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bigballofstress · 4 years ago

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Pickpocket (Avengers x Child!Reader)

Description: You have been living on the streets for years, and over these years, you have become incredibly good at pickpocketing. Unfortunately for you, though, you picked the wrong target one too many times.

Part 2 if you guys want it, just let me know!

Chin up, shoulders back, even steps. My heart is calm, my breaths slow and measured, and every muscle in my body is relaxed. In other words, every last inch of me screams that I am a confident, kind young lady without a care in the world.

No matter what anybody says, looks really are everything. Every time you meet someone new or even just pass by them on the street, your mind makes a snap judgement about them. Now, don’t get me wrong. I’m not saying that everyone you meet is prejudiced or anything of the sort. Those snap judgements can easily be changed with an open-minded person, sometimes without even needing a whole conversation. Still, that doesn’t change the fact that when you see a well-groomed person in a suit, your mind automatically thinks they are successful, and when you see someone coming at you with a hoodie covering their face and their hands in their pockets, you automatically tense up. None of that is your fault, and actually it’s probably a good thing that you would be wary of people who are acting rather suspicious. Really, the only issue with these immediate ideas of every person you see is the fact that it makes people like me -- people who understand how these momentary impressions work -- able to take advantage of them.

It didn’t take long to realize I had a talent for it. I already looked the part, -- a helpless, adorable little girl -- I had a surprising knack for staying calm under pressure, and as much as I hated the old bitch, my caretaker had given me all the tools I needed. She was a stickler for proper manners, so I learned how to speak, sit, and walk like a “proper young lady.” Plus, her insane rules about tiny meal portions and too-early curfews taught me to be light on my feet as I often sneaked downstairs to grab a roll of bread at night. Yes, I had everything I needed. The only real hurdle was actually deciding to do it. I never really wanted to be a bad person. But the world is a heartless place, the city even more so, and by the end of my first week, I knew what I had to do if I was ever going to survive.

So, I started working -- oh, and by the way, no matter what you think, it is still a job. I put my time and effort into a certain task, and I obtain money because of it. I don’t know about you, but that certainly sounds like a job to me. And it was easier than I thought it would be. Within about a day, I realized that people saw me as sweet, innocent, and harmless -- no, more than that, they wanted to see me as harmless. Because if I wasn’t harmless, then that meant their world was even more screwed up than they thought. I learned quick, and by the end of the year, I had perfected my technique. It was simple: avoid all conversation if possible, and if absolutely necessary, smile and point out the farthest adult man within reason as my dad before weaving through the small gaps in the crowd, preferably around taller people, so they couldn’t see or follow me. I only got caught once or twice, but I’m grateful that I did. It forced me to learn perspective, that I needed to know more than just how to talk well. So, I learned how to run through a city. And now, I’m practically unstoppable.

As I take my even, not-too-fast-but-not-too-slow stroll down the sidewalk, a small, ambiguous smile decorating my lips, I can see it in each person’s eyes as they walk past that I have completely embodied my character. My arms swung with a practiced nonchalance as my eyes flickered from one person to the next, each time going through a mental list as I weighed the chances I had of succeeding on them versus how likely they were to catch on and calculated the amount of time that both of these events would likely take to happen. Finally, after a few minutes of this practice, one of them caught my eye.

He was larger, more muscular. Guys like him were a gamble. Often, a man of his appearance simply cared a bit too much about his appearance. Still, every now and then, they look like that because they been trained, and while past training usually meant they had no practice running in a city, it also meant that he would be much more jumpy and alert to his surroundings. However, his deep, loose pockets with the corner of his wallet just barely sticking out and the thoughtful gaze as he surveyed the buildings tipped the scales further and further in my favor. The wonder in his eyes just screamed tourist.

I gazed forward with an absentminded look in my eye that I’d spent months perfecting in the mirror while keeping him clearly in my periphery before bumping into him. As I hit him, two of my fingers simultaneously dipped into his pocket, where my knee bumped against his leg to jolt his wallet up and out. The moment the warm leather was in my grasp, I forced myself to fall backwards. Before I could hit the ground, though, I felt one of those strong, muscular arms had wrapped itself around my waist and was helping me back up.

My jaw clenched for half a second. This wasn’t good. His reflexes were too quick to have just worked out at some random gym, which meant my hunch was right: he had been trained. And that meant that I needed to get out of there fast. I wouldn’t be able to slip the wallet back in his pocket without bumping into him again, and that would only make me look even more suspicious, so I quickly emptied it of all of the cash behind his back and slipped the bills into my sleeve before tossing the piece of leather on the ground a few feet away.

“Are you alright?” he asked, concern evident in his eyes, and immediately I decided on my personality for the day -- bright and bubbly but proper. Gently, he released his arm from its position on my waist once he knew I had regained my footing.

“Oh my gosh, I’m so sorry,” I quickly apologized, my left hand shooting up to cover my mouth in fake shock while my right hand carefully dropped the money in one of my own pockets, all the while watching every last one of his movements for any sign of suspicion. “It was all my fault. I wasn’t paying attention where I was going.”

“It’s ok, really.” He scratched the back of his neck. “I wasn’t really looking where I was going either, so it was partially my fault, too.”

“Well, thank you for catching me, sir, but I really have to go,” I smiled at him apologetically. “I’m supposed to meet back up with my dad in about five minutes.”

“Oh, no worries,” he responded kindly before sneaking a glance at my old, slightly ripped clothes, the concern still dancing in his eyes. “You’re sure you’re alright, though?”

“Absolutely!” I dismissed. “Thank you again!”

“Um, yeah, no problem.” We both started to walk away.

I waited patiently as I listened to his retreating steps. 1... 2... 3... 4... and then-- “Hey, mister!” I called, bending down and grabbing the piece of leather from where I had tossed it earlier. “I think you might’ve dropped your wallet!”

The man turned back, shocked, before jogging back towards me. “I didn’t even notice,” he mumbled to himself. “Hey, thanks, kid.”

“My pleasure!” I chirped. “Now, sorry, but I really have to get going. See you around, sir!” I quickly jogged off, allowing myself to get lost in the crowd before he could even have a minute to fully understand what happened.

-- 3rd Person POV --

“I told you guys the world wasn’t such a bad place!” Steve called as he entered the living room of Stark Tower. The rest of the Avengers looked up in surprise. They had been having this argument for the past three days, with Steve insisting that there were still people who put others first living in New York while the entire rest of the team tried to convince him otherwise.

“Alright, show your work,” Tony leaned back against the wall, watching the captain with curiosity.

“I met a kid today who couldn’t have been older than 16. I was trying to remember what the city looked like before I went in the ice, and I accidentally bumped into her. She then spent the next few minutes constantly apologizing and saying it was all her fault. And the best part is, after we’d already walked away, she found and returned my wallet. I hadn’t even realized I had dropped it!” The 96-year-old man finished with a triumphant grin, leaving the rest of the team silent for a moment. That is, until Tony busted out laughing. Steve frowned. “...What?”

“Steve, honey, check inside of your wallet,” Natasha sighed as she turned back to the tv to watch whatever was on.

Steve frowned, reached into his pocket, and pulled out his wallet. “I don’t understand; why do you want me to....” He trailed off as he stared at the now empty pocket that only just earlier that day held around 65 dollars in cash. “She... but how did she...”

Tony slapped a heavy hand on Steve’s shoulder, wiping away a tear from the corner of his eye. “She scammed you, bro. And you fell for it hook, line, and sinker,” he grinned before walking back to his room, still chuckling softly to himself at his friend’s misfortune.

------- Time Skip -------

About two weeks had passed since that godsend of a man and I crossed paths. I can’t remember the last time I had managed to lift 65 dollars off anyone. That kind of cash can last someone like me a really long time. But sadly, all good things must come to an end, and after buying myself the first decent meal I’d had in weeks plus a ton of canned foods and non-perishables that I dropped off at the nearest homeless shelter, that good thing ended ended all too quickly. Which meant it was time I went back to work.

I stepped into the public library, that same ambiguous smile painted ever so gently across my face. There weren’t a whole lot of people here and there were almost never any big scores, but working here was a lot less guess-work, and more often than not, the target was too engrossed in their book to even notice what I was doing, so there was also much less risk of being caught.

After a quick scan of the quiet room, my eyes landed on the man sitting at one of the long tables, his bag haphazardly laying next to him on the table. It should be easy enough to grab something from in there, and he seemed invested enough to have his guard down. He should make for a good target.

I walked into the science section and grabbed a few scientific papers, most of which were generally about to nuclear physics, before walking back to his table and sitting down right across from him. Scientific papers are the best way to make sure no one has the confidence to talk to you. I opened the paper that I had read a hundred times and started pretending to read it once more, my left hand resting on my cheek as my right hand slowly made its way towards the bag.

“Excuse me.” I glanced up, pausing my movement towards his back but still being careful not to react too quickly and retract my hand. I didn’t want to draw his attention to what I was doing, and if at all possible, I would still like to come out of this with something to show for it. As I met the glasses-clad, clearly intelligent eyes of the man in front of me, it was easy to figure out what my personality should be -- shy, smart, and above all else, kind. “Is that Schippers’s work?”

I blinked in surprise and allowed a soft smile to spread across my lips. “You know Stefan Schippers?”

“Yeah, his work in antimatter is amazing,” he grinned fully now, his eyes lighting up and making him almost look like a completely different person. “Particularly regarding his research in collisions.”

I grinned back, taking note of how his eyes were now trained on mine, instead of glancing around like before. Maybe I should’ve started a conversation before -- clearly it was a good distraction for him. Well, either way, it’s going to be easier to lift something off of him now, so I guess I shouldn’t look a gift horse in the mouth. “I completely agree. His work is amazing,” I giggled softly, glancing down at the table before looking back up at him, a slight red hue now painting the apples of my cheeks as my hand slipped inside of his bag.

“I was honestly surprised to see you reading that paper, actually,” he chuckled nervously. “I’ve read it at least 20 times, but I figured I was the only one.” I laughed lightly, slipping what felt like a wallet out of the bag and tucking it under my arm.

“Trust me, I’ve read this so many times, I’m afraid the library is going to have to replace it because I’ve worn it out so much. You know, if you’re interested in Schippers, you should read some of Dr. Banner’s papers,” I laid my left hand on his arm gently while my right arm swung back over to me, pushing the wallet into my lap. “As much as I love Schippers, Dr. Banner’s work is unparalleled.”

The man chuckled nervously again, ducking his head a bit. “You really think so, huh? How old are you anyways? I don’t see a whole lot of kids brushing up on nuclear physics.”

“I’m older than I look,” I casually brushed off the question. I was not about to give up any personal information, fellow science geek or not. “Oh, by the way, do you have the time?”

The man glanced at his watch. “About 6:00.”

My eyes widened in shock. “You’re kidding, it got that late?! My dad’s gonna kill me!” I gasped and quickly stood up, catching the wallet in my left hand and slipping it into my pocket. “It was really nice meeting you, sir, but I have to go home. I really liked talking to you, though! I hope we can meet again!” I hurriedly gathered the papers and rushed off, waving with a broad smile.

“Oh, uh nice meeting you... too...” he tried to respond, but she was already well out of sight.

-- 3rd Person POV --

“What the hell?” Bruce mumbled, digging through his bag. The pizza had just arrived, and he needed to pay his share.

“What’s wrong?” Natasha glanced at him, an eyebrow raised.

“I could’ve sworn I put my wallet in here, but now I can’t find it,” he frowned, continuing to search every last nook and cranny of the old bag.

“Don’t worry about it, buddy, I can cover you if you’re short,” Tony shrugged.

“That’s not the issue,” Bruce frowned, finally giving up and tossing his bag to the side in frustration. “That had my credit card, my driver’s license, and my ID for Stark Tower. If it’s lost somewhere, it could be a real problem.”

“When was the last time you remember having it?” Clint mumbled through a full mouth of the piece of pizza that he’d already shoved in his face. Natasha rolled her eyes and wiped off the bit of spit he’d gotten on her in disgust.

“I was at the library. I used my library card to check out some books,” he responded confidently.

“Again?” Clint asked, once again through a mouthful of cheese and marinara sauce. “What, do you live there or something?”

“Ok, now walk us through exactly what happened after you checked out those books,” Natasha suggested, doing her best to ignore her best friend.

Bruce sighed and nodded, sitting down. “I checked out my books, then walked over to one of the tables to start reading. Then I talked to that teenager for a little while about some of Schippers’s theories before she ran off--”

“You talked to a teenager about Schippers? And she actually understood?” Tony asked, lifting a brow in surprise.

“Yeah, she even recommended I read Dr. Banner’s work in the same field,” Bruce chuckled. “I thought it better not to tell her who I was, but according to her, Banner’s work is ‘unparalleled’.”

“Damn, the kid knows her stuff,” Tony nodded, impressed. “Did she say anything about--”

“Boys,” Natasha cut in. “The wallet.”

“Ah, right,” Bruce mumbled apologetically. “Anyways, after she ran off, I kept reading for a few minutes before leaving, too. Then I came back to the tower and got up here just in time to decide on ordering pizza with you guys.”

“Did you use the subway?” Natasha asked.

Bruce shook his head. “No. I figured since it was such a nice day out, I would just walk home.”

“How did you enter the building?”

“I ran into Steve downstairs, and we came in together.”

Steve, who had been silent up until this point, finally spoke up. “This teenager... Was she about 16? With (H/C) hair?”

“What, you think it’s the same girl who totally scammed you the other--” Tony started, getting ready to take part in his favorite pastime of making fun of Steve.

“Actually, yeah, she was,” Bruce answered, his eyes wide in realization.

Before anyone could say anything, Tony’s incredibly loud laughter filled the room. “Holy shit, you guys both got scammed by the same teenager! How does that even happen?!” He wheezed, laughing so hard he could hardly breath.

“Hey she seemed like a nice girl!” Bruce defended. “How was I supposed to know she was robbing me?”

“Aren’t you supposed to be a genius or something?” Tony asked, tears streaming down his face now. Bruce opened his mouth, trying to come up with something but came up blank. A heavy hand landing on his shoulder knocked him out of his stupor.

“Just let it happen,” Steve sighed, his eyes cast down as he shook his head in sympathy.

------- Time Skip -------

It had been a week since I had spoken to that science nerd in the library, and I was still pissed. Seriously, what kind of grown man only carries around 4 dollars and 36 cents? Well, apparently, that weirdo did. I had thrown out all the cards and IDs to at least sell the what looked to be leather wallet to a pawn shop, but apparently the thing wasn’t even leather! All of that time, wasted for a measly 12 bucks. I’ll say it again: I was pissed.

So, now I was back out working again, because the money I’d made was barely enough to buy a few snacks that I had to portion out over the course of the past week.

As I walked down the sidewalk, still grumbling softly to myself about what had happened, I saw him.

Tony freaking Stark.

I grinned. Maybe my luck was getting better after all. I mean, a billionaire who’s famous for having, shall we say, questionable morals? After all, it’s not exactly nice to sleep with as many women as humanly possible before tossing them away like they’re nothing. I mean, sure there’s the whole iron man thing, but he’s still kind of a dick, let’s be honest. And while I usually tried to refrain from taking anything major in case my target doesn’t have a whole lot of money or the object is sentimental, billionaire jerks are fair game. And the best part was, I didn’t even have to read him to know the part I was going to play. Tony Stark would only ever fall for one personality: sarcastic, quick-witted, and strong.

His head was down, buried in his phone, so I casually walked towards him, picking up an old cup of coffee from one of a nearby cafe’s outdoor tables, before smacking into him head-first, spilling the coffee everywhere.

“What the hell?!”

“Oh my god!” We both yelled at the same time.

“Oh c’mon, kid, this is silk!” Tony continued to shout, staring down at the coffee covering his chest.

“Hey, I’m not the one with my head buried in my phone while walking through one of the busiest cities in the world,” I snapped back. “And you’re not the only one whose clothes got ruined. This is cashmere!” I lied through my teeth. It was a ratty old sweater that I’d bought for about 3 dollars at a thrift store.

Stark scoffed. “Do you have any idea who I am?”

“Yeah, you’re Tony Stark. That doesn’t change the fact that my parents are gonna be pissed about me ruining a hundred dollar sweater,” I rolled my eyes, crossing my arms defiantly.

That was when he finally glanced at me and my coffee-stained outfit. Stark sighed and put his fingers to the bridge of his nose. “Alright, I’m sorry.” Wait, what? Since when does the great Tony Stark ever apologize for anything? “I’ll pay for the dry-cleaning, ok? Just give me your parents’ numbers.”

Shit, that’s not how this is supposed to go. Ok, new strategy. A sassy front but a kind interior.

I sighed and shook my head. “No, it’s not entirely your fault. I guess I could’ve tried to avoid you better. Anyways, you got a pen and paper?”

Stark nodded slightly and reached into his inner pocket, pulling out a tiny pad and a fancy looking pen. I quickly jotted down the phone number and handed it back to him. Shoot, he looked like he was about to walk away. I had to act quick or lose my chance. Time to add one more very important characteristic to my identity: pitiable. “Hey, I really am sorry. I kind of overreacted. It wasn’t cool. I guess I just got a little nervous. My dad likes things to be clean, and he can get pretty mad when I don’t follow that rule...” I trailed off a bit, glancing down at my feet. I shook my head quickly and met the billionaire’s gaze, now filled with concern, again. “Sorry, didn’t mean to dump that on you. I just wanted to say thanks.” I held out my right hand, praying that I’d guessed which hand to use correctly. As Stark grabbed my hand, I had to hold back a sigh of relief when I saw the watch casually placed on his wrist.

“It was really nice meeting you, Mr. Stark,” I smiled a bit, with my left hand closing over his wrist while three of my fingers on my right hand undid the clasp on his watch. Then I pressed down one the buttons on either side of the clasp with my middle finger on my right hand and my thumb on my left hand, making sure to hold the watch in place. “If you’d like, I’d be happy to buy you a coffee to make up for it. There’s a really nice café right over there.” I squeezed the watch tightly with my left hand and jerked my chin towards the store just behind him. He turned his head and looked, pulling his hand back slightly as he did so, which allowed me to slip the watch off his wrist. Immediately, I dropped it in my pocket before he had a chance to turn back around.

“Thanks, kid, but I’m good. I’ll give your parents a call when I get home, ok?” He said before awkwardly giving me a pat on the shoulder. “Now go run off and play with some dolls or whatever.”

I rolled my eyes. “Thanks, but my collection can’t be nearly as big as yours,” I bit back with a slight, good-natured smirk. “Anyways, I gotta go home and get yelled at by my parents. Nice meeting you, Mr. Stark,” I called, waving to him as I was already leaving.

Stark shook his head with a small smile. “Yeah, you too, kid.”

-- 3rd Person POV --

“What, no watch today?” Tony furrowed his brows at Bruce’s question.

“Of course I have a watch today. I have a watch for every day of the week,” he scoffed, lifting his wrist to show off the rather expensive Rolex.

“Umm dude...?” Clint started.

“Yeah, I know it’s awesome, and no, you cannot try it on,” Tony smirked. “I have a very strict look don’t touch policy. These bad boys cost quite the pretty penny, and I wouldn’t want any of you trying to take it from me.” Clint just shrugged in defeat and unpaused his video game -- it wasn’t his fault his friend interrupted him trying to help.

“Tony, look at your wrist,” Steve rolled his eyes at the pompous man’s antics.

“What, just so I can admire it--” he cut himself off as his eyes landed on the bare skin of his wrist. “...Where the hell is my watch?”

“Maybe you forgot to put one on today?” Bruce shrugged, going back to his computer as he continued to work.

“No, I didn’t forget; I never forget,” Tony snapped. “It was there this morning, and now it’s gone.” He yanked up his sleeve to search in vain for the incredibly expensive missing item.

“Hey, maybe Tony was pick-pocketed, too,” Clint joked absentmindedly before cursing at some ‘dumbass little camping noob’ who kept killing him.

Tony’s eyes widened in realization. “Holy shit, it was the kid.”

“What?” Steve frowned.

“The kid! The kid who spilled coffee on me today!” He shouted. “I had my watch, then she shook my hand, and now the watch is gone. She totally took it!”

Clint paused the game again. “Wait, so basically some kid took your custom watch, which is worth thousands of dollars, right off your wrist, and you didn’t even notice?” Tony bobbed his head up and down frantically. “Hold on... You don’t think...” Clint glanced between the three other men in the room.

“(H/C) hair?” Steve asked.

“(E/C) eyes?” Bruce called, suddenly no longer able to focus on his work.

Tony nodded slowly with wide eyes. Reality crashed down on all three of them.

A wide smile slowly took over Clint’s face. “So you mean to tell me that three of the Avengers, the Earth’s greatest defenders, got scammed by the same teenage girl in less than a month?” The three men were silent, each of them staring at the ground as they started to question how smart they actually were.

About 30 seconds later, the silence was broken. “Nat, you’ll never believe what just happened. I can’t believe you weren’t home for this,” Clint talked excitedly into the phone while his teammates all slowly left the room to sulk alone.

------- Time Skip -------

It had been a whole month since I had gotten the watch off Tony Stark. I almost couldn’t believe my eyes when I saw the amount of zeros on the offer the pawn shop had given me. It was probably one of the best days of my life. Immediately, I had gone out and bought myself a meal at an actual restaurant, and let me tell you, they weren’t kidding when they said restaurant food is delicious. Every protein bar and bag of chips in the world couldn’t live up to the food I ate that day. And with that kind of money, I could be eating like that for maybe even a year! Still, I knew what I had to do.

It was almost Christmas. With the money I’d just gotten, I could afford to buy each and every kid at the orphanage actual brand new presents that year, instead of the crummy second-hand stuff that had to be shared between three or four kids that I usually brought. So, I went out and blew a good three quarters of my new budget on toys, and not the kind from thrift shops or even the ones from the big department stores. I could finally get them toys from one of the fancy stores that had display windows. And it was worth it, too, seeing the pure amazement that lit up those kids’ eyes when they saw there was enough for all of them. I then spent another quarter of the money on nonperishable foods that I donated to the homeless shelter plus one massive turkey for their Christmas feast.

After all of that, I was left with around 20 dollars for myself. Usually I can make money like that last with just a few extra marks, but as the month dragged on and less and less people were out on the streets at night, my budget ran thin. Eventually, I reached my breaking point. I’d gone I think four days now without any food. My stomach growled loudly, begging me to give it something, anything. I just sighed and receded further into the fabric of my thin, worn down coat that I’d found a few days back by a dumpster -- the coat I used to wear long traded in for a couple spare dollars. Sure, the wind cut through it like a knife, but hell, it was better than nothing.

I glanced up as I heard the crunching of footsteps in the snow, my heard immediately leaping into my throat at the prospect of there being people out. I frowned when I saw who they were. A couple walking together, chatting away about something or another. Normally, I would never choose a couple to target -- it was too easy for one of them to spot what I was doing to the other -- but I had gotten desperate. I was freezing cold, and I needed food now.

So, I walked directly towards them and crashed my shoulder into the guy’s, my hand slipping into his pocket. I thanked whatever higher power was watching over me when my hand came into contact with a money clip.

“Sorry,” I mumbled and slipped my hand back out before continuing to walk at a casual pace away from the two, tucking the clip into my pocket.

-- 3rd Person POV --

“Well that was rude,” Clint huffed, dusting himself off.

Natasha stared at the back of the young girl who continued to walk away like nothing had happened. “Hey, Clint,” she muttered.

“Yeah?”

“Where’s your wallet?”

“I put it back in my... pocket....” Clint froze when he realized he couldn’t feel the familiar clip in his jacket pocket. He whirled around to look at the girl, who was already a ways away. “Hey! Get back here!” He screamed, breaking into a run, Natasha quickly following suit.

-- Your POV --

“Hey! Get back here!” I glanced back with wide eyes, my heart leaping into my throat before immediately sprinting.

I ran through the snow, turning right and left through back alleys and narrow shortcuts, thanking my past self for never eating well, as my skinny form was able to stay on top of the snow for the most part. Still, somehow I hadn’t lost the two adults chasing me yet. They had barely fallen a foot or two behind over the last eight blocks. My stamina was quickly running out, the malnourishment over the past week finally catching up to me. I felt dizzy, and my chest burned as I focused on continuing to put one foot in front of the other. I turned down an alleyway with a brick wall at the end.

“Ha! We’ve finally caught you!” The man behind me panted. I completely ignored him, not pausing a single step as I sprinted towards the wall.

“Uhh, hey, kid? Rock beats teenager...” He called warily. I continued to ignore him. I was only five feet away. “Stop, you’re gonna hurt yourself!” he shouted just before I jumped, pressing my feet into the bricks to launch my further and further up. I reached as high as I could and just barely caught the edge of the wall with my fingertips. I swung my other arm up and forced my arms to pull myself to the top.

I panted as I gazed down from the top of the wall, the couple staring back up at me. “Holy shit,” the man muttered, to which the woman immediately smacked him in the arm.

“I’m sorry,” I said softly. “I was hungry.” I wasn’t really sure why I was apologizing. Granted, I knew what I was doing wasn’t very nice, but I don’t recall ever apologizing before. Maybe it’s because they reminded me of my parents -- or, at least, what I imagined my parents to be like. Maybe it’s because I was so dizzy that I couldn’t really think straight. I nodded slightly to the two before turning around, preparing myself to jump down the other side.

Suddenly, a massive wave of dizziness and nausea smacked me in the face. I groaned slightly and put my hand to my forehead, trying to get a hold of myself. Evidently, that didn’t work, because the next thing I knew, I was falling.

Time seemed to slow as I fell through the air. I probably shouldn’t pass out right now, the surprisingly calm thought entered my mind. If I do, I’ll most likely just freeze to death. Then again, passing out would save me a lot of pain from falling. Alright, I guess that’s it then. I’ll pass out now and hope I wake up in time to not die. My eyes fluttered closed just before I hit the ground, the fog in my brain thickening as I finally allowed myself to just give in to it.

-- 3rd Person POV --

Clint grunted as he caught the girl. He was expecting to fall to the ground with her, only really serving to break her fall, but was surprised to find that she wasn’t even heavy enough to knock him down. Natasha made her way over to his side, looking down at the little thief in her friend’s arms.

“She’s light as a feather,” Clint murmured with a frown on his face, “and freezing to the touch.”

“She said she was hungry,” Natasha muttered thoughtfully.

Clint grit his teeth and nodded, determined. “Alright, that settles it. We’re taking her back to the tower.”

Natasha glanced at him warily. “You sure? The others might not be so accepting.”

“They’re gonna have to be,” he stated, already walking back, holding the girl as close as he could in an attempt to warm her up.

#Avengers #avengers one shot #avengers imagine #avengers reader insert #avengers x reader #avengers x you #avengers x y/n

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moonbeam-mothling · 3 years ago

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Fishtank Ch 2

Mina was very comfortable and snug. Not wanting to open her eyes, she nestled further into the plush surroundings with a contented sigh. But, ugh, something really stunk. What in the heck smelled… like a soggy ditch? She turned to lay on her other side, shifting and resting her head on her arm.

…Oh. She found the source of the stench. Realizing she was what smelled terribly funky, her recollection struck and Mina stiffened in her cozy cocoon. This most definitely wasn’t her bed. She kept her eyes closed, doing her best to feign sleep while mentally trying to get herself together.

Mina fought off a shudder; recalling that not only had she been seen by a human, but actually HELD in their HAND! Her entire being easily fit in a single human hand… Everyone knew humans were enormous, their heavy footfalls enough to rattle any borrower’s whole frame with ease…

There came a gentle pressure on the material covering Mina, causing her to flinch instinctively into a ball, hiding completely beneath the plush fabric. Had she not clasped both hands over her mouth, she might have let out an involuntary noise with how fast her heart pounded from the shock.

“Frick, sorry! Sorry! Just another blanket! You were shaking again…”

Mina remained curled in a ball within the soft material, no clue what she should do. In all her 26 years she had never before been seen by a human, only observed them from afar. Honestly, the most contact she’d had with humanity was from what she’d seen on TV, or read in human books. What’s more, this particular human had only moved into the building maybe five months ago and Mina had only been able to catch enough glimpses of them to get an idea of their schedule.

“Uh… Are you alright?”

Having NO IDEA what to do, Mina wouldn’t consider herself to be “alright” at this moment. Anxiety fueled her imagination. She remained curled up defensively with her eyes shut tight, jaw clenched, and mindlessly feeling her own soft, still damp hair for some semblance of comfort. Her eyes were wet, entire body tensed and dreading the worst.

Surely a span of time had passed, yet nothing happened. What could the human want with her? Mina’s stomach dropped. Could she already be in a cage, the human marveling at her like one of their pet fish? She needed to know. Reaching in minute increments, Mina carefully lifted the material covering her to cautiously peer out at her surroundings.

Beyond the relative comfort of her plush shelter, Mina recognized the linoleum and tiling used uniformly in each kitchen throughout the apartment building. Damn, she realized her bag and gear were probably still on the shelf above the goldfish tank. Unless, had the human found those as well? Mina took a deep breath to try and steady her nerves and concentrate; it didn’t look like she was in any sort of cage at least.

Mina realized she hadn’t heard the human for a while. Could they have left? She didn’t think so; she would have felt, if not heard, the giant footsteps. No, the back of her knee still itched and the hairs on her neck remained on end; she could feel those eyes looking on her, like before. Still nothing happened, the human made no movements, yet Mina was tense all the same.

She REALLY didn’t want to reveal her presence in any capacity, but her usual body heat had returned before waking, though she was still damp. By now her blanket shelter was uncomfortably stuffy and she was nearly sweating. Taking a deep, reassuring breath, Mina carefully lifted the covers with an arm. The fresh air was pleasant, though not the usual cool Mina had expected.

Mina took another steadying breath and, forcing herself not to think, she held the material over herself like a cloak as she sat up. Willing one of her eyes to peek open, she only saw more of the kitchen counter. Cautiously turning her head, Mina’s breath caught as the human’s abdomen came into view, then becoming her entire view. Mina’s heart felt like it was trying to run away since she couldn’t, held in place by dread. Every fiber of her logic and being screamed against it, but her gaze crept higher, almost against her will.

How could two creatures, two beings be so alike, yet simultaneously so vastly different? Mina felt frozen solid, eyes wide and locked with those gargantuan, unreadable brown ones. She almost forgot how to breathe, stunned as she was reminded just how GIGANTIC humans are. Both just stared at the other, Mina keeping a careful watch as the human tilted their head.

“Are… are you alright? Like, not hurt?”

The human asked after a pause, Mina jumping slightly when their hand came into her view, but it was quickly hidden as the human rubbed the back of their neck. Mina couldn’t respond even if she’d wanted to, her heart felt like it was stuck in her throat. Unable even to tear her gaze away to look for possible access to the walls, or anything that could help her.

The human being’s eyes barely moved, looking her up and down for any sort of response. When she gave none, they let out a heavy sigh, looking around and leaning back in their creaky wooden chair. After a pause, they scratched their chin stubble, gigantic features hard and unreadable.

“…I’m Ashley.”

The human offered flatly, crossing their arms and shifting in the old chair once more. Mina elected not to talk, even if she could right now she didn’t want to; which for her that was saying something. Right now she just wanted to be anywhere else, away from the view of these unnaturally large eyes.

She needed to think, to ignore her panic and figure out how she might get to the safety of the walls with no gear, no clear course of action, and this giant watching her every move. The tension was practically palpable, Mina felt brain dead and unable to think coherently, panic rising once more from the core of her being.

The human’s gaze fell as they took another deep breath, turning their head away a little with their exhale.

“Right… I know when I’m making someone uncomfortable…”

They started softly, still a little gruffly, eyes returning back to Mina.

“I think I need some air, um, so if there’s anything you need, or I can do… I guess let me know now? Otherwise, guess I’ll be back a little later.”

They waited for any kind of respond from Mina, but she was still processing what the human said. Surely this was some manner of trap. The borrower flinched more than she would like to admit as the human slowly stood up, chair creaking, and took a step back, distance Mina appreciated greatly. They glanced around the countertop like they were searching for something.

“Hmm… maybe…?”

Slowly, the human moved their chair so it’s side was flush with the counter, then awkwardly moved back a couple steps.

“Uh… you’re welcome back whenever. I, um, hope to see you around.”

The human said awkwardly, offering a slight wave before looking around, then grabbed a water bottle from the fridge. With a few strides the human went from their kitchen to the living room, footsteps pausing, then shuffled and came a rustling sound, then the apartment door creaking open then closed, and finally the keys in the lock.

Mina’s heart still pounding, her brain struggled to process just what in the hell was going on. Ears perked for the slightest sound, the borrower took calming breaths, mind still frantic as racing dragonflies. Stiffly she looked around, then stood tentatively and stretched, joints cracking, muscles grateful for the relief. Ever weary of her situation, Mina cautiously explored the portion of the countertop she could access.

As she thought, no sign of exits into the walls from up here on the counter. She had ventured into this apartment through a hidden door on the topmost of three shelves on the wall above the goldfish aquarium. Her gear was on the middle shelf, quite far away and requiring climbing gear to reach it, too. Given, of course that it was even still there. Mina reluctantly pushed this out of her mind, no help to her at this moment.

The human’s chair seemed like Mina’s best bet down from the counter, at least she was dry enough the rubber band grips of her gloves and boots held steady. She climbed from chair back to the seat, to a leg and finally the floor. Cautious, listening for any sign the human could be returning, Mina sprinted for a gap where the wall had shifted away from the tile floors just enough for the borrower to slip through flat on her stomach.

Mina brushed herself off, picking dust and cobwebs off her clothes and out of her hair in the seemingly brief span of time it took to get back to her home. With restless hands, insides and thoughts, she struggled to understand the day’s surreal events.

She had been seen.

#fishtank #ch2 #chapter 2 #mina #g/t #g/t community #giant/tiny #borrowers #borrower #borrowersona #giant tiny #my ocs #oc #my writing #g/t writing #Mina meets Ashley #love a slow burn friendship

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peaceoutofthepieces · 4 years ago

Text

you were my crown

chapter 3

Ao3

~^~

There was a distinct tension permeating the carriage. Lucas looked especially uncomfortable, and Sander heaved sighs and shifted in his seat every few minutes, as if he couldn’t stand staying still. Jens knew he couldn’t, that if anything he’d rather be up front, but mostly would have preferred their usual method on horseback. But when Jens had asked Lucas if he could ride, he’d stared back as if Jens was insane, and Ellis was not quite ready for Lucas to be left alone with her son without ‘protection’, so here they all were.

Jens was feeling a bit uncomfortable, himself.

It was nothing to do with the carriage and the rather useless cushion under him, either, but a combination of Sander’s fidgeting next to him, Lucas’s avoidant gaze across from them, and his own inability to stop staring.

Lucas had stared at the carriage with a somewhat dubious expression, and then the lush cushion on his seat with utter disbelief. He’d nudged it aside to sit on the wood, and Jens had just tried not to be disappointed that Lucas hadn’t sat next to him. Sander had slanted another one of those looks between the two of them and sat himself next to Jens with a huff. Lucas had caught Jens’s eyes then, just for a second, before directing his eyes at his lap and keeping them there for the entire journey.

At least, until Sander could no longer take the silence.

“I’m going to teach you how to ride a horse,” he told Lucas. “First duty.”

“That doesn’t at all fall under either of your duties,” Jens pointed out, earning himself a sharp look.

Lucas didn’t look pleased, but he didn’t look upset either. “Why?”

“Because I think you’ll like it, and you’re going to get tired of walking to the castle every morning and night very quickly.”

This was enough to make Lucas’s expression crumble in distress for a second before any emotion was neatly tucked away again. He was, however, slightly more grim-faced as he offered Sander a single nod. Then he hesitated and flicked a glance at Jens. “But, what does that matter? I won’t be allowed to take a horse from the stables.”

“You will,” Jens flicked his hand.

Lucas stared at him, and Jens returned his gaze as steadily as he could. It was quite the promise to make, he knew, and he wasn’t actually sure he could pull it off, but for Lucas, he’d try. Lucas was still closed off, but he seemed less tense since finding out he could go home, even during the meeting with Ellis. Jens had done this for him, and Lucas knew it. He seemed to be appreciating it more than Jens saving his life in the first place, which was odd, but well, Jens wouldn’t question it. He might not be the best people-person, but he knew when he’d tried his luck far enough. He knew to accept Lucas’s glances of enquiry and nods of acceptance and rare smiles for now.

He would have time to work out the horse thing, while Sander actually taught Lucas, and until then, “I’ll send the carriage out for you for now.”

Now Lucas allowed a blink. “I can just walk. It’s what I’m used to.”

“It’s a good distance. I don’t need you exhausted for the day before your duties even start. They might sound simple but I’ve heard plenty of complaints before,” Jens warned him. “Daily.”

His mother had done a rather good job of outlining what was expected of Lucas regarding his new position. He would bring Jens his meals; he’d take care of washing and polishing both clothes and weapons; he’d do whatever needed to be done in Jens’s room, including lighting the fire and changing the bedsheets and organising baths; he’d be present at any events inside the castle and accompany Jens to any outside in order to serve him, and he’d take over the task of preparing Jens for them and finally relieve the poor maids. Along with all of this, he’d do whatever Jens, or the Queen, or even Sander, in this special instance, told him to do. It was what was expected of most servants—more than was expected of some but less than was expected of many. Lucas had accepted it with the same grim expression and one of his quiet nods.

Ellis, then, had politely pointed out the extent of special treatment he was getting. For anyone. Never mind a ‘traitor’. Not everyone, she’d said, had the honour of the Prince being their personal escort. Then Lucas had managed a tight smile but a rather impressive bow and a mumble of gratitude.

It was true. Jens rarely ventured outside the castle grounds unless it was to hunt or let some Lord or another play host. He’d ventured to bordering kingdoms only a few times to meet allies with his mother, either to make deals or attend their rather lavish parties. He tried to imagine Lucas hovering at his shoulder during such an event and bit down a smile. They hadn’t gotten a chance to visit Milan yet, after all, but Jens still had the thought in mind. Lucas would need official robes eventually—Jens would make him see it had nothing to do with pity, that it was a necessary custom. If he was amused and intrigued by the mere thought, well, that was a mere bonus Lucas didn’t need to know about.

“Do you think someone might faint when they see you?” Sander asked, looking at Jens curiously. His voice was innocent, but his lips were tilted in a faint smirk. “I’m always curious to know if there actually are people out there who’d end up helplessly falling at your feet.”

Jens scowled at him, but Sander had already turned to Lucas.

“What do you think? Anyone you know around here going to die at the sight of him?”

Lucas sweeped his gaze over Jens consideringly. Jens expected a biting remark, but he had to admit the slight smirk on his face was a bit of a surprise. “Unlikely they’ll be disappointed.” Jens’s heart thumped in surprise, and then Lucas continued. “They already expect very little.”

Sander immediately burst out laughing as Jens turned his scowl on Lucas. He couldn’t quite bring himself to be mad or upset when Lucas’s lips twitched up further as he gazed back before eyeing Sander in amusement. Sander patted Jens’s shoulder consolingly and only laughed harder when Jens batted him away.

“I should have known better than to let you in on this.” He glared at Sander, then frowned at Lucas as he slouched down in his seat, being jostled slightly on the way as the carriage trundled over a bump. “You can’t team up on me, I’m the Prince.”

“I think that’s probably why we have to team up on you,” Lucas mused, and Jens was so pleased to hear him respond he didn’t immediately have one of his own.

Sander pointed at him. “I knew I had a good feeling about you. You understand how it all works.”

Lucas didn’t seem as sure, but he just shrugged. “Fast learner.”

“So I was right to pick you,” Jens said. “You’ll be the most coveted servant in no time.”

Lucas rolled his eyes at that, but his slight smile hadn’t disappeared, so Jens knew he hadn’t made a mistake and Lucas heard the teasing. He even seemed prepared to respond, looking at Jens with the same, faintest glimmer of amusement and challenge, and Jens felt his heart thrum. But Lucas just flicked his eyes around Jens’s face before looking away, staring out the small window this time as they returned to silence.

They’d made it out of the Court and the surrounding village, where no one had blinked at the carriage after seeing so many trundle in that morning. Lucas had still seemed more tense then, when the raucous sounds of life had surrounded them and face after face could be glimpsed outside. Jens wasn’t a fan of it, either; he kept waiting for someone to catch sight of him. The journey felt much more peaceful now that they’d made it onto more barren roads. The dirt extended from the path into the fields and flirted with the edge of the forest on the left, making everything a medley of grass green and dusty brown. There was a spark of yellow or red here or there, wilting on branches or melting into the undergrowth where autumn was beginning to strip everything away.

But the sun was still out, and it was playing all those yellows and reds across Lucas’s face and setting his hair alight. Jens watched him while Lucas watched the scenery and he wondered, again, what exactly he had gotten himself into.

He diverted his attention out the window just in time to see the forest shift away, reeling into the distance as it backed off to make space for a stretch of fields. The open space was dotted with wooden buildings, small shelters and cabins that were soon found in closer clusters as they entered a new village. Sander leaned forward to look out as Lucas leaned back, straightening up with his hands curling into fists atop his thighs. Jens stared at him until Lucas felt his gaze and met his eye, and then he offered a reassuring smile.

Lucas allowed it for only a moment before looking away again and clearing his throat. “We should get out soon and walk the rest of the way. The road narrows the further we go. Not really meant for anything more than a horse wide, at most.”

Sander raised his brows, as if shocked that someone would give anything like an ‘order’ to someone like Jens. Sander turned to look at him and Jens shrugged back—he was just amused.

“Here?” he asked Lucas.

Lucas shrugged, taking a closer look out the window before nodding. “You could get another ten yards or so, probably.”

Jens nodded at Sander, who leaned forwards towards the front of the carriage. Lucas started and slid out of his way as Sander almost headbutted him, then the knight managed to get the hatch at the front open and whistled to the coachman. The carriage slowed in an instant, rolling to a stop just as Sander fell back in his seat, knocking his shoulder off Jens’s.

“Sorry, damn,” Sander muttered as Jens shoved him off. Jens was more annoyed that it almost made him miss Lucas’s tiny huff of amusement than about the actual jostling.

Only once they’d settled and all surrounding noise had stopped did Jens open the door and hop out, ignoring Sander’s muttering about ‘improper princes’. The dirt road was firm under his feet, but he’d already collected a layer on his shoes from the landing, which made him wince. Lucas would likely be the one left to clean it, which seemed to make sense and feel entirely unfair at the same time.

He ignored it for now and looked back into the carriage, where Sander gestured for Lucas to go first. Jens held a hand out almost automatically, then felt a little stupid, then shocked out of his dirty shoes when Lucas took it. He curved his fingers carefully over Jens’s palm, only letting his weight bear down lightly as he stepped from the carriage. Only for a moment, and then the touch was gone. Jens would have thought it didn’t even really happen if his hand wasn’t tingling, but it was, and Lucas wasn’t looking at him, and Sander was muttering again.

The knight jumped down and slammed the door shut behind him, giving Jens a withering look as he sniffed. “Thanks for the hand, that was very kind of you.”

Jens blinked, then broke out of it and slapped Sander on the back. “You’re welcome.” He caught Lucas wiping a hand over his mouth, as if he was brushing away a smile, and didn’t bother biting back one of his own.

Sander heaved a sigh and gestured at Lucas. “Well, lead the way.”

Jens lingered to thank the coachman and tell him they hopefully wouldn’t be long, then paused to pet the horses and feed them a couple of sugar cubes before catching up to where Sander and Lucas were waiting. He could see the landscape better now, and cast his eyes around as he fell into step alongside Lucas and Sander followed behind. The road did indeed narrow quickly, turning into more of a path as the grass inched inwards and more houses took up the extra space as they made it into the village. They were quaint and quiet, some with smoke coming from the chimneys and others with their doors open and noise coming from inside.

The center of it all was swallowing them quickly, and Jens straightened as he felt Sander stick closer to his back. Here, there were houses and farms and stalls, people milling around between all the available set-ups and conversing and bartering with their neighbours. It didn’t take long for Jens to feel the weight of a couple of stares, and his shoulders crept up. Lucas glanced at him, but kept tall and straight-backed as he walked, evidently at ease—at home. It took a little longer for Jens to realise the stares were for him, not the prince by his side or the knight following. Of course, he thought, they likely knew where Lucas had been. The whole village probably wondered when and if he would return, and now here he was, walking in with a royal escort.

It really should have been garnering them more attention. But even of the starers, no one said a word. They only had to walk another few yards to realise that it was because focus was directed elsewhere, to a commotion by one of the smaller stalls.

Jens didn’t even think about following Lucas as he furrowed his brow and pushed through the growing crowd, but he heard Sander’s aggrieved sigh and felt the knight’s hand at his back, curled in the fabric of his jacket. The vibrant velvet stood out, the red drawing eyes like a beacon, and the crowd was parting and staring now, raising a new murmur as they made it near the front and caught sight of the scene. Jens was, for once, extra thankful for his height as he gazed over the remaining heads.

He saw what he suspected was the seller’s back first, a tall and fairly burly man with buzzed hair and broad shoulders. He had a tight grip on the arm of another man—or possibly boy—who was much slighter with darker skin and a full, curly head of hair, though he also had a thin mustache and scruff on his chin. Lucas cursed softly under his breath, but Jens was watching as the smaller of the two laughed, the sound seeming nervous as he did his best to hold his hands up and keep the other man at bay. He said something Jens couldn’t hear, and then the man was gripping his throat in one large hand instead and Jens slithered through the remaining gap in the crowd.

“What seems to be the problem here?” he demanded, using his best authoritative tone as he stepped up to the two men. The younger boy looked at him, wide-eyed, but he went ignored by the other. It only worked to piss him off further, so he wrenched the man’s grip away and twisted his arm until he finally acknowledged Jens’s presence with a pained shout.

The crowd had gone utterly silent, now, and it made the boy’s dry gasp more audible as he stumbled back after being released from the choking grip. Jens didn’t look at him yet, focused on the more aggressive threat. The man stared down at him, glaring in pain and trying to wriggle his wrist free before, very slowly, his face went white with recognition, and he froze.

Jens smiled at him, and knew it likely wasn’t his kindest. “That’s better. Now, I believe I asked a question. Do we have a problem here?”

The man gaped a few times, then stuttered something unintelligible before steeling himself and flapping his free arm at the boy. “This kid was trying to steal from my stall,” he growled. Jens noticed he had a slight beard, as well, though it was much lighter and the lines of age were also carved into the skin around his mouth and eyes.

“Trying to?” Jens pressed.

“Lifted one of my fresh apples and stuffed it in his pocket,” the man grunted. “Went to run if I hadn’t been quick enough.”

Jens flicked his eyes around to the boy for just a moment. He was watching on in disbelief, but didn’t seem to have any stolen goods on his person. Jens looked elsewhere and lingered on what must have been the man’s stall, where an array of fruit was laid out but a lone apple sat precariously on the corner. He nodded towards it. “That apple?”

The man nodded hesitantly.

“So he was already unsuccessful in his attempts,” Jens said, raising a brow. “What reason did you have to react with violence?”

The man sputtered, and eventually his face reddened. “The boy’s a thief with a bad mouth! Somebody needs to teach him a lesson.”

Jens considered him, unimpressed. He turned to the boy. “Was that all true? About the stealing?”

“You’re the Prince,” the boy blurted, as if the recognition had only settled in. It seemed like that was probably the case, considering the shock in his expression. When Jens’s brow simply rose further, he settled and answered quietly. “I live with four siblings, my parents, and my grandmother. We were running low.”

Jens’s heart twisted. He pursed his lips and turned back to the man, who was beginning to grimace at the pressure on his wrist. “Sounds like he’s hungry, not a casual bandit. He’s no threat to you. You’ll lose a few extra customers if you always choose to raise your hand like that,” Jens warned.

When the man grunted, but eventually nodded in acceptance, Jens let him go. He moved back to his stall in an instant, wincing as he rubbed over his red skin. Jens turned to the boy instead just as Lucas made it through the crowd, looking as if he was shaking Sander’s grip off of him.

“Christ, Kes,” Lucas muttered when he was close enough. “I haven’t been gone that long, I expected you to be able to stay out of trouble.”

The boy—Kes—had lit up as soon as he laid eyes on him, and he lurched past Jens to clasp Lucas in a tight hug.

Jens blinked as Lucas hugged him back, still seeming to be scolding Kes under his breath. He looked to Sander, who was still standing a couple of feet away, but he looked just as bewildered. He made a face at Jens and shrugged, as if it was strange but not that strange. Which, it probably wasn’t. This was Lucas’s home, he reminded himself. Of course he would have friends here.

“You’ve been gone long enough,” Kes huffed, pulling away from Lucas; though neither of them fully relinquished their grip on the other. Kes looked between Jens and Sander. “But I am planning on killing you myself if you’re just back for a final goodbye. What’s with all this?” He gestured to Jens somewhat dramatically, and Lucas followed the gesture so their eyes met again. Jens tried not to let it make him feel small.

Lucas’s expression was complicated, or Jens just hadn’t at all figured out how to read him yet. They had only known each other a few hours. “‘All this’ has some sort of saviour complex, apparently,” Lucas said.

Sander snorted as Jens frowned, feeling irritation begin to bubble. “A ‘thank you’ would suffice,” he snapped. “Or would you like me to let your friend get pummeled next time?”

“You didn’t know he was my friend,” Lucas dismissed.

“So are you upset now that I wasn’t doing it on your behalf? You’d rather I only defend your honour? Really, I’m beginning to get mixed signals.”

Sander hid his smile behind his hand as Lucas glared and Kes whipped his gaze between them in bewildered intrigue.

“You know that’s not what I meant,” Lucas said.

Jens grit his teeth in a likely unpleasant grin. “What exactly is it you want to say then, Lucas? Please, enlighten me.”

“Are we finally giving orders now, Your Highness?”

Oh, Jens shouldn’t have bothered. At this rate, he was going to strangle the boy himself. He had thought they were getting along in the carriage. What was he doing wrong? Why did Lucas insist on being such a brat?

Sander was suddenly at his side again, pressing a hand between his shoulder blades. “Okay, as entertaining as this is—really, you’re both better than a court jester—we should be moving along. And maybe just lower your voices, if you want to continue.”

Jens scowled at him and was only met with raised brows and a pointed nod. He glanced past Sander and caught sight of the crowd, which hadn’t dispersed at all. If anything, it had only grown—the attraction amplified by the Prince inserting himself in the brawl, most likely.

Sander would say he has no self-awareness, but he understood fairly well pretty quickly.

Lucas winced as Kes gave a low whistle. Lucas reached out and Jens tensed, waiting for contact, but it never came. He was simply being herded in the right direction with Kes now leading the way in front of him and Lucas at his back, with Sander bringing up the rear. The knight was smart enough to actually do his job and keep Lucas in his sights, which was probably unnecessary for the expected reasons; but Jens appreciated knowing there was someone watching Lucas’s back, at the moment.

“You could just leave,” Lucas said, and it wasn’t as harsh as Jens expected. “I’m here now. I’m not going to run, I wanted to come home. And now you know Kes and could probably use him as blackmail, or something.”

Kes looked around Jens to gawk at him. “Are you trying to give them ideas?”

“No ideas necessary if he doesn’t run off,” Sander said, shrugging.

“He’s not offering you as a sacrifice, he’s using you to earn my trust. He won’t risk you by getting himself in trouble, knowing we could come after you now,” Jens said bluntly. “Smart, really.”

Lucas huffed. Still no ‘thank you’ on the horizon, then.

Kes was leading them away from the center of the village, winding outwards through a dirt path until the houses became more sparse again. They also seemed smaller here, stuck into the available spaces between fields. Most seemed to be constructed from timber and wattle, and it was so unlike the sturdy stone of the castle walls that Jens felt cold and wobbly looking at them. He had slept in worse places (the forest floor, for example), but he had never lived outside the castle for more than a week at most. His home was a fortress, built with enough care to offer protection and warmth even in the coldest winters. The recognition hit suddenly of just how much of a privilege this was as he took in the fragile shelters around him. He’d only ever seen the outer villages in passing; he hadn’t taken much in or thought to dwell on it. But the realisation that all these people, people like Kes and Lucas, lived out here came as an odd sort of surprise.

Even Sander had once lived somewhere just like this, though Jens had no idea where and Sander never spoke about it. He was giving no reaction now, not that the others would notice, but to Jens he appeared more withdrawn than usual. Since they had made it away from the bustle of the town, he was silent and solemn, which were both unusual traits for him.

Jens supposed it could have had something to do with the people still surrounding them, more and more coming out of their homes as their group passed through and finally made it to a small hut, which Lucas entered without knocking.

The house was small and open—Jens could see most of the space from his half-glimpse inside the door. There seemed to be minimal furniture, and yet what was there was still cluttered, forced together in places it probably shouldn’t be. It was dim, and as odd as it was, Jens almost thought he could feel a breeze coming out of it.

Lucas looked at it with such awe that Jens thought he should probably try to see it differently. All tension melted from his shoulders as he stepped through the threshold and called, “Mama?”

Kes slithered in next to him and set a hand on his shoulder as Jens and Sander hovered outside. “She could be sleeping,” Kes told him softly. “We’ve been checking in on her while you were gone. Isa’s actually been staying.”

Jens didn’t know who Isa was, but he assumed she was the girl who appeared from behind one of the curtains and who was definitely not capable of being Lucas’s mother. Her face lit up when she saw him, however, and Lucas smiled when she barreled into him and wrapped him in a hug. Jens absorbed the expression and tucked it away and wondered just who this girl was.

“I knew you’d be back in no time! I told them it all had to be bullsh—“

“Ies,” Kes cut her off with a hiss, jerking his head towards the open door.

Isa’s eyes landed on them and went comically wide. She gaped, eyes lingering on Jens’s face and Sander’s chainmail, before she dropped into a surprising, slightly awkward curtsy. She leaned in close to Lucas and whispered (rather pointlessly, because they were all close enough to hear everything), “You came back with a knight-in-shining-armour and Prince Charming?”

Lucas only flicked his gaze towards them for a moment. “I would hardly say ‘charming’ is the right word.”

Much like Kes had, Isa gaped at him for the audacity. Jens was begrudgingly beginning to like them.

“You are just getting our roles mixed up, you see,” Sander told her with a winning smile. “Lucas has already learned I’m the charming one. And Jens is more likely his knight-in-shining-armour.”

Jens watched Lucas roll his eyes and rolled his own in response. He turned his own attention to Isa and offered her a smile too, as well as his hand. “It’s nice to see someone aware of the property courtesies, or at least with some basic manners.” He tilted his head pointedly towards Lucas, and the girl laughed, slipping her hand into his. Jens left a kiss to the back of her fingers; he too was aware of his courtesies.

It made Isa flush a pretty pink, and it also made Lucas scoff, which was the main goal. Jens raised his eyebrows at him in a dare to say something about it, but their staring match only lasted a few seconds before they were interrupted by more soft footsteps.

“Luc,” a gentle voice said. Lucas was instantly rushing across the small house to capture an even smaller lady in a hug. She was actually a little taller than Isa, but thinner, and she had Lucas’s light brown hair but not his blue eyes. Still, it wasn’t hard to tell that this was obviously his mother as she clutched him back tightly and he let out a shuddering breath.

Jens’s heart twisted. This was Lucas’s home, that much was clear. It seemed impossible that it had almost been taken away from him that same day. Lucas clearly belonged here with each of these people, regardless of what their connections were, and there would have been heartbreak left behind if he was gone. Jens was even beginning to understand why Lucas detested his ‘help’ so much. He lived his whole life here, and now it would be nothing more than a place to sleep. Even that would be cut short.

“I’m sorry,” he heard Lucas mumble. “I’m so sorry.”

The woman pulled back to cup his face gently in her hands, stroking her thumbs over his cheeks. “Oh, you didn’t do anything wrong, darling. I know you didn’t. I’m so happy they saw that too and you’re safe.”

It was enough to make Lucas stiffen again. “Well, Mama,” he trailed off, because it didn’t matter—she had already caught sight of them in the doorway.

“My, I am so sorry,” she stammered, gripping tighter to her son for a moment before letting go and curtsying as well. Jens really didn’t know where Lucas had gotten his manners, then. She glanced between them and Lucas. “Your Highness. To what do I owe this honour?”

Jens opened his mouth, then quickly closed it again.

Sander rested a hand on his shoulder and stepped up next to him. “We’ve just come to escort Lucas home. There are some...conditions, to his return, that we’ll gladly discuss with you unless Lucas wishes to do so on his own.”

Jens nodded his own agreement and looked to Lucas, who wrapped an arm around his mother but didn’t respond. It was apparently enough permission for the woman to hastily beckon them inside and offer them a drink.

They all crammed into the small seating space. Jens sat with Sander stood just behind him, across from Lucas and his mother. He hadn’t actually thought much about Kes and Isa, and expected them to leave before they discussed Lucas’s situation. But Isa had taken the one spare stool and Kes had leaned against the wall behind her, both of them watching on expectantly. Mostly watching him, with a slightly familiar wide-eyed wonder. It made Jens more nervous than it probably should have. The space was also, as he thought, run through with a terrible chill, and he felt strange shivering in his thick jacket when Lucas looked perfectly collected in his thin, threadbare tunic.

Lucas’s mother had introduced herself as Tess, and poured both visitors a glass of water with trembling hands. It was likely nerves, but she seemed steady and curious as she looked from Jens to Sander and back. “You mentioned conditions? But Lucas isn’t guilty of anything?”

Jens once again looked to the boy in question, who, shockingly, stared back rather defiantly. His look seemed to say, ‘go ahead, you can tell my mother that your mother wants to kill me’.

It was also possible that he was reading too much into things.

“We don’t believe that he is, no,” Jens said softly, looking back to the woman placatingly. “But we also have no proof of his innocence. I’m sure you understand the Queen has to react with caution to any possible threat of treason.”

“But I was here. I am always here,” Tess said firmly. “Surely, I can attest to his innocence?”

“No one can even know when the sword was taken,” Sander said. “Unless you are here every moment of every day with Lucas, it would still not be counted as proof. And I’m afraid as his mother, you’re already likely to be considered as an unreliable witness.”

“So what does that mean? There is no way of proving his innocence? Can’t you find out when the sword was taken? Surely knights aren’t supposed to leave their weapons lying around and would notice before long,” Kes said, clearly sharing his friend’s fiery spark. Jens noted that Lucas seemed a lot more wary in the face of it, flicking his eyes to Kes nervously. His sense did, apparently, extend from his mother to these friends.

Sander just snorted. “No, they’re not. And it will be looked into further, because if Lucas had nothing to do with it we need to know who did.”

“But until then, we can’t absolve Lucas of guilt entirely,” Jens explained. “So, rather than a...harsher punishment, it was agreed upon that Lucas would work for me in the castle.”

“Work for you?” Tess questioned, confused, her eyes flicking briefly to Sander.

Isa snorted, then immediately looked embarrassed about it. “What sort of work is Lucas qualified for? He can’t cook to save his life, and could you imagine him trying to use a sword?”

Lucas frowned at her.

Tess set her hand on Isa’s and gave a squeeze, appearing amused. “I doubt that would even be allowed, sweetie.”

“No,” Jens agreed. “He’ll be my personal servant.”

The room—the house, this space was the whole house—went utterly silent. They all stared at him, blankly or bewildered, and then at Lucas, disbelieving.

Isa was the first to find her voice. “What—what does that actually mean? I mean, what will he be doing?”

“I’m not actually sure of all the details myself,” Jens said slowly. “I’ve never had a manservant, which is partially why I suggested it, but it also means it shouldn’t really involve anything too difficult. Lucas will just be expected to take care of things like meals and clothes, looking after my chambers and my things, accompanying me.”

They absorbed this for a moment. “So he’s basically working as your mother,” Kes said.

“My mother’s the Queen,” Jens said, confused, before realising it was meant to be some kind of joke.

“More like a slave,” Lucas suggested, still bitter. It earned a sharp look and quiet reprimand from his mother, which actually made him shut his mouth and shrink in his seat. Jens marveled at all the power in this tiny woman.

Sander tsked. “Jens would never treat someone that way, and he’s already managed to overrule his mother for you. You’re lucky.”

Lucas didn’t huff or scoff this time, but he looked like he wanted to. It was likely the presence of his mother keeping him at bay, then, not an agreement with Sander’s words.

“It’s just a job,” Jens said, leaning across the table towards Lucas. He didn’t have to go far. “I know that it is meant to be a punishment, but we do not plan to treat it that way. You’re no different to anyone else working in the castle, except you actually have a higher standing than many of them. You will be treated with just as much respect and paid just as kindly as anyone else.”

That finally broke Lucas’s facade enough for him to furrow his brows. “Paid?”

“Maybe out of my own pocket,” Jens admitted, “but yes.”

“Why? Why would you do that?”

Jens furrowed his brows back, frowning. “You will not be able to work otherwise to earn anything. You don’t wish to live in the castle. How do you expect to live otherwise?”

“You were invited to live in the castle?” Isa demanded, eyes bright.

Lucas ignored her for the moment and continued to address Jens. “I was under the impression that my life was my payment. Or is it actually not still under threat?”

“Your life?” Tess repeated, shocked. “Have they threatened to kill you?”

Jens winced, but Lucas was already laying a hand on her shoulder placatingly. Still, he didn’t speak up to deny her worries, and her startled, terrified gaze lay heavily on Jens, and he found himself leaning in her direction instead. “Lucas is perfectly safe, I assure you.”

“But he wasn’t, was he?” Kes asked. His gaze was no longer filled with the initial bewilderment and faint awe; it was hard and heavy and filled with questions, as if he was suddenly intent on picking Jens apart. It made Jens oddly nervous, although he was oddly glad Lucas seemed to have these people willing to protect him, looking out for him.

Lucas, thankfully, answered on his own this time. “I was initially sentenced to death.”

Tess sank back in her chair as she stared at him, raising a hand to grip tightly onto his. She was as white as a sheet. Lucas quickly shifted around to look at her more directly, holding onto both her shoulders now and gently stroking his thumbs back and forth. It was the most kindness Jens had witnessed from him so far.

“I’m fine,” he said, at once soft and firm. He flicked a glance at Jens. “His Royal Highness—“ he seemed pained using the full title; Jens was utterly amused “—laughed at the idea, and it seemed that was enough to save me.”

Tess blinked, looking from her son to Jens and back. “I beg your pardon?”

“You laughed?” Isa said, baffled, then immediately looked embarrassed again. Kes sighed as he put a hand on her shoulder.

“To be fair,” Jens defended himself, “it was a rather ridiculous idea.”

“To be fair,” Sander added, “it also worked.”

Jens waved a hand at him in agreement and thanks.

“He convinced Her Majesty that she had no actual reason for such an extreme punishment,” Lucas said quietly, looking at Jens now. “He earned me a second chance and as much freedom as he could.”

“Hang on,” Jens blinked at him. “What is this sudden gratitude?”

A muscle in Lucas’s jaw twitched. “I recognise what you did for me. That does not mean,” he enunciated clearly, “that I have to like you. Regardless of how kind a keeper you view yourself as, you made me your prisoner.”

“He saved your life,” Tess said, but there was no intonation of any argument or rebuke. There was only relief and an overwhelming gratitude of her own; her eyes were shining as she looked at Jens. Jens was grateful when Kes spoke and he had a reason to look away.

“Why would he do that?” The question seemed to be in response to Lucas or Tess, but he was only looking at Jens as he asked it, now even more calculating than before. “You don’t even know Lucas.”

Jens shook his head. “Why should that matter? Even if he is guilty, he doesn’t deserve to die. Even if he had hurt someone, it’s not always so black and white. I didn’t know you, either, when we arrived today, but that didn’t mean you deserved to be harmed.”

Kes leaned back against the wall, dragging his gaze over him appraisingly.

“Thank you,” Tess whispered, dragging Jens’s attention back. He was surprised when she reached over and clasped his hand, squeezing tightly, and Lucas flinched as if making an aborted move to pull her away. “Thank you, so much.”

Jens’s heart warmed, and his throat felt tight. Like he had with Isa, he brought her hand to his lips and lightly kissed the back of her fingers, then squeezed them in return. “I mean it. It’s not to earn thanks. I believe Lucas deserves his safety and I will do what I can to maintain it. I would’ve done the same for anyone.” He cut his eyes to Lucas. “Whether they would be grateful or not is not the point.”

“He also negotiated with the Queen to make sure Lucas could stay here. We were only to escort him back to make sure he really did come home, but he’s free to stay here now and will only be expected to come to the castle every morning to do his duties,” Sander explained.

“Will you have to walk every morning?” Isa asked, disheartened as she looked to her...friend? Something more?

Lucas glanced at Jens.

“Only to the end of the village, where the road widens,” Jens said. “A carriage will wait for him there and bring him back in the evenings.”

When they all stared at him once more, he shrugged. “It will make sure he turns up?”

“It sounds like you’re getting a reward, Luc, not a punishment,” Kes pointed out with a snort. He walked over to clip the back of Lucas’s head. “Maybe stop acting like an ass, yeah?”

Sander let out an aborted laugh, and Jens belatedly realised this was assurance that he’d earned Kes’s approval. It seemed like an important—possibly vital—first step. Even though Lucas scowled and batted him away, he didn’t complain, and his following glance at Jens didn’t seem filled with quite as much disdain. Jens chanced softening his own gaze, and Lucas clenched his jaw and looked away.

“Boys,” Tess admonished half-heartedly. “We still have company.”

Jens drew his gaze away from Lucas and offered her a smile. “We should be getting going, though.”

“I’m sure he has things to do, Mama,” Lucas said, in a drawl that let Jens know he was about to be mildly insulted. “Orders to give, hair to fix.”

Jens straightened and raised a hand to his head, running fingers through the strands curling over his face. “What’s wrong with my hair?”

Lucas raised a brow at him, as if he’d just proven an excellent point.

Sander clapped a hand on his shoulder. “He’s teasing you, idiot. About how you probably only care about your hair? Even though it does fall flat because this—“ he ruffled Jens’s already messy hair “—is atrocious, you still managed to prove his point. Who lets you outside?”

“You?” Jens said hesitantly, then frowned. “Wait.”

“Did you just...forget you’re the Prince?” Kes asked.

Jens opened his mouth to protest and jumped as the door banged open instead. He twisted around to see and had to peek around Sander, who instantly moved in front of him at the intrusion.

In the doorway was yet another boy with wildly curly hair and a light scruff. He had a full water bucket hoisted in his arms and his foot was still slightly raised from where he’d kicked the door open. He was staring at the large group of people cluttered in the small space, taking in Sander’s hand on the hilt of his sword and then Jens peeking out from behind him, before his eyes found Lucas.

“Luc!”

His hands loosened dangerously on the bucket and he fumbled for a moment as water sloshed around the rim. Kes appeared in front of him in an instant and hastily took over, yelping out a “careful, Jayden” as water splashed over his shirt. He managed to get the bucket from Jayden and carefully set it down out of the way, and Jayden was already moving forward with a grin.

He halted after a single step, however, eyes landing on the looming knight in his path. He flicked his gaze down to where Sander’s hand still rested and back up. Jens curled his fingers in Sander’s sleeve and gave a quick tug, but Sander remained and narrowed his eyes at Jayden.

Jayden blinked. Then narrowed his eyes back.

Sander nodded in approval at the handling of the stare-down and immediately backed off, leaning casually against the wall beside Jens again.

Jens huffed, used to the antics by now. Jayden only looked bewildered for a second before moving on in favour of bounding around to Lucas and wrapping him in a bone-crushing hug. “Shit, I was sure they were gonna kill you or something.”

The others shared a look. Lucas simply patted Jayden’s back.

Sander tapped Jens’s shoulder, and Jens convinced himself to get to his feet. Lucas nudged Jayden off of him and looked up at them. “Do you need me to walk back with you?”

Jens tilted his head, surprised that there was no teasing or sarcasm in the comment, and marveled at the manners Lucas seemed to learn within minutes of his mother’s presence. “No, the deal was to bring you right here. We’re not going to drag it out.”

“I meant so you don’t get killed,” Lucas said dryly.

Jayden suddenly, and finally, hissed, “Lucas, isn’t that the fucking Prince? What are you doing?!”

“Language,” Tess quickly reprimanded, offering Jens a nervous, apologetic smile.

Isa patted Jayden’s arm and quietly assured him they’d fill him in later as Jens cocked a brow at Lucas.

“I can take care of myself,” he said easily.

“You mean you never go anywhere without a knight and they’re under strict orders to protect you?”

“No,” Sander huffed. “Weren’t you watching him like a hawk earlier? He can take care of himself.”

Lucas looked dubious.

Within a second, Jens was leaned across the table with a dagger tucked gently under Lucas’s chin. He heard a few gasps and one cry of protest, but Lucas only drew a sharp breath and stared back at him through slightly wide eyes. “I’m not sure how you think this works,” Jens murmured. “But Sander’s only had a sword in his hands for a couple of years. I’ve had a knife in my belt since I could walk. I’m already the one protecting you, don’t forget. I can take care of myself.”

Lucas swallowed, and Jens drew the dagger back enough that it wouldn’t pierce his skin when Lucas refused to lean away. “Okay. Point taken.”

Jens rolled his eyes and slipped the dagger away again, leaning out of Lucas’s space and moving towards the door. “Sunrise,” Jens reminded him. “Your carriage awaits.”

He was aware of Sander’s quiet laughter as he followed him out and pointedly ignored it. He’d barely gotten three yards before someone had caught up with him, and a gentle voice was calling, “Your Highness.”

He paused and turned back to Tess, feeling oddly nervous all of a sudden. He had just held a dagger to her son’s throat right in front of her and left without another word, after all, and following all his judgment of Lucas’s manners, he probably should have recognised that might be rather rude. Still, he just straightened his shoulders and asked, “Yes?”

“I just wanted to apologise for Lucas,” she said quietly, looking down now as she wrung her hands. “I know that it is not proper, but it’s partly my fault. He’s very protective.”

Jens let his posture soften and stepped closer, bringing his hand up to touch her arm lightly. “I could see that right away. He wanted nothing more than to come back to you. I understand his anger at how much this disrupts his life here.”

“I don’t know what we have done to deserve such kindness from you.” Her voice wobbled, but she looked up at him now. “He is scared and will not recognise it, but I do, and I cannot thank you enough. I know it is wrong of me to ask you for more…”

“He’ll be safe,” Jens assured her. “He will adjust, and I’ll keep him safe. I promise.”

She reached for his hand and held it tightly between her own, squeezing once. “Thank you,” she repeated, breathless with her relief.

Jens kissed her knuckles again, overwhelmed with sympathy. He wanted to ask where her partner was, Lucas’s father, because he thought it would help him understand but knew he would not like the answer. Instead he gave her hand a final squeeze, allowed her to see the promise in his gaze, then glanced back through the open doorway.

He could still see Lucas, still at his place at the tiny table, but now his head was tilted back and his mouth was open in laughter as he looked up at Kes. The noise of them all filtered out, their easy familiarity and joy, and Jens turned away quickly and nodded to Sander.

Sander led them back to the carriage in silence, and his confident stride stopped anyone from speaking up or approaching. Only when they’d made it back out of the village and onto the small path did he fall in step with Jens and speak up. “You’re going to have your hands full with him, y’know.”

“Yes, I’m aware,” Jens huffed.

“He didn’t even flinch.”

“He looked happy about it.”

Sander barked a laugh, clapping his hands together as they reached the carriage. He patted the horse’s flank on the way past and winked at the coachman, who gave him a two-fingered salute in response. “He’s a treat. I can’t wait.”

#van der stoffels #vds #wtfock #skam nl #prince!jens au #vds royalty au

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lokilickedme · 4 years ago

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STORM SEASON PSA

Anyway, now seems like a good time to drop a couple of helpful tips about what to do if you find yourself in a tornadic situation (don’t @ me about that not being a word, I Googled it to be sure) -

First, don’t assume it won’t ever happen where you live. The earth’s climate is getting weirder all the time and tornadoes have started occurring in places that have historically never had them (yes even Canada) and people who aren’t in the southern/midwestern US know little to nothing about them (or how to survive them). I’ve personally lived through five tornadoes (two with direct involvement and three close calls) so everything I’m about to tell you is from personal experience.

Provided your city has a storm alert system, you may or may not receive adequate advance warning in the event of a tornado. This is entirely random and depends on literally nothing - if a storm looks like it might be capable of producing a tornado, the weather service will catch it and let you know to be on the alert. But that’s about the extent of how much they can predict with tornadoes...these suckers form fast, sometimes from storms that don’t even appear capable, and sometimes it’s pretty much a BOOM HERE I AM BITCH DEAL WITH ME type of situation, in which case it’s time to relapse back into whatever religion you’ve lapsed from and hope your god didn’t notice you were gone.

And look, I know your first impulse when that siren goes off will be to think you have a few minutes to grab your laptop or some pictures or something, but YOU DO NOT. If it’s a tornado, trust me when I say those fuckers move FAST. If there’s one barrelling your way, it’s entirely possible the storm tracking system only caught it right that second and it’s already arrived. These things form out of nothing and without warning, they’re not usually something that radar and stormspotters have been watching for miles as they head your way (those do happen but they are not the rule, they are the exception). They can spin up one second and hit your city five seconds later, sometimes long before the sirens ever go off. For example, the progression of our storm on Monday went from zero to 100 in the space of one minute. We had a minor rain shower, and five minutes into it an alert came up saying we now had a severe thunderstorm warning, which around here is usually no big deal. Less than one minute later that thunderstorm warning became a blaring alert telling us to get to shelter immediately, and a few seconds later the city sirens were going off. There was no tornado watch or rotation warning in between. It happened that fast. You don’t have time to mess around when a tornado is involved, either actively or potentially.

This is important: tornadoes are mean vicious bastards and sometimes they give no warning that they’re about to appear, so once that siren starts going off or your phone starts squawking at you to get to shelter, YOU GO RIGHT THAT SECOND. If you have a shelter, get in it. Don’t even bother grabbing your shoes unless they’re already at the door as you’re going through it. We have gotten in our shelter half naked and barefoot too many times to count, and though I’m sure it would be amusing and/or traumatizing as hell for the first responders if they ever had to come dig us out, the fact remains that we lived bitch.

(more under the cut because this got super long and I know anything more than three scrolls pisses people off in here) -

(continued)

No shelter? Get in the closet on the lowest floor of your house, or go to the basement, or if all else fails get in the bathtub and try to pull your bed mattress over yourself. Cram in there tight, and if stuff starts flying, lay over your kids face down. Tuck their heads and then get yours tucked too. You’d rather get hit in the back than in the skull by your grandma’s china collection, trust me.

Going to the public shelter? Better hurry up. You don’t really want to be in a vehicle, it might seem heavy enough to hold you down but depending on the size of the funnel and the wind speed, it’s likely not. Your Chevy can get picked up and thrown easier than you’d think. The storm Monday hurled an 18-wheeler full of cargo across the interstate like it was a Tonka toy. The one in 2010 wrapped several cars around trees and picked a guy up in his truck and dropped him in the middle of a field of cows - and the cows didn’t even get windblown. I’m telling you, these things are weird and unpredictable and you don’t mess with them.

In your hideyhole? STAY THERE. Don’t peek out, you don’t want to see what’s happening. Even more to the point, you don’t want your head knocked off by a flying fencepost. These things get wicked suction drafts going too, you can get yanked right out of your shelter/closet and then you’re done for and potentially so is everyone else inside. Slide the bolt or bolster the barricade and sit tight, it’ll be over soon.

Don’t come out until the noise has stopped or lessened drastically for several minutes. If you’re in the eye of the storm, it’ll be quiet for a few seconds to a couple of minutes depending on the size. Don’t come out during this stage because it’s just going to kick right back up in a minute. Wait it out.

Got pets? You might have to make some tough decisions. If there’s time (the alert hasn’t said to seek shelter immediately yet) get them caged or crated or leashed and take them with you (crated is best, they’re gonna get scared and flighty). If the alert is telling you to get to shelter now and they’re where you can grab them quickly, do that. If there’s no time, you gotta prioritize. Yourself and your kids first. It’s hard and it hurts and you’ll feel like shit about leaving them behind, but if there’s no time and that storm is bearing down on you, you can’t be searching under all the beds for the kitties. YOUR TIME IS SEVERELY LIMITED. If your animals are indoor/outdoor and are used to going outside, you might want to leave a door open for them on your way out so they can get out of the house if it comes down. In general animals are pretty smart and will do what they need to do without you getting yourself killed trying to save them. During the 2010 tornado we had acquaintances whose cats escaped their house and hid in the woods for a few days. The house was destroyed, the cats were fine, they wandered to a neighbor’s place when they were tired of eating lizards. Dogs likewise will generally find safe spaces to hide in. Apologize to them when the storm is over, they’re not gonna hold it against you. They probably don’t even know anything happened and you don’t have to tell them.

If you live in a storm-prone place like we do, there’s stuff you should be doing automatically - like keeping shoes/rainboots at the door and having a go-bag ready as soon as your weather app starts saying things could get nasty. Put a bottle of water and some granola in that go-bag, it’s amazing how the simple act of eating something can calm you down when you’re hunkering. Check your shelter ahead of the storm if you have one, make sure there’s no bugs or raccoons living in it since the last time you used it. Make sure you know how to get to the public shelter if you’re planning to use that. If you have kids, keep a motorcycle helmet or bike helmet (both constantly readily available at thrift shops for cheap) by the door with the rainboots (if stuff starts flying or you’re going to have to make a run for the car or your shelter is a far distance from the house, you’re going to want your kiddos’ heads protected from projectiles). Teach them to gear up fast.

Run drills at the beginning of storm season, make sure everyone in the house knows what to do. HAVE AN EMERGENCY VERSION OF A SAFEWORD - basically one phrase that only gets used when it’s time to hotfoot it to the shelter or car, something you can yell and everyone jumps to attention and does what they’re trained to do without hesitation. In our house it’s LET’S GO MOVE IT MOVE IT MOVE IT and let me tell you, Little is gone by the second MOVE IT, screw the rest of us he’s outta here and in the shelter and if you’re not quick he’ll bolt the door behind himself. The procedure is that he and Big go without me and pull the hatch shut once they’re in, and (if there’s time) I get the cats and kick the doors open to keep the windows from exploding (yes they do this, it’s incredibly terrifying and horrifically dangerous). I call Tom if he’s not in the house and then I head for the shelter.

If you’re preparing your go-bag ahead of time, do so with the expectation that you may not be coming back home for a day or two. Put in a quick change of clothes for each family member, some cash (the whole town could lose power and your debit/credit card will be useless), your phone or tablet, a power brick if you have one for charging your phone, any meds you or family members will need, and (if you have adequate time and your bag has space) whatever small item(s) you treasure most (photos, jewelry, important documents etc). DO NOT BOTHER WITH THESE THINGS IF THE SIRENS ARE ALREADY GOING OFF, THIS IS ONLY IF YOU HAVE ADEQUATE ADVANCE PREPARATION TIME. As noted above, if the sirens are going off, get your ass to safety and forget about everything else.

WHEN IT’S OVER: Hug the kids. Tell them you don’t know who did it but if either of them ever farts inside the shelter again you’re going to leave them both tied to a tree next time and god help them. If it was you, see above. Nobody can prove it.

Assess. Is the house hit hard? Don’t go near it, there could be gas leaking or covered fires burning or structural damage waiting to collapse. Help is likely already on the way but call 911, stay calm, tell them your address and then go stand near the street if you can (but not IN the street - visibility may be low if it’s still storming and people get stupid when they’re freaked out). Is the house standing? Go inside if it doesn’t appear to have been hit or if the hit is negligible (cosmetic damage, shingles missing). If there’s a big tree on the roof, only one person go inside, make sure the ceiling isn’t coming down before anyone else goes in. Stay away from that end of the house until it can be checked for integrity/structural safety. No discernible hit or very mild damage? Go in, check for gas leaks, check the pets if they were left inside, check the ceiling and windows in each room. Check the water, see if there are spewing leaks anywhere. If the power is off, call it in (they likely already know so if you get the automated system telling you they’re aware, don’t call again, you’ll load up their system). Many utility companies will let you enter your phone number into the system and will auto-text you with repair/outage updates. Use this. Information is incredibly comforting, even if it’s just the same message telling you there is no ETA for repair yet.

Power’s out? Don’t open the fridge unless you have to, your food will stay okay longer if you’re not letting the cold air out. Go around and unplug all your appliances and devices, computers, TVs, etc - sometimes when the power comes back on it can blow stuff out. Get your candles out, find your flashlights, and sit tight. Water’s out? An uprooted tree probably broke a pipe somewhere on your block and it sucks to be you for the next 12 or so hours. There’s gonna be a run on bottled water at WalMart so if you’re headed there, get what you need but don’t be a dick, everybody needs water. Pick up some quick food that doesn’t require cooking/heating or can openers. Grab a case of wet wipes. Use their bathroom while you’re there, wash up in their sink, use their soap and paper towels. Use their WiFi too, check the web for updates on utility repair ETAs, storm tracking, etc. Take a minute to hit your social media and let your friends know you’re alive. It’s freaky as hell to see on the news that some place where one of your internet buddies lives was hit by a tornado and then not see them online for a few days.

Smell gas, either inside your house or outside it? CALL IT IN NOW. The movies aren’t kidding, that shit explodes. If there’s gas in the house get out, go sit on the curb if you have to until the gas co guys get there, then do what they tell you.

Are emergency services involved? DO WHAT THEY TELL YOU. Don’t argue or get in the way, they have a job to do and most of the time they gotta do it quick. Stay out of the street and drag any debris out of the roadway if you’re able. Ambulances and fire trucks generally need to get where they’re going in a hurry and they don’t need you milling around out in the street.

Check on your neighbors, especially if they’re old or disabled. They may not know what happened and even if they’re not injured, they may be scared, especially if the lights are out. Give them a flashlight if you have an extra and help them call their relatives or caretakers.

See a tree branch or your kids’ trampoline draped over or laying against a power line? LEAVE IT ALONE. Call it in. They know how to deal with this stuff safely, you don’t. Power line on the ground? DON’T TOUCH IT. If it’s live, you’re not.

Lastly, this is no time to be stupid. If you hear the words “Hey watch this” come out of ANYONE’S mouth, even if it’s your beloved, you leave that idiot to fend for themselves. During the 2010 storm this guy we knew (everyone knew him, he was the village idiot and I don’t mean that in an endearing way) thought it would be cool to tie himself to a tree wearing an army surplus parachute so he could experience the oncoming tornado up close and personal. I’ve never seen a more shining example of “God looks out for fools and children” because the moron didn’t actually die, but please don’t put God on the spot like that, he’s bound to eventually get bored of your stupid ass demanding his intervention every time the weather service sends out an alert and let you become an example to everybody else.

Stay safe kiddos, it’s a messy world out there. Mother Nature has a nasty sense of humor and we’re the punchline.

#tornado awareness #safety tips

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california-raccoon · 4 years ago

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eye’s on the sparrow

He just stares at her, like he’d been wishing for his mom but she appeared instead. This belief - in wishing, in divine intervention, in fate - is probably the reason why he chooses to believe in her. BLEACH / AU / ICHIRUKI • [← PART 1 ○ PART 2: A study of Rukia Kuchiki]

III.

Of all the things Rukia considers herself as, fortunate is not one of them. Though the echoes of fortune haunt everything she sees and touches, she considers she’d rather do without it all. When she looks in the mirror, she recognizes herself, but it’s in a vague way. She knows what she looks like, but she doesn’t actually know who she is.

It isn’t that she’s ungrateful for what she has.

Her parents love her as much as any daughter; her childhood with them is filled with memories of picnics in the park, trips to museums… the annual cherry blossom festival where she’d walk down the rows of trees, warmth on her face and always two hands to hold.

They have always been kind, giving, and extremely passionate about their work. It seeps into her blood, as if they were related, to work twice as hard, to shine twice as bright. Rukia wears her last name like a medal she’s won and lets it define her completely.

Her father is her pride. He works tirelessly at the Kuchiki enterprises, recently inheriting the company from their now-retired Uncle. She learns importance of proper etiquette and strategy from him. Her mother is her heart, working at a non-profit that finds shelter for the homeless. Rukia used to ask her why she worked, not really in need of anything given their status, but her mom just ruffles her hair, and tells her there’s more to life than money. Rukia understands, because what else had she ever wanted besides the two of them?

Adjusting the hem on her black dress with a tug, she takes one last look at herself before leaving her room.

She is thirteen when she attends her mother’s funeral.

Her mother looks asleep in the coffin, make-up caked on, her giving her an artificial glow like she’s just sleeping. Rukia thinks it’s a pointless gesture, but she appreciates it anyway. She’d like the last look of Hisana not to be the pale image she used to visit in the hospital to say goodbye. The cancer came quickly, too late when they found out. They’ve already been grieving for months.

The event is small and intimate, mostly filled with family and friends. Her grandparents and cousins hug her and keep her soft, reminding her of everything her mother was. When they share their stories of Hisana, they reveal sides of her mother that she’d never known: when she and her friends got lost traveling around Japan during their last high school summer, her first big win gaining a successful client at the office, one of her first dates with Byakuya retold by her best friend. She was adventurous, determined and loved fiercely, they say; she will be missed. Rukia cries. It’s the first time she’s cried since she’d been adopted.

Her dad takes it the worst. After the funeral he floats around like his gravity’s been taken from him, no longer tethered to Earth. To counter this, he chains himself to his desk, focusing on his work to keep himself grounded. She comes home from school to an empty house.

If this is the cost of having a family, Rukia thinks, she isn’t sure it was worth the price. The loss she feels in her chest is too heavy; six years of happiness ending so abruptly that no fortunate person could ever experience.

So Rukia lets herself float. She skips classes and spends the day in arcades, in parks, talking to homeless people and stalking cats.

It takes her back to another time, hazy infinite summers sneaking out of the orphanage and playing by the river. It gives her the idea.

On a fair winter morning, Rukia takes a train to Karakura. The ride itself doesn’t take too long, and she hides her school uniform with her coat so as not to seem suspicious.

Walking around the streets, the town is quiet and serene. It feels like a dream. The buildings don’t seem as tall as they used to, the distance of things having shrunk between her steps. The river flows beside her at a constant ebb that floods her with nostalgia.

When she reaches the hill, she takes a moment to take it all in. Overgrown foliage and forest trees surround the Torii, weathered and dulled by time. It welcomes her like the arms of the birth mother she never met, but she ignores them in favor of the off-beaten path to the side of it, leading to the gate of a traditional-style house.

The laughter she hears from the children stops her cold on her feet. Rukia hides behind the gate and stands there, watching. The boys are running, all pranks and belly laughs with one another and the girls are gathering the toys to fight back at them. They were playing house when the boys had usurped the game with a declaration of war. There’s one kid, a little too scrawny and too short, who joins in the fight anyway, scrappy and unwavering.

She watches till she realizes her cheeks are wet, tears coming undone at the sight of it all, guilty for everything she’s built up in her head. These kids are tenacious, hoping for a better life that’s out of their control as foolhardy as it is. She was once that child, until fortune smiled upon her and gave her everything she wanted. Who was she to refuse it now when it was all she had asked for?

Rukia’s family may be broken, but it doesn’t mean she can’t try to mend what she has, to be grateful. Her mother was everything to her - to them - and she doesn’t regret anything about her life with her. She thinks of her mother, her ferocity for living, and keeps the spirit close to her heart.

Stepping away from the orphanage, she walks back to the station with renewed energy. The town itself seems to come alive with her. It’s the late afternoon and there are kids playing by the river, others biking past her in their school uniforms.

She deep in thought when a glint of orange across the street that catches her eye. She knows him, she realizes. He looks a little menacing, with a crinkle between his brows and a frown that’s permanently taken residence on his face. The look doesn’t suit him, too angry for someone so young. She doesn’t think she’d recognize him if it wasn’t for his hair. It has to be him though, right?

Rukia thinks she should say something. Hey. Hi. It’s been too long. Didn’t we used to write to each other? …it’s been years. Do you even remember me? The thoughts spill into her head all at once and jumble into a pit in her stomach.

What should she say? What would he think?

She stops walking and settles for a polite wave and a firm “Hello” deciding not to yell across the street. Panic calcifies in her chest when she can’t remember his name.

In the end, he doesn’t notice her. He’s got his earbuds on and when he’s closer she swears she can hear him humming a fast tune. They cross each other on the street with little fanfare.

The moment it’s over, Rukia just laughs, the sound foreign as it escapes her lips. She thinks herself silly for even trying.

Rukia’s mind wanders as she watches the landscape from the train windows morph from open fields back to the compact buildings she’s familiar with. She wonders what happened to him. She wonders if she’s changed as much as him.

Back home, she cooks a dinner big enough for two and waits for her dad to come home. He finally arrives two hours past his usual office hours. If he’s shocked by her gesture, its marginally expressed. The stovetop ticks to a lively fire as she reheats the food while he hangs his coat in the foyer. She’s laid the dishes out onto the table into a traditional setting she knows he’d appreciate.

“We can’t do this to her,” Rukia breaks the silence during the meal, fire in her words. “She would hate what you’ve become.”

“She’d hate what you’ve become too, skipping classes all the time.” He responds with ice, eyes low. “Don’t think I didn’t know. Your school’s called me every day this week.”

“You’re right and I’m sorry, but—” She grimaces, gesturing a slight bow to apologize.

“It’s hard to lose someone, isn’t it?” He says softly. “I don’t blame you for taking some time for yourself, but tell me next time… I know your mom usually handled these sort of things better, but…”

Rukia’s eyes are wide, her heart gutted at seeing her dad this way.

“I’ll make a deal with you. No more skipping classes but you have to come home for dinner.”

“I can’t help the office has been busy lately—“

“No excuses.” Rukia interrupts, strengthening her resolve, but her voice cracks. “I hate coming home to this empty house every day.”

There’s no response from him then, but his brows lift slightly in an expression she’s not used to.

“I visited the orphanage today.” Rukia says, the implication unfolding before him. She looks at him and his brows are still raised. “I just - I just wanted to see… to remember that time. I’m grateful for everything you’ve both done and given me, but.”

She takes a breath. There’s no fire in her now, just the calmness of knowing. “I forgot what it was like. Not to have parents. Or anyone. I don’t want to lose it again.”

The chopsticks clink against the porcelain of her dad’s bowl as he puts it down. He looks at her with a warmth that she’s never seen from him.

“I’m sorry… You have a deal.”

They don’t shake on the agreement and neither really speak much after the talk, but she feels the shift in him after dinner. Over the weekend they buy a frame and candles and set up a shrine by the dinner table. They buy flowers every week for Hisana. It’s not a lot, but they’re trying, and it’s enough.

Still, sometimes, she’ll take a train every once in a while back to Karakura.

#ichiruki #ca-r-makes #am i officially a fanfic author when i have a fic that i will never finish

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amesstm · 4 years ago

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I’m Sorry

Pairing: Jean Kirstein x Reader

Word Count: 1313

Warnings: angst, character death

A/N: Ngl, I dunno how to make a cut so it can be like “Keep Reading” so if anyone wants to help a girl out, please. Thanks~

“Y/N, you do it,” Reiner commanded. “You’ve been acting too friendly with the Scouts.”

You clicked your tongue, “And what about you and Krista?”

“Are you trying to disobey a direct order?” He sneered. Light brown eyes bored into your eyes for any sign of betrayal to Marley. Of course it would be like this, you thought.

“Reiner, just do it yourself.” Annie said, not able to look down at the freckled-boy she was holding down on the sheltered roof.

“Don’t you see how close you’re getting to these devils? I think you even like one of them,” Reiner muttered coldly underneath his breath.

A chill went down your spine. So, Reiner had seen how close you and Jean have become. In fact, from spending so much time with Jean, you’d become great friends with Marco. Marco did nothing wrong except for be at the wrong place at the wrong time.

You bit your lip, unable to respond as you slowly lowered yourself to Marco’s level. A shaky hand started to undo his gear. It wasn’t your own; it couldn’t have been. But the nails and skin color all belonged to you. In a dissociated state, you heard Marco screaming for mercy and begging for his life. “Y/N, we trusted you! I trusted you! Jean trusted you!”

Yet, when you looked back at Marco, a chunk had already been eaten out of his side. It seemed not only a few moments ago that his face was in panicked despair. You looked down at your hands, the hands of a murderer. Reiner whispered, “W-why is Marco being eaten by a Titan?”

Your eyes widened, noticing a complete change in the blond boy’s demeanor. It was as if he was an entirely different person. Reiner didn’t hold those determined orbs that Marley drilled into him, but the grieving shock of a devil.

Jean couldn’t stomach Marco’s death. You knew he wouldn’t. Not when he was the first one to identify the body and you, secretly, were the first to leave Marco to his own resources. It was easy to blame it on a Titan for your friend’s death, but it wasn’t easy to rethink what led up to his demise.

Since Jean couldn’t also hang out with Marco anymore, he mostly stayed by your side. When you were both on missions, he was the first one to search for you immediately afterwards. If you could afford to be together, he would stay by your side like a lovesick puppy.

But that just made the painful truth all the harder to reveal. Soon, that unfortunate event happened.

“Did everything we went through together mean nothing?” Jean asked, teary eyed before you ran away. Flashes of your kisses and hugs rippled through your mind. Jean was wrong, it meant everything to you.

Reflecting back on what occurred, there wasn’t much you could remember – or wanted to remember. It was like your brain selectively chose what you remembered from your time on that island. Seeing Reiner would return you to that place, where you’d cuddle up to Jean for warmth. Otherwise, you couldn’t remember the hardest parts.

You sighed on your bed, before rising to go through your newly found daily routine: get dressed and clean accordingly, grab a newspaper for breakfast, and attend meetings. After doing the first step, you stepped out to purchase a newspaper. Although you were there for military meetings, you still chose to read the news.

There was a line to the newsstand, per usual. Standing behind a tall man, you waited patiently. However, something felt oddly familiar about this man. No, he was too tall to be him. Surely. Yet, he had the same build and signature scent that Jean so adored. In fact, you kept a handkerchief of his that had his scent. Perhaps it was just a coincidence.

Ironically, it wasn’t a coincidence. Jean and the rest of the Scouts managed to travel to Marley and lived amongst you. Now here you were, sitting across the man you once shared everything with. The campfire crackled and the food was passed around. Out of the blue, Yelena mentioned Marco, and Jean’s face dropped. He had been cautious around you, which was jarring.

The cocky teenage boy you left behind was practically fully-grown, with long hair and facial hair to match. His rambunctious eyes were beaten into a determined gaze. Despite all the changes Jean endured, he was still the boy you fell in love with - you hoped. The feeling of his hand in yours was permanently etched in your skin and the softness of his hair could still be felt under your chin from your hugs.

Now, he only talked to you when he needed to. There were those longing gazes that were unavoidable, but nothing was said aloud. Sometimes his eyes would say everything – no, scream everything. The yearning to talk to you, to understand – why had you done it? Because you were just an innocent kid when you signed up to ruin his life.

“I did it. I took off Marco’s gear,” you admitted. Annie’s aura evolved into one that wanted to reach out and comfort you. Jean looked appalled, shocked, and betrayed. Tears welled into your eyes, blurring your vision so you wouldn’t have to see Jean’s disappointment.

Reiner interjected and took the blame on your behalf. “Don’t be mad at her, Jean. I forced her to.”

Reiner, wanting to find the fasted way to die, started to retell the whole event from that day. At that point, you had begun to dissociate as if your brain wanted to block out his words and forget that day ever happened. Your eyes stared off in space, into the unknown. Then you were dragged down to earth, but not just you. While you were blocking out your surroundings, Reiner was literally on the ground, accepting the punches of Jean. If it wasn’t Reiner being beaten, you only imagined what Jean would do to you. You gulped, and realized that Jean really had changed so much.

Today, the group would really save humanity – but not from the enemy they originally thought they’d face when they joined. Eren had really done it; he started the Rumbling and was trampling humanity into the earth from which they came. Jean was right, Eren really was a suicidal bastard.

The warm air fuming from Eren’s large form threatened to force all the oxygen out from your lungs. But riding on the back of Falco provided a breeze with a view of exactly where Eren’s nape was.

Jean clung onto Falco beside you. You tried not to think about his presence, wanting to focus on the mission. What would you say, after all? “I’m sorry”? No, no amount of apologizes could ever display the true sorrow you felt from killing Marco. Jean deserved much more than a simple apology.

“I think I’ll try to forgive you from what happened that day,” Jean said, his hand clasping yours. You blinked at him, really seeing him for the first time. Hints of sympathy were in his voice, but his beautiful brown eyes held all the understanding in the world. Every flaw and perfection were laid before you under the sun. If this was the way to heaven, you would gladly die.

“You don’t have to,” you conceded. Perhaps it was the fact that the both of you could die at any moment now that you were on Falco’s back, but confessions were pouring out of the both of you. In a way, Eren really did bring people together.

“Y/N, you know I can hate you forever. But if I do, then I’ll hate myself. We only have so long in this world that it’d just be a waste of time if I did.”

You swallowed, “Okay. Let’s survive this and we’ll see what happens.”

#aot imagines #aot x reader #jean kirschtein x reader #jean kirstein #jean aot #jean kirschtein imagine #jean kirschtien #jean angst #aot angst

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aquidragon · 5 years ago

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Purple (Part 1)

Spencer Reid x Reader Summary: Spencer sometimes considered his eidetic memory a curse, however when he spots a gorgeous woman crossing the street with a purple ribbon, he can’t help but fall heads over heels for her. However, there’s more to her than it seems... Warning(s): Mentions of blood and alludes to violence Word Count: 2.2k A/N: Here’s my first ever x reader series! Thank you to @criesinreid for beta-reading this for me! (Part One: Here) (Part Two: x) (MASTERLIST) ---

---

Spencer Reid POV

It was a sunny Tuesday morning when I saw her, with beautiful h/c hair that was tied with a purple ribbon. Maybe it was because of the color, since purple was my favorite, but I felt like I was drawn to her. I watched with a rather stupid expression as she walked past me, with a wide smile from across the street. I felt my heart flutter and my face get warm. She was gorgeous. My eidetic memory allowed me to picture her smile and her shining h/c hair as she chased after her friends. After a few days, I caught myself imagining holding her hand and taking her out on dates. Would she like attending the library with me? What kind of genres did she enjoy? I could tell that she at least could read, since she was holding a few books close to her chest as she ran. I could no longer focus the book I held in my hands, the words seemed jumbled and scrambled. Nothing made sense, except for the woman that had blessed my very mind. The few seconds that I had my eyes on her, I couldn’t get her picture out of my vision. I let out a small sigh as I closed my book, allowing my mind to drift to her again.

“Pretty boy has got a crush.” The familiar teasing voice of my colleague joked from right above me. I looked up from my slouched position on the jet’s couch, I snorted, brushing over my lower lip with my tongue. “I-I don’t have a crush.” I responded, which I knew wasn’t convincing as Morgan laughed and took a seat beside me.

“Come on, you’ve been staring out into space.” He gently patted my shoulder, his dark eyes just dancing with playfulness. “So, who is she?” The older FBI agent asked, earning a small groan from me. “I told you I don’t have a crush.” I unintentionally let my voice lift up an octave, which gave away my lie. The look on Derrik’s face made me sigh and finally give in. “I saw this girl across the street from the coffee shop I frequent before work, Morgan she is the most beautiful woman I’ve ever laid eyes on.” I knew it was rather dramatic, but it was true. “Well, did you get her number?” My co-worker asked, I shook my head sadly. “I didn’t get to her, she was running after some friends.” The sinking feeling in my chest began to drag down my mood. I suddenly felt like a dunce, how couldn’t I have just ran to her, asked for her name, her number, anything?

I cursed my inept ability to flirt, or talk to women in general. Looking at my friend made my brain begin to curse itself. I wasn’t as confident as Morgan, I couldn’t even cross the street to go after the girl that I was really fond of. This made me bring my hands up to my face, I dragged my palms over my eyes, I was much too tired to think too much about my hopeless attempts at relationships.

Morgan must’ve noticed my downwards spiral into hopelessness, because he patted my shoulder a few more times as the plane began to shake into the descent. “Hey don’t lose hope, she might live in DC, maybe you’ll see her again.” I looked up at him again, rubbing one of my eyes as the pressure rapidly changed. “How? Morgan I can’t just search DC for her, there’s 705,749 people that live in DC.” I challenged, hopelessness sinking deeper into my chest. I also felt frantic, I felt this paranoid need to find this woman again.

Morgan laughed, shaking his head. “Oh I know you Doctor Spencer Reid, you’ll find this woman.” Before I could respond with more statistics about the likeness of me running into a random person I hadn’t even met, the plane started to rumble on the runway. The rest of my team all groaned as they were awoken from their naps on the five hour flight we had just endured in Seattle.

After the plane was landed, I begrudgingly dragged my suitcase behind me towards the BAU offices. I wasn’t looking forward to doing paperwork, usually I could whisk through them with ease, but the nagging feeling in my heart made it impossible to think. All I could think about was her, and that purple ribbon that bounced with her movements as she ran. I scuffled all my paperwork back into a file, I would fill it out tomorrow morning, after my third coffee of the day. I was just about to leave when I heard the soft voice of my closest friend.

“Leaving so soon Spence?” JJ asked tiredly, I could tell that she was struggling to keep her eyes open. “Yeah- I’m too tired to do paperwork tonight.” I responded briskly, bringing up three of my fingers to rub one of my eyes. “Wow, Spencer Reid, too tired to do paperwork?” The teasing voice of Penelope came next, her entire body was limp and exhausted. I couldn’t help but crack a small smile, gathering up the last of my stuff. “Yeah-I have plans” I responded nervously. I couldn’t tell Penelope that I had a crush on a girl I randomly laid eyes on. I’m sure I could just tell the woman that the mystery girl owned a purple ribbon and she could find my crush within a couple hours. Tops.

“Ooo plans?” Garcia asked, a little bit of excitement glittered in her eyes. I opened my mouth to tell her that it was just a trip to the library, but Morgan stepped on. “Woah now Baby Girl, we can’t have our pretty boy here giving away his secrets.” He sent a wink at me, which made me chuckle. “I gotta go guys, see you on Monday.” I walked out of the office, heading towards the silver elevator that would take me to the main floor.

Now, I normally don’t believe in dream analysis. There’s just not enough evidence to prove that our dreams are somehow linked to ourselves. However, the events in my dream felt so unbelievably real. I saw the woman again, with her gorgeous h/l hair and sparkling e/c eyes. We were in a void, which reminded me of being underwater. My hair was fanned around my head, as if I was swimming. I looked back over at the woman, her hair was also floating around her pretty face. The purple ribbon was no longer on her head, but instead it was tied around her pinky finger.

“Spencer, look!” She spoke, but her voice was echoed, and sounded like a weird mix of voices. “We’re connected.” I blinked, confused. “Connected?” I muttered to myself, before I felt a tug at my pinky finger, making me look down. Just like the woman’s, a purple ribbon was tight around my finger, and led just to her pinky.

I let a joyous laugh bubble out of my chest. “I guess we are.” I looked back at the girl, she was now closer. Her face was slightly blurry, but it also seemed so clear. She seemed sad, from the way her hands floated over my shoulders. “Please find me.” The woman with the purple ribbon whispered, her voice softening. “I need you.” Then I heard gunshots, screaming, and a woman screaming for help. I moved to protect the girl, but she was gone, I was now in a decrepit looking house. I unholstered my gun, approaching the door where I heard the noises. Blood began pouring from the crack between the door and floor. I let out a scream.

And then I woke up

--- Y/N L/N POV

Any method to get away from my psycho family was a win for me. Even if it meant hanging out with my shitty friends from high school, who did nothing but cause trouble and get high. Now I didn’t really have an issue with people getting high, I once dabbled in it when I was in my early college years. I only stopped when I started to fall behind in my classes.

So today, I decided I was going to the cute little coffee shop I passed after stopping at the library. I’ve been in a desperate need for coffee anyway. Looking into the mirror of my vanity, I cautiously applied makeup to my face. Brushing a hint of blush onto my cheeks as I smiled at myself. I loved makeup, maybe it was because my parents never let me use it growing up. They believed it was “against God's will” or yadda yadda.

It didn’t matter anymore, I lived in my own shitty apartment, so I could do whatever I wanted to myself. After finishing up the last touches to my face, I reached over to tie my ribbon. I didn’t know why, but I was always drawn to the color purple, so I bought a lot of purple-colored accessories. My ribbon was my most prized accessory though, I could tie it in my hair in whatever way I saw fit.

So, I tied it in my favorite way before admiring myself in the mirror once again. I tried to ignore the subtle scars marking certain locations on my face, but I felt like my makeup covered them well. Feeling satisfied, I switched off the lights, grabbed my phone and headed out.

“Ugh seriously?” I exclaimed as I stepped outside, only to feel the subtle drops of rain on my hair. The coffee place was only a block or so from my apartment complex, and I really didn’t feel like digging for my keys again. So, I bolted, hurrying to the cafe as the rain started to pelt down harder.

Once I reached the building, I threw open the door and got inside. Breathing heavily, I searched my purse for my wallet and made my way over to the line. The line went by fast, I ordered my coffee and went to sit down right by the window. A storm had rolled in, I sipped at my beverage as I watched people outside scramble about in hopes for shelter.

One of them being a handsome lanky man that I swore I saw somewhere. He glanced at me from outside, through the window, and his face lit up. He swiftly entered the cafe, and made a beeline over to me. He didn’t order anything, but the baristas seemed to recognize him, one of them even waved.

“I-I’m sorry is this seat taken?” The brunette asked, breathlessly, as he stood behind the seat next to me. I shook my head, scooting my chair over so he could get into the one he wanted. “Do I know you from somewhere?” I asked, curiously, I swore I recognized him.

The handsome man seemed surprised, he took off his soaked jacket. “Uh, I saw you last Tuesday.” He mumbled, his voice squeaking a bit. I bit the corner of my mouth and observed him from head to toe. He was well-dressed, with a dark grey cardigan over what seemed to be a dress shirt and tie. He wore dress pants, but had two well-worn converse and two differently colored socks.

Suddenly it came to me, I had glanced at him as I rushed to catch up with my friends. I remembered that I really wanted to look back at him again, but had a time constraint. “Oh yeah!” I grinned, taking another sip of my caffeinated beverage. “I remember now.” The man seemed pleased at my words, fumbling with the ends of his cardigan nervously. “Oh, well, I’m Doctor Reid.” The man seemed like he wanted to shake my hand, but kept his hands as far from mine as possible. He nervously cleared his throat, looking at me in the eyes. “Doctor Spencer Reid.” Spencer gave me a hopeful smile, which I returned. “It’s a pleasure to formally meet you Doctor, my name is Y/n.” I didn’t bother saying my last name, I didn’t want to be associated with it.

“No please, call me Spencer.” The fawn-brown haired doctor sounded tense. “No need to use formalities with me here.” He clarified, making me laugh. “Alright, alright. Spencer it is then.” When our eyes met, I swore that Spencer looked at me with so much intensity I thought I would explode. He opened and closed his mouth like a fish, trying to say something.

Ring

“Oh sorry lemme get that.” The doctor scrambled into his pocket, pulling out an ancient flip phone and answering the call. “What? Already?” He paused, listening into the call, I began to become more intrigued by the minute. His face fell, his once bright and handsome face turned into one that resembled haunted somberness. “I understand, I’ll be there right away Hotch.”

“What’s wrong?” I asked, not bothering to suppress my curiosity. “It’s my-job.” Spencer answered sluggishly, making a face as he slid on his damp jacket. “Oh?” I watched as he scrambled for a napkin and he fished a pen from his satchel.

“Call me?” The honey-eyed man asked hopefully, after sketching out his number on the paper. I nodded, taking the napkin into my hand, scanning over the haphazardly written numbers. “Of course-” I responded, but Spencer was already halfway out the door. I snorted, slipping out my phone and typing in the man’s number. Now THIS will be interesting...

---

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid #spencer reid imagine #multiparter #spencer reid fluff #purple #criminal minds #reader insert #implied soulmates

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zombiesbecrazy · 5 years ago

Note

clark and dick, tol and smol hug? love your writing!

(Umm. This got quickly Out of Hand.)

“Superman.”

Clark turned his head a few more times than he’d like to admit, looking around to see where Batman’s disembodied voice was coming from, before he remembered the communicator on his wrist. It was a standard Justice League issued tech.

Standard JL tech that Batman had never once used to contact Clark. As far as he knew, Bruce hadn’t used it to contact anyone outside of a pre-authorized mission, ever.

“Batman?”

There was a delay and Clark wondered if maybe Bruce had changed his mind or maybe if he had imagined the call all together, when the link came to life again. “I need your assistance in Gotham immediately,” said Batman gruffly before the telltale click telling Clark that the line had been disconnected, without even giving him a chance to respond.

Clark simply sighed and took off into the sky, headed towards Gotham. Bruce wouldn’t have called him if it wasn’t an emergency.

***

As soon as he came into view, Clark knew that something was wrong. Bruce was pacing back and forth across the roof, an unusual movement of nervous energy while his shoulder were coiled and tight and ready to jolt. It was a weird combination of behaviour for someone who prided themselves on being a bit of a stoic enigma.

Clark landed on the rooftop beside him, but Bruce ignored his arrival, instead choosing to pause his restless walking and look downwards to the street below. A soft grunt escaped him, disappointment evident in even the smallest of sounds, before he turned around to finally acknowledge that Clark was there.

“I need another set of eyes. There is a young boy, approximately nine years old, who went missing earlier tonight. Last spotted on Clifton Street, headed due west. I can’t find him.” Bruce lifted his chin in the direction of the street in question. “His guardians are concerned.”

Clark tried to remain impassive, but it was such a strange request for him to be called into Gotham on even the worst of nights, but to be called in for a single missing child was unheard of when things like that were handled on a nightly basis by Batman and the GCPD. He would absolutely help, he always had told Bruce that he was just a call away if he was needed, but this was never what he expected to be brought in for. “I can take a look but I need a little more to go on. Description? Name?”

“Short for his age. 129 cm tall. Black hair. Blue eyes. X ray scan may show evidence to healed fracture to his left wrist, from approximately two years go.” Clark was about to lift off the roof to start his search when Bruce lowered his voice to continue. “Wearing a red tunic, yellow cape and a domino mask.” His lips thinned as he pressed them together, obviously not wanting to share anymore, but knowing that he had to now that Clark was the one helping. “Answers to Robin.”

What?

“Br-.” Bruce shot him a sharp look and Clark corrected. “Batman, what have you been up to?” Now that Clark thought about it a little more, Batman had been distance from the League lately, always too busy in Gotham to assist with volunteer missions but yet the crime rate hadn’t seen any sort of spike that he knew of.

Had Bruce taken a child into the streets of Gotham to fight crime? He couldn’t have. That would be impossible and no one would do something like that.

Except that all the evidence that Clark had made it sound like it was absolutely what he had done.

Even further, was Bruce now a dad? Who had put his own child at risk?

Clark wasn’t sure which he liked less.

Batman crossed his arms across his chest, giving an irritated look that had no effect on Clark now that he was listening to the way that Bruce’s heart was pounding beneath the armor. Fast, like he was at full exertion. Beads of perspiration on the edge of the cowl. If Clark were a betting man, he would have said that Bruce was doing his best not to have a full on meltdown. “It was a training exercise.”

“What was?”

“Hide and seek. Robin was to hide to see if he could evade me for an hour. Once the hour was up, if I hadn’t found him he was to meet me here. His previous best had been 52 minutes.” Bruce looked back towards the end of the building, fingers tightening around his own arms, Kevlar bending ever so slightly under the stress. “It’s been two hours.”

Clark stared at Bruce, unable to come up with a single word to say to him. Bruce had thought that it was a good idea to bring a kid on patrol with him. To turn it into some sort of game. A nine year old, loose on the streets of Gotham at night, where the worst of the worst lived and a place that frankly gave Clark bad dreams when he spent too much time there. Part of him wanted to yell at Bruce, to try and knock some sense into him, but it was clear that Bruce was already panicking about what was happening, even if it was mostly internalized. There was a child missing, one that was apparently under his charge, and he didn’t know what to do, so he asked for help from the one person he could trust to find him fast. Just doing so was an admittance that he knew he had made a mistake. “I’ll find him.” He eventually settled on, not knowing what else to say. “And when I get back, you and I are going to have a very serious discussion.” The cowl eyes stared at him unblinking, but said nothing in return. Clark floated off the rooftop “Any other ways to narrow it down?”

“He was to stay south of Park Row.” Bruce started to pace the rooftop again, message clear that he was planning on staying put in case the boy, this Robin, appeared unharmed at their meeting place. Batman froze mid step. “The code word is elephant.” Clark raised an eyebrow and Bruce turned back towards the street. “If he asks you. He’s not supposed to go with strangers if they don’t know the code word.”

***

Clark hovered above the city, closing his eyes to try and filter through the sounds of Gotham at night, which unlike most cities somehow seemed to become more alive after the sun was down. Cars driving below. Occasional planes overhead in the distance. As he narrowed his focus he heard families in their homes, parents ushering their kids into bed. He heard drug deals and plots of robberies that had yet to take place. He heard restaurants and bars serving their clientele. Pushing the extra noises aside, he listened for sounds of kids in distress, kids where they shouldn’t be.

There were far too many of them and Clark’s heart tightened at their cries as Gotham filled his ears.

He was going to have to narrow it down and to do that, he had to follow every lead.

The first two children Clark found were homeless, curled up together under a bridge but looked warm under their blankets and sheltered from the wind. He had tried to take them to a shelter for the night, but they adamantly refused, loudly insisting that their mom was getting food and would be right back. Clark wasn’t sure if he believed them or not, but promised that he would be back later that night to check on them.

He didn’t think they would run. Children rarely lied to Superman.

Similar events happened three more times. He found kids in places where they shouldn’t be late at night. They turned down his help. He said he’d be back to check on them later. They waved as he flew away.

It was a frustrating experience to be asked not to help and he was starting to commiserate with the struggles that Batman faced on a nightly basis.

He stopped in a cold, dark alley that was filled with dumpsters and while he couldn’t see them, he could hear dogs barking behind gates nearby, threatening anyone who came too close to their claim. There was the faintest of sniffles that had his attention. Clark slowly followed them, not wanting to scare the child off, when he found the source curled up in a ball and wedged between two of the bins. He would have been impossible to see unless someone was specifically looking for him, face down but with a mop of dark hair and skinned knees curled up to his chest, yellow cape wrapped tight around him.

“Robin?” Clark asked quietly, making the child startle, head raising and a domino mask blinked up at him, tear tracks clear as day splashing down his cheeks.

The small boy wiped his cheeks quickly, doing nothing to hide the evidence of his panic, and took in Clark’s appearance. “S-superman?”

Clark crouched down as small as he could, careful not to block Robin in completely, and nodded. “B sent me.” The child’s eyes widened in a way that was usually comical to Clark when kids saw him in the flesh, but tonight it just made him sad. Had the boy thought that no one was coming for him? Or was he just surprised about who it was who had. He hoped it was the latter. “You hid too well and he couldn’t find you.”

“I got lost. I didn’t want to be scared because I knew he was coming but...” Robin sniffed, pulling the cape taut and trying to cover his bare legs completely. “I don’t know this part of the city very well and the dogs and…”

“It’s okay. Getting lost scares me too.” It was true. As a little kid, probably not much older than Robin, Clark had gotten lost in a corn maze at the fair. It felt like hours that he had wandered the paths, until his dad came in and found him. He had never felt more relieved than he did in that moment. The helplessness of the situation stuck with him, clinging to his memories and liked to slink into his thoughts late at night from time to time.

The small boy hummed in agreement, taking it in stride the idea that Superman could be afraid of something, but if Robin had a close relationship with Batman, with Bruce, he would know that there are always just people behind the masks and people could have fear, mask or not. “I kept waiting for him but he was taking a long time to find me.” Robin whispered, more to himself than to Clark. “Is he mad?”

“Not at you. I think he might be mad at himself. And he didn’t say it, but I think he was a little bit scared too when you didn’t find each other.” Which was an understatement based on what Bruce’s heart rate had been. “Can I take you to him? We can walk or we can fly. It’s up to you.”

“We can… you’d fly with me?” For the first time Clark got a glimpse at a child who wasn’t scared or lost, but rather one presented with a birthday cake on a summer day. The idea of flying had chased away the shadows of the alley, at least in Robin’s eyes.

“If it isn’t too scary. It’s faster than walking and I know my way around Gotham better from the sky.”

“I’m not afraid of flying.” With that confirmation, Clark stood and took a step back and held his hand out to Robin. Robin slid out of his hidey-hole, and reached for Clark’s hand before pulling his back at twice the speed. “Code word?” Robin asked in the most serious tone that Clark had ever hear from someone so young.

Clark chuckled at the idea that a kid dressed in a costume to fight crime was questioning the safety of going with Superman, but not flying with Superman, but he clamped it down quickly based on the unimpressed look starting to appear on Robin’s face; eerily similar to the one he had seen on Bruce’s more than once when Clark has done something that had been deemed silly. “Elephant.” Robin nodded in affirmation, like Clark had successfully worked out at difficult math problem to acceptable success, and took Clark’s hand.

It was so small in Clark’s grasp.

Clark crouch down again to Robin’s height. “We have a couple of seating options of Air Superman for you this evening. You can hold onto my neck and ride on my back. There is the ever popular bridal style carry.” He looked Robin over carefully. Besides the scrapes on his knees, he seemed unharmed, but he was trembling all over, still shaken up from his adventure through the streets. “But the recommended method for a tough night like this is the Super Hug. Tight and secure and the best for when you are feeling a little down in the dumps.” Robin’s eyes widened through the mask and nodded firmly.

Clark had barely extended his arms fully when Robin launched himself at him, arms around his neck, legs trying to wrap his waist but not quite reaching all the way to lock his ankles, and chin resting on his shoulder. Clark gave him a gentle squeeze and rubbed his back in what he hoped was a soothing way, and instantly felt Robin relax into his arms, stress from his night melting away now that he felt save. Long ago, Clark had been nervous with children and babies. Always afraid that he would squeeze too hard or drop them but his Ma had laughed him off.

“Everyone is worried at first, but everyone knows how to hold a child once they are doing it. They’ll help you figure out what they need.”

For the first time, Clark really understood what she meant as he hugged Robin securely in place against him.

“Ready to see Batman, Robin?”

“Yes, please.” Clark felt Robin yawn into his shoulder, settling down further into his arms as the adrenaline from the night leaked from his small frame. “Up, up and away, Superman.”

Despite the claim that he wasn’t afraid of flying, Clark had expected Robin to react as they left the ground. Almost everyone did. They either tensed up or yelled or gave some sort of reaction of surprise, but if anything the boy someone relaxed more, cuddled up to Clark as the ground got farther and farther below them.

As they reached their destination, Bruce watched them approach. To an outsider, it just would have been Batman scowling on a rooftop but Clark saw so much more. His heart rate slowing down, muscles relaxing, jaw unclenching and a slow, shuddering sigh with each foot closer that they got. They hit the rooftop and Robin scurried out of Clark’s hold and ran to Batman, leaping into his arms. Clark did his best to try and ignore the whispered apologies on both sides and the tears that were now flowing freely from Robin as well as the ones that he suspected might be forming under the cowl as the two hugged each other, yellow cape mixing with black. He was going to skip the lecture tonight and just let Batman be reunited with his Robin. The child was safe and sound and they just needed to be together, not hear about their mistakes that they both had made. Discussions and questioning of sanity could be had another time; this was a time for comfort.

He took off from the building again, no longer wishing to intrude on this moment, but Bruce caught his eye, message passing between them.

Thank you.

Clark nodded in return and took off into the darkness that was Gotham. He had other plans, other children of Gotham to check in with on his way back home now that he knew this one was going to be alright.

Hug Drabble Prompt List

#bruce wayne #clark kent #dick grayson #hug drabbles #i don't know how to drabble and this got out of hand

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muchadoaboutbucky · 5 years ago

Text

On the Run (oneshot)

Set after CA: The Winter Soldier: Bucky’s on his own, and with the majority of the Avengers in the spotlight, there’s only one person Steve trusts to track him down.

PAIRING: Bucky x Native American!Reader WARNINGS: out-of-canon events, rough smut NOTE: 18+ only. Do not copy/repost on other sites.

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Bucky’s been in Bucharest for a little over a year. He’s gotten back to something close to stability, without all the creature comforts. He’s found a one-room apartment close to the market, where he can lay low, away from anything and everything.

He’d spent the first month of his freedom traveling across Europe, breaking into old HYDRA bunkers and stealing whatever cash he could find. He’s got enough to get him a nicer place, but “nice” sticks out like a sore thumb. He’s better off rationing and staying where he can blend in.

It’s hard to be alone, he finds. After first getting settled, he struggled to fit into the apartment. He hasn’t had a room or anything to call his own in several decades. He gets some plants, first. It’s easy to fall into a routine of watering them. His tomato plant prospers where he’s got it propped up in the window, but the flowers on the table wither and die within a week.

His dreams are incredibly vivid. It’s as if seventy years of not dreaming has built up and exploded. He dreams of everything he’s missed… apple pie, the plum tree in the backyard at home, his childhood Border Collie, playing baseball in the dirt fields on breaks in the army… women.

God, he needs a woman. It’s not safe, though. Showing just any woman his non-human arm is sure to cause more than just raised eyebrows, and even if she’s okay with it the strength that’s come with the responsibility of being an enhanced soldier isn’t something an average human is capable of bearing.

In the end he settles for his right hand and calls it a day.

It’s summer, the first week of June, and he’s at the market in the late afternoon, taking shelter from the heat of the sun and hoping to fill his canvas bag with cherries and plums—the plums in Bucharest are the best he’s found. The baker's stall is open, and he can smell the fresh bread perfuming the air. It’s still in the season where nights are cool and it’s the perfect temperature for soup.

He’s just paid the fruit vendor when he turns, not looking where he’s going, and bumps into a woman. She stumbles, and instinctively he reaches out with his left arm and grabs her shoulder to keep her from falling.

“Sorry!” He says, helping her regain her balance. “Eşti bine?” he tries in Romanian first, “are you all right?”

She nods, taking a deep breath to settle herself. “I’m fine, thank you.”

American. Must be a tourist.

“Good.” Bucky releases her and steps back, hoping she didn’t think anything of the odd firmness and strength of his metal fingers. She’s beautiful, messy hair tied up in a bun at the back of her head. “Sorry, again, I wasn’t paying attention.”

“Oh, it’s not a problem,” she says, “just found who I was looking for.”

His stomach turns icy. “What?”

“I know who you are,” she replies, “your friend, Steve, he sent me to find you.”

The mention of Steve makes Bucky’s chest tighten, but he doesn’t let his guard down. “Who are you?” he asks. “How do you know Steve?”

“Y/N,” she answers. “He and I have been friends for a while. I’m kinda new to the team… I can go places without triggering the news outlets.”

He glances around, not knowing who could be watching. “Let’s walk,” he says, keeping his head low. She follows him down the avenue and into an alleyway, walking by his side until he stops behind a trash-filled dumpster. His fingers curl into the collar of her shirt, and she lets out an ‘oof!’ as he pushes her up against the wall.

“How long have you been following me?” he asks.

“Long enough to know where you live,” she replies calmly. “Look, I’m not here to cause any trouble, he was just… you went off the grid after Hydra went down, the only thing that told us where you were was a security camera outside the drugstore down the street. You might have a beard, but facial recognition is a bitch to kick.”

Bucky tightens his jaw. “Why should I trust you?”

“Because Steve’s paranoid about who he’s friends with and I’m good at spying on people.” Y/N chews on her lower lip. “Wouldn’t be here if he thought I’d do anything else.”

He takes a deep breath. “Come by later tonight. It’ll be safer to talk.” Turning and stalking back down the alleyway, he mutters, just loud enough so she can hear, “there’ll be soup.”

***

He finishes his shopping quickly and returns home as fast as he can. After locking the doors and windows, he stores all his purchases in the crappy fridge and sets about cleaning the table. He’s only got one good soup recipe, the beef stew his mother used to make on Sunday nights. It’s a long process, but he doesn’t mind. The methodical cooking eases his mind.

He’s just finished dumping everything into a large pot when there’s a knock. He knows it’s Y/N, but he checks just to make sure before opening the door.

“You’re early,” he says.

“You never specified a time,” she replies, turning to face him. She’s let her hair down and changed into straight-fit jeans and a tank top. No bra; he can faintly see her nipples through the fabric and it makes his gut tighten with arousal.

“You know, you could have come to me,” she continues absentmindedly as he strides back to the stove, “I’m at the Epoque.”

“It’s safer here,” he says, “don’t need to be getting caught.”

She accepts that and gazes around the small apartment. His bed is just a mattress on the floor, one pillow that doesn’t match the thin comforter or the sheets. “Cozy.”

“It works.” He swallows, trying to focus on their dinner. “So… you must be special.”

“Special?”

“To be one of them,” he says, “one of the Avengers, or… whatever.”

Her boots click on the wooden floor as she steps around to survey his work. “I’ve got my powers. Nothing major, but I’m apparently a good asset in a fight. Not nearly as skilled as you.”

He sighs, barely able to look at her. “I don’t do that anymore.”

“I know.” She leans against the counter. “I’m strong. Not just lift-a-car-over-my-head strong, I can just… I can handle a beating, y’know? The last bad guy who punched me ended up with a shattered fist.”

“So you’re…”

“Relatively indestructible?” She shrugs. “I guess you could call it that.”

Food is on the table within ten minutes, and Y/N, surprised at the quality of her serving, digs in with gusto, mopping up the last of it with a chunk of fresh bread. Bucky eats slowly, keeping pace with her until their bowls are empty.

“So your powers,” he says, breaking the silence as they wash their dishes, “how did you get ‘em?”

“All I know is that I was born with them,” she replies. “First saw signs when I was five and my older brother accidentally knocked me off the playground. Fell six feet, and the ground caved under me. I didn’t have a scratch.”

Bucky watches her set her bowl on the drying rack and flexes his metal fingers. Titanium glints in the light of the overhead light. “So not even this?”

“I hope you’re not going to try and find out.” She grins and rests one hip against the counter, reaching out to run a fingertip over his wrist, along the border between two plates. “Men who hit without asking me first usually end up with broken arms and I’d hate to have to destroy this.”

Now she’s just being a tease.

Her eyes flicker up to meet his, and he snaps. Moving close with a single step, he grabs her face with both hands and kisses her. She moves into it, responding with a shove of her hips against his. Metal fingers curl into her hair, and she lets out a whimper when her scalp aches.

Before she can say or do anything else, he rips her top down the middle and tosses the ruined fabric to the floor. Her cheeks flush, and her eyes sparkle with arousal.

“You don’t play,” she murmurs, “you gonna finish the job or what?”

They strip each other in a matter of minutes. The minute Y/N jeans hit the ground, Bucky slides his hands under her ass and hauls her up, striding quickly to the mattress and lowering her down onto it. She’s wet, he can feel it against his bare cock, and she holds him tight in her hand, slowly moving the thick tip through her folds. He braces his hands on either side of her shoulders, lowering himself down to kiss her.

For a split second he flashes back to being seventeen, lying between the legs of the prettiest girl he’d ever known and trying his best to make it through his first ever round of lovemaking.

Except now, he’s no fumbling virgin. He’s a grown man who knows exactly what he wants and almost exactly how he’s going to get it.

He enters her with a low groan that muffles against her lips. She moans, fingers digging into his back as her legs wrap around his waist. Her pussy’s warm and slick on his bare flesh, and it’s all he can do to remember some form of self control when he begins to move. He’s gentle at first, but when she rocks her hips up to meet his thrusts and he suddenly bottoms out, he gives way to lust.

She cries out when his pelvis snaps against her ass. Her nails dig into his skin, the ache developing into a sting that only drives him on. His thrusts grow into strong, frantic beats that make the slap of skin on skin resound through the room. She tosses her head back, her moans unrestrained. When she arches up, her stomach rubs against his, and he gives her a teasing grind, humming against her mouth as she cranes her neck to kiss him again.

“Harder,” she whispers, “give me all you got.”

Bucky shudders when she hitches her knees on either side of his ribs, opening herself up more. It takes every ounce of strength not to look down at where he’s inside her, where soft meets hard. If he looks he’ll finish right there. Instead he buries his face in the crook of her neck, picking up his thrusts until she’s shaking and bouncing with the force of them.

“Oh, fuck!” She gasps loudly, mouth open in a smiling cry of pleasure. “Right there… that’s it...”

Bucky can only grunt and pant in answer. He’s never felt so primal, chasing pleasure like it’s nothing. When he loses his rhythm and slips out of her, she doesn’t waste any time to take advantage of the situation. She rolls onto her stomach and arches her hips into the air, legs spread wide. He kneels up, kissing and nipping up her spine until he thrusts back in, hands squeezing at soft skin. Her body ripples when his hips smack into her, and when he brings his flesh hand down on her ass, fingers grabbing at the smooth roll of her hip, she clenches tight, mouth open in a whimper.

He loses track of how long he fucks her. All he knows is warm skin, the scent of her sweat, her slick pussy tight around him, and the sound of her practically sobbing his name when he speeds up. He’s getting close, though, and he doesn’t have quite enough control to hold back.

Reaching around her waist, he skims his fingers over her sex, rubbing quick circles that make her clench tight around him. She reaches back, taking his other wrist in her hand, and pulls him over her. His metal arm curls around her shoulders, holding her close as he ruts them both closer to orgasm.

She finishes first, a cry in her throat choking off as she writhes and squirms under him. He doesn’t wait for her orgasm to flame out, just shoves forward with a primal growl and lets his own release pour into her. He doesn’t let her go until she’s begging for air, gasping, and he leans back, watching her pull away. She’s swollen, the lips of her sex slick and slightly puffy, and she squeezes her thighs together as a trickle of white dribbles over the crease in her thigh.

“Jesus,” she sighs breathlessly, running trembling fingers through her hair, “how long have you been working that up?”

Bucky chuckles, reaching up to push one of the windowpanes open. “Longer than you’ve been alive.” He slumps down next to her, rolling onto his back as cool air washes over them.

They stay there for several minutes in almost complete silence. When Y/N asks where the bathroom is, Bucky takes her into the shower, cramping together in the tiny stall as cool water washes over them.

She stays the night, stretched out and naked on half the mattress while Bucky slumbers behind her. For the first time in months, he feels relaxed, all anxiety and tension drained out of him.

She wakes sometime in the night, and he opens his eyes to find her rubbing up against him, lips pressed against the stubble on his jaw. He lets her crawl on top, finding him already hard and ready through the darkness. She sighs when he enters her, and Bucky, caught in the hazy middle of sleeping and waking, glides his hands over her hips to hold her as she rocks back and forth.

In the morning, they make potato cakes, bacon, and coffee. Bucky lends her a shirt, and she leans up against the counter, bare thighs peeking out from under the hem. She looks tired and worn out from the night before, but her smile is bright in the morning sun.

“Are they gonna come for me?” he asks, watching her nibble on a piece of bacon. “Steve, the others?”

“No.” She shakes her head. “I made Steve promise not to come after you. He just wants to know that you’re alive, that’s all. He’s not here to recruit you back.”

Despite her words, Bucky’s stomach twinges. “I don’t know if I’m ready to see him. Or anyone.”

Y/N seems to catch onto his anxiety, because she sets her food down and locks her fingers in his metal ones. “You don’t have to,” she explains gently. “He won’t even know where you live. All I have to do is tell him that you’re alive and safe and—”

“That we slept together?” Bucky tries to joke.

“Well, I’m definitely not going to headline it,” she laughs. “I’ll definitely be keeping that to myself.”

She leaves late that night, after a dinner of ordered pizza and crappy soda. Before she goes, she scribbles her private cell number on a scrap of paper pinned to the fridge, and he makes a note to salvage his old Blackberry that hasn’t been used in months.

He kisses her goodbye and watches her drive off in a rented Mercedes. The apartment feels too quiet without her now. He wishes he could keep her with him, but her life must be busy if she’s with the Avengers… it’s selfish to keep her back.

When the phone is charged, he sits back on the couch and tucks in to a rerun of an old nature program. It’s almost two in the morning when the phone buzzes with a new text. The number on the screen is hers, and he clumsily navigates the small device to see the message you sent.

> Back home. Call me when you get a chance. -Y/N :)

If you liked this, please reblog and leave a comment :)

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader

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prehistoricalcats · 5 years ago

Note

I'm really interested in your Cats universe! It seems like you have them living like humans but humans also exist? Can you describe your universe a bit more, if you'd like to? :)

I'd love to!

I must warn you though, this is a very in-depth universe, and even focusing on specific points and trying to simplify things as much as I could, I still managed to make to this about a mile long. Damn I wish Tumblr mobile let me do a read more cut

First of all, yes the Cats are anthropomorphic, and yes humans also exist in this universe. Anthro Dogs, Rats, and Mice all definitely also exist, and I'm considering a few other anthro races like Hyenas and maybe like Rabbits and some others, but haven't put too much thought to that yet.

Just for reference, if it's capitalized (Dog, Cat, etc) it's the anthro race, if it's lower case (dog, cat, etc) it's the fourlegger

Some Basic Terminology:

Non-human beings/non-human people - collective term for all anthro races

NHP - non-human person(s)

Furfolk - common English slang for non-human beings, not politically correct but still pretty widely used. There is also a version of this word for each specific race, Catfolk, Ratfolk, etc. (Note: Mice and Rats often are collectively refered to as Rodents or Rodentfolk)

Fourlegger - regular dogs, cats, etc. Used mostly by NHPs to differentiate between them and NHPs

Bald-bodies - humans. Used by NHPs, considered derogatory by most (nearly everyone uses it anyway)

Kit - kid, child, teenager (for Cats). Short for kitten

Tom - you know this one, an adult or teenage male Cat

Mot - an adult or teenage female Cat, an alternative word for "queen"

License Name - once called the "family name" back when it was still quite common for Cats to work for a human family in a residential household. Essentially this is the name that humans assign to Cats because Particular Names are often "too hard" for humans to remember/pronounce. It's their "official" name that appears on most legal documents, including their "license" which is essentially a registration card and number that all Cats are required to have. Most Cats have a license, and a license name, by age three, some get theirs as infants. Sometimes the parents have a say in what the license name will be, sometimes not. Sometimes a Cat will prefer their license name, some prefer their Particular Name, others don't care and will respond to either.

The Junkyard - a slum, mostly populated by Cats, on the outskirts of the metropolitan area of an unnamed imaginary British city, comprised partly of makeshift shelters scattered throughout an actual dump/landfill/junkyard, and partly of several large shantytowns built on the unused land surrounding the dump

Some biology stuff:

Okay brief anatomy lesson before we begin

(For real though, please at least glance over that link before continuing, it is fairly brief and it makes what I'm about to try to explain a lot less complicated)

I've had to do some fantasy science to work out how Cats can have retractable claws without becoming less dextrous than humans (because I need them to be able to play instruments made for human hands). What I've essentially gone with so far is that Cats have extra bones in their hands/feet, which would make them unlike any other known tetrapod either living or in the fossil record, so the science side of me rebels at this, but the art side of me says it's a story about bipedal talking felines with mystical powers it's already science fiction they could have duckbills if I wanted them to (I don't), and so I think this is a decent compromise. I can go into further detail about the way the claws work later on if you like, but this post is already going to be pretty long so for now I'll just say that you can describe the claw as an extra joint attached to the end of the distal phalange.

Cats are super bendy, for the same reason that (fourlegger) cats are bendy. They have extra bones/joints in their spines. Cats have 7 cervical, 13 thoracic, 7 lumbar, 5 sacral, and 19-23 caudal. They have more sacral bones than fourleggers because they're bipedal.

Cats are habitual bipeds, like humans. But unlike humans, they are perfectly comfortable wandering around on their hands and knees. Though the bipedal stance is more comfortable and usually perfered by adults especially, most non-elderly Cats are still perfectly fine crawling on the ground on their hands and knees. You're generally more likely to see kits and young adults doing this, but older adults do it to. If they want to move fast or run, they use a bipedal stance. Beyond that it's just whatever feels right for the situation.

Some culture stuff

Cats and other NHPs (except Rats) don't need clothing to cover their privates. I'm not going to go into the anatomy of how that works. For now let's just imagine it's the fur that's hiding it. They do wear clothes, especially in winter, but it's not so much for modesty as it is for functionality and fashion. Basically clothes for Cats are for three purposes: to protect from the elements (cold, rain, sun, etc), to shut the outraged humans up, and to look good. It's pretty common in the summer to see Cats wearing nothing but some arm/leg warmers or other fashion accessory, and a belt/rope around their waist to store things on in the absence of pockets,(even if they also have a bag)

If you've ever owned or seen or been around a male rat you probably know why I say "except Rats" and I'm not going to get into it here, just know Rat men always where pants/trousers

Cats exist globally and have a variety of different cultures, often greatly influenced by the human culture of that region, but one of the most universal elements of Cat culture is the idea that "It's considerably dishonorable for a Cat to use anything but their own claws (and teeth in many cultures) in combat against another unarmed Cat." Translation: Cats generally frown on using weapons, though many recognize the need to know how to use them, because humans use weapons, and a claws against a machete or a cattle prod or a gun isn't fair. By the same line many modern Cats consider it okay to use weapons against a (dishonorable) Cat that pulled a weapon on you first, though many elders still frown upon this.

The relationship between Cats (and other NHPs) and humans isn't very good, and the relationship between different types of NHPs isn't much better. There's a social hierarchy that puts humans (especially white straight cis male humans) at the top. The hierarchy goes humans > Dogs > Cats > Rodents

About the Jellicles

The Jellicles are the name of a specific tribe that once was primarily a religious tribe. Back a really fuck long time ago when Deuteronomy was still a kitten, the Jellicles lived off the land and practiced their religion (still working out the details of that sorry but I do have a few things)

The Jellicle Choice is a real thing, though I haven't decided if it started with Deuteronomy or if he was the next in a line sorta kinda but not exactly like the Avatar. The Jellicle Ball is held every year and people used to come from all over hoping to be picked. The humans didn't like this mass gathering, and the space they had in their own territory couldn't quite handle it anyway, so the Jellicles had to start keeping the Ball's location a secret until the day of, to keep the attendance numbers down somewhat. A Choice isn't made every year, though there's always a chance one will be made, and they've had a dry spell for the past 20 or 30 or so years before Grizabella. They don't have to keep the locale a secret anymore, most people don't bother coming and some even think the Jellicle Choice is just a myth. Few people remember when the Jellicles were primarily religious

Deut was trained as a shaman from early childhood, and groomed to be the next leader since he was ten, but he's always been a performer at heart. At some point after taking over as lead, he met (a very very young) Gus and invited him into the tribe. With Gus's help he organized plays and small musical performances, slowly and gradually getting other members in on it as well, until putting on plays every now and then was just a part of Jellicle life. And it was a good thing too, because by this point the tribe had been forced to give up their land and had to move to an industrial slum in the nearest city. No longer able to live off the land, they turned to performance to make a living. This was all well before Skimble/Jenny/Jelly/Spara (Jr)/Griz were born. These days the Jellicles are known primarily as a tribe of performers. Every current member that was born into the tribe except Deut was brought up as a performer

The play we see is an actual play being put on by the Jellicles as a dramatization of the events of That One Particular Jellice Ball™ which happened three years prior to the current timeline.

I think that covers the basic rundown. You can also see this jumbled mess for my first attempt at explaining all this crap lol.

Oh yeah and before I forget, I haven't decided yet if "Peke" and especially "Pollicle" refer to a certain culture of Dog, a certain body type, or two specific gangs ("packs") that just happen to be mostly comprised of a certain culture and/or body type of Dog. But they do exist in this universe. At the very least they are fictional gangs made up for the Rumpus Cat comics (yeah he's a comic book hero in this), or else real gangs or cultures/types of Dog written into Munk's Rumpus Cat fanwork play.

There's also a very important event that I really need to go over at some point but it's a really heavy topic and this isn't the best time like politically to post it right now, or even for me emotionally to write it out. But I do need to get this out at some point...

#sorry this took ages to answer #i literally have several documents saved titled #worldbuilding take 2 #take 3 #etc #as i tried to organized and simplify everything into something mostly coherant #worldbuilding #my hcs #please don't eat this Tumblr please God

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spaceskam · 5 years ago

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Oh Captain, My Captain

for day 2 of the @alterarnm event: pirates ❤️️

ao3

Michael stared at his home.

Or, what he called his home. Did it really count if you weren’t wanted? It didn’t matter. This little island was all he’d ever known, but he was tired of not being wanted.

The plan was to sail away on his little rowboat and to go to the mainland. He knew it wasn’t far, about an hour and a half to the west. He just had to make it there and then he could make a life for himself where no one knew him. Something new was so close and just out of reach. He was tired of it being out of reach.

He was going to grab it.

Without another look back, Michael grabbed the edge of his rowboat and started pushing it into the ocean, going until the water reached his waist before jumping in the boat and grabbing a paddle and pushing his way west. He was going to find somewhere that wanted him. He was going to be wanted.

Michael didn’t realize that maybe he was going the wrong way until it felt like he’d been gone a while and the color of the water just kept getting darker. Sure, it was night time, but the water should’ve gotten lighter as he got closer to the mainland. It should have. But it wasn’t.

On top of that, the waters were still, eerily still despite the wind whipping around. Fear slowly filled his stomach as he realized he’d clearly messed up.

A crack of thunder shook him to his core just a few seconds before lightning lit up the sky, confirming his suspicions about the water. Even with the light, he couldn’t see a single bit of land in any direction. Had he even gone west? Damn him for forgetting a compass.

“Oh, no,” he whispered to himself as it went from an empty sky to storming. The wind picked up even more, pushing his boat in any direction it pleased before he could even kind of get a grasp on where he might be.

Then he heard the wave.

Michael looked up towards the sound and saw a wave coming his way, towering so high that he knew he was a goner. He had no way to escape, he had no shelter. This was it. He sat down on the floor of the boat and bowed his face into his knees, wrapping his arms over the back of his head and waited.

The wave crashed over his boat and destroyed it without remorse. He was thrown into the water, spinning around in every which way until he had no idea where up was anymore. He couldn’t breathe, he couldn’t see, he had no boat.

Then the world went black.

What felt like seconds later but couldn’t possibly be, Michael found himself coughing and a rough hand was slamming against his back so hard that it hurt. He gasped and coughed and gasped some more, frantically looking around.

He was surrounded by people he’d never seen in his life, all dressed in bleak clothing and not-so-clean faces. They were all big, tanned men that looked down at him like he was a brand new creature. He couldn’t focus on any of them.

“Hello?” he said, voice hoarse. They all looked around, seemingly proud of themselves.

“You alright, kid?” one of them said. Michael blinked up at him before nodding slowly. “Good.”

“We thought you were dead, you were floatin’ in the water,” another said, “Cap told us to pull you up anyway, see what we could do. And here you are.”

“Oh,” Michael said. He didn’t know what to say or how to feel. He just wanted to get to the mainland and now he was… Well, where was he?

“Cap! He’s awake!” one of them shouted before Michael could even ask any questions.

The group of men fell silent as they made room for a man to stroll up to him, outfit on par with the rest of them but with a wooden leg. He had a clear higher level of command. They all seemed to look up to him, even the ones that were taller. If the men he’d woken up to were scary, this man was terrifying. Oh, and he was gorgeous. Michael didn’t breathe as he stepped up to him.

“Good to see you alive,” he said, “I don’t like dead men on my ship. Tell me your name.”

“Michael,” he answered softly. Cap, the captain, nodded.

“Now, tell me, why were you face down in the middle of the ocean? Where did you come from?”

Michael gulped, “I-I’m from Truman Isle.”

“Where’s that?” a man whispered.

“It’s a lighthouse island, hardly 50 people even reside there,” the man in front of him said, confused eyes set on Michael, “What were you doing in the ocean?”

“I was leaving. I wasn’t wanted there,” Michael responded. As confused and scared as he was of these men, he saw no use in lying. “I was trying to make it to the mainland, but a storm came and ruined my boat.”

“You survived the storm?” the man asked, raising a doubtful eyebrow. Michael nodded. He took a heavy breath and nodded. “Right. Stand to your feet and come to my quarters and we’ll discuss what exactly to do with you.”

With a little help from the large men, Michael did just that. His feet didn’t quite cooperate and he still felt woozy, but he did his best to follow the man who clearly ran this ship. It was strange. When he’d gotten on that boat in desire for a new life, he hadn’t expected it to end up here.

“Sit,” the Captain instructed as they walked into his quarters. Michael looked around the room as he made his way to sit in front of the desk. There were books everywhere along with a bunch of other items. Some were expensive, others wern’t, most were just stuff. Michael blinked a few times as he slowly put together where he was.

“Are you pirates?” Michael asked cautiously. Captain smiled and huffed a laugh, lacing his fingers as he rested his hands on the desk. It was such a sight that Michael felt his stomach churn. No wonder people back home didn’t like him. He couldn’t even look at a man’s hands without thinking things he shouldn’t.

“Does that scare you?” Captain asked. Michael couldn’t think of answer fast enough because scare didn’t seem like the right term. “So, what exactly is your plan? You said you were headed for the mainland—we’re far off course for that now, but we could turn around if you made it worth our while.”

Michael stared at him for a moment. Tanned skin, long dark hair, nice eyes, illustrious lips of all things. His shirt was all open and billowy, exposing chest hair that felt almost too obscene for Michael’s eyes. He eventually realized he was staring which he usually never did. How long had he been unconscious? Was his mind alright?

“I-I don’t have anything to offer,” Michael admitted, “My mother abandoned me on the Isle when I was a baby. I was raised sort of, sort of by everyone. They didn’t like me too much. Said I was trouble.”

Captain’s face got a bit grim, nodding his head. Michael got the idea that that wasn’t good. Would he throw him overboard because he couldn’t give them any money? He bowed his head.

“I wasn’t very wanted where I’m from either,” Captain said. Things went quiet for another moment as Michael wondered if he was supposed to say something comforting. How exactly did one comfort a pirate captain? “Right, well, that puts us in a predicament—what exactly do I do with you?” Michael’s eyes widened involuntarily which just made the captain smile. “I’m not going to kill you.”

“Thank you.”

“So, here are your options as I see it. You can get off at our next stop, or,” he said, “you can stay.”

Michael blinked a few times in surprise. “I can stay?”

“You can. If you work, obviously. We can figure out what you’re good at and that can be your duty. You could be apart of the crew,” he said, a smile on his face. The offer did sound enticing. He wanted to start anew… What was better than an instant job, home, and friends?

“Are you serious?”

“Yes, I am. And I’m only offering because I understand why you want to leave. Otherwise, I wouldn’t. This is a one time offer,” Captain explained, “Are you in?”

“I…” Michael said, trying to make sense of it all. Just a few minutes prior, he was coughing up water. His mind still felt woozy. He still kept thinking about those hands.

“I don’t have all day,” Captain pressed. Michael blinked hard.

“Is it forever?”

“No, you can leave when you want,” Captain filled in, “I don’t force anyone to stay. Everyone is here by choice.”

“Why me?” he asked softly.

Captain tilted his head back, leaning back into his chair. Then he was silent for a moment, just staring at him. Michael didn’t know if he was supposed to answer his own question or not. He took in the captain even more as the time continued to pass, eyes lingering on his chest and his hands. He swallowed hard and licked his lips.

“That’s why,” Captain said. Michael blinked in surprise.

“Huh?”

Captain leaned forward again with his eyes set on him. “You’re free here.”

Michael stared at him with wide eyes and he got it. So he agreed.

“Okay. I’ll join the crew.”

Captain smiled slowly and nodded, standing up. Michael took that as an opportunity to look at parts of him that he couldn’t see behind the chair which made him laugh. Michael liked that he could look at him and he didn’t mind. In fact, if he wanted to look at Michael that same way right back, he would love it. Later, when he felt more confident, he would ask for it. And, later, Captain would do that and so much more.

But right now, he was simply the crew.

“Call me Alex.”

#alteraroswell2020 #malex #malex fic #michael guerin #alex manes #roswell new mexico #my fic

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lesbianshinobus · 5 years ago

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the lodgers, part one ;

tanjirou, zenitsu, inosuke & reader, kimetsu no yaiba. you had prepared for house guests, but nothing could have prepared you for them. part two / read on ao3.

there’s no real pairing in this piece; it’s mostly just a set up for this reader, i guess? both because i’m a bit attached to their backstory, and i wasn’t sure which character to pair them with.

spoilers for chapter 27 of the manga, for those who haven't gotten that far. liberties were taken with the sequence of events because i wrote some parts before consulting the manga and couldn't be bothered to change it.

The crow appears late in the afternoon, when you’re in the courtyard removing laundry from the clothesline. You free one of your shirts and set it into the basket, and when you straighten up, you spot the bird resting on the clothesline.

Now that it has your undivided attention, its dark wings unfurl to their full size. “Caw! Three demon slayers injured!” it informs you. “They will be arriving in an hour’s time!”

“I see,” you say calmly. You’ve long since grown used to crows showing up out of the blue and barking information at you. “Thank you for letting us know.”

The crow doesn’t respond, as usual. They’re very business-like that way. Before it can fly away, though, you reach into your robes and retrieve the sunflower seeds you keep there. It’s not mandatory to feed them or anything, you just don’t want the birds to go hungry.

The crow cocks it head. You think it’s going to ignore your offering, as some do, but it makes a beeline towards you. Its talons rest on your wrist; it’s a little uncomfortable, but it doesn't hurt. You wince as the crow pecks at the seeds with its beak, though.

“Much appreciated!” croaks the bird once it’s done. It flaps its wings and takes flight once more, flying off. You watch it go, until it becomes a dark speck in the distance.

Then you return to the laundry, your motions quicker than before.

You need to ready the house for guests, after all.

✧

You tell Grandmother the news the moment you step inside, basket balanced on your hip. She nods, retreating to the kitchen without a word.

You don’t need any instruction; you know what to do. It’s been drilled into you for some time now.

While Grandmother begins preparing dinner, you find Kuro, the crow assigned to your household. Every family who pledges to house demon slayers is given one. You instruct the crow to go to the local doctor’s home and inform him about the demon slayers’ incoming arrival.

Once Kuro is on his way, you ready one of the rooms. The house can hold up to twenty people, but you’ve found that demon slayers typically prefer sleeping in the same room. Must be from all the time they spend on the road in close quarters, pitching tents and keeping watch in the wilderness.

Afterwards, you clean the rest of the house—toilets, hallways, stairs, wherever the demon slayers might think to tread. You’re going overboard and you know it, but Grandmother always purses her lips in dissatisfaction when you don’t get every nook and cranny. She ends up cleaning the entire place herself. You’d rather avoid the guilt.

Once you’re done, you note that there’s still time before the demon slayers are set to arrive. So you go into the kitchen and help Grandmother put the finishing touches on dinner.

You’ve just set the food trays in the guest room when you hear the knock on the door. It’s timid—almost apologetic, if knocks could convey emotion.

Grandmother opens the door, and you spot three demon slayers standing outside. They’re young, around your age if you had to guess. One of them is bare-chested and wearing a boar’s head, which is strange but certainly not the strangest sight you’ve had to behold. They look all in one piece, at the very least.

You keep your eyes lowered respectfully as Grandmother welcomes them, though your eyebrow twitches at the horrified whisper of "It's a monster...a monster!" Grandmother is old, sure, but she's not frightening. What a rude thing to say about someone providing you room and board. But you keep your thoughts to yourself.

Grandmother leads them inside, and you follow behind the group at a distance. You pay no attention to their hushed conversation, thinking wistfully about the futon in your room instead. On any another night, you would be fast asleep by now.

You herd the demon slayers into the prepared guest room. As one, you and Grandmother sit in seiza. “Your meal is already prepared for you,” the both of you say, foreheads respectfully bowed. You remain where you are as, with a flash, Grandmother appears next to the futons. (Though you've tried many, many times, you just aren't as fast as she is.) "Your bed is already prepared for you," you speak in unison.

“Tanjirou, that's a monster,” you hear the boy from before comment, shocked. “That old lady is a monster...She moves too fast to be normal! She's a monster!”

Thankfully, the red-haired boy hits him before you give in to the urge.

The red-haired boy—Tanjirou, you believe—thanks you for the hospitality, the other two echoing him after he frowns disapprovingly at each of them. Then they hurry to the trays, digging into the meal with relish. They must not have eaten much lately, if you had to guess; certainly not a home-cooked meal.

“The doctor will be here shortly, to take care of your injuries,” Grandmother informs them.

“What's a doctor?” the boar-headed boy asks in between bites, grains of rice spraying everywhere. (Instead of removing the boar head, he only pushed it up over his nose so he could eat.) Your eye twitches as they hit the polished floor. Has no one taught this guy basic manners? Better yet, how does he not know what a doctor is?

“Thank you again,” Tanjirou says, ignoring him. "We really appreciate you letting us stay here until our injuries heal."

“It's our duty,” you respond, gaze lowered. “No gratitude is needed. We'll return with the doctor once he's here.”

As you and Grandmother leave the room, you faintly hear the boar-headed boy ask, “Is no one going to tell me what the hell a doctor is?”

✧

All three of the demon slayers have broken ribs.

The boar-headed boy—his name is Inosuke, you've come to learn; he made a huge fuss over being checked by the doctor, as well as removing his boar head, which revealed a surprisingly pretty face—has the most, with four broken ribs. The rude boy—Zenitsu, who had whimpered and yelled in equal measure over his diagnosis—has the least, with two.

You're alone with the demon slayers at the moment, Grandmother is escorting the doctor out. "Like the doctor said, broken bones typically take six weeks to heal," you tell the boys, who are currently lying on the futons. "You can stay here for the duration of those six weeks, or longer if needed. We'll provide you with food, shelter, and other necessities while you heal."

"That ain't happening," Inosuke says immediately. "I heal fast. I'll be outta here in two weeks, maybe even one."

"Well, some of us don't have crazy inhuman healing!" snaps Zenitsu. "I'm going to take my time! Don't you dare try to rush me!"

"Ha! What a weakling!"

"Yeah? And? Is that meant to insult me or something?"

Tanjirou lets out a long, drawn out sigh as Inosuke and Zenitsu argue on either side of his head. You can't help feel sorry for him.

“If you need anything in the middle of the night, call for us,” you say. “We will be there.”

Before you can leave, Tanjirou speaks up. “Sorry, I don't think we ever asked for your name.”

You look over at him. He has propped himself up on his elbows, which must hurt his three broken ribs, but his expression is sheepish. You're a little surprised. Some demon slayers come and go without ever learning your name. Others tend to ask for your name days later, as an afterthought.

Softly, you tell him your name. Tanjirou repeats it with a small grin.

“Goodnight, then!” he says.

You incline your head. “Have a pleasant sleep,” you say. “Grandmother and I will have breakfast ready for you in the morning.”

As you turn away, you spot movement in your peripherals. You look over. It's the rectangular box that Tanjirou had been shouldering earlier. You could've sworn you saw it move just now...but it must have been your imagination. Right?

With a small frown, you leave, resolving to ignore the box.

You meet Grandmother near the front door. She asks how the three demon slayers are fairing. “They're certainly strange,” you tell her. “Especially that yellow one. What a rude guy.”

Grandmother purses her lips. “That isn't what I asked,” she reprimands.

You huff. “They're fine. I think they should be turning in for the night now.”

Grandmother nods, pleased, and wishes you a good night. You smile and retreat to your bed, three rooms down from the demon slayers. Far away not to disturb them too much, but close enough to hear them should they call.

You snuggle into your futon with a happy sigh, your eyes drifting mercifully shut. You remain that way for the next couple minutes. Your eyes snap open when you hear shouting from the demon slayers' room.

You strain your ears, but you don't hear them call for you or Grandmother. “Well. Not my problem,” you mumble, then do your best to fall asleep.

You're going to need the sleep if you have to deal with this for the next six weeks. Or however long it takes for them to heal.

#kny x reader #demon slayer x reader #kamado tanjirou x reader #agatsuma zenitsu x reader #hashibira inosuke x reader #kny scenarios #kny writing #kny headcanons #kimetsu no yaiba #kamado tanjirou #agatsuma zenitsu #hashibira inosuke #m writes

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bigskydreaming · 5 years ago

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I'm having a worse than usual day, so my go to moodlift method is making up headcanons for Dick that don't involve superheroing. You know, the romantic hero, the 'most eligible bachelor' aspect.. gets the focus. Because hey plenty of us had a crush on him growing up. Just for fun, I wanna ask you, do you think he's a slow burn romance kinda guy or intense fiery passionate romance from the get go kinda guy? One more, the age old question, is HE an ass guy or a tiddy guy? Imo he's a thigh guy..

Sorry you’re having a crap day, and uh, hope this didn’t end up not fun, I got lost in the headcanoning and character analysis and zigged and zagged per usual, so……I do not trust my ability to tell, overall. LMAO. But good question, made me think!

I think it depends on the person. I feel like Dick is capable of both, that sometimes feelings just creep up on him for someone over time, but other times he’s just drawn to someone instantly. For me, Babs and Kory is the proof - the instant crush on Babs from day one is more of a Reboot introduction to their dynamic…..in various older continuities, she was more a rival at first. Even as he advocated for Bruce to help train her and not stop her from being Batgirl at sometimes, he still very much was competitive with her, that sort of thing. You could argue it was the schoolboy kinda crush, that idea of a boy pulling the pigtails of a girl he likes because he doesn’t know how to admit he likes her or even realizes himself that he does. But personally, I find that explanation doesn’t really fit Dick, as its more fitting to someone who lacked his early maturity.

The thing is, a lot of people tend to focus on some of Dick’s more immature behaviors and actions, as a grown man and back when he was Robin with the puns and seeming innocence, and just see it as innocence and immaturity…..but I’ve always seen it as a coping mechanism. Dick grew up fast at a very early age, as much as Bruce himself did - they just coped with it in very different ways. People emphasize that Bruce took him in partly to keep Dick from turning out like he did, but they often forget at the same time that Bruce also took Dick in because he empathized with him, saw himself and his own tragedy reflected in Dick’s. Life-altering events had already happened to Dick before he ever set foot in Wayne Manor…..and Dick was altered. He was painfully aware of how cruel life could be, how serious things were, before Bruce ever actually had any ability to halt that realization from ever touching Dick.

The difference between Bruce and Dick and how they turned out, is that with Bruce’s support in those early years, Dick willfully clung to as much of his childhood as was left to him, even if at times it was the ‘fake it until you make it’ mentality. Many of his more immature behaviors are IMO a spiteful defiance of life’s attempt to make him grow up before he should have had to….and Bruce encouraged these things, IMO. He gave Dick the support and shelter, the buffer that allowed Dick to act immature even in the face of gravely serious and dark issues, because quite frankly, Dick cracking puns even while they were face to face with a life-threatening danger is probably a healthier coping mechanism than any Bruce had at the same age, at least in Bruce’s eyes if nothing else.

But my point is, Dick’s youthful optimism and cheeriness even in the darkest parts of growing up Robin in Gotham City….none of that existed because Dick was truly childish and immature as befitted his actual age, thanks to Bruce taking him in and guiding him to turn out better than he did or whatever that line of thought might look like…..rather, it existed because Dick made the willful and deliberate choice to act as much the child as he could for as long as he could…..and I think that in the early years when things were really good between them and they were largely on the same page, Bruce recognized this choice for what it was, this defiance to the cards life had dealt Dick, and he encouraged and defended Dick’s ability to make this choice and act this way.

But you can’t see the kind of things all the Robins saw and actually be as immature and goofy as Dick acted as Robin, untouched by all of that. Dick was right there in the thick of it all along. How can you avoid being touched by Gotham’s darkness, seeing Gotham’s darkness, when you’re punching it right in the face, you know? You can’t. But what you can do, if you choose to, and which is what Dick chose to do….is not give it the satisfaction of knowing it touched you. The real testament of how mature Dick was or not as a young crime-fighting Robin, how aware he was or not of the grim realities of life, was not in how he acted when face to face with villains and criminals, but rather, how he acted when face to face with their victims. THAT’S where the reality of Dick’s maturity shined through, even LONG before he met Barbara in any canon.

Which is how this tangent brings us back to topic, lol….a schoolboy crush being the explanation for some of Dick’s earlier pettiness with Barbara and their rivalry at times, like, just doesn’t track with Dick’s actual maturity, IMO. The actual more likely explanation as I see it is that Dick did genuinely clash with her at times, in the very early years, that his initial attitudes were a confused mish-mash of feeling threatened by her and her possibly getting between him and Bruce, the partnership that was in all but name his unique form of father-son bonding time….but also at the same time still being Dick Grayson and feeling compelled to do the right thing and respect and thus defend her being given the same chance and training he’d been given, to do what they both felt needed doing, that they were driven to do.

So I don’t think he and Babs were instant friends, and I don’t think she was his instant crush….I think it was slowburn with her, he gradually grew to develop feelings for her over time, as his respect for her mind and capabilities grew to outweigh whatever conflicting emotions he felt about her being around, and then eventually blossomed into actual love.

Then in contrast, you have Kory. And I think Dick was instantly attracted to her from the get-go, and their relationship was the very epitome of intense passionate romance and all the ups and downs that go along with it, as befits too of the most primal and passionate people in the DC universe. Dick was drawn to her pretty much from day one, and Kory was as well, and it wasn’t an opposites attract thing so much as two beings resonating on the same wavelength, even if at times from different parts of the same spectrum.

Because here’s the thing about Dick that I think links the two kinds of relationships and makes them both fitting for him…..he is very much a creature of instincts. He goes with his gut, he responds to things on an automatic and visceral level. But at the same time, the other truth about Dick is that his mind is no less exceptional than anyone else’s in the Batfamily, and his instincts are guided by a hell of a lot more intellect and processing power than most peoples’ are. He’s been trained from the time he could walk, even long before he met Bruce, to have exceptional situational awareness, to adapt to changes in his environment and predicaments with a moment’s notice, to take in every possible relevant detail at a glance when the stakes are literally those of leaping off a high trapeze. Dick trusts his instincts, because Dick’s instincts are exceptional, and with reason.

And this applies to every part of his life, not just the superhero parts. So when Dick feels drawn to someone like Kory, I think he trusts his gut and goes with it….he might not necessarily even know yet on a conscious level why he’s attracted to them and they’re someone he could really fall for and have a relationship with, he just knows that he does feel that way, and trusts that its for a reason. And then at the same time, with someone like Barbara, he likely had those same instincts about her, leading to the times he defends her to Bruce even though he might have clashed with her just minutes before, but he knows there’s a reason for him to do that, act that way, even if it takes much longer for that to transition from a mere possibility of actual compatibility to conscious feelings of actual attraction and love.

Its all instinct to him either way….but the person he’s instinctively reacting to has the definitive role in whether or not its slowburn or instant passionate attraction….because the other deep truth about him that I feel is relevant here is that Dick feeds off other people, their energy, what they show him and give him to work with….and his instinct is usually to meet them in kind, give the same energy back, unless say, he makes the conscious decision to override his instincts and power through an antagonistic reception and try and forge a positive bond, like with building his sibling dynamic and mentorship of Damian.

But in regards to his romances, as I said, I think the same instincts might be in play with both Barbara and Kory, but it played out very differently because Babs wasn’t initially drawn to him, not in that way at least. She wasn’t putting forth a romantic energy, and so it took awhile for Dick’s own romantic feelings to emerge and for them to finally be reciprocated in time. In contrast, it was hot and fiery from day one with Kory, because Kory was drawn to him from day one as much as Dick was to her, so there was nothing to slow down or stop those instincts from transforming into attraction and romantic feelings from the second he felt them.

As to the rest of your ask, lololol, sorry to be a cop out, but I don’t think there is a specific physical draw for Dick. I’ve always headcanoned him as bi, which is a bit of projection on my part, sure, but also I just genuinely don’t think gender or even physicality at all has anything to do with what draws to a person, or makes him attracted to them. Yeah, sure, I think he absolutely has physical attributes he loves and might put forth as their best attribute for any partner he’s with, but I think its different with each person because Dick is all about individuality….not just with himself and his own independence, but just….people aren’t interchangeable for him. At any level, I think.

Every person who’s important to him is uniquely distinct in his mind, and I think with his romantic partners, this results in him liking something distinct about them physically, that separates them in his mind from any other partners he’s had. Because I don’t think its physical appearance that’s Dick’s primary source of attraction with his partners….he’s attracted to them first, and then he settles on something physical that’s uniquely attractive to him as well, that’s different in his mind from anyone else.

Because I think the thing that draws Dick to people in all forms of his relationships, but is particularly true and evident in his romantic partners…..is Dick is both drawn and attracted to competence, skill, power, intellect….all the things that make someone hardy. Durable. A survivor in the context of the world of superheroics that he lives in, specifically.

He’s drawn to people he feels he’s less likely to lose. And he’s attracted to people that this is equally true of, and even moreso, to the degree where he doesn’t feel any need to protect them….not because he doesn’t want to, but because it isn’t relevant. He feels and trusts that they’re more than capable of protecting themselves just as well if not better than he ever could.

And he knows better than anyone that nothing’s a guarantee, and even as he surrounds himself with family and friends and romantic partners that all have in common the fact that they’re incredibly skilled, capable and powerful…enduring…..he still knows that doesn’t mean he can’t lose them, that he won’t lose them. And thus IMO they all wind up in distinct categories in his mind.

His family, he’d kill for. His friends, he’d die for. And his romantic partners, the thing that makes him attracted to them, rather than just drawn to them, are those that he has no doubt would kick his ass for ever presuming to do either of those things for them, because they’re more than capable of taking care of themselves, thanks ever so much. He’s attracted to people he feels safe around, in the sense that he’s not always on guard, always worried about losing them, because he trusts in their ability to endure, survive, and thrive. And that he also can relax around, in the sense that he’s not always feeling like its on him to protect them, defend them, that he has to be always to be on guard or watching out for…because its not his job to protect them and it doesn’t have to be, because there’s nothing he can do for them that they can’t do for themselves and wouldn’t prefer to be left to them. And thus with them he can just…be.

Dick Grayson IMO is attracted to one type of person and one type only: his equals in body, mind and spirit. The ones he can stand beside and not feel dwarfed by or lost in their shadow, and at the same time never have to look back to make sure they’re following him because he knows they’re right there next to him keeping up. He’s attracted to those who challenge him, intellectually, emotionally, that he respects on every level, but who respect him on every level too…..with this part being especially key, and the problem he’s had in his canon relationships - they ONLY fall apart on his end of things, make him lose faith in the relationship, when he feels disrespected, that they’re not valuing him or his capabilities or contributions.

Dick KNOWS his own worth, which is why he’s such a unique blend of confidence and insecurity….he can weather a whole society of people looking down on him because he knows their opinion doesn’t mean shit to him, but still be stricken with insecurity when he feels someone whose opinion he DOES value, like a romantic partner, family or friend, seems to question his worth or what he’s capable of.

Dick and Kory are my preferred canon relationship because when they’re ALLOWED to work without editorial mandate to break them up or keep them apart, they embody this most fully for me. Because Kory is massively more powerful than Dick, but never regarded Dick as anything other than her equal in the field in spite of that. There was no question that they both regarded each other as fellow warrior spirits that they trusted to have their back in battle above all others. Kory and Dick work so well for me, because with everything else I said kept in mind, they SHOULDN’T work, not as total equals, and yet they DO. There SHOULD be a power imbalance there, and yet there never was. Not one that was felt, anyway, and not one that was ever in any way responsible for any of their romantic problems. Their issues were disagreements born of competing ideologies….but that both felt equally strongly about. Or issues of trust but only that were externally imposed by brainwashing and shapeshifting and bad shitty writing and editorial mandate that I’ll be ranting about on my deathbed.

BUT I DIGRESS.

Anyway, enough rhapsodizing about Dick and Kory, lol, like that’s anything new. I mean, I could insert rhapsodizing about the potential for Dick and Kyle based on all of the above and other reasons, but that’s nothing new either. And also, whoops, this got super fucking long.

OH UNKNOWABLE UNIVERSE, WHO COULD HAVE FORESEEN SUCH A THING.

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sighingstarbeam · 5 years ago

Text

Spies and Gods - Chapter 10

Summary: You and Loki head out on a night on the town. But you need to make a pit stop along the way.

Word Count: 3,245

A/N: It's finally here! I'm finished with my classes and I have some time to write. With everything going on in the world right now, I'll try my best to upload more chapters, hopefully I can pry one out every week and get a schedule up and going. Thanks for the patience and stay safe!

Chapter 9 | Chapter 11

The next hour you debated if your decision was right. Your mind kept weighing the polar opposite options yet you put on your makeup as if you already made your choice. Every time you thought about going back to Loki’s room and calling the deal off you lingered to how you deserved a night out with your friends, even if Loki was in the background. On the other hand, when you thought about how much you wanted to leave the facility, what would happen if you got caught? New York was big, yes, and you never told anyone which nightclub you were going to specifically as there were hundreds just in the city alone, but if someone saw you leave and grew suspicious who’s to say what would happen? So many scenarios scattered in your brain. That person would rat you out to the team, they’d shun you for the rest of your life, Tony would kick you out immediately, he would second guess why he let you stay in the first place, which was something you never quite fully understood. If worse came to worse, you could always move back in with Lilly and Maya. But what if they thought you abandoned them? You didn’t mean to. In fact, you were forced to leave your current living situation. They wouldn’t lea- Before your headache could grow any larger, you heard a knock on your bathroom door. Your breath hitched when a familiar voice spoke up, “It’s me,” Tony said, “I’m sorry about before, but we really need you to do this. We’ll celebrate with a restaurant, your choice, just us two to get to know each other. Maybe Pepper. No, not Pepper.” You could practically hear his head rushing with what he was trying to spit out as he hesitated, “What I’m trying to say is we’re heading out. Don’t let Loki… Honestly don’t let him do anything but breathe and blink. Steve and his squad should be back tomorrow from their mission. Hang tight until then.” You didn’t say anything, you were processing the fact that Tony actually said the words “I’m sorry” to you. On top of that he wanted to take you out to dinner and have a real conversation. Not just the chats you have in the lab about his works, but about both of your lives, something you have secretly been yearning since day one. “O-Okay.” You stammered, careful not to burn yourself on the curling rod, “See you later.” Great, now you’ll feel some guilt for sneaking out. To be fair, it was Tony’s own fault for not letting you live your life. About an hour later you were dolled up in makeup and a form fitting maroon dress with off shoulder sleeves that Maya helped you pick out a few months back. It was already 8:00 and you promised you’d arrive at that time. You quickly texted Maya and Lilly that you were heading out and you had to “pick up a friend”. Speaking of which, you needed to tell Loki you were ready. Peeking your head out of your door, purse in hand, you checked the hall if anyone was around. Your heels clacked on the linoleum tile as you crossed the few feet to Loki’s door. You knocked sharply, waiting for him to emerge. A part of you wanted him to not answer, for him to end his own deal so you could have a reason to stay home. Or you could leave him alone and go by yourself and deal with the repercussions later. Well, somebody was listening and decided to pull a joke on you as Loki opened the door. You would’ve noticed him looking at you surprised by how you were dressed if it weren’t for the fact that you were too distracted by his attire. He went with his usual Asgardian wear of green, gold, and black leather outfitted with actual gold bands. “What are you wearing?” You asked. “What do you mean?” Loki questioned. “We’re going to a party in a club, not a renaissance fair.” Loki was taken aback from your comment, “I am dressed for a party. In Asgard this was standard attire for events our family held.” You rubbed the bridge of your nose out of frustration, “You’re on Earth now. You got to own something like a suit.” In almost an instant a shimmer of gold surrounded his head as a helmet with long horns manifested on Loki’s head, “How is this?” He mused. You crossed your arms, “If you can do that, you can illusion yourself human clothes.” Loki stared you down, then sighed rolling his eyes, knowing he wouldn’t win this situation. The golden shimmer surrounded him as he changed into the black suit he wore on the first day you saw him. “This should suffice, but know this; ” He leaned in, a little too close for comfort, before hissing his next words, “this night will not grant you permission to treat me like a cornered dog. Just because this is your planet does not give you access to order me whenever you please. I am a god in this realm- and for a moment your divine ruler.” You resisted the urge to step back from his proximity, for doing so would only pin you against the wall. Instead you stood your ground, trying to match the intensity of Loki’s glare. “If you say so. But if you do anything that raises any red flags while we’re out, I won’t hesitate to drag your ass back here early.” You pulled your phone out, it was a few minutes after you were supposed to meet up, plus you needed to pick up a gift. “We gotta go. Does the divine ruler want to stop for some fast food on the way?” You asked sarcastically. Loki’s manner transitioned from his intimidating look to amused as he let out a soft chuckle.

___

Getting to the garage was a lot easier than you expected. With practically everyone gone nobody saw you and Loki made it to the rows of cars that were perfectly lined up. When you were first moving in Tony explained to you that most of the vehicles had keys hung up accordingly on a grid wall. Most of that conversation he mostly bragged that at least three-quarters of the cars belonged to him personally, which at least gave you a wide variety to choose from. “Got a preference?” You asked Loki, perusing the key selections. Loki looked back at the cars with a sour look, “Please tell me we are not driving any of those.” You were bemused at his remark, “What’s wrong with them? I mean, sure they’re a bit pretentious like that Ferrari- and those other two Ferrari's… but there are a few cool ones we could borrow.” You scanned the row, a black car caught your eye. “How about this Tesla? I heard they’re pretty cool.” Part of you knew that taking a car that glamorous would catch a few eyes, but if you were going to break the rules might as well go all the way in style. “Whatever you think is best.” Loki responded, “Personally I would never be caught dead in any of these, but if this is the only mode of transportation, then it will be adequate for the night.” No matter what you said to the man you could never seem to satisfy him, even if it was for a moment. You plucked the key from the slot and the two of you made your way to the sleek Tesla. Simultaneously you both entered the car. When you turned the key in the ignition you expected the screen in the dashboard to show different selections, except you were greeted by the display illuminating a video of a lit fireplace. A wave of warmth flooded the car as if the fire actually gave out heat from the heating system. The speakers blasted a funky tune of smooth jazz music, and without warning both yours and Loki’s seat reclined backwards. “Well well well, I didn’t realize this was your true intention for the night.” said Loki, showing off a wicked grin. “If you wanted to go a different route, we could have stayed upstairs.” “What? No! I didn’t-” Your face went beet red. You shot up away from the reclined seat when you tried to fiddle with the controls. After a few buttons pressed and smacks on the screens the fireplace video and heat turned off as well as the music. You readjusted your seat before selecting the maps to enter in the location of the club. God I hope they cleaned in here before we got here. You thought to yourself. “We’re never going to talk about this again.” You only heard a chuckle from the god next to you, your heart was beating out of your chest. Why was it doing that? Maybe it was because you were still in shock by the unexpected romance mode the car was set to. Yes, that was it.

___

Driving in downtown New York at night always brought a sense of surrealistic peace to you. The way the lights lit the structures in the distance, the ambiance, the shadows bent in contrast, everything melded together perfectly. You have only lived in New York for less than a year, but you would consider it to be one of the only few places you enjoyed residing in. After the incident in 2012, you fled as far as you could until you reached Maine. For a year it was your shelter, then Pennsylvania for six months, then Vermont for two years, and so on. You jumped from state to state in the northeast area for five years. For even longer you knew that Tony could be your biological father. At any time you could have gone to Stark Tower, to follow the only lead you had read once in a file years ago. Yet you didn’t. Instead you hid from the past of who you were and what you were forced to do. If it wasn’t for the voice in the back at your head screaming you would have left the country the second you had the chance. When you finally had enough of the voice there was only one remedy you knew that could soothe the coarse yells that have been echoing in your ears. The moment you stepped foot in front of the tower, the voice ceased. Now you wished there was another voice to tell you what to do now. Originally your plan was to leave the country, perhaps Paris, find a cozy cottage on the outskirts of town away from the population. Maybe get a cat or two, maybe a bird. The point was to finally be free and forget the past, to finally be alone. But there was a tug in a different direction. The direction that kept you with your friends, Maya and Lilly. A chance to be part of a family with the Avengers, who’s trust you have gained from most of the team the near two months you’ve been there. Even Bucky was slowly starting to initiate conversations with you. Even with the new, unexpected life that was thrown your way, making the decision to leave it behind or stick with it was a sea of voice in your mind. For tonight however, you were going to drown out the voices with liquor, loud EDM, and dancing. All of course while keeping an eye on the Asgardian prince. Speaking of which, you thought that he has most likely never been to an earthling party. “So…” you droned out, Loki’s gaze still out the window, “I’m sure you probably haven’t been to a club on Earth before, so I’m giving you a heads up that this is going to be different than whatever parties you’re used to.” Loki cocked an eyebrow, finally turning his head to you, “And what parties would that be?” “I don’t know. I thought it was more like royal stuff with balls and fancy dresses.” Considering he was a prince and the stories Thor told you about Asgard (not to mention Thor and Loki’s choice of fashion and speech), you only assumed Loki had only been to medieval like parties. Loki smirked, almost as if he was reminiscing about the memories, “We did have parties similar to those on Asgard. However I have observed and even participated in Midgardian-like events.” “Oh yeah? When was the last time you partied or to put it in simpler terms, ‘go out’?” Loki thought for a moment, “The most recent I recall was on Sakaar. True the ruler was a clueless sociopath who wanted everything his way, but he did throw marvelous events.” “He sounds like somebody I know.” You teased, not getting a very positive response from Loki. You changed the subject before an awkward silence could interfere, “We need to make a pit stop before we get to the club.” “What for?” “I didn’t have time to get my friend a gift.” It was only five minutes later when you got to the store Lilly loved. It was a small spiritual shop that sold crystals, candles, all sorts of things that Lilly had interest in. She’s a self-proclaimed witch, which didn’t bother you, except for certain incense she burned that filled the entire apartment, nearly setting the smoke alarm off. Hopefully they sold something that Lilly would like and didn’t have. You turned off the car and unbuckled when you noticed Loki wasn’t moving, “Come on, I’m not leaving you alone.” Loki gave an annoyed look, but quietly obeyed and exited the car. The store was small but had a lot of aisles to peruse. You and Loki definitely were out of place, with it’s dark wood floor and even darker concrete walls. Actually, with Loki’s black suit and demeanor he could fit right in. But you were only there for five minutes tops, not wanting to waste any more time. Going through each aisle you took note of what Lilly would enjoy. Most of the items you knew she already had, except for a few mugs that were cheesy like “Witch Please” or “Witches Be Crazy”. The first thing you needed to do was pick out a birthday card, which thankfully the store had a small display on the side. While reading through the cheesy ones, you settled on a card that had a cat on the cover, but had a thoughtful message on the inside. Looking over to Loki, you found him perplexed at not only the greeting cards, but the general atmosphere of the store. “So this friend, she actually is a witch?” “Yeah, but she doesn’t practice a lot of spells. She mostly does tarot cards and sage burnings.” You didn’t fully understand her lifestyle, but you respected it nonetheless. Loki furrowed his brows before continuing down the aisles. After finding Lilly’s card, you skimmed down the aisle until a book caught your eye. The title read: 101 Love Spells to Spice up Your Relationship. You picked up the book, examining the cover and flipped through a few of the pages, taking notice of the more sensual spells. You actually considered buying it as a joke, until a familiar voice rang in your ear. “I didn’t realize Midgard had spell books, especially of the sultry design.” You jumped from the sudden lack of personal space. Loki was leaning towards your ear, observing the book from your hand. “I’m not buying it.” You blurted, taking a step away that ended more like a shuffle, “I mean, this is just a gag book. I wasn’t actually considering it.” If only you had a mirror to prove to yourself your face was red. You tossed the book back onto the shelf with a thud. Next to it was another book, Spells For Self Care. Flipping through the pages this was the perfect book for Lilly. D.I.Y. organic face masks, spells to calm your mind, even some advice on how to deal with stressful energies. You tucked the book under your arm along with the card, “Let’s get out of here,” you said to Loki, determined for you and him to forget about the conversation prior. The two of you checked out the items along with a gift bag and some colorful tissue paper. You were in there a little over five minutes, but you would still make it to the club in time. The drive was short, but the silence made it feel longer. You didn’t know what to talk about to a literal demigod, and small talk wasn’t your forte in the first place. If it weren’t for the traffic you would speed just a bit faster to get to the club even sooner. What else could you talk about with Loki? So what’s your favorite color? Your hopes and dreams? If you had to marry, kill, or f- “Y/N?” Loki asked. “Hm?” You were so lost in thought you didn’t realize you arrived. “Oh, yeah I’m just looking for a spot.” You pulled into a parking garage a few blocks away. The only space you could squeeze into was on the third story, and just your luck the elevator was out of service, forcing the two of you to walk down the concrete stairs in your heels. When you finally made it to the front of the club, the line wasn’t extremely long, but you remembered Maya saying something about telling the bouncer your name and you were in Lilly’s party. So just as Maya said, the bouncer pulled away the velvet rope, but not before asking about Loki. “He’s with me.” You stated. The bouncer gave a questioning glare, but let him through as well. Before you opened the doors to the club itself, you pulled Loki aside in the lounge. “Before we go in, there are a few ground rules.” Loki rolled his eyes, “I thought we already settled those earlier.” “Yes and no. First off, you’re not allowed out of my sight. If I need to go to the bathroom, my friends are in charge of you. Second, don’t try anything funny. Thor told me you like to play tricks, but not tonight. Are we clear?” He grinned ear to ear, placing his hand on his chest, “I give you my word I will not play a trick on your friends.” “Great.” You nodded, averting your gaze, “And one question, do you think anybody will recognize you?” Loki’s grin slowly faded as he tilted his head, “What do you mean?” “Your reputation isn’t exactly… favorable. I don’t know how much you made the news.” “You didn’t know who I was when we first met.” He had a point, you were a bit busy escaping with your life from actual creatures. “Not many people cared to memorize this face. I’ve been here long enough and nobody bats an eye. Now I must ask you the same question.” You tilted your head this time, “I was told of your predicament. Are you sure no one will recognize you?” To be honest, you didn’t know. You’ve been really good about keeping out of trouble, and you haven’t seen any agents in years. “I’m sure we’ll both be fine.” Loki’s grin curved its way back in, “Great.” You sure as hell hoped you sounded convincing. Not just for him, but for yourself.

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