#The Force to its grandkids: Heart eyes | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

droopycoquette · 7 months ago

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Ridin' or Nothin' || Benny Cross x Reader

Summary: A little exchange of services

Warnings: hella fluff, angst, suggestive content

Word count: 5.1k

|*|

You had been watching him, that much you could admit. Your eyes always caught him on the road, riding around with the wind in his hair. Sometimes you’d even see him walking around with a cigarette tucked between his slightly chapped lips, he was rarely without one. He exuded a sense of danger that both intrigued and scared you. But there was something about the way he moved, rough yet graceful, that made your heart skip a beat whenever he passed by. However, you never dared to approach him, always hiding in the background observing.

You didn’t mind, it was comfortable.

The town was small so it was easy to watch him. Easy to find him even because he was always in the same places. Bar, road, gas station, and occasionally grocery store. That last one was rare though. When you saw him across the aisle looking at bread, you thought you were hallucinating.

It was a rather strange sight; he looked so out of place. A tall, blonde biker in a grocery store with mothers and children, casually looking at bread. You would have giggled if you weren’t so nervous. Your lips slightly parted as you lost motor control of your body, the bag of rolls you held falling out of your hands.

“Shoot,” you muttered as you quickly bent down to pick them, trying to prevent the weird looks from staying on you.

You chuckled nervously as you rose up, giving timid looks to the grandmas and moms looking at you.

“Hello dear,” a high-pitched voice greeted cheerfully, forcing you to shift focus.

Turning around, you came face to face with Mrs. Leonard, a regular at your family’s bakery. She was an older lady having several grandkids that she loved to gush about. But, despite being older, she still had strength that astounded you greatly. You weren’t surprised to see her here, just bummed that she was here now, the only time you had seen biker boy here.

“Hello, Mrs. Leonard,” you smiled. “Fancy seeing you here.”

“Oh, likewise,” she smiled back sweetly. “What are you doing looking at rolls, sweety? I couldn’t imagine buying rolls here when I could have yours to eat for free.”

You smile at her compliment, your ears warming.

“I was simply looking. I’m actually looking for ingredients. I’m trying a new recipe for a raspberry curd cake. How’s your son? I heard he’s back in town.”

“That sounds mighty tasty. And oh, he is just wonderful. It’s so nice to see my grandkids. Ya know, ever since they moved to California-”

And she was off. You liked Mrs. Leonard, truly you did, but you could never get used to her never-ending monologues about who-knows-what. She was a cute old lady, though.

As she spoke, you moved to put the rolls back on the shelf, and when you turned to look back at the biker, he was gone. A small crease in between your eyebrows developed as your bottom lip found its way between your teeth. You nibbled on it as you felt disappointment wash over you. However, you quickly masked it with a well-practised smile.

As you wandered the store next to the old lady, your mind wandered back to the handsome biker who had been standing right across the aisle. You perked up slightly as you realised that that was the closest you had ever been to him. You could practically smell the gasoline and cologne that wafted off of him. You had even seen the small freckles on his face and took note of his faint sun-kissed cheeks, just the slightest bit of pink.

This was also the first time you’d seen him without a cigarette.

You felt a tug at the corner of your lips that only stopped when you rubbed it away.

“Dear? Hello? Bun!”

Your eyes snapped to Mrs. Leonard, hearing the nickname given to you by your family.

“Are you alright, bun,” she asked, placing a hand over yours. “You’re awfully quiet.”

“Oh. Yes ma’am. I’m quite alright, just a bit tired is all. No need to worry. What was that you were saying?”

“Oh, yes! Monti, the dreadful boy has been tearing at-”

Her story continued on until you had finished checking out and had to part ways. And when your back hit the seat of your car you let out the biggest sigh of the week. What was supposed to have been a ten-minute grocery run for fresh raspberries and lemon juice had turned into a 45-minute gossiping session. The energy that was supposed to be used to bake that new raspberry curd cake had been exerted to try to keep up with Mrs. Leonard. Now, you’d have to pull from nothing.

Your head slammed into the steering wheel with a groan that was quickly replaced with a yelp when your car horn went off. People entering and exiting the store turned to look at your car in confusion and slight offence.

“Sorry,” you chuckled timidly.

|*|

The next day rolled around, and you were excited to put out your new Raspberry Delight, which is what you had decided to call your new cake. You had been experimenting with this cake for the past two weeks, figuring out what to layer, and how sweet the raspberry curd should be. Should they have a raspberry jam? Was that too much? Perhaps, a layer of crumble? But, last night, you had perfected everything and had gotten the green light from both your mother and your father to sell.

You had decided to sell it in these cute mason jars and had personally tied the little maroon bows on it. You were setting out the last of the baked goods into the little window by the register when the doorbell rang, letting you know that someone had entered the store.

“Good morning,” you greeted cheerfully, from below the register, setting the dirty trays there.

“Good morning,” a gruff voice spoke.

You stood abruptly.

He was here.

Tall, dark, and handsome was here…right in front of you.

You, who probably has flour all over her and who is sweating from the ovens.

“What can I get for you today,” you say softly, looking down and wiping your hands on your apron.

“I couldn’t help but overhear you yesterday, about the raspberry…something cake. It sounded mighty good and I thought I would come by and get it before it sold out.”

“You were listening,” you let out, surprised.

“I sure was missy. I don’t think I’ve ever heard of something so tasty,” he admits with a sly smile.

You couldn’t help but giggle at his statement.

“Okay, one Raspberry Delight, anything else?”

“Is there anything else you would recommend?”

As you let yourself think, the man let himself look at you. You didn’t notice, but the biker’s eyes never left you and one thing he noticed was that your eyes never met his. He didn’t like that. He wanted to look at him. He needed you to look at him.

He saw your eyes light up as you thought of something, making the man smile. And just as you were about to speak, a sharp voice interrupted

“Excuse me.”

The sharpness in your mother’s tone made you bite at the inside of your cheek.

“Good morning, ma’am,” the man smiled politely, despite her cold demeanour.

“We don’t serve customers like you,” your mother bit.

You knew your mother’s opinion on the growing biker gang in town. Your father and your mother both thought that the group of men were a bunch of bums who had no right to be causing such a fuss. They hated The Vandals, almost as much as satan. You recalled nights at the dinner table where your father's anger had boiled over, making him claim to do awful things to the biker gang. What’s worse, your mother had egged him on.

The man’s smile faltered at your mother’s words, but he recovered quickly.

“I just wanted to buy a cake,” he said calmly.

You could see the tension in his posture, the way his eyes flickered between your mother and you.

“Mom,” you said softly. “You always say business is business.”

“Well, this is MY business,” she snapped. “And I reserve the right to refuse service. Get out of my store.”

You felt a mix of emotions swirling inside you - frustration at your mother’s closed-mindedness, and sympathy for the man standing in front of you.

Your eyes met his, and you hoped that he could understand the apology. He nodded towards you, and you watched his jaw feather in annoyance. You felt your heart drop at the realisation that he might blame you.

“I’ll take my leave then,” he said, walking away as he took a cigarette out of the box.

“Yeah, you go on now,” your mother sneered, causing you to flinch.

He didn’t respond as the doorbell dinged.

You watched as the man walked away, his back straight and his steps purposeful. You couldn't shake off the feeling of guilt weighing heavily on your shoulders.

You swallowed in disappointment in yourself and your lack of ability to stand up to your mother and in your mother for her lack of empathy and kindness.

“Don’t you ever talk to them folks again? Ya hear?”

“But-”

“I don’t want to hear it,” she cut you off. “You so much as go near them, and I’ll make sure you don’t leave the house again. You understand me, girl.”

You just looked down, and your mother took that as a yes. She went back to the kitchen, muttering obscenities under her breath, and you went back to setting up for the day, now with a heavy heart.

As the day went on, you found it difficult to concentrate on the daily operations of the bakery. Your hands moved mechanically as you went through the motions of baking, but your heart was heavy with a mix of curiosity and guilt. Each served customer was a reminder of the one you couldn’t serve, the very one you wanted to the most.

“Hey,” your dad said softly. “What’s going on in your head bun?”

“Oh, nothing,” you smiled sweetly, perfectly masking your growing frustration with your parents, the town, and life in general. “Just a little tired is all. I stayed up late trying to come up with a new thing to work on and now that the raspberry cake is done I need something new. I’m going to go make a new batch of the Raspberry Delights.”

You tightened the scarf around your head as you walked back to the kitchen to grab the fresh tray of cookies that needed icing.

“Okay,” your dad called. “But focus! We don’t need you burning yourself again because you were off in Neverland.”

You knew he was joking, but it did nothing but jab the knife a little deeper.

As you began making the base for the cake, you found yourself wondering why you bothered to stay. It was your baked goods in the window, and yet, it was their name on the sign, getting the money, and it was them making fun of you.

Every time you brought up the fact that you wanted a portion of the profits because they were selling your ideas, they had a fit and said, “Your baking isn’t even that good. Since you now have a couple of things in the window, you think you can call the shots, huh? Is that what it is? Well, maybe we’ll just take them out.”

It was empty threats, and you knew it was, your items were some of the best sellers, but it never stopped the fear that entered your system. However, the thought that you might never leave and be stuck here with parents who don’t respect you or your creations scared you more.

A newfound determination lit up in your gut as you baked.

That evening, after closing up, you told your parents you wanted to work on a new pastry that you’d been thinking about and that you’d meet them at home. They had been hesitant but let you stay in the end, telling you to be careful on your way back. You waited a good 20 minutes to make sure they weren’t coming back before gathering up your things and the two freshly made Raspberry Delight jars and locking up the store.

The cool night air brushed against your skin, sending a shiver down your spine, your heartbeat quickening. You hopped on your bike and threw your bag in the basket, careful not to break the glass before you took off down the road. Even a couple of blocks down, you could hear the rumble of engines and the faint sound of laughter from the home of the town’s biker gang.

As you approached the bar, you hesitated, hopping off your bike that suddenly felt childish next to the rows of motorcycles. You could hear the whooping and hollering of the men inside and jumped when you heard the sound of shattering glass followed by laughter.

Your breath left you in small huffs as the chilly night air nipped at your cheeks. The two jars in your bag hit each other softly, causing a ‘clink’ to echo through the empty space. It also caused a surge of resolve. You jogged up to the doors before the newfound confidence disappeared and opened them gently. You entered the bar without making a sound and closed the doors even softer than you had opened them.

The dimly lit bar was crowded with rowdy bikers, their denim jackets adorned with patches and studs that allowed the light to glint off of them. The air is thick with the scent of smoke, sweat, and alcohol. As you stood there, taking it all in, you could also smell the distinct scent of leather and engine oil.

As you make your way through the crowd, you try to avoid making eye contact, feeling small and out of place.

Don’t draw attention. Don’t draw attention. Don’t draw attention. Don’t draw attention.

That mantra in your head continued as you hugged your bag close and made yourself small. Navigating the crowded bar proved to be rather difficult, especially when you were trying not to hit anyone. A plethora of ‘sorry’ and ‘excuse me’ left your lips before you reached an empty table in the back. You sit your bag down and allowed yourself to breathe as best you could anyway, the taste of smoke filled your mouth, making it dry and slightly bitter. You try to swallow, but the air feels too thick and heavy to allow it.

The dim, hazy lighting of the bar, combined with the smoke from cigarettes and the bodies, made it difficult to see clearly. People pressed close together, their limbs hitting one another.

You stuck out like a sore thumb. You had worn a corduroy skirt that day and, if that wasn’t bad enough, a pastel blue halter accompanied it. If ‘Look at Me’ had a mascot, it’d be you.

The tips of your ears burned as your eyes scanned the crowd of bikers. Normally, you could find tall and blonde easily but, in this crowd, it was like trying to find a needle in a needle stack.

However, after about 10 minutes of searching, you found him near the pool table. His eyes fixed on the green felt with an intensity that you could feel from all the way across the room.

You allowed yourself to just stare, taking in his rugged appearance that finally seemed to fit into his surroundings. His arms were on full display, and the light caught the ridges of his muscles in a sinfully perfect way. His hair was tousled and swooped up as if the wind had permanently swept it there. The thought made you giggle. You took in his tattoos, his rings, and the grease stains his shirt housed. The stains alone sent you to a whole daydream.

Visions of him fixing a motorcycle, his muscles moving seamlessly as he worked. His focus fixed on the machinery, understanding the beauty and power of the bike, and knowing exactly what it needed. A playful smile on his lips as he caressed the engine. The sunlight catching the sweat glistening on his skin, highlighting every curve and ridge of his body. His strong hands, covered in grease, as he worked with precision and finesse. The occasional grunt or sigh as he exerts force in just the right places. Every now and then, he let out a satisfied chuckle as he successfully fixes a part.

Before you knew it, you had replaced the motorcycle.

You let out a squeak at your own imagination. Causing heads to turn towards you. For once, you didn’t notice because you were too busy mentally beating yourself.

You had to give him these cakes before you embarrassed yourself even more.

You took a deep breath to steady your nerves before making your way over to him, each step feeling heavier with the weight of uncertainty.

As you approached, he finally tore his gaze away from the pool table and locked eyes with you. There was a flicker of surprise in his expression, quickly masked by a guarded demeanour. You could sense the tension in his posture as you stood before him, unsure of how he would react to your presence.

He walked toward you, cue stick in hand. His piercing blue eyes bore into yours as he got closer.

“Can I help you with something, sweetheart,” he asked, his gruff voice filling your senses. He leaned against the cue stick, bringing him closer to you. Even hunched over he looked down at you, you had never felt so small.

"I... I brought you these," you stammered out, holding out the two jars of Raspberry Delights towards him. "What happened at the bakery earlier wasn't right and I’m ashamed that I just stood by and let it happen. Please accept them as an apology."

He studied you for a moment, his face contorting slightly as a myriad of emotions flickered. Finally, he reached out and took the jars from your shaky hands.

“Thank you,” he said quietly, his gaze softening.

You nodded with a smile, clasping your hands together and letting out a breath of relief. You rocked back and forth on your feet as you realised that you hadn’t planned out a conversation in your head. You had no clue what to say to the man standing in front of you.

As you struggled to find the right words, only two came out:

“Okay bye.”

You were moving before you could register, bolting out of the crowded bar and into the crisp air of the night. You allowed yourself to breathe in deeply, filling your lungs fully for the first time since you entered the bar. It was also easier to breathe without him being near.

You swallowed as you stood straight up and shuffled towards your bike. Your lip found its place between your teeth while you replayed the interaction in your head. You shrunk into yourself at how you acted. You had dreamed of an interaction with tall and blond for months, given him numerous names that never seemed to fit. You had thought about wowing him with a quick tongue and a perfected sense of humour. But, when it came down to it, you chickened out. You literally ran away.

You reached your bike, which now seemed extra childish coming out of the bar. Now that you think about it, you’ve never been so close to a motorcycle before, only looking from afar. The need to inspect the bike tugged at your heart. It didn’t take much for you to give in.

You reached out and let your fingertips graze the frame of the bike, collecting the dirt that had found a home on the metal. Your eyes trailed the winding metal of the interior, wondering what each thing did. You could smell the gasoline and faintly taste metal on the tip of your tongue, and you smiled at its slight sweetness.

“You like bikes?”

Your hands flinched back as if the bike itself had spoken and your eyes went to the voice.

“Um,” you stuttered as you were met with tall and blond. “I, uh, I don’t have an opinion on them. They’re pretty though.”

“Pretty?” he chuckled, flicking the butt of the cigarette to the ground.

“Mmhmm. I’ve never seen one up close before. I apologise for touching them, it won’t happen again.”

“Calm down,” he smiled. “You look like I’m about to cut your hand off.”

You swallowed thickly and dusted off the dirt your fingertips had collected.

“Come here.”

His tone was friendly and inviting yet commanding, so you followed him over to a particular motorcycle that he leaned against.

“This one’s yours?” you asked/stated.

He just smiled a crooked smile and nodded.

“You can inspect to your heart's content, little miss.”

You feel a familiar tug at your lips as you let yourself circle the bike. It was a lot nicer than the last one, in your opinion. The black colour of the fenders matched tall and blonde, and the framework looked well-loved. You allowed your fingers to touch the bike, letting them trail down the seat until they reached the end of the bike and fell off.

“Hey, listen,” his voice making you snap your eyes to him. “How ‘bout as payment for the cakes, I take you on a ride?”

Your heart jumped into your throat, “Oh, I could never. I’m happy to watch from a distance.”

“Oh,” he feigned a pout as you walked back to where he was leaning. “Well then miss, I hate to say this but I can’t accept these.”

He pulled out a jar from each of his pockets and presented them to you.

“What?” you looked at the cakes and then back at him, offence displaying itself on your features.

“You heard me,” he smirked. “It wouldn’t be right. You put an awful lotta work into these cakes, you can’t just be given ‘em away.”

You bit your lip at the predicament in frustration and furrowed your eyebrows. The tall man raised an eyebrow and fought a smile that told you he was enjoying this.

“So, you’re saying if I let you give me a ride…you’ll take the cakes?”

“Yes I am, miss,” he confirms. “It would be my pleasure.”

An internal battle raged in you, but all you had to do was glance at the look on his face. The thrill of the unknown mingled with the warmth of his smile was enough to make your heart race. His eyes housed a genuine want, a need, and far be it from you to deny him. The “battle” was over before it even started.

“Fine, yeah, okay,” you relented.

His grin widened as he got on and gestured for you to hop on behind him. You couldn’t contain the flutter of excitement as you settled onto the motorcycle. The engine roared to life beneath you, vibrating with power and promise, mirroring your heartbeat.

“Hold on to me,” he instructed.

You swallowed before wrapping your arms around him gingerly, really your arms formed a ring around him, not touching him at all.

“You’ll need to hold on a little tighter, miss,” he chuckled.

Slowly, your arms tightened around him, a little too slow for him apparently because he kicked off suddenly causing you to grip him harshly.

“You jerk,” you shouted, as the wind nipped against your skin.

You couldn’t hear it but could feel the laugh the man in front of you let out, his strong back convulsing in a familiar rhythm. Your cheek was pressed against the denim of his jacket, and you could feel the warmth radiating from him. Lights and corn fields passed by in a blurry mix, and soon the stars were the only thing you could see clearly.

His rythmatic breathing brought a smile to your lips, and you could picture the look of pure serenity on his face. His cologne mixed with cigarettes and gasoline became one you already missed as you breathed in deeply, savouring every moment.

You understood now, the feeling The Vandals sought out, it was peace. It was forgetting everything and giving it all to the road ahead of them. The thrill of speed coursed through your veins, exhilarating and freeing. You held on to the man in front of you, feeling the powerful rumble of the motorcycle beneath you as it devoured the distance.

Every now and again he would look back to check on you, and every time you’d give him the same reassuring nod that let him know you were doing okay.

As you rode deeper into the night, a sense of liberation washed over you. The worries and insecurities that had plagued your mind earlier faded into the background, replaced by a sense of adventure and possibility. The road stretched out before you like an endless ribbon, beckoning you to explore its twists and turns.

However, it was over too soon. Before long, you had found your way back to the biker gang’s bar.

He finally came to a stop in a small open space, the engine purring to a halt. You untangled yourself from him, stepping off the bike with shaky legs.

You turned to face him, his silhouette illuminated by the soft glow of the moon. His eyes bore into yours, a mix of mystery and need.

“Thank you,” you beamed. “That was wonderful.”

“My pleasure miss,” he grins back, a hint of sadness flashing across his face as he got off the bike.

“I’m jealous,” you admitted, watching as took off his gloves. “You get to do that every day.”

“You could too,” he says before he could catch himself, leaning against it. “If you wanted to.”

“That would be amazing,” you say, rocking back and forth on your toes in thought.

The man smiled at your frame, admiring the way you could disappear into your head at the drop of a hat.

“Oh,” you snapped out of your reverie, shocking the man before you. “Now you have to eat the cake.”

“What,” he deadpanned.

“You have to eat the cake,” you repeated. “I kept my end of the deal now you keep yours.”

“I don’t have a-”

“Here,” you say, pulling a spoon from your bag.

“I don’t know where that spoon had been,” he smirks.

“Can you just try it,” you mumbled. “I want to see if you like it.”

He couldn’t say no to you even if he wanted to.

Putting the spoon in his mouth, he reaches into his pocket and pulls out one of the jars of Raspberry Delights. As he twists it open he swears he sees your eyes widen, and he has to stop himself from blushing at your eagerness.

You're practically bouncing while you watch him dip the spoon into the cake and put it to his lips. You hold your breath as he takes it in.

His brows furrow before he breaks out into a smile.

“That’s fucking delicious,” he lets out. “It's not too sweet, which I like.”

He watches as you glow brighter at the compliments.

“I’m glad you like it,” you sigh, looking at the ground in shyness.

“I love it, little miss,” he corrects, as he takes another spoonful of the raspberry cake into his mouth. “Now, I’m jealous. You get to eat these all the time.”

“I can fix that,” you giggle, and before you can think you're cleaning the corner of his mouth with your thumb lovingly.

As you begin to retract your hand, he grabs hold of it, keeping your hand on his face. His eyes watched you intently. There was a raw intensity in them, a fire that burned bright against the darkness. His rough fingers smoothed out yours so that you were caressing his face, his hand still covering yours.

You were so shocked and entranced by the touch that you didn’t notice his tongue darting out to clean your thumb.

A yelp echoed through the night as he sucked on the leftover raspberry cream, your skin prickling with a sudden heat. His eyes remained trained on yours, a twinge of playfulness circling his irises. He observed your gaze fall to where his tongue connected with your finger. He watched as your lips parted in concentration and curiosity.

He loved that look, the eagerness in your eyes to see what would happen next. He also loved the power you gave him in the moment, the trust you gave him to guide you.

He wanted more. He craved more. He craved you.

Your eyes flickered to his as he released your hand and reached out to caress your face. The rough calluses of his hand actually felt nice against your soft cheeks and, unconsciously, you leaned into it. The gesture brought a loving smile to his face.

He set the jar of raspberry cake on the back of his bike and let his hand fall to the small of your waist, pulling you closer. The gasp you let out only fueled his growing need for you. Your chest rose and fell against him and you felt the tips of your ears beginning to burn. The focus in his gaze made you feel like the only girl in the world, and that terrified you. At that moment, the only thing you wanted to do at that moment was look down or away from him, but the hand on your cheek didn’t allow it.

“Can I kiss you miss?” he breathed out, already bringing you closer.

“Please,” you let out, surprising yourself.

He didn't waste another second and closed the gap between you, his lips meeting yours in a fervent, intoxicating kiss. The world around you seemed to fade away as you melted into each other, a whirlwind of passion and desire consuming every inch of your being.

His kiss was like nothing you had ever experienced before, a mixture of roughness and tenderness that sent shivers down your spine. You found yourself lost in the moment, your hands instinctively clinging onto his jacket as he deepened the kiss, his demeanour shifting from playful to intense.

As the kiss lingered, time seemed to stand still. It was just the two of you, wrapped up in each other's arms beneath the moonlit sky. The night air crackled with electricity, and you could feel the heat radiating between you as if it were its own entity.

When you finally pulled away, both of you were left breathless and flushed, your chests rising and falling in sync. His eyes bore into yours, lips falling into a smile.

“I’m, uh, I’m Benny,” he stuttered, his cheeks becoming a slight pink.

“Hello Benny,” you giggle at his sudden show of shyness. “Everyone calls me Bun.”

|*|

A/n: first time writing for Austin!! Feedback is welcomed. Hope you enjoyed!!

#austin butler #austin butler x reader #benny cross #benny cross x reader #the bikeriders #the bikeriders x reader

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jokeringcutio · 1 year ago

Text

Stepdad!William Afton x Reader - Christmas Present (WARNINGS:SMUT)

Warnings: Creampie, taboo, stepdad x reader, secret s*x, Daddy kink, Christmas Dinner, Secret touching, Fingering, Behind your mom's back, Praise kink, dd/lg, Dark William Afton/William Afton is not a nice man, Mutual agreeance & consensual intercourse.

AN: I don't know what I did, but this just came out. Not beta read but I am going to sleep now and I wanted to share this with you all. For quick links and more, see notes below.

The soft glow of Christmas lights bathed the room in a warm, inviting atmosphere. You sat at the table with your mom, stepdad William, stepsister Vanessa, and her new boyfriend Mike. The scent of roasted turkey and homemade stuffing filled the air, while laughter and cheerful conversation echoed around you.

Vanessa and Mike animatedly chatted about their budding relationship, beaming as they recounted their favorite dates and shared aspirations. Their love was palpable, and they seemed eager to impress your mom and William with their connection. It seemed to work, your mom seemed smitten with Mike and William hadn’t said a nasty thing to him all evening – which you considered a win.

"Hey," Vanessa said, turning her attention to you, "when are you going to get a boyfriend?" Your heart clenched, and words failed to form in your throat. She didn't know what had been going on behind closed doors.

"Yes, good question," William chimed in. “Your mom has been dying to get a grandkid or two,” he said, feigning concern.

You nearly spat your drink out and tried to look away. Especially as beneath the tablecloth, you felt his hand snake onto your upper leg, fingers brushing against your skin. It sent shivers down your spine, the ghost of his touch haunting you.

“Dad!” Vanessa cried out.

“Well, it’s true,” William said matter-of-factly, and you could tell from the corner of your eyes that your mother blushed. “I just want to see all my girls happy and settled. So, when will you bring home a nice boy for me to meet?” His voice dripped with insincerity. Bringing home a date was the last thing he was waiting for. He didn’t want to see you date, or risk losing you to anyone else.

The fingers on your legs dug possessively into your skin, a silent warning that you were already claimed.

His.

"Uh, I'm not sure," you finally managed to say, avoiding eye contact. "I've just been busy with work, you know?"

"Sure, but there's always time for love," Mike added, oblivious to the undercurrents at play. He didn’t know what was going on – none of them did. He couldn’t see how your stepdad’s fingers traced up your Christmas over-the-knee stockings until they met bare skin.

"Maybe one day," you murmured, forcing a smile. As the conversation moved on, William's hand remained on your leg, a sinister reminder of the secrets you shared.

It became hard to focus on dinner like that. With his palm hotly upon your flesh. Memories of your stepdad’s mouth on your skin, his possessive grip on your hips, and his whispered promises to keep your liaisons secret washed over you.

You swallowed hard, trying to focus on the colorful decorations and warm atmosphere as everyone continued eating, trying to ignore the sick knot forming in your stomach.

God, how could you want a man like him so badly? When you knew it was so wrong?

"Delicious turkey, Mom," you said, attempting to regain some semblance of normalcy. Your mother beamed with pride, but all the while, you felt William's hand inching further up your leg, like a spider crawling toward its prey.

"Thank you, sweetheart," she replied, oblivious to the tension that was slowly strangling the air around you.

"Great job with the table setting too," Vanessa chimed in, squeezing Mike's hand as they exchanged loving glances.

Yes, great. Excellent, you sardonically thought as your stepdad’s fingertip brushed past the crotch of your panties. A wet spot formed where his fingers brushed past your nub, the now damp material seemingly spurring him on, for his fingers became more insistent. Even going as far as to hook underneath the elastics of your panties at one point to dip a fingertip between your soaked folds. You flinched, knee banging against the underside of the table, and whispered a flustered apology while William dipped his finger a little deeper inside your cunt – as far as he could go from where he was seated really.

You met his heated blue gaze as you looked to your side, saw the way he watched you intently from behind his aviator glasses. He pumped inside of you a few times, just to the second knuckle, and then his finger slid out again.

The now wet digit remained on your naked thigh for the remainder of the meal, only leaving when William had to pass food around. You watched with fascination as the criminal digit stroked past one of the bowls, how his fingertip glistened with your juices and accidentally tapped against some of the lettuce inside.

Time seemed to slow to a crawl as you picked at your food, each bite feeling heavier than the last. Your core was like a fuzzy ball full of wires that all got tangled. Expecting your stepdad to touch you - and hating the fact that you wished he would.

When dinner finally ended, you excused yourself, claiming exhaustion from work. You escaped to your room, away from your stepsister and her happy relationship, away from your mother and her bright smiles. And most importantly, away from him.

You slipped into bed, pulling the covers up to your chin as if they could protect you from the reality lurking just beyond your bedroom door. Sleep was elusive, your thoughts racing and your heart pounding in your chest.

The creak of the door opening sliced through the darkness like a knife, and your breath caught in your throat as you heard your stepdad’s familiar footsteps approaching. He stood beside your bed, his presence looming over you like a shadowy figure.

"Merry Christmas," he murmured, voice barely above a whisper. "I came to deliver your present."

He wouldn’t even flick on the light, but you could see him illuminated by the glow of the streetlamps through the window. He was already naked, a bow wrapped around the base of his already erect cock. He held it in his right hand, stroking himself and brushing his thumb past the head, the slit already weeping pre-cum that glistened like white pearls in the dark. "I've been waiting for you all through dinner." He stepped closer until you felt the bed dip with his weight, resting a knee next to you on the mattress. You could feel his breath on your skin, hot and tantalizing.

"Are you ready for your present?" he asked, the gravelly tone of his voice making your stomach flutter.

You swallowed hard, unable to speak, but your body betrayed you, nodding in submission. The tension in the room was palpable, both of you knowing what was about to happen. You wore a nightgown with nothing underneath. As always. Easy access for Dad. Like Daddy’s good girl.

His hands found yours, gently guiding them to the ribbon around his shaft. Your fingers trembled, but followed his lead, slipping beneath the fabric to pull it off. Your fingertips gently stroked past his fevered skin, feeling the ridges and the veins and how his member throbbed at the slightest touch.

"Beautiful," he murmured, eyes raking over your flushed form before he pushed you down on the bed again.

He wasted no time, reaching out to touch you, fingers tracing delicate patterns across your sensitive flesh. You gasped, hips arching involuntarily as pleasure bloomed within you. The suddenness of it all was overwhelming, your mind racing with thoughts of guilt and desire. Your nipples peeked underneath your nightgown, his blue eyes drawn toward them. He lifted your gown to reveal your stomach and breasts, wasting no time in tasting your skin with his lips and his tongue.

You writhed underneath him in pleasure while his erection bobbed against your hip. The wish to just put it in there grew stronger and stronger with each flick of the tongue and each nibble of teeth.

Soft whimpers and moans escaped your lips as he kept your arms pinned down, hovering over you like a predator eating its prey. His lips moved lower, just when it became too much, and then his tongue flicked past your stomach to your core.

A yelp escaped you, and wetness gushed forth between your folds, making your core glisten in the light of the lamps from outdoors.

"Quiet,” he whispered, leaning down to press a heated kiss to your inner thigh. "Your mother might be waiting for me in our room right now. You don’t want her to find us like this, do you?"

It took effort to shake your head and mutter a faint no, because he was driving you wild. Your core pulsed with slick, too empty and aching to be filled. You were drowning in sensation, sinking deeper into the abyss of forbidden lust.

"Please," you whimpered, no longer able to distinguish between want and need.

"Shh, you want to be Daddy’s sweet girl, right?" He cooed, pressing his lips to your trembling ones. "I'm going to make you feel so good."

And so he did. His hands roamed, his mouth tasted, and your body responded with an urgency you had never known. The world outside ceased to exist, replaced by the symphony of your ragged breaths and whispered moans.

"William," you gasped, as he finally positioned his hard cock at your entrance. You placed your hands on his broad shoulders, fingers digging into his sweaty skin. “Daddy, please,” you begged him. “I wanna be your good girl. Fill me up, please, Daddy. I wanna be good for you.”

And with a grin that made his teeth glisten in the dark, he entered you, filling you completely. His thick cock spread your pulsing walls wide, pussy fluttering helplessly around his size as he bottomed out. His balls slapped against your skin as he moved out and then in again, nudging his cockhead deep inside your core and making you see stars.

It was such a delight. How you had missed feeling him inside of you like this. To be filled so completely by this man that your mother called her lover.

If only she knew.

William filled you completely, satisfying a primal need you wished you had never known as it became an addiction. It was a sensation that both terrified and exhilarated you.

"Say my name again," he demanded, eyes locked onto yours. "Let me hear it."

"Daddy," you repeated, more firmly this time, feeling a surge of power as he shuddered above you.

The love you made was sweet and tender, yet laced with a darkness that could not be denied. Whispers of ‘my sweet girl’ and ‘Daddy’s good girl’ were accompanied by a pull of your hair or a thrust so rough it made your teeth chatter. Your bodies moved together in perfect harmony, each thrust bringing you closer to the edge of ecstasy. And when you finally tumbled over, it was as if the world had shattered around you, leaving only fragments of pleasure and pain. Your walls fluttered around his cock, forcing him over the brink with you. A loud groan filled your ear and revibrated through your entire body.

As you lay there, panting and spent, your stepdad slowly moved up on his elbows and reached for something on your nightstand. The light blinked on and you had to close your eyes because of the brightness, bringing an arm up to your head.

His warm body withdrew from yours with a slick squelch. And then you felt his strong large hands as he pushed your legs open wide. You slowly recognized he reached for his phone, capturing the aftermath of your union. The sight of white globs of sperm leaking from between your legs seemed to bring him immense satisfaction, and he held the camera up close to capture it. The way your pussy pulsed in the aftermath, the way his seed was slowly pushed out and then sucked back in again by your body - a wicked smile graced his features as he recorded it all.

Then, once he was satisfied, he put the phone aside.

"Best Christmas present ever," he declared, his voice heavy with pride and possession.

You smiled up at him, cheeks flustered and eyes tired. You slowly pulled your nightgown back down, covering the fresh hickeys, love bites and bruises your stepdad just gave you.

“Thank you, Daddy,” you said, heart swelling with satisfaction when William’s blue eyes twinkled at your words.

“Good girl,” he said again.

You watched as he slowly raised himself from the bed and bent forward to seek for the Christmas ribbon. Once he found it, he pumped his cock in his fist a few times until it started to become erect again.

“Help me with this, will you?” he asked, holding out the ribbon for you to take. You sat up on the bed on your knees to help him, feeling how even more of his sperm seemed to leave your soaking-wet core. You bit your lip as you tied the ribbon around the base of his cock once more, creating a lovely bow, then carefully glanced up at him.

William caught your look and groaned. “Oh, honey, don’t look at me with puppy eyes like that. Makes me just want to ravish you again.”

He bent over to capture your lips in his own, cock still in his hand, pumping himself a few more times. When he broke the kiss and leaned back you could see how his cock was now back on the way to be fully erect again, and you bit your lip in desire.

“Much as I want to fill you up a second time, I got to tend to your mom first. Promised her a Christmas present as well.”

He must have seen the way your face fell – no one wanted to be reminded of their lover having sex with someone else, especially when they were family. But you had known something like this would happen. He was your mom’s husband after all. Not yours.

A gentle brush of his thumb past your lip and your gaze softened.

“What will you tell her about the wetness?” you asked, shyly gesturing at his cock which was still coated in your mixed juices.

William’s smile turned into a devious smirk. “I’ll just tell her I lubed up,” and then his hand ruffled through your hair. “Don’t worry, baby. Your still Daddy’s favorite girl.”

He leaned in, placing a gentle kiss on your forehead. The gesture should have been comforting, but it only served to remind you of the twisted reality you now found yourself in. You watched as your stepdad left the room and then cuddled underneath the blankets again. A smile slid on your lips and you closed your eyes.

Your stepdad knew how to give the best presents for Christmas ever. ~ AN: Merry Whatever you Celebrate.🥳 If you like this kind of filth, I have a lot more of Stepdad!Afton x Reader and more coming up. I also write for other interesting bad men such as slasher characters. If you are feeling generous - as it is the season of giving - you can always leave me a little thank you on my Ko-Fi (: I'll post some quick links below to other works. My prompt box is still open, but I will be heading into the hospital at the end of December and depending on my treatment, I might have to close it in the near future. But I'll keep you up to date :) Quick links: ~~ Masterlist - Request Box - Support me on Ko-Fi ~~

#william afton #william afton x reader #stepdad x stepdaughter #stepdad au #merry christmas filth #william afton x you #william afton x female reader #steve raglan x you #steve raglan x reader #matthew lillard x reader #fnaf smut #older man x younger woman #This is smut

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sanji-piss-hell · 1 year ago

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ZOSAN FIC REC

Here is some of my fave zosan fics. Some of these I read years ago and so I don't fully remember what theyre about but they we're good enough that I still have strong emotional attachments when I see the name. Most of them are things I've read recently. Literally all I do all day is homework and have an app tts fanfics to me like an audio book so there's quite a few of recs here. I am not the best at summeries but just trust me bro these are GOOD SHIT. I only provide the best. What I consider a good fic: - Takes place in the one piece world (I don't like modern aus) - Characters stay in character or if they do have changes from their canon portrayal there is a justifiable reason from within the story. - Solid story telling and arcs (even the shorter fics) - The Zosan dynamic is kept mostly how it is in canon they fight and bicker. (I know some like when they're soft with eachother like a loving married couple. You won't find much of that here) - Some of these have pervy sanji, que nose bleeds and ogling. With that out of the way here's the list!! Now to my fave zosan fic of all time and ironically enough the only fic taking place in a modern setting: Life is fine series. TW: Drug abuse, heavy angst, depression I have reread this twice and forced a friend to read it too. It is so amazing not just for the zosan but for the genuinely good story telling. You follow zoro reeling from his sudden loss of relationship with Sanji and falling down a...Well uh, path. It's fucked it's dark it's depressing and its fucking riviting. Alot of the time reading this you're just like WHY DID SANJI LEAVE HIM WHAT IS GOING ON??? Honestly I need to reread this again. Onto softer fics to heal your heart after that one: Honor in limits, his strengths in weakness By Hawksbrood

“Fucking hell cook, what happened to you?” Zoro demanded, voice low so as not to disturb the others sleeping nearby.

Sanji rolled his eyes. “What do you think? I told you we got in a fight earlier.”

“Not that, your fucking feet!”

The cook snarled at that, crushing his cigarette in his teeth. “What the fuck do you mean, my feet? They’re just feet!”

Zoro’s eyes widened, looking at the bruised flesh before him. This wasn’t that.

This was just so good and cute. I appreciate watching zoro appreciate sanji. They take care of eachother but in a way where theyre both still them yeah know? I appreciate how sanji is written letting himself be vulnerable but understanding that he's always gonna be crass cause it's just a part of who he is.

come on, come on (turn a little faster) by donutsandcoffee

The one where everyone thinks they’re dating, Sanji is oblivious, and Zoro takes everything in stride.

Sometimes a love story can go in reverse.

I reread this one recently and it's just soft and sweet. I like watching sanji flounder around. The gay panic is great.

a complete guide to falling in love by ThousandSunny Sanji was trained in the Bridal Arts; this does not go unnoticed by the rest of his crew. I read this like 3 years ago and I dont remember much but I do remember loving it!

Part Timer By 8ball Sanji really, really doesn't want to give Zoro a job at his restaurant. Zoro doesn't really even want to work there in the first place, but, well, there’s this thing with Sanji, and this thing with feelings and the whole thing is pretty damn stupid all together. Zeff just wants grandkids. He’s too old for this bullshit anyways. I am sure everyone knows 8ball very well they're like zosan famous but still just in case this one is really fucking good. Also read this 3 years ago so I don't remember much but I consider this a zosan classic. Onto the rated R Grand Buffet by asyndese Drunk fic!! If there was one thing Zoro knew, it was that you could always trust Sanji's inclinations to do a beautiful 180 as soon as he was drunk. Luckily, Zoro was more than equipped to handle it. I spent. 30 minutes. Trying to find this fic again because that's how much I loved it. It altered my brain chemistry. Sanji getting a nose job during sex is just. aaaaaaaaa. Read it. Cannot suggest enough. Horrors not yet known by Trixree

Sanji doesn’t know how he didn’t notice it before, is the thing. Of all the times he has seen Zoro shirtless (in battle, mostly) he just… never noticed. The problem is, once he has noticed, Sanji can’t seem to stop noticing. And neither can anyone else.

In which Zoro has a nipple piercing and Sanji has a Problem.

I recently reread this and the first time I read it I didn't really get the whole gender sanji shit. Now though???? Yeah another fic that rewired my brain chemistry. This fic opened doors for me it exposed me to a new world. Also sanji gay panic is in here and I live for that. It can be pretty raunchy (love that too) Three rounds with a tiger by KobochaKitsune Another drunk Fic!! also in modern times damn maybe I lied sdklfj

Liquid courage, drunken decisions, terrible euphemisms, and texts from last night, or: how to think entirely with the booze (and your dick) for once.

Or: By the time Sanji got to the party, everyone was already drunk.

I read this 3 years ago (theres a trend going on can you tell??) It also rewired my brain chemistry (from this point on just assume all of these nsfw fics rewired my brain chemistry each of these opened doors for me. This one opened the doors to bottom zoro.) Fucking 20k words of just pwp. I dont even know how the author did that bro like damn. Nature of things by stark_black Tw: Sex work and prostitutes When the Sunny docks, Sanji and Zoro sometimes seek out relief in some not so savory places. After crossing paths in town on more than one occasion, the two find they have a lot more in common than they would like to admit. I hunted this down for like fucking hours a couple of weeks ago because it was that good. Stark_Black has a fucking library worth of zosan fics this one is a classic to me. But if you want more content check out his other fics I think they have like over 100 zosan its kinda insane. Coregasm by Yakarmi

Sanji discovers that sometimes, Zoro has orgasms while he lifts.

-----

“You…” Sanji trailed off, gaze turning down as he licked his lips. Pink tongue darting out nervously. “You orgasm when you exercise?”

Zoro clenched his jaw. Shrugged. Trying to act nonchalant.

“Sometimes.”

Sanji’s eye went wide, and like his mouth had suddenly been liberated from his brain, blurted out, “that’s so fucking hot,” before clamping his hands over his mouth. His cigarette fell from his mouth, bouncing soundlessly on the ground.

Bro bestie, the way this put me on nose bleed Sanji. Perv sanji. I need that gif thats like mmm cause man this is good. Ending this fic rec with a BANG we have

Contingencies and Congruencies by PeaceSignDisasterBi

Somewhere between finishing the bottles of alcohol and mugs of beer, the crew comes together to create a contingency plan for something that may-or-may-not-happen during their time on the Grand Line and beyond. Usopp thinks it's more likely than bumping into zombies, Zoro wants to stay out of this, Sanji is just going with the flow, and Nami may or may not keep things legally binding and above board with consistent consensual acquiescence. Robin finds it all amusing.

The damn chart stays in the locked drawer in her desk, split into three neat categories: Devil Fruit Powers, Science, and Magic. Each represents whatever they're hit with but also categorizes the amount of self-control the person has during.

AKA: 5 times Zoro and Sanji had to help each other as Consensual Helpers of Dubious Consent + 1 Time There Was Nothing Dubious At All

Ok this is 152k long its pretty insane. It regoes over the arcs so throughly so carefully that I literally had to question my memory because I havent experienced alot of these arcs in a while (it's one of the reasons im rewatching one piece). I will say despite how amazing and well written this is I had a hard time comprehending sometimes. now I was sick at the time of reading this so that might be why but sometimes the way things were phrased felt like yoda talking. I think it's just me though. I'm not used to big words :( And thats a wrap!! These arent even all the ones I wanted to include I have at least 20 more off the top of my head but I'll save that for another day. I hope you find joy in these fics Like i did I'll def do another one of these as cause I didnt even touch my sanji centric fics or germa 66 or just in general the best sanji fanfic writers. (Mentioned some of them like 8ball, thousand sunny and donuts and coffee.) Best of luck to yall and let me know what you think!

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bullet-prooflove · 5 months ago

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Home: Angel Reyes x Reader (feat: Felipe Reyes)

Tagging: @witches-unruly-heart @keyweegirlie @trhett21 @annetje @infinity-mars @danzer8705 @im-just-a-mississippi-girl @thatonesexycancerian @weiwei0210 @anime-weeb-4-life @harperdoodle @cheyrenee @fanfic-n-tabulous @deliriousfangirl61 @daydreaming-belle @est1887 @thanossexual @creativitybeware @librarian1002 @mortal--soul @buddinglinguist @wnbweasley @spookyboogyuniverse @skyesthebomb @spaghettificationandpretzels @joyfulfxckery @nu1freakshow @thebaileybugle @legally-a-bastard @bonsaijoons @justreblogginfics

Companion piece to:

Secret - You keep a secret from Angel.

Traditions - You and Angel make your own traditions this Christmas

Felipe knows you’re pregnant.

You’ve tried to hide it over the past few weeks, the morning sickness, the exhaustion but Felipe sees it. He remembers Marisol being the same way when she was carrying both Angel and EZ. Reyes babies are not easy on their mothers.

It’s the shift in Angel’s behaviour that tipped him off. His oldest son had always been attentive towards you but it’s different this time. His palm comes to rest on your belly more often than not, when he looks at you with moon eyes, like you’re giving him the entire world.

Felipe understands why you haven’t told him, you’re still trying to come to terms with it yourself. Your life has changed since the shooting. Before, you were fiercely independent, juggling everything on your own to the point of it being detrimental. During your recovery you’d been forced to make changes, to rely on the people around you. You’d learned that there was no shame in asking for help, and you’d leaned into it because the truth was, you needed it.

You’d been hoping to get back on your feet, immerse yourself back in the business however now you were pregnant and that meant bigger concessions because you couldn’t be around the buds you farmed. That’s the other thing that tipped him off, you suddenly stopped going to the farm. Instead, you spent your days cleaning up his backyard, developing it into a place where Valeria would be able to play when she finally got her legs under her.

He tries to do little things to help with your morning sickness, he stocks the cupboards with ginger tea and crackers, he takes Valeria off your hands in the morning, allowing you to rest a little longer.

“You’re going to have a brother or sister soon.” You overhear him telling the baby as he feeds her in the kitchen. “Mama just needs to get through her first trimester and then she’ll be as right as rain.”

“It’s a boy.” You tell him as you step into the room. You root around in your handbag for a second before withdrawing the sonogram to show him. “We got the ultrasound yesterday.”

Felipe takes it from your hand, studying it intently. His thumb chases over the shape of the tiny jellybean, the edges of his mouth tipping up into a smile.

“It’s going to be a busy house.” He remarks as your hand smooths over Valeria’s dark hair before you place a kiss on her forehead.

“Are you still ok with that?” You ask him, your palm coming to rest upon your abdomen. “We can look for another place if its too much, the sale on Angel’s house is going through this week.”

“You’re about to have two kids under three, you’re gonna need all the help that you can get.” Felipe tells you in that low, grumble of his as he places the sonogram on the fridge, pinning it in place with a magnetic. “Besides, this is my grandkids home, your home and it always will be.”

Love Angel? Don’t miss any of his stories by joining the taglist here.

Interested in supporting me? Join my Patreon for Bonus Content!

Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee

#angel reyes #felipe reyes #angel reyes x reader #angel reyes x you

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sprite-writes-fanfic · 10 months ago

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Ok so I wonder how the TMNT boys (any version you want) would react if they had an S/O who they loved a lot, and they get sent to the future and in the future they get to meet their grandkid, and sadly their now old S/O who waited for them the whole time and never moved on. it turns out the S/O had been pregnant before they went on the mission and technically lived out their life raising the kid on their own.(due to the turtles being in the future) Also said kid is now an adult and is very unhappy with said turtle but the grandkid is over the moon to meet his cool ninja granddad of course its resolved they eventually go back to their past S/O who didn't know any of this but of course is happy to see them again.(and said timeline is avoided) I wonder how the boys would react to that scenario Also sorry if this was super long winded or a not very well written request, its my first time asking one, Thanks for your writings!

Okay first of all anon, this is probably one of the coolest asks I’ve ever seen, I love your imagination dude!

Second, I AM HERE FOR THIS ANGST AND FLUFF DUDE CRYING. Also thank you so much! I’m glad you like my writing!! 🫶🫶🫶

Sent to the future!

🐢💙❤️2003 TMNT x Reader💜🧡🐢

Word count: 2374

CW: This one is a long one, AFAB reader due to pregnancy, being mom/grandma, still tried to keep it gender-neutral. I haven’t gotten far enough into the 2003 series where they actually go to the future, so keep in mind this is my imagination going into overdrive, angsty, lots of crying, minor cussing, it gets fluffy in some moments though!

🐢 T/N stands for turtle name.

Tags: @sharkie-inthesea, for looking over this before I posted! <3

Sorry for the longer wait, I spent a lot of time the first day writing, then yesterday I was out of commission unfortunately 💔 But I finished today, I really hope you guys enjoy, because man, I enjoyed writing this!

Due to some circumstances, unfortunately the turtles had to travel to the future for a very important mission, I mean it’s not everyday you receive a hologram from a random stranger urging you to come save the future. And the idea of their future being in danger, meaning you, everyone they knew and New York would be in danger, so they had to take this mission.

You couldn’t help but bite your lip anxiously as you watched as they geared up, you wanted to hold them back, tell them to stay, tell them New York needed them here. The growing pit in your stomach telling you that you’d never see them growing much larger and even agitated, you absolutely hated the thought.

You looked at your lover, the feeling growing even worse, “T/N I—” you started, but was interrupted, “Hey, we have to go.” One of his brothers said, and your heart dropped as he turned to you and smiled. “Hey, I’ll be back, Y/N.” He pulled you close and pressed one last kiss to your lips, “I’ll be back before you know I’m gone, okay? I love you.” And that’s when you knew, you couldn’t talk him out of it, and with a defeated sigh you said with a forced smile, “I love you too.”

He squeezed you closer before finally pulling back, nodding at his sensei, before walking into the TV that took them to the future with his brothers, and just like that… They were gone.

“No…” you start, tearing up, before Splinter placed a hand on your shoulder. “It will be alright, my child.” He tried to soothe you, “It is okay to cry.” He said, and right then and there, you cried into the older rat’s shoulder as he comforted you. He stared at the TV and hoped for his sons safe return home…

Once the turtles arrived in the future, they were all honestly quite surprised how the world turned out to be. For Donnie, this was ABSOLUTE heaven! Everything is made from the ground up with technology! How amazing! The turtles couldn’t stare in awe for long, they had a mission to take care of.

They split off to cover some ground, and as T/N searched, something peculiar caught his eye. In a nearby alleyway, some cyberpunks came flying out, and they looked awfully familiar. He jumped down and took a closer look and saw an all too familiar tattoo. “The Purple Dragons…” he muttered bitterly. A sinking feeling grew in his gut, so it seems that Shredder’s influence didn’t die in the future and even to this day, they were still here to give New York trouble.

“Hey!” An unfamiliar voice called out to him, and a teenager came out, holding his weapon(s)?! The teen looked awfully similar to him too… Turtle features but had human features too, such as hair that looked a lot like yours, tied back, he had your eyes too, he wore a torn cloak around his shoulders and he eyed the turtle suspiciously. The teenager pointed his weapon at him, “What’re you doing here?! Helping those Purple Punks?!” T/N’s eyes widened. “No! Never! I never liked them much in the past, why would I ever like them in the future?!”

The teenager paused and eyed him suspiciously again, “Past?” He did a quick once-over before the kid looked shocked, “Wait… GRANDPA?!?!”

And that’s what led T/N to sit in a house, sitting on his knees in front of the low-dining table, walls covered in family photos. Some he could make out as, it was the teenager, which he came to learn his name was Lucas, with his father. Another turtle who Lucas obviously took after in looks.

Lucas came back into the dining room, basically dragging his father as he was babbling non-stop about who he just met. His father’s ridges were furrowed in confusion, “I thought I told you to stop fighting those stupid—” before he looked up and everything seemed to stop, his eyes widening at the sight of his own father who sat in front of him. “Lucas, who is this?” He grit his teeth as he held back his rage. Lucas would go on to cheerfully say, “It’s grandpa T/N! He said he came here in the future to help save it!” The young lad beamed excitedly.

“Get out.” He said in a voice full of anger, directed all at T/N, catching him by surprise, “What—” he started before being yelled at, “GET OUT OF MY HOUSE YOU SON OF A BITCH!” He raised his fists, about to fight his own father when he was stopped. “Giovanni, what’s going on?!?” A familiar voice spoke out as an older version of you rushed out and stopped, eyes widening at the scene in front of you. “T-T/N…?!” You stared in shock.

🐢💙Leonardo💙🐢

💙 Leo’s whole world stopped once he saw you, and he was quick to stand, “Y/N…” his heart ached when he saw the tears form in your eyes, “Leo… You finally came back to me?” You would rush to him, hugging onto him tightly, “It really is you…!” You sobbed out. Leo was quick to hug you back, holding you close as he comforted you. “Y/N, what happened?” He asked as you pulled away, cupping his face, “So much…” You whispered.

💙 Once everyone settled down, you sat across from Leo with Giovanni and Lucas beside you. Giovanni was giving Leo the harshest glare he ever gave someone, meanwhile Lucas was practically bouncing in his seat. You take a deep breath before looking at Leo, who waited patiently. “When you went to the future, I found out I was pregnant… I didn’t think it was possible, but… I had Giovanni.” You start, “Master Splinter helped me name him because I wanted to keep the line going with naming my kids after Italian artists, like he named you all…” you would lower your head, Giovanni placing a hand on your shoulder to comfort you. “Master Splinter passed away a few years later after you all went into the future and never came back…” you tear up again, “I don’t even know if in that future you’re still alive or not.” You began to weep softly, making Leo’s heart ache at even the idea of him ever abandoning you. He would never, and he knew that.

💙 He placed a hand on yours, “Y/N, I loved you more than life itself, I would’ve come back to you if I was still alive.” You look up, tears still falling, “I know.” Leo squeezed your hand gently, “Good…” he then finally stood, “I’m going to fix this, I can’t stand to see you suffer because of me.” He smiles at you and gently kisses your hand, “I’ll come back home to you.” You smiled as more tears fell, “Good.”

💙 Leo would leave after giving you a tight hug and wishing his future family well, despite the fact Giovanni barely wanted him there in the first place. Once meeting up with his brothers, they’d work hard to save the future so he could get back home to you, and to start that family together.

🐢❤️Raphael❤️🐢

❤️ Once Raph’s eyes laid on you, he felt a sudden rise of emotions that made him want to tear up, but for your sake he held back. “Dollface…” he stood up quickly and hurried over to you, Giovanni wanted to protest, but stopped himself when his mother hugged onto Raph tightly, crying into his chest. “Dollface, what happened?” He asks softly, stroking your cheek as he stares at what seemed like a hollow version of yourself. What had happened to you while he was gone, and why on earth was he not with you?! He was supposed to be here protecting you…

❤️ “Oh Raph… After you left, I found out I was pregnant and ended up living with Master Splinter.” You sigh, “He ended up passing away a couple years ago, after Mutants became more accepted here.” Raph’s brows furrowed at the thought, his father was dead, of course that would happen, he was an old rat after all, but it still hurt to think about. He shook his head, “And where was I?” He asked the burning question, watching as your face fell more, “You never came back. None of you guys did, and I fear you might’ve died in the future.” You whisper shakily as more tears escape you, and Raph could only hug you tighter to himself.

❤️ “Oh Dollface…” he would pull away, gently grasping your shoulders with a determined look, “I’m gonna make it better.” He says firmly, “I’m gonna finish this mission, and I’m gonna get back home to you.” He teared up, “I’m gonna help you raise Giovanni, and I’m gonna take care of you. I’m gonna grow old with you, and you can count on it.” He promised as he pressed a kiss to your forehead, a soft sob escaping you as you hugged onto him tightly once more.

❤️ Soon it was time for Raph to go, and as he walked off to meet up with his brothers, he looked back and gazed at his family one last time, he vowed to you, Giovanni and Lucas that he would make it home, and he would make sure of that. When his brothers saw him, they saw a certain fire in his eyes, and the boys knew it was game time, and he sure as hell was gonna keep his promise.

🐢💜Donatello💜🐢

💜 When Donnie saw you, he was still processing everything, how did you two have a baby? How is that even genetically possible? But his mind finally stopped and his heart sank when you came rushing towards him, making him quickly stand up and holding you close to his person. “Y/N…” He whispered breathily, pressing soft kisses to your temple, making you cry harder.

💜 “I’ve missed you so much.” You say, and Donnie knew, he put two-and-two together. “I never came back, did I?” He asks, pulling away as he gazes into your dull eyes, “No.” You shake your head with a whisper, staring back into his eyes. “And you never moved on?” He asks again, his heart breaking at the thought. “No.” You whisper again. Donnie would rest his head on yours as he would rub his hands over your arms, before gently taking your hands, seeing the ring he had crafted for you many years ago, still resting on your finger. He bit back his emotions and inhaled sharply, “Why? Why didn’t you move on?” He asked.

💜 “I don't think I could ever have found anyone who could fit the role that only you could fill.” You would cry again, making him finally break down and cry with you. He hugged you tightly, whispering how much he loved you, promising you that he’d go back to you, that he’ll come home to you. Promising you that you wouldn’t have to raise Giovanni alone. You would have him by your side…

💜 Finally off, he waved goodbye to you, his son and his grandson, and he held his head high, ready to take on this mission, to go home, and to kiss you. To spend every night with you like he always did, to hold you, to create with you, to enjoy peace and life’s gifts. Once he found his brothers, he got straight to work with Leo to make a plan to ensure they all made it home safe and sound.

🐢🧡Michelangelo🧡🐢

🧡 Mikey would immediately begin to cry when you cried, the way you looked so sadly at him, the years of pain without him was more than apparent. “Babe…” he stands up quickly, “Don’t cry, don’t cry, I’m here.” He smiles, holding you to himself, but he couldn’t stop those cries, and he couldn’t stop himself from crying either. He held you tightly, letting your emotions run free. He glanced up and saw Giovanni glaring at him but keeping his distance, he knew his mother needed this…

🧡 Mikey pulled back and would place kisses along your face, trying to cheer you up, “I’m here… You don’t have to cry anymore.” He tried to assure you about everything that happened between sobs. He would rub your back soothingly as he hummed a soft tune to try and see your mind. You felt complete once again when he hugged you, and soon, you calmed down. You guys spent a lot of time in each other's arms, mostly Mikey trying to cheer you up and make you smile, making you relive the old days of when it was just you two being dumb and in love, and the thought made you smile.

🧡 Forgetting about the mission for a while, Mikey instead spent time with his soon-to-be family. Playing board games, getting to know Lucas, and trying to get Giovanni to open up, which he refused, as he very much disliked his own father for reasons such as he left his mother and never came back, not something Mikey could control, but Giovanni still held a grudge. Lucas on the other hand was thrilled to get to know his grandpa, and overall, thought his grandpa was amazing.

🧡 Soon it was time to leave, but Mikey wouldn’t leave until he gave you a sweet departing kiss and, against Giovanni’s protests, gave his son and grandson a big hug, promising to fix everything, to make sure that they don’t live a future without him! And off he went, being sure to fight his hardest on this mission to get back home to you.

……

Once T/N made it home, he didn’t hesitate to hug right onto you, leaving you surprised by this sudden burst of emotions, “T/N…? Is everything okay?” You ask, noticing his injuries, you pull away. “T/N, we have to take care of those—”

“No.” He says, “Just let me hold you.” He says as he hugged you tightly, resting a hand on your stomach as he did so, feeling his own chest swell with gratitude to be here again. This was the beginning of something new, and he was happy to be here with you, and to start this family with you.

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jaksalot · 2 years ago

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What if....you were Nana Shimura’s grandkid

So let’s say in this little au of mine, reader is Nana’s youngest grandchild. You’re a teenager again, and you’re at UA. Here’s how I think it would go.

Toshinori laid one eye on you and instantly had a seizure, panic attack, and flashbacks

He’d def train you(make sure you’re prepared for the real world)

Drive you to school, pick up mcdonalds on the way there, and let you hang in the warm teachers lounge

He’d call Gran every two or three minutes, gushing about how great you were

He regretted this after Gran wanted to meet you himself

Fearing the worst he was ready to spring into action the minute Gran wanted to fight you

But, surprisingly, Gran was very calm and sweet to you

Ngl Toshi would get kinda jealous of your relationship with Gran

Since you’re parents died(thanks Tomura) i’m kinda thinking you’d live in this orphanage or even have your own apartment

When Toshinori found out

Hell opened up

He bought you this giant penthouse

(which you were a little overwhelmed)

paid for an uber every morning and afternoon

it got to the point where Gran had to tell him how this wasn’t necessary

So you stayed with Gran

Kicked this man’s ass every hour of the day

“Yo Gran-I know its four in the morning-I have school”

“Gran, i threw up...”

He’s very hard on you

in a loving way

Toshinori is the doting “father”, thinking that you could never do anything wrong

While Gran is the strict “uncle/grandpa” that forces you to actually clean your room

Any sport you’re interested in?

Wham Bam thank you Ma’am you have five different trainers provided by Toshinori

Not interested in Sports, wanna do something intellectual with smarts and stuff

Put you into any class you want

They have accidentally called you Nana many times

You can’t blame them!

You have her heroic eyes and passion for those who can’t help themselves

Bless their hearts when you tell them you’re in the hero class

Poor old men

Their hearts burst every time they see you on the battle field

You’re bloody

You’re shaking

You probably have multiple broken bones

And they watching in total fear and chaos

You’re in your third year when they find out about your family past

And that just makes them a little more protective

Especially for your dates

Mirio/Amajiki/Nejire whoever

doesn’t matter

they cannot be trusted

You love them but

They need to chill

Toshinori(since he cannot sit still for two seconds) probably will become your secretary or mentor when you’re a hero

He also deals with reporters and the papparazi

Has blackmailed every news/papparazzi station in Japan

That’s all I have for now. I am working on a Kirishima x child of AFO/dragon reader and Midoryia x #3 hero that was raised like Hawks(his age tho).

Requests are always open so don’t be shy!

#mha x reader #platonic x reader #sfw #mha #rose writes #rose speaks #Toshinori Yagi #Gran Torino #Nana Shimura #Mentioned Tomura Shigaraki #Mentioned Big 3 #Mirio Togata #tamaki amajiki #nejire hado #Reblog and like pls

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vertejay · 17 days ago

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WHAT IS GRIEF if not love persevering.

you ask me about love, and i’ll tell you about grief.

synopsis ﹐ kageyamas first Christmas after losing his grandpa. you knew it was going to happen eventually, why are you shocked kageyama? you aren’t going to mope around for the holidays, are you? life keeps going, you can’t just stop because you’re grieving.

content warning ﹐ grieving, some stages of grieving heavy feelings and thoughts, death of a family member, mentions of death(outside of his grandpa), trouble adjusting, probably ooc, mentions and depiction of mental health, cussing, fighting, over-thinking, pressured religion mentioned in passing.

authors note ﹐ a lot of this is inspired by and based on my own experience of grieving a family member (especially during the holidays), and some things I’ve been told personally in times of hardship.

wc ﹐5.1k

Peeling away the impeccable job of wrapping, a crisp tear fizzling out into the atmosphere with buzzing joy filling their ears. With precise tears, carefully choosing where to pull from, unraveling his gift, his grandfather was on the edge of his seat in anticipation. Butterflies brewing in his stomach, pure joy emitting off of his face, which was equivalent to that of the nostalgic brilliance of the Christmas tree lighting that was tucked into the corner. Safe to say the tree would be staying up for a while, long after Christmas, long after New Years. The soft mix of colors and white from the years and years of well loved bulbs lit up Kageyama’s features, softening him completely around the edges.

Once calculatingly pulling off the wrapping completely of the last gift between him and his sister, throwing it in the communal bag of tossed paper soon to be forgotten about, his judging eyes swept over the meticulously crafted gift, a homemade scrapbook from over the years, his grandfather the highlight of most of them. As his health was at a slow decline, and it was Kageyama's last Christmas before he turned 18.

Softening at a glance, and unexpectedly, a tear found itself staining the glassy laminated cover. His lips parted in surprise, his head whipping to his sister who shared the same look. The both of them turn to their grandfather, who had this warm, very familiar smile. His smile felt like home. He was home. Kageyama was at home. He and his sister scrambled to their feet, nearly leaping to their grandpa, enveloping him in the warmest hug.

That was the best gift his grandfather could have asked for. Family together, enjoying their time, and appreciating gifts. His grandfather's hands pulling them impossibly closer, a sign of his festering heart and love from raising them, only to pull away, wiping the tears that refused to hide themselves from his grandkids faces.

Then the lamp started to look weird. Kageyama, with the warmth swiping his face that belonged to his grandpa, stared long and hard at a lamp in the distance of the house. Distorted. Its image pulls itself in unimaginable places and ways. Flickering in a way no lamp would.

And suddenly Kageyama was 20 again, the weight of grief slamming him into a reality. His heavy denial had made people question his loyalty for his grandfather. He didn’t initially react, in fact, he was the one to watch him take his final breath. To tell the doctors the time of death. The one to make the phone calls. Each phone call ripping him to shreds more than the last, more than he let on, and he was biting tears. All while there was a swirl of emotions that he didn’t know was brewing.

He loved like a dog, undying loyalty, respect, and enthusiasm. He wasn’t a violent dog, he didn’t know why he bites.

His sister forcing him to his feet while she had to help him get ready. His hair falling into its natural shape, soft edges sticking out. Drowned in black. A color he carried in his closet without a problem before. But now there was a weight to that color. There was a reason. His feverish-looking face, void of emotion, staring himself down in the mirror as his sister, through pure strength and having to be there for her younger brother, adjusting and picking at his clothes, straightening him out. He refused to get ready by himself, getting ready by himself meant it was real. His sister helping him get ready made him feel like a kid again.

Maybe if he felt like a kid again, it would mean that shortly after their grandpa would routinely call down their names for breakfast before sending them off for school as he usually would. Except he hasn’t been to school in two years, that routine has long since fallen apart. Any hope of it, shattered without a second thought being allowed to fester.

“Tobio, I can’t keep helping you,” there was a longing in his sister's voice, a sad softness rounding the edges of her words. His eyes shifted to her in the mirror, his face twisting in an unreadable expression.

“I’m not following what you mean,” he paused for a brief second, his nose wrinkling, “I didn’t ask for you to help me.”

“That’s exactly the problem,” she sighed shakily, there was evidence she had been crying previously, “you aren’t asking for help. I’ll help you get ready for his funeral, but I can’t continue to help you if you won’t help yourself. You can’t rot your life away, if you start now, you won’t stop,” she paused, her lips pressing into a thin line in thought, “you know he wouldn’t want you to spend your life like this.”

Her words stung. Partially because she was right. But because why now. Why so soon. He twisted in his chair, staring at her, in the flesh, “what the fuck.” His brows furrowed, “pray, tell, what the fuck do you want me to do? You should know better than anyone that I’m the last person to keep up appearances like that.” He breathed out, stomach churning in a disfigured offense, he was appalled by what he was hearing. “If it’s that big of a fucking deal, why did you help me in the first place,” he quickly stood up in a looming height over her, the chair nearly falling over in the process, “I can’t believe you’d say some shit like that.” The heavy weight of his feet moved faster than his brain could process anything at all, slamming the door behind him. A harsh silence fell over his room leaving his sister to suffocate in it, where they once sat in silence.

Miwa’s shoulders slumped, and she let out a quiet sob, slinging herself into the chair he just so hurriedly pulled himself out of. She was hurting and grieving just the same, and a part of her felt like she was sacrificing her hurt to help her now lost younger brother. It was her grandfather too, and it felt like no one was there to help her. Her heart sank at the unexpected fight, only trying to help him through the words she wished she had been given the opportunity to hear. Maybe she was telling them to herself more than she was her brother.

The silence that found itself embedded at the funeral, followed by the unmistakable tension. Being one of two people at the front row of a funeral was a pain he’d never wish on anyone. He swallowed thickly, trying to rid of the dry mouth as he eyed the coffin. This wasn’t happening. No way in hell. His hands fidgeting in his lap, back against the chair. One of his legs bouncing to no end, rapidly, faster than the heart slamming against its jail cell of a rib cage. His jaw clamped shut, clenching and unclenching. His eyes started to dart around subtly in an anxious manner, he began to dissociate.

Before he knew it, his labored and quick breath found itself betraying any semblance of composure. He felt like he couldn’t get enough air, his vision now narrowing. Shifting to his elbows resting on his knees, one leg planted while the other still shaking, his hands holding themselves shakily as he picked at his once neatly kept nails. He found himself falling apart in the front row, unable to pull himself out of the sudden panic attack. This was a side of him never seen before, not even by his own sister.

He stirred awake. Now Kageyama was 21. It was a god forsaken dream, something that felt so real and so close, yet so far away. Kageyama isn't 17 anymore, it’s December and he hasn’t been 17 for a long time now, and his grandfather was gone and painfully buried just months prior. He dragged his hands up to his face, a silent sob falling into them while still tangled into his bedding. Ever since the loss finding itself in his life, sleep didn’t come easy anymore. There was an unimaginable amount of guilt that ate away at Kageyama: survivors' guilt.

Why is it that he got to keep living, experiencing life without the one who raised him. His best friend for what was essentially his entire life, up until last year. His empty heart ached in his chest.

Why was it that it felt like everyone else got to move on and heal, yet he’s stagnant. He felt stuck in place, unable to move on. The eyebags heavy on his face which color started to drain from slowly. Any life left in his eyes had been drained abruptly, he was no longer the Kageyama his grandfather knew and loved.

The shape of Kageyama’s soul changed, and now a shell of his physical being. Why was the motion of life so unfair that he would have to remember his grandfather longer than the time he’ll have to know him. The thought of his sends shivers down his damn spine, even if it’s a long way coming.

The ache in his heart, mind, and soul never subdued like everyone told him it would. Not even a little bit, not even at all. Such bullshit to be told that with time comes healing, there was nothing filling the hole left by the absence of his grandfather. Life kept going, sure, but he was in the same spot. To hell with people who told him he couldn’t get breaks because of grief. The words of comfort from others fell on deaf ears, as they were all but sincere and caring. He saw the pity in their eyes, heard their empty words and promises that would never be fulfilled.

There was a barrier between him and his sister now, a thick tension since the funeral. Relations have shifted between his team, a sad look in their eyes that made the very blood in his veins boil to no ends. Those sorrowful looks followed him everywhere he went. This grief reigned over him now, he didn’t control it, it controlled him. The only real thing grounding him was volleyball.

There was an uncovered distance for those who told him to turn to religion for comfort. For something he never believed deeply in before, why would it be something he turned to now? A discomfort swallowed him whole when people tried to bring him to religious services. He sneered at the thought of wallowing in his grief while people told him to seek this person, or to pray to this figure for forgiveness and guidance in times of crisis. For those same people to tell him it’s not too late. It made him want to vomit.

After a long shaky sigh leaving him, he begrudgingly pulled himself out of bed. His tired eyes, now stained red and slightly puffy, tell-tale signs of crying. Pushing himself through his doorway, he ambled toward the kitchen. Opening the fridge, the cold air filling his breath, smothering his person. He bit back a grumble of shock, reaching for the water filter and lazily poured it into a cup.

His eyes followed around the kitchen, dishes strewn around in the now full sink. Take out boxes littered around, mail smothering the counters. Boxes of his grandfather's stuff strung around, some items outside of the box, showed that there was once an interest in the items. Laundry basket full, sitting outside of the laundry room, crying to be done. This place was a mess.

No one came over anymore. He had long distanced himself from everyone in his life, and he found it hard to trust in anyone. To trust in relationships. Who was to say that the second he got close to someone, they wouldn’t leave too? Whether it be death or abandonment. He was shortly pulled out of the thundering thoughts in his head when he felt cold wet drips fall onto his foot, “shit!” He yelped out, dropping the water filter pitcher onto the table, the glass had long overfilled itself and began to spill, rolling itself off the counter and onto the floor.

He reached for a nearby, surprisingly clean, washcloth. His watchful eyes watching the way the water was soaked up by the cloth, he hummed in thought. Dropping the towel onto the floor to pick up the remnants of water, getting rid of any trace of a mess, shortly after, tossing it towards that same screaming laundry hamper.

For a long time, the only reasons he’d leave his house were for volleyball, and his weekly visits to his grandfather's grave. After games, Kageyama would find himself avoiding celebrating with his teammates completely outside of the court, that’s not right. How could Kageyama be cheerful and celebrating one win over a loss that changed life as he knew it, how could he find himself being happy when his number one supporter, his lifeline, wasn’t there to celebrate his wins.

Sometimes on harder days, or just weeks overall, he’ll find himself going more than once that week, just to talk to him at his grave. It’s well kept, new flowers, any sign of wilting had been discarded. His grave was better preserved than Kageyama himself, and his living spaces. He had truly neglected himself, and continued to put his grandfather first.

Kageyama was never much of a talker, more of a listener than anything. But suddenly the storm of loss swept him off of his feet, and the person he would always listen to was gone. And now it was his turn to talk, his grandpas turn to listen. And that’s how it will be from now on.

The first few months, Kageyama still found himself searching for him in the crowd. After getting off of a flight, finally coming home after traveling for volleyball, he instinctively pulled up and pulled up his contact, mindlessly looking around while his fingers moved on their own. Glancing down, a frown set in on his face, “right.” He’d mumble quietly, a huff leaving his mouth, and stopped looking.

He would randomly smell the random staples of his childhood, pure nostalgia flooding his senses. Or randomly catching a whiff of his cologne on a stranger, nearly giving himself whiplash from the turn toward the direction of the scent.

For a couple weeks after his initial death, he’d be delirious. He suffered in silence from hallucinations, mostly credited to his newly founded lack of sleep. He was scared to sleep, more often than not, every time he woke up, he would remember that his grandpa wasn’t around anymore. He buried himself in volleyball, yet isolated himself at the same time.

He still lived in the house his grandfather used to live in. It was deafeningly silent. When he passed, so did a part of Kageyama. So did that house, it’s not what it used to be. Denial.

After a little while, his moping shifted to anger. Everything he internalized, became externalized for the worst. He felt like he was his junior high self all over again. He would take all of his frustrations out on other people, which further isolated himself. He was easily irritated.

He was pulled out of his thoughts by the ding of his phone, his forearms pressed against the cold granite counter, in what little space was on the counter. He grabbed at his phone, seeing a text from the Adlers group chat, Hoshiumi wishing them all a Merry Christmas. He stared at his phone longingly, he had forgotten all about it, not that it mattered. He made a mental note to visit his grandfather's grave later, he had no intention of celebrating the holiday otherwise.

Suddenly his sister texted him, “what are you doing today”, he stared at the notification banner in thought. Their relationship had shifted and texting had become spotty since the death, especially since their argument. He had never apologized for his reaction, or his venomous words that followed it. He felt like he had no reason to, sure some of the things he said came off aggressive, but she was the one that started it, much less on the day of his funeral. She was the one that was saying hurtful things, even if that wasn’t her intention, there was no reason for her to say the things she did, she never apologized either. If she didn’t apologize after all these months of hurting, he didn’t feel the need to either.

He hasn’t seen her since. She’d try to text him, try to invite him to these things, but he felt no need to reciprocate. He gave her the bare minimum, sometimes going as far as not answering her at all and leaving her on read. He chose again not to respond to her text. Turning his phone off, he turned it over onto the counter.

Walking his way over to the sink, throwing his head back, cup to his mouth, swallowing the rest of the water. As he set the cup in the sink, he drank in the sights of the mess. He had to admit, this was a new low, a new gross for him. He shuffled all of the dishes to one side of the sink and around the counter to the best of his ability so he had a free sink to do what made up a lot of the mess. Letting the slightly hot water run, filling the sink, he pumped some soap along the running water to create bubbles. He snaked his hands to a sponge, grabbing some dishes to soak and getting to work. It’s not like he had anything else to do, any people coming over, but if he was down here already, ignoring the problem any longer would only make it a hassle. Hopefully cleaning the kitchen would distract him, even for a short period.

He stared at his wrinkled hands above the muddy water in contemplation, dishes clean and put away. He didn’t feel accomplished, not relieved either, like people said he would. He felt the same, like there was a gaping hole pierced through him, not that much has changed, just the house. Just a little bit cleaner, not him, just the house.There was no cleaning this wound like you would a house. There was no fixing it, like you would a house. No changing it either.

Crouching down where he stood after draining the sink, he ripped a trash bag from the box, it seemed violent almost. Wagging it beside him, filling it with air. He clutched it at his side, now open, he started making his way around the kitchen, any trash finding its new spot in the trash bag. Any mail strewn around, in the bag, he didn’t bother looking at what it might be. Most of it was his grandpas anyway, looking at it meant reminding him of the loss. The reminder of the loss would cause him to stop all that he was doing and stumble his way back to his room permanently for the day. He was in a momentum a part of him didn’t want to stop, simply for the sake of distraction and sake of moving around.

Standing around like this, despite being an athlete, made his body ache. His bones now felt weak, his joints hurting at every wear and turn. Simply because of his bed rotting, his body alone has changed. The only real reason he was eating barely two meals a day was because more often than not, his teammates would either swing by with food or remind him on off days, some of them stayed and ate with him to both make sure he ate, and made him feel less alone while doing so. During practice, they would bring food and make sure he ate before officially starting practice. He was eternally grateful for them, even if he wasn’t the best at showing it.

He sauntered his way in and out of his house throwing the trash bags into the larger trash can, which slumped into it, slowly taking up all of its room. He made his way back into the house, a shiver falling down his spine as the warmer enveloped him like a hug, in contrast to the freezing air outside. Passing through the now clean kitchen, to the laundry room, he let out a long sigh at the rather large basket of laundry that direly needed to be done. He scowled, the last laundry bottle that his grandpa had bought was finally starting to come to an end of its supply, another meaning of closure that he wasn’t ready for. Separating the colors from the whites and black, towels from the clothes, jeans from the clothes, he threw in what had the largest pile into the washer, which was the black and white articles.

In the middle of him dumping the pile, there was a knock at his door, his attention shifting to the doorway of the laundry room behind him. Shrugging it off, he reached for the laundry soap, gripping the cap he struggled to open for just a moment, then carefully measuring the liquid's content into the lid, shortly after dumping it into the washer. He’d have to buy another bottle of laundry detergent soon if he wanted to keep the laundry going. Another knock, harsher this time. “Coming!” he spat out, slamming the washer lid shut, grimly pressing the correct settings and the start button. Any serene feelings and atmosphere that weighed in, gone within a second, snapping out of his almost manic cleaning.

Mumbling discontentment under his breath while taking his sweet time to walk to the door, with the intention of making them wait enough to want to leave just as much as he did. As opened the door, he was half ass expecting some carolers or someone asking to sign for some random cause that wasn’t relevant to him, but instead, he found his sister, gift in one hand, the other, raised to knock again. Knuckles just inches away from his face. His face contorted in what could best be described in a mix of frustration and confusion, “Why the hell are you here?”

Her hand dropped to her side, welcoming herself into her old home, ridding herself of her shoes and extra layer of a coat at the entrance, hanging it up. She hummed in a sad sweetness, but she was in much better condition than he was, “Because you wouldn’t answer the phone, so I figured I’d invite myself over, you know, to celebrate Christmas with you since I doubt you’d let anyone over in this state,” she scrutinized, only stopping to look around the living room and kitchen, “place looks shockingly clean, all things considered. At least something is taken care of, surely it isn't you.”

A twinge of hurt showed on his face, betraying his faux front of nonchalance, “how delightful,” his voice dripped with sarcasm, “if you’re just going to criticize me, you aren’t welcome here.” His voice sharp, and void of any emotion, a stark contrast to his once sarcastic tone.

Her bright face faltered, “you know that’s not what I meant,” she sighed, “do I?” he cut in.

“Well a part of me would sure fucking hope so, but I guess not,” her brows furrowed, “someone has certainly changed, but the place looks good, I’m proud of you.”

“How could I not change? Why didn’t you? You don’t get to just walk into my house, insult me, tell me I’ve changed when grandpa fucking died, then tell me your proud of me,” he sighed in frustration, angrily running his hand through his dark hair, “that’s not fair,” his voice cracked, his pseudo - front he put on wavering, “you’ve been so mean, but it’s so fucking hard to hate you. Hating you would be so much easier when things are like this. But I can’t, because I’m a person too, believe it or not. Everyone else seems to be fine, but this isn’t something I can move on from, he was my soul person, Miwa.” His shoulders slumped, his resolve no longer absolute, but in shambles.

Miwa set the gift aside onto the nearby couch, with little care, that wasn’t her priority anymore. She rushed him into a bear hug, arms caging his torso, head flush against his chest, hearing his picked up heart rate. “I’m sorry,” she mumbled, “I did the same thing on the day of his funeral too, I’m so sorry. I’ve been a shitty older sister in times of need. That day.. I was just telling you what I thought you would need to hear, but really it was just what I needed to hear.” She squeezed him tighter, he did too in turn, “I know how close you two were, and no one moved on from it,” she rubbed his back, soothing him, “I think everyone just thought it would be easier to put on a front and act like they’ve healed, instead of dealing with it together. Maybe that scared you into thinking your feelings weren’t welcome in the family, I’m sorry it’s been so hard. I’m sorry I haven’t said anything, to you or to them, sooner. I should’ve a long time ago.” she choked back a sob now too.

Kageyama was quiet for a while, relishing in the warmth he hadn't felt in months, not since his last hug with his grandpa. Tears unearthed themselves, “I’m sorry too,” he reluctantly mumbled out, “I should’ve reached out too and shouldn’t have jumped the gun without letting you explain yourself.” She shook her head against his chest, bumping his back with her fist lightly, a way of dismissing it, telling him there was no fault on his side. They stood there for a while, slightly swaying, rubbing each other's backs, quietly crying together.

After what felt like an eternity, his sister pulled away, reaching up to wipe his tears before wiping her own. “I got you a gift I thought you would appreciate.” she nodded her head toward the gift on the couch, it was wrapped neatly in a wrapping that looked similar to the one their grandpa always used. She made her way to sit next to the gift, gesturing to the empty spot on the other side of it. He somberly followed, taking the seat with the couch sinking into the weight below him.

She handed him the gift, a proud look on her face, her sad eyes showing hope. He took it, peeling away the exemplary job of wrapping, a crisp tear fizzling out into the atmosphere with a dull buzzing filling their ears. With precise tears, carefully choosing where to pull from, unraveling his gift, his sister sitting with pride, her heart swelling with a healing joy, arms straight, hands on her knees, shoulders bunched up.

He began to feel a sense of nostalgia, like he’s been in this exact scenario, but he couldn’t place his finger on it. Once calculatingly pulling off the wrapping completely of the only gift, his judging eyes swept over the meticulously crafted gift, a homemade scrapbook from over the years, their grandfather being the highlight of most of them. That’s when it clicked, this was in his dream. The exact scrapbook from his dream, his face dropped and shot to his sister, who then began to look worried, “no fucking way,” he started, “you’re joking.” He sounded so serious, it made anxiety swirl in his sister's stomach.

“Is it bad? I’m sorry, is it too soon?” she rambled off questions like a freight train, faster than he can respond, but he shortly cut her off with a brief “no!” shaking his head violently before elaborating.

“I had a dream last night,” he started with a shaky sigh, staring at the book in his hand, “I was 17 and it was Christmas, grandpa was still alive, he gifted me this exact fucking scrapbook.” A look shot between the book and his sister, ultimately landing it on his sister, scanning her face for any sort of reaction.

Her face cracked a smile, “Tobio is this your way of telling me you’re psychic,” a dramatic gasp leaving her mouth, a hand posed against her chest, “can you tell me if my future boyfriend is hot?” she teased lightly, her shoulder shoving into him, “no, but, I hope you like it, it took ages.”

A fracture of a smile ghosted his face, quickly transitioning into a questioning brow, his face reading a very joking ‘are you serious’, “ugh as if” he joked back, then his face softened, “I couldn’t thank you enough, actually, words can’t express how much I love it, I don’t have a gift for you though.”

His sister vehemently shook her head, “I don’t want a gift, the best gift I can ask for is you happy, and you taking care of yourself from now on.” Her voice was firm, the older sister mannerisms showing through her words before she pulled him into a hug, “you know, everyone was worried about you. That you might be dead or something,” which let out a breathy laugh from him, “I’ve missed you, don’t think of this as an apology gift, but as a gift from me as your older sister on Christmas. I mean it.”

He nodded at her words, welcoming her embrace, “I wouldn’t think of it that way, ever, I promise. You’ve made this day feel like Christmas, I couldn’t thank you enough, you were always there to make everything feel magical, even when we were younger, you made my childhood, my childhood.” He sighed with relief, “you were always welcome here even if I don’t invite you, it’s not just my home either, it’s yours, grandpas too. I’m sorry,” he said again, sincerity and warmth emanating off his voice, even getting a little shy, “I love you Miwa, thank you again. I plan on visiting his grave later if you’d like to come with.”

Out of pure shock, she pulled away from the hug. The sudden embrace being interrupted made his head spin before he could even realize what he said. Tobio Kageyama had never once said a full I love you to Miwa, much less first. This was new, and she knew she had to relish it, “oh my god, Tobio, you just said I love you first, with an ‘I’,” she looked at him like there were stars in her eyes, “am I dreaming?”

He shied his eyes away from her analytical, joking look. Maybe if he looked away, it wouldn't be there, but he was sorely mistaken because he could feel the look radiating. A content exhale was heard from her, “I’m kidding, and I’d love to go with,” she reassured, “I love you too, Tobio. Merry Christmas.”

He smiled lazily, he hadn’t shown this many emotions in a long time and it was tiring now, “Merry Christmas Miwa.”

Maybe there was a chance at cleaning this wound like you would a house. There was fixing it, like you would a house. Changing it too.

#haikyuu #haikyuu!!#christmas #writing #one shot #haikyuu tobio #kageyama tobio #hq tobio #kageyama #haikyuu kageyama #kageyama hq #tobio kageyama #hq #hq!!#mjs works

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random-potato-mil · 5 months ago

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So I watched Asher Gharavi new shorts video about The Mourner and it send my brain in a creative spiral.

I don't write very often and mostly for school, but I felt like writing this down. Dosent have anything to do with the short other than the concept of the mourner and how it works.

So if you wanna read that it's under the cut:

Tw: mention of dead, illness and similar

Sry for spelling mistakes I can't be bothered to fixed them.

They say that stories live forever and i suppose thats the reason im writing this. One last story so there is still a part of me left when im gone.

The stories call it the mourner. A creature with a human like siluote. If you see it from a distance it would fool you, but when it is right in front of you its a diffrent story. Its eyes are long and dripping, red around the edges, with a milky dust color. No iris. And its skin is cracky like old dry wall, its limps seeming unable to hold themselves up. It would look completly dead if not for the slow rythmic moves of its body when it breathes.

You probably already know what it means when someone has seen the mourner, but this is not some heart warming victory story of narrowly avoding my own dead and living to tell the tale. No. The mourner is still here with me as i write.

However before going any furtere with my story i need to confess something. I dident belive the mourner was real. I thought it was just some tale told to scare kids or some mass hallucination. It seems more likely that peopel experiencing near death events starts hallucinating and sees the creatures that they have been told would show up. But it does exists. At least i dont want to belive its an hallucination. It calms me. I know i know. Most peopel describe it as beeing scary and feeling fear as they see it. And i understand why someone would feel that way. Beeing scared of the mourner. But you cant really blame it for how it looks.

When it came my first thoughts was something of the lines of "guess its my time now". That might sound very depressing but i have known for a while i dident have a lot of time left. The doctors have increased my medication recently and i am stuck in bed. I do get visits and see the nurse's then and there, but it still feels very lonely. And do know i dont blame anyone for me feeling this way. I know they are sparring all the time they can to come check on me, despite it not beeing a pretty version of me to remember. My grandkid Brielle couldent even regonise me with all the tubes, and hided behind her mom. She is such a sweet little girl, and it broke my heart.

I suppose that might have influenced my reaction to the mourner. Despite its looks it reminded me of some etheral mother forced to see its children pass away. All the stories of survivers telling that the mourner helped them escape their fate made alot more sense after i saw it myself. It looked like it wanted to help. To change my fate. But it was simply unable too.

The mourner took a seat at the bed next to mine, and laid a hand on the blanket that hugged me. Its dripping eyes looking at me sadly. I think it might have been crying for me. Is crying for me. It stayed silent. After a bit i gathered enough strength to say a weak "your real" though a few coughs and give my best smile. A sad smile.

The mourner hasent left my side since then, and i do enjoy the company. I do feel my power weaken and my body giving away to this diseases growing inside of me, but im not scared. I think it will be okay on the other side.

Call me naive but seeing the mourner has given me the belief in the supernatural. If it can exists why not an afterlife?

I suppose the moral of the story is that you shouldent be scared of the mourner. It dosent mean any harm. And to my daughter. I love you. You have grown into a wonderful adult. Im sorry i wont be able to be with you in the future. You got this.

Love

- Gran

#creative writing #writing #short story #ashur gharavi #the mourner #tw dead #tw mention of death #tw illness #tw mention of illness

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casspurrjoybell-17 · 1 year ago

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Heart’s Choice - Chapter 36 - Part 1

*Warning Adult Content*

Carlos Martinez

My consciousness leaves my body the instant I take Kyle's hand.

I watch myself crumple to the floor, my physical form cast off like a discarded sock, hitting the boards of the stage with a muffled thump.

Rafael runs forward and drops to his knees at my side, shouting curses at his trigger-happy sister and checking for a pulse.

He's not really concerned about me, of course... only with whether or not I've expired before the appointed time and thrown a wrench in his well-laid but swiftly unraveling plans.

While the murderous siblings throw insults at each other, I turn my attention to Kyle.

He looks surprisingly good for a ghost.

His eyes are clear, no longer black voids but the watery blue-grey I remember them to be and his slightly crowded teeth are clean and white, as if he's just had them bleached.

He still wears the grey coveralls he died in but the grease stains are gone.

He smiles shyly.

"Hi, Mr. Martinez. I remember what happened to me. I remember everything."

My heart twists with pity and anger.

This poor kid.

"Kyle... I am so sorry."

"It's okay, Mr. Martinez. It doesn't hurt anymore. It's you who needs help, now."

I look back at my body where it lies, unmoving, in the ruined circle.

"Am I... dead?"

To my relief, Kyle shakes his head.

"No, Mr. Martinez. You're alive and we're going to keep you that way."

"We?"

"They're wrong about him, Mr. Martinez. About the demon. He's not 'evil.' He just wants to go home."

Remembering the dark presence that I'd felt in the 'in-between,' I shudder.

"Are you sure about that? It didn't seem very friendly to me."

"Well, maybe not 'friendly,'" Kyle allows, still smiling easily as he shrugs.

"But not 'bad,' either. He's been stuck there a long time but he doesn't want to break into this world and hurt people. He wants to get back to his own and I told him you could help."

"Me?"

"Yeah," Kyle nods.

"He was real mad at first, when I told him who you are. See, my aunt tricked your aunt and your mom into that first ritual and that's what got the demon trapped in the first place. He was after your mom for a long time, 'cause he thought it was her fault and that she could set him free. But once I explained, he understood. Now he wants to make a deal."

"What kind of deal?"

"Let him possess your body... then once he's taken care of the Morellis, you return him to his home realm."

Confused, I look at Rafael, who's now busy arranging my body, spread-eagled, in the center of the ruined seal.

"I don't understand. I thought that's what Rafael and Rexi wanted to do, anyway. I thought that's why we're here."

Kyle shakes his head.

"They're liars, Mr. Martinez. Just like Aunt Lucille. They don't want to send the demon home. They want to capture it and use its power for their own ends."

"Capture it? How? And what is he doing?" I ask, as Rafael, having arranged my body to his liking, rocks back on his heels and begins to chant under his breath.

"He can't complete the ritual now. The seal is wrecked."

"He's improvising," says Kyle.

"Enough of the seal remains for him to summon the demon and trap it in your body. It won't be a permanent bond but it'll last long enough for them to get you away from here and make a new seal. Once they do that, the demon will be imprisoned within your physical form, forced to obey their commands."

"And me?"

Kyle shrugs.

"You'd be coming with me, I guess."

"Great. So the one thing that hasn't changed is that I die."

I shake my head, more confused than ever.

"I thought getting rid of demons, no matter what the cost, was the Morellis' whole deal."

"It is," Kyle says, his gaze growing unfocused, as if he's looking at something only he can see.

"Or, it was. But some within the family have a larger mission...Lucille and her grandkids, especially. They think people have drifted too far from the 'right path,' become too obsessed with the physical world and forgotten there's more. They think that by creating some paranormal chaos, they can get people back to the 'old ways.' You know... fearing God and burning witches and all that. You remember what they said about making sacrifices? That's one thing they didn't lie about. Lucille sacrificed her own son for it."

Wow... I knew they were zealots but this is next level zealotry.

"How do you know all this?"

Kyle shrugs.

"Ever since the demon helped me get unstuck and remember what happened to me, I just... know stuff."

A ghost being useful for once? Color me impressed.

I rub my brow.

"Okay but once they'd got me, why tell the lie?"

"I guess they thought you'd fight back harder if you knew there was more than your own life at stake," Kyle says.

"But they didn't lie about the demon needing to be in a physical form in order to be exorcized and sent home. If the Morelli's bind him, he'll be trapped and you'll die but if you let him possess you willingly, he'll have full control."

I take a breath.

Well, not having physical lungs.

I don't really take a breath but whatever.

My astral body does the astral equivalent and I nod.

"Okay. Not like I've got great options."

"The only problem is, the demon is pretty powerful and he thinks possessing you will probably kill you, anyway, especially since you're already hurt."

"Uh... right. So, how are you keeping me alive, again?"

"We're not," Kyle says, looking towards the top of the theater as a dog's bark echoes through the hall, drawing Rafi and Rexi's attention.

"He will. And then the demon will save you both. You and John."

"John..."

A chill goes through me at the sound of his name.

"What do you mean, save John?"

"There isn't time," Kyle says.

"You need to decide. Give him permission to possess your body or see how things play out. But the demon says you'll die for sure if you don't accept his help and he'll still be trapped."

'Fuck me. What kind of a choice is that?'

"Fine," I say, watching as Rafael shouts at Rexi to kill whoever comes through the door.

"Fine... tell him he has my permission to possess me, on one condition... he tells me his name first."

A lot of what people think they know about demons is half truth or whole fabrication but one thing they get right is that names hold power.

If the demon tells me his, I'll have something to use against him if he goes back on his word.

Tilting his head to the side, Kyle appears to listen to something only he can hear.

"He says he will tell you but that you probably can't pronounce it, since most of the sounds don't have an equivalent in this dimension. He says the closest he can get is..."

Kyle opens his mouth and releases a bizarre string of noises somewhere between discordant music, a jungle full of animals and a bunch of rocks tumbling down a hill.

It bears so little resemblance to human language that I couldn't reproduce it if my life or soul... depended on it.

Meanwhile, I'm out of time.

I can sense John's presence, warm and bright, as he enters the theater and approaches.

"Alright," I say, throwing caution to the wind.

"Do it."

Kyle smiles, his ghostly blue eyes seeming to peer straight through mine and nods.

Almost as soon as he does, my body twitches in a very unwholesome manner, as if someone attached electrodes to all my extremities and gave me a good shock.

Rafael is too distracted by whatever's happening at the other end of the theater to notice and a dreadful anticipation fills me like liquid dark chocolate filling a bowl as I watch myself climb awkwardly to my feet and roll my head from side to side, cracking my neck.

I look a lot scarier and more imposing than I ever do in the mirror.

This impression is further solidified when my possessed body turns and confronts Rafael, face to face.

At first he looks surprised but pleased, probably thinking the possession ritual has gone smoother than he imagined it would.

His expressions swiftly changes when, moving faster than humanly possible... 'I' grasp his throat, lift him off his feet and slam him onto his back.

Then, to make matters more surreal, my demon-controlled self sets a foot on his chest, takes hold of his head and tears it from his body, Predator style.

Blood splatters across the stage.

Shocked and sickened, I can only stare as the demon, wearing my face, turns to look at me and smiles.

Rexi screams.

She stands at the far end of the stage, horror etched on her face and fires two shots at the demon, who watches without concern as the bullets spark off an invisible shield.

Movement at the other end of the theater distracts them both and Rexi fires more shots, aiming wildly into the darkened hall.

Someone returns fire.

Rexi takes a bullet to the chest and drops.

My heart lifts with relief as John approaches, flanked by Becky and one of the Hunter siblings... Freya the bounty hunter, I think.

The demon seems glad to see him, too,and greets him with a slow, broad smile, speaking in a voice surprisingly like my own.

"Hello, John. We've been waiting for you."

As John approaches, eyes locked on the demon wearing my flesh and completely oblivious to my incorporeal presence... I can only hope I haven't made a horrible mistake.

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anavatazes · 8 days ago

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WIP Wed... uh Thursday...

Posting this while the grandkids are having fun with their aunts! Legos and Barbie abound in the house right now!

Any, here is a section from my Magneto/OC fic that was supposed to have been out by now... but Decisions got in the way. A certain character in this WIP is a reason why. I fall victim to characters jumping in and taking over and I follow and record their whims. For those following the comics, this takes place during AvEvX and Judgement Day. No other warnings. Besides this is still raw, and runs the risk of changing in the future with edits. Enjoy!

Autumn Palace

Arakko

Wearing her black and red cloak, Saga stood on the balcony from the master bedroom of the Autumn Palace on Arakko. Max lay in the bed behind her, sound asleep. The sun was just beginning to make its journey across the sky. Closing her eyes, Saga took a deep breath. She hoped this would be the last time she would have to leave him. They said their goodbyes during the night, knowing she would be gone before he woke the next day. She should have been gone by now. The urge to stay was strong. In the relatively short time they've been together, Max grabbed at her heart like only two others had in her entire lifetime. Even to her, that was a long time.

Looking back at him one last time, she decided now or never. This needed to be done so she could be at his side forever. He slept peacefully, something that his daughter Polaris had commented on not seeing before. His white, silvery hair rested in his eyes. Looking up into the dawn sky, Saga shook her head, forced the tears back, and closed her eyes.

When she opened them, she was onboard the bridge of her ship, the Mimir's Legend. “Welcome home, My Lady,” came a slightly accented male voice over the intercom.

“Mimir. What's the latest news?” She removed her cloak to reveal the armor that was her status symbol in the wider Omniverse. Placing the cloak on the back of the chair before her, sits in front of a console.

“Oh, you know, the usual shite. Universes ending, universes beginning, this criminal broke free, and hordes of demons sprung forth to conquer worlds. And your children miss you.”

“Have they been by?” Saga presses a few buttons on the console, reading the screen.

“All but Bjorn. He left a message stating that he was fine. And off with an old friend.”

Pausing her reading, Saga glances up at the ceiling, “He must be sulking again. Did he say which old friend?”

“No. The boy is rarely specific with me. He'd sooner use his shotgun to blow a hole in his head than give me any details.”

“Really, Mimir?”

“You know it to be true.”

“Fine. What of Grant and Slyvie? And who is Frigga with?” Sighing, Saga goes back to her screen.

“Slyvie stops by regularly. Even though the TVA keeps her busy, she makes time. She also left a message. She wants you to meet up at the TVA, ASAP. Seems it's about Loki.”

Because of her Omniversal duties, Saga has had many dealings with the TVA. They increased tenfold when her adopted children, Slyvie and Loki began working for them, Loki in a more permanent way when he saved the multiverse.

“Your oldest has taken it upon himself to chaperone your granddaughter and his niece during her official courtship to Lord Nori, the demon lord.”

Stopping what she's doing, with a wistful look on her face, Saga says, “Official courtship? Slyvie approves?”

“She was practically dancing all a flutter around here when she told me. It's past time those two got some happiness, I say!”

“Yes, Nori is an excellent choice.” It certainly didn't hurt that he was the son of her best friend and long-time work compatriot. Saga had been there when his parents had met, decided a relationship was for them, when he was born, and for the devastating moment when his father had been murdered. Now the two houses would be joined by Nori and Frigga. It was also no surprise that Grant put himself as the chaperone. He and Nori had practically grown up together and were as close as brothers.

“How are things on Arakko?”

“I didn’t want to leave.” Saga could still feel Max’s hands on her body.

“Young love.”

Saga laughs. “You’re only a few years older than I, old man.”

“You still have a body.”

“I know, brother. I know. I am glad you are still here with me, nonetheless.”

Alarms start blaring, “I’m picking up a large multiversal storm in… Oh no!”

Sitting up in her seat, Saga looks up at the main screen, watching the data scrolling across it. “How! We stabilized that universe! I sacrificed so much for that universe! Why is it disappearing now?!” Slamming her hands on the console, she reached out with all her senses. She had kept an attachment to that particular universe, the one Bjorn had been born in. The one she thought she had lost herself forever in. She felt it for a brief second and then it was gone! As if it had never existed!

“Where is Bjorn?! Tell me he wasn’t there! Please!” She pleaded.

“I’m checking! You know how he is when he doesn’t want to be found!”

“I know!” Reaching out with all of her senses again, Saga searches for her son. The stubborn child could hide himself well, a trait he shared with his father. Her stomach dropped. She couldn’t feel him! Covering her mouth with her hand, Saga heaved a large sob. “No!” Feeling a tug on her skirt, Gyda signals her arrival. Collapsing on the floor, the two companions lean on each other for support.

“I am not giving up, My Lady.”

“I can’t feel him, Mimir.”

“Wires become crossed all the time. You’ve just had one huge shock. Don’t force an unnecessary one on yourself.”

“I can’t lose h…” Saga and Gyda vanished.

“Saga?! Saga?!”

The door leading onto the bridge opened, a tall man with dark hair and a dark beard cropped close to his face rushed in. “Mimir? Where’s Ma? Something’s happened!”

“Bjorn! Where have you been?! We’ve been searching for you! Ever since Universe 28457931459 was destroyed she’s been frantic!”

“I don’t doubt! I was with Loki when it happened,” Bjorn walked over to the seat his mother was at, lifting her cloak. “Where is she?”

“She and Gyda disappeared just seconds before you showed up.”

“To where?”

“I don’t know. I’m not picking them up anywhere. Your mother was saying something and then she was cut off.”

“She was taken?” This was something Bjorn was not used to. He was the protector. The muscle. His brother and Slyvie were the ones who thought, planned, and figured. It didn’t come easily to him. Now he was first at the scene of something happening? And it was Ma?

“It appears so.”

“But..”

Feeling a familiar hug from behind, followed by Sylvie’s voice, “Don’t worry, little brother, Loki sent me some interesting information before I arrived. Had you stayed for another minute, you would have had it. But he understands. He and I both remember a time when we rushed like you.” She hugs him tighter, reassuring him.

“Where is she?”

“The Omniversal Council is convening. We believe it has something to do with her.”

Bjorn turns to face her, looking down at her. “You can’t be serious!”

“Dead.”

“Those jackasses!”

“Look, you have had more contact with Earth and its inhabitants in Universe 616. While we wait for Grant, Figga, and Nori to arrive, go there. Make sure her Max is well. I don’t know if the destruction of your and your father’s universe is completely related yet to the Council meeting, but I wouldn’t put it past a few vindictive members. So we need to err on the side of caution. You have Freki with you?” She straightened up his heavy duster, flannel shirt, and short hair, fussing over him, as she always did. He had been born shortly after Frigga, and Sylvie always felt a special attachment to him.

Bjorn nodded, “He headed for the Den as soon as we boarded.”

“I believe you will find Max Eisenhardt, also known as Magneto, on the planet Arakko, formerly known as Mars, at his Autumn Palace. That was the last location your mother teleported from.” Mimir added.

“So this is how I meet the boyfriend?”

“This is for your mother, Bjorn. Don’t let your stubbornness show. Remember, she may need us more than anything, right now.” Her green eyes met his hazel eyes.

“I know,” he nodded his head. “I’ll get Freki and go. You guys hear anything…”

“We’ll tell you first thing, I promise,’ Slyvie finishes for him. Leaning up to kiss his cheek, she shoos him off the bridge.

Once the door closed behind Bjorn, Mimir was the first to speak, “You placed a tracker on him?”

“Sure did.”

“I assume Loki is beside himself.”

“You are correct.”

“We know this has to do with Saga wanting to retire from her duties in the Omniverse.”

“You were headless, Mimir, not stupid. Now, we need to get you ready to jump to the Citadel. We have a Council Meeting to crash as soon as we are all together again.” Slyvie turned to the main console, the same one Saga had sat in, and began the preparations.

******

Autumn Palace

Arakko

At the main entrance of the Autumn Palace, Bjorn and the Asgardian wolf, Freki, appeared in a red flash. Surrounding the palace was destruction. He immediately grabbed his shotgun, looking around for danger, Freki lowered his large body to the ground, defensively. Giving Freki a hand signal to stay, Bjorn slowly moved around, using his keen hearing and sight to pick up anything that could clue him into what happened here, and if there were any survivors. He could hear a battle ringing off in the distance, but that didn’t concern him. What concerned him was this building. These were the coordinates that Mimir gave him. He knew this was the correct universe. It wasn’t that long ago that his mother had been here. What the hell happened here so quickly?

Concentrating harder, Bjorn could hear heartbeats inside the palace. One sounded older than the rest. Signaling for Freki to follow close, Bjorn walked inside, cautiously. It was dark, but that didn’t bother him. His Asgardian blood gave him the ability to use his senses in ways that even other Asgardians couldn’t fathom. Mimir often joked with him and Grant that it was part of being from such an old branch of the Asgardian family tree. Bjorn didn’t care. It made his job as a protector easier. Hidden by the stairs was a grown man, who did not match his mother’s description of Max, and several children of various ages, shapes, sizes, and colors. He pointed his shotgun down, but kept his stance stiff and ready, “What happened here? Where’s Max?”

“Uh, a fight with the Eternals is happening, and Magneto was dead the last I heard. Who are you?” the man feels compelled to answer.

Bjorn bites his lips, clutching his weapon tightly, in a meager attempt to keep his emotions in check. Freki lets out a mournful roo. “What do you mean dead?”

“He died for Arakko!” One of the children speaks up, with a chorus of “Yeahs!” following.

“Look, man. All we heard is he took the fight to the big guy that was attacking the planet and the guy ripped his heart out. We were all dropped off here. We haven’t heard anything since,” The man the children trusted explained. “Look, the name’s Craig. You a friend of his?”

“Something like that. Where was he when… when he was killed?” This was the last thing his mother would want to hear right now. If there was a war happening between the mutants and the Eternals, he wouldn’t be able to interfere, just based on his connection to his mother. So if the news of Max’s death was exaggerated, and he was somehow still alive, he wouldn’t be able to help him, unless…

“The Great Ring. That’s where it all started.”

“Then that’s where we’ll go. C’mon Freki.” Bjorn and Freki disappear in a flash of red as they turn and walk away, leaving Craig and the children wondering.

********

The Great Ring

Arakko

There was a flash of red light just as there was a flash of smoke. There were naught but bones and corpses around the The Great Ring of Arakko. He had just missed him. But the news of his health was not good. The one called Lodus explained the injuries Max had sustained, and the likelihood of him not surviving them. That it was his and their Queen, Storm’s abilities keeping him alive, but that would only work in his favor for so long. Bjorn knew that if he were to make the journey to Earth he would interfere, and he and his mother would be in trouble with the Council. He was tempted to risk it anyway. He was his father’s son, and when had he ever listened to anyone?

The message he had sent to Mimir had been answered. There was no multiversal interference found in this occurrence. He was powerless to keep Max from killing himself. But as he had waited for the answer, he had scoped out part of the planet and asked questions of the survivors. They were vulnerable to attack. There were innocents involved. Other than the Judgment that was coming for the inhabitants from the Celestial, he could do something about the possibility of foreign invaders.

Dropping his shotgun on the Ring, getting the attention of the mutants around him, Bjorn reached into his belt behind him, taking one of his curved daggers. Made from the same metal as the metal of his mother’s maul, he whispered a few words, making the runes carved into it glow. Standing up on the Ring, he walks to the center, earning protests from everyone. Kneeling, Bjorn utters, “She loved you.” Raising his arm he slams the dagger into the table, causing a large clap of thunder, heard planet-wide. The dagger was embedded, deep into the Ring. Walking away, to the edge to jump down, he dodges a few strikes. “Hey!”

Freki jumps in front of Bjorn, Growling and snarling, growing in size, with runic marks glowing blue on his body, and eyes shining with lightning. “Calm Freki. I was foolish and did not explain myself.” Leaning down, he pets and holds his companion. He and his brother Geri were given to Saga, along with Mimir’s Legend as gifts for long years of service to Odin. At least that is what was told. In reality, they were given in payment for what had happened to her family. Freki had formed a close bond with Bjorn’s father, and that bond had passed over to his son when he’d died.

“Explain!” Came the voice of Isca the Unbeaten.

“I am forbidden by my mother’s masters to interfere directly in the war at hand. I can indirectly involve myself, as an Asgardian, and place one of my Daggers of Protection here protecting the planet from foreign invaders until this current skirmish is finished.” Bjorn had calmed Freki somewhat. His hackles were still raised, and he was watching everyone closely.

Lodus Logos spoke, “You are a friend of Magneto’s lover?”

“Her son. Bjorn Sagasson, the Protector. My companion is Freki. We cannot stay, as we have pressing matters,” Mimir sent the message that the others were almost there. “But I could not leave without doing something for him in her name. She loved him.” They wanted more. He already said more than he probably should have. Done more than he should have. But it was who he was. He didn’t always follow the rules. His main concern was always protecting. In a flash of red, he and Freki disappeared.

#magneto x oc #Magneto #x men magneto #x men comics #x men #erik lehnsherr #max eisenhardt

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harmcityherald · 22 days ago

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the last week before Christmas. Usually artemisia and I spend the majority of time and money collecting and curating gifts for our hefty group of youngers. We've always lived on a breaking budget and its a quiet understanding between us that our gifts for each other take the back burner, we gain much more satisfaction from seeing our brood happy and ripping open presents than whatever baubles our limited funds can bring. For being a poor, underprivileged family each and every one of us has expensive and refined tastes. Each is a nuanced individual, there are no cookie cutters or rules of acquisition binding them to any familial prerequisites or forced ideologies. Each given the freedom and support to become whatever person they decide. To choose whatever career paths, or lack thereof, that they choose to walk. To have the freedom to choose who they want to love. The freedom to have children or not. The freedom to develop who they are as opposed to what I may desire for them. In the end I am comfortable with their choices because I helped them learn how to think. coming to love them and know them sometimes better than they do themselves. The proof of my love, if it ever needed proving, can be demonstrated by my knowing what will make each one laugh and smile and glow blush with love. yes I know that about you. didn't think I did, did you? it means something to be known. To be seen. it goes deeper than the word love. its harder to define. yes, someone can love you, support you, be there for all the little moments and still not know you, not see you.

So this year has been slightly different. two of our grandchildren are no longer available to us because of the meathead saga, now that, of course, doesn't mean we aren't expected to buy presents and send them to the doorstep. They do take advantage of us. we let them. so those two grandkids won't feel forgotten or unloved. but it has narrowed the field a bit. Instead of buying each other gifts, wrapping them all and waiting for Christmas morning, artemesia and I have been buying each other little gifts here and there. little things we know we will love. she really has touched me and its silly, really. its just that I hadn't realized how far cancer has taken me as far as little manly things. shaving cremes and after shave. she bought me a bottle of cologne. I have to admit I have not had a bottle of cologne in over 10 years. I have a new coat. from the thrift store but its new to me and the last few days its like a bit of my humanness has returned. I didn't know it was gone. I have a new cord for my tablet. I feel like a worthy human being again. she got me Stetson body wash and I swear I smell like George Michael if I ever smelled George Michael to know what George smelled like. I got for her some slippers and a nice warm robe. a small space heater. gloves. and .......shhhhh......eyes on an opal at the pawn shop. nice fire on it. she will kill me when she sees it. then she will melt. she will say, I didn't need this, we could have done something else. I will say yes exactly, that's why its special. its my heart to you.

so its a special year for us. we get to show each other, not just that we love each other, but that we know each other, we see each other.

that is worth more than any gold or silver on the planet.

its the best Christmas present I can ever hope for, and somehow I'm lucky enough to have it.

For the first time in many years artemesia and I have found the freedom to be good to each other. The youngers have no idea. I bet they would approve.......... As long as I still buy them everything I'm supposed to lol.

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goatpaste · 2 years ago

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bro everytime something with lucy happened i was venting to my groupchat and cursing out araki. what the FUCK dude.

ITS REALLY JUST HORRIBLE

lIKE I CANNOT even beGIN to imagine what fucking PLANET araki was on to write all that fucking shit hole FUCK man

HOW WAS THAT ALLOWED

like, lucy in theory was a very fun and silly cute character, who coulda played a good role! but araki chose violence and decided to make sure Lucy never knew a moments peace between either ALWAYS having grown men preying on her or being made to carry the weight of the world on her shoulders

LIKE it SUCks and its not even important to the plot. literally none of that was important

either!! make lucy an adult?? there was no reason she shoulda been 14 if you wanted to have everyone??? so attracted to her??? just! 25! 24! thats all im asking! would made mountain tim more bearable as a character, the shit with the presidents wife, ect ect

also! just!! TAKE THE RAPE SCENES OUT, THEY LITERALLY DO NOTHING FOR THE PLOT ITS JUST UNSAVORY AND ARAKI IN NO WAY OR FORM HAS THE ABILIT TO WRITE ANY NUANCE TO THAT DEGREE

and if you need to have lucy be 14 SOOO bad??

she didnt need to be married to steel. she just didnt, i dont care about whatever bullshit nonesensical loop hole araki built up for that, its WEIRD. the general concept is bullshit, and on top of it i dONT like seeing scenes were lucy and steel are touchy, or kissing or calling each other pet names. i dont care if its an act. their connection didnt need to be that way. and saying "their relationship was more like she was a mother to steel" WAS ALSO WEIRD. SHE IS 14 WHY IS SHE MOTHER THIS 50 YEAR OLD MAN. LIKE

i would WAY faster accepted a narrative of Steels like, assistant or company partner who helped him dream up this grand race was some starry eye big hearted goof ball of a 14 year old who supported him and they had a goofy grandpa and grandkid/coworker thing going on.

and mountain tim was liKE THAT SHIT SUCKED BECAUSE I REALLY LIKED MOUNTAIN TIM. but literally RIGHT before they kill him they pull that shit and its like?? DUDE?? WHATS YOUR PROBLEM

i woulda given ANYTHING for mountain tim to be like an older brother/father figure to lucy and johnny who cared about them and their safety and lack of positive family roles in their life....

THEN THE SHIT WITH THE PRESIDENTS WIFE IS LIKE EUGHGHH WHY!!! and the BULLSHIT they pulled their to force lucy into that role like

what i woulda GIVEN for like either a swap of HP and Lucy were HP seduces the presidents wife to get close to him and THAT coulda been a bit funny the presidents wife being into HP coulda been comedic. and HP woulda have 100% just killed valentines ass

OR even better, Lucy and HP taking that task on together, infiltrating's Valentines house together. HP and Lucy sibling moments.. HP connecting to Lucy and seeing her younger brother in Lucy and tying into her character...

THEN THE WHOLE THING WITH VALENTINE IS SO HORRENDOUS ITS JUST UPSETTING

Valentines character ranges from straight up horrible to just boring. Like he coulda been a fun crazy US president they kill. but hes just, gross and boring. Taking D4C away from him. doesn't deserve such a swag stand

THEN THE SHIT AT THE FUCKING STUPID ASS LAST CHAPTERS WITH ALT DIEGO

like i went from excited for even a semblance for extra diego content to really not fuckin caring. Alt Diego literally was just boring and i dont care about the world like i did Scary Monsters. and he carried none of base world diegos charm.. THE N THEY PULL ONE LAST NASTY SCENE BETWEEN HIM AND LUCY ON THE WAY OUT. LIKE WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH ARAKI MY FUCKING GOD MAN

#steel ball run spoilers #rape mention #ask me to tag #jjba spoilers

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allofasudden00 · 2 years ago

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I’ll Always Be There For You. No Matter What

The days have grown colder, or at least that is what it feels like. His bed, once warm, is no longer baring the heat that brought comfort all those years ago. Agustín, in his old age, bares the many wrinkles and laugh lines of a man who has lived a joyous life. Though if someone was to look at him closely, they’d see the frown that seems ever more prominent across his features. His eyes have gone dull, the shine faded years ago.

He has nothing to complain about. His family has grown larger than his wildest dreams. With that growth, his heart also has grown to allow the love he feels for his grandkids to fill it up. But there is an agonizing hole left in his chest. One that was filled with the love of a woman he was lucky to call his own. Losing Julieta hit his family worse than he ever expected. Her laugh no longer echos through the halls, the scent of her food hasn’t filled his nostrils for far too long. Her gentle hands haven’t caressed his face, her voice no longer whispers comforting words when he is scared. His best friend is gone.

He puts on a brave face for his girls. They’ve been through enough. They don’t need to see him break down. But he does, privately, in his now very empty bedroom. There hasn’t been a day that passes where he doesn’t shed his tears. He holds her apron that he refuses to clean. Though her scent has long since passed from the cloth. His nietos and hijas are the biggest support he has, and for that he is eternally grateful. His beautiful daughters have blessed him with beautiful grandkids. The smiles that adorn their chubby cheeks shake away his frown.

They laugh like her. Their hair curls like hers. Their eyes are that similar, otherworldly brown that he fell in love with. He shakes his head as he wipes his eyes, taking a deep breath. The morning air fills his lungs, and his bones ache as he stands from his bed. He slowly dresses himself before making his way down the stairs. He inhales a shaky breath when he hears his family talking in the kitchen. Forcing a smile, he turns the corner and greets them.

Mirabel holds a toddler in her arms as she works the stove, cracking eggs into a small bowl with one hand She looks up at him and smiles warmly. Her innocent smile sends a pain through his heart. She looks so much like her mother. He pushes away his tears and returns her smile. Walking to the table, he quickly sits down before his legs give out on him. Isabela sits across from him, braiding her daughter’s hair.

“Morning, Papa. Did you sleep well?” Isabela greets. She looks over and he sees a very familiar expression. She looks at him with worry. She hides it well for the others, but he can see it behind her eyes and in her smile. He remembers a time when she never looked at him like that. He doesn’t respond, choosing to give her a curt nod instead. Isabela looks at him with slight hurt before continuing. “Mira is about to finish breakfast. Are you going to join us?”

“No. I’m sorry. I think I’m going to have breakfast with your mother today.” Agustín watches Isabela and Mirabel share a look, but they quickly hide it. The kitchen falls into silence as Mirabel continues cooking and Agustín plays with his nietos, who bombard him with the energy only children can muster. The rest of the family comes down for breakfast. They all greet Agustín with small smiles. As they all eat, Agustín grabs his plate and stands up. He feels the eyes of all three of his daughters on him as he walks out of the kitchen.

He walks through Casita, his feet feel like they are made of concrete with each passing step. He stops in front of a lone door. He stares at it, his breathing quickens and his legs shake. Casita clicks its tiles in worry, catching his attention. Snapping out of his panic, he smiles down at the tiles and waves it away. Taking a large breath, he knocks twice on the door before opening it slowly. The room is dark. There is a small table next to a dresser and a small bed sits in the corner. A small frail shape lays beneath the blankets.

“Good morning, Julieta.” Agustín announces, trying his best to sound cheerful. Julieta barely shifts in the bed as he makes his presence known. He walks over, places his plate of breakfast on the table, and opens the shutters to the window. The sunlight that breaks into the room illuminates Julieta. Her once cheerful and chubby face is gaunt and frail. She barely moves as she stares blankly up at the ceiling. Agustín takes a seat next to the bed and smiles. “How are you today, amor?” Julieta slowly turns toward him.

“Oh… hi,” Julieta smiles weakly. Agustín watches as her eyes search his face, looking for any feature she might recognize. He feels his heart sink once again when she finds nothing and stares confused at him. “Where am I?” she asks with a trembling voice.

“You are in Casita, amor. Like always. I brought breakfast.” Agustín points to the plate and Julieta hums in response. He breaks off a piece of bread with a bit of egg and brings it to her mouth. Julieta grabs his wrists with trembling hands as he feeds her. While he feeds her, he talks about their nietos and their hijas. He informs her about all that she missed while she was sleeping. He answers her questions that mainly are reminding her who is who.

“I wish that tall girl would visit again. She was so nice.” Julieta whispers happily. Agustín feels tears burn against his eyes as he watches Julieta’s gaze quickly glazes over and she stares at nothing. He pushes several hairs out of her face and wipes her lips with a napkin. A small flame of anger rises in his chest. It isn’t fair. She doesn’t deserve this. It should’ve been him, not her. Julieta spent years of her life healing the sick and injured. Why did this happen to such a caring soul? She should be out playing with her nietos, getting to know them and being there for the important moments.

“Gus?” Julieta whispers. Agustín stops and his head snaps toward her. She looks up at him and raises a trembling hand. He quickly puts down the plate and takes her hand. “Can you pull out the seat? Mama needs to sit. She’s been standing there for too long. I don’t want her legs to hurt her.” Agustín cannot help the tears that fall from his eyes. Alma has been gone for several years now, but she seems to always be the primary subject of Julieta’s hallucinations. He smiles through his tears and nods his head. He pulls out the chair and Julieta sighs in relief.

“I’ll let you get some rest. I’ll be back with lunch, amor.” Agustín bends down and kisses her head.

“Oh,” Julieta squeaks. She looks up at him with a small smile and an expression of pleasant surprise. “Hi.” He smiles and kisses her again. As he walks toward the door, he watches as she enters another staring spell and he takes another deep breath. She has healed him hundreds of times, been there when he was hurt and he will be there with her till the end. Through thick and thin, sickness and health. His wife, his best friend, might have forgotten him, but he hasn’t forgotten her. He’ll never forget her.

-----------------------------

One of my biggest fears is forgetting. Dementia is a terrifying thing and my heart goes out to everyone who knows a loved one who has/is going through it.

Lewy Body Dementia has all the typical symptoms of memory loss, but with additional problems such as stiffness and trembling, daytime sleepiness, confusion, and staring spells. People with this form of dementia often see visual hallucinations.

Hug your loved ones folks.

#suddendrabbles #I am so sorry for the sadness #It is like 5 am and my fears have taken over #Agustin will stay by Julieta's side no matter how difficult.#agustin madrigal #julieta madrigal #in sickness and in health #till death do they part.

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cottonkendi · 3 years ago

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Your Babies | 41

MASTERLIST

Sano Shinichiro x f!Reader

Word Count: 2.5k

Genre: Established Relationship, Angst

Warning: Spoiler warnings

Synopsis: I’ll stay ft. I care

Chapter 40 Chapter 41 Chapter 42

For days, it seems as if you were stuck in a haze.

Unable to grasp what was real and fake, mind still unable to comprehend all the things that had happened. But unfortunately, you do not have the luxury to think about it any further. Life has caught up to you, your responsibilities and the full reality that you do not have Shinichiro anymore forcing you into moving on.

It seems as if everything has suddenly made itself known as you stare down at the two kids, both of them holding onto your hand as you sit on the edge of the bed in your once shared room with your lover.

Your heart thrums in your chest, anxiety causing it to rumble in a way that almost makes you want to pull away from them. It seems that you are faced with difficult decisions left and right now that you do not have your beloved confidant with you.

The tears that are starting to brim on their eyes the longer it takes you to answer makes you even more unsure of your decisions.

You had never thought of it before.

Never even considered a situation like this for all you knew was a future with Shinichiro right beside you.

But now that there is no such future left, you can’t help but let out a sigh, tired smile making its way to your lips as you give the two kids a reassuring pat on their heads. “I…” Biting on your lower lip. Your gaze trails down to the floor where boxes of Shinichiro’s belongings are stored.

You were cleaning up his things before the kids entered and talked to you.

Talked to you about how your future with them will be.

“Are you… Are you going to continue living with us, Y/N-nee?” Emma asks once more, voice trembling with the tears that she’s trying so hard to keep in as you look up at them once more.

“I-I’m not sure, Emma. I don’t think I shoul-”

“Please stay, Y/N-nee… Even though Shin-nii isn’t here anymore… please stay.” Manjiro utters, voice barely above a whisper as his voice cracks, the boy in a similar state as his sister. “We don’t want to lose you too…”

Sniffing, you quickly blink away any oncoming tears as you pull them closer to you. “You’re not going to lose me, okay? For now… I’ll stay here. I’ll look after you two… I’ll do something about the shop, make sure that we’re all okay.”

“So you will leave in the future?”

With a tight smile, you nod. “I can’t stay here forever, Emma.”

“But you can! You’re Shinichiro’s wife! You’re our older sister! You’re grandpa’s granddaughter! You can stay here with us!” Emma sobs out, hands tightly gripping your - Shinichiro’s - shirt as she looks up at you with her big brown eyes filled with tears. “Please don’t go… please Y/N-nee.”

Nodding, you wipe her tears away, pressing a kiss on her forehead before doing the same to her brother.

You do this until she starts to calm down, their bodies now thrown over yours as you continue to hold them close on the bed that you once shared with their older brother.

“Don’t worry… I won’t leave. I won’t leave the two of you. I’ll stay here with you. Stay until you’re both old enough. I’ll stay.”

Closing your eyes, you breathe in, your erratic heart slowly calming down now that you’ve solidified your decision of staying. It seems that the thought of staying or not has been plaguing your mind without you even knowing it for the relief that courses through your body seems to have put your mind at ease enough for you to have fallen asleep with the two kids on top of you.

Opening your eyes, you’re met with the late afternoon sun pouring in through the open window along with grandpa’s hand on your shoulder, shaking you awake. “I didn’t want to wake you three up, but it’s almost time for dinner… wouldn’t want you to get hungry.” He whispers, a fond smile on his face as he eyes his grandkids in your arms. “I’ll be by the garden.” Exiting the room, he leaves you by the bed where the sun continues to embrace you, the warmth cradling you in it’s embrace which puts you at ease for a few seconds before you’re reminded by the two kids that are both still in your arms, deep asleep.

The three days must have taken a toll on their bodies too, with the nights filled with nightmares and days full of tears, it’s no wonder the three of you fell asleep for so long.

It was barely an hour after lunch when they entered the room, but now, after checking the clock, it’s half an hour before dinner.

Groggily standing up, you carefully start waking them up, not wanting them to miss dinner. “Wake up, Emma, Manjiro. It’s almost time for dinner.” You gently shake their shoulders, watching as Emma slowly opens her eyes, a yawn leaving her mouth as she lightly stretches, hands rubbing at her eyes before sitting up. Looking around for a bit, it took her a few seconds to fully wake up but once she does, she gives you a quick hug, along with a kiss on the cheek before trudging out of the door in order to clean herself up for the night before dinner.

As for her older brother, he’s still comfortably laying down on the bed though his eyes are already wide open. Staring blankly at the bedpost which puts a small smile on your face, amused at his usual antics of being dazed right after waking up. Trudging over to him, you carefully cradle him in your arms as you sit him up, putting him between your legs so that his back rests against your chest, your arms lovingly wrapped around him, as you cup his cheek.

“Wake up, Manjiro. Time for you to wake up. Dinner’s almost done.” You pat his cheek for a bit until he comes to, eyes trailing up to you which puts a small and content smile on his lips as he leans back on you.

He lets out a blissed out sigh, one of his hands holding onto your wrist while the other digs through his pocket.

“Hmm? What’s that-”

Your question gets cut off when you feel something cold on your palm. Looking down, you’re met with the familiar chain necklace that your lover used to always wear, but now, it’s sitting on the palm of your hands.

“You weren’t there but when they had to prepare Shin-nii, they removed his necklace and gave it to me. I knew how much you loved it so I thought that I should give it to you…” Looking up at you, Manjiro gives you the brightest smile you’ve ever seen as of late, his eyes turning into crescents as he turns around in your hold, now kneeling in front of you on the bed as he takes the necklace from your hand and starts putting it on you.

Unable to control your tears, you give him a teary smile, skin tingling as the cold metal makes contact with your heated skin.

Your hand unconsciously reaches out in order to caress the familiar accessory.

The sight of your crying form makes Manjiro’s smile falter a little, smaller hands making their way to your face as he wipes away the tears that are still running down your cheeks. “Y/N-nee.” Looking him in the eye, your hand drops to your lap. “No more crying, okay? Shin-nii wouldn’t like it if he sees you crying so much… He’d be all whiny and irritating… so no more crying, okay?”

A broken laugh escapes you, nodding your head the best you can while Manjiro wipes away your tears.

“Yeah… no more tears, no more crying…”

“Promise?” Holding out his pinky, he waits for you, lips pulled into a smile.

Taking a hold of the necklace, you embed the feeling of the metal against your palm, the necklace briefly making contact with your engagement ring before you let out a deep breath, hand holding out in order to link your pinky with his. “Promise.”

Grinning up at you, he briefly wipes away his own tears before hopping off the bed. “Good! Now let’s go, dinner is about to start! I’m hungry~” Rushing out of the room, you’re left alone on the bed, hand now laying on your lap as you relish in this newfound feeling growing in your heart.

It’s not as warm as it once was when you were with Shinichiro.

It’s not as overwhelming as the feeling of being wrapped up in his arms.

It’s not as comforting as knowing that you have Shinichiro right beside you, supporting you and helping you in every decision you have.

But…

The warmth is enough to ward off the cold.

It’s enough to keep you going…

The feeling in your chest is enough to keep you looking forward for the future…

It’s… enough.

Months have passed, you’ve made numerous decisions.

First, the court case has been finished. Though there were no charges filed against the two, Kazutora still had to go to juvenile hall while Keisuke was let go with a warning due to merely being an accomplice.

The process took quite a while, taking a toll on your mental and physical health due to the numerous court cases that took place, forcing you to hear every single detail about the incident over and over again. Though thankfully, it was all solved in the end.

Kazutora had to stay in juvenile hall for three years while Keisuke was free to go.

Ever since then, you’ve slowly tried your best to reach out once more ever since both of their parents had apologised.

It was quite a time. But thankfully, everyone is starting to move past it.

And you are too. In your own little way.

Wakasa had told you throughout the months that maybe you should try and distance yourself from everyone. Try to detach yourself from the lives of the kids, but it’s just something that you can’t see yourself doing which is why, you’re now standing in front of the gate leading to the Juvenile hall where Kazutora is held, your hand unconsciously making its way to the chained necklace around your neck, trying to get as much reassurance as you can get before entering the gates. The guard immediately recognizes you as he gives you a welcoming nod.

Entering the building, you’re greeted by the numerous workers that you have grown to know over the course of the three weeks that you’ve started visiting Kazutora.

So far, you’ve only managed to actually talk to him once. And it was when he asked you to stop visiting him.

“Good morning, Kazutora.” You greet him from across the glass barrier, voice soft as you watch him look away from you. “I stopped by your parents’ house, asked me if I could hand you some of these.” You take out a few snacks and some fruits from your bag, handing it to one of the guards on your side of the room for them to hand it to him later on once you leave.

“I know that it’s barely been a few months but I’ve been talking to-”

“Why do you keep lying to me?” His voice cuts you off, your eyes immediately making contact with his own teary and angry ones, golden eyes glaring right at you as he stands up from his chair and slams his hand on the table in the middle.

Immediately, the guards both stand up on guard but you plead with them to leave the two of you alone for a while.

“What do you mean-”

“My parents would’ve never sent something over for me. They would’ve never cared enough to think about me now that I’m not their responsibility anymore.” Kazutora hisses, jaw clenched as he stares down at you through the glass. “They told me before I was taken here, told me that I turned out like this because of each other. They couldn’t even try and help me, they continued blaming each other for how I turned out! How can you lie to me like that?! Do you think that I’ll ever believe that someone cares enough about me to-”

“I care about you, Kazutora.”

Standing up from your seat, you place your hand against the glass, where Kazutora’s hands are pressed against. “I care about you. I care about you even with the mistakes that you did-”

“Mistakes?! I-I killed Shinichiro! I was stupid and I killed him. I took him away from you! How can you even look me in the eye and say that you care about me?! Do you not feel angry at all?! Do you not hate me for what I did to Shinichiro?! Did you not love him?! Is that why you don’t care about what I did to him?!” He continues to lash out, fists hitting the glass while tears pour down his cheeks, all the while, you give him a sad smile. Pained at his words thrown at you but still, you remain calm.

“Kazutora… I am still angry. I am still full of hate. I am still in pain because of what happened to him. But… I can’t continue living my life like that, I can’t continue hating you for something that you didn’t intend to do. You’re already serving for your mistakes, now, all I can do is not get buried in hate…” Letting out a sigh, you pull your lips into a tight smile. “I just don’t want you to get even worse. I don’t want you to think that you’ve been left behind. That you’re now an outcast. I can’t speak for everyone else… I know that Manjiro and Emma are still very much hurting… Keisuke, he’s different from how he used to be… but as much as possible, I don’t want to make things worse… I want to help you.”

Suddenly, the timer by the table rings, meaning that your time is over.

The door opens as the guards both enter once more. Nodding at them in acknowledgement, you take your bag from the floor before giving Kazutora one last smile as you start walking out of the room, your shoulders slumping the moment you’re out of sight, heart feeling heavy but mind slowly being out at ease.

It’s a confusing feeling.

The pain and the relief mixing into a feeling that makes your mind go hazy.

Forgiveness is what you want.

You want to be able to forgive them. Want to not hold it over their heads.

They’re kids. You can’t hold them accountable for their mistakes forever, you can only hope that they learn from it in the future. But along with that, just seeing their faces, it brings a sting right through your chest.

You hope that the time will slowly ease away the pain.

Hope that the time will bring you another set of forgiveness to offer the kids that you have now been entangled deeply into your life.

taglist:

@lagrimasdeglitter @sseorin @sunahyejin @agoddess-inashell @wakasagurl @diestheticu @queen-flower @salty-salty @the2ndl @crapimahuman @imkumichan @angelmitsuri @coconois @princessatoru @akaashis-liquidluck @bajifairyy @tsukkisukkii @chaoticyuna @missarabellla @kawasbaby @bittermoonlightsblog @yukihime-mikeys-girl @vanderaliwaal @astro-pioneer @nomnom21 @tamakislover @misinfe @starryshi @honeysoob @monsterm21-blog @justalamppost @arisu003 @quacksonlover81 @shaak-ti-s @yuuki4646 @manjiroarchiviste @gouzouuuuu @sh4nn @bubs-world @lordbugs @notsostraightweeb @xbabybajix @aruhappy

#sano shinichiro #sano shinichiro x reader #tokyo revengers #tokyorev #tokrev #tokyo revengers x reader #tokyorev x reader #tokrev x reader #sano shinichiro imagines #tokyo revengers imagines #hanemiya kazutora #sano manjiro #sano emma

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babyjamiebarnes · 4 years ago

Text

Build-A-Bear

Part Three

Featuring: Bucky x Stark!reader, dad!Tony, Pepper, Rhodey, Happy, Morgan, various characters in other chapters

Warnings: language, sexual innuendos and implications

Chapter Summary: Reader has dinner with her family and gets grilled even harder than her food. But she’s turned to a light simmer when Bucky takes her out for their first date.

Author’s Note: This chapter is fucking monstrous lol. I did not expect it to be this long so it might be a couple extra days before the next chapter so I can catch up! I’m also not sure if my Italian is accurate so I apologize in advance. I used to work for a man named Gennaro from Naples and he called me “bella” so hopefully I’m sort of right? If you like the story so far, feel free to buy me a coffee!

Part One • Part Two

Tags: @kennedywxlsh

Dinner that night was tense, to say the least. It was nice to have your dad, step-mom, sister, and uncles Happy and Rhodey over again, but your dad wasn’t quick to forget what he saw earlier.

“What was that with Barnes today?” Tony asked as you all sat around the dining room table in your midtown flat, poking away at the remnants of your meals.

“What do you mean?” you asked innocently.

Your dad just gave you an incredulous look. “You know what I mean.”

You sighed and avoided meeting his eyes. “I was just working on his arm, dad. I didn’t wanna make him lie down on a hard lab table while I poked around to do what you wanted and quiet his arm,” you explained.

“Wait, Barnes as in Bucky Barnes?” Uncle Rhodey clarified.

“Yeah,” your dad confirmed, not taking his eyes off of you. “I found her kneeling between his legs while he sat shirtless on the couch.”

“You’re sleeping with Bucky?!” Rhodey asked.

“I’m not sleeping with anyone!” you defended, dropping your fork onto your plate. “I’ve known him for a month.”

“That’s never stopped your father,” Pepper mumbled under her breath, making you huff out a laugh despite your current grilling.

“Listen, when I said ‘no fraternizing with coworkers,’ I meant it,” your dad said.

“Please stop saying ‘fraternizing.’ It’s weird.”

Tony sighed and crossed his arms. “No ‘slumber parties’ with coworkers,” he rephrased.

This made Morgan perk up in her seat, having spent the past couple minutes confusedly watching you and your dad bicker.

“Can we have a slumber party, [Y/N]?” she asked.

“Yes, honey, we can have a slumber party,” you responded.

“Tonight?” she continued.

At this, you pointedly looked at your dad and raised your eyebrows as a way of saying ‘are we done now?’ You could tell he didn’t want to end the conversation, but you were grateful for the sudden change of topic. Tony uncrossed his arms and leaned against the table as he replied to your sister.

“If your big sister says it’s okay, you can have a slumber party tonight.”

Morgan lit up like the Fourth of July, quickly listing off all the movies she wanted to watch even though you knew she’d fall asleep halfway through the first movie.

As your family packed up to leave, leaving Morgan since she had a drawer of clothes for the impromptu sleepovers you’ve had before, you calmed your racing heart before saying the words that would either make your father more suspicious or completely quash his suspicions.

“You’ll have to pick her up by four tomorrow. I have a date.”

All of the adults turned to face you. Pepper had a huge smile on her face, clearly excited for you, but your dad and Rhodey looked ready to fight. Happy looked curious, maybe even worried, but he played a big role in raising you so while Tony was the overprotective parent, Happy was the comforting parent (not that he’d ever let anyone know that).

“A date?” The tone of your dad’s voice made you roll your eyes at him.

“I’m a grown woman. I’m allowed to go on dates.”

Your dad let out a quiet harumph at that, but understood where you were coming from. “I know, sweetheart. Forgive me for being a bit overprotective of my little girl.”

“I get it. I appreciate your concern,” you said with a smile, “but this is good for me. You want grandkids eventually, right?”

“Oh god,” your dad groaned, pressing a hand to his chest. “I’m not old enough to be a grandpa but I’m old enough to have a heart attack at the mention of it.”

You rolled your eyes. “You’re so dramatic.”

“So what’s this person’s name?” Pepper piped up. You visibly tensed and internally panicked. You couldn’t just admit it was Bucky after denying anything there. But his name was technically pretty common...

“His name is James.”

Rhodey snapped his fingers and pointed at you as he said, “I like him already.”

‘Yeah, sure you do,’ you thought. The sight of your dad narrowing his eyes at you and crossing his arms as he stood in the entryway of your apartment made you nervous. Maybe James wasn’t good enough to get him off your trail (probably because he was right).

“How did you meet this guy?” Tony asked.

If anyone else had asked, you would’ve said ‘work,’ but that’s the last place you could say to your dad — with whom you worked.

“Uhh, at the grocery store. We accidentally followed each other and got a lot of the same food so he jokingly accused me of stalking him and we just hit it off,” you rattled off. It’s a good thing he didn’t know how your friend Monique met her girlfriend or he’d know you were lying.

“That’s so cute,” Pepper cooed. She was definitely the more relaxed of your parents, possibly because she wasn’t your biological mom. She had been raising you since you were ten though, so she played a big part in your upbringing.

“Text me his last name so I can run a background check,” your dad said. You’d love to think he was joking, but you knew he was serious.

And as much as you knew you’d regret it, you had to make a joke…

“His last name is Barnes,” you said, keeping your face as serious as possible. “James Barnes. I actually know his middle name too: Buchanan.”

“[Y/N] [Y/M/N] [Y/L/N], you better be joking right now,” Tony said. He was already getting red in the face, clearly unenthused at the prospect of you dating the man who, admittedly, killed his parents — your grandparents. Yeah, understandable.

“I’m obviously kidding,” you said, forcing a laugh. “It’s just funny that they have the same first name and you’re so anti-Bucky.”

“You’re gonna send me to an early grave,” he muttered. “I’m going home before I actually have a heart attack.”

You said your goodbyes and ‘I love you’s before you and Morgan put on your pajamas and set up a pillow fort in the middle of your living room to watch her favorite sleepover movie: “Shrek.”

As the movie went on, you leaned back in the fort to take a photo of Morgan with the movie in the background. Well, the back of Morgan’s head as she was engrossed in the movie she’d seen a million times.

[Image attached] She’s got her teddy bear but where’s my Bucky Bear? 🥺

Across the city, Bucky’s phone buzzed from its spot on the kitchen counter as he made himself a late dinner. He didn’t recognize the number, but smiled when he saw the picture of who he assumed was your sister or niece.

I never got an invite. Looks like more fun than my night.

You smiled to yourself when you saw his reply, rolling your eyes at the lack of exclamation points and emojis. Typical man.

What does your night look like?

Eating a late dinner and talking to you.

Talking to me isn’t fun?! I’m hurt ��

Not as fun as actually being with you.

Even though he wasn’t there and didn’t say it verbally, you could feel your cheeks get hot at his words.

There’s no way sweet talk like that didn’t get you in more than four beds.

You’re still on that? I swear doll, I have the same number as you.

Whatever you say! 🙄

There was a lull in conversation after that, giving you time to move your sister to lie on her back with pillows and blankets in the fort so she could sleep more comfortably.

Are we still going out tomorrow?

You let the next Shrek movie start automatically, but you didn’t pay any attention as you texted Bucky.

I’m still down if you are 👀

You sent him your address and let him know you’d wait on the front steps for him so he didn’t have to come all the way up. With the exchange of ‘good night’ messages, you drifted asleep to the sounds of Shrek 2.

•

The next morning, you somehow managed to wake up before your sister, then brought her back to the land of the living with the smell of French toast.

You spent your day watching another movie with Morgan before fixing lunch and taking her to a park down the road. Morgan’s childhood was definitely different from yours. Happy was the one who took you to parks and shopping, but Tony parented at home. Morgan would have the same early experiences, but the world knew Tony and Pepper had a daughter. They kept her identity hidden for now, waiting until she could decide if she wanted to reveal herself later in life. The world never knew about you.

And you had to be somewhat grateful for that. You still got all the perks of being a Stark — the money, the Tower, meeting the Avengers (and having James Rhodes as your godfather) — without the stress of fame. But part of you still wished you could talk about your father without keeping his occupation vague and referring to him as “Anthony” when telling stories instead of Tony.

Morgan also got to know her mom. You only spent the first seven years of your life with your mom before she was killed in a drive-by shooting. The police investigated it like crazy because everyone thought since it was Tony Stark’s wife, it had to be a targeted hit. But since she never took the same jogging route twice, all they came up with was an unplanned drive-by. You cherished the memories you had with her, but still openly welcomed Pepper when she came into the picture. She may not have played the same type of role in your life, but she helped shape your middle and high school years.

By the time you and Morgan got back to your place, she was exhausted, climbing back into the still-intact blanket fort to take a nap. When your dad and Pepper stopped by to pick her up, she was still knocked out.

“We’ll get out of your hair so you can get ready for your date,” your dad said with Morgan in his arms. “Send me this James guy’s last name. I still want to run a background check.”

“Dad,” you grumbled. “I already did my research. He’s clear.” Kind of. He technically has murdered hundreds of people, including your grandparents, but he’s reformed and fighting for the good guys now. Not that your dad would let it slide if you told him that.

“That’s my girl,” he grinned. “Let me know if you need to hide any bodies, okay?”

“You got it,” you said with a laugh as they headed out. You had two hours to get ready for Bucky, giving you plenty of time to look extra cute.

By the time six rolled around, you were all dolled up and ready to go. The autumn weather had you in a jacket and boots, but that just pulled your outfit together.

Your doorman Matt was standing inside the lobby when you ran downstairs, tossing him a small wave as you left.

“Have a good night, Miss [Y/L/N],” he said with a nod.

“See you later, Matt!”

You stood at the bottom of your building’s front steps, checking your phone and looking up and down the block for Bucky. It was six on the dot, so you figured he’d be there soon.

“Hey!” You looked up from your phone to see Bucky jogging toward you, a black leather jacket covering his arms and a black glove hiding his left hand. “Sorry I’m late. I couldn’t get away from Sam. Had to tell him I was gonna check out my old stomping grounds in Brooklyn.”

“You’re, like, 30 seconds late. I’m just glad you’re here,” you said with a smile. “So what are we doing tonight?”

Bucky’s smile faltered as he looked down at you. Your boots gave you a bit of a height bump, but Bucky still stood taller than you.

“I, uh, I kinda thought you had something planned,” he said softly.

“Oh, oops,” you laughed. “Well… what about those Brooklyn stomping grounds of yours? Care to show me around?”

Bucky lit up at the recommendation and started leading the way to the nearest subway stop. Before you started down the stairs, he paused and turned to you with a sour expression.

“I probably should’ve asked if you’d rather get a cab,” he said.

“Bucky, I take the subway to work every day. It’s fine.”

“Why do you take the train? You don’t live too far away.” You two made your way down the steps to the bustling station.

“It’s just easier. Less work for me,” you explained. “I didn’t take the train much as a kid so I like taking the opportunity now that I can.”

“Most people don’t willingly take the subway,” he laughed. “Steve and I always used to talk about how we’d be rich enough to have a car someday. But now that I could get any car I wanted, I don’t think I want one. I like the subway.”

“Even though it’s smelly and dirty?” you joked.

“Yeah,” he laughed. “It’s one of the things that still reminds me of home.”

The gentleness in his voice nearly brought you to tears. This man had been through so much and was still the sweetest soul you’d ever met. Forced into a war he didn’t want to join, experimented on, tortured and brainwashed, hunted by every government in the world, captured, frozen, and forced into another war and more battles he shouldn’t have to join. He just couldn’t catch a break.

“Well I’m excited to see what else reminds you of home,” you replied.

The trains to and through Brooklyn were relatively busy so you and Bucky couldn’t really talk much, but it was a Saturday night so you couldn’t blame people for getting out. It was tough to find seats, but Bucky was willing to stand to make sure you could have a seat. Ever the gentleman.

When you made it to Bucky’s Brooklyn stop of choice, he started telling you more stories from the ‘40s, like when Steve couldn’t get off the train in time and accidentally went down another stop so Bucky ran to the next stop and found Steve heading his way anyway. And how he and Steve followed his sister Rebecca on a date “to watch out for her,” he said, and her date thought they were stalking her and tried to beat them up. And all the fights he pulled Steve out of.

“Punk was a chihuahua who thought he was a Rottweiler.”

For a while, you two walked around the streets of Brooklyn just telling each other stories. You were careful about names you used, often just calling Happy “Uncle Harry” and Rhodey “Uncle James.”

Bucky showed you the movie theater he and Steve used to go to, which was surprisingly still in business. You walked past what used to be a diner Bucky frequented but was converted into a bridal shop.

“This used to be a magic store Steve loved,” he said, looking up at the bank on the corner of the street. “Things have changed a lot.”

You heard the nostalgia in his voice, clearly missing the New York he grew up to love. He had a soft smile on his lips as he reminisced, though.

“What about where you lived?” you asked. “Do you remember where that is?”

“Oh yeah,” he chuckled. “I could never forget that.”

Everything was within a fifteen minute walk of where you got off the subway so even though your feet were getting tired, you followed alongside Bucky as he led the way up and down the streets. Before too long, you strode up to a large brick building that had clearly been remodeled recently, if the fresh windows and front doors were any indication.

“It’s… a lot nicer than when I lived here,” Bucky said with a sigh. “But it’s been nearly 100 years so I can’t blame them for updating things.”

“Brooklyn is kind of booming now, too,” you added. “More people to appeal to, ya know?”

You stared up at him again, seeing that same lost look as before, like he wished to turn back time and show you the Brooklyn he knew. So you decided since he couldn’t do that, you’d show him the Brooklyn you knew.

“Come here. My turn to show you around,” you said, holding your hand out to him. He gave you a small smile before grabbing your hand in his and letting you pull him back to the subway.

Ten minutes later, you hopped off the train with Bucky in tow and headed to the little Italian restaurant you found while exploring the city a couple years before. It wasn’t anything elaborate; it was honestly more of a little hole-in-the-wall, but you liked the quiet atmosphere.

“Bella!” the owner shouted as you walked in.

“Hey Genny,” you smiled at him.

“Who’s this?” he asked as he approached you, raising his eyebrows when he saw Bucky.

“This is James,” you said. You opted against using his more common nickname to avoid any recognition.

“James, it’s nice to meet you. I’m Gennaro, but you can call me Genny. Welcome to my restaurant.” The two men shook hands before Genny ushered you two to a table and handed you menus. “Would you like to start with focaccia?”

“Yes please!”

“Con formaggi?”

“Si! Grazie!”

Gennaro left you and Bucky while he started your appetizer.

“You speak Italian?” Bucky asked.

“Definitely not,” you laughed. “I’ve just been coming here for a while and have picked up on some things Genny says. Like ‘bella’ means ‘beautiful,’ this pizza,” you pointed to your favorite pizza on the menu, “‘cinque formaggi’ means ‘five cheese.’ But I could never hold a conversation.”

“Un peccato,” Bucky sighed before flashing a smile at you.

“You speak Italian?!” you nearly shrieked. “No way! Don’t talk shit with Gennaro behind my back.” You pouted at Bucky, but knew he wouldn’t say anything bad about you. Maybe an embarrassing moment or two — like your dad walking in on you between his knees — but nothing negative.

“I picked it up pretty quickly back in the day,” Bucky explained. “Before I was sent to Germany, I was stationed in a small town in Italy for a while. The locals didn’t mind having us there because we kept the Nazis out, so they taught us some Italian when we were in town.”

“Maybe I should take Gennaro up on his offer to learn Italian,” you mused.

“Or you could learn from me,” Bucky was quick to offer. “I’ll teach you some stuff when you’re working on my arm.”

Your server arrived with the focaccia and water for both of you, before giving you more time to actually look at the menus instead of talking. You decided to split a bottle of red wine and two pizzas, one of your choice and one of Bucky’s. As the night went on, you and Bucky both opened up to each other even more than before. You could easily blame the buzz from a couple glasses of wine, but Bucky’s super soldier serum made you confused. His cheeks were flushed and he had more than half the bottle, so you wondered if maybe...

“Can you still get drunk?”

“Unlike Steve, yes. It takes more than this,” he said, lifting the nearly empty bottle of wine, “but since Steve and I received different serums, they work a little differently. I can definitely get drunk. Marijuana admittedly hits harder.”

You paused as you stared back at him, his elbows perched on the table and his clasped hands propped under his chin.

“Are you drunk now?”

“No,” he laughed quietly. “A little tipsy, sure, but not drunk by a long shot.”

You narrowed your eyes at him playfully, reluctantly accepting that he was just as buzzed as you but not quite drunk.

Before long, your server brought over your tab and you realized how empty the restaurant had gotten. Then you noticed the broom and mop the server had brought out to the floor, then the dark ‘open’ sign, and finally the clock on the wall.

“You closed 20 minutes ago and didn’t kick us out?” you shouted at Gennaro. “Genny, you can always kick me out! I feel bad!”

Gennaro walked over to your table as you scrambled for your wallet and handed the server your card to run.

“I can’t kick you out, bella. You and your moroso are welcome any time.”

“I think this poor girl would beg to differ,” you said as the server handed your card and signature slip back. She just laughed at your comment, agreeing without saying it outright.

You left a hefty tip and hugged Genny before you and Bucky, both still a bit tipsy, shuffled outside.

“Thanks for buying dinner,” Bucky said. “This means I get to pay next time, though.”

He said it so casually and you already planned on another date, but it still kind of caught you off guard.

“Next time?” You smiled up at him and took a step closer until you were almost toe-to-toe. “There’s gonna be a ‘next time’?”

“I sure hope there is,” he said quietly, his smirk sending a rush up your spine.

“If you insist,” you sighed. He knew better than to believe you weren’t excited for your future plans. “I’m cold. Care to get an Uber with me?”

He gently grabbed your shoulders and spun you around, pulling the loose opening of his jacket over your arms and wrapping his arms around you to help keep you warm.

“Well, yeah. I need to make sure you get home safe so ‘next time’ can happen,” Bucky said as he nuzzled his face into the crook of your neck.

“You know, I don’t usually let men spoon me on the first date,” you joked as you tapped away to order an Uber.

“I can stop, if you want,” he teased.

You gripped his arm as he started to pull away. “I never said that.”

Bucky rode back to your place with you, keeping conversation casual as you both avoided the controversy you were about to face: to kiss on the first date or not. You never really had any issues with it before, but you already really liked Bucky. You didn’t want to risk messing it up by moving too fast. But what grown man would think a kiss on a first date was too fast? Well… maybe one born in the early 1900s…

Before your thoughts could throw you into a downward spiral, the driver pulled up outside your apartment complex. Bucky stepped out first and held the door open for you to scoot out after him. As you stood at the bottom of the stairs to your building, you felt those nerves creeping up on you again. God, you hadn’t felt this nervous about a date since high school.

“I had fun tonight,” Bucky said first, shoving his hands in his pockets.

“Me too,” you smiled back. “I’m excited for what you plan for next time.”

Bucky laughed at this, the crinkle of his nose making your own smile grow. God, you wanted to invite him inside already. In your defense, you’ve known him for a full month and spent even longer getting heart-eyes over him in college.

But you reined in your hormones and just took a step closer to him to rest your hands on his chest. His right hand came up to rest on your waist, but he kept the metal hand in his pocket. With your hand placement, you could feel the thrum of his heartbeat and judging by the pace, you knew you were both on the same page. As you were trying to shove your nerves aside, Bucky asked the one question you were hoping for.

“Can I kiss you?”

Knowing he wanted this as much as you did relieved some of your nerves, but also made the moment that much more real. You smiled up at him and nodded your head.

“Yes, please do.”

You perched up on your toes to meet him halfway, letting his lips mold to yours. His hold on your waist tightened as he pulled you closer; you gripped the lapel of his jacket in your fists. Suddenly the cold of the night no longer existed. All you could feel was the warmth radiating off of him as he held you close. He pulled back for a second before diving right back in, this time nipping at your bottom lip. You giggled against him, but didn’t stop him from taking the innocent kiss a step further. Your hands slid from his chest to the nape of his neck before tangling into his long hair. The vibration from his moan as you tugged on his hair ran straight down your spine, making it even harder to leave the date alone.

Reluctantly, you both pulled apart just enough for your noses to brush against each other, the stubble of his beard still tickling your nose. You opened your eyes enough to see the smile on his lips as he pulled back a bit more to see your face.

“I’ll see you Monday?” you said quietly, as if speaking any louder would break you two out of your bubble.

“See you Monday, [Y/N],” Bucky replied just as quietly. His hand slipped from your waist as you backed away, biting your lip at him before you turned and scurried up the steps. Bucky stood on the sidewalk until he could see the light in your apartment flick on, just to make sure you were safe.

#bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x Stark!reader #bucky barnes x stark!reader #Stark!reader #dad!tony #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky fic

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