#also bun was . not planned and as such is a bonus while i waited for you answer. kicking my feet

[laulo821]

Shark and Bun belong to @waffled-iron

I Have Cooketh

[knowyourplace-fool]

mind games until you lose control

Attack on Titan

Pairing: Yandere!bully!Eren x Shy!female!reader

Genre: Smut & Angst

Synopsis: Eren claims to hate you, and often torments you for simply existing, yet he can’t keep his hands off of you.

Word Count: 2.2k+

Part 1 (2 in the making and possibly a bonus too)

CONTAINS DARK THEMES!

PLEASE READ AT YOUR OWN RISK!

A/N: uh, hi. First off, I want to apologize for disappearing literally right after starting this blog. I’ll try to post more often now that I’m back on my eren shit. The ONLY reason I’m back is that there are seriously no more good dark fics anymore and no one seems to be doing SHIT about it, so ur girl’s coming in clutch for all u peeps who are into dark shit. Ong tho, I’m tired of re-reading fics (shout out @father-time-and-baby-new-year , IVE BEEN LIVING OFF HER FICS, so good, chefs kiss) anyways, happy very belated Christmas and new year :) also, the song that inspired this fic is “Mind Games” by Sickick. Definitely giving toxic eren😩

Warning(s): Physical abuse, slapping, squirting, toxic behaviour, toxic Eren, dacryphilia kink, sadist!Eren, choking, manipulation, rough sex, abandonment issues, mean!Eren, groping in public, degradation

THIS IS YOUR LAST WARNING!

THIS FIC CONTAINS NON CONSENSUAL SEX

READ AT YOUR OWN RISK!

“There’s another side that you don’t know, you don’t know.”

You peer over at Eren whose left hand is firmly at the 12 o’clock position on the steering wheel. His other hand gripped your bare thigh, occasionally rubbing his thumb up and down on your tender skin. His eyes were direct, jaw tight. You took this as a chance to observe how Eren looked tonight. He was wearing mid-rise, black, ripped jeans. Matching his pants with a black designer t-shirt. Initially, he wore a black hoodie over the top, but now it’s over you. His long, silky hair was in a loose man bun and a thick silver chain hung around his semi-tattooed neck. Both of his arms were littered with tattoos and veins. Around his left wrist was an expensive watch and down to his fingers were a few silver rings.

You look down at his hand that was on your lap. You brought both of your hands down to his and played with the bracelet that you made for him. It made your heart flutter a bit that he was still wearing it, despite it acquiring bright colours which he contrasts with.

“I can’t wait to get you all alone, all alone.”

Eren was driving back to his house after a night out with a few friends. As much as you wanted to tell him to take you back to your place, you knew he would become more aggravated with you. You decided against poking the bear and buried your face into his warm, soft hoodie.

You closed your eyes and thought about the events that unfolded tonight. It was your first time going out. After being endlessly bullied throughout middle and high school by Eren, you ended up with no friends. At first, you were fine with being independent but as you got older, you realized how much you were missing out on. Ironically, your first outing was with Eren’s friends. You knew Eren was bound to be there but you couldn’t give up on the opportunity of making new friends.

You wore a short, emerald green, bodycon dress. You wore your hair down with a few accessories to put your look together. Originally, you were going to walk to the arcade — where you planned on meeting up — but your friend Sasha offered to pick you up.

The night was going swell, you were genuinely having fun. The hangout moved from the arcade to a bar where Sasha’s boyfriend served you guys a few rounds. It began to get late, and the bar started to fill. While Sasha was dragging you to the dance floor, you made eye contact with him. It made you stop in your tracks because you know that look. You recognize it by heart. Goosebumps run up your body and you begin to think back to the last time he gave you that look. It was a warning look. As she was being dragged away, Sasha quickly let go of your arm and you made the sensible decision to sit back down at the booth.

“Once I’m in there ain’t no letting go, letting go.”

Casually, Eren ended his conversation with his friend and strolled over to you, nearly sitting on top of your thigh. His arm rested around the seat and he leaned into you. “Who invited you, trailer trash?”

You attempted to move down the booth, but Eren lowered his hand to your thigh and squeezed it. “Answer me.”

“Sasha invited me.” You meekly say, clearly uncomfortable and intimidated by his presence.

“Oh? When did you and Sash become besties? Does Sash even know where you come from?

You don’t answer. You know he’s referring to your home which is an old, rented-out trailer that’s at a trailer park. You had running water, a bed, a cramped kitchen and a living space. You were practically raised in it. It was good enough for you but for someone like Eren who comes from mansions, yachts and money, could never see how one can survive in it. He let the whole world know that you were poor and grew up with a single mother who abandoned you at 14. It hurt, every time he spoke about it like it was his trauma.

Yet, you have kept a charming smile on your face and allowed him to run all over you. You were a person who avoided conflict. You’ll apologize even if you did nothing wrong. You never saw the point in fighting, especially with someone like Eren.

“She picked me up from there.”

He raised an eyebrow at this. “Oh? Are you sure she saw the trailer park or did you wait at the corner of the street so she wouldn’t see?” Eren could read you like a book. You loathed yourself for hiding or at least trying to conceal the fact that you lived there. You live in a relatively wealthy town — mostly wealthy senior people who’ve retired reside in your town. Then there are people like Eren, whose father is a successful travel doctor and whose mom is a successful travel nurse who retired early and now lives her life as a housewife. His dad could retire early too, but he chose to be the town’s family doctor.

Eren grew up in a mansion with nannies and butler’s running to him at the snap of his fingers. No one has ever said no to Eren. Except for you, but would he ever listen to a nobody like you? You’re nothing but trailer trash to him. You hated that Eren made you feel self-conscious about where you lived. You hated that he made you feel ashamed of yourself for being poor, even though it’s out of your control. You know you don’t fit in the standard of this town, but it’s not like you had money to move away either. Regardless, it felt inhumane to criticize someone simply because they don’t have as much money as you. Any available condos here were a minimum of $1,000 per month vs your trailer rent which was $200, including utilities.

Furthermore, it was the last thing your mother left you. She paid the rent for the next 5 years then vanished. All you needed was money for food. You recall how you struggled to get a job at 14, most of the businesses running in town were family-based. They didn’t hire outsiders. Eventually, Eren’s mother Carla offered you a job as her sewing assistant. You were passionate about fashion, clothes and designing, so the job was right up your alley. Not to mention, Eren’s mother was a fallen angel. Truly a second mother. She was somewhat aware of your situation and frequently had you stay over for dinner, so you wouldn’t go home hungry.

Initially, you thought you hit the jackpot with this job, but once Eren started interfering, you began to scramble home as soon as you were done. It started small, like mean, typical insults to a little physical aggression like pushing and pulling to straight abuse. Every so often when Carla wasn’t looking, Eren would grip you by the neck and slam you into the wall, choking you out. Other times he’d slap you, pull your hair and spit on your face. You thought you could manage, but the final straw was when he ripped through your virginity, dismissing your pleas to stop.

You had to quit afterward and budgeted your saved money until you could find another job or better yet, get the hell out of here and away from him. But of course, that never happened. In fact, after Eren had stolen your virginity, he kept coming back for more. Early in the morning, he would show up at your door and force you to the back, where the bed was. You recall it all too vividly, you were lying on your stomach, unfortunately already aware of what was about to go down. You couldn’t help but cry. You were unsure of how to stop him. His whole body weight kept you down, and he had both of your wrists pinned. You were wearing a nightgown, only providing easier access for him. He fondled your body for a couple of minutes before ripping your gown off, leaving you bare on the bed. Eren had a ridiculously huge dick. No matter how many times you fuck, you can never adjust to his cock. Eren was completely aware of this and used it to his sick advantage. Without properly prepping, he pierced into your tight pussy, letting out a deep groan after bottoming out. You were sobbing your heart out, kicking, squirming, whimpering, doing anything you could to attempt to get him off. Little did you know, Eren was fully getting off to this. He pulled out his cock again and shoved it back in with no mercy. Pretty quickly, he picked up the pace and began fucking you like an animal in heat. He had a hold of your whole body; he wouldn’t allow you to slip away from him. After adjusting to a comfortable speed, he leaned down, burning breath fanning your ear, “stop fucking crying, you like this.”

“No, Eren please!” you cry out, gripping the bed sheets harder than before. He lets go of your wrist and pulls your hair back to get a proper look at your pathetic face. “Tell me no again, baby. I fucking dare you.”He pressed his cheek against yours, moving his hips harder and faster from behind. He was provoking you to say it again. It’d give him more reason to punish you. You knew it was a trap and tried your best to avoid it, but it wasn’t enough. After hours of relentless fucking, you felt the hope in your body crumble and decay. It hurt to inhale because of his cock that was nonstop impaling you. It didn’t seem like he was going to stop anytime soon either. You couldn’t help but beg him to stop. Every inch of your body was aching, screaming at your brain to figure something out to make this all stop. Your poor mind was helpless. You couldn’t do anything but beg for mercy.

Eren quite literally fucked you all night. By the morning, you were smothered in sweat and tears. When you woke up, he was gone. Wrapping a blanket around yourself, you waddled over to the bathroom before bursting out into tears after taking a look at yourself. Dark hickeys decorated your neck, collarbone and cleavage. His big hands left some bruises on your wrist and ass. Lips are swollen from being sucked on for too long and hard. You used the washroom and freshened up a bit before crawling back into your bed.

Unfortunately, for you, this would merely be the start of it.

“Watch me turn your mind into my home.”

Eren's house is located in the outer part of town, also known as, where the rich people live. The drive from town to his house was about 30 minutes, even with Eren’s speeding. Eren’s hand was now holding yours; he was fidgeting with your ring.

It belonged to your mother. After she “had disappeared, ”you went to the police station after 72 hours of her not contacting you. You knew your mother’s work required her to be away for a few days, but normally she’d call you. It had already been three days and you hadn’t received a single phone call. When you informed the police officer, they informed you that your mother had already spoken with them and that she was not missing. She’s moved into the city. A wave of confusion strikes you. Did she move… without you? You understand the city was far more expensive to live in, especially with a teenager, but an explanation would’ve been nice. Once you reached home, you opened a few of her drawers and saw that most of her items were gone. You must have been in deep slumber when she packed her bags and left for good. Your heart breaks a little, every time you think about it. It made you feel worthless.

Although you’ve never acknowledged it, your mom was the one who triggered the crack in you. She raised you to be independent and obedient because it made her job as a parent significantly easier. By the time you were eight, you already knew how to wash your clothes, cook and even walked to school by yourself, despite it being a 15-20 minute walk. Because your mom left early in the morning, it was your responsibility to wake up and get ready for school. However, you never complained because you knew your mother was working her ass off to provide a better living for you. Or so you thought. But could you blame her? You hated that you constantly found a reason to be empathetic toward someone, even when they outright wronged you. Your mother left you to fend for yourself, and that’s how you landed into the palms of Eren Jaeger who completed the crack and completely broke you.

I fucking hate Tumblr. It took me longer to format this fic than to write it.

Anyways, hope you somewhat enjoyed it.

I know that there wasn't much smut in this part but the next part will!!

Thanks for reading :)

xoxo,

n❣️

[marveldc-imagines-hub]

Subtitles: Episode 3, Now in Color

Subtitles Masterlist

Summary: Things are going well between [Y/N] and their new partners but what shenanigans will ensue as the Maximoff baby’s arrival quickly approaches and they’re pulled into the throughs of building a nursery and… child delivery?

Word count: 10,640

Warnings: Cotton candy fluff, chaos, baby. So the usual, plus babies.

Tag list: @madamevirgo​ @ravennight41​ @multifandomgirl16 (It won’t tage you for some reason, I’m sorry ;-; ) @cyanide-mustard​ @badasspolygenderfriend​

~~~

    You huffed and sat back on your heels, slipping a sore finger into your mouth. “Stupid bird.”

    The bird in question, a pink flamingo made of plastic and wire, seemed to sneer at you from its position sticking a few inches farther out of the grass than it should be. Because of this, you could still see the main stake sticking out of the bottom of the bird’s standing foot, which, much to your distaste, made the pink plastic-feathered creature look like it was trapped on a piece of wood impaled in its foot rather than lounging on one foot in the lush green grass of your yard. 

    You had spent a good portion of today working on your yard and garden and waiting for a member of the household across the street to step outside and beckon you over. Dressed in overalls stained by grass and dirt, a brightly colored T-shirt, a sun hat, and working shoes, you forced yourself to keep busy by planting new flora and putting down new garden fences and decor while Vision and Wanda were tucked away indoors, preparing for a baby. You were the only one so far to know about the Maximoff bun in the oven outside of the parents and although it seemed like just last week that Wanda had gotten pregnant, the baby had finally big enough that the couple had to involve a doctor to make sure all was going well.

    It also felt like not long ago that the couple had asked you out for the first time. Both of them. At the same time. It was news to you that they had felt even remotely felt the same way about you as you had about them but the rest of that conversation had gone swimmingly with you being too nervous and dumbstruck to do much more than blubber questions. The first date and then the second went a similar way, with you not being completely sure that you were on a three-person date or even awake. Luckily, your new partners were just as unnerved as you were and the three of you agreed to simply play it by ear and communicate a lot. 

Some time and a few sporadic dates later and things were going smoothly. Almost every bit of free time was spent at either their place or yours; if it wasn’t free time, you were giving Vision rides to work and leaving cute messages in the files you left at his desk—you always hoped they were cute, anyway, and not annoying, only to be reassured when you got a smiley back or your favorite treat from the breakroom left with the file when it was returned—or trying to help Wanda clean or cook or take a break despite her stubborn fussing against it. Vision was the first to give you a pet name, Wanda was the first to hold you in place when you attempted to pull away from a normally quick handhold or hug, and you were the first to press kisses to both their cheeks after walking them home from dinner. Wanda fell asleep on your couch first, you on theirs second, and Vision went ahead and turned cheek pecks into lip kisses. You weren’t quite ready to initiate them yourself yet but you hadn’t been complaining when Vision caught you on your porch steps and kissed you on the mouth; the rain that had just started had either been just a bonus or his initial inspiration.

    As nice as everything has been, though, you were still worried about overstepping boundaries with the married couple so when Vision invited you over to be a part of the doctor visit, you politely declined. Instead, after the doctor left, you were to head over and bring your tools to help set up the nursery; it was also your joint job with Vision, who was now a baby book reading master but also increasingly bugged out about Wanda and the baby’s health, to try and convince said woman to relax for once in her life—a task difficult enough to be on the list of Hercules’ Twelve Labors, you were convinced at this point.

    For now, though, you were sitting with your feet beginning to cramp and your knees getting damp and most likely more grass-stained, glaring at the devil in pink whose foot-stake had left your finger with a prick from a splinter and whose one visible dark eye stared at you with sadistic mirth.

    “Oh, you wanna go, Bernard?” you scoffed at the bird-shaped plastic, dropping your hand from your mouth and pushing yourself up into a squat. “I’ll call you out. Let’s go!” You raised your hands in a fighting stance and bounced on the balls of your feet as you prepared to strike.

    The sound of a chainsaw starting up caught you off guard mid-bounce and you lost your balance but what caught your eye when you twisted around while rubbing your now-bruised tailbone was Vision walking outside his front door with an older gentleman, presumably the doctor. However, you paid very little attention to said other man as you laid in the middle of your yard, twisted into what was probably a partial yoga pose, resting your chin on your arm and making lovey-dovey eyes at the former.

    Not that it was surprising at all, Vision looked very nice today. He was wearing dark blue pants and a similarly colored sweater over a collared shirt and tie, with a honey-brown jacket topping everything off; you couldn’t imagine wearing a shirt plus two outerwear items in the heat of the day but you certainly didn’t mind seeing him all dressed up. His hair was somewhere between jaw and shoulder length and wavy as ever and while you weren’t a fan of the popular 70s cut, he not only pulled it off but made it look incredibly attractive. He greeted his next-door neighbor Herb, who started up the chainsaw, then spoke animatedly, as he always did, to the doctor. Talking about keeping the baby news to themselves, no doubt.

    Vision watched as the doctor walked off down the sidewalk and as he happened to pass in your direction, Vision’s gaze refocused to settle on you instead. The expression on his face changed from purely friendly to something deeper and you felt the familiar flutter of butterflies in your stomach as he waved over to you.

    “Hello, perfectly platonic neighbor!” he hollered, to which you responded in kind after snorting and then disentangling yourself from your strange position.

    No response from Herb about the odd greeting. The cul-de-sac, and in Westview in general, people didn’t seem concerned with your trio’s out-of-place shenanigans as long as it didn’t directly affect them, you had noticed over time. You could have probably walked over and planted a brazen smooch on Vision’s perfect mouth while out in the open, with other neighbors milling about, and no one would bat an eye.

    But that’s exactly what we’re not going to do, you thought stubbornly as you stood and brushed yourself off. Not yet, anyway. I want to make sure they’re both comfortable with it first. 

    Vision seemed to grasp what your plan was because he waited for you as you gave Bernard the flamingo a fight postpone notice and then a light kick before walking across your yard and heading across the street. If you had been more rational, you would have grabbed your tools so you could have just come inside when you reached the Maximoff house but your brain, muddled with the pink mist of freshly requited affections, could only think of getting closer to the man, maybe even holding hands or nuzzling noses. 

    A sound that was equal parts loud and awful caught both your and Vision’s attention as you reached the sidewalk on the other side of the street. Looking over, you both saw Herb cutting away with his chainsaw, only now he wasn’t cutting through bushes but the stone wall separating his and Wanda and Vision’s homes. The stone blocks of the wall weren’t super heavy-duty, you supposed, but the sound made you cringe, and the sight was a little jarring. Herb didn’t seem to realize was he was doing despite the lack of hedges in his path.

    “Hey Herb,” Vision yelled over the noise, “think you might’ve taken the hedge trimming a little too far there, old chum!” As he spoke, he glanced over at you and, seeing you nearby, instinctively shifted in your direction; you moved to meet him halfway and you each gave the other’s hand a quick affectionate squeeze, though both pairs of eyes were trained on Herb.

    Herb, who looked up, smiled, and responded, “So I have! Thanks, buddy.” Despite saying this, he continued to cut through the bordering wall and stare glassily ahead as if none the wiser. 

    The expression gave you an unnerving sense of familiarity but you couldn’t quite put a name to the vague memory of a person you’d seen wearing it. Acquiring a migraine medication and forcing yourself to not look too hard into every strange thing that happened in this town helped but your headaches appeared to never quite go away. This was proven by the muted throb across one side of your head that came with looking at the bizarre scene.

    “Yeah,” Vision said a little quieter, “don’t mention it.”

    The action only happened briefly but when you caught him chewing his lower lip, you felt your innards tie themselves in knots and had a particularly hard time tearing your gaze away. Now that you were closer, you also noticed that the blue and brown ensemble he wore perfectly matched his hair and eyes. That hair that you always desperately wanted to brush your fingers through.

Fingers carefully slipping around your hand, like if they held you any tighter your own would break, managed to catch your attention as Vision turned to lead you inside.

    “Oh,” you chirped, tugging your hand back to point a thumb over your shoulder, “I forgot my tools. Meet you in a minute?”

    Vision seemed persistent to bring you inside, even going so far as to catch both your arms and doing a playful series of shimmies and sways to dance the two of you closer to the front door. Now that you were out of Herb’s frozen line of sight, the two of your found yourselves standing so close together that there wasn’t a single pocket of space between your bodies. When you inhaled, you smell cologne that wasn’t too light or too heavy and a scent that you could only describe as the heat of a warm, sunny day. Thinking as he would only smell sweat and dirt and grass if he did the same, you blushed and made a note to change before you came back over.

    Whatever Vision thought about how you smelled or the clothes you wore, he didn’t seem to care enough, if at all. He took advantage of being out of sight to move his hands from your hours to your waist—a much more convincing position indeed—and nuzzled his nose to your hairline, now exposed as your hat rested farther back on your head.

    “You know very well that you can use ours,” he said.

    You felt his warm breath on your forehead. If you weren’t standing up and didn’t have the nagging feeling that you were getting dirt on his nice sweater, you would have been perfectly comfortable simply hugging him and dozing off in the cozy embrace right there.

    Vision continued in a lilting voice and with an added shimmy that brought the two of you directly to the front door. “They’d love to see you, you know.”

    They? Your brows furrowed a bit, then rolled your eyes. Oh, Wanda plus baby.

    Still, you steeled your resolve and leaned away from him. He looked at you like he was a puppy that had been kicked, to which you responded with a faux scowl. “Mr. Vision Maximoff, I said I was going bring my tools, and [Y/N] is no flake. Besides,” you paused as your scowl melted into a smile, “I don’t want to get dirt and grime all over the new room. It’ll only take a minute; you act like we can’t see each other through our living room windows if we wanted to.”

    Making his last attempt, Vision leaned into your arms, which were now around his own, and pressed his cheek against your temple. Still pouting, he muttered, “It only took Wanda and I going around a few times before we moved in together.”

    The idea of you living under the same roof as your couple and their new baby made you giddy as much as it made you feel like you wanted to throw yourself into a lit fire pit to save yourself from embarrassment. 

    “Ah, yes, a spectacle to behold,” you said as you leaned away again, “A new baby and a new roommate!” You saw Vision open his mouth to speak, no doubt to respond with a quip, and quickly continued, disentangling yourself from him as you did, “Gotta skitty, I’ll be back momentarily!”

    “Well,” Vision replied, dragging out the last consonant as if you were going to change your mind if he did so long enough; when you didn’t, he huffed a bit. “Alright then. Hurry back!”

    You gave him a smile and two-fingered salute then bounded down the steps and back across the street. You only stopped once on the quick trip back home and that was to give Bernard another swift kick, which somehow lodged the bird the rest of the way into the ground, and a “Fuck you, Bernard!” You heard sputtering laughter from across the street that made you grin as you marched inside to change and grab your toolkit. 

    The tools were the easy part; they had been sitting out on the table in your dining area since last night when you’d originally suggested the idea so you were sure to not forget them. It took a bit longer to struggle your way out of your clothes, especially while simultaneously trotting to the bathroom to wash your hands and splash water on your face. It took longer still to jog back to your bedroom without slamming yourself into an end table or plant along the way and then also go through every piece of clothes you owned; when bright colors and eccentric outfits came into style, you were, for once, ahead of the fashion game with your regular closet, and your wardrobe only continued to grow as the rest of the country’s interest in the style did. You were particularly interested in peacock fashion and it showed in your array of ruffled, brightly colored, and loudly patterned shirts and blouses. 

Of these blouses, you threw on one in a burnt orange and yellow paisley pattern, choosing one without ruffles in fear of ripping them while working. You paired the shirt with matching yellow walk-shorts that ended just above your knees and a pair of honey-brown clog sandals whose color made you think of Vision’s outfit. Thinking about this further, you decided to accent your ensemble with a touch of blue, wrapping your hair that was still damp with sweat back with a satin scarf that was a vibrant blue and some handmade jewelry pieces in the same color to match. Finally, you added a woven belt and, after looking in the mirror for a moment, decided to tie your blouse off an inch above the waist of your shorts instead of tucking it in before booking it back across the street.

    Standing at the door of your couple’s house, you took a final glance at yourself in the reflection of one of their windows before knocking. You let yourself in after Wanda invited you with a holler through the door and you were greeted with the interesting sight of Wanda, in all her stunning, colorful, mother-to-be glory standing by the long dark-wood dining table; Vision, half-hidden behind her belly that seemed significantly larger than the last time you saw her, was taking an awkward knee while holding up a variety of fruits.

    “I’m never not uniquely surprised when I walk into this house,” you said mostly to yourself and you made your way over. Reaching Wanda, you sat your bag of tools on the floor by her feet and gave her a gentle hug. “Hey, sunshine, you’re looking foxy.”

    You certainly had gotten a lot more comfortable with them recently. 

    Wanda visibly blushed, giving you one of her signature fake irritated looks—a tilted head with tight-knit brows and tight lips that broke into a smile less than a second later—and lightly swatted your arm before carefully returning the hug. “Hey sunshine yourself. Look at you, you’re glowing! And those threads, you’re a regular Casanova.”

    She made a point of eyeing your partially exposed midriff and you almost blushed—but not quite.

    “Glowing,” you repeated, playfully patting your face, “I’m not even the pregnant one! Thank you, though. Some of the colors were inspired.” You took your turn eyeing her, particularly the bright red of her striped dress that was a common color in her palette, then you caught Vision’s bright blue gaze as he stood and placed a couple of fruits back in their rightful place in the basket on the table. You moved to Wanda’s other side to help him. “Why the fruit?”

    “Oh, well, the doctor said it helps the mothers keep track of the baby’s progress.” Vision explained. He added another fruit to the basket’s tower, although he was giving the last one in his hand an odd look.

    “What he actually said was,” Wanda added, grasping your shoulder and tugging you over two put an arm around your waist and give you mildly strained look, “it helps make things ‘simple’ for us ‘little ladies.’”

    You recognized the glint in her eye and nodded understandingly. “Well that’s mildly condescending, must’ve been just groovy.”

    “Out of sight,” Wanda agreed in the same tone. She then looked in Vision’s direction with raised brows; you followed her gaze and saw the man toying with the large green fruit in his hand. “Hey, honey? What’cha doin’?”

    Vision met both of your equally puzzled gazes with barely contained glee. Voice tight from holding back a giggle, he raised the fruit and pointed at it. “I can’t wait… to be… a proud… papa-ya.”

    Wanda looked amused at the future father’s pun and Vision grinned, clearly happy with the reaction. You actually laughed before quickly throwing up a hand to cover the titter.

    “Well, that just proves it,” you said after composing yourself even though your company seemed perfectly pleased with your reaction to the joke, “you’re going to be a wonderful one. Look at you, turning into a proper one already.”

    Vision went from smiling to flusteredly chewing at his lip quite quickly; he would always get easily flustered but never enough to blush. Instead, he’d twist his head a certain way and rub his neck and shoulder, maybe even avoid eye contact if he was embarrassed enough. He’d always tug his bottom lip between his teeth too, something you couldn’t help finding just a touch more endearing than the other mannerisms; at least it gave you a much more rational reason to stare at his lips for longer than generally accepted.

    “You really think so?” he asked.

    You scoffed as you moved to pick up your tools again. “Of course, you and Wanda will make absolutely stellar parents. The two of you are more prepared now than I’ve seen some people after they’ve already had the kids. Now,” you paused as you stood up straight and looked at your couple with a cheerful smile, “shall we head to the nursery?”

    You were partially convinced that you had been invited solely to help Vision wrangle his wife. You certainly hadn’t been invited to help decorate; even pregnant, Wanda made faster work of your tools than you did. You were huffing while maneuvering a rocking chair in the room and by the time you got it settled in the corner, Wanda had already pieced together the changing stand that was to sit next to it. You turned to grab a tool to open the cans of paint only to turn back around and see all of them opened and Wanda with a brush in hand, painting away. You managed to get the crib up before she could get her hands on it but when you looked around for the yellow mattress and bumper cushions, you looked up to find Wanda already putting on the finishing touches.

    Now, you were kneeling on the ground by the crib and painting a delicately rendered stork while Vision was getting to his feet after reading all the reasons Wanda should be resting instead of doing what she was doing, which was pulling a mobile of colorful plastic butterflies out of a box and shifting ever so closer to a stool so she could hang it.

    “Darling,” Vision tried, shifting ever so closer to her, “you should probably sit down.”

    “You really should,” you offered your help, almost half-heartedly because you already knew the outcome before she said it.

    “Don’t be silly,” Wanda assured him, “all I feel is excitement, happiness, and— huhnf! Oh!”

    You were on your feet and spun around to give her a wide-eyed stare before her gasp even finished, but instead of pain or worry, Wanda’s face was lit up with wonder as the hand not grasping a plate fluttered around her stomach. Vision also moved quickly, to step forward and pressed his hand on her stomach.

    He breathed, “Kicking already?” and they shared an excited stare.

    You stared awkwardly from the side with a paintbrush in hand, feeling more out of place you’ve ever had in your life.

    Until Wanda, without missing a single beat, turned her head in your direction and grinned. “[Y/N], you have to feel this!” Then she spoke to Vision, “Oh, it’s such a strange sensation, it’s kinda fluttery!”

    She was breathtaking. Then her nose scrunched up and she giggled in a way that could also be described as fluttery, and you were wondering in which states polygamy was legal and where was the best jeweler to get a ring.

    Still, you were trying to refrain from overstepping boundaries.

    “Oh, I don’t know…” you mumbled, shifting your weight from foot to foot and glancing around the room. You noticed the mobile she had been retrieving the last time you’d looked at her was already hung up above the crib; of course, it was.

    Wanda scoffed and made a gesture at Vision, then he was walking over and coaxing you to her side with an encouraging nuzzle to your temple.

    “I just don’t want—” you started.

    “To overstep, we know,” Wanda finished, the giddy look on her face replaced with a scowl. “Trust me, this is probably the one and only time I’ll ask for someone to feel my stomach while everyone else in the town just does it willy-nilly and besides, you are a part of— Oh!” 

    Her gasp and glance over your shoulder, combined with the sound of movement behind you was enough to make you turn your head, only for Vision to catch your attention in the opposite direction.

    “Another kick!” he exclaimed, just a little too loud. You thought you caught his gaze flitting over in the same direction as Wanda’s but then he was grasping your wrist and placing your hand against Wanda’s stomach. At the same time, his arm that was hovering politely around your back pressed against the naked small of your back as he pulled you closer into the little triangle of space you, Wanda, and he made; the sudden heat there made your blood boil in the best way and when his hand accidentally caught on the hem of your shorts and dipped a little lower over the fabric, you choked while sucking in a breath.

    Vision’s hands flew up to the sky and he scrambled away, apologizing profusely. Out of the corner of your eye, you could see his hands fluttering around, could imagine his eyes doing the same, and you were vaguely aware of Wanda moving at your other side, the fabric of her sleeve brushing against yours as she waved her arm. You also heard a sound that you chalked up to being a breeze coming from the open window and rustling the drawn curtains. You, usually the final piece of the chaotic puzzle, were instead staring down and softly gasping as the sudden tap against your palm. 

    “I felt it,” you whispered and the chaos that was happening around you seemed to still in the same moment as Wanda and Vision settled back around you to feel themselves. You repeated the phrase, brushing your thumb across the patch of clothed skin, and the baby responded with another kick a moment later. You couldn’t help looking up at Wanda a face frozen in almost childish wonder, and state the obvious, “You’re gonna have a baby.”

    Wanda nodded at you with shining eyes and a wet smile. She wrapped her free arm around her midsection and looked back down on her belly. The expression on her face radiated an intense, loving tenderness and you felt a billion non-plastic butterflies make a comfortable home in your chest.

    You followed her gaze and felt your face break into a grin so wide that your cheeks started to hurt almost immediately. Your hand, along with Wanda’s own and Vision’s, created a loose but ever so protective triangular shield over the place where you had felt your first baby kick, promising to move the universe for them should it ever be required. Despite the overlapping mess of fingers, you noticed how Vision’s hand was the perfect size to envelop your own and that even with a ring on one of them, Wanda’s fingers fit perfectly in the spaces between yours.

    The nervousness and insecurities that seemed to bounce around your head whenever you observed your couple, in their perfect world with their perfect dynamics, melted away in the comfortable warmth that came from your trio’s cozy huddle. This wasn’t a story about you or them separately but the three of you together and it was a wonderful one in the making.

    Then, “Oh.”

    Wanda looked up at her husband and echoed, “Oh.”

    You looked up second, adding your own questioning “Oh?” before your gaze settled on the butterfly lightly perched on the tip of Vision’s nose. “Oh!” Watching the monarch’s delicate wings fluttering, you were surprised he hadn’t already sneezed. 

    “Hello, little fella,” Vision softly said. He was the first to separate your group, stepping away and leaning down a bit for your and Wanda’s better viewing. His smile was blinding for the brief moment you caught it, before tilting your head away to snicker at the way his eyes were crossing to view his insect passenger.

    Wanda gently coaxed the butterfly onto her fingertip and walked over to the window to release it. That’s when you noticed a group of the bug type coalesced around the same area; the sudden visit from Mother Nature must have been what she had seen earlier.

    “Oh, my,” you said, “that’s something you don’t see every day.”

    The smile on Wanda’s face tightened for just a moment as her gaze jumped around the baby room, then relaxed as she maneuvered the various colorful butterflies outside. “Bringing good vibes, hopefully. They must have been enticed by the mobile; why, they even tried to free their plastic friends!”

    You looked towards the crib curiously and saw that the mobile hanging above it was only a series of transparent hanging strings. Walking over, you found the butterflies that had once been attached to it scattered around the mattress. You picked a couple of them up and carefully pinched the thin material between your fingers. “Hm, strong butterflies.”

    “Clearly,” Vision agreed. He walked over to the rocking chair he had been sitting and reading baby books earlier and picked up his most recent read.

    Meanwhile, you began gathering up the scattered butterflies, then climbed up the nearby stool to retrieve the rest of the mobile. “You wouldn’t happen to have a good adhesive laying around, would you? I can have this fixed up and rehung lickity-split.”

    “Not laying around but I’m sure there’s one in the cabinet under the sink.” Vision seemed to find the page he was looking for. He glanced over the words, tensed up immediately after, and paced over to Wanda’s side as she shut the window. “If that was first kick, that puts you at about six months! Why I can’t keep up!”

    Has it been that long already? You silently wondered as you made your way over to the exit, careful not to crush any of the delicate pieces you were holding. While Vision was thinking in terms of babies, you were surprised that you had already been dating him and his wife for almost half of a year.

    In a signature dad-to-be fashion, Vision waggled his head down to give Wanda and the baby a kiss. Then he said in an equally identifiable dad’s voice, “Please don’t misinterpret. I can’t wait you meet you, little Billy!”

    You leaned against the doorframe as you offered Wanda an amused look; you had been previously graced with the conversation of baby names and Billy wasn’t exactly on her roster.

    “Billy?” she questioned, to which Vision gave a smile and an affirming noise. Wanda continued, “Well I was thinking Tommy. Just a nice, classic American name.”

    Vision gave an exaggerated, head tilting nod that suggested a mild disagreement. Then the higher-pitched tone he took when he replied confirmed it. “Hm, Tommy! Hm, mm… then there’s Billy, isn’t there? Named after William Shakespeare, all the world’s a stage, all the men and women many players!”

    Wanda went to speak but you beat her to it. “You’re sure it’s a boy, then?”

    Your partner seemed mildly embarrassed as she turned her attention to you. “Strong intuition?”

    You offered casually, not thinking about your lack of say in the matter, “What about Victor? Vin? Little Vinny’s certainly a cute nickname.” Almost immediately after you finished, it was your turn to be the embarrassed one. You stumbled over your words a bit as you started to apologize, only to falter when you saw both Vision and Wanda’s gleeful stares.

    “Well, those are wonderful names too,” Wanda assured you, clearly pleased you had chimed in, “but I’m not hoping for quadruplets. I guess we’ll need the next best thing— A girl.”

    Your shoulders relaxed from their hunched places that you hadn’t noticed they took. You chuckled and strolled out the door, throwing a couple more ideas over your shoulder, “Vivian! Virginia! Nadia!”

    Vision’s voice floated after you as you walked to the kitchen. “Ooh, Vivian’s quite good…”

    When you returned to the bedroom with good-as-new mobile in hand, only final touches needed to be added to the nursery, and Wanda and Vision’s excitement over the baby’s coming was suddenly amped up to eleven. The two were pacing around and frantically listing off the all things that they had left to do or buy. It was a very drastic change from the casual playfulness that you had experienced between them earlier, as the new parents were keeping themselves—and you—busy with a thousand new tasks. Eventually, Vision had a list about as long as he was tall of every bottle, diaper, blanky, binky, children’s book, and stuffed animal that they had yet to get.

    Deciding you were now the more sane member of the group, you decided to take the list and go shopping for them; if you didn’t, Vision may have been swept up in the baby section of a clothing store and never return. That’s how you ended up where you were now, at the front of an ever-growing line of department store customers, waiting anxiously as the workers tried to get the lights back on and the cash register back in working order.

    You rapped your fingernails on the countertop—not intentionally, just out of worry about how your parents-to-be were managing at home—and glanced from your bloated shopping cart to the cashier, who was talking quietly with a manager then back several times. You were antsy about being stuck in a store when you were much useful elsewhere and being concerned about whether you were making the cashier uncomfortable with your mannerisms, for they were probably three times as unsettled as you were, wasn’t doing anything but adding on to the stress.

    Finally, the cashier turned back to you and the rest of the shoppers and announced, “Good news, everybody! The register is still down but it’s a quick switch to manual; we’ll have each and every one of you checked out and on your ways home soon!”

    A cheer erupted around you but you were too frazzled to join in.

    “Unfortunately,” the cashier continued as the noise died down, “we’re not the only store experiencing this. It’s the whole town.”

    While the crowd’s disappointed “Aww” only appeared mildly disgruntled, you went rigid and your mind began racing, all thoughts revolving around a particular household.

    One random thought of wondering What if Wanda went into labor right now? had the hair on your arms sticking straight up.

    You slammed your hand down on the counter, spooking both the cashier and yourself.

    “Ma’am,” you started, then paused to quickly apologize for your rudeness before continuing, “I need you to check me out as fast as humanly possible; I think my—” Wife seemed way out of line but girlfriend felt too out of place. “—pah-art-ner’s having a baby.”

    You were struggling to your car with a small mountain of baby items in the arms in a matter of minutes, mentally kicking yourself for being bad at talking the entire way there. You threw your bags in the back, scrambled into the driver’s seat, and were getting ready to pull away from the curb when a ringing from your mobile phone sounded.

    “Goddammit,” you huffed. One hand was pulling up an antenna and pressing the technological brick to your ear while the other gripped your steering wheel so hard that your knuckles turned three skin tones lighter. “Yeah, hello?”

    “[Y/N]?” Agnes’s voice was a welcome surprise but her worried tone wasn’t.

    “No, it’s your husband, I’m on my way home now, dear,” you snarked, then mentally kicked yourself again. “Sorry, that was rude, I’m in a rush. What’s crackin’? Besides the town going into blackout, that is.”

    “The neighborhood’s flooded,” Agnes said simply.

    You blanched. “I’m sorry?”

    “The cul-de-sac? Something’s happened and all the pipes have burst. Mine, Herb’s, Dotty’s, everyone’s!”

    How on earth the day’s mood has changed so quickly, you had no idea. What you did know is that you desperately had to get back to Wanda’s side, your house be damned.

    “Thanks, ‘Nes, good to know,” you hissed through clenched teeth. You rested your phone between your ear and shoulder as you put both hands on the wheel and started driving.

    “Do you want me to do anything?” Agnes asked; her voice sounded as frazzled as you and the rest of Westview looked. “Go over to your place, grab anything important?”

    You huffed out a sigh as your car flew around a corner. “Agnes, you know I adore you, but I really, really have to go.” 

    “[Y/N]—”

    You hung up and tossed the shoe-sized device in the passenger’s seat.

    Vision met you on the curb as you were parking your car and he had the doctor from earlier that day in tow, now dressed in vacationing attire and very seeming very underprepared. Within a few words and as if you had accidentally wished it into existence back at the department store, you were informed that Wanda was in fact about to have little Billy or Tommy or who-have-you. Of course, this messy day would come to a peak in such a way.

    The taller man was half-escorting, half-hauling both you and the doctor to the door, and the bags in the backseat of your car were completely forgotten as concern chewed away at your insides. Loud, strained sounds coming from inside only added onto it.

    As the three of you reached the front door, Vision flung it open and pressed the doctor inside. Then he grabbed your wrist and began tugging you in after himself.

    You couldn’t help your feet freezing to the concrete. “Vis, are you sure?”

    The distress on his face softened just slightly and he pressed the back of your hand to his lips. “Of course we are.” Then he wrapped an arm around you and properly, albeit quickly, brought you into his and Wanda’s home—

    —where Wanda was laying on the floor, panting and shimmering with sweat and holding a baby wrapped in a blue and white dishtowel while Geraldine perched awkwardly over her.

    You and Vision shared a bug-eyed look before Vision’s turned into one of sadness. You wanted so badly to hug him and tell him it was alright but he was already releasing you and slowly walking over; you trailed a couple of steps after him.

    “Oh no,” he murmured, “I missed it?” However, when he took a look at Wanda’s softly smiling face and their happily cooing baby, whatever brief grief he was experiencing was replaced by a proud smile and new fatherly glow.

    “Hey, doc,” Geraldine spoke suddenly, “why don’t you help me out in the kitchen there?” She nodded in your direction as well.

    You wondered why she was there, in Wanda’s home or Westview, at all. The idea made your stomach flip but you just couldn’t place why.

    The only response the doctor gave was blubbering about speeding as she took his arm and led him away. You began to follow when Vision stopped you with a gentle tug on your arm.

    “No, [Y/N],” he said, “it’s alright. Stay and come see.”

    You didn’t even think as you smiled and took his hand. You took a glance towards the kitchen to make sure the other company was occupied, then kissed the back of his hand as he had done only a moment earlier. Squeezing it and letting it drop, you responded, “Go say hello to your baby. I’ll always be here.”

    Given the current situation, Vision wasn’t up for arguing much. He gave you a quick peck on the temple before gingerly making his way over to where Wanda rested happily on the living room floor.

    You made your way to the kitchen, where you slumped against the kitchen counter as exhaustion overtook you. You were close enough to both parties to hear Geraldine’s blatant attempts at distracting the doctor to your left and Vision and Wanda’s cozy rumblings to your right, but too out of sorts to make out anything tangible. You didn’t realize until now how badly your feet ached from the combination of gardening, decorating, and running around and how your outfit had lost its cute playfulness in place of wrinkles and feeling slightly damp from sweat. You were sure you were looking more worse for wear than Wanda, despite Wanda having had a baby, but when you thought about it for more than a second or two, you felt like you wouldn’t trade the day for any other in the world. 

    Especially when thinking about that cutie patootie, you thought with a tired smile. He’s gonna have such good parents. Such a good life.

    Suddenly, your train of thought was stopped by the sound of Wanda yelling and your whole body jerked in her direction, energetic as ever.

    Wanda was going into labor a second time, you could see easily see. Something somehow more surprising was going on in the living area, though, and that something was Vision’s skin. While he still wore his regular clothes, that was the only normal thing about him. Instead of light skin, his flesh was a deep red and you weren’t even sure it could be called skin; it looked more… mechanical than that, with symmetrical lines etched into some places and silver plating covering others. Instead of a full head of wavy hair, he had none, and his ears and parts of his bald skull were also covered in silver. Silver came to a peak at the top of his forehead and at the end of it was a golden gem.

    Vision was holding his baby and yelling along with Wanda as she began pushing a second time. He happened to glance up and catch your bewildered eye and then he started yelling because of you.

    You stood frozen in place, not sure what to do until you heard a commotion behind you.

    “Well, what’s going on now?” Geraldine started.

    Your brain kicked back into full gear and thinking quickly and somewhat stupidly, you yelled and pointed in the opposite direction, “Jeepers creepers, is that a stork?” You couldn’t imagine why your poor attempt at a distraction worked but you considered it a success as Geraldine and the still-disoriented doctor’s attention settled elsewhere. Not missing a beat, you grabbed another cloth from the kitchen and raced to Wanda and Vision’s aid, skidding to a halt on your knees.

    “[Y/N],” Vision said, though nothing else followed. He stared at you in pure shock, mouth flapping and the bright blue irises of his eyes twisting and shifting like a camera lens as he looked at you. Still, his body worked despite his befuddled mind as he took the cloth you handed him and offered you a newborn baby to hold instead. 

    “[Y/N],” Wanda gasped through her current endeavor. When you dragged your head to look at her, she was staring at you with a clenched jaw and equally wide eyes, which were filled with a mixture of surprise, horror, and… relief? Then she was screaming and pushing again, eyes squeezed shut, and her hand flew to your own.

    You grabbed it and held on tight, even when her fingernails dug in enough to leave marks for days. While a red and silver-skinned Vision handled the delivery like a champ—a bugged out, stammering, robotic champ who couldn’t figure out whether he should be looking at you, his wife, or the baby he was helping into the world but a champ nonetheless—you switched between offering encouraging words to the tiring new mother and cooing calmly at the newborn swaddled and resting cozily in the crook of your arm. Soon enough, Wanda was slumping back into the pillow behind her head and Vision was sitting back on his haunches with another quiet baby snuggled against his chest; your taut muscles sagged and the exhaustion you hit in the kitchen came rushing back. 

    You made sure Wanda was lucid enough to take her baby back and carefully transferred from your arms to hers. It was only after he was safely in his mother’s grasp that you were able to fully relax, tossing an arm around Vision’s shoulders and leaning heavily against him while you shook out your other hand, which was red and covered in deep, crescent moon-shaped marks.

    “So,” you puffed, “Billy and Tommy?”

    Wanda’s tired face lit up as she nodded her head towards her baby. “Tommy.”

    Vision, who was leaning on you as much as you were on him—something in the back of your head noted that the two of you held each other very well and that something sent a little pang of affection straight to your pounding heart—used his turn to nuzzle the forehead of the baby he held and grumble in a half British, half baby-talk accent, “Billy.”

    You hummed while stretching a hand down to give Billy a very ginger boop on the nose; he didn’t seem to mind. Then you said, “Vinny and Vivian will just have to be next time.”

    Your group shuddered with a mess of tired, soft laughter. Then you began to relax further but as the excitement of childbirth began to wear off, you a new variation of tension settling into your couple. The new parents were sharing increasingly worried looks and if they were communicating telepathically, and it was then that you remembered that the man sitting next to you was for less human than you’d previously made him out to be.

    The realization seemed to hit him at almost the same time because his head swung to look at you just as you had turned to observe his new appearance. On his robotic face—was robotic even the word; was he a robot?—was an expression of outright fear but also something that looked like he was mentally being torn in two different directions. He went to speak several times—his mouth and teeth looked the same, perfect and familiar—only to verbally scramble and backtrack, shaking his head and shrugging his shoulders since his hands were too occupied to scratch his neck. Finally, he appeared to get himself in order and he started, “[Y/N], I can— we can explain—”

    You ran your hand over his scalp and down to rest at the base of his neck; the silver plating felt like metal, while the thick red epidermis was warm and softer to the touch. Not only warm but damp from exertion, and pulsing softly to some form of a heartbeat where you ran a finger over a common pulse point. 

    While your mental energy was rapidly declining, you still managed to quip at the man, “As much as loved the idea of running my fingers through your hair, I think I prefer this over that awful cut that’s in style right now.”

    That left Vision dumbfounded and silent, his mouth flopping open and closed like a fish out of water. On your other side, who had been otherwise quiet and already snoozing as far as you were concerned, broke into a burst of loud laughter that was music to your ears.

    You grinned in response but your muscles were too tired to make it reach your eyes. You shifted over slightly to be closer to Wanda now and brushed your thumb over little Tommy’s cheek before resting doing a similar action to his mother’s. Wanda relaxed her head against your palm and the way she looked up at you from under her lashes made you do mental gymnastics about the ethics of blurting out the L-word then and there.

    Unfortunately, the moment didn’t last much longer because then Geraldine’s voice floated over from the kitchen, getting louder as she and the doctor made their way back from the wild stork chase you sent them on. You quickly looked to Vision, only to see him looking as human as the day you first met him, and noted the sad little string you got from seeing simple blue irises instead of the intricately shifting blue ones that swirled mechanically as he focused on something. It only lasted a moment, though, before you and your trio were busy readjusting yourselves into what you considered normal poses but in reality, probably made the three of you look much more awkward than you previously had.

    You’d just finished settling as Geraldine and her companion walked into the living room and, thinking tiredly and definitely stupidly, you blurted, “Jeepers creepers, another baby!”

    “Twenty fingers and twenty toes, you’ve got two healthy baby boys on your hands.”

    “Thank you, doctor,” Wanda responded as the man handed Billy back to her. Vision stood watchfully next to her, holding Tommy.

    You poked your head up from behind the second crib you were finishing assembling and as the doctor turned to thank Geraldine for her delivery help, you said to the Maximoff couple, “And a second crib all ready to go. If they’re not fans of sleeping separately, let me know and we can exchange the ones you have for one big one.”

    Wanda held out her hand to you as you stood and you walked over to hold it only briefly as she thanked you before leaning over and crooning at Billy and Tommy in turn. You were in the company of others, after all, and there had been enough excitement for one day without revealing your polyamorous relationship to a neighbor and a random doctor.

    It was weird how different the energy felt standing with them now than it had earlier just that day alone. Things still felt new and strange but you no longer felt like a separate unit from the household you were standing in or the people standing and smiling oh so sweetly at you. Then again, maybe that’s just what being involved in the arrival of an unexpected set of twins and making a superhuman discovery about one of your partners did to all blossoming romantic triads in the seventies. 

    Speaking of the doctor, as he began to finish up chatting with Geraldine, Vision beckoned you closer, and after getting an okay to do so, he carefully laid the baby he held in your arms. He gave Tommy a nuzzle and a light tap on the nose, then straightened up and headed towards the door.

    He said to the other man, “Allow me to walk you out, doctor.”

    “Oh, alright,” the doctor responded with an odd quiver in his voice. Said quiver was confirmed to be restlessness, which you had no doubt was attached to some sort of superhuman business Vision had involved him in when picking him up, when he continued, “As long as we actually walk this time?”

    You would definitely have to delve into the mystery of Vision’s sometimes inhuman appearance at a later date but at that moment you were remembering how the entire neighborhood’s pipes had burst. The neighborhood of which your house was a part of and an event you were sure you hadn’t been lucky enough to avoid.

    “Oh, shi—oot,” you stammered, “I should probably get back to my own pad and save what I can from getting water damage. I haven’t even been home to see how bad everything is.” You provided Tommy with a very important explanation in very serious baby babble terms before placing him in his crib. “I’ll just leave my car on this side of the street and bring the other stuff in sometime later this evening if that’s alright with you, Wanda?”

    When you looked at her, she was giving you a confused head tilt. She blinked, then her eyes shot wide open. “Oh, the pipes!” She paused and turned her gaze to the far wall of the living room as if she could see your house through it, then looked back at you with a smile. “Your house should be fine. In fact, I think the entire neighborhood is back intact!”

    Something about the way she looked at you assured you that she was right. You wondered whether Vision wasn’t the only one with a unique secret under this roof and if all the strange happenings that had gone on today couldn’t be traced back to Wanda herself.

    Not that any of that really mattered in the grand scheme of things.

    “I should still go,” you insisted, “You should really rest for a while, and I am a mess for the second time today. Maybe I can pop back over in a little bit?”

    Wanda pursed her lips in a subtle doubt before giving in. She nodded and after taking a glance around to make sure the company was occupied, she grasped your hand and leaned in closer. “Come over for dinner tonight. Stay and help us get the babies settled in? We can talk about today.”

    “Wanda, you need rest—”

    The woman interrupted, a teasing look making her eyes glitter. “Which is why either you or Vision will be doing the cooking! And you know how much I love the man but there’s a reason the only thing he handles in the kitchen is water from the faucet.”

    You had to nod in somber agreement at that statement, then sighed and gave Wanda a pout of your own. “Fine. Now, is anyone looking?”

    Wanda was smiling triumphantly. She took another quick look around, then shook her head; her silky hair fanned out slightly from its position perfectly framing her head as she did.

    You shuffled a little closer and slipped an arm around her waist in an intimate hug. Leaning in, you gave her one quick smooch on the cheek and another on the forehead then mumbled against her skin, “You did amazing.” Another kiss. “And you’re going to be a wonderful mother. Please, though, promise me that you’ll rest, at least for a little bit. The world will not crumble around you if you take one break.”

    Wanda, who had immediately leaned into your embrace and giggled as you kissed her, scoffed slightly. She gave you a tight squeeze and murmured back, “I suppose you’re right. Fine, but only because you promised to cook.”

    “Well, technically,” you said as you broke away from her, “I only said I’d come over. I can’t wait for Vision to make us burnt water and boiled bacon!”

    Wanda stared after you, frozen in a mock gasp. “[Y/N]!”

    You grinned and waved before spinning on your heels and trotting over to where Vision was perched, holding the door. “Bye!”

    When you got to the door, Vision’s hand played lightly down your back as he followed you outside after the doctor. 

    “Well, Dr. Nielson,” Vision said, “I hope you’re still able to make your trip.”

    The doctor, apparently Dr. Nielson, slowed as he stepped off the porch and onto the sidewalk. He turned towards Vision with a glassy look in his eye that he hadn’t had before but you’ve been seeing more and more often in Westview residents these days. When he talked, his speech became slower as well. 

    “Ah, yes, about my trip,” he drawled, “I don’t think we’ll get away after all. Small towns, you know. So hard to… escape.” 

    You frowned, suddenly uneasy. Glancing at Vision, the man just looked confused.

    Dr. Nielson’s glassy gaze shifted from Vision to you. He spoke deliberately to you, “Don’t you think, [Y/N]?” Then he blinked, turned, and walked off down the sidewalk.

    You weren’t sure exactly why, but you flinched and reeled back. You would have tripped and fallen up the porch if it weren’t for Vision catching you. Then the two of you stood gripping each other and staring as the doctor disappeared around the corner. 

    You didn’t even realize that your ears had started ringing until the sound began to fade. You started, “Well, that was…”

    “Yeah,” Vision said with a slow nod. “Very. Are you alright?”

    “Fine, I think.”

    “No migraines?”

    “No migraines.”

    The two of you stood holding each other for a moment longer before you forced your fingers to loosen their death grip on Vision’s jacket. As the two of you relaxed slightly and readjusted yourselves, several questions rushed through your head, like why was that so unnerving and why did the doctor speak directly to you.

    How had he known your name?

    A particularly sharp pain made your vision swim temporarily but it was gone as soon as it came. Before you think any further on the subject, other voices floated into your range of hearing.

    “What is she doing in there?”

    “I don’t know.”

    You followed the voices with your eyes and found Agnes and Herb talking quietly by the wall Herb had been cutting into earlier; actually, Herb looked like he’d barely moved an inch, still standing in the gap between his wall of shrubs. At least he appeared more lucid, but now he and Agnes were huddled together like they were having a secret meeting. Neither of them noticed you yet.

    Vision decided to change that by throwing up a hand and hollering, “Howdy neighbors!”

    Agnes spun around so quickly you were wonder if she’d given herself whiplash, but the strained greetings and even more strained expressions that both she and Herb gave were what really piqued your interest.

    Well, not so much piqued your interest than their actions gave you a second dose of uneasiness that made your head spin and filled you with a sense of somewhat morbid curiosity.

    Then they stuck their heads back together and continued muttering.

    “Did you see her go inside?” Agnes questioned.

    Herb responded, “She went right in.”

    Vision leaned his head closer to yours; he didn’t seem to catch what they were saying. “Do they seem… a little off to you?”

    “Just a tad.”

    You silently deliberated with each other before casually strolling over.

    “Remarkable day we’re having, no?” Vision tried again.

    Agnes and Herb looked up again, also trying to look casual but there was something definitely worrisome about their equally strained smiles.

    Vision continued, “Did you lose power too?”

    You snapped your fingers, joining in. “That’s right! Agnes, you called me about the pipes bursting. I hope nothing got too damaged?”

    “Oh, sure did,” Agnes said to Vision, “but Ralph looks better in the dark, so I’m not complaining. And you’re right, I did, [Y/N]! Luckily, everything’s just fine.”

    There was an awkward pause and even though you were out in open air, you felt like you were struggling to breathe in a sauna.

    Vision said, “Hi, Herb.”

    Herb responded, “Heya, buddy.”

    More awkward silence. 

    “Well,” Vision said slowly, lightly clapping his hands together, “I’ll get back to Wanda. [Y/N], you’re heading home?”

    “Right,” you affirmed, a little too quickly.

    What is going on?

    Vision placing his hand on your back brought back some sense of normalcy as he began escorting you to the curb.

    “Vision,” Agnes abruptly said halting your exit. You and your partner turned back to her and Herb and she continued after a long-winded pause and adjusting her awkward stance leaning against the low wall, “Is Geraldine inside with Wanda?”

    “Yes. Why?”

    Herb piped up, “She’s new to town. Brand new.”

    Wait, that’s not right. Your brows furrowed and you felt the sting of your own bite as you chewed your bottom lip. You felt pressure in your skull as you tried to recall where you’d previously met the woman, because you knew you had, but trying to do so had a similar feeling to trying to grip water as it rushed through your fingers.

    Agnes went on, “There’s no family. No husband.”

    You would have scowled, said something in defense of your circumstances of moving to Westview without a family or marriage, but you were too busy trying to clear away the fog that quickly encroaching your headspace. Vision, on the other hand, was able to say something, “Well there’s nothing wrong with that.”

    Agnes hummed, gave a half-hearted nod, then steadily met his gaze. “No home.”

    Come to think of it, you knew very little about Geraldine. While you were positive that you’d met her before today, you couldn’t for the life of you place what she did for work, when she first appeared in Westview, what house in the cul-de-sac she lived in—

    You could list off the names of everyone who lived in your neighborhood. Geraldine wasn’t one of them.

    Your brain felt like it could expand and explode from the intense pressure at any moment but the dread pooling in the pit of your stomach from the idea of not being able to retrieve memories bothered you far more. You couldn’t bring yourself to push the thoughts away and instead mentally leaned into the pain. The harder you pushed, the more pressure pushed back, as if you were fighting against an invisible barrier that was barring you from your own memories. 

    At the same time, you attempted to keep yourself grounded by staying tuned into the conversation at hand. Vision asked Agnes what she meant by Geraldine having no home and Herb kept stumbling over the same beginning of a sentence—She came here because… She came here because… She came here because we’re all…—like he was a record on a broken player that just wouldn’t let him get out what he wanted to say. 

    Vision tried to urge him on. “She came here because what? What are trying to tell me?”

    With Agnes and Herb bickering briefly about whether or not to tell Vision whatever it was they had been speaking about, Vision completely tuned into them, and you fighting to remember things without succumbing to your migraines, you had an underlying feeling of being out of place. You’ve felt out of place before, of course, but this was something different and weird and wrong. Your entire perfect—but not so much, you were gradually learning—little town suddenly seemed like it was out of place in its state, its country, its world, its reality. Out of nowhere, Westview felt like it was trapped in a claustrophobic little bubble that wouldn’t let anyone escape and the longer anyone was here, the warped things would become—

    A memory came rushing back of a black and white talent show and a smashed mirror and an arm oozing blood and color and Geraldine was there but she was an eerie Geraldine, out of place and time and reality and asking if you knew who she was or who you were and you didn’t know the answer and then Wanda and Vision appeared and everything was okay again, and now the name Monica throbbed against the base of your neck and the air around you radiated electricity and it was itchy and no one around you was noticing anything and instead of darkness, a weird bright light was tinging the edges of your vision white and—

    There was a crash coming from the house and none of the people standing next to you were any the wiser but even though you felt like you were swimming through honey while doing it, you turned just in time to see a portion of a nearby wall explode as something shot out from inside and continued flying until it disappeared into the distance. Then there was a sound similar to a sonic boom that followed and a wave of nausea crashed over you as the electric air rippled and distorted right before your eyes, and then you could see the dome of TV static-looking energy that encapsulated your town and the dome seemed to peak directly above the Maximoff house.

    Your ears rang. Your mouth flapped open closed but you couldn’t force a single word out. You looked around and everyone else in your group seemed trapped in a strained conversation that they couldn’t escape from if they wanted to.

    You didn’t so much walk as you floated over to the gaping hole in the side of your couple’s house, or at least, that’s what it felt like as the ground grew soft and wobbly under your feet and you swayed as you moved. You reached the hole and peered through it, then waved aimlessly when you saw Wanda staring wide-eyed at you from a couple of demolished rooms away. She said or mouthed something—she’s sorry? Why?—but you couldn’t tell which it was over the thrumming of your own pulse in your ears. You cocked your head, more out of curiosity than confusion, then blinked and stared glassy-eyed as the hole in the house reversed itself.

    “Huh,” you said dumbly as the last brick fell back into place. “Cool.”

    Then your body felt as if it were slammed back onto very hard, solid ground and that’s because it was. You weren’t sure if you whined or groaned or screamed as you collapsed to the ground, succumbing to your worst migraine yet. 

[electricbluebutterflies]

Garden work + soft babes (bonus points for domesticity + “you don’t have to do that”)

Things I will never be over - Chris and Melissa being awkward cats who absolutely do not know how to relationship. Post-series as per usual, PG-ish, also on ao3.

The unexpected plus side of finally having some quiet – Melissa can live her best plant-lady life without worrying about all of it getting trampled.

Honestly, it is weird with most of the kids off at different colleges. She had gotten so used to her role as accidental pack mom for a whole herd of god-knows-what – and she still isn’t sure what some of the younger ones actually are, never did get an explanation for the boy who can apparently turn invisible and still turns up on her porch from time to time – and now just as suddenly it is reduced if not over. Which is to say, there are still non-human beings that automatically become her problem at work and occasionally call her at weird hours because she’s a reliable source of comfort and normality, but the remaining local faction does not need her the same way right now and she is fine with that.

So, with only so much long-distance worrying she can do before she either gets bored or goes crazy (she’s not sure which is more likely), and the relative state of quiet having lasted a couple months now, Melissa has time to plant flowers and figure out her own relationship issues. And apparently today she gets to do both at once.

This was not the plan, she would like to point out. She is perfectly capable of doing relatively light yard work on her own, and how hard could it realistically be to dig a few holes for rosebushes anyways. But in that way that these things apparently happen now, Chris is around today and attempting to make himself useful, and while this was not how Melissa intended for her afternoon to play out, she has never said no to a genuine offer of help.

Besides, it’s a good excuse to stare at him while she figures out what conversation they’re currently avoiding.

She’s not sure if they’re going slow or if they’re both too traumatized from past relationships to do much of anything or… there are a lot of possible explanations for the past year, all of them neither comforting nor problematic. At this stage in her life, she can’t afford to be too impulsive, and she’d been convinced for two years that she was going to die alone because other obligations came first and then-

“Where did you want this one?”

The man she may or may not be falling in love with is holding a pink rosebush like he is not sure what it even is and it’s the cutest thing she’s seen in years.

It’s easier to show than tell. Melissa walks over and taps her foot at a spot by the corner of the house – best to keep pointy things away from anywhere they might get trampled or driven over. Late March might be a little early for this sort of project, but she’d like to enjoy the pretty for a while before something has the opportunity to get it, and given how chaotic summer is likely to be…

“You don’t have to do this,” she says for the sake of formalities, and because she’d like to get any potential fights over with. Not that she expects that, not with him, but her instincts are still too defensive and-

“You need help,” he replies, not at all a question. This is why she likes him, she thinks. Trying to get him to talk about or even admit feelings is a losing battle unless something else has gone very wrong, which is to say that in this current quiet post-everything phase of their lives it is probably never going to happen, but what he does not say he still shows. Protectiveness is an expression of love, figuring out why her dishwasher was making weird noises is an expression of love, attempting to help with her projects is an expression of love.

She knows on some level this is still a very bad idea. He’s a good man, yes, but he’s reckless and unreliable and-

No. Not so much anymore. Not since whatever the hell happened six months ago that she did not ask about because all she needed to know was she was the person he needed in the middle of the night for once not wounded, she was the person who just needed to be calm and yet not because she had also been through her own personal hell and no one makes great choices at three in the morning and-

“Something wrong?”

Damn him. Damn him and his pretty eyes and his constant fear of being the cause of her distress.

“No,” she says too quickly. She blinks, realizing that in the time she spaced out he managed to dig a decent enough hole for the rosebush and is now waiting for further instructions. And to think that for once she wasn’t distracted by the pretty even though it was right there and-

“Whatever you need…”

“Has anyone ever told you you’re too cautious?” This would be a better scenario if she didn’t look like hell, she thinks. Hair up in a messy bun, dirt on her face, she’s not actually sure where this tshirt came from or who it originally belonged to… this is the sort of conversation a woman who actually planned for this shit would try to do in a dress, but she is more reactionary than that and-

He looks at her all deer-in-the-headlights like that is not at all where he expected she was about to go. “No?”

There are so, so many things she wants to say right now. Moving slow is one thing but they don’t have to, not anymore, not with no normal-person obstacles in the way. She has run this hesitant relationship situation by everyone else in her life who might have opinions on it – a decade of her various loved ones sabotaging her predictably awful taste in people has taught her a few damage-control techniques – and all have given their approval for a situation that, at this current moment, Melissa is unsure will actually happen in the form she wants.

And maybe that’s the problem. She’s been too content with the glacial pace, too content with avoided conversations and little kindnesses and hesitant kisses and never talking about that one exception the same way they didn’t talk about her other impulsiveness, and at least this time they have stayed in each other’s lives, at least this time she didn’t try to run, at least-

“At some point we need to figure this out. The me and you part. Where this is going, if it’s going anywhere, if you’re ever going to-“

“I don’t want to weigh you down. You know that.”

Melissa rolls her eyes. She is not in the mood for whatever the hell self-loathing spiral he’s currently in, she is not debugging that, she is tired of all these defenses and-

“Every other man I’ve been with has had no problem taking what he wants. How the hell are you the first one who’s thought I’m breakable?”

It comes out too quickly, the only way she’s capable of doing anything here apparently. So she’s dated a few assholes, and at one point wasted ten years of her life being married to one. Show her any woman her age who doesn’t have skeletons like that, she’d love to see it. And she is well aware that the current version of this man opposite her right now has changed so much from when they first crossed paths, had everything brutally taken away before he could be fully human, and there may still be that darkness and…

And she does not care, she thinks as she waits for whatever conflict-avoidant response she’s about to have to deflect. Even if he wasn’t ridiculously her type, he’s one of two people in her world who can exist alongside all her other complications and she ruled out the other one as an option ages ago. It’s either this or dying alone, and she suspects he views her similarly.

“You are breakable,” he says slowly, and now is a bad time for her to be thinking about how hot his voice is but here they are. “You deserve better.”

She laughs. “You’ve seen my past. What I deserve has never been a factor.”

“I don’t know how to do this like normal people.”

Ah yes, there it is, the elephant they always try to avoid. Melissa knows better than to ask questions about the whole lowkey-cult-adjacent past, but she knows that’s where the baggage comes from. Whereas she has always been what he would define as normal, and she’s still occasionally a trainwreck.

“Does it matter? I’m not asking you to move in or marry me or any of the shit that I’ll probably have to do if I want it because you are so determined not to overstep and… I just want something. More affection. Play with my hair and tell me I’m pretty. Stuff like that.”

“I don’t read signals very well.”

“I have noticed.”

“I can try. If that’s what you want.”

“We’ve been avoiding defining the relationship for a year. I’m not sure it is a relationship. Yeah. I want.”

She expects another defensive comment – and that’s what they are, she knows, his various fears manifesting in ways that she is not the right person to fix – but instead Chris turns back to the task at hand. There are still a few more flower bushes in the back of her car and apparently that’s a good enough reason for him to let it go and-

“It’s okay,” she murmurs as she points out where he should put the rosebush’s mate. “I’m not good at normal either.”

[ptersparkers]

hell froze over

summary: it’s a thursday afternoon and caliban’s taken you by surprise when he teleports to earth and asks you out on a date. not that you’d ever say no.

warnings: mentions of religion and typos, probably.

a/n: lol i can hear my parents sh*uting so i’m gonna write instead because!! we love distractions!! 

add yourself to my taglist!

Sabrina Spellman swore that Hell would have to freeze over the second she saw Caliban get “soft” and care for mortals.

That day was today. 

Greendale, being the small town that it was, housed many local favorites which included Dr. Cerberus’ diner, also dubbed as the local hangout of the Fright Club. There wasn’t much to say about the whole situation about who was running Hell with Sabrina’s clone down under and the Sabrina you knew alive and well, talking your ear off about Nick this, Harvey that, and Caliban this and that. 

If you were being completely honest, you wouldn’t have it any other way. 

So when Caliban teleported back up to Earth’s surface and caught you off guard leaving school grounds, you let out the loudest yell imaginable and dropped all of the books and stray pieces of paper you were carrying. 

“Jesus Christ,” you said, clutching your heart. You bent down and started to pick up what you had dropped. 

Caliban chuckled. “Not quite. Doubt he’s ever going to come to Earth.” 

You didn’t pay much attention to his comment in favor of gathering everything that was on the concrete and Caliban frowned, bending down to help you pick up some notebooks that were closer to him than you. When you finally stood up, you moved strange of hair out from your face and huffed, annoyed. 

“If you’re going to scare me, at least do it where people won’t see because I’m pretty sure I’ve embarrassed myself enough for this entire school year.” The corner of Caliban’s mouth lifted into a smirk when he saw you try to reassure your schoolmates and tugged on your backpack strap to get your attention.

“It’s a Thursday afternoon,” he stated. 

“Yes?”

“Do you have any plans?”

You were taken off guard. 

“What are you planning?” you asked with a raised brow. 

“Nothing bad,” he promised. “Since Sabrina number two is down in Hell dealing with things for the weekend, I figured why not come up here and spend the day with my favorite mortal.” You laughed at the sentiment and fixed your backpack to keep the straps from falling. 

“Well, I’m headed to the diner to study for a little bit before I head to cheerleading practice,” you explained. “I have about two hours before I have to be there so might as well eat and study. You know, kill two birds with one stone.” 

“Mind if I join you?” he asked. 

“You want to watch me study for two hours? It’a gonna be kind of boring,” you explained. 

“Think of me as your study-buddy.”

“Where did you even learn that phrase?”

“Sabrina’s rubbing off on me,” Caliban said with a low laugh. He gestured away from you. “Lead the way.” 

The diner wasn’t too packed when you arrived and you chose a table big enough to let you put your laptop and notebooks on while having a plate of food beside you. Your water bottle sat proudly in Caliban’s hands as he looked at the various stickers stuck to it. 

“This is quite peculiar,” he said.

“It’s a bunch of memories,” you explained. “This one’s from the camp grounds Harvey and I used to go to when we were younger. The orange one is from when Sabrina and I first became friends and that red one is the first sticker I saw with the world ‘Hell’ on it after coming back from, you know, Hell.” 

Caliban smiled at that one. “You’re odd.” 

You tilted your head and chuckled, not knowing how to respond to such a comment. You turned your attention to the screen in front of you, reading online articles assigned to you for your AP World History class. 

“What is ‘AP’?” Caliban asked, looking at the textbook that sat beside your computer. 

“It stands for advanced placement. It’s basically a college course for high schoolers so we don’t have to take it when we get to college and it gives us school credit.” 

“Sounds complicated.”

“It is,” you said, clicking out of the article you had finished taking notes on. “I think this while ‘Hell’ ordeal set me back because I haven’t been studying as much as I used to. At the end of the school year, everyone who takes AP classes has the chance to take a test that determines a score, which determines college credit.”

“You humans are so overachieving,” he commented, stealing a fry from your plate. “But I suppose being knowledgable isn’t bad.”

“Sometimes I feel like I put too much pressure on myself,” you confessed, your gaze back on the man sitting in front of you. “Like, does this really matter? Whether I ace or fail my AP tests won’t matter in the long run and it’s not like I can avoid going to Heaven or Hell.”

Caliban quirked an eyebrow, realizing that discovering the secrets of witches, Hell, and Heaven had left you in a turmoil that no one bothered to discuss. Sabrina was a witch and had accepted her fate on her sixteenth birthday. As for the other three mortals, they had some sort of lineage in magic that offered them solace. You did not. 

“Going to Hell really messed with you, didn’t it?” You didn’t want to say anything in fear of offending Caliban. When he wasn’t trying to steal the throne from Sabrina, he was a decent person, you thought. 

“Um,” you said, pausing, “I think it made me realize some things. I think those things are making me confused about the next step in my life and if what I’m doing is worth finishing.” 

Caliban looked at you and the various books, notebooks, and writing utensils sprawled out on the table. He saw your color-coded planner, binders that kept your articles and paperwork in place, and the dark tint underneath your eyes. That was all he needed to know. 

“I think you’re on the right path. From the looks of it,” he said, gesturing to the messy table in front of you, “you are so passionate and dedicated about learning and doing something with your life. Not many people can say the same. You have the advantage of knowing Hell exists and the second layer to humanity while others wonder about religion and faith. Use it to your advantage.”

“If I hear this correctly, it seems like you don’t want me to give up.” 

“I don’t,” he said, almost too quickly. “Your ambition to do well on your tests resembles my quest to become King of Hell. As I have found out another way to rule Hell alongside Sabrina, I think you’re going to find out what you’re meant to do in life.” 

“You’re starting to sound like someone who believes in God.” 

He chuckled. “God and angels exist. You know that now. I suppose you’ll have to continue praying to find out what He has in store for you.” 

You sat there, dumbfounded. It wasn’t too long ago that Caliban had been in the grand room, cursing angels and Heaven above out of frustration and anger. You and Sabrina had been waiting for him to finish throwing his tantrum before she could engage in business with him, so hearing Caliban talk about having faith in something that even he didn’t believe him gave you a glimmer of motivation. 

“I don’t even know what to say,” you said softly, fiddling with a pen. 

“Go out with me,” Caliban said. “To that drive in theater across town. You mentioned once that you like to go there when you’re stressed. We could forget about Heaven and Hell for one night.” 

“Okay,” you said quietly, earning a gigantic grin from Caliban.

As you were about to pack up your belongings, you heard a “Oh for Satan’s sake” from behind you and turned to see Sabrina rolling her eyes, already dressed in her cheer uniform. 

“Caliban, my clone and I are going to beat your ass if you hurt Y/N in any way,” she said in a sickly sweet tone. Caliban nodded, heading the message without much argument. You packed up your belongings and ran to use the restroom, leaving the two mystical beings alone. 

“I really like her,” Caliban said after a brief pause. “And I know you don’t agree wholeheartedly but I intend to prove otherwise.” 

“Y/N’s smart and won’t take anything from a boy if she’s not comfortable with it,” said Sabrina. “All I’m saying is you should watch you back should you ever hurt her in any way because it’s not just the Fright Club that’s gonna come after you.” 

Caliban gulped and watched as you emerged, putting your hair in a low bun before walking outside to go to cheerleading practice. 

“How does tomorrow night sound?” Caliban asked before you entered Harvey’s truck.

“Pick me up at six,” you said, pressing a quick kiss to his cheek. “And this time, please don’t teleport and scare me.” 

The boy made of clay laughed and promised not to, watching as you climbed into the truck and waved goodbye. He saw Sabrina give him an all-knowing look, but he was determined to befriend your friends if it was the last thing he did. 

Hell, he had an entire lifetime to get to know you. 

***

BONUS:

“Why are you looking at me like that?” you asked as Harvey and Sabrina looked at you. The keys were in the engine but Harvey didn’t bother moving, opting to look between you and the spot where Caliban had teleported to Hell. 

“I know he’s kind of a good guy now, but are you serious?” Harvey asked. 

“What?” you asked, provoking him. “Am I not allowed to be in relationships like you two?”

“I’m just surprised, is all,” said Sabrina. “I mean, you did hate him when we first met him.”

“Absolutely nobody messes with my best friend,” you said. “You two, well, the other you, is ruling with him peacefully.”

“What is he tries to pull a trick?” Harvey asked. 

You had to admit, that was a fair concern. 

“I don’t think it’ll come to that, but if it does, there’s no way in Hell, literally, I’m choosing a boy over my best friends. Who, by the way, I’ve been friends longer with.” 

Harvey seemed to like this answer and started the engine, driving back to the school grounds with you in between him and Sabrina. 

“I guess Hell really did freeze over.” 

***

taglist: 

@princessdolan @ashyramblings-ficrecs. 

[psychosistr]

SHUSH/FOWL Double Agent “Maravilla”

Art by @thefriendlyfour​ (thanks for the character designs, and thanks to @starlightmoth for help with the dress designs!), full bio below the cut.

Physical Description: A tall and lovely purplish jay with purple feathers across most of her body except for the black feathers on her chest, neck, and most of her head. “Hair” feathers are two-toned with the outside/top being black and the inside being purple. While working for SHUSH, her hair is kept tied up in a bun that only shows the black part of her hair as per protocol to keep it neat, but one long, wavy strand of black bangs always hangs down on the right side of her face. While working for FOWL or off the clock, she figuratively and literally lets her hair down and reveals her true colors in a natural Bolivian-style loose wave with both colors of hair on full display. Beak is purple with black lipstick while in her FOWL outfit.

Outfit: Has two main outfits that she’s seen in- one for SHUSH and one for FOWL.

Her SHUSH outfit is in the standard grey suit-style with a white button-up shirt beneath the traditional grey coat. Skirt ends just above her knees and has pockets below her black leather belt with a circular silver buckle. Accessories are kept simple while working with SHUSH, sticking to black french-heel style back-seam stockings, black loafer-style heels, silver oval-framed glasses, a black neck tie with a white ivory marigold-shaped tie pin, and a matching black hair band with a white marigold-shaped piece on the front to hold up her hair bun.

Her FOWL outfit is a far cry from her SHUSH one, going with a stream-lined but figure-flattering red sleeveless asymmetrical halter-top dress. The bottom of her gown is lined with black down feathers (she’ll never say if they’re real or fake) and the right side has a black marigold-outlined pattern. Her accessories are much flashier than her SHUSH outfit, too, consisting of a gleaming silver chain-link belt that doubles as a hand-wrap for martial arts when necessary, a golden-chained necklace with a black onyx stone carved into a marigold, matching golden bangles and rings with round onyx stones, sheer black thigh-high stockings with black lace garter belts, and shiny black ankle-strap platform heels with tiny silver marigold-shaped buckles.

Gender: Female

Sexual Orientation: Extremely flirtatious lesbian.

Age: 28

Nicknames: Mara, Mari, Marigold, Vi, Ms.Flores.

Real Name: Marisol Flores

Background:

Born in Bolivia, Marisol Flores lived what many would consider an average life. She had a nice family that wasn’t too cold or too forgiving, lived comfortably middle class, and graduated from high school with good enough grades to get into her desired college with a decent amount of grant money.

While her life was comfortable, Marisol never really held any passion for her studies and quietly worried that she was just doing what was expected of her- something that would eventually lead her to an unsatisfying but stable job with an unsatisfyingly mundane future.

On her way to class one day, though, Marisol’s future took a drastic turn: She took a less crowded route to school and stumbled into a battle between a small team of FOWL and SHUSH agents. At first, she was scared of being caught in the crossfire and possibly dying. Soon, however, that fear turned to excited adrenaline and she realized that, for the first time in her life, she felt truly ALIVE.

After surviving the firefight unnoticed and unharmed, Marisol devoted her time to finding out more about the groups she saw that day. It took a few years and a lot of digging to find out who exactly both FOWL and SHUSH were (most of her methods being less than legal), but the thrill of excitement and danger spurred her on.

Finding connections to both organizations in Calisota, she scraped together her meager savings and bought a one-way ticket to America, leaving her hometown, as well as her family, and never looking back.

Marisol impressed both organizations at different times by locating their bases and asking for membership, proving her cunning and her worth by passing the dangerous tests and trials they put her through.

It’s unknown which organization she allied herself with first, but both believe her to be a double agent that they themselves planted within the enemy’s side- neither group knowing her true intentions or where her loyalties, if she has any, really lie.

Current Position:

Within SHUSH, Agent Maravilla is considered their top informant and “enemy information acquisition specialist”, providing them with information on FOWL’s more diabolical plans and less guarded bases/outposts.

Within FOWL, Agent Maravilla is a valuable mole planting viruses in SHUSH’s computer systems, sending copies of their most confidential documents, and tipping FOWL off to any banks currently providing funds to SHUSH so they can “coincidentally” be robbed later.

Personality:

Maravilla is best defined by three traits: She is secretive, a massive flirt, and an adrenaline junky.

Always keeping people around her at arm’s length to avoid them finding out the true nature of her double-agent status and questioning her intentions, many of her fellow agents on both sides view Maravilla as an elusive and secretive enigma who will be there and gone before they can even blink.

Still, despite her natural stance on keeping her work matters a secret and being resistant to letting anyone in, she can never resist the chance to hit on a beautiful woman. She’s charming and smooth in her approaches, able to make more than a few supposedly straight women reconsider their sexual orientation.

For the ones she’s especially fond of, whether romantically or she just finds them fun to flirt/talk with, she’ll leave them a purple or red marigold as a token of affection/calling card with an otherwise anonymous gift of the lady-in-question’s favorite snack.

Delving even further into Maravilla’s psyche after getting past the secretive enigma and the charming flirt, though, lies a more adventurous side that is still, at its core, the reason she joined both organizations- her love of thrilling, life-or-death situations and the danger that comes with both jobs.

The more deadly the situation she’s in, the happier she is with it, often throwing her enemies off because they don’t know how to deal with someone so excited to nearly die.

“Surrender now or we WILL kill you!”

“Ooooh, really?! Come on then, do it!”

“I..uh...huh? What the heck is wrong with this woman..?”

Still, despite her adrenaline-junky nature, she’s not (completely) suicidal and will still take the opportunity to fight back or escape when it presents itself- often doing so at the last possible second to get the maximum danger-high she craves.

Interesting Bonus Facts:

Speaks Spanish and English on a regular basis, but also speaks Portugese and Aymara from time to time, even if it’s mostly to herself or to swear without being understood.

Fighting style involves quick, sharp slaps and hand-chops combined with devastating elbow strikes and sharp kicks/stomps from her deadly heels.

This style would best be described as the martial art of aikido.

Best example would be Anna Williams from the Tekken series.

Bonus note- she’d totally cosplay Anna given the chance.

In addition to her martial arts skills, she’s also known to keep some deadly backups hidden up her literal and metaphorical sleeves in the form of drugged needles hidden in the long-sleeves of her SHUSH uniform that can knock out enemies or make them hallucinate, as well as a few throwing knives strapped to the lacy garter belts of her FOWL clothing.

Has a soft spot for cheesy romance novellas and telenovelas, and will often be found reading/watching some in her free time or while waiting for a meeting.

Is surprisingly good at football since she played it with her siblings growing up.

Do not ever call it soccer around her or she will kick the ball right into your face.

Has deadly aim, even while wearing heels.

Could totally pull THIS off with ease.

Despite knowing it’s likely an unrealistic fantasy with the way she lives her life, Maravilla really DOES want to get a girlfriend (or possibly more than one, she’s not opposed to polyamory if she likes all parties involved) someday.

[todoshotoki]

➽───────❥ INTUITION ; CHAPTER THREE

katsuki bakugo x reader

important side note for the story: so um, i didn't know what to do with the whole twenty students thing so i did y'all a favor and fed mineta to the birds. he doesn't exist in this universe, horray!

word count: 1346

taglist: @aria-bnha @00ashpop00 @internetrashh @videogameboiwhowins @doggy-48

as a result of the quirk apprehension test being an absolute flop for you, no one besides kirishima knew what your quirk was. you planned to keep it that way until the support items you had adjusted onto your hero costume arrived.

you had thought long and hard with isayama about your final designs for your costume. it would consist of a sleek bodysuit that complimented the colors of your skin and eyes. a simple mask would hide your identity with equally complimentary colors and your hair was bound by two clips in space buns. the clips weren't just regular clips though, a built in tracking device was in the right and a hidden switch blade was in the left. these would only be used in cases of emergencies. after all, thinking ahead was your specialty.

you were stronger in your legs rather than your arms so you worked with the support course to create a support item that aided your arms. a weapon; this was an electric staff. it had the ability to become a whip which could constrict around opponents and shock them up to the power of 50,000 volts (as much as a taser, for those who didn’t know).

the staff could also break off into halves and uncoil itself to becoming nunchucks. as a bonus feature, there was a magnet in each glove that could recall it from up to ten meters away. you had fought with the admin to permit the item despite it’s very fatal capabilities so when you heard about it being added to your costume you were more than ecstatic. 

you would finally have a level playing ground with everyone else. it wouldn't be available for the next training exercise you would join with your class but as long as some improvement was being made.

"(l/n), come and sit with us!" kirishima called to you during lunch period. he wave you over to sit with the ones you recognized to be ashido, sero, kaminari, and... bakugo???

“the fuck are you calling her over here for shitty hair?!” bakugo objects the idea of you joining the table. “oh shut it,” you say sitting on the other side of the red head, “i’m going to get a migraine at this point. let me eat my god damn food.” you groan while rubbing your temples.

“where were you during the rest of morning training? we had the test and then you were gone. you didn’t skip, did you?” kirishima asks, looking slightly dejected that you weren’t there. what’s up with him and acting like you two were best friends or some shit.

so much for keeping your quirk a secret, the element of surprise was thrown out the window as soon as kirishima gave you that look.

“i have special training because my quirk is mental,” you explained. “woah! i knew you were advanced but i didn’t know you were this far ahead, (l/n)!” kaminari says, getting a little to excited for your liking. “yeah, i can’t wait to see what you can do at ground beta later today!” mina chimes in.

...

“it’s time for a trial of battle!” all might exclaims in his attempt to hype up the students who except for a confident few looked scared out of their minds. you all were in your hero costumes and the bodysuit you had on was surprisingly comfortable considering the fact that literally every curve in your body was on display.

lacking your main weapon was probably one of the main downfalls of the situation but as long as you got someone with a quirk worth working with then, you were fine. “this will be an indoor battle! for this test, you’ll separate into “villan” and “hero” groups for a two-on-two team battle!”

you pretty much tuned out the amount of questions that everyone brought up afterward and looked around in who could possibly be your favored partner. you shift your gaze over to the boy with heterochromia who happened to stare right back at you. the awkward exchange of eyes made you sharpen your gaze to send a message of “what are you looking at?”

“he’ll be your partner,”

you’re joking.

“alright, let’s get this started! team a will be izuku midoriya and ochako uraraka, team b will shoto todoroki and (y/n) (l/n), team c will be...”

and of course your intuiton happened to be right.

you couldn’t stand looking at that egotistical prick. you could just see it in his eyes that he felt like he was better than you. you shifted next to him but enough distance to clearly show you didn’t want to be associated with him which he definitely took note of shared the same energy.

team a and d were up and all you could say was that you felt bad for broccoli boy. the only big impression he made on you was that throw during the quirk apprehension test and the beginning of class when he had indirectly made bakugo you hit you in the head.

he was no doubt at the bottom of the class.

usually you wouldn’t pay attention to these and build your own strategy using intuition and the knowledge you already had but bakugo for some reason wasn’t triggering anything but useless information.

you had to watch this fight closely and try to train your quirk to focus on him.

the way your quirk worked is by tracking your thoughts and focuses which was movement that would directly affect you or the people in a five meter radius of you and the relationships between you and others so maybe if you shifted your focus hard enough then it would be able to read bakugo like a book.

it was more than clear that he was driven by pure and utter anger and ego. the way he handled his opponent in his match was more than exasperating. they certainly had some type of history together and he was overconfident that he would be the one who came out on top.

he was smart, yes, but he was irrational.

“i can’t believe we did it!” the two from the winning team celebrated, bakugo lookng completely dazed as they finished. you were about to make a snarky remark when your team was up for the hero end and the invisible girl and the guy with the tail were on the villan team.

you looked at todoroki and nodded. once you entered the building, he had taken the initiative to lead. you called out to todoroki, “instead of going out blindly how about we make some type of plan.”

he stops from walking down a hallway and says, “like what?”

“give me a second,” you close your eyes, focusing on the matter around you. forcing a prediction was hard on your body but you finally had a chance to do something and you weren’t going to let the opportunity go.

“the one with tail is on the north side of the fourth floor, he plans to go head on the opponent using martial arts techniques. he doesn’t seem to have a plan.”

you groan a bit from the energy you used and in frustration as the girl has yet to be found by your quirk. you then open your eyes and relay the message to him. he opened his mouth to say something but closed it, shaking off whatever he had in thought. he began to walk down the first hallway, “this’ll get hairy so go outside,”

“what?! we’re supposed to be a team!” you holler at him.

“do what he says, the whole place will be frozen over in a matter of seconds,”

you falter before gritting your teeth and run outside just as the whole place is covered head to toe in ice. you practically felt your soul leave your body. the power that he exuded was unironically chilling. 

soon enough, the whole building was frozen over just as predicted and then was melted back to normal just as quickly as it froze over. 

“endeavor’s son, huh?”

CHAPTER INDEX

[thebestpersonherelovesbucky]

Hidden Stars

Summary: A year ago, biker and mechanic Steve Rogers reluctantly did a repair job for Brock Rumlow, a member of the biker gang, Hydra. As a bonus for a job well done, Rumlow insisted on sending his boyfriend, Bucky Barnes, over for a night. What Steve never expected was to fall hopelessly in love with the guy.

((this can totally be read as is but it’s technically a continuation of an earlier biker au of mine which can be found here: Part One Part Two))

Characters: Steve Rogers x Bucky Barnes

Word Count: 3.2k

Tags: abuse, hurt/comfort, pining, hopeful ending

written for @captain-rogers-beard​​‘s  Flex Your Writing Muscles Challenge 

Prompt:A late night bike ride under the stars 

The text comes in shortly after six in the morning. Steve’s phone buzzing on the nightstand wakes him. He groans softly and feels for it without picking his head off the pillow. Several things fall as he does. 

When he finally grabs it, Steve grunts some more, smacks his lips together, and figures it’s nothing more than a group text from Tony or Sam. Maybe even just a stupid telemarketing text. Something about him winning a gift card from Amazon. 

It’s not.

It’s anything but.

It’s from Bucky, and Steve is suddenly wide awake.

His breath catches as he shoots upright and quickly clears the screen, fumbling with his passcode three times before he finally gets it. Steve, breathing so hard he might have an asthma attack, clicks on the message to read it.

Can we see each other tonight? Midnight? 

The answer, of course, is yes. Even if Steve did have plans, which he doesn’t, he’d cancel them. He hasn’t seen Bucky in six weeks. Not since their last trip upstate to the flea market. 

They have a complicated relationship. Complicated in every sense and meaning of the word. All because Brock Rumlow aka Crossbones, a higher-up in the Hydra biker gang, walked into Steve’s garage with his bike last year, and thought Steve did such a good job, that he offered him a bonus--a night with his boyfriend. 

Steve hadn’t wanted to take that job. He’d spent the past few years building up a decent reputation, converting the garage of his family home into a business after the sudden death of his mother. The last thing he wanted or needed was for the local biker gangs thinking he was readily available for their use. 

Luckily, that didn’t happen. Even if it did, Steve wouldn’t change a thing. Without that job, he’d’ve never met Bucky. 

Steve is fairly sure he fell in love with Bucky that night. A few hours. That’s all it took to fall head over heels for the kind, gentle, witty, beautiful boyfriend of that lowlife creep, Crossbones. If there’s anyone less deserving to have Bucky by their side, it’s him. To be honest, Steve isn’t quite sure he’s all that deserving either--what with the way he’s closed himself off from his closest friends after the accident--but, at the very least, he’d never mistreat him the way Brock Rumlow does.

He’s controlling and manipulative and cruel, and even though Bucky won’t admit it, Steve is sure that he gets physical with him. He’s seen the evidence--fading bruises, the way Bucky sometimes flinches if Steve lifts his hand too quickly, the excuses he makes for his behavior. 

This past year, Steve has tried everything he could think of to get Bucky to leave him. It won’t be easy, he knows that. Leaving Hydra isn’t as simple as walking out the door but Steve is very willing to risk everything to help Bucky do it. Because, yes, he’s that worth it. 

Only Bucky doesn’t see it. Or, rather, he’s too afraid to. 

So they’ve kept their relationship a secret. Completely. Brock Rumlow has no idea about their clandestine meetings. Stolen moments once a month where they ride upstate together to go to that flea market. A night hidden in heat and passion, and few others snuck in here or there when they can manage. 

But then, two weeks ago, on the Sunday they were meant to meet for their monthly ride upstate, Bucky didn’t show.

Sure something horrible had happened, Steve sent message after message, panicked and terrified. After two days of worrying, he finally got a response. Just one thing.

Don’t ever contact me again.

Then, nothing. 

Not until this text this morning, and Steve doesn’t know if he should be worried or excited. 

Midnight can’t get here fast enough.

Which, of course, only means that the entire day drags. Seconds tick by like minutes. Hours go by like days. 

Steve doesn’t hear from Bucky again and he’s actually too nervous to try texting him first. He tries throwing himself into his work. He’s got a few quickies today. One bike here for an oil change. One for an inspection. Another that needs some more attention since it’s sputtering. It’s hot today. Humid. The air conditioner in the wall cools his garage off a little, but since he keeps the door open during business hours, it’s not exactly refreshing. 

Sweat drips down Steve’s face as he works. Dirt and grease stick to him more today because of it. When he gets a little dizzy, Steve realizes that it’s well past noon and he’s had nothing to eat other two slices of toast with strawberry jam right after he woke up. Dehydrating and ending up in the hospital instead of meeting with Bucky is not what he as planned for today, so he takes a lunch break and sits inside to cool off a bit.

Of course, cooling off just makes all that sweat and filth and grime stick to him even more. Steve doesn’t really mind. He never really did. There’s something almost comforting in his work getting him so dirty. Like physical proof of what he’s done. 

Before going back to work, Steve checks his phone. He pretends that he’s checking for any work calls or one of his friends--since he’s been trying hard to reconnect with them this year--but he’s really hoping for another message from Bucky. When he sees none, he sighs and heads back to work.

Once he’s finished with the business side of his garage, it’s still only four o’clock so he focuses on his own project. Fixing up a Harley Davidson-WLA, the very same they used during World War Two.

Not that that holds his attention for very long since all he can think of is those amazing moments he’s shared with Bucky sitting here next to him. Them working on their bikes together. There’s something intimate and sensual about that. The way Bucky’ll let him work on his, handing him tools and getting his hands dirty right along with him. Working on another person’s bike, Steve knows, is a very personal and private thing. He’s honored that other avid bikers trust him with theirs, but Bucky’s trust makes him glow. 

Before Steve knows it, he’s sitting on his couch staring at an off television screen. Nerves tap dance through his belly, fast and offbeat. He’s already showered--scrubbed off the grease and grime as best he could. At least he doesn’t smell. Well, maybe of motor oil but he doesn’t think Bucky’ll mind very much. 

By the time it’s eleven, Steve can take it anymore. It’ll only take about twenty minutes at the most to reach their usual meeting spot under the bridge, but he’d rather be on his bike, be outside, watch the stars while waiting for Bucky than pacing back and forth in his living room. 

The fresh air actually does do him some good. The feel of the wind rushing by him, the world nothing but a blur of colors. Clears his senses, so instead of heading straight to the bridge, Steve decides on just taking a ride to keep his mind focused on the world from the view of his bike. 

When he finally does get to the bridge, it’s just a few minutes past minutes and Bucky’s already there. He’s leaning on the guard rail, looking out across the Hudson River. He doesn’t turn when Steve gets there. Not even after he dismounts next to Bucky’s bike and goes over to him.

“Hey,” Steve greets as he approaches. “Bucky.”

Bucky sort of turns a little more away from him. He’s wearing his leather jacket and his hair is actually down instead of pulled back in his normal, messy bun. From what Steve can see of his face, he’s chewing on one of his toothpicks.

“Hey, Steve.”

“I was, uh, I was worried,” he admits, not moving any closer to Bucky though he sure as hell wants to. “When you didn’t show and then...”

“Yeah.” Bucky sniffs. “Sorry ‘bout that. Things got...a little hectic.”  

“You don’t have to--” Steve clears his throat which is suddenly too thick with emotion. “Are you all right?”

Only answering that with a nod, Bucky, who’s been holding himself tense and rigid, allows his hand to slide on the railing toward Steve’s. They touch, just barely, but it’s enough to burn.

“Thanks for meeting me,” Bucky murmurs just over the soft blow of the wind.”I just...needed to get out for a bit but I didn’t wanna be alone.” 

“Okay,” Steve answers, growing more concerned with each passing second. “You’re not alone. I’m here. If you need to...to talk--Bucky, why won’t you look at me?”

Yanking his hand back as though worried Steve might force him to turn his way--he wouldn’t, of course--Bucky wraps his arms around himself like he’s desperate to keep from falling apart. 

“I shouldn’t be here,” he whispers, mostly to himself but Steve can clearly hear. “If he finds out...he’ll kill you.”

“Who?” Steve asks. “Brock? Is that what you’re worried about? Did something happen with him?”

Head lowering with a shake and a dark chuckle, Bucky lets out a disgruntled sigh and fully turns his back to Steve.

“He doesn’t know,” Bucky murmurs. “About us, I mean. That Sunday I was supposed to meet you, he ended up...wanting me...elsewhere.”

That could mean a lot of things. For all Steve knows, it just means that Rumlow wanted to spend the day with him. It could also mean that Rumlow sent him to someone the same way he sent him to Steve that first time. Either way, whatever Bucky had done that day made it impossible for him to answer any of Steve’s texts. 

“I was so worried,” Bucky continues, “that he’d notice all the texts I was getting that day. He didn’t but...”

“That’s why you told me not to contact you again.”

It’s an assumption, but Bucky sighs again and nods, so Steve takes that as meaning he’s right.  

“I’m sorry, Steve, I just didn’t know what else to do. If he hurts you--”

“I don’t care if he hurts me,” Steve interrupts. “I care about you, Bucky.” He might not respond well to Steve saying how much he loves him, not now, maybe not ever, but Steve needs to make him see how much he means to him. “If anything ever happened to you, I’d never forgive myself.”

This time, Bucky scoffs as though morbidly amused by what Steve’s said. Like he can’t imagine that could ever possibly be true. As if too tired and exhausted to keep arguing about this with him, Bucky spins around and tries something else.

“I can’t possibly be worth that to you, Steve.” 

Steve knows that Bucky’s just said something to him. Something about lack of knowing self-worth and Steve’s feelings for him, and that’s important. It’s all important. But at the moment, all that Steve hears are the bruises screaming at him across Bucky’s face. 

His right eye is swollen. His lips are busted. His forehead is dotted with bruising as well. 

“Jesus, Bucky!” Steve exclaims, and he knows it’s too rough...it’s too loud... too much...and Bucky flinches from the words and volume. “What happened?!”

All the color drains from Bucky’s face. It’s almost like he’d forgotten, just for a moment in his doubt of Steve’s feelings for him, that he’d intended to keep this hidden. 

He takes a hurried step back--maybe out of fear, maybe out of something else--and shakes his head.

“It’s nothing!” he cries. “It was my fault, I know better than to mouth off to him, I should’t’ve...” He stops there like he’s his words’ve hit a brick wall and bursts into tears. “He’s never...”Bucky heaves in a big gulp of air and staggers on the exhale. “Not like this...”

Steve, not sure if it’s better to reach out and hold Bucky or not even try to touch him, is ready to tear across the entire world if he has to so he can rip apart Brock Rumlow piece by piece. But, right now, Bucky’s more important. 

“Bucky, it’s...” How to comfort him? With big, strong arms? Soft words? Steve doesn’t know what might make this better and what might make this worse. It’s a fine line between the two. “It’s not your fault. No matter what happened, it’s not your fault. It’s his. A-and...and you’re safe. Right now, you’re safe. He can’t hurt you. Not when you’re here with me.”

Hoping to offer more reassurance than that, Steve opens his arms. He stays where he is, though. Wants this to be Bucky’s choice. 

Bucky, sniffling and still teary-eyed, dives into his embrace and holds onto him so tightly that Steve can feel him trembling. 

“I was gonna leave,” he weeps into Steve’s shirt. “I had a bag packed. Hidden in the back of the closet. He found it. And he...” Did what he did. Steve gets it. “He said if I ever tried again he’d break both my legs. Oh, Steve, I’m so sorry, he’ll kill you if he finds me with you but I’ve been so scared and I needed to get out for a little bit so when he left tonight I just...I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.”

“It’s okay,” Steve whispers over and over. “It’s okay, Bucky, you’re okay. You didn’t do anything wrong, I’m here, baby, I’m here.”  

They stand there together, with Bucky tucked in Steve’s arm, for an unmeasurable amount of time. The world goes on around them. Cars moving over the bridge. Clouds passing overhead. People out for a late night stroll. Here, with Bucky, times stands still. 

Eventually, Bucky’s tears dry and his breaths even and even his trembling comes to a stop. He doesn’t move, though, so Steve keeps him in his arms, gently petting a hand over him every now and then. 

“Bucky,” Steve whispers a long while later, “Bucky, please, let me help you.” Already rejecting the idea with fevered shakes of his head, Bucky starts to pull away. “Please, Bucky,” Steve implores, “please. I have...I have friends who can help get you away. Get you somewhere safe. I promise, he’ll never hurt you again.”

Though he’s pulled away, Bucky remains holding onto Steve’s arms, as though not willing to part from him. He still shakes his head. 

“N-no. No, Steve, I can’t. I...” He looks across the river. “Just...ride with me? Tonight? Please, we can go to that little bed and breakfast we stayed at right after Christmas, remember?” Bucky, eyes filling again with tears, gives him a weak, unconvincing smile and a nod. “Please? I...I know I can’t leave him, but I can’t go back there tonight and he’s gone for the rest of the week. Please, say you’ll come with me.” 

“Bucky...”

“Please.” His voice is so soft. So pleading, and it rips Steve’s heart in two. “Just a late night bike ride under the stars and a good night’s sleep. That’s all I need. Please, Steve.” 

“O-okay,” Steve agrees. He’ll agree to absolutely anything to comfort Bucky right now. “Okay, we’ll go. We’ll go right now, baby.”

The way Bucky smiles at him now, so hopeful and desperate, it makes Steve want to drop to his knees and beg him to let him help. That won’t do now. He’s not going to listen to any of Steve’s good-intentioned begging. Not his offers to help him. Right now, the only thing Steve can do to help is bringing him some place to rest. A place to feel safe. 

That, Steve’ll do.

A late night bike ride under the stars. The world fading to just the two of them as they ride separately but together. Last-minute check-ins at a quaint, little bed and breakfast that, fortunately, still had a vacancy. 

“Thank you, Steve,” Bucky whispers when Steve locks the door behind them. “I know you didn’t really wanna come here. I’m sorry I made you.”

“You didn’t make me do anything, Bucky,” Steve murmurs, approaching slowly, cautiously, so that he doesn’t startle him. “I wanted to come with you.”

“No.” Bucky shakes his head. “You didn’t. But thanks for comin’ anyway. I’m...” He points over his shoulder with his thumb. “I’m gonna take a shower. You won’t...go anywhere, will you?”

“Mm-mm.” Steve sits down on the king-sized bed. “I’ll be right here.”  

When Steve hears the water turn on and the shower curtain pull closed, he grabs his phone and, despite the late hour, calls his oldest friend in the world, Peggy Carter.

She works with victims of domestic abuse. Both counseling and trying to help them escape toxic relationships. Maybe she can give Steve some advice. 

Amazingly, after only three rings, she answers.

“Hello? Steven? Is everything all right?”

“Uh. hey, Peg, I’m so sorry for calling so late,” he says. “I’m okay. But...”

After listening to Steve hurry and tell her everything he knows and making her aware of the current situation, Peggy’s first piece of advice is plain and simple.

“Okay, first of all, you need to keep calm. That’s most important right now.”

Because they have a limited amount of time to talk before Bucky gets out of the shower, Peggy does her best to help. She tells him to remain supportive and be friendly but not preachy and not to blame him for anything that’s happened. 

“Be open to just listening to him,” she says. “He needs to know that you’re a safe person to talk to. Don’t criticize. You can offer him my number or any other abuse hotlines this way he can talk to a professional anonymously. You have to remember, Steve.” The way her voice changes slightly is proof that this part is important. “You can’t make him do anything. This needs to be his choice. If he’s not ready and you try to force him, you run the risk of him closing off from you altogether.” 

“Right,” Steve whispers just as the water turns off. If he’s going to help Bucky, he needs to listen to Peggy and do what she says no matter how difficult it might be. “I...I gotta go, Peg. Thanks for your help.”

“Anytime, my darling,” she says. “I hope to hear from either of you soon.”

Steve would give a better farewell, but the door to the bathroom starts to open, so he quickly ends the call. Not quite quick enough, though. Towel around his waist and locks of wet hair hanging down to his chin, Bucky glances at the phone in Steve’s hand and then up to his face. Twice. 

“Who...” His lips set in a line. “Who were you on the phone with?”

“Just a friend,” Steve tells him honestly. “Peggy. Don’t worry. She doesn’t know where we are or who you are or anything like that, I promise.”

At first, Steve’s not sure if Bucky believes him. Looks as though, for a moment at least, that he’s considering making a run for it. He doesn’t. Instead, he heaves a sigh and, after plucking a toothpick from his jacket’s pocket, sits down next to Steve. 

He turns that toothpick over in his hands for a moment or two before finally sticking it in his mouth. 

They’re quiet as they sit together. After a few minutes of silence, Steve slowly reaches up and sweeps some of Bucky’s hair away from his face. He leans in and presses a tender kiss to his shoulder. Over soft skin covered in beautiful tattoos. Gently, he coaxes Bucky’s chin from side to side so that he could get a better look at him to make sure those bruises haven’t gotten any worse. He might wanna get him some ice for that eye. 

Steve cups Bucky’s cheek and when he does, Bucky’s eyes softly fall shut. He hums and leans into the touch. 

“Do you wanna talk about it, baby?”

Eyes opening again, Bucky, placing his own hand over the top of Steve’s to keep it there, shakes his head.

“No. Please, don’t make me.”

“Oh, no,” Steve whispers and breathes a kiss to Bucky’s brow. “Never. I just wanted to offer.”

“I’m just...real tired, Steve. I wanna go to sleep.”  

Steve nods and peels back the covers. Bucky, still only in that towel, crawls beneath them, tugging on the sleeve of Steve’s T-shirt to bring him along. Steve obliges and gets into the bed with him. 

As soon as he’s settled, Bucky curls against him with his head practically in his lap. Steve pets a hand over his head. Whispers soft words. Things about how he’s safe. He’s here with him. No one can hurt him now. 

And Bucky, Steve thinks, falls asleep within minutes. 

Steve, on the other hand, stays awake. Just in case Bucky wakes and needs him. He’ll stay awake all night if he has to. 

And he’ll still be here in the morning. 

Whatever the sun might bring with it, Steve will see this through until Bucky’s away and safe from Brock Rumlow. 

Even if that takes him the rest of his life. 

[some-days-we-get-sundays]

Semi-Au Sara comes out to Laural

“You know, it’s weird that you steal my boyfriends when this whole time I thought you were gay.”

Laural and Sara are sitting on their couch eating ice cream and watching trash TV when Laural causally makes this comment. Sara sputters and chokes on her ice cream. “Oh my god, it’s coming out of my nose! Laural!” Sara grabbed a pillow and swatted Laural in the face with it. Laural watched Sara, unimpressed by her antics and waited until she was done. Watching Sara wipe her nose on her sleeve.

Sara regained her composure, “ok, what!?”

Laura was spooning more ice cream into her own mouth and was about to answer when Sara said, “first of all I don’t steal your boyfriends, they ... find me. And second of all, i’m not- I’m not gay.” Sara trains her eyes on her bowl as she starts stirring around what’s left of the ice cream and watching it turn it into a gooey soup. It’s kind of how her stomach feels right now. Like a gooey soup. Sara continues watching the mixture.

“I didn’t say you were gay, I said I thought you were. But then you were making out with my boyfriends so I thought maybe not.” Laura continued on as though her and Sara were just discussing weekend plans and not ... not this!

“Why did you think I was gay?” Sara asks, still stirring and mixing, still not looking at Laural.

“I don’t know, I guess... well when we were kids you got really attached to your friend Bethany or whatever her name was. You acted like she was your girl friend. Anytime the neighborhood boys would tease her or chase her you were always there to act like her knight in shining Armour. Leave Bethany alone unless you want a knuckle sandwich!” Laural did her best impersonation of little Sara. “And then you would pull your literal cape that mom got you one Halloween out of the back of your shirt and would go chasing after them. I saw you two kissing one time in the tree house too. And I remember I found some little love note that you wrote to her saying something like,“boys are dumb, let’s run away together. we can eat McDonald’s whenever we want-

“...and kiss and hold hands like they do on the movies.” Sara finished.

“Mmmhum”, Laural made a noise, got up, and took Sara’s bowl from her and put it in the kitchen. She came back and sat next to Sara, switching the TV off.

“But you’re not...” Laural said, almost asking a question instead of saying something that she thought she was certain of.

“I like girls.” Sara said quietly. “I mean, I prefer girls,” Sara tried again. Sara realized that they were having this conversation and there was no point in backing out now. Laural already thought she was gay at one point and didn’t seem to mind.

“What does that mean? You prefer girls?”

“Well, I liked ... Oliver.” Sara eyed Laural. They’d gotten over the whole, boyfriend stealing thing but Sara thought it was still a touchy subject. But I, I’ve also had relationships with women. And I think I like them better. I don’t know. I’m still figuring it out. While I was away, I met this girl named Nyssa. And god, Laural I loved her. And it wasn’t because she saved me. I felt a connection to her, something I never felt before with a woman. And I didn’t question it. For some reason we just fit. And she was my person at the time. And I her beloved. She’s the first girl that I’ve loved in... that way.” Sara got a faraway look in her eye, reminiscing.

“So, you’re bisexual?”

“Yes. I like women but I like men too.”

Laural shrugged, “hum, okay.”

“That’s it?” Sara asked. She wished she still had her ice cream soup to play with.

“What do you want me to say?” Laural was trying to keep up here.

“You’re not, you’re not like, you know... mad? You don’t, think I’m gross? You don’t hate me?” Laural realized that Sara wasn’t scared of her sexuality, she was scared of people’s response to it, mainly Laural’s response.

“Laural, you’re my big sister, always have been, always will be. And I- I hate that I keep letting you down.” Sara said dejectedly.

“Hey, no. Sara, look at me- you are not letting me down. The thing with Oliver is water under the bridge, ok? I just like to give you shit about it but he fuking knew better. And no matter how mad I get, I’m not going to let anything come between our sisterhood, especially not a stupid guy.”

“How about a stupid girl?” Sara offered up nervously.

“Sara, I don’t care if you like women or you like men or you like both. It won’t change my love for you. I’m seriously so proud of your courage and your bravery. Laural wrapped Sara up in her arms. “Come here, googber.”

“I love you, Laural.” Sara snuggled up closer to her sister and put the covers over the both of them.

“So, what do you wanna watch? Buffy? The L word? Carmilla? Rizzoli and Isles? South of nowhere...” Sara grabbed for the pillow and hit Laural again.

“Jerk. Hey how do you even know about those shows?”

“Sara, you’re not as sneaky as you think you are babe.” Laural pulled her little sister closer and kissed her on the top of her head as Sara’s whole body turned a soft pink color.

Bonus avalance scene:

“So, are there any other stupid girls” Laural asked as Buffy credits were rolling. Sara was half asleep. “Huh?” She groggily asked her sister.

“Earlier, you said stupid girls. You mentioned Nyssa but is there someone else?” Laural asked trying to sound casual. She really loved learning all these things, Sara was so secretive and guarded since she’d been back.

“Ava.” Sara simply said.

After it was clear she wasn’t going to elaborate, Laural raised her eyebrows expectantly, “Avaaaa?” She turned the name into a question that she was hoping her sister would satisfy with an answer. Sara sighed.

“Ava. She’s this... person I work with. Well I don’t really work with her. She tries to come in and tell me everything I’m doing wrong, all bossy pants in her dumb poly-blend pants suit and bun that’s wrapped too perfectly.” Sara took a handful of popcorn and threw it at the TV.

“You’re cleaning that up.” Laural said without looking at the mess. Sara sighed. 

“So why do you like her? She sounds like a bitch...” 

“Yeah, I thought so too at one point. But really she’s, she’s authoritative. Demanding. Take charge. Powerful. Badass. Sexy even. I mean she walked in and pinned Ray to the ground with almost no effort. It was so hot...”

“And now you want her to pin you to the ground huh?” Laural smirked. This earned her another whack in the arm this time from Sara’s pillow weapon. 

“Ok, so does she like you back?” 

“I don’t know. But even if she did, you know my relationships have a way of ending badly.” Sara pondered. She really did want to ask Ava out. They’d started getting a lot closer. One could call them friends even.

“Sara, you almost died. Multiple times I might add. If you have a chance at love, and at, at happiness, I think you should go for it. I’m not gonna say you only live once because in your case that’s not true, but love is rare. Not everyone is so lucky to find it. What you had with Nyssa sounds special. Ava could be special in a different way for you, Sara. I just want you to try at least. Promise me?

“Pinky promise.” Sara stuck out her pinky and locked it with Laural’s pinky. She closed her eyes and thought about all the possibilities with Agent Sharpe. 

[ryqoshay]

Happy Life: Sweeter Than a Choir

Primary Pairing: YohaRiko Words: ~1.4k Rating: G AU: Angelic? Time Frame: Sometime after their college years Story Arc: Stand Alone Set: “Thank You” For Your Smile (HtHaN) Sweeter Than a Choir (HL) All I Can Say (TA)

Author’s Note: A second salvo for the seasonal scene barrage.

TheFallenAngel: Ne, Riri!

TheFallenAngel: One of my little demons just gifted me the new Christmas cosmetics pack!

TheFallenAngel: I know we have plans after dinner but do you mind if I stream before?

SakurauchiRiko: Of course you can stream

SakurauchiRiko: Have fun!

SakurauchiRiko: See you when I get home

“I’m home!” Riko announced as she walked in the door.

“Taste the minty wrath of Santahane’s Candy Scythe!”

Riko chucked to herself as she realized Yoshiko was already lost to the world as she focused on the game she was playing. Then, a grey dog and a black cat scampered around the corner into the entryway.

“Hey, Prelude, Phobetor.” She knelt to greet the pets of the apartment, offering both scratches behind the ears and under their chins.

After a minute or two, Riko took off her coat and boots and stored them before making her way to the living room. It came as no surprised that those watching the stream noticed her presence before Yoshiko.

“Uwah!” Yoshiko seemed to notice her girlfriend’s name being spammed in chat and glanced at Riko. “Hey, Riri! I’m almost do- Ha! Ring out! Fall into winter’s abyss! Santahane shall rain coal down after you for your naughtiness!” Her final taunt issued, she tossed her controller onto the cushion beside her and popped up off the couch. “Welcome home!” She spread her arms wide.

By the gods, she looks cute, Riko thought to herself as she fought down her embarrassment and stepped forward into her girlfriend’s waiting arms.

Yoshiko had apparently found an old outfit from one of their Christmas themed photoshoots back during their time with Aqours. Or perhaps she had made a new one in a similar style, Riko couldn’t quite tell. Either way, the bells and beads and poinsettias and cape and tiny hat, all in Christmas colors, suited Yoshiko well. And the tousled twin tail hairstyle was a pleasant change from her normal side bun.

It was all so adorable, Riko couldn’t help herself when she pulled back from the embrace just enough so she could reposition her head and lean down for a kiss. She tried to ignore the surge of notification sounds as cheers and subscriptions flooded in from the still-live stream.

Finally, Riko pulled away and turned toward the camera. “Hi, everyone!” She greeted cheerfully, hoping her blush was being kept to a minimum, though realizing it probably was not. “I know you’re all enjoying Yocchan’s bonus stream today, but I’m going to need to steal her back in a little while so we can decorate for the holiday.” She smiled as she skimmed some of the responses. “Hrm, we’ll see. I’m still not that good at fighting games, but perhaps I will join Yocchan next time. Maybe.” She turned to Yoshiko. “I’m going to go make dinner, so you have until then to keep playing.”

“Right!” Yoshiko grinned before pouncing back onto the couch and grabbing her controller. “Alright, who among you is willing to face Santahane to claim their place on the Nice list?”

Riko also smiled as she made her way to the kitchen. Over the years, she had become quite fond of listening to Yoshiko’s streams and occasionally even participating in them. But it hadn’t always been like that. The younger girl’s energy had, still to this day, the potential to overwhelm the more reserved older girl, but time and time again, Riko found herself drawn in by the enthusiasm. The smiles, the laughter, even the melodramatic antics. Riko had come to love it all.

“You can’t stop my Jingle Bell attack!”

Haughty laugher burst out from the living room as Riko assuming another little demon was felled at the hands of the skilled fallen angel. Yoshiko was obviously enjoying herself, which in turn was what Riko enjoyed watching, or listening to in this case.

“Yocchan!” Riko called. “Dinner is ready. Come help me set the table.”

“The time has come, little demons.” Yoshiko announced to her viewers. “Yohane must bid thee adieu, for now. But fret not! Thy master shall soon return! Pay heed to thy standard digital messenger systems so that thou might participate in our next gathering from across the void.”

A moment later, the blue-haired girl practically skipped into the kitchen, her cape flowing behind her and twin tails bouncing over her shoulders.

“Thanks for making dinner!” Yoshiko said, sliding in to set a shameless kiss on Riko’s cheek before gliding away to grab plates from the cupboard. Silverware and napkins were nabbed next and the winter holiday wrapped whirlwind spun out to the living room.

Riko followed the other girl with their meal and set it on the table before taking her seat.

“Itadakimasu!” Yoshiko clapped her hands together before reaching for her fork. “Mmm! Riri’s cooking is always the best!”

“I’m glad you like it.” Riko replied, taking her own first bite.

No matter how many times Yoshiko said as such, part of Riko continued to worry about making mistakes when she prepared meals. And of course she knew full well that Yoshiko would eat just about anything she made, despite, and sometimes because of said mistakes. Nonetheless, she doubted she would ever tire of watching Yoshiko enjoy the food she had made for her.

The notification for the Aqours group chat sounded on both of their phones.

“Someone must have finished decorating already.” Riko decided. “Should we check?”

Yoshiko agreed and retrieved her phone. “Ah, Ruby and Zuramaru.”

“It’s a lovely display.”

“Yeah, but we can out do them.”

Riko was about to point out that it wasn’t really a competition but was interrupted by Yoshiko laughing. She checked her phone to find Mari being scolded by Dia for her commentary while Kanan played an all-too-casual mediator. She set her device down to resume her meal but continued to listen to her girlfriend laugh as the situation unfolded.

It was a completely different laughter than earlier during the stream. Yohane’s laugh was hearty, deep and more than a little mischievous, while Yoshiko’s was gentler, purer and decidedly sweeter. Like her singing voice, the girl’s laughter had the range of an entire choir. And like her streams, Riko enjoyed listening.

After a few minutes, Yoshiko settled back down and the couple began chatting about various things like their respective days at work and what decorations they most looked forward to putting up. Once they were done, they both cleared their places and headed for the dining room.

“Ne, Riri,” Yoshiko spoke up “one of my little demons sent me a play list of Christmas parody songs. The ones I’ve listened to so far have been pretty funny. Do you want to listen? Otherwise, I have a more normal playlist prepared as well.”

Riko was about to choose the normal list when she realized the parodies would mean comedy. Comedy more than likely meant more laughter from Yoshiko. Suddenly, the weights shifted on her decision-making scale.

“The parody list is fine.” Riko agreed after a moment.

“Thanks, Riri!” She grinned. And with more flourish than was necessary, Yoshiko paired her phone to the stereo and started the music.

“I should be thanking you, Yocchan.”

“Huh?” Yoshiko tilted her head. “For what?”

Oh, had she said that out loud? Well, may as well tell her.

“For your laughter.” Riko started to explain. “For your smile. For your joyful energy that fills this place and makes it a home worth living in. For just, you know, being you. And for being with me.”

For a moment, it looked like Yoshiko might burst into tears, but just as moisture was starting to gather at the edges of her eyes, she blinked it away. “Riri~!” she cried, launching herself at Riko.

Having mostly anticipated this reaction, Riko caught the other girl and pulled her into an embrace.

“You’re welcome! And thank you!” Was all Riko heard before Yoshiko became incoherent.

Riko contented herself by running her hands through curled twin tails while Yoshiko babbled into her shoulder. However, it wasn’t long before what she thought was a classic carol started to play and Yoshiko chuckled. A moment later, she pulled away. Magenta eyes shone like the lights the couple was about to hang.

“This one is one of my favorites.” Yoshiko said excitedly. “I think you’ll like it too, Riri.”

“Alright, I’ll be sure to pay attention to the lyrics.” Riko assured. “Shall we start decorating?”

Yoshiko agreed and the couple started opening boxes. Another Christmas season was underway and Riko quietly prayed for a hundred more to come, each as wonderful as the last.

Author’s Note Continued in Followup Post

[zealoushound]

The Dinner

Summary: Walter has had a rough week at work and asks his lady to cook dinner for him. The sex was just a bonus.

Pairing: Walter Marshall x reader.

Word Count: 1,345

Warnings: fluff to smut. Lots of smut. Daddy kink. Creampie. Tiny gun kink.

A/N: You read that right! I’m dipping my toes into the smut pond lol. This is the first smut story that I’ve completed, actually. Be gentle lol.

Thanks @foodieforthoughts for the tips!

Also, I left the door open on what she’s cooking so that the reader could put in their favorite dish to cook.

Disclaimer: Do not copy any part of my material to use as your own. Do not repost my work and claim it as your own. Not that anyone may actually want to do that because I’m sure this is lacking somehow.

***

Credit for the gif goes to @hmmm-duck hope it’s ok that I use it. I can take it off if not.

You're in the kitchen cooking dinner. Walter had asked you for something special; something you always liked cooking for him. It was really easy for you to make, but Walter on the other hand? He couldn’t cook anything that wasn’t on a grill. Faye would joke he could burn water. So who were you to deny his request? Especially when he’d seemed so down in the dumps the past few days. He’d had a few hard days at work lately, but he hadn’t wanted to talk with you about it. Walter doesn’t usually talk about his cases with you though. He says it’s because he doesn’t want you to worry. Truth be told he didn’t want to be the one to taint your belief that there was still good in the world.

“I wouldn’t even know where to begin,” he’d stated, trailing off wanting to change the subject.

“Well... if you need me to do something… even if you just want a hug, anything, let me know ok?” You offered up your best, not really sure of what to say.

“Mmh.” He murmured, holding you in his arms he sat his chin on the top of your head. “What about dinner tomorrow? How about that stuff you make me? My favorite. Will you make me that?” he requested

“Of course, baby,” you smiled up into the kiss he was offering. So here you are now standing over a hot stove, cooking for your man. Sure, it was a little 1950’s, but you didn’t care. You just wanted to be there for him. You had your playlist playing just for some extra noise in the house so you didn’t hear him when he came in from work.

Walter came in the back door into the kitchen, shutting it quietly so he could take you in. You were wearing the teal fuzzy socks that Faye had given you, and your hair was pulled up in a messy bun. You were wearing an old gray shirt of his, one sleeve fell off your shoulder. It came down past your rump, and, if he was a betting man, you only had panties on underneath, if anything. He shifted feeling the familiar tightening in his pants. He thought you looked adorable, yet incredibly sexy.

He started to take his belt off, but waited, knowing that when his gun thudded against the table it would startle you. Instead he walked over to you putting his hands on your waist. You gasped, turning to catch a glimpse of Walter's shoulder before he crashed himself into your back. “It’s just me, love.” You relaxed instantly hearing his familiar accent. Breathing you in he sighed, “God, you smell good.”

“Mmh, that’s just the food,” you giggled.

“Ah it does smell delicious, but you… mmm God.” He swayed his hips into you, rubbing his hard cock against your ass. Reaching one hand around you to cup your mound. Rubbing you with his fingers over the cotton causing you to moan.

“Walt,” you sighed, closing your eyes, relaxing into the feeling, tilting your head back against his shoulder, “honey, dinners almost ready.” His fingers were insistent. He was pleased to feel your wetness spreading under his movements.

“Please, baby. I need you.” He whined into your neck. That was all it took. You cut the food off. It was close enough to being done for you. Turning, you let him pull you closer into a deep kiss. His hands gripped your ass as he bent down. You jumped up, wrapping your legs around his waist. His gun digging into your thigh. The cold metal turned you on more than you ever thought it could.

You moaned feeling his hardness against your panties, which were growing damper by the second. Walter sat you down on the countertop by the sink. Your hands immediately went to his belt. “Mmm, Daddy! You plan on keeping the gun on while you fuck me?”

Walter let out a sinful groan that was music to your ears, and your pussy. “If that’s what my kitten wants, that’s what my kitten gets.”

“Oh yes, Daddy!” You threw your head back as he assaulted your throat. Kissing, sucking, biting, soothing each one with wide swipes of his tongue. Knowing there would be evidence of him there tomorrow, but neither of you cared. You kept fumbling with his belt as he sucked hard enough on your exposed shoulder to leave a mark. His bucking hips didn’t make it any easier for your hands to stay steady. Finally you got the belt unbuckled, making quick work of his fly, you reached into his boxer briefs, and found your treasure. He was so hard for you. You pumped his rigged shaft a couple times, you swirled your thumb around his head collecting the precious liquid leaking there for you and brought it to your lips. Sucking languidly on your thumb, you sighed out, “mmm, tastes so good, Daddy.”

His eyes went dark. He yanked the shirt you were wearing off your body. His mouth desperately sucking one of your nipples, kneading your other, exposed breast with his enormous hand. His free hand shot your mound, making you gasp lightly. You heard your panties rip. He was against your soaking wet folds instantly. He rubbed his length against your aching slit, getting himself slick, “I hope you’re ready sweetheart cause I can’t wait, not tonight.”

“Need you so bad Walter, ple-.” He didn’t wait for you to finish before lining up and thrusting himself into you. The both of you groaning out with need and pleasure. He stilled only for a moment to let you adjust; quickly pulling his shirt off. When he started back he was fucking you harder than he ever had before. You braced yourself with one hand on the side of the sink the other on his broad shoulder. He was staring at your tits, watching them bounce. Throwing your head back, arching your back, you gave him a better view. He was watching himself being pumped in and out of your tight pussy. “Ah, fuck! Walter!” you cried out.

You could only focus on the pleasure he was giving you. The crude, wet sounds that were coming from your bodies. His grunts. God the sounds that were coming from this man! This was not your Walter. No, this was someone else entirely. He was feral. He was savage. He was starving for you and you were more than willing to let him have his fill.

His hands were gripping your hips so tightly you knew you’d have bruises in the morning but you didn’t care. You’d never had blind passion like this before and you weren’t about to give it up for anything. You felt the build up inside you as your legs started to shake. “I’m... so close, Walter,” you rasped. “Mm so close.. so...” he let go of your hip, bringing it up to feverishly stroke his thumb over your clit.

He looked up at you with a fire in his eyes that you’d never seen. “Come. Now.” He commanded you. The dam building inside you broke. You cried out to the heavens as wave after wave of intense pleasure washed over you. He wasn’t far behind, feeling your walls tightening, milking him, he let go with an animalistic roar. His hips faltered, two more deep thrusts then he stilled. His hot seed spilling into your desperate womb.

Walter laid his head on your shoulder, catching his breath. “Walt,” you whimpered. He lifted his head with worry. “Are you ok, love?” He asked, brushing your hair off your sweaty forehead.

You chuckled, “Am I.. am I ok? Oh god, you have no idea how ok I am.” He took in the way your eyes looked and laughed.

“Well then,” he slowly slipped out of you. You whined in protest. He watched as your body automatically clenched in response to his absence. He saw himself mixed with your juices, leaking slowly from your cunt and smirked proudly. “Let’s get you cleaned up, kitten.”

***

@foodieforthoughts @wendimydarling @hope-to-hell @littlefreya @nuggsmum @henrythickcavill

[fsketchart]

Daminette December - Soulmate AU

ALLLLLRIGHT let's go!  @noirdots ur fabu

Also Lila and Alya never met, and neither of them ever met Marinette.

Marinette sighed as she finished up paperwork.  She sat back in her chair and glanced outside. Her friends were already outside fluttering around getting ready for the holiday season.  Christmas and Valentine's day were always the busiest times of the year.

Marinette stood up, and grabbed her uniform.  She wore a red dress with white details, along with a gorgeous bun with a few strands loose.  Her dress had a white bow in the back. She walked in matching red heels, and she grabbed her bow & arrows, and headed outside.  She spread her wings and took flight. She headed towards HQ to receive her assignment.

------

"NEXT!" an old woman called.  She glanced at Marinette. "Cupid 1890?"

"Affirmative." The old woman passed a few papers.

"Just the regular," the woman said.  Marinette sighed. The woman snapped at her.  "It's Christmas soon, what can you expect? Our mistletoe kiss requests are through the roof, and do you know how many New year's 'true love' wishes we get each year?  They've skyrocketed through the roof!"

Marinette awkwardly chuckled and grabbed the papers.  Just as she turned to leave the lady snapped.

"Hey where do you think you're going?"

"To...work?" The woman shook her head.

"We gave you an extra long list.  You'll be having a partner."

"What?  Why not just split the assignment?"

"Because this guy is a rookey.  We need a supervisor."

"Don't I get a say?" Marinette asked, rolling her eyes.

"No," the woman said, with a harsh glare that made Marinette feel guilty.  The woman turned around and yelled. "OI! ROOKIE! OVER HERE!"

A boy, taller than Marinette walked forwards.  He had dark spikey hair like a porcupine and green eyes.  Marinette sighed. She held out her hand to introduce herself, but he just knocked it away.  He snatched the papers away and Marinette glared. The woman was now focusing on other cupids.

"Hey give them back!"

"No," Damian said with a tired voice.

Damian held up the papers beyond her reach and when she tried to fly over, he simply flew backwards.  That's when Marinette had a clever idea.

"Uh, your name is?"

"Damian."

"Right, Damian.  Yeah you're shoes are untied."

"Wait what-"

Marinette snatched the papers from his hand. "HAH SUCK IT NERD."

Damian snarled as he tried to grab the paper but Marinette already took off.  He chased her all the way to the cloud transports area, as Marinette dove on through.  She glided through all of the machinery getting ready to package the clouds down to earth gracefully as Damian just plowed on through.  There were yells of the machinery workers but Damian ignored them. He chased her until they reached the teleportation mist as Marinette chose the coordinates in a hurry.  She quickly got ready for the teleport, and turned her back last second to see an angry Damian aiming straight for her. Damian reached out for the paper and snatched it but was quickly teleported.

------

Damian woke up dazed and confused.  His vision was dizzy as he stumbled.  Marinette took her chance to grab back the papers, and started to Sprint.  Damian tackled her on the ground still trying to grab the papers back. They stumbled and fought until they rolled down a hill.  Marinette lost her grip on the paper last second. They screamed as they landed in a lake, soaking their wings.

Marinette just shivered in the cold as Damian let out a curse.  They slowly walked back to where they once were, unable to fly with their now soaked wings.

Marinette and Damian glared at each other and occasionally stepped on each other's shoes on purpose, but otherwise remained quiet.  They tried to dry off their hair and looked at eachother.

"Truce?" Marinette asked.

"Truce," Damian answered.

Marinette sighed as she checked the papers.

"Okay, we have a strict schedule.  We have about 5 to get done today."

"That should be easy."

Marinette just laughed and shook her head.  "No way, that's a ton for one day. You'll find out soon enough."

------

They followed around a girl named Alya and a boy named Nino all day.  They could only shoot their arrows in a case of emergency or if they seemed it necessary.  Damian was running out of patience. They had been waiting at the park with them for an hour and they still hadn't gotten up from the bench, for they were too busy chatting.

"COME ON CAN'T WE JUST USE AN ARROW AND GET IT OVER WITH?"

Marinette shushed him.  "No! This is a mistletoe wish, not a true love wish.  There's a difference." Damian just groaned. Marinette shushed him again.

She looked around.

"Okay, I think I have a plan." She pointed towards the park entrance, with a mistletoe dangling.  Damian just sighed.

"I still don't see why we can't just use an arrow."

"Because these guys are soulmates," Marinette said pointing to the list.  "We can't rush it or risk messing it up."

Damian just scoped out the place.

"We need a distraction, Damian."

"Okay, so what do you propose?"

"Hide your wings for a second." Damian just narrowed his eyes.  She gave him a stern look. Damian agreed.

"Okay now what-"

"DISTRACT!" Marinette shoved him forwards right in front of the pair as she ran behind the bench.

Damian froze.  As did Nino and Alya.

Nino just awkwardly raised his eyebrow.  "Do...do you need something dude?"

Damian panicked.  "Um...yes?"

"So what do you need?" Alya asked.

"Um.  Money."

Alya and Nino looked confused.  Damian continued.

"I'm...here to... rob you."

Alya and Nino just exchanged glances.  "You...you're not doing a very good job…"

Damian just stepped forwards doing an overly dramatic walk.  "Hand over your lunch money, nerd."

"We're both in college-"

"I SAID HAND IT OVER, LOSERS!"

Nino just looked annoyed as Alya stood up and rolled up her sleeves.  "What did you say to me?" Marinette noticed it was about to get messy and reached towards Nino's shoelaces, from under the bench.

"I...um I said HAND IT OVER!  I'm not afraid of uh prison! Yeah I've been there before.  Because I'm manly." Damian flexed his muscles.

Alya grabbed his wrist and flung him over her shoulder in one fell swoop.  She sighed as she picked up her purse and grabbed Nino's hand. Damian was groaning in pain.

"Wait...get back here…" Damian called back as he tried to crawl on the floor while holding his knee.  They both stood and watched as Damian made his very slow way over to them. He reached for them but Nino just stomped on his hand and walked away with Alya.  However, they didn't get too far, only making it to the entrance of the park. Nino tripped over his shoelaces and fell over, bringing Alya down with him. Marinette was smirking from a distance.  Damian was not.

Alya and Nino giggled, as they noticed the mistletoe.  They kissed under the mistletoe, as Marinette silently cheered.  Damian loudly groaned in pain.

Marinette dragged Damian away while the couple was distracted.

------

"⅕ was a success!  Good job, Damian!" Damian just cursed as she bandaged his bruised and cut knee.  She held up his chin gently to face her.

"Hey, I'm sorry I threw you into that situation without giving you a heads-up, really." Damian looked away.

"It's fine…" he mumbled.  Marinette glowed with happiness.

"I was serious when I said you did good, especially considering it's your first time."

"As to be expected, I'm the best of the best,"  Damian snarked back, but with a slight smile.

She roughed up his hair and giggled.  "We'll see."

------

TAG LIST :

@caffeinetheory @noirdots

Bonus : Damian flexing.

[msiconoclast]

Again - Chapter 1

Pairing: Jaebeom x Reader

Genre: romance, angst

Word Count: 2.3k

Summary:  Lim Jaebeom was the single most significant part of your college experience.  A chance encounter brings you together again many years later when you’ve both settled into your careers (Jaebeom is a music producer and Y/N is a journalist).  As you take a walk down memory lane, you reflect on your understanding of love and its many trials.  Some loves are meant to make you grow, and some are meant to help you heal.   And some are destined to be both.

A/N: Whew, this took longer than I expected.  Enjoy!  Read the prologue first if you haven’t yet: Again - Prologue

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Lim Jaebeom first showed up in your life the summer after sophomore year.  You were nineteen at the time and life was still full of glorious possibilities. 

Before you learned his name, he had been "hoodie guy from film class". 

Hoodie guy almost always showed up to class late, often with dark circles under his eyes that looked like they'd been there for days.  His usual attire of oversized hoodie, shorts, and sandals suggested that he'd probably just rolled out of bed and come straight to class.  He would inevitably fall asleep in the back row and start snoring at some point during lecture.  You had to physically move to the front just to block out the noise and catch what the prof was saying.

Yet somehow, he managed to be the professor's favorite student.  

The thing is, when he wasn't nodding off, hoodie guy was apparently Ebert incarnate.  He was usually quiet but whenever the class discussion came to a halt, he would always make a comment that somehow managed to cut straight to the heart of the film.  The class would give collective pause over his flash of brilliance and then resume in excited debate in a new enlightened direction.  On the few occasions when the professor decided to read out excerpts from written assignments, you knew.....you just knew that they were always from hoodie guy's papers by the smirk on his face.

In other words....the guy was annoying as hell.

Look, you loved movies and film class was sacred.  It was one of the few classes you actually enjoyed outside of your major.  How dare this guy just waltz into class in his pajamas and proceed to wax philosophical on “French New Wave” while the rest of you barely understood what the films were trying to convey?  Was he some kind of silver screen idiot savant?  More importantly, why was he trying to ruin the curve for everyone?!

Needless to say, by the time the semester ended, you were more than done with hoodie guy’s antics.  If you were to never see him again, that would be absolutely perfect.

Life, unfortunately, had other plans for you.

As spring eased into summer, you decided to take a job at Joe's on Third to supplement your non-paid internship at the local paper.  Joe's was your home away from home as a student.  Cozy and airy, it had the perfect ambiance and was never too packed.  As a bonus, they served a mean grilled cheese among a small menu of comfort food classics and you would get fed every day you worked there.  It was going to be tough balancing the two jobs but all things considered, it wasn’t a bad deal at all.

When you showed up at seven for your first day at Joe's, the place was still empty.  The only sound came from behind the counter where someone was grinding coffee beans.  A tall figure with an enviable head of hair was rustling around getting the goods ready before the morning rush.  As you got closer, you noticed that he had more than a few piercings, one in particular under his right eye.  You never really found facial piercings to be attractive on men but there was something oddly intriguing about the look on him.  It gave him an air of nonchalance.  A rebel without a cause.

He was so concentrated on his tasks that he didn't notice you until you tapped on the counter in front of him.

"Shit....oh...."  It took him a moment to collect his thoughts until a look of recognition registered in his face.  "You’re Y/N?  I'm Jaebeom.  Call me JB.  Joe said I'm supposed to set you up on your first day."  

Hoodie Guy?

The second he opened his mouth, it dawned on you that this was no stranger.  Though you never cared to study his face, you had memorized hoodie guy's voice by heart.  And while this clean shaven, well dressed man in front of you looked nothing like the guy who always buried his face in his hoodies, the voice was unmistakable.    

"Intro to World Cinema.  Were you the one who got the only A in class??"

Confused, he raised his eyebrows and tried again.  "Uh, I'm supposed to get you trained on your first day and make sure you can..."

"I'm asking if you were in Intro to World Cinema last semester?  Didn't you always wear a hoodie to class and nap in the back row?  Were you the jerk who ruined the curve for everyone and got the only A on the final paper?

He stared at you as if you were nuts.  But you didn't really expect him to protest innocence.

"I was in that class too and would've gotten an A if it weren't for you!  Instead I got a B+.  First B+ in two years of school!!"  The words flew out of your mouth before you could catch yourself.  Oh, you knew it was petty but your indignation had been brewing for weeks.

He squinted his eyes and continued to stare at you.

Ding! 

Somewhere in the back, a toaster went off.  This seemed to snap him out of his trance and you watched as confusion dissolved into amusement on his face. 

He cleared his throat: "Well...Miss B+....we got twenty minutes until open.  If you want to keep this job, I suggest you get going and put all the baked goods out." 

Not waiting for you to respond, he turned towards the kitchen. 

Just before disappearing into the back, he suddenly swung around and grinned`: "Yeah, I got the A.  And you were the girl with the pencil hair bun who always sat in the front."

So he did recognize you.

Asshole.

The first week of your new job breezed by without much of a hitch.  You'd worked restaurant jobs before and a cafe was a piece of cake by comparison.  What surprised you was how efficient JB was at the job.  You just couldn't stitch together the image of him snoring in class with how professional he appeared at the cafe.  Not only was he efficient, he also seemed to be preternaturally friendly towards everyone who walked in.  Loud teenagers, moms with screaming babies, post-breakup girls drowning in their brownie-a-la-mode, he handled each and every one of them with calm and kindness.  Yet, you wouldn't exactly call him a "people person" since he never voluntarily took up small talk with anyone nor did he socialize much with the other staff.  It seemed that JB simply existed comfortably in the backdrop of the cafe’s inviting atmosphere and treated everyone with the same distant warmth.  

After the awkward initial encounter with JB, you maintained a precarious distance towards each other.  You were still reeling from the embarrassment of your outburst, and he must have decided to steer clear of stirring up the "crazy" in you again.  In fact, he treated you just like any other member of the staff, as if the incident never happened.  If anything, you two developed a satisfying partnership of sorts.  When the cafe was busy, you teamed up to keep the orders moving and the kitchen hot.  When there was a lull, you gave each other plenty of space.  You would work on your articles for the paper while he pranced around behind the counter scribbling down notes on little pieces of paper.

Mid-afternoons were usually the slowest at the cafe.  You savored these moments when time seemed to pass by as slowly as dust particles that swayed in the summer sun.  It gave you a strange sense of privacy even if you were sitting in a cafe full of people.   Sometimes, when you were feeling really wild, you'd stealthily switch the cafe jazz that droned on in the background to your favorite soundtracks.  None of the cafe patrons seemed to mind as long as it was something mellow.  The one person who did take note though was JB.  

"Is that 'Before Sunrise'?"   Um hum.

"That sounds like 'Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind'?"  Yup.

"Oh, 'Midnight in Paris'.  The gypsy jazz is cool."   Totally...

Either this guy had seen every movie under the sun or you two just happened to have very similar tastes.  What was most curious was the fact that these were all movies that any other guy would scoff as “chick flicks”.   Not the type of entertainment that you’d expect a “rebel without a cause“ to seek out.

"So did you actually watch all of these movies?"  You had to ask him one afternoon.

"Hmm......yeah."  He waved one of the little pieces of paper he was scribbling on: "They help me with my songwriting.  I......heh, need inspiration and I like movies that provide different perspectives on the concept of love. "

So that's what he had been working on.  Song lyrics.  You weren’t entirely surprised since half of the population in LA were trying to make it in Entertainment in one way or another.

"Why do people write so many love songs anyways?  Loneliness is totally underrated."

"Because almost any emotion that music can express can be related to love.  It's universal." he said

"Yeah?  And what have you learned about love in all your movie-watching and song-writing experience?”

"The heart's not like a box that gets filled up. It expands in size the more you love."

“Her”.  Nice..... another sentimental fool.

The best thing about working at Joe's was the weekly closing party.  Every Friday night, the staff would string up lights around the back patio and put on a little dance party while closing the cafe down.  It was an unspoken rule that whatever bottles of wine were open by the end of the week was a free for all for the party and the beer taps were open until dry.  Quite a nice little perk for the employees. 

You had always enjoyed yourself at these parties.  Most of the part time staff were kids who went to the same school, people you had seen around campus.  It was where the staff really got to know each other and sometimes, got their hands on each other.  And it didn't take long for everyone to get comfortable and really let loose.  It was also funny to see how people changed when they were drunk.  The shy introverted ones would surprisingly become super hyper while the normally outgoing ones often ended up bawling their eyes out in the corner by the end of the night.  Nothing short of human theater.

The first couple of times you'd joined, you were still careful not to drink too much.  You wanted to make a good impression and actually get to know everyone.  But by the fourth closing party, you were well on your way to earning the title of dancing queen.  See, alcohol also had an intriguing effect on you.  It helped you break out of your usually calm shell but it also had a tendency to make you more than a little flirty.  And on this particular night, you were definitely feeling the love. 

The theme for the night was 90s jams and you had been showing off your moves on top of one of the patio tables for the last 45 minutes.  But it was nearing midnight now and most people were either too drunk or too tired to be dancing and you were starting to feel the early signs of a crash yourself.  It was then the bass thumping hip hop switched over to a slow and smooth R&B song that you had never heard before.  There was something seductive about the way the singer cooed out the words.

"Girl it's only you

Have it your way

And if you want you can decide

And if you'll have me

I can provide everything that you desire

Said if you get a feeling

Feeling that I am feeling

Won't you come closer to me baby,

You've already got me right where you want me baby

I just want to be your man

How does it feel

How does it feel

Said I want to know how does it feel

How does it feel

How does it feel"

As you spun around on the table, you noticed a pair of gaze that fixed steadily on you as you swayed your hips slowly to the beat.  You couldn't make out the expression on his face but there was an intensity in his gaze that made your body heat up.  The thought that you had a captured audience turned you on and prompted you to run your hands across your body.  As you felt your body heat up more and more, you reached for the glass nearby and took out an ice cube.  You desperately needed to cool down.  Holding the ice cube in your mouth for a second, you then started to run it against your skin.  Trails of ice water trickled down your neck, your collarbone and pooled where your cleavage had shown through your shirt.  The song was pushing towards a crescendo and the singer's falsetto was ringing in your head.  It grew louder and louder until the lights started to spin. 

Dizziness took over.  Suddenly, you felt yourself lose your balance and stumble towards the ground.

Black.

And the next time you opened your eyes, a familiar face was just inches above you.  The owner of the gaze had his arms propped up beneath you while they supported your weight.

You could feel his breath on your face and for what seemed like an eternity, you simply stared at each other.

Finally, you ended the silence by flashing him the brightest smile you could muster and pointing at his nose: "I forgive you!!!...Hoodie guy!"

The corners of his mouth curved up. 

"You're pretty cute, B+."  He chuckled.

Previous      Next

[halictus-writer]

Welcome to Seattle (Ch. 1 of 5)

Remus had wanted to move to Seattle for most of his twenties, but when it finally happened it was underwhelming. In all his daydreams, real-estate-app-checking, and job-hunting, he always accounted for an extra person by his side. That extra person was always the same man: the one who Remus had been in a romantic relationship with for the last six years, who Remus had built a life with, who Remus knew like the back of his hand, and who had broken up with Remus an hour before Remus’s 26th birthday party.

A month later, Remus unlocked the door to his Seattle studio apartment, began submitting job applications to local newspapers, and finally started writing his novel. His friends were worried about him being alone, but as he assured them in their daily group-texts, Remus was doing fine. He was finally living the life he had envisioned having for himself, the one he would have had if he had never met his now-ex-boyfriend. If he ate a lot of comfort food and often dined alone, then that was just self-care, not some need for pity from the friends he moved away from.

Seattle was a five hour drive from his past life: the town he went to college in and then never left. Five hours was just long enough to keep his ghosts at bay, but also short enough that his friends could visit him for a weekend. James and Lily were like Remus and his ex: they had met in college and ended up staying and building their lives together. The other bonus about Seattle was that Dorcas and her partner Marlene lived just outside the city. Dorcas had been Lily’s freshman year roommate, and they had been close friends ever since. Once James and Lily got together, the four of them–– Remus, James, Dorcas, and Lily–– formed a group chat and texted constantly. The name of the chat switched a few times a week, but it stayed the same as “Seattle? More like sea ADDLED” ever since Remus moved. After Dorcas introduced Marlene to the group on one of James and Lily’s visits, she was promptly added to the chat.

***

Remus was catching up on the group texts as he sat alone in a booth of the Italian restaurant around the corner from his apartment. He smiled as he read James’s increasingly-frantic texts beginning fifteen minutes ago. Apparently, Lily had set up some sort of parental controls in his phone, and the only change she had made was to prevent him from typing and sending any word that contained the letter “E.”

James: H3LP! I can’t type the l3tter 3

Lily: What? I can’t understand you, I think you’re misspelling words

James: The l3tter 3

*Dorcas changed the name of the chat to “The l3tter 3”*

James: Dorcas. Not h3lping. Lily, did you do som3thing to my phon3??

Lily: Have you tried turning it off and back on again?

James: I only f3ll for that the first 3 times, Lily

Marlene: Do you mean the first three times, or the first E times?

Having finally caught up, Remus joined in.

Remus: James, I think you just need to give up and adjust your vocab to only include words without the letter 3.

James: Stop calling it the l3tter 3, it’s the l3tter 3 and you know that

Dorcas: This is too good

R3mus: See? I adapted  

James: W3ll th3n R3mus, l3t’s s33 you g3t by without the l3tter 3

Remus: Without the letter three? That would be tragic

Remus looked up from his phone, still smiling, as the man he presumed to be his waiter approached. Remus’s smile turned to a face of surprise when he looked up at the man’s face. The man was gorgeous. His long black hair was currently braided and tied up into a bun. Remus quickly chastised himself for wondering what it would look like let down before he remembered that he was allowed to think those thoughts again, now that he was unwillingly single.

The waiter’s name tag read “Sirius,” and Remus instantly felt a camaraderie with him for having to get through life with uncommon names. Remus asked for water and a few more minutes to look at the menu, having been distracted by his phone so far. He watched the beautiful waiter walk away, appreciating the fact that his dress shirt was tucked in to tight jeans.

When he returned to his phone, he discovered that Lily, Dorcas, and Marlene were all trying to write sentences without the letter E. So far, Lily was doing the best, but their texts were all punctuated by one or two of James’s “H3LP M3” messages.

Sirius returned with a glass of water and two napkin-wrapped silverware rolls. He placed one in front of Remus, and then held onto the other one somewhat awkwardly.

“Is it just you dining tonight?” He asked.

“Uh. Yep.” Remus answered, hoping his embarrassment hadn’t reached his face yet. He was prone to blush, and his complexion showed it quite visibly.

The waiter seemed almost happy about this–– probably just overcompensating for embarrassing Remus about being alone, Remus thought–– before asking for his order. One margherita pizza ordered later, and Remus got to watch him walk away again.

Remus had been on the hunt for the perfect margherita pizza, and had already tried a few other restaurants in the city. It was Remus’s favorite comfort meal (brownies were considered a comfort dessert). But, since eating an entire pizza for each meal was not “healthy,” Remus had to save the pizza nights for his really bad days.

As he waited for his pizza, he returned to his phone. James had regained the ability to type the letter E, but now they had moved on to voluntarily omitting other letters from their sentences. Marlene and Dorcas were prompting Remus to “blow them away” with his journalist skills, and write a sentence without the letter A. Laughing, he began.

Remus: You think you just did something there, don’t you? Well, I’m sorry to burst your bubble, but numerous sentences could be constructed without the use of the first letter of the English lexicon.

*Lily changed the name of the chat to “Remus ruined the joke”*

*James changed the name of the chat to “Remus ruined the joke gin”*

James: gin

James: wit no

*James changed the name of the chat to “Remus ruined the joke 4g4in”*

James: LILY! WHY C4N’T I TYPE THE LETTER 4

*Dorcas changed the name of the chat to “The letter 4”*

***

The pizza was excellent. Remus decided after the second bite that he had found his oasis. Any bad days in the future would end at this very restaurant, with this perfectly crisp crust and perfectly fresh basil. The pizza was so good that he didn’t even care when the hot waiter came back to ask how everything was and he could only nod and grunt in reply, having just taken a huge bite. Sirius merely laughed and left to take another table’s order.

***

When he brought the check, Sirius also brought a small plate carrying a square layered cake.

“Oh, I didn’t order this, I think maybe it’s for a different table?” Remus said, as the cake was placed in front of him.

“It’s for you, actually, uh, on the house.” Sirius answered, smiling a little sheepishly. “It’s tiramisu, our best dessert here.”

The cake did look familiar, and Remus realized that he had walked past a display fridge full of the Italian dessert when he entered the restaurant. “Oh, well, thank you!” Sirius gave him one last quick smile before turning to take drink orders from a family nearby.

The gesture was sweet, Remus decided. He had been eating alone, new to the restaurant, and the waiter (or more likely owner) had told someone to bring him a free dessert, hoping to persuade him to come back, or tell his friends to visit, or something. It was a good business decision, really. No other strings attached.

Little did the owner know (as Remus had now decided the waiter wouldn’t have brought the dessert unprompted), Remus was already planning on coming back. And, unfortunately, while Remus did have a large sweet tooth, he also had an aversion to the texture of wet cake. The flavor of the tiramisu was good, and Remus could see how other people would like it, but he just couldn’t get over the soggy, coffee-soaked cookie consistency.

He managed to eat half of it, and push the other half around the plate to make it look like he had eaten maybe two-thirds. Remus tipped exactly twenty percent, slid out of the booth, and pulled his jacket on.

Seeing him leaving, Sirius smiled at Remus from across the restaurant, and Remus gave a little wave in return. Sirius was just a friendly waiter, Remus decided, and the free tiramisu didn’t mean anything. Happy about finally finding the perfect pizza place, Remus walked outside, into the cool night air.

[crazycat-88]

Male Half Dragonborn/Half Tiefling Folke x Female Reader

Story commissioned by the lovely @ivymemnoch​, who won the ‘follower milestone lottery’ I posted at the beginning of November.

Features: One cocky but sweet Dom! male monster & one sassy Sub! female reader.

Content: Light Dom/Sub, Tender after care, Cursing, & Explicit content (NSFW)

Words: 4,511

When you’d gotten a new job three months previously as a fitness instructor teaching workout classes to large groups of people at Novak’s Gym and Spa, it was a dream come true. Previously you had worked at a pokey little gym that smelled of sweaty feet and your class sizes had been abysmal. Now working at the hottest gym in the city, you had up to twenty-five and always over fifteen people taking your classes.

The gym itself is classy, high tech, sparkling clean and owned by a wealthy orc who didn’t believe in over charging, which meant you had a real range of clientele from all walks of life, which was really nice. The staff were fantastic too, everyone was friendly and welcoming, often getting together outside of work for drinks or a meal.

Your favourite member of staff however had to be Folke, a half tiefling, half dragonborn, personal trainer, that you had developed more than just a little crush on. He looked impressive, with his lean figure and muscular arms, but it was the mix of dragonborn and tiefling features he had that you really find attractive.

From the neck down he looked more like a dragonborn, sporting burnt orange and creamy coloured scales and a thick tail. His feet were shaped like a tieflings though and his claws weren’t as long or as sharp as a dragonborns. Facially however he looked more like a tiefling, with a nose and lips instead of a snout. He had two pointy ears that sat below two long curved horns. In the middle of which he also had two shorter horns that sat pointing straight up.

It wasn’t just his looks that you are attracted to either. He has a great personality, confident, sometimes borderlining on the cocky side, but when you gave back as good as you got, he often becomes bashful which you find really intriguing.

You thought the attraction was mutual and while he was constantly flirting with you, he hasn't asked you out. First you wondered if he just doesn’t want to cross that boundary as you work together but then you wondered if perhaps you’re just not his type. While you are proud of your figure, working hard to achieve a toned and slightly muscular physique you knew that it wasn’t everyone’s type. You were also naturally tall and slender with a small bust, again not a figure all males desired. Folke did seem to really like your ass though, which was a bonus.

Folke or no Folke, you loved your job and always made sure to get in early to prepare for your first class. It was on one such morning, when you were in the studio doing your stretches, that you heard footsteps approaching from behind you.

‘‘Has anyone ever told you that you have a great ass?’’

You're bent over touching your toes, stretching, when you hear the question come from behind you, and you smile. Folke. He always has such convenient timing.

‘‘Yeah. You. Last week and the week before that,’’ you reply, continuing to stretch.

‘‘Oh yeah I keep forgetting,’’ he says chuckling.

‘‘Maybe you should see a doctor…’’ you say as you straighten up to stand, before looking at him with a smirk. ‘‘Get that little brain of yours checked over.’’

‘‘Trust me love there's nothing little about me.’’

‘‘Oh I don’t know…’’ you say looking him over, still smirking. ‘‘You have two little horns and two cute little ears.’’

He looks away bashfully, his creamy coloured cheeks darkening before he chuckles lowly.

‘‘I have to go meet a client… Some of us actually have work to do you know,’’ he says as he walks out of the studio, his tail lazily swaying in the air as he goes.

‘‘Sure, if you can call what you do work,’’ you say laughingly, watching him leave. One of these days you were really going to have to grab the bull by the horns and ask him out you think, going back to doing your stretches in preparation for your class.

You don’t see Folke for the rest of the day and your wiped out by the time your last class is over. Remembering your promise to go shopping for your elderly neighbour before returning home, you decide a shower is in order before you go. Heading towards the staff room, you remove the band from your hair, releasing it from the tight bun you wear it in for work and run your fingers through it with a sigh of relief. Suddenly spotting Folke sitting at a table watching you with wide eyes, you raise your brow at him in question.

‘‘What?’’ You ask. ‘‘Do I have something on my face?’’

‘‘No, sorry,’’ he says. ‘‘I just… always forget how long your hair is. You always wear it up.’’

‘‘Well yeah, it’s more practical,’’ you say. Your long chestnut coloured hair was probably one of your best features but it wasn’t practical to wear it down at work. ‘‘You should know,’’ you add, gesturing to his own long hair. His brown hair reached passed his shoulders so it wasn’t as long as yours but still not practical for work and he always wore it up too.

Folke nods agreeing but he still eyes your hair with interest. ‘‘Is that you done for the day?’’ He asks.

‘‘Yeah, I’m just going for a quick shower before I leave,’’ you say, grabbing your bag and heading for the door.

‘‘Give me a shout if you want your back scrubbed,’’ he says, chuckling as you walk out the door.

‘‘If only you would,’’ you say under your breath, as you head to the shower room.

The following day you find Folke lingering outside the studio room as you get in to work. He’s standing with his arms crossed blocking the door and his golden eyes brighten when he spots you approaching. Was he waiting for you, you think, feeling delighted at the prospect.

‘‘Good morning,’’ he says.

‘‘Morning…’’ you reply. ‘‘Are you loitering for a purpose?’’ you ask as you look him over with a smirk. He’s not wearing a top this morning, leaving his creamy coloured chest exposed and he flexes as you eye him. He grins in response to your question and instead of answering, he scans your t-shirt with interest.

‘‘You like Heathenspawn?’’

You blink at him in confusion before looking down to see you had thrown on a t-shirt that had the band's name on it. ‘‘Oh. Yeah. They’re one of my favourites.’’

‘‘Mine too,’’ he says with his tail wagging excitedly. ‘‘I can’t wait to go see them tomorrow night.’’

‘‘Wait what?’’ You ask startled.

‘‘Didn’t you know they are touring?’’

‘‘Well yeah but I didn’t realise they were playing locally,’’ you say frowning. Damn. They would definitely be sold out by now.

‘‘Yeah just the one show tomorrow night,’’ he says before smirking. ‘‘I’ve got a spare ticket if you want to come with me?’’

‘‘Seriously?’’ You ask, your voice pitching higher in excitement. ‘‘I’d love too.’’

‘‘Great, it’s a date then,’’ he says smirking as he straightens up. ‘‘I’ll meet you outside the concert hall?’’ He asks questioningly as he starts backing away.

‘‘Sounds like a plan,’’ you say, smiling widely.

‘‘Oh and wear your hair down,’’ he says, before winking and disappearing around the corner.

You wait until you’re in the studio with the door closed behind you before squealing and doing a little dance. Not only were you going to see your favourite band but Folke had finally asked you out. You spend the rest of the day on a high and even the people that take your classes can tell you're extra energetic today. You’re even more elated when you discover Folke has left you note by your bag with his number on it.

You wake up the next day full of excitement. Fortunately you don’t have work so you spend the day preparing for your date, going for a bath, putting on a face mask, painting your nails and shaving. In between you text back and forth with Folke, confirming times and place to meet for tonight.

When you arrive in front of the concert hall, you look around trying to spot Folke in the large crowd, fortunately his height and colouring is distinctive and you find him easily. He’s looks nice tonight, you’re not used to seeing him in jeans though and you have to do a double take when you notice how well they hug his ass. He’s got his hair down too and you ache to run your fingers through it.

‘‘Hey,’’ he says greeting you. ‘‘You look nice.’’

‘‘Thanks. You don’t look to bad yourself,’’ you say with a smirk. It was cold so you had opted to wear your black jeans with heels and another one of the bands t-shirts you had, that was a tighter fit and you knew complimented your figure. Folke sure seems like he appreciates it as he scans you.

‘‘Shall we go in?’’ He asks.

Nodding, you take his arm as you push through the crowd and into the concert hall. You can feel his scales against your arm and can’t resist running your fingers along them. He smiles but remains silent as he gets the tickets out to show at the door. Eventually you get into the hall and find yourselves a good position near the front in order to see the band on stage.

The band are fantastic, even better live than you expected and you and Folke both enjoy the music, dancing amongst the screaming crowd. When they finish the last song and leave the stage, the crowd screams more, more, more. As they return to the stage and announce one more song, the crowd goes wild and you find yourself jostled and shoved. Folke grabs you in close to his side and wraps his tail around your waist. You look up at him with a soft smile and he grins before burying his nose in your hair.

As soon as the bands done, you both make your way to the shop that sells the bands merchandise, along with sweet treats and drinks. Standing at the counter with another of the bands t-shirts and a CD, waiting to be served, you hear Folke exclaim.

‘‘They have candy floss.’’

‘‘Yeah they do,’’ you say giggling at his excitement.

You feel his tail tighten where it still sits around your waist and he asks if you want some but you shake your head in the negative. You smile when he gets a stick of candy floss for himself, along with the bands merchandise he’s decided to purchase, not surprised. Leaving the concert hall, you walk silently down the street for awhile, embracing the quiet when you move away from the crowds of folk also making their way home.

‘‘Did you a good time tonight?’’ Folke asks eventually.

‘‘I did... The band was awesome,’’ you say, distracted by the sight of him licking candy floss from his fingers. ‘‘Thank you for inviting me,’’ you add after minute.

‘‘You're welcome. Honestly I’ve been wanting to ask you out for awhile now.’’

‘‘Really?’’

‘‘Yeah…’’ he says chuckling. ‘‘I just wanted to make sure you liked me first before I did.’’

‘‘Who said I liked you,’’ you say smirking. ‘‘Maybe I just think you’re pretty.’’

His cheeks darken as he eyes his dwindling stick of candy floss before glancing back up at you and shaking his head. ‘‘That’s disappointing and here I thought you might want to come back to mine, but… if you don’t like me?’’

‘‘Oh I’ll come alright,’’ you say slyly.

He eyes you for a moment clearly thinking before he smirks. ‘‘Here I thought you were a good girl but clearly I was wrong,’’ he says shaking his head with a tsk. ‘‘I should take you over my knee and spank that ass of yours.’’

‘‘Is that a promise?’’ You ask, your breath hitching. He laughs, and throws the now finished stick away in a bin you pass before taking your hand.

‘‘You’d enjoy that too much, it wouldn’t be a suitable punishment,’’ he says shaking his head in mock disappointment. When you only huff in response, he eyes you seriously. ‘‘Do you want to come back to mine?’’

You smile nodding and let him lead you back to his apartment exchanging banter the whole way. You think you have him figured out and hope you won’t be severely disappointed. You’ve met men before who seemed like they would take charge in the bedroom only to be sorely disappointed when you discovered they would rather have you dominate.

When you get to his place, he unlocks the door and gestures for you to go in ahead of him.

‘‘Can I get you anything to drink?’’ He asks as he takes your jacket and leads you into the living room.

‘‘A glass of water would be nice,’’ you say as you look around his place curiously.

You watch him retreat to the kitchen before having a good look around. His home is nice and clean with rustic furnishings and family photos over the walls. There are some modern features as well and you are not surprised to see a large television set and multiple game consoles. He has a cabinet filled with DVDs and games and you smile when you spot his collection of anime, not knowing he was into that. As you’re running through them, you feel him come up behind you and glance back at him.

‘‘Here,’’ he says, passing you a glass of water which you accept with a small thanks and take a long drink. ‘‘Do you want to watch something?’’ He asks, gesturing at the DVDs with a nod.

‘‘Not really,’’ you say, shaking your head and moving to put your glass down on his table.

‘‘No? What would you like to do then?’’ He asks smirking.

‘‘I can think of a few more... pleasurable activities we could be doing,’’ you say running your hands over his shoulders and up his neck.

‘‘Can you now?’’ He asks before taking your face in one hand and brushing his lips across yours.

You hum in affirmation, meeting his kiss happily. Your eyes close as his tongue darts over your lips and you part your lips allowing his tongue entrance to your mouth. He tastes like the candy floss he ate earlier and you moan in pleasure as he quickly dominates the kiss while his other hand soon travels down your back to your ass where he squeezes one cheek.

‘‘Has anyone told ever told you that you have a great ass,’’ he asks grinning, as he pulls back slightly.

‘‘Yeah you have,’’ you chuckle, before pulling him back into the kiss.

His other hand soon joins in the groping of your ass as he continues kissing you thoroughly, exploring your mouth while his hands explore your ass. Soon enough you’re stripping him off his top and undoing his jeans button as he runs his teeth over your neck. Before you can pull his jeans down to discover what lies beneath he grasps your wrists and hold them aside.

‘‘I’m not sure if you’ve noticed but I uh… like to be in control,’’ he says nervously, watching your expression.

‘‘I figured,’’ you say nodding with a delighted smile. ‘‘It’s lucky then that I like to give up control.’’

‘‘That is lucky,’’ he says chuckling. ‘‘Do you have a favourite safe word?’’

‘‘I prefer to use to traffic light system…’’

‘‘Red for stop, amber for wait and green to go?’’ He asks clarifying.

‘‘Yes exactly.’’

‘‘What colour are you feeling now?’’

‘‘Definitely green,’’ you say with a smirk. Pulling your hands out of his loose hold you run them down his scaled chest, following there progress with your gaze. Looking back up at him coyly, you ask, ‘‘What would you like?’’

‘‘Strip for me,’’ he says swallowing thickly.

You smile and quickly remove your top, revealing your toned slender figure and small breasts to his gaze. You wait a moment, giving him time to take in your form. When he meets your eyes he raises a brow questioningly and you're quick to remove your jeans and panties, shimmying them down over your ass and thighs and then off before straightening to stand.

He stares for a long moment, licking his lips before raising a finger and motioning for you to turn. You turn letting him see your ass and wiggle your hips teasingly. You grin hearing him exhale with a curse.

‘‘What would you like now?’’ You ask cheekily, wiggling your ass again for good measure.

‘‘Turn around and stand still,’’ he asks growling lowly.

Turning you do as he asks but you can’t resist giving him a cheeky grin when you see the bulge in his jeans. Slowly he pulls down the zipper of his jeans and takes them off revealing he’s wearing nothing underneath. His hard cock bobs freely and you see he’s built more like a tiefling in this area. He doesn’t have a slit and his balls hang low and heavy.

You gulp apprehensively as you gaze at his cock. It’s larger than you’ve taken before, thick and long with a narrowed tip. Creamy in colour, it’s ribbed too and it bulges at its base. Swallowing again you meet his gaze, seeing he has a large smirk on his face.

‘‘Think you can handle this?’’ He asks as he takes his cock in his hand and strokes himself slowly. You swear it gets bigger as he does, but you’ve never been one to back down from a challenge.

‘‘I don’t know, it looks like more than a mouthful,’’ you tell him cheekily before licking your lips.

Crooking his finger in a come hither motion, he gestures for you to come closer and as you stand in front of him he leans down and brushes his lips against yours before instructing you to kneel.

‘‘You can touch me but you’re not allowed to use your hands. Do you understand?’’ He asks.

‘‘Yes,’’ you say nodding.

You see his eyes brighten before you look back at his cock. Leaning forward you lick over the tip a few times before taking him in your mouth and sucking the head of his cock. Folke groans and tips his head back in pleasure as you work your way down and over his cock. You discover you can only take him three quarters of the way before his tip hits the back of your throat and think that this would be much easier if you could use your hands. It doesn’t seem to bother him though as he continues to groan as you work your mouth over his cock.

With a growl, he suddenly wraps your long hair around his fist, holding it tightly and stops your movements. He bucks up twice into your mouth before growling.  

‘‘Colour?’’

‘‘Green,’’ you say, moaning around the head of his cock.

Continuing to hold your head in place he resumes fucking your mouth with another growl. You momentarily worry that he will choke you but you’re pleasantry surprised when he never pushes his cock further inside than half way. Meeting his gaze you see him watching your expression carefully for any sign you want to stop and you smile around his cock before you start to hum. His eyes widen and with a curse he leaks precome that pleasantly tastes really sweet.

Pulling out he clenches his jaw, breathing heavily, clearly trying to keep himself from coming. You feel you juices run down your thighs, having enjoyed getting him worked up and you really hope that he will fuck you soon. You're really tempted to touch yourself but decide to wait on him feeling sure he will punish you if you do. It takes him a minute but eventually he meets your gaze.

‘‘Stand up,’’ he growls.

Standing up, he pulls you into a messy wet kiss before turning you and bending you over his sofa. He uses one hand to grasp the back of your neck holding you down, while his other hand strokes all the way down your spine to your ass causing a shiver to run through you. As he massages your ass, you wiggle it at him and squeal when he lightly spanks it.

‘‘Fuck! That ass…’’ he says cursing. ‘‘It should be illegal.’’

After giving it another light smack, he grips your hips positioning you to a better angle. You expect him to just plunge inside of you but he surprises you again by moving his hand to your mound and running one of his clawed fingers carefully over your slit. His finger swirls around your opening before he pushes it inside you.

‘‘Nice and wet... Tight too,’’ he says growling, before entering another finger and working them inside you. ‘‘Did you enjoy sucking my cock so much that it got you wet?’’

‘‘Yes… ’’ you say, whimpering as he scissors his fingers, stretching you in preparation for his cock.

You whine as he withdraws his fingers, but you're happy when you realise he’s going to replace them with his cock. You feel him rub it against your slit, coating it with your juices before he guides the head inside, hand shifting to squeeze your ass again.

‘‘Please Folke,’’ you say when he takes too long to move.

‘‘What's the magic word?’’ He asks with a low chuckle.

‘‘Folke, if you don’t move now I…’’ you say, gasping as he suddenly buries himself inside to the hilt. You feel him it your cervix and curse. ‘‘Amber!’’ You say yelping.

You feel him withdraw an inch but then holds still. You hear him mumbling an apology before he goes on to call you a goddess, saying you’re perfect and feel incredible. You half listen as you try to adjust to his size. He’s stretched your walls far further than any man or toy you’ve taken before. But he helps you to relax by massaging your shoulders and back while you lie taking deep breaths.

You smile feeling him lay kisses down and over your back and when you feel more relaxed, you experimentally clench around his cock and roll your hips slightly, feeling relieved when it doesn’t cause you any pain.

‘‘Green,’’ you sigh, rolling your hips again.

He quickly grasps your hips, holding you still before gently thrusting into you. When you only moan in response, he moves more confidently, pushing in and out and finding a rhythm he enjoys. You moan and gasp as he hits all the correct spots, feeling yourself push against his hold. Suddenly he changes your position, pulling you up so your back is against his chest, causing you to gasp. You’re so heated and his scales are cool against your back that it causes you to shudder.

With one arm across your chest and his other on your hip, he uses his tail to lift one of your legs, laying it over the sofa before moving his hand to your mound where he rubs your clit. His other hand moves to your breasts, squeezing and rolling your nipples with his clawed fingers. You tip your head back on his shoulder with a groan and clench around his cock feeling yourself close to coming. Folke must feel it to because he groans burying his face in your neck.

‘‘You’re perfect,’’ he says breathing heavily. ‘‘Come for me.’’

He thrusts up into you two more times, presses his knuckle over your clit and you come crying out his name. He continues to thrust deeply, drawing out your orgasm, before he exclaims.

‘‘I’m going to come,’’ he growls. His hand moves to your hip where he grips it roughly. ‘‘Where do you want me?’’

‘‘Inside. Come inside me,’’ you gasp still spasming.  

You know your clean and protected, and you know he has immunity so you feel perfectly safe letting him come inside. Folke continues to thrust hard snarling and when he comes he does so with a growl. He continues to thrust, drawing out his own orgasm and causing you to tip over the edge again. You cry out hoarsely, your vision goes blurry and your leg collapses beneath you.

Fortunately Folke catches you and holds you up whilst leaning against the sofa. When he gets his breath back you feel yourself being pulled up into his arms and he carries you into the bathroom, where he gently sets you down in his tub. He gets in behind you and you lean heavily on him while he turns the water on. Letting your forehead drop forward to rest against his chest, you close your eyes relaxing while he washes your hair, moaning when he massages your scalp.

Once he’s rinsed out your hair, he proceeds to wash the rest of you, taking his time. He mumbles something but you don’t hear what and your breath hitches as he rubs the sponge over your mound. Chuckling breathlessly you lightly kiss his scaled chest before leaning up to brush your lips over his.

‘‘How do you feel,’’ he asks as he turns the shower off.

‘‘Really good,’’ you say tiredly, watching him get out the tub and grab two towels. ‘‘You?’’

He smiles at you as he wraps a towel around his waist. ‘‘Never been better,’’ he says, wrapping you in the other towel before picking you up and carrying you to his bedroom. He puts you down on the base of the bed and kneels in front of you.

‘‘Will you stay tonight?’’ He asks looking hopeful as he works to get you dry.

‘‘I don’t think I’ll be able to walk anywhere soon,’’ you reply chuckling.

‘‘Good,’’ he replies grinning.

He grabs one of his t-shirts and pulls it over your head. It’s far to big and it only just covers you but it will do for sleeping in you think tiredly. You watch him as he dries himself and pulls on a pair of boxers.

‘‘Get in bed. I’ll be back in a moment,’’ he says leaving the room.

When he returns with a glass of water in one hand and your panties in another, he finds you snuggled under his duvet waiting for him. He passes you both before getting under the duvet too. He waits until you’ve put the panties on and drank the water, before putting an arm around your shoulder and his tail around your legs, guiding you to lie with your front against his chest and your head tucked under his chin.

‘‘You're so warm,’’ he mumbles yawning. You yawn in response and he chuckles.

‘‘Is that a good thing?’’ You ask eventually.

‘‘Mmm very. It’s so nice, I may have to keep you,’’ he replies, lightly running his claws over your arm.  

You smile as you kiss his chest and feel him tighten his arm around you briefly. You certainly wouldn’t protest to him keeping you, you think as you drift off to sleep.

.

.

Thanks for reading! If you liked it, please reblog it. Likes/Comments are appreciated too.

My Masterlist

[hannahindie]

Not Part of the Plan

Characters: Bucky Barnes x Reader Word Count: 1,853 Warnings: Language

A/N: This is only like...my second time writing Bucky, really. (The other time is in We’re No Heroes...which maybe I’ll pick back up during this quarantine.) I enjoyed writing him, and I hope you enjoy it, too! 

Beta’d by @amanda-teaches​ (who you can thank for the idea since it was written for her 2k Celebration, which you can find HERE, and the prompt is bolded). I didn’t break her heart this time, so I’m proud of myself for that. Also beta’d by @pinknerdpanda​, who always leaves me such beautiful reviews and straight up tells me when I mess the words up. (My old eyes ain’t what they used to be.)

Also, tags are at the bottom. Unless you’ve otherwise stated, I’m tagging my Forevers list. If you don’t want Marvel, let me know. If you want all the things because you just like my words, let me know. And, if you decide to be tagged, I hope to see you interact! It’s not like...a must. But I do love hearing from you all, it makes my soul happy. And in times like these, everyone needs some soul happy. Also, it makes me want to write more for you! 

Alrighty, on with the show!

This did not go the way I had planned it at all. 

Not that any of my plans really...I don’t know...work. But I manage to squeak by. It generally doesn’t go over well with whoever I’m working with, but I’m adorable so that makes up for it. Usually. 

But this time, things are different. In my defense, the original plan was not my idea, not by a long shot. You can blame Stark for that. The one after the original one failed...that one was mine. I don’t really want to accept the blame for that part, but I’m not so sure my partner would agree. 

Speaking of…

I can feel the anger radiating from him, and I can guarantee he’s not even looking at me. I chance a quick glance, and all I really see is the glint of sunlight off metal. 

“Listen, in my defense, that move usually works.” 

Silence.

I shift against the wall I’m leaning against, and realize we might be in some deeper shit than I thought. My side feels like someone has jammed a hot poker in between my ribs and twisted, and the hand I’m holding against it is sticky with drying blood. I squeeze my eyes shut, and force back the tears that are threatening to spill. I will not cry in front of him. 

“Come on, Barnes, you can’t be that mad at me. I mean, I know this sucks, but where’s your sense of adventure?” 

He whips around and I suddenly forget my next thought. His hair has started to fall out of the man bun he’d wrapped it in, and tendrils of dark hair are framing his face...now is not the time, Y/N. 

“Sense of adventure? Sense of adventure?” He stomps toward me, his hands clenched at his side. “Adventure is jumping in the car and not knowing where you’re gonna go! Adventure is takin’ a girl on a first date and deciding whether or not you’re gonna kiss her! I hate to break it to you, doll, but this,” he motions vaguely at the abandoned building we are trapped in, “this is not an adventure.” His gaze shifts to where my hand is holding my side. “What the fuck is that?”

“Oh, this little ol’ thing? It’s nothing, just a souvenir from our not adventure. It’s fine.” 

“It doesn’t look fine. Let me see it.”  

I flinch away from his hand, “Stop it. I’ve had worse, I’m fine. Why don’t we just try to figure out how to get out of here, huh? Please tell me that we have some kind of back up coming?”

“How the fuck should I know? The only part of the plan I was aware of has already failed, and unless you added that into your brilliant back up plan, then no, probably not.” I yank my jacket off and wrap it around my waist, sending fire through the wound as it squeezes tightly against it. Bucky opens his mouth to comment on my obvious discomfort, but immediately closes it. Instead, he turns away and walks across the room, carefully looking through the window. 

“Well, what do you see?” 

“Soldiers.” 

I roll my eyes, “That’s vague. How many?” 

He turns to look at me and the seriousness of the situation hits home when I see his face. “Lots.” 

I make a mental note to punch Tony in the dick if we manage to make it out of this in one piece. “Define lots.” 

“Sweetheart, even if you were in perfect condition, the two of us together wouldn’t be able to take all of ‘em.” He looks back outside, “We need Steve, Sam.” I giggle and he turns around to glare at me, “Don’t you ever fuckin’ tell him I said that. Not a damn word.” 

I shuffle over to the window, and groan. He’s not wrong. There’s at least twenty men, all armed, and all looking for us. “It’s less than ideal, but I’ve been in worse spots. I think we can do it.” 

“I think is not giving me much confidence, Y/N.” He shakes his head and chuckles, “If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were Steve’s kid sister. You’d actually be him if you were any more alike.” 

“Yea, well…” I slide down the wall, landing heavily on the floor, my body suddenly realizing I’ve lost more blood than I should have, “I’m gonna take that as a compliment.” 

He kneels down, forcing my hands away so he can look at my side. “Goddammit, Y/N, you should’ve let me look at this earlier.” He tears my jacket into strips, much to my disappointment, and makes a better makeshift bandage than I had attempted. He wipes my blood off his hands and onto his pants, resting his elbow on his knee as he looks at me. “What do you suggest now?

“What floor are we on?” 

He shrugs, “I dunno, fifth? Why?” 

“I’m like 20% sure this plan will work. The other 80% means we could die horribly and violently, but honestly it’s a really solid plan. Get to the roof. There’s another building to the left, cross that roof, take the emergency exit stairs on the far side, jump the fence, and you’re in the clear. Get Tony and bring him here so I can kick his ass.” 

“I’m not leaving you here, fuck that.” 

I grin, although I’m sure it was more of a grimace, “Aww, do you actually like me, Barnes? What a time to be alive.” 

“I just don’t want to get shit about it.” 

“Yea, yea, yea.” I take a moment to look at him, really look at him, and can see the fear in his eyes. We are in deep shit. I sigh. “I can’t do that and you know it. I fucked up, Buck. It’s no one’s fault but mine. But, you gotta get out of here. You can do it, and you’ll get help, and it’ll be fine. Bonus: we won’t let Tony live it down! He’s gonna get all the shit.” 

Bucky laughs, wiping a hand across his eyes when he thinks I’m not looking, “You’re something else, you know that, kid?” 

I shrug, “Someone has to have a sense of humor, and I’m thinking you’re a lost cause.” 

“Whatever.” He pauses, and my eyes slip shut. “Y/N?” 

“I’m fine. Just sleepy. Why don’t you hurry your ass up so I can go home, huh?” 

“I can’t just leave you here-“ 

“You can and you will!” I say it angrier than I intend, but it’s for his own good. “Go, Barnes. Just go.” 

I keep my eyes closed, it’s too much work to keep them open, and wait for the sound of his footsteps. The sound never comes. 

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I wake up, fully expecting to still be in that building. Instead, I’m lying in my bed back at Stark Tower. My head rolls to the side and I see Bucky sprawled out in a chair in the corner. 

“The hell…” my voice crackles and I look around for a glass of water. When I don’t see one, I attempt to leave my bed and immediately hit the floor. Bucky jumps up, his eyes wide, then sees me sitting in a heap on the floor. 

“What the fuck are you doing?” He immediately grabs me, helping me back on the bed way gentler than I’ve ever seen him. 

“Language, Barnes. Language.” He frowns and I laugh, grimacing at the dull throbbing in my side, “I’m thirsty. I wanted some water.” He walks over to my desk and throws open the mini fridge I keep stocked with water and Coke Zero. 

“Here.”

 I chug the ice cold water and sigh happily. “That is the best thing ever. Thanks.” I take a moment to gather my thoughts, picking at the blanket while I do. “So...what happened?” 

“You passed out. I couldn’t just leave you there, so I carried you.” 

“You...carried me? Like, to the roof?” 

“Yea.” 

“And, then Tony came?” 

“No, I carried you to the next building and then over the fence.” 

“How...why??” 

“Because I could.” 

I roll my eyes, “Always the hero, saving people you don’t even like just because you can. That was stupid.” 

“What do you mean, people I don’t even like?” 

“Oh, come on. I get on your nerves and you know it. You most certainly didn’t pick me to go on that job, everyone else was too busy.” 

He stares at me, his brows furrowed, then shakes his head. “I wasn’t upset that I had to go with you. I was upset because I didn’t want you to get involved. I knew it was gonna be a sticky one, and, uh…” He runs his fingers through his hair, “I didn’t want you to get hurt, is all.” 

“You didn’t want me to get hurt? You mean…” I think I know what he means, but I can’t possibly be right. 

“I mean...well, I like you, doll. Hell, more than like you, I guess.” He rolls his eyes and stands up, “I sound like a kid.” 

“You...you like me?” I try and fail not to laugh. He whips around and glares. 

“Oh, laugh it up.” 

I wave a hand, “I’m sorry. I’m not laughing at you liking me. Well, I am. But, mostly because I thought you hated me.” 

“Why the hell would you think that?” 

I hold my fingers up, counting as I go, “First, you never laugh at my jokes. Second, you avoid me every job we go on. Third, you make it a point to leave the room whenever I walk in...ohhhh.” 

He smiles, shaking his head, “For a smart girl, you’re pretty slow at realizing things.” He sits back down and tentatively grabs my hand. “You’re funny, I just don’t always get the references. I just never know what to do with you. Back in the day, I could get any gal I wanted, just by smiling. But you...you don’t need anyone. You’re just...you. I don’t know how to handle you, and it makes me nervous. I hate to admit it but...you scare me a little, Y/N.” 

I squeeze his hand, “I am a lot to handle, so it’s understandable. You should know, you don’t scare me at all.” 

He raises an eyebrow, “Oh, is that right?” He moves in closer, “Not even a little bit?” 

“I...no. Not even a little.” He gets closer, his lips barely grazing mine. 

“Not even a little nervous?” His hand traces along my neck, before cupping my cheek. “What about now, sweetheart?” 

I clear my throat, “S-steady as a rock. You ain’t shit, Barnes-“ I can’t finish my sentence because suddenly his lips are on mine and then I am scared. I’m scared about what this means for us, for the team. Then, his other hand comes up, holding my face in place as he kisses me deeper, and I realize none of it matters. 

Because honestly, the thing I’m most scared of? 

Losing James Buchanan Barnes. 

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