out of you!"

"No!" You managed to yell back between laughing and sobbing.

"Get out of that way, I'm breaking this fucking door!"

"I'm gonna throw myself out of the window!" you threatened.

"I FUCKING DARE YOU! You little bitch! We are in the first floor! Go ahead, we're just getting started!"

You yelped when you heard his body colliding with the door, and ran to the window. You managed to escape just before the wood broke under the pressure of Lloyd's rage. You ran through the back of his house, the chilling breeze doing nothing to you as you were pure adrenaline.

You yelled when he grabbed your middle and threw you over his shoulder, putting you down almost immediately.

"My fucking back!" Lloyd snapped, annoyed and panting, with his hand on his lower back. You burst into giggles. This bastard of a man could have his hands bloody, but how he managed to be so ridiculous doing so never ceased to amaze you. "Think this is fucking funny? The only reason I'm not beating you right now is because I'm tired, okay?"

"I thought we were just getting started." You teased him, and he started to chase you again.

Later that night, Lloyd had Klaus taking the three bodies out of the house. As you scrubbed the floors to clean the blood (Lloyd's punishment for you) you couldn't help but joke:

"You just traumatized me, dude. I'll probably need lots of therapy and shit to recover."

"I think you'll survive." He replied coldly, leaning against the wall while he watched you.

"I had no idea a head could just blow up like that!" You continued. "I think there's some brain under my nails."

"Shut the fuck up. This is your fault."

"I don't feel guilty though. The man thought I was some plaything to you, he even said that he had younger girls... I'm glad he's dead."

"Not that I'm complaining that you are being surprisingly brave, but I think it's best if we hide your... Tendencies. At least in front of other people. Okay, kiddo?" He said and turned to leave to his office.

"Okay da-Lloyd." You corrected yourself before you could actually say the word Dad. Lloyd stopped in his tracks. "Lloyd, I'm so sorry, it slipped! I promise you I'm never doing that again."

He didn't turn to face you. You thought that was it, he was mad at you but would let it slide. You never saw the tears forming in the corner of his eyes, because all he wanted right now was for you to see him as your father.

It didn't take long for things to go down to shit. Lloyd was having a surprisingly smooth day, going to the city to have a meeting with Klaus and the rest of his minions. He left you alone in the house and when he got back and saw you sobbing on the front porch he something was terribly wrong.

He barely walked out of his car when you came at him, angry and punching his chest with your tiny fists.

"YOU ASSHOLE! YOU'RE THE REASON MY MOM GOT IN THAT DAMN ACCIDENT!"

He couldn't control your anger, tossing and screaming at him, punching and slapping and kicking. And he let you. Because he knew it was what he deserved.

When you were tired out, he tried to hug you, but you flinched away from him, letting such a pity cry come out from your throat that he felt like the Grinch when his heart grew so big it broke into his chest.

He could feel his heart breaking too.

"Y/N, I'm so sorry, you have to believe me when I say it wasn't on purpose. My minions were chasing this really bad guy, and his car crashed into your mother's."

You said nothing, the tears rolling down your cheeks, your eyes puffy and nose red.

"I had no idea of her whereabouts after she broke things off with me all those years ago, you have to believe me when-"

"When you say you were just chasing a bad guy? Like you aren't one? Should I believe this was some sick coincidence, when you are rotten to the core, Lloyd?" you cut him off, the words cruelly coming out of your mouth. "My grandparents are coming to pick me up. I don't wanna see your face ever again. I wish it was you who got hurt, not my mom."

Your grandparents arrived shortly after that, and by their short "Hellos" and "Goodbyes" Lloyd could say they knew everything too.

But how did you find that out?

Later, drowning the second bottle of Scotch in his office, when the gears in his mind finally stopped turning.

That asshole.

Klaus' lifeless body slipped from Lloyd's grasp. His motivation to reveal the truth about your mother's accident couldn't be pettier. Lloyd always knew that snake would betray him, but he hadn't expect it to hurt so fucking bad.

He got his most trusted men to keep an eye on you, and for weeks he got little news on you, the aching on his heart always there. When he found out that your mom had a brain death, all the hope of getting your forgiveness left him.

Still, he couldn't just leave you on your own.

Lloyd watched as you placed white flowers on your mother's grave, your hair messy and some streaks falling from your bun.

You suddenly turned to him, feeling watched. You rolled your eyes when you recognized the mustache, scoffing in annoyance. Lloyd took careful footsteps towards you, his hands on his pockets.

"I'm sorry, kiddo."

"You already said that." You replied softly, tired of arguing and tired of grieving.

"No, Y/N. I'm sorry I wasn't around to guide you through your early years. I'm sorry I wasn't enough that your mother felt like raising you by herself would be better than doing it with me. I'm sorry for storming into your life and messing you up, and I'm sorry for all the pain I put you through, and I promise you, it wasn't on purpose. I'd never hurt you on purpose. I'm sorry I'm not a good father." He finished, his eyes watering. You sniffed and gave in, hugging him and sharing your heartbreak.

You already lost a parent. You couldn't just turn your back on the other. You turned your head to him, still in his embrace:

"Take me home, dad. We have a lot of catching up to do."

Lloyd happily complied. This time, he would make it right.

#lloyd hansen fanfic #lloyd hansen x reader #lloyd hansen x you #the gray man fanfiction #lloyd hansen fluff #chris evans character #chris evans character fanfiction

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dentaltutors · 2 months ago

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heartfullofleeches · 2 years ago

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Bloody kisses with my Maso Bully Yan - Erin and creep reader

[mentions of blood]

Fucking hell.

Erin tilts his head back as the nurse instructed, the door to the infirmary clicking shut as she leaves. He dabs a plastic bag full of ice to his various parts of his face, nursing a bruised nose, swollen eye, and bloody gums. He spits out the wad of cotton in his mouth to replace it with another, that too quickly swelling with blood. Despite his appearance, Erin had been victor in the fight that led to his condition. His opponent had been taken away in an ambulance. Some petty drama that got a little too out of hand ending with a broken arm and a chipped tooth on their end. Erin wishes to his deathbed that he got in one more swing.

The door pops open again minutes later. Erin had gotten up to pour the water in the icepack out and replace it with more cubes so he didn't see whoever came in. They walk up to him and stand behind him - totally silent.

Erin removes the gauze from his mouth, blood specks dripping onto his shirt. "I'm just grabbing some more ice I'm not going anywhere-" He almost has a heart attack as he turns around." Holy shit, Y/n- what the hell?

You tilt your head ever so slightly, staring at him with those eyes that he always found himself lost in when finding them watching from across the room. That's all you ever really did. Stare. Watch. It was creepy as hell.

And yet - his heart raced out his chest whenever your eyes met.

Erin closes in on you, trying to puff his chest and look tough through his current condition. "What do you want?" He spits.

A little too hard. Blood smacks against your face in a wide spray, your cheek and upper lip taking the brunt of the hit. You don't even flinch as it happens - sweeping your fingers over your stain skin unfazed.

The hardness of his eyes softens. "Shit, I'm sorry-"

You lick your fingers. Eyes burrowing holes into his soul, you stick your wet fingers into your mouth and pull them free with an equally as wet smack, running your tongue over what remains attached to your lips. You smile as you look down at them. It's the first he's ever seen from you. He can't force himself to hate the simulation it and your previous actions brings.

"What the fuck...."

Your eyes darts back to him. Grabbing a fist full of Erin's hair, you yank him to your level. His mouth falls open in a mute scream as he feels you tug out a few strains, the sound that leaves his throat akin to a strangled moan. With his mouth wide, you can see the source of what you desire. Nearly every tooth in the front row is stained red. Ramming your lips against his, your tongue darts immediately for the gash line across his gums. The fucker who gave it to him got him clean with his rings the final blow he got in before Erin swept him.

The rational part of his brain tells him to shout at you - shove you off him. The rest of his brain piloted by that accursed organ in his chest gave him. His hands find purchase on your shirt as your tongue changes course to his stained teeth, cleaning each of them individually. He feels you through the cloth, fondling and holding you like you're lovers. Quick to deny his feelings, but faster at falling in deep. Erin had never been more proud of his dedication to good dental hygiene than having his mouth violated by someone who's never seen said hello to him. His jaws nearly fall off their hinges as you suck the clotted blood left clung to his tongue, licking at walls of his mouth to get all that you could find.

Erin slowly sinks to the ground as your grip tighten. His vision blurs from the pain and the oxygen you deprived him from as you reach for his throat. Parting from him, strings of red spit bind you to the man fighting to regain the the breath you stole. You smear it into the swollen flesh of his lip as you go back to doing what you do best. Your gaze is different this time. Almost soft, or even understanding of what ran through his trouble mind. Holding his face, you mutter the question that's been plaguing you since the incident occurred.

"why did you do it?"

Erin swallows hard, sucking his lip through his teeth to taste what trace of you remained. "He... Called you a freak."

That eerie smile of yours creeps back. It sends chills down his spine, but he could never look away. Erin knows he won't rest well with the vice grip your next words enclose him in.

"Good boy."

You press your lips to his in soft embrace, nabbing the bloody balls of cotton off the counter as you straight up. Without another glance in his direction you leave the room. Erin gets off the floor and turns back to the sink, splashing water in his face. He looks at himself in the mirror, knowing he'll never be the same again once he steps out of this office. Shaking off the weight of your control over him until he got home, he finally addresses the elephant in the room in the form of a student run down with a fever.

"Tell anyone about this, you and your entire family are dead."

#yandere oc #yandere x reader #yandere #yandere imagines #yandere headcanons #yandere scenarios #yandere x you #yandere insert #yandere blurb #yandere drabble #male yandere #yandere bully #Erin my oc

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dasmeshinst · 6 months ago

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thesunhatesme · 10 months ago

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🪥🦷Ghouls at the dentist - HC🦷🪥

It’s time for the ghouls yearly dental appointments

Aether

He helped drag some ghouls out of the car and in to the building. He went in first because he could behave and then Copia could stay in the waiting room and make sure no one escaped. He, of course, behaved wonderfully. He did need to go in with Dew because he was not planning on behaving and would probably have to be held down. And he stood in the room when it was time for Swiss because sometimes he randomly decided he had had enough

Mountain

Also dragged ghouls out of the car. He went in after Aether and also behaved amazingly. The plan was to take the brave and calm ones first so that Phantom and Aurora wouldn’t get frightened since it was their first time at the dentist. He had to go in with Dew because last time Aether was alone with him and it didn’t go exactly as planned.

Cumulus

Behaved like an angel, of course. She was assigned to the waiting room duty, handle all the nervous energy and will to burn/flood the place down. Of course she handled it very well because the building was not in flames when they left and no one managed to escape

Cirrus

She didn’t want to go, but one look at Cumulus told her it was not up for debate, so she went in, reluctantly, but behaved civilly. When she was done, she was also assigned to waiting room duty and then loopey ghoul duty in the car

Aurora

Then it was Auroras turn, she went in alone but the nurse asked for help because she started biting for funnsies. Copia went in and threatened to take away her phone and to keep her reward lollipop. She stopped biting

Swiss

Then it was supposed to be phantoms turn, but he was too nervous, so Swiss went instead. Aether came with him but ended up calling for backup, Copia. He got drugged so they would be able to give him his dental examination. He got put in the car with Cirrus to wait out the drugs.

Rain

Phantom was still too nervous so he had to go in. Aether and Copia went in the room with him, since he too, had to be drugged. He had to me held and strapped down for his shot because he refused to breath in the gas mask. He then got carried to the car with Cirrus

Dew

Phantom had locked himself in the bathroom so Dew had to be next. He had to be dragged in hissing and biting by Aether and Copia with Cumulus walking behind, in case he freed himself. He had to be held down and heavily drugged

Phantom

He was very nervous and didn’t want to go. He started crying when his turn was coming up and sat in Mountains lap to calm down. Then he ran away and locked himself in a toilet stall. Mountain managed to get him out and held his hand all the way to the dentist office. He was very nervous but he took it like a champ. He felt a bit better when he saw how loopy Swiss, Rain and Dew were.

Copia

He stocked up on lollipops and made sure there was whiskey in his office for when he came home. Then he gave himself a pep talk and loaded up his ghouls in the car, most of them git in the car without any problem, some had to be dragged in, but everyone arrived at the dentist in the same car and that’s all that matters. Then he tried to keep everyone in line. When every ones appointments were over he drove home and put three loopy ghouls in front of the TV and handed out lollipops to every single one of his brave ghouls, even though some probably didn’t know why they got it or what it was

#phantom ghoul #dewdrop ghoul #swiss ghoul #mountain ghoul #aether ghoul #rain ghoul #aurora ghoulette #cirrus ghoulette #cumulus ghoulette #copia #the band ghost #hc

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cadencejames87 · 2 years ago

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Pairings: Bucky Barnes x Female Stark Reader

Summary: You help Bucky with his nightmares.

Honestly, if you read this, I apologize. It's basically word vomit that could have been trimmed. I focused on areas that didn't need to be focused on and glossed over bits that could have been more in-depth; my brain is all over the place these days.

Word Count: 5.3k

Warnings: House fire, death of a parent, PTSD, talks of trauma, hostage, abuse, sad Bucky, sorry if i missed any

*not beta'd thus any and all mistakes are my own*

~Dividers within story by @firefly-graphics~

"You should have seen his face," Clint mimicked the dumbfounded expression that wavered heavily on Tony's ordinarily know-it-all smug mug when he wandered into Clint's safe house not too long ago. "And all this time he's been hiding you from all of us." Clint sets down a large bowl of popcorn and falls onto the couch with the rest of the team, minus Cap and his wingmen, currently on their way back from an extended mission.

Tony wasn't absent in your life, though he wasn't really present either. You were a surprise after a one-night stand with a pretty face changed his life.

Your mother was a nursing student, waiting tables at night. She enjoyed that most nights were quiet enough to sneak in studies. At least they were until an extremely intoxicated Tony Stark stumbled into her diner seeking shelter from the rain, cover from the paparazzi, and a burger with a side of fries to soak up the alcohol.

You could call it love at first sight since he stopped in every night after until she finally agreed to a date. Your mother knew he was a playboy, nothing near marriage material when they met, yet, a girl could dream. Maybe she might be the one to change his ways. She quickly learned how much the man needed to grow up, and those fantasies soon died, but not before she was pregnant with you.

Though your mother refused to jump into a relationship because of one hurdle, which Tony had been slightly relieved to hear, she accepted his need to be a part of your life. No way would she deny that from either of you. He had been nothing but wonderful to her from the moment they met. He was simply not the right fit at this time, and if they would never be anything more than co-parents, she could not have asked for a better partner in raising you.

Of course, Tony being the man he is, tried to pay for her schooling, debts, and even rent when she found her dream space, for a steal, in the heart of Soho. She would never know it was all his doing. He had bought the brand-new building originally advertised as potential office space, had the interior quickly remodelled, and slipped a flyer into one of her books. He even personally screened each and every one of her neighbours and kept the best unit open, denying all who applied until he saw her name on the list.

She rejected his help in her personal finances, though when it came to you, she planned to do everything 50/50. Naturally, he completely squashed that plan, whether it was pettiness or pride, the moment you took your first breath, he was there 100% for you. He covered medical and dental, paid for the finest education, and spoiled you with toys, clothes and whatever else he could think of, despite your mother's objections over lack of space. His presence in your life wasn't just money; he wanted to be there for every school play, graduation, and birthday, even if it meant sending Happy with a camcorder when he was otherwise engaged. He saved all the videos of every milestone, your art projects, and pictures as you grew up.

When it came to college, he set you up with your own downtown apartment in Vancouver, Canada, after receiving a scholarship to one of the top film schools. {Which you turned down so they could offer it to someone in need and kept that little secret between you and your father.} You graduated after a two-year program and chose to continue your education at Stanford. Tony happily helped you relocate. He was so proud of you for going after what you wanted and knocking it out of the park by getting into another top school. He paid the tuition in full and even bought you a car, despite telling him you could take transit if needed. I mean, you did live within walking distance of campus. Anyway, the years flew by, and you graduated with a major in astrophysics and made your way back home to NYC, where you picked up a job as a barista, refusing any more handouts while searching for a more permanent job that fit either of your studies without your father's influence. You wanted to prove you could make it on your own.

After the attack on New York, Tony started rethinking everything. He wanted to keep you safe, which meant protecting the world from more attacks. Maybe he would convince you to work in Stark Tower or a new building he could have built overnight. He also began re-evaluating his current relationship with your mother. Was there hope to rekindle what could have been? A near-death experience will do that to a man. He was finally ready to quit his partying ways and take things more seriously, and all of this over Shawarma with the team.

As he flew over Washington Square Park down Broadway, he could already see the dark clouds of smoke filling Soho. Sirens of fire rescue ring out as people run for safety, shouting about an explosion, bombs, and aliens. Stark makes it through the thick smoke and fights through the flames of your mother's building, searching desperately for her. He finds her in the bathtub, covered in a wet towel, choking on the smoke. Against Friday's advice, Tony removes his suit, places her inside, and sends her out the window.

He scrambles back through the apartment to find the entrance blocked by debris. He searches blindly for the window to the fire escape and breaks out, basically falling down the steps as he scrambles to his escape. As he drops the last couple of feet to the pavement below the fire escape ladder, he searches the street filled with emergency vehicles and first responders. He spots your mother on a gurney receiving oxygen, climbs to his feet and hurries over with a faint limp. The EMT nursing her burns gives him a grim look. “We have to transport her immediately. It doesn’t look good.”

“Well, what’s the holdup?” Tony helps load the gurney and climbs in, taking her hand in his. “Hey, sweetheart. We’re going to get you help, okay? You are so strong! Just hold on a little longer, for our daughter; for me. I love you.” He brushes her hair with his hand and kisses her forehead softly.

“Tony?” She pulls her oxygen mask down to speak. “Take care of our girl,” she breaks into a coughing fit, and the EMT jumps into action, pushing Tony aside to suction mucus and intubate. Tony watches on, eyes filling with tears, feeling helpless as the mother of his daughter, the woman he loves, fights to breathe. The EMT keeps an eye on all the monitors as he pumps air manually into her lungs. When the heart monitor flat lines, Tony feels his own heart stop. He can’t seem to breathe, there's a ringing in his ears. The EMT yells at Tony to take over so he can start compressions.

After your mother’s funeral, you distanced yourself. Tony figured it was probably for the best. How could he keep you safe if his enemies ever figured out who you were to him? The building you grew up in had only been a target as it was a property owned by Stark.

Unfortunately, some enemies were closer than he realized. They knew of you and your mother and why her death hit him so hard that even those closest to him struggled to keep him sober. You were grateful he had Pepper when you disappeared while he was still mourning. However, you didn’t know it until Cap carried your limp body from a room he had seen before, a replica of one he dragged his best friend from before losing him on a mission. He blamed himself for years after for roping Bucky back into the fight. Learning what really happened when they were reunited did nothing for the guilt.

Once Tony finished clearing the building and made it on the jet, you told him you did not want to go home or to the tower, expressing your fear those who took you would know that is where you would be. You needed space and time. Tony understood that, yet his need to keep you safe outweighed everything else. He settled you into a room at the new compound, freshly reconstructed from the old Stark Industries warehouses. You witnessed the evolving relationship between Tony and Pepper as Stark Tower was gradually moved into the new facility before the Avengers would call it home. You loved the impact Pepper had on your father, and seeing him in this new light, taking on more responsibilities, with a newfound passion for his work and the positive changes saving people had created in his demeanour.

It was possible his over joyous personality was in reaction to finally having you home after being gone for three years and presumed dead right after losing your mother. You hated to ruin it, yet you failed to feel comfortable enough to speak about what you went through to anyone, not a therapist, Happy, or your father, who used to be one of your best friends, other than your mother. Ultimately, you decided to distance yourself further from this new life he had built. Whether it was the fear of falling victim again to one of his enemies or just the space and time you needed; without Tony encroaching. He gave you what you needed and set you up in a cabin in the countryside of upstate New York. Naturally, the whole proximity was wired with motion sensors and hidden cameras and had a few suits as security measures stowed in the garage.

Tony still popped in occasionally to catch you up on Avenger gossip, including the falling out with Steve, who you kept in touch with over text. You understood both sides, though if you were to choose whose back you would have, it would be the man used as a weapon, held hostage and tortured for years.

They were unprepared to lose you again so soon when Thanos snapped away everything he fought mercilessly to defend. Though, Tony wouldn't know for sure if you had been victim to the snap for nearly a month after. So when he finally got you back, he promised to hold on tight. You had a new sister and finally sat down to thank Pepper for being there for your father and being just what he needed to keep going all these years.

You all stayed together in the cabin, though you migrated to the studio above the garage, where you often escaped to craft dreamcatchers; a craft you learned in your early childhood from your mother who had learned from her mother. Your studio sessions started with one for yourself when you struggled to sleep before the snap, and another for Tony, when he opened up about his anxiety after you returned. Then one for Morgan, when you caught her admiring one hung in a studio window. One your mother crafted, kept safe in your Chelsea apartment when the fire wiped away everything, pictures, baby clothes, art, report cards, your mother's memories of a life before you, and dreamcatchers she made every year of your life; even the ones you crafted alongside her. After a short conversation with Pepper over tea under the stars, in which she complimented the beauty of your dream catchers and what a shame it was that more people couldn't enjoy them, you made over two dozen more for a farmer’s market.

Tony popped into the studio for his daily chit-chat, wandering the room and appreciating the collection of dreamcatchers hanging all over. “Word on the street is the Capsicle is planning on jumping ship again after this mission.” You had been the one to convince him to stay when no one else could, not even his best friend. Though you had your suspicions, he never really tried, and you planned to ask him when you finally met him.

Now you are sitting in the Avengers compound, getting to know the team and waiting on the man of the hour. Except when he finally walks in with his team, your attention falls to the brunette on his flank. Something about him seemed so familiar, his face, those eyes, that walk. Had you seen it all somewhere before? I mean, you knew of the man from stories and history lessons. In more recent years, the news and Tony's personal ghost stories. Also, Steve had come to visit, the only Avenger who knew of your existence, and of course, he shared a few memories from both the past and present of Sergeant Barnes. He said Tony might be a little indifferent, less sympathetic than he should be, considering their history. He only wanted to give you a chance to hear how he saw him, and when the day came, you could form your own opinion.

As far as first impressions go, he has yet to say hi, and you are drooling over this God of a man. Nope, no, down girl! You take a moment to glance around the room, hoping no one noticed your internal freak out just then. When your eyes return to James, he freezes. He looks at his friend for help, but Steve obliviously continues on as Bucky searches for an escape. He swallows, eyes falling to the floor as he backs away, glancing up with sad eyes once more before turning back the way he came. What the hell was that? “Y/N, I’m sorry about the outfit. I wanted to come and say hi as soon as we touched down. This is Sam.”

Sam smiles flirtatiously, takes your hand, and bows to kiss it. “Down, birdman! That’s Stark’s daughter.” Banner warns.

Sam backs away, hands up in surrender as Tony stares him down. You smile politely and look back to the empty hall. “I was only saying, hi. Besides, I think Cap’s already called dibs with how much he gushes over her.”

“You realize I’m right here.” Stark questions Sam, who immediately mimes zipping his mouth closed and tossing away an invisible key.

“I’m sorry about him. He was raised in a different time.” You turn back to find Steve giving you a shy smile. “And what he said, I never—”

“It’s fine. Don’t worry about it, Steve.” Your eyes move to the hall again.

“Oh, and this is…” Steve finally realizes Bucky is no longer with them. “Well, if you saw him, that was Bucky. I promise he is the sweetest person you will ever meet. Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise.”

“Not even his own face.” Steve shoots Sam a look. “You know what I'm talking about. That staring thing he does. Where it looks like he wants to kill you.” He turns to the others in the room as he searches for backup, quickly finding it as Nat shrugs and nods back. Steve gives them both a look of disapproval.

"Alright, that's enough. You're going to kill Grandpa.” Tony jokes as he pushes through the group to meet Scott and his tray of milkshakes. “The burgers?”

“Almost done, Mr. Stark. Thanks again for inviting me.” Scott sets the tray on the coffee table and rushes back to the kitchen, wiping his hands on his frilly apron.

"Was that Ant-Man?" You ask in confusion.

"Don't worry, he's getting paid." Tony looks over at Banner and shakes his head.

"Dad?!"

"The point is, he is enjoying himself, and he offered."

After the brief intros, Sam and Steve excused themselves to unload the jet, write their mission reports and freshen up before dinner. When they returned, Bucky was still nowhere to be seen. “Don’t take it personally. He gets in these grumpy old man moods after missions. You’ll meet him soon.” Nat settles in next to you before Steve has a chance.

“I’m not –”

“You were obviously keeping an eye out for Barnes. It's totally fine. You should know he and Sam are in your wing.” You turn quickly, brows furrowed. “It used to be Steve, Clint and myself and one empty room. Well, not empty. It was decorated and off limits, and now we know why.”

“Where did you go?”

“Clint’s not here as often as he used to be, so when Sam joined, he moved to one of the loft spaces on the upper floors. Then we found Barnes, and I gave up my space when he moved in, thought it would be an easier transition after everything.”

You stayed up as long as you could with everyone, but you were pretty tired after a long day of driving, and the anxiety of just being back in the city was exhausting. You slipped out of the room as everyone watched their second movie of the night after dinner and wandered the halls.

As you approached your room, a terrifying sound had you spinning fast and your most traumatic memories flooding back. Memories you had repressed. It was an all too familiar scream. One filled with anguish and fear. You stood frozen against the wall next to your room, staring wide-eyed at the door across from yours. The screams echoed in your memory as they faded in reality and turned into soft whimpers. You felt your trembling legs step forward before you could stop yourself. You took a deep breath and leaned gently against the door, listening.

You heard shuffling and then footsteps, pacing back and forth and suddenly growing louder as they came closer. You scrambled back and tried to flee into the safety of your room, but your back hit the wall again, and you stared up at Bucky as he stepped into the hallway. The much smaller than you remembered a second ago, hallway. “Sorry."

"I didn’t mean to scare you.” His eyes avoid yours as he escapes to the common area down the hall with his head hanging low. You hear the kitchen sink turn on and water filling a glass. Your heart rate finally returns to normal, as you let out the breath you had been holding. You scold yourself and turn to your room, dragging yourself to bed.

The following weeks went on with Bucky avoiding you while you continued to get to know the team. Your sleep schedule was thrown off completely, waking each night to Bucky's screams, mind racing with your own traumas while wanting so desperately to reach out and comfort him. You never did, of course, instead, you kept your distance and gave him his space. When you woke in the middle of the night, you turned to your dreamcatchers.

Meanwhile, for the ex-assassin, most nights were filled with cold showers and sitting alone in the dark with his thoughts, shivering; like he was punishing himself. Other nights, he would find himself in the training room, lifting weights and doing pull-ups until his muscles screamed. And some nights, Steve would keep him company and remind him there was no way he would have done any of the things Hydra made him do without being tortured and lied to. It wasn’t really what he wanted to hear or could even believe, no matter how many times anyone told him. Those nights usually ended with an early morning run.

He still remembers his years with Hydra vividly, the terrified cries and screams, titanium wrapped tightly around innocent throats, lifeless eyes, blood, so much blood, fire, gunshots, explosions. He was hyperventilating when you walked into the common area. Having a full-on panic attack as he stared at his hands, shaking, and mumbling, “It was still me. It was still me. It was still me.”

“Bucky?” You approach him slowly, unsure if you were being cautious for his sake or yours. You clear your throat, ”James?”

He freezes slightly, eyes watching from the corner, trained on your feet as you round the couch. He presses his back further into the sofa behind him, hands gripping the floor beneath him for purchase.

You pause at the corner, looking down at the broken man on the floor. “I am James Buchanan Barnes. Sergeant with the 107th, 32557038. I am James Buchanan Barnes.” You slowly kneel next to him. His rambling fades lower. “3255…” His eyes dart to you and back at the floor. “70…” You scoot a little closer. “38.” He wills himself to look at you. “I’m sorry,” his whisper comes out shaky, eyes filled with tears. “I’m so sorry.” You shake your head and pull him into a tight hug. He clutches onto your shirt and cries into your chest. “I didn’t want to hurt you.”

“Shhh, it’s okay.” You rub his back.

“They made me take you.”

You brush your fingers through his hair. “I know.”

He pulls away to look you in the eyes. “I’m sorry.”

You wipe his tears. “I forgive you.” He breaks again, this time though, it is relief that fills his eyes before he buries it back into your shoulder and holds onto you for dear life. He cries himself to sleep, and you continue to hold on, leaning your cheek on the top of his head.

Sam and Steve enter the kitchen in need of water, Sam panting as he downs his glass. Steve smiles at his friend as he leisurely sips his own. Steve opens his mouth to poke fun at Sam’s endurance when a deep sleep-filled breath grabs their attention. “I got him, I’m sure you need a moment to catch your breath,” Sam says sarcastically and sets his glass in the sink before crossing to the living area.

Steve lets out a soft chuckle. “I could use a shower,” he shrugs.

“Steve.” Sam stares down at the two of you still wrapped in each other’s arms, though you are now snuggled into Bucky's chest as he leans into the corner of the sectional, protectively holding onto you. ��Sorry, man,” Sam apologizes to Steve as he joins him.

"It's like our childhood all over again."

"Maybe there's a reasonable explanation for this."

"Either way, Tony's not going to like it," Steve says with a shake of his head.

"Not going to like what?" It comes out in a raspy whisper as you stretch and look back at the men over your shoulder. They stand in shock, unsure how to proceed. You look around, realizing where you are and then look at the man beneath you. "Oh, right." You quickly get up, "Let's just not tell Tony." You push past both men as you make a mad dash for your room, hiding your face as it burns with embarrassment.

Bucky startles awake with the slam of your door. He lets out an exasperated sigh as he climbs to his feet, “I’m not going for a run.”

“Neither are we.” They keep a close eye on him as he crosses to the kitchen.

“You know I could have killed you, standing over a guy as he sleeps, lucky I wasn't armed," he mumbles. "What’s wrong with you?” He grumbles as he grabs himself a protein bar from the cupboard.

“I have the same question for you. Your best friend pines over a girl for years, and we find you wrapped up in an embrace, sleeping with the woman of his dreams out in the open.”

“Seriously?” Steve stares at Sam like he revealed his deepest secret.

“It’s not like she’s in the room, man.”

“We’re not sleeping together, and it wasn’t a romantic embrace or any other kind of embrace. We were... She--" He lets out a frustrated groan. "Never mind, you wouldn’t understand.” Bucky exits the room before they can say anything more.

Sam turns to Steve, still staring at him. “What?! Why didn’t you say anything?”

“Maybe we read into it.”

The following night Steve woke with Bucky, and instead of sitting with him in the living room, he suggested they hit the gym.

You turned to your dream catchers, the newest wrapped in black suede, weaved with black sinew and gold beads. It was time to add feathers, and you couldn’t decide if you should add navy blue and red or even gold to the bunch of black feathers you had already carefully selected.

“I can’t do this anymore. I need a shower.” Bucky turns to leave.

“Come on, Buck.”

“No, you want to talk, let's talk. Stop pretending this is anything more than that.”

“Bucky, I’m just trying to help.”

"No, you're upset with what you saw yesterday and I know, I heard you and Sam talking, if Tony would have walked in, I wouldn't have woken up." He grabs a towel from the bench. “Maybe it would have been for the best. None of this changes anything.” He storms out and returns to his room, though just as he steps into the hallway, he is hit with a fond memory. One of hardly any he has of his time with Hydra, he leans into the memory, drawn closer to your soft, melodic humming.

You lay on your back in the tall grass, watching a meteor shower. “You know you’ll get in trouble if they find out.”

“Their torture is better than hearing you go on and on for weeks on end about a bunch of stardust,” he grumbles from his perch behind you on the back of a quad. Successfully masking the fact he enjoyed your company and the show in the sky.

“That’s not true,” you whisper, “you forget they have me observe and—” You sit up, hugging yourself. “I know you have nightmares.”

He snaps a branch he had been absentmindedly fiddling with. “We should head back.”

You quickly turn around on your knees, “No, please. I don’t want to go back, not yet.” You spot the discarded branch and pick it up. “I can make you something. It will help with your nightmares.” Your chin quivers as you fight to hold back your tears.

He checks over his shoulder, sighing heavily when he turns back and gives you a quick nod.

You take the lantern next to Bucky and comb the beach for materials, Bucky sticking close to your side. You find plenty of feathers scattered along the pebbles and grass. You kneel on the ground in your tattered skirt, wincing as the varying rocks and debris dig into your skin. “What are you doing?” You look up, studying the man above you for a moment, and then you return to the pebbles, “I need one last thing. Do you see these bits of colour? It’s sea glass. I love these pretty blue ones, my favourite colour.” You hold up a small piece of glass the same colour as his eyes.

He catches the blush tinting your cheeks before you can hide your face and kneels beside you on one knee. “How many do you need?”

“I need one red one, but it has to be at least this big.” You hold up your thumb and forefinger about the size of a dime. “It’s the most important piece.” Bucky sweeps a hand through the pebbles and helps you search. “You keep looking, I’ll get this started.” You tuck the feathers into your sleeve as you pick at a loose thread on your skirt. In spite of your careful movements, the thread breaks, and yet you continue to collect more. When you finally gathered what you needed, there was a wide slit into your skirt. You knot the ends together, blow out the candle in the lantern, and dip the material into the wax.

“Are you done?” Bucky feigns annoyance as he relights the lantern and moves it closer to himself, a safe distance from you.

You let out a quiet giggle. “Two questions, do you trust me? And can I borrow a couple of things?” You cautiously reach for the tact knife on his thigh. Bucky eyes your hand and readjusts his position, pushing his thigh into your palm as he rakes his fingers through the pebbles again, seeking a suitable piece of sea glass. “I don’t understand why you need all of these straps,” you take hold of one of the offending straps on his tact suit and bring up the knife. You look at him for consent. His jaw clenches as he gives you the same quick nod he did when he agreed to stay longer. Watching you from the corner of his eye as you gently cut through the leather strap and unfasten the other end. “I need one more.” He gives you better access and you repeat your actions as he returns to his search. When you finish with his knife, you place it back in the sheath and gather all your materials.

You wander back to your spot in the grass, humming a tune and get to work. Picking up the discarded branches, you braid them, form a circle, and tie the ends together with the waxed thread. You wrap the branches with the leather straps and begin to weave a web within the circle of wrapped branches with the waxed thread already attached. Bucky makes his way back to you, keeping quiet so as not to disturb you. “Did you find it?” He holds out a perfect piece of sea glass, larger than a dime, maybe even a nickel. Your smile fills him with warmth, and he struggles to hide the twitch of his lip. You'll never know he found plenty of red bits that he deemed unsuitable. Whatever piece he found needed to be perfect, like you in his eyes.

Clearing his throat, he stands and returns to his perch on the back of the quad, taking out his tact knife to pass the time. You wrap the sea glass into the final weaves, knotting the end in the web and securing the sea glass a little more until you run out of thread. You let out a huff as you hold out the dream catcher. “It’s not the greatest, but, it should do.”

Bucky takes the dream catcher, admiring the finished product. “What do I do with it?”

“Smuggle it back in and hang it by your bed.”

“They won’t let me keep it.”

“Hide it under your pillow?” You shrug.

“What about here?” He opens his jacket and tucks the dreamcatcher close to his heart.

“Well, I guess the straps are good for something.” You smirk.

“You can come inside if you like.” You heard him, thought he would return to his room, but his footsteps slowed and altogether stopped between your rooms.

“I didn’t mean to disturb you.”

“You’re not.”

“Did you make all these?” You nod. “Gorgeous.” His fingers brush the feathers attached to one of the dream catchers. “Softer than mine.”

“You remember it?”

“It gave me hope,” he moved to your bed and sat down. “When I helped you escape, left you at that facility,” he swallows a lump in his throat. “They stripped me down to wipe me, found it in my gear. They took it and burned it in front of me.” His eyes filled with tears. “I used to look at it every night. Hid it under my pillow, like you said. Carried it with me everywhere.”

“Did it help?”

He nods. "It reminded me of you. A bright light in all that darkness.”

You turn back to your desk, pick up the dream catcher you were working on, and join Bucky on the end of your bed. ”I didn’t think you made it out of there with the other.” You hand him the new dream catcher, inspired by his new arm, the black and navy-blue feathers hung with gold sinew and red beads to tie in his new tact suit. “And you can actually hang this one without fear of anyone confiscating it.��

The tears fall freely as he accepts the gift. He tries to give you a smile, sniffles and wipes away the tears with the back of his hand. “Thank you.”

You pull him in for a hug. “I can make you a small one for your keys that you can carry everywhere.”

“I won’t need it, I’ve got you.”

“Do you now?”

“I’ve also got this.” He removes a small object from his pocket, the sea glass he found. He takes your hand and places it inside. “It’s not blue.”

“This one is more special. You found it.”

"For you."

You turn the glass over in your hand. "Did you know that penguins search for the perfect pebble to gift to their love?" You turn to kiss him softly, you meant to aim for his cheek, and he looked up last minute. When you pull away, he follows and deepens the kiss.

Steve lifts his hand to knock on your door, pausing when a soft moan escapes your lips. “James.” His heart breaks as he tears himself away from your door. I guess his best friend is willing to risk it all for you, and this moment is what solidifies his choice to go back in time.

#bucky barnes x reader #steve rogers #captain america #Bucky Barnes #sergeant barnes #the winter soldier #y/n stark #tony stark #tony starks daughter #bucky barnes x stark!reader #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes x y/n #indigenous creators #sebastian stan #sebastian stan fic

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