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hey-august · 1 year ago

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It's not always a piece of cake to bake a pretty cake (Buggy x GN!reader)

Gif from monikanarnia

Description: Late one night you find Buggy in the kitchen growing increasingly distressed over dessert.

Word count: ~1.2k

A/N: One shot fluff with an established relationship. Gender neutral reader, no use of Y/N, pronouns, or physical descriptions. Based on OPLA buggy. Not beta read. Hope you like this! Let me know if you see any errors or typos. ♡

Warnings: Some light profanity, but that's about it!

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗ ✩ ˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗ ✩ ˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗ ✩ ˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

Lured by the sounds of activity at a time when most of the ship was asleep, you peered into the kitchen and finally found the person you were looking for. Buggy was hunched over the center island, deeply focused on the cake in front of him. He finished spreading the frosting and stepped back to observe his work. The scowl on his face and annoyed muttering were clear signals that he wasn’t satisfied. Despite being an artist, cake decorating was not his usual medium and it showed. Based on the amount of flour on his vest, pants, bandana, and in his hair, baking was also not his forte.

Buggy ran a knife along the top of the cake, attempting to smooth out the white frosting. Instead the sweet coating stuck to the knife and lifted up to expose the bare cake underneath, as if he had wounded the confection. Trying to hold in the anger that wanted to burst from his mouth, Buggy’s fists flew to his head and he turned in place, stomping on the floor. Shouting was guaranteed to wake someone up and Buggy did not need anyone to see the absolute failure in front of him.

His glare flitted between the marred cake and the knife still in his hand before he flung the offending utensil towards the other side of the kitchen. The resounding clang caused him to flinch. He hoped it wasn’t loud enough to attract attention. A few heavy moments later, Buggy sighed and leaned over the cake. From where you were, you couldn’t tell if the weight in his rounded shoulders was from anger or disappointment. But you knew Buggy well enough that he wouldn’t give up yet. And you were right.

With a cautious hand, Buggy began tapping at the lumpy frosting, nudging it into place. His gentle, feather-light touches showed a level of restraint and artistry that could only rival Michaelangelo chipping away marble, intent at bringing out the beauty only his fingertips could find. Finally satisfied with the coverage, Buggy assessed his work again. Despite being slightly worse than it was before the frosting incident, he was afraid of making an irreparable mistake. There wasn’t any more flour or sugar left in the kitchen. This wasn’t the first cake he baked. Or the second. But this was the first one that was fluffy and edible. Maybe if he decorated the cake with other things, the streaky, lumpy, crumby coating wouldn’t stand out as much.

Buggy stalked around the kitchen, rummaging in the cabinets and digging through drawers, looking for ingredients that were worthy of garnishing his confection composition. His frustration grew with each cabinet and drawer he opened and slammed shut. When he finally ripped open the fridge door he was greeted with the perfect gems, signaling the end of his kitchen treasure hunt. His greedy pirate hands pulled out some ruby red cherries. Buggy gave them a quick rinse in the sink and popped one in his mouth, finding satisfaction in the sharp snap and sweet juice from the ripe fruit.

Moments later, the fruit adorned the top perimeter of the cake, each one nested carefully into the frosting. Buggy stared thoughtfully at the cake as he fiddled with the last cherry, lightly rolling it on the table with his finger. With an air of hesitation, he placed the red orb in the center of the cake. No one else would second guess the placement, but the pirate clown was overly sensitive about anything that could be mocking the one feature he had trouble accepting about himself. A feature that you never shied away from. If anything, you adored it. And while he couldn’t love his own nose, knowing you did filled him with warmth. You always brought brightness and sunshine to his dark and twisted world.

As you watched Buggy stare at the finished product with an expression you couldn’t see clearly, your interest got the better of you. The kitchen door released a tattling creak when you tried to gain a better view of the kitchen show. Thankfully Buggy did not have his knives on hand, but the glare he threw at the entrance was sharp enough to sting. His face softened when he realized it was you, before hardening back into a scowl that was equal parts annoyed at being interrupted and embarrassed that you found him.

“You’re not supposed to be here,” he chided, sending his hands over to push you out and close the door. Anticipating that he would do that, you ducked the flying appendages and slipped inside.

“I could say the same about you.” Buggy knew your comment was true. Despite being the captain, the kitchen was not his usual scene. “What are you up to anyways?”

Despite the innocent tone behind your question, the twinkling in your eyes told Buggy that you already knew the answer. You walked closer and looked at the cake, missing the wince that flashed on Buggy’s face. It looked alright, but it was not at all like he envisioned.

“It looks good. The cherries were a great idea,” you said in earnest.

“Don’t lie,” Buggy snipped. Agitation bristled in his body, feeling scratchy and uncomfortable. Every muscle was fighting the impulse to throw out the cake and act like he hadn’t wasted hours creating something so far below his usual standards.

“It’s awful! A disgrace! The shitty frosting isn’t smooth and it’s full of crumbs. It’s too sweet and I used all the sugar so I can’t make more.” The tirade increased in pitch as he continued, the tension in his body constricting his throat. The frown on your face slowed his monologue.

“Are you serious? This looks like one of those cakes you buy at a high end patisserie in the fancy part of town. People pay a lot of money for rustic cakes and fresh fruit.” Flattery was always guaranteed to uplift Buggy when he was in a bad mood, but these were genuine compliments that you shared with such conviction and admiration. A flush crept across Buggy’s face and tickled his ears at the intensity and sincerity of your praise.

“O-of course! I knew that, I just wasn’t sure if it was your style.” Yeah, sure, that’s what he actually meant.

“So it’s for me?”

“Who else would I do this for?” He responded quickly, since you already knew the cake was yours.

“I was going to give it to you later, but you ruined the surprise,” Buggy continued, rolling his eyes in mock annoyance. He slid the cake towards you and finished with a surprisingly gentle, “happy birthday.”

Although he was supposed to be showering you with gifts on your birthday, the radiant smile you gave was definitely a gift to him. He couldn’t tell if he wanted to look away from the brightness or continue staring into the sun, in awe of the radiance.

“Thank you, I love it,” you said, the words heavy with appreciation. Buggy watched as you plucked the cherry from the center of the cake and popped it into your mouth with a wink, feeling as though his heart was replaced with a bumbling moth, fluttering everywhere and bumping into everything. It was probably drawn to your brilliance, just as he was.

#buggy x reader #buggy x y/n #buggy x you #buggy op #buggy x gender neutral reader #gender neutral reader #buggy fluff #opla buggy #one piece #one piece x you #one piece x reader #one piece x y/n #one piece buggy #x reader #hey-august buggy fic

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jasper-hobbes · 9 days ago

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AIX-EN-PROVENCE, FRANCE 31 DECEMBER 2024 — 05:15AM

Jasper languidly descended the grand staircase of his family home, hands in his black trouser pockets. It was quiet, as it always was, especially this early in the morning. His footsteps would've echoed against the white marble if it wasn't for the lavish red-carpet runner covering each step. At the end of the hallway, he veered left and entered his mother's prized modern kitchen. Every surface was so clean, it practically glistened against the rising sun.

Thinking he was alone, he headed straight for the top-of-the-line fridge, searching for what he could have for breakfast.

"I can cook something for you, sweetheart," His mother, Eloise's, voice piped up from behind him. He shouldn't have been surprised; he learned his very early morning routine from her. Closing the refrigerator door, he turned and offered her a small kind smile.

"It's alright, Maman," Jasper assured her as he reached for a shiny red apple from the overflowing fruit bowl.

"That's barely breakfast, Jas," she insisted as her only son came to place a light kiss on her forehead. Saying nothing more, Jasper left for his room.

— 06:30AM —

There was a knock on Jasper's door. And another.

"Jasper, honey, have you gone back to sleep?"

Jasper sighed, removing his headphones. Pushing himself off of his desk chair, he padded across his room to open the door. He bore the same small smile he had earlier in the kitchen.

"Listen, sweetheart, I've got to go run some errands for tonight's party," his mother relayed before he could say anything. "So, will you open the door for the caterers and everyone else?"

"Sure, Maman." Jasper nodded. "What time should I be expecting them?"

"In two..." Eloise paused to check her watch. "No, wait... One and a half hours." Smiling up at her son, she reached over to kiss his cheek whilst patting the other side. "Thanks, my darling." Always in a hurry, she swiveled round and was halfway down the stairs when she remembered something else. "And don't forget, the party starts at 6 o'clock so be ready by then, okay?"

"Will Dad be there?" Jasper called out, but to no reply. He wasn't sure if his mother hadn't heard him or chose not to hear him.

— 08:00AM —

The clock had barely turned the hour when Jasper received a text message from Eloise asking if the caterers have arrived.

J: Not yet. I'll let you know when they're here. E: They better not be late. I cannot have everything pushed back. J: Like I said, I'll let you know, Maman. E: It's times like these when I miss Calvin and his punctuality. J: I'll let him know you miss him, too, Ma. LOL E: Let me know when the caterers arrive, that's what I care about. J: Yep. Will do.

— 08:10AM —

J: Maman, they're here. And the florists, too. E: 👍🏽

— 01:35PM —

Five hours have passed, and his mother was still out running her errands. What could she be so busy with on the 31st of December, Jasper will never know. It was not unusual for Eloise to have her schedule packed to the brim, even on holidays.

— 04:20PM —

The house was now full of life. Their personal chef, Louis, and his assistant, Etienne, were in the kitchen preparing more food than they could possibly need while Anais, his mother's trusty personal assistant, was directing traffic to the servers, florists and the rest of the catering staff who were now at the Hobbes' beautiful backyard, putting up tables and chairs and other decorations.

— 04:55PM —

Eloise had finally come home, giving Jasper a chance to disappear back into his room as he's never been fond of being around big crowds. He could withstand if need be, but not for too long.

— 05:35PM —

E: Party's starting soon, sweetheart. Be down here by 6, okay?

Jasper glanced at the tiny timestamp on his computer screen. It read 5:35PM. Now, 5:36. He had less than half an hour to go down to a party he wasn't particularly looking forward to.

Today marked the third New Year's since his parents had informed him that they were finally getting divorced. They'd been separated for years but the only thing they've done to move forward was his father taking up a job in London six months after the announcement. This whole time, Jasper hoped that their lack of action meant they'd get back together, like they always do anyway. Because God knows they need each other. And it would help keep his mother off his back about finding "a better job than IT".

— 05:54PM —

Jasper had six minutes before he was expected to welcome the guests alongside his mother. He had taken a shower and gotten ready with time to spare. Sitting by his computer, he lazily browsed through his inbox, fighting the urge to open any of them. He knew that once he does, he wouldn't be able to resist following through. And God knows when he'd raise his head again.

— 05:57PM —

Three minutes left. Three minutes to get up off the chair, cross his room, shut the door behind him, and approximately thirty-four seconds to go down each step.

Jasper watched as the timestamp changed to 05:58PM. He was really pushing it now, but he so dreaded having to make conversation with people he didn't care for. Usually, he'd have Calvin around but not this year. And as much as he missed his best friend, he wouldn't want him to be anywhere else right now. He was finally happy and Jasper was happy for him.

— 05:59PM —

Jasper stood up, ready to shut his laptop down when a brand-new email popped up in his inbox. One that was not like the others.

"Jasper!" Eloise broke his train of thought from the first floor.

"Coming!" Without opening the email, Jasper glanced at the sender: interpolice.org.

Interpolice? Why would Interpolice be emailing him? Was this spam? Shit, was he in trouble???

— 06:00PM —

As if the timestamp was not enough, the family's grandfather clock chimed, reminding him of the time. Staring at the sender half a second longer, it took all of Jasper's might to pry himself off of his computer and down the stairs, leaving the email unopened. For now.

#[ jasper hobbes || narrative 02 ]

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dronebiscuitbat · 6 months ago

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Give me a Reason: Chapter 5 - "The Elliots"

N and Tessa made there way through the foyer, decorated with mahogany and antique furniture, the windows adored with velvet curtains and cleaned until you couldn't tell it was glass anymore.

There was a servant waiting for them, dressed to the nines. A clean shaven face, and short black hair with steel colored eyes. A pressed black vest over a white dress shirt and a black bow tie, N didn't know his name, he didn't know any of the servants names.

“Young Master Tessa, Master Louisa requests your presence in her study.” The servant said, monotone, with his hands behind his back.

“Of course she does… ‘ight N, see you at dinner.” She sighed and waved him off, leaving him in the foyer smiling warily at the servant, going up to his room alone it was.

There were two sets of spiral staircases the led upwards, and two hallways either side, one lead to an expansive library, full of every book, magazine and article you could imagine, the other a large dining hall, despite the table being made for twenty people, there were only ever five people sitting there at a time… usually less.

He started his way up the stairs passing hall after closed off hall of doors that lead to the different rooms of the manor, if he was being honest he didn’t know what was in most of them, they'd just moved. And he hadn't had time to actually explore his own home.

Not… that he wanted to, going from living in a modern, sleek, polished marble and right angles to this was a little bit of a culture shock. He didn't mind the rural setting; much preferred it to the foggy, polluted skyline he was used to. It was the manor itself that was… creepy.

If you would have him describe “haunted manor.” Then he'd describe the inside of this place down to the tan walls with wood accents and the ancient, well maintained hardwood underneath his feet. It wasn't just how old the place was either. Mr. And Mrs. Elliot had hired enough servents to keep the place spotless and looking like new.

It was just so big. So empty, so… oppressive.

And lonely…

He shook off those thoughts, it was fine, he'd just have to adjust to it, he was always good at going with anything, surely this would be no different.

“Don't be such a bitch J.”

“Then don't be such a pussy, V.”

Ah, that sounded like his sisters off in the next room over, bickering as per usual and probably about something small or nothing at all.

“I am not letting you anywhere near my room! Not my fault it has a window and your's doesn't, your's is bigger anyway!”

“But I'm the oldest, I deserve the window.”

“By eleven minutes! I want to see the garden, you have access to the library! Which you bitched and moaned about until you got, in case you don't remember.”

“You just want the window because it looks over the garden.”

“And? You just want the window because I enjoy looking over the garden and you have the inability to feel joy and must drag everyone else into the misery pit with you.”

“Give me your room.”

“No. Fuck you, suck my dick.”

N sighed, of all the things that had changed. That didn't, and he doubted it ever would. When he rounded the corner that's when he actually saw them, instead of listening to just their voices bickering.

V was the middle child out of the three, and she was the shortest too, if you call 5'10 short. She had short platinum blonde hair that was styled in a bob, a hairband keeping it in place perched on her head. Right now, she was in grey sweatpants and a black crop top, her arms crossed and amber eyes looking up and irate at her older sibling.

J was looking down at her, hand on her hip and long, similarly platinum hair going all the way down to her waist, she usually wore it up in a dual pair of pigtails or a ponytail, but that was absent for the moment. She wasn't in nearly the same casual clothes as V. With a short, black skirt, black, 4inch heels, and a grey business jacket over a white dress shirt. The sunglasses perched on her head were ever present, only leaving when she was sleeping. She had to have just come home if she was dressed like that.

“Hey guys.” He gave a smile towards the both of them, V gave a half-hearted smile and a wave at him, while J just rolled her eyes and scoffed, sticking her nose up at him.

“Ugh, whatever.” J walked off, heels clicking as she went down the hall towards her room, V let out a long suffering sigh and pinched the bridge of her nose before she looked N over.

“Good first day?” She asked, leaning against the wall and giving him a small smile, he relaxed a little bit, without J around, V tended to be in a better mood.

“Yeah! My teachers all seem nice! And I made a friend… I think.” When he thought about Uzi, she seemed…quiet, but also not? He wasn't entirely sure if he would consider what they had a ‘freindship’ per say. He thought she was cool, and they'd talked a handful of times.

Which was… more then he had with most people honestly, most found him a little… much.

“You think? What's that supposed to mean,” She curled

“It was mostly me talking…” He admitted, rubbing the back of his head and grinning sheepishly. “But! She let me borrow a pencil! That I… forgot to give back… but still!”

“Sounds like you just met someone and they took pity on you.” V replied, a dry sarcastic tone to her voice that gave away that she was teasing… mostly.

“Hey!” He yelped, ears turning pink.

“What? Don't call it a friendship if it's clearly not. Did you guys talk… about anything?”

“Uh… Mrs. Sparks had like animal heads and stuff floating in jars, we talked about that and… she told me she has a pig baby in one of them.”

“Ew. Anything else?”

“I gave her some of my lunch! The cafeteria kinda… completely ruined her food and so I gave her the tuna sandwich.”

“How'd they ruin it? Actually, don't answer that it's public school food.” Still she pondered it for a moment before shrugging. “That's like, an acquaintance, but whatever.”

“It's… the same thing isn't it?”

“Nope. But I gotta get to work, clothes don't model themselves.” She gave him a breif wave before checking her phone and grumbling to herself, walking off and out of sight.

Her and J , being out of school and a bit older then him, had other things to do. J was still going to college, business school of course, V took a different route, said no to more school and put herself on display, literally… she modeled for a few designer brands, and was sometimes stopped on the streets for her picture.

N was the youngest out of the three, being 18 and still in high school, though his last year thankfully, he'd always done decently in school, forgotten homework assignments and disorganization notwithstanding.

He entered his room, the heavy, creaking wooden door snapping shut loudly behind him as he looked around his room.

It was… bland. The bed was huge with crimson blankets made out of the smoothest kind of cashmere silk imaginable, the sheets light pink and light enough to feel like nothing when slept in.

But the walls were bare, his desk clean and devoid of everything but his grey laptop and a cup of pencils. The floor having only a basic rug directly underneath and around the bed. He had two small windows either side it, looking over the front of the manor and the driveway.

The only real thing of note was a well loved golden retriever plush resting on the bed, faded and the fur pressed down from being hugged night after night, he smiled at it, hooking his backpack on the back of his chair.

“Big brother Nathan?”

A small, shy little voice called out to him from behind the door to the connected room and he smiled, kicking off his shoes and taking off his hoodie, showing the basic grey t-shirt underneath.

“It's me!” He called back, opening the door to his little sisters room. Cynthia, or Cyn and everyone affectionately called her. She was reading, though now she looked up at him with big, innocent eyes that matched the rest of the siblings, along with her hair, held in a similar style to Tessa’s; mostly because she was the one who always styled it.

Her legs were covered by the blankets of her bed, and she beamed, sharing her older brother's sunshine of a smile as she made grabby hands at him.

Cyn was 6, the last and true youngest of the siblings. She was sweet… if having a peculiar interest in superstition, and N couldn't ask for a better little sister.

“Welcome back! How was school? Did you meet anyone? Were they cool? Can I meet them?” She immediately asked four questions in quick succession, each one making his smile a little wider.

“Good. Yes, yes. Maybe. In that order.” He replied as he wrapped her in a gentle hug, her arms gripping loosely around his neck. She giggled when he blew a raspberry on her cheek.

“And what did you do today Cyn?”

“Tessa brought up some more books for me to read! And then I got lunch… I heard J screaming at someone!”

“Have you not been out of your room today?”

“Uh. No… haven't felt very well, Tessa was at work and Big Sisters Vanessa and Jessica were busy…” She seemed a little sad, but N was here to make sure that didn't last very long.

“You want to take a stroll around the garden before dinner. I can take you.” He asked gently, and Cyn’s eyes lit up and she beamed.

“Yes! Thank you!”

With that, N leaned down and reached under her bed;

And pulled out a neatly folded wheelchair.

#murder drones #uzi doorman #serial designation n #murder drones tessa #serial designation v #serial designation j #murder drones cyn #meet all of n's siblings #also get to know more about n himself #cyn is a sweet (if slightly weird) little girl

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bean-bean2000 · 1 year ago

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The Hacker - Part 2

Pairings: Bucky x Reader

Status: Ongoing

All feedback is very welcome and appreciated!

Warnings: Mentions of violence, guns/missiles, mentions of death, swearing, angst.

Part 1 here

Series masterlist

———————————————————————————

You gasp loudly as you wake up and shoot up straight from the bed. You start to panic, not recognizing your surroundings until it all comes flooding back.

You’re not an Avenger, you’re not a prisoner, but you’re not free either.

You groan as you get up and take in your surroundings. The room is larger than your entire kitchen. There’s a desk on the other side of the room, facing the large window overlooking downtown New York City. The view was breathtaking, the city buzzing with civilians going about their days. On your right there’s a connecting private bathroom. It’s white with gold accents and marbled counter tops. The floors can be heated along with the towel rack so you can be enveloped in warmth after a long shower. Everything is automated, the shower had bluetooth speakers so you can listen to music while showering, the sink and toilet are voice controlled with way too many settings. On the other end of the bathroom is a vanity with a large makeup counter and a ring light mirror. In the corner there’s a large gold bathtub with jacuzzi settings with a TV mounted in front of it and a large table across the tub for snacks and drinks. The lights can be dimmed for ambience and ultimate relaxation. In short - it was an absolutely luxurious bathroom fit for the richest of the rich.

Shaking away your awe of the entire room, you take a long hot shower to release the tension from the previous night. You’re lost in your thoughts, enjoying the moment you have for yourself to breathe and process the situation. You sigh contentedly, wishing you could stay there forever.

“Y/N please—”

You scream and turn off the shower. Startled and searching for the source of the voice.

- “ Jesus Christ, what the fuck?! Hello??”

- “Apologies Y/N, I’m FRIDAY. Tony Stark and the others await your presence in the kitchen.”

- “Ummm okay….”

You shake your head with a scoff and wrap the warm towel around your body as you walk across the heated floors to your bedroom. You quickly change into some clothes found in the dresser and head to the kitchen.

As you open your door you realize you have no idea how to get to the kitchen from here. The compound is huge. Just as you were about to start aimlessly walking, a light illuminates the floor in a single line with an arrow, indicating the path to follow.

“Thank you FRIDAY!” you say out loud. You’re in disbelief as you realize that FRIDAY read your body language and emotions and made a conscious decision on its own to create a path to follow to your destination.

“This is insane. I was dragged here yesterday. We already made a deal, what could they possibly want from me already?! Okay Y/N, breathe and think this through. Time to make a game-plan: I have to look as strong and intimidating as possible. I will not let them push me around or think that they can just tell me what to do. Keep your head held high and a stoic face. Never let them know what you’re thinking. That’s how you’ll get through this. Keep your emotions to yourself, do not share and make connections. You’re on your own. You have always been on your own. Stay focused. You can do this. You can depend on and trust nobody but yourself.” You think to yourself.

You round the corner and hear loud chatter from the group gathered around the kitchen table. As you enter the room the chatter immediately stops and they all turn to look at you.

You stand tall, head held high just like you had promised yourself you would do, seconds ago.

“We decided to test your abilities with your first mission. Today.” says Steve, staring you in the eyes trying to analyze your reaction and body language as a response to his statement.

You smirk “There is no challenge I can’t beat.”

Maintaining your cool composure, you stare back at the group when your eyes meet with Bucky’s. His usual grumpy stoic face is donning a smirk with a glint in his eyes.

You quickly look away and clear your throat “Let’s debrief the mission.”

———————————————————————————

Tony leads you into your office he had mentioned the previous day. It was an outstanding and immense room; more like an entire floor designated for you and your work. You examined it in awe. The floor was a sleek marble tile with purple, black and white accented walls. There were floor to ceiling windows overlooking New York City with anti-reflective blinds that adjust to the sunlight to avoid spying threats and glares on your screens. There’s a wide and large monitor spanning across the entire desk with an ergonomic chair lined with LED lights providing ultimate comfort with an expansive screen for maximum efficiency. The ceiling was lined with LED lights which colours could be changed through FRIDAY, allowing the possibility of switching from a dark room to a sunlit room.

You do a double take and a a huge neon sign on the wall catches your attention:

Cyberpunk

You stare at Tony “Cyberpunk? really?”

“What? You’re a computer whiz hacker. So I came up with your team nickname. I thought it suited you very well. You’re a cyber nerd and you’re a punk. Very fitting in my opinion.” Tony replies sarcastically.

You ignore his comment and turn around facing your new set up, not wanting him to notice that you secretly love the nickname. You agreed it was very fitting but annoyed you hadn’t come up with yourself before.

“Alright, get yourself set up. The mission starts in 10, be ready and do your job, we’re counting on you.” Tony says and walks away.

You sigh and sit on the desk chair. You set yourself up and easily navigate through the new system in preparation for the mission ahead. You’re responsible for hacking into the Hydra building, disengaging their security cameras and alarms, and for cutting the power at the end for the team to have an advantage over the enemy with night-vision goggles. This was going to be a breeze.

You’re snapped out of your thoughts when you hear Steve calling you over the coms

“Y/N? Are you ready? We’re 30 seconds out.”

“Loud and clear Cap. Disengaging enemy cameras, alarms and sensors now. Proceed to breach enemy lines in 5 seconds. over and out.” you reply cooly.

“Nobody says over and out Y/N. You watch too many movies.” Bucky chuckles.

“Nobody asked for your opinion Barnes.” you snap.

“Tony is right, you are a Cyberpunk.”

You groan at the comment. Why is this infuriating you so much? You didn’t care when Tony called you that. Why does it bother you when Bucky did?

You’re snapped out of your thoughts when you hear Steve yell to you over the coms:

“AMBUSH AMBUSH RUN RUN RUN!”

Your heart starts pounding in your chest as you watch the team sprinting between rooms and dodging bullets. You realize you’re the only one who can help them, but you were specifically told not to do anything except what was discussed in the mission debrief: Disengage the cameras and alarms, and cut the power. Your leg is bouncing on the ball of your foot as you see the team struggling to get out from Hydras trap.

“Fuck it. I can’t sit here and do nothing.” You say to yourself out loud.

You go through the Hydra building’s system and locate the area where the team is being held up. You see a security option pop up on your screen that makes you smile ear to ear. Bingo.

You open your coms “Hey! When i scream hit the floor, you drop to the floor as low as you can and grab whatever cover you can find. Don’t ask questions just do it!”

Before anybody can retort and convince you to stop, you engage the hidden target-lock rifles and automatic guns hidden in the walls and aim them at the Hydra agents.

“HIT THE FLOOR! HIT THE FLOOR!” you scream over the coms.

You watch the entire team on your screens drop to the floor as you press Enter on your keyboard. You watch as every Hydra agent falls to the floor, lifeless. Unable to defend themselves against the sneak attack from their own supposed defence systems.

As you’re about to give the team the all clear, you see another ambush approaching. Switching camera locations, you lock on target and use the Hydra missile to annihilate the remaining Hydra soldiers.

“All clear.” you say stoically over the coms. Smirking to yourself. You know this will either really impress them or really screw you over.

You watch as the entire team gets up and examines their surroundings. Bullet holes everywhere, Hydra soldiers defeated in a single push of a button.

The team assembles on the quinjet and you watch them fly off.

Awaiting their return on the landing pad, you feel your heart thrumming in your chest. You watch the team exit the quinjet. You start to smile and wave when you see Steve stalking towards you, angrily

“What was that? We did not plan that! You have no right to directly disobey orders and do what you want!”

“You were ambushed! I wasn’t going to watch you all possibly die as Hydra was closing in on you!”

“We had it under control!”

“Yeah right. So you knew that there was a second ambush team waiting for you outside?”

Steve stares at you, no response.

“That’s what i thought! I saved your asses by gunning them down with their own security artillery and launched a missile at the second ambush! You’re welcome for saving your life!”

“I trusted you could follow orders! You had one job! How can we trust you now?!”

“TRUST ME?! YOU KIDNAPPED ME AND FORCED ME INTO A GLAMORIZED PRISON CONTRACT! AND I STILL DECIDED TO SAVE YOUR FUCKING LIVES! I COULD HAVE WATCHED YOU ALL DIE AND LAUGHED BECAUSE I WOULD BE OUT OF THE CONTRACT AND FREE. BUT I DIDN’T. AND THIS IS WHAT I GET IN RETURN?!”

At this point, you lost your cool. You broke your promise to yourself to keep your emotions out of this. Your cheeks are red as your anger boils within you.

Steve is clenching his jaw and glaring at you with an intense anger. Natasha approaches Steve and places a hand on his shoulder.

“Steve… she’s right. She saved us. There was no way we were getting out of there.”

Steve huffs and stomps away. The rest of the team follows and throws you sympathetic looks but say nothing.

Cowards. All of them. Sheep.

Bucky stops in front of you and crosses his arms across his broad chest.

“Nice work Cyberpunk.” he winks and walks away.

You stand there alone and confused. You manage to force yourself back inside and you storm to your office. It is now your safe haven, your space; like the one you used to have in your tiny basement. You slam the door shut and lock it.

You don’t want to see any of them. Especially Steve. It’s your first day and you’re already extremely frustrated.

I am not a puppet. I will not just take orders and follow them blindly and stupidly. I reacted to the situation and adapted. I save their lives and I get yelled at for it. Who do they think I am? I will not be controlled. I am my own person and I will make sure they know that.

You decide you will retaliate in the best way you can. You hack into FRIDAY and pull up the controls to Steve’s room. You scheduled an alarm to go off every 15 minutes with red lights blaring in his room. You add clown music for that extra special effect you love so much.

That’ll show him that I will not be pushed around and treated like a puppet. I may not be a super soldier but I am a Cyberpunk.

You smirk to yourself as you walk out of your office and retire to your bedroom, excited for what the morning will bring.

Part 3

#bucky barnes #bucky x reader #captain america #fanfic #natasha romanoff #steve rogers #steve x reader #tony stark #tony x reader #wanda maximoff #marvel

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orqheuss · 2 years ago

Text

Not yet corpses (still, we rot)

(Ominis Gaunt/Sebastian Sallow/GN!Reader HURT/COMFORT)

Summary:

For a moment, everything felt still. Silence consumed the space, sucking all the air out of the room like the tide as a tsunami made its way towards shore. All Ominis could hear was the harsh ringing in his ears and the startled gasp from his counterpart behind him. Panic began to crawl its way into his throat once more. Sebastian’s heart stuttered in his chest, his words forcing themselves out around the lump that formed under his jaw. “Oh, dear God…” *** What were the boys doing while you were saving Hogwarts? *** Contains spoilers from the game Title from the song "Dirt and Roses" by Rise Against

Word count: 6k

AN: I’m moving all of my fics over from Ao3 to make them more accessible! These are my fics.

TW: - Blood - Gore - Anxiety - Detailed descriptions of injury - Near death experiences - Claustrophobia (only for a little bit, tho. I have it too and that's all I could write, lol)

“Knight to E5.” Sebastian quips, leaning back in his wicker chair, his arms crossed against his chest and a smug smile tweaking at the corners of his mouth. He watched the boy across from him regard the wizards chess board, the tip of his wand blinking that comforting red light he had grown accustomed to after years of friendship. It was probably not the most fair thing in the world to go against someone blind in a game that required sight over everything else, but that didn’t stop the brunette from trying his very best at beating his best friend in absolutely everything— he was nothing if not competitive. That being said, as much as he loved the idea of pulling one over on Ominis, the feat was nearly impossible . The blond was far too good. It didn’t matter if it was a game of gobstones, a duel in Crossed Wands, even exploding snaps, a game where sight was a necessity, all because of that blasted wand! The only thing that Ominis was truly bad at was potions, and even then he would likely still get an Acceptable on their OWLS. Sebastian felt that this round of chess was different, though. He could see the furrow of his partner’s brows in the low candlelight of the Undercroft, trace how his hand rested on his chin in puzzlement— fingers pinching at the skin there and stroking like tweaking an imaginary beard. He was currently in the lead, most of Ominis’ pieces resting broken on his side of the board. A truly violent game, that wizards chess.

A light tisk came from his companions mouth, his wand still gently coasting over the top of the board just out of reach of the pieces, before his eyebrows slowly rose back to their normal position on his temple, a mischievous smile making its way across his cheeks and a twinkle of something unrecognizable, but all the more devious, in his eyes. He leaned back in his own chair, adopting a similar cadence as his brunette counterpart, his body language oozing confidence. Sebastian shifted in his seat, eyes casting uneasy glances between the boy and the board as sweat began to bead on his brow. Surely not, he mused— there was no way Ominis figured out a new strategy.

The blond lightly chuckled, sensing the sudden nervousness of his friend. “Queen to E5.”

Bollocks.

Sebastian was helpless to watch the white marble queen piece shift its way across the board towards his onyx black knight. The matriarch stood from her throne, bringing her chair around to her front and up over her shoulder, before crashing it down over the head of his brave steed. The brunette scowled at the board before tilting his chin to the ceiling, his head cracking lightly on the back of the chair as he leaned away and groaned into the musky air of the hideaway, his arms thrown upwards in a show of surrender.

“You’re a bastard, Gaunt.”

Ominis laughed, his form slumping forward over the little end table they were next to as he waved his wand, collecting all the broken pieces and placing them back into the chess box where they would self-repair.

“No, unfortunately my heritage is legitimate.” He simpered, a light jab dancing on the tip of his tongue. “The juries still out for you, though, my dear friend. You have as much grace as a charging erumpent.”

Sebastian gasped in outrage, his hand dramatically fluttering to his chest and resting over his heart like a damsel in distress. “Oh, I’m wounded! You’ve wounded me, Ominis. How ever will I recover— doomed to live a life of desolate mediocrity at the hands of my very best friend?” He slowly slid out of his chair, letting gravity work its magic and flopping dramatically on the floor, limbs sprawled out like a flattened lizard.

The smaller Slytherin guffawed, a large grin splitting his face as he kicked his leg out towards the brunette, his shoe jabbing him harshly in the calf. “Quit it, you buffoon. You aren’t going to die because I beat you in wizards chess.”

Sebastian sighed heavily, the back of his hand slapping against his forehead in overzealous woe. “Oh but I am! I will never be the same, never! I shall cover all of my mirrors so I never have to see my failurous face ever again— cover my head with a ghastly bag to shield the world from my shameful dereliction!” Small sounds of sorrow continued to fill the air around them, long drawn out “boohoo’s” falling from the brunette’s lips at a consistent rate.

Ominis stood from his chair, stepping over the fallen idiot and plopping down onto the chaise lounge to their left, a book floating into his hand with the flick of his wand. “I think the entire student body would thank you for that.”

The blond laughed at the incredulous noises of his companion, leaning his head to the left quickly as Sebastian’s boot flew through the air right where he once was and smacked into the pillar just beyond. The taller Slytherin got up from the ground, muttering obscenities under his breath as he limped over to where his shoe landed, taking the time to lightly smack the blond on the back of the head before rounding the space and throwing himself on the other lounge chair diagonal to the opening of the Undercroft.

“You’re an arse, do you know that?”

Ominis smirked downwards towards his book, lethargically licking his finger before flipping to the next page with gusto. “Oh yes, I pride myself in it. I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but I’m only one to you— I’m quite nice to everyone else.”

Once his boot was securely back on his foot, Sebastian pulled out his pocket watch from his waistcoat; he checked the time, glancing in confusion at the gunmetal gate entrance of their secret space.

“Hey, have you seen our charge today? They’re normally down here by now.”

Ominis scoffed, a blank look crossing his face and a sardonic bite taking over his tone. “Do you ever think before you speak?”

Sebastian met his gaze with a blank look of his own. “Where’s the fun in that?”

The blond sighed deeply, raising a hand to his face and waving it in front of his unseeing eyes. “No, I haven’t ‘seen’ them today, nor have I heard from them.”

Lifting himself to a seated position, the brunette’s brows scrunched together in puzzlement, slight worry tipping the corners of his mouth into a frown. You normally met them in the Undercroft after dinner so they all could hang out until curfew. Today, though, you were missing. Sebastian couldn’t remember if he had seen you today at all, come to think of it. You were supposed to have potions with him, but in his hazy memory he remembers that your stool was empty. Where were you?

He turned his gaze back to the other Slytherin, confusion and concern lacing his tone as he spoke. “I haven’t either. Should we go search for them? They normally owl us if they’re going on a mission.”

Another sigh. “Sebastian, I’m sure they’re fine. They’ve bested practically the whole wizarding world in a duel at this point— they can handle themselves. Let’s just have a quiet night, yes?”

The Sallow boy threw himself back onto the chaise with a huff, his hands folding together and smacking against his abdomen. He knew that you were more than capable of taking care of yourself— he had seen it in action. Still, the knowledge of your fighting prowess did little to alleve his nerves. Each of the trials the Keepers were sending you on got more and more difficult— more dangerous. The thought of you getting hurt, or even worse, dying, made him feel ill. Ominis felt the same, they had talked about it before, but he was better at hiding it. Even now, though, Sebastian could see the telltale bounce of the blonds leg from nerves out of the corner of his eye. He was just as worried about you. You had told them all about the trials after they had stumbled upon you in the Undercroft a few weeks ago, bruised and bloody with at least five Wiggenweld potions scattered around you, as well as some gauze. Instantly the both of them had asked, nay insisted, that they go with you for safety, but you shut them down quickly— the trials were for you and you alone, no outside help. They reluctantly agreed to let you handle them, but they certainly weren’t happy about the arrangement, not in the slightest.

The two sat in silence for a while, their eyes drifting every so often over towards the Undercroft gate like you’d step through any moment. Worry began to claw at their throats like a rabid animal begging to be let out of a cage. Ominis’ leg had picked up speed around the five minute mark, no longer paying attention to the book in his lap and instead turning his ears minutely towards where you would hopefully be coming from soon. Sebastian was right, you would normally send them a letter if you were going to be out for the day— you knew how they worried about you. Silence seemed to spread around the room like a thick fog, its tendrils wrapping around the boy’s heads and slithering into their ears, leaving an unnerving ringing behind. They were getting antsy, anxious energy pouring from them in waves.

Just as they were about to move and suggest looking for you again, a loud, deafening boom rang through the room. Crates tumbled to the ground with a crash as the ground rumbled below their feet. It was like the earth below them, below the entire castle, was breaking apart piece by piece. Paintings fell from the walls around them, tables shook and tipped over, school work and books spilling across the floor in rivers. Sebastian sprang from his seat, sprinting across the small space and throwing himself next to a shaking Ominis, his arms wrapping around the blonds head to shield him from falling debris. The tremors continued for what felt like years before everything halted in their tracks— silence filling the room once again and only breaking around the heavy, panting panicked breaths that left the two boy’s lungs. They slowly de-tangled themselves from the other, their gazes lifting up from the ground to take in the damage around them. Dust covered every surface, clinging to their clothes and hair and dyeing everything a light grey.

Ominis spoke first, his voice whispering like he was afraid that if he broke the calming quiet everything would start all over again. “Are you alright?”

Sebastian sighed shakily, his heart hammering in his chest as he grabbed the blond's hand and squeezed. “Yes, I’m fine. Are you?”

He nodded. “What was that?”

“I have no idea. Sounded like it came from under the school— an earthquake maybe?”

Ominis shook his head, dust lightly falling from his hair and brushing against his shoulders. “In these parts? At this time of the year? Unlikely.”

Sebastian furrowed his brows once again. “Then what could it be? Should we go check—”

The brunette paused, his blood running cold in his body as his skin turned a ghostly white as sudden realization hit him like a speeding broom. Ominis seemed to have come to the same conclusion, his hands shaking at his sides as they both turned towards each other, brown eyes meeting milky blue in barely hidden fear. Only one thought passed between the both of them: you were out there somewhere.

The room began to shake again, the stone floor trembling with stronger aftershocks as more things began to slam to the ground around them. The duo quickly jumped up, their arms covering their heads from falling debris as their legs carried them as fast as they could go towards the exit and up the stairs towards the Defense Against the Dark Arts hallway. They quickly scrambled through the cabinet door, slamming it shut behind them as their feet nearly slid out from under them on the smooth tile floors of the main floor. Professors were running around, herding students left and right and ushering them towards their common rooms for safety. Sharp corralled them both, blocking their path from the rest of the school and their mad dash to find you amongst the chaos, and shoved them in the direction of the Slytherin common room, only turning away to look for more lost souls as the two boy’s got swallowed by waves of green and silver robes. Sebastian desperately fought against the stream of students, throwing elbows left and right as he swam towards the front and towards, what he hoped, was freedom from the crowd. A sharp cry came from his left and he shot his head in that direction, barely catching the sight of Ominis’ blond head as it disappeared in the hazard of students. His hand darted out, catching his friend’s shoulder before he could be trampled and pulled him to his side where he would be safe, clutching onto him like a lifeline in a storm as they were carried away, down the Grand Staircase and into the dungeons. Once safely inside, the ornate serpentine door slammed shut behind the students, bathing the room in startling silence once again.

The rumbling was muted this far under the black lake, only the sound of murky water splashing against the large bay windows of the common room filled the large, encompassing space. Students milled about, some retiring to their bedchambers while others sat on the various surfaces spread around the room. Tense whispers filled the air, questions and theories about what was happening swimming in everyone’s minds and entering through their eagerly listening ears.

“Was on the moving stairs when it started, I was. It was quite funny watching all the paintings scramble from their frames before they fell.”

“What do you think is happening? It seems to be coming from under the school.”

“I saw all the Professors run towards the Astronomy wing. What do you think they’re looking for over there?”

“Weasley had something in her hand before it all started— a bit of parchment. Looked as pale as the Bloody Baron after reading it. Wonder what it said?”

“I heard one of the Ravenclaw's say they saw some goblins over by the east wing. Do you think they have something to do with all of this?”

“Do you think they’ll cancel finals if half the castle is destroyed?”

The two fifth year boys stood apart from the crowd. Sebastian paced the length of the room, going back and forth a number of times, wringing his hands in front of his chest and worrying on his bottom lip with his teeth. Ominis sat on the bench in front of the large floor to ceiling windows, elbows bent atop his knees and long fingers wracking through his normally perfectly styled hair. Anxiety oozed from them like a poorly made potion seeping out of the bottom of its cauldron. No one had seen or heard from you before or after the chaos. They had to get back to the Undercroft— it was the best place to wait for you. The brunette caught bits and pieces of the conversations flowing around the common room, and each one set his nerves alight just a little bit more. Astronomy wing? Goblins? Oh Merlin. He knew, whatever was happening had to do with Ranrok. If it had to do with Ranrok, then you had to be there too. Sebastian spun towards his friend, quickly pacing towards him with determined steps and nearly throwing himself onto the bench to the blonds left. He leaned closer, whispering conspiratorially, just low enough so no one else would hear.

“Ominis, we have to get out of here. If we get back to the Undercroft, we can wait for them there. They know we’d be there.”

The smaller Slytherin inhaled deeply, his body shaking with tremors stronger than those rocking through the castle. “How are we going to get out? The room is packed— there’s no way we could sneak out undetected.”

The brunette hummed in thought, placing his hand on Ominis’ knee to steady his nervous jittering. It was up to him to come up with a plan, the room was much too loud for his companion to think clearly— multiple stimuli overwhelmed him easily. He racked his brain for a solution, every thought coming in small glimpses around the unending worry he felt for you. They’d have to be invisible to get out of the common room, there was no way another student wouldn’t see them leave.

A lightbulb sputtered to life in his mind.

Oh. Oh. That would work.

He squeezed the blonds knee before letting go and grabbing his wand from his robes. “I have an idea, follow my lead.”

Sebastian cast the disillusionment charm around himself quietly, watching his fingers and legs disappear into a slight trick of the light. Ominis nodded, doing the same to his right. They both stood as quiet as mice and made their way through the throngs of silver and green clad students, dodging and weaving around flying limbs before all but running up the grand spiral staircase and skidding to a halt outside of their common room door.

An eerie hush fell over the still castle dungeon. The rumbles had quieted down enough, only a soft vibration making its way through their shoes and shaking their bodies instead of the intense tremors that shook the building moments earlier. That had to be a good sign, Sebastian mused.

They both took off towards the Defense Against the Dark Arts wing, their legs pumping as fast as they could go. The setting sun cast shadows across the floor, catching on each piece of debris and drawing the brunette’s attention to just how much damage had been done. Sebastian grabbed Ominis’ hand, pulling him along and calling out obstacles in their path. They leaped over fallen pillars, dodged around scattered armor, and slid around corners, their shoes loudly squeaking on the linoleum floor and nearly sending them tumbling into walls with their haste.

Finally, they made it to the hidden cabinet leading to the school's underbelly. The blond threw himself against the door, unlocking it with a flick of his wrist and all but shoved the brunette down the stone steps. With a loud crack, the metal gate clipped shut behind them. They both heaved over, their bodies folded in half as their hands grasped onto their knees. Heavy breaths left their lungs from the exertion, sweat beaded on their brows from the heat of their bodies as well as from the intense nerves that shook through their bodies. Sebastian stumbled over to the table they sat around earlier, picking up one of the wicker chairs that had been knocked over from the ground and plopping himself down into it. Ominis collected himself, rolling his spine back into a standing position before beginning to pace. Each second of taciturnity filled his gut with more and more hysteric energy. His mind was going at the speed of light, horrible images of what fate could be befalling you slid behind his eyes like a demented moving picture show. All of his reserve flew out the window with the rest of his carefully curated apathetic coping mechanisms. His hands pulled at his hair, fingers digging into his roots and sending spikes of pain through his skull. The brunette carefully watched him from his vantage point, his eyes following each step of his companion as he made his way across the length of the rather large room. He could see the silvery tears that began to gather in the blond's eyes from his intense fear and called out to him in what he hoped was a calming voice.

“Ominis please sit down, you’re only going to work yourself into more of a panic if you keep pacing like that. They’ll be here soon— everything will be fine.” He cringed at the tremors that were present in his words, hoping the young wizard didn’t notice it.

The other boy turned towards the sound of his voice, quick as a whip, his eyebrows crinkled at his brow in dread and hands flailing around punctuating his snapped words. “What if they don’t, Sebastian? You heard the others in the common room, there were bloody goblins near the school! You know just as much as I do that that could only mean Ranrok is here. He’s probably the reason for everything that’s happening, and if he’s here that means that they’re down there, wherever in Merlin’s name there is, with him! They could be dead in some unknown tomb under the school and we would be none the wiser!”

Blinding, distressed anger struck down Sebastian’s spine as he stood from his slumped position. He snarled towards the smaller of the two, “Don’t you dare even say that. They’re not dead, they can’t be. Don’t even put that idea into the universe!” He could see the blond flinch at his harsh tone, his hands moving to wring together. The brunette sighed deeply, willing his heartbeat to slow down and his anger to disapparate. He carefully made his way towards Ominis, steps loud but gentle like approaching a startled animal, and placed his hand on the other's shoulder. He pretended it didn’t hurt him that he felt the boy stiffen under his touch. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have yelled at you, but we can’t think like that. We have to stay hopeful.”

The Gaunt boy relaxed slightly, his hands falling to his sides as he lowered his chin towards his chest. He sighed, “You’re right, it’s no use getting worked up. All we can do now is wait.”

Sebastian carefully led him towards the lounge chair he was sitting on earlier, gently pushing down on his shoulders so he would relax into the plush cushions before joining him. He tilted his head back towards the ceiling, eyes closed as he silently prayed to whomever was listening that you’d return to them safely.

***

The Undercroft filled with the sound of the large brass clock that resided in the Hogwarts clock tower, two loud clangs ricocheting off the stone walls that surrounded the space and filling the anxious ears of the two Slytherin’s that rested in its belly. Hours had passed since the tremors started; they long since puttered off and made way for the chilling quiet of the night. Both boys had not moved from their spot on the chaise lounge, each glancing longingly at the gate that led towards the castle hallways as they waited impatiently for their friend to return from what they could only imagine was a deranged war. They both fought valiantly against the sleep that clung to their bodies, each ticking second sending them closer and closer to sweet unconsciousness. They couldn’t sleep as long as you were still out there in Merlin knows what condition.

Sebastian sighed for the umpteenth time, his hands running through his already unruly curls and sending them into all possible directions. His leg bounced at his side, the muscle flowing with his anxieties and only being released by the constant movement. Ominis stood once again from his side, shaking the sleep from his person and beginning to pace the space once again. He couldn’t keep still any longer, not when you’d been gone for so long. Blond tresses fell in front of his eyes from his incessant hands combing through it. He took deep breaths, inhaling through his nose and exhaling through his mouth in order to calm his rapidly pounding heart. The silence was driving him mad, every little sound that wasn’t you coming through the metal gate was like a bullet to his brain. He feared the worst for you— the idea of you leaving this world without a word made his chest feel like it was caving in on itself.

The creak of the Undercroft gate broke both of the boys from their perturbed revelry. Sebastian sprung to his feet, head whipping to the side at the sound as Ominis spun on his heel and ceased his endless pacing as you stumbled through the doorway.

The blond made a small sound in the back of his throat, relief palpable in the air around him. “Thank Merlin you’re okay, we were worried sick about you!”

Sebastian’s heart stuttered in his chest, his words forcing themselves out around the lump that formed under his jaw. “Oh, dear God…” He breathed, his feet glued where he stood in shock as he took you in.

Ominis’ heart rate picked up exponentially. Tuning his ears to what was happening around him, he could hear the heavy breaths leaving both of his best friends with a renewed clarity. Your breathing was more stuttered than Sebastian’s, like you were struggling to suck in the air around you. Something was dripping lightly on the ground by your feet, the sound of its little plinks against the stone bounced around his skull like a small pebble skipping across the black lake. Pushing himself to focus more on the sound, the scent of copper filled his nose and sent a shiver down his spine.

With a pained whimper, your legs gave out and you crashed to the hard ground with a resounding thump.

Sebastian sprang into action, your noise of distress breaking him out of his stupor as he rushed over to your fallen form, calling out to the other boy in panic.

“Ominis, get the Wiggenweld potions!”

The blond stumbled over his feet, running towards the box in the far corner of the room that they filled with first aid equipment for moments just like this. The Sallow boy slid the rest of the distance between the two of you on his knees, arms outstretched to catch the top half of your body against his chest as the rest of your body gave in to gravity. He grasped you gently by the shoulders, moving your face into his vision and scanning you for injury.

“What happened? Who did this to you!?”

Your eyes were unfocused on his, black half moons coloring your bottom lids and the tops of your cheeks. Your voice was soft, barely loud enough for Sebastian to make out anything you were saying. He caught little snippets, mumbles of words like “Ranrok,” “repository,” and “Rookwood.” Blood dripped from a cut on your forehead, cascading down your incredibly pale face and staining the collar of your white button down. Your house cardigan was sliced open at the arm, showing a deep laceration stretching from the top of your arm to your elbow— Sebastian worried that if it was any deeper it would have hit bone. Your skin was almost grey from blood loss, your veins zigzagging under the flesh of your neck, chest, and arms like small strikes of lightning. He could see your knees through the rips in your trousers, the skin shredded and bruised, little bits of gravel dotting the wound like birth marks. One of your hands clutched your side, blood blooming through your fingers like a macabre rose bouquet. He carefully pried your fingers away to assess the damage and his breath caught in his throat, a sound of agony escaping from his open mouth. Through the hole in your shirt he could see multiple large, jagged slices in your side, each oozing buckets of blood. You winced as his fingers ran along your ribs, another groan of pain vibrating in your throat. He raised his eyes back to your face, irises dancing side to side as he tried to catch your gaze. Your entire body was shaking with adrenaline. He gently cupped your cheeks in his hands, forcing you to meet his piercing stare. His voice shook with dismay, the words leaving his mouth in a frenzy.

“I need to look at your side, okay? I need to see how bad the damage is. Just nod if you’re okay with that.”

You blinked slowly at him, a hand reaching out and wrapping around one of his wrists as you minutely nodded. Sebastian carefully took your hands into his and placed them on his shoulders for stability before unbuttoning the bottom of your shirt. His eyes were greeted with an enormous bruise, purples, blues, and blacks covering the skin of your lower left ribs and splintering out towards your chest. He sucked in a breath through his clenched teeth— you definitely had a few broken ribs. Your body began to slump against his, eyes fighting harder to stay open. He lightly slapped you on the cheek, frantically trying to keep you conscious.

“Hey, hey! No you don’t, you need to stay awake. Stay with us, okay?”

You laughed, wincing as your ribs shifted painfully, and smiled, your teeth stained a light pink from swallowing blood— you were absolutely delirious. “You should see the other guy.” Sucking in a deep, stuttering breath, your vision began to blur even more as your mind filled with numbing static. “I-I did it.”

Sebastian took your face into his hands once again, watching you with bated breath. “What did you do? Please, what happened to you?”

Your gaze focused on him finally, eyes softening as your smile stretched even wider. “I controlled it— the ancient magic, it’s inside me.”

The brunette blanched, his brain needing a second to catch up with your words before he laughed incredulously, head shaking in disbelief. “We can focus on that later. Right now, we need to stop you from dying, okay?”

Ominis appeared at his side, arms laden with as many potions as he could carry as he dropped roughly to his knees to your right. The oblong shaped vials clinked together as he haphazardly set them down on the ground, quickly drawing his wand and scanning you for any other injuries. Each pulse of his wand, each image blasted into his mindseye, sucked a little bit more color from his cheeks in horror. His hands hovered in the air next to your arm, shaking with barely contained terror as his mind fought whether to touch and comfort you or not touch you in case he hurt you even more.

His whole body vibrated, nerves completely shot to hell and his voice betraying every ounce of trepidation he held inside of him. "We need to get you to the infirmary! Why in Merlin's name did you come down here? You need a proper doctor, not us!"

You shook your head weakly, your speech slurred as your head slightly lulled in his direction. "Knew you'd worry— had to make sure you both were okay..." A breath. "Wanted to be with you— to see you...one last time..." It was getting harder and harder to breathe— each breath felt like you slammed your lungs in a bear trap.

Sebastian shushed you softly, lips grazing the skin of your temple as he whispered into your hair. "Quiet now, save your strength. You're safe now, you made it to us." He cleared his throat, adopting as much determination as he could muster. "You aren't dying today, alright? We won't let you, you stubborn bastard."

He gently lowered you so you were laying on your back and your head rested against the cool ground of the Undercroft, pushing the hair sticking to your temple back so he could clearly see your eyes. In his haste to move you, he didn’t notice that they were closed. Your breathing left your parted lips at a dangerously slow rate; your body finally giving out from the intense pain pulsing through your system. White hot panic screamed at the front of his skull.

“Hey! What did I say? Stay with us, dammit!”

You didn’t budge.

“Shit. Shit!”

Uncorking one of the potions, he pressed it against your lips with one hand and tilted your chin back with the other, whispering prayers for you to wake up as the bitter liquid slid down your throat. Ominis bit his lip hard, muffling the hysterical pants that threatened to leave his lungs. The taste of his own blood filled his mouth as it steadily dripped down his throat. He pressed his fingers against the pulse point on your neck, feeling for your heartbeat. It was soft, but still there.

The blond grasped one of your hands in his while the other still held his wand, coasting the tip of it over your body like he did to the chessboard hours before to check the status of your injuries. Your fingers were so cold.

Nodding towards the brunette, unseeing eyes never leaving your body and voice shaking, he shouted, “Give them another one!”

Sebastian pressed a second potion to your lips, watching it flow down your open throat as color began to return to your cheeks. His heart continued to slam against his ribs painfully, threatening to break out from under his skin.

The skin around your arm began to lace itself back together, the large cut that resided there turning into a barely raised scar— the same happening to the slice on your temple.

Another potion.

The bruising around your naval began to disapparate, the skin around your ribs painting itself to match the rest of your complexion.

He gave you the last of the potions, watching as the final scars of your battle stitched together and solidified at your side. Your flesh was red and angry around where the wound was, raised and burning to the touch, but no longer gushing enough blood to feed a small army of vampires.

Both boys held their breath as they waited for your eyes to open once again, each one counting the seconds that you remained unconscious. The space behind their eyes began to sting with unshed tears. Dread nestled itself in their chests and spread through their entire bodies like a wildfire, both fearing the worst— that you wouldn’t wake up, that the potions didn’t help, that you were still dying.

“Please don’t leave us. Not yet.” Sebastian whispered, leaning down and pressing his forehead against yours. His voice cracked with sorrow.

After what felt like a century, your eyelids fluttered open and you took in the world around you. The taller Slytherin leaned back so he could catch your gaze, breathed a heaving sigh of relief, tears gathering in his lashes and streaking down his cheeks as he gave a weak, watery chuckle. He brushed his fingers through your blood slicked hair, a soft smile tweaking the corners of his mouth.

“Hey, stranger. You scared us there for a second.”

You smiled up at him, eyelids slitted but finally open, finally alive. “Can’t get rid of me that easily.” You croaked, your voice raspy.

A harsh sob left their blond companion, his body finally slumping around the tautness he held since you entered the room. He rolled onto his back, legs thumping against the ground below as he brought his hands to cover his face, tears of pure, unbridled joy leaking through his fingers and wetting the dusty floor as light relieved laughs and muted curses spilled from his lips.

“You both are going to send me to an early grave, I’m sure of it.”

Laughing to himself, the brunette gazed down at you, his thumb lightly tracing along your cheekbone. “Let’s get you to the hospital wing, yes? Then you can tell us all about what happened.”

You nodded against his hand, letting him pull you up to your feet and wrap his hand around your waist. Ominis stood with you both, doing the same on your other side after pressing a careful kiss to your hair, squeezing your hand in his.

Safely tucked between your two boys, the three of you made your way out of the Undercroft and into the hallways of the castle you saved— the castle you called home.

***

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witchersmistress · 1 year ago

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Hot as Hades

Good evening my darlings!! Posting this before I go to bed, I do have an alternate version in mind so don't be surprised if this changes 🤣🤣

Trigger Warning: hot and dirty finger banging session

Word count: 4.5K

Rory’s POV

One hundred thousand dollars?!?! What in the actual fuck.. As I go to make my way towards Mr. Whiskey , I am stopped by a security guard. “Ma’am Mr. Stone would like to meet you in his office, this way” I looked back at Mr. Whiskey, he was standing now, his tall muscular frame in a charcoal grey suit with a black tie. His face was still casted in shadows but I know he is staring at me. I caught Jill and Ed out of the corner of my eye, giving them a small wave as we moved through the crowd, down a dark hallway.

The guard moved to the far end calling for an elevator, the doors opened and we walked in. scanning a black matte key card, the elevator began to move. I twisted my long locks in my fingers. We go off and walked down the hall to an office that overlooked the bustling city of LA

“ He’ll be with you shortly” the guard said and closed the door. Pacing the luxurious space, I panicked. What the hell was I doing, what did I get myself into. Going down that rabbit hole as the door opened “I’m sorry to keep you waiting Ms. Harlowe” Mr. Whiskey spoke with a slight southern drawl. I stopped dead in the room and just waited, it couldn't be. There is no way. I heard the tell-tale clinking of ice in glasses and the sound of liquid pouring. He continued as his heavy footsteps drew closer “ We seem to have a problem now don't we…” trailing off as he drew closer, a hand with a crystal tumbler reached around my left side, taking the glass from him, i looked at his hand as he placed it on my side to direct me to the couch, there was a tattoo on his hand, what looks like a bird wing stretched crossed the tight skin on his hand… No, absolutely not.

There is no way.. He directed me to the couch sitting on the couch across from me, his large thighs slightly open as he settled into his seat. Dragging my gaze up his body slowly, i've never seen him, in anything but jeans and t-shirts, but here he is sitting in a charcoal grey suit with a white buttoned shirt with a few top buttons undone and his tie MIA. that tattooed hand caressed his face, starting at his nose and down to his chin, you can hear him scratch his beard, god i love that sound, this man should not have this effect on me, hell this man has had an effect on me long before now, but he does and i look into the blue eyes of none other than Logan Syverson…. “ Now don't we Rory” he took a sip of whiskey but left the glass hanging from his tattooed fingertips “What the hell were you thinking Darlin? Selling yourself at a sex club, i thought you were smarter than that, baby girl”

The shivers that run down my spine when he calls me baby girl, my panties were getting wetter by the second as he scolded me. Setting down my glass on the glass coffee table “Well you are one to talk Sy or should i be calling you Alex Stone. You fucking own part of this damn sex club!!” I stood up, rounded the coffee table and stuck my finger in his face. “You do not get to lecture me about what I do, you are the proverbial pot calling the kettle black.” his face had no emotion, nothing in his eyes to tell me what he was feeling. A solid poker face, that rotten motherfucker. I spun on my heels to make a quick and clean getaway until an arm wrapped me around the waist, pulling me back and pinned me to the wall , his large body holding me down rather quickly. My face pressed against the cool marble walls as he leaned in “Listen here baby girl” his southern drawl was thicker than usual “ I did you a favor, by winning that auction, you don't know what kind of men are in this club and what they would do to a girl like you.” I bucked my hips in protest in response trying to get out from underneath him.

That was a bad idea, the dimly lit fire that was in his eye glowed brighter, a growl slipped out before he could stop it, his pupils growing like saucers. Grinding his hips harder into me,I could feel his thick erection digging into my ass, “Do you see what you do to me? I've tried so hard for years to keep my distance, but you are just so goddamn infuriating” he grabbed me by my hair and pulled my head back forcing me to look at him “You’ve done it now, there is no way I’m letting you go”, he captured my lips, in a fiery kiss. I tried resisting, but it was utterly pointless, I was melting under him, I was about to be putty in his hands and he knew it.

He moved his hand from my hair down to my neck and squeezed, applying the pressures to the sides, gasping from the interaction, dragging my lips away from him in an attempt to catch my breath, he bit my bottom lip and tugged on it. Snaking my hand around the back of his neck, I pulled myself closer, falling down the rabbit hole with each kiss I gave him. His left hand, abandoned its position on my hip, snaked down to grab mine, bringing it down to the hem of my dress and dragging both my hand and dress back up my body. I was going to explode if this man did not touch me soon. With my dress bunched around my waist on one side, his deft fingers glided across my abdomen, occasionally raking them across my skin as he delved into the front of my lace underwear. Thank you Jill for insisting that these.

Pulling his lips away from mine as one of his fingers circled my aching clit. “This belongs to me, every touch, every flutter of that pretty pink pussy, every orgasm that has my name coming off your lips like a prayer is mine do you understand?” my eyes rolled in the back of my head as he plunged a finger inside my cunt. He licked his bottom lip as he continued to play with me. “ I remember the first time I caught you masterbating, we were up at your family's lake house, I arrived late. Everyone else was out in the canoes, I was going to my room when I heard these same soft whimpers and whispers, you are giving me now. I followed the sound to find your bedroom door cracked, i opened it more to make sure you were ok and i found you, riding your vibrator, i should have backed away, but i couldn't, not after what i heard.” he nipped my earlobe and started pumping in and out faster, adding another finger and his thumb circling my clit, IM could feel the warm ach forming low in my belly and i was powerless to stop it as i rode his fingers.

I remember that day clearly, I remember feeling like I had eyes on me but when I turned there was no one there, I moved to my back and opened my legs and grabbed my vibrator and went back to it. In my mind I was giving Logan a show, one that he would never forget..

I felt him hum in my ear as he drew me back from the past “ You were thinking about it weren't you? I can tell you got wetter, but tell me, do you remember what you said? I want you to hear you say it” he loosened his grip, ever so slightly, allowing me air, before he cut it off again. Thinking back to that moment, i began to ride his hand harder, tightening my grip on his neck, a low whimper left my throat as i felt that warm ache building in a small fire but growing larger by the minute, “Sy” i pleaded “ I want to show you how good i could make you feel” he picked up the pace of his thumb on my clit. He nipped at the bit of exposed neck and shoulder that my dress offered him.

“Hmmm, what else baby girl” he picked up his pace even faster. “Do you want to hear all the dirty things I've wanted to do to you over the years? The countless times I've wanted to tan your hide for the outfits you wore." The burning fire low in my belly was getting higher and higher, “Logan please, let me come for you” I begged him, I couldn't hold on much longer. “Such a dirty girl for Daddy aint you darlin? I remember after hearing you call my name as you came, i had to go take a cold shower and have a release of my own, but seeing you after that, it took everything i had to not drag you to my bed and fuck you like you deserve.. You want to be my good girl now?? Come for me, i want to hear your scream echo off these office walls and feel your cunt suck my fingers in and wont let me go”

that was all it took, and I couldn't hold it back anymore, i rode out my orgasm on his fingers as he continued to praise me, the hand that was holding my neck, fell away to my waist to keep my steady as my knees began to buckle, the intense feeling came back as another orgasm washed over me. “Logan, please i can’t take anymore i just can't” he gave a wicked smile as he withdrew his hand and licked the juices off his fingers. “You tasted better than i imagined” he fixed my dress, pulling off his suit coat and draping it over my shoulders, picking me up and depositing me on the couch with a glass of water, chugging it greedily, he picked up my feet and deposited them into his lap, he watched me before he pulled out his phone, as he tapped away on the screen, he muttered "fucking Walter" before he walked over to his private bathroom, washing his hands and face, he moved back towards me. The buzzing of an intercom scared me to death, putting a hand to my chest, I willed my heart to slow down but she was going a mile a minute.

"Mr. Stone your car is here" Sy pressed a red button on the intercom " Thank you Matthias, we'll be down in a minute" stepping away from the intercom. He came over and helped me to my feet, fixing my dress. We walked to the elevator and took it all the way down to the parking garage. We stepped off the elevator and moved to his car, his demeanor had changed, he wasnt the warm and soft Sy but the hard and cold one I knew well. I cocked a brow at him as his driver opened my door for me. He barely looked at me " Please see that Ms. Harlowe gets to her destination safely and is compt for the missing half hour of time" he turned to look at me as he extended a hand " Mrs. Harlowe it was indeed a pleasure to have you as my company this evening" I looked at him and I was mortified, of course what we just did, did not mean a damn thing to him "Mr. Stone thank you for the decent evening, I wish you well" sitting in my spot and letting the driver shut the door behind me, I refused to look at that man or give him a second thought longer, as we pulled out of the garage, the tears I was holding back came streaming down and I was powerless to stop them as I watched the glowing lights of LA speed past me.

Sy's POV

Putting her in that car and sending her away was the cruelest thing I could have done to her. But it was for her safety, knowing that I'm letting the woman I've always wanted, drive away and into the night.

#henry cavill smut #henry cavill imagine #henry cavill #henry cavill characters #captain syverson fanfiction #captain syverson #syverson x reader #syverson smut #syverson fanfiction

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vsyrworld · 1 year ago

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challenge : describe a moment in situation with domestic conversation but privates meaning

so here i go. charlos private moments ft team 55

the warm lights illuminating the white brown marble countertop where carlos made a mess with his dirty of shreddered coffee beans. The smell is nice as the hot water steamed into thin air, it's coffee (of course), but that does not mean Charles has to start liking one.

He curled up on his dining chair, pen in the right finger sketching on a fake paper he holds with his folded knee (ipad, lando laugh at him and said 'it's an ipad'. but for him, any surfaces for drawing beside paper and canvas, it's consider as a fake).

He might focus on his sketch, but he could feel Caco' eyes trailing down his finger movement. He brushed up and down, change a pen brush to a pencil, rounding his wrist, scribble then add some shadding, Caco moves the same.

After all, carlos' cousin is sitting across of him in the dining table. His palm around his mug, twirling it in the air as if a mocktail. Well, is Charles care enough, he could start building some trust or affiliation or just chitchatting since they are sitting facing each other. But, he saved it for next time.

Meanwhile, a slurping coffee sounds came from rupert, just one chair away from charles' left side. He had the perfect pairing, cookies on the plate. Eyes on Carlos movement in front of him.

The gaze Rupert gives to carlos versus caco to him is certainly had different intesity, different meaning, different question and thoughts (actually charles is 100% sure. rupert eyes on carlos doesn't mean anything, he just sometimes zoned out. like a trainer like an athlete).

Charles didn't care enough though. Even with Caco takes another sip of his handmade coffee, still observing Charles hands movement.

Instead, his mind wanders into some past event. Because of his brain is too full, too cramped with memories, nightmares, bad race, good race, bad days, charles is drawing and calls his teammate.

"Carlos"

"Yess?"

Rupert still munchin his cookies, Caco stays the same like before.

Charles takes his time to finished some pencil strikes, just a little strand of black hair he is drawing. Carlos doesn' pushed him either, busy dealing with something at back of kitchen counter.

When he finished the hair, he changes into a brush pen and start picking up some ferrari colors,

"Honestly," Charles starts truthfully, like he always did to Calros. Then he start talking at the same time he is painting his paper red.

"I don't know what to answer Ollie' questions."

Carlos let a hum behind the counter top, "Really? But you answered him pretty well"

This time Caco and Rupert head turned at him (and Carlos). He knows, even when he doesn't truly see them.

Another paint streaks down, "Now the more I think about it" he cracked his neck to the left and continue to drawing,

"Why do I continue racing while it always giving me, this, same loss over the years?"

Caco raises his eyebrows. Of course he is. He is an outsider.

But Carlos understand. What loss meaning for Charles. Only him, because Charles let him see, let him know, let him in. To his private life.

"Love is ironic no? To say that I keep going because I love racing. At the same time..." Charles realized he fucked up the color

He wriggles a bit on his chair, fixing his hoddies sleves then erased some of error, "At the same time, racing fucked my life. They took away... my loves one" Charles' already on his second color, it's a warm honey bee yellow.

"My problem is always the same, though" He sighed. Tired of hugging his knee, he put his ipad on dining table.

"Is that I love people. And people that I Iove is leaving me. Then it goes alll around like that again and again..." he strokes a couple of shading, "and again." adding some highlights.

"And I wished I am heartless"

"I certainly wish you doesn't" Carlos speaks up, with a sudden presence of a warm mug beside his ipad.

Charles smelled and a smile peaking up his dimples to rise. He brought the mug closer to his noser, "Seriously, Honey milk?"

Carlos body warming his back. His hand placed firmly against Charles wooden chair.

"Your all the time favorite" he grins wide

"It is" Charles takes a sip with Carlos watching him (And certainly 180 degree different feeling when it's Carlos rather than Caco or Rupert. Even they do exactly the same; looking at him)

"Like it?" Carlos gives him an eyebrow raised

"Love it" A white milk line up on his upper lips and Charles happily lick them clean with his own tougue.

"This is why i don't think you shouldn't be heartless. I don't think you could be either." Carlos squeeze his shoulder, before taking a sit beside him

Of course. Charles also knows, he is a love person. He couldn't and probably wouldn't ever stop loving. Even though it's stupid and hurting

"What do you know about me?" he groans, eyes completely off the ipad now as the device locked and turn into black pitch

Caco squeked on his chair (Charles smiles, knowing that he is triggered), Rupert take a glance to both of them worried (he always be), while Carlos...

he just on his goofy mood today.

"I don't know you very much actually" white lies escape smooth like a butter as they're both smiling.

"what do you want me to know something about you?" Carlos asked, tilting his head. Eyes never leaving him

Charles squirm under his gaze. "my..." dimples showing as he giggles, he fake his thinking gesture, "what do i want for dinner?"

Carlos rolled his eyes.

"I know, Carbonara it is. Your liking"

Charles smiled and nodded as he watches Carlos arise from his chair, Taking sip from Charles' honey milk cups, on the same place charles lips settled. Carlos is still standing beside him, hands hanging loose in the air.

"I love it" He simply agree to whatever Carlos choose for dinner. Not minding a blush start spreading over his cheek. love you, he want to said. Caco gaze burning on him.

"Yes and I think that is what makes you still here" Carlos smiled at him. Warm like a sun.

That is what, Carlos means love. And here, means settling down in Carlos' Maranello apartemen. After hours and hours, they're spending their time to re learn and re analize this season. What went good and bad, what to do for next year. Until moon rises and Charles realized it is too late for him to go back Monaco then Carlos tugs his arm,

come home with me

and he follows, and he is here. Explained why charles here with Caco and Rupert scrutinizing him. Explained why, Carlos cooks him a dinner.

Charles hides his emotion pretty well, he thought. But when he pick up his ipad again, the dimples reflected through the screen, mocking him with three words (you loves him)

"What do you draws?" Carlos breaths softly against his crown head. Almost like a feather light kisses. Charles purrs

He blinks slowly and finally look across the table. Giving Caco a brief eye contact before craning his neck to meet Carlos behind him.

Carlos cheek is tan, smooth and clean. Smells good, citrus aftershave. Perfect, Charles thinks. So, he brings his ipad up, covering his whole face and half of Carlos' profile. He leans into Carlos' space and making sure Caco' trailing gaze fails him.

Rupert swallowed his last cookie, Caco drinks his empty coffee mug. Not that Charles can sees them anyway from behind his ipad. He doesn't care then closes the gap in.

After an utter silence, Charles cringe at the way how Carlos' high pitched dolphin laughter filled the apartement. That sounds so weird. It so stupid, he shakes his head. Then, he is putting down his ipad, making him visible again in Caco' vision.

"Pasta un lunga?" Charles pushed Carlos's arse towards to kitchen. That bastard still laughing.

"It's penne, mon bebe" Carlos mocking him while preparing a pan of boiling water.

Charles groans in annoyance. Of course , Carlos' carbonara is always lunga and Charles is always complaint.

"Do we have penne?" Rupert asks out of curious. Charles back busying himself with another sketch, secretly smiling as Carlos answered his trainer by "No, come on. Carbonara is lunga!"

But later then, when Carlos is plating the carbonaras in the dining table, three plates serves the lunga. And one penne, still sizzling warm in the pan.

>>>

Rupert ask him on the next day,

"What did Charles draws?" He asked while Carlos is driving three of them to airport. Rupert just so eager to back home and grinding down Carlos again with lots and lots of winter training.

But Carlos drives in his unusual calmness, like he doesn't want to leave Maranello fast, like his body, his souls lingering at his apartement. Somehow didn't match with Rupert and Caco excitement.

"Uhm, no. He didn't show anything" Carlos took some time to answered him.

Rupert takes a glance and find fondness in Carlos eyes. He hummed, but Caco interrups in,

"Did he truly is?"

"Yes. Does he ever shows anything?"

Rupert raised his eyebrows at Carlos immediate answer. Later on he realized his athlete is smiling.

later,, carlos said to charles at the dawn. the monegaque bid him a quick farewell before went inside his own car.

it's already midnight when they touched down Spain but Carlos cheek is still warm from Charles' lips.

#1655 #i am soo devastated because i just lost the previous version #carlos sainz jr #charles leclerc #my fics #c2 #charlos #for context : ollie is ollie bearmant (arthur ex teammate)#this is actually a part of my wip zkzkz #guess what is charles doing behind the ipad! what does charles shows?#sorry #caco is sooo susssss about them #rupert manwaring #rupert is confused 24/7

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thedawningofthehour · 1 year ago

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Okay, first of making fun of rich people's houses on Zillow. This is actually the tamest house out of the three that made me want to do this.

This house was in Arizona and is like 15 mil and 13,000 square feet.

Entertaining Room That We Absolute Use.

I'm guessing this is either for the two people that are still friends with them or for inviting over other rich couples to show off how rich they are. Look, we have this grand piano here. It has never been used and we have to pay a guy to tune it regularly, but one day little Susie will prove to be a musical prodigy and we can force her to play for people we don't like.

Oh, this is the other side. I actually hate it more now. The other side wasn't my taste, but at least it was scenic. That flooring and those columns are literally just "look I have so much money." Also the effect of Fancy Chandelier is somewhat diluted if you put two of them in the same room.

Featuring Much Used Table and Chair in the background and...what is that supposed to be, like a secretary counter on the left? I can just imagine some lady in an office chair behind that answering the Very Busy house phone.

"This is where Daddy loses his Christmas bonus on poker night."

Okay, I-no, I hate this, I can't pretend not to. I hate the white kitchen trend, I hate marble countertops. They have...they look like brussel sprouts on a tray? As a decoration?

The dual fridges thing might have been cool if the execution was different, but for some reason the design and color just makes it look like it was tacked on, like if-wait. How many ovens are there?

So they have two stovetop ovens there

And what looks like two ovens in between the fridges? Four ovens?!

I mean, the top oven looks like it might be a microwave? I think the bottom might be a proofing drawer for bread, (lol like these people make their own bread) so many the middle is some specialty oven?

Still. A lot for a kitchen that's almost certainly never used.

I don't really have anything to say about this one. I'm just confused as to what it's for.

I'm increasingly suspicious that rich people are just pretending to be human.

Oh, finally, the living room people actually spend time in.

Featuring Exposed Beams That Are Totally Structurally Necessary.

And big TV you need binoculars to watch from the couch and can't be properly seen from a third of the sitting area. Much used dining table there. Bonus Dead Exotic Animal so you know they travel.

"To show off that we have the money for a bar but we don't want to look like alcoholics."

Deadass thought the back of the couch was stone for a minute.

This room isn't too bad-it's extra and they definitely don't need two sets of double doors right next to each other, but it does seem kind of cozy. I mostly left it in as a palate cleanser for what's to come.

Is that...

Yes. Yes it is.

WHY WHY WHY WHY

Why would you put glass double doors on the bathroom?!

What is going on with that ceiling-oh god, someone is going to slip and crack their head right open on those stairs. Maybe this entire house is an elaborate life insurance plot. If you get bored of your fifth wife just tell her to go take a bath and then you're free to marry your mistress of the month.

This would be so goddamn COLD, guess it's a good thing they have that fireplace.

WHAT IS GOING ON WITH THIS SHOWER?! Is it supposed to be a communal shower?!! Why is it so big?! WHY IS THERE A WINDOW?

FOR THE LOVE OF GOD WHY IS THERE A WINDOW.

I will give them this, I do like how they rounded this out. This part isn't bad. I actually do like the tile design, I just...don't like how they used it.

Just in case you're too befuddled by the actual bathing facilities and choose to go "fuck it" and shower outside.

Actually, the shower out here does make sense, they have a pool. If you're in and out of the water all day, do a quick rinse to get the chlorine off and put a coverup on to go eat lunch or whatever. That's reasonable.

All I can think of here is someone trying to put their makeup and hair products down and accidentally knocking them to the floor because they forget that the counter gets thinner.

Also omg the duuuuuuuust.

There's just something about those 'pretend cultured and fancy' columns against the stark white walls and ceilings that I hate. It's so pretentious and fake.

Is it just me or does every single chair look photoshopped in? There's something weird going on with the lighting.

"Do you hate being able to feel your toes? Do you love having cold feet? Then I have one hell of a basement to sell you!"

I feel like those chairs would actually be extremely uncomfortable and you know each one cost more than my car.

No one has ever used this pool.

Seriously, you couldn't swim laps in it. You could only really swim around in the very deep end, kids wouldn't have a whole lot of space where they can touch to play around. Maybe they could take a little kid to the very edge and splash in the water. And by 'they' I mean the underpaid nanny the parents look down on for being Hispanic despite their ad requiring applicants to be bilingual.

Totally Legit Well. Seriously, guys, this is an ancestral home.

Oh, but we're not done. They have like a guest house or pool house?

Wait, why does this kitchen look better than the main house's kitchen? This one I can actually picture someone using.

Look at that sink! Actually made to wash dishes!

(idk what's up with the line of apples in the cabinet tho)

Okay, the pool house is way cooler. I feel like the big house is literally just for show and this is where people actually spend their time. This looks far more comfortable.

Car stables. "Daddy, why do you have so many cars you use twice a year and cost a quarter million each?"

"Well, sweetie, the short answer is your mother is cheating on me and this fills the void in my life."

Okay I'm gonna go make myself a grilled cheese now. Idk if I'll do another one tonight, but this was fun! I love roasting rich people.

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auroras-blend · 7 months ago

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Old Wounds

Summary: Vittoria accompanies her father to the opening banquet at his newest hotel, and reminds him that she shouldn't be left alone.

***

“But I don’t want it,” she huffed and crossed her arms.

Admittedly, her posture was inappropriate for the setting, but that’s what he gets for taking me somewhere I didn’t wanna go! A black-tie event was never fun for her, but when Papa had to make an appearance and didn’t want women fussing over him, she was his date.

The Caesar Hotel was her Papa’s latest finished project. The ceiling was high and bedazzled with small lights assembled in the pattern of constellations. Daddy’s own touch. Carefully curated Roman statues and fountains were neatly arranged in the grand room. She could actually name the scenes and emperors the statues were depicting, a bonding activity she shared with her father. Gold weaved through the white and gray marbled flooring, which came at her own suggestion. It adds sparkle! The room was lavish and the people were having a grand time, while she however was not.

“You don’t even have to eat the whole thing, just finish your vegetables,” Papa said frustratedly, scraping the vegetables to one side of the plate.

“They’re watery…” she wrinkled her nose.

“Vittoria, you’re not leaving this table until you eat all of your vegetables,” he said with his I mean business voice.

I mean business too!

“No.”

“No isn’t a word you say to me,” Papa hissed before waving down Sawyer.

“Leo, how are you-”

“I have some people to talk to. Stay with her until she eats all of her vegetables and then come find me,” he said dismissively before leaning into Vittoria, “I will throw out that music box if you don’t finish them by the end of the night.”

And with that last threat, he left. He gives up too easily, she thought bitterly. Her face brightened and she smirked mischievously. Sawyer though…would be a challenge.

***

Sawyer proved, in fact, to not be a challenge. After just a few minutes, he was gone.

Vittoria, objecting to proper society standards, put her elbow on the table and leaned against it. She was bored and uncomfortable, and well, there was no one paying attention to her anyways. Sawyer was annoying but at least entertaining company. I can’t believe he left me! Her finger started making patterns on the tablecloth, triangle, square, heart. Heart, square, triangle. Trapezoid…

Her boredom went on until the table and silverware shook as a large stout man took a seat beside her. He unclasped the button of his suit coat and reclined against the seat, gripping his champagne and taking a polite sip. Vittoria stared at the man who had a nervous energy to him. Stress had stripped away the top of his black, now graying, hair and worry lines engraved in his round features. In fact, the man reminded her painfully of Mr. Bianchi with his olive complexion and dark eyes. Her heart hurt at the thought of the late elder and said a silent prayer for him.

It was a sizable moment before he noticed her staring at him, and it must have caught him off guard because he gave a quiet shriek. “Hello,” she said.

When the redness left his face, he regained his composure and smiled back, pushing his small glasses back up the bridge of his nose. “Well hello. How long have you been there?”

“I’m not sure,” she said honestly, “But I was here when you sat down.”

He laughed, “You’re a quiet little thing. I’m sorry to have missed you.”

“That’s okay. I’m small but I’m gonna grow.”

“I’d expect you to.”

“My Papa’s a giant!” she said, making a big gesture with her arms.

“Is he?” the man chuckled.

“Uh-huh!” she said pleasantly.

The man looked uncomfortable, his dark eyes searching the room for her guardian. “Where’s your mother? I can hardly believe she left you all alone.”

“My Mama’s dead. It’s only me and Papa,” she said as she took a dainty sip of her sparkling cider from her wine glass.

They offered her a cup, but she requested a glass. I want people to take me seriously.

If the man was red before, he turned ghostly white at his misstep. He nervously cleared his throat, “I-I’m sorry…”

Vittoria shrugged. “It’s fine,” she said as she put her glass back down, “My Papa’s talking to very important people but I hadn’t finished my dinner so then he made Uncle Charlie babysit me but he went to get a drink because he doesn’t like me and is an alcoholic.”

He’s not but that’s what he gets for leaving me! “Oh my! All alone?!”

Vittoria nodded sadly to gain some sympathy. “That wasn’t very gentlemanly of him. And I doubt your father will be pleased. It’s wrong to leave little girls all alone," the man continued in admonishment.

“Yes sir. There are perverts and predators everywhere!”

The man’s eyebrows raised but he nodded, “Quite right. Well tell you what, I’ll sit with you until your Papa comes back and if it’s been too long, we’ll go look for him. Deal?”

“Deal!” she grinned.

“Say, how old are you?”

“I’m ten.”

“Wow, so you’re in, what? Third or fourth grade?’

“Fourth grade sir,” she said proudly, “I think. I’m homeschooled.”

His eyebrows met his receding hairline. “Homeschooled? Well I’ll be da-, haven’t heard or met anyone who does that. Do you like it?”

“Yeah,” she lied.

“What’s your favorite thing to learn about?”

Vittoria brightened. “Art! I love art! I do watercolor paintings and sometimes use glitter with them, when my Papa watches me so I don’t make a mess. He loves art too. We’re a lot alike, we’re both curly blondes,” she blabbed, “Anyway, when I went to real school I was the best artist in my class. I even knew cursive!”

“What? That’s incredible!” he smiled, entertaining the child.

“Thank you sir.”

“I’m not much of an artist myself but I do know a neat little trick.”

“What is it?”

“It’s called origami. It’s the Japanese art of paper folding,” he smiled and reached for a napkin, “Want to see?”

She nodded and scooted her chair forward eagerly. She was quite glad she did watch, because as he folded the corners together, it took the shape of a, “That’s a bird!” she gasped.

“It is!” he laughed and flapped its wings, “Do you wanna try?”

Vittoria nodded excitedly and for the next several minutes, she ended up making a mini zoo out of napkins she folded into animals. The man even played with her, his kindness extending even further. “You’re a creative storyteller…” he praised before he took on a reprimanding tone, “Unbelievable…”

“What?” she asked, her voice grew small and her brows furrowed worried that he was angry with her or she had offended him in some way.

“I have been so rude. I haven’t introduced myself or even asked your name,” he grumbled.

Vittoria let out a breath she didn’t know she had been holding. “My name’s Benjamin Nizzola, pleased to meet you,” he said, extending his hand for a shake.

She smiled back at him, “You’re Italian?”

“Yes,” he coughed uncomfortably, retracting his hand.

“I am too!” she said, making him smile again and puffed out her little chest as she proudly began to introduce herself in Italian, “Mi chiamo Vittoria! Vittoria Bor-”

“Benny boy!” chortled another plump man, who landed his meaty hand on her new friend’s shoulder.

“Hello Steve,” he grinned, “Fancy seeing you here.”

“Well where there’s a party, so am I! Now, you’ve got to come with me. I have someone to introduce you to!”

Vittoria frowned, not ready to be left alone again. “Actually I’m watching this, very polite,” she smiled at that, “little girl until her father gets back. So if you could bring them here, I’d greatly appreciate it.”

Steve scoffed, “Only because I like you so much.”

The man skulked off. “Thank you Mr. Nizzola,” she whispered.

“It’d be an ungentlemanly thing to do to leave you alone. You seem to know your manners very well. I’m impressed,” he complimented.

“I...my tutors teach me…” she said nervously, remembering her late etiquette teacher.

“Well you’re an excellent learner!” he complimented, a rosy flush returning to his olive cheeks.

“Grazie! Non ero un bravo studente prima, ma-” she began before he cut her off.

“I apologize, I’m uh...third generation. I don’t speak Italian,” he said uncomfortably, pulling at his collar.

Vittoria’s smile faltered for a moment. Every Italian man she had come across knew the language, her father had said all real Italians could speak it and- Vittoria Borghese! You didn’t speak Italian at first! You’re still Italian! “That’s okay,” she said comfortingly, “Learning new languages is hard. I remember when I moved to a different country, I didn’t know the language!”

Mr. Nizzola smiled, “Well your English is very good and so is your accent. You sound almost All American.”

Vittoria frowned. Almost? “Do you like it here in America?” he asked, taking a sip of champagne and looked behind him for his friend.

No. “Yes,” she said pleasantly, “But I like Italy more.”

“That’s normal for most immigrants,” he said off-handedly.

“La gente in Italia era più gentile,” she whispered, “But what about you? Do you like it here?”

“In Garland?” he asked, his glasses falling down the bridge of his nose again, “Well...I’m just visiting. I prefer to stay away from the city.”

Vittoria nodded understandingly, “I know what you mean. It sometimes smells and it’s too loud.”

Mr. Nizzola was silent for a moment, his face taking on a worried expression as if something was haunting him. Mama looked like that when she worried too. “Sir?”

Whatever trance he was in broke, and he laughed, “Sorry about that! Thinking about some old business!”

As she was about to ask, he cut her off again, “Now this is a party and I don’t think the owners of those chocolate cakes are coming back, so whadda you say?”

Mr. Nizzola pulled two of them towards them. Vittoria adored this man and wanted to be polite, but… “My Papa doesn’t let me have sweets. Especially at night.”

Mr. Nizzola frowned, “Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t know.”

She hated the pity that laced his voice. “It’s okay,” she said, “But he lets me have fruits.”

“How generous,” Mr. Nizzola muttered under his breath before he put the champagne back to his lips.

“I like strawberries and bananas!”

“Well those are some good fruits,” he said, the disapproval leaving his tone.

Mr. Nizzola raised his hand and waved down a caterer carrying a tray of chocolate strawberries, taking two plates for themselves. When the plate was put in front of her, she smiled. “Here we go. You can peel the chocolate off and-”

“That's okay! I’ll eat it like it is!”

Mr. Nizzola laughed and picked from his own plate. The next few moments were nice, and she had almost finished her entire plate when, “Vittoria, time to go.”

She looked up and grinned, “Papa!”

But his eyes weren’t looking at her, instead at Mr. Nizzola with a hellish hatred. And when she looked over at the stout man, whose gaze had an equal mixture of terror and loathing, she cowered. Her Papa was never physically rough with her, but he grabbed her so harshly she cried out. It must’ve not been her fault she realized when he had pushed her behind him protectively but it still had scared her. Mr. Nizzola stood up defiantly, which did little good given that he was much shorter than her Papa. Her Papa was a broad imposing figure and the way he stood mimicked a bear rising in dominance. “Y-you shouldn’t be here,” Mr. Nizzola said, trying to make his voice sound courageous, “I-Italy. You’re supposed to be in Italy.”

Her Papa sneered and if it weren’t for Sawyer coming up and saying his name, reminding them there was a crowd, well...Vittoria wasn’t sure what he’d do to Mr. Nizzola. “Mr….Mr. Nizzola taught me how...how to make p-paper cranes,” she said in her tiny voice, “See?”

She held up the crane, trying to show her Papa she was in no real danger. But that just made the situation worse. His voice, usually angel-like, took the sound of a demon. “Never talk to my daughter again. Ever.”

Mr. Nizzola seemed like a level-headed man but that apparently faded. “You don’t deserve a child. You don’t deserve to be a father, not-”

Papa stepped forward but Sawyer put his hand up, “You said it was time to go. It’s nearly ten. Time for her to go to bed.”

“You should consider going back to wherever you came from,” Papa hissed before swiftly turning and pulling Vittoria along with him.

She sympathetically looked back and gave a small wave goodbye. He was nice to me. But whatever was between him and Papa, soured the relationship. Mr. Nizzola looked at her and the familiarity of her family in her appearance ruined whatever friendship they had. He didn’t even smile at my goodbye.

When they were in the limo, her Papa went off. “What did you two talk about?” he demanded, his tone scarier then she’d ever heard it.

Vittoria immediately started to cry, “N-nothing Papa!”

“Nothing?” he scoffed before turning his rage on Sawyer, “Why did you leave her alone?!”

“I-”

“No. No excuse could be good enough!” he growled before turning back to her, “What did he say to you?!”

“W-we only only t-talked about,” she sobbed, “Origami a-and art and s-school! I’m sorry Papa! I didn’t know!”

“I don’t believe you. That’s not all. What else?!”

Vittoria was shaking, ready to throw up. “I-I told him Mama’s dead and I on-only l-live with y-you! But that’s it! I swear Papa!”

“Did you tell him how she died?!”

“No!”

“Leonardo!” Sawyer jumped in.

“Not a word!” he snapped before grabbing her chin, “You are to never talk to him again. Ever! Is that understood?!”

Vittoria nodded. When she opened her watery green eyes, her Papa’s softened. “Oh Vittoria,” he cooed, “I’m sorry. But you have to understand that I’m very protective of you.”

“I-is he dangerous?” she hiccuped.

Papa nodded. “Yes. I was worried he’d hurt you and that made me very angry. I shouldn’t have taken it out on you.”

He’s not mad at me. He was trying to protect me! Her Papa pulled her closer, allowing her to snuggle under his arm. Vittoria relaxed, the stress leaving her body knowing that she wasn’t in trouble. “I’ll make it up to you. We’ll go to the park tomorrow, hm?”

As her Papa looked down at her, she saw out of the corner of her eye Sawyer looking on in disgust and pity. “Okay,” she nodded.

***

When they returned home, he put her right to bed with the help of a sedative or two. Take a moment to decompress, to- “That was a terrible decision.”

He internally groaned. “A decision that wouldn’t have to have been made if you had stayed with her like I asked.”

“You didn’t ask, but that’s beside the point. You just had a very public confrontation with Nizzola. If something happens-”

“Nothing will happen as long as he stays away. The audacity of the man to even imply I shouldn’t have my daughter.”

That alone made him see red. As a father who lost his own child, he could see where Nizzola’s rage stemmed from, but to insinuate he didn’t deserve Vittoria was unwarranted. After everything I’ve gone through, I deserve her most of all. Charles was quiet in the corner. “Last I heard, he had moved to a suburb in Hoboken. I don’t think he plans on staying in New York. Too many memories.” Leonardo nodded. For his sake, he should stay there.

#benjamn nizzola #leonardo borghese #vittoria borghese #garland city tales #charles sawyer #once upon a dream

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